Hello?  Is this thing on?

    Been a while. 15ish years since I've trodden in this dark underground burrow with my butt blocking the entrance (wombat thing, look it up).  Had to bust the lock off, since I wasn't sure I had the key anymore.  Crap, I forgot to feed the gerbil before I left; that's going to stink.

    I'm contemplating coming back here and stepping away from FascistBook again, now that they've decided that anything goes - can't offend the new dictator, after all.  The inspiration came from Wil "Shut Up Wesley!" Wheaton, a most excellent individual, once cursed by bad script writers.

    The world is getting demonstrably worse is so many ways.  The environment is halfway in the shitter and the flush is accelerating, the nazis are coming back out of the swamps (since the people who fought them last time are almost all gone and we've forgotten why it had to be done), and it looks like we're headed for a neo-feudal version of a cyberpunk dystopia but without the cool stuff.  I wanted Star Trek, not Snow Crash, dammit!

    I'm older now, seeing the light of retirement coming down the tunnel at me.  At least I hope that's what that bright light and roaring noise is.  Arguably, I may now have the wisdom to see how royally fucked we are as a species.  They call it "post truth".  Think about that for a minute, really let it sink in, and realize how terrifying that actually is.  Nothing is real, or nothing that matters, anyway.  Whoever shouts the loudest and fastest and drowns out everything else wins.  Keep farming those rage clicks to make the masses flock to you for their dopamine hit.  Make sure to find out what to hate today.  You won't be able to make any choices that matter, because you won't know what's real.  In time, there won't be anyone left who even remembers an anachronism like "objective reality".

    A certain politician announced his run to replace the PM today, and within minutes YT was offering a nasty little wingnut diatribe on how this person's attitude on a certain tax is the same as the PM's, and how evil this was, and how it showed he was some sort of commie-pedo-necrophiliac-terrorist-jaywalker.  No attempt to look at the issue and rationally explain why it might or might not be bad, just straight to the ad hominem attacks and stoking up anger amongst the Morlocks.  Here's a fun little exercise: look up "stochastic terrorism".  So I gave it a thumbs-down and told it not to recommend the channel anymore, hoping the somehow the Great Algorithm might spare this crap from one or two other victims.

    Terry Pratchett once wrote: "A lie can run round the world before the truth has got its boots on."  These days the truth doesn't even get time to put a foot in before the next dozen lies are zooming past. Everything is bullshit.  I thank my Gen-X upbringing for early training on detecting bovine effluvia, because now my automatic response to just about every news story and statement from authority is a eyebrow-raising "reeaaallly....?"  

    So my tolerance for "organically sourced" fertilizer is rapidly diminishing.  Is this how crusty old men have always been created?   I mean, it's been a longtime goal of mine to be an official curmudgeon; is this how to do it?  But now those clouds deserve a shouting-at, and those kids on my lawn look might suspicious.

    This is my reason for considering (just considering at this time, mind you) bailing out of Zuckland completely.  No hurry.  Rome wasn't built in a day and the world won't be completely ruined in one.  Looks like it only takes about 3 generations to completely fuck it up.

    So maybe I'll clean up this old hovel a bit and hide out here for a while, and spew out the occasional rant or random thought.  I promise not to always be this gloomy.

    Only a wombat would think mooning your enemies is the best defence.

https://www.australiangeographic.com.au/topics/wildlife/2020/11/wombat-bums-theres-more-than-meets-the-eye/

Here comes another one...here it comes again...

Music.

It sometimes seems that a large chunk of my early education was devoted to making me hate things that should be fun. Physical Education classes in school only served to emphasise my physical ineptness, making me an easy target for ridicule and bullying. This only made me hate sports and physical activity more.
With music I received the standard public school sprinkling of rudimentary knowledge, but it was never done in a way I could really understand. The rote “4/4 time means four beats to the bar, and the quarter note gets one beat” was easy enough to memorize, but lacked real intuitive meaning. After all, what exactly is a beat? Is it every second, 2 seconds? It was never defined. Why four in a bar? Why not eight? Forty-Seven? What is the purpose of this bar thing anyway? The whole thing seemed pretty arbitrary, and still does in some ways.
My mother had been very musical, apparently, having played piano and been a music teacher or something. So I was expected to play piano as well, whether I liked it or not. My grandmother seemed to be the one pushing this, and she believed you could simply be ordered to have certain opinions and feelings. So I would like it and that was that. They sent me to a music teacher. Somehow they found the ideal example of the stereotypical piano teacher: elderly, thin, hawk faced, humourless, drab. Apparently music was a serious business and enjoyment or fun were not to be tolerated. So I again learned by rote and memorization without any real understanding. I played bland, uninteresting tunes, pressing the keys in the correct patterns to make the required noises. But it wasn’t really music; it never meant anything more than a series of notes. I never heard anything in these pieces that created any emotion or feeling (other than dread at having to plink out another one). Eventually I was able to get my Dad to allow me to quit.
And we never had much music in the house when I was growing up. Occasionally I might try playing one of my mother’s old records, but they didn’t really do much for me. Or perhaps on the odd rainy Sunday the stereo would be turned on to some inoffensive easy listening or classical station. There was never any ‘modern’ music around; certainly no rock or its various offshoots. For a while I even picked up an attitude that rock and such were garbage, but to be honest, I think this was just a defence for speaking to other kids about music that I knew nothing about.
Eventually , in the late 70’s /early 80’s I started to surreptitiously listen to more interesting stuff on the radio, like the local university station which played more alternative stuff like Depeche Mode, Talking Heads and the like. I just knew I liked it. And while my contemporaries claimed to like Kiss, I preferred Blondie (Debbie Harry was hot back then!) But I never felt that I could reveal my musical tastes at home. I always felt that I would be mocked (Grandmother), or they would be disappointed and call it garbage. So, I’d semi-secretly listen to tapes of The Police, or Dire Straits, and lots of other stuff on the radio.
After my father died and I was on my own, I started to listen to a wider variety. With the help of some musically inclined friends, I was able to explore a bit more and start a decent CD collection. I accumulated stuff from various genres including standard rock, pop, new wave, punk, industrial, surf, Madchester, Britpop, classical, prog rock, blues, jazz, techno/electronica and a few others. I hate county (99% of it, anyway), and most rap/hiphop type stuff.
Around 1989 I got the crazy idea that I’d like to play music myself. This time I would choose the instrument and I would choose the music. I would do it for my own enjoyment and because I wanted to do it. So I purchased a basic electric guitar, amp, and associated other bits, and started taking lessons. Being young and easily distracted, and in university at that time, I didn’t put in as much time and effort I perhaps I should, but I picked up a few things, and could pick out a few tunes and licks with fair proficiency. Later on I upgraded my axe to a proper noisemaker: a Fender American Standard Stratocaster, in 3 colour sunburst. I liked the feeling of just holding it.
Well, the metaphorical calendar pages fell off the wall, and around 1994 or 1995 we were very short on money. In order to pay the bills I pawned my beloved Strat. A feeling of failure sat heavy in my guts when I did that. That feeling faded over the years since, but never completely disappeared.
Here I am 15 years later and I’ve finally taken the leap back into the world of personally making music. With much less resistance than I had anticipated, the spousal unit let me purchase a new six-string electric twanger. It’s another Stratocaster, an American Special in two colour sunburst. This is a new model just starting this year. And I like it! It has an alder body with a glossy urethane coat that blends from a tan/yellow stain at the center to near-black on the edges, with the wood grain showing through the tan. It has a maple neck and fretboard, with a larger headstock than my old one. And three single coil Texas Special pickups. Again, I just like to hold the thing.
As far as my ability to play the thing, I seem to have forgotten almost everything. However, now that I’m older, I have the patience to learn it properly. I’m working on learning to read standard music notation (the little black dots), instead of the tablature I had used before. I’m currently following a course in a book/DVD-Rom package, and taking my time to make sure I really get it. Unfortunately I’m stuck on a terrible work schedule for the next 6 weeks that doesn’t give me much time to practice. But this won't last forever. A couple more months and I'll be able do dedicate more time.

Return of the Son of Blog’s Revenge: The New Beginning

Ok, so I’m back after the longest dry spell yet. I can’t give a better explanation than apathy, or distraction. Often when I fire up ye olde electronical calculating engine, I’d rather play a game than engage in any serious mental activity like writing. Mercilessly crushing my artificial opponents is much more immediately satisfying. Anywho, the topic for today is…

Cars.

I’ve had a mixed relationship with the automotive world, from a consumer standpoint anyway. Unlike most sixteen year olds, I was in no hurry to get my license; indeed I was very nervous about taking control of a huge mass of metal moving at high speed. I did get my license at eighteen and took over operation of my Dad’s 1973 Olds Cutlass Supreme, known affectionately as “The Green Monster”, for its colour, size and appetite.
Shortly after that I started at the Great Institute of Higher Learning and Drinking, where, in an attempt to define myself, I started taking an interest in the more esoteric aspects of gear-headedness. I read magazines like Car & Driver, and Road & Track (Rodent Rack?), and generally turned into a bit of a wannabe racer. Well, that just didn’t work with a dreadnought like the Monster. I needed something newer and cooler, a real chick magnet.
So I traded the Green Monster for a Chevy Beretta GT.

Done laughing yet?
Yes, in hindsight I can admit that ‘twas the folly of youth that made me choose that particular vehicular conveyance. Actually, from an external styling point of view it wasn’t bad, and with metallic blue paint and reddish-orange trim it actually looked pretty good at the time. Unfortunately it turned out to be a total lemon in the longer term. Every system in that vehicle broke down at least once in the nine years I owned it. Towards the end it was referred to by some of my co-workers as “The War Car”, thanks to its various visible defects. The multiple problems with that car, as well as less than stellar treatment by the dealership eliminated any chance of purchasing another GM product.
In 1998 after yet another expensive repair, spousal unit and I decided that we had had enough. It was time to get something else. We needed something reliable, and fairly cheap. So after some hemming and/or hawing on my part, we leased a Honda Civic sedan. There’s a vehicle that positively drips excitement…(note heavy sarcasm).
At that point, I couldn’t afford an interesting or exciting vehicle, so I settled for loyal A to B transportation. I’ve been in that situation for the last eleven years.
And I’m getting damned sick of it!

Now, I’ll admit that I’ve only ever been a road-racer wannabe. Hell, I’ve never even learned to drive a manual transmission; when I was learning we only had an automatic, and Dad wouldn’t pay the extra for manual training. And I’ve never had the money, tools, or confidence to try tinkering with the Honda. But now I seem to be feeling that lust for a vehicle with some guts, something more than basic transportation, something with more ability than roads and laws are really prepared to accommodate. Sure, it’s an ego thing, I realize that. But I feel a primal urge for something that roars when I stomp it; something more than the bland little box I’ve been driving the last decade. Maybe it’s the mid-life crisis thing kicking in. I suppose it would be typical for me to choose the technical approach to dealing with desperate attempt to hold onto my youth versus some folks who go for a hot, young bimbo. Probably cheaper in the long run as well.
But the best part is that, in the next year or two, I may actually be able to afford one!

Stay tuned for the next exciting episode: What car should it be?!

Feeling blue?

For the last while I've been trying out an alternative form of swearing. Rather than use the standard f-bomb for everything, "That f-ing f-er really f-ed up this time!", I'm using another equally flexible, but more socially acceptable word: "Smurf". The cartoon Smurfs used this word for everything, in the same way that some people use f&*$, but Smurf can be used for everything!
I was talking about this with B-monster this morning, and strayed into the subject of cleaned-up movie dialog. Some movies, when sanitized for TV, actually become much funnier. I'm thinking of Repo Man as a good example: "Flip you, melonfarmer!"

So how about one of my favourite movies, Aliens, done with "Smurf"?

Hudson: Hey Vasquez, have you ever been mistaken for a smurf?
Vasquez: No. Have you?

Hudson: [puts his rifle against Burke's head] I say we grease this rat-smurf son-of-a-smurf right now.

Ripley: I say we take off and nuke the entire site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.
Hudson: Smurfin' A...

Hudson: Well that's great, that's just smurfin' great, man. Now what the smurf are we supposed to do? We're in some real pretty smurf now man...

Hudson: That's it man, game over man, game over! What the smurf are we gonna do now? What are we gonna do?

Ripley: Get away from her, you *smurf!*

Vasquez: You always were a smurf, Gorman!

Perspective

I just finished watching "The Shadow of the Moon", a documentary about the Apollo astronauts. Brilliant film. It got me thinking about this:

This is the famous "Pale Blue Dot" image taken by Voyager 1. The tiny dot in the center is the Earth, from 4 billion miles away.

"The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors, so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light."

-- Carl Sagan
From "Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space," Random House, 1994

So think about this the next time you're fuming about the price of gas, or the latest celebrity idiocy, or some other trivial issue. And think about how critical this little speck in the darkness is to our survival. This is all there is.

A few of my favourite things...

I just found out this exists. *GRIN!!!*

I'll take the red pill...no the blue pill!!!... no red!!

Ok, I know it's been a while, perhaps I'll explain that later, but for now, I'm revved up and have to rant.

Ages ago, my friend B-man lent me a book called "Manufacturing Consent" by Noam Chomsky. Now, I'm not much for heavy analysis or serious philosophical thinking at this point in my life, but today I decided to dig into it. I'm halfway through the goddamn introduction and I'm already pissed off! Many of the points were things I'd already noticed on my own, but it's something else to see your possibly paranoid musings confirmed by experts.

The gist of it is that the mass media (tv, film, books, magazines, etc) are being controlled by fewer and fewer giant corporations, and that they also have political/economic agendas. The book points out the decline of actual journalism. Remember that? When actual reporters would go and investigate something, dig up facts, confirm things? Hell, now most "news" is just dressed up press releases from governments or corporations laundered through PR bastards. These PR spin doctors massively outnumber actual journalists. Hell, these professional liars' jobs are to sell us this BS.
The most glaringly obvious for the last decade or so has been Fox News. Former Bush press secretary Scott McLellan (a.k.a. the mouth of Sauron), has come out and admitted that they basically wrote the scripts for Fox's talking heads and pundits (def. loud mouth asshole). Throw another shovel of dirt on unbiased reporting.
And don't think it's been just the latest bunch of ratfucks who have been doing this; this kind of thing goes back to at least Reagan, not further, and no, it does not skip Clinton. When Saddam Hussein was persecuting Kurds, it was called 'genocide' on occasion. When Turkey was doing it, is was reluctantly referred to as 'repression'. Same evil, but it isn't so bad when your buddy does it.
Anyhoo, back to the point. Media and reporting is being controlled by a few economically and politically powerful groups. Reporting on reality has been replaced by infotainment and drivel. Bread and Circuses, as the Romans used to say. Mushroom management: keep 'em in the dark and feed 'em bullshit. The play up the atrocities of their opponents while hiding those of their friends. And all the while they parade the newest shiny trinkets in your face to distract you more.
Don't think they're hiding stuff? The one that struck me years ago, was the 1999 WTO meeting in Seattle. I only knew this because I happened to have a friend e-mailing me from there at the time. It seems the protest got a wee bit enthusiastic, and the authorities cracked down. A major American city was essentially under martial law for several day....and there was barely a peep about it. Seems like that would be a pretty big story. Later on a few stories snuck out, strictly amateur stuff as the big names still wouldn't touch it. I guess they'd been told.
So, the goal seems to be to tell us what they need to get us to react the way they want, and so we keep buying more and more and just going along in ignorant, apethetic bliss. Your government is supporting people who are killing and torturing? No, little children, they're supporting freedom against terrorists/rebels/communists (insert label here). But never you mind, just watch another episode of Baywatch, drink another beer, and think about how you'll pay for the gas for that ten-ton battlecruiser SUV in your driveway (you know the one, you take in half a mile to the store to load up on hyper-process, artificial, food-like fodder for the grazing trough. The thing that has 4 wheel drive, satellite navigation, active suspension, seats 50 and can climb an 80 degree grade, but has never been off pavement! Remember? The thing that put you so far in debt that you're an indentured servant to some financial industry loanshark.) We'll take the screaming brats (overweight from doing nothing but play videogames, and hyper and incoherent from being stuffed with sugar-soaked garbage) to the latest 90 minute long, formula drivel from Hollywood, where they can eat more shit, play more games, and be further indoctinated into the cult of BUYBUYBUY!!!. Then we can get them all the associated merchandise (all produced by foreigners working in near slavery conditions), so they can be occupied for five minutes before we chuck the junk in the nearest landfill for future (ha!) generations to find.
But trust us. We'll do what's right. Just be good herd animals. Stand out in the field grazing and getting fat with a dull glaze in your eyes. And when one of you disappears every once in a while, don't worry, they're just being detained indefinitely, without charge, in a secret prison, in another country, where they're being taught how to swim - upside down in a chair. Or be made into hamburger, to return to the analogy.
We're living in The Matrix. We're living in an artificial fantasy, being force-fed crap 24/7 by folks who profit from us being just that way. To be honest, it can be tempting to just play dumb and go along in blissful ignorance.

Wow, that's quite a rant for half a chapter! Actually, I've had a lot of that building up for a while.
Maybe it comes from age and/or wisdom, but I've been starting to see patterns is the world that I do not like. I feel a great disturbance in the force. I've been seeing the mountains of bullshit from south of the border, and from our "leaders" (doesn't that mean 'one who leads', not 'one who does what the lobbyists want'?) here. I'm disgusted with consumer culture and the need for more and more crap. I've been as guilty as any in the past for craving junk, but I hope I'm finally growing out of it.

Ok, that's enough rambling for now. My bile has subsided. More angry outbursts to come!

But I don't have six fingers!

I love this:

I'm baaacckkkk!!!!!

Right. The maintenance outage I was assigned to is over, and I'm back to my regular job and schedule. After 2 months of working alternating day and night 12 hour shifts (switching every 5 or 6 days!), I'm certainly ready for a rest. Unfortunately, most of the extra money I earned doing this was sunk into that black hole called debt. Oh well.

Anyhoo....

I came across this little gem on Wil Wheaton's blog. It's a music service called Magnatune, and it claims to be not evil. They boast CD quality downloads (MP3's are NOT CD quality), no DRM "broken by design" crap, 50% of revenue to the artist (as opposed to the pittance the RIAA deigns to give them, despite all their claims otherwise), Full previews (listen to it all before you buy), and pay what you think is fair! Plus a few other things. This sounds exceedingly cool. And the music is stuff you won't get from the mainstream.

I haven't checked it out entirely yet (or purchased anything), but this is a breath of fresh air amid the vile copyright servitude coming from the major producers these days with their "Just because you paid for it, you have no rights to do anything with it, and we're installing a secret spy program on your computer to make sure you don't, btw it also wrecks your security so hackers can have their way with you, and one more thing: we now own your spleen. The surgeon will be around next Tuesday. Any attempts to bypass this security will result in our horde of lawyers sueing you and everyone you've ever met. Remember this is for the sake of the artists, whom we give one-billionth of a percent of all sales." attitude.

"...I became chronologically fucked-up"

Note the title is from the Tragically Hip's "Locked in the Trunk of a Car"

In my case it refers to the effect of switching to nights (7pm-7am) for 3 days, and now trying to get back to a more civilized circadian rhythm, or whatever. I finished the run of nights this morning, came home, ate, went to bed for a few hours, got up, and have been in a mild daze since. I'd just adapted to being asleep at this time, and here I am trying to get back in sync with the rest of the world again. My sense of what time it is is totally shot. Not wrong, just gone; like it simply gave up and left. Occasionally I have to remind myself, "This is Tuesday, right?" But I have time to adjust before going back to work on Friday morning. Then four day of days, and try to switch back to nights. Repeat until collapse.

Politics over Safety (and logic).

For the last couple of months there has been quite a stir in the Canadian nuclear world. The Chalk River reactor, the main source for medical isotopes, shut down for maintenance in November. The CNSC (the body responsible for overseeing nuclear safety in Canada) refused to let it start up again when it turned out that the owner (Atomic Energy of Canada Ltd) had failed to complete safety upgrades in the 50 year old reactor. The upgrades were a condition of their operating license. The CNSC's obligation was to deny permission to start up again without these upgrades. They are responsible for safety, not medical supplies. They have clear regulations regarding this. And they are meant to operate without political interference.
So when supplies of medical isotopes became short, literally decaying away, in steps our Conservative government and passes legislation to restart the reactor despite the missing upgrades. And note that the Liberals went along with this. The minister of natural resources aimed the blame directly at CNSC president Linda Keen, claiming her stubbornness put the lives of medical patients at risk, and that since she was appointed by the previous Liberal government her decision was politically motivated.
Also be aware that the two new reactors intended as replacements for this aging one are 8 years behind schedule, and may never start up! Where were the ministers (first the Liberal, and then the current one)? Why weren't they investigating this delay?
I know in my workplace two of the key values they work hard to instill in employees are conservative (not in the political sense) decision making and adherence to procedures (rules). These are critical to a culture of safety in the nuclear industry. From what I've seen, Linda Keen was working to these values. She was doing her job properly.
Who fucked up? AECL, the last two ministers of natural resources, and the prime minister who fired Ms. Keen yesterday.
There has been much talk of a nuclear "renaissance". If this is going to happen, safety is primary. For that we need a credible regulator, free to do their job properly regardless of who looks bad because of it. PM Harper destroyed that credibility last night. As my friend B said today, "Harper just shot the Canadian nuclear industry in the head."

How do you compete against these people?!

Ok, it's no secret that I work in the nuclear power industry, and so I could be accused of some pro-nuke bias, but I saw this newspaper article that just amazed me with it's excessive anti-nuke slant. It was an AP story printed in the Prince George (B.C.) Citizen. The story is about a small radioactive water leak in a nuclear station in Ohio.
A couple of quotes from the story: "The amount of water from the pipe was so small when discovered Friday that it was not quantified in the report...", "It involved water from the reactor, so it is radioactive water but it is within the containment building and nothing was released. Our workers were not affected," he said.
Ok, so there's a very small leak, inside the containment structure. Sounds like only a minor hazard, nothing to freak about. But the thing that got me was the headline: "N-plant leaking into Lake Erie". Factually contradicted by the story itself, and clearly just used to grab attention. Hell, why not call it "Ultra dangerous, hyper-nuclear, death klabooie!!!"

Quality time.

I just returned from taking Spousal-Unit back to her apartment so she can continue with school and work next week. She was able to arrange a week off to come here and visit with me and the furry folks. Unfortunately, just before coming here, she picked up a flu/cold thing from her sister and spent the first part of the week feeling miserable. We had to postpone a get-together with B-meister and his wife W. We figured a couple of days delay while spouse recovers, no big deal. Then, of course, I get sick. I spent the last half of the week feeling like warmed-over snail snot, with an oozing, goo-packed cranium and the effective I.Q. of a pro wrestling fan. Quote of the week: "uungghgghh...." (with appropriate nasal honk). I had to miss 2 days of work, which is now actually something I miss. Sadly we had to pass on B and W's invitation, which we had been looking forward to. When Spouse spoke to B on the phone he seemed upset, perhaps offended by this. I'll have to speak with him and apologize, but I simply didn't feel right going to their place, spreading microbes to them and their offspring, and staring at the wall in a medication induced stupor.

So, overall the week was not everything we had hoped for. But at least we were together.

Yeah, that's about right.

A very detailed (long, anyway) quiz says that if I was a D&D character I would be, at least for the mood I'm in right now:

Lawful Neutral Human Wizard (5th Level)
Ability Scores:
Strength- 13
Dexterity- 14
Constitution- 13
Intelligence- 14
Wisdom- 13
Charisma- 11

Alignment:Lawful Neutral- A lawful neutral character acts as law, tradition, or a personal code directs him. Order and organization are paramount to him. He may believe in personal order and live by a code or standard, or he may believe in order for all and favor a strong, organized government. Lawful neutral is the best alignment you can be because it means you are reliable and honorable without being a zealot. However, lawful neutral can be a dangerous alignment because it seeks to eliminate all freedom, choice, and diversity in society.

Race:Humans are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.

Class:Wizards- Wizards are arcane spellcasters who depend on intensive study to create their magic. To wizards, magic is not a talent but a difficult, rewarding art. When they are prepared for battle, wizards can use their spells to devastating effect. When caught by surprise, they are vulnerable. The wizard's strength is her spells, everything else is secondary. She learns new spells as she experiments and grows in experience, and she can also learn them from other wizards. In addition, over time a wizard learns to manipulate her spells so they go farther, work better, or are improved in some other way. A wizard can call a familiar- a small, magical, animal companion that serves her. With a high Intelligence, wizards are capable of casting very high levels of spells.

Detailed Results:
Alignment:Lawful Good ----- XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX (20)
Neutral Good ---- XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX (17)
Chaotic Good ---- XXXXXXXXXXXXXX (14)
Lawful Neutral -- XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX (20)
True Neutral ---- XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX (17)
Chaotic Neutral - XXXXXXXXXXXXXX (14)
Lawful Evil ----- XXXXXXXXXXX (11)
Neutral Evil ---- XXXXXXXX (8)
Chaotic Evil ---- XXXXX (5)

Law & Chaos:Law ----- XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Neutral - XXXXXXX (7)
Chaos --- XXXX (4)

Good & Evil:
Good ---- XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Neutral - XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Evil ---- X (1)

Race:Human ---- XXXXXXXXXXXXXX (14)
Dwarf ---- XXXXXXXXXXXX (12)
Elf ------ XXXX (4)
Gnome ---- XXXXXXXX (8)
Halfling - XXXXXX (6)
Half-Elf - XXXXXX (6)
Half-Orc - XXXXXX (6)

Class:Barbarian - (-25)
Bard ------ (-19)
Cleric ---- (-4)
Druid ----- XX (2)
Fighter --- XX (2)
Monk ------ XX (2)
Paladin --- (-19)
Ranger ---- (-6)
Rogue ----- (-4)
Sorcerer -- XX (2)
Wizard ---- XXXXXX (6)

Try it yourself if you're nerd enough.

"I'm not looking back, but I want to look around me now."

Ok, I'll admit it: I like '80s music. I was in high school from '82 to '87 so that was the kind of stuff I was exposed to in those formative years. I didn't get to hear a lot back then due to "lifestyle limitations", but in the time since I've been able to fill in some of what I missed. Then along came the drug known as i-Tunes. Damn you, Steve Jobs!!! I was able to find a couple of old fave and fill in my collection.
Lately I've discovered the Radio function and I've re-learned that my preferred flavour of '80s music is what is termed "Alternative". Nowadays Alternative really isn't; it's actually pretty mainstream. Back then, Alternative stuff would only get played on the little college or university stations, blasting out with an awesome 50 watts, you could received them almost to the end of the street. I remember listening to CHRW back in 81 or 82 and hearing Depeche Mode, The Church, and other obscure bands. Groups that later got bigger or only became known with the retro phase that started in the 90s.
Now I'm listening to something called 1.FM 80's Alternative channel, and I'm hearing a lot of extremely cool stuff that is entirely new to me! Bands I've never heard of but are great. I love the clean, crisp, slick 80's sounds. Music before record execs ordered their engineers to cram every decibel possible into every frequency, destroying dynamic range for the sake of loudness, turning every tune into a droning buzz, hiding melody for the sake of overpowered, window rattling bass.
So, yes, I like old '80s stuff far better than anything new. So be it. That's what I like, and that's what I'll have.
Thar be a wee bit o' chair dancing going on here!

Back and intact.

I'm back in Laketown again after a 1 day delay due to evil weather. Thanks to the big ol' snowstorm that rolled through Sunday, my only 2 plausible routes back here were closed. And there was no f&*%ing way I was going to try the back roads in those conditions; I had a big enough scare last Feb to put me off that well and good. Anywho, the roads were open today, so I made my way back. Note that I said "open", not "good". There were areas where the actual location of the road was judged by "ok, aim for the middle of this flattish area", as the view was plain white without any contrast created by, say, previous tire tracks. So some places were a relative crawl. Plus the occasional whiteout from passing trucks or some farmer's snowblower. Again, I'll praise the new snow tires. Worth every penny as Spousal Unit said Sunday.

So I missed a day of work. On the previous job this would have been cause for celebration, followed by an explanation "that management expects us to make every effort to attend regardless of external factors...bla bla bla" or similar bullshit, meaning "I expect you to sacrifice yourself to make me look good". My new employer is much cooler. I offered to trade my vacation day which I'd scheduled for later this week for today, and the response was an easy "Ok, no problem, just put it on your time sheet tomorrow." Sweet. I doesn't hurt that sometimes I actually look forward to going into work.

Have a terrifying solstice...

A cute little Christmas ornament of pure evil.


Merry Cthulhumas.

Can anyone find the old flashlight?

You know the junk drawer? Maybe it isn't even a drawer, but it's that place that just seems to accumulate the miscellaneous thingamajigs that don't get thrown away. You know, the little plastic doohickey from something, or the odd metal dealy with the flanges? I've got a few of those odd, unidentified things in my brain. Not literally of course, except for the crayon lodged up my nose that's been lowering my IQ. No, wait, that's Homer Simpson.
No, these are some odd little memories, or dreams, or memories of dreams. Sometimes I'm not even sure which. These are things that I've been carrying since earliest childhood; indeed, they are some of my earliest memories. And I still can't make much sense of them.

1. This is thing I think of as my earliest memory, and it's stuck with me and bothered me most of my life. It's an image, and an feeling of where I am. I'm in a large, dimly lit room or space. I'm looking up, I think I'm lying on my back. The ceiling is a kind of flat, corrugated steel sheet, the wavy steel sheets often seen in rural areas, but I don't have the feeling this an agricultural place. The air is cool, not cold or uncomfortable though. I think I'm lying on bare wood. And that's it. That's the memory. It's been with me as long as I can remember. And I have no idea if it was a real place or what. It's actually been kind of a haunting feeling. Strange.
2. The next was a recurring dream I had through most of childhood, and once or twice since. It starts with a feeling/image of old, wet wood, slightly rotting. The air feels close and heavy, like just before a thunderstorm. There is light where I am, but the distance background seems dark. Next, there is a huge *something*, I guess best described as a gigantic, white tidal wave, but almost solid, and without texture. It is smooth and even everywhere. And I feel like it is taking me, and carrying me away. And there is a feeling of power, and noise, but in dream logic, there is actually no sound.
3. Another dream from childhood, and possibly the oddest one and the hardest to describe. This one seemed to happen when I was sick and feverish. It was very odd, and seemed to involve very massive (as in actual weight) blocks. But I could actually "feel" their massiveness. The colours were kind of dim, yellow/gray/brown. And I didn't feel that it was so much me observing this, as I was a point moving through it. The blocks moved but didn't, but spatially, things did not seem to follow the usual geometry or 3 dimensional rules as real life. They seemed to change in size, mass and position as my point moved through them, even though, somehow they didn't actually change. It almost seems (now) like a kind of synethesia (mixing up of senses).

I have no idea what any of these mean, if anything. The first one, as far as I can recall, only occurred once, and I don't think it was a dream. But it seemed so strong and important that it has stuck with me. The other two were dreams that kept coming back year after year.

They likely mean nothing at all. Just the disjointed creations of a young, growing mind. Still, I get that kind of 'that's a bit creepy' feeling when I think about them.

Evil Thought for Today

"People! Can't live with them, can't get a licence for a doomsday device."

And now a word from our sponsor...

Two posts ago I babbled about buying winter tires. Well, today proved that to be a good idea. I woke up this morning to discover our first big, bad blast of weather for the season. Compared to last February, this wasn't much, but it still made driving a slightly more risky affair. Unlike the usual idiots who don't change their driving habits for the conditions, I took it easy on the way to work, but I could tell by the feel of the car that the grip was better. Indeed, I decended a steep, glassy hill with nary a slip. Not something to test too far, but good to have anyway.