A blue carpet ran from the doors to the street, lined with footmen in every conceivable livery from the Volkmund. Every nobleman with a seat inside had a chosen representative along that carpet, ranked by precedence of their masters. The carriage stopped such that the door was perfectly positioned at the end of the carpet. I knew neither the man who opened the carriage door, nor the one who draped the mantle over my shoulders once I’d dismounted. Both were relatives of someone of import, but I couldn’t remember who. The mantle was of greater irritation. A voluminous garment of blue silk velvet, it was trimmed in bright white ermine and bore the Raven Coast Roc rendered in sable and stoat, with gold thread for the beak and talons. It dragged along the ground, being twice as long as I was tall, and had to be buckled in place with a heavy gold chain.
Still, I maintained my stoic poise and proceeded up the carpet, the rest of the horde falling into their designated places behind me. I ignored the petals floating down from the rim of the roof as I ascended the stair. It felt unnatural to force myself not to look at the Imperial Bodyguards as they opened the doors. Their Hackenhof yellow coats had been replaced with cloth of gold for the occasion. The way it caught the light begged for attention. I would have preferred if my mirror-shiny boots had rung on the stone floors, but the blue carpet continued under the doors to the Grand Hall. Two more gilded guards opened this portal, revealing the vaulted chamber beyond. Slit-like windows spilled striated sunlight on the serried stands full of nobles and knaves, warriors and wizards, dames and duchesses, priests and princesses. Bedecked in their finery, they glittered like a dwarf’s beard, their gazes as impassionate as a lizard’s.
The blue carpet ran straight and true down the aisle to the dais at the focal point of the room, below where the phoenix of the Volkmund was emblazoned on the wall. Each of its feathers bore the coat of arms of one of the houses of the empire. Across its breast was the manticore and lyndwyrm of the current Imperial house. Standing below that emblem was the man himself. Draped in gold cloth, Adelbert Sitzauer-Hackenhof bent under the weight of the crown upon his brow. A gold circlet studded in rubies and orange topaz held up an arch in the shape of a phoenix taking wing. The bird was bejeweled in more orange topaz and fire opals. A scarlet cap filled the space within the circlet. Tufts of white hair emerged from the sides of the crown, and Adelbert’s face was splotched and sunken. Papery skin clinging to pronounced bones made him look almost skeletal.
I kept my pace steady and measured as I approached the frail and ancient-looking Emperor[67]. At the foot of the stair to the dais, I stopped and lowered myself to one knee. Clasping my hands together, I extended them towards the Emperor. Frail, liver-spotted hands clasped mine.
“Kord Grosz von Karststadt-Salzheim, Kreigsherr of the Ashmen and Xenarch of Longue, speak your vow.”
“I swear upon my faith, my honor, and my life, before Azerion and the other gods, in front of these noble witnesses, that I will now and in the future be faithful to the Emperor of the Volkmund, to never cause him harm, and to defend him and his justice against all persons, in good faith and without deceit.”
Adelbert released my hands and turned to an attendant who had approached bearing a satin pillow. He lifted a small object off the pillow.
“Kord Grosz, by token of this key ring, I name thee Grossburger of Freinmarkt, with all the freedoms and rights of that city such title entails.” Rather than a ring of keys, it was a finger ring, with an oversized oval face the length of one of my knuckles, that bore a key emblem. The band, however, would only fit on the little finger of my right hand. It took a bit of fumbling to get it there. Adelbert turned in the other direction, to the second attendant to arrive with a satin pillow. “By token of the Collar of Three Lands, I name thee Landesherr of Doppelgelb, Gefrah, and Zerhaltenberg.” The chain of gold roundels was easier on Adelbert, as he only needed to get it over my head. Each disk was studded with a lapis trefoil. Adelbert turned back to his left, where the first attendant had departed and been replaced by another. “By token of the Sword of Severed Chains, I name thee Arch-Marshal of the Volk.” Adelbert’s arms struggled to shift the weight of the short blade with it’s jeweled scabbard wrapped in two lengths of black iron chains. I resisted the urge to reach out and take it from him. While it would have been polite to ease his burden, the gesture could be badly misinterpreted. I instead proffered my hand and let him set the weighty implement there. It was no longer than my forearm, but the added iron made for a lot of dead weight.
“By token of the Shield of the North, I name thee Prince-Elector of the North Tower.” The shield was indeed a token, though in the classic knightly shape, it was hardly larger than a buckler. Upon its face was the Raven Coast Roc with the Imperial Phoenix upon the breast. Adelbert slid the straps over my left forearm so that my hand was still free. “By token of the Rod of Rebuke, I name thee Left Hand of the Crown.” Adelbert handed me a mace whose head was a diving Phoenix, beak open and talons outstretched. “And by token of the Iron Diadem, I name thee Furst of Karststadt.” The final attendant presented Adelbert with a pillow upon which rested a circlet formed from iron plaques hinged together at the sides. The front three were the largest, with enamel tableaus upon them. The center plaque showed a stylized rendition of Jochen on broken battlements with severed heads about his feet. Those to either side bore phalanxes of spearmen marching off to war. Adelbert rested the Iron Diadem upon my brow, and I was disturbed at how well it fit my head.
“Rise and face the Diet,” Adelbert said.
I stood and turned, sweeping the twisted mantle out from in front of me.
The twang of a crossbow string presaged the pain in my chest by mere moments.
I looked down at the fletchings of the quarrel protruding from below my right pectoral as blood began to stain the embroidered jacket. A gasp rolled through the assemblage as they began to realize what had happened. It hadn’t quite sunk in to my shocked mind, as I merely tucked the Sword of Sundered Chains under my left arm and pulled the missile from my chest. This uncorked my blood, and it poured forth more freely. I coughed red and blinked stupidly at a glittering array of fading stars.
My knees went from under me.
***
If the intention was for me to stay dead, attempting an assassination in the Grand Hall in front of the combined circles of the Imperial Diet was just about the worst possible choice. With so many noble houses in attendance, several had the good fortune to have Ivory Wizards in their employ and on hand, not to mention Adelbert’s own retinue, which included one as a matter of course. In order to keep me down, I would have had to have been dead before I hit the floor. Instead, I awoke groggily, and in a great deal of pain. I hadn’t even been moved from in front of the dais. I was surrounded by people in white, then a ring of men in yellow, and another ring of people in blue.
“Don’t stand,” one of the wizards said. I rose anyway, though I wobbled badly and threatened to faint again. “You lost a lot of blood, and we can’t just stick it back into you.”
“This is the fifth time Knochenmus has tried to kill me,” I growled.
“And they almost succeeded this time.”
“Where is this would-be assassin?” I asked, trying not to wince at the pain in my lung.
“The Imperial Bodyguards are looking for him,” Lenz said, squeezing his way through the cordon. As I started to teeter, he propped me up. “You, however, need to sit down.”
Someone from the assemblage of nobles called out, “How long are we going to be kept here?”
“Until the assassin is caught,” Adelbert snapped, his voice stronger than his frame. “We cannot have him take cover among the retinues of a hundred lords and disappear.” The members of the Diet were unhappy with this, but could not yet voice their dissent. It was clear they hadn’t been detained that long. One of the attendants who’d brought my regalia to the Emperor unfolded a simple wood and canvas chair beside me. Taking hold of one of the arms, I allowed Lenz to lower me into it.
“Is there anything more the esteemed magisters of the Ivory Tower can do for me?” I asked.
“You need rest, but magically, no, there is no step we should take at this juncture.”
“Then you may return to your employers with my thanks. I needn’t keep you on your feet here.” I saw the exchange of glances between the wizards and realized my mistake. “Lenz, would you be so kind as to get the names of these gentlemen that I might more properly express my gratitude when my faculties are not so blood-starved.” With this hint of future remuneration, the wizards were mollified enough to stop crowding me. Lenz didn’t have anything to write with or on, but someone produced the necessary implements. I was too focused on merely breathing to see where they came from.
It wasn’t long before the bang of opening doors drew everyone’s attention to the entryway. Six of the Imperial Bodyguard entered, two in the gilded livery of the ceremonial door guards and four in the typical Hackenhof yellow. The middle two dragged between them a struggling figure in a dark brown cloak. The crowd parted to allow the guards access to the front of the hall. The first two laid out a crossbow and a quiver, deliberately tipping the quarrels out to show that they were of the same make as the one I’d plucked from my chest.
“He attempted to elude us by leaping from an upper gallery into a hay-wagon, but it didn’t help,” the one who’d brought the crossbow said.
“Let us see the face of our would-be killer,” Adelbert commanded. The hood was pulled back to reveal a narrow, triangular face and pointed ears. Eyes wide with fright and sadness peered up at me.
“Volwin Dove,” I said.
“You know this elf?” Adelbert asked.
“He’s a sellsword. We met in Oakenyoke, where he was part of a company hired to kill me.”
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Adelbert demanded.
Volwin stared at the Emperor with blank confusion.
“He’s from Ormoranor, and doesn’t know volksprache,” I said. Turning my attention to the elf and switching to Atlorian, I asked, “Why did you spit on my mercy?”
Volwin’s head sank, and he barely spoke as he answered. “With the rest of the band dead, I needed to bring back enough money for everyone’s families. Finishing the original contract was the only work that would pay enough.”
“So you confess to this malfeasance?” Adelbert asked. Volwin looked up in terror and shock at the realization that the Emperor was as fluent in Atlorian as I was. “I believe there is more than enough evidence to pass judgment in this matter. Is there any here who wishes to speak on behalf of the accused?”
A great silence reigned in the grand hall.
“Very well. Volwin Dove, Sellsword of Ormoranor, your actions are those of an assassin, and not of a mercenary, and thus have no protections under the customs of war. I hereby find you guilty of attempt of murder of a Prince-Elector of the Volkmund.”
Volwin’s lip quavered, but he found no voice.
“The high princes of the empire are expected to exercise high and low justice within their own domains. For a crime against their own persons, Emperors past have traditionally granted them the discretion of sentencing, even when outside of their domain. I see no reason not to do so in this matter. Prince Kord, what do you want done with this would-be assassin?”
An unsettling knot twisted in my guts. I didn’t want this decision. Especially not under the gazes of every noble in the empire. Every utterance in this moment would be dissected ad absurdum for signs of my disposition or insights into my character. Most definitely, they’d seek out indications of weakness. Poised predators peered pitilessly at the pair of us, prepared to ponder my pronouncement.
“Volwin Dove,” I said, drawing out the time to think and compose my words. “To strike at an elector at his own coronation is an attack on the foundations and traditions of the Volkmund itself. Whatever history we may have is immaterial, as such a crime cannot be forgiven. And for that crime, there is but one punishment – death. Mercy is not mine to give and belongs to Azerion alone.”
As the words left me, it felt as if I’d twisted a knife in my own innards. But every word had been stark truth. I was in no position to be clement. Volwin went slack as he was dragged from the room to await his fate. It felt as if a great weight were pressing me into the chair. I’d slain with a blade many times now, always in open combat. To slay with a word, and in retaliation for an act already resolved was a different matter entirely. The guilt I’d felt when I’d killed the bandits at Zhalskrag came back tenfold. This was what waited in my future as much as the life of steel. I had sworn an oath to execute the law just before Adelbert had placed a crown on my head. There was no doubt as to the facts or the law in Volwin’s case, but I still felt like I’d murdered him with my utterances.
***
Having been punctured by a projectile gave me a reason to take a more passive role in the festivities after the formalities. I was seated in a place of prominence in whatever space a given event was to occur, and everyone else was permitted to enjoy themselves. It suited me just fine. The medically recommended dinner of hind’s liver and diluted lemon juice was not terribly appealing. I wasn’t sure if it was the sourness of the beverage or the bitter, metallic taste of the organ, but together it made me wonder if I wouldn’t just upend my stomach. But I got through the day and was able to begin accepting the oaths from my own vassals in the reception hall. I had no tokens to hand out, as most already held their titles from my father. The handful who’d inherited during my infancy didn’t have regalia, and a simple ceremony affirming their titles was sufficient.
Even with all the oaths and ceremony, I didn’t feel I had the right to command their loyalty. Indeed, it was those who protested their loyalty the most whom I doubted. I found myself more trusting of men like Wenzel von Slough, who were guarded in their words and were simply giving me the chance to earn their respect rather than proclaiming that I had it without justification. It helped that von Slough had the best maps of the coast of the Small Sea, and knew of several places we might put ashore undetected by Kirchner’s army.
“If things have proceeded as I directed before my departure, surplus provisions have been secreted into hidden stockpiles to protect them from Kirchner’s forces. If he has gone so far afield as to enter the Slough in search of forage, these may have been reopened by my own people to restock their larders. If not, we can make use of them for our advance.”
“Will we know before we land?” I asked.
“No. Any word will be days or weeks out of date by the time it reaches us.”
“We should plan on not being able to make use of these caches,” Grandmaster Straub said.
I hadn’t intended to transform the plain dining room into a war room, but it had happened, as there were far too many interested parties to cram into my study. By lantern light, it was hardly recognizable with the litter of maps and letters covering the table.
“I don’t want a repeat of the Kestrel affair,” I said.
“You also want us to move fast to relieve Salzheim,” Straub said. “Provisions are weighty, and the more we carry, the more wagons and pack animals we’ll have slowing us down.”
“As far as we can tell, Kirchner is still invested at Salzheim,” von Slough said, “Odebucht is the closest you can get to the city without trying to put in to the harbor. It’s a small, windswept cove used by smugglers trying to avoid Roland’s taxes. It is only a half day’s march from the city. The downside of it is that you will not be able to collect any supplies from the Slough or Gelbenkap without turning away from Salzheim first. We might not even be able to meet up with my men if word doesn’t reach them of our landing point in time.”
Straub examined where Wenzel was pointing on the map. “If we land at Odebucht, there is no point in collecting supplies from the Slough, as we’d eat them up on the way back.”
“What if we sent word to the men of the Slough to collect the supplies and meet us at the cove?” I asked.
“Of the risks in that,” Wenzel said, “First is that word does not reach them in time, and they do not show up. Second is that their activity alerts Kirchner, and he is able to prepare for our arrival. Third is that their activity alerts Kirchner, and he is able to destroy them, taking the supplies for himself and being prepared for our arrival. This is, assuming that no messengers are intercepted before they arrive themselves. If we arrive at the shore and see nobody, we will have no way of knowing if word got through, and no way of knowing if Kirchner has been alerted.”
“Are you suggesting that we deliberately ignore the presence of your fighting men that you intentionally staged north of the Small Sea for our arrival?” Straub asked.
“I am suggesting we land further east, where we can join up and collect those caches that remain unopened.”
“With all due respect,” a new voice cut in. The speaker was a delicate looking man with a deathly pale face, swept-back brown hair and intense blue eyes. His left hand was tucked behind the small of his back as he leaned on the table with his right. “You said yourself that this Slough was a swamp. Moving an army through a swamp, with all of its wagons, horses, and thousands of boots, is… completely impractical. Your men might have grown up knowing how to traverse such terrain, but I can assure you that the knights and footmen of Longue will be totally at odds with it. We will literally be bogged down and lose a great many days, and possibly a great many lives, to the land itself. What is to you a perfectly reasonable route would be catastrophic for the rest of us.”
Wenzel dipped his head once in the direction of the Antixenarch of Longue.
“Taking that into account, Odebucht is your only option.”
“And what of the men of the Slough?” Straub asked, turning his attention towards me. “Do we send word to them?”
I stared at the map, hoping some spark of inspiration would appear. All that came to mind was the spark of Vogel’s lantern in the gate to the Kestrel estate. But to get them there, we would have to convey virtually the entirety of our plan, potentially in writing. Having that fall into Kirchner’s hands…
I drew in a deep breath, feeling a twinge in my still-mending flesh, and straightened my spine. Making my decision, I uttered one word.
“No.”
[67] Adelbert I was only seventy-six when Kord acceded to the throne of Karststadt. He would live to a hundred and four after a reign of forty-four years, earning himself the moniker of Adelbert the Old. People had been predicting his imminent demise from old age for decades before Azerion finally took him.
If you want your own copy, the whole book is available from Amazon in eBook, Paperback, and Hardcover variants.
Wait, is it over?
Oh… he got up again.
Of course, it’s hard to kill the first person narrator of a work who’s reportedly relaying events decades after the fact…
Have you seen Sunset Blvd.?
Nope.
The narrator at the beginning of Sunset Blvd.
O M G
UCS is ready for his closeup, Mr DeMille.
Buster Keaton is in it, and a young Jack Webb.
Another fine episode.
Some assassins just don’t know when to quit. Or can’t.
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Kord had to make for him a hard decision.
Neither of them really had a choice.
True. But it was a well crafted scene, I thought.
I strongly concur.
Yet another reminder of the life he’d never wanted but must live.
“Finishing the original contract was the only work that would pay enough”
Kord learns that no good deed goes unpunished.
“Perforated by a projectile”
Nice alliterative touch.
“No.”
War can be brutal. On allies too.
Thinking aloud – If Kirchner knows where Kord is he is likely to know what forces Kord is assembling and their composition and rough capabilities. And will likely be able to put forces to counter Kord’s maneuvers. Time for some unorthodox moves. Like attacking Kirchner’s capital instead of relieving an ally.
I did not see that coming.
Neither did Kord
“I stared at the map, hoping some spark of inspiration would appear.” <– Truth, for many of us.
Forgiveth me, but "As an Audio Description Writer, you will be responsible for creating engaging and accessible audio descriptions for various media formats. Reporting to the Content Manager, your role is essential in enhancing the viewing experience for individuals with visual impairments." I'd love to hear from Mo and anyone with transcription or similar experience. I'm incredibly curious, especially as well-paid, remote and right up my alley. Tomorrow will involve talks with SSI folk, but I hope it goes closer towards employment openings. (The Incident wouldn't have been 'so bad' if it were here, nor would 12-years abroad if The Incident never had occurred. Combined? I'm a lonely dot on that Venn Diagram. It shall improve.)
Vance's speech to Munich was (vice) presidential as fuck. Well-designed and delivered. Pleases me, such. Onward, soldiers. Much more of life, left to explore. I hope your earned-hearths heat you and yours, respite from the cold. (Not bad here. Just snowy.)
A transcript of Vance’s speech:
https://freespeech1212.substack.com/p/vp-vances-full-speech-at-the-munich
Wife is texting Bastiat quotes to me. Never thought that would happen.
❤️💕🥰💕👍
Winning at life.
Happy belated Valentines Day
Greetings from North Nowhere Vermont. It’s unusual that I’m on-line this time of day but it’s been an unusual weekend. I wish I could be dithering over what to do about my tiny log cabin’s crisis du jour but my hand has been forced and I just lit a woodstove fire. The forecast overnight low is +7F and while it’s a comfortable 57F inside right now, without a fire it’s not going to be comfortable tomorrow morning and I won’t have time to light a fire tomorrow morning.
The crisis du jour is that the roof is leaking because of an ice dam. I went out and roof raked the afflicted area but it’s still snowing. The cabin’s pine paneled front wall has water seeping out in several spots. This has happened before without long term consequence but it’s darn inconvenient right now.
The woodstove fire has its work cut out for it because I did laundry today and it’s hung up inside still damp. Between it and the seeping wall it’s going to get pretty humid inside. I don’t like humid. I’m one of those who welcomes Winter’s desert-dry relative humidity.
And I don’t know if increasing the interior temperature will melt more roof snow/ice and make the leak worse. I’m hoping the exterior temperature drops quickly and the roof accumulation freezes again.
Other than that things are pretty good. A neighbor came by and plowed out my driveway which means tomorrow morning I’ll be able to get my ATV to the road and drive into town. I don’t know if I’ll be able to park in my usual spot at another neighbor’s driveway. He doesn’t have a car so getting his driveway plowed out isn’t a high priority.
🥶
70 here and heat is not on but you would have to deal with apartment living. I like that there is no condensation on the windows in current place unlike every residence I inhabited over 25 years in NYC before I moved upstate.
Old people like it a little warmer. We don’t keep a fire at night so the inside temps will run into the 60s in the morning if it’s in the -25 range outside. As soon as I get the fire going in the wood stove it’ll run up to the 70s fairly quickly but we like it more in the 76-80 range. If the sun shines the fire can go out for all afternoon and maintain 80 ’til evening.
Want to feel good about yourself? Take this brief quiz about astronomy:
https://www.buzzfeed.com/audreyworboys/astronomy-trivia-quiz
15/15 in about 10 seconds.
Same. Ridiculously easy, at least for nerds like us.
To be fair, I absorbed books on this shit when I was little and I took a free astronomy class at the local community college when I was in HS. The other couple dorks and dorkettes in my class who got that deal took Statistics. Pfft.
15/15. Not hard at all.
14/15 I had no idea which planet had the most active volcano.
I foolishly took a course in college called “Concepts of the Universe” as I had an interest in space and astronomy. It was supposed to be for non-science majors, but it was in the Physics Department at a major engineering university. I should have known better. By the second class we were calculating orbits with Kepler’s laws of planetary motion. At that point I’d say 60% of the class dropped it. You could see everyone’s eyes bug out as soon the equation hit the blackboard.
I worked hard for my “B” in that class. This was the days of no pluses or minuses and no grade inflation. I should have taken “rocks for jocks” like everybody recommended. I foolishly thought the class was going to be much more broad and explain the universe more broadly. Way to make supposed non-science majors have an interest in science.
8, I’m apparently a maroon.
I skipped the test
You have a 4×20 pass.
(Skip the test and smoke a joint in the bathroom. It’s to be done. *personal preference revealed*)
13 out of 15. I should be ashamed, but I am not a nerd.
That’s what I got, the first time.
I kept retaking it until I got 100%, like anyone who truly likes to learn.
I guessed wrong on the brightest star, and on what we call the l sun’s passage across the sky.
Did they disqualify the sun from the first and ‘day’ from the second?
I missed a couple, with my ‘second, more-than reasonable choice’ being the answer on those turns.
Other than the moon, tides and solar events, I don’t give a fuck. The illusion of reality replacing reality itself is a popular fiction. I don’t subscribe. Having said that, I both appreciate and understand the machinations of social primate minds that gives such illusory power. I’m fond of the idea, though not the practice
As Holmes told Watson when he confessed that he didn’t know that that the Earth revolved around the sun “It wouldn’t matter to me if the Earth revolves around the moon, it makes no difference to my work!”
Hype nails it. Especially if Jeremy Brett is delivering the line, as he is (about) the only worthy of the mantle.
Damn, did he crush it. (So did the adapters. Well done, mid 80s Britain/Brett.
I prefer Ronald Howard.
Ronald Howard doesn’t prefer you.
‘Rents wanna watch a flick, soon. I recommended ‘Rush’ by Ron Howard, about the ~’76 F1 battle between Hunt and Lauda. (Howard’s *damn* good at his job, and it’s an amazing story. Recommend.)
Ron Howard prefers me.
I answered one question and left the others blank because one is all I need.
One is the loneliest number.
One of their answers is wrong, the Sagittarius Dwarf Galaxy is closer than Andromeda.
Dwarves don’t count. 🙄
Sorry, I mean the Sagittarius Magical Creature Galaxy.
Sitting in the dark; power out for 4 hours now. Nice fire in fireplace. Just popped into my head: asked Mrs. creech if she ever made love to “Bolero,”. No. Well I don’t know where my album is, and no power to play it anyway.
It only works if she’s Bo Derek. And you’re Dudley Moore.
One can pretend.
Use your phone. Got any Bluetooth speakers?
realistic medieval combat: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VlCQ2pBob5Q
Also, it turns out that Siberian tigers hunt bears. That fact is begging to be turned into a Chuck Norris joke.
Ozy does something like this.
It’s full contact, but I wouldn’t call it realistic.
We just hired a guy that does it. Like wrestling, it’s real enough given the bruises he comes back with.
lol Love the bit at the end walloping the other guy with his shield.
whoa. I did not know this was a thing. Shield strikes are brutal.
These guys use axes.
I would not want a ringside seat
Interesting bit of ammo for an assertion I’ve made a couple times that the US taxes and spends just as much as – and sometimes more than – our European friends.
TL;DR – in this case we grift and corrupt and overregulate harder than they do. I’m reminded of stories about how we spend 10x as much to build a subway as they do.
It *is* interesting. It’s also infuriating, for me, on several levels: “Blame higher costs for the deficit. Smith estimates that a new six-stop elevator that costs $170,000 to install in North America would run $60,000 or less across the Atlantic. Operating cost differences are even steeper. New York City guidelines advise affordable housing developers to budget $7,500 for annual elevator maintenance, with private housing operators in New York and Washington quoting similar numbers. This is several times European costs: one German firm, for instance, offers midrise maintenance contracts for about $450 per year.”
I had wonderful elevators in Korea, but I almost solely walked up to my 3rd floor apt I lived on for several years. I blame *both* the laziness and incalcitrant occupants , used to the stubborn habit of avoiding stairs. I do not welcome ‘easy’ living for folk, even though I desire it myself. Outside forces encouraging one to be less walk-about ain’t no good for no one. (I can also get jealously angry but I won’t, cuz it also ain’t no good.)
William H Macy was just on Law & Order, with Jerry Stiller now being the defense in another case. Dick. Wolf. Eat it. (I tried to.)
When it comes to any type of construction, we have chart topping costs.
American elevators have restrooms, so I’ve heard
Embattled Mayor Adams balks at resigning during sermon speech – claims he’s on a mission from God: ‘I am going nowhere’
You know who else was on a mission from God?
These guys?
I rolled my eyes earlier at “sermon speech”. Way to break stereotypes there.
I was expecting the Blues Brothers.
I am disappoint.
Not possible as I have never watched it.
You haven’t finished Babylon 5 and you haven’t seen The Blues Brothers?!? I have no words.
By way of explanation to rhy.
That is the arrogance I expect from a politician.
I don’t know if it’s arrogance as much as it’s acting. He’s basically signalling to the black activists to rally around him. Go to black church and give some fiery speech about how you’re being persecuted.
The Dems are afraid to act here because of race. If he was white, he’d have been forced out already.
The First betrays you, because it belongs to ME.
Knights of Valour: Full Contact Jousting
Kord would kick all the butt.
Next up on the 2025 Mojeaux bingo card: XY asking his dad if he wants to roadtrip to California. 😍
“Wanna drive for days to a third world shithole?”
Though to be fair, the road trip I took with my dad to various holes in the ground (mines, caves, canyons) worked out well, so snark about california aside, It might not be a bad idea for them.
a) Husband is from CA so he may want to see fam. XY will probably want to see his gma.
b) Chipotle headquarters is there.
Sen. Rand Paul is inviting Elon Musk to come to his state of Kentucky to review the largest reserves of gold in the U.S.
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-14403697/gold-reserve-doge-audit-fort-knox-elon-musk.html
#AlCapone’svault.
Why can’t Sen. Paul do this?
Is it an executive branch facility, or something?
It’s a federal installation. It’s under the executive branch. The Treasury, I think. And Knox itself is a military base.
Also:
“Kentucky, Skipper. They do like their Flatt’n’Scruggs.”
https://youtu.be/rYOHY_HWH60?feature=shared
Also, from the comments:
“In the State of Kentucky if this song comes on the radio while you are in a motor vehicle, you are legally obligated to get into a car chase.”
https://youtu.be/z_Y3mnj-8lA?si=XXj-maXXbIDlPnvT
+2 good ole boys
Uh, oh. Dash cam.
https://x.com/stillgray/status/1891268875234234427
Muhsin Hendricks, a pioneering figure dubbed the world’s first openly gay imam, has been shot dead in South Africa.
https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c05l33j7rq7o
I suspect the murderers were members of the Westboro Baptist Church.
“Grave Circling Turkeys” is the name of my new folk music band.
https://x.com/rawsalerts/status/1891275844003180854
There is a reason the insult ‘Turkey’ used to be a thing. It is synonymous with ‘Moron’. Turkeys are widely regarded as the biggest idiots among wild animals. That is why Franklin’s suggestion of choosing the wild turkey as the national bird was discarded. Of course they chose the balk eagle instead…a glorified buzzard.
Turkeys are easily domesticated. A handful corn a couple times a day and they’ll be voting democrat for…
Morning all. I was awakened at 11:30 by my very large dog as he was having an epileptic fit. Poor thing.
Skimming over the comments I see the bit about US vs. European theft. Civilized people get what they need through voluntary cooperation and productivity. Not-civilized people get what they need through theft, extortion, violence and fraud. The vast majority of humanity is very decidedly NOT civilized. It has always been this way. This came to mind: “When plunder becomes a way of life for a group of men in a society, over the course of time they create for themselves a legal system that authorizes it and a moral code that glorifies it.” – Bastiat
The thing about quotes is that they are timeless and because they are timeless….all stolen. We quote Socrates things he stole from the pre-socratics who stole them from…we dont know who but you can bet they did….who stole them from those who came before them and so on back to the beginning of time.
I recently suggested that encoding allodial title into law might have the reverse effect Bastiat is referring to. I either missed any discussion of it here or we have not had such a discussion.
Happy Presidents day!
#MAGA
☕🍳🗽💯
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=rf684IRPWGo
🎵🎵
WIthout presidents granting their authority to bureaucrats, who else would ensure that there’s only an appropriate amount of rat feces in our peanut butter?
I get fresh ground peanut butter from the farmers market. I don’t think it’s inspected. 🫣
Uninspected peanut butter? You’re living on the wild side Sean, next thing we know you’ll be drinking raw milk.
Sean may be buying other uninspected produce at the roadside stands.
/Sets up a game cam
Good morning to everyone who has to work to pay the taxes that go to Govsec workers who get to slack off today legally!
Morning Teds’, Bro and Sean and those others that never take a day off from spyi…, oops, protecting us
Had a guy call out today because “he and his family celebrate Martin Luther King day”.
I did not hire that turkey.
Maybe it’s Eastern Orthodox Martin Luther King Day. Did you ever think of that? Huh?
…and good morning…all!
In MY defense, we financial institution employees get the day off because as I understand it (never worked that side,) we can’t process transactions the usual way when the Federal Reserve is closed. At the credit union I worked for prior to a merger 10+ years ago, we wouldn’t close for Columbus Day, but tellers would have to process transactions in standby mode.
It’s a -22 this morning, couple more days of this and then things begin to moderate, by the weekend into the 40s
Below freezing here, so all the slush and places that get standing water froze up.
Morning all. Mrs OBE onto a new chapter and back to working for the Man
Good to see she knows her place is working for you.
(This is why there are no female libertarians….)
Well someone in the household needs to pay for my day off duh