This is the second chapter of Prince Errant. You can find Part 1 here.
* * *
The more I looked on the waiting troop, the more I realized the horses were color-coded. Those bearing the banners of family were mounted upon brilliant white chargers. Vassals of the Furst of Karststadt had their banner bearers upon gray steeds. Allies had brown. All the horses were of similar height, and as fine a mount as my amateur eye could assay. They were sturdy, powerful creatures, likely of Ritterblume, or the Prince’s own stables. Those of a more martial bent spoke quite admirably of the horses’ quality. But the nuance of horseflesh was lost on me. I saw no obvious defect, and they were both lively and obedient. I was not an expert horseman by any measure. I could sit in a saddle and steer, but I doubted I could urge a creature to hop a low rail, let alone do anything risky. The closest thing to a lance I’d ever held was the banner pole my fingers were now wrapped around. But the procession was a parade, I merely had to stay in line and steer.
The boy to my left was grinning stupidly. From the color of his coat and the banner above his head, he was one of Hermann’s brood. King Hermann had far too many children, and I couldn’t put a name to this one. The banner bore the Raven Coast Roc with an upturned crescent above its head and a dead dragon in its talons. My mind churned through my memory of heraldry. Hermann’s own banner had the Roc and upturned crescent, but carried the traditional ox. It was further embellished by having the skewered dragon of the Order of Dragonslayers within the crescent, and the crowned orb of Neph upon its breast. Neither of those details appeared here. The order’s emblem could only be borne by dragonslayers, so of course it had to be omitted from the banners carried by their children. The lack of the crowned orb meant he had not been born of the queen, but a concubine. Still, I couldn’t put a name to the cousin.
A sudden gust had the banners snapping, and my attention back to the one I held. It vexed me even worse than failing to put a name to the boy beside me. My father had said I was going to be carrying ‘our’ banner. That meant the griffins and globe. But the banner I wrangled back from the breeze was not the undifferenced heraldry of our family. This one had a star above the globe. Using the cadency favored in the north as my relations did, that marked the banner as belonging to a third son. The twins argued constantly over which was older, but the third son was undisputed. Instead of the family’s banner as I’d been promised, I was flying my own.
Somehow, I felt disappointed.
It was unlikely that my father had meant to mislead me. It was likely he hadn’t even been given complete details, as the procession was another’s responsibility to organize. But it was another grain of salt. Were there no wounds already, I wouldn’t have noticed. It was such a petty thing, and yet it gnawed at me.
The procession was staged in the largest plaza in the Lower City. The route was stupidly convoluted, but I didn’t need to remember. I just had to stay in formation, and not draw attention to myself. I could manage that much. The boisterous crowds called out as my grandfather made his first appearance. I had already been living under his roof at the Moor House when Prince Kord had informed the world of our direct relation. The fact that my father was the bastard son of the Countess Helen Heard was well known. That the Furst of Karststadt was his father had not been. Even I had been surprised. But, having passed sixty years of age, there was little damage the truth could do to him. His neat gray beard had been a little darker then, and his hair not quite as thin, but he still stood with the same confident, erect posture. Standing upon a raised platform, he motioned the crowd for silence. It was rare for him to actually wear the Iron Diadem proper, as the circlet made his features look harsh. A palisade of dull gray metal fortified his brow, with a triptych of enameled plates at the fore. It was hard to tell what scenes were depicted upon them.
Blue tailcoat fluttering in the gusts, Prince Kord continued to lower his arms, quieting the masses. He pushed his gold-rimmed spectacles up his nose and spoke plainly.
“People of Karststadt,” he said, “For five decades now, I have worked to better this land. I have built roads and bridges, harbors and canals, viaducts and aqueducts. And it is fitting that today we finish another of these last creations. It comes not to Topside, but flows unsullied to the lower city. So in celebration of this golden jubilee, I give on to you, the people of this city, fresh, clean water.”
In a perfectly choreographed moment of spectacle, the idle fountain in the middle of the plaza erupted into life. Gurgling out the last of its air, water spurted from its spouts and sprayed high into the air. A roaring cheer burst from the crowd at the sight, as the shortages had plagued them for some time. Smiling, Prince Kord descended from the platform and mounted his own steed – a coal black beast taller and broader than any other in the procession. He raised high the Raven Coast Roc, by right the largest banner flying. At this sign the drums began. The banner bearers were not the bulk of the procession, as space had been granted to entertainers and representatives of all classes, not just the armigers. The pace was set by the lead beasts, a quartet of adamantarxes. Twice as long and twice as broad as a horse, the woolly beasts were just as tall. They moved at a plodding pace, but were utterly implacable. No one would obstruct their passage, and thus disrupt the procession. Upon their backs were massive drums, beaten energetically by dogmen hanging from the flanks of the beasts. Their drivers were dwarfs, stoic of mein, and plugs in their ears.
Shaggy hair rippling in the breeze, the adamantarxes made for the plaza exit. Behind them gamboled the goblin pipers, somehow harmonizing with the deep booming of the giant drums. Both races had been brought to heel and given the rule of law during Prince Kord’s tenure. Goblins had the easier time of it, being able to speak human tongues, albeit with a pronounced accent. The people of the procession were sorted by class, with the more humble trades and entertainments near the fore. So the armigers and Prince Kord ended up in the rear. It was a celebration of everyone who owed fealty or alliance to the Furst of Karststadt, and it was a long train of people. I suppose it helped people who rarely dealt with him feel connected to their prince.
The convoluted path wound through every plaza and open square in the city, working its way through Lowtown before ascending Topside and meandering there. In the largest spaces, the procession would stop and Prince Kord would make a pronouncement of a gift ‘to the people of the city’. The gift would be tailored to something the residents of that district cared about. Whether it was tangible, such as the new aqueduct, or abstract, such as the repeal of an unpopular tax or abolition of an archaic rule. These pleased the crowds greatly. The procession ended at the Palace of Karststadt. The banner-bearers were directed to continue across the bridge, passing through the gate of the fortified outer precinct and assembling in the courtyard within.
The bulk of the procession left behind, Prince Kord ascended to a landing of one of the stairs to the outer wall. Many expectant faces looked up at the old man for whom I’d been named. My own expression was more slack. If I let my features express my feelings, they would show irritation at still being astride this horse waiting for the parade to finally be ended. The Furst addressed us.
“All of you here were chosen by my family, my closest friends, and supporters, to represent them in the opening of this celebration. Many of your are my family, closest friends, and supporters. And so there is one more gift to give before this procession draws to a close. A more personal one, to you as individuals. To each of you, I give the horses you ride, and the kit you wear. These steeds come from my personal stables, and were bred over my lifetime from the best equine specimens I could acquire. And since I was raised in Ritterblume, you know that is saying something.”
He grinned and others cheered, but I was torn. It was my birthday, and it was a gift, but it had been given in spite of the first fact. And I didn’t even have a place to stable a horse, let alone the time to take care of it. The clamor died down and Prince Kord spoke again.
“Now, there are more festivities tonight, and for the next few days, but I must withdraw for now. I promised my family I would dine with them.” He waved and set off for the palace proper.
* * *
The immediate question of the disposition of the horse was taken care of by returning it to the palace stables. There was a stall for it there, and the banner I’d carried got strung over the gate to show whose stark white steed it was. I looked towards the boisterous sounds outside the walls. Even if the ale and spirits weren’t free, they would be free-flowing, so I could drink my woes away for the evening. I had made it to the gate when my progress was arrested by Wendel. I frowned as he bowed and growled at me.
“I was instructed to ensure that you attended dinner.” His eyes glanced up and met mine. I could see the almost pleading expression, asking me not to make him choose between members of his pack. The pragmatic side of my brain pointed out that I’d have to make my way back to the Explorer House to get my money. The crowds would make that an unpleasant trip.
“Which dining room is it in?” I asked.
“Follow me,” he said. The Palace of Karststadt had been erected as a castle, and retained some of the labyrinthine, intruder-befuddling layout. That had been exacerbated by the various expansions and renovations over the centuries. The fact that Prince Kord hadn’t modified it beyond the requirements of general maintenance didn’t make it easier to navigate. We climbed what felt like an impossible eternity of stairs, switching stairwells twice as each ran out of risers. At last Wendel pushed open a door onto a rooftop terrace. It was on the northern end of the main structure, with only a few stories rising higher towards the stars. Lanterns hung from iron stands around the rail, and sat upon the long table at regular intervals. I was the last to arrive.
At the head of the table sat Prince Kord. With the Iron Diadem removed from his brow, he looked more grandfatherly than kingly. Along the sides of the table sat his sons, their wives, and almost a score of grandchildren. There was one seat empty, and it was in the wrong place. The chair was where it was supposed to be, at the foot of the table. It was one of the fancier two of the set. What was out of place was the placard. The seating was clearly assigned, and grouped by blood relation, with Hermann’s brood taking up most of one side, opposite that of Peter and my father. Horst and his solitary son sat on Hermann’s side, almost edged out by their multitude. Where my three siblings sat didn’t have enough room for me. That left the foot of the table. Were the Lady Marcelene still alive, it would have been her seat. The placard read ‘Kord the Younger’.
Knowing arguing was pointless, I sat in Marcelene’s seat.
Liveried servants poured the wine.
“It’s about time,” one of my brothers said. I didn’t see which, and they sounded identical. My mother hushed him.
“Now,” Prince Kord said, “Today is a day of celebration on many levels. This marks the first time since Peter left for the academy that every surviving member of my family has been at the same table. That alone is something to celebrate.” He raised his glass, and everyone followed suit, accepting the toast in the spirit given. I went through the motions to avoid drawing additional attention to myself. After the distance some of these people had traveled to be here, annoying them beyond my tardiness would be unhealthy. Most of the faces around the table I couldn’t even recognize. After all, Peter’s family had grown up in the east, where he’d set about carving out his own kingdom. And Hermann’s brood rarely ventured beyond the borders of Neph.
In that moment it dawned on me how influential the people sitting at that table were. As an Elector of the Volkmund, the Furst of Karststadt was so autonomous as to be effectively a monarch in all but name. We had the King of the Rustshades, and the King and Queen of Neph. We had the heir apparent to the Iron Diadem, and a Graf who was almost as autonomous as the Furst of Karststadt. Heck, my father probably had more ships than the Imperial Navy. In terms of money, manpower, and lands, we had three kingdoms worth. When allies were added into the mix, well, there was a reason students at the University wanted to toady up to even an insignificant son in the FitzHelen branch of the House Grosz. Slayers of dragons and kings; Breakers of walls and takers of cities; The reputations of some of the men at the table had led whole armies to surrender rather than face them. Yet not one word of his military exploits had passed my grandfather’s lips today. He wanted to be known for the things he’s built, rather than what he tore down.
“There is one other thing to celebrate today,” my grandfather continued. “On the very anniversary of my coronation, one of my grandsons was born. And his parents named him after me.”
I blinked as he raised his glass in my direction.
“Cruel fate put the date of his traditional coming of age on my golden jubilee. But for the rest of this evening, I want to celebrate the birthday of the younger Kord at this table.”
I reddened at the cheerful commentary as my family drank to the toast. The expression on my father’s face told me that he had forgotten. His shock even made him miss the chorus of, “Happy birthday,” the others sent my way. Someone remembered, but not the man who should have.
“Now someone’s going to give you a sword, make you sit in a temple all night, then drag you into the woods,” Bas said. As soon as my brother said that, Max leaned forward in anticipation of what was coming next. As sure as clockwork, our mother reached over and swatted Bas upside the head. It mussed his blond locks and made it easier to tell the twins apart.
“However flippantly described, it is traditional,” Hermann said. Though King of Neph since before I was born, Hermann was dressed simply, save for the rendition of his coat of arms embroidered on the breast of his coat. He was clean shaven and inherited my grandfather’s need for eyeglasses. His dark hair was starting to speckle with gray, though not enough to be striking.
“That is going to get tedious when your lot starts coming of age,” Peter said. Like my father, Peter was blond. Unlike him, Peter did not cultivate a beard. What my uncle did out of the ordinary was wear a blindfold. He acted as if he could see even with the cloth about his head. I heard he typically wore a mask, but I saw him so rarely, that I couldn’t speak to the fact.
“You don’t have to worry, you don’t have any forests to send them to,” Hermann said, smirking.
“Shows how little you know.”
“Oh?” Hermann asked, but no answer was forthcoming. The conversation was interrupted by the first of the fireworks going off.
“Well, the timing was good for most of the day at least,” Horst said.
“The fireworks are for the city anyway,” Prince Kord said. While the loud booming made it difficult to converse, the servants brought out our first course. It was a dark brown mushroom soup garnished with thinly sliced pickled vegetables. The small bowl told me we had multiple courses coming. The contrast between the savory soup and the astringent garnish was a taste combination I rather liked. Though I had been known to stick a fork in a pot of pickled vegetables and eat them straight. From the flavor, I guessed the mushrooms were of a variety that grew wild across the forests of Neph and Snaerveldi, and were quite expensive. I didn’t doubt that the theme of expense would be repeated throughout dinner today. For the jubilee feast, it made sense. For my birthday, not so much.
“I was wondering,” one of Hermann’s daughters asked, “Do we all have to give something to young Kord?”
In his most reassuring and fatherly tone, Hermann said, “No, we’ve got that taken care of.”
“Oh. I was worried because I hadn’t known, and I don’t have anything.”
Hermann gestured for his daughter to calm down and let it go. During another crescendo of fireworks, the servants swapped out our bowls for plates with lightly sauced pieces of fish. I was just breaking the white flesh when someone blurted out, “How is this fresh?”
Peter laughed. “I brought it in live, all the way from the Palm Coast.” Not an easy task, regardless of which route he took. But Peter had trained as a Lapis Wizard, and had an advantage when it came to keeping fish alive. While I couldn’t say that made the fish expensive, it did make it exclusive. No one else this side of the continent would be having the same dish. Though if someone had to pay for a wizard to transport live fish that far, it would be ruinously expensive. The spices mixed in the sauce had come from vastly different corners of the world from each other, but were still complementary.
As with any large gathering, the conversations had broken into a number of smaller clumps based on proximity. The main course was a small slice of mutton with green mint sauce and white potatoes that were decorated to look like woolly sheep. Poking one potato sheep with a fork, I began to feel homesick. My father had brought potatoes back with him after his first voyage, and they’d grown in the gardens of Sudtor since before I was born. In the hilly reaches and folds of the valley, flocks of sheep had grazed. On the field of sauce, the potato sheep perfectly evoked those memories. In a melancholy mood, I ate the small flock before turning to the meat.
I want to go back to an earlier statement I made where every first-person narrator is unreliable, as they state as factual what they believe to be true, even when they are wrong.
In this part, Kord’s narration speaks of Horst’s one child. Horst has two, and his bastard is at the table, but Kord was unaware of the illegitimate child, mistaking the guy for one of Hermann’s multitude.
I’d give more details on the bastard, but that would give spoilers for other stories being worked on.
Also, note no mention of Horst’s wife. Poor woman died in childbirth.
So she was just Horst’s Vessel?
No.
Horst hasn’t remarried because he really did have feelings for his wife.
*bites lip*
If it’s any consolation, I saw vhat you did there.
So many glibs are so good at deadpanning and playing along to extend the joke that it can be difficult to tell.
Lieds!
So he might have had a song commissioned in her honor?
I strongly suspect I’m missing a reference.
I think so.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horst-Wessel-Lied
Yeah, he did Not See that reference.
*sends ANTIFA to NA’s house to shine lasers in his eyes*
I am not even going to describe the device I’m sketching out now (which totally does not involve deactivating the interlocks on a microwave oven) and I’m going to destroy these sketches.
ever heard of the concept of leaving things to the reader?
There’s plenty for you to be wrong about. I was pointing out a canonical example of my implementation of narrative unreliability.
I’m glad SOMEONE remembered Young Kord’s birthday. His mother should smack his father for forgetting.
I like the idea, but I’m trying to imagine how they would have done this. The “wooly” description makes my tongue itch.
Still enjoying this & looking forward to more.
Mashed potatos on roast potatos as wool? An edible herb stem holding a smaller potato with veggie shards inserted for facial features/ears?
Now that sounds tasty!
https://giphy.com/gifs/shaunthesheep-Bw9Xvw5W2t9f2
Wouldn’t it be easier to remember someone’s birthday since it coincides with another holiday? I am assuming of course that Coronation Day is a thing.
Accession Day is going to very from polity to polity, and if you’re not living in a territory that owes fealty to the Furst of Karststadt, it won’t be the same as Kord the Younger’s birthday.
#metoo
Sorry to go OT so early Unciv, but schadenfreude incoming for some of our Glibs: DeWine has tested positive.
He should have worn a mask.
And stayed home.
lmao. I hate those fucking people so much. Also love retorting with “I thought the mask only protected others? Did the science change?” with those mindless fucktards.
On Tuesday, he issued an order requiring children returning to in-person classes this fall to wear a mask.
Yep. For K-12. Shit… you can’t even get a kindergartner to sit still for 10 minutes, you think you can get them to keep a mask on short of stapling it onto their faces?
Flex seal it on
Can you imagine how gross the mask of an six-year-old boy would be after a couple days?
Days? Try mere hours
i still dont like seeing the word Wine in all this talk
I have a question about wine.
At christmas I got a bottle of wine as a gift. Since I’m not a wine drinker I put it on my shelf, saying I’ll figure out what to do with it later.
Now, my kitchen shelf isn’t climate controlled, and there were many 90+ days over this past summer.
What damage would have that done to the wine? Is it still usable for cooking? Would a wine drinker find it ruined?
It’s definitely ok to cook with.
A few 90 degree days aren’t going to ruin it. Six months of being over your stove might.
Oh, no it’s on the shelf on the opposite side of the room from the stove.
Less than one year there is most likely no damage. It is not really precise you can get lucky and keep it 5 years on a shelf with no climate control or it can go somewhat bad in 5 months. But overall since Christmas I doubt anything happened to it should be good.
off course kitchen may be additional heat… who knows. Can’t say until opening.
Cycling the temperature up and down is worse for the wine than absolute temperature. But, yeah, 90 degrees is not good for it.
One summer probably won’t kill it. But it will shorten its life.
If it’s red, use it for beef burgundy. Make sure it isn’t turning brown in color or smelling musty.
If it’s white, it may be dead.
I think it’s a red.
Then you should be OK to cook with it.
If it’s white, it may be dead. – honestly one summer I give it more than 50% chance of not being dead
let me convert 90 to real degrees
too hot
90.
Incoming Rankine dissertation in 5
4
3
That’s where “may” comes in.
Just drink it.
It’s like you don’t even alcoholic.
It’s wine. It tastes terrible if not further treated.
It’s wine.
It tastes terribleI don’t like it if not further treated.To each there own.
To each there own.
Also applies to spelling.
danke
So make sangria with it.
And appropriate Iberian Culture?
Of course. Appropriate all the cultures!
Use it to braise red cabbage along with allspice, cloves, caraway and some fatty cuts of pork.
and appropriate German culture?
Serious question: Can this test even distinguish between Covid-1984 and every other coronavirus that is always going around?
probably not.
Yes.
Symptoms?
Asymptomatic. Tested as he was going to meet with Trump when he came to Ohio. Local story that’s been getting updates.
https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/mollyhensleyclancy/georgia-school-reopening-photo-paulding-county
https://twitter.com/Freeyourmindkid/status/1291393251669311496
Really really wish Trump would retweet this shit out just to show people that people aren’t fucking retards everywhere. Force the media and the wait two weeks crowd to cover this, and keep ramming it down their fucking throats. I would have done the same with packed airplane travel.
I really think a non trivial amount of people think this bug has killed millions of americans. Force CNN to cover these school reoopenings in the redstates, this is a clear winner.
They did a poll, and when Americans were asked to name what % of America had died from COVID, the average answer was 9%.
https://www.kekstcnc.com/media/2793/kekstcnc_research_covid-19_opinion_tracker_wave-4.pdf
Remember, that’s an average answer. Which means there are legitimately people who believe COVID has killed tens of millions of people.
The media is even more powerful, because people are staying at home being bombarded by this shit.
Don’t forget – most people can’t do math and don’t realize how many americans there are. They may thing 9% is only 27,000 people.
Until this week, the narrative had been to add ‘white the pandemic rages all around us’ to literally every news story.
Now that’s been changed to ‘American uniquely fails to control virus’. Yep, that’s right, we’re to believe that every other country on the planet, except for the USA, has complete control over this thing now. Why, just go to any other country now and you’re perfectly safe! I guess we don’t even need a wall now.
TMITE
The real tragedy is that the school year is already starting.
RE: Dissolving the NRA.
https://freebeacon.com/2020-election/exclusive-nra-plans-to-spend-tens-of-millions-in-battleground-states/
“NRA has added 1,000 new members each day since June”
That is why I continue to support the NRA; it’s strictly a matter of strength in numbers.
I’m surprised, even with recent events, I thought of them as being in decline.
Of course having NY go after them is only going to help boost membership.
*braces for surge of begging emails*
Kind of makes you wonder why the NY AG filed. I can’t see a political upside to this so I assume this is come from a purity of belief.
Its all optics, at least the “dissolution” part. They can reincorporate somewhere else in a matter of hours. Merge the two corps together, and there’s some paperwork to transfer contracts, etc. that could probably be taken care of before her lawsuit goes anywhere. Some BigLaw firm will make some coin, and Nothing Else Will Happen. The hardest issue may be the NRA’s status as a certified training organization for various purposes.
Now, if she wants to pursue personal claims against the execs, that’s different. That will get some Very Heavy Hitters concerned, because the kind of thing the NRA execs are accused of is not unusual in the nonprofit world.
Holla.
I’m about to rejoin. As squishy as they can be on some things, and as annoyed as I get with their seemingly endless torrent of “give us more money” letters, gun rights would not be what they are without them. For all their faults, they’re still the 800 pound gorilla, and without them we would probably be living under an even broader “assault weapons” ban with no concealed carry rights, 50% tax on ammo, bans on private transfers, and who knows what the fuck else…
That’s why I joined. Along with GOA.
If you already have a reliable strawman, no need to labor to build a new one for the same scenario.
We have many good strawmen in our shed, NRA, systemic racism, etc, etc. Now get busy knocking those down, again!
Great story.
1/3rd of the way through now.
Yes, excellent story, I enjoy seeing what happens with Dug’s family in later years. By the way, what is your ETA for the sequel to Beyond the Edge of the Map?
“When it’s done”.
I actually worked on this story to try to build momentum for getting more done on the longer works.
I’m also trying to work how how to handle Dug’s relationship with Svetlana in a manner that fits the story and allows her to have some character development.
“When it’s done”
Giving us the GRRM treatment, eh?
Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed BTEOTM, otherwise I wouldn’t pester you for more.
I’ve got about 50,000 words written. That’s half a book. The story doesn’t conclude yet, so it would be an awful tease to release what’s been written so far. I can se the reviews now:
“1/5 stars – Incomplete, it even ends mid-sentence.”
Just as long as he doesn’t give us the Frank Herbert treatment.
He’s gonna have a kid who corpse-fucks all his story lines?
OT: The Democrat NYS attorney general goes full banana republic: The New York Attorney General is filing a lawsuit against the National Rifle Association, seeking to dissolve the powerful gun lobby for a multitude of alleged violations of state law governing charities.
https://twitter.com/yoalexrapz/status/1291425745919553541
The NRA’s influence has been so powerful that the organization went unchecked for decades while top executives funneled millions into their own pockets,”
Now try the United Way, Clinton Foundation, and Teamsters.
I was wondering when someone was finally going to post this story. It’s about time.
Feeling a bit snippy are we?
Are we transitioning from the played-out “drugs out of ass” and moving on to “the NRA is dissolved”?
Don’t be silly. It’s not as versitile.
I was probably the fifth person (in a row) to post on the last thread. So I am guilty too.
Check between your ankles for stinky bud before posting?
*begins marketing genius*
Yanno, the kids these days are really into tumblr and memes. What you out to do is make your prtagonist a woman monarch, and have her be assaulted by MRAs from the Gross Old People’s group. Then you can have a big climactic fight scene where she kills them all single-handedly. And every time she disembowels or beheads a GOPer, her court can break into applause and yell:
“Yass, slay Queen!”
*ends marketing genius*
I thought that was the phrase called out when someone defeats a crossdresser in single combat.
Or was it a heckle for bad karaoke?
*ponders how to combine twitter and karaoke*
Well, I’d think “We Will Rock You” and “Another One Bites The Dust” would be the anthems of cancel culture.
Or, if you’re feeling Philosophical, “One Vision”
Its been done.
Tik-Tok.
Iran’s military did a whoopsie
They nuked Beirut instead of Tel Aviv?
Cue up Maxwell Smart…
“Missed it by that much.”
Got a robocall from the school district this morning. School will still be in person starting next week, despite most other schools in the area opting for remote learning. My kid has to wear a mask and there are additional lunch periods, but at least they’ll be in the building.
My kid has to wear a mask
This one?
Around here it’s not unusual to see a rebel flag flying. Nobody thinks much of it. But she wouldn’t be caught dead in that shade of orange.
I just found a new management annoyance. Recorded meetings that you’re supposed to listen to if you missed the meeting. So far it’s been over 4 minutes of dead silence. FFS, man clean that shit up before sending it to everyone.
Especially considering based on the notes, there’s nothing in this that’s going to apply to me.
Management by podcast will definitely help with the disconnect between management and those actually doing the work that is the curse of work from home schemes.
Keep in mind I haven’t had a one on one with a manager in over a year. They don’t even get scheduled. I’ve also never met any of my managers in person… which is probably for the best.
That sounds just peachy. And management experts wonder why there isn’t a sense of loyalty and common purpose in corporate America.
Hell, last year I didn’t even know my review was done until a coworker mentioned (he had been with the company longer) that they had been posted. Yeah, I don’t have lots of loyalty to the company I work for now. But they pay me well, I get random bonuses, and at least last year got a decent raise. As a remote worker, I’m also considered to work in the city I live in, so I avoid that tax bite here in Ohio.
I objected strongly to recording our misc. Zoom meetings. “Why would we convert our internal meetings into discoverable evidence?”
I was mostly successful. There’s a few “town hall” Q & As that we record. Supposedly we deleted them after a week, but who know what a subpoena to Zoom would turn up?
Any of our P1/P2 incidents are recorded, the team meetings are recorded for those who can’t make it, and the “town hall webinars” get recorded. I believe those get saved for an indefinite period of time. But this is just the audio, not even the shared documents and the like (if anything was shared).
The only ones we record are the “learning sessions” where one of the engineers discusses something new/fun tech that they want to talk about, and the weekly reviews with the stakeholders.
[charges RC Dean with evidence tampering]
Can you fast-forward through it?
I had to watch a video on returning to work after the coronavirus crisis. ~50 minutes, and the last 10 minutes were an intermission before some sort of Q&A session that never happens, at least not during the video. Thankfully I could fast-forward through it and only watch the slides.
Negative. I could skip ahead, but I wasn’t sure when the talking started.
I sent out a reminder to my Honey Harvest classmates. This is a response from my best friend of 75 years, a math professor. I mentioned that there would be non-masked folks there, including me and everyone should know in advance.
“Diane and I had talked about this a while ago and wondered what you were going to do about the honey harvest day. While the risk is not great, we have decided that clearly the safest option is for us not to attend and that is what we intend to do. While I look forward to this event each year, an opportunity for us to get reacquainted and work together, this year there is some risk in a gathering of a group of senior citizens. I can tell you that I feel very disappointed that we will not be there to share in the good time. good food, and good hospitality that we have had every past year, but we do think, under the circumstances, that it is in our (maybe your or one of you other guests) best interests if we do not attend. It is something that I have looked forward to every year and know that the number of remaining opportunities for this event is coming to a close. Please do not allow this to adversely affect our almost life long friendship. I’m truly sorry.
However. I have an alternative suggestion. We would like to see you so is it possible for us to visit just you and Lan maybe sometime in early October before it gets cold. We could come up and spend the day and return the next day. We would be more than willing to take you both out to dinner if there is a place where they are applying covid prevention. I think at Bill’s funeral we had lunch/dinner at the American Legion in Deerwood and they had a Friday nite fish fry which might be kinda fun (that is just a suggestion). Think about it and let us know”
Too bad. I cut people in high risk groups some slack, though.
Folks can do what they please. Avoiding fun at a certain age is a depressing thought, since the calendar is running out anyway. I am actually surprised at the reactions of a lot of old people, I thought we had put some things behind us, like fear of an unknown.
I have been thinking about this a lot lately. With the cancelled events, visits from family that have been avoided or outright banned, and mandated isolation of this year how much life and joy in life have we cost the very people we are supposedly protecting? Life can’t really be measured purely by chronology.
Attempts to keep elderly people surviving an extra month, or year, or even decade at the cost of complete isolation and absence of joy in their lives seems a very cruel trade.
Sure, but it can be used to justify it. You enjoying your life is killing me!!!!
I have been thinking about this a lot lately. With the cancelled events, visits from family that have been avoided or outright banned, and mandated isolation of this year how much life and joy in life have we cost the very people we are supposedly protecting? Life can’t really be measured purely by chronology.
Exactly. “Living” is not the same as “existing”.
It reminds me of that scene in Braveheart: every man dies, not every man really lives.
Attempts to keep elderly people surviving an extra month, or year, or even decade at the cost of complete isolation and absence of joy in their lives seems a very cruel trade.
My 91-yo grandfather is in an assisted living home, and they have a good compromise on this: visitors are not allowed inside, but they have set up an exterior room that has a nice big window with chairs on both sides and a phone, so people can still come by and see and talk to their loved ones. My mother visits him several times a week.
So… sort of like the prison visitation shown in most movies and TV shows?
So… sort of like the prison visitation shown in most movies and TV shows?
Essentially, it’s exactly this. But better than nothing, and considering that the old folks are the prime demographic target of the virus, it makes sense to try to minimize risks.
In my view, tens of thousands of lives could have been saved if we would have focused on this instead of pretending that this is “everyone’s disease” and shutting down all of society.
Old folks and death: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hmc819RMVUE
So what is the problem? Seems like he has made a different risk calculation than you have. Isn’t saying you’re wrong or a host of other other accusations nor is he cutting off your relationship. In short, sounds like a decent person.
Well, I am still planning to come up.
*cancels plans*
Then you won’t get to try any of my mead.
http://archive.li/jibh0/c3b1a1a4e75d5b18c08cb2047c6b5b40412eec28.webp
http://archive.li/lnvjo/27d7d330120e28dd8c207a74dc14c7f1f47f5a8f.webp
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_dGh7p1tZmk
I’m not sure what your commentary is supposed to be.
That is a saucy wench. I think Q is saying you need more saucy wenches in your work. Actually I think Q is pretty much always saying that about every situation.
^^^Pretty much. That and TITTIES.
I think I know what OMWC is going to want for Christmas.
Better hurry, though. Its being pulled from the shelves.
OK, I first thought that was just another shit-stirrer but after seeing the pussy button even I find that a bit creepy.
What the hell were they thinking?
just wait, I’m sure there will be an article fr one of the old stalwarts in a couple weeks pointing to some child psychologist who has a paper underwriting this button as “healthy sexual exploration”
Wouldn’t OMWC want it for Hanukkah instead of Christmas?
of course not, he celebrates Hanukkah with family. He celebrates Christmas by dressing up as Santa claus and visiting the orphanages.
That is some high quality trolling.
FFS. What made Hasbro think a Tickle Me Pedo doll would be a good idea?
The Elmo version was pretty popular.
Q: What’s the last thing workers do with Elmo dolls before the dolls leave the factory?
A: Give them two test tickles.
Marketing!
“There’s a lot of people who assume because we’re adult actresses that it’s OK to just touch us inappropriately.”
https://dailycaller.com/2020/08/06/dozens-of-women-come-forward-accuse-ron-jeremy-sex-crimes/
Interested to hear more about this story as it unfolds, but inappropriate touching != forcible rape.
I am a keep my hands to myself kinda guy. I try not to touch people, especially adult actresses.
Ron has been accused of rape/rape in the past.
I believe he was a schoolteacher before finding his true calling.
Relevant to the pressure cooker thread in yesterday’s afternoon links –
https://nypost.com/2020/08/06/guacamole-maker-explodes-killing-former-mayor-injuring-two-others/
I keep warning you people about avocados….
LOL
Speaking of explosions do we know anything about the one in Beirut? I keep looking for info and all I can find is gibberish and articles with no information.
I know a little about explosives though we should consult Hayekslosives. Ammonium Nitrate just just ‘go off’. It has to be mixed with fuel oil and have a trigger explosive. I am skeptical that this was an accident.
It doesn’t take much organic contaminant. <1% by weight will make it go boom. I think for-realsies ANFO is only 6% fuel oil.
Also don’t forget about West. That stuff was pure, but if you get it hot enough…
It still seems unlikely that this was accidental….or maybe not.
I remember a couple of years ago one of the thug gangs (Hezbollah?) in that area had a missile battery set up on the beach in Lebanon? aimed at Israel then sent a couple of knuckleheads out to guard them.
“No matter what, make sure no one comes near these or touches anything!”
In the middle of the night the guards got bored and one of them said “I wonder what this button does….”
From the archives.
Curiosity killed the cats?
These guac lab explosions are getting out of hand. We need an immediate crackdown on avocado abuse. Appoint a czar!
An exploding guacomatron is innovative, I’ll give them that much.
https://nypost.com/2020/08/05/couples-seek-genital-matchmaking-to-improve-lockdown-sex/
NOPE.
Afraid of some needles in your pecker?
Isn’t everyone?
Have you ever heard of the Elder Scrolls? what you just posted. That felt like reading one.
See now I thought this sounded like Tinder but more explicitly pornographic. If they included secondary sexual characteristics as well I could get on board with it.
See now I thought this sounded like Tinder but more explicitly pornographic.
Isn’t that Grindr?
If I remember my Kama Sutra correctly, lingams are described as the sizes of animals, and yonis are described by three different animals. And the yoni animals are bigger than the lingam ones.
https://www.wfmz.com/news/area/lehighvalley/easton-garlic-fest-cancelled-due-to-pandemic/article_b5a07ba2-d817-11ea-b791-fb56881fb6cd.html
That doesn’t bode well for the baconfest.
Our very own Pie, however, is laughing maniacally.
I like it.