[courtesy if gmskarka]:
Announcements made by White Wolf at the International Camarilla Conference

"...The Gathering in New Orleans. We announced that we'll be holding a massive convention/meetup for all the fans of our products, whether that's Mind's Eye Theatre, oWoD or nWoD, VTES or anything World of Darkness inspired.

For the Camarilla specifically:
No more pyramid. We've drifted a bit away from you all and have come to realize what a really horrible mistake it was to let that happen. We want to reintroduce ourselves as people, individuals even, who care about what you decide to do with our games, because we truly do. There has just been too much bureaucracy and it needs to end. We'll keep liaisons on staff here, but this is less about us selling you books and more about you enjoying them.

But how? We're giving the reigns back to you. You will remain the official World of Darkness fan club, but we’re not going to tell you which of our games to LARP or how to do it. Some of you will undoubtedly return to the Old World of Darkness. That is awesome.

What's next? A lot of introspection and elbow grease. We urge you to take the coming months to really audit the entire Camarilla structure. How much of the original roots will you salvage? How will you balance the dynamic between old, new and future members? Do there need to be structural changes, rules changes or even cultural changes to reflect the new Camarilla going forward? What is the Cam to you and how would you have it run ideally? This is the perfect opportunity to reforge the Camarilla.

Why change? We want this to be just plain fun again, like the ICC itself. No barriers in the way of your expression in the World of Darkness. Tools to help you organize yourselves, find eachother, and regain that sense of creeping, suspenseful dread together. Bear with us and help guide us, as this is going to be an open dialogue.

Again, we urge you to watch our YouTube page, which has the announcements themselves, tapings of the various panels, and interviews of both CCP staff and the fans. Additionally, we will have more videos and other event highlights up as soon as we can prepare them."

We picked up two copies of Dragon Age: Origins for the PC this weekend, based on a number of reviews and definitely on this video:



It's interesting in that it's not a MMORPG, so it doesn't have a monthly fee, but the game utilizes a system for purchasing extra content with BioWare Points. It comes with a few pieces of bonus content [first hit's free]: a golem character you can add to your group, an extra area for adventuring (a troubled village), and some new armor. I expect the console version uses Microsoft points for DLC.

The game requires you to join a social network before you can download the bonus content, which is a bother, and the patch apparently has a bug that requires you to download an updated C++ thingy, but otherwise it appears to be smooth sailing.

I'll tell you though, the graphics are incredible and the character generator is robust.

"The Court in Heaven gives no sanctuary to lovers who would break Lord Entropy's Law.
The Wild cannot break the Darkest Lord's hold upon this Earth.
Only Hell offers protection to Powers that dare to love; only Lucifer has stepped forward to shield such Powers with his wings. His prices, they say, are quite reasonable.
Yet no one asks his favor twice."
—from Legends of the Nobilis, by Luc Ginneis

"When the Viscount of Memory meets the Marchessa of Falling Stars, their hands fall immediately to their blades. Their dance of war begins. They strive to kill one another; and that strife is poetry, beauty, a glory of violence. Yet in all their battles, they have been injured only three times between them.
Many of the Nobilis flout the Windflower Law, loving in secret. Many torture their souls trying to keep it. A few—like the Viscount and the Marchessa—find other ways that a man and a woman may be close.
There is no tenderer hatred than that those two cherish. There is no more intimate rivalry. To see them in battle is to weep."
—from the Memoirs of Alice Mendel, Lady of the Thunder

Okay, I think I've given the Constant Reader enough prep to continue my saga. 

( Shall we?...... )

My heart goes out to everyone affected by the terrible attack at Fort Hood.  You are all in my thoughts.

But one thing stands out for me as a bright beacon of hope...

Women. In combat. Even when no-one expects it.

The bravery of the soldiers at Fort Hood in the face of a brutal and cruel attack was profound.   Stories of individuals who did everything they could to save their comrades are a comfort after something that makes no sense.

All the soldiers and civilians who risked their lives in this attack are true heroes.

But doesn't everyone think it's time to shut down the right wing anti-women politicians and officially admit what has already been proved again and again on the ground, and let the women who deeply desire to give their full service to the armed forces to have all the opportunities they deserve?

The opposing factions in congress and their lobbyist cronies call themselves anti-feminist, but let's face it, they're anti ALL women.  They don't believe that women can hack it in combat. 

Clearly, they're not paying attention. 

Content in a mo'. First, check out today's xkcd. Made of awesome. My sometime-socialist* leanings come out mostly in personal, microcosmic ways. I'm a registered organ donor, I donate blood as often as I can, and I am on the national bone marrow registry. I plan to donate (what's left of) my body to science when I die, and if anyone can give me ideas on other ways I can make this matter of mine more useful to others, please offer suggestions. I'm open. My time? I'm pretty frugal with it. But my carbon-based cells? Totally up for grabs.

And now, ( a synopsis of my visit to the G.I. specialist, Dr. Hoffman )
* And by this I don't mean the sort of socialism where things are owned by the state,
but rather, the sort of pie-in-the-sky socialism where things aren't owned at all
and everybody shares the toys, then puts them away. It will never happen. I know.

If someone made a Spider Man 2 porno, would the villain be Doctor Cocktapus or would they just call him Doc Cock? Also, would he still look like Roy Orbison?

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,571985,00.html?test=latestnews

An amateur treasure hunter finds a trove of Iron Age jewelry on his first time out with his metal detector! Amazing!

 I don't know how I ended up on itunes searching but it brought back a flood of memories. Back in the day, when I was still starry eyed with the SCA, getting ready for an event was an event in itself. Packing armor, shields , swords (both live steel and rattan)  the tents, pavilion , break down table, director's chairs etc. It depended what vehicle I had at the time, the truck and van were easy, the car was a little more tricky. Then it was finishing that last bit of new garb and swearing that you would never do it again. Then the drive and getting away from the 20th century, the long hours drive sometimes. NOW here is where itunes comes in, all of the drive was filled with music meant to put you in the mood. Lot's of celtic stuff, SCA filk, and my two Never-Leave-Home-Without-Them, Meg Davis's Captain Jack and the Mermaid and Celtic Stone cassettes .
So, I was feeling nostalgic  and having lost those tape long ago, decided to see if they are still around. Happy to say they are still around and now have been downloaded and placed on CDs. I can remember pulling up the Troll with the tapes still blaring, then it was usually off to set up camp in the dark (again something I swore never again) then into garb and grab my horn, then off to the camp fires. Waking up with the dew heavy on the grass and tent, coffee first at the tavern. Ok, so I am kind of excited about coming back.

time for pain meds

Good grief, it's Guy Fawkes Day, and I don't have an effigy or a lighter!!  I'm so unprepared these days.....

Oh, and before I get a-rantin', Many Happies to grnvixen and a belated Happyhappy to galactusprime :  How awesome that you two kids are now legal to vote!!!  *snerk*

Now where was I?  I thought I'd talk about funerals a bit (no offense, you two above.)  Not usually a humorous topic, I'll agree--at least, they're not supposed to be. 

I don't like funerals and I don't know anyone who does.  (The Irish had the right idea:  Party first, then lament.  I hope that when I leave this mortal coil, my family and friends rent out the new Intrust Stadium we've just built here in Wichita to throw the biggest party this town has ever seen (why not?  We don't have any sort of team to stuff in it!).  I mean it!  I want everyone to tell stories about me, drink to my memory, laugh a lot, cry only from said laughing, and just generally have a good time.  No lamenting, please.)  Now, since I don't like funerals, I have a hard time with them.  If the person who's parting we're lamenting passed away under the age of uh, let's say 80, I have a tendency to cry my eyes out.  To me, dying before 80 means that a person didn't get their fair share of Life which is truly tragic, and I can't help but react emotionally to it.  Combine said passing away with a tragic accident or mishap, and I'm doubly emotional.  I don't know why I bother to put make up on to go to such an event, 'cause it ain't staying on my face, it end's up all over the tissue I'm gripping in my grubby fist. 

But then again, I come from a family that can really work itself up for a funeral.  Doesn't matter how old the decedent is, someone in my family is going to wail loudly; someone is going to faint;  someone may take it into their head to jump into the hole to join the dearly departed.  One of the few joys about attending one of my family's funerals is that you get quite a show.  Seriously, the funeral parlor could make a few more bucks if they sold popcorn.  What can I say?  It's a Southern family.  Plus, since it's a Southern family, you get the double pleasure of hearing the snarky remarks the women of the family make about each other. 

Case in point:  My grandfather's funeral.  My Aunt L was my father's half sister, a product of my grandfather's first marriage.  She was not fond of my grandfather.  Yet, at the graveside service, Aunt L proceeded to succumb to such grief that--you guessed it--she fainted away into her husband's arms.  He swooped her up in the very best "Gone With the Wind" fashion and hurried away with her.  My cousin, Gertie, observed all this, and muttered "That was a good one!  But then, she's had all week to practice...."  and I had to hide my face in my hands.

Which was the second time that funeral that I'd had to hide my face and try to smother laughter.  See, the second thing about me and funerals is that if the decedent is past the age of 80 and/or their passing isn't unexpected, I can't get too worked up about it.  I may get a little sad, but usually I'm happy that they had their shot at Life and got to leave after much hard work.  I will attend the funeral, I will strive to attain the proper state of sobriety, but don't expect me to faint or provide much of a sideshow......

EXCEPT: I have another, awful trait when it comes to funerals in this category:  At some point, no matter how somber the service, I will get the giggles.  It's inevitable. Sure as the Creator made little green apples, I will lose it.  I can no more stop this than I can break the breathing habit.  I've tried.  The best I can do is camouflage my perversity with the aforementioned tissue.  (Oh, and just so you know, if you're ever in a situation where you have to stuff tissue in your mouth to choke back laughter, it takes about three to get the job done.  Just a word of advice from your Auntie Wela!)

So, back to my grandfather's funeral:  The memorial service itself was held in a little church in Hamilton, Kansas, which is where my grandparents spent a lot of their lives, particularly the last 20 years or so.  I was sitting in the pew next to my cousin Larry, which is a dangerous thing to do these days and which could have been lethal back then, because Larry is one funny SOB and back then, he had zero restraint.  The guy gets up to deliver the requiem (my mom says it was the funeral director; I swear he introduced himself as "Reverend whatever" but that's not really important).  He starts out by thanking us all for attending (this was back in 1982, and I bet there was a hundred people there), then he says that while he didn't know my grandfather personally, he was happy to have an opportunity to speak about him.

Huh-oh, said a little voice in my head.  My ears cranked up a notch.  My grandfather was not an easy person to know.  He was a walking contradiction--the epitome of an Irishman.  He was funny and jovial, yet a surly drunk.  He was great to grandchildren, if a little abusive (ever had a "dutch rub"?), yet beat his wife and children.  He'd give you the shirt of his back, yet he'd drink and gamble away a paycheck, rather than feed his family.  He would cry out in pain in his sleep (his back had been broken), but never make a peep about it when he was awake.  The older he got, the meaner he got.  He loved animals, but he shot a neighbor's dog when it wouldn't stay out of Grandma's veggie garden.  (He was also about 100 lbs. soaking wet and bent over; when the big, beefy neighbor came over to threaten his life about the loss of the dog, my grandfather cocked his head to one side so he could look up and up at him, and said calmly "That's alright.  I've got more shells for my shotgun.")  He was in many ways a very tough, very mean man.

So when Reverend Whosit starts talking about this saintly, elderly gentleman who was the epitome of kindness and neighborliness, my cousin leaned over to me and whispered, "Oh my god, we're at the wrong funeral."

I lost it.  So did he.

The harder we tried to stop giggling, the harder the giggling got.  Have you ever had silent hysterics?  That was what was going on with us.  We didn't dare look at each other.  We shook with laughter--but quietly!  We silently convulsed and our shoulders were shaking, we were laughing so hard. And you know the harder you try to behave, the worse it gets, right?  Finally, in desperation, we both leaned our heads over into our laps and covered our faces with our hands, helpless with whispered giggles.  This, while everyone watching us is saying, "Oh, isn't that sweet?  The grandchildren are overcome with grief."  It was awful.  It was hilarious.

That's me in all my glory.  *sigh*

Oh the third funny thing at the funeral:  It was a gloomy day, it had been a very wet spring that year, and the Janesville cemetery out there by Hamilton was pretty muddy.  My father was escorting my little Great-Aunt Neva, who was all of about 4'6" back to the car, and referencing my Aunt L's great exit from the service, he said to her "Aunt Neva, I could carry you back to the car."  And she looked up sharply at him and said "And I can break your goddamn arm, too!"

Southern ladies.  Gotta love 'em.

This entry is getting way too long, so I will finish it tomorrow.

Consider yourself warned.

Okay, well nix that costume dream. There is absolutely no point in me ever attempting to recreate Machiko Noguchi's Predator armor. It's already been done better than I could have even imagined. I mean, look at that. Look at it. Now, go look at it again.

Mother of god that is fucking awesome. And sexy. And unbelievably good. Wow.

BTW, have I mentioned how much I dislike the Noguchi action figure by Hot Toys? They made her Caucasian. She looks like Angelina Jolie, for godssake. Sex her up all you like, that's fine. I understand marketing to a certain demographic. But leave her racial identity alone. It's not like the comic book crowd is averse to hot Asian chicks. Srsly.

Completely unrelated, but awesome: For those non-PVP readers who are just a little peeved at yesterday's voting results across this grand nation of ours, check out today's strip. Ding!

 

Source, macro'd by me.

More detailed written review is here.