It turned out that my initial impressions were wrong. Despite the name and what the peddlers were trying to sell in the market, the main product of Amber Town was not amber, but coal. Tons upon tons of coal. The amber was a by-product, something dug up along with the coal. The tar they’d used on the highwayman was another by-product, a thick sludge that constantly seeped out of the rock and had to be dredged out lest the mine grow unworkable. They sold that too. Evidently someone had a use for it.[18] Amber Town was minehead and community in one, built into the rock for lack of level ground above the waterline. I doubted the rest of the Ostgelb valley was like that, but the coal was here, and the harbor was here, so the people adapted.
It just didn’t feel right. It wasn’t as bad as I feared, but the feeling of the immense weight of the mountain was definitely there. I wanted to say that was the reason I couldn’t sleep, but I was also pretty sure there was something living in the straw of my mattress. I watched the orange glow of embers in the fireplace and listened to the sheeting rain. Shadows covered the walls thicker than the woolen hangings that prevented the great thermal mass of the mountain from stealing away the fire’s heat. I could stoke the fire back to life if I wanted more light. Knock off the ashes, bring the fuel closer to the air, rekindle the glow. But I didn’t mind the gloom.
The sound of footsteps outside told me I was not the only one still awake. They passed by the room at an unhurried pace and receded to be drowned out by the strum of the rain. I stood up from my stool and debated checking to see if there actually was some critter nesting in the straw of the bed. A slice of chill air ruffled my shirt and the quiet click of the door latch being re-engaged froze me in place. Someone a lot quieter than the last passer-by had just stepped into my room. My gaze flicked to the far side of the bed where my sword rested, and then back towards the inky shadows where I knew the door to be. I didn’t know if the intruder knew I was aware of their presence, or if the glow of the embers was enough to see me standing in the middle of the room.
I had to do something. To seize whatever advantage I might still have. They moved either whisper quiet or were standing still. Given how little noise they’d made entering, I couldn’t assume the latter. Even if they were standing still, their eyes would not take long to adjust. I took hold of the only thing close at hand – the stool I’d been sitting on. Even so, where did I begin to face? A spark of inspiration struck, and I grinned in the dark. Forming the fingers of my left hand into a cage, I focused my attention on the space within. Though the energy I gathered was still a dark purple as it sparked into life, it still cast an eerie, lambent illumination upon the recesses missed by the fire’s embers.
The hooded figure’s head snapped up at once, eyes wide. Their oilskin cloak dripping with rainwater stood out as a dark blotch against the almost garishly colorful wall hangings. Their face was ghostly pale, and the short blade in their hand had been robbed of its sheen by a dark ointment. Too far to hit with a swipe, I threw the stool as I lunged for the man. He swatted it down, and I grabbed his wrist. Together, we slammed into the wall. Closer now, I saw sharp, angular features on a narrow, triangular face. It vaguely reminded me of the features of the Feyblooded family. Inked on his neck was the image of a rodent biting the head off of a viper. Ramming a fist into my midsection, he tried to twist his blade hand free. He didn’t succeed, but it still tipped the edge dangerously close to gutting me. The knee meant for my groin collided with my inner thigh, and he pushed us away from the wall.
With his free hand, he tried to lever my grip off of his sword hand. I grabbed his face, intent on slamming his head into the stonework. I’d forgotten that the source of our light was the dark purple flames now wreathing my hand. The residual moisture from the rain sizzled first, before the skin began to sear. He let loose the first noise I’d heard him make – an inarticulate howl of pain. Dropping his sword, he shouldered me aside and bolted for the door. The wood hit me as I tried to lunge for him, and I stumbled back. Shaking my hand and dissipating the flames, I snatched up my own sword.
By the time I got out on the balcony, there was no trace of the man. The beacons of the twin lighthouses flanking the Amber Town harbor cast striated shadows through the pillared facade of the balcony. Sheeting rain made what little light reached me dance infuriatingly as I searched for a sign of motion from my missing man.
Nothing.
Seeing me with my sword drawn, unprepared for the wind and the lashing precipitation, a shorter, square-jawed man in the livery of Ostgelb approached. “Something the matter m’lord?” he asked in Atlorian.
“Very much so,” I said, starting to put the sword away before I remembered I wasn’t wearing the scabbard. “Someone just tried to kill me.”
***
I dropped the short sword on the table. The blade was coated with a thin layer of ash-caked bitumen, drastically reducing the amount of light it would reflect. It was only about as long as my forearm, straight-bladed and double-edged. The handle was made of jet inlaid with a stylized mouse skeleton in opal. The cross guard looked to be hepatizon, gracefully bent in a shape that almost reminded me of a recurve bow, though flatter. The pommel was the same material with a helix of silver wound about it. Oliver Black looked like he was about to faint as it clattered on the wood. Magistrate Curva pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. Soren, Johan and Lenz simply stared in disbelief.
“The man who tried to stab me had a tattoo on the side of his throat of a mouse killing a snake, and he carried this in his left hand.”
“Quite sinister,” Soren said with a smirk.
I was not amused and let my expression show it.
“None of the people around here have a mark like that,” Curva said. “I’d remember that. And a sword that fancy is above their means.”
“Your ship is the only one that’s come in for a fortnight,” Black said. “The last vessel was a collier on its way to Salzheim. One of the regular traders.”
“We didn’t even know we were stopping here,” Lenz said. “I doubt he came in before us to lie in wait.”
“A stowaway on the Churl’s Chore?” Soren asked.
“It’s not a big ship, but we weren’t at sea very long either,” Lenz said.
“Actually, it’s kind of big,” Ostgelb said.[19]
“Who would want to kill you?” Johan asked, his eyes still on the sword.
“We don’t know for certain they had the right room,” I said.
“Well, there’s not a whole lot of people in this town who’d rate midnight assassination by a killer with an overpriced blade,” Soren said. “And I doubt even Ritter or even I would either. So that says you or Ritterblume.”
Lenz blanched at the possibility Soren had given voice to. But my mind went back to Johan’s question. Who would have any reason to want either Lenz or me dead? I paced around the empty tavern. “It doesn’t make sense. No one would benefit from killing either of us,” I said. I shook my head and walked back the other way.
“Do you have to do that?” Lenz asked.
“I suppose not,” I said. As I turned back towards the table, my eye was caught by the view through the archway.
The gibbet in the market stood empty.
“Did your highwayman expire, Magistrate?” I asked.
Curva bolted upright and rushed to the doorway. He loosed a loud oath in Atlorian.
“If your would-be assassin wanted a native guide to provide an alternate way out of the Ostgelb valley, the Dog-men have a great many secret ways,” Black said.
“I want to get out of this place,” I muttered.
***
We sailed into the sunrise, a smattering of orange clouds the only remnants of the storm that had forced us into harbor at Amber Town. After a few careful searches of the Churl’s Chore, we were confident that my intruder was not stowed away aboard ship. The routine we settled into was not as sedentary as I’d hoped, and I got little time with my books. Lenz wanted to practice for the tournament. The only art we had space to train in was fencing, as the aisle of hatches between the masts was kept clear of cargo. Soren had refused to spar with Lenz, and Johan had not presented enough of a challenge. So yet again, I was stuck helping Lenz to practice his bladework. From time to time, we did give Ritter some pointers to improve his technique, but there was no way he was going to be tournament ready by the time we reached Farcairn. I didn’t want to break it to Lenz that we were probably not tournament ready ourselves, as he didn’t want to give up the consolation prize after being sent away from the war.
The uneven motion of the boat over the waves made for an interesting complication. The gentle roll of the deck was unpredictable, and turned more than one bout by wrong-footing one of us at an inopportune moment. The most off-putting and insulting part of it was the crew, who watched the sparring with fascination, and bet on more than one bout. I was greatly discomfited by having spectators, but I reminded myself that the tournament would have a much larger crowd than the idle members of the crew. This crowd was energized by the sheer difficulty of predicting which of us would win a given bout. It made their betting more thrilling in all probability.
The weighty practice blades were still tiring. In a rest break, I watched the island of Gefrah slowly pass. It was a green, saddle-shaped land mass. On one highland, a stately castle of gray granite sat almost casually. The way its walls extended down the incline gave it the appearance of lounging on the hill. Red shingles covered the visible rooves. On the other upland, a temple complex came as close as it could to strutting about while remaining stationary. Proud, brilliant blues marked the pillared facade as they stretched bombastically skyward, their crowns gilded and eaves covered in murals. The land in between was packed with cultivated fields and pastures. A small cluster of peasant dwellings huddled in the shadow of the castle wall. In all, it looked like an idyllic diorama of an archetypical fief. An idealized representation of the hypothetical estates of the realm. Reality was never that tidy. The banner that waved above the castle was red. Upon it was the white rendition of a severed ram’s head upon a tripod of stakes.
“Should we stop?” Lenz asked.
“Why?” I asked.
Lenz stroked his chin contemplatively. “It looks like a nice place.”
“We do have to get to Farcairn before the tournament starts.”
“Fair enough.”
Before Lenz decided to try to start another bout of sparring, I decided to head below to check on the horses. Really, it was more to avoid another match, but it was as good an excuse as any to get off the deck. The steady clomp of Graymire pawing at the floor of his stall drew my attention. He had leaned his head over the stall gate and was staring at the floor. Clomp, clomp, clomp. Cautiously, I nudged his head up to look me in the eye. It was clear from the look in those brown orbs that he was going stir-crazy. There wasn’t exactly room on the ship to exercise the horses. I briefly entertained the notion of setting ashore at Gefrah just to get the horses some air. But as I thought it over, I decided I could probably calm Graymire down without interrupting our trip.
Finding a brush, I stepped into the stall and began brushing down his sides. It wasn’t long before attention and human contact started soothing Graymire’s fraying nerves. He stopped pawing at the floor boards. The other horses were less agitated than Graymire. But he was a full nineteen hands two inches tall, and they were only around fifteen. The hold would feel less cramped to them. Ostgelb might be right about the Churl’s Chore being big for a ship, but it was still a relatively small space. I glanced up at the sound of footsteps. Seeing only Ritter, I turned my attention back to what I was doing. Johan stared at Graymire for a few moments before saying anything.
“I still can’t get over how big he is,” Ritter said.
“So?” I asked.
“How do you deal with him so calmly?”
“Graymire is a horse. You treat him as you would any other horse and he will behave like any other horse. The fact that he stands a little taller does not change that fundamental nature.”
Ritter thought about it for a moment, before reaching out and putting his hand on Graymire’s muzzle. The horse was completely nonplussed about the contact, and after a moment, Johan patted the side of Graymire’s neck.
“I guess it is kind of obvious and a bit silly to see something other than a horse,” Ritter said.
“Is there something actually on your mind?”
“I was thinking about the horse I lost when the skink riders ambushed us. We had to borrow it, and I’m not sure how I’m going to replace it.”
“You were dutifully responding to a summons by your liege and lost it in battle. It is his responsibility to replace it.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t look like you’ve been reassured,” I said.
“I have,” Johan said. “About the horse at least.”
“Then what else is bothering you?”
“The whole reason I’m here.”
“Is there some ulterior motive?”
“Sort of. I have two older brothers, and our lands would be strained to support the both of them once they marry and have children. They certainly won’t extend to supporting me. That’s why I was more or less pushed out the door when you showed up.”
“Surely you don’t think your parents were trying to get you killed in battle.”
“No, no,” Ritter said. “They outright told me that it was my opportunity to impress a higher lord. Their expectation is that I would either get chosen to join a retinue, or get myself appointed to some office where I would not have to be supported by their larder anymore.”
“Is that why you followed us from Slagveld to Salzheim?” I asked.
“No, I kept following you because no one told me differently.”
I gave a weak laugh. “Well, Johan, you should probably stick with us for now. It’s a long swim if you decide to detour.”
Ritter smiled. It occurred to me in that moment that this was the first time I’d directly addressed him by name.
***
The soil around Farcairn was a beige clay which, when baked, formed into flaxen bricks and tiles. Slightly darker stone formed the city walls and dressed the more important buildings. A few buildings had rooves of a more colorful hue, generally glazed tiles instead of bare. The city stood atop a headland of the same stone as formed its walls, flanked by a river and the Small Sea. Greenery covered the pale soil over most of the vista. Ribbons of roadways and trails stood in stark contrast, spiderwebbing through the countryside. Several smaller enclaves and villas clustered around the city. Some were walled, others not. The fields in between were choked with temporary structures, paddocks and pavilions thanks to the tournament swelling the city’s population to the point it had burst its walls. The docks were along the river’s mouth, and bustled with activity – most of it from the fishing fleet.
As I led Graymire up from the hold and down the ramp to the quay, I could feel his eagerness to run free. I kept a firm grip on his bridle and made sure he knew this was not the time. The ship at anchor on the other side of the quay was also a horse transport. Unlike the Churl’s Chore, it had a door in the side of the hull that lowered into a gangplank. Horses could walk directly in and out of the hold without having to negotiate ramps. It was a better design, but I wondered if it had problems in poor weather. Another man led a horse out of that ship as I was reaching the bottom of the ramp. The rouncey he had was about fourteen hands high, and the man was slightly taller, though only coming up to my chin. He stared wide-eyed up at me, then at Graymire, and back at me. After a moment of irritation, I gestured towards the end of the quay. He scurried along as if chastised, leading the horse ashore. With the way no longer obstructed, I proceeded in the same direction.
A fair-haired man with a writing board and a sheaf of papers stepped in front of me. He only came up to my nose. I took a quick glance around and realized that the average height on the docks fell between that of this man and the previous one. I towered over everyone by a half a head at least.
“Something the matter?” I asked.
“Everyone who comes ashore in Zesrin must be recorded,” he said. Zesrin, one of the five kingdoms. I had actually set foot outside of the Volkmund. I should have realized that earlier. Farcairn was foreign soil, the gateway to the East. Admittedly, it did so much trade with the Empire along the Small Sea that it felt as though it should have been an Imperial town.
“Of course,” I said. “I am Kord Grosz von Karststadt-Salzheim, and I am here for the tournament.”
His eyes flicked to the badge upon my breast, the sword on my hip, and back up at me. He flipped through the pages. I noticed that a lot of them were livery rolls, showing the heraldry of various expected dignitaries. Stopping, he glanced back to my livery badge then at the page before him. “From the household of the Furst of Karststadt?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. Graymire blocked my view of Soren’s approach, and I was almost surprised when he emerged and injected himself into the conversation.
“I am Freiherr Gost, I am serving as Prince von Karststadt’s adjutant. I do apologize for our appearance, and would be more than willing to provide whatever information is needed to permit us to put ashore.”
I wanted to deck Soren. To just knock him flat then and there. But I reminded myself that he’d been sent along to handle this sort of thing.
“As invited tournament participants, I just need the names and styles of the members of your party,” the customs man said.
“And then we can go secure lodgings?” I asked.
“In your case, that will not be necessary. His Majesty, Hengist the Third, has reserved accommodations for invitees of a certain standing and their retinues.” I was being unusually dense, and it took a moment for what he was saying to sink in. I’d been invited? As far as anyone had said, we were merely going. I’d assumed we’d have to plead for admission when we showed up. Soren went through the names and titles of our small party. The customs officer found an entry for House of Ritterblume, but ended up having to record Gost and Ritter as retainers. He seemed genuinely surprised when we declared that the four of us were it.
“There is no one else coming?” he asked.
“They are otherwise occupied,” I said.
“I shall have a page show you to your lodgings, though there will be a bit of empty space, as it was provisioned for a larger entourage.” With a single shrill blast from a whistle, the custom’s officer brought a boy of about eight or nine running. He wore a long tabard bearing a large silver drop from which radiated blue and purple rays. There was a half-eaten sandwich gripped in his left hand. The page gawped up at us, for we must have looked like giants. A sharp rebuke from the customs officer ended the stare. The instructions were curt, and the page was soon leading us through the streets, both original and invented for the tournament. The building he brought us to was one of the detached villas with its own wall. From the rustic construction, it felt a lot like the manors dotted around Ritterblume, albeit in a different hue of stone. I wondered if it was a deliberate attempt to make us feel at home, or if it was happenstance.
I decided it didn’t matter.
[18] I use it for caulking ships. And for making incendiary weapons. And for waterproofing containers. While I was equally thrown when I’d first encountered the substance, Amber Town bitumen is versatile material.
[19] I’ve seen the Churl’s Chore. It is not a big ship. It is big for the ships that exclusively ply the Small Sea and frequently stop in Amber Town, but would be small among my fleets.
If you want your own copy, the whole book is available from Amazon in eBook, Paperback, and Hardcover variants.
My gf started this book this past weekend.
She that bored? 😛
Hehe. She has read the Shadowboy series too.
Seriously, I hope she enjoys it.
I’m sure she will. I know I am enjoying it.
I tore through it pretty quickly – it’s quite enjoyable!
Shadowboy was great. I need to re-read.
Tundra, have you read the rest of that series?
@Red Yes, I believe I have the entire catalog.
It’s strange. As time passes, I grow harsher in my evaluation of my work.
As time passes, I grow harsher in my evaluation of my work.
Not that uncommon.
I remember an Paul Simon looking back on his long list of chart topping songs and thinking that only one of them was actually any good.
I knew a famous bestselling author who wouldn’t read his older stuff for that very reason. Your fans dig it no matter what, however.
I caved to my own lack of discipline, and read the whole thing last week. Now I’m sad that there’s no more.
https://nypost.com/2024/07/22/us-news/top-dems-threatened-to-remove-biden-unless-he-resigned/
The commies staged a coup.
Not even a little surprised.
The halo effect in that photo of Barack was pretty nicely done.
black jesus
You just know the photog got a chubby when he lined up that shot.
Yeah, Mojo was saying that about me, the Jesus halo, on the last Zoom call.
So, I got that going for me. Which is nice.
That’s Our Democracy in action.
Democratic Party insiders have also known for at least two years how Biden was in decline, said the source.
It was obvious prior to the election in 2020.
Everyone who knew should be flogged in public.
Agreed. They lied to their own voters for years, and then rigged the primary so only Biden was on the ballot (remember “none of the above” got a significant number of votes in some places). Then they decide they can’t keep up the charade any longer and forcibly remove him. All while accusing the other party of being chaotic and a threat to democracy.
These people are despicable. They’ve circumvented their own voters. But that won’t matter to most of those voters because they’re also convinced Trump is literally Hitler.
The base doesn’t care. The specific meat sack isn’t as important as the team identity.
And the media should be reminded of their complicity every single day.
Trump might have trouble vs. Mark Kelly, but I don’t see how the Dems ditch Cackles for a straight white man without utterly enraging their base.
Is Kelly appropriately puppet-like?
He’s the heroic astronaut husband of a gun martyr, but is otherwise a blank slate, more or less – I can’t think of a single notable piece of legislation he’s been attached to in the 4 years since he was elected to the senate.
He’s practically “generic Democrat candidate”.
Maybe she falls out a window in Russia…
Oh, and she was shot by a deranged right-winger! (except for the fact he was just deranged, with no coherent political outlook)
I was wondered why Giffords shot by a Republican suddenly appeared.
A real victim of political violence, not like Trump’s rigged fake.
Goddammit. I couldn’t help but clicking. They are still up to that horseshit. It creepy enough to make me queasy.
They call Trump supporters cultists…..all projection, all of the time.
What is that, like 3 coups in the last 8 years? With this much practice, even these blundering idiots might get good at it.
Is Biden still alive? Some Republicans asking for proof of life.
https://x.com/charliekirk11/status/1815485459021328514
If he were not, Dems would be elated and simply use that instead of bothering with the letter thing.
Maybe getting close to incapacitated though.
If he died before Kamala was officially endorsed…
Interesting theory. Do you think his endorsement of Kamala is important?
I don’t know – completely open convention?
Sadly, last night, he succumbed to a particularly nasty case of pillowtothefaceitis.
Amazing how no one around him has a smartphone. No video, no audio, no pictures, nada.
There is an silver alert for a corvette in Delaware right now.
Enjoying this very much, UCS.
To the point that if I miss an installment, all I back looking for it.
I’m glad you’re enjoying it.
Is this on Kindle?
Click my username and it will take you to the Amazon page for all my books, which includes Kindle options.
Thanks!
‘Sorry, No Refunds,’ Says Hunter Biden To All The Foreign Governments That Sent Him Bribes
Right outta The Hildebeast’s playbook. Remember when she was a shoe-in and a river of money from Russia, China and here and there was pouring into the Clinton foundation?
Whatever happened to that wacky Carly Fiorina?
Maybe the dems can dig her up.
I suppose there’s always Dean Phillps and Jason Palmer. Who I believe have 4 and 5 delegates respectfully.
If they weren’t massively anti-semitic, they could run shapiro, win pennsylvania, and then win the election.
She’s pretty tainted with Republican involvement even if she did endorse Biden over Trump last time.
For a nominal Republican instead of Mittens?
The beef between Mathematicians & people in CS is real
…The tree forks downward because it was created by speakers of western european langauges who read left to right, top to bottom, so the starting logic node is at the top where people intuitively start on it….
…Physicist enters the room . . . Gravity. The decision ball falls from the top to the bottom….
Botanist enters the room: Roots. ‘Tree Diagram’ terminology checksout. #FactChecked
I’m listening to Matt Taibbi and Walter Kirn’s show. They keep having “emergency” episodes just like SugarFree.
I like this quote: “We are in a non-predictive atmosphere.” I’m feeing that.
I’m watching that right now. Good show, I like those guys.
The Executive Branch is in an absolute state of chaotic fuckery right now. I mean, like moreso than usual. They couldn’t even prod the Sec State to greet a fucking Prime Minister? Yes, Joe Biden is the master of foreign relations. Let’s get the world to respect us again.
And that Cheatle woman seems to be just digging in her heels. No resignation, no firing.
Work today was a whole lot of people pretending things are totally normal.
I keep harping on this, but Trump was supposed to bring “chaos”. The current administration is more chaotic than anything I’ve seen in my life.
I’m going to add, it will probably get worse. That convention is going to be crazy both inside and outside the building.
I’ve been reading that various state delegations have pledged their delegates to Harris. As far as I know, Biden still hasn’t released them, but even if he has, do the delegations then meet and decide who they will vote for? I thought each delegate was free after the first ballot.
Dunno about that. Fix is probably in. No chaos in some delegations: by 2pm today, all 159 convention delegates from Penna. had “unanimously endorsed” Harris. Apparently not one was on vacation, unavailable, or even needing a day or two to think about it.
Of course they don’t need a day or two to think about it. Kamala is what the country needs. It’s more clear to see than Biden’s senility.
How do those delegate know they’re actually released and able to support anyone? The only public statement is a letter posted to Twitter. Has Joe actually singed any paperwork releasing them?
Who’s going to fire her? Biden? There’s no one at the top right now. The underlings can pretty much do as they want now.
It’s the same people who have been at the top since 2021 and will continue to be at the top regardless of which Democrat wins.
The underlings have been doing what they want for the past 3 years.
I think the SS in DHS now, so Mayorkas could fire her, couldn’t he?
USSS is under DHS but she is a presidential appointee, as I understand it. I don’t think Mayorkas can unilaterally fire her.
They couldn’t even prod the Sec State to greet a fucking Prime Minister?
If you’re talking Netanyahu’s visit, dollars to donuts the snub was deliberate.
The next Team Blue President is going to work actively with the Palestinians and Iran’s proxies to destroy Israel.
Well, Harris isn’t presiding over the Senate when he speaks there. Doesn’t want to get Jew cooties, I suppose.
Netanyahu seems to have that covered all by himself.
Hopefully he sees what’s happening here and does not decide to expand his war to a point where he expects the U.S. to save him.
So the Houthi should just be allowed to drone Israel with impunity?
Nope. But they’ll have to make peace eventually because the days of them being able to beat the rest of the Middle East combined are over.
Poor thing
Cheatle was berated for hours by Republicans and Democrats, repeatedly angering lawmakers by evading questions about the investigation during the first hearing over the July 13 assassination attempt. Cheatle called the attempt on Trump’s life the Secret Service’s “most significant operational failure” in decades, and vowed to “move heaven and earth” to get to the bottom of what went wrong and make sure there’s no repeat of it.
——-
Cheatle said she apologized to Trump in a phone call after the assassination attempt.
She apologized. What more do you people want?
I’d love to hear that call.
“Sorry about your ear. My bad, scro”
All the evidence you need of incompetence is that it will take 60 days for her to produce an investigative report. Anyone of us, whose career is in management, would be able to produce a preliminary report answering most of the key questions within a week of the event.
At one point she admitted that she knew how many shell casings were found on that roof, but refused to answer the question. Did not go over well.
I keep harping on this, but Trump was supposed to bring “chaos”. The current administration is more chaotic than anything I’ve seen in my life.
The grown ups took over in 2021. Don’t you remember? It has been smooth sailing ever since.
The man who tried to stab me had a tattoo on the side of his throat of a mouse killing a snake,
Neck tattoos. Bad news.
Also easy enough to cover up with clothing.
Yeah, he’s not the friendliest of people.
Yet Cheatle remained defiant that she was the “right person” to lead the Secret Service, even as she said she takes full responsibility the security lapses. When Republican Rep. Nancy Mace suggested Cheatle begin drafting her resignation letter from the hearing room, Cheatle responded, “No, thank you.”
She’s obviously the most qualified. Her name is right there on the office door.
Listen. Donald Trump is such a chaos agent and hate magnet it’s quite frankly inexplicable that he has survived this long. No one could successfully protect him from the forces he himself has unleashed.
Sorry, that’s just the way it is. It’s purely a matter of time until he gets what’s coming to him.
So after 5 days of no visual and a weird Tweet, we get….an audio call? ZOOM EXISTS
Pre-recorded?
That’s horrible. Biden is clearly dead or imprisoned.
His CPU got burnt in the latest CrowdStrike update. Now he’s BSOD.
Racist misogynist
Sen. Joe Manchin (I-W.Va.) on Monday said he would not consider serving as Vice President Harris’s running mate, arguing it is time for a “new generation” following President Biden’s withdrawal from the 2024 race.
When asked on “CNN This Morning” if he would consider running as VP with Harris — whom Biden endorsed to replace him on the ticket — Manchin said, “No, I’m not.”
“It’s a new generation, you don’t want a 76-year-old vice president right now,” he continued.
Why would you even ask that question? Most Democrats hate Manchin.
Wasn’t he floating a balloon of running for the nomination?
No, he dispelled that notion.
RedBlue meat to the CNN crowd.I heard some woman on TV saying that Kamala is going to get all of the young voters because she has Fat Joe on her side. I’m sure that when 53 year old Fat Joe comes out and performs some songs from his only Platinum album (released in 2001) all of the kids are going to go crazy for him LOL. I’m a big NYC hip hop fan who’s over 40 and even I don’t give a flying fuck about Fat Joe.
I thought that was a reference to Biden that went over my head.
/over 50 former NYC resident who is not a fan of hip hop
Well Trump’s got Fifty Cent…so there.
Also, anyone who relies on celebrities to tell them how to vote shouldn’t be voting.
Also again, people didn’t give two shits what Fat Joe had to say except for maybe what BBQ joint to eat at even when his career was at its peak.
I know right? I couldn’t believe it when that was the celebrity name that this talking head pulled.
Biden is clearly dead or imprisoned.
President Biden waiting for the zoom call to start
He probably doesn’t even know he’s being detained.
“It has been the greatest honor of my life to serve as your President. And while it has been my intention to seek reelection, I believe it is in the best interest of my party and the country for me to stand down and focus solely on fulfilling my duties as President for the remainder of my term,” Biden wrote in a letter posted to social media.
He’ll do everything he can to lock in astronomical spending and hamstring a potential Trump administration.
It’s like they didn’t pay attention to the most obvious plan.
The Photoshop isn’t very good, but the joke is funny
Heavy wildfire smoke all day today.
Traffic cleared up once we were north of Dawson Creek. So far the roads have been good, outside of towns the speed limits are 90-110kph (55 to 68mph) Interesting to set the cruise control to 120 (72mph)
Getting used to distances in km. Multiply by 6 and divide by 10. Gets you close enough.
Critter count today: a black bear crossed the road about 1/4 mile ahead of us. Saw my first ptarmigan today, about the size of a raven.
I’m really jealous.
Something’s happening here
Curiouser and curiouser…
What it I is ain’t exactly clear…