You know, on-line politroll arguments here on Paizo.com have, without a doubt, widenend my horizons. I know, I know, everyone thinks that Doodlebug Anklebiter knows every commie website in existence but, honestly, I usually find them while googling whatever it is we're arguing about. If it wasn't for these debates I'd still be just reading Counterpunch and Workers Vanguard.
Which is a long way of saying: Paizo.com politrolls rock!
Anyway, Comrade Dwarf might've mentioned her before, or one of the other Aussies, but
Don Juan de Doodlebug wrote:
I used to live with this sexy roller derby chick, Ariel, and she had a friend from the team--I can't for the life of me remember her name--who tried to pick her up.
It's been bothering me on and off for the past six months, so I know it must be bothering all of you, too. Her name is Mel.
Matt Thomason wrote:
No, but I'll clench my fist and salute just based on the title.
Anyway, re: BSG: I already used this line a couple of years ago in a FAWTL thread but, if I ever get a chance to go back in time and visit my younger self, I will tell him to stop watching BSG and Lost at the end of Season Two.
You hit on Natalie Portman? That takes balls. I salute you.
No, not really. I'm just making up stuff for (perhaps poor attempts at) comedic effect, or, to put it otherwise, telling stories out of school.
I made her a pizza once, when I worked at Bertucci's, though.
"Blaming"? "Holding responsible"? I solidarized with the armed struggle against apartheid and am objecting to your namby-pamby equation of the anti-apartheid movement's militance with Gandhi and MLK-style "peaceful protest."
If you can't figure that out, well, then I'm done.
[Gives clenched fist salute]
Kirth Gersen wrote:
That live footage is pretty neat, but Miltie really needs to learn to sing into the mic because, imho, you don't get the full-on gospel roar in such glorious lines as "IF WE HAFTA STAND IN THE WELFARE LINE!!!"
Funk for Fridays
And one I posted in the Gender Politics thread: Eddie Floyd--"I'll Take Her"
Leaving aside for the moment my ultraleft sectarian criticisms of ANC-ruled, post-apartheid South Africa,
Guy Humual wrote:
One of the few peaceful protesters to get to live out a long and productive life
Don't get me wrong, I've got no problem with armed struggle against the Randlords, but if you really respect the man, maybe you should also respect the truth about the man.
Today's Fun-Time at Work with Music Moment:
WARNING!! DONOVAN LINK!!
A young Haitain kid bellowing along with Mellow Yellow in a thick Creole accent.
He also got a huge kick out of Sly and the Family Stone making use of the "Frere Jacques" melody in "Underdog."
And classic rock question for the thread: who does that "Can't you see, can't you see, what that wo-man's been doing to me?" song? Skynyrd?
Writers with baggage:
Louis-Ferdinand Celine. In 1950 the French government declared him a national disgrace. Which is pretty cool, but unfortunately, it was for being a Nazi.
Nevertheless, Journey to the End of the Night is pretty much the best book I've ever read.
[Does the virile red bull look like he could easily carry a 4th-level goblin druid into battle with ease?]
Cricket loudly announces to his boon companions Friends, halt! Don't move! That bull is looking to do it in the swamp and we would be wise to not invite its attentions. Does anyone have a red cape?
I was just visited by a memory that is obviously anecdotal, but it bears mentioning.
So, back in 2000 or 2004 (I think 2000), I went over a friend's brother's house to smoke weed and watch the presidential candidates' debate. One of the dudes there worked for the Massachusetts welfare department and I was like, "Hey, I'm poor, can I get on welfare?" And he said something to the effect, "You would've a couple of years ago" (I'm presuming before Clinton ended it as we know it) "but not anymore; you'd have to be a woman with kids."
No one in my immediate family has ever received gov't assistance, so I couldn't say one way or the other, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if the "Jill only" thing was a result of neoliberal austerity that turned around and further reinforced the divide-and-conquer game the plutocrats love so much.
Just some idle speculation I'm throwing out there. Where's Irontruth when you need him?
Turkey, brussel sprouts in a cranberry glaze, and a broccoli-potato-leeks soup was yummy.
Work this morning was much harder than I had anticipated, but getting paid double-time is always nice.
And now I'm off to a Black Friday Wal-Mart strike.
Organize the unorganized!
Vive le Galt!
Sorry about the lateness, comrades, but I was on a vacation-week's kickoff goblin cavebender this weekend and wasn't checking the commie listserves.
(The Wal-Mart advertisement's real subtle, MSNBC Stooges!)
Well, I'm bored. Long list of Goodwill acquisitions. Titles marked with an * are hardcovers, yo.
Edgar Rice Burroughs--The Chessmen of Mars
Lin Carter--As the Green Star Rises
L. Sprague de Camp--The Hostage of Zir*
Philip Jose Farmer--The Classic Philip Jose Farmer, 1952-1964*
Stephen Jay Gould--Questioning the Millennium*
Sterling E. Lanier--Menace Under Marswood
Urusula K. Le Guin--Three Hainish Novels*
Fritz Leiber--A Specter Is Haunting Texas*
Michael Moorcock--The Nomad of Time*
Charles Portis--True Grit
Joel Rosenberg--Guardians of the Flame: The Warriors* (I think I read these as a kid--a group of collegiate D&D players are transported to the world they're playing in; I don't expect much other than a nostalgia romp)
Philip Roth--Portnoy's Complaint*
Jeremy Scahill--Blackwater: The Rise of the World's Most Powerful Mercenary Army*
Jack Vance--The Five Gold Bands/The Dragon Masters
Roger Zelazny--To Die In Italbar*
--Eye of Cat*
--Dilvish, the Damned*
There were also quite a few (like, 2 dozen each) hardcover titles by C.J Cherryh, Andre Norton and Janet Morris, but I gave up trying to figure out which titles went with which series, and put 'em back. If you're a fan of any of these ladies and live in southern NH, I recommend a visit to the Goodwill in Amherst, pronto!
Tsuto Kaijitsu and some goblins
Well, it didn't work. Bovolio's player didn't know anything about how to play and D&D, and, unbeknownst to all, was stoned out of his mind. He was a regular user of the demon-weed who had recently fallen upon wintery-times economic-wise, and hadn't partaken in awhile, and then Trent Redwater fed him the kind Cali bud with a crazy name and he was "see ya!" Later in the night he walked into doors and fell flat on his face and then later collapsed a couple of more times before we got him to the couch.
Now, you might think it would be rude to show up to play a game of Dungeons and Dragons without knowing anything about Dungeons and Dragons and then getting incapacitatingly intoxicated, and you might be right. But, and here's the thing, there had been a miscommunication and the anarcho-capitalist Teamster wasn't there to play, just to hang out and watch, which I didn't find out until many days later. He hadn't even looked at the rules because, somehow, Jack Truth had given him the wrong website address.
Anyway, it was a disaster. Bovolio ended up getting beat to shiznit, lost all the horses but one, and let Trent's dog get butchered by a pack of ecstatic goblins. We decided that maybe it was unfair to expect a newbie to play a cleric (quite an understatement as it turns out) and made Bovolio and Olecron switch players.
So, in attempt to recover from that debacle, I turned to rest of the party and asked what they were doing and, lo and behold, while I was playing with Bovolio, they had talked themselves into a 180 degree change of plan and instead of
retreating to Sandpoint for reinforcements, they were going to find a place to camp, get some sleep, reunite with Bovolio, and make a frontal assault on Thistletop.
They made their Survival role to find a good place to sleep, Jack went out scouting around, found Bovolio, and made note of what little goblin troop movements could be seen, including the return of Tsuto Kaijitsu's patrol and the dispatching of more patrols.
Warren and Bovolio got their spells ready and then the party successfully snuck up to the entrance into the briar patch and then successfully and amusingly impersonated a goblin and Bluffed and Diplomatized to get the goblins to let them in.
They killed the first two quick and quiet, and I thought maybe they'd pull it off, but the third one got off the alarm. Ripnugget on the gecko and a ton of goblins showed up. By this point, of course, the party can kill goblins like there's no tomorrow, and they initially took down quite a few gobbo redshirts. Ripnugget and the remaining gobs panicked and routed back across the island to Thistletop and into their stockade. They left two redshirts to cut the rope bridge, but Olecron with his heirloom bow (we finally figured out what it did) picked them off while Trent and Jack were halfway across.
Ripnugget ordered the door of the stockade shut and barred, but Trent entered a rage and attacked the door. He's a pretty strong dude, it turns out, and, with an aid another from Jack, he rolled high enough to bust the f#~&ing door down. We looked it up; it made sense at the time.
Anyway, they did well against the first couple of goblins, but they quickly got into a face off with Ripnugget and Tsuto and a bunch of goblins, and then, after a couple rounds, Harry Chaney showed up. By this point, the party had bought itself some room, with Warren taking out gobbos with sleep and Jack Truth learning that he did +2d6 damage with sneak attack instead of +1d6 like he had been doing and Trent whittling down Ripnugget (but also getting whittled down himself). But with the appearance of Chaney, Trent went berserk again and launched himself in a one-on-one duel. Due to some terrible, terrible dice rolling, a couple of more rounds go by. Most of the redshirts are gone, Ripnugget and Harry are going down, and I say "f+%& it" and throw in Nualia and her yeth hound.
Now, it's possible that this was overkill and bad DMing. Probable, even. As I said in the beginning it was a bad night all around and, in my defense, I was up way past my bedtime, I was [bubble bubble bubbled], but worst of all, I thought they could take it.
And maybe they could have and maybe they couldn't, but Jack Truth Acrobatting past the buffer rank of gobbo redshirts to land in a square the was directly threatened by Tsuto, Nualia and the yeth hound certainly didn't help.
All night long, Jack had been pulling these crazy ass stunts involving Stealth and Bluff where he'd be right next to a dude and get a sneak attack even though the dude knew he was there. I couldn't believe it, and I had two different players, one inebriated, one not, to look up the rules. And allegedly, Jack was playing within them and it was pissing me off. But he had been using this tactic against redshirt gobbos with a Perception penalty of -1. When he tried it against a row of three Big Bads, it didn't work so well.
He survived the first round, which probably made things worse. Trent crushed Harry's skull with his earthbreaker and then used his barbarian speed to rush to the assistance of his halfling friend.
If it wasn't the beginning of the end, it was certainly the beginning of the beginning of the end. The yeth hound ripped out Jack's throat, Nualia plunged her sword through Trent and I don't even remember how Warren and Bovolio went down. Olecron, played by the inebriated anarcho-capitalist Teamster who didn't know how to play but could still anticipate GAME OVER committed suicide by horde of goblins, throwing down his bow, drawing his sword and running into melee.
Thus endeth Rise of the Rune Plutocrats.
How's Kingmaker going? D'ya catch that bard yet?
I got to around question 120 and got bored. I don't know if that f!$+s with the score, but I don't care.
I did love the question about assassinating the president with the possible answer: "Yes, I've done similar things before."
Anyway, I am a 3rd-level human rogue, which, I think, is a fine match with being a union steward. Vive le Galt!
True Neutral Human Rogue (3rd Level)
Comparing the ability scores that I assigned Doodlebug Anklebiter based on a self-approximation, I get
S 14 D 8 C 18 I15 W 6 C 10
Funk (well, psychedelic soul and then Afrobeat) for Friday!!!
Shuggie Otis--Inspiration Information
Son of blues heavyweight, Johnny Otis, Shuggie made an incredible record back in 1974 that nobody ever heard until 2001 when it became a cause celebre amongst the international underground hipster elite (of which, at the time, I was a dues-paying member) when David Byrne from Talking Heads reissued it.
Unfortunately, the grooveshark page is missing the first two tracks, which I've found for you on youtube, and one of the bonus tracks, which you can find for yourself if you're so inclined.
(Huh, so when I previewed the post and checked all the links, all of a sudden grooveshark has the entire album.)
I made a conscious effort not to read too many of the short stories in a row. Seemed unfair, seeing as how (I think) they originally appeared in periodicals.
My plan to read Tolstoy in two weeks might need some, um, adjustment.
The Samurai is pretty neat--800 years of history in 130-something pages. Come to think of it, I should've held off until SCM. I'm only about half-way through it, but I think my original hunch that samurai was Japanese for "stooge of the plutocracy" was pretty on the money.
Vive le Bachuan!
So, I was getting a little ahead of myself there, talkin' 'bout Tolstoy and Sugar Candy Mountain.
Finished off Quarmall (more great shiznit!) and, hence, Swords Against Wizardry today and I think I will cherish the memory of our boys riding off into the horizon with lithe Ivivis and Friska pressed firmly against them as I move off into the Naploleonic winter. Just thinkin' about it makes me shiver.
In other news, thanks to the Advanced Readings in D&D thread, and the high praise of Comrade Longears, I purchased Gardner Fox's Kothar and the Wizard Slayer at the Nashua Public Library for 25 cents while attending the Socialist Meeting. At 156 pages, it is primo SCM reading!!!
Anthropology and sociobiology are pretty much outside of my area of expertise (if you're wondering, my areas of expertise are: loading trucks, weed, rock'n'roll and the history of Marxism), but a morning's worth of google searches about Demonic Males, hunter-gatherer gender roles and tribal violence led me to this interesting article on Napoleon Chagnon.
So, we've only played two games since the last time I posted and, consequently, haven't gotten very far. How far are you in RotRL, Orthos?
Under not terribly gentle interrogation, Poog tried to get the party to let him lead them down to the sea caves and get them eaten by the bunyip, but they curtailed that by murdering him in cold blood. They then went and scouted around, looking for the briar patch entrance and the sea caves that Poog had spoken about (he hadn't mentioned the bunyip).
They found the briar patch entrance and saw two goblin patrols emerge: one led by Tsuto Kaijitsu, the other by Bruthzamus. The party evaded them and made their way down to the sea cave entrance. We spent what seemed like a real lot of time explaining the various different length and height distances involved between the beach and the cliffs and Thistletop, but maybe that's because some of us were [bubble bubble bubbled]. Anyway, they went into the sea caves and the bunyip jumped them.
This is the second bunyip they (the players) have encountered and neither time could I get them to be scared of a seal-shark, even if Jack Truth failed his save and tried climbing the sides of the cave in his panic. It did some damage, but they killed it, no problem.
They then went through the long, laborious process of climbing up the 80' sacrifice tube. They successfully and sneakily infiltrated the briar patch from below and went about rather efficiently and professionally slaughtering every living thing in the patch. Gogmurt got away, and so did two rank-and-file goblins, one over the rope-bridge to the island, the other, with Gogmurt, to the mainland.
So, by this point, the party was out of most of their spells (they hadn't rested since the goblin ambush the game before) but they felt confident because they were fully healed due to wise investment in a wand of cure light wounds (whose charges are rapidly depleting). But, as they saw it, being trapped between Thistletop and the goblin patrols to the south, they didn't know what to do next. So they cut the rope bridge to the island and argued for about an hour. The game ended there.
Celestial Healer wrote:
she being Brand new (crappy video quality)
I have a love-hate relationship with The Sun Also Rises. But the third time I read it, it was for a junior-level English course on American literature and I read it directly after The Portrait of a Lady. Never appreciated Hemingway's simple, uncomplicated prose so much in all my life.
After the momentum of his perfect dive (10! 10! 10! 4.5 says the Soviet Union, 10!) has subsided, Cricket casts summon nature's ally II and gains the services of an alligator gar. Cricket grabs hold of the gar's tail and it plummets straight down. Hopefully, a naked Cricket counts as a light load and, if so, and assuming he isn't eaten by a passing dragon turtle or burned by silver fire, 4 rounds later, Cricket should be rougly 960 feet towards the lake's (what is the name of the lake?) bottom with something like 20 rounds to go until I need to make a Constitution check.