This another of those really active weeks, celestial-behavior wise. The kind of week where you need to lay out the charts on a card table with some pushpins, string, and a protractor. Let’s see what’s there, shall we.
Remember when you were in the back seat of your Chevy Caprice with Charlotte, and her pants were about to come off for the first time, and this asshole knocked on the window? Asshole.
Alignment the first: Venus-Earth-Luna-Saturn (retrograde); Jupiter (retrograde) in opposition. Good luck in getting laid this week. More receptive partners include: civil servants, leaders, submissives, and depressed people. Cock-block attempts by government officials. It could also be interpreted as unfortunate HR repercussions. The stars only say that you will be successful, it doesn’t say that you won’t come to regret your success.
Alignment the second: Mercury-Sol-Jupiter (retrograde); Venus in opposition. Bad tidings from the government. Since it shares two of the lights with the previous alignment, it strongly suggests an interrelation, and with Venus being the opposition planet, I don’t think I need to spell out the subject matter. honestly, if I didn’t know UnCiv was OoO on his roadtrip, I would shout at him not to dip his pen in the Taxpayer’s ink.
Actually, since these signs are both so clear and so complex, they must mean something big, or at least immediately applicable. Hmmmm. Bad news from the government… sex… censure… will the Hooker Pee Videotape finally be released? Huma/Hillary’s erotic skype logs? Carlos Danger rubs one out in the Rotunda? A sex worker sues the Clinton Foundation for non-payment? I don’t know what, but something big is going to happen.
Alignment the third: A BARCO of Mars-Terra-Saturn (retrograde) indicating the outbreak of military hostilities. Whether the BARCO nature indicates only a minor skirmish, or because such news is trivial is uncertain.
same sand, different day
So that’s it from the Heliocentric view. As for observations you can make with your own eyeballs, Mars in Aquarius means that Rufus is going to get into a fight. Jupiter (retrograde) in Scorpio means wankery will continue. Saturn (retrograde) in Capricorn means buttheads will continue to be buttheads. Basically, if you expected your problems to go away this week, you are in for a disappointment. On the upside, with Mercury conjoined with Sol in Gemini, you will not be overwhelmed — you will be able to deal with multiple problems. Venus in Cancer continues to amplify “feminine” virtues of peace, nurturing, and romance… enjoy it while it lasts, it’s halfway through its transit.
While pondering the signs, here is some music (and fashion) to expand your mind:
The twin suns were setting, leaving a darkening red mist over the sprawling city. From my window in the hyper skyscraper I could see the floating car traffic hurtling above the bustling sidewalks. The glass of the nearby buildings glittered like gems, dazzling my eye stalks as if I was in a dream. I felt worn out like a used Kyrilomine wrapper. I thought of going home but the sensor at the door beeped, indicating a client had come into the office anteroom. I ambled back to the desk, sat on the chair, and hit the button to allow the connecting portal to open.
A strange creature strode in. She or he or it was a sad specimen with only four appendages, one pair used for mobilization, the other for grasping. The hyper-chip in my cortex connected to the Encyclopedia Universal and fed the information directly into my memory glands. Even before she spoke, I knew she was a female hominid from the Sol system. With that detail in place I could look past her alien features and see a cascading wave of blonde hair, two brown visualization orbs, an opening smeared with a red, waxy substance, and hips that were wide enough for my nesting table. Her dress, all shimmering silver, fitted the contours of her body well. Of course I really wasn’t the sort of fellow who was into cross-species mating, but still the old copulating sac did give a minute twitch.
“Are you Detective Balanxorp?”she asked. Her voice was higher than the female of my species. She spoke the Galactic Trade language stiffly as if she had learned it from a primitive memory impression chip.
“Yes I am,” I said with an easy cosmopolitan drawl that I used for off-world creatures. “What can I help you with?”
“I am looking for my father. He has gone missing.”
With a free tentacle, I motioned for her to take a seat in front of my desk. When she found a comfortable perch on the arch of relaxation, I reached into the desk and pulled out a sapphire bottle of off-world Muuze, the finest alcohol that a poor detective such as myself could afford.
“Would you care for a snort?” I asked.
She shook her head, giving me a look that I took to mean distaste. It’s been my experience that some species want to get straight to business before relaxing with a suitable beverage. It’s a damn shame, since communications when slightly intoxicated can lead to pleasant results.
After pouring myself a drink, I carefully put the bottle away. I took a small sip and said, “Talk to me.”
“My name is Elizabeth. My father and I are originally from Earth. He and I were taken off the planet years ago, back when I was just a child.” She made a small gesture with her grasping-appendage, which I couldn’t fathom.
“Abduction?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Some citizens of this galaxy had a thing for exploring alien anal cavities, supposedly in the name of science. It was a practice that thankfully was dying out, thanks to the work of ARSE, the Alien Rectal Safety Enquiry.
“Yes,” she replied smoothly.
“And your father’s name?”
“Dr. Edward Tinsdale.”
In a microsecond, the Encyclopedia Universal returned the biographical data I requested. It took me another moment to digest the information, quickly sorting through the man’s education, age, and background.
“The famous cryptid researcher?” I finally asked even though I already knew the answer.
“The very same,” Elizabeth said with obvious pride. “My father has been all over the galaxy researching legendary monsters. He’s had some success, like proving the Slithering Eels of Sexylvania were just a hoax. But he did prove that Tulpa, the Internet Troll, was real. I’m afraid the fame went to his head. He returned to our home planet Earth to find the most dangerous cryptid of all, STEVE SMITH. He wanted to prove to everyone that the Rapesquatch was real.”
I knew already that she was from the Sol system, but I directed my network connection to look up some information on Earth. A top-level warning flashed painfully across my neurons. It turned out that this planet was under active quarantine, always guarded by a Trade Federation battleship against anyone from exiting the solar system. Earth was apparently home to three Galactic outlaws: SugarFree, Warty, and STEVE SMITH.
Expanding the search, I downloaded the thumbnail sketches of these criminals:
SugarFree: the nom de plume of a writer who was convicted in absentia in the Federation Galactic Court, for his non-fiction musings of popular politicians. He was also guilty by association for being the official Chronicler of Warty.
Warty: Powerlifter, eternal enemy of the galactic state, and owner of most efficient “workout” dungeon on the planet. Considered by many to be the most dangerous creature in the 7th Arm of the Milky Way Galaxy. Warty is the only known survivor of being attached to the infamous Doomcock of Doom; and doing the Deathsquat of Death, which caused the rings of Saturn, a huge gas planet in the Sol system, to form. His illegal Timesuit allowed movement in all four dimensions, which, in this case, made the Federation battleship useless.
Pausing momentarily before downloading the next entry, I wondered why the Federation would go through all the expense of leaving a warship in orbit around a third-rate backwater of a planetary system. The answer was readily ap-parent once my neurons, which revolted in horror, processed the next entry.
STEVE SMITH: An ancient, immortal Rapesquatch of unknown origin. Said to have been sent back in time and trapped on the planet Earth during its early formation, this cryptid has sexually conquered most of the species there. The only safe creatures are the ones that can fly or live in seas. STEVE SMITH only lives to rape and rapes to live. One galactic physicist, though considered a crank, thought the very formation of the universe, the Big Bang, was actually the result of this Rapesquatch penetrating a white hole making it explode. Though only mythical, the secret, ancient transcripts from the Federation archives show the council had taken the threat of this Rapesquatch seriously enough to post a Level-A Star Battleship in the Sol System.
I inwardly shuddered, trying with difficulty to hide my disgust. If STEVE SMITH escaped, then my very own rectal cavity could be in peril, not to mention my other orifices. The very tightness of the Universe was at stake.
With an expression that I took as expectation, she asked, “Well, Mr. Balanxorp, will you help me find my father?”
My tentacles quivered in agitation. I took another sip of my drink in a failed attempt to quiet my nerves. I blurted out, “If your father has been taken by STEVE SMITH, then nothing can save him. There is nothing I can do!”
Her eyes were misting with some liquid substance. “Please!”
“This meeting is at an end.” I slammed the desk to punctuate my point. “You will have to leave as I have some pressing business to attend elsewhere.”
The creature named Elizabeth ran out the room, making some untranslatable noises. I hoped I had seen the last of her. Little did I know this was the very beginning…
After last week’s choc-a-bloc and interesting sky, this week has decided that it’s revealed quite enough thank you and is being uncommunicative. Celestial infinity, what can you do? For example, it puts Mercury (change) in Taurus (stability). This is obviously bullshit, and it’s a sign of how honest the Glibastrology staff is at this fine periodical. A charlatan would try and use the alternate reading of Mercury to predict news about cattle futures, or McDonald’s announcing a sale or something. I am not that charlatan.
Last week we had that awesome double opposition that was keeping relationships on an even keel. It’s completely fallen apart, though we still have a kinda-sorta-technically-an-alignment-but-a-really-crappy-one (known as a KSTAABARCO* in the astrology biz (not really)) of Mars-Venus-Saturn retrograde, so it’s offering some protection for your relationship if you tell your SO that they look particularly fat today, but not very much.
BARCO Alignment, it’s not just for planets!
In fact, whatever feeble protection that BARCO** alignment gives is more than offset by by the alignment with us of both Mercury and Luna, the two most instability-bringing influences there are. Shit’s gonna change yo.
Now having said all of that, there is one day that you might be able to get away with a little something… Memorial Day. Ironically enough for a day dedicated to remembering, there is a Jupiter-Moon conjunction (in Scorpio!) that bodes well for concealing misbehavior. However, the long-term risks of such misbehavior will not be mitigated; there is increased risk for contracting venereal disease this week, so wrap that rascal!
In addition to the ongoing good fishing, this week is good for hunting. Get out there, kill something, and eat it! Particularly effective calibers will be 0.22, 0.44, .30-30 and .303. There isn’t much about cartridge size, though with the Sun in Gemini, magnums are favored.
As for star-related music, here’s the greatest band of the 20th century deciding they need to sound more like Muse and writing a song about the universe fucking itself:
*I think I’m going to start using the acronym BARCO. It has potential.
It’s hard to overstate the influence John Browning had on the firearms industry. He designed firearms ranging from .22 rifles to 37mm cannon; from the classic, time-tested 1911 pistol to the famous Auto-5 shotgun to the historic Browning Automatic Rifle. He designed the M2 .50 caliber machine gun, still, after almost a century, the world’s best heavy machine gun. In fact, his list of cartridges and firearms designed is extensive:
Cartridges
.25 ACP
.32 ACP
.38 ACP
.380 ACP
.45 ACP
.50 BMG
9mm Browning Long
Handguns
FN M1899/M1900 (.32 ACP)
Colt Model 1900 (.38 ACP)
Colt Model 1902 (.38 ACP)
Colt Model 1903 Pocket Hammer (.38 ACP)
FN Model 1903 (9mm Browning Long)
Colt Model 1903 Pocket Hammerless (.32 ACP)
FN Model 1906 Vest Pocket (.25 ACP)
Colt Model 1908 Vest Pocket (.25 ACP)
Colt Model 1908 Pocket Hammerless (.380 ACP)
FN Model 1910 (.32 ACP, .380 ACP)
S. M1911 pistol (.45 ACP)
Browning Hi-Power (9mm Parabellum)
Colt Woodsman pistol (.22 LR)
Shotguns
Savage Model 720 long-recoil semi-automatic shotgun
Ithaca Model 37 pump-action repeating shotgun
Stevens Model 520/620 pump-action repeating shotgun
Winchester Model 1887 lever-action repeating shotgun
Winchester Model 1893 pump-action repeating shotgun
Winchester Model 1897 pump-action repeating shotgun
Winchester Model 1912 pump-action repeating shotgun (actually designed by T.C. Johnson but based on the 1897 Winchester)
Winchester Model 1885 falling-block single-shot rifle
Winchester Model 1886 lever-action repeating rifle
Winchester Model 1890 slide-action repeating rifle (.22 LR)
Winchester Model 1892 lever-action repeating rifle
Winchester Model 1894 lever-action repeating rifle
Winchester Model 1895 lever-action repeating rifle
Winchester Model 1900 bolt-action single-shot rifle (.22 LR)
Remington Model 8 semi-auto rifle
Browning 22 Semi-Auto rifle (.22 LR)
Remington Model 24 semi-auto rifle (.22 LR)
FN Trombone pump-action rifle (.22 LR)
Crew-Served Arms
S. M1895 air-cooled gas-operated machine gun
S. M1917 water-cooled recoil-operated machine gun
S. M1919 air-cooled recoil-operated machine gun
S. M1918 Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR)
S. M2 .50-caliber heavy machine gun
S. M4 37mm Automatic Gun
Of those, you can find the M1911, the Stevens 520, Ithaca Model 37m Browning Auto-5 and the Winchester Model 12 in the gun rack here at the Casa de Animal.
John Browning held 128 patents on firearms and associated devices. He was, truly, the DaVinci of gun designers, probably the single most influential gun-maker of the modern era.
A couple of years back I spent a little over a year in his home town of Ogden, Utah. While there I had several chances to visit the Browning Museum; if you’re ever in the area, I recommend it. The museum houses a whole bunch of neat stuff: Hand-made Browning prototypes, one-offs, design specs, you name it, it’s there. Some highlights:
The Man Himself.
The museum is first and foremost a tribute to the man himself, shown here at the entrance holding one of his more famous designs. Born in 1855, the son of a gunsmith, John designed and built his first firearm at age 10. He was awarded his first patent at age 24 and went on to spend his life as one of history’s most innovative gunmakers.
Some early Brownings.
The museum contains several of the senior Browning’s guns as well as some of John’s earlier pieces. John’s father, Jonathan Browning, had been part of the Mormon diaspora from Nauvoo, Illinois, and set himself up as a gunsmith on the move to Utah; his son took the baton and ran with it.
John Browning designed guns for every kind of shooter. Big game rifles, shotguns, handguns, crew-served military weapons, you name it, the agile and innovative mind of Browning broke new ground on it. He gave us the 1911 and its ultimate development, the Hi-Power, two of the finest martial handguns ever made. He gave us the Auto-5, the first successful commercially produced semi-auto shotgun. He gave us the Superposed, the first successful over/under shotgun, a refined version of which is still made today as the Citori. He gave us the original America’s rifle, the 1894 Winchester, and its pistol-caliber counterpart, the Winchester 1892. He gave us the bottom-eject Ithaca 37 and the reed-slim bottom-eject Browning .22 semi-auto. He truly was a legend in the world of gun design.
The Browning museum is the repository for a lot of John Browning’s genius – including some significant hand-made prototypes.
Most gun folks are familiar with the Auto-5, one of John Browning’s most famous inventions. But it wasn’t his first semi-auto shotgun. Here are two prototypes, hand-made by the man himself, of a semi-auto shotgun based on a toggle action – yes, that’s right, like a Luger.
Toggle-action shotguns!
Browning was concerned about infringing on the Borchardt/Luger design, so instead produced the first prototype of what became the immortal Auto-5; note that the original didn’t have a handle on the bolt, but rather the bolt was (oddly) connected by an operating rod to a handle on the underside of the stock. That was an oddity that Browning corrected in the second prototype, which lead to the production models.
The second and third Auto-5 prototypes.The first and last production Auto-5s.
A row over from the Auto-5 one can find the rifle racks, including the prototypes for both the Winchester ’92 and ’94 rifles. The ’92 was immortalized in any number of Western movies; John Wayne owned several examples and was a fan of the rifle. It’s light, handy, fast into action and packs a decent punch at short range. The ’94 has probably killed more deer in North America than any other single rifle design and is still one of the best lever guns available. The ’94 is most commonly found chambered for the .30-30, one of the most popular rifle cartridges ever made; the trienta-trienta is still in common use from the Yukon to the Canal Zone.
1892 Prototypes1894 Prototypes
Last but not least, some of the finest handguns ever devised came from the mind of Browning. At the museum you can see his first auto pistol, gas-operated even, as well as the prototypes of the 1911 and the Hi-Power:
The first Browning auto pistols.Browning’s hand-made 1911 prototype.
The original building where John Browning and his brothers designed and built fin guns is only a few blocks away from the museum as well, but there is a sad note there; the building is identifiable by the patina remaining that shows where the “Browning Bros” and “1875” signs were, but the edifice is now empty and seemingly abandoned – a sad note for a structure from which emanated some of the finest firearms ever built.
The Browning HQ, as was.
John Browning was a singular mind. He was, as I’ve said, the DaVinci is firearms; no other single person in the late 19th/early 20th century had the influence on firearms design that he did. If you own more than a couple of guns, chances are you have a Browning design or a derivative thereof in your collection.
If you’re ever in Ogden, Utah, stop by the Union Station building and visit the Browning Museum. It’s worth the relatively few shekels you’ll spend to see some unique pieces of American firearms history.
Pull out your star charts boy and girls, we’ve got something very interesting going on this week.
Yes, yes, we’ve still got that Jupiter-retrograde-in-Scorpio, old news. But see that Mercury-Sol-Venus alignment? Change in relationships? Well, this week, it’s moved in opposition to us. And if that’s not enough we also have the moon in opposition to that opposition. Double Opposition. What does it mean? This week, your relationships are going to be rock solid. You can take advantage of this, as we can see from another alignment concurrent with the double opposition. We have Venus (love) aligned with Mars (war) and Saturn (endings) retrograde (not). So a fight this week will not end your relationship. Having said that, while you can get away with having a spat this week, there’s no indications that you should. There’s nothing here indicating that the makeup sex will be good, and with Venus having moved out of Gemini, there’s no indication to look up Heather and Holly on facebook to see if they are conveniently available this weekend. Mars moving into Aquarius indicates “trouble with the provider,” so maybe it’s a good thing you’ve got a little stellar stability helping you out.
One last alignment in this week’s very busy sky: Sol – Jupiter retrograde – Luna. Literally, good news for queens. Elizabeth II is not going to die. I don’t know if this also extends to drag queens, but it just might because:
Both the Moon and Venus are in Cancer. And of course, we’ve already mentioned how Luna has rulership of Cancer, but with Venus in the mix we literally have (almost) all the most feminine influences possible coming together and amplifying each other. Indulge in your wildest stereotypes. Eat ice cream while watching rom-coms. Cry every now and then for no reason whatsoever.
People born under the sign of Taurus will receive good news this week. Also, a new speed record for a racing cow will be set.
If you are kidding this week, it will go successfully. Both mother and child will be fine, but it won’t be twins.
Easter weekend is also the weekend of KinkFest. KinkFest is one of the largest west coast gatherings of people into Kink, BDSM, and related sadomasochistic pursuits. In some ways, KinkFest is like any other convention. A large group of people in a giant hall, attending lectures, perusing vendor booths, and socializing. Where it departs, obviously, is the subject matter. The classes usually involve demonstrations that can get you arrested in some places or are interactive and intended to teach a new skill. And the socializing involves leather and latex and cross-dressers and rope and beatings and all kinds of fun, fucked-up shit. Well, not literal shit. The dungeon doesn’t allow scat, thankfully, nor piss play or Roman play.
This year was KinkFest XX. The Portland Leather Alliance has been putting on the event for 20 years. It’s grown to 1500 people attending and takes up the largest space at the Expo Center in Portland, OR. It’s an all-volunteer run effort. And we bring in presenters from around the country and even internationally. It’s 3 days of debauchery, education, and friendship, and I kind of look forward to it every year. Sorry, no actual pictures as cameras aren’t allowed during the event, and the official photos haven’t been posted yet. I’ve included a few shots I’ve taken that are relevant but hopefully SFW.
Education
One of the fun things about KinkFest is that you have attendees who are new and jumping feet first into the deep end and old heads like myself who’ve been involved for decades. The classes cover a wide range. From the relatively vanilla-like classes on anal sex, giving head, or having multiple partners, to basic kink-related things like flogging and how to process pain, to more advanced topics like full-time total power exchange, medical play, and other types of edge play. Here’s the worskshop list from this year.
Edge play is usually play that carries with it higher risks or is pushing close to the limits of the players involved. What that entails varies by kinkster, and it is like Justice Stewart’s definition of porn: you know it when you see it. Some of the more common types are play using knives, needles, and increasingly race and misogyny play.
Backside of a takate kote chest harness. Jute rope
The Kink scene has always fetishized consent for a couple-few reasons. The first is that knowing that all parties directly involved are consenting is the difference between play time and abuse. It may also be the only difference between getting your rocks off and going to prison. In some jurisdictions, even that wouldn’t help, so trust is paramount when you’re doing some of the things we do. Having trust in your partner to stop when you use your safe word, to not push too far, or not take advantage when you are helpless means that negotiations and consent are important. Third, because we are playing with things that are dangerous and carries physical, emotional, and psychological risks, having some security by emphasizing discussion and agreement is important to people in the scene. There is a focus from the older crowd on autonomy, and the idea that you can’t exchange power if you don’t have power to start with, where negotiations are the means for doing so.
This does lead to some entryism by SJW types. But most people aren’t much impressed by them. Part of the point of kink is risk and ambiguity and playing with those things. People do need to learn etiquette around a dungeon. The rules are different. In some ways they are looser than in a nightclub or normal situation. You’re going to see people doing and wearing (or not wearing) things you’d never see in public. In other ways they are more stringent. The biggest one is don’t touch other people or their things (which may mean other people) without asking or being invited to do so. There are other protocols like not talking to people at a play station who are having a scene or standing too close. Generally speaking, people into kink recognize individual autonomy and have developed etiquette around supporting it.
Vendors
Violet wand for shockingly good times.
Like any other con, there are vendors at KinkFest. Vendors selling leather vests and outfits and cuffs and collars. Toys for impact from wooden paddles to acrylic canes. Electro play toys like violet wands and tasers. And of course, rope, rope, rope for bondage and suspensions. There are floggers and whips and latex outfits. Oh, and dildos. Every shape, size and description you can think of. There’s even one vendor called InHerTube that makes special dildos and harnesses that attach to the thigh, or the end of your boot. The vendor hall makes a good spot to wander around, people watch, and socialize with friends. Or to arrange a scene that night in the dungeon, featuring the toys one just purchased. Some of the vendors are truly talented at the things they make.
Dungeon
The dungeon at KinkFest may be the best in the country. To start off with, it is 36,000 sq ft. That space is divided into individual 10′ by 10′ play stations. Each station has some sort of furniture in it: St. Andrews Cross, spanking benches, bondage chairs, massage tables, pagodas, cages, medical tables or simply thick floor mats. The center piece this year was a giant truss structure laid out in four squares with hard points for doing rope bondage. It covered, by my estimation, about 2500 sq ft of space. The whole dungeon has a professional sound and light setup to help set the mood. And it honestly looks like something out of a movie. Some of the extras maybe weren’t as telegenic.
There were some amazing scenes that took place. My favorite was probably an alien probing scene. At least from a spectator’s perspective. There was also the car wash. A couple of nubile young ladies in transparent latex with sponges and water who would wriggle all over their subject and give them a washing. Whip alley is always fun. It’s a 40′ by 20′ section closed off by chain link that has space for two whip scenes. Hearing the bullwhips crack and pop over the sounds of the crowd and music can be startling to some, but it’s part of the atmosphere to me. It goes nicely with the screams, and surprisingly the more common laughter.
And that’s what brings me to the libertarian bit in this piece. It isn’t all just titty-lation (hi Q!). The Kink scene can be a microcosm of spontaneous order, self-policing, private property, and self-ownership. The entire KinkFest phenomenon refutes the ideas people have about why small government couldn’t work. It absolutely works.
The entire affair is organized by volunteers. The core staff put in 20+ hour weeks for 9 months and don’t get paid a dime. They perceive a need and they do it because they want to see it happen. It is a direct counter-argument to the idea that feeding the hungry and sheltering the homeless wouldn’t happen without government. People donate so that shit gets done. This includes people spending hours to build dungeon furniture then giving it to the organization. Or specialized skills like professional riggers who donate their time to get things done. Same for the promotion and lining up vendors.
Impact toys, Rope bondage, and the beginnings of some bruises on a bottom.
The volunteers, usually younger members of the community, who help carry it all off give up part of their time enjoying the convention in exchange for free admission. This is a fair exchange of value for those who couldn’t pay the entry fees that are used to pay for the bits that aren’t done by volunteers. Nonetheless, the volunteers earn their keep. It’s also interesting in that if someone volunteers, gets in free, but doesn’t keep up their end of the bargain, they get banned from next year. This deals effectively with the freeloader problem.
Risky things happen in the dungeon. People wear their bruises and welts and even lacerations with pride. Yet the policing is done by a volunteer crew whose focus is on making sure the rules are followed and people are having a good time. The Dungeon Monitors are a model for private police. They are mostly focused on facilitating play in a way that reduces risk as much as possible. They only interfere when called on, or when there is a genuine threat to life and limb. And even then, they are trained in de-escalation and using their words instead of violence. Despite 1500 people all doing fucked-up shit, they rarely must intervene. They wind up offering council or telling people where supplies are like cleaning stuff, first aid, etc. They occasionally must do some dispute resolution over who has dibs on a piece of equipment. But even that’s rare. Because people police themselves.
People and their property are also sacrosanct. Despite all the degeneracy on display, asking first is ingrained and important. Yes, there are yahoos that are new that don’t understand and make mistakes. They are usually quickly identified and corrected. And yes, there are predatory types that look for vulnerable victims to assault, but by and large, those people stay away from the organized group events. Because, again, they get identified. I’d wager one is less likely to be made uncomfortable by a stranger groping you or trying to corner you or to wind up having unwanted violence done to you at a kink event than at a normal bar or concert. It isn’t perfect, but it puts the lie to the idea that without government you can’t have people getting along peacefully or that corporate action requires coercion.
Rope and knife
Another note on property. Most players who have been at it a while have large toy bags. This can be anything from a backpack to rolling suitcases stuffed with stuff. To keep from turning the dungeon into an airport, large shelves are setup near the entrance. People leave their stuff unattended for long stretches of time while playing voyeur or looking for just the right playmate. And return to find their toys unmolested. Some of those toy bags have thousands of dollars in equipment in them. My rope kit alone is probably close to a thousand bucks worth of jute and hardware. Toys rarely go missing. And on the few occasions where they have, it’s usually a case of someone picking up what they thought was their own toy but was someone else’s and it is promptly returned.
That’s not to say there aren’t problems with SJWs, as mentioned. There are, especially online, a contingent of the usual intersectional feminists who want to make any accusation of violating someone’s consent an automatic blackballing of the accused. They use all the language SJWs use in campus kangaroo courts and make big posts on Fetlife, the kink equivalent of Facebook. But fortunately, they don’t have much power in the flesh and blood world. Even more interesting, the vocal ones are learning a hard lesson that the #metoo movement is learning: experienced tops with the more exotic and in demand skills are being much more selective in who they play with for the simple expedient of wanting to guard their reputations. The gender and pronoun thing is something of a big deal. But my experience is that most of those folks are polite in requesting you use their name and pronouns. Those that would like to be able to force you, power is so decentralized, it is hard to coerce people.
One of the saddest things to me is that so many kinksters don’t see that. In their private lives they live and play by libertarian ideas. But they can’t make the leap to seeing it as a strong basis for politics. The left politics are almost reflexive and without thought. I think because many people into kink have negative experience with religious and political conservatives they lean the opposite direction in politics. And there’s a larger contingent than the general population of people who are dysfunctional and therefore want their gimmedats. I try to talk to people about it, and I’ve made some inroads with a few. But cutting through all the accumulated derp is slow going. There are some things you can’t beat out of people.
Impact toys: Carbon fiber cain, hawaiian hardwood hairbrush paddle, rope fist baton, rubber paddle (for vegan play partners), tigerwood paddle, riding crop, small acrylic cane, three floggers.My dungeon/playspace. Instead of typical furniture I have hardpoints for suspension.Diamond Pattern chest harness in jute.One of my first suspensions. Four point side suspension with hemp rope.
I’m not one to back down so easily so I went ahead and sent the Old Man a bottle of beer that would suit his, shall we say, more refined palate. This is my review of New Belgium Le Terrior 2016, from their Lips of Faith Series.
The term “Beer Drinker” often brings up a different mental image than when one says, “Wine Drinker.” I’m not going to speculate as to why those connotations exist, but I will discuss what they are. I don’t blame the Old Man for wanting to be associated with the beer people, after all we’re a bit more fun. Its what you drink when you go to a festival, or a ball game. You toss a few back with your friends and then challenge each other to a drag race or a boxing match.
In short, beer drinkers are often just fun to be around. Case in point:
This is not to say that wine drinkers can’t be good people. I assume some of them are, its just that their parties have a tendency to be a lot more…tame:
“The hormones are really helping my beard come it.” “You know, I am standing right here, Jacob.” “I told you to stay focused, we need him to invest in our lesbian co-op grocery.” “Sorry about that.”
I’m not trying to offend people here–I’m just explaining what we associate with the terms. The Old Man has the unique ability to mingle with both crowds, but when it comes right down to it, he probably has a preference to the people he associates himself with.
MS: You’re doing to now? I’m at Lowe’s man…
OMWC: I can wait until you’re home, there’s plenty of lawn left. I know it’s early there, but Cinco de Mayo, achaver!
MS: Alright. Serve at 55 in a wide bodied glass. I’ll have a few queries later
MS: So…what did you think?
OMWC: Haven’t opened it yet. I’m going to do some migas later this afternoon and crack it with them, I think. Unless you have yours open now and we can compare notes…
MS: I’m doing a little work at the moment. I’ll have it for lunch. In an hour or so. I need to take a pic of it.
MS: Its, um….sour and woody.
OMWC: It’s sour for sure. SP thinks it’s a lot more like a cider than a beer.
MS: What glass did you use?
OMWC: Widemouth. I may try a wine glass to see if that changes it.
OMWC: This beer is not pepper and peaches. In a wine glass, I get more of the woodiness.
OMWC: This beer is actively hostile.
MS: Yes. I hate it. I’m sure of it
OMWC: OK, it’s not just me.
This is Sour Ale. This one in particular was aged in oak barrels–like many wines. I sent this to the Old Man because sour ales are of course, sour, but many have a subtle fruitiness that counteracts the tartness. Something that you often fine in sweeter varieties of wine. IF you happen to like sour ales, this one is well done. It was made in 2016 though, so finding it will not only be difficult, it will cost you. I’m sure of it; I hate it. New Belgium Le Terrior 2016: 1.5/5
“Confess, don’t be boring! Confess, don’t be dull!”
Ultimately, the Old Man is set in his ways, and as a another wise man once said, you just can’t Torquemada anything.
Finally, I want to plug the Glibertarians Spring Beer it Forward once more! The beer I promised one lucky Glib is still up for grabs, so if you think you might want a well-made bock made in the mountains of Northern Arizona sent to your house, you only need to apply. To apply, send an email to its proprietor, Nephilium, at his handle name at google mail and tell him you want to sign up.
Hello boils and ghouls, it’s your old pal the Cryptkeeper here…no wait, that’s not my name. Sorry, sometimes I get caught up in the moment.
Though I gave up the regular movie review beat, I still thought I’d bang out an article like I did last year on our experiences at TFW. To celebrate, one of the below links will go to a hardcore porn site – the rest are safe. This is your NSFW warning. You’ll never know which one it is until you try. C’mon, don’t be a pussy.
This one will be a bit different in content, since many of you would have already read my post on this from last year, and thus are already familiar with the context. For those of you who are new to the site within the past year, or didn’t read my previous write-up, in brief, TFW is the southwest’s largest horror convention, and my wife & I spend the weekend there every year.
Like last year, I’ll have a few images in the text, but most all the photos will be at the bottom of the article. It’s mostly just pics of costumes & the stuff we bought, because almost all the celebrities this year charged extra for photos with them, and the few times I tried a creepshot, it came out terribly. The other photos are mostly terrible as well due to the fact that this is literally the only time of the year I ever take photos of anything, so please understand and forgive. The only ones I really regret it on are two cosplay photos of Tippi Hedren & Spawn, which were both good costumes but when I reviewed the pics afterward, you can barely see them due to bad backlighting. It was too crowded during the main hours to take shots, so I tried to snag a lot of them in the hotel lobby. Also as before, I had trouble formatting them into a row, so you’ll have to forgive me & simply scroll down the photos in a line at the end.
The guest lineup this year was fabulous. They had all of the original cenobites (minus the chick from the first film, because she never does any conventions, ever – so the guest in her place was the chick from the second movie, which was still a good horror film). To round that group out, we had a *very* special treat – Mr. Clive Barker. He doesn’t do a lot of these kinds of things, so we were overjoyed. In addition to his prolific painting and film work, if you haven’t read any of his fiction, I highly recommend it. His Books of Blood is one of my favorite collected works of short stories ever. If you dig fantasy/horror short fiction, check it out, seriously.
Also making appearances were Ron Perlman, Adrienne Barbeau, Billy Zane, Phil Fondacaro, Tommy Flanagan, Brad Dourif, Tom Savini, Matthew Lillard, all the kids from the new IT movie, Charles Band and a shit-load of people from the various Friday the 13th films. The Friday night party was themed Camp Crystal Lake, so they were heavy on those guests (as this is the 13th year of TFW). Since I’m honestly not crazy about that film series outside of the first two movies & a few creative kills, I didn’t much care about their presence. If you don’t recognize the names of anyone just listed, check the links – I promise you’ll recognize them or at least have heard of their work.
The weekend got started off right, with Adrienne Barbeau flying in Thurs. night to attend a screening of Escape from New York at the Texas Theater, and do a Q&A afterward. The print they used was fantastic, better than my dvd, and Adrienne was an engaging speaker. She said she has done so much voicework that she has frankly forgotten most of it, and only recalls that she took some particular job once every year when some check shows up for $0.96 and has “Judge Dredd” written on the memo line (she was uncredited as the voice of the computer in that film). She tossed that out as the example, but said she just gets checks for tiny amounts every day for random old things she did. I thought this must be a strange thing, to go to your mailbox every day and be like, “Huh, I got 8 checks in the mail totaling $5.72.”
So the next day the spousal unit & I took a half-day off of work & rolled into the convention in mid afternoon, though it doesn’t open until 6. On the plus side, in their fruit-infused water jug up front, the fruit was cut into the shape of skulls.
Skull-melons“White people are fucking weird”. Also, wood.Stupid
Also amusingly, the little cute Asian girls they have working there had to wear wound makeup and have silly horror accessories, like this photo of an attractive young lady with scissors sticking out of her head. I’ve often wondered what they think about that, because the racial breakdown of the con attendees is about 70% white, 25% hispanic, and the rest is miscellaneous. Like seriously, my wife is one of maybe 20 Asian people there actually attending, and I can always count the numbers of black folks on my fingers. I have no idea why that is, but it’s true. Less amusing was the eyeroll-inducing naming of the food on the menu. I mean come on, Trembling Turkey? Blood-Dripping Buffalo Wings? And what the fuck happened to the Southwest Shrimp Cocktail, didn’t warrant a new name because it’s already so awful?
The convention started off poorly – it was so fucking crowded that Friday night, I panicked. This thing frankly outgrew the convention space last year, and this year was worse. We try to do signature hunting on Fri. night & Sun., when it’s less crowded. Well we spent an hour in line for Clive Barker, only to be told that he was leaving to do his scheduled photo shoot & wouldn’t return to the signature line that night due to feeling poorly.
Yay
So the first hour was a waste, but it kind of worked out. If you recall last year, we purchased a crocheted Count Orlock. Well the same vendor was there and she had a big crocheted xenomorph, but only one of them. She told us it had been a right bitch to make, and she was never going to make another one, so we pounced on it. If we hadn’t been forced to do a little browsing on Friday evening, I’m certain someone else would have bought it & then I’d have had to have killed my wife and myself, and possibly my extended family as well.
5 of the 6 sides are now signed – four cenobites & Clive Barker
We did get the rest of the cenobites, Adrienne, and Billy Zane that night. A few anecdotes – the cenobites, despite being English and therefore you’d think reserved, will talk your ear off, even if you’re actively trying to exit the conversation. Nicholas Vince, who played Chatterer, was dressed in nice proper business-formal attire, except for some weird Pinhead Hello Kitty cufflinks, and to his delight my wife was the first to notice them that evening. Of course it’s because she’s fucking Asian, so she saw the Hello Kitty shit immediately somehow. Also, Barbie Wilde, the female cenobite, was selling her horror fiction books, and apparently is a very nasty-minded girl. Everything was a sexual innuendo or reference, and we all had a good laugh when, midway through our conversation, we could hear someone in another row (a worker, we believe, trying to repair something in a guest’s booth) said, “Damnit, I thought sitting in this chair would make it easier, but I think I was having more success on my knees.” Barbie, my wife and I all just looked at each other for a second before bursting out laughing. The photo you see is of the nice mahogany & etched brass puzzlebox we purchased to collect all their signatures on.
Also true fact: Billy Zane was just a leeeetle-bit of a dick. The best line in Zoolander pertains to him; “You should listen to your friend Billy Zane – he’s a cool dude”. Well we purposefully waited until there wasn’t anyone in his line, so that we wouldn’t be holding anybody up, and I asked him, “Hey, I know this is a bit unorthodox, but could you possibly sign this, ‘You should listen to me – I’m a cool dude’?” He smiled and kind of laughingly said, “Absolutely not”, then just stared at us. We thought he was joking for a second, because he said it kind of jovially, but then he said, “So…you just want me to make this out to the two of you or what?” So we said sure, and that was that. I mean hey, celebrities don’t owe me anything, I know that. But perhaps a, “Sorry man I don’t do personalizations to that extent” could be used instead of, “Hahaha NO”. Anyway he seemed nice enough in every other way, so maybe he’s just sick of that request. He was in a tracksuit & cowboy hat, and so looked kind of like a Russian gangster.
Phil Fondacaro’s line was short enough I was able to chat with him a bit. I asked him if it was just an outsider’s perception, or if there really were fewer opportunities for physically different actors like himself & Warwick Davis, with the advent of digital effects. He said absolutely, but it’s something of a mixed blessing because as he’s gotten older, and especially for someone who is physically limited to begin with, it’s a relief to not have to wear all the latex and costuming that he used to. A lot of the stuff that’s added in post now were the most cumbersome things to wear and act in, so the digital revolution isn’t all bad from his perspective. Of course the photo I got signed was of him as Vohnkar! And if you don’t get that reference, you’re no true child of the 80s.
Saturday was given to drinking, shopping, and making merry. It still sucked, because I had to wake my ass up at 7:30 to get in line for Clive Barker. Keep in mind the convention didn’t open until 11. So over three hours I sat there, but was 10th in line and so assured a chance to meet the great artist. Still, it left me a bit depleted for the remainder of the day.
We learned our lesson from previous years, and brought some beers, a bottle of bourbon (Larceny, which was very good for being as affordable as it was), and a bottle of Fireball. The hotel doesn’t care as long as you don’t get belligerently drunk – like David Arquette from a few years back. We were there and we saw bizarre things from a man still supposedly on the wagon. At least he drunkenly bought me a beer while we were both waiting at the bar. Anyway I attached a bunch of photos of all the shit we bought below, and some of the costumes we encountered.
That evening we spent a bit of time in the karaoke party, & went to a screening of Takashi Miike‘s live action adaptation of the manga, As the Gods Will. Now granted I wasn’t exactly sober, or anything even really resembling sober, by the time I saw this thing, but I still have no fucking clue what was going on. A weird doll was playing red-light, green-light with a class of students, and when it caught them moving their heads exploded, then the survivors went to their gym & dressed as mice and a giant maneki-neko was eating them, and it just got stranger from there. We finished out the night hanging out with all our friends on the patio, and there was a dude giving away free cigars for some reason, so that went well with the last of my bourbon (yes, the bottle was killed, with the able assistance of a couple of our friends).
Sunday was recovery day, so we went to the Ron Perlman panel. He’s a fun speaker – extremely foul-mouthed and self-deprecating. We snagged his signature and called it a weekend. As of the time of my writing this (Monday evening), yesterday was the saddest day of our year. This is our biggest event, and we get to spend it with a lot of great friends, and get a lot of great merchandise and add to our already ludicrous collection of autographs. Monsters everywhere, blood and guts, toys, movies, games, it just doesn’t get any better for the dedicated horror fan. And now it’s a whole other year until it comes around again. Oh well, less than six months to Halloween.
Love this shirt. I put this in just to trigger Old Man With Candy. “You all know me, know how I earn a living.” Great scene.This film stars a resident of Bronson, Missouri.Good costume tandem.I had no idea what the fuck this midget/child was dressed as.Sadly, they just don’t make movies like this anymore.This was sitting next to the coffee at the breakfast buffet.American Werewolf in London. Fucking awesome.A good group effortThis is some monster from an anime I don’t watch, but he did a good job with it.Oddly enough we were in the market for a new shower curtain, so we picked this up.I purchased this shirt to use as evidence because it has an unauthorized use of my likeness.A Game of Thrones Super Friends print. The Wonder Twins are Jaime & Cersei. Check out how their Wonder Twin powers activate.A bunch of little Aliens figurines we boughtMy wife bought this shirt. I was so pleased with her, I gave her the gift of the penis that very night.Remember Mad Balls? I remember Mad Balls. Now they’ve come back in the general wave of nostalgia, and there are Aliens Mad Balls.Great Spawn costume. You can’t see it well, but the eyes do glow bright green.For some fucking reason, there was a ton of Halloween III merch everywhere. I have no idea why, nobody likes that movie. Or I guess it’s trendy to claim to like it.The maid from the first season of American Horror Story. Also, wood.Of course I bought this shirt.A pretty good female Pennywise. Also, wood.Sloth loves inkAndrew Lincoln stealthily infiltrated the conventionHottie Ash. Also, wood.I liked this shirt.Creepy random guy. It’d be great if he just showed up like that and didn’t know there was a horror convention going on.Oh you *know* I bought this movie.Succubus. Also, wood.I liked how the only part of her costume that glows is one little strip right beneath her eyes. Wood knot, however.Well she normally wouldn’t have bought a denim vest, but the damned thing fit like it had been tailor made for her, so fuck it, the wife picked this up.Mutilated Disney princesses. Wood knot, to both.It’s really a shame you can’t see this properly, because she really does have like four or five birds attached to this thing attacking her. Wood knot.This was a great heavenly Pinhead costume. The insert glowing heart really sold it. Kudos to this guy.The whole Game of Thrones Super Friends.Sadly, did not buy this movie.If you can tell what that creature with the one large yellow eye is at the bottom of the poster, I’ll buy you a cookie if we ever meet. *HINT* It was one of my favorite movies when I was a kid.It’s like the fuckers are purpose-designing posters to try and get me to leave my current job and apply with them.I appreciated that he did the whole costume head from the first movie. Very few Captain Spauldings go through that extra effort.Hard to see, but she has a super realistic werewolf baby. Wood knot.I have no fucking clue what this is supposed to be.Mexican Deadpool being eaten by a guy in a big inflatable dinosaur skeleton costume. I should have also gotten a head shot of Mexican Deadpool for you – he had a sombrero & a big mustache. Such problematic, so appropriation.What the fuck is this I can’t evenOh look, The Shining. Wood knot.A representative from Dark Hour Haunted House in Plano, TX.Loved this idea – it’s Jason as he appeared in the NES game. Clever. Sadly, I had no rocks to throw at him, to keep try and act out the game.I liked the work this guy did on his head piece.A kid dressed as something from Five Nights At Freddy’s.Don’t know what the character is from, butt wood.Some anime, I’m sure. Wood.I thought this to be a clever way to do something different from the dozen bloody-soaked Carries walking around.The less said about this, the better.Wood knot.Silent Hill. Respectively, from the left, wood, knot knot knot.Star Trek…spiders? WTF is this even…?I thought about buying this for those days I feel like identifying as female.Great shirt – I had to zoom a lot to get it, so if you can’t tell, it’s our two protagonists from “They Live”. If you haven’t seen that movie, you’re a disgrace of a human being.There were a lot of IT costumes about. This was one of like, fifty.Hmm – from the left: wood knot, knot, wood, knot.It seems strange and grimly hilarious to me that a horror convention chooses depression as it’s charity of choice.The family that slays together…And of course you can’t even go to a fucking FFA convention anymore without there being multiple Deadpools.
…and the confirmed predictions keep rolling in! Between the Glibs engagement, hookups with hotties, and the fishing fotos we have further proof that the stars never lie.*
What do we have for you this week? Well, as always, some things stay the same. The sun is still in Taurus, so that’s good for ranchers. We still have Mercury in Aries harshing everyone’s mellow and making my job harder. And we still have a retrograde Jupiter in Scorpio. But…
Celestial Ying-Yang
This week we have an odd alignment of that retrograde Jupiter with Sol and our own Terra Firma. That amplifies the Jovian effects out the celestial ying-yang. So it becomes more important to get a handle what Jupiter is actually doing as it’s spinning the wrong way through Scorpio. I think in this case, it’s crucial to get some context from the rest of the chart and how it relates to this. So as above, we’ve got the Mercury in Aries thing. This tension/ambivalence simultaneously makes our interpretation both easier and harder. It indicates that both of alternativeinterpretations will be true, but that we won’t be able to necessarily know how they are applying. The conclusions are:
Your OCD is going to be worse than usual.
You should spend some time focusing on your genitals.
If you have the opportunity to cloister yourself with someone (actually two someones, see below) for said genital-focusing you should take it.
Said time should involve “unnatural acts.”
Venus in Gemini indicates it’s a great time for three-way lovin’, twincest, and/or mirror use. Related to that, there is also an alignment of Venus with Sol and Mercury, so if this is your first time with said twins, take it. Actually, why would you need me to tell you to accept the offer of a threeway with a set of twins? What is wrong with you?
In non-hot-group-action signs, we have an addition to the sports betting signals that have been hanging out for a few weeks: the moon comes into conjunction with mars. This is a change sign, so if you’ve been lucky betting on a particular team, this week they will let you down.
Tarot update: I suck at image editing, and I’ve been busier than something that is extremely busy in folksy analogies. If there is anyone out there who is competent and enjoys this sort of thing, let me know.
There is a reason the Rider-Waite deck is so popular: it’s got a ton of detail to fixate on and inspire drug-assisted mental connections. So sometimes (barring the intervention of actual artists) I’ll be just adding things onto existing cards, like so:
So here, it’s a simple matter of replacing the scepter with a banhammer and adding Her initials to the shield. We get to keep the reclining position, the crown of stars, etc. that are used for interpretation cues.
While I do like R-W, it seems more appropriate for The Tower to use one from The Cthulu Mythos Tarot:
Of course, this brings up a good question: How do we communicate the glibness of the Arcana? The SPempress is relatively easy, as is The Sun, Reversed:
Hello, Rufus!
But for SF, should we use the current hedobot avatar, or the earlier Snidely Whiplash? Hedobot with a Snidely Whiplash mustache?
If anyone has a preference how they are to be represented, please let me know, or better yet, send me the artwork. Honestly, an actual photo of Yusef with a bindle walking along the edge of a wall at Slab City would be AWESOME.
Which one of you is it? The Saturday day drinking crowd at Glibertarians.com has averaged 163.7 comments per weekend for the past 10 Saturdays, which means if this crowd is anything like the rest of America, around 16.4 (I’ll let you decide who is less than 2/5 of a Glib) of you have on some level have an unnatural fear of the number:
“Please, I’m not afraid of a number,” “that’s preposterous,” you say. Sure you’re not. You wear the veneer of the pure rationalist as your public face. Never flinching at the thought bad luck or fate. You walk happily under ladders and you pet the nice black kitty that crosses your path—if you’re not a cat person maybe you kicked the little bastard in the ribs. Deep down inside you’re clutching your rabbit’s foot or rubbing the head of the Raphael action figure you’ve had since 1991, the last remnant of the talisman you swore by as a kid. After all, Raphael was cool—but rude. You do this in secret.
I know with certainty, one of you uses Not Adhan’s horoscope as an investment strategy. Your secret is safe with me. Its cool, I won’t judge you.
This is my review of Lagunitas Lucky 13 Mondo Large Red Ale
Whether or not you are among the 10% of Americans that is superstitious, Friday the 13th does have an effect on your life. Not just the marathon from the movie, which I contend still has the best ending to any horror movie. There is a quantifiable effect, that has drawn the attention of serious academic researchers. People call in sick from work, stop travelling, and generally avoid leaving their house. But why?
Foolish mortal, murder is merely mischief,
Some attribute it unfortunate events occurring on Friday the 13th. The number 13 itself being associated with the Norse god, Loki, the god of mischief. Leave it to the Vikings to consider murder merely “mischief.”. Maybe Judas Iscariot was the 13th person to show up to dinner and we all know he formed a heavy metal band in the 80s. Most of it is simply attributed to simply being one digit behind the number 12. With 12 months,12 apostles, 12 Norse gods, a day being divided into 12 hour segments, et al. 12 is a “complete” number.
80% of buildings in America avoid using the number 13; buildings with greater than 12 stories simply call the 13th story above grade the 14th floor. The Apollo program even considered skipping 13, which would have made the movie much less interesting. Interestingly enough, a commercial runway is designated 13R and the standard Roulette wheel sports Black 13.
Lucky 13 was released at an unusual time. Its spring, but for most of the country it still pretty cold out. Maybe a bit late for a stout but certainly too soon for a summer ale. They made it a red ale, and a strong one at that. This one I have to admit, is okay. I’ll leave it at that. Lagunitas Lucky 13 Mondo Red Ale 3.0/5.
I would like to draw attention to an update to an article from a couple weeks ago. The information I presented was, to put it bluntly, incorrect. I have amended the article to reflect this. H/T: DEG.
Why mention this? Unlike some other websites, I like to think we have integrity. That is all.
ross-species mating, but still the old copulating sac did give a minute twitch.
“My name is Elizabeth. My father and I are originally from Earth. He and I were taken off the planet years ago, back when I was just a child.” She made a small gesture with her grasping-appendage, which I couldn’t fathom.
I knew already that she was from the Sol system, but I directed my network connection to look up some information on Earth. A top-level warning flashed painfully across my neurons. It turned out that this planet was under active quarantine, always guarded by a Trade Federation battleship against anyone from exiting the solar system. Earth was apparently home to three Galactic outlaws: SugarFree, Warty, and STEVE SMITH.
parent once my neurons, which revolted in horror, processed the next entry.
Well, well, well… what have we here?
