Archive for June, 2015

Finn Journal – 2 Poisoned (ep05)

Warehouse three on the eighth quay was a wind struck old building, suspicion about the innkeepers business inside it grew inside Garry. One of the doors on the side bordering to the neighboring warehouse allowed for a man to enter unnoticed. Quietly and as silent as a mouse Garry slipped through the unsound beams and planks. “Hold it there.” in the dim light coming from the leaky roof Garry saw a figure under a hood standing in a corner. The hood covered the entire figure of the woman, at least it had a female voice. An old one but still Garry felt surprised. “I was told to find this warehouse.” he stated, without giving away any information about his special skills. “So you are the envoy we asked for?” the figured woman replied. “Who shall I deliver to?” Garry smirked, the lisp, the complete obscuring of her body, he had a hunch about the identity of his client. “Well, this will be delicate,” she began increasing the smirk on his lips. “the person in question is responsible for the mass murder of hundreds if not thousands of innocent,” she paused for a moment swallowing a word she did not want to utter, “women and children.”
“Authorities?” he raised his eyebrows.
“On her side.” Squinting his eyes her tried to stare through the cloak. “Who?”
“Johanna of Hallenbrandt, queen mother of King Fredrik of Galnerra.” Garry gasped in disbelief, but after a moment he regained his composure. “This will be costly.” he mumbled, but considering whom he suspected to be underneath the cloak he cleared his throat. “Let me make you an offer.” he navigated around the beams to the open area the older woman in the body cloak stood in. “You will bring me a seemingly priceless object, I will murder the queen with it. As compensation I want your poison.”
For a moment there was silence between him and his would be client. “What poison are you talking about?” clearly there was a nervouse vibe to her voice.
“Your Naga poison! You ain’t fooling me like that cretin innkeeper!” he raised his voice. “Besides your obvious lisp, did you really think a man of my reputation wouldn’t notice the Naga shaped shadow in the ceiling ready to strike down on me?”  The hood of the cloak was pulked away to reveal an elderly face and grey hair. “You’re as good as they say.” she smirked. “If you truly help us avenge our sisters, daughters and nieces, there can be many more priceless objects coming for you.” Gerry wanted to decline, Naga had no use for gold, but they could scavenge it from shipwrecks on the bottom of the ocean. Besides, while was husy trying to get the queen the object they would bring him, they could pasd the time instead of restless waiting. “If you insist, I will gladly accept, but a plenty supply of Naga poison would be my greatest reward.” he bowed slightly.
“What would you do with our poison?” the second Naga descended from her post in the ceiling beams. “What else? I’m an assassin, and a thief, I kill people for a living.” “Agreed!” the older Naga drowned any objections her comrade might have had. Gerry greeted them with a bow and retreated. “Tomorrow at sundown we’ll have your priceless object, is a chalice going to be alright?” Gerry glanced over his shoulder. “Perfect.”
The setting sun drenched the entire city of Galnerra in the color of blood. Through the cracks in the roof the change in lightvwas clearly viewing. Richer in experience than her comrade the older Naga knew the greed of man, and how to use it to their advantage. “For two years we spent our tike carefully investigating who was responsible for the murder of the entire breeding ground, you give our poison to a man who’ll use it to make our kind look like culprit in his crimes!” her comrade had hissed in native Naga after Gerry had left the two. To which the older only smirked in a way that even had made her fellow Naga uneasy.

Life ain’t that hard: Vacationing

It really is simple:
1. Pack your shit (underwear, pants, shirt, socks, hygiene products)
2. Board a Car/Bus/Train/Boat/Plane and go to your destination.
3. Relax. Maybe have some fun.

Of course you need to pack accordingly, if you’re going someplace shittycold like “I’m going skiing in the swiss alps!” you need warm stuff. If you’re going someplace nice like the Caribbean, pack your beach attire.

Of course, basic decency rules have to be observed. For example, a beach holiday with binge drinking and lots of (teenage) sex, is, once you have crossed the 25 year old threshold, creepy, desperate, pitiful.
If you ask me, and that’s why you’re here, it is always pitiful and desperate, once older than 25 the creepy adjective just pops up out of nowhere along with one or two or three or four VDs.

A city trip across Europe is a neat thing, but I have to caution you, this is only for the pseudo [insert adjective here]. Yes. Only for pseudos. Of any kind.
If you are truly interested in culture, you spend WEEKS at one location at a time, and next year you come back to the next stop on your planned route. Going through five cities in two weeks, is a pseudo cultural excuse to get drunk and sleep around. Again, past a certain maturity age (~25), creepy, desperate, pitiful and pseudo.

If your destination includes anything that could even remotely be called an animator – kill yourself.
Do it in the travel agency’s office, splatter blood all over the place, or do it ISIS style.
Who ever came up with the idea for an animator (not the kind making animated films, butnthe kind that is supposed to animate YOU) should be dragged a hundred meters through broken glass on incandescent coal at five cm/hour.
Finally you have time away from schedules, and calls, and colleagues dropping in on you, a boss demanding shit, customers yanking your chain – just to have to some underpaid, overenthusiastic asshat tell you what to do to have some fun?
Sure, it is not (always) mandatory – neither is the chat with Susan from accounting – but it is annoying, and you are paying to have this shitstain there…
So…Kill yourself!

If you are going to a spa, bring one thing above all – a good book. Not war and peace, where after five chapters you feel as if you just came out of a coma, because you have no idea what happened in those fove chapters. A good book. Something you can read and dive into. Sure, the massages and whirlpool and sauna and pool are places you won’t need it per se, but there are long stretches where you’ll need it. Unless you want to catch up on sleep.

At the end, if you are an allergic – don’t go on vacations on farms. Unless you have plenty of antihistamines in your pockets.
Your body weight in antihistamines to be precise.
Which is what I will be doing.
I am on vacation next week, family vacation on a farm…any Darth Vader impersonations of mine might end up here πŸ˜‰

Have fun, A.

Finn Journal – 2 Poisoned (ep04)

Garry let the chalice sink a little to stare at his business partner. “Yes, now don’t you tell me you believe in the rumors?” Marius shook his head, taking a deep breath he returned to the table. “Did you dig them up?”
“Do I look like a digger? Besides I don’t know how unstable the old catacombs are. So I won’t dig. These were lifted from the abandoned monastery above the collapsed catacombs.” he handed the chalice with a gloved hand to the merchant. Marius carefully took it in his hand and let it shine in the lamplight, he then glanced over the other items that Garry’s had poured out over the table. “You will find them unique, as the church seldomly lets anyone take their stuff anywhere outside their walls.” Marius only turned his eyes to the well known thief and assassin on the other side of the table. “How much?”
“Two hundred gold coins, and no less.” Marius reached for a dagger he always had concealed under the table. “And I wouldn’t mind reaching for that blade of yours.” Garry waved with his gloved hands. Worry for his safety arose in Marius, for the first time in his career. “You see I laced all of these with a special poison of mine. Pay me and I give you the antidote, don’t pay me and I dare you to drink anything other than water!” knowing the only clean water that anyone would drink was found in the kings castle overlooking the city Garrys choice of poison had been an easy one. No one in Galnerra drank water. Even the children were fed with wine or milk. “Alright.” Marius’ hand returned to the table. “Two hundred gold coins.” he added grinding his teeth.

A small phial stood on the counter of the Morningstar as Garry left, Marius was climbing the ladder to the vault as the door was closed, his knees shaking.
Garry marched to his inn, his bag stuffed with old rugs from Marius’ shop as to not arouse suspicion himself in case any informants of the city guards lurked around. “Excuse me sir.” The innkeeper greeted him unusually polite. “But there are people who would require your services.” the stretched out hollow hand of the innkeeper told Garry more than enough about the sudden politeness. “Where?” Garry tossed a copper coin to the keeper. Warehouse three on the eighth quay.” the innkeeper smiled. Garry did not inquire what business the Innkeeper had driven to the warehouse, nothing in Galnerra was free and unimportant information of potential delicacy might have cost more than he was willing to pay. Without returning to his room Garry walked to the quay. Although he had no use for the bag he would look more like a sailor with it. Especially when strolling around the harbor.

Finn Journal – 2 Poisoned (ep03)

To the knowledge of the two elderly Naga it was rare that a Naga went against her instincts, yet they just had, entered the zone of death, sought out the deadly spheres. Although too old to procreate, and with winter upon them they sought out the humans. “Galnerra!” the older Naga hissed. The two had just stuck out their heads above the waves. Before them was tge westward port of Galnerra. Quays of durable granite reached out into the sea like the tentacles of a squid. Just by looking at it the two Naga felt as if Galnerra was as equally poisonous as a squid. “This needs to be prepared properly.” the older mumbled, diving under the waves again, taking her comrade to the hills and mountains far out from Galnerra.Gerry Harthin glanced up the large granite walls. The entire city of Galnerra was fashioned from that rock. Located not all too far from the mountains there was no shortage of granite to be expected any time soon. Far above the port a castle looked over the huge natural bay in which the port had been growing for centuries. Fortifications on the peninsulas flanking the port ensured the safety of the city. His eyes instinctively sought for the dark side alleys. The ones in which men if less dubious nature would find themselves menaced. Although Galnerra was hometown of a king, it had those alleys, just lije every port had them. Brothels, dealers of dubious goods and crooks and gamblers. Gerrys people. In one of the less known inns he rented a bed, by the time of his arrival his reputation had preceded his arrival, it surprised him the guards had not apprehended him at the gates. “I am looking for the merchant by the Name of Marius Sylman.” he spoke in hush tongue to the inn keeper. The bald man, seemingly made of muscles raised an eyebrow, smiled a toothless grin. “Three alleys north, take it left and walk another alley. There you’ll find him.” he held his left hand out. Gerry gnarled and put a few copper coins in the waiting palm. Nothing in the crooked quarters came for free. He presumed that nothing in Galnerra came free. After wolfing down a tasteless meal to still his hunger, he grabbed his bag and followed the directions given to him. The house he found did not exactly cause a feeling of confidence in its construction. The stones that had once made its base were blackened by at least two fires, the wood making up the walls was wood stolen from ship yards and wrecked ships. “Morningstar” was one of the wrecked ships the builders of the house had scavenged, its name clearly visible on the street. Marius had named his shop after that ship, sold a few ragged swords and other arms in order to maintain a facade for the city guards that on occasion inspected, and ransacked the shops and inns in the district. The arms he sold were too bad a quality for anyone to buy or steal. But Garry didn’t go to Marius for the arms. As he entered the shop the small room was empty, safe for the merchandise and Marius sitting in a corner. A quick glance around the damp, dim room told him that Marius business was better than ever. Never had he see a larger collection of ragged, stump, rusting weapons. Whenever Marius felt to display more of his useless weaponry he either had them forged or stolen. Both required money, and that Marius seemed to have that in abundance. “I’m here to do business.” he anounced, reaching over his shoulder to lock the door. Marius stood up from behind his corner, removed the cloak from his head. The tall, almost two meter tall blond man looked Garry up and down. Without uttering a word he waved him to follow him to another room. From the obvious ruse shop he followed Marius into a deceptive living room. Under the dirty and immensely ugly rug in that room was a trap door which Marius opened after moving the rug aside, he climbed down and Garry followed. Still black from the fires the granite rocks of the basement outlined the true size of the building, and thus the room. A tiny door told Garry of an escape way into the neighboring house. The door was of heavy oak, strong and reliable. Unlike the rest of the building. Several counters and display on the walls were filled with Marius’ true merchandise. “Buy or sell?” the giant asked over his shoulder. “Sell, but the more I look around here, maybe I can persuaded to buy.” Garry nodded in various directions. With a wide gesture Marius invited Garry to join him a table in the center of the room. From the sailors sack over his shoulder Garry unloaded a few objects, immediately Marius recognized them as items originally belonging to the church. “Are they hot?” he glanced over the table. “The circle won’t miss them.” Garry lifted a chalice up to shine in the light of a low hanging lamp. “They are unaware of the treasures they chose to keep buried under that monastery.” Marius took a step back. “Cliffton?”

Life ain’t that hard: School

It really is easy.

Get sent to school.
Survive.
Study and Graduate.
Have kids.
Send them to school.

You see here is the issue some of the parents out there are missing. They’re breaking the cycle.
They are homeschooling.
WHICH IS ONE OF THE DUMBEST THINGS I HAVE EVER HEARD OF!!

Mostly it’s these Antivaxxer Broccoli Milkshake hippie idiot parents who home school.
Listen you brain numb buffoons, would you take your car to have the brakes fixed to a guy who “really learned everything” from his dad, who has never know much about cars other than the fact that they have engines (or worse, draws a shamanic symbol on the wheels designed to invoke brake-spirits) or to someone who has a certificate and proper licence and education?

You would never take up advice from a stay home mum, who had only a basic education and training, on the intricate workings of your home’s plumbing, now would you?

Main motivation behind this homeschooling BS is the bullying that kids are exposed to at schools. There is a better solution than homeschooling. There is a better solution than teaching kids to stand up against bullies.
TEACH KIDS NOT TO BULLY!
There was a picture of a bully online recently, who had been caught bullying by hia dad. He then internet shamed his bullying son, and forced him to do social work. That’s the way! There you go.

Another big reason is “conformity”. These hippie dipahits fearing that their kids will be turned into braindead dummies for the system – forgetting that this exact system had shat them out too.
Conformity is an integral part of the human existence and experience. We are herd animals and want to be with the others, like the others. Besides, conformity in education guarantees identical chances later in life.

All this nonconformity garbage is only producing hippie-conform children. A truly nonconform child would be the unpredictable hellspawn we want to avoid our children becoming.

So again, let’s expand this:

Get sent to school.
Survive.
Study and Graduate.
Have kids.
Send them to school.
Teach them not to bully.
Let them be conform.

Have grandkids, enjoy.

Finn Journal – 2 Poisoned (ep02)

Illuminated by a few volcanic shimmers, and the light emitted by the bio-luminescent in their hands, the two elderly Naga approached the breeding grounds from the north with the currents. Their counterparts from the local population had told them of the cages, the bodies afloat in the breeding ground. But seeing what had not been swept away by the currents was different.Glued to the ground thousands upon thousands of eggs were lying around in the luke warm sea, rotting. Some of the Naga were caught in the midst of laying their eggs, still glued to the nest they had picked their decomposing bodies filled the water with the stench of death. In any normal circumstance so many dead bodies would attract scavengers, even sharks but the area was dead silent, except for mumbles and grumbles and hisses made by the volcanic activity.
The rusty shape of a spherical cage came into view, judging upon a few glances it was definitely crafted by the humans, Albin steel didn’t rust. The south coast Naga had not ever heard of other people than humans or Albin.
Quickly the turned east and left, the shoreline should not be much farther than three or four days swim. All the while accompanied by the terrible silence of the dead breeding ground. Even with all the Naga gone there should be fish and mammals in all sizes, and all noises, in the sea.
Only after two days did the sound return, although not poisoned the creatures of the sea had caught a sense of the deadly attack, avoided it instinctively.

Crappy Birthday in June

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If your entire family has birthdays this month, then you’re in luck!

I present you, the unholy trinity of crap!

A plush toy for kids with no imagination, the DVD for people with no life, and the room spray for families with no taste.

Yes it’s a plush roast chicken, with detachable legs, on a velcro spot. A thing I wouldn’t have wanted to play with as a kid, as I couldn’t eat it. For the very same reason I hated plastic fruit. Playing make believe is one thing, creating roast chicken plushies is another.

Then the DVD, laundry machine impressions. It is exactly what you think it is.
Laundry machines, … washing laundry! If watching paint dry is too riveting, here’s the answer!

Finishing off this month with the Chicken Soup RoomSpray.
What can I say that hasn’t been said millions of times? Imagine entering the bog after your uncle Rob had a particularly nasty dump, and your nostrils are pleasantly surprised to find the odor of chicken soup lingering in the air! Makes rubbing one out that much more pleasant!
In addition, try imagining if this roomspray was advertised for like a Calvin Kline perfume. Two skinny mouthbreathing people who only speak in whispers: “Desire meets the tastebuds. Chicken and hunger. Passion and the soup. Chicken for nose, soulfood in the air.”
Crappy Birthday!