April
2008
By Douglas Kent,
Email: doug of
whiningkentpigs.com or diplomacyworld
of yahoo.com
On the web at http://www.whiningkentpigs.com – or
go directly to the Diplomacy section at http://www.whiningkentpigs.com/DW/. Also be sure to visit the Diplomacy World
website at http://www.diplomacyworld.net. Check out http://www.helpfulkitty.com for official
Toby the Helpful Kitty news, blog, and links to all his available merchandise!
All Eternal Sunshine readers are encouraged
to join the free Eternal Sunshine Yahoo group at http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/eternal_sunshine_diplomacy/
to stay up-to-date on any subzine news or errata.
Quote Of The Month – “Open your goddamn
mouth when you speak! Fucking
ventriloquist.” (Clementine
in “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”)
Welcome
to Eternal Sunshine, the only Diplomacy subzone you need if you’re lost in the
wilderness. Use it to start a fire, roll
it up and flog a small animal to death for food, and when nature calls you can
use a few pages as toilet paper. You
might consider reading it first, but that’s a matter of personal taste (or lack
thereof).
There’s
a bunch of stuff in this issue, so let’s get down to business. The 7x7 Gunboat Tournament, run outside of
the subzone, is in full swing. I plan to
offer another one when this one nears completion, so keep your eyes open. Our first Diplomacy game chugs along nicely with
some awesome old-style press, and the By Popular Demand and By
Popular Opinion games continue as well. By
the way: anyone is welcome to submit press to the Diplomacy game, as it uses a
Black Press format; it doesn’t matter whether you actually play in the game or
not! Anyway, as I was saying
before I rudely interrupted myself, the only things we’re really light on are
book and movie reviews. Heather started
a new “fast track” math class this month, and with close to three hours of
homework every night that’s really eaten into our reading and watching
schedule. Plus there have been very few new movie releases that we wanted to see, so
it’s been a lot more of Netflix and a lot less of AMC and the Angelika. Send some positive thoughts in her direction
– some of this math stuff, crammed into such a short period, can be a bit
overwhelming. But she needs to get
through this and one more math class so she’ll be able to apply for the
Veterinary Technician program she wants to get into so badly, which starts in
the fall.
Speaking
of animals, most of the news in this issue is cat-related, so let me start by
plugging our new web site and merchandise.
Toby now has his own line of products, his own blog, and his own web
presence. Visit http://www.helpfulkitty.com/ for links
to all of that. If you want to see the
products directly, as well as a few special Whining Kent Pig bonus items, you
can see them at http://www.cafepress.com/helpfulkitty,
although the Helpful Kitty site has a links to all of that anyway. I’m even considering adding some Eternal
Sunshine or Diplomacy World products…it doesn’t cost anything to add more junk
to the item list, after all! Now, on
with the cat updates.
As
I’ve mentioned here a few times over the past year, our sweet little girl Tigger was of quite advanced age: almost 21 years old. She is the only cat I ever adopted as a
kitten, as both Mara and Heather agreed that kittens were more work and (most
importantly) easier to find families for.
So instead I always tried t stick with adults. But from what I remember, Tigger
was nearing the end of her allotted time when Mara and I saw her, so we decided
she’d make a good potential friend for our favorite cat at the time, Ubber.
Two
decades later, Tigger has finally had to leave
us. About seven months ago we thought we
were losing her, as Tigger had experienced some
noticeable weight loss and increased vomiting.
But that was diagnosed as hyperthyroidism, and treating that was not a
difficult procedure. Well, it was
actually difficult for a few weeks, having to force the pills down her throat
when she didn’t feel like licking up some Cheez Whiz
where we’d try hiding the pills…Tigger became quite
angry with me about that, since I was the one giving the pills, and she would
hiss and run away if I tried to do anything except for petting her on the
head. Once we’d discovered the miracle
of Pill Pockets, however, everything got better and life quieted down. A few minor tweaks of the medication level
were all that was required. Tigger gained a touch of weight, stopped howling at night,
and while she was no longer quite as affectionate as she once was, she seemed
to have settled in to a grumpy- old-person-style of living (or old cat). Whether it was getting old or a grudge from
the pills, Tigger stopped climbing onto my lap each
morning for a petting and love session, but I couldn’t blame her. Instead I just did my best to accept her
various eccentricities…like not wanting to be petted, running to her cat bed,
and then whining to have you come pet her there. A small price to pay for
such a long period of companionship.
But then, the bottom fell out.
Really
we’re rather fortunate; Friday the 7th she was fine. Saturday the 8th she started
drooling a bit more than usual, not eating much, and her breath stunk. I thought maybe she had another dental
problem. She was willing to eat some
chicken and sliced turkey, but no cat food.
Then Saturday night she threw all of that up,
and would not eat again. Drinking was no
problem; in fact she drank more than usual.
We could tell she was sick, and my guesses were either heart disease or
a dental mess of some kind.
Monday morning I
dropped her off at the vet on the way to work, and asked that they call me when
they had some idea what was wrong.
Heather and I both said goodbye to her Sunday night, as they way things looked, it would take a miracle for her to get better. Even if she was suffering from something
treatable, there was then the quality of life question we would have to
face. How much more deterioration could
a cat of her age handle?
About
an hour later the vet called me at work.
There wasn’t much to talk about.
She had suffered acute renal failure.
Her kidneys were no longer functioning properly. Water went through her like a faucet, but the
toxins were building up rapidly in her system.
They’d already gotten so high that they were beyond the testing limits
in the lab. The vet said this had to
have come on suddenly, especially since we’d checked her toxin levels only a
few months ago. She offered the
possibility of trying to put her on subcutaneous fluids full-time for two or
three days there at the vet’s office, but didn’t think even that would be
successful in lowering her levels. But
we knew Tigger had simply had enough. It was time to say goodbye for good. The photo above is the last I took of her,
the night before. She was still walking
around, and a bit affectionate, but the decision was obvious even then.
They
gave Tigger a shot to control her nausea, and kept
her comfortable until I could get back there in the afternoon. I spent some time with her, and even got her
to eat a few crumbs of her all-time favorite treat: blueberry donut. Then it was time. The vet had already put a line in her leg, so
there wouldn’t be any fussing at the last minute. I kissed her goodbye, told her how much I
would miss her, and how much she had meant and would always mean to me. Then it was a simple process: inject some
saline to make sure the line was clear, then a thick-looking white substance
which was an anesthetic, literally putting her to sleep (she laid her head down
immediately), and finally the lethal shot, stopping her heart less than 20
seconds later. Then she was gone. Her eyes were open, and she made a bit of a
noise twice as air escaped her lungs, but the spark of life had departed her
body. Still, I was left alone with her
for a good five minutes to cry my eyes out, and retelling the story I am crying
again. As I go through my day I have no
problem, but when I stop to think about the sweet little fuzz-ball, who whined
way too much and who remembered me the moment I walked back in the door after 2
½ years away…well, my heart aches for her.
I petted her soft fur, kissed the top of her head, cried, talked to her
some, and then left. Goodbye Tigger, I’ll never forget you.
And,
in a way, that’s a goodbye one of the last true ties to my old life, my time
with Mara. Whatever else might be left
is still sitting in my storage unit in Palmer, which I am slowly digging
through and disposing of things whenever I get a chance. Out with the old, in with the new, I guess.
…which leads us to Sanka, the new addition
to our household. The fact is, we had been talking for quite some time about how Toby
needed a friend and playmate. Tigger was never up to the task, and wasn’t at all
interested in the first place. By the
time Toby entered her life, she was more than 20 years
old and had just recently stopped playing altogether. Not even the “red dot” (the laser pointer
light) could get her moving. So all of Toby’s attempts to incite her into friendly play, or even
simple chasing each other, were met with hisses, growls, or general
disinterest. But we didn’t want
to consider bringing another cat into the apartment until Tigger
was gone. She deserved better treatment
in her last months than to deal with a new intruder. Just deciding to adopt Toby took quite a bit
of thought and consideration, albeit in a short time, but he seemed so perfect
and friendly and loving (which he was, and is) that we couldn’t pass him up.
Even
while Tigger was still with us, Heather made regular
trips to petfinder.com to see what kind of cats were
available from local rescue groups. We
knew a kitten was out of the question, not just for the reasons I mentioned
earlier but also because Toby needed an adult cat to deal with, or at least
fully grown. So Heather had been
focusing on any local cat who caught her eye from the
photo or personal story. There was one
“plus size” black female she liked, but I pointed out to her that she’d been on
petfinder.com for over two years…that suggested either she had behavior
problems or (more likely) that she’d been adopted or passed away and never
removed. So now Heather had narrowed it
down to two cats she wanted us to look at, Khali and Sanka,
each being cared for by a different rescue group. Personally I was ready to accept whatever cat
Heather decided on, as long as she was different enough from Tigger for me to not mentally consider her a
replacement. We weren’t replacing Tigger; we were just looking to get Toby the friend he
needed.
Khali’s
foster family was out of town for a week, but in the meantime after a couple of
days we did hear from Sanka’s foster mother. She actually lived right down the street from
Heather’s job. Eileen (the foster
mother) had been caring for Sanka for maybe 10
months, and since she was only about one year old that was a good percentage of
her lifetime.
Eileen said that Sanka was sweet and
affectionate, and that her main drawback was her tendency to be underfoot…like
what cat isn’t? Heather went by and met Sanka, and I am sure it took about 90 seconds for them to bond
completely. That afternoon I drove over
and picked the little fuzzball up, taking Sanka back to her new forever home.
In many ways, she is
a little Toby. She’s terribly loving,
purrs like a motorboat (Toby has a very quiet purr by comparison), plays all
the time, likes to be held, and gets into mischief. Sanka even likes to
have her tummy rubbed, which most cats hate (but which Toby loves too). The two of them are getting along pretty
well, although Toby plays a bit rough with her sometimes, and gets jealous when
Sanka takes his favorite resting places (like next to
Heather in the middle of the night). But
I doubt there is going to be any trouble…as you can see in this photo (Sanka is the one to the left) the love to watch the birds
out our patio window together. And Toby
was completely exhausted by Sanka, as they chased
each other around the apartment for hours.
Sanka has never had this much space before
(and remember we live in a tiny 3 room apartment) and living with a foster
family this is the first time she’s had to share attention with only one other
cat. It seems to be a perfect match!
As
for Khali…well, we never did get over there to see her, since we can’t add
another cat to the household right now.
Two is plenty…for the moment. You
never know what the future holds!
Crushes
For
Christmas, one of the things I bought Heather was the just-released DVD set of
the complete “My So-Called Life.” If
you’re unfamiliar with it, the series was a 1980’s-era drama starring a young
Claire Danes as a 15-year-old High School student, trying to make it through a
difficult age. Highly regarded by those
who watched it, the series did not last very long. I suppose a semi-accurate portrayal of
teenage life isn’t particularly escapist, which most successful television
seems to be. Besides, the show lacked
some of the truly dark and achingly cruel truth of, say, “Welcome to the
Dollhouse.”
So
we started watching a few episodes recently, and it got me thinking more about
my time in public school, and my experience with girls, and the fact that I
don’t think I had the same outlook on them as other guys (or the same point of
view towards guys that most girls had).
Or perhaps I simply think I’m different, when I’m not. There’s always a lot of that going around
too.
I
never had that period as a youngster where I thought girls were gross. In fact, long before puberty, I would think
about girls in a romantic sense. Not a
sexual sense – I’d simply imagine some girl I liked in my class being my
“girlfriend,” with
no real specific idea of what that meant except that we both liked each other
and wanted to spend time together. I can
remember having a few declared “girlfriend” in the 2nd or 3rd
grade: Wendy O’Connell being the first that comes to mind. But there were others I’d think about a lot:
Annie Williams, Sara Briggs, Sandy Sullivan, April, Tracy…and there was always
the unattainable Patty Shepherd. Even at
this young age, I realized certain girls were out of my league. Whether it was that they were from a very
wealthy family, or simply that they openly demonstrated disdain for me (or my
family), some girls were beyond me even as simply friends. Of course, at this age I didn’t know what a
mess my family was, and obviously without that realization I couldn’t have
possibly known how some of the down looked at us with a combination of pity,
trepidation, and repulsion.
During
those years, girls were generally a part of everything we did. Oh, they wouldn’t play baseball with us
during recess, but they were always invited to birthday parties. In my elementary school classes, we had a
seeming peculiar habit of gently scratching each other’s backs when we sat on
the school floor watching movies or filmstrips.
There was no hesitation of doing that to a girl, or having her do it to
you…you just asked, and they did it. If
someone asked you, you did it. “Sex” was
a foreign concept, so it wasn’t sexual.
It was basic, friendly, comforting human contact. I sometimes wonder how that changes the
development process, now that we live in an age where children can’t even hug
or hold hands or any of the other things we did on a regular basis. Then again, I only did those things in
school…at home, we NEVER touched each other.
Touching meant someone was hurting you, or about to do something nasty
like drop a bug down your shirt or stick a piece of skunk cabbage under your
nose.
I’ve
tried my best to figure out when my point of view on girls changed. Probably around 6th grade, when we
moved to New Jersey. There I could
actually fantasize about girls in a sexual way.
Maybe I didn’t consider the idea of having SEX, but instead kissing and
holding and being affectionate. I know
there were a few females I lusted after.
Margie was the main one. I
thought she was the cutest, most wonderful being on earth. At this age I still talked to other boys
ABOUT girls, and I remember myself and Ed swapping desires: me for Margie, him
for Lisa. We found the strength of the
infatuations we had to be amazing, like a whole new world had opened up to
us. My happiest moments were when she
and I were on crossing guard patrol together for a week or two. She talked to me, laughed with me…but in
typical Kent fashion I never told her that I “like liked” her. At the end of the school year she transferred
to a private school (I think) and that was that. I saw her somewhere – some school function –
a year or two later, and realized whatever attraction
I’d held for her was completely erased.
I guess I had moved on.
Somewhere
between 6th and 7th grade, as I moved from Elementary
School to Junior High School (referred to as Middle School in some places), I
changed. I don’t know why, I don’t know
how, I don’t know what caused it. I
suppose puberty had started full force, although the awful plague of acne I’d
do battle with for years didn’t really start right at this point. Perhaps it was just going to a school with so
many more people…I have no idea. But it all
changed. Girls were no longer
attainable. And they never would
be. Oh, I could still think about them,
list after them, fantasize about them like all heterosexual boys did…but it was
the same as fantasizing about a movie star or a rock star. The odds of me connecting with any girl I went
to school with were about as likely as me finding myself in a romantic
encounter with Jodie Foster or Olivia Newton John or Chrissie Hynde or one of the Go-Go’s or Patty Smyth or Claire Grogan
or that woman from “Buck Rogers.” In
other words, zero.
Maybe
I just realized how utterly out of step with the rest of the world I felt. Even with my friends, I felt like an
outsider, or being included seemed to be done out of pity or social obligation
more than anything else. Or, even with
good friends like Fritz or McDougal or Richard Rives Howe Jr., I always
(rightly or wrongly) sensed the attitude that while my being around was fine,
they’d be equally as happy if I wasn’t.
They could take it or leave it.
The only time I didn’t feel that way, some of the time, was with my wargaming buddy Steve.
Aside from occasional arguments, we could spend nearly unlimited time
playing games and ringing doorbells or talking.
Like everything else, that would change over time, but for a couple of
years it was good to have.
So,
while I’d fantasize about some of the marvelous, magical, mystical females in
my world – Patrice, Synda, Beth, Ashley, Elana, and especially Helen – there was never the slightest
hope that I could do more than pass them in the hall. Even when a female seemed less other-worldly
because they were openly friendly and sweet – Caroline, Gabby, the other Beth – I wouldn’t allow myself the luxury of
thinking they could be anything but friends.
I did, in fact, find myself developing a few close friendships with
females. Ayla
comes to mind – I loved talking to her, listening to her, discussing life and
relationships and anything else with her – but that was a true friendship. It was completely non-sexual, and was
different and wonderful in its own way.
In the years to come I’d find myself forming similar friendships with
other women, but that was the first of its kind for me.
Even
later, when I met Mara and started dating her, the idea of any of the other
women around me being attainable seemed ludicrous. In fact, I don’t know if that has ever truly
changed. I’ve jokingly complained to
Heather that I wish women would hit on me once in a while…but the fact is, women could hit on me day in and day out; I wouldn’t have
the slightest idea that anything was going on.
With me, a woman needs to make the first, second, third, and maybe the
fourth move. Not that I need women
making moves on me anymore; Heather might take issue with that!
So
what is wrong with me? Was I simply born
without the gene to recognize a female’s interest in me? Or do I think so little of myself that the
idea anybody wants to be with me is laughable?
I used to think it was the latter.
But now, as I’ve gotten a bit older, I really think it’s the former. It is one of my many genetic birth
defects. But as to the history of
fantasizing about females, I am curious how different my experience is from
everyone else’s.
Funny Games – Naomi Watts and
Tim Roth star in this remake of Michael Haneke’s 1997
Austrian-language version. Haneke is at the helm again, in a tale of a wealthy family
at their vacation home being held captive and terrorized by two young adults
who seem determined to kill them. It’s
hard for me to go into more detail without giving portions of the plot away. But I found the entire process to be somewhat
generic and obvious. There are some
attempts by Haneke to comment on the violent world we
live in, and on the way some believe a generation raised
on violent movies, games, and television cannot distinguish between reality and
fiction. Or, to put it another way, some
violent criminals (especially younger ones) live their lives as if they are
“the star of their own movie” with dangerously egocentric attitudes towards the
wel-being of others.
I imagine his earlier version may have succeeded, but this one fails in
almost every regard. I never felt the
terror of the family despite the accomplished cast (although Michael Pitt and
Brady Corbet were rather good as the
psychopaths). And the major “gimmicks” did
nothing for me. I’m not even sure I
recommend this movie as a DVD film…unless you want to discuss the way the film
missed the mark, and the overall big-picture topics it did nothing to enlighten
you about. Skip it.
Seen
on DVD
– Street Trash (C+, as far as Troma films go this one is rather weak, but the “shoplifting”
and “keep-away” scenes make it worth watching ever 10 years). Paris Je T’aime (C-, a series of
unconnected Paris vignettes written and directed separately. A few moments but generally
just not very engaging). Witness
for the Prosecution (B+, after seeing this butchered by a local theater, it was
great to watch the classic screen version, with Charles Laughton in all his
glory). 28 Weeks Later (A-, about as good as the first film, with the high
level of chaos and the freakish cinematography of the Rage sufferers keeping
the movie a fast-paced thrill ride). North By Northwest (A-, got a DVD to
replace my old VHS copy, still a terrific movie and always will be). Miss
Potter (B, decent story about Beatrix Potter and her entry into
publishing. I’m not sure what was wrong
with it, but perhaps a different actress would have pulled it off more
powerfully). Waitress (D, the woman who made this film was murdered in NYC just
before it was released. I could make
some bad jokes here, but I won’t bother).
Waking Ned Devine (B+, cute
and low-key Irish comedy, finally got around to seeing it).
Suburban Legends – Sam Stall – “True
Tales of Murder, Mayhem, and Minivans.”
A fun and fast collection of stories of the “urban legend” type, but all
taking place in the suburbs. Actually,
most of the stories are more about ghosts, paranormal experiences, and a few
murders thrown in for good measure. A great bathroom book if nothing else. I give it a B+, and I think Heather liked it
too.
God is Dead – Ron Currie, Jr. –
Some interesting fiction, all short stories.
A few stand on their own, but the rest are all tied to the premise that
God assumed human form, doed on Earth, and the world
has since become aware of that in a very strange way. The stories aren’t really haunting, as they
don’t stay with you for that long, but they are interesting and sometime
unsettling. I’ll give it a B, maybe a
B+.
The Melancholy Death
of Oyster Boy & Other Stories – Tim Burton – Burton
can do a hell of a job as a director, building an entirely new world around a
script and transporting you into it. But
as a poet, in the vein of Lewis Carroll or Edward Gorey,
he is a bust. A few of the drawings are
cute but the prose is useless. The only
thing it did was make me want to find a copy of Beastly Boys & Ghastly Girls so I can read that again. I’m off to look on eBay right now. Give it a D.
Chosen by P.C. Cast and Kristin Cast – The third in the
House of Night series. Exciting and suspenseful.
I finished it in one day because I couldn’t put it down. Now I’ve already pre-ordered the next book in
the series! Okay, this is really a
“teenage” book, but for lighter reading I love this kind of stuff. 4 ½ pumpkins. 
Animal Friends by Christina Jirak O’Donnell – A sweet
collection of short stories about rescued animals, and the joy they bring to
the people who bring them into their lives.
The people rescue the animals, but in many ways it is the animals who
rescue the people! 3 ½
pumpkins.
Creepy old people.
Dark humor.
Sabotage.
Deteriorating neighborhoods. Murder. What could be more fun?
“Homebodies” was one
of those 1970’s movies which HBO ran over and over again just as cable TV was
making its way into suburbia. I must
have watched it over 40 times as a kid, and it was only recently that I was
able to procure an old VHS copy to enjoy all over again. Heather didn’t care for it – there’s no
accounting for taste – but I still found it very amusing.
The
plot is rather simple. A neighborhood is
being demolished, building by building, to make room for new high-rise
development. The movie focuses on one
particular building. The residents
simply do not want to leave. And they
are willing to do anything it takes to get what they want.
There
are plenty of laughs along the way. Some
of it is slapstick, like when Maddie tries to drive a
car for the first time in decades. And
some of it is simply nasty fun, like when they chop a developer’s foot off to
fit him in a construction form.
The
stars are all creepy, and will ne unrecognizable to most of you. Ruth McDevitt had a
recurring role on Kolchak The Night Stalker, and
appeared in The Birds. But it’s Paula Trueman as Maddie who steals the
show, and while she has screen credits in films like Paint Your Wagon or Annie
Hall, I don’t remember her in anything but this. This is, without question, a dark comedy…but
I love it just the same. I think I heard
it may be on DVD again soon, so keep your eyes open!
Andy
York: I
enjoyed the latest ES, great job as always. Regarding the David Lynch for
President campaign, where are the rabbits? I'm sure
they're "hopping" for a victory in November!
I think they left the campaign over a disagreement
about how much coffee must be provided, and of what caliber.
The story about the run-up to your "mandatory
extended vacation" was interesting. I was surprised you have to pay your
way to the prison. I figured you'd turn yourself into the local Marshall's
office who would, in turn, make "the
arrangements" to get you to your final destination. Did you have an
option, or was the only choice you were given was to appear at the front door?
I was lucky to have the option, believe me. Otherwise you get the Federal transportation
treatment, including holdovers for weeks at a time (like 4th class
mailbags), terrible conditions, no family contact, and the nightmare of the
methods of transportation. Often you
stand out on the tarmac for an hour at rifle-point while inmates of all
security levels are loaded into a plane.
Ever see Con Air? A prison pal
nearly had a nervous breakdown in his trip…he was standing on the tarmac during
a less-serious transfer, mainly of low-security inmates. He’d been stuck in one spot for a few weeks,
and had spent a lot of time talking to one of the guards. He noticed some fluid dripping from the tail
section of the plane he was about to board, and asked the guard what it was.
“Oh, that’s hydraulic fluid. It always drips like that on this plane, it
has a leak somewhere.”
“But how do they know when they’ve lost too much
fluid?” he asked.
“Easy,” the guard replied. “When it stops dripping.”
Not the kind of experience you volunteer for. Anyway, since I was on pre-trial release for
a non-violent crime, I wasn’t a flight risk.
If I was going to run I would have done it long before then!
I agree, Juno was a good movie (gave it a B+). I'm
glad it got at least one Oscar, well deserved!
I've not read any of the books Heather's reviewed.
Is she into horror, gothic, vampire or ?? I don't
really read much in those genres, but there are a couple of Straczynski
horror books that I've read based on the author. Quite good,
and disturbing.
She likes gothic, vampire, supernatural romance, and
especially any of the teenage-marketed books.
She says they’re great for a quick, fun, semi-mindless read. And like a soap opera or television drama,
they often put cliffhangers at the end of one book, helping her to look forward
to the next one that much more. The more
serious, bloody vampire books are good too.
But she reads lots of other things as well: animal books, humor,
fiction, biography, historical books when of a subject she is interested
in…it’s just that she gets on her little kicks, and right now it’s a vampire
kick again.
I can't help with the two movies,
they don't ring a bell at all.
I am not surprised!
Robert Lesco: Zoot Allures was my first Zappa
LP. I bought it shortly after it was
released and a couple of the guitar solos are still favorites. I am stuck for an answer as to which is my
favorite album. Maybe the Shut Up And Play Your Guitar series but I'm not certain.
Hearing some of the songs redone in the Thing Fish
project was interesting. I believe Black
Napkins and The Torture Never Stops were two of my
favorites off Zoot Allures. Lately I’ve been sticking with the same CD’s
over and over: Rain (the new Joe Jackson), Dulcinea
by Toad the Wet Sprocket, Popular Favorites by The Talking Heads, the Once
soundtrack, and old standby CD’s like Conjure One’s Extraordinary Ways,
Choirgirl Hotel by Tori Amos, and Van Morrison’s
Saint Dominic’s Preview. I don’t buy new
CD’s all that much, so I have always hesitated in adding a brief “playlist”
section in this rag.
Balkan Wars VI (Black Press): Signed up: Jack
McHugh, Graham Wilson, Brad Wilson, Brendan Whyte, needs two more. Rules and map on request.
I may offer
a new game of Diplomacy or another Gunboat 7x7 soon, so keep your eyes
open. Other options are a game of
Youngstown or some other map variant.
Diplomacy
“Wouldn’t It Be Nice?” 2008A, Fall 1901
Austria
(Kevin Wilson): A Ser S F Alb-Gre, A Tri-Vie, F Alb-Gre.
England
(Jeremie LeFrancois): .F
Nth C A Yor-Den, F Nwg-Nwy, A Yor-Den
(Bounce).
France
(Alexander Levinson): F Mid-Por, A Gas-Spa, A Mar-Bur.
Germany
(Graham Wilson): F Hol S A Ruh-Bel,
A Ruh-Bel, A Kie-Den (Bounce).
Italy
(Don Williams): F Ion-Tun, A
Apu-Ven, A Tyr-Mun.
Russia
(Melinda Holley): A Mos-Sev (Fails), F Sev-Rum (Bounce), A Ukr S F Sev-Rum, F Gob-Swe.
Turkey
(Brad Wilson): A Smy-Arm, F Bla-Rum
(Bounce), A Bul S F Bla-Rum.
Ownership of supply centers:
Austria:
Budapest, Greece, Serbia,
Trieste, Vienna.
England:
Edinburgh, Liverpool,
London, Norway.
France:
Brest, Marseilles, Paris,
Portugal, Spain.
Germany:
Belgium, Berlin, Holland,
Kiel.
Italy:
Munich, Naples, Rome,
Tunis, Venice.
Russia:
Moscow, Sevastopol, St
Petersburg, Sweden, Warsaw.
Turkey:
Ankara, Bulgaria,
Constantinople, Smyrna.
Unowned: Denmark, Rumania.
Austria:
5 Supply centers, 3 Units: Builds
2 units.
England:
4 Supply centers, 3 Units: Builds
1 unit.
France:
5 Supply centers, 3 Units: Builds
2 units.
Germany:
4 Supply centers, 3 Units: Builds
1 unit.
Italy:
5 Supply centers, 3 Units: Builds
2 units.
Russia:
5 Supply centers, 4 Units: Builds
1 unit.
Turkey:
4 Supply centers, 3 Units: Builds
1 unit.
Winter 1901/Spring 1902 Deadline is April 29th
2008 at 7:00am
Winter will be separated on two requests.
PRESS
Heart of Darkness Saloon: The woman behind the bar snorted as she loaded sasparillas onto a platter. "Here!" she
ordered a server. "Take these to those three guys sitting by the
west window. And watch out for that Frenchman, Robert."
"What about that group on the
other side of the room?"
There was an evil cackle.
"Oh, I'll take care of them, sonny boy."
Rome to Vienna : Sorry, friend, but rumor has it you were looking for a
little canal-joy-riding and we couldn’t have any of that. If we bounced,
consider yourself lucky that I’m so forgiving by nature and understanding by
education. If we didn’t bounce, well, then I’m thinking I’m lucky that
you are so forgiving as well.
Somewhere
West of the Hobby: Too long. Way too long,
he thought. He’d been riding a three weeks now
and the desert was winning the war of man against nature.
Eternal sunshine, be damned, it was hot out here, the kind of
hot that could make a man go crazy in the head. The sun blazed nearly
straight overhead, causing a fata morgana
mirage on the eastern edge of the desert. Dry hot winds blew up from that
direction. Even his shadow seemed to be searching for someplace to avoid
the blazing sun. He squinted hard at the east, his destination.
Somewhere across this forsaken and blasted desert plain was his destination,
his desire and his damnation, all rolled up into one.
The heart of Darkness Saloon. And
the infernal woman who ran the place. He spurred his horse and
moved out further into the shifting sands of the desert.