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Tomorrow I'm doing a street painting for a gallery opening in Woonsocket showcasing some of the areas Steampunk artists. I don't have a piece actually IN the show since I don't have anything laying around that's ready to go, hence why I'm doing the street art.

It's at Stage Right Studios in Woonsocket. I should be there most of the morning working with the pastel and props that are being given to me, and then from 6-9 is the actual reception, which I will be attending in costume. There will be snacks and drinks.

Even if you can't stand Steampunkery, you should come see my work anyway. Costumes encouraged.


...if it helps, I'll be in a corset.

We lost Andy Griffith this morning, kids.

Unfortunately, in a little over a month, life is letting me live for another decade. Therefore, I've decided that as I reach the tender age of 30, I would like to receive cards.

These cards...need to horrify me.

I hearby challenge the peoples of PeeDee to send me your artistic masterpieces of birthday cards. No rules other than see if you can get me to wince and my roommate to cry, since she's making me move out in September anyway, I may as well do so by making August INTERESTING.

I suggest you do. It started on Sunday mocking some sort of a conservative call center/website, and this week focusing on ripping apart the Texas legislation involving making transvaginal sonograms compulsory for an abortion. They're taking a lot of heat for it, but still keep going.

St. Valentine was a wussy as far as martyrs go for the period. In the time in which, "Accept Christ, get killed and go to Heaven!" was essentially the motto of the early, oppressed Christians, it's almost disappointing to hear about a man who pleaded for his life through the use of letters when meeting your death via Crucifixion, stoning, hanging or dismemberment seemed all the rage.

Martyrdom during the 2nd and 3rd centuries was an epidemic according to Roman writers, with some even telling of accounts of Christians essentially committing suicide by running in front of a chariot or jumping in front of a few Praetorians and going, 'I WORSHIP JESUS! KILL ME!' (and now I mention suicide bomber, and let that sink in for a moment...) it's no wonder why Constantine said, "OKAY! Enough is enough, I'm tired of seeing guts in my streets, someone clean up this damn mess and make okay for these guys to live. Thanks. Now let me go back to worshiping the sun (paraphrased.)"

I'm not entirely sure of the emperor during Valentine's life, and since I'm writing this from memory and not Wikipedia, you should give me a chocolate on principle. Now, this dude was a Christian living in pagan Rome...a Stranger in a Strange Land if you will (grok?) And he obviously did something to get someone important's attention. This got him thrown in jail, and scheduled to be executed. Now, instead of taking the better, more honorable Christian route at the time, that being, accept your death, get a cookie from the Man Himself when you walk through the pearly gates, he pussed out, and started writing letters to the princess of Rome. You know, a woman who was, gee, pagan, and gee, probably shared them a lot with her dad, and they both had a chuckle. After telling her of the wonders of Christ, plea for his life, offer to buy her a trip to Acapulco and the occasional Rose [of Sharon] was sent her way, he signed it, "From your Valentine." Catchy, huh?

Poor guy never got what he wanted though, which may or may not have been a piece of sweet Roman ass, and he met his death at the executioner's blade. Rumor has it, that his heart, in addition to his head, was displayed on a pike after the execution. Now, if THAT doesn't scream "HOW ROMANTIC!" I don't know what does. The Victorians sure as hell thought so, and figured that the plight of this poor chap was a great reason to write letters to loved ones. This evolved when Hallmark, yes, the card company, took it to the next level, and it started to become a day in which you send TOKENS OF AFFECTION TO LOVED ONES.

Hold up, let's rewind: "Pussy saint won't die for his faith like a man, get's heart on stake, here's chocolate, wanna screw?" Something is up, here. Something terribly does not compute.
If you love these people so much, why aren't you sending them gifts and flowers for any old day? Why did a saint have to die for you to do it? Why did Al Capone have to slaughter dozens of men for you to get laid? WHY? Why must you jam up restaurant business so you can impress your date by ordering expensive food and drinks and leaving a shotty tip because you over spent? No.

The answer is NO. You need to love who you love ALL DAY, EVERY DAY, EVERY YEAR OF THEIR LIVES. Don't let some commercial card company and the stupidity of the Victorian people to ruin history for the sake of a buck. It's pointless, and it makes you look like an amateur. Your significant other and your family are your saints. Don't be a martyr. St. Valentine's head and heart are rolling in their grave.

Richter: Is peeing a perfectly mixed scotch and soda a bad sign? It's a bit awkward fighting off business execs after my single malt urine.

Suu: There's a market for this, I bet.

Richter: Guaranteed millions on the UK watersports circuit.

Suu: And Japan.

Richter: They lack the requisite dreary self loathing to appreciate this

Suu: True. I'm about to pee my morning cup of fair trade all over this bus. Now THAT'S Japanese.

Richter: You see what fair trade does to people? You see why we should keep down and exploit the plebeians?  So we don't publicly pee our togae!

Suu: Precisely, enough of these petty labour disputes. Grain for the Empire or GTFO.

Suu: Also: mink oil/wonder balsam is now forever known as boot lube.

Richter: Sword lube also works as boot lube. Many methods for easing ass/boot interface.

Suu: Ass to boot? Surely you mean boot to ass. Though, I'm sure if I really wanted to look, someone on the internet has tried to shove a Doc Marten up their poopchute.

Richter: Tempting. But if I'm really mad I will telekinesis their ass to my size 11 just to make a point.

Suu: ...I'm a sick fuck. I looked. Thankfully, nothing.

Richter: Damnit. I'll look later, too. It MUST exist.

Suu: I saw more heads up asses. Boots are better , imho.

Richter: Agreed

I opened my fridge and cabinets, and found the following:

1lb whole grain penne
Papa John's Garlic Butter Sauce thingy
Trader Joe's Sesame Oil
Half stick of butter
Ground black pepper
Can of Hunt's Fire Roasted Tomatoes with Garlic

Sauce:
Put garlic sauce, sesame oil, and butter in sauce pan. Melt. Accidentally have the lid fall off the pepper so you get a ridiculous amount in the sauce. Let it ride, stir, and remove from heat.

Boil pasta. DO NOT PUT OIL IN THE PASTA WATER. Drain.

Open can of tomatoes, drain.

Combine very peppery sauce with pasta, throw in whole can of tomatoes.

Dinner.



Trust me, this worked really well, but oh man was there a lot of black pepper. WOOF.

I AM STUCK IN ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL FOR 6 FUCKING HOURS. THEY WOULDN'T LET ME ON MY PLANE AFTER RUNNING THROUGH 5 TERMINALS AND THE GEORGIA DOME TO GET HERE FROM MY CONNECTION BECAUSE MY PLANE COULDN'T FIND A PARKING SPOT ON TIME!!!

This is beyond disgusting.

JP Morgan is the largest processor of food stamp benefits in the United States.  JP Morgan has contracted to provide food stamp debit cards in 26 U.S. states and the District of Columbia.  JP Morgan is paid for each case that it handles, so that means that the more Americans that go on food stamps, the more profits JP Morgan makes.  Yes, you read that correctly.  When the number of Americans on food stamps goes up, JP Morgan makes more money.

http://theeconomiccollapseblog.com/archives/the-more-americans-that-go-on-food-stamps-the-more-money-jp-morgan-makes

We have to cancel Christmas this year.

...Internetting at 35k feet is fucking hysterical. Best $10 I ever spent. Seriously.




Happy Holidays, from your airborne Princess.


-Suu
Descending into Atlanta. No wifi on the next craft, so I'll see you all when I'm safe in Tampatown.

I've put some thought into my Goddamn Industry Professional^TM status, and this is what I've come up with.

We all know how the story went. I was drunk off my ass, accidentally punched Roger in the groin and got a little loud and stupid on the way home from the bar while Richter tried to make sure I was walking in a quasi-straight line.

But what exactly IS an industry professional? What makes you a PROFESSIONAL in your goddamn industry? Well, I'm here to tell you.

I'm a goddamn industry professional bartender, maybe. I dunno, I don't tend anymore and I even though I'm good, it's not me. Maybe I'm a writer, a student, a historian of shiny fabrics. I'm an artist, I'm a whiny dramatic bitch. I'm an industry professional douchebag dater, and a hipster hater. I'm a little ball of everything and nothing at exactly the same time.

Can you be an industry professional bum? Why not? Payne was a freelance bum for years, but he's the Messiah, and therefore we must worship him.

Richter is an industry professional, well...Richter. I can't think of anyone else like him.

Luna is an industry professional awesome friend, even when my industry professional mouth says something stupid and overdramatic. She's also an industry professional payroll clerk, and I can't even imagine doing the workload she does. Mine is bad enough for a staff of 10.

Roger is an industry professional maintenance manager, but he's also a motherfucking Holy Man^TM and a fantastic mind. I never doubt a word he's said. I just wish I had the focus he does to just put my thoughts down.

Freeky is an industry professional mother, student, and really smart woman. She's been through shit, we've ALL been through shit, but she's still unstoppable.

Nigel? Shit, she IS the industrial professional West Coast Supermom and an amazing artist and woman who has had to deal with my PMs and industry professional douchebag dramallama.

EoC is a dispatcher between the two shittiest cities in Massachusetts, but he's also a damn good asshole. The BEST kind of asshole.

Same with ECH, a total industry professional asshole, and also a mighty fine chef.

Cramulus is another amazing thinker, and Industry Professional Discordian. Oh, and a Professor, who professes shit.

LMNO...yeah, he's stuck in finance, but he's an amazing musician and if you haven't listened to his stuff, well, you should, damnit. He's also a very sweet guy in person, but he'll never admit it.

Squid is one hell of a fucking cook and a brewer and an artist, who my mom thinks is adorable. She has a great kid, a brood of fuzzy cats and a fantastic husband. Fuck her job at the bank, that doesn't define what or who she is.

RWHN is an industry professional punster. Fuck his job, though it's very important.

Kai, well, he's gonna be Doctor Kai someday soon, that makes him an industry professional in bugology, who love bugs. And a writer! HE JUST HAD A DAMN ARTICLE PUBLISHED! He's also a great listener.

Even Dartmouth Fett, who stole my Industry Professional title, and PUT IT ON HIS BUSINESS CARD WITHOUT ASKING ME FIRST, is, still, an industry professional. An industry professional douchebag.

I suppose the point I am laboriously trying to get to here is that we're ALL industry professionals, and not just in our jobs. A job or career doesn't define a human being, or hell, it doesn't even make you human, it just means your programmed to do something. To be an industry professional means that you have a different sort of wiring that allows you to be something else that isn't everything else. You're your own industry professional, and it's time to start living up to the title.

Okay, so I just had to play some add/drop origami because my school wanted to charge me an extra 1500 bucks for taking 1 extra class at the main campus, and my religious studies class got dropped...again...(I've been trying to take this course for 2 fucking terms. The prof comes highly recommended by Richter.)

Anyways, in my mad scramble, I just had to settle on Intro to Philosophy to kill the gen-ed for Letters that the other class would have covered.

Now, I've never taken a philosophy class before, well, because it's fucking philosophy, and this is a 100 level class. What kind of bullshit can I expect? Seriously?

Sure, it's "relevant" to my major and all, but I think the Abrahamic Faiths would have been better. Meh.

Burn in hell, you motherfucking bastard.

...Six hours later...

And her name just seems fake.

http://www.naturalnews.com/034417_Wal-Mart_meth_woman.html

When 45-year-old Elizabeth Alisha Greta Halfmoon was finally arrested for trying to set up a methamphetamine lab inside a Tulsa, Okla., Walmart store, she told police that she did not have the money to actually buy the chemicals and mix them on her own property. But according to reports, it took roughly six hours before anyone even took notice that Halfmoon had collected the needed ingredients from products throughout the store, and begun to set up her own meth-cooking lab right on the premises.

Just sayin.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQrdxtWgHbE

HEE HAW HEE HAW!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=0PAJNntoRgA

I know this belongs in Aneristic, but I think the entire world needs to see this shit.

Harry Morgan died today at age 96.

Thanks for the years of amazing laughs with M*A*S*H re-runs.

Seriously.

I was assigned to look for and apply to a grant that can help my newspaper expedite their 501 (c) 3 status. Long story short, we got an official letter from the IRS today saying, "Yeah, about that...you're at the bottom of the pile. Yes we know it's been 2 years, but suck it up. Don't call us, we'll call you. KTHX."

So my boss wants me to find money to help us cover legal fees to get this rolling faster and to help us cover our taxes which we still have to pay until we finally get approved to be a non-profit. I'm overwhelmed and lost at the same time. I can't find shit, and I'm Google-Fu'ing the fuck out of the internet with no avail.

Tips?

Tricks?

And here I was just worried about my eyeshadow.

http://health.yahoo.net/articles/nutrition/arsenic-in-juice

Five samples of apple juice and four of grape juice had total arsenic levels exceeding the 10 ppb federal limit for bottled and drinking water. Levels in the apple juices ranged from 1.1 to 13.9 ppb, and grape-juice levels were even higher, 5.9 to 24.7 ppb. Most of the total arsenic in our samples was inorganic, our tests showed.

As for lead, about one fourth of all juice samples had levels at or above the 5-ppb limit for bottled water. The top lead level for apple juice was 13.6 ppb; for grape juice, 15.9 ppb.

Happy Thanksgiving, you mother rapers, father stabbers, father rapers and litterers.

An egotistical prick who was kicked out of Boston for not being Puritan connived a chunk of land from Wampanoag natives who could barely speak English, and said, "What cheer?"

He founded his swampy domain solely on total religious tolerance, and named it after God's divine providence. The first Baptist Church of America and the first Jewish Temple in America were built shortly thereafter.

The first event of the American Revolution took place down stream in some little port at the time called Warwick with the burning of the HMS Gaspee, but Boston stole their glory with their namby pamby queer tea party. So, they followed with their own tea party, in which they just threw everything from the boat in the water, set shit on fire and killed people, instead. No costume required.

Built on seven hills like Rome, most of them landfill to cover the swamp, and a few re-routing of the rivers after severe hurricanes, the city would become a mecca of macabre cultists, artsy hipsters, and destitute who I swear I saw 5 years ago in downtown Boston.

Happy birthday to the East Coast capital of Discord: PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND.

(WARNING. LONG.)

I haven't been well lately. Aside from the earth-shattering kaboom of a breakup (you know, as only I can muster), I need to disclose what else is going on in my life, before you guys think I'm totally losing it.

My parents are not doing well. Marital wise. The past couple of weeks have been marred by daily phone calls and multiple texts from at least one of my immediates describing the hell at hand. My parents have been married for 29 years, and I hate to say that they love each other so much they hate each other...if that makes sense. Well, things are starting to get worse.

My father took a hefty pay cut when they moved back to Florida from Rhode Island in 2006. Barking that he was never happy up here, and the weather sucked. Well, I can't argue against the weather, but he was making excellent money in Providence. Returning to his old job in Clearwater has been nothing but a burden on him, and he even suffered another 15% cut with the market downturn.

Despite standard of living differences between the two states, a cut is a cut, and after you buy a house and attempt to settle down, it's not good. After my grandfather died, he left my mom a considerable sum of money. I can't tell you the exact amount, but I know it was a good chunk of change. After us 3 got our share (which wasn't much) mom put some money into the kitchen and deck on the house, and intended to put the rest in savings. My dad on the other hand, saw fit to buy two new cars during this time period (One was a lemon and lasted him only a year), purchase my plane tickets to visit with it (think, at $300 a pop, 2-3 times a year...) and other pointless purchases, the money went way too fast. In addition to that, my brother losing his job and not being able to pay his half of the mortgage and his own car and insurance payments also got thrown into that, so, long story short, that money is toast after 2 years.

In addition to that, my brother wrecked my mom's car over the summer, and my sister also had her accident earlier in the year, though I should mention that, although it was stressful, my sister paid for hers by herself. My brother, did not.

A few weeks ago, the issue came up with me purchasing my plane tickets for my trip to Florida for Christmas. I just moved and I don't have the money laying around. Not to mention the trip I had to make to Pennsylvania for my cousin's wedding wasn't cheap, either. When I stated that I wasn't sure if the trip was possible, my mom FLIPPED OUT. Not about me, but about my father's inability to manage his finances, and the fact that her inheritance, which would have assisted me, is already gone. Meanwhile, I'm hoping and praying I see the deposit back from my apartment so I can get my tickets.

This has started a ridiculous chain reaction, which has become escalated in the past 2 weeks or so. My father, being of the Mediterranean persuasion, has accused my mother of having an affair with one of their best family friends. This is nothing new, and he's been accusing her left and right since she was bartending back in the mid 90s, but at this point it's just absurd, especially since it's a close family friend that was accused. Needless to say, he's managed to push this friend out of their lives. My mom doesn't work anymore because of my father's jealousy, but the house is supported by my dad's income, my sister's 3 jobs, and my brother who went back to work a few weeks ago.

On top of that, the family dog isn't doing well. He's a 9 year old German Shepherd who belonged to my grandfather and was left to my mom. He's a fabulous dog, but his hips are starting to show signs of weakness, and his prognosis is about a year and a half. My mother has already announced to my sister and I that once the dog is out of the picture, she is officially leaving my father, and moving back to Alabama to live with her best friend, who has a room ready for her and everything.

My father got offered this GREAT job in the West Palm area. Making what he was making up here. Now, Florida ain't small, so New Englanders, try to wrap your heads around this for a minute. My parents live in Clearwater, which is one of the "smaller" Tampa Bay area cities. He already drives to Largo for work, which, even though it's the next city over, and that's already about 15-20 miles. West Palm Beach is 4 hours away. There is no straight shot there, and even though I've been known to fold space to Miami in 3 hours, West Palm takes a special sorta convoluted Florida-crossing magic because of where it is located in relation to the highways from the West Coast. My dad wanted to get an apartment or trailer in West Palm, and then come home on the weekends. At first, this seemed like a great idea, because 1: He wouldn't be around my mom as much, 2: He'd be making a lot better money, and they could afford the rent.

...Then mom stopped taking her fucking meds again, went nuts, and shot him down. So, he's still stuck in Larghetto, dealing with the bullshit he deals with there, and making my entire family's life miserable, in which, I hear about through Facebook, text, or phone call.

Mom is bipolar, and she "doesn't like how her medications make her feel". We've been through several different types at this point, and we think she's bullshitting us. Please remember, we found out Mom was bipolar when she threw me and my shit on the street in 2004 after my uncle died because I didn't cry, so she's pretty special when she's not controlled. There's a reason why I still remained 1300 miles away from them, even after the divorce. Going back to school almost made a nice anchor. I love my family to death, but I cannot LIVE with them.

Tonight while I was at fight practice, actually trying to clear my head for the first time in weeks and also post-breakup, I see my phone flashing, and have to deal with another phonecall from my sister telling me of the latest bout of insanity, and begging me to move back down because she and my brother cannot deal with this alone, even though they're both adults, and I reminded her of such.

I'm at a difficult impasse here. Being 29/30 years old, and dealing with your parents having a marriage collapse isn't exactly easy. Especially when I'm so far away. No, I'm not a grade school kid that would depend on custody and such, but I'm just not mentally prepared for this. I don't know what to do, or how to approach this, which I think is the same issue that my brother and sister are having. We're just clueless and helpless at this point in our lives. It's difficult to be adults and do our adult things right now during all of this.

The breakup was merely another layer on the cake at this point. Breakups hurt, they always do, and I always seem to get myself involved with cheesedicks, I get it. Just this time, the cheesedick has a psycho wife, who, for some reason, is finding it incredibly amusing to harass me through Facebook and email through her husband's accounts. In other words, she's waving her fucking gonads at me proving that she has access to his shit. Whatever. I don't fucking care, we're done, but I want to be left alone, and I told her as such. She pulled some extra classy moves last night while I was in class, including messages from his account calling me wonderful names that I was slinging at bitches in high school for stealing my man. If I was in any sort of normal state of mind, I'd probably be able to shake them off, but I'm not. I had to leave my lecture early last night, because I was almost in tears, and then walked home crying like a bitch and back into my bottle of sweet tea vodka to concede defeat. I have blocked every form of communication I can from her at this point, but I'm waiting for her to hit the phone. Chances are, if she went through Oarstroker's stuff, she probably found my number and address, so it's only a matter of time, really. But then, if I have her phone number, I'll be able to do a lot more damage. Charges WILL be pressed if she continued with the harassment. I just want to be left alone and put this shit behind me, but she made it almost impossible for me this week.

I take pride in the fact that I'm a good student. I don't like leaving lectures early, and most of my professors know this. I'm very engaged in my classes, and lately, I just haven't been there. This is bad. I'm doing poorly in chemistry as it is, and I'd rather not blow my GPA by letting my grades in my other courses fall because I can't handle my stress right now.

Oh, and in addition to all of the above, here's the icing: My cervix isn't doing good. I've been actually started to feel twinges of pain in my pelvic region, and I'm spotting when I'm not supposed to be. I go to the doctor next week, even though I can't afford it AT ALL, to get a checkup, and schedule my surgery for December. If this proves to be worse than it actually is, I could be starting chemo in January.

So, that's that.

I may be taking a break from the internet for a bit, because nothing I'm saying right now on any forum anywhere is making sense. I don't even think half of my conversations in person are making sense, so I need to just shut up for a while, and just let my brain figure out how to reconstruct itself around this shit I'm dealing with.


Thanks, Eris. You're awesome.

ASK ME ANYTHING

...anyone know if RWHN is buried yet?

Also, which one of you fuckers pissed off Aput?

Also, also...there's 1/2" of pure muck outside, and all Providence is getting is sleet. I heard Western, MA is nearly 2 feet already! o.O

Fuck this noise. Fuck it, I say.

I've never needed anything so much in my life.

http://www.bustedtees.com/beermo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=7caY2tmKtcM

I'll just leave that here.

http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=7385523n%3Ftag%3Dfacebook

All troops will be out of Iraq by the end of the year...That's one war over.

Thoughts?

 Who loves ya, baby?
\

No really...this is fucking creepy, especially when she gets in her car.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T2doG1XmR4w

Though I'm pretty sure that anyone in the Northeast can tell you that wild turkeys are fucking vicious.

I posted this on one of my fiction boards that I frequent, and even though it's pretty rough, choppy, and not finished yet, they're urging me to look into getting it to a finished product and packaging it as a novella. It's going to break 50 pages, easily.

Basically this started in the beginning of September on the urging of Oarstroker in that I had no story for my Byzantine persona, and he had no story for a time his persona could have spent in Constantinople or how he came to join the household. None. When I originally starting writing this, I had no intention to show it to anyone else but him, but he's encouraged me to share.

There are...quite a few anachronisms in this, mostly to include other friends and household members. And I've intentionally left the year and emperor vague, though it's definitely during the Komnenid Dynasty. I am NOT *THE* Anna Komnene, though I am married into the Imperial family. Anna was a very common name. There were probably 20 Anna Komnenes, but only one wrote The Alexiad.

Oh right, the title of princess I actually put in as a joke at first, because Oarstroker caught me having a girly moment in which I freaked out over something gross, and he called me a princess... but I stuck with it. I am not a princess in the SCA, and that would require someone to fight for me in crown, and that has not happened yet. I don't want my SCAdian friends reading this and freaking out. I had to make it historically plausible, and it's taken more research than I thought it would.

Yes, there's romance, but it's not graphic. (Though seeing Oarstroker behave this hopeless is sort of like comedy for us.)


So...uh...enjoy.  

My Big Fat Guinea Weekend is NOW.

For those coming to Dimo's show on Saturday night, I advise you don't move your car. Sunday morning = breakfast at Luna's.

At noon is the Parade of Guidos and Guatemalans who think they're Guidos.

And then....SANGRIA AND SAUSAGE AND PEPPERS EVERYWHERE!

Let's celebrate Lief Erickson Day in honor of that Italian guy who took over Hispaniola and killed the Tainos! GUINEA STYLE!

Carnival rides and booze!

MOTHERFUCKING CARNIVAL RIDES AND BOOZE.

Seriously. You need this.

 AKA: Suu gloats that Boston blew it and the Rays rallied from a 7 point deficit to win in 12 innings.

Also...CARDS?!

PROVIDENCE IS NOT PHOENIX! 

http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2011/08/26/its-time-for-china-to-pay-its-debts-to-united-states/?cmpid=cmty_fb_Gigya_It%27s_Time_for_China_to_Pay_Its_Debts_to_the_United_States

Okay, this is from Fox. Cain, is this for real or smoke up asses to make America™ feel better?

http://www.upi.com/Science_News/2011/08/30/Black-Death-confirmed-as-bubonic-plague/UPI-40421314745623/

he Black Death that decimated the population of Europe in the 14th century was definitely caused by bubonic plague, a DNA analysis of medieval bones has shown.

While some researchers have suggested the epidemic was in fact caused by a virus such as Ebola, the analysis of DNA from a London plague burial has confirmed the "plague" bacterium Yersinia pestis was responsible, NewScientist.com reported Tuesday.

Researchers from McMaster University in Ontario, Canada, looked for Yersinia DNA in the bones of Black Death victims, a task complicated by possibility of contamination, they said.

"When we extract DNA from the skeletons, we also get DNA from their environment," researcher Hendirk Poinar said.

But careful sampling of bones and teeth using a molecular "probe" found DNA belonging to a strain of Y. pestis unlike any known today, and not found in skeletons buried elsewhere in London before the Black Death.

Read more: http://www.upi.com/Science_News/2011/08/30/Black-Death-confirmed-as-bubonic-plague/UPI-40421314745623/#ixzz1Wc0HRJbk

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AoCt3NHGwM8BxD2H1669H3_ty6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20090305151758AA7dWwd

Let me explain.

I go to a private school that is rather strict. Recently, the principal and school teacher council released a (very long) list of books we're not allowed to read. I was absolutely appalled, because a large number of the books were classics and others that are my favorites. One of my personal favorites, The Catcher in the Rye, was on the list, so I decided to bring it to school to see if I would really get in trouble. Well... I did but not too much. Then (surprise!) a boy in my English class asked if he could borrow the book, because he heard it was very good AND it was banned! This happened a lot and my locker got to overflowing with the banned books, so I decided to put the unoccupied locker next to me to a good use. I now have 62 books in that locker, about half of what was on the list. I took care only to bring the books with literary quality. Some of these books are:

>The Perks of Being a Wallflower
>His Dark Materials trilogy
>Sabriel
>The Canterbury Tales
>Candide
>The Divine Comedy
>Paradise Lost
>The Godfather
>Mort
>Interview with the Vampire
>The Hunger Games
>The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
>A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
>Animal Farm
>The Witches
>Shade's Children
>The Evolution of Man
> the Holy Qu'ran
... and lots more.

Anyway, I now operate a little mini-library that no one has access to but myself. Practically a real library, because I keep an inventory log and give people due dates and everything. I would be in so much trouble if I got caught, but I think it's the right thing to do because before I started, almost no kid at school but myself took an active interest in reading! Now not only are all the kids reading the banned books, but go out of their way to read anything they can get their hands on. So I'm doing a good thing, right? Oh, and since you're probably wondering "Why can't you just go to a local library and check out the books?" most of the kids are too chicken or their parents won't let them but the books. I think that people should have open minds. Most of the books were banned because they contained information that opposed Catholisism. I limit my 'library' to only the sophmores, juniors and seniors just in case so you can't say I'm exposing young people to materiel they're not mature enough for. But is what I'm doing wrong because parents and teachers don't know about it and might not like it, or is it a good thing because I am starting appreciation of the classics and truly good novels (Not just fad novels like Twilight) in my generation?

Yes, we felt it in Providence. Oarstroker and I were very much WTF as we sat in the kitchen and felt the floor rolling. Yes, rolling.

Is everyone else okay in the Northeast?

There is something spinning in the Atlantic.

Her name is Irene.

I fucking DARE YOU.

I'm the first one to depart. I hit the road from New London, CT tonight at about 8pm if not earlier. My squire-in-arms drives at about 90-100 the whole way (he was a cop, he doesn't care) which should get us to the nether reaches of PA in about 8 hours, so we'll get there for sunrise over the battlefield. *cue dramatic music* I'm going to be toast tomorrow at this time.

Richter and Luna will be joining me and the rest of the household(s) On Wednesday. The first battle I'm fighting in is next Saturday when we attempt to recreate the Storming of La Rochelle from the 1570s, and the war official begins on Sunday the 7th.

I've never done Pennsic for the full 2 weeks, I expect hilarity to ensue. Richter and I have our full on, 10+yards of linen Roman garb for at least one occasion of being Imperial snobs, and I cannot confirm nor deny a day of greasy Salazorian persona happenings as well.

I just have a couple more things to do before I depart. Expect mobile updates and pics when possible. Dok Howl will receive as many filthy pictures of my feet as I can manage if we get a good mud pit going. Ooorah.

Onward to victory, spags!

PRESENTS.

GIVE.

He's wearing more clothes in his old age.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVGTZIPljfY&NR=1

I am an entire Snap On chest of tools. Say it.

Thanks to my beautiful wifey Nigel and my Archangel Gabriel for inspiring me to work my emotions out creatively, instead of viciously.

I've extracted my douche rants from my radio broadcast for all to hear, including their accompanying musical track, which was nothing more than me being creative with my timing than any sort of meaning.

These aren't fancy. They aren't full of vitriol and deep words, it's just me, sometimes being overpowered by my background track because my recording software likes to do that, spitting out my experiences with 4 guys that I unfortunately have had to share my life with at some point in time. They aren't life-changing, it was for nothing really more than entertainment during my show. If anything, the experience was therapeutic. Enjoy!

http://www.4shared.com/audio/7tnZbPGg/douchebag1.html  Nick/"Fuck You Dooshbag" by the Paraplegics
http://www.4shared.com/audio/OpxGN-lG/douchebag2.html   Ben (Herbert)/ "I Fucking Hate You" by Godsmack
http://www.4shared.com/audio/CXGt-U4L/douchebag3.html  Jesse (General Stuart)/ "Eulogy" by Tool
http://www.4shared.com/audio/d2-KubDl/douchebag4.html   JC (Dartmouth Fett)/ "I Don't Give A Fuck" by Tupac Shakur

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EcmlfnkSAwU


AND IF THAT ISN'T ENOUGH. MOAR.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FscP3dyDPFQ&feature=related

The theme is "Fuck You", which is self explanatory. I am on a hunt for at least 2 hours of music that I can play with Fuck You as the title, or theme or prominent in the lyrics.

This is what I have so far (not the playlist order):

Jack Vaughn -The Word Fuck
The Paraplegics - Fuck You Dooshbag
Cee Lo Green - Fuck You
Lily Allen - Fuck You
Overkill - Fuck You
Damageplan - Fuck You
Pantera - Fucking Hostile
B.O.B. Feat. Lil Boosie DG Yola - Fuck You
Darkroom Familia - Fuck You, Fuck Me, Fuck Everybody
Frankie J - Fuck You Right Back
Jay Z - Can I Get A Fuck You
Lil' Kim.feat.Junior M.A.F.I.A.& The Notorious B.I.G. - Fuck You
Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Clan Ain't Nuthin Ta Fuck Wit
2Pac - Fuck The World
2Pac - I Don't Give A Fuck
Slipknot - Surfacing

ASK ME ANYTHING!

I'm in a snarky mood right now. It's Take No Shit Day, and I feel like being horrible, so, here we go.

  First of all, Fuck your Bruins. I'm wearing my Lightning shirt today, and I'm proud of it. What are you going to do? Rip it off of me? Go fuck yourselves, Boston fans. All of you.

Second of all, fuck the job market, fuck friends who say they're going to help you out and then don't come through. You're all douchebags, I will slap you on Saturday.

  Third of all, I don't care about your relationships. I don't. Why? Men suck. Women suck. People in general suck and things like love and emotions and feelings get in the way of more important things, like pissing on the world and going on homicidal rampages.

Fourth of all, yes I drink. I brew my own booze. I have to systematically test it. This does not make me an alcoholic or a drunk, goddamnit. In fact, I probably drink way less than you think I do. I haven't been "drunk", in months, probably getting close to a year, to be honest. I hate being drunk. It's gross. A couple beers and a good buzz, fine, but drunk? No thanks. Considering the amount of stress I've been under lately, you all are lucky I haven't switched to heroin or something.

Fifth of all, I don't really give a flying fuck if you like my music or not. It's my music, that's why I listen to it, and you don't. Hipster shitstains.

Sixth of all, I don't care about your political point of views. I don't care how much of a waffler you are. I know who I voted for, I know what I was getting myself into. I don't care if you're a Democrat, Republican, Teabagger, Libertarian, Freestater, Socialist or Anarchist. None of it works. You're wasting your time.

Seventh of all, RELIGION. Jesus H. Christ on a Cracker with Allah and Buddha on the side. SHUT THE FUCK UP. Everyone knows the one true god is a crazy woman, and her name is Eris.

Eight of all, gay rights. Get married, adopt/have testtube kids. Get divorced, have your clubs and your pride. You bleed red like the rest of us, I get it, and I'm good friends with several very awesome gay people, but please, the world doesn't owe you a goddamn thing. That ship sailed last century. Sorry.

Ninth of all, NERDS WITH POLITICS. Fantastic, you've found a like-minded group of people to get involved with, be it the SCA, 501st, chess team or gaming club. Now, I know that none of us were popular in high school, please. This is nothing new to me, but can you once just for fuck's sake, take a step back and realize that what you do is for fun, and it's not real life, and the rules and laws you pass in your clubs do nothing in the real world, where you have to live, work, and survive. Stop taking things personally and laugh at yourself. Hard. YOU'RE A FUCKING NERD. THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT THERE THAT THINK YOU'RE REALLY WEIRD FOR WHAT YOU DO. And if they can't take the fact that you LARP on the weekends seriously, you probably shouldn't either.

Tenth of all, America. Every goddamn citizen of this country goes on and on about how they hate something or other, but you know what? We're all spoiled brats. We couldn't live anywhere else, not even Canada. Our culture is consumerism, and any other country that actually has history or ethnicity is going to scare the living crap out of you if you attempt to leave. Not to mention, they don't teach anyone here a significant amount of foreign languages like the rest of the world, anyway, so that we can't actually escape successfully.


(This is a work in progress. Posts by other people have been taken out, but I will post the whole screen cap when I'm done.)