A Rush Job
Good news, a poem, and old games. In addition, I managed to rewrite the commment system (read: hack together a sloppy solution) for this website, so now comments are working again; from the archives I managed to save many of the earlier comments. Soon I will get back to work on the recipe and movie databases.
In “Good News,” a court has denied Limbaugh’s appeal:
I say “Good” because anything that is bad for Limbaugh seems like something good ... electric air after a thunderstorm, like the smell of saltwater and the oozing of wet sand between your toes, like that last painful step as you reach the summit and look out over the sweeping mountain valley below. The power of nature is immense and stunning; there is nothing natural about Rush, and thus anything that smacks of his downfall brings a smile to my face. Yet, like the ACLU, which is supporting him to an extent, I am worried about this exercise of power by the state and its possible consequences for privacy rights:
Ah, restrained Schadenfreude.
Ein Werwolf eines Nachts entwich
von Weib und Kind und sich begab
an eines Dorfschullehrers Grab
und bat ihn: Bitte, beuge mich!
Der Dorfschulmeister stieg hinauf
auf seines Blechschilds Messingknauf
und sprach zum Wolf, der seine Pfoten
geduldig kreuzte vor dem Toten:
»Der Werwolf«—sprach der gute Mann,
»des Weswolfs, Genitiv sodann,
dem Wemwolf, Dativ, wie man’s nennt,
den Wenwolf,—damit hat’s ein End.«
Dem Werwolf schmeichelten die Fälle,
er rollte seine Augenbälle.
Indessen, bat er, füge doch
zur Einzahl auch die Mehrzahl noch!
Der Dorfschulmeister aber mußte
gestehn, daß er von ihr nichts wußte.
Zwar Wölfe gäb’s in großer Schar,
doch »Wer« gäb’s nur im Singular.
Der Wolf erhob sich tränenblind—
er hatte ja doch Weib und Kind!!
Doch da er kein Gelehrter eben,
so schied er dankend und ergeben.
—Christian Morgenstern (1871–1914)
I wonder how many remember the magic and the thrill of playing Dark Tower. As a young child I received the game as a birthday present. I rarely had the opportunity to play with others, however, for all my relatives were much older (my brother and I would often fight when it came to sharing toys or playing peacefully) and only few kids in the neighborhood who were about my age. I took to playing alone, setting up games, mastering the rules ... all in the confines of my bedroom. As part of a project in the the third grade I drew a large (18”x24”) picture from a bird’s-eye perspective representing one of the kingdoms. At this time I was obsessed with highly detailed drawings—large-scale endeavors full of bustling people, buildings, and action.
It was several years later, when I spent part of a summer with my aunt and uncle in Dundee, Oregon, that I became acquainted with Dungeons & Dragons; earlier, when I was still in the Boy Scouts, I encounted AD&D and Top Secret—until then, Dark Tower represented nearly the entirety of my fantasy game experience. My brother, however, was given a copy of Crossboys & Catapults one year. We tried to play together, but on each occasion fights erupted.
Only years later did I learn about the wonders of trebuchets.
—April 28 2005