I kneaded muck till I made gold of it

Analog Games FTW

2011-12-19T23:54:00.000-08:00

In the town where I grew up we had a really unique department store known as “The Fair”. The Fair tried very hard to be on par with other more established department stores at the time, such as Caldor, Sears and K Mart, but ended up being a lot more like the popular “factory closeouts” store Building 19 instead. The Fair always had a whole lot of second rate, sub par crap mixed in with a small amount of chic, quality new stuff, so it was a toss up as to whether you were going to leave there with a new pair of Levi's or a broken fishing pole you bought for $3.00. At any rate, whatever The Fair got in as a new shipment would be quickly bought up by the population of my little podunk town, whether it was reconditioned Sanyo “Walkman” knockoffs or really awful looking pirate Ozzy t shirts. Once you saw a good percentage of your classmates in school with cheap cassette players, cheap Air Jordan's knockoff sneakers, and/ or even cheaper quality bootleg t shirts, you knew they got them at The Fair.

The Fair often got really weird stuff you'd never find anywhere else, such as a few random Slayer, Metallica and Anthrax tour shirts (three bands I was the biggest and only fan of in my town), Vietnam war era canteens and covers, machetes, cheap hollow handled “Rambo” survival knives, and a widely revolving selection of board games and playing cards. Since thrash metal, military surplus and board games are a few of my favorite things, it wasn't uncommon of me to blow my entire allowance or paper route earnings there on a weekly basis.

One thing they had a very lucrative supply of for awhile were these small, travel sized board games with magnetic playing pieces that stuck to the metal surface of the game board. These game boards doubled as carrying cases that folded in half and held the small pieces inside. They probably only measured about six inches square when opened, and it was VERY easy to lose their miniscule pieces, but myself and a few other nerds at my school became obsessed with them. By the end of the first month of The Fair stocking these cheap games (they seemed to get two to three new ones every week), my friends and I had acquired backgammon, chess, checkers, reversie (more commonly known as “Othello”), Parcheesi and Chinese checkers. Our lunches and study breaks were soon consumed with very intense game playing, albeit with very miniscule, rather unimpressive looking game sets.

After I'd become acquainted with most of the basic board games available to us here in North America, I started to set out on the task of trying to create my own. Not necessarily my own original games per se, but my own versions of existing ones, albeit with more exciting looking boards and playing pieces. I remember making a backgammon set out of scrap plywood and glass chips that were laying around in my basement in sixth grade, and although it looked cool, I don't think anyone ever played it with me. Still, I was determined to become the game master, although the demographics of gaming were beginning to shift big time.

By the late 1980's, myself and most of the kids in my town were fully immersed in Nintendo's first large scale video game system, so my love of board and card games went on the back burner. Although I owned a Nintendo (and before that, an Atari), I pretty much sucked at video games and still do. At this time I was also dabbling a bit with Dungeons and Dragons, which my friend Sang had a bunch of books and modules for, but that quickly got boring for me as it wasn't visual enough. There's just something about moving cool looking pieces around on a cool looking board, rolling neat looking dice and looking at cool playing cards that I'm a sucker for. If you try to replace that with a computer game controller, or using my imagination for some abstract role playing game it just isn't the same (although I do admit, the dice used in D & D are pretty bad ass...)

The only holdouts my friends and I had left for actual analog games in jr. high school were Risk and a game called Shogun, which we played religiously at my friend Neil's house every weekend. These were both involved, strategy/ conquest type of games, with Shogun being essentially a Risk knockoff, dedicated to the conquest of feudal Japan. Both of these games took hours, and sometimes even days to play, and the end result was often physical violence between friends if cheating was suspected or fake alliances were formed. I can only imagine what these gaming sessions would have been like if drugs or alcohol were involved, I think you would have seen some of the biggest nerds on earth transform into completely scary, feral barbarians.

So being the true Renaissance Man that I am, lately it has become my quest to make analog gaming cool again. This serves a multitude of purposes, but a few of them are as follows.

The first is, I'm sick of all this techno narcissism going on with people so I'm moving in the opposite direction. You just got a great new live action role playing app for your Iphone? Cool. I just got a cheap set of dominoes at the thrift store. You're treating yourself to the new Wii for Christmas? Awesome. I just bought a chess set for a dollar. You're working on your new World Of Warcraft character? Great. I'm going to make my own hafentafl set. My point is, like most of technology as we know it, I think gaming has also essentially reached its peak and has nowhere to go but down, so the time is ripe for the return of classic board, dice and card games.

The second reason for my current obsession with non electrified games is that they have an historical precedent that seems a bit downplayed by many archaeologists and historians. For instance, backgammon is one of the oldest board games known to man, and remnants of ancient backgammon sets have been found all throughout Central Asia, with Iran being host to the oldest known backgammon set (circa 3000 BC). To put it lightly, backgammon is older than dirt, and much like Iggy Pop, The Reverend Horton Heat and the late great Johnny Cash, being old doesn't make it any less cool. And even though ancient artifacts are usually unable to convey emotion, unless we are speaking about artistic rendering which clearly portrays a dramatic, violent or other such intense visage, I still think that antiquated games (even cheapo plastic ones) have a certain elegance about them that video games can't touch.

Games can be put into the same category as other mundane objects such as tools, pottery, weapons, clothing, etc. They usually do not carry any imprint of emotion, except in the case of stylized chess sets or some weird spoon with a really sad looking face carved into the handle or something. Unless you know the history of an ancient or otherwise antiquated object, you can only speculate that the wonderfully powerful looking Samurai sword we're viewing in a museum was once held up by a man named Kimura San who exclaimed “goddamn, Imma open a serious can of whoop ass on Yokozuna with this!” In actuality, ole Kimura might have been presented with the sword by master bladesmith Konishi- Sama and said something more like “goddamn, that dude needs to lay off the sake, this thing's a piece of crap.”

The point is, these old games LOOK like they were really important, and their preponderance in important grave mounds and ruined cities leads me to really want to believe that they held extremely important cultural and even spiritual significance. I like to envision important decisions being made by the glow of candles, with bone carved dice being thrown by bearded men who decided the fate of the civilizations of yore, based on the roll of the dice or the outcome of a chess match. Who knows, maybe they were just created for entertainment value and to combat boredom, but I really hope the conversation went something like “that's right Erik, when I beat your ass in hafentafl, you'll owe me ALL of your estate in Greenland!” and not “goddammit Olaf, I don't have TIME to play that crap, can't you see I'm cleaning that priest's guts off of my boots?”

And the final reason I want to make analog games cool again is because their appeal is literally timeless, and they require very little in the way of resources to be able to play them. You don't need electricity, the internet, lots of money, sobriety, physical fitness, expensive sneakers, lots of room or even all of your fingers to be able to play most of them. Hell, in most instances you can even make your own damn games from easily acquired cheap or free materials.

Analog games serve as a bonding experience for friends and family, and even in the case of my aunt and my cousins (who have all been playing cribbage practically as long as they've been able to walk) they inspire healthy competition and something to do at family outings. Granted, not everyone leaves the kids/ card table in a jovial mood after taunts and jeering, but at the very least, it gets people talking, interacting and doing something. Video games just seem really... I dunno... sterile to me. Sure, they can definitely be fun and create a lot of drama, but I actually miss conversations like “you sided with Jason's army behind my back!? I'll fkin KILL you!” which was brought upon by a cheap game of Risk gone wrong.

Non electrified games have been enjoyed long before we even had a grid and will be enjoyed long after it goes down. You can bet that I'll be pulling my magnetic travel checkers out of my knapsack to decide who'll be milking the goats when I finally purchase my dream homestead, and the only grid I'll need is the one I'm playing “go” on dammit...

ENDNOTES-

-I actually have to take back some of the derogatory comments I made about video games, as I am guilty of playing two semi regularly. One is the PC freeware version of Stratego, and the other is a Bicycle "abandonware" cribbage game (both are easy to find as free downloads). Granted, I'd much rather actually play both of these games with actual, physical game boards and opponents, but that isn't always convenient. So, much like an inflate- a- mate, they serve as the next best thing.

The Irony We Can No Longer Afford

2010-12-14T09:38:00.000-08:00

Ahhhh the irony. The Grand Old Party, hell bent on returning us to the glory days when god, guns and guts made America free, appoints a blubbering, emotionally unstable clown with a fake bake as their spokesperson. The party determined to sustain the absolutely idiotic and unsustainable lifestyle of suburban sprawl gleefully backs a semi literate nudnick named Sarah Palin as a potential presidential candidate. The Grand Old Party, known to be notorious shills and lobbyists for multinational corporations and the uber- rich, actually supports the actions of a bunch of overgrown children known as the Tea Party, claiming that they are the voice of Joe Sixpack here in America.

Okay.

The Democrats are just as bad. Mr. Change himself has yet to grow the cajones necessary to throw even ONE SINGLE THIEF from Wall Street in jail, after the banks, GM, Fannie, Freddie, ad nauseum extorted trillions of dollars from the federal government that the American taxpayer will ultimately have to foot the bill for. Mr. President has himself proven to be nothing more than yet ANOTHER shoeshine boy for the multinationals, the entity which we can plainly see is REALLY in charge of our destiny here in the Western world.

More and more these people appear to be nothing more than over glorified cartoon characters. Talking heads on a television screen, reading scripted dialog off of teleprompters. Their MSNBC/ Fox News crew of cheerleaders come across as awkward high school students in a corny after school play. You can't help but laugh at them, and pity them a little bit at the same time.

The irony is that our corporate masters dumped us a long time ago for younger, cuter, cheaper and lower maintenance Asian mistresses. They've been skipping their alimony payments, and pretty soon won't be paying us at all. For awhile we made out ok, as they were treating us to regular dinner dates at Burger King and KFC, but their Asian harem is getting restless, and demanding to be fed more than just Top Ramen. Their harem seems to have expanded quite a bit over the last decade too, taking on exotic lovers from India, Southeast Asia and South Korea.

The irony is that the banking sector held America hostage and extorted trillions of dollars in "bailout" money, so that wealthy execs could keep their condos in Antigua and give themselves raises. The irony is that these thieves stole our money and not a single one of them was held accountable for ANYTHING. The irony is that these plutocrats continue to rip us off, and we're doing absolutely NOTHING to stop them.

Irony. You see it everywhere. From overweight, suburban wanna be thugs, to "hipsters" wearing stupid trucker hats and growing bad moustaches. From ridiculous TEA Party idiots who rave on and on about freedom, yet insist that Creationism is valid and climate change is not, to "environmentally aware" leftists who drive to the farmer's market in SUV's. The whole kit n kaboodle is starting to look rather ugly, and not in a way that I find ironic at all.

Irony is a luxury we cannot afford anymore. It's time for us to get serious and start acting like adults, because it's clear that adults aren't running the show here in the US. Post industrialized America has been a prolonged exercise in trying to sustain a society built on dwindling fossil fuels, and even though those fuels are diminishing in supply, they are increasing in demand exponentially by the day. America has set the standard worldwide for reckless, wasteful behavior and somehow made it look glamorous. Since no one wants to be left out of the party, we'll soon see the price of oil skyrocketing as oil producing nations are unable to keep up with the demand from "up and coming" economic giants like China and India.

Many will tout alternative energy sources as the solution to our oil addiction, but they are living in a fantasy world. We missed the boat on that 20+ years ago, as the infrastructure and production facilities necessary to make the switch from fossil fuels to alternative energies were never built. In typical American fashion, we shirked our responsibilities and fell asleep at the wheel because we were too busy partying during the cheap oil boom the realize that it wasn't going to last forever. We never took any pause to realize that we were going to have to wake up eventually with a rather unpleasant hangover.

It's up to us to get plan "B" in action while we still can, and contrary to what WAYYY too many optimists want to believe, plan B will have little to do with driving electric cars or relying on an economy solely based on mindless consumerism. The days of spending our money on superfluous crap and gambling for commodities in the stock market are soon to be over, likely for good.

I don't proclaim to be an oracle with the ability to predict the future, and I would caution against taking the advice of anyone who does. I WILL however, say that I feel that now, more than ever we are on the verge of a global economic collapse that will affect the way of life in the US in ways that almost NO ONE is prepared to deal with.

When I do talk to so- called "survivalists" who claim to be ready for the collapse simply because they own a lot of guns, it's laughable. Have fun eating and drinking bullets Rambo. When I talk to Christians who are convinced that the Rapture is coming, it's sad. What if there is no Rapture, and what kind of god do you worship who tells you that the best thing you can do to help your family and your community is to die?

When I talk to conspiracy theorists who think the US government is all powerful and will soon institute a One World Government, I shudder. We have the most powerful military in the world, and it took us almost a decade to restore order in the antiquated city of Baghdad. The fact that conspiracy theorists actually think our governement has enough resources and man power to hold a siege in EVERY modern US city overnight is laughable. Especially in a country of 3 million gun owners.

Truth be told, I don't know what is going to happen, only that I hope that Americans can figure a way to make it through the collapse without re- emerging as a nation full of fundamentalist Christian cavemen who bring back the practices of burning witches and exorcisms. I hope that Americans are deep down, actually not as self centered and sociopathic as I see them acting now, because if they are, we're in some serious trouble.

As the ramshackled empire of the United States of Rome burns right under our feet, the many many Neros of this country keep fiddling on whimsically, preoccupying themselves with video games, "reality" TV, P' Zones and football. Unless these people morph into something resembling responsible adults (and soon) I do not want them on my team. We need to stop looking to our government for answers, help, or guidance, because they are no longer fit for the job of governing. We need to learn and apply all those old world skills so that we can (hopefully) emerge as a stronger nation comprised of significantly less materialistic and shallow children.

In a word, we need to grow up, and fast.

My Run In With Oscar The Death Cat

2010-07-23T21:56:00.001-07:00

Awww, check out that pwecious widdle kitty witty! Cute lil guy aint he? Little do you know, ignorant human, that this cat is literally the Grim Reaper himself, wrapped up in a fuzzy disguise of feline fatality.

This cat goes by the name of Oscar, although Charon, Hel, Thanatos or Set would probably suit him much better. You see, Oscar has the uncanny ability of being able to predict when patients at Providence's Steere House nursing home are about to die.

That's right, when a patient in the Alzheimer's ward on the third floor is about to kick the bucket, Oscar likes to get all warm 'n fuzzy with them. In fact, he's accurately predicted over 50 patient deaths at Steere House. He does this by laying down and snuggling with them rather than ignoring them like he usually does. Two hours later, Oscar wakes up and the patient does not. The victims of this terminal tabby are often touted as going "very peacefully" because of his presence.

Two months ago I took on a courier job where I deliver medications to nursing homes. The first stop on one of my routes is Steere House, and I remember vaguely hearing some chatter about a cat that could predict the death of the patients there. I kind of forgot about this until a friend recently inquired if I'd seen "the death cat" yet. Since there are about 55 cats in that home, I figured I'd google to see if the death cat was mentioned anywhere online. There are a myriad of articles about him, and one of the better ones is here:

http://www.cbc.ca/health/story/2010/02/01/death-cat-doctor.html

Aw yeah, "furry angel of death" indeed. I was happy that I'd never seen Oscar before, and was admittedly a little disappointed that he looks well... so damn cute! I figured a "death" cat would be much larger, blacker, scarier and surlier looking. Oscar's such a little cuddle bug, you almost can't resist snuggling up with him, and that's the most frightening thing about him. If he has the ability to bait people into petting themselves straight to Purgatory, well then Oscar needs to stay far far away from me.

Ahhh, but my luck was bound to run out eventually. You see, Oscar and I finally met tonight, and not only did I see him, but his full attention was placed squarely on ME from the second our eyes met. I was delivering meds to the third floor, when all of a sudden, from under the nurse's desk, ole Kitty Cat Charon himself jumped up on the counter. Recognizing him immediately, I jumped back as he started rubbing my med bin with his face.

Sensing that I was trying to avoid him, he jumped off the counter and started jogging over to me. I screamed "Get that cat AWAY from me!" but the nurses just laughed, saying "Oh come on, he likes you!" like that's a good thing or something. I wanted absolutely no part of his bad juju, and couldn't wait to get the hell out of there.

Luckily no physical contact was made between Oscar and I. When the elevator reached the first floor, I asked the nurse if she had everything she needed and she replied,

"Oh, this was marked wrong, it has to go up to the third floor."

My heart sank to the bottom of my chest. I was not prepared to have to face Oscar again, having narrowly escaped my first encounter with him. When the elevator arrived at the third floor, Oscar made a b line dash out the door, with a nurse screaming "don't let that cat out!" from inside. Part of me thought it might be a good thing if Oscar actually escaped, as with the rest of Steere House as a buffer zone he'd have less chance of finding me again. Unfortunately though, that was not the case, as from the window in the door I could see him sitting in the middle of the hallway.

Staring.

Waiting.

In front of the elevator.

For me.

Not wanting to try and cheat this hirsute hitman again, I figured it was time to stand my ground. I cleared my throat as I entered the hallway and said "Oscar, get out of my way, I'm getting on the elevator." He didn't budge.

I tried a firmer approach; "Oscar, I'm leaving now, YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF MY WAY." Oscar started licking his paw and then cleaning his ear with it.

One final time I said "DAMMIT OSCAR, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, WHY DO YOU WANT TO KILL ME???!!!" Oscar then lazily walked over to a nurse who was sitting in the lounge area who said "Aw, be nice, he's famous you know!" to which I replied "Yes, I know, and I know WHY he's famous, and I want no part of it!" To which she replied "You don't really believe that do you?" To which I retorted, "Better safe than sorry!"

I breathed a sigh of relief as I got on the elevator, and I hope I never see that charming (yet deadly) cat ever again. It's not often that you meet a cat who has real supernatural cred., and given his impressive track record, I'll err on the side of caution and avoid him as much as possible.

But... but... he's so CUTE!

The Evolution Of A Modern Survivalist

2010-05-18T13:10:00.000-07:00

From the time I was knee- high to a grasshopper, frugality, conservation and self reliance were values that were drilled into my head (and no, I did not learn them from the Boy Scouts, as my parents were FARRR too poor to afford that.) The methods my parents and grandparents employed to teach me these skills were often akin to a trial by fire, but I am happy to have learned those hard lessons, as they have proven to be invaluable to me to my survival as an adult. I have always liked to abide by the old adage of "better to have and not need, than to need and not have."

Survivalism and sustainability became a bit of an obsession for me by the time I'd reached my late twenties, and I tried to cover all the bases from urban to woodland survival, from hunting and foraging to herbalism and basic farming. I geared up and tested my ability to survive in extreme heat as well as extreme cold. I also devoted a lot of time to both armed and unarmed combatives training, finding that my initial cockiness in these areas often ended up being my most invaluable teacher. There's nothing like a few fractures and knock outs to prove just how tough you really are(n't).

Like many young survivalist types, I envisioned myself as some kind of post- apocalyptic John Rambo who ran around shooting at bad guys, taking whatever I needed and having no accountability to anyone. This is the pitfall of many modern survivalists, as they seem to romanticize an "every man for himself" type of scenario, or at the very least, a scenario where only their family/ gang/ tribe and themselves matter. This myopic super hero fantasy will not get you very far, unless your bullet belt can somehow miraculously fertilize plants and purify water.

More and more I started to realize that these "lone wolf" types were overtestosteroned, paranoid idiots, and generally just a mirror reflection of the Conquistadors we already have in our government. The Rambos would swear up and down that the government was their mortal enemy, but they seemed to employ exactly the same type of fear mongering and macho posturing that the mainstream media did. Sure, they had SOME good ideas, but their plans to rise above the rubble armed with AK47's and cans of Spam started to sound ridiculously cartoonish to me. The bottom line is- if you want to make something worthwhile happen, you NEED to learn how to work with people.

Add to that, much of the propaganda coming from the Lone Wolf Rambo crowd was brought to you courtesy of Christian fundamentalists, right wing racialists and various other sociopaths I wanted nothing to do with. I'm seeing many of these 1990's "militia" stereotypes reincarnated in the current Tea Party and Constitutionalist movements, and they still leave a bad taste in my mouth. Moreover, I'm starting to become concerned that the Rambos might actually be gaining a foothold with the status quo, and the idea of plowing some Christian lunatic's beanfield with a bayonet in my back doesn't sound too attractive to me.

As I grew older with my survivalist mindset, I started to wonder if any community of rational, pragmatic individuals could be built around the principals of self sustainability. I wondered what the role of women and children would be, and how would we address issues such as child care, education and health care. The Rambos never showed any interest in these issues. Luckily though, I was quite happy to see many inroads being made for realistic sustainability right in my hometown. By the early 21st century, farmers markets, biking and urban farming were coming into vogue, but I was still hungry to see more discussion on what REALLY could be done in the event of a societal collapse.

Enter the writings of James Howard Kunstler, particularly his books entitled The Long Emergency and World Made By Hand. Both of these books deal with the condition known as Peak Oil, with The Long Emergency being a nonfictional prediction of what might happen and World Made By Hand being a Novel about life after the collapse.

I found both of these books (as well as Kunstler's website and blog) to be very inspiring because they are quite a departure from the gloom and doom of most survivalists. Rather than pushing a "Mad Max lording over the post apocalyptic wasteland" angle, they espouse a far more pragmatic and humanistic worldview. To me this stance is crucial, because the doomers leave me feeling highly uninspired, and I suspect that I'm not the only one. Their obsession with violence and retribution is not anything that anybody could build a society around, at least not one with any longevity.

The thing is though, for as grandiose as Kunstler' claims of the importance of community are, I wonder if he actually believes his own propaganda. His snarkiness and cynicism is apparent in his blog entries and lectures, and he seems to get quite easily sidetracked and offended by non- issues such as people wearing clothing he deems too baggy, or enjoying mainstream sporting events and getting tattoos. What James needs to realize is that in order for his own vision to become a reality, he needs to get anyone and everyone on board, including the types of people he may not like very much. He also seems a bit folly to, dare I say; a bit of undeserved self importance from time to time.

But the thing about Kunstler is- we need him and people like him. We need him because whatever he lacks in charisma, charm and tolerance, he makes up for in his ability to tell it like it is, not to mention being able to outline a workable strategy for surviving the impending collapse. He's not likely to be the standard bearer on the battlefield, much less the cool neighbor you drink beer with after work, but he's definitely someone worth paying attention to.

It's easy to hate on the self centered Baby Boomers, the whiny, apathetic Generation X-ers, and the cynically paralyzed Millenials, but every once in awhile I'll meet someone from one of these age brackets who is a bit different. They'll have a glint in their eye, a positive outlook and a lot of great ideas. I hope these people keep appearing in my life because it is far to easy these days to throw your hands up, say "fuck it!", and dismiss our future entirely. Those who are idealistic and pragmatic are as good as gold to me, even if they are as irascible and tempermental as Kunstler is. Those who fight the good fight and are simply far too dedicated and strong (and maybe just a little too naive- in a good way mind you) to even think of capitulation or defeat are the people I want in my tribe.

You can watch a good James Howard Kunstler lecture/ debate at Brown University here:

http://www.brown.edu/Departments/Political_Theory_Project/janus/events/lectures/building_america_who_should_control_urban_growth

(sorry for some reason the hyperlink wouldn't work with this address, so you'll have to cut and paste)

Unfortunately, you can't scroll past where the cursor is cued up, you have to wait for the video to load and get ahead of where the cursor is. At 90 minutes it takes a LONG time to load, but if you can make it to the 67:00 mark you'll see where my question about his tattoo prejudice pisses him off and gives Randall O'TOOL a chance to rip on his earring.

some great books:

Ragnar's Urban Survival- Ragnar Benson
No Such Thing As Doomsday- Philip L Hoag
When Technology Fails- Matthew Stein
World Made By Hand- James Howard Kunstler
The Long Emergency- JHK

Happy Eostre!

2010-04-03T19:42:00.000-07:00

How Eostre is usually recognized by modern Heathens is by having what is called a "blot" or "forn" where an offering is made to the appropriate goddess which represents fertility. The Germanic peoples had a LOT of goddesses, many unique to a specific locale and tribe, and many having overlapping attributes, fertility being just one of them. It could be appropriate to have a forn (which is what about 99.9999% of Heathens do, as blot literally means "blood" and there isn't a whole lot of animal sacrificing going on these days) to any of the following goddesses:

Freya- Goddess of war and fertility, with a distinct focus on female sensuality.
Frigga- Odin's wife- goddess of hearth and home.
Idunna- Keeper of the apples that made the gods eternally young.
Ostara/ Eostre- German and Anglo Saxon goddesses of fertility.

Sadly, we really only know Ostara/ Eostre in name only, but we do know that she was associated with the month of April, and likely to be associated with the return of spring and fertility.

The first three goddesses I listed are from Icelandic lore, with Freya also being sporadically mentioned in what little surviving German and Anglo Saxon lore remains. Personally though, the fact that very little info about Eostre is out there is actually very exciting to me. This allows room for creativity, something that is sometimes lacking in the Heathen community. Heathens often make many lofty claims to authenticity, but it is still a reconstructed religion which is likely to bear almost no resemblance to the original faith. Since my focus is on Anglo Saxon Heathenry, I will now speak about an obscure, but still very powerful goddess and Holy Tide, both known as Eostre.

Eostre is an important and joyous, albeit somewhat obscure Heathen holiday. Much of our knowledge of it is recorded by the Christian scholar Bede who tells us that the month of April was known as Eostremonath by the Anglo Saxons. Although Eostre's true attributes are unknown, it is speculated that her name means "east" and that she is associated with fertility, as in the sun rising in the east, and spring returning. This confuses me a bit, as the previous month's Holy Tide is known as Hrethmonath, and is related to the goddess Hretha. Hretha is speculated to be associated with sacrifice and war. The month before that (February) is Solmonath, and is associated with the goddess Nerthus, also known as Hertha or Aertha. All these goddesses who possess similar names (and functions) seem to be an overlap of various local dieties who could have been one in the same, or evolutions of the same godess(es).

In the interest of keeping with the Anglo Saxon traditions, I may very well hold a Hretha forn next year, as any "tough" goddess is surely one I can relate to, having worked with both Freya and Skadhi in the past with great results. Hretha may have actually been the Anglo Saxon's version of the Norse goddess Skadhi, as we associate both goddesses (with what little is known about Hretha) with winter and hunting.

Since I like to keep the Holy Tides distinct from one another, I prefer to look at Hertha as a goddess of the earth and agricultural fertility, and Eostre as more of a goddess of the flesh and human reproduction. Both have their place in worship of course, and both have very similar, almost interchangeable characteristics, but as a modern Heathen I feel it is necessary and useful to differentiate the two. Hertha is also known as Jord by the Scandinavians, and Hretha seems to be unique to the Anglo Saxons. I have often held my Hertha blot in March rather than February, as February hardly feels like the end of winter here in New England!

Hot cross buns, rabbits and eggs all come from ancient Heathen customs and were appropriated by the Christians in order to convert the Germanic tribes more easily. Much like "Christmas" trees, by appropriating these familiar images the Christians were able to sell their new religion to the Heathen tribes more easily. The problem with this appropriation is that it came at a price, and that was the destruction of the native gods and goddesses. That doesn't mean that we cannot bring them back though, even if we don't know much about them. Through working with them and embracing the holy powers, we can re- learn the knowledge that has been lost for so long, and regain our connection with the Holy Powers!

Alex Jones and Mark Dice aint nice.

2010-03-02T08:37:00.000-08:00

(Ahem) to all you conspiracy theorists out there (and I know a few of you...)

What's a whole whole hell of lot better than thinking that the big, bad evil government of ours is up to all kinds of no good, and responsible for everything from 9/11 to the swine flu, I offer you a better alternative. TAKE CONTROL OF YOUR OWN LIVES! There's no Bilderberg conspiracy, the Jews DON'T control everything, Bohemian Grove is NOT Satanic, the government is not going to declare martial law, and there's no such thing as reptilian aliens.

Although these beliefs are deeply held by many people, the people that hold them both frighten and depress me. They frighten me because they are just as zealous about these beliefs as any religious fundamentalist. They'll try to hard sell you on their bs and if you tell them you don't believe their crackpot theories you get subjected to a barrage of "but but but buts!!!" They're just as bad as born again Christians who try to convert you on the spot. In fact, many of the heavy hitters in the "NWO, 9/11 truth" movement ARE Christians, and not very open minded ones at that.

Conspiracy theorists depress me, because rather than take some positive steps forward "just in case" (like becoming more involved in their local farming communities for example) they opt to become a bunch of chicken littles who try to scare everybody into becoming just as paranoid as they are. Rather than empowering their community to become more respectful and self sufficient, they encourage everyone to mistrust each other and aspire to be a bunch of Mad Max thugs who think they'll rule the post apocalyptic wasteland after "the shit goes down".

Alex Jones, Mark Dice and David Eiche are a bunch of semi literate con men who use the same mainstream, sensationalist crap to try and spread their propaganda that they accuse the government of using. They run around with bullhorns and act like macho idiots towards anyone who criticizes them, and utilize nothing but scare tactics to get their message across. They are egocentric attention whores selling snake oil to people who are too ignorant to realize that they are no better than the government they so vehemently claim to despise.

I will just say this about 9/11. If the government really DID intend to use that as a mechanism to usher in a "new world order" why the hell are they waiting ALMOST TEN YEARS to do so? Wasn't Bill Clinton supposed to usher in the NWO back in the 90's? Give me a break.

Our government does not have the resources, organization or manpower to undertake such an endeavor. We currently have 150,000 troops in Iraq alone, trying to get Baghdad under control. It is completely unbelievable to me that people actually think our government could possibly declare martial law in this country, where there are over 3 million gun owners willing to shoot each other if they have to wait in line too long to purchase a Wii. If our military can't get Baghdad (a city of roughly 1 million people with an antiquated infrastructure) under control, what makes anyone think that they could hold a siege in ALL the major cities here in the US?

Conspiracy theories are like a new age, gnostic religion, sucking in gullible rubes who are afraid to take control of their own lives and actually LIVE them. I feel that the big bad ugly truth about our government is exactly the opposite of what the conspiracy theorists claim it is. Rather than being an omnipotent, all seeing, all knowing entity, it is in reality quite disorganized, corrupt and painfully inept. Essentially a lion without teeth.

Passing The Time In The 'Burbs

2010-02-08T14:20:00.000-08:00

Growing up in the suburbs in the 1980s was quite an adventure. Wait, no, I take that back, it was totally freakin BORING. There really wasn't anything to do in my hometown, especially if you were an angst filled punk rocker like myself and my friend Brad. This led us to explore the ever popular "bad" kid pastimes like drugs, skateboarding, shoplifting, and our all time favorite; vandalism.

I wasn't much of a juvenile myself, but Brad used to take punk rock's destructive tendencies to outrageous new heights. He was always getting into some kind of trouble, be it with the law, his parents or the teachers and principal of our high school. Hanging out with Brad was one of the most exciting things I could think of doing, as he was a veritable human whirlwind of criminal excitement.

Brad was tough too. He'd walk up to people and punch them in the face if he didn't like the way the were looking at him. People usually were looking at him too, as his shaven head with stupid spiky bangs made him stand out like a sore thumb anytime he went out in public. More often than not though, anyone who taunted him, calling him either a "freak" or a "skate fag" would get knocked out cold on the spot. Brad wasn't someone you wanted to mess with, which many people soon learned the hard way.

What Brad lacked in brains he made up for in sheer enthusiasm. You could always guarantee he'd stage dive higher and more often than anyone else at punk rock gigs, and in the mosh pit he was unstoppable. Brad's pent up aggression was a good match for my devious schemes, and he and I would quite often work as a team when we launched some of our greatest pranks. Surprisingly though, one of Brad's finest moments would happen without any assistance from me whatsoever.

At our high school we never had an actual paved running track until about 1986. Previous to that it was always packed down gravel, so when the town finally scraped together enough money to pave the track, our jock loving principal McWalters was on cloud nine. He'd made numerous announcements about the track impending paving, and you could sense the childlike excitement in his voice. Knowing that this was our principal's achilles heel, Brad decided to vandalize what our principal cherished the most.

I knew that something was up one Monday when I came into school. Right when I walked in the main lobby, one of the vice principals grabbed me by the arm and escorted me to the office. I was told to sit down, as the principal got right in my face and started screaming at me. He was red in the face, and screaming "I know it was you or your punk friends who ruined my track!" over and over again. Since I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, I suggested that he call my mother so she could confirm that I hadn't left my house at all the entire weekend.

Principal McWalters took me up on my request and called my mother. After my mother confirmed that I was indeed a "good boy", principal McWalters actually apologized to me. He said "I don't know who did that to my track, but mark my words, I'll have his head on a platter!" Since I still had no idea what he was talking about, I asked if I could go outside and take a look.

There was a sizable crew out by the track, making a vain attempt to clean it off with some pressure washers. When I finally got close enough to see what it was they were trying to wash off, I could see it was a drawing of a HUGE penis ejaculating onto a smiling face. The thing was, whomever had painted it didn't use regular spray paint. They used white house paint and a brush, so on top of the brand new black asphalt, this white visage of juvenile perversity shined like a beacon into the cosmos.

It was also so big, you couldn't really see the entire image unless you got up onto the bleachers and looked at it from an elevated vantage point. It reminded me of a more perverted version of the giant intaglio figures found on the plains of Nazca Peru. You know, the ones written about by author Erick Von Danicken in his controversial book Chariots Of The Gods?

I knew right away that this HAD the be the handy work of Brad, and as soon as he came into school I could tell by his expression that he was the one who had decorated principal McWalters' precious new track. Brad was scared to death of getting caught, but none of us ever ratted him out. It was pretty funny though when the morning announcements came, and McWalters did his his best Dirty Harry impersonation, saying "Do you hear me you little punk... I'm gonna nail you..." in a low menacing tone. Brad's cut up and scabby hands were a dead give away that he'd gotten into something over the weekend He'd apparently soaked his hands in turpentine to get all the paint off so no one would suspect him of destroying principle McDouche's track.

The funniest thing too was that because he had used so much exterior house paint on the track, they eventually had to pave over where he'd painted and you could still see a 3D impression of the giant penis he'd drawn. This penis's visage remained on our track for many years afterwards.

The Pity Party is OVER

2009-11-09T11:27:00.000-08:00

Living in the moment is one of the most difficult things you can do. Most people are constantly either dwelling on the past or so fixated on the future that they can't enjoy what is right in front of them. I am no exception to this, but I am working very very hard to re- program my thinking.

Coming from the communities that I have been involved with, there has never been any shortage of talk regarding the dismantling of the status quo. Whether it's Christians, politicians, the rich, the corporations or just the idea of authority in general being evil, most of my peers and myself over the years have denounced normalcy and all of its adherents with a fire- borne passion.

The problem was, we were all a little too naive and gung ho about "change" to come up with a pragmatic game plan for building our perfect alternative society. Instead we opted to sit around and whine about how much everything sucked. Sure we made a lot of great music and artwork dedicated to the inherent suckiness of modern American life, but let's face it, we were all pretty freakin unhappy and self defeating in the end.

I have spent many many man hours dwelling on my past and hoping for better days. I'd reflect on my past in times of despair, happiness and even boredom, pulling up mental movies of things that would either cheer me up or bring me down, only to realize that none of it had anything whatsoever to do with what my current task at hand was.

Being as eccentric as I am, I have to cast a very wide net to find people I can really relate to. I've had many many people tell me that I could really fit in if I wanted to and that I don't have to be an outsider, but it is part of my programming NOT to fit in. Plus, I'm only 5'4 and have always stuck out like a sore thumb anyway, so I might as well embrace my eccentricities and use them towards a positive goal. I have also seen our rapidly deteriorating modern world, and frankly, it does little to impress me, but the speculation that better times are/ were in the past or future is of little comfort to me anymore as well.

The thing that sucks is the bitter, cold loneliness that accompanies my odd and creative nature. It is during times of extreme loneliness and desperation that my mind presses the rewind and/ or fast forward buttons and wishes to recall times long ago when I was happy and felt powerful, or times that haven't happened yet where I hope I'll feel the same way.

It is in times of sadness that I find myself thinking of times gone by where I was treated badly by someone and end up getting even more depressed. It is in times of self consciousness and uncertainty that I resolve to think "Oh, this person is just like all those shitty people I've interacted with before" when I miss opportunities that are presented to me. It is in times of beating myself up and thinking of all the things I regret in life that I forget to really experience and enjoy life in the here and now.

We sometimes forget that very few problems are insurmountable. To be fair, one can never truly quantify suffering, but those who are able to live through shitty situations and come out on top are people who inspire me. I have had my fair share of suffering and personal setbacks in my life, but when I really think about it, it is nothing compared to what a lot of people have been through. The old adage of "Well at least you aren't crippled, burned or blind" has never comforted me, but it is true, I do have good things and good people in my life, and I am sometimes a little too self pitying to recognize that.

Shameless Plug

2009-11-09T11:13:00.000-08:00

http://blacksungazette.com/

This is the blog of a feller named Nick Fitt. I met this irascible, arrogant prick back when he was like 15, and over the years he has cracked me up, pissed me off, infuriated, inspired and generally gotten a strong, blood pressure rising reaction out of me almost every time I've communicated with him, whether he was saying things I agreed with, or saying things that made me want to strangle him. Nick and I have been in touch off and on via the phone, the postal service and now here on the internet and I've had a love/ hate affair with him since day one. If there's one thing he's good at it's getting a reaction from me, be it positive or negative. The amount of adoration and loathing the rest of the peanut gallery regularly bestows upon him is evidence that I'm not the only one he can work his magick on.

The thing with Ole Nick (he's not even that old, he just kinda comes across that way in his bitter musings) is that he's really shaped up to be an excellent writer. Like one of the many "this guy should be getting paid for this" writers, so I implore you all to check out his musings.

Down with "average"

2009-10-28T17:02:00.000-07:00

One way to get on my bad side (actually there are several hundred ways to get on my bad side, but one that sticks out as being particularly distasteful) is to accuse me of being average. Whether you think that I'm thinking average thoughts, have lived an average life, or aspire to be simply average at anything is an insult to my perfectionist nature. I may very well do a lot of really "normal" things in my life, but trust me, hum drum, unexciting and bland are the antithesis of everything I strive to experience.

A 90's era British hardcore band called Cracked Cop Skulls released a record called Why Pussyfoot When You Can Kill? I found this to be a truly righteous declaration. Why pussyfoot when you can kill indeed... life is too short for mediocrity.

Ahhh, but the sad thing is, mediocrity really hits the spot for the majority of people in this country. In fact, this country's media machine declares war on anything exceptional or outstanding on a regular basis, either by demonizing it or ignoring it. Why do you think all the great hardcore punk bands from the 1980's I keep yapping about on this blog got almost NO media attention whatsoever? They were too extreme that's why.

In my humble opinion, "extreme" is often just another way of saying something is too good, too honest, or just too gosh darn genuine for most people to handle. Being exceptional at anything is a surefire way to alienate the majority of your peers. Do you want a lot of friends? Make sure you're not too successful, too good looking, too intelligent or too talented, otherwise you'll be the bane of their existence and despised by everyone.

Rewarding an average standard holds true even in communities which supposedly ascribe to an aesthetic of extremity. I don't know how many times I've been told by my punk rock, pagan, art or martial arts peers that I was taking their alternative or revolutionary ideas just a little too far. Many times, in their opinion I was pushing the envelope just a little too much. Even in communities where people are supposed to be challenging and ultimately destroying the status quo, in many instances they've merely replaced the mainstream status quo with their own, slightly different version of it.

Perfectionism, systematic execution and untempered determination are how I accomplish anything worthwhile in my life. A pox times 1000 to anyone naive enough to think that I am "just like all those people" because I could never be average and normal no matter how hard I try. This is not to say that I have no boundaries, no morals and no structure in my life; in fact I possess all of those aesthetics in large amounts. But they are the structures I have chosen... the structures I have built... the structures that work for ME.

I actually envy average people quite a bit, as their lot in life is much MUCH easier than mine, but average people will not move this civilization forward one iota. Today's freaks, revolutionaries, malcontents and general weirdos could very well be iconoclasts who become the heroes of tomorrow. Van Gough and HP Lovecraft died lonely and penniless but were canonized after their deaths. I find this quite sad and unfair, but at the very least- they attained immortality by their art and writing being appreciated by so many people long after they left this mortal coil.

Will I be one of these iconoclasts? I have no idea. I'm not sure I really want to be one, but it has become my goal to try and influence this world (or at least my little corner of it) in a positive way as much as I can. Is it arrogant for me to assume I ever could be one of these iconoclasts? I certainly hope so. Without being an arrogant, perfectionist jerk I'd have little other reason to set the bar so ridiculously high for myself. Does anything I do impress you? That's hardly the point. Impressing me is what is important. You couldn't ever be as harsh of a critic on me as I am on myself.

So to quote Henry Rollins- "You say you're my friend, but you're one of them". I extend this to anyone who tries to stand in my way... tries to bring me down... and most importantly- to anyone who'd ever have the gall of accusing me of being average.

Thor, God Of "Gotta Do This Again"

2009-10-24T13:46:00.000-07:00

Whenever one mentions the old Norse/ Germanic pantheon, the god who immediately comes to mind is Thor. Thor is often thought to represent brute force, blind rage and raw machismo, but I've come to find out that his energy is actually far more complex than that. Thor served as both the protector of the common man and protector of the gods alike. Thor was the lynch pin of the Norse pantheon, and when his energy manifests itself to us here on Midgard we are always very grateful for it.

Armed with an unbreakable, yet very short handled magic hammer known as "Mjolnir", Thor was the bane of the Jotuns or "frost giants". The Jotuns represented the forces of chaos and destruction and were the arch nemeses of the gods. The Jotuns were constantly trying to make trouble for the gods, as they were very jealous of the beauty and order that the gods had in their home of Asgard. The Jotuns' meddlesome ways would finally culminate in the battle known as Ragnarok, which was instigated by a Jotun with godlike powers named Loki. Thor's role in Ragnarok was crucial, as he was the only god strong enough to kill Loki's son, a giant serpent known as Jormungund.

Thor can be thought of as the bouncer at the club or the vigilant policeman. Not the over testosteroned bouncer with an attitude problem or the crooked cop, but the bouncer who removes the drunk trouble maker quickly so the rest of the bar patrons can keep having a good time. He's not the cop who spends his time writing minor traffic tickets and harassing skateboarders, he's the cop who busts the real criminals instead. In essence, Thor is the tough guy with the really big heart.

Whenever you see people performing Thor- like deeds you are often relieved and left with a very positive impression. One of the finest Thor moments I can recall is when my friend Frank removed a very meddlesome young man from a punk rock gig back in 1992. This gig was held in a very small venue, and had a mixed bill and crowd who were all very hostile towards each other. The crowd consisted of equal parts skinheads and straight edge kids, with a smattering of punk rockers and skaters thrown in. Frank and I were firmly in the last category (skaters) and were two of the few people who were there because we actually just wanted to see the bands and have fun.

Frank and his girlfriend were avid t shirt printers and record distributors, so at most local gigs they had a veritable punk rock flea market set up in the back. Most kids really liked that, but at this particular gig they weren't selling much merchandise. Most of the kids were there to stage dive and mosh, so record and shirt sales were at a minimum. The place was really cramped too, so the record table was a little too close to the stage and dancefloor to be able to make any sales while the bands were playing and the kids were dancing. One person who quickly took advantage of this chaotic situation was a local mohicaned "drunk punk" named Wacky.

Wacky was an infamous local troublemaker who was known for starting fights, exposing himself to people, and generally being an intoxicated idiot any time he went out into public. Later on we would come to find out that he was actually a spoiled little rich boy from Bristol RI, but at the time we didn't really know anything about him. All we knew is that we hated him for being an obnoxious douchebag, and on this particular evening he seemed extra revved up to antagonize people. Add to that, he was palling around with all the skinheads, which made us a bit hesitant to confront him on his idiotic behavior.

For some reason, Wacky targeted Frank's record table and kept knocking his record boxes over. At first he tried to make it look like an accident that happened due to the moshers migrating a bit too far away from the band stage, but by the third time he did it it was obvious that he was doing it on purpose. Add to that the fact that he had a total smart assed grin on his face every time he knocked Frank's records over, and his newly found skinhead buddies kept cheering him on every time he did.

After Wacky's third attempt at annihilating Frank's merchandise, Frank turned to me and said "Dude, the next time he does that something's going to happen." Frank was seriously one of the most blase people I knew, so when he said this to me in a completely un- emotional, monotone way, it was hard for me to take him seriously. Add to that Frank was one of the last people I would ever expect to "do something" to Wacky or anyone else, as he was pretty much a pacifist. I kind of half expected Frank to not make good on his word, but when Wacky had his fourth "accident" at Frank's table, Frank uttered these words which I will forever associate as the epitome of Thor.

"Gotta do this again..."

Frank walked over to Wacky in a way that was completely nonchalant and unthreatening. I heard him say to Wacky "Dude, that wasn't cool" and then saw him put his hands on Wacky's shoulders. Before Wacky could even say anything, Frank's right foot teed off on Wacky's balls with enough force to send his testicles straight to Mars. Wacky immediately crumbled into a sobbing, teary eyed, red faced heap, and his skinhead buddies all ran over to him to pick him up and drag him out of the venue.

Fearing immediate chrome- domed retribution, I clicked open my knife and grabbed my pepper spray. When the skins came back in though, they were all handshakes and smiles for Frank, claiming that Wacky was annoying them as well, and that Wacky would most assuredly not be making an encore appearance at this gig. This was also the last time any of us ever saw Wacky, as he seemed to drop off the face of the earth (or at least drop out of the local punk rock scene). We later found out that he "grew out of" his punk rock phase and now owns a yaught. Go figure.

Another fine Thor moment happened one morning when I was getting off the highway to go to work. For some strange reason traffic was backed up quite a bit more than usual, and I noticed some commotion up ahead. This off ramp was a popular spot for a couple of panhandlers, but they were usually pretty harmless.

This morning though, there was a new panhandler whom I'd never seen before. He was a lot younger than the regular panhandlers and appeared to have a very surly disposition. He was also clearly wigged out on some kind of alcohol and or drugs, as his demeanor was quite erratic and threatening. I immediately sensed that there was some trouble about to happen, so I got my pepper spray and cell phone ready.

Since the off ramp traffic was stopped at a red light, the panhandler was approaching each car in the line and knocking on their passenger side window. When the driver wouldn't roll their window down and give Mr. Meth any money, he either spit at their car or start punching their window. I was about the tenth car back, and he was on car number three when I noticed most of the other commuters taking out their cellphones and dialing frantically. I was pretty much ready to blast him with my pepper spray once he got to my vehicle, when all of a sudden a police cruiser rolled up on the street that the off ramp emptied onto.

A cop jumped out of the cruiser at lightning speed, opened the cruiser's back door and started quickly walking over to the panhandler (who at this time had advanced another three or four cars closer to me). Without even missing a beat, the cop walked over, grabbed the panhandler by the back of the neck and started pushing him to the police cruiser. He ducked the pan handler's head, shoved him into the back of the cruiser, jumped back in the driver's seat and sped off. This took the cop all of about 40 seconds to do, and the entire ordeal on the off ramp only added an additional four or five minutes to my morning commute, tops.

Actions such as Frank's and the cop's completely illustrate the power of Thor. He's there when you need that extra bit of strength, energy or enthusiasm when you're faced with a challenge or conflict. Thor isn't just there to help you beat up drunk guys with spiky leather jackets or haul off unruly transients either. Are you trying to move a refrigerator up to the second floor? Yell "Hail Thor!" and see what happens. My guess is that you'll have that damn thing up the stairs in no time. Do you have a particularly stubborn tree stump you're trying to remove? Yell "Hail Thor!" and you'll get that sucker out with ease. Trying to reach the summit of the mountain? Trying to get that spaghetti sauce perfect? Trying to meet a seemingly impossible deadline? Can't find that box of precious family heirlooms in your overcrowded attic? Thor can assist you in all of these endeavors.

And luckily, Thor was with me just last week as I was traveling down highway 95. I'd missed my exit and had to backtrack a bit when two cars passed me on the highway. They were both going well over 80 mph and weaving in and out of traffic erratically. They were either drunk, racing each other or having some sort of road rage episode, but once they passed me my reptile brain immediately kicked in. Sensing impending doom, I started to pump my brakes, as it was a bit rainy out.

It's a good thing I was paying attention too, as a few hundred feet ahead of me one of the cars lost control. I saw this and moved over into the slow lane, but the car was literally spinning 360 degrees right in the middle of the highway and blocking all three lanes of traffic! Luckily there were no other vehicles up ahead, but I was fast approaching, as was an 18 wheeler right behind me. I thought to myself "If this person doesn't regain control and get their car and get out of the middle of the highway, I may hit them, and the 18 wheeler will definitely hit them, and annihilate me as well!"

Well, just as I was about 100 feet away from the car, the driver managed to get over to the side of the highway. The 18 wheeler and I passed them unscathed, but not without yours truly hysterically screaming "HAIIILLLL THORRRR!!!!" the entire time. The irony was that earlier in the evening I had actually hailed Thor at a heathen drinking ritual known as sumble. I had never hailed Thor at sumble before, but that night it seemed strangely appropriate for some reason. I'm really glad he listened.

Thor's energy is swift, efficient, hard working and righteous. Frank couldn't have said it better, as many times in the lore, Thor was the god who rolled up his sleeves and took care of business, again, and again and again. Many hardworking heathens of today are well known for being Thorsmen, as we are not much for mysticism. Sure, us heathens have magic and mythology just like every other religion, but heathens like to be doers rather than talkers. We're not afraid to use mundane solutions to solve problems, and that's what Thor is all about. Swift, simple solutions for what appear to be complex problems.

In fact, an Icelandic gentlemen I met recently actually said "Even though Iceland is a Christian country, whenever we get in trouble we hail Odin and Thor, because we know Jesus won't do anything for you when you need him." I found this highly amusing, but also indicative of Thor's popularity, even long after the indigenous heathen faith of Northern Europe has supposedly died.

While other religious types might pray for you to have a successful moving day, the heathen horde will show up to one of their folks' house at 6 am with an army of pickup trucks, hand trucks and boxes. It's funny that Frank is to this day an avowed atheist, as he once coined yet another phrase that I like to associate with Thor. This famous Frank witticism is "talkers talk and doers do" and I have added this to my repertoire as well. Nothing could be more true, as talk minus action equals nothing, and with Thor on your side, you can add yet another saying, this one being "It's getting done, and it's getting done NOW!" (That's a Badger original by the way...)

So to recap, we can sum up Thor in three statements:

"Gotta do this again!"
"Talkers talk and doers do", and
"It's getting done, and it's getting done NOW!"

HAIL DONAR!
HAIL THUNOR!
HAIL THOR!

Runes And Runemagick- Exploring the mysteries of the Elder Futhark

2009-10-19T20:28:00.000-07:00

This is taken from a runes workshop I did at Rhode Island Pagan Pride Day recently. This isn't the original handout, and some of the graphics are missing. In place of the missing graphics though, is this great new rune casting plate I painted the other day!

There are many runes and runic systems out there, but the oldest and most popular is known as the Elder Futhark. The Elder Futhark is the oldest known European rune row, and is slated to have been used from the 2nd to 8th centuries, although the legend of the runes purports the usage of the runes from as early as 250 BC. Over 3000 runestones have been found in Scandinavia, with many more scattered in the countries which surround the Baltic Sea. There have even been runestones found in England, Ireland, Scotland and the Berezan Island in Russia. Several runestones have also been discovered in North America, but their authenticity remains questionable. Runic inscriptions were also added to pre- existing stone structures in Turkey and Greece by Viking traders and mercenaries.

The Legend Of The Runes

I trow I hung on that windy Tree

nine whole days and nights,

stabbed with a spear, offered to Odin,

myself to mine own self given,

high on that Tree of which none hath heard

from what roots it rises to heaven.
None refreshed me ever with food or drink,

I peered right down in the deep;

crying aloud I lifted the Runes

then back I fell from thence.

Havamal, stanzas 137 and 138

In the Havamal, the legend of the runes states that Odin (the high god or “allfather” of the Germanic tribes) hanged himself on a tree for nine days and nights to receive the power of the runes. The runes manifested themselves to him in the form of nine staves which fell at his feet. This is the “bind” rune which encapsulates all 24 of the original Futhark runes.

The nine staves are what the entire Futhark looks like when all the runes are laid on top of each other. From these staves Odin was able to learn the wisdom of the runes. Legend states that these events happened in the year 250 BC, although most of the runestones found are dated between the 2nd and 8th centuries. The true birth of the runes is not known, but their popularity throughout Northern Europe in the early first century is a true testimony to the power and influence they had on the indigenous people of that region. Their appearance in places far away from the Baltic Sea is also a testimony to the hardiness and ambitiousness of the Viking raiders, explorers and traders.

Uses Of The Runes

Although commonly thought of as merely an alphabet or simple divining tool, the runes actually have many varied meanings and uses. As one can tell, many of them resemble the letters in the English alphabet, and they do in fact have phonetic values, but each rune can also be associated with a color, a sound, an object, an action, and much much more. They also relate to each other in a form of code which is hidden by the way they are ordered in the three rune rows, or “aetts”. Runes are often “read” in much the same way that tarot cards are read, but they can also be used for meditating upon and sending by means of galdr (Old Norse for “spell” or “incantation”). There are also runic yoga and runic martial arts systems, although these are likely to be more contemporary developments developed in the 19th and 20th centuries.

The word “Futhark” is actually an acronym for the first six runes in the first row (or aett) of the Futhark. The phonetic values of the first six runes (Fehu , Uruz , Thurisaz , Ansuz , Raido , and Kenaz are F, U, Th, A, R and K. The 24 Futhark runes are divided into three
different “aetts” (eighths) and the order which the runes fall in is very important, as is the significance of the number 24. Twenty four is twelve times two, and twelve is both a very important magickal and natural number. Using this easily divided number makes for rune casting which is very orderly and easy to learn.

How to read runes

Runes are commonly used in much the same way that tarot cards are used. One can do a rune reading by selecting either 3, 6 or 9 runes, with a 9 rune reading offering the most information. A standard three rune reading will illuminate basic questions about the past, present and future. When doing a nine rune reading, one can use the Yggdrasil or “world tree” spread as shown here:
When doing a three rune reading, the first rune represents the past, the second rune represents the present, and the third rune represents the future. If more information is desired, a full nine rune reading can be done, which will reveal the true nature and needs of the individual, as well as the obstacles and advantages which may be unseen to them. Like anything, practice is the key, and remember- all readings merely serve as a guide, as the future is never written in stone!

When runes are “sent” for a magickal purpose, they can often be sent in the form of bindrunes or rune rows. A rune row is often inscribed onto a stick (stave) and is a magickal working which has a personalized rune row which is necessary for a desired result. A bindrune is a rune row which has been combined into one shape. Bindrunes are often inscribed onto a charm, amulet or hex, and usually contain three or more runes. Depending upon how a bindrune is arranged, different viewers can pick out different runes, as the possibilities when inscribing them are limitless!

When one looks upon the 24 Old Norse runes, one cannot help but be moved by the intensity they emanate. The runes are the wellspring of all creativity, the gateway to ethereal knowledge and the imprint of the gods and ancestors. They are truly elegant in their simplicty. One could devote an entire lifetime to their study and still barely scratch the surface of their true meaning.

Reading List:
Futhark, A Handbook of Rune Magic by Edred Thorsson
Teutonic Magick by Edred Thorsson
Runes Of Mind by Thor Shiel
Advanced Runecraft And Spellcraft by Thor Shiel
The Old Norse Wizard by Thor Shiel
The Poetic Edda by Henry James Bellows
Germania and the Agricola by Tacitus
Gods And Myths Of Northern Europe by HR Ellis Davidson
Lost Gods Of England by Brian Branston
The Norse Myths by Kevin Crossley Holland
Organizations:
Asatru Folk Assembly- http://www.runestone.org/
The Troth- http://thetroth.org/
Thortrains Network/ Trollwise Press- http://www.thortrains.com/UncleThors

Fearless Iranians From Hell changed my life

2009-10-06T10:23:00.000-07:00

Look at this album cover for a second. Just look at it. If you're over the age of 30, or even a younger person with an eye for history, you'll recognize this as the sinister profile of the now deceased Iranian Mullah known as Ayatollah Khomeini. No image in 1980's America could inspire more fear than his.

The Ayatollah (note the name "Ayatollah" is actually a title) was responsible for deposing the Shah and establishing Iran as the world's first (and so far only) Islamic fundamentalist state. Khomeini had been exiled to France when Iran was still under the rule of the ultra- corrupt US puppet Mohammed Reza Pahlavi (aka "The Shah Of Iran") and returned triumphantly in February of 1979 after the Shah fled to Egypt during the Iranian Revolution. Shortly thereafter in October of 1979, 52 Americans were taken hostage in the American embassy in Iran's capitol city Tehran.

America had found a new bogeyman.

Just the mention of the name "Ayatollah" would inspire fear in the average American. I can recall my grandmother looking at his face on the cover of Time magazine and exclaiming "oh my god, he looks so EVIL!" Professional wrestlers would create Iranian personalities and become arch enemies of whatever patriotic good guys they squared off against. Car shows and rodeos often featured someone dressed up as the Ayatollah, who would be lassoed by rodeo riders or run out of the arena by monster trucks. Nightly newscasts would show clips of Iranian students chanting "Death to America!" on an almost weekly basis.

Although the hostage crisis had finally ended in 1981, by the mid 1980's Iran was rumored to have been involved with several anti US and anti Western terrorist acts and bombings, either directly or through the use of proxies. This included the 1983 bombing of the US embassy in Lebanon, as well as the bombing of a US Marine barracks in Lebanon later that same year. Iran was often the recipient of Ronald Reagan's ire in his presidential addresses, until he was caught red handed trying to secretly deal arms to them in 1986. From there on out, the American media decided to focus on Libya as our main cause of security concerns.

1984 would become a banner year for Western civilian airliner hijackings, as well yet another bombing of a US target in Beirut, this time being the American Embassy annex. A militant Lebanese Shiite militia group known as Hezbollah were purported to have been responsible for the lion's share of these anti- US aggressions, and they were sponsored by (you guessed it) Iran. The Ayatollah would remain America's number one bad guy until Colonel Muammar al- Gaddafi started to give him a run for his money in 1985. The gauntlet had been thrown down between Islamic fundamentalism and Western capitalist imperialism, which would eventually culminate in the September 11 attack in 2001.

So what was I doing during all of these terrorist attacks and hijackings? Well, by 1987 I was fully immersed in the extreme musical expression known as hardcore punk. Hardcore punk was exactly what it said it was, a more extreme version of punk rock. Although the hardcore scene didn't exactly espouse any love for the Ayatollah or Islamic fundamentalists in general, it definitely was not on the side of the status quo or mainstream thinking in any way, shape or form. This mind melt of "anti- conformity" (which was, in essence, just conforming to the rules laid down by far left radicals) started to have a significant effect on me the more I got into hardcore. By the time I was 14 I was attracted to just about any seemingly subversive piece of music I could get my hands on.

Thrash metal was also becoming big at this time, so naturally there was quite a crossover between hardcore and metal. In fact, bands that were influenced by both punk AND metal would become a sub genre of their own known as "crossover." Since I still had long hair in 1987, I prided myself as one of those crossover metalheads who had a real love for extreme music, but was firmly grounded in the leftist politics espoused by most hardcore bands. Don't get me wrong, I loved metal, but the sex, drugs and Satanism angle they worked didn't really do anything for me. I was much more interested in hearing lyrics about politics, and the crossover scene delivered high speed, anti- Reagan anthems played by longhairs, skinheads and mohicans alike. It was definitely an exciting time to be a curious 14 year old from the suburbs.

So on a cold night in October of this magical year I was with a group of older friends doing our weekly record shopping. This night would find us at Strawberries Records and Tapes in downtown Worcester Massachusetts. This particular Strawberries was like five times the size of a normal one, and had quite a large "Progressive" section in the basement level. The Progressive section was where you would find anything and everything related to extreme heavy metal, goth, punk, industrial, or any and all otherwise underground records.

It was on this particular night that I saw Fearless Iranians From Hell's "Die For Allah" LP and immediately became intrigued. I knew nothing of this band, but judging by their record label (Boner Records) I figured they had to be good. After all, Boner Records had great bands like Verbal Abuse and Fang, so if FIFH were in a similar league with them, I figured they must be pretty decent. In all honesty, I have absolutely no desire to listen to Verbal Abuse or Fang ever again in my now advanced age, but you better believe that I'm still very much enthralled by the Fearless ones.

I took this record home and gave it a spin. The whole presentation from the minimalist artwork to the song titles, to the lack of band photos, to the over the top lyrics was truly ominous. What struck me as particularly odd about FIFH was their militant support for suicide bombings and radical Islam. Even though as I said before, the hardcore scene was quite leftist, many hardcore bands expressed a dislike for both Reagan AND the Ayatollah. The fact that FIFH openly supported him was something that I found strange, and actually a little frightening.

This band was clearly onto SOMETHING, but I just couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. I kept sitting there thinking "This has to be a joke" during one song, only to start thinking "Ummm, maybe it's NOT a joke" the next. I mean, just check out the lyrics to the first song, which was the title track of the album (this is from memory, so die hard fans, kindly cut me some slack!)

Were coming to your town, gonna set you free
The deathmobile's loaded with artillery
Machineguns in front gonna shoot you down
Fearless is here, so don't fuck around

We've got guns and bombs, and we're on patrol
Our weapondry will take its toll
Beyond belief, beyond control
We're stoned as shit, and we're ready to roll

DIE.... DIE.... DIE..... DIE FOR ALLAH!!!

I thought to myself "woo, this is completely OVER THE TOP!" Not to mention that musically, they kicked serious ass. They were on par with DRI, Corrosion Of Conformity, Cryptic Slaughter, Attitude Adjustment, The Accused, or any other number of crossover heavyweights from the time, but actually had a depth to their music that most of these bands lacked. Rather than playing at a million miles an hour and having unintelligible screaming, FIFH infused a lot of subtle melody, tempo changes, and actually discernible vocals in their music. Don't get me wrong, it was still pissed off and raw as fuck, but it was... I dunno... a little more advanced than the previously mentioned metal/ punk bands were.

So yes, upon re- reading those lyrics I was thinking "how could I NOT know this was a joke?" but when I flipped the record over to side two, that's when things got really weird. Side two of Die For Allah's first song was a lengthy instrumental with spoken word in Farsi dubbed kind of low in the mix. Again, I was conflicted. If these guys were from San Antonio TX as their contact address implied, how could they have someone on their record speaking fluent Farsi and not really (at least) be Iranian ex- pats living in America? I started to think that maybe they weren't kidding after all.

Well, by their third record "Holy War" I knew they were a joke. The cover of this release featured a cartoon of the Ayatollah sitting on a flying carpet, getting stoned from a giant hookah pipe. It definitely lacked the starkness of their first LP, and the almost sinister amateurishness of their debut 7" EP (which contained the hit "Blow Up The Embassy", man that song is great!) It also had really really good production and the songwriting was starting to become a little too much of a heavy metal wank a thon for my tastes. Don't get me wrong, I still think Holy War is a great album, but it's not nearly the kick in the nads that their first two records are. I never bothered picking up their last release "Foolish Americans", as by then I'd kind of lost interest in them.

I recently found out that FIFH actually had a behind the scenes Iranian Svengali named Amir. Amir was actually their original vocalist, but quit the band before they ended up recording anything. Amir however, stayed on as a silent partner/ member who ended writing a lot of FIFH's songs, as well as contributing the Farsi spoken on the song I mentioned, as well as on another song on their last record. Amir was an Iranian ex- pat whose family had relocated to Texas after the fall of the Shah's regime in 1979. Since it was mostly those of the upper and middle classes in Iran who weren't too keen on living in a new religious dictatorship, they comprised the bulk of the Iranian diaspora to the United States and Canada in 1979. Given that Amir's family probably weren't huge fans of the Ayatollah's new fundamentalist theocracy, it should be fairly obvious that FIFH were indeed intended to be an ingenious parody.

But not everybody got the joke, including yours truly at first. When asked if their fellow Texans hated them in a recent interview, FIFH drummer "Omid" replies;

"How do you think they reacted? They HATED us!"

FIFH were apparently loathed by everyone from skinheads, leftists, police officers, right wing radio hosts, leftist boy bands, gangs and various religious organizations. This was apparently all part of the plan, as they pretty much set out to piss off the entire planet. Given the fact that most Americans suffer from a sub par public education and a severely underdeveloped sense of irony this is not surprising. What is surprising is that many members of the supposedly radical punk rock scene didn't get it either (myself included initially, hey I WAS only 14!), and that is due to the fact that FIFH represented a far more advanced take on political commentary than 99.9% of their 1980's punk/ metal cohorts did.

What was de rigeur for most American hardcore, punk and crossover bands in the 1980's was an avowed hatred of Ronald Reagan, with the exception of a handful of nationalist punk/ metal bands attempting to ape the "Oi" scene in England (and failing miserably at it). Almost every band complained about Reagan and endorsed skateboarding. If there was any humor to be found in their lyrics at all, it was usually in the form of a bad cover of the Munsters theme or writing a song about how cool it is to drink cheap beer until you puke.

The members and adherents of most 1980's punk and metal simply weren't educated, intellectual, or hell OLD enough to really be able to express much more than blind rage and disillusionment with the status quo. This is where FIFH were brilliant in their approach. Rather than being the atypical "hate your mom and skate against Reagan" band, they decided to endorse radical Islam, suicide bombings and the wholesale killing of Americans in a way that seemed just a little too serious to completely be a joke. They pushed almost everyones buttons,and that is why I like them so much. Not to mention (as I said before) even on a musical level they were a cut above the rest.

By the time Fearless broke up in 1990 the hype about Iran was starting to fade. The Ayatollah had died and was replaced by the not- as- scary Ayatollah Khamenei in 1989, and well... you just didn't hear much about Iran in the news anymore. That would all change in 2005 when ultra conservative President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad was elected to office.

When I first saw Ahmedinejad he was on CNN talking about how Tehran was hosting a conference to prove that the Holocaust never happened. While giving this address his backdrop was a giant photo of a poppy field. In lieu of the fact that Iran has a HUGE heroin problem, all I could think to myself was "Is this guy out of his mind?"

From there on out, Ahmedinejad has only gotten more and more outrageous. The problem is, I'm too jaded with the mainstream media to take anything I hear about Iran (or any other country for that matter) all that seriously. Many of my peers have eschewed similar sentiments to my grandmother's, saying that the pint sized despot just "looks really evil" but to me he looks like a sleazy used car salesman who desperately avoids neckties for no good reason. Even with all the "OMG, Iran is gonna nuke Israel and start world war three!" you hear on the news, 1, 2 or maybe 20 times a day, I honestly don't see them as a threat. If they bombed anyone they'd be turned into the world's biggest ashtray in a nanosecond, and the fact that Iran is not trusted or liked by anyone in the world speaks volumes as to how powerful they actually are.

The Iranian government is not exactly loved by its own people either, as evidenced by the disorder which ensued after their election this summer. Ahmedinejad was elected for a second term, but detractors cried "fraud" and took to the streets. Both Ahmedinejad and Khameni (who still remains the "supreme leader" of Iran, although you barely ever hear about him) claimed that the US and Israel were behind the protests. Say what you want about Iran, but the disorder this summer proves that their population hardly represents a united front against Zionism, Western imperialism, or anything else, regardless of what their leaders say.

With Iran back in the number one spot as America's bogeyman, Fearless Iranians From Hell's music is as relevant as ever. Omid was quoted as saying that with the Ayatollah they had "The number one punk rock PR man" and I feel that this statement is 100% accurate. In fact, you could look at Iran as being the most punk rock country on earth. They're hated and misunderstood by just about every other nation on the planet, sans North Korea. They refuse to hang out with the cool kids from the United States or to sit with the jocks in Russia. They won't hang out with the science geeks in China and they hate the rich kids in Saudi Arabia. Iran truly is that weird kid who nobody understands.

And as long as they have their mouthy Muslim midget president's colorfully threatening commentary, and the mainstream American media constantly showing his stupid, smirking face on the news, he's likely to remain our bogeyman for quite awhile. After all, he provides a very convenient distraction from the myriad of social and financial issues we're currently dealing with here in the US. If there's one thing that a great Texas hardcore band taught me, it's that the media LOVES to push our buttons and keep us in fear at all times. This is how they control us. Really here in the "free" United States, the information we receive is not a whole lot more truthful than the information the Iranians receive.

So I say- fuck being controlled by fear.

some Fearless Iranians From Hell interviews can be found here:

http://www.anus.com/metal/about/interviews/fearless_iranians_from_hell/

"Dude, I'm workin' on it"

2009-06-11T16:24:00.000-07:00

The "virtue" of being humble has been plaguing much of the Western world since the Christian blight robbed us of our indigenous religions some 2000 + years ago. For some reason it is usually frowned upon when one brags or boasts of their accomplishments. Although no one likes an egoist who can find nothing more interesting to talk about than themselves, I'm starting to find people who refuse to acknowledge their own worthy accomplishments to be equally as disingenuous.

I chose the title of this blog because this was a quote that my old roommate Frank was famous for using almost constantly. This man would often show up to parties with the most expensive beer, delicious foods, great CD's, etc. and when he was complimented his response was always the same. The conversation would usually go something like this:

"Hey Frank, that guacamole you made was AMAZING!"
"Dude, I'm working on it."

Frank's "humble" response was so incredibly dishonest I found myself either mocking him or outright laughing at him after awhile. You see, Frank always brought his "A" game to any event, as he had well.... a bit of an inferiority complex. That wasn't what bothered me about him, as honestly, I think you should ALWAYS bring your A game to any event, and let's face it, MOST people have a bit of an inferiority complex. It's better to do something right and perform great deeds than to do something half heartedly. So it really wasn't Frank being a stickler for quality, or being a bit overly self conscious that annoyed me.

It was the fact that Frank was lying that I had a problem with. I'd seen Frank make that guacamole probably 25 times, so it was LOOOONG past the "Dude, I'm working on it" phase. Frank was well aware of how good and well liked his guacamole was, and he had perfected the recipe long before I threatened to strangle him if he didn't stop his glib responses to the compliments people always gave him for it. A simple "thank you" would have sufficed. Hell, that guacamole was so good he could have retorted to compliments with "Yeah I know" and it wouldn't have seemed THAT cocky.

I've actually seen people who are so hell bent on appearing humble (or worse, so self loathing) that they'll actually argue with people when they try to compliment them. One of my ex's was great for this. Not only could she not accept any compliments from me, she'd actually yell at me when I tried to compliment her. One time she made some cookies, and when I told her they were great (which they were) she started flipping out on me, saying "You think that's funny? You're such an asshole!" Needless to say, that relationship was short lived.

Fortunately, people can sometimes learn how to be a bit more down to earth. Case in point- the story of Ed. Ed was a mutual friend of Frank and myself, and had been playing in a new band for awhile. Ed's band was phenomenal and had far superceded everyone's expectations, despite how much he downplayed his impressive musical abilities. Ed quickly proved just how wrong any skeptics were, as his new musical group proved to be an absolute whirling dervish of rock n roll fury when they started playing out live. One day I caught up with him to tell him how much I liked his band, and Ed's reply was (take a guess) "D--- I'- w-----g -- --".

By this point I'd had it with Ed's self deprecating crap, because it was also downright delusional! Ed was hardly the underachiever he thought he was, but he always insisted that he was a failure. The thing was, Ed actually wasn't a failure. In fact, everybody liked him and appreciated whatever creative endeavor he happened to be working on at the time- including me. Sure, Ed had his share of quirks, but who doesn't? Ed just needed to lighten up and appreciate the good things he had in his life, of which there were many. But Ed was such a gloom and doomer that he almost never enjoyed anything. I didn't feel bad for him because his life was miserable, I felt bad for him because he wasn't able to appreciate anything good he actually had in his life.

Some years after not seeing him for awhile, I ran into Ed at a party. His spirits were higher than I'd ever seen before, and he had a big smile on his face. He immediately handed me a CD of his band, and what he said to me after that was monumental.

"Hey Badger, I know you like my band, so here's our newest CD. I think you'll like it, and I'm really happy with the way it came out. In fact, I think it's pretty awesome."

My jaw dropped to the floor when I heard him say this. He was confident, he was satisfied, and for the first time since I'd known him he was happy. He was not the slightest bit cocky or arrogant, and his band's CD was every bit as good as he said it was. I'd only wished he'd found this confidence and optimism about 10 years earlier when I'd first met him, but as the saying goes- better late than never.

I'm not sure exactly what it is that makes the majority of people I know loathe themselves so much, but I would blame much of it on the stranglehold that Christianity has on our culture. Never has there been a more perverted, arrogant and ultimately unnatural worldview than that of Christianity. Just think of some of the "wisdom" one gleans from the teachings of the bible.

"Turn the other cheek" and "The meek will inherit the earth" are two such perverted and misguided lessons the bible teaches. God's followers are referred to as his "flock" while he is our "shepherd". For as much good as there is in the bible (do unto others and though shalt not steal for example) it seems to serve as nothing more than a manual used to brainwash its followers into blind submission. It also purports that god is divine and humanity is sinful simply from the act of being born!

This conditioning does not just infect Christians though, as my ex, Frank and Ed were all staunch atheists. What I don't think they realized though, was just how badly Judeo- Christian thought had shaped their attitudes and worldview. Whether it was Frank's arrogance disguised as humility, or Ed's complete loathing of himself, neither of them had a healthy self image. Luckily though, people CAN change, as Ed proved to me eventually.

It is time for our society and our people as a whole to give up things such as martyrdom and guilt complexes. No matter what your spirituality may be, most of our ancestors came from tribes and societies that once honored and revered their own people. These tribes were not controlled by fear like the Christians, and their old gods served as protectors, guides, and ultimately FRIENDS to their followers here on earth. The Africans had Simbi, the Norse had Thor, the Hindi had Vishnu, the Gauls had Cernunnos, the Greeks had Hercules, and the Persians had Mithras. These were all the protectors and guides of the common man in their societies, and their followers loved and honored them.

Whether you are religious or not, if you want yourself and your loved ones to succeed it's time for the pity party to end. It is far too easy to fall into self hate and defeat, especially now that times are tough. We need to find that voice inside of us that drives us to be successful, and never use self loathing as an excuse or a way to manipulate people. We need to expel "Dude, I'm working on it" and other self hating beliefs back into the sands where they belong- in a body bag no less.

A Tell- Tale Teflon Heart

2009-05-31T14:27:00.000-07:00

On and off for about the past fifteen years I have been involved in some very unhealthy relationships. These relationships have been quite tumultuous, albeit predictable at the same time. I never quite knew what was going to happen, but in the end it was always the same- broken promises, shattered dreams and unabashed disappointment.

It was the claims that the integrity of these relationships would last forever, only to have them end abruptly out of nowhere that hurt me so much. Or even worse, to have such intense, fiery and passionate experiences slowly and painfully become moribund. In a word, the relationships where the partner is resolved to be forgotten about in a basement storage unit or given away to a thrift store, because they're "not needed" anymore. To witness the decline of something that works flawlessly and then fails miserably is simply heartbreaking, especially when my last relationship was eight long years of happiness, only to abruptly crash and burn one hot summer afternoon.

OK, I'm not actually talking about romance, friendships, or any kind relationship with another human being here. I'm talking about pans. That's right- PANS. The ones you cook with. Specifically, Teflon pans and their claims of non stick durability.

First of all, I need to challenge that statement by saying "Non stick durability my ass." Teflon pans are an overrated, disingenuous load of shite. Since I moved out of my mother's house in 1993, I have owned no less than eight of these pieces of disposable junk. The irony too is, I consider myself to be no slouch in the kitchen, and am the proud owner of some very fine kitchen accessories. I was just well... a bit slow on the uptake when it came to cooking with a decent frying pan.

What has ALWAYS ended up happening with every Teflon pan I've ever owned, is that eventually it will stop being non stick. Then you'll actually see pieces of the Teflon coming off the pan and in your food. Sometimes the Teflon will actually peel off as though it's healing from an aluminum sunburn or something. Either way, when you pay $15 or more for a freakin pan, I think the damn thing should last a lot longer than these crappy Teflon pans I've owned. I'd average between two and five years TOPS for most of these aluminum abominations I've owned, and that's being generous.

As I stated before, my last "relationship" with one of these godawful, cancer causing, landfill polluting, toxic fume emitting tools of Satan actually lasted eight years. I have to admit that that pan impressed me, and restored my faith in Teflon cookware. I was convinced that this pan would actually outlive me, but as I said before, last summer she finally bit the dust. Once I had to use a Brillo pad to clean her, I knew her non stick coating had become a thing of the past.

It was my sister who first started giving me crap about using Teflon cookware. My sister is a very intelligent person, but often tends to have a one track mind. Once she started extolling the virtues of her new cast iron skillet, it was literally ALL she would talk about. We'd be having a conversation where I'd say "Hey sis, did you go see that 300 movie?" and she'd reply "No, not yet. Hey, did you know you can bake cornbread in a cast iron skillet?" Or "Hey sis, have you ever tried pico de gallo?" and she'd reply "No, but I bet I could cook that up in my new cast iron skillet." Or even "Hey sis, is your neighbor still being real loud and obnoxious?" and she'd say "Yes he is, and if he doesn't stop I think I'll have to beat him to death with my new cast iron skillet." And on... and on....

Anyway, after my last Teflon pan died, I refused to ever purchase another one. Being that I am a true Capricorn, I like things that last forever. I'm still cooking with the same stainless steel Revere Ware saucepan that I bought at a thrift store back in 1993, and I see no reason why my frying pans shouldn't have the same longevity. So taking my sister's advice, I FINALLY broke down and bought a cast iron skillet.

And what a gem she is. It was pre- seasoned, so that meant it was ready for cooking right away. Let me tell you, this pan is a thing of beauty. The best part is that it isn't picky about how or where you use it. Open flame, gas, electric, it really doesn't matter. You can also beat the hell out of it with metal utensils and it doesn't matter. None of this can be done with Teflon.

The only part of cast iron which is a bit of a pain is that you cannot clean it with soap. When you're done eating, clean up is done with water only, and when you're finished you have to coat the pan with a light coat of oil so it doesn't rust. If it begins to lose it's non stickness, you have to "season" it, which means coating it with oil and then baking it for about an hour (or until it stops smoking). This is a small price to pay for a pan that will last you several lifetimes. My 12" cast iron skillet only cost me $13 at Marshall's, although I will definitely break down for some nicer, more expensive Lodge brand cast iron pots and pans in the future.

As I stated in a previous post, I hate the fact that everything is disposable in our culture, and that includes things like cookware. It was about time that I applied my "use it until it is useless" philosophy to cookware, and I am very happy that I did. The best thing about cast iron is that the more you use it, the better it works. This is the exact opposite of Teflon, which ALWAYS breaks down eventually. Cast iron also heats more evenly, and well, basically just kicks the crap out of cheap ass Teflon junk any day.

Anyway, check out the youtube channel jaybobed proof of cast iron's non stick integrity. This guy is a hoot, but he knows about quality cookware for sure!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53VcmI4051E

Hail To Egil And Uncle Thor!

2009-03-01T11:20:00.000-08:00

I promise that I will get back to my article on shock rock in a timely manner. For right now though, I must take the time to speak about my spiritual beliefs, as well as review of some great books I've recently purchased.

As anyone who knows me knows, over the past 5 years or so I have become increasingly interested in the study of my native spirituality. When I say "native spirituality" I mean the religions my ancestors practiced. In my case that would be almost a 50/ 50 split of Gaulish Celts on my father's side, and Anglo Saxons on my mother's. When looking at my family tree, I can throw a handful of Italian, Irish and Scottish names and quite a few Native American ancestors into the mix as well. Still though, my predominant genealogy is French and English.

So, after doing the research I presumed that prior to Europe's forced conversion to Christianity my ancestors were mainly practitioners of the Celtic and Germanic religions. I am intuitively a very spiritual person anyway, but up until 2003 I mainly investigated more eastern paths such as Buddhism, Taoism and Hinduism, ultimately spending the most time on the study of Hinduism. For as much as I love the ancient Hindu legends (particularly the Vedas) I can honestly say I never really "got" Hinduism. It seems to be steeped in revisionist pacifist beliefs, not to mention a lot of Indian nationalism. Both of those aesthetics gave off a pretty heavy "locals only" vibe to me, as I attempted to become more involved in the Hindu community in my home town.

I actually did look into my Celtic roots quite a bit in the early 1990's, but was left feeling quite unimpressed as there just doesn't seem to be much credible information out there as to how the ancient Celts practiced their religion. This is most likely due to the fact that the Celtic priest class (the Druids) didn't record any of their rituals or beliefs. Add to that the fact that Celtic paganism seems to have become the official property of Wiccans, and their G rated revisionist version of my native spirituality just doesn't add up. If the ancient Celts were truly the passive tree huggers that many modern pagans attempt to recreate them as, they wouldn't have even made it into the history books! You have to remember that back in ancient times EVERY culture you hear about now had to have been a warrior culture. The ones that weren't must have surely been conquered and enslaved by the ones who were, thus erasing their place in history forever.

So after experimenting mainly with Celtic and Hindu spirituality, I figured that my most viable option was the old Germanic tradition. I had actually had a very intense desire to explore this path for many years, but had resisted it due to the fact that it seemed to be the official property of white supremacists. In lieu of the fact that almost every moron skinhead I'd had an altercation with back in my punk rock days was wearing a Thor's hammer and/ or displaying algiz, sig or othala runes, I was convinced that Germanic heathenry went hand- in- hand with violent, racist behavior. By 2004 though, I'd finally figured out that the Germanic tradition was indeed not inherently racist, and was in fact, just as rich, complex and deep as any of the Asian religions I had previously explored.

The transition from being a casual observer to jumping headlong into the study of this spirituality was somewhat accidental, as I was mainly introduced to it by an old roommate. He'd given me a copy of Snorri Sturlson's The Saga's Of The Icelanders, which included Egil's Saga, claiming that the book was "really boring". Well, one night when I was a bit bored myself, I figured I'd give the book a chance, so I picked it up and began reading it. It began with Egil's Saga, and that particular saga really spoke to me on an intrinsic level. I think this was mainly due to the fact that the character of Egil is indeed, a real character. He was simultaneously a fierce warrior and a skilled poet. In many passages of this saga, Egil will recite some lines of poetry before he hacks his adversary to death. This reminded me of old Dolomite movies where he essentially did the same thing.

Although I suspect a great amount of allegory and exaggeration were used by the author, Egil's Saga was actually based on historical facts. Egil Skallagrimsson was in fact, actually a real Icelander born in the year 910 AD. In his saga Egil is portrayed as a hard drinking, short tempered berserker- meets- skald, capable of killing 20 armed men at a time. The theory about his amazing fighting prowess is based on remains found that were believed to be his. These remains were grossly deformed, and it is thought that he suffered from a condition known as Pagets disease. Paget's disease is the severe enlargement and deformation of the bones, and this might explain Egil's legendary large size, ugly appearance, and ability to absorb huge amounts of punishment.

I dove headlong into this story and became transformed. I simply couldn't put the book down, and found myself dreaming about the story regularly. This is something that is rare for me, as I seldom remember my dreams. I'm not even sure why I liked it so much, as nothing about Egil's personality really registered with me. He came across as quite an arrogant, unstable jerk for the most part. I guess in a lot of ways it was because he was such a character in his time and would be completely out of place here in the modern world. Either that or because he was such a complex person. Either way, the story is very entertaining to say the least.

One thing of profound significance in Egil's Saga is a part where he stays at the home where the host's daughter is sick. Egil looks under her mattress and finds a whale bone with runes carved into it. These runes were previously carved to help heal the girl's sick grandmother, and when Egil saw this he became enraged. He quickly scratched the runes off and carved new ones which were more appropriate to the girl's ailment. The next day when she awoke she was on the road to recovery.

The runes have always fascinated me, particularly what is known as the "elder futhark" which are the original Icelandic runes. The name "futhark" was given to them as that is the phonetic value of the first six characters in the first of three eight character rune rows. One can just look at them and see that their elegance and simplicity is completely awe- inspiring. I used to think their only function was as a divining and fortune telling tool, but upon further study I have found out that they are FAR more complicated than I ever dreamed possible. The unfortunate thing about them is that the majority of books written about them are truly awful, with the most flagrant offender being any hucksters who advocate the use of the "blank rune of wyrd".

The story of the blank rune is when an author named Ralph Blum published a book with a rune set that included all 24 original runes, plus an additional blank rune. The reason why the extra blank rune was included is because whomever produced the rune sets had them die cut from tiles that were 5 small tiles across, equaling rune tiles 25 per set. Rather than pick the blank runes out, the manufacturer just packaged them with the additional blank rune included. Instead of explaining this mistake in his book or re package the rune sets himself, Ralph decided to be a disingenuous profiteer and invent his own system which included the use of the blank rune!

At any rate, decent, non biased information on the true ways of Germanic heathen worship is very difficult to come by. In order to find anything better than Edred Thorsson's Futhark book (another author who makes some rather dubious claims, although as a starter, this book is one of the better ones) it became apparent that I would have to dig a little deeper.

So dig I did, and I ended up stumbling across a rather obscure website known as thortrains.com. Although very basic and none too pretty, this webpage is chock full of information, as well as offering many books and monographs for sale (I still don't know how one differentiates between a book and a monograph.) I poked around the website for about an hour as there is a LOT of content, most of which I was quite pleased to be reading. The site is the property of a man who calls himself "Uncle Thor" and his wife Audrey. They also deal in the collecting and documenting of electric trains and toy soldiers, hence the name "thortrains" and have several shingles linked to their site where they talk about those hobbies. Trust me, it's all very entertaining, but I will focus on the heathen side of their page for now.

The Thortrains Network makes statements such as "Titles mean nothing, you are as good at this as you are", "We have no titles and recognize none" and "We answer to no one." I thought to myself that anyone who mouths off in the face of such an arrogant audience (aka the "heathen community") is a man after my own heart. Many people I've met in the heathen community are quite self- deluded, sociopathic, unstable and insecure, and many of these people really need to be brought down to earth. So when Thor and Audrey publish such statements I find them quite refreshing to hear, as I feel that many heathens out there would be wise to take their advice.

After reading these statements I felt for sure that the Thortrains Network would probably have some quality reading material for sale. You see, Uncle Thor eschews my sentiments on most heathens exactly, as my involvement with group heathen activities has not always been positive. I have met some great people, but I have also met some complete whackjobs. It's a toss up between the "So I was talking to Odin yesterday and he wanted me to give you a message" and the "Soon Northern Europeans all around the world will reawaken to the calling of the folksoul, and then we'll unite and conquer the evil Christians and re- affirm our former glory" types as far as whom I consider to be more insane.

Amusing as these claims may sound, associating with people who talk like this in complete seriousness ALL THE TIME soon becomes about as pleasant as a bumblebee enema. Ironically these stereotypes describe some of the more rational actors I've met in the heathen movement. If you want to find even weirder and more self destructive heathens who also espouse nazism, satanism, drug use, s & m and alcoholism, trust me you don't have to look very far. For as much as I love this spirituality I'm not going to lie and pretend that I like the majority of people I've met who also practice it. We are clearly not looking at it from the same angle, and anytime I feel like the most sane person in the room, that is NOT a good sign.

That is why I like the Thortrains books. They are written in plain, non- pretentious English and give you the information in a simple, factual manner. Any one of their 40 something page monographs actually contains MORE info than most of the mass- produced crap sold in mainstream bookstores. The Thortrains Network is also probably the ONLY outlet for advanced spellcraft and runecraft. This was important to me, as I'd ordered one too many "Heathenry 101" books which proclaimed themselves to have information that was different than all the other "Heathen/ Odinism/ Asatru 101" books out there, only to just regurgitate the same crap I'd already read five times in five other books.

The Thortrains Network "runic package" was the first series I bought from them. They have their books grouped into categories and now have their webpage set up so that if you order a complete package you'll get a significant discount. Most packages contain five books, and they'll often throw in a free one as well. They average out to between $6 and $8 per book, which includes shipping in the US. I figured I'd take a chance and order their runic package in its entirety for $40 as that sounded like a good deal.

I'm not going to lie, when it finally arrived about a week after I ordered it, I opened it up and asked myself "What the hell is this!?" You see, the Thortrains Network produce their own books, so this was five copies of 1/2 sized xeroxed 8 1/2 x 11 comb bound books, most ranging from between 45 and 60 pages. I became a little skeptical of their content after seeing that, but knowing that the production of do it yourself literature is not cheap (unless you're using the copy machine at your work off hours, not that I've ever done that..... shhhhh.....) and seeing that they looked very professional and appeared to contain a LOT of info, I figured I would give them a shot. I figured I'd begin in order.

I'm not going to review each book separately, as I don't recommend buying just one of them. Although each one stands on its own as a complete work, I feel that it's a bit of a waste not to order the entire set. For $40 ppd it's a great deal, and will provide you with all the information you need to start working with runes. Of particular interest to me was book titled Old Norse Rune Mysteries And Rune Codes. This book is the first book I've seen which addresses the order of the futhark and the relationships between the different runes. I never realized just how complex and well ordered the futhark aettir (or order) really is!

After reading the rune package I was hooked, so I quickly ordered the "tradition" package. This included four books mainly dealing with the various Norse dieties and traditions. I didn't get as much out of these books as I am already quite familiar with the lore, but as usual, the writing was very entertaining. I also appreciated Thor's usual colorful explainations for things, and the section where they list various kennings of gods and goddesses was quite helpful.

The only thing I didn't like was that some of their ritual outlines don't resemble what I have come to learn as heathen rituals. They seemed more like Celtic pagan influenced, although keep in mind that many of these books were written in the early 1990's when Thor and Audrey were living in Staten Island NY. Living in such a locale would make indoor, solitary candle related rituals far more viable than outdoor, group heathen blots with a giant bonfire. Thor and Audrey have since relocated to New Jersey, so hopefully they've got a bit more room to move around at their new place of residence.

Again, I cannot stress the value of these books enough. If you want to learn real heathenry from real, unpretentious heathens who don't tow the line for some extremist political agenda, the Thortrains Network is the way to go. They seem like good people, and I am very happy to have discovered their awesome literature. They also refuse to call themselves Asatru, Odinists, Vanatru or any of those other terms and I was psyched to see that as well. I too, feel that none of those labels are appropriate for me. They actually call what they practice Hedenskap which is Norwegian for heathen. If I could use this term with their permission I'd be totally psyched, as "Asatru" and "Odinist" just don't cut it for me.

Much like myself, these Thortrains people are very down to earth and aren't completely one dimensional. They obviously have other interests besides heathenry, hence the links to all their other hobby webpages. This is quite refreshing as I have met FAR too many heathens who have absolutely no identity outside of being some kind of viking wannabe. People like that are lame in my opinion. The key here is to propel heathenry onward and upward into the modern world, not try and recreate the past and de-volve.

And finally, Uncle Thor possesses something that the heathen community is REALLY lacking- a sense of humor. That is why I put the ridiculous lego viking picture on here. Never in my life have I met so many dogmatic, stuck up, uptight and ultimately BORING people as I have since getting involved in heathenry. Seriously kids, Odin won't hate you for having a good time, and no, that doesn't mean swigging down all the ritual mead...

check out their webpage at

http://www.thortrains.com/UncleThors/

All Hail Shock Rock!

2009-02-22T15:38:00.000-08:00

With horror punk icon Lux Interior of The Cramps passing away earlier this month, I felt compelled to write an article about macabre themes in music. Some of my favorite artists have had either very overt occult, horror, or death themes in their lyrics and or music. At the very least, they had a very dark sensibility about them. In this article I will try to document some of my favorite "scary" music. Beware though, this may be a two, or even three part post, depending upon how extensive my recollections end up being.

It would be impossible for me to include every band in these genres (especially when we get to metal and goth, those could be large book projects for each genre) but I am interested in being as fair and complete as I possibly can. I will also attempt to work in chronological order as best as I can, but if any of my dates or times are off, please feel free to correct me. With that said, any other suggestions on how to improve this article would be appreciated in the event that I miss any artist(s) who may have been crucial to the formation and development of macabre themes in music. Keep in mind that I am listing my own personal favorites here, so this is hardly a true academic study. So without further adieu, please read on.

The undisputed progenitor of shock rock is the legendary Screamin Jay Hawkins, real name Jalacy Hawkins. Hawkins was a WW2 vet and accomplished boxer who grew up in Cleveland OH. His most successful song "I Put A Spell On You" was released in 1956, shortly after he had broken out as a solo artist. Hawkins had intended this song to be an elegant ballad, but due to the massive intoxication that took place between himself and his band mates in the studio, he had apparently blacked out with no recollection of ever recording the song. Rather than a smoothed out and romantic blues epic, Screamin ended up with an almost surreal invocation of guttural screaming, grunting and screeching. Hawkins and the band would later on have to go back and re- learn the song from their recording, being that their drinking had gotten so out of hand while it was being recorded.

"I Put A Spell On You" became a huge commercial success, selling well over a million copies. It was not without controversy though, as many radio stations refused to play it due to its overt sexuality. After radio host Alan Freed offered Hawkins $300 to emerge from a coffin onstage, Hawkins started to incorporate a whole slew of voodoo and horror props into his act such as rubber snakes, torches, skulls, a fake bone through his nose, and his trademark smoking skull cane named Henry. Although he never really achieved much more than a cult following in the US, his popularity in Europe was huge. Hawkins died in 2000 shortly following surgery for a brain aneurysm and was rumored to have fathered upwards of 75 children worldwide.

Following Screamin Jay's lead was a flamboyant psychedelic rocker from the UK named Arthur Brown. With a backbone of R&B and soul, Brown released his debut album The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown in 1968. This album actually included a cover of I Put A Spell On You, with the album's biggest hit being the song "Fire". Fire starts out with Brown's ominously shouted intro "I am the god of hellfire, and I bring you..... Fire!" This song is an intense, twisting journey through Brown's dementia, complete with a very trippy sounding, psychedelic organ.

The accompanying stage show to his performances was no less impressive. With his copper face mask and flaming crown, Arthur would gyrate and spasm around the stage with reckless abandon. He was also known for his eccentric yet poignant social commentary in interviews. Brown's mission as he stated was to get a reaction from the audience. Many church groups at the time burned his records and protested his live performances, but Brown has always maintained a very secular position in his interviews. This is a position that many more shock rockers would take in later years.

What is most notable about Brown's career is that he more or less pioneered the "official" image of many future shock rockers. That image is defined by the face paint Brown wore, which later come to be known as "corpse paint". Corpse Paint is essentially painting ones face white while accenting the mouth and eyes in black. Ragged and pointed shapes are often drawn around the mouth and eyes as well. This is the same style of face paint that would later be seen on Alice Cooper, Kiss, King Diamond and the majority of the first wave of Norwegian black metal.

Speaking of Alice Cooper, he deserves mention for possibly being the grandmaster of rock n roll macabre. Cooper's first album was released in 1969 and titled Pretties For You. The album didn't receive much critical acclaim, but by his third album Love It To Death he had released quite a few hits, most notably "I'm Eighteen" and "School's Out". Cooper actually pioneered the term "shock rock" as well as taking the rock n roll stage show to never before seen extremes. Cooper's stage show soon included play acting on mock medieval torture devices and decapitations from a working guillotine. Like his predecessors he was often met with disapproval from the mainstream rock n roll press and church groups, although these efforts only ended up bolstering Cooper's burgeoning popularity.

What is most notable about Cooper's music is that not all of his songs were horror themed. Most were simple, straight ahead, catchy and well executed rock anthems. It was clear that the band was very competent musically, and their initial thoughts of needing a gimmick to succeed might not have been necessary after all. In fact, their grueling stage show actually ended up really taking a toll on Cooper and his bandmates, leading him to have no recollection of some of his early 80's output due to alcoholic amnesia. Alice has since become sober and continued to put out music, although his contemporary hits seem quite contrived compared to his early work. He's also quite obnoxiously bitter and whiny in interviews, claiming that everyone from KISS to Marilyn Manson has ripped him off. The irony is, that without Arthur Brown and Screamin Jay, Alice might not have "invented" a lot of the the stage show and lyrical themes he claims he has.

Shortly after Alice had attained international recognition, a quartet from New York City emerged known as KISS. I shouldn't even have to write much about this band as they will forever be cemented as one of rock n roll's finest and most outrageous achievements. They are, in my humble opinion, the greatest rock n roll band of all time, bar none. Like Alice Cooper, KISS didn't really have many horror themed songs. In fact, their songs were mostly good time- themed hard rockers, dealing with the usual love, sex, betrayal themes that were standard for the time. The songwriting that KISS employed was nothing short of excellent, as their catchy riffs, flashy guitar work and group choruses were a surefire key to success. Although the critics generally disliked them, by 1980 they were worldwide superstars and have to date sold almost 1 billion records.

Although KISS relied solely on standard hard rock songwriting, their stage show and costumes have remained un topped to this day. Each member had their own face paint, reflecting a different personality. For example, guitarist Ace Frehley was from space, singer Paul Stanley was the "star child", drummer Peter Criss was a cat and bassist Gene Simmons was "the beast." The entire band was known for wearing huge platform boots and flashy jumpsuits. The stage show itself was always incredible, featuring quite a bit of pyrotechnics and an amazing light show. KISS were truly part circus, part carnival and ALL rock n roll!

OK, that will conclude part one. Next edition will have Samhain, The Misfits, heavy metal and many more knowns, slightly knowns, and almost unknowns. Stay tuned....

Confessions Of A Technophobe

2009-02-10T18:25:00.000-08:00

I suffer from severe technophobia. Period. When a new gadget comes out I immediately denounce it and say "what's with all these idiots wasting time and money on cd's, cellphones, the internet, friendster, myspace, ebay, ipods, etc?" only to repeatedly end up putting my proverbial tail between my legs and saying "awwww gosh, maybe them tings aint so bad after all". Trust me, I was the LAST kid on the block to buy a computer, get a cellphone, get on the internet or even acknowledge the existence of the dreaded compact disc (I'm a former vinyl purist w/ borderline OCD tendencies). Then I realized the hard way (after pretty much all of my friends did) that many of these gadgets make life cheaper, easier, and all around more convenient in the long run.

In my defense though, I DID grow up watching movies like Logan's Run, 2001 and Tron, where technology basically goes haywire and practically wipes out or completely de- humanizes humanity.

I am ashamed to admit that I have bitten the bullet and sold out almost EVERY GODDAMN TIME some new gadget which promised to make my life easier came out. This usually happens many years after everyone else had bought one. I didn't get a cd player until 1996 or a cellphone until 2005. Both of these purchases were made many years after everyone else I knew had already gone through several phones AND pieces of hi- fi gear. I tend to cheap out when I make these purchases too. I own a very basic Samsung cellphone, whose only real fancy option is a horrible camera, and my computer is a laughable piece- meal Frankenstein job, built mostly from parts I found in the trash or hand- me -downs that people gave me. My first "walkman" wasn't even a Sony, but a cheap Sanyo knockoff instead. By the time I even got a portable cassette player everyone in my school had one those neon colored waterproof fancy ones with earbuds, while mine was so big it required a shoulder strap. Don't even get me started on what the headphones looked like....

Ironically, the ONE time I put the pedal to the metal and said "kitschy new over hyped technology I don't REALLY need!? Here's $400 Mr. Capitalist!!!!" was when I plunked down my hard earned cash for a 40 gb ipod. That lil fucker rocked my world until exactly 13 months after I bought it. Then it croaked, bit the bust, kicked the bucket and bought the farm. Like an idiot I cheaped out on the additional $75 extended warranty, thinking to myself "what the hell, I already dumped $450 into this freakin' thing, how much money does Circuit Shitty think I have?" Then literally ONE MONTH TO THE DAY after the end of the standard manufacturer's warranty the thing fucking died on me. Can you say "murderous rage?"

So to this day, whenever something "new" comes out I approach it with a lot of trepidation, especially after the ipod debacle. Even when my friends are all like "I went on myspace and met all these totally cool people, hot girls who did me, and my band got a shitload of free publicity!!!" I rarely believe them. Technological advances can and often do improve very rapidly, so it behooves you to wait until some of the kinks in their manufacturing and engineering are worked out before you buy a new gadget. For example, compact disc mastering sucked at first, but a few years later digital mastering started to sound ok and cd's went from $16 to $12 and sometimes even $10 retail. The first cellphones were big, clunky, staticy pieces of shit and now they have ones that are like communication/ multimedia swiss army knives. I really should have waited for Apple to perfect the ipod before I ran out and grabbed one right away. My feeling is that quite a few lemons were produced from the first generation of ipods.

Conversely, I have also learned to become a bit more flexible about new technology over the years, especially when it comes to issues of saving money. When I was hell bent on not buying a cellphone (a device which, to this day I still find incredibly obnoxious) I realized that I was wasting a lot of money on gas and phone bills that I could be saving if I just broke down and got a decent cellphone plan. I remember one afternoon where I was running around from Taunton, to Warwick, to Providence and then Cumberland because I was making shirts for a customer. I had to keep running back to my house because I had to keep calling him back and checking my messages. I used an entire tank of gas that day, not to mention that the job took almost three times longer than it should have. It was then that I finally realized that a cellphone WAS in fact a sound investment.

The question here though is how badly does anyone really need most of the new technology which is nothing more than an entertainment distraction? I would put all video games and new advances in digitized music in this category. Except for the fact that you have cooler and more visually exciting ways of wasting your time, or smaller and more compact ways of storing your music, in the end is it really THAT important? More importantly, is it even that much of an improvement over the outdated gadget or format it may be replacing?

Take my car. It is quite old and broken down but it still has a working cassette player. People often make fun of me or look on in awe when I actually play cassette tapes. Screw them. Tapes aren't THAT bad. In my humble opinion anything beats the radio, and I have some really cool stuff on tape from back in the day. As I said before, as a former vinyl purist I was quite anal about my records being kept in pristine condition, so most of my favorites were dubbed onto cassette for durability and longevity. I won't lie and say that I don't ever miss being able to skip around on my ipod to some 1500 + bands with reckless abandon, but there's just something.... I don't know.... more honest about analog music. All of my tapes have lasted far longer than 13 months, and when I drop them they still work just fine. Sadly, the same couldn't be said for poor Mr. Ipod.

I'm getting really sick of how everything is very disposable and temporary in our society. I tend to like things that are made to last a lifetime, and products like that are becoming rarer and rarer nowadays. I often have to take some pause and remind myself that with a little maintenance many things I already own can last at least twice as long if I just took better care of them. I was actually online the other night looking for new boots, as my 10+ year old Dr. Martens have gotten quite a nasty hole in one of the soles. It didn't take me long to realize that all I have to do is get them re- soled for $40 and they'll actually be better than new. Hopefully out of necessity people will start taking care of their possessions, fixing them up and holding onto them a little bit longer. Now that our economy is about to tank that would seem like a no- brainer to me.

From here on out I intend to make it my mission to wear my clothes until they fall apart, play my tapes until they break, and use my computer until it crashes. The irony too is that I often forget just how quickly I adapt when I have to go without something. Case in point, when I moved last summer I didn't have the internet for about a month, and I couldn't believe how much reading I was able to get done, including many books that I'd actually downloaded some years ago and had forgotten about. When I didn't have a car I got into much better shape from all the walking and biking I did.

We don't really need most of the artifacts and junk we hoard. I'm actually looking forward to the day that we no longer have it. These trinkets, artifacts and widgets weren't built to last anyway, and many of them only serve to make us a lot more lonely and distant from each other than we already are. Most of our modern technological possessions are junk and will ultimately end up in a landfill, along with much of our lost humanity. Even with the internet "connecting" so many people I find that with so little face to face contact nowadays people have almost become terrified of actual real human interaction.

Painful as the transition may be, I long for a humanity which returns to a time when we live more in harmony with nature. I crave a society where bards and song smiths are loved by all, where craftsmen and artisans are seen as irreplaceable institutions, where we actually produce our own food, and where the constant roar of automobiles is finally silenced.

(sheesh, that ending was kind of dramatic...)

my thoughts on gun control

2009-02-09T07:53:00.000-08:00

Damn Right I'm A Hoplophile

Massachusetts has some of the most draconian gun laws of any state in the country. This is largely due to the fascistic influence of Senator Edward "Ted" Kennedy. This bloated, alcoholic demagogue is responsible for banning almost everything fun, from fireworks to tattoos, to nunchucks, to most edged weapons and even paintball guns. Massachusetts is often jokingly referred to as "The Peoples' Democratic Republic Of Massachusetts" and when I relocated to Rhode Island in 1992 I was refreshed to see that RI had very fair, sound, and well enforced gun laws. Sadly, there is currently a movement in RI to try and adopt the same type of gun laws that people like John Kerry, Ted Kennedy, Adolf Hitler and Mao Tse Tung would approve of. This includes registration of ALL guns (currently RI only makes you register handguns), the banning of high capacity magazines, limiting you to one gun purchase a month, and the ever popular, ineffective, and ghastly unconstitutional assault weapons ban.

Since I was knee high to a grasshopper I've been around firearms. It wasn't uncommon for me to go to my grandfather's house and see one of his hunting rifles or shotguns being taken apart and cleaned on the kitchen table. By the time I was a wee lad of ten I was shooting with my father on a regular basis. Being that my grandfather grew up during the depression and my father grew up dirt poor I was taught how to be self sufficient at a very young age. Being self sufficient meant learning how to survive in the wilderness, how to make a fire with just about anything, and most importantly it included the safe handling and storage of firearms.

Even though I'm a native of New England, my family members on both sides were quite similar to the rednecks, hicks, and crackers of the Appalachians and the deep south. This used to be something that I was ashamed of, but as I've gotten older I have gradually grown to accept and even celebrate my white trash roots. For as trashy as my relatives were they could survive almost any hardship and make a day's worth of fun for us kids using only ordinary household items. You can have your expensive yuppie lifestyle if you want it. I'd never trade my cheap, trashy lifestyle for anything.

Despite my hick confession, there is definitely a misconception about gun owners that doesn't apply to me at all. You see, the anti gun lobby would like the public to believe that all gun owners are racist, paranoid, bible- thumping republican psychos who have nothing better to do than kill defenseless animals and act like tough guys because we're "packing". That is simply not the case. If the truth be told, guns actually prevent more violence than they cause. As author Dr. John Lott Jr. states "a woman without a gun is 2.5 times more likely to be injured than one with a weapon. A man brandishing a gun is 1.4 times less likely to get hurt than an unarmed man."

Gun ownership in the US is currently at an all time high, and right to carry states have increased to 38 from 10 in the past decade. As stated on an NRA support site, "Violent crime has declined while many "gun control" laws have been eliminated or made less restrictive. Many states have eliminated prohibitory or restrictive carry laws, in favor of Right-to-Carry laws. The federal Brady Act`s waiting period on handgun sales ended in 1998, in favor of the NRA-supported National Instant Check, and some states thereafter eliminated waiting periods, purchase permit requirements, or other laws delaying gun sales. The federal "assault weapon" ban expired in 2004. All states now have hunter protection laws, 46 have range protection laws, 46 prohibit local jurisdictions from imposing gun laws more restrictive than state law, 44 protect the right to arms in their constitutions, and 33 prohibit frivolous lawsuits against the firearm industry." One only has to look at the statistics to realize that excessive gun restrictions really have no impact on crimes committed by criminals who use firearms.

In the spring of 1994 I purchased my first firearm. Because I was used to Massachusetts' extremely restrictive gun laws, I assumed that I'd have to be fingerprinted and have the gun registered. After speaking with the Attorney General's office I was pleased to find out that no such laws existed here in the Ocean State. Soon after I purchased the rifle I bought an additional $200 worth of accessories and ammunition. I was now ready to rock 'n' roll.

At the time there were a few acres of undeveloped land in northern RI where you could fire your guns with reckless abandon, so my girlfriend and I decided to christen my new toy one afternoon. I was immediately impressed by how accurate the rifle was, and how little recoil I felt. My girlfriend (who was a little squeamish about firing the gun at first) was also impressed by how much fun the gun was to shoot, and she quickly got the hang of the rifle. The bottles, cans, and various curios that we were shooting at didn't stand a chance against our awesome firepower!

After about 90 minutes of shooting we returned home and fell into the sack almost immediately. In our post coital embrace, my sweetie whispered "Maybe we should go shooting more often" as we both dozed off with huge smiles on our faces. Unfortunately, this woman would later on reveal herself to be Satan's concubine, but at the time her statement was strangely poetic. It was at this point that I decided that anyone tyrannical enough to try and deprive me of these magical moments could only be one thing; my mortal enemy.

You see, a primeval transformation tends to occur in people when they use firearms, and with myself I'm often five times happier and fifty times hornier after I've blown off a few rounds at the range. As my friend Forrest said on the ride home the last time we went shooting "Jeez Aaron, you haven't talked about how much you hate everybody this entire ride home." Amen to that. Recreational shooting makes me happy, and I happen to be a law abiding citizen. Is there anything wrong with that? I implore all gun control supporters to rethink their position on guns, especially if they've never fired one. How can you rally against something you know nothing about?

It is my opinion that if you're against guns, you're against freedom. Period. Civilian firearm ownership is what truly sets America apart from other less progressive nations in this world, and is truly the REAL "homeland security". As the wise old maxims states; "Know guns, Know peace and safety. No guns, no peace nor safety."

an old ebay listing that got a few laughs....

2009-02-07T17:40:00.000-08:00

AWESOME handmade damascus kerambit from India. This is a high quality, hand forged knife which has over 200 layers of steel and will hold a wicked edge. It isn't sharpened, but unlike most kerambits it can have BOTH edges sharpened instead of just one- making it quite a lethal weapon. There is no scabbard. I don't really know how to measure this damn thing, but the blade seems to be about 4" and the handle (from the base of the blade to then end of the ring) is about 6". It's actually about 8" from the point of the blade to the end of the handle, but straightened out it'd be more like 10". So NEVER underestimate "curvature" kids (heh heh). CAUTION- if you have Chris Sayoc sized fingers you might not want to bid on this knife! Since this is made in Asia where people tend to be a lot scrawnier than here in the US, the finger hole is only 15/16 of an inch across. It fits me fine, but I'm only 5'3, so go figure (that might explain my weapons fetish- can you say "small man overcompensating?") I also polished the inside of the finger hole, making it easy to spin around when doing fancy- shmancy techniques that look cool but would get you thrown in the slammer and acquainted with men named "Hoss" and "Bubba" if you ever did them in "real" life (put THAT in yer pipe and smoke it Mr. "reality" self defense). I actually really like this knife, but since I'm in danger of losing my college credits because of being overdue on tuition payments, my precious heirlooms must go the way of the dinosaurs. (Sigh) it's a sad day. Anyway, winner pays $6 priority shipping US (with confirmation)- $10 world. PLEASE READ ALL MY TERMS BEFORE BIDDING! This is being sold AS IS and for the love of god, PLEASE be at least 18 years old if you bid on this, or you will have proven that the throng of parents who forbade their kids from hanging out with me when I was younger because I was "a bad influence" were right all along :-( Lately people have been trying to get me to end auctions early and low- ball me on postage. That is unacceptable. My prices are FIRM, this is not a flea market- so don't bid if you can't pay! I like paypal the best- please use it if you have it! I WILL (begrudgingly) accept money orders, but in lieu of a whole bunch of bozos recently pulling the old "I'll send the $ out this week, I promise" routine and then taking 3+ weeks to pay me, if I don't get the money order within 10 days I'm relisting the item and filing an unpaid item dispute. I strongly recommend that you use paypal, and pay me ASAP. Really, it doesn't bite, kids. In fact it's quite convenient and fun to use- so get with technology ferchrissakes! ALL deadbeat bidders will get what I affectionately call "the feedback smackdown" regardless of whatever lame excuse you concoct, so don't even think about it kids... I'm a reasonable guy, but since I'm broke I'm not very patient- dig? Nor am I the most emotionally (OR psychologically) well adjusted individual. I mean, just look at the stuff I sell on here! Bidders LOVE me tho- just check out my feedback! Please check out my other auctions for more cool (yet completely unrelated) items!

How I Became The Badger

2009-02-07T00:53:00.000-08:00

Badgers are common to pretty much this entire planet, sans the New England area for some reason. They are members of the mustelid or weasel family, and are characterized as such by the fact that they have a musk gland, which is used to produce strong smelling secretions. All members of the mustelid family have this gland, except for the sea otter. Other members of the mustelid family include skunks, ferrets, weasels , martens, wolverines, fisher cats and otters.

Like their cousin the wolverine, badgers are known to be relatively small in size but extremely vicious. They live in underground burrows and are excellent diggers. They are also avid nocturnal hunters and the North American variety is a common farmyard pest. The diet of the Eurasian badger consists mainly of earthworms, insects and grubs, while the honey badger consumes honey, porcupines and even venomous snakes.

I had first heard of badgers when I was 16. I was working landscaping at the time, and the guys I was working for were both from Iowa. One of them had just returned from the midwest and was complaining about a "badger problem" at one of the new construction sites he was working at out there. Since we don't have them here in New England, I had never heard of a badger before. When I asked them what they were like he replied "They're a real pain in the ass." When I asked him to describe the physical characteristics of one, he paused for a minute and said "You know, they kind of look like you, if you were small and furry." This prompted me to go to my local library and look up badgers in a nature encyclopedia. Sure enough, I could see the resemblance between these fine hunters and myself. At the time I'd had a mohawk, a bullet belt and a leather jacket with about 30 pounds of studs, spikes and other punk rock goodness on it, so the shoe seemed to fit!

Fast forward some 13 years later and I was at a really BAD hardcore show here in Providence. A friend of mine named Martha (not her real name, as I'm not sure she wants this story revealed to the public) was there. Martha stood about 5' 3 and was kind of well... nuts. She was also kind of hot, but in a real prickly, porcupine-y kind of way. In reality I took her to be a big softy deep down, but her tattooed, tough girl exterior served as a bit of a "stay away" billboard for most people (except for me of course, since those are the kind of girls I like!) Anyway, despite her rough and tumble exterior, Martha was a total sweetheart and always greeted me with a big hug.

Tonight though, things were different. I immediately approached her when I saw her standing at the edge of the pit and she gave me her usual hug. She wasn't smiling though, and seemed to be in a bit of a foul mood. She was continually eyeing the moshers and putting her hands up like she was ready to punch somebody. I'd seen her randomly kick and punch moshers before, and had heard that she was a bit of a scrapper, but I had still yet to see actually throw down with anybody.

Let me clarify for a bit as to which type of "hardcore" show this was exactly. You see, by the mid 1990's, the term "hardcore" had come to mean two different things. There were hardcore bands who followed the early 1980's definition of the term, essentially playing a sped up, more aggressive punk rock style, and there were "other" bands who used the same moniker to describe their music. They played an almost entirely different style of music which was characterized by slow, chugging, downtuned metal riffs. They also had a really ridiculous image centered around some kind of quasi- ghetto street gang mentality. Most of the adherents of this image were, of course, middle class suburban white boys, but they'd like you to believe they had just relocated to the means streets of Cumberland RI from the meaner streets of Brooklyn or something.

In a nutshell, I was a HUGE fan of 1980's hardcore and a huge detractor of 90's hardcore. By the mid 90's any and every intellectual or political component of original hardcore punk had been leeched out in favor of stupid macho attitudes, bad tattoos, baggy clothes, and ridiculous gang mentalities. Gone was skateboarding, mohawks, or anything else even remotely "punk" related, only to be replaced by a bunch of knuckle dragging illiterates playing bad metal and singing about how they'd kill you for "talkin' shit." The original circle pit slamming (which, with all its mildly violent tendencies was actually quite fun) had been replaced by this stupid ritual where these idiot gangster wanna- bees would all just throw flurries of punches and spin kicks at each other. They had taken the violent aspects of hardcore punk to a cartoonish and sometimes frightening level, while any intelligence found in the original hardcore scene quickly went the way of the dinosaurs.

Anyway, back to the gig. By this time "new school" hardcore had become a thriving institution here in New England. I think I was only there for lack of anything better to do, or to see perhaps the ONE band on the bill that interested me, I can't remember.... Anyway, Martha was there and she clearly has a reason to be there. I had attempted to make small talk with her, but she seemed distracted. Of course, you had to be on guard in case one of the spin- kickers, windmillers or change- picker- uppers in the moshpit decided to try and attack the innocent bystanders, but Martha was clearly focusing on one individual in particular. I only had a vague idea of what was going on when she said, "Hold my bag for a second." Then it happened.

Martha proceeded to step into the pit and grab some guy by the front of his shirt. This guy stood about six foot four and had to have tipped the scales at at least 250 pounds. His entire neck and hands were covered in tattoos, and he just looked, well..... scary. He was big, he was mean, he was dancing violently, and I had a really bad feeling that in a couple seconds I might have to intervene. In less than a blink of an eye though, Martha proved just how wrong I was.

To say that she beat this guy up would be an understatement. Martha straight up brutalized him. The term "opened up a can o whoopass" isn't even apropo here, "opened up several five gallon drums of furious vengeance" is more like it. She didn't really have any technique or strategy to speak of, just unbridled, homicidal fury. She was throwing so many punches and kicks at this guy, it was really hard to keep track of them all. The crowd immediately stopped dancing, the band stopped playing, and everyone in the place looked on in complete awe. We were witnessing some of the most uncaged estrogen fueled fury ever to be unleashed on this planet. It was savage, it was brutal, it was epic and it was primal.

And I'm not going to lie, I got extremely turned on watching my 5' 3, 105 pound friend fuck this loser up. The fact that this woman was such a power packed little pipsqueak was arousing to me beyond words. Martha and I never did end up hooking up or dating, as has always preferred far more docile men than myself, but this moment will forever be cemented in my mind as one the hottest spectacles I have ever witnessed. Call me crazy, but there's just something incredibly arousing about a woman that small in size who could kick the ass of someone almost twice as large as her.

Eventually some folks felt bad for this poor fellow, whose dignity, facial piercings and neatly gelled hairdo were being decimated beyond repair. So a couple brave souls grabbed her and pulled her off of him, while she was screaming "Motherfucker!!! I'll fuckin KILL you!!!" and spitting at him. I waded into the brawl to make sure she was ok, and to make sure any of the horribly defeated Mr. Testosterone's friends didn't jump in to try and salvage the micro fraction left of his dignity. When I said "Martha, holy shit, what was THAT about!?" she replied "Goddammit, I'm so fuckin' PISSED I didn't kill that guy!" Did I mention I was turned on? Being in the presence of a true Valkyrie like Martha was an honor not to be taken lightly.

Some days later I was talking to Martha via AIM. When I inquired as to what the previous weekend's fracas was about, she replied that this guy had been harassing one of her female friends and needed to be taught a lesson. She then proceeded to explain that he would get more of the same if she ever saw him again (rumor has it that Mr. Testosterone later apologized to Martha's friend AND Martha, and actually turned out to be a semi- decent individual). I said to her "Martha I had no idea you were so tough, you're like a wolverine. In fact, that's going to be your new nickname, 'Wolfie!'" She replied "Well, you're small and tough too, so you must be a badger!"

So viola, from there on out, the moniker has stuck. It's my alter ego, or spirit totem so to speak, and since I hate my real name (it was given to me when my mother was going through a bible phase, ewwww....) I prefer to be called Badger.

And just to set the record straight, I'm not nearly as "tough" as Martha would think I am. I am just.... well.... very thorough in violent situations. I've trained in martial arts for many many years, but truth be told, violence scares the shit out of me. When I say violence too, I don't mean controlled, "let's get on the mat and spar" violence, I mean real life altercations which are NOT controlled, where anything can happen. Over the years I've crossed paths with many skinheads, bikers, gang bangers, drug dealers and psycho ex- military types, not to mention all manner of drunks, jocks and assorted other "tough" guys. I have always made sure to avoid fighting and have done well with that. I don't see walking away from a fight as a sign of cowardice, in fact I see it as a sign of intelligence.

But the few times I HAVE gotten into fights have been epic. I've been known to hit people with blunt objects, suckerpunch people, kick people in the balls and (my favorite) bite people. The way I look at it there's no such thing as a "fair" fight, especially if you didn't start it. If someone attacks you, I say anything goes, especially if you're me and you only stand 5' 4. Ironically the few times I've been attacked I managed to walk away in much better shape than the morons who attacked me, but the fewer times I was the attacker I got my lily ass handed to me. One thing that I noticed was that any time I got cocky I ended up losing, but in the situations where I didn't throw the first punch (or when someone attacked one of my friends, that's when I get REALLY nasty) I was so terrified I ended up pulling every dirty trick I knew, and that managed to save me from any serious harm.

Again though, to me REAL violence is downright terrifying. You never knew who might jump in, who is friends with who, or who is armed with what. Any "tough guy" posturing I've ever done, or actual tough guy actions I've ever shown were done more out of fear than actual confidence. Preventative measures so to speak. After being on the receiving end of violent attacks from people I was convinced were trying to kill me, I don't have any desire to re live those experiences, much less hear about or witness anyone I care about having to experience anything even remotely similar.

So yes, I'm still the Badger, but these days I'm a badger who'd rather burrow into his badger hole than pick a fight with some random stranger.

Review of last year's NEARA conference.

2009-02-06T13:57:00.000-08:00

On Saturday, November 8th I attended a conference put on by an organization called NEARA. NEARA is an acronym for the New England Antiquities Research Association and they are known for examining the many archaeological oddities found here in New England. There is speculation that everyone from the Phoenicians to the Vikings and even the Chinese landed on and possibly settled the shores of New England many years before Columbus discovered the new world. This conference would deal with many of these alleged pre- Columbian people's, and being that this is something which interests me quite a bit, I was very excited when the big day finally came.

I showed up a bit late and walked into the first speaker's presentation. His name was Norman Brockenshire and he spoke about many artifacts that he'd found on his property in the town of Batavia in upstate New York. On this property he has found quite a few hundred arrowheads, as well as large burial mounds which he suggests is evidence that his property may have been the site of the genocide of an ancient people who had settled in North America previous to the Indians. His assertion was that these people were of Caucasian/ European origin, and he referenced the Book Of Mormon numerous times to support this claim.

Brockenshire himself is also Mormon, but he repeatedly kept saying that he had no bias or agenda. Although his presentation was interesting, he provided no actual physical evidence that an early Caucasian civilization had existed here in North America, other than the claims made by the Book Of Mormon. Being that this was the backbone of his presentation, I'm not fully convinced that he is completely bias or agenda free.

The next speaker was Daniel Fernandez- Davila. His presentation was quite intriguing and his presence was very dynamic. He spoke of some fascinating discoveries in the Peruvian mountains where a civilization known as the Chachapoyas had previously existed. His slides were completely amazing, as were the stories he was telling of how rigorous and dangerous it was to travel so far into the mountains to find burial sites, some of which couldn't be reached unless you rappelled 300 feet down the side of a mountain! Mr. Fernandez- Davila was a real expert and a real professional whose confidence and humor were quite infectious. He was also the only actual archaeologist who spoke at this conference.

Immediately after Mr. Davila concluded his presentation he left along with almost half of the conference attendees. I found this a bit odd, but took it as a sign that he may have been the scheduled highlight of the day. My assumption would prove to be correct, as from this point on the conference degenerated into a veritable circus of speculation and pseudo science. For instance, the next speaker William Smith spoke about a mysterious character named “Nephi” whom he ascertained was an ancient Israelite Samaritan who had traveled to North America in 50 BC. Again the Book Of Mormon was used as evidence to support these claims. This speaker's presentation was completely full of ridiculous assumptions and conjecture for which he had little or no evidence for. A funny looking rock he found on his property in Ohio that he thinks is a sundial is what he bases many of his claims on. The fact that he followed Mr. Davila's presentation only made him look even more ridiculous.

During the break I decided to look at some of the books for sale, as well as look into the location of some local historical sites. Most of the books were very poorly written and self published, and many came with a hefty price tag as well. Call me cheap, but $30 for a 100 page homemade Kinko's “book” isn't exactly a great deal in my opinion, especially when most of the information contained in it can be googled or found on wikipedia for free. I'd arrived at the conference with a bit of worry that I might be tempted to spend more money than I should, but after looking at the book selection I realized that I had nothing to worry about.

Once the break was over I returned to the conference room, albeit slightly annoyed. I had hoped that the quality of the speakers would improve after Mr. Smith's downright embarrassing presentation. They did not. Instead they kicked off the second half of the day by playing a ridiculously contrived looking trailer called “The Hooked X: Key to the Secret History of North America”. Set to some stolen Lord Of The Rings music, this trailer had some riveting sound bites like “This will change history forever!” and “The dialect, the code, it all made sense!” The assertion is that the hooked x is a secret Templar symbol, found on everything from runestones here in the US, to the mysterious Newport Tower, to Christopher Columbus's signature. One of the speakers named Scott Wolter would elaborate on this further when he finally gave his presentation.

After an extremely boring travelogue of Israel that went way overtime it was finally time for the much ballyhooed Mr. Wolter to give his talk on the Kensington runestone. Scott didn't talk about the stone much, except for linking the "hooked x" rune it has with similar hooked x runes on stones found in Maine and Rhode Island. What Scott did do is jump to at least ten different conclusions, saying that the Vikings sailed over here with a Cistercian monk who had carved the Kensington stone using a secret code. He asserts that the same Cistercian monks built the Newport tower, which he claims was used for goddess worship. The hooked x as he explains it is a coded symbol to mean male and female energy, plus an unborn child. It represents the holy trinity if you will. This assertion fits in neatly with Dan Brown's popular book The Da Vinci Code, and Scott even mentioned a scene from the Da Vinci Code movie as an example of what the hooked x means. He also gave some VERY questionable examples of how the windows in the Newport tower are used to chart the summer and winter solstices. The icing on the cake though, was when he gave some ridiculous example of how if you trace the latitude and longitude of the tower and then somehow use the path of Venus's orbit, the tower will align directly with the Kensington runestone.

This kind of ridiculous guessing game speculation that passes as "research" was present in almost every speaker's presentation. I actually left before the second to last speaker went on. His name was William Penhallow, and he was introduced as a Freemason. That made him the fourth out of seven speakers who declared themself to have some sort of religious affiliation. Although his academic credentials actually did look quite impressive compared to all the other speakers, sans Daniel Fernandez- Davila, I was far beyond my tolerance level for hearing about Mormons, the lost tribe of Israel or the Knights Templar. Mr. Penhallow does have an MS in Physics and is a retired Physics professor, which makes me want to take him a bit more seriously than most of the other speakers, but the old "Even though I'm a Mason/ Christian/ Moonie/ Mormon/ whatever, I don't have an agenda, I just want to know the truth" alibi was something I did not want to hear any more of. I don't know if that was Mr. Penhallow's angle or not, I just know that his introduction was enough to persuade me to hit the road early.

The ride home got me thinking about a great many things, the least of which was how much personalizing was going on with the speakers. What I mean by personalizing is when someone observes artifacts and then immediately assumes that the person(s) who left them behind had a similar mentality to their own, or were somehow related to them. For instance, Scott Wolter looked at the Kensington runestone and determined that it was a coded Templar message. Now if we are to assume that the Vikings who'd traveled all the way to Minnesota were some of the first Europeans to arrive here in North America, it strikes me as odd that they'd travel all that way only to leave a coded message (?) To me that just seems like Scott is assuming that his self important egoism must be present in the consciousness of every average person, much like the first speaker (Norman Brockenshire) giving so much credit to the Book Of Mormon, when he himself is Mormon. Based on some of the speaker's disclaimers, these aren't exactly what I would call unbiased conclusions.

NEARA collectively has an agenda, and that agenda seems to be the assetion that the Knights Templar secretly discovered and settled here in North America before it was discovered by Columbus. The fact that they made a documentary about this that they are releasing next year leads me to believe that they are confident that their research can prove these claims, or can provide a compelling argument for them at the very least. This seems like quite a risk for a non- profit organization to be taking, as they may very well shoot themselves in the foot and derail any mainstream credibility they actually do have. Then again, with so many dramatic speakers and the fact that The Da Vinci Code was such a popular book, they will likely gain a large following of gullible rubes who are desperate for something to believe in. Conspiracy theories are all the rage these days, and it really doesn't take much to get people on the bandwagon. Especially when you're talking about organizations which most Americans have already heard about like the Templars and the Freemasons.

With all my criticism of the various agendas I've spoken of, it would lead the reader to assume that I must have one of my own. I will admit that that assumption would be 100% correct. In fact, I will admit that on a personal and spiritual level that I found many of the speakers at the NEARA conference to be downright bigoted and offensive. The reason why I say this is because I am not a Christian. In fact, I harbor a very deep disdain for the Judeo Christian mentality, which many of the speakers at this conference reinforced.

What I find most distasteful about Judeo Christianity is the idea of "one god, one way, my way, the ONLY way" which the various branches of it espouse. As I mentioned several times, many of the speakers made the "I just want to know the truth" disclaimer, and then proceeded to try to push their own religious bias on the audience. I'm inclined to believe that many of them did this without even realizing it, as this is the kind of warped mode of thinking which has polluted the worldview of much of Western society today. Christians will push their agenda both consciously and often unconsciously, as they are taught that they follow the only true path, and all non believers will be condemned to hell. They'll use this as both a guilt trip and a threat, either to try and convert you or insult you. When they tell you that they're only trying to save you by showing you the truth, it's the guilt angle. When that doesn't work, they'll tell you that you're going to hell to insult and scare you.

Most Christians are completely incapable of looking at the world from any other perspective besides their own, and given that it is predicated on a mentality of "one god, one way, my way, the ONLY way" it's not a particularly open minded one. Their arguments for why their religion is the only "true" religion are usually based on the existence of the Bible. The Bible is what they will inevitably claim is proof that their god exists, yet the Bible has had some 40 + authors and been revised an untold amount of times. I for one am very wary of anyone who uses a book full of questionable accounts to define something as deep and complex as spirituality. The ridiculous book table at the NEARA conference was proof that you don't need to be talented, enlightened or even intelligent to write a book. From a purely critical and academic standpoint the bible proves absolutely nothing, but even the most level headed of Christians refuse to admit this.

The Christian bias was even evident with the speakers who didn't claim any religious affiliation, but attributed the discovery of North America to the Templars and/ or the Freemasons. In the wake of all the post Davinci Code fervor, many Christians were insulted at Dan Brown's assertion that Jesus wasn't immortal, and had actually married Mary Magdeline and settled in France. I feel though, that many more Christians "in name only" found a renewed interest in their part- time religion after the Da Vinci Code was sold to millions of readers. It seems that even though the Templars and the Freemasons represented esoteric and arguably heretical offshoots of Christianity, it is much easier for the average Christian to accept that renegades of their own faith were secretly behind many of the world's most significant historical events than it is for them to accept that non Christians were. Again, the act of projecting is present here, which has much more to do with a person's ego than it has to do with following any spiritual "truth".

In defense of some of the speakers, I will say that when dealing with such mysterious and odd artifacts one cannot help but find one's imagination running a bit wild. The thing is though, to get to the bottom of the mystery one must also accept that if the actual truth shatters their preconceived notions of what they want it to be, it is their obligation to accept that and report their findings accurately. Much like the Tocharian mummies in China, one does not have to look too far to realize that even mainstream archaeology is often heavily political and biased. When these amateurs come up with alternative theories that serve to promote their own biased worldview they are behaving in exactly the same way that the people they claim to be against are behaving. They need to be mindful of this, and it didn't seem like too many of the speakers at this event were able to take any pause and ask themselves if there might be some wishful thinking happening in their research.

What I found to be the saddest thing about this conference was that like the majority of the speakers, most of the conference goers weren't actually historians, archaeologists, paleontologists, or specialists in anything even close to resembling what I thought an “antiquities research” group would attract. Instead, the conference seemed to be largely attended by conspiracy theory nuts, Nostradamus followers, Dan Brown fans, Coast To Coast AM listeners, and people like Norman Brockenshire and William Smith who had just happened to stumble on interesting and odd artifacts on their property. When I casually mentioned to one gentleman that I thought there might be some “speculating” going on, he got kind of irritated and replied “Well this stuff is ALL connected ya know!” Our conversation was then interrupted by a gentleman who claimed that he could prove that the Chinese discovered America before anyone else did.

The saddest thing is, the people having these discussions were all well into adulthood. At 36, I was easily the youngest person in attendance, and often felt like I was surrounded by a bunch of children on a scavenger hunt.

Birthday Memories

2009-02-06T13:54:00.000-08:00

I was waxing nostalgic about the few fond memories I have of my estranged family on my father's side. When thinking back on some of the experiences I had with them, the handmade birthday cards we used to make remains one of my fondest memories. Customized birthday cards were always a very important priority for us, and it was considered EXTREMELY tacky to give someone a store bought card, unless of course it was someone the family didn't particularly like, or someone you were pissed off at for some reason. For the record, members of my father's clan were often pissed off at each other for some reason.... or someone else.... or at the world in general....

Everyone's birthday was a veritable birthday card pissing contest, and you could expect no less than three individually or collaboratively created birthday cards from our cousins and immediate family. My parents would literally ORDER me to make cards for our relatives, getting out all the paper, pencils, paints etc. and saying "now make him/ her something NICE!" every single time. My mother would usually out- shine most contenders, being that she had gone to art school, and I suspect.... secretly harbored a fair amount of resentment towards the boorish, loud mouthed French Canadian family she had married into.

With that said, my cousin Pierre was no slouch either. Given the reference material of his extensive comic book collection, he'd often draw a mini comic about you doing some heroic deed, concluding with "happy birthday", etc. My mother on the other hand, could weild acrylics like no one's business. She would often paint you a large full color foldout birthday card, complete with a nature or city scape that included your favorite cartoon characters, foods, etc. Pierre ultimately started taking things to the next level when one year he gave my sister a card where this little guy flew out at you when you opened it (he had rigged it up with a spring of some kind). Then I got a card from him a year later where he had taken apart the motor from a little wind up toy, so when you opened the card it was a cut out of me spinning around because i was being sucked up into a tornado. Finally, he completely brought the house down when he made a full on pop up BOOK for my cousin Karla. By then everyone was like "you win dude, we give up...."

Despite the kick ass card making, the actual gifts our clan would give you were usually a big letdown. You could expect things you "needed" like socks, and in the spirit of making your own gifts you got a lot of crudely knitted items like mittens, hats, blankets, etc. usually about as aesthetically pleasing to the eye as something you'd find at Building 19 or Job Lot. The one crown gem was the year my meme (knowing that I was on a big camo kick, which I still haven't grown out of yet) made me a COMPLETE set of kiddie sized fatigues, made from that old WW2 marine camo pattern. I wore those damn things so much my father actually ordered me to stop wearing them or he'd take them away from me. I don't know how the hell she made those, but they were like..... seriously just as good as anything made by Asian slave labor nowadays. I think the next year I got a sweater where one arm was like 4 inches too long.

Before, during and after the unwrapping of gifts and cutting of the cake, my aunt would bust out some pretty hot impromptu birthday jams. She'd make up songs on the spot about you, and if she was having problems freestyling it, the old favorite "Birthday" by the Beatles would be played at least once. She had this kick ass electric piano that had a downright eerie tone to it. It's no wonder that horror punk legends The Misfits opted to use a similar instrument on their first record!

Oh, and they ALWAYS wrapped your gifts in newspaper. Always. And you always got a birthday plant of some kind. Since my b-day is in January, I'd get seeds (my uncle was a farmer at the time) intended to be planted the following spring. But even if uncle Bobby didn't hook you up with seeds for some kind of weird hybrid squash he'd invented the previous year, someone would just give you a packet of your standard, run of the mill "burpee" brand seeds for some kind of vegetable or flower. Whenever the garden was started the next spring, I was always ordered to immediately plant my birthday seeds (they would often either not grow at all or take over the entire garden....)

The more I think about it, the more I suspect that this plant giving tradition was a pagan holdover from our Celtic/ Gaulish past that was imprinted on our collective subconscious or something....

As a side note, I think my father is a giant douche, and I haven't talked to him in over ten years. After my parents got divorced I never heard from his side of the family again either, although he did make it a point a few years ago to track me down via the interwebs so that he could tell me (for the 9000th time) that my dead mother was a whore and that he was owed my unrequited gratitude for the amazing job he did as a father (he left out the drunken, abusive, child support skipping part of the story). The one thing I AM grateful for though, is that his side of the family sure did know how to party on very little $$$, and the knowledge of such old time traditions is a blessed thing in this day and age. If you can do a lot with very little, eventually you'll figure out how to make something out of nothing.