A Glibertarians Exclusive: Mog-ee, Part I
Late spring
Wolf awoke slowly. His back hurt. I’m only nine-and-ten summers old, he mused. My back shouldn’t hurt. It never hurt before I moved over to the Diggers. The bend-and-stoop daily work of the Diggers was wearing.
He lay quietly for a moment. He could hear the even breathing of the Digger girl he had taken up with, Mog-ee, quiet and measured in sleep.
I’ve had about enough of this. I think I’ll go back to the People.
He turned his head. Beside him, Mog-ee still slept, her breaths soft, gentle, like the rest of her. Leaning against the far wall of the bark and wattle hut, Wolf could see his three hunting spears and his spear-thrower, still where they had been, gathering dust for the past year. He longed for the taste of real food – reindeer, red deer, even the little roebuck that lived in the thick forests. The seeds, leaves and fish the Diggers ate grew very tiresome very quickly.
Wolf sat up and stretched. Moving quietly, so as not to awaken the girl, he pulled on his hide boots and went outside, into a bright, warm spring morning. A few people were already up and around, and Wolf could smell the normal breakfast meal of stewed grains being cooked at several fires nearby. Spring was, apparently, a busy time of year for the Diggers.
These people don’t even eat well. And to think, I’m here because of a girl.
Back in the shelter, Wolf heard Mog-ee stirring. “Wol-ef,” she called. It annoyed Wolf that, in a year, she still could not properly pronounce his name. “Come in and clear off the floor. You left crumbs all over again. Morning song will begin soon.” The previous evening’s meal had consisted of a few scraps of fish and a baked wheat cake which, as usual, left Wolf still hungry.
Wolf looked over his shoulder into the hut. Mog-ee was sitting up in the rough bedding, woven from plant fibers – no finely worked, soft furs in this place. “My name,” he said testily, “is not Wol-ef. It’s Wolf. Wolf.” To emphasize, he raised his face to the sky and let out a long, bubbling howl. Several children nearby let out squawks of fright. A grubby little urchin peeked around the corner of another hut, looking for the source of the howl. “Me,” Wolf said, pointing at his nose. “Now run off, little one, or I’ll eat you!” The urchin ran.
“Come in and help me clean the floor,” Mog-ee repeated.
Wolf stared grumpily at the rising sun. The ‘morning song’ was meant to bring rain. Rain was mostly an annoyance to Wolf’s people; it made the hunting unpleasant. But the Diggers depended on rainfall and plenty of it, to make their plants grow.
Wolf found the ululating morning “song” unsettling. That was one item on a long list of things he was coming to dislike about living among the Diggers. Grunting, he went back into the hut. He ignored Mog-ee’s stare. He no longer noticed her eyes, the bright summer-sky blue eyes that had attracted his attention to her in the first place.
***
One year earlier
Wolf stood with his brother Blackbird and their father Clear Sky on the crest of a ridge. The valley where their tribe was camped, where they did much of their hunting, lay behind them. In the valley in front of them…
“The Diggers,” Clear Sky muttered. “More of them every year.”
The Diggers didn’t move from place to place, like the People. They settled in, built low huts, started digging in the dirt, and when they grew too numerous, a few would break off and start up somewhere new. Always expanding, always taking up more hunting ground.
Below lay a typical Diggers settlement. A few low huts made mostly of tree bark and woven branches. Surrounding the huts were the typical round dug-up patches of dirt, now showing the green of spring growth.
“They reckon family lineages through the fathers,” Clear Sky said. “Or they hope they do.” The People reckoned lineage through the mother’s side. “You can’t always be sure who a baby’s father is. You always know who the mother is.”
Wolf grinned. “Father, are you trying to tell us something?”
“I know you two are my sons,” Clear Sky replied. “You’re both just as ugly as I am.”
The boys laughed. They knew they, and their father, were considered handsome specimens among the People – tall, straight, broad-shouldered, with thick black hair and dark eyes.
Clear Sky went on. “My father’s father, he used to tell stories that his father’s father told of the Old Ones, the Dwarves, that used to live here. Short, heavy people, big heads, pale hair, no chins. Now that sounds like an ugly people. The Diggers don’t look that bad – just short, scrawny and dirty.”
“What would you expect? Always grubbing in the dirt the way they are,” Blackbird sniffed.
“Well,” Clear Sky said. “We should go talk to them. Warn them against trying to move any farther. We don’t want them in our valleys.”
“I thought this was one of our valleys,” Blackbird complained, pointing at the Diggers settlement before them. “Father, they are already here.”
“So they are. Well, come on.” Clear Sky picked up his hunting gear where he’d leaned it against a boulder – spears, spear thrower – and strode off down the slope. His sons shared a glance, then followed.
When they arrived at the Digger settlement, Clear Sky wasted no time; he strode right into the center of the group of low huts. “Where is your leader?” he called out in a loud, clear voice. “Who is your chief?! I will speak to him.”
A typically short, grubby couple walked forward. Wolf noted they seemed older than most of the others. The man had gray scattered through his hair and beard. When he spoke, his words were oddly distorted, as though he spoke the same tongue, but not in the same way. “I am Yeeteep-ee,” the man announced. “This is Ord-ee,” he added, indicating the woman. “We are the Rain-Bringers. We speak for this village.”
“I am Clear Sky, of the People,” Wolf’s father said. Must observe the formalities, Wolf supposed. My sons, Wolf, Blackbird.”
“You have words for us?” Yeeteep-ee asked.
“You are on a valley that is in the hunting range of the People,” Clear Sky said. “You built your huts here, you dug the earth here, without talking to us. This is not right.”
“What is ‘right’?” Yeeteep-ee asked. “This land was not tilled. You were not using it. Land belongs to those who take food from it.”
“The People take food from the land. The game that roams the lands are our food. The fruits of the forest and fields feed us. We do not seek to change the earth and make it do our bidding, but that does not mean we do not take food from it.”
The argument went on for some time. Slowly, the rest of the Digger village gathered around to listen, which Wolf would have found unsettling if they had borne any weapons; the most dangerous implement any of the short, dirty people seemed to own were digging sticks. Even so, as the talk grew warmer, Wolf tightened his grip on his spears. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blackbird was also nervous.
Then the girl appeared.
Wolf noticed her immediately. Not because she was slightly less grubby than the others, although that was true; when he first saw her, she was walking up from a little stream that flowed near the Digger village, having obviously just washed her face. Not because she stood out in any way from the other Diggers, being similarly short, skinny, and unremarkable. But when she approached, she stopped just behind Yeeteep-ee, and looked up at Wolf.
Her eyes. Like most humans, the People had eyes ranging in color from medium brown to almost black. Everyone Wolf had ever seen, from the fisher-folk who lived near the southern sea to the mammoth hunters who ranged in the far north, had similar eyes. Even the Diggers Wolf had seen had dark eyes.
But this girl, when she looked at Wolf, showed eyes the clear blue of a summer sky.
His attention did not go unnoticed. Yeeteep-ee paused in a harangue about growing food to look keenly at Wolf, then over at the girl. He suddenly smiled. “Your son,” he said to Clear Sky, “has seen my daughter. This is Mog-ee,” he said, indicating the girl.
Wolf smiled at the girl. Yeeteep-ee smiled as well, a calculating look in his eyes. Clear Sky looked at the girl, at his son, then back at the girl. He frowned. The boy’s thinking with his balls, as fast as that. This won’t end well.
***
I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more
I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more
Well, I wake in the morning
Fold my hands and pray for rain
With a head full of ideas that are drivin’ me insane
It’s a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
Damn.
I had no idea where this was going, but that’s fantastic! AK has really kick-started your creativity.
Thanks!
So in comments on the last CNO installment, there was some talk of lists…
https://www.dhs.gov/ntas/advisory/national-terrorism-advisory-system-bulletin-february-07-2022
I hadn’t flown recently, but I did fly back from Miami yesterday. Instead of simply looking at your ID (and having you drop the mask they demand you wear) to confirm identity, they now run it through a scanner. I also noted that Real ID has a new deadline of implementation, May 2023.
Maybe I should have associated the CNO series with some song lyrics.
Yeah, some airports have them, some don’t yet. They haven’t really figured out the process very well yet from what I’ve seen, people were getting confused about where to put the ID, when to do it, and there’s a separate ticket scanner to deal with as well.
A TSA chick at LAS told me that the CO IDs don’t always scan, so they are gonna keep the boarding pass scanner for the foreseeable future.
UNSCANNABLE!
Interesting setting. Thanks for sharing Animal.
And it even intersects with libertarianism.
If Jean M. Auel taught me anything, it’s that primitive peoples were constantly boinking. Undoubtedly to make up from being eaten by smilodons.
You have to overcome the infant mortality rate and overall attrition else your people vanish from the earth.
Oh, just wait.
Like it, Animal.
I have blue eyes and I know that some brown eyed people find that unusual and interesting.
You always hook me, now another week’s wait.
Blue eyes indicate a superior human being.
It’s science.
I have gray eyes. Even superior-er.
Pssh, its about different colors depending on mood/what you are wearing that makes one superior-erer
^this, green, yellow, brown, pick one or three,
Nah. It’s green eyes.
Pretty.
Green Eyes.
Actually it’s this Green Eyed Lady.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YG8FFJQYoTM
Sweet Green Eyes.
Bah.
temptation
Yaasss ?
?
Why not both?…. oh, because then they’re crazy eyes, apparently…
Yeah, that sensitivity to light is a real hallmark of superiority.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CiyKeSnSxk
Another great start…blue eyes have that come-hither glint that is hard to resist.
I read that as “come-hitler”. Made sense.
Works both ways I suppose…*searches for the ATF hotline number*
Happy Valentine’s Day!
That is a recipe for foodborne illness
Is that what they’re calling arsenic poisoning these days?
Sorry, wall of text, but Taibbi is on fire…
Unlike so many humans, I am NOT fascinated with the idea of living into the end-times.
Since that conversation – Titty Bank froze funds, GiveSendGo was told to suspend payment and then were hacked, counter-protests suddenly after weeks started really ramping up, *breaking news* persons arrested that had ‘access to weapons and large amounts of ammunition’, and The Twink started to notice his balls have slightly dropped so he thinks he can swing em.
Yes. More details here.
This was coming no matter what. I’m actually surprised it took so long.
wag
the
dog
And watch now that weeks of hot tubs and nightly parties will be wrapped up in this one instance. Maybe it was crazies that felt pushed too hard or maybe it was the FBI helping its counterparts showing them how to successfully plant this scenario.
The RCMP have never needed outside assistance in planting evidence, creating conditions of chaos, promoting subterfuge, et cetera. They’ve been caught too many times in the past doing it by themselves. It’s a shame — I’ve known some good eggs in the Mounties, but the organization as a whole needs some serious reforming along a number of dimensions.
“Immediate and complex investigation”
‘We figured out an excuse to cover what we’ve been planning to do for a while.’
“guys The guys we hired had a hard time getting here a week ago”
Well fucked that all up
I don’t know about the end times. Empires have fallen before and the earth keeps spinning. Although living through an empire collapsing in real-time will probably feel pretty much like end times.
It’s your fault, I really didn’t want to have to do this. I really tried to not stomp on your face but YOU JUST WOULDN’T STOP RESISTING.
I like where you’re going with this one Animal,
Thanks for the great Tales.
OT but legit lol from the Bee
Woman Driving Alone In Carpool Lane Claims Preferred Pronoun Is ‘They’
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=dEaRnAR0dlw
This just rolled up on my playlist:
Shoot Your Way to Freedom
Prescient or simply a great song?
(RIP GH)
For the life of the Nissan 350Z/370Z, Nissan made almost no attempt to advertise the car. It would show for a few seconds whenever a Nissan would run a spot featuring all the models they sell.
This year, Nissan runs a superbowl add featuring the 400Z.
I wonder what has changed.
It’s 108.1% of the previous model.
Everything is just rehashed and rebooted now. The design is just a blend of various elements of previous Z cars because apparently cars are just like movies now. It’s the Fantastic Four of cars.
It’s the Star Trek of cars.
It’s the DeGrassi of cars.
It’s the octagenarian Indiana Jones of cars.
That’s because the regulatory environment has made it next to impossible to do anything truly novel and interesting except in the far outliers.
Desperation
Could be.
The ad itself isn’t going to do anything to sell the car to people that actually buy that kind of car.
I found the ad to be quite off-putting.
It is just the Z. They dropped calling it the 400Z, since if it stuck to convention, it would be properly called a 300Z.
The number represents the displacement of the engine.
ie. the 240 had a 2.4l, the 260 a 2.6l…
The 400Z was gonna be called that for the 400 hp, and not 3.0l block.
Music for our times…
When they kick down your front door, how you gonna come?
Take back the power
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q7Ol-YDS4Jc
Anger can be power
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lt4O-EHNnw
Excellent song, Dr. Fronkensteen.
The only sad thing for me – I’m officially old, since the vid has 11MM+ views, and I’ve never heard the band before
Neph posts them quite often.
Heh.
The original is frightening, only because there are people who will actually send that shit.
This year, Nissan runs a superbowl add featuring the 400Z.
If it’s the one I’m thinking of, I had no clue what that was supposed top be about, or what it was alleged to be “selling”.
That’s a perfect comment for about 3/4 of the commercials.
This is a good story. I look forward to more.
If you want to get pissed off, take a look at the scorn heaped on one guy in the comments who thinks freezing the bank accounts of private organizations because they’re annoying to the regime isn’t cool.
https://democraticunderground.com/100216351767
DU is for partisan paint chip eaters and most of them were pretty stupid before they started with the paint chips. Best to stay clear would be my advice.
I’m too familiar with them already, but their petty, vindictive nature is really showing lately.
Did anyone catch this earlier?
https://tennesseestar.com/2022/02/12/biden-taps-lgbtq-activist-drag-queen-for-high-level-position-at-the-office-of-nuclear-energy/
Pretty clear how to get ahead in that white House.
How can someone that insane have a security clearance?
Your neurotypicalism is doubleplus ungood.
No Russian spy is going to try to honey trap that thing.
I wondered the same thing since child pornography comes up on security screenings a lot these days.
If your goal was to de-legitimize the federal bureaucracy, that would be a good starting point.
Looks like Matt Damon’s first day in clown college.
Sodom and Gomorrah
What’s the radius of effect for raining fire and brimstone causing salt pillarization?
42
In his spare time, Brinton also enjoys roleplaying as a “pup handler,” and talking about having sex with animals.
Does he also identify as a black woman?
He? HE?!??!? They is a THEM!.
That’s a perfect comment for about 3/4 of the commercials.
The “WTF? factor” was high. I found myself saying that a lot.
I found myself immediately changing the channel every time one came on.
I was listening to the game on the radio.
https://summit.news/2022/02/14/woman-in-vienna-charged-with-bodily-harm-after-fighting-off-migrant-rapist/
You know, in civilized countries, you’re not allowed to hurt people trying to rape you. Only barbarian countries like the US allow your to use deadly force against your rapist.
This shit can’t be real. If it is, I wouldn’t be surprised if I see in my lifetime the Europeans get fed up with this shit and elect a nationalist government that will commit all sorts of terribleness to stop this nonsense.
Hungary is the current bête noire in Europe. I wonder if Orban is conducting the pogroms himself. The way CNN and their ilk talk about the place, you’d think so.
Poland is, too.
If the war doesn’t start in a couple of days…
I’m getting tired of waiting.
WSJ:
A random ZeroHedge commenter said Russian troops have left their assembly points and moved into firing positions and that Russian vessels have left their ports. I’m just going to assume he’s correct and will be in my bunker. See y’all in a week.
I’m so glad I live a reclusive lifestyle in the woods.
There are so many assorted people whose lives are so different from mine. Either they are odd or I am. I don’t fit in this modern age.
Just as computers baffle me so do pronouns.
Someday historians will look back at 2022 and skip writing about it. They’ll be saying ” No Way, man, that’s beyond bizarre”