Sunday 25 December 2016

Alternative Christmas Message 2016



Aurora Borealis, Northern Lights, Sky, Night, Landscape


I'm going to be blunt.  2016 was a shite year.  We all know it.  Rickman died, Bowie went back to outer space, Trump is going to be president, Brangelina is over.

*Sigh*

What a time to be alive.

I don't know about you but I'll be happy of we don't get whipped out via nuclear holocaust in '17.  2014 may have been bad, but 2016 certainly gave it a run for its money.

The Christmas season is a time of hope and reflection... as so I'm told.  There hasn't been much good going on in the world this month, much less this year.  What with church pastors running into malls to tell children there's no such thing as Santa Claus, Muslims and Syrian refugees being made scapegoats for your country's problems, the war and devastation in Syria, and the U.S. electing a bigot and his  army of barbarous henchmen, it's hard to look up and say: "What the fuck is going on here?"  The argument I here from those who are okay with this stuff is usually  along the lines of "we're fighting the war on Christmas", "But those Syrians aren't going to follow Canadian ideals and we should protect our own", "It's over there so it's not my problem", or "we had to pick Trump because we were desperate."

When did we stop caring?  When did we as a society wake up and say: "You know what? I think I want to stop loving and stop caring"?  When did giving a damn become something's bad became a crime deserving of being labled SJW (Social Justice Warrior).

And this petty war on Christmas?  There is no war on Christmas!  Christians in parts of the world getting their head cut off for their faith and you're crying over Happy Holidays and a stupid coffee cup.  I suggest straightening your priorities before crying wolf next time.  Grow the hell up.  Need I point out that this Christian celebration was placed at the end of a Roman holiday and draws influences from Celtic and Norse cultures.

In times like these, we need to look out for one another, be a splash of light and colour in the black.  Think of the Northern lights.  In the empty abyss of night, even in places where stars are but a murmuring rumour, the Aurora Borealis dance and illuminate the black like magic.  Scratch that.  It is magic!  It stands out showing beauty and hope in a moment when you think nothing will get through.

This year we've had to say good-bye to quite a few people who have had an impact on our lives.  David Bowie, who made magic dance, fought against being under pressure, and taught us all about the starman waiting in the sky, left us early this year.  Whether you remember him for his music, acting or just for the film Labyrinth, Bowie will always have a special place in our hearts.  Not long after Bowie, Alan Rickman, Severus Snape, an actor whose claim to fame was first for Die Hard and later Harry Potter, left us as well.  While those films will stand out, Rickman has also graced films like Something the Lord Made, Love Actually, and Alice in Wonderland.  Finally, we also said so long to Gene Wilder - Dr. Frankenstein ("That's Fronkenstein!"), Willy Wonka, and the Wako Kid. Wilder will always be remembered for his for his comedic timing and ability to add a touch of weirdness that not even Johnny Depp could emulate.  For that Mr. Wilde, I hope you enjoy riding of into the sunset to nowhere in particular.

In closing of this message I just want to wish you and your families the best of the Christmas season and hope 2017 will be a better one.  Remember to love one another because we're all in this together.

Christmas, Child, Pinheiro, Christmas Tree, Parties

Friday 9 December 2016

A visit from Garbage Bag Santa


WARNING!  The following deals with mature subject matter immaturely.  If you get offended, it's your fault for reading it.

Garbage Santa on his debaucherous ride.
Illustration by Amanda Gallagher
‘Twas the night before the night before the night before the night before Christmas and all
through the dorms
The students were drinking, playin’ Xbox or watching porn.
Their laundry was strung across the floor
            In hopes that mom would wash ‘em when they visited her for a weekend or more.

Some were all nestled and sloshed in their beds,
            From binging and partying after exams.
I was a sleep, a girl by my side,
            Sleeping after one crazy ride.

When out on street, there came a loud beat,
            I fell out of bed to take a peak.
Out to the window, it slid with a bang,
            I even ripped down my communist flag!

The street lamp glowed yellow on the dirty snow
            And illuminated the highway and the landscape below.
Then, what should came to my attention,
            But an ugly toboggan pulled by eight tiny penguin!

With a funky old bum so smelly and slick
            I knew for a moment it WASN’T Saint Nick!
Edging and swaying they waddled and came
            As he shouted and slured each ugly bird’s name.

“Now Bastard! now Leroy! now, Mofo and Dumb Ass!
            On Vomit! on Stupid! on Shitard and Pissin’!
To the topf of the- orf- to the topf of the- blurp
            Nah dath awah! dath awah! dath awah all!”

The birds looked back and yelled at full blast,
            “Do it yourself! You stupid drunk ass!”
Stopped there they did and slid to a halt,
            With trashy Santa landing face first in rock salt!

And cursing and staggering, I heard him climb up the waterspout.
            He seemed like a spider that should be washed out.
So, up to an open window I heard him go in,
            Ready to commit some sort of nasty sin.

He was dressed with a blanket, from shoulder to knee,
            And smelt like booze and possibly weed.
An empty trash bag he held in his hand,
            He looked like a peddo, ready to make his stand!

His eyes looked dead, his face how scary!
            His cheeks were definitely like roses, but his nose more a rotted cherry.
The drool from his mouth dripped down below,
            While a Walmart bag hung from his ears to his throat.

The butt of a cig was stuck in his teeth,
            and a flask in his pocket to provide him some relief.
He was sinister in face and no sign of a belly,
            But that didn’t matter since he was so smelly!

He was lanky and drunk, a hideous troll,
            Who was clearly not there for a nightly stroll!
A glare in his eye, and the grin on his head,
            soon told me I had everything to dread.

With a swig from his flask, he went to his terrible work.
            He stole all our stuff!  The awful jerk!
And stick his middle finger high in the air,
            He made a jump for the window, wanting to avoid the stairs.

He thudded in his mobile, and yelled out a curse,
            And off the birds went, even cutting off a hearse.
I heard him slur as we end this rhyme:
            “To the bar boyth! I’m payin’ thith time!”

Wednesday 23 November 2016

Adulting Never felt so Weird: A Review of Sara Andersen’s Adulthood is a Myth

                This month I had my 25th birthday (yeah, just put all the cards and presents in the corner over there).  On this milestone, I look at all my friends and I see some of them getting their own places, having kids, getting married, etc. while I’m still mulling by.  It’s stuff like that makes me begin to wonder what this whole adulthood thing is about.  Am I even adulating the way I ought to be?  Are there certain benchmarks I’m supposed to be reaching by now?  Boomers and X-er’s constantly tell us how “Back in my day, when I was your age, I had a job, a house, and [insert thing here].”  Now I’m not trying to go into start an argument over which generation is more horrible (you guys know how to do that on your own), I just find myself asking more of those questions when I hear that sort of thing.  

The awkward and lovable Sarah
Over last year and this year, I’ve become a fan of the webcomic series Sara’s Scribbles by artist Sarah Andersen.  These delightful comics follow the day-to-day life of the character Sarah, as she deals with entering the new world of adulthood.  These escapades range from love, socializing with people (ugh), and the trials that adulthood and life likes to throw at you.  With her boyfriend or pet bunny by her side, Sara faces the world head on, with an air of anxiety and melodrama.  Recently, Andersen has published a selection of her comics into a book entitled Adulthood is a Myth.

The greatest strength that Andersen’s comics have is their relatability between the work and the audience.  Many of these comics deal with things that you and I face in some form or another.  I’ve always had some connection to the book oriented comics that Andersen draws periodically, these include the love of smelling books and prioritising my money to buy them. 
I find a connection with these examples because I have a love – teetering on obsession at times – for books.  Going even further, Sarah’s interactions with the world around her shows how much of a joke the concept of adulthood is just by the fact that she is still childish in her reactions to certain situations, a thing we all can relate with.

I should say that Andersen is not a voice of her generation even if her generation can relate to Sarah’s Scribbles the most.  I think that any generation – whether they be a Boomer, X-er, or Millennial – can simply relate to Andersen’s work because these are comics that anyone can relate.

In closing, I highly recommend Sarah Andersen’s webcomic series and even her book Adulthood is a Myth.  The character Sarah is someone we can see and think to ourselves “That’s totally me!” and good laugh out of our follies.  At the same time, it softens the idea that adulthood is this black monster that need you to give up on what makes you… you… by saying “hey, don’t worry, adulthood is a myth so have some fun and enjoy yourself!”  For that, Sarah Andersen – if you are reading this – I thank you for that up lifting message.
If you want to check out more:



Illustrative Work: http://www.sarahandersenart.com/

**All art used in this post are the property of Sarah Andersen and her respected associates.**

Bibliography
"Robot Check." Robot Check. Accessed November 23, 2016. https://www.amazon.ca/Adulthood-Myth-Sarahs-Scribbles-Collection/dp/1449474195.

"Sarah's Scribbles." Sarah's Scribbles. Accessed November 23, 2016. http://sarahcandersen.com/.

Andersen, Sarah. Adulthood is a Myth. Kansas City: Andrews McMeel Publishing. 2016.

Andersen, Sarah. "Sarah's Scribbles." Pinterest. Accessed November 23, 2016. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/401735229239719070/

Sunday 6 November 2016

Into the Fairy Lands: Chapter 5

Into the Fairy Lands
By J. R. Bennett
<Chapter IV ~*~ Chapter VI>

Chapter V
Bathill, Parliament, and the temptation of Bug-a-boo
~*~
Not long after Kina had left the house, Ed set straight to work preparing for Bathill.  That afternoon, he and the others travelled to the booking office at the railway station in the Older District reserving tickets for the train to Bathill and stopped off at Cheswick’s to collect some formal wear for their trip.  Little Dill insisted on going, he had even went as far as showing up at Ed’s  house with a small chest, packed with clothes the night before they were to leave.  Ed nearly said yes but Kina intervened, stating he had an important mission for the small toy.

That morning, Ed, Zach, Alice and Travis stood at the platform waiting for the train.  George and Emma had joined them at the station to see the group off.  Emma had given each person a small package of snacks for the journey.
            After a few minutes, a perky, little, tank engine shunted the coaches before the platform, each one purple and cream with the words “Imperial Rail” layered upon each carriage’s side.  When the tank had left, a large and majestic steam locomotive with the name “Behemoth” stamped on her tender backed down onto the train.
            “This is the point where things go from familiar to strange,” commented Ed as a faun dressed as a guard walked out of one of the carriages.  “Newtown is about as our world as it gets but in Bathill, you’ll think you’ve entered a modern day version of Lord of the Rings.”
            Soon more people began to appear on the platform and fill the coaches.  Ed, Alice, Zach, Travis were led to their booked compartment in the rear coach.  After what felt like hours, the faun-guard blew its whistle and the train pulled out of the station, white smoke escaping from its sides and black and grey pouring from its funnel.

The engine moved across the countryside at high speed.  Horses galloped at their best to keep up but soon lost their race as the engine crossed the Tashford[1] River and entering the township of New Vin.  There Behemoth was uncoupled from her burden and a fresh engine, named Eagle, was coupled to the train.
            “Eagle never enters Newtown,” Ed explained in a matter-of-fact way.  “She’s owned by Imperial Rail while Behemoth is owned by the Newtown, Electon and Prong Railway.  To save people from having to jump from one train to another, Behemoth provides a service of bringing the train to Newtown, which is outside of Imperial Rails’ main line.”
            No one seemed to be listening.  They were mesmerised by the elegance, beauty, and the strange yet familiar-ness of the scenery.  This sense of wonder was especially seen in Bridgington[2], a large city built upon a series of bridges.  The train journeyed along the streets and mingled with the crowds of people as it travelled at a slow speed.  Passengers wishing to get off or on to the train would open the doors of their coach and merely step out.  Ed explained that a station was never established in Bridgington so it seemed logical to allow people to walk in and out of the train as the engine moved at a slow pace.  After Bridgington, the engine made its way at full speed for Bathill, the capital, as Ed explained, of the Deltic Empire.

The engine entered St. Oliver’s Station; elegant stone pillars and stain glass windows that decorated the buildings greeted everyone.  At the main doors of the station, Ed flagged a taxi to bring them to their hotel, a mammoth structure known as the Empress Hotel.
            After checking in and finding their room, a large dwelling with several privet rooms and a large bathroom, everyone took to their own vices.  While Alice took the bathroom hostage, Ed, Travis and Zach sat in the lounge room.  The three men sat drinking a concoction called Ja’goo[3] juice, a pinkish liquid that tasted similar to black tea but with a strong flavour of vanilla and mint.
            “Now what?” Zach asked.
            “We relax.”  Ed answered.  “Tomorrow will be a big ‘un.  We have to make our rounds about Parliament and meet with Guthrie Bloom.”
            “Guthrie Bloom?” piped Travis.
            “He’s an odd fellow,” Ed explained as he drew a cigar from the complimentary box nearby.  “He’s the MP for the Newtown, Electon and New Vin riding.  Without him, we wouldn’t have the support of the Working Class Party or the Unionists.[4]  We’ll have to meet with him to get a lay of the field before the house meeting.  Her Majesty, Queen Clair II will be attending this meeting.  It’ll be her first with both halls together.”[5]
            They did very little for the rest of the night.  There was a short game of cards and then they went to bed, knowing that the next morning would be busy.

The next morning everyone woke early.  As they were going to Parliament, they had to dress in fine attire, the men in suits and Alice in a dress.  Once they were ready, Ed sent a request to the front desk for a taxi and the group crowded in for Parliament.
            The long drive was an entertaining one.  People and animals walked up and down in various forms of fashion and buildings ranged from various time periods.  The taxi halted before an elaborately decorated iron gate with the words Deltus Imperium.  Ed, Zach, Alice and Travis left the taxi and followed the cobble stone path into a vast roof that was supported by a series of columns.
            “This is Issacon’s hall.”  explained Ed.  “We just have to follow this to the very end and we will be at the offices.”
            The group followed this route to the centre, where it branched out left and right forming a large square with large stone buildings on each side.  They weren’t the only ones there though.  People, animals, elves, dwarves and other mystic figures walked about, some standing and talking to each other, some running to one of the three buildings.  In the middle of the square courtyard was a massive stone figure holding a stone scroll, a plaque underneath read:

WILLIAM ISSACON (1857-1936) [6]
SAVOUR OF THE EMPIRE

            Ed stopped to ask a lion the direction to Guthrie Bloom’s office, once given the answer needed the made their way into one of the buildings.  All the buildings were similar; the halls were decorated with multiple paintings, mostly of former monarchs and scenes from the empire’s history.  Each door was a dark brown with the occupant’s name printed in gold on a black card that was nailed upon it.
            The group walked through the halls until they came across a sign that read:
Guthrie L. Bloom
Working Class Party
Party Leader
            Ed knocked on the door until there was a gruff call of “enter.”
            The room was nicely furnished.  At one end was a writing desk with a large bookshelf behind it.  On the other end was a set of comfortable chairs with a coffee table in the middle.  Behind the desk sat a man looking to be in his forties, but must have been much older, in a suit with a pair of glasses sitting at the end of his nose.  This man was Guthrie Bloom.
            Bloom glared up from behind his glasses.  “Good to see you Mr. Worsley,” the politician said as he stood up to shake hands.
            After the introductions were made, the group sat around the coffee table and Bloom got right to business.
            “A well written report,” Bloom said.  “You have the support of the Working Class Party and the Liberals and the Unionists.  The Conservatives haven’t said anything yet and the Methodists are out right against the report.”
            “I was never expecting the Methodists to support us.” Ed replied.
            “They’ve always been a tough nut to crack.  Anywa’ have you a minister and lord yet?  You know the Methodists and Conservatives will want you to stick to the rules of the Beckett Act.”[7]
            Zach, Travis and Alice looked puzzled.
            “Oh yes.” Ed replied, he then pointed with his thumb toward the trio.
            “Them?”
            “Oh yes,” explained Ed.  “Tell me Guthrie, have you ever heard of Sealand?”
            “Sealand?”
            “It’s a small principality from my world.”
            Guthrie tried to play along.  The old politician’s world was very aware of other realms, and he knew that Ed was not from this one.  With a brief moment to moisten his lips and a pause to figure out how to word his sentence, the old politician asked: “Which one is which?”
            “Travis is an MP for one of their constituencies and Zach, well he happens to be a lord.”
            Travis and Zach looked flabbergasted.
            “I would like to further this discussion,” went on Bloom as he checked his wristwatch, “but I have a cabinet meeting to attend.”
            As the quartet left the office, Bloom turned to Travis and Zach:   “It was an honour to meet the two of you, sir” – Bloom then tuned to Zach and gave a curt bow – “and your lordship.”

 “Lord?” cried Zach.  It was all he could say the rest of the day.  Travis was, on the other hand, used to being strung up in Ed’s schemes and false identity seemed like a new field of expertise.
            “It’ll work, I think.” Ed said trying to sound reassuring.  They had returned to the hotel after a day of meetings with prominent members of government and members of the order.
            “I think he’s worried about being caught,” commented Alice from behind a newspaper.
            “You won’t,” Ed promised. “This is only a formality; the government doesn’t have the legal right to give you three a background check. I could say you were the king of Bristol-burg or Chester-stan-stan for all I wanted.”
            Zach was still unsure.  As tempting as it would be to pretend to be a lord, the repercussions could be dire.  “What am I required to do?” he asked.
            “Nothing, I’ll be doing all the talking.  You two only give me legitimacy in the house.  There is one thing the Connies and the Methos like, and that is legitimacy.”[8]
            Before Zach could say more, Ed left the room; he had been called to the front desk for a meeting with a visitor at the front lobby.
            As the three were left alone, a certain voice called out: “He can be a right ass sometimes, you know.”
            Everyone looked up.  It was Bug-a-boo.  The old wizard stepped out of the fireplace with a red carpet bag.
            “I know I was defending him last time, but I absolutely hate it when he gets all cocky.”
            “What you doing here?” cried Alice.
            “Getting you lot out of here before it is too late,” the wizard replied.  “Ed has no right getting you three entangled within otherworldly politics.”
            “But Ed’s already counting on us,” protested Alice.
            “He’ll have to deal with it on his own.”  Bug-a-boo snapped.  “It isn’t right for you three to be brought into this.”
            “I’m not going,” shot Zach.
            “Neither am I,” put in Travis.
            “And why ever not?”  asked Bug-a-boo, curiously.
            “We’ve made a commitment.” Zach argued.  “We can’t just leave Ed like this.”
            “You three have no right to be pulled into this situation.” Bug-a-boo argued. “It would be far better to get you three out before it’s too late.”
            “Are you deaf?” Zach fired back, growing annoyed. “We said we aren’t leaving. Now, go take your rat bag and parlour tricks back to wherever it is you come from.”
            Bug-a-boo did not like hearing this.  The long pipe between the wizard’s teeth began to spew red and black smoke an in a deep hard-to-contain voice, he replied: “Two things boy” – glaring at Zach as he said this.  “First, you seemed pretty unhappy about coming here at the start; I was just trying to help you out.  Second, never – and I mean never – cross a wizard, we have a tendency of being… unforgiving.”
            Before anyone else could say anything, the smoke from Bug-a-boo’s pipe began to consume him like before and then he was gone.  As Bug-a-boo faded out, Ed came into the room.
            “I was just speaking to a dignitary from Parliament.” Ed explained.  “We are present first at the afternoon session tomorrow.”  After saying what he need to say, Ed left to his room.
            The three looked at each other.  They couldn’t put their finger on it but Ed seemed a little upset as he left.




[1]Pronounced: T/ash/ford
[2]Pronounced: Bridge/ing/ton
[3]  Pronounced: J/ah/gō
[4]  Author’s note:  The Deltic Empire’s government is a constitutional monarchy made up of several political parties – the Methodist Party, Working Class Party, Liberal Party, Unionist and Conservative.  These parties exist in both halls of parliament (See below footnote on information on the “halls”).
[5]Author’s Note: The Parliament of the Deltic Empire is divided into two parts or “halls”: the hall of elected officials, the “Hall of Commons,” and the hall of permanent members, the “Hall of Honours.”
[6]Author’s note: Sir William Issacon (b. 1857- d.1936) was the first king that was not from the royal lineage of the Gore family.  Served as Prime Minister before the Rights of Monarchs Act was passed ending the Gore family’s rule, who returned to power in 2010 when the act was reformed.  Queen Clair is the first Gore family member to ascend to the throne after the reform.
[7]Author’s Note: The Beckett Act is a law outlining the regulations for report presentations in the Deltic Parliament.  In s.91, all presenters must have the support of one Member of Parliament (MP) and one Lord or Honorable Member (HM).  If the presenter is from outside of the Deltic Empire, they must have the political equivalents from their home country.
[8]Author’s note: Other names for the Conservatives (Connies) and the Methodists (Methos).

Monday 24 October 2016

Thoughts of Revolution


Since my teenage years, one of my favourite Canadian artists is David Usher.  It one of my past articles, I talked about his album Wake Up and Say Goodbye and its connection to my teenage years.  This entry I want to talk about an article by Usher’s song “Love Will Save the Day” from his 2005 CD If God Had Curves. There are so many reasons why I like this song, from its lyrical imagery, to the music video that was produced for it.
                “Love Will Save the Day” lyrics creates an image of someone avoiding some form of accountability.  The first stanza of the song states:
The pornography made me do it so those drugs that got us high was the thoughts of revolution they've been poisoning my mind so I’m walking down to the water you keep coming up for air all those people, they don't give a damn they just stood around and stare[1]
Here the narrator argues that it was their use of porn and drugs that made them do some unknown act.  The narrator continues to discuss how they went down to water and saw someone they knew struggling while everyone else nearby apathetically watch.  It is a description reminiscent of life; people are not willing to own up to what they have done while others are only too willing to watch their fellow man struggle and do nothing to help.
                The third stanza continues this imagery by switching to the topic of religion and atheism with
Come on sell me more of your religion 'cause it's sure to make a change Last night god was on the tv screen taking dollars for their pain Come on talk about that evolution it's been poisoning my mind I’ve been looking for a saviour
Yeah I’ve been waiting for a sign[2]
In dealing with the topic, Usher’s narrator seems to take both religion and evolution negatively.  Religion is seen as only a front to make money from others pain while evolution is seen as poison as the narrator is waiting for some sign from a greater power.  These two parts contradict each other as the narrator is unwilling to accept religion but is still wanting to hold out for a saving entity.  It can also be seen as an image for humanism as the narrator is taking a position that both supports and condemns both sides.
                The music video created for the song ties everything together.  In the video, Usher and random people that from the streets of Toronto, Ontario, singing parts of the song.  This plays into the song’s message of love being the ultimate hero of the world by showing people from different walks of life and showing that it will be humanity’s love that will win the day.



Bibliography:
"David Usher ::: Love Will Save the Day ::: Benjamin Nussbaum ::: Picrow." David Usher ::: Love Will Save the Day ::: Benjamin Nussbaum ::: Picrow. Accessed October 13, 2016. http://picrow.com/showcase/spot/Editor/Benjamin-Nussbaum/love-will-save-the-day.

Usher, David. "David Usher - Love Will Save The Day Lyrics | SongMeanings." Accessed October 23, 2016. http://songmeanings.com/songs/view/3530822107858537747/.

"If God Had Curves." Wikipedia. Accessed October 13, 2016. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/If_God_Had_Curves.



[1] David Usher, "David Usher - Love Will Save The Day Lyrics | SongMeanings,", accessed October 23, 2016, http://songmeanings.com/songs/view/3530822107858537747/, stanza 1.
[2] Ibid., stanza 3.

Tuesday 4 October 2016

Into the Fairy Lands: Chapter 4

Into The Fairy Lands
By J. R. Bennett

<Chapter III ~*~ Chapter V>


Chapter IV
Reports from Apothem
~*~
It was the early morning.  Ed sat at his writing desk studying several reports about a city in the Fineylands[1] called Apothem.  The reports from inside the city read of a mysterious purple cloud rolling into the area and looming over it for several days before finally descending upon Apothem.  The second set came from one of the traveling outposts of the Order of the Four Keepers.  They claimed that after the cloud ascended from Apothem that the entire population had vanished without a trace.
            The purple cloud seemed oddly familiar.  Ed needed to consult his book of Deltic Myths but there was one problem: The shelf that the book rested on loomed over Zach, who was asleep on the futon.
            Ed looked about him.  Conveniently nearby was a wooden ladder that Ed had brought in to replace the current one for the attic.  Silently, Ed leaned it against the shelf and began to climb.  As Ed went up, the shelf groaned from the weight of the ladder and him.  Nervously, Ed reached for the book, inching cautiously.
            That’s when it happened.  As soon as the book was in Ed’s hands, down went the shelf, with Ed and the book, right on top of Zach and the bed.
            I wish I could say it was a pleasant moment, but the fact that a penknife nearly stabbed Zach in the shoulder, and the fact that Zach chased Ed out of the room with it would only prove that I was lying.  Ed merely went into the kitchen to read his book while waiting for everyone else to wake up.

The morning routine was the same as before, except this time everyone had new clothes to wear from the trip to the tailors.  Ed sported a dark three piece with a wing collar and a silver tie while Travis and Zach wore polo shirts and Alice was in a blue dress.
            The Kina’s house red brick building near the Old District.  Ed led the crew to the front door where a young woman in what looked like her good dress greeted them.
            “Morning Katherine!” Ed called.  “Is Dr. Kina in?”
            “He’s in his office,” was the cheery reply.
            Ed went a head up stairs leaving the others to be entertained by Katherine Kina.
            Mr. Kina was ancient looking with a bushy beard that looked overdue for shaving.  Dressed in a blue cardigan, he sat at his desk studying copies of the same reports that were sent to Ed.
            “I trust you read the reports,” he said, getting right to business.
            “I did.”
            Kina opened a drawer and produced a reel of black tape.  “This is a recording from one of the Order’s outposts in Apothem.  It starts just as the cloud is spotted over the city and goes until the cloud lands.”  Kina then put the tape on a player with a hand crank.  As soon as the handle was turned, this is what they heard:

Speaker:  This is Thaddeus Gallows of the Order of the Four Keepers.  Right now, there is a plume of purple smoke or something coming this way.  No one knows what it is or if it’s from a chemical accident or something.  It seems to be coming down now.
     It’s real thick.  OH! What’s that!?
Unknown Voice:  Manookoo[2].

            Ed looked pale.  The voice at the end sounded horse, angry, and lustful, all in one word.  The work Manookoo seemed odd, familiar almost.  He scribbled the name down on a piece of paper.
            “In a week’s time,” explained Kina, “The order will be presenting its findings before Parliament when they meet in a week’s time.   Our sources are tracking the cloud and its heading here.  The Gallan-Gallet will not be able to fight back unless we can be prepared.  Ed, I want you to prepare a report and present it before Parliament.”
            “In a week?” asked Ed with some hesitation.
            “Yes.  Time is of the essence and our Mr. Bloom ensures her majesty would eagerly agree with our proposal if we presented the matter.”
            “I’ll have to look into it some more first.  That Manookoo bit seemed familiar.”
            “I would recommend seeing George about it.”  Kina said, getting the final word.  “He’s more educated in old languages and myth, I’m sure Manookoo is from the Zeltic[3] myths.”
            After this, Ed left.  He oddly quiet as he drove out to George’s house.  The others thought he was acting queer.  Every now and again, he would begin muttering to himself.  It was unnerving.

The car rolled to a halt in front of some familiar town houses.  George’s wife, Emma McTrotter, was in her gardening cloths and tending to the flowerbed while George was working on an old car on the driveway.
            “Hullo,” called George from the car.
            Emma went down to meet the crew.  Ed went up to the car and asked George what he knew about Manookoo.
            “Sounds Zeltic,” was the reply.  George then went into the house to find a book that he thought would help.
            “This” – George explained as he handed the book over – “should be of some help.  However, to my knowledge Manookoo was the name of a cult in Zeltic myth.  They pop up all the time in the Lomassmay[4] epics.”
            Ed thanked George and left with the others.

Once at home, Ed shut himself in his office, forgetting that his friends were there, setting straight to work examining books and writing his report for the order.   He was in his office until Zach stormed in with lost patience.
            “I’ve had it!”  Zach snapped.
            “Had what?”  Ed asked, ignorant of what was going on.
            “I just had it.  I’ve had enough of your arrogant attitude.  It seems as if ever since you brought us here, you’ve been showing off, and I’m sick of it!”
            “I brought you guys here to show you a good time.  I wanted to show you that I am alive and well and that everything would be fine.  If you have an issue with my generosity –”
            “Generosity?  You just brought us here to show off and then leave us.  It’s just typical of you.  You show up and then then go off on your own adventure, ignoring everyone else in the proses.”
            Ed looked gravely at Zach, his reading glasses perched toward the end of his nose.  “Look,” he said finally.  “I’m not trying to show off.  I was never expecting to have this work thrown upon me.  The only up side to this is that I can take you to Bathill[5] in the end.  Zach, what am I supposed to do?  I want you guys here but I have my duty to the order and the empire to uphold.”
            “Then ask us to help.” Zach shot back.  “You would have better luck.”
            Ed had to agree to this.  It wasn’t long until all four were scattered in the room.  Books and paper covered in notes littered the floor.  Through their research, the group was able to establish the following:

1.      The Manookoo were an ancient cult that honoured the Zeltic god Manoo[6], god of the underworld and son of the chief god, Horcus[7].

2.      Horcus damned them for practicing human sacrifice.

3.      The cult’s punishment was to wander the earth for eternity on a rock called Spyruss[8].  Manoo was forced to live with his cult on this rock and wander in the shroud of a purple cloud, with only the souls of the damned to quench his hunger.

4.      It is believed in the later years of the Zeltic Empire that Manoo would ascend upon certain regions that were becoming complacent in their ways and consume the souls of its inhabitants.

            It took the better part of the day for Ed, Alice, Zach and Travis to compile their notes.  They then took turns to dictate the report to Little Dill, who danced on the keys of Ed’s typewriter to create the work.  When the job was done, they had a report of fifteen pages.

The next morning Mr. Kina paid a visit.  Under Ed’s insistence, everyone had to be dressed in full attire when the chairman of the Order of the Four Keepers arrived.  The elderly professor arrived in a grey suit and was presented the compiled report.
            Dr. Kina was left in the living room to read the report while Ed and the others sat in the kitchen with a pot of tea between them.  Ed looked exceedingly nervous, he never did like the waiting period of between giving a person a draft to read and their response, his hands shook as he tried to lift his teacup to drink.  Everyone else was quiet, except Little Dill, who slurped his tea with great gusto.
            It wasn’t long before Kina joined them in the kitchen.  “You still need work on your writing style,” Kina explained (he was always meticulous when it came to writing), “but it will do nicely.  I will have it sent a head to Bathill so it may be presented before Parliament.  You’ll have to be there for Wednesday next week to present it formally before the throne and both houses.”
            Kina didn’t say anymore after that, he made his way to the closet for his coat and left.
            Ed look bewildered as he watched his mentor leave.
            “What’s that matter?” Alice asked.
            Ed did not answer.  His look of bewilderment quickly changed into a smirk, and then into a grin.
            “Ha!” Ed cried as he slapped his hands together in a loud clap.  “We’re off to Bathill!”





[1]Pronounced: Fin/ē/lands
[2]Pronounced: Man/oo/Koo
[3]Pronounced: Zěl/Tĭck
[4]Pronounced: Lō/Măss/Māy.  A fierce warrior whose role in myth has made him to appear as both a hero and a tragic figure the Deltic and Zeltic cultures.
[5]Pronounced: Bath/ill
[6]Pronounced: Man/oo
[7]Pronounced: H/or/cuz
[8]Pronounced: Spy/r/us

Thursday 15 September 2016

100 Years of Mischievous Brilliance

Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka
from the 1970 adaption of  Charlie and
the Chocolate Factory

  
Besides my love for Thomas the tank engine, one of my other favourite authors growing up was Welsh writer Roald Dahl (1916-1991).  With a long career of writing books, poems, screen plays, Dahl has left a lasting impression with empowered characters like Matilda, James, and Charlie; eccentrics like the great Willy Wonka; and brutes like the dreaded Trunchbull, the Twits, or Aunts Sponge and Spiker.  His books have been made into films, stage adaptions and musicals, proving that his stories are timeless.

There is a sense of realism in the world of Dahl.  Here, children aren’t little blessings or golden eyed innocents that need to be sheltered from any form of reality but are the ugly little sociopaths that they are, always getting into trouble or trying to rise out from the bleak world their adults have made for them.  Adults appear in a mix of forms from being nice and fair hellish beasts.

Matilda as illustrated by Quinton Blake

            What I think has allowed Roald Dahl to stand the test of time is the fact that he shows children that is not always dark or even bright for that matter.  In The BFG, the protagonist Sophie is taken by the Big Friendly Giant (BFG) to the land of giants, which while being vast and magical, it is quickly dwarfed by the other giants, who are much bigger than BFG and extremely cruel.  Even Dahl’s book The Twits is basicly a book about a horrible old couple who do all sorts of horrid thing to their victims and each other before receiving their comeuppance in the end.



Bibliography

"Roald Dahl." Roald Dahl Wiki. Accessed September 15, 2016. http://roalddahl.wikia.com/wiki/Roald_Dahl.

"Weatheredwiseman." Weatheredwiseman. Accessed September 15, 2016. https://weatheredwiseman.wordpress.com/2014/04/.

BelleJarTeam. "Fictional Favourites: Matilda Wormwood." Belle Jar. March 08, 2013. Accessed September 15, 2016. https://belle-jar.com/2013/03/29/fictional-favourites-matilda-wormwood/.

portalmvd. "Falleció El Legendario Actor Estadounidense Gene Wilder, a Los 83 Años." Pantallazo. August 29, 2016. Accessed September 15, 2016. http://www.pantallazo.com.uy/contenido/Fallecio-el-legendario-actor-estadounidense-Gene-Wilder-a-los-83-anos-318678.