Tyrfanus, Mortal Hero (II/II)

(Continuing from.)

Tyrfanus woke, his body filled with agonies greater and lesser. His eyelids cracked open a slit; his breathing changed in rythym and pitch. Beside him, Artemis rose from a kneeling stance, her face expressionless. "He is awake, O Mighty Zeus," she said, and departed.

"So, pitiful mortal, do you now realize the futility of your ambitions?" Zeus asked, his voice booming and proud. "You have proven a greater challenge than any foe I have faced in a dozen mortal generations - and still there you like, broken and bleeding, while I stand here unmarked! Hubris was your undoing, as it of all mortals. Now, in my divine justice and mercy, I shall leave you here for an hour, to reflect upon your errors before I cast you down to the Underworld. Spend this time well!"

Zeus departed.

Then a shadow fell over Tyrfanus, and a dribble of divine ambrosia passed his parched lips. "Swallow," a voice commanded, and Tyfanus did. The pain all across his body diminished slightly, and when more ambrosia came, Tyrfanus opened his mouth to drink all the more. Soon, the haze of pain that had clouded his vision faded, and he was able to see the face of his benefactor: Hera, wife of Zeus. "Come," she said, and Tyrfanus rose, his wounds healed. "We must be gone quickly, before Zeus returns."

"Will he not notice?" Tyrfanus asked. "Surely there will be suspicion if I vanish-"

"I shall place a mannequin here, cleverly made and painted to resemble you," Hera told him. "Zeus will destroy it, and be content; never will he suspect the swap."

"Very well, then," Tyrfanus agreed, and with her left the summit of Mount Olympus.

From there they arrived to a sumptious home, filled with incense fumes and the warmth that the top of a mountain so markedly lacked. "This is my home," Hera told Tyrfanus. "Here Zeus will not venture; not now, at the least. You are welcome here for so long as you wish to stay."

"I hope it is not impolite to ask," Tyrfanus said, "But why do you shelter your husband's enemy? Surely this is a great risk for you - should he find out, he will be most displeased."

"My husband has many enemies," Hera said, flipping a hand dismissively. "It is good for him - keeps his ego down to a merely divine level. For my own part, I rescued you out of kindness - and appreciation. It's rare that you see a true hero these days, in the old style, and it seems a shame to let one go to waste."

"Go to waste?" Tyrfanus asked, a smile beginning to play about his lips. "And what uses would you put this hero to, if I may ask?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hera said innocently, twirling a lock of her hair about one finger. "There are so many things you can do with a strong, handsome man, especially when his competition is otherwise occupied..."

Tyrfanus smiled openly, and seemed about to respond; then his head jerked, as though he had just remember something, or heard some unexpected sound. "Do the other gods frequent this place?" he asked, his tone still belying urgency.

"Perhaps," Hera said, still twirling her hair idly. "Sometimes."

Tyrfanus thought for a moment. "My lady," he said, "I think I know what you're suggesting, and I think that you have found an excellent use for me - though I would expect nothing less of someone of your beauty and wisdom! But this is not the place - the other gods may care nothing for your activities, but word spreads, and it is best for the both of us if Zeus knows nothing of my survival. Instead, may I suggest this: I descend Olympus, coming back to the lands of civilization. There, I shall worship at one of your shrines, burning a fatted calf in your honor - and events may proceed naturally from there, in more private surroundings."

Hera considered this, smiling thinly. "It is a fair plan," she agreed, "but I must make some amendation to your plan - it is not meet for a mortal to descend Olympus alone, no more than it is for him to ascend it." Tyrfanus bowed his head wryly as Hera snapped her fingers. Instantly, two figures appeared: Hermes, messenger of the gods, and Nemesis*, the masked god. "These two will accompany you," Hera told him. "Hermes is a messenger - his role is to transport secrets, and for all save their recipients his lips are sealed. And Nemesis is silent."

"Ah - very well," Tyrfanus said, bowing quickly, "and my endless gratitude for your gifts."

"Say nothing of it," Hera told him. "You shall have opportunity to repay me soon enough.

Tyrfanus left her presence for the first and final time.

The journey was quickly accomplished. Hermes carried Tyrfanus down the slopes of the mountain, swifter than an arrow's flight: Nemesis followed, as was her role. Only at the bottom, once Hermes set Tyrfanus back on his feet (and his sword back in his hands; "another gift from the Lady," he explained), did he ask a question. "Whatever posessed you to challenge Zeus himself?" he asked. "The fight was impressive - this I cannot deny, no more than I could deny the blood that stains your blade - but what made you think you could kill him?"

"Well, I didn't really," Tyrfanus explained. "I tried - and I really thought I had him there at the end! - but it was a bit more of a distraction, a side-show, than anything else."

"That battle - a side-show?" Hermes asked, flabbergasted. "Were you out to win Hera's affections, then?"

"Oh, no," Tyrfanus told him. "I rather suspected that I might, but it wasn't essential. Any number of gods might have rescued me, for one reason or another - Ares, Apollo, Athena... Zeus is not very well loved by his court!"

"Then... why did you come to Olympus?" Hermes asked. "Simply for the thrill of the fight?"

Tyrfanus checked his watch - sorely battered by the fight, but fortunately still working. He was silent.

"Do you not know?" Hermes asked.

"Oh, I know," Tyrfanus said, looking up. "It was to plant a bomb to kill the Gods."

"What?" Hermes said - before the words had arrived in Tyrfanus's ears he was running, shooting up the side of the mountain - and by the time Tyrfanus's brain had made sense of them, he was back, as fire blossomed atop Olympus, and the Gods were turned to dust.

"But - why?" Hermes asked, his face filled with boundless shock. "And how - I thought you mortals were still in an age of sandals and chariots!"

"You didn't notice my sword?" Tyrfanus asked, raising it to the light. "The Greeks didn't really have access to tempered steel. And that's if nothing else - haven't you lot been paying at all for the last five hundred years?"

"The last five hundred years?" Hermes said incredulously. "We haven't been watching you for four times that long! We got bored!"

"Heh," Tyrfanus said. "Well, you'd probably have noticed what I'm about to do next - and I couldn't afford that kind of attention. Shame you survived, but you're only the messenger god - shouldn't be too much trouble. Farewell!" He turned his back, beginning his walk back to civilization.

"You... you killed the gods to further your own - evil - schemes?" Hermes shouted after him, disbelieving.

"Pretty much," Tyrfanus told him. "Without that second-to-last word. I'm not fond of it."

Hermes stood still for a moment; then vanished towards the smoldering ruins of Olympus. So far as he was concerned, his part in the conversation was finished.

Suddenly, Tyrfanus whirled, calling out "Who's there?" His blade was already in a ready stance.

A paper fluttered down. Tyrfanus caught it in his off-hand and unfolded it.

"Remember me," it read.

Tyrfanus felt a chill run down his spine. Hermes, though he was the only one who had spoken, was not the only god who had survived the end of Olympus. Nemesis, too, had followed Tyrfanus down the mountain - and her purview was revenge.

Finis.

*Mythological fact: Nemesis is an actual god! Wiki knows all.

Tyrfanus, Mortal Hero (I/II)

Tyrfanus scaled the bare rock summit of Mount Olympus. He fell to hands and knees, scrabbled in the dirt, breathed heavily; then, after several long moments, he stood up. Raising his sword ino the air, he cried, "Zeus, I have come here to challenge you for your throne! Fight me, or abdicate as you should have centuries ago!"

Lightning came crashing down; but Tyrfanus was ready for it, and was already rolling to the side. Zeus emerged from the sizzling cloud of dust, the sickle he stole from Cronus ready in his hand; and Tyrfanus bowled him over with a lunge to the ankles.

"Well done, well done!" Apollo said, clapping enthusiastically. "Haven't seen such fight in centuries!" Others of the gods appeared in a circle around the combatants, watching with a level of interest varying by their disposition.

Zeus rolled about the ground with Tyrfanus: his sickle was still in his hand, but the impetuous mortal he fought was too close for him to strike with it. Instead, he cast a bone-shattering blow towards Tyrfanus with his left fist - but Tyrfanus twisted out of the way, ending with a lock on Zeus's elbow. Zeus broke it contemptuously and swung again, crying "Die, arrogant mortal!" - but again Tyrfanus dodged, and this time he came out of the manuever with his sword posed to strike.

"Oooooo," Hera and others of the gods murmured.

"Enough!" Zeus cried, and hurled Tyrfanus off him, sending him flying several yards away. Zeus rose, his once-white toga covered in dust and rocks. A lightning bolt appeared in his hand - now he would finish this! - but again Tyrfanus was faster than he expected, landing on his feet and charging back into the fray. Zeus barely managed to replace lightning bolt with sickle in his hand quickly enough to block the sword-strike that came at him and push Tyrfanus back. He was granted no time to rest - Tyrfanus came at him again and again, hammering at him relentlessly. Sparks rose as carbon-forged steel met a copper weapon older than the Gods themselves.*

"Smash him, Zeus!" came the hoarse bellow of Hephasteus, blacksmith to the gods. "You've got ten times his strength; stop fighting defensively and just hit the bastard!"

For ten minutes straight, Zeus was given no opportunity to do so, pressed constantly by Tyrfanus's attacks; but then Tyrfanus, drenched in sweat and panting heavily, slowed. Zeus saw his opening, and struck; when Tyrfanus leapt aside from the attack, a shower of debris rose from the crater made by the errant blow. Now Zeus was on the offensive, and he indulged with gusto, striking again and again. What blows Tyrfanus could not duck under he stepped aside from, and what blows he could not step aside from he took cleverly on his blade, turning them harmlessly aside; but he slowed, and he tired, and Zeus continued his attacks, divinely indefatigable.

"Come on, put the poor fellow out of his misery!" Pallas Athena yelled, waving an arm for emphasis. "Just go ahead and strike!"

Zeus stopped entirely for a moment, giving Tyrfanus a second to rest. "Had enough?" he asked with a vicious grin, and then swung - a blow that could shatter yards-thick walls and turn marble columns to powder, aimed at one, exhausted, flesh-and-bone man.

But Tyrfanus was not nearly so tired as he seemed; shedding all his deliberately-feigned sloth in a moment, he hurled himself forward, dashing towards Zeus at a breakneck speed even as the King of the Gods struggled in shock to pull his sickle back, and his sword came up and he leapt and his sword kissed the neck of Zeus, Father of the Gods, and blood welled-

- and Zeus caught him with one enormous knee. Tyrfanus's blade flew aside, pinwheeling into the air; when it landed, Tyrfanus was sprawled on the ground, bones broken and eyes closed. The battle was over. Tyrfanus had lost.

Intermission.

*Mythological note: Cronus's sickle actually did predate the Gods. It was a gift from his mother, the Earth, who requested that he use it to kill his father, the Sky. (He did.) Much later, Zeus stole the weapon and used it to cut Cronus's belly open, the second divine patricide committed with one sickle. The Greek gods had the best families.

GLaDOS and the Swan

Geoffry had a problem.

He had no shirt!

He had pants - quite lovely, his mother had bought them. He had socks and under-wear and shoes, and even a jaunty hat. But he had no shirt!

He was very perplexed as to what to do about this. So he turned into a bird.

It seemed the simplest solution.

Thing is, he'd been reading Leda and the Swan (very NSFW), and was a big believer in "art imitating life", and... well, it could have been very embarrassing for everyone involved.

Luckily for everyone who didn't want to have an unfortunate incident with a swan, the first woman Geoffry ran into after becoming a bird was GLaDOS, a malevolent, possibly insane artificial intelligence!

"Stay away from me," GLaDOS advised," unless you would like your breathing apparatuses to be flooded with deadly neurotoxins."

Geoffry was very confused. This isn't what he'd expected at all! He really wasn't sure what he was supposed to do here.

"hsssssssssss," GLaDOS noted tactfully.

Geoffry gave up on the whole thing as a bad job and went off to be a bluejay.

And that's the story of how GLaDOS saved Martin Luther King Jr. Day!

(Or close enough.)

Nikolas the Internet Snob

Beholde, Nikolas the Internet Snobbe:

Nay, he doth not clicketh on any one internette linkes that may, however distantlie, be connected in any mannere, with the peasantrie, or the labourers, or any of the lowere classes, nor doth he engageth in any activitie which may draw him close to such folke, and their vicissitudes, and their enumeratione, be it the divers portales of Net-working, or be it the most populaire system of instantaneous messageing, or be it the traditions of the common-folke, as in many a case, doth he discriminat eke againste all manner of populaire entertainmente, not only upon the internette, but in worldly affaires also. Yea, he doth refuse to watch the minstrels danse upon the stage, it is too common for him, he refuseth to know the knowledges of poore men, for they be filthie to him. And he feareth greatlie, yea, he feareth what he doth not knowest, be it the rude gestes, or the noyses of the streete, or the carnal formes of humains, he shunneth these things with the devotione of a Sainte and with the rapideness of a Arabien mare. Nay, he feareth eke too greatly it would staine his reputation for evere, as one of nobele bloode, and of pure-breedinge, that it may provoke scathing gossippe from his neighbours, were he to be associated with such worldly thyngs, that he may be undone by it. May he live longe in his wayes, o most nobele of Aristo-crates, may he be admyred by the ones whom he loathes so, for his steadfasteness, and yette, pitied at the same tyme, in a moste congealed nature, woe, o woe, for the carnal pleasures which he reafuses so adamatlie, and the brotherhoode of man which may be begotten, and the thorned garden pathes he wisely fayles to traverze, and the rysks of lyfe which he care-fully avoides, doth they bringe many joyes, and goodliness. 

To that womon

to that woman that I saw today, and yesterday, and some days before that perhaps, and who was sometimes hot, and sometimes not, but usually hot, more so from the side view, than from the front view, because of some features of the face, which are best viewed from an oblique angle, and present an awkward fancy from the perspective o' the crows' nest. 

One time when I first met her I thought she was a man, this was based on several evidences. 1) it was apparent, from the perspective o' the crows' nest, that she did not have any of the bosoms upon her chest, though this appraisal has recently been reversed, in light of further evidence, gathered when she was wearing a lighter shirt. 2) she seemed quite muscular, with a squareing upon the face, and the apple upon her neck, like a bulb, and features which were not of the distaff sex, however, this contradicts certain other evidence, which, being of a more discretionary nature, I shall not reveal here. 

And with whom I made "Small talk" for the first time to-day, and who was pleasant in demeanour, I learned, although not entirely engaged with the me, for inexplicable reasons. 

If I could sing a song for her it would go like this:

Bis zum Ende bin ich für Euch da Unsere Träume werden endlich wahr All die Zeit, die wir zusammen waren Wir sind bereit für ein neues Abenteuer Viele Gefahren lauern in der Dunkelheit Macht Euch gefaßt und seid zum Kämpfen bereit Wir sind ein Team mit uns legt sich besser keiner an Ihr seid meine Freunde Ihr haltet zu mir Wir besiegen die Dunkelheit Wir bleiben hier Wieder und wieder Wird es so sein Nur wir allein

And To that womon, whom I, on several occations, have conversed with, quite pleasantly, and who carries a pleasant demeanour, and who reminds me most pecularily of a womon of the days long gone, whom I never hit on, for she was "out of my league". And who is most unfortunately for me most attached to a gentleman, whom, I must admit, I have privately cursed, in the language of the Ancients, this is the song i must sing to you:

Ahí está 

Me llama ya 

Me va a llevar hasta mi hogar 

Aviva la llama 

Que me hace soñar 

Allá, donde regresaré 

Camino largo es 

Pero podré llegar 

A donde tu estés 

Yo llegaré 

Correr junto al rio 

Seguir siempre al Sol 

Volando, volando 

Alfín llegaré 

No puedo olvidarte 

Ya quiero volver 

Me muero por verte 

Y en camino voy 

The Amazing Kelsey

Kelsey - friend to all, be they harmless rabbit, hapless peasant, or high-ranking aristocracy! Kelsey - lord of the wise, wisest of the lords! Kelsey - some people claim that he has a girl's name! (How indescribably rude!)

May I present to you today... the edifice erected to celebrate his iron-fisted, thousand-year reign over our people...

THE AMAZING KELSEY!


Constructed by the master craftsman D. Zhang, widely heralded as the capstone of his efforts, this immense mechanism took over nine years to construct - even with the assistance of Mr. Zhang's many descendants, themselves well known for their skills in the art. Nine thousand gears were used in its making; fifteen hundred flywheels; two hundred thousand chain links. It is a marvel of the world. But - not only for its appearance, but for what it does!

Watch in awe as he fires his powerful missiles - launching them from his totem-pole-like body at ultra-high velocities! Thrill to the massive delta-vees as their flame-exhausts propel them to the farthest horizon! Laugh delightedly as the missiles utterly destroy several nearby buildings, until you realize that they weren't props, and a number of homes and buildings were just annihilated with high explosives!

Wait.

Hm.

We'll get back to you on that one.

But until then, enjoy...

The Amazing Kelsey!

Netmemething: The Nearest Book

From the honorable Col. Rebert's blog:

• Grab the nearest book.
• Open it to page 56.
• Find the fifth sentence.
• Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
• Don’t dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.

I'm going to assume that I shouldn't reach through my desk, which means that the correct sentence is:

""What may I say to you?" I said. "Perhaps you do a good thing. I hope so.""

Though there are rather a lot of quotes, and I'm not certain how those interact with sentences... most peculiar. It would've been simpler had I just read something from a math-book instead.

(It's from The Great Book of Amber, by the way, by Roger Zelazny. Compilation of all (?) 10 books in the Amber series of novels. Quite good, at least the first five; I've never quite gotten around to starting the latter half of the book.)

Adversity is the spice of life, they say.

At any rate: now, for a rebus. (The first thing that came to mind.)

- man- d/dx

Enjoy! (You may wish to check the url for the third and fifth ones, they're a bit tricky probably. Especially the fifth, which I'm probably going to have to apologize to someone for.)

EDIT: Images aren't working properly for me. Should be aligning in rows, but they aren't. For reference, the first two images form the first word, and the rest form the second.

More Logic

Continuing from this post.

I have learnt, and now I may teach! Behold: logic and a story, combined into one!

1. All camels, whether they be dromedary or bactrian, live in the desert.

2. The Iron Sheik, who rules the land of Ælythia, rides the desert on the same mount as his elite cavalry.

3. Creatures that live in the desert need little water to live; should they be otherwise, they would not have survived in the harsh climates that characterize such regions!

4. The realm of the Iron Sheik is entirely composed of desert, broken only by a few, well-guarded oases scattered about the wastes.

5. Only mounts that need little water are used in desert militaries. (I trust this needs no explanation!)

∴The Iron Sheik rides a camel.

Don't see the logic, necessarily? Think some of those statements were extraneous, unnecessary, or quite the opposite of helpful? Let's... break it down!

The earlier logic I showed you was propositional logic - logic which connects variables with things like AND, OR, or IF/THEN. But there are other kinds of logic - more advanced types, capable of shattering the barriers of space and time themselves! The type of logic being employed here is called predicate logic - merely capable of shattering a man into a thousand mewling pieces. Predicate logic revolves around the manipulation of predicates - essentially, functions that transform one or more variables into a boolean TRUE or FALSE - and quantifiers, ∀ which means "for all of", and ∃ which means "for at least one of". (We'll be using these a bit.) So, in this case, we can break down the statements given to the following:

1. ∀c ∈ (in the set of) camels, LivesInTheDesert(c) is true.
2. Ælythia'sCavalryMount=Sheik'sMount. (Those are just variables.)
3. ∀a∈animals, LivesInTheDesert(a)→NeedsLittleWater(a).
4. IsDesert(Ælythia). (This also implies that Ælythia's military is a desert military; a bit of a cheat, logically!)
5. ∀m∈mounts, UsedInDesertMilitary(m)→NeedsLittleWater(m).

Now, we can re-arrange these to make somewhat more sense; but you may have already spotted an error. If an animal is used in Ælythia's military, it must need little water, because Ælythia is in the desert. That makes sense. Camels need little water. But that does not imply that camels are used in Ælythia's military! It means that they could be - perhaps even that they probably are. But statement 5 works only in one direction - it does not mean that cacti or desert rats are given employment in desert militaries! That would make no sense. So it's possible that camels are used in Ælythia's military - but it's also possible that they aren't, and giant scorpions are used instead, or the rare and deadly desert alpacas. The conclusion does not follow from the premises.

For the next example, let's add a premise to the previous one establishing that camels are the only mount in use in Ælythia's military. Now we do know that the Iron Sheik rides a camel, and we may proceed with undaunted confidence. A new set of premises:

1. Royalty only respect other royalty if their peers ride mounts neither handsomer nor uglier than their own. (Strange folk, royalty.)
   
2. All camels are ugly, spitting beasts.
3. Well-bred animals are handsome. (Or close enough, for our purposes.)
4. No ugly animal is handsome, and vice versa.
5. The princes of the East only ride well-bred horses.

∴The Iron Sheik and the princes of the East look down upon each-other, with corresponding effects for international politics. (The effects are not very good.)

This one is actually a bit clearer than the last one - my apologies! But let's sort it out anyway, just for fun.

First, let's define some predicates, as I really should have done for the last one.
U(a) is true if and only if a is ugly.
H(a) is true if and only if a is handsome.
R(a,b) is true if and only if a and b respect one another.
W(a) is true if and only if a is well-bred.
And finally, C(a) is true if and only if a is a camel.

So, in terms of those, our premises look something like:
1. ∀a,b∈royalty.∃m∈(a's mounts) and ∃n∈(b's mounts), (U(m)∧U(n))∨(H(m)∧H(n))→R(a,b). That is, royalty respect one another only if they both have ugly mounts or both have handsome mounts.
2. C(a)→U(a). Camels are ugly.
3. W(a)→H(a). Well-bred animals aren't. (Optimism, perhaps.)
4. U(a)→~H(a). This does imply that something can be neither handsome nor ugly, but that fits well enough, so we'll let it alone.
5. ∀m∈(mounts of the Princes of the East), W(m). Sorry about the ugly syntax, I should probably fix that.

So, let's plug things in. The Iron Sheik, as we know, has a camel; C(a)→U(a), so the Sheik's mounts are ugly. The Princes of the East have well-bred horses, and W(a)→H(a), so their mounts are handsome. Therefore, in no cases will R(Iron Sheik, Prince of the East) be true; they hate each-others' guts! And all because of camels and horses. To think of it!

That's the power of logic, right there. (And messy syntax. Sorry, sorry, I swear I'll clean it up next time. Honest.)

Let's move a bit closer to home now. Another list, ho! And this time, let's state the conclusion first:
Mr. Zhang is the same person as David.

1. Mr. Zhang is a poster on the blag.
   
2. There are a limited number of people who post on the blag.
   
3. Mr. Zhang's stories are always about 'womons'.
4. Only people that are obsessed about something only write about that thing.
5. David has been very unlucky in love.
6. People never become obsessed about 'womons' unless they have fared very poorly with them.
7. No poster on the blag, aside from David, has fared exceptionally poorly with persons of the distaff sex.

See how the conclusion follows from the premises? It probably does!

Now try proving your own! Using the techniques I've demonstrated here today, try to construct a set of premises that proves that Lehi, famed prophet of the Book of Mormon, journeyed to the Americas around the year 600 BCE. Bonus points if the proof is six premises long - or longer!

Until next time...
LOGIC OUT!

(woooooo)

nikolas village- a condensed versie

THE KESSLER finds himself in charge of the black-smithes and the wool-boyes, he finds exceptional talent in becuming a quertermaster. He also bathed regularly. (unlike some people) Gemeral Kingeler comes to the maison to inspect for cock roaches. After having sex with the Kessler, he desices to elroll in the academy. He becomes the next Promotion, to Majore. A few years later, the Kessler leads a platoon the the Great War. He win, and become hero. The womon of the Nikolas becomes in charge to the calvados. Also the applejack. Then Kessler becomes King, Nikolas becomes the Prince regent, and married the womon The end

Spelunky: Travails

(A platforming, exploration-game with randomly-generated levels, each filled with monsters, traps, and treasure. Located here, at the time of writing. Free!)

Spelunker's Log, 20th of January, 1932.
1. Started decently. Stole a golden idol, fled to the next level to escape the giant boulder that fell when I took it. Bought climbing gloves - $15000, but now I can cling to walls! Spiders clang to the ceiling near the exit - was forced to flee without my dignity. Another golden idol on the third level - my climbing gloves let me simply hold tight to the nearest wall, watching from above as the boulder crashed through the nearby walls many feet below. In the secret cavern the boulder opened, I found a crate holding a bow - rare treasure, worth more than the idol! I tested it out on a nearby bat, then continued onwards. My intent was to use it to kill an enormous spider blocking the way, but at the moment I began to aim, a chill ran down my spine - I knew I couldn't remain on the level for much longer! I fled again, rushing through the level - but a bat and snake (puny foes!) blocked the level exit. I took aim with the bow at the bat - fired twice - was completely ineffective, twice. The bow-shots arced downwards, and the bat was above me! Ignominious death. $12500.

2. Saw an idol first thing - looked promising. Went to grab it. Was slow getting on the nearby ladder to escape from it, but got there in the nick of time. Dropped off the ladder immediately afterward, went to grab the loot in the next room (that the boulder had opened in its crashing wake)... and died when the boulder rolled back and squashed me. $6100.

3. Started very poorly. A hidden dart-trap next to the entrance shot me when I proceeded carelessly forward - left me half-way dead. Then a spider blocked my way in a narrow passage - poised to drop down on me when I passed. Jumped up to try to hit it, but failed and lost half my remaining life. Tried to make a run for it, and died. The spider danced on my corpse. $2000. (Should've used a flare - could've thrown it at the spider, killed it from range. Stupid.)

4. Started by smashing open a pot - a $1600 red gem was inside - a ruby, perhaps! Never saw one of those before. Immediately afterward, was hurt by a bat... so mixed bad and good. Wasted a flare trying to kill two bats on my way out of the first level - remembered too well my last life. (Killed them with the whip in close range instead, with much better results than I usually have.) Ran into a craps-house, and bet $2000 on a whim - lost it. Goes to show. One of the pots - usually holding money - held a spider, as I learned when I hurled it across the screen and shattered it. (Good move - would've been worse if I'd thrown it near me, as usual.) Dropped on the vile thing from above and killed it - quite pleased with myself! Stole a golden idol, fled downwards to avoid the boulder, found what looked like the remains of a sun-thingey (some kind of secret) in a hole within sight of the exit. Dropped down to investigate... and died instantly. (????) $8200.


5. Nothing too exciting on the first level - got some small change, had a close call with a dart trap above a ladder. On level two, stole an idol and then got a bow immediately thereafter - same dilemma, but perhaps I'll choose differently this time. Snakes seem to be immune to arrows - odd, one passed through my shots and hurt me. Then - argh! Accidentally moved beneath one of the two nearby spiders, both woke up and attacked, my arrows did nothing, I died... !(*#@& the bow, man. $15200.

6. Messed up a jump and was hit by a poison dart. Ow. Ran into a snake at high speed.. nearly dead. Hm. Got some gold next to a set of spikes, jumped for the gold on the other side of the spikes... sigh. $4200.

7. Walked out of the entrance, hit a pot with my whip, was injured and saw something die. ??? Probably a spider. Smashed the remaining pots from a distance... got a $3k+ gem from one of the others, so I'm not complaining. Hit by a poison dart while trying to make a tricky throw, almost dead... $14400 by the end of the first level, quite unusual. (And still nearly dead.) Very long load time for the next level.. has it locked up? No, odd. Killed a bat, made a jump onto a pile of bones between some spikes... and the pile of bones stood up and instantly killed me. Hello, Mr. Skeleton! (Afterward, it walked onto the spikes and died. Heh.) $14400.

The expedition continues - continues now, and forever. It can never be halted.

Obamablag

In this post: Obama comes to visit!

Obama came to visit today!

"Hello, Nikolas," he said in his deep, strong voice. "I'm just here to visit."

"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. President!" I told him, shaking his hand vigorously.

"I'm going to be here for an hour - want to play some Brawl?" he asked, gesturing towards the television.

We did!

He thunder-spammed with Pikachu. It was dreadful. (I coped.)

After a while things became less cool. "I'm not really a fan of duels in Brawl," I said. "Might we add some bots?"

"Why not let Biden play?" Obama asked.

It was Vice President Biden! He was here too.

Biden played Sonic! Strange but true. It takes all kinds to make a viable modern presidency, I guess.

Then former president George W. Bush burst in the door! "That's it!" he cried. "I'm out of office now, and I'll be darned if you lot don't pass me a Wavebird this instant!"

I shrugged and handed him one. (Taft was disappointed when he came in later and found there were no controllers left. We had to trade-off.)

And that's how I spent my afternoon today!

King Nikolas and the Courtesans

A ZhangCo production. (Most spelling errors corrected - except for the word "pysics"!)

once there was

a king nikolas

he was king of the babylonians

one day he wanted to have sex

but he already had sex with

all of his concubines

so he was bored of that

so he said

whosoever shall deliver unto me

a virgin that was more hotter

than my concubine

shall receive 100 hectares of land

100 sheep

and 50 goats

and

some herb

of the earth

so all the men in the place

went up

and put lots of mud-powder

on their daughters

so that they looked

fertile

and

hot

and then they put jewels

across her nape

and

her ventrals

and silk

upon her dresses

and they went up to nikolas

and nikolas said

i have seen it all before

it bore me

because

i am a sexy man

then there was a young girl

who was the daughter of the vizier

and the vizier taught her all the maths

and like

the pysics

and like

the abacus

and like

agriculture

and the vizier loved his daughter

so he did not want to giver her to the king nikolas

and then

the king went up tho them

and he was like

why have you not presented

a virgin

to me

for i am king

and then king nikolas saw

the girl

and he thought

this womon does not have mud-powder upon her nape

nor jewels on her bosom

and he thought that it was

intriguing

that a womon would not think of her self

that she must put on these things

to be hot

and sexy

and he said

come with me

for you shall be my

wife

and the vizier was like

noooo

but then she said

do not worry for i have a plan

and then the king took her

to the palace

and he gave her like

a garden

with some figs

and dates

and like

a cat

and he said

to night we shall have

sex

and

they did

and then king nikolas said

hmm

what was i thinking

i would rather

have had

sex with a womon

with mud-powder

on her face

and jewels

upon her breast

such that

i am stimulated

to a greate extent

by the chafing

upon my skin

and then king nikolas said

tomorrow you will be

execute

so i can have

another hot concubine

but

she was like

ok

but

are you sure you would not rather

hear a story

and he was like

for tonight

only

and then

she told him

of the maths

and she told him

about the vectores

and

the squaring of the circle

and

the partial derivatives

and

the matrix

and king nikolas was fascinated

by this

and then the womon told him

if you want to know

more you will have to wait

for tomorrow

and he was like

noooo

and he did not execute

her

so then

she told him

about the pysics

and she told him about the forces

and the velotices

and

the vectores

and the motion

and the electricity

and the nucleus

and then

they next day

she told him about

the abacuses

and

the algorithms

and

the data structures

and

the object-oriented paradigms

and the data bus

and then

and for a while

the king nikolas

was very interested

and then

he became very much enamoured of these topicks

and he decided

one day

he freed all his concubines

and he became a scholar

in the grand academy

in france

and he took the womon

with him

to be his

real wife

and she was like

ok

and they were very happy

and

that is why

nikolas is

the way he is

to day

(Director's Cut Edition: pretend there's a snake in the palace somewhere!)

Not at all inspired by Shahazrahad.

A DAIMONE

NINE TAILS IT HAD, AND FIFTEEN FANG-TONGUES

IN A HUNDRED HUNDRED HIDEOUS TONGUES IT GIBBERED, AND ITS WORDS WERE THOSE OF MADNESS

IT CAME UPON A YOUNG MAN ONCE (PITY HIM; OH, PITY!)

THIS IS WHAT IT DID

AT FIRST, IT EMBRACED HIM, OFFERING KIND WORDS

"LOVE ME" IT COMMANDED

"LOVE ME"

THEN IT BEGAN TO TRANSFORM

HIDEOUS SPIKES GREW FROM ITS FOREHEAD

ITS BEARD GREW

AND GREW

AND GREW

THEN IT STABBED THE YOUNG MAN THROUGH THE THROAT

AND KILLED HIM

LESSON: BEWARE OF NIKOLASES, FOR THEY ARE VILE AND EVIL BOTH

ALSO

THEY HAVE BEARDS

(OH NOOOOOOO)

Activities for the Birthday of a Friend.

Dear Reader,

At this academic institution, I have made a number of friends. One of my dearest friends, one J. Hayes, celebrates his birthday today - this very day! He is out of town, traveling with a lady-friend - or so I understand. (I do not know the lady myself.) Some of his friends came over tonight, unexpectedly - they wanted to make his return a joy for one and all!

A most admirable joy, and one I thoroughly endorsed - as did all my other suite-mates. Though no one of us could match the efforts and enthusiasm of the lady-friends, each of us worked to help in our own way.

We covered the mattress. We covered the pillows, we covered the bed. (Then we covered it in shaving cream - a revenge for past offenses!) We covered his clothes, we covered his rolling-stand, we covered his entire closet. His laptop, his chair, his... well, everything we could get our hands on!

I myself was only involved in a small part of this - the work was divided among nearly ten people, and I was occupied with this fine blago-institution for a significant portion of the time - and still the things I saw covered... nearly endless in number, it seemed!

Notable:

The guitar, which was filled with toilet paper, covered in toilet paper, placed in its case... which was then covered in toilet paper. (The bow was a nice touch.)

The bicycle, which had its front wheel removed, its frame and handlebar covered in toilet paper, its seat removed, placed on his desk... and covered in toilet paper.

And, well... the bed!

A most joyous occasion for all involved. We are told that the honorable Hayes himself will return at 2 AM. It is only to be hoped that, at such an hour, he can appreciate what has been done for him!

(Also, that someone will be kind enough to help him make his bed actually usable again. You know. For his birthday.)

job_print();

job_print

boolean job_print(OutputStream printTo)
throws Jobless

Deprecated.

Prints Steve Jobs to the given OutputStream.

Using a text file in the source directory, the function connects to a set of three web-servers with URLs given in the text file, downloading from each an up-to-date photo of Steve Jobs; specifications indicate that the photo should be more than 8 hours old at time of use, though error of up to twice that is acceptable in limited cases. After assembling a composite image from the three photographs, the function uses advanced image-recognition techniques to identify Jobs' head, hands, identifiable Apple products and other paraphernalia, and then renders each into an output image produced with the internal, private ASCII renderer, automatically cropping out any other persons present. The halo present around Steve Jobs' head at all times is also re-added, compensating for a noted tendency in cameras to fail to capture it.

Parameters:

printTo - the OutputStream to print Steve Jobs to.

Throws:

Jobless - if no Steve Jobs is found, or Steve Jobs is corrupted in printing.

See Also:

woz_print()

pogue_print()

kelsey_print()

Deprecated. Please use the newer render_steve_jobs() function; job_print() still functions at the time of writing, but will fail in 2012, when the end of the Mayan calendar causes Jobs to transform into a twelve-armed, nine-headed, serpent-like monstrosity that will end the nations of the Earth. The writer of job_print() failed to take account of the possibility of Jobs having more than one head, more than two arms, or a hideous, screaming fractal of dying children in lieu of a torso, and the function will crash in those case. Therefore, use of this function is discouraged. ♪Have a nice day!♪

You have to burn the Wii

You have to relinquish the ketchup

but i'm not done with the ketchup

You have to go south of the hippopotamus
then you'll be able to breathe again

You have to befriend the fedora
Then you'll find true love!

You have to contemplate the rest of the day
You have to optimize the alien invasion
(Presumably in the opposite order.)

"You have to prepare for the coming of the wine cellar"

It's coming (on a thousand tiny legs)
wait
maybe not

You have to revive the friction
otherwise you'll slide right off the world

You have to defenestrate the province of Saskatchewan

RIGHT OUT THE WINDOW IT GOES

SHOOP

THERE IT WENT

BYE
(BYE)

Then: You have to curse the post-apocalyptic nightmare world!

Guess that wasn't such a good move.

All is not lost!

You have to rub the Apocalypse

Then things will get better.
(Aww.)

On the same note: You have to knit the Xbox.
(Oo, soft and cuddly!)
This is all that my Googlings found:

I'm not even disappointed!

Nor should you be!

You have to belittle the grumpy old geezer.

He's disappointed with everything!

You have to have an irrational fear of the venus fly trap

What do you mean, irrational?

You have to flee from the bartender.

Forgot your wallet?

Or: did he transform into a TEN-STORY TALL ALIEN MONSTROSITY?

I would flee from a bartender who did that.

Probably both.

You have to inflict untold horrors upon the general population.
(Is this an instruction to the bartender? Why would he need it? I do that all the time.)

You have to revive the retirement village

This one piques my curiosity.

Has the place lost its life in the metaphorical sense, or the literal one?

Who killed them?
If you revive them, do they become zombies, and are the resulting zombies different somehow?
(Perhaps they become philosophical zombies! Those are the best.)

You have to screenshot the disappointing meeting with a childhood hero

You have to obey the werewolf

You have to flail the legs

to escape
(this post!)

The Consortium of the Five Womons , pert I2

The Nikolas resumes His Lettre-Writting.

It reades:

CHAPTER III: The Siege of the Porte-City of Trafelger.

Upon retourning to my Bedchambres, after canvassing upon the Ice-filled pondes of mudde-shoales, at Tamberlane, and comsuming a draught of Fine Tonick at the Publick-House, I set about to prophesysing the correct Pathe of Action vis. The Womon Whom I had recentley met, and had musch Discourse with, whereupon, owing to her Kinde and Gentyle Nature, of which Disposition is Goode, and Cleane, and the Features of her apperence, which were in General, pleasent, and Hygenick, as set upon by the moste Recent standardes of the Bishope, who advocatèd the washing of the Body with Lye and Soda ashes, and the application of Linements, that, indeed, I did become most Enamour'd, and desir'd to co-habite with her, such that it may result in divers Pleasures, of which I shall not decry in this Lettre, lest it be confiscatèd by the Ofice of the Kings Regente, and sold unto the street, as ha-penny pamphlette, of which I am most Repuls'd, and Indignant. 

CHAPTER VI: The Battle of the Beaks.

Thusly, Shall I tell thee, did I go once againe the next Daye, to the same Tabernacel which I often Frequenet Early in th' Morn, and Saw, with mine eyes, the same membre of the Most Curious Organisation, and to my Surprize, another membre of the same Organisation, who was indeed as Pleasant to the Eye as was the Firste, adjasent to me in the benches where we tooke our Communion Wafres, her having pass'd it to me, whereupon she did express much Amusemente, and Good Cheer, which was Pleasant to Experiense. Never the Less, Having thusly been Distrackted from the Object of my Endeavours, was I wont to Leave the Tabernacle, and did I, feeling a Hungre most Foule, wondre upon the Local Tavren, where one may find Food stuffes of a Less than Pleasing Dispossition, and did I go upon the Queue, where we were to recief our Bread, and I saw, beheind me, a most Strange Fellow, the very same as which Mr. Féinbérg was most Curious to know of, and who Insissted that I describe in this Correspondance. This Strange Fellow, who was dressed in a Morning Frock-Coat, and a Top Hat, and Silk-stockings, and buckles upon his Bootes, and a Silver daggre upon his Mid-riffe, and he introduced Him self as Jonathan A. Kessler, thoughe he bade me call him the "Crazy-Catte", for was his most indecipherable countenence. Upon his arme, he had a most strange Devise, which was made of a Firmament of Wood-chippes, and pasted in a most crude fassion, Wedged to a Lever, and a Cranke, and which he Called a "Centro-Fuge", and which he related to me was Intended to be used for Medical Pourposes, and to Balance the Humours, However, judging his own Humours to be Quite fluctuatory, I was not wont to Enhearten to his Claimes of its suppernatrual powers.

CHAPTER IX: The Tyme of Growthe.

Having Resolved the Strange man who was in my Beheind, I turned my Attentions to the Front of my Personne, whereupon I identified, Having been accustomed to it by Then, A Third Membre of the Mysterious Groupe, who was verily as Comely as the First Two, and Cheer Full in Dispossition. How Ever, being Pre-occupied dissecting a Peice of Fishe at the Time, and not being able to Converse with her as a Gentle Man should, I declined to Acquainte my self with her, a desisicon which I immedietly Regretted, like a foul Miasma upon a Swampe, or a Vente of Sulphur upon the ocean Floor. The next Day, I rectified my erreurs, by Making sure to Accost her upon the Street, where the Hay-market was, and to intorduce my self properly, and to present her a favourable Impression, did I Emploi much humour, and japes of a Crude variety, and she Was most Impressed indeed, as was my Private Opinion. Never the less, as we entered the Publick Square, was she accosted by an Old Friend, who did proceed to make Strange, Ayrythimick poses upon her, Of which I thought were Most Ungainly, and Churlish, and Common. However, she was never the less receptive to them, and she Joined him on his Horse-drawn Carraige, and I was left in the Duste.

The Fane of the Northlings

"Defilement!" the High Northling Priest cried, aghast. "Our most sacred treasures - stolen! Our most secret, sacred sanctum - desecrated!"

"Ha ha!" cried a voice from somewhere high above, hiding in the darkness of the rafters. "And I'll do it again, too!"

The Northlings rent their clothes and tore at their hair. "Whatever are we to do?" they asked pitifully. "Whatever are we to do?"

"It is I!" cried Mr. Hataki, suddenly present. "I will solve your problems!"

"We don't have any money for you," the High Northling Priest told him.

"Oh," said Mr. Hataki. He vanished.

Then a young Northling acolyte - the youngest of the acolytes - nervously raised her voice. "I think I can fix it," she said. "I think I can find the sacred treasures."

Everyone was quite surprised. The High Northling Priest stalked over to where the young Acolyte was sitting, doubt clear upon his face. "What makes you think that you can succeed where the wisest minds of this congregation have failed, young lady?"

"I'll try real hard," the young acolyte said.

The Northlings were instantly convinced!

"Very well, then," the High Northling Priest said. "The worst damage was done to our Holiest of Holies, the Bi-Circular Non-Wind-Powered Material and Personnel Transport Device (Single-User). Three pieces were taken from it: the Gear-Array of Magnificent Workmanship, the Supporting Cushion-Device of Softness, and the Primary Frame Array of Durability. Find these three pieces, and we will be able to deal with the rest."

The young acolyte thought about it.

"Well," she said after due consideration, "The gears are right behind you, on the floor."

Everyone looked around and gasped. "By Jove, they are!" the High Northling priest exclaimed. "What a cunning thief - to hide it in plain sight! We would have never suspected!"

"What of the Supporting Cushion-Device?" a lesser priest asked.

The young acolyte thought again.

"Venerated High Priest, would you please turn around for a moment?" she requested.

The High Northling Priest did so - and behold, there was the part desired, cunningly affixed to his back!

"Even if I had wanted to look there - I could not have!" the High Northling Priest said excitedly. "This thief is the most conniving of tricksters!"

"But - what of the frame?" another acolyte asked.

The youngest acolyte, immediately, pointed. "It's right there," she said. "Next to the gears."

The High Priest of the Northlings. When he turned back, his face was pale with horror.

"You don't mean," he asked, "The pile of metal shards and assorted debris?"

The other priests uttered a simultanous moan of despair.

"Um, yes, that," the young acolyte replied. "But it's okay. I can whip up a replacement in a jiffy."

Then she did!


"The holiest of holies - it's repaired!" the Northling priests said, awed. They bowed down to the acolyte, putting their foreheads to the floor of the Fane. "No longer are you an acolyte," the High Northling Priest proclaimed - "From now on, you shall be known as our Prophet!"

The Prophet rode the Fane a few times on her newly-repaired bicycle.

"Curses!" muttered the thief, still watching from the rafters high above. "Just you wait, 'Prophet' - you haven't seen the end of this!"

TO BE CONTINUED!*

*Maybe.

Jambes

a.k.a

St. Nikulaso, St. Kesleo, and The Consortium of The Five Womons

The Nikolas Theatre Troupe Presents:

Featuring:

by Nicholas Feinberg, esq.

CHAPTER 1:

Ande hisse Name Was Nikkolass,

Ande he diéd.

The End

CHAPTER 2:

ACT I: THE BIRTH OF ALASTOR

Nikkoulasse, Count of Saxony, Baron of the Castle upon Ipswitch, and Adjunct to the Stewards at the Manour of the Duke. He sits in a Oak Throne, writing a lettre, to be mailed subsequently to Lord Kessler, for his Reading Pleasures.

The Letter Reads:

Gentlemen:

I write to innforme you, Gentlemen of the Roundes twenty leagues from Liverpoole, of a most curious and, For the time being, Unknown to the Membres of the Publick, Circumstance, which one may describé most aptly as a Devysing Tricke, and a Shamme. Therefores, shall I not divilge by what most profounde manner did I come upon such an Intimate Knowledge of the Topick I shall decry, yette, If thou shalt for give me, recount to thee in divers mannres the workinges and machinations of the Most Unusual Groupe known amongste them selfes as most simpley as : The Consortium of the Five Womons.

It begane upon the Fourth Weeke at the Université when I encountred the first of the Culte, a youngge maiden, though of her piëtie I canne not be sure, nor was I able to Dettermine whether she had her self a hosbonde, or was Engaged to the viscount. She and I mette at the Tabernacel, where she was involved in the Sermon which was given by the Ministier, and thus frequented the Stage where she was Greatley Visible, even from Longe Distanses. A curious Property of this girl which I am sure will delighte you, Gentlemen, and your Wontan Wayes, was that at the first encounter, I was led into beliefing that she was not a youngge maiden, or indeede even a membre of the Distaff Sexe, but rather a whipping-boy of the Clergie, or a Monke, or a Parish, or a Bishope. However, after thouroughe Examinationes of her Personne, of which I shall not detaile in this Lettre (for they are Quite Lewd, and Lascivious, and Immoralè, and Un-gentalmanley, however, if Thou wishest to know of such Behaviours, and for them to be Described in Intimate detailes, then Thou shouldst aske of the locale Gossipe-Monger, which shall know of These Behaviours, in great Detalè), I was shockèd, to disckover that she was indeed a most lovely youngge girl, with a pleasant Demeanour, and of a marriageable age, and quite Nubyle. I will cease to speake of her nowe, but shall I perforce return upon my Discourse in Latere sentenses, for there were many more Womons which I had not yet Disckovered. Thusly, Littel did I knowe, at the Tyme, however, that in that very Tabernacle, therein conteyned both the Second and the Fifth membres of the Unusual Groupe.

...

It is at this pointe that Nikkolas stopes writing his lettre, and raises uppe to fetch some nourishemente, and latere a whiskey and a cigarre.

ACT III: THE BATTLES OF TRAFALGAR.

to be comptinued

Photo-Feature: How To Be A Soldier

No words here.

Just explosions.







It is the way of the Soldier.

Photo-Feature Mini!: MEEEDIIIC!

The most beloved of all men is the Medic: for he is not a killer of men, but a healer. His medi-gun bestows much-needed healing to those in need, streaming coloured energy and floating medi-crosses. So benevolent! So pacifistic! Surely no man would harm a Medic.

Well. One, people are kind of mean sometimes. So that's one reason that medics get shot at so very aggressively. (See, for an example: this.)

But why else would one shoot a medic; even one healing the foe?

This feature will try to address those burning questions; quickly, efficiently, and uselessly, as with all these photo-features. As follows:

REASON ONE: The needle-gun. Shoots a stream of syringes at the foe, filled with who-knows-what, to make them filled with pain and sometimes death. There's a reason that bullets are more popular - the syringes aren't really all that effective as a weapon - but they can still kill. (As above.)

The weapon actually shown above is the upgraded version, which we might term "reason one-point-five": the Blutsauger, or "bloodsucker". It heals the medic as his syringes hit. (Somehow.) Significantly more effective, and rather rude. If you start getting hit by drain-o-needles, it really is imperative on you to shoot back!

REASON TWO: The bonesaw. Hacks, cleaves, kills. A melee weapon - and thus largely ineffective in a gun-fight - but if you are caught at close quarters by a blood-spattered man waving a bonesaw around, again, you are going to probably want to shoot him. Unless he is a friendly blood-spattered man waving a bonesaw around. In that case, you will probably want to back away slowly. This is a good plan.

As with the first screenshot, the weapon depicted above is actually the upgraded bonesaw - the UBERSAW. (Those men on the internet who kill me - why are they never wielding the weapons I want them to? For purposes of illustration?) The ubersaw is like the bonesaw, but 25% slower. Oh! Also, it increases the ubercharge-meter by 25% with every hit. (The bonesaw does not affect the ubercharge-meter at all.)

What is the ubercharge-meter? Why, it determines when the UBERCHARGE may be unleashed, of course. (I've mentioned it before.)

You know. This.

REASON THREE: If you do not shoot at the nice man who is healing your enemies, not only will your enemies be healed (making them much harder to kill), but they will also be - occasionally - invincible.

'Uber'd'.

The fellow above is - as with pretty much all of my uber-screenshots - "doing it incorrectly". You see, the ubercharge is deployed by the medigun - the heal-gun mentioned at the beginning. It renders both the holder of the medigun, and the heal-target of the same, invincible for the duration of the ubercharge.

The medic pictured is running around with an ubersaw. An ubersaw is not a medigun, which means that the medic is not invincible by his own power, which means that someone else is burning their precious, precious invincibility to allow another medic to run around with a saw in the middle of a battle.

It is kind of funny, but it is probably a poor strategic decision.

Anyway! Three reasons to kill enemy medics:

1) They are not noncombatants! They shoot people with syringes. Ow!

2) They are not noncombatants! They carve people up with saws. OW!

3) They make the enemy invincible from time to time!

Reason 3) seems a bit weaker, perhaps. That is all right.

MINIFEATURE COMPLETE

(P.S.: This photo-feature is a "mini" version because it only has three screenshots. Why? Because all my screenshots come from pictures of the people who killed me, and medics do not do that much killing.

Their invincible bully-boys do the killing for them.

OMINOUS)

THE END

Mr. Feinberg: Gentleman!

[Mr. Feinberg has just saved his employer's beloved tortoise, nicknamed "Mr. Feinberg", from the attack of a pack of stray cats.]

"Mr. Feinberg!" his employer remarked, delighted. "You have saved my pet from the attack of a most hostile foe. This was not part of your job description - I hired you to wax my Cadillac's hood! But you did so anyway, exhibiting courage and quick-wittedness in your actions. To think that a pair of roller-skates and a bucket of soapy water might prove so essential to your impromptu plan! I may seem to be be "going on" at excessive length about your actions - and perhaps I am, Mr. Feinberg, perhaps I am."

"Aw, it was fine, Mr. Feinberg. I didn't mind."

"In any case, you have displayed your character to great advantage by your actions today. You are a true gentleman, Mr. Feinberg, and you deserve to dine like one."

"Why, thanks, Mr. Feinberg! But I'll be fine, really. I was planning to eat out at Bob's tonight - it's just fifty cents for the grilled cheese, and it's hardly rancid at all!"

"No, no, I won't have it. Tonight, you dine with me!"

[A certain amount of time passes.]

Mr. Feinberg dismounts his prized three-speed bicycle and leans it carelessly against a nearby limosine. Mr. Feinberg, surrounded by armed bodyguards, stands just inside the doorway to the restaurant to which he invited Mr. Feinberg.

"Hey, Mr. Feinberg, I'm here! What's with all the guys with guns?" Mr. Feinberg asks cheerily.

There is a grim look on Mr. Feinberg's face. "...nothing," he replies after a pause, disarmed by his employee's naive charm. "Come in."

[Time passes.]

"Shucks, Mr. Feinberg, this prime rib is really good - and this filet mignon is even better! Hey, what's that guy whispering in your ear saying? Oh - oh, sorry, no need to look at me that way, sorry for the rudeness..."

"Mr. Feinberg, I have just received confirmation of what I only suspected prior to this moment: you are in the pay of my deadly enemy, the Don. It is good that you enjoyed the meal you just devoured - for it will be your last. As I invited you here to dine, I now instead invite you - to die!"

"What? No! I ain't workin' for no Don! Come on, guys, put down those guns, stop pointin' them at me like that! You've got me confused with some other Feinberg!"

"Men - prepare to fire."

"No! Mr. Feinberg, you know I'm a good guy - a gentleman, a real gentleman, you said! Don't let your goons shoot me! Stop 'em, please!"

"...fire!"

Mr. Feinberg crashed out the rear window of the restaurant, pursued by a hail of gunfire. Ducking and zigging and zagging, he ran to his bicycle, using the steep slope of the street to effect a downhill getaway.

"Do we follow him, boss?" one of Mr. Feinberg's bodyguards asked, emerging belatedly from the entrance of the restaurant.

"No," Mr. Feinberg told them curtly. "There''ll have an ambush ready, if I know the way the Don's mind works - and I do. This is just one more indignity perpetuated by that most vile of foes, that most evil of men, Don Feinberg. Mark my words - I will have my revenge, sooner or later."

As they entered the limosine to make their departure, not a one of Mr. Feinberg's bodyguards noticed the small object Mr. Feinberg had stuck to the side of the car as he made his escape - so when the bomb went off, it caught them all by surprise. The feeling was short-lived. There were no survivors.

Mr. Feinberg died in the explosion. Mr. Feinberg was richly rewarded for his treacherous work. Mr. Feinberg was stuffed and mounted on the Don's wall. And Don Feinberg became undisputed ruler of the criminal underground of Feinberg City.

A busy day indeed!

The Master of Science

Dr. Zhang, MASTER OF SCIENCE, settled into a fighting pose. "WOH-PAH!" he shouted, jabbing both fists into the air. "WHO WILL CHALLENGE MY MASTERY?"

A challenger arrived!

"What?" Dr. Zhang asked, drawing back in surprise and dismay. "IT YOU!"

"Yes," the newcomer agreed, cackling a vile laugh. "It is I - Dr. Wernher von Jughashvili, who competes with you for tenure and grant money!"

"Ha!" Dr. Zhang cried, regaining his courage. "I shall readily master you, Jugashil... Jughasil... JUGH! For I am a MASTER OF SCIENCE!"

Then they went to their respective laboratories. It was time for the competition that would determine the course of FATE. It was time to send in research proposals!

"Oh," Dr. Jughashvili said, reading his mail a month later. "They turned me down. Dang."

Another victory for the MASTER OF SCIENCE!

Oft niklas king postjes tobacco& liquor

told by a forest pixie

so i went to class

the first day of this clas

and i sat down at a place

that was devoid

of humanes

and then

a womon came in there

and sat next to me

but

i did not say

anything

and then

ryan tsang came in

and sat on the other saide

of that womon

and he was like

sup

and like

how are u

or something

Nikolas: That is not true.

wait

it is not over

also

it was 

him

metaphoricaly

Nikolas: I see. Carry on.

so then

teach was like

ok grab a partner

cuz we are going to do a "fun activity"

and then

ryan tsang like

*heads-up*

to the womon

and she like

*lol k*

like a pimpe

and then like

i did not have

partner

and like

the activity was pretty cool

and it invoved

touching

your partner

in "intimate areas"

but i had to do

with like

the teach

Nikolas: And you saw this as an opportunity for lechery?

yes

do you want

to know why

it is the "Twist"

of lemon

Nikolas: I suppose?

I

WAS

RYAN