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"I could eat alphabet soup and crap better lyrics then that." - Johny Mercer. |
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From June 2016 entries are entered into "The Bard's Hall Contest"  by StephBee - House Targaryen  From May 2017 entries are entered into "Invalid Item" by A Guest Visitor /right}From June 2017 entries are entered into "Invalid Item" by A Guest Visitor From June 2016 entries are entered into "Blogging Circle of Friends " by Lyn's a sly fox  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I'm a writer, who doesn't write. An artist, who doesn't paint. I'm a blogger, who doesn't blog. I'm a dreamer. And all I do is dream. I was born a donkey, but lived as a man. My parents sent me out from the paddock so that I could learn the secrets of corned bread. Seeing for myself the world of men made me curious because that was my weakness. Always my weakness. My hind-legs were strong and so began my masquerade. I became a man and walked the world of men. I tasted many delights, and many disasters. But soon I found that I needed a thing called money. To continue my quest I would need to work. A courier seemed the most obvious thing. Although, was I not a man now and not a pack-mule? No. No couriers work for me. I chose a trade and worked in a factory. I had not forgotten my quest for the secret of corned bread. Every night, while printing the newspaper on the night shift, I would see the grand old culinary designs in the food and drink section. There was so much more to food then corned bread. Continue My Memoir of Magic and Dreams ▼ This is my blog documenting my experiences on http://www.writing.com. In it, I will include my reviews of others works, links to offsite writings, and importantly, I think, moan and complain constantly about the machinations of this beautiful, sexy, inspiring and fearsome beast of a writing community. I didn't do anything about my desire to write for over 20 years and I have a lot of catching up to do. I'm a little worried that I've left it all too late and I won't have enough time to become a good writer. I'm always up for joining in on blogging groups and challenges, so if you have one - let me know here. |
Greetings,
Kind Regards, Johny Thundersbeard, Editor & Member. "The Steampunk Authors' Guild " ---- ---
--- Johny Thundersbeard http://fingersofthunder.wordpress.com WDC Author of the Month May 2012 |
| I've been doing a "campfire creative" style story with my youngest son (he is 7). We've done 8 chapters so far. Every chapter we have done is in a different font. All jokes in his chapters are his and his alone. He is also directing the story and has final say on my chapters. THE LOST FAMILY & THE ISLAND OF TERROR CHAPTER 1 ONCE upon a TIME THERE WAS TWO BOYS. Their NAMES WERE JEFF AND COOPER. THEY LOST their MUM AND DAD. THE YEAR AFTER THEY WENT ON A BUS. THE BUS CRASHED OVER THE EDGE INTO THE SEA. They FOUND an ISLAND. THEY HAVE BEEN ON THAT ISLAND FOR THREE YEARS. THEY WANT TO FIND their MUM AND DAD. TO BE CONTINUED CHAPTER 2 Once upon a time, there was a set of parents. Their names were The High Momma and The Dadness. They lost their children: two boy childs, Jeff and Cooper. The year after, they went on a shuttle bus. The shuttle bus crashed over the edge onto an island, the island sunk, and they floated to another island just near it. They have been on that island for three years. They miss their boy childs so much. Last night, The Dadness went for a walk and discovered a mountain range dividing their island in half. Tonight, the High Momma is packing their survival gear. Tomorrow, The Dadness and the High Momma are going to try and find a gap in the mountain range and explore the other side of the island. The High Momma thinks this other side of the island might be where she thought she heard the sounds of squealing children... TO BE CONTINUED... CHAPTER 3 jeff was trying to climb the mountain while cooper was swimming. they were bored. jeff wanted to climb the mountain. cooper can see something. he calls jeff. jeff comes as fast as he can with their scuba gear, but he slipped over and rolled down the rest of the mountain. cooper and jeff put on the scuba gear. jeff is a bit slower because he is all bruised now. "i think its an underwater city," says cooper who has started swimming. "is it really?", says jeff. "it is! it is!" "really?"asks jeff. "yes, it really is," cooper yells. "let's go and search it!" "okay sure, i'll go and search it with you." JEFF AND COOPER DUCK DIVE UNDER THE WATER... TO BE CONTINUED... chapter 4 The Dadness was sweating too much climbing the mountain range. The High Momma was sweating too much as well. She was sitting down, still at the campsite washing the dishes. "It's times like these, that I miss my two boy childs the most," High Momma said as she dropped her last remaining wine glass into her survival pack. Mopping her brow, the High Momma looked up at the distant figure of the Dadness climbing the enormous mountain range. She almost couldn't make him out past the jungle canopy. "I don't know why he makes things so hard for himself," She thought, and headed off toward the sloping track that wound it's way to the top of the mountain range. The track was only 10 metres away from where The Dadness had paused on his heroic, vertical climb. The High Momma thought she should make it to the top before lunch. A lovely morning for a beautiful and relaxing stroll. The Dadness swore as he stubbed his toe again on the sheer rock face and watched as clumps of rock went tumbling metres, and metre, and metres, and metres below shattering into ever more squashed pieces of dust. The Dadness gulped. What a terrible morning for a death-defying mountain climb. to be continued chapter 5 "Which house should we search first?" Cooper asked Jeff, using sign language because they had their scuba gear on. "That one?" "Okay." "They can breath in there," "Let's go in there too, okay?" "Hmm...What's that?" "What's what?" "The thing above us!" "I don't know, Jeff. I dont know everything!" TO BE CONTINUED chapter 6 The Dadness and the High Momma stood together, looking out over the beautiful vista. The view was much better on this other side of the island! The High Momma was refreshed and ready and raring. The Dadness was looking a little worse for wear. Truth be told, he looked like he was about to collapse from exhaustion. "Darling," High Momma cooed. "It looks like an awfully long way down, and we've had quite the day haven't we." "Yes dear," the Dadness looked adoringly at his wife and mother of his missing children. She always astounded him with her gentle and kind ways. "I think a piggy back might be in order." The Dadness swooned, what a lady, offering to give him a piggy back all the way down the mountain after his heroic death defying climb! The Dadness stumbled a bit under the weight of his gentle and kind wife on his back. "Oh," he moaned now he got it. The Dadness set off down the mountain range that divided the island in half, the High Momma perched precariously piggy-back style on his back. The High Momma smiled all the way down, enjoying the sunshine beating down on her shoulders, right up until the point where the Dadness slipped and fell all the way down the rest of the mountain side... TO BE CONTINUED CHAPTER 7 Jeff and Cooper go inside the underwater house. they saw a person, his name was Dorff. He said, "why are you in my house?" "We just found this place," says Cooper. "What was that thing above us," says Jeff. "That was an underwater x-wing," says Dorff. "Do you want to fly one?" "Yes please," says Jeff. "Come with me," says Dorff. "Sure," says Jeff. "I'll show you how to fly one," says Dorff. "Goody," says Jeff. "Do you want to fly it now," says Dorff. "Okay," says Cooper. "Help me find my x-wing keys!" says Dorff. TO BE CONTINUED CHAPTER 8 The High Momma was making a cup of tea. She was actually pretty good at this survival stuff. It was the High Momma who lit their little campfire. It was the High Momma who gathered the correct herbs and roots for proper bush tea. And it was the High Momma who was now hunkered over the little campfire letting the tea simmer at the exact temperature it needed to be a simply smashing brew of bush tea. All the Dadness had done was supply the boot to boil the tea in. It's not like he could walk around with it anyway. He'd lost his other one in the tumble down the mountain side. The Dadness was patrolling the perimeter. He was looking out for alien animals that might attack them at a moments notice. The High Momma didn't know about that. She'd never heard of fauna changing on one side of an island to another, just because there was a mountain range down the middle. Let alone mutating into exotic alien attacking animals. The High Momma thought the only thing exotic and dangerous on this island was them. And they were only a danger to themselves. "Mmm...I think it's ready. I'll take it off the boil for a minute or two, I think." As the High Momma reached over for the boiling boot, a loud screech filled the air. "Oh, you made a whistle on that kettle did you, darling. You really are good at this survival stuff," the Dadness exclaimed in pleasant surprise from the edge of the little field. "That wasn't me!" the High Momma wailed. The shadows in the little clearing deepened and the tree branches overhead seemed to reach further over their little encampment. The ghastly shriek sounded again. "W-w-w-what was that!?" the High Momma wailed again, forgetting all about the effort she had gone to to make that cup of tea. Which the Dadness thought would be about right. Sacrificed my boot for nothing. She's going to let that tea go cold now. I hate cold boot tea. The air was heavy around them, filled suddenly with a dampness that hadn't been there before. Like something terribly scary was coming, so scary it scared all the molecules of moisture in the air and they we're moving away from home, straight into the Dadness and the High Momma. The Dadness puffed his chest up. Don't worry h20 in the air, I'll protect you. That'd be right, thought the High Momma, too much of that moisture in the air will ruin our boot tea. Somewhere high above they heard a new sound, a piercing sound. An obviously animal sound. In hindsight, the Dadness would think that this was actually the first animal sound they'd heard since their tumble down the mountain range. It should have been a big tip off. No forest is as quiet as this one had been. Especially when he exposes his socks to the air. The clearing briefly fell into shadow, as above them a swarm of white and pink birds exploded into the sky heading for the heavens, their caterauling momentarily deafening the landlocked humans on the ground. "Oh, if only I married a human who could fly," thought the High Momma. That wasn't entirely true, she thought, as she gazed at her husband. He wasn't too bad a guy. Without him she couldn't have brought into the world two such amazing children as they had. He'd done his best, both as a husband and as a father. He was just such a nitwit at times. In a way, an admittedly small way, she was proud of him. Most of the time. When he wasn't being a nitwit. A new sound, a howl carried through the canopy of trees, began. The Dadness and the High Momma looked at each other. "Bad feeling, darling?" "Bad feeling, darling." "Do you think we could grab a cup of tea to go?" "Hmm. Not a bad idea, dear." The High Momma grabbed the boot of bush tea, "Lead the way, my dashing hero husband." The Dadness' chest puffed up again. "You just watch me dash!" And he took off at a sprint. Then turned around and ran the other way. Probably best not to run right into the direction of all the terrifying sounds. "Nitwit," the High Momma sighed, and followed him at a trot, sipping some of the tea from her dashing husband's boot. TO BE CONTINUED |
| Hi, This is a call for submissions for the 2nd issue of the unofficial Steampunk newsletter.
I humbly ask you to read the inaugural issue, and also have a squizz at this thread I made in the Boiler Room showcasing the members of WDC's thoughts on the newsletter. I have cut and pasted every review I have received, good and bad, bar the most recent ones. http://www.writing.com/main/forums/action/view/message_id/2990274/thread/1 (I don't know the WritingML code for forum threads, sorry.) Perhaps some of the readers thoughts will spark some ideas for Issue #2 content from you. |
| http://www.theage.com.au/world/us-election/us-fears-over-donald-trumps-connectio... US fears over Donald Trump's connections with Vladimir Putin's Russia FYI the Age is a serious and well-respected newspaper, not a rabble-rouser like the onion or other satirical online newspapers. It is Australia's Guardian. It sounds like parody, insinuating that Trump is a commie, but this is a serious investigation of Trumps international links and backers. |
Really not feeling the 30 Day Blogging Challenge this time around. Instead I've been doing a "campfire creative" style story with my youngest son (he is 7). We've done 6 chapters so far, he has his next chapter "styled and ready to go" for when he gets up tomorrow. Every chapter we have done is in a different font. All jokes in his chapters are his and his alone. He is also directing the story and has final say on my chapters. THE LOST FAMILY & THE ISLAND OF TERROR CHAPTER 1 ONCE upon a TIME THERE WAS TWO BOYS. Their NAMES WERE JEFF AND COOPER. THEY LOST their MUM AND DAD. THE YEAR AFTER THEY WENT ON A BUS. THE BUS CRASHED OVER THE EDGE INTO THE SEA. They FOUND an ISLAND. THEY HAVE BEEN ON THAT ISLAND FOR THREE YEARS. THEY WANT TO FIND their MUM AND DAD. TO BE CONTINUED CHAPTER 2 Once upon a time, there was a set of parents. Their names were The High Momma and The Dadness. They lost their children: two boy childs, Jeff and Cooper. The year after, they went on a shuttle bus. The shuttle bus crashed over the edge onto an island, the island sunk, and they floated to another island just near it. They have been on that island for three years. They miss their boy childs so much. Last night, The Dadness went for a walk and discovered a mountain range dividing their island in half. Tonight, the High Momma is packing their survival gear. Tomorrow, The Dadness and the High Momma are going to try and find a gap in the mountain range and explore the other side of the island. The High Momma thinks this other side of the island might be where she thought she heard the sounds of squealing children... TO BE CONTINUED... CHAPTER 3 jeff was trying to climb the mountain while cooper was swimming. they were bored. jeff wanted to climb the mountain. cooper can see something. he calls jeff. jeff comes as fast as he can with their scuba gear, but he slipped over and rolled down the rest of the mountain. cooper and jeff put on the scuba gear. jeff is a bit slower because he is all bruised now. "i think its an underwater city," says cooper who has started swimming. "is it really?", says jeff. "it is! it is!" "really?"asks jeff. "yes, it really is," cooper yells. "let's go and search it!" "okay sure, i'll go and search it with you." JEFF AND COOPER DUCK DIVE UNDER THE WATER... TO BE CONTINUED... chapter 4 The Dadness was sweating too much climbing the mountain range. The High Momma was sweating too much as well. She was sitting down, still at the campsite washing the dishes. "It's times like these, that I miss my two boy childs the most," High Momma said as she dropped her last remaining wine glass into her survival pack. Mopping her brow, the High Momma looked up at the distant figure of the Dadness climbing the enormous mountain range. She almost couldn't make him out past the jungle canopy. "I don't know why he makes things so hard for himself," She thought, and headed off toward the sloping track that wound it's way to the top of the mountain range. The track was only 10 metres away from where The Dadness had paused on his heroic, vertical climb. The High Momma thought she should make it to the top before lunch. A lovely morning for a beautiful and relaxing stroll. The Dadness swore as he stubbed his toe again on the sheer rock face and watched as clumps of rock went tumbling metres, and metre, and metres, and metres below shattering into ever more squashed pieces of dust. The Dadness gulped. What a terrible morning for a death-defying mountain climb. to be continued chapter 5 "Which house should we search first?" Cooper asked Jeff, using sign language because they had their scuba gear on. "That one?" "Okay." "They can breath in there," "Let's go in there too, okay?" "Hmm...What's that?" "What's what?" "The thing above us!" "I don't know, Jeff. I dont know everything!" TO BE CONTINUED chapter 6 The Dadness and the High Momma stood together, looking out over the beautiful vista. The view was much better on this other side of the island! The High Momma was refreshed and ready and raring. The Dadness was looking a little worse for wear. Truth be told, he looked like he was about to collapse from exhaustion. "Darling," High Momma cooed. "It looks like an awfully long way down, and we've had quite the day haven't we." "Yes dear," the Dadness looked adoringly at his wife and mother of his missing children. She always astounded him with her gentle and kind ways. "I think a piggy back might be in order." The Dadness swooned, what a lady, offering to give him a piggy back all the way down the mountain after his heroic death defying climb! The Dadness stumbled a bit under the weight of his gentle and kind wife on his back. "Oh," he moaned now he got it. The Dadness set off down the mountain range that divided the island in half, the High Momma perched precariously piggy-back style on his back. The High Momma smiled all the way down, enjoying the sunshine beating down on her shoulders, right up until the point where the Dadness slipped and fell all the way down the rest of the mountain side... TO BE CONTINUED CHAPTER 7 |
What is the best (or worst) non-medical advice you've ever received for an injury or an illness? I don't know. Get over it? Like pain has an off switch? I'm guilty of that too as a parent, but I have a twist that really, actually works for crying children who may or may not have legitmately and actually hurted themselves. "Lucky you're tough! I know it hurts, but you're a farm boy. Imagine how much more that would hurt a city kid!" Most of the time it stops them in their tracks. |
| War Chest Wednesday! From a previous challenger... Is there something wrong with always having to be right? IF it means discomfiting people: yes. IF it means disrespecting people: why, yes. IF it means hurting people's feelings: then yes. IF it means killing people: f*** yeah. |
| 2037 days ago I gave my wife the irrits so bad, and she was so upset, I made a list on my trusty writers pal ,my 3rd gen IPod touch. I then linked said list to an alarm linked to my gmail. No matter what device I'm using, as long as I'm logged into my gmail, the alarm goes off and the note pops up. I have it set for every two weeks cos, gawd, I'm a husband, not a saint. The list goes something like this: Things to keep Wifey McWifeface happy 1 put toilet paper on roll. 2 don't drink in front of kids. 3 no eBay. No Paypal. 4 Pack and unpack dish washer. 5 Don't spend so much time on computer. 6 Don't write or draw in front of her. 7 Don't write or draw with kids ALL day long. 8 Don't scare her. 9 Do middle child's smooth talking when you get home and at bed time. 10 Gardening and weeding. 11 Don't give her a headache. 12 Don't keep things in car port. 13 Keep outside areas presentable. 14 Get the ball rolling on her jobs. 15 Don't tickle her. 16 Make time for her to do compost and sheep bins. 17 Tidy benches for her. 18 Ask her for jobs to do every day instead of having Johny Thundersbeard time. 19 Don't get carried away with things you can't possibly do. 20 Mind your language, but not yours. 21 Don't make your own lists, just use hers. She hates it when I tidy the benches, as she likes to store her paperwork there. It makes me happy to stack it away where she can never find it. Pretty sure this annoys and irritates her. I surmise this from the volume of her voice when yelling at me. She's loud, bless her. She's loud, but I'll never hear her ;) ---
--- Johny Thundersbeard http://fingersofthunder.wordpress.com WDC Author of the Month May 2012 |
“No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride...and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well...maybe chalk it off to forced conscious expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten.” ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas Nah. I'm pretty passive. I float through the stream of life. Having said that, I have led a life. A life that has been full of hijacks and hijinx. I'm a little more responsible these days. Shoulda seen me two days ago at my work reunion.... Sheesh. |
| The Mundane News! This week, Microsoft said they won't be able to meet their goal of having 1 billion Windows 10 users . I use Windows 10 and it's fine for everything I do; others feel passionately different. What's your take? Is the operating system important, or do you not care as long as the device itself still works? If you use a computer a lot, then the operating system GUI becomes very important. The only person in real life I know that has ever mentioned the vagaries of Windows 8 or 10 to me is a graphic designer friend. I thought at the time, you take this stuff too seriously! Mobile phone OS is something that can be a lot more frustrating. I don't have a windows phone, I have an android phone. They are a bit cumbersome (the OS not the size) - I much prefer Iphone/Ipad OS, it's a seemless experience. The Android phones are a cheaper experience though. I would consider using a windows phone if I could run windows programs on it (not just apps, but full programs, especially older ones) |
| Creation Saturday! The comeback of your life begins with... Once upon a time, life threw Johny a curve ball. It hurt. It hurt so much, that Johny decided he had better damn well start wearing protection. So, even though they said they weren't in stock at the local sports store, Johny made them look in the back room, and there it was. There was a lot at stake. And Johny, well Johny threw himself a curve ball. He forgot his wallet. He still had his bus ticket, and he had change for the payphone. He could ring his Mom to bring his wallet, or he could catch the bus home and grab it himself. Either way he'd have to leave the store to go to the payphone or to go to the bus stop. And now that the store man knew he had it in stock, he was insisting he put it on display if Johny wasn't going to buy it right now. Johny was running out of time. Just when Johny couldn't stand it anymore; he was going to go outside and see which was closer , the payphone or the bus shelter, it started to rain. Johny remembered. The rain brought with it more then water washing away the grime on the side walk. It did more then replenish the community water tank in the community garden across the road. It cleansed Johny. It replenished him. "Will you take a rain check for that umbrella?" Johny would comeback if his life depended on it. Or his dignity, at least. ---
--- Johny Thundersbeard http://fingersofthunder.wordpress.com WDC Author of the Month May 2012 |
| Fun Fact Friday! On this day in 2006, the social networking service Twitter was publicly launched. Do you use Twitter? What are your thoughts on it? If you don't, tell us how you feel about social networking in 140 characters or less. I have a twitter account but I don't use it. I prefer instagram. A couple of times, I have tried to get into it. My non-WDC blog updates to my twitter, but that's about it. I had the bright idea a while back, that where Instagram was a visual snapshot, Twitter could be a writing snapshot. But I haven't really got into it. Much easier to draw a picture or post a photograph. I mainly use instagram to post illustrations I draw with my kids. My twitter is skythrbrn if anyone wants to watch me do nothing with my twitter ;) |
| DAY 1414 OF THE 30 DAY BLOGGING CHALLENGE Prompt The Wildcard Round! Today's winner, chosen from all eligible entries by Virtual Dice over the weekend, will receive a History Merit Badge! It is often said that history is written by the victorious. How true (or otherwise) do you believe this to be, and why? “The very ink with which all history is written is merely fluid prejudice.” Mark Twain Europeans came to Australia in 1788, they carried with them diseases, which decimated the immediate population of the tribes they came in contact with. Every boat that went down the harbour found them lying dead on the beaches and in the caverns of the rocks… They were generally found with the remains of a small fire on each side of them and some water left within their reach. Lieutenant Fowell, 1789 Really, it's terrible and unfortunate, but it was without evil intent. What happened next was without a doubt instituted with evil intent. I have myself heard a man, educated, and a large proprietor of sheep and cattle, maintain that there was no more harm in shooting a native, than in shooting a wild dog. I have heard it maintained by others that it is the course of Providence, that blacks should disappear before the white, and the sooner the process was carried out the better, for all parties. I fear such opinions prevail to a great extent. Very recently in the presence of two clergymen, a man of education narrated, as a good thing, that he had been one of a party who had pursued the blacks, in consequence of cattle being rushed by them, and that he was sure that they shot upwards of a hundred. When expostulated with, he maintained that there was nothing wrong in it, that it was preposterous to suppose they had souls. In this opinion he was joined by another educated person present. Bishop Polding, 1845 It is estimated that over 750,000 Aboriginal people (with 400 different nations) inhabited what eventually became Australia in 1788 ( After being called terra nullius (‘no one’s land’) as well as New Holland, amongst other names). Today, the Aboriginal people are said to make up about 1% of the population of Australia, so that would be about 200,000, according to the World Almanac and Book of Facts 2007. You might think, well, this is a similar story across the world. And you would be right. You might be thinking, well, that's history for you. It was a different time, and even good people thought differently. People should be excused, if not forgiven, for being who they were in these times. You'd be wrong. Things are about to get outrageous. Black Line, October—November 1830[edit] The Black Line consisted of 2200 men: about 550 soldiers—a little over half of the entire garrison in Van Diemen's Land—as well as 738 convict servants and 912 free settlers or civilians.[51] Arthur, who maintained overall control, placed Major Sholto Douglas of the 63rd Regiment in command of the forces.[52] Separated into three divisions and aided by Aboriginal guides, they formed a staggered front more than 300 km long that began pushing south and east across the Settled Districts from 7 October with the intention of forming a pincer movement to trap members of four of the nine Aboriginal nations in front of the line and drive them across the Forestier Peninsula to East Bay Neck and into the Tasman Peninsula, which Arthur had designated as an Aboriginal Reserve.[6] The campaign was beset by severe weather, rugged terrain, impenetrable scrub and vast swamps, inadequate maps and poor supply lines and although two of the divisions met in mid-October the hostile terrain soon resulted in the cordon being broken, leaving many wide gaps through which the Aboriginal people were able to slip. Many of the men, by then barefoot and their clothes tattered, deserted the line and returned home. The campaign's single success was a dawn ambush on 25 October in which two Aboriginal people were captured and two killed. The Black Line was disbanded on 26 November. Ryan estimates that barely 300 Aboriginal people were still alive on the entire island, including 200 within the region in which the Black Line was operating. Yet they launched at least 50 attacks on settlers—both in front of and behind the line—during the campaign, often plundering huts for food.[53] This was the end of the european colonists war on the local, original, inhabitants. A war that included four shepherds massascring 30 aboriginal men, women and children fishing on rocks, and the Governor of Tasmania offering rewards for the capture of Aboriginal people. Rewards that soon turned into bounties that were also paid when Aboriginal people were killed. It is often said that history is written by the victorious, that may be said in the short term, and that may be wishful thinking from proud generals. Thankfully, in the longer term, history usually has a way of righting itself. It just takes time. |
| DAY 1313 OF THE 30 DAY BLOGGING CHALLENGE War Chest Wednesday! A prompt from a previous challenger... You're with your significant other and a song comes on that reminds you of an ex. What do you do? FOR YOUR EARS ONLY I used to date Kylie Minogue*. Everytime I hear a song that reminds me of her, we dance! THIS IS NOT ME [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] THE EXTRA SAUCE Okay, I didn't date Kylie Minogue. I did date a girl who looked juuuust like her. So much so, that whenever I see Kylie Minogue I think of how she looked juuuuust like her. This same girl had a "thing" for a John Lee Hooker's version o Red House; so THAT song might actually make me uncomfortable if I heard it on a romantic night out, or an intimate encounter, with my significant other. Maybe it effects others the way it affected my ex, judging by the youtube uploaders choice of image for the video. Might have to play this song for my lovely wife after all. Thirteen years of marriage coming up soon, and all. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
| DAY 1212 OF THE 30 DAY BLOGGING CHALLENGE Prompt: Talk Tuesday! What bad habit (or habits, if you're feelin' feisty) do people have that make you wish you could inflict severe punishment upon them without incurring any punishment of your own? I can't stand hypocrites, and I can't stand disloyalty, and I can't stand unhealthy disrespect. You should all know what healthy respect is...and yes, it's healthy so it must be good. The problem is that none of these are habits. These are not your garden variety behaviours that, with a bit of concerted willpower and physical effort, can be changed. A rampant hypocrite doesn't have a problem with habits, they have an intrinsic defect in their personality. I had a habit once. I smoked cigarettes. I smoked a lot of cigarettes for 14 years. I often chose spending money on cigarettes rather then food. I often planned my life around when I could smoke cigarettes. I couldn't imagine my life without smoking those damn cigarettes. But, you know what? I broke that habit and replaced it with another habit. Not smoking. That's right, the key to my giving up smoking (I haven't smoked for just over 10 years now, not a single puff) is to make NOT smoking your habit. But, yes, that's not answering the question either. Habits that others have that irritate me? I'm not sure there are any that don't for the most part fall into the realm of "intrinsic defect in someones personality". Even if someone has a habit, and they are inconsiderate to others with that habit (like smoking in a group of non-smokers), well, that's not the habits fault really. That's the inconsiderate nature of it's host. And being a selfish git with no self-awareness or empathy with others, once again, is not a habit but a intrinsic defect in their personality (am I making that a phrase a habit!?) Sooo....sorry. Nope. No habits make me feel like that. People, themselves, however .... MY RESISTANCE FAILS [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] We all have what are considered bad habits. Some would say Writers Block or Writers Brick (procrastination) are bad habits. The lyrics in this song are great, and this is a great performance by Billy Fields on Australia's own national treasure music show, Countdown. It's from the early 80s. Without being specific, he captures the whimiscal nature of a lot of habits, bad or good. But, lo, it's not only people who suffer from bad habits. It's bureacracies. They have a bad habit of treating people like scratches on a piece of paper or digits on a screen. This classic song by Australian band Red Gum captures this bad habit of governments sending real people out to die. Released in 1983, it is, of course, about the Vietnam War. Still a powerful and poignant message. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
| DAY 1111 OF THE 30 DAY BLOGGING CHALLENGE Prompt: Motivation Monday! Author E.B. White , who was born on this day back in 1899, once said, "I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve (or save) the world and a desire to enjoy (or savor) the world. This makes it hard to plan the day." What's your take on this? If given the choice between only being able to do one, would you rather save the world or savor it? Save the world or Savor the world? Why can't you do both? That's what everyone really does, whether they are a little hero or a big hero. They save the world so they can savor it. It's your definition of world that becomes subjective. In my case, I am definitely doing both. I worked for an Evil Media Tyrant for 22 years. One that, admittedly, enabled me to savor the world I lived in even as I performed the little things that made life on this earth good (nice to people, recycled my trash, donated time and money to charity). Now, I've been given a second chance at life, I only have one motivation/ambition. I want to work for a good cause. I'm expanding my skills (savoring my place in the world) and I'm setting out to save the world, not as a super hero (a leader or instigator) but as a sidekick (a follower or activator). SAVE AND SAVOUR BY BEING SILLY [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Here's an example of savoring (enjoying humour) and saving (healing the hurt) |
| DAY 1010 OF THE 30 DAY BLOGGING CHALLENGE Prompt: The Sunday News! It's been a rough week here in the US, and a rough month in Europe...instead of the typical Sunday prompt where I come up with a newsworthy item to discuss, I think now's the right time to focus on some good news. Do a little bit of lookin' around, and share with us something positive happening. The "The Steampunk Authors' Guild " is under new management, it seems. Not me, it's Beck Firing back up!  ! This is good news, as Steampunk is flipping awesome, I say! And it is sadly under-represented on WDC. I just got my nifty Steam Punk Merit Badge today for donating to the "The Steampunk Authors' Guild " as a gift for the inauguration. You could get one too. The other good news is that the good captain Beck Firing back up! is keen as mustard on another issue of "Invalid Item" Which, as editor-in-cahoots, means I'm looking for content! Letters From The Editor Have an opinion on what you've read here today? Then send the Editor feedback! Find an item that you think would be perfect for showcasing here? Submit it for consideration in the newsletter! Have some advice on writing Steam Punk stories? Want to profile a Boiler Room member? Found a great new Steam Punk book? Know something of technical aspects of steam technology in alternate settings? The Clockwork Crier is your vehicle! This is a call to arms! Submit your Steam Punk thoughts today! Not only that, but if you delve into the first issue you will see that there are still some story writing opportunities available complete with glory, gift points, and Group Recognition (merit badges) Bon Voyage! |
| Day 991 of the 30 Day Bloggin Challenge Prompt: Creation Saturday! Have you ever had to reinvent yourself personally, professionally, or otherwise? How did you go about it? Why yes. Yes I have. It's now been one year since I was made redundant from a job I loved and that I performed for 22 years. I'm currently retraining from 1 trade to another trade. It's takin me to strange places, and I'm finding myself in strange places doing volunteer engineering work for charities, sporting organisations for the disabled, and hospitals. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I laugh. I'm not finished with either yet. HERE IS MY PROCESS... Take 1 human, Add a dose of reality. Compound with bullshit . Stir until shaken to your roots, Deposit on floor, Stomp. Stomp again. Pause. Tip toe. Dance. Pause. Kneel down. Cry. Pick up the crumbs. With a knife, smeared with honey. Spread on a piece of plain white bread. Sprinkle wishes, thoughts, ideas. suggestions. Hundreds and thousands. Take a photo. Put it on instaspam. Smile, you're on display To the world Whether they're hungry for you or not. BE THE REVAMP CHAMP In the spirit of Reinvention, I was recently told, in a review of this blog, that I need a revamp to pretty it up. In particular I need an image to set the tone in the introduction. So, fire away! Link to some images you think capture the spirit of this blog, or just describe your vision. If I use your Reinvention idea I will award you a merit badge. |
| Day 888 of the 30 day Blogging Challenge Prompt: Fun Fact Friday! On this day in 1969, the United States Patent Office issued a patent for the game Twister . Do you and/or your family still play traditional board games? Is there a favorite in your group? In this day and age of computers and screens, it can be a tough gig to get a child to sit at a table and be alert for over ten minutes. Most board games run for an hour or two. You'd be hard pressed to see some of the children I know with the patience for a game of Go Fish. Not in our household though. When I was growing up our household had all the board game staples. Monopoly, scrabble, boggle and yahtzee. As we matured my brother, my cousins, and even my mum got into roleplaying games like dungeons and dragons and super squadron in a big way. My brother was born a rule nazi {perfect game moderator) and I was born a rebel (perfect for thinking outside the box). My love for and involvement with games has shaped my life and formed my friendships. Fast forward to the childhood memories that are being formed by my own children. We have our fair share of devices, which we limit access to. But we also have open shelving with our collection of boardgames at the ready. My kids and I regularly make up our own board games with just a set of dice , some scraps of paper for movement tiles, and their toys as board pieces. My life would be poorer without board games, tabletop games , and role playing games. In fact in an hour, I am going to a mate of a mate's house to play an assortment of advanced tabletop games like Zombicide, Xwing, etc with miniatures. I don't even really know these guys (except for my mate, who is arriving later in the day), but that's okay, we all have a love of games in common. ---
--- Johny Thundersbeard http://fingersofthunder.wordpress.com WDC Author of the Month May 2012 |
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