Random Viking Thought: Ramen Noodle

I'm trying to decide if I actually prefer Ramen Noodles still a little on the stiff side or if I have mastered a level of laziness that I am not yet ready to acknowledge.

15 Minute Writing Exercise: Stone Oasis

My friend, JP, at criminalenglish has set up another fifteen minute writing challenge. The pic he supplied, which I will supply again below, caught my interest, so I gave the exercise a go. The following scene is what I was able to get done in fifteen minutes. Let me know what you think.


Stone Oasis

As the storm pounded rain against the slanted stone roof, Simon and Ralph poured over the contents of their pillowcase.

“I can’t see nothing.”

“What?”

“I can’t see nothing!” yelled Ralph against the echoing of the rain. His hand jutted about inside of the pillowcase. “You sure you brought it with!?”

“Of course I did! Move!” Simon yelled back from the darkness and bullied his hand through their packing supplies until his fingers found the desired shape.

“I told you!” Simon said and clicked the button. The flashlight jetted light out against the opposite gray wall. Panting, the boys looked at each other’s muddy appearance and wet, unkept hair. “I told you,” Simon mouthed again as their breathing finally slowed. Ralph thought it quite lucky of them to find this abandoned shed in the middle of the forest. Simon wasn’t convinced that anything was ever truly forgotten.

They stood up as Simon, who held the flashlight, started casting light around the room, slowly searching the interior of their oasis from the rain. Ralph, without thinking, was still clasping the pillowcase that held their canned corn and jars of peanuts. Honey Roasted. Simon had finally convinced Ralph that it was wiser to keep their pocket knives in their namesake.

As the beam of light moved left from the right corner of the wall opposite of them, they saw a door on its side length-wise. The hinges, which twisted out in a metal mess, looked so rusted that they would crumble under a callous touch. The white paint with green trimming that once covered the wood door was curling up in small patches like curdled milk. Along the bottom half of the door, the paint was missing entirely.

“What is this place?” Asked Ralph. Simon didn’t supply a response; instead, he shook his head at a pace slow enough to match that of the grazing flashlight.

“Holy Shit!” Simon shouted.

“Fu-“ Ralph yelped, scrabbling back a few steps.

In the left corner of the room, opposite of the doorway in which they had entered, the flashlight had caught a small round table with three large rotting dolls positioned around it in chairs. Their eyes, made of bright blue marbles, leered without expression at the Simon and Ralph. At any moment, Simon thought, one of them is going to blink. I just know it.

But they didn’t blink. Instead, they continued to sit in their frozen, molded states.

“Do you think Tom is going to find us in here? I mean,” Ralph continued while not taking his eyes off the dolls, “you don’t think he would keep coming after us in this rain, do ya?”

“I don’t know. He was pretty mad. We should get out of here.”

Random Viking Thoughts, Volume IV

Opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one.

And every asshole with too much time on his hands has a blog.

Desert Chant: Something a bit more serious

"Desert Chant" is the second of the works I have finished for the American Noose project. This poem was originally laid out on the one year anniverarsy of the 9/11 tradegy. I had purposely held off on writing about it to make sure that I was writing my true feelings and not impulse ones. "Desert Chant" reflects that sorrow and anger that I feel towards all the people in power that did their arrogant parts in the destruction, and I am referring to more than just the terrorists and the prescribed "enemy."

“Ta se ag cur” is an Irish phrase meaning "It is raining."



Desert Chant

They have wholly failed to wreck the rooster’s remembrance
With the eagle’s errands,
While I waste a walk through the desert of irrelevance.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

The sand, dry and yet so soiled, scrapped the scars on my feet
While grains underfoot gave me
The sneaking suspicion of George Orwell’s dreaded deceit.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

Allowed to cast critical complaints toward the torn sky,
Yet am angrily advised
To never rudely snarl, “Ra, Ra, Ra” at the false sun’s lie.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

I met a token trader scratching the sand with pretense.
Pinning me with sharp green eyes,
He said, “ta se ag cur,” but I mistook it for nonsense;
However, the Fool has licked at the last lick of the flame
And, at last, dispossessed me.
Now I relish the resurrection of John Brown’s true fame.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

My travels were no longer tainted by being in vain,
For I have found what I sought:
To be justified by the Joshua tree’s knowledge gain.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

Beneath the bent limbs, I held the found skull close to me quick
And listened to the wind whine,
As I feared the wind’s wet thumbs would fault its flickering wick.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

As I hung the skull around my collar, thought of O’ Keefe,
And enjoyed the tree’s cool shade,
I spat a challenge on the ground, drowning dust, at the Thief.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

Yes, a remembrance of the rooster
Among the desert of irrelevance.

Lost Vikings

I do not know what is with my recent video game kick considering I am not a "gamer" by habit. Instead, I would chalk it up as just a general fixation on hobbies that are cool only when compared to model airplane building.

That said, I will swing the blog back towards its intended theme. Vikings. The Norse people have become somewhat of a staple in pop culture. America has the Minnesota football team "The Vikings." And an one time classmate of mine had the 1992 Super Nintendo game entitled "Lost Vikings." The game is about three Vikings, Erik the Swift, Baleog the Fierce, and Olaf the Stout, who get sucked into various points in time. Sure, it may not be everyone's favorite plumping Italian stereotype, but it had a puzzle solving game play that mirrored "The Lemmings."

The friend who had that game, was a type of buddy every guy had in school: the one whom has all the gaming systems on hand, a pool table, and, best of all, a set of parents too busy feeding coins into an Indian casino. Yes. We all used him. Yes. We took advantage of a slightly overweight guy attempting to fit in. But, in our defense, we were teenage guys. You know. Assholes. It's a phase. Any teenage boy who seems to be the perfect gentleman is trying to nail your daughter.

"Lost Vikings" was one of the very few video games to explore Vikings as a subject matter, even if it was done in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way.

With a quick online search, I found that Blizzard, the makers of "Diablo" and "Warcraft," has actually published an online demo of the original game in promotion of a ported version being released on Gameboy Advance. Click HERE to play it.

Vikings may not by a subject theme that will ever dominate the mainstream pop culture, but it’s a start. We must move on from the vampire obsession at some point. Joss Whedon and Anne Rice, please repeat that last sentence to yourselves a few times each morning. I will be expecting to see Baleog the British Isle Slayer and The Viking Chronicles popping up soon.

Anyway, this Venice Viking will be returning back to the mission statement of this blog shortly.

Gaming Secret

I have a deep, dark secret in regards to '80s era video games.

The barrels that Donkey Kong threw at Mario contained the petrified remains of the Pac family.

Beat that, Grand Theft Auto.

Mario's Super Drug Addiction

Have you ever got the feeling that Super Mario Bros. is simply an analogy for an Italian plumber's drug addiction after his girlfriend, Pauline, dumps him due to his low ambitions in life.

Apparently, Mario, in his drugged out state, has casted Pauline into a princess; thus, personifying her as everything good and pure in his miserable little life. King Koopa, the guardian against his princess, is the embodiment of his drug addiction that keeps him from achieving his happiness.

Yes. That must be it.

A Viking Plunders Muhammad

Okay.

This is it.

My blog will now post an editorial cartoon poking fun at Muhammad!


Scroll to the bottom of this entry to see the criminal event!





































Almost there.


































Just about there......











































I wonder if this will be censored?


























































That would be kind of sad, wouldn't it?










































































Free speech would be out the window and such.





























































God. The traffic is bad on Mondays in Venice. I'm sure glad I have the day off.




































I'm in my pajamas, still.











































What?






















Oh.
Right.













































There was something I am supposed to be doing, right?








































Gotcha.






























































And here is the editorial cartoon of Muhammad:






Is that a skirt Muhammad is wearing???? Oh! The humanity!!! The humanity!!! The world is now in chaos! Pigeons are raping dogs. The rivers are running backwards with Nick Lachey's tears. MacGyver couldn't open a bottle of Aspirin. George W. Bush pronounced "terrorism" correctly. We are doomed! Doomed, I tell you! DOOMED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



See you next time.

Zero Wing "All Your Base Are Belong to Us"

For all the gamers or nerds in general out there, you have probably snickered to yourself when you have seen or heard some incredibly bad English translations in products. The rex example of all bad translations come from the Sega Genesis game "Zero Wing." It is so famous, in fact, several online videos have been made from the game's original opening sequence.

I was chatting on a forum yesterday, and the famous "All your base are belong to us" line got brought up in discussion. With a little searching, I was able to locate the original, great video that inspired other online users to take their own (largely unsuccessful) crack at the idea. Watch it below and leave your comment.

South Park Censored Over Muhammad

The Peabody Award winning cable television show South Park was censored by Comedy Central, its long time patron network, in April 2006 because Trey Parker and Matt Stone, the creators of the series, attempted to depict Muhammad.

In a two-part storyline entitled "Cartoon Wars," the residents of South Park work themselves into a state of hysteria because a parody version of "Family Guy" (found full of nothing but "nonsensical jokes" according to Cartman) has attempted to depict Muhammad, but was censored by black bars covering the figure. When it is revealed that "Family Guy" is planning to show Muhammad again, Cartman, who is tired to being compared to the show, vows to have the episode pulled, which, in turn, will lead the cancellation of the whole series.


[The Entire first part of "Cartoon Wars"]

The South Park storyline is obviously in response to violent Muslim reaction to Muhammad being depicted as a terrorist in a Danish editorial cartoon. Trey Parker and Matt Stone, in their fashionable crude manner, show us the ultimate dangers to Free Speech when we collectively give into threats.

Comedy Central joins the league of pussies by censoring South Park over the second part of the "Cartoon Wars" because the show itself vows to depict Muhammad. Instead of showing the brief scene where the Muslim prophet appears on screen, Comedy Central instead displayed a black screen with the message: "Comedy Central has refused to broadcast an image of Muhammad on their network." The final scene, in reaction to the censorship, is so over-the-top and poignant that you will need to see it for yourself.


[The entire second part of South Park's "Cartoon Wars"]

The joke is ultimately on Comedy Central because the network was too busy being caught up in the current political climate to remember that they have already been routinely airing a South Park episode entitled "Super Best Friends" (2001 season) that depicts Muhammad. UPN has also aired the episode.

The censorship of South Park and the Muslim reaction to the Danish cartoon is absolutely ridiculous. Any country that decides to bow down any time Freedom of Speech is threatened is not free at all. Cartoon Network are run by pussies. Let's find out if Blogspot sucks the same pair of balls.

In one week from today, I will post a blog entry entitled "A Viking Plunders Muhammad" that will include a depiction of the prophet.

Did lightning strike when you read that?

Yeah, it didn't here, either.