A dozen disastrous scenarios flooded through my mind at the prospect of Stefak controlling a second crossing of the Lugnerstrom and able to pour troops in behind our prepared positions. Instantly, the statue went from a curiosity to a catastrophe in the making. I could run and deliver warning, though by the time I got to anyone, the Pikemen would be in control of the crossing. Rising to my feet, I caught the longblade as it slid from my knee. The whole purpose of the longblade was to break pike squares, and the statue was not that wide. But a single man against a company of pike was suicidal. Looking down at the pink tinge in the river tumbling over the falls, I saw nothing but the future of blood and steel the Oracle had spoken of. Going out doing something stupidly heroic was preferable to slogging through that, and the marches in between.
Throwing the travel scabbard from the sword, I let the steel gleam in the sunlight. Sword on shoulder, it was a short stroll to the statue. The irregular surface had its rough edges worn off by years of exposure to the elements. It was hard to make out details of the dwarf it had been made to depict through the erosion. My boots made sounds like scuffing a mountain as I advanced to the middle of the canyon. You could easily move an army across this surface without budging it. Finding the approximate midpoint of the canyon, I set the tip of my blade against the stone and rested my arms on the crossguard. I straightened my spine and stared down the pikemen as they approached the shoulders of the statue.
Dressed in slouch hats and slashed doublets in green and light blue, the only sign of their martial occupation were the blades on their belts and the pikes in their hands. Well, to my eyes, at least. If the whole company was clad in such a manner, the style was probably recognizable around Iokathra. They did a double-take as they spotted me. No doubt I was an odd sight. A disheveled giant with a gleaming sword taller than they were, glaring at them through eyeglasses. Indeed, none of these Iokathrans looked to even approach my height. They were all well-kempt and in good spirits.
“Who are you?” the lead Iokathran asked.
I raised my blade and turned the Raven Coast Roc rightside-up. I kept my voice as steady and uninflected as I could manage.
“I am Erbprinz Kord Grosz von und zu Karststadt-Salzheim.”
He scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry your highness, I didn’t recognize you. Why don’t you just step aside and let us past?”
“No,” I said.
“No?” His tone was almost mocking.
“Any man who sets foot on this statue will die,” I said, my tone so matter-of-fact that it gave the lead pikeman pause.
“You realize there is only one of you, and two hundred of us.”
“This statue is only wide enough for five of you.” The cold malice of my voice sent a ripple of doubt through the soldiers. But only a ripple. The lead pikeman levelled his spear, and the others followed suit. In ordered ranks, they advanced onto the statue, five abreast. The metered clomp of their boots on stone sounded like the inevitable advance of death. Tightening my grip on the silk weave, I shifted my footing to a ready stance and lowered the blade tip. Theoretical approaches raced through my mind. I knew the techniques for fighting pike, but if these men were the professional soldiers I took them for, they knew them too. The wall of spear-points presented the illusion of impenetrability.
Clomp, clomp, clomp, jaws set, my death marched forward.
When the speartips were two paces from me, I exploded towards them. Unburdened by armored plate, my limbs moved all that much faster than I had in practice. My steel was a streak of silver as I attacked the spears themselves. Throwing every iota of abandon aside and every ounce of energy into the assault, I all but danced between the thrusts. Slicing, chopping and swatting hafts, a rain of splinters preceded my advance. Ash was tough, and many of the pikes survived the damage I inflicted, but I got inside the killing reach of one row of points, then the next, and the next.
Wide-eyed, the lead pikeman tried to backpedal. Dropping his useless spear, he drew his short blade. The steel was little more than a totem of comfort. He lacked the reach to even scratch my hand with his full arm extended, and lacked the skill to deflect my blade. His sword was swatted aside as his head parted ways with his neck in a welter of arterial red. That red expanded to fill my world as the sword stopped chopping spear hafts and started slicing flesh. Fear setting in, the front ranks tried to back up, even as the back ranks continued to advance, compressing the pike company into a single steel-sliced mass.
My entire existence shrank to the hot spray of blood, the screams of the dying, and the burn of tired muscles. I could not stop, would not stop, until they stopped me. A single thrust of spear or sword to my unarmored body and it would end. But it didn’t. Fear blossomed into panic as I continued to wade into vitae and viscera, attacking with abandon anything and anyone within sword’s reach. That bloom of panic erupted out the back of the square as pikemen dropped their heavy spears and took to their heels, fleeing the onrushing storm of blood that had mulched their front ranks. The company that had been so confident evaporated as I reached the grass at the far side of the canyon. Most of them yet lived, having taken to flight across the landscape, disregarding their fellows in search of their own personal salvation.
The tip of my blade sank into soil as I sagged, almost crumpling. The rest of it dripped with red, and so did the rest of me. I was covered in blood and bits of the men I had just cut down. Trembling with fatigue and disgust, I forced my enervated body to rise and turn around. I picked my way through the gore, my empty stomach heaving as it tried to retch out anything at all. My sword tip sparked along the stone as I dragged it behind me. I forced my eyes to rise and look at the horsemen riding up to the plinth. They wore black and silver livery. Ignoring them, I made for my curule chair. I didn’t even make the plinth before my knees gave out and I pitched face-down in the grass.
***
I woke up in a daze, and didn’t realize they’d posted two Knights of Gefrah to keep me in my sickbed until they refused to let me leave the tent. Ritter brought me a bowl of thin soup with repeated apologies before withdrawing again. Through the fabric of the tent, I heard the murmurs about ‘the blood storm on the bridge’ passing between squires, soldiers, and servants alike. Every word of it brought images to mind that horrified me. I didn’t know how many men had died on that statue, but my best guess was no more than a score. Had I killed twenty men? It seemed incredible. I had to be grossly overestimating the count of corpses. Telling myself the slaughter was less than I thought, I let myself pass in and out of consciousness. I consumed what food and drink appeared, and made my ablutions as best as I could manage. Even as the camp emptied out for a second day of fighting for the ford at Altenheim, I did not rouse myself or challenge my guards.
If my internal clock was correct, it was the start of the fifth day when Gebhard pushed open the flaps of my tent and stepped inside. Or was it the third? No, it had to at least be the fourth. Shaking the confusion from my mind, I pushed myself to a seated position and donned my eyeglasses.
“How sick are you?” Gebhard asked.
“Better than I was.” I looked away, then back at the moustached man. “What do you need?”
“This battle has become a grinding impasse. King Tabris doesn’t want to keep feeding his men into the meat grinder, and seeks a smaller resolution.”
“What do you mean?”
“He asked to duel the man who decimated the company of pike for control of the crossing.”
“And Stefak?”
“Has not weighed in on such an agreement.”
“Would you really stand for it? Cede control of the ford if I lost?” I asked.
“We have contested the same patch of ground for days, and if we continue to do so, both armies will be bled white. At this point, I’m willing to bet on your sword arm if it means an end to it.”
“And the Zanthan army will just leave after I kill their King?”
“The duel is not to the death.”
“Then why waste my time?” I snapped. My tone rolled into a snarl as I added, “I did not come here to play tournament games.” I surprised myself with my words, and shook my head. “No, no, I’m sorry. The dying needs to end. If Tabris will take his men home, I’ll fight him.”
“Are you sure you are well enough?”
“I don’t know. No one can say what I was sick with, but I feel more or less normal. I’ve kept down all the food I’ve been allowed to eat, and gotten too much rest.”
“A word of advice. Before you take up your father’s crown, learn to silver your tongue and keep your emotions off your breath. You will make fewer enemies if you stop sounding like a snarling hound.” Gebhard turned and stepped out of my tent, leaving me bristling at his words. I washed up as my arms and armor were brought to my tent. Ritter helped me don the plate, but we exchanged no words during the process. Outside I found Soren with Graymire. The horse was all barded up and champing at the bit after having been left idle for days. Taking the reins, I climbed into the saddle. Graymire stepped eagerly, ready to race for the horizon. Johan and Soren mounted up and we rode for the exit. Lenz and Gebhard met us on the way. The five of us left the camp and descended to the ford.
The shallows and small islands were a charnel field littered with corpses. Some were in pieces, others looked as though they had merely lain down amongst the dead. Broken weapons jutted from the bodies, or lay shattered in the shallows. The once vibrant and varied liveries were all mud and blood now. Everywhere I looked, carrion crows perched or feasted upon the carcasses. The stench of decay lay heavily upon the land. Neither army had budged from the ground where I had seen them when seated on the plinth, though both had been whittled down by the fighting.
For all his enthusiasm, Graymire balked at crossing the field of dead. I wasn’t sure if it was his armor or his reluctance that made me have to apply as much force as I did to spur him onward. We splashed through the shallows to the largest island in the braid of the ford. This one had its own share of bodies, but they had been cleared from the center to give us space. Graymire snorted at the small, hot-blooded stallion that bore Tabris to the island, and it balked. The King was more nonplussed than his piebald mount. Clean-limbed and straight-backed, Tabris sat confidently in the saddle. He wore a gilded breastplate over a short-sleeved tunic of red-ochre. His face and arms were sun-bronzed, almost blending into his hair and beard. He hopped easily from the saddle to the pebbled ground. Two curved blades not unlike those from his standards were crossed behind his back.
Unlike his light step, my sabatons struck the stones with a loud crunch. Striding a few paces towards the King of Zanthas, I planted the tip of Otto’s blade into the less rocky soil there. Tabris looked up at me with bright blue eyes.
“They said you were a giant.”
“It is not my fault the men of the east are short,” I said.
He gave a snort of laughter. “Might I see the face of my opponent?”
Gripping my helmet with my off-hand, I pulled it free. Tabris blinked in surprise.
“You’re but a boy. Are you even old enough to grow a beard?”
I hardened my gaze, but did not answer him.
“Perhaps I should start again. I am Tabris, fourth of my name, King of Zanthas and the Rustshades. Who do I face this day?”
“I am Kord.”
“Boys your age do not get panoply like that without at least a few more names, and usually some titles to go with it.”
“If you insist on the full courtly introduction, I am Erbprinz Kord Grosz von und zu Karststadt-Salzheim.”
“Ah, the Prince of the North Tower. I should have realized. Ashmen are one of the few races that grow to your size.”
“So, you were going to take your army and leave this blood-sodden field behind,” I said.
Tabris smiled. “Dear boy, you haven’t beaten me by simply showing up.”
“Then I suppose I should get it over with,” I said, drawing the gaudy sword from the sheath at my hip. He drew his twin blades. Though the hilts and scabbards were overly gilded, the blades were patterned steel. Anything they wouldn’t cut through, they’d survive bouncing off of. Our eyes met and I gave a curt nod. He returned it.
Tabris’ head snapped back as I hurled my helmet into his face. I used the moment’s distraction to close the distance with a lunge. The King twisted to the side, my blade tip coming close enough to part his whiskers before he swatted it away. He parried two quick slashes and danced to my left. Despite the blood dribbling from his nostril, Tabris was grinning. The man was quick, darting aside and letting his swords steer my blade away from his body with a casual grace. A few more fruitless probing thrusts confirmed my fears. I was the slower man in this fight. Waiting for him to make a mistake would simply tire me out, so I had to make my own opening. But how?
Dropping my shoulder and my sword point, I barged forward like a maddened ox. Arm raised to shield my exposed face, I watched Tabris dart to my left. I spun to my right. He’d expected me to swing left, but the surprise didn’t buy more than half a turn. Every frenetic heartbeat as I rotated about, I expected to feel the bite of his blades in my back. The bite never came as Tabris bent backwards under the sweep of my blade. With his eyes skyward, he missed the approach of my left fist before it crashed into his breastplate. Already bent backward, he was knocked off balance, and I slammed the King to the ground. Tabris rolled away before my blade came down. Regaining his feet with a flourish of his swords, his grin threatened to split his face.
That grin vanished as I sheathed the gaudy sword and pulled Otto’s longblade out of the ground, twirling it upright one-handed. I rushed Tabris while he was wrong-footed. He must have expected me to try to keep him at reach rather than get in closer than I’d been with the gaudy sword. Otherwise, there was no way I’d have been able to grab his wrist. Tabris’ sword bit into the gap between my breastplate and carapace, even as my own weapon fell upon his shoulder. A sharp pain shot through my side, tightening my jaw until I thought my teeth would snap.
Tabris’ fingers fell numbly from the sword sunk in my side as I wrenched my blade from the rent in his armor. Blood tumbled freely from the gap, staining the gilt steel bright crimson. Sharp edges continued to slice into me as I raised the longblade high. Partly red with royal blood, it caught every eye in both armies. Gasping with pain and fright, Tabris looked at his unresponsive left arm and the blood spilling from his wound. His eyes went back to me, poised as if to strike him down for good. I plucked the blade from his still functioning hand, letting the king grip his wound with it. Not that holding it over the armor would actually staunch the flow.
“Go back to Zanthas, and take your army with you.”
Tabris struggled to his feet, then hurried to his horse. The two fled the island in the ford. I moved slowly and deliberately back towards friendly lines. Tucking Tabris’ blade into my belt, I took Graymire’s reins and walked through the shallows. I kept the beast’s bulk between my injury and Stefak’s army. I could not climb into the saddle, as that would saw the blade through more of my flesh. It was Johan who realized I wasn’t walking as some form of victory lap and first hurried forward to aid me. I was hurriedly ushered behind a protective screen of infantry.
“I left my helmet,” I said.
“We can get it later,” Ritter said. “How bad is it.”
“I have a sword in my side,” I said.
“I know. I… How bad does it hurt?”
“A lot.”
“Get him out of his armor and onto a stretcher,” Gebhard said. I blinked up at the man, trying to remember if I’d seen him ride up. I offered no resistance as my panoply was unceremoniously stripped from my limbs. They were more careful with the breastplate and carapace, but the blade still moved painfully as the pressure from those plates eased off it. I didn’t look down, refusing to see how it had entered me. I did give a sarcastic grin to the surgeon as he arrived.
“It’s me again,” I said.
“From the angle of this blade, I want you face-down and slightly on your left side while we get you back to camp.”
“Skipping the formalities, are we?” I asked as I was lowered onto the stretcher. The surgeon frowned, and began cutting my arming doublet away. I decided to stop with the inappropriate jokes, but that left me dwelling on the pain, and on every sharp shock when the sword got jostled. I doubted the screen of cavalry was effective at hiding my injury from Stefak’s gaze. Heck, he’d probably seen Tabris stab me. Then again, it only mattered whether Tabris took his own wound as cause to withdraw. With his remaining forces halved, Stefak would be in no position to contest Altenheim ford.
“Good news. You did not get stabbed in the liver.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“It’s a dirty wound. The blade ran for more than a hand’s breadth under the skin, and carried a lot of debris with it. We’re going to have to clean it and flush it out with clarified spirits.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“It will hurt a lot worse than it does now.”
“Ah.”
“And even then it could still fester and kill you.”
If you want your own copy, the whole book is available from Amazon in eBook, Paperback, and Hardcover variants.
š¤
Why does the duel feel like it flows different re-reading it now versus re-reading it in LibreOffice or on paper?
I was wondering when the concept of the internal clock became a thing.
š¤·āāļø
The biological function of having some idea of what time of day it is probably existed nigh forever, but the phrase popped up… who knows.
Well, clocks weren’t a common thing until, what, the 1500’s?
I know there was no term for clockwise until around then.
Thinking about it for all of five minutes, I wonder if the direction for clockwise was made the same as the direction the shadow moves for a sundial. After all, early mechanical clocks only showed the hour hand
that is a brilliant insight
something like that, but Cassius somehow notes that the clock hath stricken three in 44BC :/
I’m going to need a citation on the source for that Cassius quite.
It sounds like something Shakespeare made up.
A little earlier than that. They were known in the early 1400s. I put one in Cods & Cuntes, and it was noted that they were VERY rare and VERY expensive.
Also, in my pirate novel, my heroine had a K1, although it was acknowledged that Captain Cook had the only known one in existence, and she basically said, “Who knows how many there really are?”
If you look at the tech demonstrated in the text, the setting has table brandy, full plate armor, two-handed swords, optical glass, a printing press (used for bureaucratic forms), and side-loading horse transports. That’s at least a 1500s level in non gunpowder tech.
A clepsydra would also be appropriate to the period.
When reading the part about the Stand at the Statue I couldn’t help but think of the phrase ‘None shall Pass’ from a famous movie. Except none did pass. Except Kord. From consciousness.
My inspiration was Stamford Bridge, where one Norseman held off the English army until someone got under the bridge and speared him from below.
Clocks were a medieval invention, but not common until around the 1500’s. Cassius says that because Shakespeare used an anachronism. I don’t think there was a word for clockwise until there was a clock, but counter-clockwise was widdershins. In other words, clocks go a direction already determined by nature.
Clocks as a mechanical device, I should say. Water clocks, sundials, and such had been around a lot longer.
According to Wikipedia, sundials existed as household clocks as early as 1500 BC, in Egypt.
I have no doubt that there was a time keeper sort of position that would ring a bell or somehow alert every know the time, even then.
I detest this issue in general. I have no reference and it always ends up looking way goofier than I expected/ wanted. I worked out the letter count on the book of faces to keep things tight without needing to expand it. That actually ended up being fun. Took time to edit and sharpen each bit to keep it where I wanted it. Almost always did just hone the thought, fun writing ‘practice.’
It really must be monstrous for developers to code for so many interfaces. Yeepers. (Dear autocorrect- Please don’t correct my little flibbity jibits to glibbers, mkay? Kay.)
Don’t mess with a man who has nothing to lose.
How many did he kill?
At least one. There is a confirmed decapitation in the text.
How many?
Enough, apparently.
Slutty Sunday (sort of) After Dark.
https://archive.is/pqGID/edf655745cbe88522665e0214604dadddb82a31e.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/4iuTv/d3582132abf2d8f0b461c562945477fdbdb111e7.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/y88mk/448867ab88a91dddc2fe0bcf7610aa62e20d496b.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/chryw/670299d3895160f60037957131b7096e9e66eafa.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/GII2r/60820af821d5fa43899d3b69498dae01f54b83c2.jpg
NSFW.
Are we at peak retard yet?
https://preview.redd.it/official-donald-trump-tiktok-account-posted-this-v0-o1huhysviryd1.jpg?width=640&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=1103402508e291a063aaad1312bb63b42a04017b
There is no such thing as Peak Retard.
I hope it works for as many as it takes. Peanut is a great, ‘entry-level’ way for people to see the lengths The State will go to fuck over your life. All over a fucking goddamn Peanut squirrel, cuz one little fucking Karen who turned him in. [Whose name I want to find but I’m also goofy about Doxxing. I think she deserves ALL of it, bar our property/violence rules.]
The Cute factor is, yeek, sadly very ‘helpful.’ It reveals all the evil we hate, spotlighted on such a cutie? That’s a HELLUVA martyr. I hope he has a GoFundMe etc for legal shit. Go after her if he can.
Watching various local (to me) pols coming to the defense of porn purveyors – do they know? – is kind of amusing.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!
I like this chapter. Lots of action.
I also like your portrayal of Lord’s character flaws. The wrong kind of hero, until he’s the right kind.
Well, he is supposed to be only human (if a bit towards the end of the bell curve in parts)
I was trying to think of the best response to the typo, didn’t come up with one š
Nothing that struck the right Kord? š
Only the left Kord.
My typo’s are really starting to irrigate me.
My brother in failed autocorrects!
I need to either channel Gimli, “It was deliberate, it was deliberate”, or start screaming, “I have a condition!” like Saffron.
Hrm. Quite rare that I say this, but I officially tapped out *for now* at the first kill in this chapter. Too many reminders for one day. It was the ‘arterial’ part, predictably. It’s remarkable what cuts do to outward (eee!) blood flow. Longer distance the smaller the cut, to an extent.
I honestly wonder what the *ideal* for longest distance, biggest spray, etc is. That is certainly ‘find-out-able.’ I’d imagine an incredibly fit ‘n dancer-sized would be ‘best.’ Or a soldier. Stronger heart, always better. I’m not sure a bigger one would be ‘better.’ They would certainly produce more blood. And have a bigger heart. But that blood’s got a lot farther to go. It probably ish-all balances out. But thinner and fitter. Big, even stout with muscle mass etc, there’s a lot of mass *stopping* that blood from getting out. Places it can ooze AND places, membranes it has to *go through* to get out.
Evan ain’t sure. *shrug*
Sounds like you need some rest.
Yes, but quickly writing got a few things out, including my comment got it pretty much out. I’ve got an appointment to get something sorted on paper, and Tuesday’s showtime. Naturally, that’s the bit that got me.
However! Opens package that arrived today: Gets tool w knife. Ooh it’s the fishing one. (I’ve never been fishing.) It has scissors, which is quite dope and thoughtful… My purple and black scrubs. Lilac(!) comes tomorrow… Adding to my blues. The black one is *awfully* black. Damn. Everything is gonna show on that, and not blood. (Who cares, but rarely happens.) Like glove dust. There is a lot of glove dust. I’d guess… 4-500/day/person? Minimum, I’d wager.
Truth reality and fact are fun when they collide: I’m infinitely better prepared than in August. And in a nicer facility. We’ll see how it goes, which is the fun mix of life. The purple one DOES look very Adam West Batman villain-y. I strongly approve that I can look professional, fit, trim, and frankly, kinda hot, wearing Casar Romero flair. Me likey. (Or I will. Ya look really goofy when ya wear them in the dark by yourself.)
thanks for the current installment.
We’re past the halfway mark now.
/Not a Doorstopper
good to know
Watching Godzilla Minus 1 in the theater again was worth it. Some nice VFX featurettes and director Q&A included too. Sadly this wasn’t the complete B&W edition. Hope I can see that one on BR.
There were definitely some soundtrack elements this time around that reminded me of Interstellar.
Speaking of great background music – I’ve posted from this game before – but this is a great link that includes 20 of the best Arknights boss battle BGM tracks. Huge variety and some real stunners in the bunch.
Add that to my list of films I really want to watch. There’s a color and B&W version? That seems a tricky mix for Godzilla + post-WWII.
This was color – the original version. In early 2024 they did a special theatrical release in B&W (retro, 70th anniversary, etc). Kinda like the Black and Chrome edition of Mad Max Fury Road….think that ones still on my shelf too…
Look for a Trump blitz in Pennsylvania tomorrow. Harris is finishing her campaign in Phila. at the Rocky steps; roads have been closing since yesterday to contain the 75,000 expected. GOP internal poll supposedly has Harris up by 3 among likely voters. PA’s 19 electoral votes crucial to victory.
According to whom?
A GOP “insider” of my acquaintance. No reason to blow smoke; he knows of my long term Libertarianism. GOP has gobs of lawyers supposedly ready this time to fight any chicanery when the votes are counted in Philly burbs.
“It ain’t over ’til it’s over”
Yogi
I never said most of the things I said.
āGOP has gobs of lawyers supposedly readyā
They did in 2020, too. And then the heavy hitter law firm on retainer, Jones Day, dropped them as a client when the heat got turned up.
Jones Day was my antitrust law firm at the time. I never called them again after that.
Yes, I’m sure they’re ready to ensure a Harris victory.
That The Times is *already* publishing why Georgia and Nevada will be delayed by over a week is mighty telling.
Is it just me, or is that just saying “We’re gonna count the votes until we win” out loud? And giving a nice “Whoops!” excuse in advance.
Trumps not winning, and it wont be due to cheating, there just isn’t the enthusiasm for him as four or eight years ago, and I’m not saying that Harris has any either it’s just that the Dems have a better “get out the vote” campaign and unless you have a MAGA flag flapping off your stepside pickup you just aren’t going to waste your time voting for the lesser of two shitty candidates.
100%
They did this in 2020 too. They carefully explained that even though it would look like Trump in a landslide, after the recounts it would be Biden in a landslide.
Fulton is already at it again, illegally excluding poll watchers and opening extra polling places after early voting was over.
So Fulton has already harmed the integrity of the election in a way that cannot be remedied and for which nobody even pretends there was legal justification.
Others are in play as well. Nevada courts ruling that unsigned ballots with no postmark showing up 3 days after the election count is a naked admission that Nevada is in play, despite the 8 point margin.
The only reason for that ruling is that someone intends to stuff the ballot box after the election.
The list goes on. I’ve never seen anything like this go around.
Our elections are so fair we take extra care to count every vote.
@Hyp: I don’t really think Trump *will* win. I don’t even think it would be good, as The State would make it DREADFUL. On purpose. To prove their point. (That they should rule.) I’m not sure if, long term, this isn’t ‘good’ for our way of thinking. Let them own the predictable, will-happen disaster of Harris as Prez. Fuck. She’s. Really bad at her job.
@Cyto: Yep. This stood out from the Times: “In Nevada, āpostmarked ballots are allowed to arrive up to four days after the election, on Nov. 9, šš§š šÆšØššš«š¬ š”ššÆš š®š§šš¢š„ ššØšÆ. šš ššØ šššš«šš¬š¬ š¦š¢š¬ššš¤šš¬ š°š¢šš” šš”šš¢š« ššš„š„šØšš¬.ā
Um. What mistakes would they need to fucking address?! They checked the ‘wrong’ box?! GUH?! Just blatant fuckupery. It’s not comfortable having so many think the world will (Literally.) end if Trump wins. The rioting would be extreme. Well. Team Blue extreme. And then all of Trump’s term will be made to be as purposefully shitty as possible. To prove their point. (They should rule.)
You are a broken record. Who you are trying to convince at the end of the day – us or yourself?
Just reporting what I witness, sorry if it bothers you. Maybe you could try actually firsting (Like Mike S does so well), might be good for your soul.
It amazes me the little glimpses of the bubbles other people live in.
UCS: “It amazes me the little glimpses of the bubbles other people live in.”
Humans are such interesting little creatures, aren’t we?
The GOP blew it when they didn’t get rid of vote by mail, ballot harvesting and signature requirements.
Any election you want to overturn will not survive an honest signature audit. Not if it is at all close. Normal result would be a good 3 to 5 percent that get tossed, in the best case scenario. 10% or more would not be at all unusual.
There’s no way to fix it in every state. Absent constitutional amendment(s), there’s no fix. States can do whatever the fuck they want.
Ballot harvesting isn’t get riddable as long as there’s absentee/mail balloting. It’s no different than conventional bussing and canvassing.
This is why
https://x.com/libsoftiktok/status/1853105485676716440?s=1
Colorado is investigating the management company that had their apartment complexes taken over by Venezuelan gangs. After months of begging the government for help, having their employees beaten and threatened… the state seeks to punish them for allowing Venezuelan gangs… which totally don’t exist… to overrun their property
I’ll not be surprised if vigilantes start meting out the punishments.
I will be surprised. I also expect to be disappointed that, with the failure of the Almighty State, the citizenry doesnāt engage in self-help.
Why did the republican allow this to happen? If I’m a republican poll watcher and “they” don’t let me in I’m getting arrested at least. Did they just walk away, shrug their shoulders and say “Whelp we gave it our best”, I don’t buy any of this nonsense.
What we should all be buying is your in depth election analysis based on how many bumper stickers and yard signs you claim to have seen in your neighborhood.
āWhy did the republican allow this to happen?ā
Because they are weak and stupid?
Be a U.S. Citizen
Be at least 16 years of age
Be able to read and write English
That’s all that it takes to be a poll watcher in Idaho.
Maybe I should sign up…
No, because it pays to be the loser party. They get to bleat impotently at Democrat Party policy insanities to get people to contribute to them, and get their share of the taxpayer $ when it’s handed out. Lindsay Graham is a prime example of this attitude.
The GOPe party are the Washington Generals of politics, and they like being that way, because it pays.
If they get their wish again, they’ll find out the hard way that One Party states don’t like sharing ANY loot.
You’d think they’d learn from CA, but there’s opportunities even if it’s crumbs. Like Kevin McCarthy.
Because some college kid who volunteered for this to get “public service” hours isn’t putting their neck on the line for this. They’ll just call the number on the top of the pamphlet they received and ask for instructions.
Ugh. I needed an un-DST nap.
Welp, I have been out of town this weekend, so I will be voting (as I always planned to) on Election Day. Given the naked cheating that is already happening, and the wide open door for more, I expect this election to be as fucked as 202o was. If this one is stolen as well, then I expect we will all get to experience the Joy of living under the thumb of a one-party Marxian/leftist/globalist kleptocracy.
For as long as it takes to collapse, anyway.
“For as long as it takes to collapse, anyway.”
*Squeeeeeeze* It may be for the best, in the end. Just “Rip the Band-Aid OFF!!” type moment. Hrm.
The economic forecasts do not look good. More and bigger deficits on the horizon.
Seems odd that 401s will be allowed to grow bigger, more green paper for the inflaters.
The bigger to pluck. You don’t harvest until the fruit is ripe.
Hello fellow Republicans, who’s with me to travel to DC to make our voices heard?
That’s patriotically heard.
Hello! I would like to join you, Federal Officer, in our mutual quest to ensure American freedom lives on!
We may need to peacefully assemble and address our grievances in a public forum. Which forum do you think would be the most appropriate for such a spectacle of our repressed voices? We may have a list of people that would like to join us on this journey of truth and justice. For all!
On the bright side, I don’t see how they let First of Her Name last very long given what a complete embarrassment she is. I mean, more so than Joe even – at least that guy knew how to bluff his way around foreign leaders and shit.
This is remarkably true. She’s reaaaaally bad at her job. She cannot speak on her feet in any capacity, all because there’s nothing there. She knows(?) she’s just a puppet, and as a person doesn’t have any ability to pull off a human face. They will find ways to make everything, somehow, ‘not her fault.’
It’s going to be dreadful in every way. It may be for the best, but I know Blue acolytes will never ‘understand’ how and why the shit all comes down on them. It *will* all be blamed on Trump and he’ll be prosecuted to the fucking hilt. Modern political stabbing is interesting to watch in real-time.
Doesnāt matter. She is young enough to not have medical issues. She will be an excellent globalist puppet for 8 years.
“She will be an excellent globalist puppet for 8 years.”
I don’t disagree. I think it really may be for the best. This is all Team Blue’s got, and it’s all or nothin’ in. I predict a disastrous presidency. It will become clear how fucked it all is rather clear. I dream of the acolytes realizing how they fucked up, believing in Her and The Machine, but that won’t happen. Trump will still be blamed and will be imprisoned if not assassinated. To do otherwise would mean to go against their religion, like converting me into a Yankee fan. Ain’t gonna happen. (Willingly.)
Counterpoint: Trump looks better than both 2020 and 2016 in RCP’s Election Day minus 2 averages.
Even assuming polls predict votes cast, legal votes arenāt whatās counted. Ballots are. And the extent to which ballots reflect legal votes cast, well, thatās the question, isnāt it?
Counterpoint…
Biden couldn’t get 300 to a rally and yet managed to collect 81 million votes.
Counter-counterpoint:
Biden didnāt actually get 81 million votes.
I was there. I saw.
Thatās kind of what you were saying, isnāt it?
Good news is if Trump doesn’t win, he can run again in 2028…
Good morning all.
Recorded Mark Levin last night, watching now. Just saw a montage of Kamalamadingdong clips on her policies.
Not one single thing she wants to do is in the power of the FedGov and some are specifically forbidden.
That this sock puppet has any chance whatsoever of being installed, that the laundry list of her handlers preferred policies could be listed out loud in public….we are in trouble.
It’ll be fine, four years from now during the next MIEOOLā¢ you’ll still have your guns and wont be in a camp, you still get up everyday and go about your business as usual.
Also Sean’s late.
Hide your squirrels! Hide your raccoons!
Rise and shine, Glibs!
šššš
Enjoy your last day before the beginning of the end.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=i7mEB2wnDLQ
š¶š¶
https://www.breitbart.com/crime/2024/11/03/video-police-man-arrested-painting-swastika-pro-trump-sign-massachusetts/
74 years old…that’s a lot of time to have to work on poor impulse control.
O RLY
https://www.fox35orlando.com/news/orlando-shooting-suspect-does-not-attend-court-appearance
But mooo-oom, I don’t wanna go to court today!
Morning, Glibs.
*waves*
Good morning, U, Sean, Teh Hype, Suthen, and cyto!
Morning, How goes?
So far, so good! I have to call my dentist as soon as they open at 8 to see how soon they can get me in to fix the crown that popped off while I was flossing Friday night. š¦· (This morning, I hope – I have to do payroll at work this afternoon!)
How are you?
I had a few inconveniences on my way to work, the clock change messed with me (as expected), but my grapes were extra cold and crisp this morning (not frozen, just really fresh).
I am convinced the power company changed my due date around so as to get a late fee out of me (It was always the 5th before, now it’s the 2nd?). I keep wanting to pay my homeowner’s insurance but the company still says I’m paid in full (but I can’t seem to find any indicator of when the next payment is due)
But I do have to put together a powerpoint and do a presentation. (Even if it is something I know well, it’s not fun)
Ah, good ol’ Powerpoint! It’s been a long time since I had to put together a presentation, and I hope it continues to get longer! (Our senior managers do their own for Board meetings and other meetings.)
Good morning, all.
Lots of black pills upthread. You’re not supposed to swallow the whole bottle.
Now, chug a cup of coffee and get out there and kick some ass!
Good morning, ChipP! My coffee’s too hot to chug, but I’ll continue sipping away.
[ kicks Chipping Pioneer’s ass ]
One of our pieces of software just went down, and the supervisor who normally handles tickets is off.
Have you tried turning it off and back on again?
suh’ fam
whats goody
Sure feels like its an hour later….
TALL DST CANS!
Good morning, homey!
After spending last week in Syracuse-adjacent NYS, I’ll be working this week at THE Ohio State University.
Someone alert Sloopy.
The Chicken Littles upthread, sweet Jesusā¦at least wait until the electionās over to hang yourselves.
And to Hype’s point, the world keeps on turning, even if the tyrants on the left get power.
I suspect they just want to wail in despair.
I donāt buy into Hypeās āitāll be A-OKā gist but heās right in pointing out that the utterly dire predictions from past elections havenāt exactly played out on a large scale. Presidents can obviously do a lot of damage but life does go on.
Unfortunately, I can’t help but think that if Harris wins, it’s goong to turn in some pretty bad ways on the free speech front and political harassment of wrongthinkful businessmen like Elon Musk.
Unless Kamala gets us into a war with Iran and North Korea simultaneously.
At that point, she has your children kidnapped, trained to kill, and sent overseas to murder innocents and be murdered, themselves.
And you have to hang that folded up flag on the wall, as if it had been a good thing.
Youāre also right Cav and the war stuff especially concerns me. Ultimately things donāt go off the rails until they do but itās not time to put our heads in the oven just yet.
One need only look at the EU and Canada to see the terrible ideas a Harris administration could try to implement.
Ahem. I’m always hung.
And they was right!
Viva and Barnes, from last night:
https://rumble.com/v5lm4et-ep-235-the-last-sunday-show-before-the-election-breaking-down-what-is-on-th.html
^^^Barnes discusses (a bit) whatās happening in the betting markets.
*hits play
Thatās Barnes? He has nice tits.
Doesnāt he, though?
Ericās wife, Laura, is co-chair if the RNC, and seems to be on top of things, like the weird stuff going on in Pennsylvania and Georgia.
Theyāve already won a couple of lawsuits dealing with voting integrity.
Itās not like last time.
The GOP has managed to turn out low-propensity voters for early voting, which means the bulk of the GOP baseāthe people who always show up to voteāhas yet to vote. In Pennsylvania, Biden had a 1.5 million lead with early votes in 2020; Harris has about 400,000.
Itās not like last time.
Trump has been shot at; he has been persecuted through lawfare; he is denigrated by his opponents as old and senile, and yet he can go three hours on Joe Rogan without a single major gaffe. He shows his humor and friendliness by cooking and serving French fries at a McDonaldās. He turned a potentially awkward situation (with the comedian at MSG) into a win, when Biden responds by calling Trump supporters garbage.
I havenāt seen anything myself, but I heard that Trump is even discussing the Pnut the squirrel incident.
Itās. Not. Like. Last. Time.
They are counting votes already in Penn?
Count early, count often.
Thatās a good question.
I think they are basing their numbers on mail-in ballots and early voters, and extrapolating based on party registration. I donāt know how they get these numbers. Iām trying to find out.
I donāt even remember from where I heard this.
If they are able to count the total number of early votes, then itās, of course, possible that all the GOP-registrated voters are voting Harris, but the assumption is that they are all voting Trump, and all the Dems are voting Harris.
Is PA a state where primary voters could become Team Red for a day to vote for Nikki is the Worst Haley?
Nikki Haley is not the worst Nikki.
“I am a troo anarchist and the state should punish my neighbors who don’t shovel the sidewalks in front of their homes” was embarrassingly bad. And the fact that she didn’t make The Crossing with the rest of the Axis of Glib also says something.
I mean, look at the people with whom Trump has surround himself:
Elon Musk, who can land a rocket right back on the launch pad.
RFK, Jr., who is a tie back to a better time, as well as a reminder of what happened to his dad and uncleāwhich ties into the two attempts on Trumpās life. RFK, Jr. also helps address the mRNA issue, which Trump was vulnerable on, because he couldnāt shut up about how great da Jab was.
Heās got DJ Vance, who also went on Joe Rogan for thereās hours, and didnāt gaffe, and seems like a regular guy whoās knowledgeable and competent. Dan Quayle he aināt.
Sorry, but I reject the idea of the Kennedy era as Camelot.
I wish I could remember who here first referred to the Kennedys as the Kardashians of the 1960s.
Iām not talking about the Kennedy Camelot specifically; Iām arguing that having RFK, Jr. reminds people of a time when you wouldnāt lose your job for failing to call a man āMaāamā.
Unfortunately, i think most people hear “Kennedy” and get the doe-eyed Boomer Porn view of the 60s — how every minority group gets its heroic civil rights struggle, the virtuous press that brought down icky right-wing Nixon (you all know how I complain bitterly about the -gate suffix), and the like.
I think first of drowned girls, then of scummy political dynasties whose founder was smart enough to not let the larva get direct access to the money in their trust.
Twixtter is now much less restrictive on what people can say, and there are so many news organizations and aggregators that link to tweex (?)
So, messages are getting distributed.
I hate the disingenuous headline
https://www.timesunion.com/capitol/article/feds-probing-migrant-ny-government-workers-19877732.php
HBITs aren’t Migrants, they’re mostly H1Bs, not people who snuck accross the border.
The only reason we hire them is because it’s hard to hire real employees.
H1b;s are migrants, you don’t have to sneak in to be a migrant, you merely need to be from somewhere else.
Migrants plan to stick around, H1Bs are supposed to go home.
What about migratory birds?
What about them?
Are you a hatebird appologist?
The three arguments I see among the “Peanut is NBD, actually” and what they say about the awful people who espouse them:
“Das Gesetz ist das Gesetz” = I am a bootlicker and/or worship the state as the supreme deity. Individuals are simply resources.
“Something bad might have happened” = I am a bootlicker and easily terrified into submission. While this argument is a fully-generalizable e excuse to kill literally anyone, I believe my superiors are going to care for me and only punish badpeopple.
“LOL, it’s just a stupid rodent, stupids!” = I only give a shit about things that bother me personally.
Best typo ever: DJ Vance. His new nickname is found!
That was on purpose, but some other brilliant Glib did it first, and I was just copying him/her.
It was Banjos.
*suppressed laughter*
https://x.com/libsoftiktok/status/1853190866200109088/mediaViewer?currentTweet=1853190866200109088¤tTweetUser=libsoftiktok
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I need to remember to link the tweet instead of the video:
https://x.com/libsoftiktok/status/1853190866200109088
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