The Digger seeks answers, not work

Novac was next on Omar’s blood-soaked way
And he pranced into town in no mood to play

“Dear people of Novac, come close, come near”
“If you answer my questions, there is nothing to fear”

“I look for a man in a checkered suit”
“He did me a wrong, shot me for loot.”

Manny Vargas stepped forth, Novac’s stout defender
But if he messed with Omar, he’d be a mouse in a blender

“You help us, we help you, this way we can deal”
“You take care of some ghouls, and we do a reveal.”

And the digger, he smiled, with teeth black as sin
No sight in the world is worse than that grin

“Dear Manny, I have a most curious feeling”
“That I, as well, can do some revealing”

“The ghouls are – methinks - just the first part of a quest”
“which leads to nightkin, and more ghouls for Novac’s guest”

“And more nightkin, more ghouls, in REPCONN’s old site”
“Still more nightkin, some ghouls and their noble fight”

“To get their asses in rockets and travel in space”
“Which they can’t until some parts are in place”

“Which would force me to travel up and down the whole land”
“Until those fucking parts are fucking finally at hand”

“To sum up, in short, it’s a big-ass quest, and a chore at that”
“And all this grinding just to get what is under your hat”

“Or I could just shoot you”

And Manny grew pale under Novac’s hot sun
Not quite sure how to end this exchange in good fun

While Omar, that old demon, the furious old digger
Just kept smiling and playing with a well-thumbed trigger

And Manny swallowed his pride with a shiver
Because nothing is worse than being Omar’s quest-giver

And he points to his room in Novac’s motel
“Just go in there and look around for a spell”

“Then there’s no need for you to linger around”
“The next hero along will save Novac town”

“Much obliged” said Omar, when he returned from the room
And thus Manny Vargas evaded his doom

Kettling

An article in the New Statesman about demonstrating pupils in London who were kettled for hours in freezing weather. It is news like these that scare me the most. It points to a change in the way the citizens of Western Europe are handled by their governments. After reading this I really asked myself how far this repression will go - and experience whispered "sky's the limit". I just hope that some parents get really angry at the treatment of their children. We are in dire need of an identification system for the policemen that make such tactics possible.

The Digger keeps Order

Omar ambles on in no need for a rush
When two armored figures jump out of a bush

They screamed at Omar, the bloody black wanderer
“We are skilled assassins, serving Caesar the Conqueror”

“The Keyser marks you for death!”, that’s what they said
“Profligate! Degenerate! We will drown you in lead!”

The digger looked at the two armored accusers
Two sprats sent to kill him, two sorry losers

He looked at them with pity, as if pity he knew
“Dear nitwits, please stop and hear my point of view”

“Back home, on the hill, in Caesar's big camp”
“Did you steal, joke or curse the old scamp?”

“Disrespect some fruit? I mean, frumentarius?”
“Or break other commandments, manifold and abstruse?”

“If you search your souls – and be thorough!-”
“you’ll find failure and sin” And this made them swallow

“You are not my chastisement – but I am yours!”
“Caesar’s creative when settling his scores.”

“I’ve killed so many from Caesar’s dumb band”
“To send just two more only shows his hand”

And realization dawned on the two sent to kill
Of little infractions and they soon felt a chill

And the digger, he grinned, his teeth black as guilt
His soul an abyss, a bad man to the hilt

If an assassin’s a killer, that much must be true,
Then the digger’s a killer to the power of two

And if Caesar wants to get rid of some figure
He commands and sends him after the digger

Thus Omar ambles on, two more dead in his wake
And the Legion stays trim through threats of this rake

The Shadow Scholar

Not related to Dark Heresy in any way - although this would be a kick-ass name for a short scenario. Shooting administratum adepts is always fun. I am of two minds about this issue. On the one hand, an important skill set seems to become a lost art to exactly the kind of people we expect to be able to write usable text about their field of expertise. Also, I distinctly remember feeling quite angry when I came across such work as a tutor: Partly because I was obviously failing at my task of teaching a student how to write a paper and partly because someone thought I was stupid. On the other hand, I must admit that I am a bit envious about this job and the related income. In the end, it seems to me that this is just another sign that our lives are turning into some kind of kabuki show. The essence of education is being replaced by a hollow and wholly purchasable symbol, constituted by a big pack of paper, with a class of professionals creating these symbols - like woodworkers creating crucifixes.

The Digger gets a New Helmet

Nipton was next on the digger’s revenge-driven route
His blood-spattered violent desert commute

But when Digger Omar entered this village
He saw nothing but remnants of bloodshed and pillage

Tons of corpses smoking in heaps and on crosses
And in the center one of the Legion’s big bosses

Vulpes Inculta (the fox) did this deed
A righteous prissy in an asshole’s elite

A voice like bathwater, a nice wolfskin hood
A strong sense of mission (as he well should)

Vulpes stopped - for a moment - to pull the legs off flies
And took some care to explain Nipton’s demise

“Nipton, you see, was town full of whores,
So we put them on crosses to teach them some mores”

“While I don’t like your motives, I do like your style”
“And I dig your helmets” said Omar with a smile

A smile full of malice, a smile full of ice
“I dig yonder helmet, pray sir, name your price”

“The thing’s not for sale, it’s an honor to wear”
“How dare you ask?” quoth Vulpes with a glare

“I’d think, I’d ask first” said Omar full of guile
and then spammed frags at the soldiers in file

And the legion went up and the legion came down
some more blood, guts and gibs in dead Nipton town

And out came the digger to root through the corpses
Got a nice comfy helmet from great Caesar’s forces

“Legion’s infamy gained” says a box in the sky
“No prob” says the digger as he moseys on by

This you should know about the man with the spade
If he can’t pay with caps, he’ll remit by grenade

Four levels of incompetence

Another nice essay by Dmitry Orlov. I like his expanded view on the Kruger-Dunning effect and I second his view on finance being the last refuge of the truly incompetent. Social studies majors take note.

...But you'd hate it there

Charles Stross - one of my favorite SF authors - wrote about steampunk in his blog a while ago. He puts my unease concerning this fad into words. If you know something is wrong when someone romanticizes top hats, corsets, rampant industrialization and colonization, but just can't figure out the right arguments, then this is the text to go to.

Lord of grease

A nice column by Georg Seesslen about middle class values, the semiotics of KT Guttenberg's hair and the gel keeping this hair in place and order. German conservatism sees "the Baron" as its Kwisatz Haderach (you can basically see the curtsies and erect nipples when CSU members of any gender speak about him), and thus a closer look at his appearance appears necessary - although the results are not altogether surprising.

Bill Moyers on the new plutocracy

This is the long Howard Zinn Lecture by Bill Moyers which has already been linked up and down the net. It is quite a bit of text, but necessary read - a basic primer on the government of the United States, as it works today. This text might make you angry, and it should.

The Digger and Low Cuisine

Omar walked into Primm, his first destination
Walked out of the dust and the radiation

Looking for protracted baroque grim vengeance
To punish his killers and extract proper penance

He entered the ruins, was – of course – shot at
Dismembered the shooters (not much of a combat)

Looted the corpses and then turned his steps
Toward Primm’s casino, to get rid of his caps

There he was greeted by Johnson and Ruby
Johnson the merchant, and Ruby the foodie

The digger went shopping and pressed on with the quest
But Primm offered more to its goat-faced guest

Old Ruby spoke up (with age girls become brave)
And made a unique offer to the visiting knave

“To keep a strong man hearty, to keep a hearty man whole
There’s nothing better than my radscorpion casserole”

“Bring me peppers, salt, some scorpion stingers”
“I’ll cook it, you’ll eat it and you’ll lick your fingers.”

“But avoid the bug’s sting” the old lady said
“No poison left, no flavor left, and also you’d be dead”

So the digger went hunting with kukri and gun
Small bugs, big bugs, bugs as big as the sun

And the bugs stung him, again and again
It certainly was a most painful campaign

But the digger gritted his teeth black as sin
And took all the bugs of the waste for a spin

It was late - very late - when the digger returned
And all through his body the scorpion juice burned

He went up to Ruby, his eyes flaming and hot
He hawked and coughed and spat in the pot

Croaked Omar “Here’s the requested ingredient”
“My gut’s full of the stuff, and it was expedient”

“To hawk, to cough, to season to taste”
“To keep it inside would be such a waste”

Ruby stared at Omar, the hardy old digger
Stung and filled to the brim with bug ichor

“I talk to a dead digger, and that freezes my soul”
“But at least you proved worthy of my casserole”

And hands him a bundle, dripping with fat
“Here’s your food, and I enjoyed our chat”

“But you know, Omar, that it is time to go”
“To find your killers and to lay them low”

And Omar left Primm, his pores oozing with venom
To find his killers and put his boot up their rectum

Don't be it - dream it!

Synergon is a roleplaying game set in the corporate rat race. Very funny, but might make you weep at work. Via BoingBoing.

The Digger travels onwards

Digger Omar and the Liar

Towards east went Omar, the hoary old digger
His mind full of blood, a shady grim figure

But on the way, with Primm in the distance
He was stopped by a guy in need of assistance

“My name is Thorn, and I am truly blessed”
“Because you look like a man in need of a quest”

“Please, traveler, in distress is my damsel”
“Go up yonder slope to rescue the mamsell”

“She’s surrounded by geckos, the fierce little grislies”
“If you don’t act fast, she’ll soon be in pieces”

And the digger smiled as the digger will do
The mouth parting the beard, putting black teeth in view

“While I slept in the grave, people got thicker”
“If you’re no match for the geckos, you’re no match for the digger”

“I’m not much for questing, but I do like the digging”
And with that did Omar start the cutting and kicking

He trimmed the Thorn, dug him out by the roots
But he felt a bit hungry when he tried on Thorn’s boots

“Gecko’s good eating, if I remember correctly”
“Some steaks cut from lizard would fit me perfectly”

And Omar climbed the slope, shovel in hand
To find some ol’ Geckos, stomp them in the sand

Cut out some meat for a steakhouse revival
Which Omar can do ‘cause he’s skilled in Survival

It was some hours later when Omar clambered down
His hunger was sated but he still wore a frown

Went up to Thorn’s body, all cold, still and dead
And kicked the poor corpse full tilt in the head

“You filthy old liar” Omar scolded the stiff
“There were only male bodies on the top of the cliff”

We’ll never know why Thorn wanted Omar to help
But it seems to be well that Omar busted the whelp

A whelp sending travelers to rescue his squeeze
When there’s no squeeze to rescue – that guy was a sleaze

So Omar went eastward onwards to Primm
Grim was his face, as his temper was grim

His mind full of blood, a shady grim figure
Because a questgiver lied to the hoary old digger