I keep older weblogs under this name at Angelfire and Livejournal. Here's the raw text from the past:
Mood: chipper Dec. 28th, 2004
Current Music: The Police, Live!
Rounding up events over the holiday season, I have a lot on my plate. Christmas went well in the United States. Amazon, I noticed, sold really well. Between Ebay and that store, I did a whole lot of shopping online, and not so much in the real world. I think most of the purchases were from American sellers, but I did notice East Asian sellers sell a lot of items well below the market price on the Western Hemisphere, particularly on DVD prices.
That's not always the case with laser disks, however. I bought 'How To Dismantle An Atom Bomb' for $9.87 at a retail store, and compared the price to Japanese imports; $50! The only difference is the import has an extra track- not really something to pay that much for. I guess Japanese fans are stuck with it, however, because it's my understanding they don't have any operating online music download stores. Here, we can buy the extra track for .99 cents at Itunes, or .88 at the Walmart online store.
The best deal online came from a Hong Kong seller offering the Band of Brothers DVD boxset for a dollar, while American sellers charged $75 and more. The set has six disks, by the way.
An anectode: I bought the book at a traditional brick-and-mortar store for $2.99 in the last quarter of 2003. Good deal, huh? Whenever I have time, I'll get Currahee! It shan't be all that long.
If you've watched any of the twenty-four hour news stations over the holiday weekend, you probably heard about the Minster of Defense. You guys know I follow the Packers, and could probably guess I watched their nail-biter attentively. There victory looked way too much like KC's victory the next day. What is it about last-minute field goals?
“We want to thank you in advance for honoring our privacy.''
There isn't much funny about Reggie White's passing, but it is funny how Sara White, the new widow, showed the media the door.
The sports writers weren't very kind to White at the end of his career, I recall. I remember allowing my Sports Illustrated subscription to expire after Rick Reilly said some mean-spirited things about White's faith. Reilly's a fine writer, I can say, but shows no tolerance for Christian athletes, kind of like the British essayists at Fictionpress, right?
"He made the defense what it was during our run... the best in the league. He could turn the course of the game in a single play... and did it many times for us. It was fun to watch him play.”
Yes it was, Brett Favre. I took the time to see Favre's television special Christmas Eve on NBC. It was just a flashback special, your average run-of-the-mill televised biography, but I gave it a gander anyway. Greenbay's my long-shot Super Bowl pick, don't you know? They've paid off for me before. I recall the 1998 season, when I placed some money down on them going to the bowl with Denver. Not your usual method of betting, choosing teams that early, but I hit the jackpot, then pressed my luck by picking Elway, Sharpe, and TD to cruise over Farve, White, and the guys. The betting houses set the odds against the Broncos at 10-to-1, suckers odds.
To sweeten the deal even more, I stretched my fortune further by selecting the Bulls to meet and beat the Jazz in the NBA finals. It was a good year, but my luck broke on Major League Baseball.
Well, thanks for your part, Reggie.
It's no coincidence he passed on football Sunday. Reggie loved the game, and he loved the people associated with the game. I'm glad that as the entire NFL was preparing to play, they could honor Reggie. You say Reggie's name, and people just have an immediate respect for him."
-- Keith Johnson, head of CAUSE ministry, Christian Athletes United for Spiritual Empowerment, of which White was one of the founders
The Packers clinched their division title and a playoff spot Sunday in a 34-31 victory. Congratulations to Ryan Longwell and the organization.
The day before, Johny Oates, 58, passed away after a six-year battle with brain cancer. Oates, some of you may know, managed the Texas Rangers for those six years, if memory serves. I never got the chance to meet the man himself, or even make it to a game, for that matter, but my sister winged a visit to the Arlington ballpark for me, and used got to visit him during pregame exercises.
It's been a while, but I think they played Baltimore that night. It was August of '99, and she promised to get me some pictures of Mr. Oates. She says she has the photos, but I'm still waiting. I gave her some copies of my Space Shuttle Columbia disaster pictures after I took them . She spilled milk on them, too. I guess that's okay.
Back to the Packers for one second. They're offering snow-shoveling jobs this weekend for $8.00 an hour. It would be such an honor! I'm not drooling, I swear, but that would be a nice memory. By the way, the stadium is Lambeau Field, not Lambert, Senator Kerry!
I'm putting on notice to everyone that I'm suspending my work on the Robotech Mod. I still have a snafu with Windows, because one hard drive wrecked, and I can't get my XP package to boatload. All work is limited to Linux right now, as it has been all month. So much for that.
The Good News, What's Going On
I'm working hard to finish TTGK sometime soon. I have the opening act to the show finished, I have a Microsoft blog open (but empty), I have an MSN group established (but empty), and I'll spread a few more seeds. Have you played with the Homeland Defense Threat Generator? Noticed the bugs? I'll get right on that. Notice how cruddy my homepage is right now? Can't pay my brother to help, but I'll do something. Notice how my second site is doing nothing? I'm feeling a real energy kick. I'll do it all. My brother even promises to toy with Windows this week.
Have a happy new year.
Correction made: I said "boat load" yesterday. It's "boot load!" That was my first Livejournal post, but that's the younger weblog. Then there was New Year's Day:
Current Music: U2: New Year's Day
I'll keep my correspondence confidential, but I've been mailing back-and-forth with a knowledged friend over his help with one sequence within the upcoming ending chapter of my Power Play's fic. Gentlemen don't peek at one another's mail, and likewise, gentlemen don't share the content of their mail with others, without the consent of the one that one is corresponding with, but to give a peek into my world, and as a preview, I'll allow a lapse in netiquette this once.
"I felt that I had a host of bugs worth filtering out. I didn't foresee the problem of describing the location of Roger Gordian and the usual suspects. I've clearly placed Gordian safely in his South-Eastern Iraq compound since chapter 14,Casus belli (he gave a rousing militaristic speech there), and I didn't really anticipate anyone caring exactly where the pilot of an unmanned aerial vehicle was. I did, however, rectify the ambiguity.
The peculiar psychology of the contracted personnel is more intentional, especially with the driver, Eric Burke. I knew someone who died of bone cancer, and believe me, near the end, combat would be a welcome distraction. Burke knows he'll die in a few weeks, and in the meantime, welcomes the endorphin output combat provides.
When I focus my attention on the cabin, his nonchalant Point of view will dominate. Boute, the other fatalistic Mississippian, holds on to the same outlook until Ali's screams put him into a panic.
From that point on, everyone in the trailer remembers that pain and death are things to be feared.
As for the Desert Eagle problem, I can only be describing one of the gold editions of the .50 AE, with a ten-inch barrel, firing fifty-caliber Samson ULTRA 300 grain jacketed-hollow point ammunition.
The reason why the pistol jammed was that Burke had been firing a brand of .50 AE 325 grain jacketed hollow points known for leaving residue that often jams the pistol after as little as a magazine worth of practice. The gun isn't jammed because a round was fed wrong.
Next, the HOTAS is the Hands on Throttle and Stick, fixed that.
Then we come to the Flechette rockets. I've never heard of any complaints about these rockets, except from humanitarian groups that advocate against all anti-personnel ordnance.
In fact, in the first Gulf War, when the supplies were scarce, an elite Apache aviation task-force from the Screaming Eagles confiscated all of them from “regular” crews. This was the very group that opened the “air corridor” on day one of the air war.
The fire that burned Ali's hands happened the same way that leaving a hot iron on clothing starts a fire. Been there, done that.
The fire in the cabin was caused by an excess of heat and friction. Had that happen to a Chevy, and now it's a hulk. And if you're talking about the napalm fire, I explained the chemistry behind that. Phosphorous burns when exposed to air. At least, pure phosphorous does. I think I have phosphorous in my vitamins. Hmm.
“Val Janikowski found his heart…and a bank that forgave his credit record.”
The New Yorker is the one returning to combat.
Well, thanks a trillion for your time and reasoning. Changing tenses suddenly is a bad habit many have noticed in me, but I haven't yet curbed it. Writing action is tricky for me, but I'm getting close.
Have a happy new year."
I'll give a special thanks to him and others within the chapters. Good night.
Here is my Archival of Angelfire text content into the LJ:
Hello boys and girls, I'll submit most of the previous entries on my older blogs:
Wednesday, 17 November 2004 Mood Bright
Now Playing: Virtigo Single
I’m loving what I can do with this blog! Guys, I’ve tried inserting midis on my site for the longest time, but haven’t yet figured out how. Play it, and see why someone named after a typewriter would want it played on the homepage.
See the image? That’s part of the look my Robotech Freespace campaign will have. So far, Viscount and I have five missions more-or-less ready for the upload, which I’ve planned for Christmas at the earliest, and New Year’s Day at the latest. The year 2005 will be the twentieth anniversary of the series, so this is a very timely development.
Oh, about Gordian Knot, I’m going to break 20,000 words by Thanksgiving, a point I planned to reach from the beginning. As a general rule, I wanted to type a minimum of 10,000 words every month, and ended up doubling that most of the summer.
Let’s see, in October, I wrote about 10,000 on Gordian, and posted 7,000 for Dud Zone and Leroy Jackson. Pretty good.
I need staff for the Genome project. I’ve had some people help, and thanks, but I’m looking for permanent staff members. I know, I have no clout, but I think we could do some cool things quickly.
I’ll grow this over time. Thanks for reading.
Friday, 19 November 2004
Now Playing: How To Dismantle An Atom Bomb
I just sent a letter to a terribly biased "alternative news source" at http://www.dissidentvoice.org/ that wants the marine dead, the faster the better. My letter was as follows:
"You are mistaken on many counts. First, You insist the embed is a freelance journalist, but Kevin Sites is an NBC correspondent.
I know, you are one of those "alternative voice" journalist, commissioned to paint a certain picture, but this is an all too obvious whitewash on your part.
Okay, your facts concerning Sites are false, I can prove this through his boss, NBC. Next, I can demonstrate some more flaws in your ugly picture.
I know, this is an opinion piece, but you don't include real "Bush supporter" sources when painting that ugly picture about apologists for the marine. They don't exist, and you know it.
I agree wholeheartedly that the fighter was hors de combat, and I don't think anyone in the mainstream is denying that. Some newsmen, in the spirit of not condemning the marine before his trial, have given play to the theory, provided by Sites himself, that the wounded fighter was booby-trapped, but the networks are NOT whitewashing the public into believing that.
Steven A. Hass, are you aware, that according to Mr. Sites and NBC, the marine you claim was under no stress, was in fact shot in the face the day before? I know I don't go through events like that day-to-day, and I doubt most of us do.
Like I said, I know and understand that you must write from an “alternative” point of view, but really, do you seriously want to lynch this marine?
Wise up, Sir, the embed program is going to continue, no vast right-wing conspiracy is going to tear it down, and the war effort of natural suffer for it, but we've got the integrity to move forward and do the right thing.
And that's my memo to you."
A foolish reply to a foolish editorial, I know, but Hass is a real jerk, with his hysterical yellow journalism.
For the record, I'm displeased by newsies becoming judge, jury, and the hitman.
Monday, 22 November 2004
Now Playing: How To Dismantle An Atom Bomb
Does anybody ever get the impression I keep myself busy? Today, a CPU for my Gateway arrived in the mail, and the afternoon’s been spent trying to install it. Hasn’t worked yet, but once it does, playing current games shouldn’t be a problem.
Another topic: I’m using Freewebs as the host for yet another website of my invention. This one I swear will have a more professional look than the last one, and will also be for higher speed users. I don’t have much, but I’ll let you take a look at the concept.
What else? Oh yeah, Sentinel Talos wanted to know if more Leroy Jackson was coming. Sure, I finish everything I write, but his time in the Great War is up, and in the next portion, he’ll fly an old JNY-1 “Jenny” mail plane into some trouble in South Texas.
Spoiler: It will be loosely like the western adaptations of Yojimbo, my favorite Akira Kurosawa samurai film.
If you’ve seen Last Man Standing, starring Bruce Willis, or any old spaghetti western, you may get the idea. I’ll probably pick that up at the end of the year, when my Robotech designing and Power Plays story should come to a close.
If you’ll be patient, I’ll tell you what the website is for.
Tuesday, 23 November 2004
I hope it wasn't a mistake
Now Playing: Pavarotti
Topic: Internet Living
I mistakenly upgraded my angelfire account. Hope they don't bill me!
FF.net is sabotaging me, but here's an early version of the chapter in the Tom Clancy section.
“In the general course of human nature, a power over a man's subsistence amounts to a power over his will.”
“Underlying most arguments against the free market is a lack of belief in freedom itself.”
“Distance does not decide who is your brother and who is not. The church is going to have to become the conscience of the free market if it's to have any meaning in this world - and stop being its apologist.”
Okay, one more quote:
“After four years at the United Nations I sometimes yearn for the peace and tranquility of a political convention.”
-Adlai Stevenson, Diplomat to the UN during the Cuban Missile Crisis
Roger Gordian knew Machiavelli well, knew his history, his major work, and most importantly, how to sum it up. The author of The Prince died without power, in complete exile, with no influential friends. This man, Gordian concluded, seemed more a snobby charlatan than a true expert at anything.
The renegade businessman started up his firm with some principles running contrary to Machiavellian ideas. Concerning auxiliaries, often called “mercenaries,” Gordian believed they’d suit him well. Concerning low intensity conflict, again, Gordian believed these were worth undertaking. His ideas didn’t mesh with the renaissance Italian’s, but still, he may have had something.
Niccolo Machiavelli did recognize that a leader should oversee a subjugated people from up close, allow them their local customs and beliefs, and generally leave them alone. But he didn’t invent these concepts, Alexander did. He led sixty thousand Greeks into Mesopotamia and Hellenized the known world. He was the true model for conquest.
He demonstrated that this region could be ruled by an external power long-term, and that the people of this region could be taught to like Western ways. Mesopotamians had been Greek once, and they could be American, too. What’s so bad about the American lifestyle, anyway? The government doesn’t sanction the book-burnings, after all. These people will go for it, if central control is slackened.
Gord pondered all these thing a few moments before commencing a gravelling session to a crowd in Macao, an island in the stable Pacific Rim.
“I extend my warm thanks to my collaborators in this conference. You’ve all done a wonderful job bringing a very diverse set of interests together, and it’s a privilege to discuss a number of important issues with all of you.”
He collected a beat of breathing space, and moved to the body of the letter.
“A friend recently told me of a story about a single mother from Baltimore, Maryland. This woman, young for a mother, lived in the low budget projects, a neighborhood with little day-to-day interest too involved capitalists like ourselves, but she valued her community, house, and children.
Well, she worked a little during school hours, then came home every evening before school was out, to keep her kids from trouble. But trouble lived in that neighborhood, and while she kept her home as neat and secure as one woman could, pushers ran shop on the curb. Well, she didn’t like it, and informed the police, and the officers would come by in cruisers and flash the lights a few times, and the pushers would vacate for a while.
You all know this story. All of us have stayed in plush hotels long enough to flip on the televisions and tune in to a cop program. You see the thugs, you see complaint, you see the patrol drive by, but there’s always a following episode. Why is that? How do the villains return episode after episode? I should remind all of you, Cops is a reality program that’s been running consistently since 1989, and some of the scripted shows are based on the dossiers from real precincts.
Let me tell you, community policing is hard work. We give officers fast cars and the flashers to circumvent traffic, but we still have high crime districts, effectively in control of pushers very much like the ones based in the Baltimore woman’s street.
I’ll tell you a few things. Organized perps look for vacant lots, boarded windows, peeling paint, all that decay, for some reason. Perhaps, I’ve been grasping this theory, perhaps, they’re fighting us in a very definite asymmetric way.
Conventionally, our armed forces hold onto the high ground, tenable locations, for their own survival, and strategically important locations, because guys like us can mold these things into something useful to our civilization. We put our people where they can survive, and where our industry can prosper. This is smart strategic-thinking maneuver warfare. Our enemies can’t compete in this way. At the turn of the twentieth century, there was a baseball player with a higher batting average than anybody else. He just had this way of getting on base all the time. When asked what his secret was, he replied, “you hit it where they ain’t.”
Apparently, we “ain’t” where the perps are, not often enough, and the reason seems to be economic. We don’t protect low rent areas, places where businesses are viable. We have zones full of crime and violence. In, say, Europe or America, where political affiliations distribute revenue to their pet special interests, crime is going to fluctuate in the regions where the losing interests live.”
Roger clicks a power point map. The famous red/blue county map appears.
“The results of the US of A’s 2000 election, county-by-county, as compares to the FBI’s compiled criminal statistics map. In the following years, the victor’s counties become safer, and the loser’s counties become more dangerous. That says something else about pork barreling in the US, but for my purposes, it also says our reallocating of capital also reallocates crime. In this war, we’ve internally had winners,” a map of Iraq, divided up into different interests.
“In the center, losers, here, where Christians live, apprehensive winners, in the south, people with little to lose, and plenty to gain, and in the North, a people with a degree of autonomy in the last twelve years, but nationhood to gain. The Kurds are broken in factions as well. You have a communist democratic party that has less reason to like us businessmen, and the free market democratic party. Both embrace “freedom,” which makes Washington happy, but they embrace differing visions of what “freedom” is. The outcome of things up north won’t necessarily end in a zero-sum situation, but they see industry differently, and in my country, you touch social security, the other side kills you.”
He breaks during some brief laughter, sips some Evian by the podium, and jumps back in.
“Let’s review the key points again.
1. Government forces are going to jealously guard the important stuff
2. In turn, the perps are going to seize the vulnerable slums.
3. The losers are to become roomies with the perps.
I knew the rules a long time ago; that’s why I dedicated UpLink to connecting the Third World into the global market years ago. You guys watched me base satellite relay stations and fiber optic cable hubs in certain impoverished nations over the years, and thought I was nuts, but I knew what I was doing.
It all occurred to me years ago as a captive, around the time Ho Chi Minh became a good communist; I watched my captives, wondered exactly what separated them from my own military. A code of laws? Communist literature is full of rules. I knew it wasn’t firepower, or brains, or anything else that basic.
I figured it out later when I came home, and picked up a phone for the first time. Somebody was playing a… Crosby Stills and Nash record about a shooting in Ohio.
I think I figured it out. We need unimpeded information flows, trade of goods, and the protection to perform both. We all learned this in business school, but we never listened to the printed word of an eighteenth century Scot.
Gentlemen, I don’t blame any of you for protecting your stashes in Iraq, and I don’t blame the governments for doing it, either, but we need to forge a cooperative venture to take the dry countryside and slums from the enemy.
What we need is cheap backbone in these regions, an international force of peacekeepers like the UN Teal Berets, the hired out infantry of nations willing to dispatch forces for as little as $1,200 a month.
Now, the United Nations won’t come to a resolution to do this for a long time, so we need a brand new ultra-national organization under the same MO, the United Corporations.”
Applause broke out sporadically. These guys weren't enthusiastic about more expenses, but appreciated the grand vision of Gordian's plan. A moderating speaker took the stage.
“These guys aren't enthusiastic about more expenses, but we sure appreciate the grand vision of your plan, Mr. Gordian.”
He introduced a new speaker, and Roger fled the stage, into his entourage, consisting of his Sword personnel recently relieved from the Iraqi theater.
Ricci had kept an anxious expression all evening, a condition set on by his ongoing distrust of Rollie.
“Pete, I don’t know how to order a drink,” he’d said, as the entourage shifted to the right corner of the hall. Tom leaned against the Taiwanese-catered bar, near enough to Pete to carry a whisper over.
His voice became a little raspy as he made a request.
“Could you please order a beer?”
“Certainly,” he spent a moment collecting various words together, then committed.
“Nee yio may-yio bing pee-jiou?”
“Did I just hear you order pee juice?”
“I think I asked for a cold beer,” replied Nimec, “you see, the barmaid is using the beer tap!”
Ricci gladly accepted a full mug, and congratulated his buddy.
“Good work, but I thought you only learned survival Mandarin.”
“In the quarters my old man and I walked in, beer is equated with survival- plus I’m a Firefly nut.”
With some alcohol in his system, the Italian-American visually relaxed.
“Hah. This security arrangement is a bit much, even for me, but I guess nobody wanted to take any chances.”
Indeed, Macao, a former Portuguese colony similar to Hong Kong, is far removed from the Moslem World. Nimec took in what his partner said, and kicked in around, and speaking.
“We don’t truly have a place definitively out of their reach, but this is the best we could come up with. I suppose,” he mused, tumbling a wine glass in one hand, “Brazil would be a place to go. These guys would enjoy Rio. Eh, I just hope the bad guys didn’t intercept any of the mail from GordianKnot.mo… Well, Gahn-bay!”
Eastern United States (Specifically, Baltimore)
“In action be primitive; in foresight, a strategist.”
-Ed Koch, former mayor of New York City
“Vladimir, no, she’s passed on, I don’t want to linger in the hospital.”
Mikhail Ruzhyo stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his red sweater, and buried his down-turned head under the hood.
“Where are you, comrade?”
The Russian hesitated on the Transatlantic line.
“Dover, England. Okay, you don’t have to stay in the hospital, but please, don’t do anything rash. They fed her the anti-angiogenesis meds as I ordered, and their care was great. Pancreatic Cancer just isn’t very treatable, what with the low response to Chemoradiation, even with the Gemcitabine…”
Ruzhyo silenced him.
“Nyet, I don’t need the whole laundry list, I know they always try saving lives. I’m not upset at them, Vlad. I just want to return her home, then go back to work. Immediately.”
The Russian listened.
“So where you going?”
“Right now? Just to get some rest before flying out. You’ll handle the arrangements?”
Ruzhyo rested the cellular phone a notch, noticing a pack of teens, all in team warm-ups, crowded around a recording video camera. All but the cameraman had fists clinched tightly within sweater pouches. A lanky white kid angled to Mikhail’s left flank.
The Chechen let his left eye trace him, and willed his muscles not to grow rigid.
Purple color flashed head-level. A fist preceded the purple blur. The youth impacted empty-handed against Ruzhyo’s hard cranium, precisely where the closed hand didn’t want to land.
In a crescent motion Ruzhyo bats his unsheathed Shirasaya Wakizashi*, follows through the Raven fan’s jugular artery. He springs forward off the lead left foot, and sails for the camera, whipping the samurai blade from left to center.
The polymer casing and lens rain apart for the blade’s passage, and clatter underfoot. The sword swaths the Baltimore team logo. Another leap, hard right. A mugger casts a chain overhead, but Ruzhyo ducks low, sweeps at belly level. The grooved tip opens a bag of viscera. One body plunges to the concrete, and the guy at the Chechen’s face kneels.
The victor pivots, blade extended, to clear his surrounding space. The Wakizashi returns home to the sheath, secure in his sweater pouch. Mikhail, feeling secure, lifts his right hand to his ear.
“Hello, you still there? Good, come to think of it, I need to fly out right away. Can you arrange for my flight? To Germany? Wundervoll!”
“Wundervoll, indeed my friend,” Plenkanov absently read off his instructions, as his eyes wandered over the Cliffside long ago used as a jumping point for early aviators. Motivated by the incentives of prestige and a reward, scores of otherwise sane European males strapped on wings and committed faith in their contraptions. The first crossing wasn’t from this side, however, for Louis Bleriot made the crossing from Calais.
Just as well, the British needed taken down a peg at the time, mused the Russian, but darn if the Americans wouldn’t be counted out, sending the first woman over.
“I’ll see you soon,” he disconnected, and corked his iPod In-Ear Headphones in his ears. Luciano Pavarotti’s rich Italian tenor crooned luxuriantly at 80db. Time to get to work.
He settled his laptop in place, and entered his preferred world.
Suppose, he mused, I have an email account visually identical to Mr. Tom Ricci’s of UpLink’s roster, TomRicci@Hotmail, except I, being Russian, use the Cyrillic ‘C.’
While musing, He registered such an address at MSN, all the while scheming to integrate the move into his larger plan.
(Author’s note: currently, Hotmail doesn’t offer Russian as an available language, and I wasn’t able to get the registration to recognize Russia as my country, so this scheme isn’t workable anymore. I’m not admitting to any illegal activity, but I test a lot of what I write about.)
“Mission complete, now to fit it into my other components,” he muttered, pulling up the altered form of the Trojan horse he’d been modifying. When attaching a malicious file to an email, one must then attach an innocent file after that, so only the most innocent file extension can be seen. Most go with .JPG, but .PDF or .MPEG work just fine.
He didn’t go for such shaky ploys, preferring to go with an HTML header file commonly attached to UpLink mail.
And finally, the last step, mailing it to MBreen@DSL.
And with a flourish, he stood atop the grassy cliff, and lofted the physical evidence over the cliff. The laptop met the same fate as plenty of the early flyers.
A slight detour, but the wet works agent belatedly realized he needed to find a clean retirement for the concealed weapon.
Step one, find an unattended carwash.
Somewhere near the beltway, he found one. Ruzhyo had the sword tied to the roof rack of his station wagon, so even if someone witnessed him washing the car, nothing would seem unusual. As it happened, an aged Vietnamese woman, owner/operator of the truck stop, happened to see him, and dismiss him just as quickly.
Step two, buy a few miscellaneous pieces of junk.
He u-turned to the parking lot, and briskly trotted inside, and pawed some of the junk souvenirs a Maryland truck stop has to offer.
“Excuse me, Miss?”
He could only see her bent over posterior, but she seemed busy.
“Patrick, you get the counter, okay?”
A young half-Vietnamese half-Caucasian boy manned the cash register. His eyes attentively appraised the LCD readout.
“Are you buying any gas?”
“Gas? Nyet, I’m just buying these items.”
The boy looked at the counter.
“Keychains, tobacco pipes, and a country compilation CD? You Russians are oddballs!”
His mother, overhearing, shouted.
“Patrick, don’t insult the customers!”
He added up the price.
“$21.83,” he said flatly, sounding either shamed or dull.
Ruzhyo slapped down an Andrew Jackson and an Abraham Lincoln.
The boy saved the money, and shouted toward the lady.
“Mama, Uncle Jack is in!”
The boy handed out the proper change, and dismissed his customer.
“Sure, I don’t need a bag or anything,” muttered the Russian, as he turned into the tall dark-haired white guy behind him.
“Pardon me,” he said politely.
“No problem,” replied Mikhail.
He didn’t look back, he just vacated the scene, and lobbed the junk into the passenger seat, and reversed the vehicle.
Step three, park beside the sprawl that is an outdoor flea market, and peddle goods from the hatchback.
Mikhail found a large rutted area filled with rainwater beside a white-on-puke hail-beaten recreational vehicle. He bundled up the tacky items, and rested them on the tailgate.
One Shirasaya sword and later, he had his market, and one toothpick and nonchalant posture late, he had the proper flea market salesman look correct.
This sloppy appearance is more Grigory’s livelihood, he amusedly thought, idly picking away at teeth that didn’t need cleaning. He slouched for effect, watching every variety of the species mingle and gawk at items no individual has a need for, until a pudgy teen or preteen boy of alabaster color focused in one exactly what Ruzhyo had leaning on his chest.
“Gawd! That’s one of the swords from Rouroni Kenshin! How much, how much?”
The Chechnya native made a spirited effort to stretch out a lazy southern drawl.
“Lemme figer… Awe, I’ll take a fiver fur th’ sword. Cheaper in Walmart, ahuh.”
The KGB had taught him to always say “cheaper than Walmart,” if he ever had the need to sell his weapon in the Southern United States. Supposedly, the phrase will sound native.
“Five bucks? Sure!”
The boy dug deep within the pockets of his oversized trousers, but after a time of wrangling, his pale hand surfaced with a wad of cash.
“Take care now, ya hear?!”
“Ha! I am the Ronin Samurai, looking for love and gold! Ah!”
In the near-privacy of a wooded park several meters from an RV park, the kid bounced from a friend’s trampoline, striking overhead with his new Shirasaya. The blade dragged through the drenched sod upturned by his lead foot.
He held a striking pose as his stereo pumped out his anthem, Godsmack’s contribution to The Scorpion King. He let the ethereal instrumental bridge to wrap up, then made a show of pointing the Wakizashi toward heaven, then one more stylish striking pose, before slowly housing it away in the scabbard within his improvised sash.
Everybody’s going to feel so gay not being a swordsman like me, he thought.
As his favorite Creed song got underway, he practiced flicking the sword underhand with his wrists. He kept a stern look while he channeled fierceness and angst. His slashes grew faster and more sure, until he felt confident enough to slash and sing simultaneously.
“Now I saw a face on the water
It looked humble but willing to fight
I saw the will of a warrior
His yoke is easy and His burden is light…”
The school bus let the trailer park kids, so he climbed back atop the big trampoline.
“Hiya!” He fell facing a pack of girls, all toting oversized backpacks.
“I am a lonely ronin samurai, on a quest for love and gold!”
They barely glanced at him.
“You are so queer, it isn’t even funny,” then they walked on.
“Oh yeah? You’re the gay-wads!” In the middle of his outrage, someone shutoff ‘Bullets’ during the chorus.
“Look at me... look at me
At least look at me when you shoot a bullet through my head
Through my head
Through my head
Through my head”
Angrily, he swiveled around.
“That’s my music, fag-!”
“Yeah, we have don’t ask, don’t tell in our apartment, so it wasn’t a nice idea to blurt my secret. I’m Detective Walther, this is Detective Morrison,” Morrison tipped her hat, “and we’re here over a complaint that someone’s been swinging a sword around the community.”
“Thing is, there’s actually more to the story. You see, we just answered a call about some people with sword wounds in the hospital parking lot, and we’re wondering if there’s some correlation,” said Morrison.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” evaded the kid, “I-I, I use my sword for peace.”
Walther leaned his elbows on the trampoline and sneered.
“Well that’s interesting, because I could have sworn I heard you say you fight for gold.”
The boy balled both fists.
“Are you a retard? That’s just my motto!”
“Ha, so your motto has no relation to reality? The kid’s a future politician, I can tell that!”
The kid looked ready to bolt.
“This is gay. I’m going inside.”
And he did bolt, an action aborted by Morrison’s talons.
“Hold on, we just want to take you to the department for a while. How can we contact, say, a parent or guardian?”
“You act less like a homo!”
“Alright, you can call them when we’re at the station. Come on.”
*A Shirasaya is a thin block of wood with a hidden Japanese blade inside, and Wakizashi is a short blade a Samurai is allowed to carry in establishments that don’t allow them to take their Katana inside. Together, a Shirasaya Wakizashi is a dangerous concealed weapon, as seen in samurai films and manga.
I thank everyone but myself for the reviews, and I hope everyone appreciates how human and flawed the characters are in this chapter.
A few chapters back, I tried adding a hyperlink concerning former FBI Director Louie Freeh in here. I’ll try again.
Topic: Internet Living
My mail is down, and I can't access my fanfiction acount, and I had a major hard drive failure, but things are looking up, and why is that? I always have a
Contingency. For starters, I run two hard drives, two websites, have two online writing accounts, access to two other computers, run Linox and Windows OSes on all my computers, and now, I have this blog.
In the morning, I'll check my alternate mailbox, and then begin fixing everything, but for now, i'm turning in.
Posted by gundam/typewriterking at 12:43 AM CST
Wednesday, 24 November 2004
Now Playing: Eponymous, R.E.M
A have a page of links to Gundam Wing comic scans on my Gundam site. That's about all I've done as a netizen today.
So what have I been up to? Mainly just research and reading for pleasure. I just finished a Larry Bond book, and now I’m reading Dale Brown. I’m checking Fanfiction.net regularly, to see if it’s fixed. No dice. Boy, I really wanted that up for the holiday- I just knew some big news would come out of Iraq, and considering that’s my subject matter, it would be a double-treat. Is the chemical lab story already out of the news cycle? Gosh, “NO super-duper weapons” was THE NEWS for an entire year, despite a few sporadic trace findings, and the story’s shelved so soon? Fishy.
My Gateway picked up a virus this week, but I had it contained immediately, so no trouble. I printed Talos’ scifi story, and read it when returning from the Thanksgiving diner (didn’t drive). I have a glitch with the Robotech game. I don’t know exactly how to package everything in the campaign, meaning I don’t know how to export the mission campaign online with all the media in the proper folders. You see, images, movies, stuff like that, has to fit into the right places, and really, I never thought about it until starting. That’s still a month or so in the future, no I won’t sweat it.
To do list:
Leave review for Talos.
Exercise, especially on weight training.
Resume writing Gordian.
Outline some more of the Robotech storyline.
Things to put off
The Angelfire site can wait, but don’t forget the new one.
All essays can wait.
No one is psyched about my moviemaking, so can that for a while.
Things to research
Mechwarrior: I want to look back into that world.
NVG and rangefinder countermeasures. How to you baffle them?
Chechen rebels and groups.
Posted by gundam/typewriterking at 12:25 AM CST
I've basically been doing nothing worth mentioning, but that's how it is. I've just been letting everything wash over me. I just don't have anything to say. I've just been sitting around not getting anything done, but it's not important. Basically nothing noteworthy happening to speak of, not that it matters. Pfft.
Posted by gundam/typewriterking at 11:26 PM CST
Tuesday, 30 November 2004
After Monday Night Football
I'll repost my reply to Sentinel's comments in case some people can't find it:
" Holy Mama, I got another comment!
This is an exciting inquiry. Okay, Sentinel- do you want to be called Sentinel? I’m talking about a Mod (a fan-made game modification) Max Sterling built for Freespace 2, before he left for other pursuits. His team did a wonderful job of recreating the mechs and fighters from the series, but he left the world with no campaign to play, even though building one is really easy, using the FRED (whatever that means) tools within the game. FRED is a kind of design template for editing custom missions and campaigns, and occasionally, the Viscount and I put in a little time working it out. We don’t have much, but we’ve already got more than the entire original team built, so things are looking good.
If the URL (http://www.robotechlan.com/freespace2/
As for being a ‘Genome’ staff member (presently at zero), I’ll post what Fanfiction.net has to say about C2 staff in quotation marks below:
“You can recruit staff members to maintain and expand your C2 community.
A staff can add stories to the archive and remove stories they previously added.
Choose your staff carefully as their reputation will trickle down and will ultimately be reflected on the entire C2 group.
Steps required to add staff:
1. Communicate personally (i.e. via email) with potential staff before going to the next step.
2. Come to this page and enter the user id of potential staff.
3. Staff activation email will be set to the user at this stage.
4. Wait for user to activate via email link to complete the staffing process.”
That’s really all there is to it, but of course, I’m more ambitious than that. I can build the basics of a dedicated Military Fiction/fanfiction site at ‘Freewebs’ in all of one minute-Heck, I’ve already done that- and with the permission of the better writers, I can offer to post their stories on the dedicated site in the professional Ebook .PDF format, or a more obscure electronic book format. I can do this while hosting fan artwork, at least a little, and I can top that off by creating an MSN group dedicated to that.
That’s all it takes. All a staff member really has to do (at least at the FF.Net chapter) is say which stories are good for the C2. It’s not much of a commitment at all."
Alright, thanks for the help, Sentinel, but wouldn't it be Convenient if you had an email address?
As everyone can see, I’m in America’s Central Time Zone (so you know I can’t possibly do anything important!), and it’s kind of late. The blog is the last thing I do in the day, Mom, if you’re reading. Those hours watching football were moments I could have done something more productive, I know, but hey, Brett Farve is the man, right?
Hey Sentinel, you’re from Missouri, right? As a native of that place, are you a fan of the Rams, or the Chiefs? Priest Holmes, Priest Holmes, Priest Holmes!
Well, in a blog, you usually opine about news items like Monday night games and such, right? So what do I have to say about Farve, who just started his 200th consecutive game, a streak that dates back to the George H.W. Bush Administration? I resort to regurgitating polling data, first of all (just like any TV journalist). On ESPN.com, 51% of those polled said Farve’s achievement surpassed Cal Ripkin’s in awesomeness, and I guess I agree with that. Football is a more rabid animal.
On the same topic, I don’t recall seeing Farve fumble, throw an interception, or mess up in any contrivable way. He ran the offense the same way I would, ran running plays well, and really scoped the field succinctly enough to avoid being rushed. The game was one by the defense, but I was pleased by seeing him make the correct snap decisions. In summery, I’m glad I set things aside just to watch this trivial football game.
Memo to ABC and MNF fans: I want you people at Disney to become really introspective for the rest of the week, and find a real argument for hating Dennis Miller’s short-lived role on the program. You cut him back for being distracting to the game, right? So, you intrusive animations, explosive sound effects, recorded Hank Williams Jr. performance, and seamless promotion of your other programs don’t?
Let me give it to you straight; Within the game, your program directors told personal narratives about Farve’s career, his personality, his role within the league’s history, his wife’s medical history, the effects of death within Farve’s family, and a thousand other sub stories that Miller could have cut down to a twenty second rant. You guys couldn’t tell the story coherently, and you have to use visual aids.
And another thing; John Madden isn’t distracting? Guys, is speech is slow, his mannerism are weird, and he makes up expressions without known meanings. Please, the man’s a talking Pollack painting, for God’s sake, so between him, Hank Jr, and coed scenes from the locker room, can’t you fit Miller back in?
Alright, signing off. I'll write a thousand or two words after I wake up, I promise.
Now Playing: Pickin' On U2: A Bluegrass Tribute
So this is December. Aids Day, right? Here's all the imput from Fanfiction's C2 help:
"What is C2
C2 is a powerful tool for the proactive FanFiction.Net critics and various communities in general. The name C2 originates from the fact that it is a tool with multiple uses and can represent something different to each user.
1. A C2 community is managed by the community creator.
2. A community can have many staff members.
3. Each community has a story archive managed by the leader and associated staff.
4. Manager can add, remove staff members and also add, remove stories to the community archive.
5. Staff members can add stories to the C2 archive and remove stories added previously by the same staff.
6. Registered FanFiction.Net users can subscribe to a community via C2 Email Alerts.
Subscribers will be notified by email when a new story is added to the community.
1. Each registered user can create and manage one C2 community.
2. Archive can only hold stories from the focus category rated G through PG13.
3. All communities are public.
4. C2 community is to be used to promote and showcase recommended stories only and is not be used to highlight negative aspects of entries.
Think of C2 as the "favorite stories" feature on steriods.
C2 manager is not a trivial position and requires dedication to be successful. If you do not have the capacity required to be a successful C2 manager, we recommend you to become a partcipant: apply as a staff to an existing C2 community."
Do any of you guys see that in your your profiles anywhere? I could take some desktop graphics, if you need more visual aid.
Well, Cheah...Tex, I thank you both for taking interest in these things. I hope we can put it all to Mutual use.
Sentinel, I suppose I could try again. I'm writing and working in realtime here. I can't seem to remove it. Looks like you're in limbo.
Last on the agenda... in case anyone out there wants to know how my chapter's going, I'll release a draft of a little I've sketched out:
Dover to Bitburg
Ruzhyo numbly boarded Vladimir’s little Piper Arrow in the South of England, after a restless transatlantic commercial flight from Baltimore to Montreal to London. As per their earlier arrangement, Vlad had no need for any help from the agent, so the Chechen slumped in the passenger seat, and closed his eyes.
He vaguely recalled Plenkanov radioing the Dover tower, but nodded off after hearing a few humdrum number-laced exchanges. The need of rest outweighed curiosity. It was no contest, really. Minutes over the Calais or somewhere, Ruzhyo didn’t care, his senses completely shutoff. The Russian briefly looked over at his passenger between checks at the instrument panel. His Virgin radio station faded out over some WWI cemetery. Just as well, the sun will be up soon, and traffic will pick up.
He spotted the dawn patrol from Spangdahlem, an F-16c pair on a racetrack pattern in Southwest Germany. There collision lights blinked at him, just so he’d know they were watching. The leader told he they were of the 52ed Fighter Wing, and cautioned him to mind his course. No problem. Plenkanov couldn’t help playing up his Russian accent on this occasion.
“Tower, am I clear for landing at the BITBURG runway? Oh,” he feigned to realize, “That’s a United States Air Force base, no? I’d better scatter from restricted airspace!”
The combat pilot irritably corrected him.
“Negative, flight, Bitburg is your destination.”
Vladimir tried conveying his smile across the radio.
“Da, this the former home of your great superpower’s mightiest fighter squadron, no? Yet here I am, a Russian aviator, ending a joyride at this airbase. Tell me, who won the Cold War?”
“This is tower, flight. The pattern is clear, you are clear to land,” the tower gave him a heading and a strip.
“Acknowledged. I’m putting her down.”
Few people and few activities are present these days at Bitburg, not since the 1994 closure. In fact, Plenkanov can’t really find many light sources as he and Ruzhyo exit a small flight hangar, and stroll to the ancient staff parking lot. No chauffeurs lounge by the car provided one day before by one of the major continental rental agencies.
Ruzyho naps again after finishing his shuffle to the car. That’s fine. Plenkanov exits on Autobahn A-48 toward a little storage rental unit in the base’s decaying little host hamlet. Two vicious Rottweilers lunge at the ends of chains behind a fence to the side. The Russian ignores them, and digs out the storage key. He flashes as mini LED flashlight, matching the numbers to his number. At last, not too soon, they’re in synchronicity. He works and padlock, and eases the chain clear, then pushes in a slant.
He found the switch and flicked it. Inside was a securely locked gun cabinet. He rotated the dial a few combinations, and removed the twin contents; two lacquered Saiga 12-gauge shotguns with 580mm barrels and folding butt stocks.
“Mikhail, tote the spare magazines and shells out,” he called, low enough that no one would hear, over the Rottweiler banshees. The Chechen rubbed both eyes.
“Sure, I’m coming.”
Then they resumed running down A-48 at all possible Porsche might. They held course until the car reached the exit at Trier, and Plenkanov shifted again. On the right turn on B-50, they found a McDonalds drive-through.
Crappy intercom: “Welcome to McDonalds, may I take your order?”
“Two coffees, please.”
“Would you like fries with that?”
The burger-flipper named a price, and cut the com.
The took the cups, exchanged a Euro or so, and found the next AUSFAHRT (exit, not a special place to release flatulence, as some newbie Americans believe).
Under an hour later, they found themselves on Autobohn 6, very near Kaiserslautern’s Rod and Gun Club. FIN
If anyone has any imput on that, don't be shy. Now, I
know of something you will all want to look into:
Level 34 Central Plaza One
345 Queen Street
Brisbane, QL 4000
William Owens - Chairman
James O'Dwyer - President
See y'all later.
To help Sentinel (and maybe myself) out, I took down the C2, only to rebuild it all a minute later. The new form is better.
Oh, and I read a BBC article about people like myself. So, I'm a Pro Am.
Look at the British PM mingled with children in Basra. I wonder if that's the real reason the South is in better shape?
Does anyone need or want a South Park avatar? Well, South Park Studio has something to make one with, and Viscount and I took full advantage.
It uses the Flash Player, so make sure your plugins are up to date, and you need special capturing tools- I
I should have cropped this, but I'm so lazy, even that effort is too much. It's in a .png format, so of course, I'm surprised it is supported. You have a good idea... Tex, I have a draft of the hero right here.
As it turns out, there are a lot of these little things. Below is an image I conjured for the logo of my upstart Mechwarrior Mercenaries team, Yewtree Solutions. The Yew is a fine wood for making English (actually, Welsh) longbows, and is also an English symbol for death, because the tree grows in cemeteries.
Q: OK, the tree makes sense, but why call the team Yewtree Solutions?
A: Well, look at the names of real companies that provide these services, firms like Defence Systems Ltd., Longreach Security, and others. I just chose something typical of the currant trend. That will be all for this interview.
Today I'm going to work on technical aspects of my projects. Thank you all. I'll have an update on my progress later today.
Alright, I tested out a lot of freewebs features, did troubleshooting, stuff like that, and things are working, including the critical insertion of .PDF
This means I'm ready to start in earnest. So, all I need to do now is work on the look and feel, and take in content. So, does anyone have a submission?
Posted by gundam/typewriterking at 3:54 PM CST
In... I think it was chapter five... of I described an inconsequential ambush in Kuwait. Alas, I've found the video of what I was describing, or close, anyway.
Cursing, sounds of gunfire, but nothing disturbing.
All in all, not unlike driving in Dallas! So what do you think; were those initial explosives set in a daisy chain? Looked like it. They really shouldn't drive SUVs in that sort of environment.
Have you ever read the National Review? It's Right-Wing, and I bet a little different than anything you've read before. What does a movie review
read like? Here's an excerpt from an article by Catherine Seipp:
"This weekend I finally saw The Grudge, which opens with that bit about something dying in a state of extreme rage, etc. The film takes place in Tokyo and was produced by the same guy who did the much scarier The Ring. It also defies the laws of physics, because if ghosts can grab and tear apart people, then in return can't people grab and tear apart ghosts? But no one even tries that in The Grudge.
"There's nothing we can do, I'm sorry," the Japanese detective tells a wan Sarah Michelle Gellar.
Now even if she's not Buffy here, Gellar's still an American, and we handle things differently. I mean, come on, the really rageful ghost in this story — the murderous husband and father — never even makes an appearance. So what we're talking about is a ghost woman, a ghost child, and a ghost cat. I would have torn off the head of at least one of them and thrown it down the stairs.
But then, of course, I'm a Republican."
Cathy, in your article, that's funny, but shouting it
in the theater was inappropriate. There's a time and a place for everything, and in my ear wasn't that place.
Actually, I don't go to movie houses, but you knew I was joking, right? Their writing is colorful, no?
That's all for now.
Wednesday, 8 December 2004
Getting around a hard drive failure
Topic: Internet Living
I survived a major crash, and can now operate out of Linux pretty well. I haven't been able to do much more than maintaining the old Gateway.
I'm now wondering if I just caught a random bug, or if I was singled out in some flame war gone horribly wrong. Perhaps a proud cyberpunk didn't like my belittling the mythical hacker status. Can't count it out, after the Van Gogh murder.
Well, I beat it, and I'm free to fight back, if I can ever figure out who to retaliate against.
Thanks for the reply, Sentinel, I grew up really close to a police shooting range, so I'm used to that sort of thing. It's true what they say; if an elephant is parked in the backyard long enough, you don't think of it as unusual anymore.
One final word: I've resumed writing, and will have something substantial soon enough.
Here I am, after a short hiatus brought on by the coupling of an illness and a whole lot of traveling.
I’m listening to Viscount’s box set, and feeling like I’m not going to puke anymore. The current music track sound much like a low tempo Police instrumental. This really isn’t overrated at all.
In the two days I’ve been ill, I haven’t really written anything, but I did build the Homeland Defense Threat Generator. It took two days, these time than it took Bernard Kerik to cycle in and out of the vetting, and it does roughly the same job as the whole department.
Posted by gundam/typewriterking at 12:34 AM CST
Now Playing: Ghost in the Shell
Noise pelted ears irritably in homes all over Southern California during the hours before sunrise, when UpLink's legion of secretaries dialed the numbers of the company's network security personnel.
These men, and a few women, slowly rose from the beds or couches of their apartments or bungalows, and grouped for the necks of conventional phones, or maybe the arches of headphones, and hailed the other end in original groggy ways.
Not all were asleep. Some, in fact, were playing the new release of PS2 Dragon Ball Z game when their calls interrupted.
They all wondered what the copy-and-paste illiterates in the executive offices needed figured out. They probably wondered how the spreadsheet data vanished, or some such...
Most listened with the usual ill-masked condescension of the dependable office technocrat, sure the answer to whatever they had in the corporate rectum could be wiped out with a sheet from the help contents.
Then they heard the hysterics. Their faces paled. Their mouths plumed green. They speed-dialed India.
“Sanjay, we've got some real trouble!”
They called their own employees, their own enlightened computer gurus, their hired crutches for CODE RED alerts.
Los Angeles, Ca
April 16, 2004
From the Los Angeles Times:
Iraq War Contract Worker
wanted for Murder.
News from Iraq gets dirtier all the time. Just this morning, the Los Angeles Times received information implicating soldier-for-hire, Paul Evens, for the murder of a popular and well-regarded Arkansas shop-owner.
According to statements taken after the murder, Evens revealed that the death occurred after the owner confessed to relation with Evens’ wife, but the police neglected to charge the former marine, despite having a video tape that clearly shows Evens throwing the Mormon shop-owner into traffic.
Evens is currently in Southern Iraq, fighting under the orders of his boss, Roger Gordian, yes, the same Roger Gordian who operates his private army, Sword, in hot spots throughout the world.
Gordian cannot be reached for comment.
Paul Evens was a self-employed repo man in Bennington, Arkansas, at the time of the murder. A former marine attack helicopter pilot, Evens was reprimanded and reduced in rank disobeying orders, and the reckless endangerment of Somali civilians in 1993. He did, however, manage to work his way to an honorable discharge after recalled service from the Marine Reserves in early 2002.
Our legal correspondent tells us the Department of Justice has determined that the task of arresting a military contract worker “in an active theater” falls under the responsibility of the Department of Defense. Gee golly, Rumsfeld’s mess.
We’re watching to see how this turns out.
The DOJ did indeed stick DOD with the case, leaving two very miffed CIS (Criminal Investigative Service) agents the burden of bringing in the alleged murderer. Because Evens was a Marine as late as 2002, the brass (the Undersecretary of Defense) determined that the job belonged to NCIS, the Navy Criminal Investigative Service. It was early morning in Virginia when the Secretary of the Navy got the call. He didn’t feel like handling it, so he grumpily phoned the JAG office, and asked the Admiral in charge to task one of his lawyers with finding if the Navy truly had any obligation to arrest this civilian.
The JAG had a heavy workload involving a prison case in Cuba, so he passed it off to a junior Lieutenant, and left the office for his dawn C-21 flight to GITMO. The Lieutenant shopped around for someone to pass it off to, but he was the last person to delegate too.
Spike TV was showing Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and he’d hoped to have an hour open to watch it during a lunch break. Nuts.
Unhappy to be where the buck stopped, he didn’t put much effort into researching how the Navy could legally shirk the responsibility placed on it, the Lieutenant informed the Admiral they’d have to take it, so the Admiral, or rather, the Admiral’s secretary, tossed the bad news back up to the Secretary of the Navy, who called the Secretary of Defense, who piped the information to the National Security Advisor in the White House.
Finally, at noon eastern time, Secretary Rice whispered news to President Bush that two NCIS agents were flying to Baghdad International Airport to pickup the former marine. That’s how the process was “stovepiped” around.
Okay, this is me writing in Livejournal, and the above is what I said in my Angelfire blog last year. You can visit it for the links, pictures, and midis I have posted.
That was Jan. 3erd
I added more Jan. 9
Current Music: Moby, Play
Before I even had a web log, I kept a few entries on my first website.
These should be archived for posterity.
The Website (The First version of Typewriter Ribbons.)
Moving swiftly moving ahead at making the pages, though assembling them on site is more tricky. Remember that this is the first time I’ve done this.
Well, as I write this, Thanksgiving and Blood are winding down. Heero’s about to make his move in Columbia, and so is Zechs.
So what else is in the works? The follow up shorts to Blood, for one thing, and more dedication to the website. I have a vision for casting the pilots in the Dick Tracy strip. That will feature Heero and Duo V. Zechs and Noin. No, the focus won’t be on pairing them. Like Blood, it will be Cold War themed.
Right, I fan fiction work goes beyond Gundam. I said I might post a Star Wars story I wrote, but I never found the first page. (That was written the old fashioned way, on paper.)
I had some ideas about adding to the Tom Clancy section, by scribing a novella crossing over Power Plays and Net Force. Ricci and Nemic are to be contractors in Iraq, in one of those stories “ripped from the headlines.” A favorite Spetsnez officer from Net Force will be the antagonist.
The plot calls for Ricci and Nemic to play “keep-away” with the Russian, in their role as bodyguard for Paul Bremer. Gordian’s Sword force replaces the real-life task of Blackwater Security.
Soon, I’ll finish what I’ve kept on the backburner for a while, my “fun with real audio” gundam movie. This will feature the misadventures of the five doctors of Gundam Wing.
I’ve also planned making a mission campaign for 1999’s Freespace 2. It will be a Robotech themed mission pack focusing on Vance Hasselwood’s new reality show, Veratech Pilot. Thanks to Max Sterling’s groundbreaking work, it will have a professional look.
Besides my work in fandoms, I don’t have all that much on my plate. Contact me at www.typewriterking@isp.Com if you wish to involve me in anything. I’ll probably find a way to contribute.
Once I’m satisfied my site measures up with all the others, I’ll throw myself into the webrings. If anyone wants to keep a column, I currently have plenty of space for text. All you have to do is mail me the text, and I can pretty up a page to put it on. Angelfire has rules about content, but whatever’s fine with them is fine with me, as long as you’re reasonably logical and coherent, a contributor to the community, not a filthy reprobate, et cetera.
If you’re different from me, good, because I could use the diversity.
I had one another entry, my writing journal:
I’m new to submitting text documents to this site, so please forgive me if the look of my first chapter is unprofessional. Future chapters will be smaller if reader interest picks up, because I’ll then what to submit regularly to equal demand. Your reviews do count, so please offer some input.
-Typewriter King, March 31, 2004
I owe Tom Wolfe some credit for his pioneering work crafting the concept of “the right stuff” for consumption for readers. I strongly recommend adult readers interested in chapter three to read Wolfe’s book, “The Right Stuff,” and parents should search for a Reader’s Digest version of the book for their kids. Also, I’d like to give credit to Viscount Lancer for helping me edit the first two chapters. I don’t own the Gundam Universe; I’m just lent a little slice of it. The concept of the right stuff doesn’t belong to anyone, even Tom Wolfe, that honor guess to fighter jocks, especially those at the top of the pyramid. I named Kale after a leafy vegetable. Mogadishu, Bogotá, Luxemburg City, and Cali are all real places, and the CVA really is the Columbian equivalent of the Tennessee Valley Authority. Any resemblance between my drug war and someone else’s events, real or fiction, is purely coincidental. Rashid’s duel with Kale is loosely based on opening events in the 1982 war between Israel and Syria. Needless to say, mobile-suits saw no action in that war.
I assume my readers are fully satisfied with the action in the last chapter, so here’s some more background in the Narcotic State. The tough banditos are coming soon, but I’ll showcase a more pacific setting in the country, and I’ll let Zecks opine on the world order his sister created. Speaking of which, I think I discovered my first plot hole; where is Relena? And if someone kills their sister, is it still called fratricide?
Hello readers! I just want to tell you, I wrote the first song, but Michael Stipe really did write the second one. My Napoleon quote really is a rephrased Napoleon quote, and I’m hoping most of you recognize the prayers of Bishop Douglas as prayers that date back to the Early Christian Church. Summer’s approaching, and I still hope reviews will come before autumn. This chapter is much larger than my past few, and contains less action than normal, but I hope it isn’t boring. If I do have any readers, they must be wondering when Heero will show up. I promise you I’ll reveal him from hiding. You may think this is almost wrapped up, but you have no idea.
May 18, 2004
I think I have a few edits to make in the last chapter. I gave a 40mm cannon the wrong name, and I said loose when I should have said lose. Who cares? Do I even have any readers to care for? Are there any trekies out there to tell what I got wrong in the last chapter? I admit I only take a passing interest in the Star Trek universe, and I wasn’t paying an awful amount of attention to episode, so I likely made an error.
Maybe if Star Trek were a product of Bandai I’d pay more attention. Last time I checked, Paramount Pictures owned most things Star Trek.
One news update: mine is now the only Action/Adventure story of over 40,000 words starring Duo and Zechs. How excellent that I’ve accomplished a milestone no other has at Fanfiction.net . Yet I still have no reviews. Sure is lonely.
A few changes are occurring that could alter your life here: I’m changing my internet service provider, and an address change will go with it. I don’t yet know what my new provider will be called, but I’ll keep “Typewriter King” in the address.
I also plan on righting more of the story, and less of the commentary in the future, but there are still some things I want to say now.
1. I’ve never read the Gundam comics.
2. If you truly want to understand Trowa Barton’s psychology, read Lost Horizon.
3. I saw the series on American cable before watching the DVDs and Endless Waltz on DVD.
4. I’ll make a simple website soon, but don’t expect much at first.
5. I’m going to type up an old Star Wars fan fiction I wrote a long time ago (nearly a decade has passed), and consider putting it up on the site.
I’m wondering if this site will support pictures in my docs. Just testing.
July 12, 2004
In the real world, Director Une’s real world counterpart, George Tenet, is officially out of work as CIA director. I had a chance to chat with him after he left Langley, giving him one more chance to use the agency’s favorite emoticon…
They should put those on the spook T-shirts. I’ve been editing, as I’m sure no one has noticed, but now twenty chapters are up with the upgrades. I’m finally receiving reviews, and I’ve diversified myself with a field of short stories on the fanfiction.net site.
I have a collection of Robin Hood letters up. There’s also a parable in the Road to Perdition universe, a short based on the Book of Daniel, I guess, and a little humorous slice of Americana based on a Washington Irving story.
I’ve been researching the net with the powerful Mozilla Firefox browser, and I’ve found some great resources out there. I also toured the old reliable Global Security.org archives, the Willow Rosenburg of military writing resources. Speaking of Willow, has anyone else noticed that most of the great diversified fanfic writers also explore the Buffyverse?
Oh yeah, I extend my thanks to Ukchana for being constructive. Next to the Viscount, you’re my Willow- or Xander.
And a thanks Anonymous, if that’s your real name.
Besides research and editing, I’ve taken Ukchana’s advice, and read a book. Reading actually is a regular hobby of mine. At the time of my last Gundam Wing submission, it was Robin Cook, then I picked up a William Gibson/Bruce Sterling collaboration, got bored with it, and bought Blind Man’s Bluff from a book store. The Difference Engine will probably be more interesting when I read it some more, but the nonfiction submarine thriller earns my recommendation. Of course, all my readers must know I love submarines.
So far, I must say, the submarine fanfictions I’ve read so far don’t measure up to the published tales, or even Global Security’s raw information.
I admit, I’ve never read Hunt for Red October, though I plan too, and I own the movie, if that’s any consolation, but here’s how I rank the best submarine-inclusive books I’ve read:
1. The Sum of All Fears (haven’t seen the movie, assumes the star actor downgraded Jack Ryan)
2. Debt of Honor (Now that the Comanche’s scrapped, Japan is safe to fight a trade war. Oh my!)
3. Blind Man’s Bluff (not yet finished, but I like it.)
4. SSN (I know, it’s a tie-in for a video game, but it doesn’t seem cheapened at all.)
5. Submarine! A Guided Tour… (The title rambles on a while. An early part of Tom Clancy’s Guided Tour books.)
Kilo Class. (Technically alright, but I couldn’t imagine the United States going to such lengths to keep the PRC from acquiring a diesel-electric boat.)
How do the fanfictions rank?
1. Carrier: Dire Straits (The Admiral’s WW III battle in the Formosa Strait. Action driven, surface centered. Lacks character development, but the plot’s competent and well researched.)
2. Transient (Lefire’s Command and Conquer submarine short. Done passably well.)
3. #3 doesn’t exist in my experience, but I’ll see if someone wrote a passable U-571 story or something.
Well, that’s enough talk for now. Time for Heero to perform some gratuitous violence.
Welcome to the latest chapter, Mens Rea. Well, since last updating, I’ve discovered that the Major’s latest story, The Hunt for Akai Jugatsu, is the only Gundam Wing story with the word “submarine” labeled in it’s summary. It’s good, too.
There’s another good submarine book I forgot about, I think it’s called Big Red, about the everyday happenings of a Trident boomer. It was a bestseller, written by a famous journalist, although I can’t remember his name, and it’s worth reading, even if boomers are less exiting than fast attacks.
In news related to my fiction: I’ve been considering names for Commodore Norris’s boat, which I long ago decided should be of the fiction Hyman Rickover-Class, and I think the name should be Kinnaird R. McKee. The McKee was just a tender in SSN, but I’m going to upgrade it in my own tale. (In case you’re wondering, Captain McKee was a real-life legend in the American fleet, skippering the USS Dace in the days it was successfully tailing Russian boomers.)
The Rickover class will be a double-hulled titanium type of boat, and will run on a fusion pump-jet engine, in case you can’t wait for some details.
August 1, 2004
Bon journo, my readers. Today, Angelfire is hosting the site I’m progressively building. As of July’s end, I only have a proof-of concept existing to tell everyone I have a website in the making. I have a highly unique picture, a link to the story you want to read, and not much else, but as anyone that knows me will say, I always deliver.
For the near future, this site will be about gundams, but later, I hope to tie in more things centered on Typewriter King.
A shout-out to the Viscount, who put in some secretarial work while I handled artistic details.
I’ve almost reached my writing quota for August already, so I’ll have plenty of extra time to build up the aesthetics of the site. I’m going for something really classy and quick for dialup, preferably something more than the usual fanfic-fanart warehouse. I’ll provide links to those, but I have the opportunity to do something more unique.
Please excuse the ads.
About the story: After giving Zechs and Noin some proper privacy (who wants to read smut?), I reintroduce Zechs for a moment of shaking off Zero’s effects. Then I return to the more pressing threads in the story.
I think this is a time to give you a fair warning that Viscount and I nearly have a new Gundam Wing work ready for ff publication. Is it all right if I pull you out of the story for that tidbit?
Anyway, that story is unusual, but if appreciated the right way, it’s hilarious. It’s kind of like Seinen no Kekka’s April Fools chapter, which is appropriate, since I started freelancing on April Fools. It has a lot of preternatural recasting, making several characters vampires, one a prehistoric beast, and others in a diverse flood of crazy roles.
The story’s focus is on one side Quatre, and on the other, Zechs. This will take a few days before publication. I’m doing a load of offline work on the website, and I’ve uploaded my link page to Angelfire, and have more coming soon.
Okay, intermission is over.
Does Anyone want to know why the site isn’t taking off? I’ll tell you. I sadly made my pages in Linux Open Office, and for some reason, I couldn’t save in HTML. And to make matters worse, Viscount deleted the OS from my computer, something I haven’t rectified yet. Las tragedias de la vida. (I never said I was adeptly multilingual;-)
Well, back to fiction.
After reading at-kb’s flattering review for Of Blood and Oil, I took a look at my total word count at fanfiction.net and noticed that once the chapters Bloodshed and Ghost in the Machine act 2 are posted, I’ll surge over ninety thousand for sure. Not all of those words are mine, though, because I started a little running joke.
Like most people who have read gundam fin fictions, I jumped into GT and QS’s SnK. I loved it so much, I slept only two hours a night in the week I absorbed it, because it was so awesome. But near the end, I grew tired of that one convention they adopted, validating the themes of their chapters with lyrics from pop songs.
To concisely wrap up this story, I got the funny idea of parodying them by using R.E.M or R.E.M not only to reaffirm whatever I was trying to say, but to make a cryptic statement about doing such things.
I’m sure the few people that ever read this stuff this summer never figured that out, and probably just assumed I was obsessed with the band from Athens, Georgia. Well, in tribute to the Olympians in Athens, I’ll revive the practice one last time.
Well, that’s a collection of notes from the first thirty chapters of my first gundam work. I promised I’d do this, and now I’m delivering.
Gundam Pilots Observe Thanksgiving
Notes and Ideas:
Director Une and Duo both want the world to have a happy Christmas, so they work extra hard to preempt attacks during the holidays. After discovering a consortium of illicit drug industrialists are collaborating on rebuilding the Noventa Cannon, Duo plots dismantling their business.
Character and plot notes:
Most of the main characters are well known by fans. For the other characters, I busily stick to the proverb “wrote what you know.” We all know paternal religious leaders like Bishop Douglas, so write what you know.
Admiral Revere is to be just like any maternal figure that appeared on White Base or Albion and the other ships in early gundam television shows. People will understand the Admiral, if you write what you know.
One dimensional obsessive characters like Kale and DEFIB will entertain as much as well developed characters, so have fun writing them.
Last in line, I had "Last Drop."
Everyone should have a mission statement
H e a d i n g
As most of you probably noticed, this community is dying out slower than the others, but fandoms all inevitably die out, or do they? We know from literature classes that some things become classics. Today, Daniel Defoe’s classic Robinson Caruso is still as relevant as ever, because the premise of a self-reliant islander is still as appealing as ever. We’ve seen all the moviemakers rip it off, right? Disney makes cartoons based on classics, and they still sell. In an age when contemporary fiction writers aren’t eagerly published, we find classics on store bookshelves.
So I conclude it is possible for series enthusiasm to go on for centuries.
Can we revive this series long after Bandai finds something to push for the next generation? Probably, but I don’t have to wait around for the internet to bloom, like the Robotech fans did. I have it now. It beats being bored.
Who am I?
I’m just someone that likes finding lost causes and reviving them from their twilight. I’d like to think I’m saving civilization, but that’s probably a stretch. Or maybe not, because people like to say the internet gives any punk with a computer a chance to change everything.
So what do you need to know about me?
§ Avid Reader
§ College Bum
§ Hack Writer
§ Coasts into Things
That’s about it.
This was a duel posting in Angelfire and LJ:
Current Music: Sunday Bloody Sunday
Tuesday, 11 January 2005
New Year Preview
Now Playing: REM, Automatic for the People (Ignoreland)(Now it's U2 1980-1990)
So, with all the back entries now in the Live Journal, I can now forge on with a new general Typewriterverse entry.
So what's on the agenda?
1.Metal_Viscount's now a Midnight Cobra in Mechwarrior's Empire League. I share bandwidth with that punk, so that makes my surfing sluggish. He's earned the respect of his team really quickly. I'll show you.
Mercenaries I knowhttp//:midnightcobras.com/
2.Although I love the gangster era of the US, I didn't by the B.A.R I saw in a pawn shop three days before Christmas, and no one bought it for me.
3.I finally updated my fanfiction. I have a big entry this time. I thank Cheah (firearms) and Metal_Viscount (logistics) for expert advice on their fields of expertise. I think I'm a pretty good writer, most of the time, but I'm only better than most freelancers because I research not only books and websites, but I contact people who actually know what they're talking about.
4.My Freewebs site officially opened on the New Year.
5.I actually did manual labor today, three hours of gardening for my neighbors, an elderly couple. Viscount pitched in, too, and we managed to box in eroding soil with railroad posts- creosote stakes. I had to manually saw through one with a wimpy bow saw, because the measurements didn't match up, but I finished without complaint.
More on all this latter.
I lost a lot of blood earlier this week, and it's kept me too tired to update. I did, however, manage to build a generic fansite today, a real one, not a personal site in the wrong skin.
I wrote two biographies for it, and a couple of episode guides, though they're on the brief side. My free time's been robbed by sleep, way too much sleep, and a Frederick Forsyth novel. I'll finish that soon, after sleeping again, and perhaps more bleeding. I often wakeup with blood in my mouth now. I guess most people would consider that gross, but I've gone through that my entire life.
I haven't been able to follow the news, baring a few things, like the AG hearings, most of which I'm too tired to remember right now, which is shameful- I've never had memory problems before.
Congratulations to Cheah, who gets to be the first living author archived at my freewebs site: http://www.freewebs.com/typewriterking/
I'm archiving some works in PDF format. Did I mention that before? Again, I can't remember. I'm too anemic, and too fatigued for my memory.
My Art Appreciation or whatever teacher emailed me, reminding me to attend class, and if I don't send her a welcoming email, I lose 25% of my grade, or something like that. Again, precise figures escape me.
I've embedded this my livejournal in two sites, so far, though I plan to resize it in my original webpage. I'd write more if I had the stamina, so I'll sign off while publicly reminding myself to invite more people to the freewebs archive.
About this Entry
Current Music: "If God Will Send His Angels" U2
I'm introducing myself to the grind that is a university schedule, hold me. I think my Evolution Email ap died when sending my greeting messages to my teachers. C'est la vie. C'est l'Internet. The messages aren't listed as sent.
Anyway, I'll briefly talk shop. The demo Esperanto translation PDF of 'Gordian' wasn't loading right, and I couldn't understand why. Quickly, I discovered the bug came from the accent mark in the title, so I changed the file name to 'Esperanto Gordian,' and I met success. So there you have it, I have a partial translation up there, and in an obscure international language, too. I'd really like to translate the story into other languages, as I planned to do, in Spanish, but doing a lot of translations would consume my life.
I added a guest book to the Typewriter Genome site. It isn't fancy, but it lets people talk. I've also added a picture gallery page in anticipation toward receiving some art I've commissioned. So far, I don't have any ready.
The subplots are all threads that need to be woven in before hitting 70,000 words. Readers will fall away if they believe you’re just going to have terrorists jump from the shadows forever. Tying Turkey and Somalia early will be essential. Columbia’s involvement can be a separate thread for far longer, but people will demand a link eventually. Heero will need to contact the others by that time, anyway. Remember that Une has a daughter, and others will have similar responsibilities. Make people want to learn about Stalingrad’s past, and try to have people wonder why Revere is relevant to happenings. You can neglect the bad guys for a while, but once Trowa and WuFei go hunting them with Duo, the antagonists will need to show themselves more often.
Khalid is my favorite villain, so he should unravel first. Chronology doesn’t make much difference, because the compartmented subplots don’t lean on each other much.
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