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Twice-Baked Philosophy
Faith is like a potato... The End.
Big news: he moved into a house. It's big and fun and fucking awesome! That's the big news, so really you only missed one thing and it happened last week.
However, I am well aware that a few of the artsy folk wander around on LiveJournal and I was wondering if they would be interested in something that will give them little to no exposure whatsoever. A friend of mine by the name of Sean Sherman is producing a role-playing game that takes all the best parts of the Open License d20 system (D&D, etc.) and removes the classes and levels, creating a skill-based system that is easily compatible with d20. Both he and I have done a ton of research and we are well aware of the other skill-based d20 systems that have propped up, but Sean's is different in a very fundamental way: he has eliminated the 20-sided die from the equation! Okay, so he uses 3d6 instead, so it's not THAT different, but there are a lot of other really cool changes. The 3-D RPG System is one based on d20 and inspired by the GURPS, Action! and HERO systems with tons of fun little rules in tidbits developed into a working skill-based and simple role-playing game that is 100% covered by the Open Game License.
I have been so inspired by this that I have actually set aside any of my personal projects (that have remained unfinished for years, of course) and dedicated my energy to producing products for 3-D RPG. My first was one started hours before we began moving out of our apartment. It was the daunting task of converting every single monster from the d20 Modern SRD into the 3-D RPG System. I finished it yesterday. I am now in the process of converting those from the Fantasy SRD, a more involved task as I will actually need to change the format to match the one I am establishing for 3-D. However, I expect to be done with this by the end of November and, should I miss that deadline, I still intend to produce the work I have already completed as a PDF by the end of the year.
Initially, I was just going to put out a book with just a bunch of stats and maybe a brief description, but I really like the work that is being done and I want to do something more. So I was wondering if any of you cool artists out there would be willing to donate sketches to the cause. I am not looking for anything too complicated and, in fact, everything in the book will be black and white, so as to reduce the overall size of the file. This is a chance to redefine what these critters look like for an entirely new game. Although I am not looking for new creatures, I am looking for new versions of old creatures: orcs, dwarves, goblins, elves, dragons, all sorts of shit. Plus, there's the weird stuff like intellect devourers and otyughs that need to be completely reinvented so as to not piss off WotC.
Anyways, if you have any interest or know anyone who does, let me know and I will give you more details.
- Jess -
A bead of sweat made its way down Red Arrow's brow as the metallic foot steps built to a crescendo. The former sidekick's eyes were cemented on the ominous stone wall that lead to the corner around which almost certain death sat. The creature that was meticulously moving to his and Leonardo's position had taken on Superman and nearly destroyed him. In his every variation, he was possibly one of the most formidable foes the Justice League had ever faced and now he was a killing machine who wanted nothing more than the deaths of thirteen reality-lost heroes. Just as Roy's pounding heart seemed ready to explode, the chrome form Brainiac now wore rounded the corner and stared at the crimson-garbed hero.
“Hello, Speedy.” The cyborg said coldly.
I defy you to disprove any part of the above statement.
Anyways, Chapter 5 is up.
Enjoy at your leisure...
Which means NOW!
- Doc -
- JD -
Turning, the Baron bowed in mockery. “My liege.” He said, still wearing his smirk, “Whatever can I do for you?”
It might be a couple days before I get approval, though. So if you don't see it, check back later.
Chapter 3 has been outlined, but I might not get to work on it for a while. This being said, I really like Chapter 2 and I will keep doing this until I get bored.
- Doc -
Okay, I am back from Florida and I could really use a vacation.
Actually, I had a real fun time with my wife and her parents and my niece is about the coolest kid ever. My brother-in-law, however, is a dick. His two sons? At age three and five, they are doing their best to walk in daddy's footsteps. How I went a week without nut-punching that jackhole about a hundred times is beyond me.
Strange thing is: he seems to like me (or he is, in a more likely sense, good at faking it). Perhaps I am simply good enough to at hiding my feelings that he simply doesn't sense my animosity or (more likely) he is solipsistic enough that he can't even tell when ire is being directed his way.
I've seen my acting and I'm not THAT good (but don't tell the people who keep casting me in movies).
Despite their lineage, the boys still have hope and that is from the fact that thier older sister (at all of nine) has developed an excellent sense of empathy for others. This may come from the fact that she sees the struggle her mother deals with and wants to help her, but I like to believe that it's because she takes after my wife; an individual so empathetic she could pwn Troi from Next Generation.
Anyways, when things werrn't completely insane, they were quite fun. In a few days, I'll be posting pictures of the giant Lego scupltures from the giant Lego store. I got some great pictures of these awesome feats of Swedish block engineering, so I am looking forward to sharing them. Also, I am writing an article on the Tower of Terror and Pirates of the Carribean rides for Spinning Grave and I will let people know when that's posted (Haunted Mansion was closed and will be completely new when it opens, so I will have to go back to see what changes they made before writing an article on it with whatever they have new... can you say Nightmare Before Christmas?).
In addition, just before I left, I posted Chapter One of Crossover on FanFiction.Net and I will be posting it there from now on (rather than here or on my LiveJournal) and posting here and there when I update it. Let me know if there is anything you want to see in Crossover here. I want to make this story as interactive as possible and I can't do that without your help. The second part is almost finished and I have a breakdown of the third part (it's going to be action-packed).
Finally, I have been offered a chance to be part of a science fiction anthology that is illustrated. I think I might have actually managed to figure out what the story is about, I just need to fill in the details. I will post what info I can about it.
Whew! That's one helluvan update! Hope everyone had a good week.
- Doc -
It is rare that I will support a charity any more than giving a few bucks here or there, but the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund is an exception. Of course, I am someone who believes that comic books are the most perfect form of entertainment media, so I am biased. However, I think that you always hear about censorship in music, television, movies, art, the internet, even the freaking radio. But comics, where censorship has been prevalent since the 1950s, has been widely overlooked by the public. I believe that most people of the crowd who would defend against censorship see comics as a lesser art form.
Therefore, I am more than willing to help out my favorite form of expression and let people know what's happening. If you care, pass this around, make it known, fight censorship. If you don't care, that's fine, I understand.
Not everyone is a comic book fan.
- JD -
First, let's start with some assumptions about time. If it is possible to travel through, one of several things must be true: the nature of time is such that it fixes anything that might be changed so all the big stuff still ends up the way it should be (in other words, what you do doesn't matter), changing the past alters the timeline in such a way that it becomes a tangential reality (in other words, your are no longer in your original temporal stream), or, paradox be damned, you can just change whatever you want (or need) to and see what happens. In other words, you need to do what you need to do when accidentally time traveling.
Also, we are going to assume that you don't know whether or not you will ever return to your own time.
Now, the problem with the past is that there is a lot of it, and being completely prepared is impossible, but there are some hints here and there that can help. So, this list assumes that you have no time to gather anything before you are whisked to the past and can only be armed with the one thing that cannot be taken away: knowledge. Also, some of things would help you in more recent eras and others in more ancient ones. Regardless, armed with the following, you will at least have a chance of surviving in the past.
1 – Know your sports. Not necessarily every single game from every season for every sport ever, but learning some of the major ones might help you out if you end up anywhere in the last century or so. In fact, simply knowing who will win the World Series might allow you to bet on the games and survive (keeping in mind that that team might not have won every game) for half a year.
2 – Know your history. If you happen to end up in the middle of Germany in the midst of the Thirty Years' War, it might be good to know what side eventually wins. Like sports, it is impossible to memorize every single aspect of history, but a working knowledge of the basics is important to anyone who ends up in the past unheeded. If you can remember what armies win what battles, you can go a long way towards surviving to a ripe old age. In fact, if you are so inclined, you can even change events for the better, becoming a hero and saving hundreds of lives. This might be dangerous and I would not recommend it, but I can't stop you (just be careful not to get in the way of the other folks trying to stop the attack at Pearl Harbor).
3 – Know technological development. Having an awareness of when stuff will be invented can be useful, as well. If you are able to get in on the ground floor, you might be able to set yourself up for life. In fact, with enough knowledge in this field, you might be able to invent stuff before the real inventors get the chance to, and who's going to know? The history books will say you invented peanut butter. George Washington Carver be damned!
4 – Know trends. People are fickle and if you are able to remember what they will be less fickle about next, you will be in a better position to survive the past. If you end up in Rome during the convening of the First Council of Nicea, it might be handy to know throwing in with the Christians could be beneficial, or if you run into Knerr and Medlin around 1957, you might want to give some support to the hula hoop.
5 – Know your business. Another thing that might really only benefit you in the last century or so, having a decent knowledge of what companies might be successful in the future can help you to survive a bit more comfortably. It also never hurts to have allies in the corporate sector and if you can “give them advice” you might be able to make your temporal journey very lucrative.
6 – Know how to fight. All this memorizing stuff is great for the cerebral folks, but sometimes you just have to be ready to throw down. Being able to kick some primitive screw-head ass might mean the difference between being able to utilize all the knowledge you have acquired, and being just another pile of bones on a battlefield.
7 – Know thyself. You never know when your trip through time might land you in the face of the most treacherous obstacle yet: you. If you end up at some point in your won past lifetime, you have the option of trying to contact yourself. There have been some theories that say contact with one's own past or future self could cause the universe to implode and destroy everything in existence. I say: try it. If those theories are right, then no one is going to be around to yell at you for doing it and the universe sending people through time randomly isn't terribly smart of the universe is it. Anyways, keep in mind how you might react to yourself from the future. Would you listen? Would you believe you? Personally, I am pretty certain that past me would believe what happened and still be such a schmuck that he just makes the same mistakes anyways. Therefore, I have no real benefit in contacting past me.
8 – Know your science. Similar to knowing technology, science is important for another reason: if you know how to do sciencey stuff, you can survive better and possibly convince extreme primitives that you are a god. Both handy for the accidental time traveler.
9 – Know how to survive. Okay, if you really want to prepare for almost any catastrophic situation, go get a Boy Scout's Handbook and read it. Even if you half remember the stuff in it, you will be better equipped than the average putz. Knowing some basic survival techniques can help ensure you make it to civilization (assuming there is any) in order to put your other knowledge to work (although you might have to fight, too).
10 – Remember who you are. Okay, although you might be convincing the backwards primitives that you are a god, or a sorcerer, or a psychic, or a brilliant theoretician (whether you end up in 93 or 1993 AD), you aren't. Don't be a jerk. You are STILL just some hapless victim who has ended up, through no fault of your own, trapped in the past forever. If you really were all those cool things, you wouldn't be in this predicament to begin with. Always keep that in mind and you should be okay.
So there you have it. Learning all this might seem like a daunting task, but, as my wife pointed out, you can help learn a lot of this stuff by playing Trivial Pursuit on a regular basis.
If you pay attention to this stuff, you can be like Isaiah Washington who, in four years, will accidentally be shunted into the year 1887 and made his fortune as George Washington Carver.
See? It CAN happen.
Blade (1998)
Blade proved that a mainstream comic book company could make good films if they tried. Blade also put the name Avi Arad on the map when it came to producing comic book films. If Blade had done poorly, none of the following films on this list would have even happened (keep in mind, Nick Fury: Agent of SHIELD was released the same year, I have never managed to get my hands on it and most everyone seems to have relegated it to being a piece of crap). That being said, I find the film to be relatively predictable and stupid. Okay, I can understand that Blade was trying to compete with the simplicity and predictability of action films of the era (the Matrix was released only a year later, upping the ante, slightly, in this regard), but the overall dumbing down of some of the characters limits it in my mind. Still, when I saw it, I loved it. In addition, I have watched it a number of times since... when I have something else to do at the same time.
Rating: 6 out of 10
X-Men (2000)
Considering the expections that X-Men had to live up to, given the quality (or lack therof) of past Marvel superhero films, it knocked the ball out of the park. The first superhero film, EVER, to make an enjoyable film without compromising the concepts originally presented in the comics. Each character is important to the plot in some way, although I would have liked to have seen more from Toad and Sabertooth. Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian McKellen have tremendous chemistry and energy as arch-foes who were once friends and every scene that has them interacting is a treat. Most of the rest of the characters are equally well cast. Hugo Jackman presents a great "badass with a heart of gold", something that seemed lost on the character until this movie came out. Anna Paquin presents an innocent, lost Rogue who is reminiscent of the character when she first showed up in the comics (although she was manipulated into being a villain at the time). The only real weak point is Halle Barry as Storm. She seems to be searching for the character throughout this movie and never really finds her, presenting one of the worst "tough guy" lines ever before the film closes. Magneto's overall scheme is so well done, I could have sworn that it had been lifted from the comics, as well, although I have since been unable to determine if this is true. As it stands, a great film for anyone, not just comic book fans.
Rating: 7 out of 10
Blade II (2002)
Wesley Snipes' second go as the half-vampire, Blade, didn't seem to go as well as the first, with fans saying that it wasn't nearly as good as the first. I, however, disagree. While I don't see this as a great movie to by any stretch of the imagination, I still find it as fun and mindless as the first one. It also stands as a decent blood splash fest with monsters fighting monsters and, unlike the similar Underworld which was released a year later, it doesn't bog you down with boring and confusing back story. I enjoyed this film, but I have only watched it a couple of times and I have yet to pick it up on DVD (I will eventually). By the way, Ron Perlman is one of a hand full of actors who can make any movie I see him in more enjoyable. I can think of bad films that I enjoy watching because of Perlman. So, his presence in Blade II brings this film up a notch. One last note, I found out recently that the plot of this was actually lifted from the Blade comic book series that tried to revive the character in the mid-1990s. The story, from what I have read, was abysmal, but I have never read it. It seems that Blade II managed to improve upon the tale.
Rating: 5 out of 10
Spider-Man (2002)
If you wanted to make a blockbuster film in Hollywood about a franchise character like Spidey, the last thing you would do is hire a cult favorite, b-movie director and a hand full of lesser known character actors. However, these movies usually suck and so, Avi Arad decided to do exactly that. The result: spectacular. The plot was an amalgam of mainstream Marvel Universe stories and the first arc of the Ultimate Spider-Man series with a nice splash of Hollywood to make it a film worth seeing. The characters are well done and it manages to keep the balance of humor and angst that Spider-Man comics have managed to maintain for years (well, most of the time). The casting was superb, but I often find myself more annoyed by Kirsten Dunst than attracted to her. Still, Toby Keith and Willem Defoe are excellent, although putting Defoe's devilish mug behind a stupid plastic mask should have been a crime. Despite a few faults, Spider-Man was the first film to really show what a comic book movie could be. It's fun and neat and looks great. All the reasons we fans like comics.
Rating: 8 out of 10
Daredevil (2003)
Ah, Daredevil. We barely knew ye. And we wish we never did at all. Okay, so Daredevil's not the worst movie here, but it isn't a good movie at all. Which is kind of sad considering that it seemed to have all the makings of a cool flick: a top shelf cast, an experienced screen writer, and a nice, hefty budget. Unfortunately, the main character came off wooden and annoying and looked stupid in his costume, the writer was the guy who wrote Jack Frost and Big Bully (and also took a shot at directing it), and the budget meant they had to make it look "Big Budget" in order to justify the money, thereby taking a step away from the grittiness that made the comic so cool. Daredevil is mostly boring and sad. Affleck's presence does more harm than good as he drags his way through, slack-jawed and staring off into space. Jennifer Garner is okay, but nothing special; not nearly what was expected of her and Micheal Clarke Duncan adds a much-maligned ghetto quality to the Kingpin. The only saving grace in the cast was Colin Farrell's superb mania as Bullseye. He really manages to bring the character to life in ways that are unexpected. Unfortunately, it is not enough to entirely save this movie.
Rating: 3 out of 10
X2: X-Men United (2003)
When it comes to pulling a plot directly from the comic book tales it was initially based on, X2 beats every other film on this list. It certainly isn't the only Marvel film to do so, but it does do it best; improving the story (the acclaimed "God Loves, Man Kills") in many ways and tacking some "Phoenix Saga" onto the end for good measure. At the time it was released, X2 was the best comic book movie of all time and it still stands as one of the best. In fact, I would be willing to say that X2 is my favorite based on the quality of the third chapters in this and the Spider-Man series, both of which concluded aspects of their respective story lines. An excellent film and recommended to anyone who enjoys science fiction, action, or character development.
Rating: 9 out of 10
Hulk (2003)
Did you hate this film? Did you sit through it bored, waiting for the smashing to happen or did you enjoy the subtle character aspects; the artistry of the film-makers vision? Well, I have always been torn by this film. As a work of art, I like it. The violence has a majesty and grace to it that makes it very beautiful, not unlike other Ang Lee films. Unfortunately, beauty, art, majesty, and grace are the last thing a fan wants from a film about the Incredible Hulk. A Hulk film should be more about the smashing than the tragedy of man's continuing manipulation of nature. This movie should get a better rating and, really, if the final battle had not been done in an abstract, it would have.
Rating: 5 out of 10
Punisher (2004)
Frank Castle's comic book origin as it stands: man goes to Vietnam, man becomes hard-as-nails soldier, man returns from 'Nam, man's family murdered by criminals, man becomes relentless vigilante taking no quarter against crime. Also, the Punisher began as a Spider-Man VILLAIN! People liked the character too much and Marvel made him a hero, tainting an entire decade with "dark" heroes who were unafraid to kill. So, my feelings on the comic book character should be clear and, that being said, I kind of liked this movie. The re-telling of Frank Castle's origin was necessary and, ultimately, pretty good overall (Tom Jane looked a little young to have been in 'Nam). The fight with the Russian (wrestling great, Kevin Nash) could have used the story "Welcome Home, Frank" as a storyboard and really is what makes this movie worth it. I could have gone with less Travolta, like, none. But I thought this was okay, for the most part.
Rating: 6 out of 10
Spider-Man 2 (2004)
When it was released, SM2 was the best comic book movie of all time. I don't think history has been terribly kind to it, however, as the lack of any decent follow sort of sours the experience. Still, Spidey 2 is a fun flick and a good time and I think it is an amazing follow-up to an excellent flick.
Rating:
8 out of 10
Blade: Trinity (2004)
Right, Blade needs sidekicks like I need another tumor. Well, that's what I thought when I ignored this movie in the theaters... and when it came out on DVD... and when it was on cable. When I finally bothered to watch it, I expected a piece of crap and sat down at my computer to do some writing while the movie was playing. Surprisingly, it wasn't to bad. I can't say it was great, but it had enough of what makes an action movie good and it was probably a little better than the second one. There are some great fights in this and the match between Ryan "Van Wilder" Reynolds and Triple "The Game" H was actually quite amusing. I think this is a flick worth watching and one might be surprised when one finds oneself enjoying oneself with oneself's popcorn and one laughing at some of the humor and... sorry, sorry, got into a little thing there. Moving on...
Rating: 6 out of 10
Elektra (2005)
Awful.
Rating: 1 out of 10
Man-Thing (2005)
Okay, I saw this just the other night and I can honestly say that it was better than Daredevil. It surprised me by actually having some aspects of the comic character's background incorporated (including the Nexus of Realities). It wasn't a great horror flick and it wasn't a good horror flick, but it was probably better than Nick Fury (as every Hasselhoff-free film is).
Rating: 6 out of 10
Fantastic Four (2005)
I was pleasantly surprised by this one as well and I have watched it a few times and continue to enjoy it every time. Is it a masterpiece? No. Not by any means, but it is fun. Is it true to the comic (really, that's what this whole review is about... I think... you... you might have to let me know later)? Not at all. But it is fun, and it does keep some of the spirit of the FF. I (along with those who despise this film) wish they had done something better with Doctor Doom, but I can also understand that a concept that made sense in the 1960s, is hard to bring to the 21st century, so I can forgive them for this (the Ultimate books tried something different with Doom, as well, but it wasn't much better). Overall, the story is just fun and worth giving a try... and a neat film to watch with the kiddies.
Rating: 7 out of 10
X-Men: The Last Stand (2006)
Okay, being the worst of the X-Men films is like being the ugliest Osmond. Still, I have a few major gripes with this flick. First of all, it introduces, literally, dozens of characters from the comics and then kills most of them off. The death of Cyclops is completely meaningless and only serves the purpose of appeasing those who hate the character (which are many). The story seems too full and too busy, but it does have some cool moments (the bridge moving comes to mind) and some fun moments (Shadowcat verses Juggernaut) and you get to see Sir Ian kicking some more ass as the best comic book movie villain of all time. So, while not a great film, Last Stand is worth a look and, at the very least, closes the loose ends left by X2 in a fairly decent way.
Rating: 6 out of 10
Ghost Rider (2007)
Is Ghost Rider a great movie? Nah, not at all. But were the Ghost Rider comic runs the best ever? Nope. In fact, they were barely memorable. And so, ultimately, this film at least meets those expectations. A number of people told me that this movie was, in no way, true to the character, but the writers saw fit to create an amalgam of the 1970s GR and the one from the 1980s/1990s. This meant that the character was not true to any Ghost Rider, but somewhat true to both of them. However, this film has some awesome visuals. The sequences with the Rider are simply great to watch and make the silliness of the rest of the film bearable. Nic Cage likes comics and giving him a lead role in a comic book movie was probably inevitable. Frankly, I'm glad that it's Ghost Rider rather than something I might actually expect to be good. GR is fun for what it is. Don't expect Hitchcock, but it's still better than Uwe Boll.
Rating: 6 out of 10
Spider-Man 3 (2007)
For a movie that was so long and had so many expectations, Spidey Numero Tres was a prime example of a disappointment. Raimi and Crew seemed to have everything well in hand after the first two, but I think the first mistake was putting Venom in the film. I really, REALLY hated Venom in this movie. He was pointless and they took all the time trying to make Brock interesting while managing to do the exact opposite. Meanwhile, Raimi had the perfect "villain-in-waiting" introduced. Dr. Curt Conners was mentioned in the first film, showed up as a mentor in the second, and could have become the monstrous Lizard (his comic book alternate identity) to round out the third. That would have saved the time taken by giving yet another damn origin for another crappy character. Frankly, this movie should have been split into two movies of the same length and then the plot would not have to be rushed with deus ex machina. Unfortunately, the plot ended up insulting the intelligence of the audience more than the original comics from the 1960s ever did. Raimi phoned it in, presenting terrible, forced comedy bits rather than the genuine humor from the previous two films and giving us action that meant nothing. In case you haven't noticed, I did not like this movie.
Rating: 3 out of 10 (yes, I hated it as much as Daredevil)
Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (2007)
This was not a bad movie. It managed to stay true to the stories from the comics (it incorporated no less than four of the Titanic Tales by Stan and Jack) as well as the previous film. Unfortunately, folks hated the first FF, and this one only seemed worse to them. Me, I dug it. It had some fun humor and some cool moments and even some nice character development. Like the first one, this is a decent comic book film for the young'uns and, in fact, of all the pictures on this list, I would only recommend the FF films for the little kids. I think that they are great for introducing kids to the world of superheroes... after they've watched The Incredibles (just make sure you let them know what came first). Don't bring your logic, but bring the kid inside and you will enjoy ROTSS.
Rating: 7 out of 10
Okay, that was more than I bargained for. Still, if people like it, I will do more Multi-Movie Reviews in the future. If anyone has any ideas for themes. Let me know. Also, I want to know what you think. Was I on the money? Do I deserve money? Am I full of crap? Do I deserve crap? Post here and feel free to flame. I can take it.
Or I might cry.
- Doc -
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About seven years ago, I watched WWF Raw is War for the first time ever. I had heard about wrestling from people I worked with and I was a fan for a while as a youth, but I never thought I would ever be into wrestling. I thought it was stupid and for redneck halfwits. However, Mike, a highschool friend of mine, with whom I had recently become re-aquainted, managed to get me to watch one match he had taped; one of his so-called "holy grails of wrestling". The match was between Mankind (aka Mick Foley) and Undertaker ('Taker being one of the few new wrestlers I remember from my younger days). I wasn't necessarily hooked (that would take reading Foley's book Have a Nice Day and seeing Barry W. Blaustein's documentary "Beyond the Mat"), but I was intrigued. So when Mike invited my over for Monday Night Wrestling, I said: "What the hell?"
Now, I can't say a life-long obsession began that day, but I can say that watching that program was probably what started me on my way to becoming a fan. It turns out that it's not necessarily for redneck halfwits, but it doesn't hurt to be one or the other.
Anyways, I enjoyed the show, but without the commentary from Mike, I would have been lost. Mankind wasn't on and Undertaker just made a brief appearance, but some of the other wrestlers that night really impressed me: a scrappy little cuss called "Tazz", a pair of redneck, table-wielding loonies called "The Dudly Boys", and of course, the Rock, himself. There were others that I found less impressive such as a quartet of roughnecks called "The Radicalz". They came on as stooges and henchmen for one of the major heels of the show and I thought they were all kind of boring.
"These guys just got signed by WWF." said Mike, "They were all on WCW, together."
I nodded like I knew what he was talking about (like you are now...) and said, "They all seem kind of boring to me."
"They don't know what to do with them yet, but they're mostly great performers. I think they'll be big if they get a chance."
For those of you reading this who don't know, the Radicalz consisted of Perry Saturn (a mediocre performer who was frightfully ripped and cross-eyed), Dean Malenko (a short Italian dude who is known for his many holds), Eddie Guererro (a superb perfomer who passed away in 2005), and one other. Feel free to look them up on Wikipedia. You might be impressed with them, even if you are not a wrestling fan.
"Fine, then the one with no neck and missing teeth is my favorite." said I.
"Oh, that's Chris Benoit." Mike responded, "He's a great wrestler but he has no personality."
"Benoit? Like benoit balls?"
Blank looks.
"Okay."
Despite the stupid name, Benoit quickly did become one of my favorite wrestlers. He was an incredible performer and, when playing up the good guy gimmick, seemed like a genuinely nice guy. I can't say that he was my favorite wrestler of all time, but he was up there, for certain. I enjoyed watching him perform, but never got the chance to see him wrestle live (I've only been to two shows: a Smackdown taping and Wrestlemania X8). He had an intensity about him that was fun to watch, but most of all, he was a phenomenally skilled performer whose combination of actual wrestling holds and manuevers combined with some of the flashy air stuff to create a style that was fun to watch.
Yesterday, June 25, 2007, Chris Benoit was found dead in his home along with his wife and youngest child.
I watched Raw tonight. My wife and I have become wrestling fans again, recently. She likes some of the cool performers, but I think she enjoys watching guys like Benout as well. I have heard her comment on the guys who really try and she is impressed by them. Me, I love the soap opera of the whole thing. Sure the rasslin's what gets the asses in the seats, but the drama (and comedy) is what makes the wrestling worth watching.
However, tonight was different. Tonight, Vince MacMahon, the perennial villain of WWE, showed who he was out of character. He canceled the show and even the storyline where he had died in order to pay tribute to Benoit. As we watched the show, we went online for updates as to the cause of the Benoit family's death.
More and more, it seems to be shaping up to be a murder-suicide, although Canadian papers are telling a completely different story (Benoit was from Edmonton and a hero to Canadians). So, before all the talk begins about how he was a bad guy and the horrible thing he did (whether it is true or not), I just want to say my peace about this incredible wrestler.
From what I had read about him; from Foley's book, to fan accounts, to interviews; Benoit seemed like a genuine and decent person. There are no stories about him losing his cool in the ring like there are with almost every other really intense wrestler. There are no stories of him going off on a fan who go to close like there are from some other wrestlers. There ARE stories of him making sure another performer was allright after the pair of them having beaten the living hell out of each other. There ARE stories about other performers who went to Benoit when life got to be too much for them. I won't say he was a good man, but others have and will continue to do so.
For me, I just think back to seeing this scrappy, mean-looking cuss as he walked out flanked by a trio of other cusses and seeing him become one of the top performers in wrestling today.
Chris Benoit was never my favorite, but his matches were never time to take a sandwich break. I will miss seeing him get into the ring, and no matter what horror is spoken of about his personal problems, wrestling fans have lost one more athlete who gave 100% all the time in order to put on a good show for them.
Thanks for reading.
- Jess -
Chapter One
Written by JD Edmond
The hall was empty, as the android entered. Its metallic feet echoed off the sleek, black stone walls, barren of any adornment as one might expect of an individual whose every moment was spent seeking a solitary goal. The audio receptors of the android detected a constant clacking sound coming from the far end of the chamber where a massive desk sat on a pedestal. The automaton approached the desk with a constant and confident stride. Perhaps, for the moment, the individual behind the desk was its master, but the android still was who it was.
“Brainiac.” said the man behind the desk as he continued to concentrate on whatever he was typing on his computer.
The android stopped four meters from the pedestal and stood with its feet shoulder-length apart and its metallic hands clasped behind his back. “Sir.” It said coldly.
“How goes the war?”
“War, sir?” Brainiac asked.
“It's an expression, Brainiac.” The robot's leader said, looking up from the screen, “I guess I'm forgetting who I'm talking to. I'm not really used to alien robots. What I meant was: 'How are things progressing with the plan?'”
“Ah, of course. They go well, actually. All goes according to schedule. However, there are some issues.”
“What's up?” The leader asked, nonchalantly, a fact that somewhat irked Brainiac's computerized logic.
“Ah, yes.” The android began, “As you well know, sir, there are currently three camps of the followers you have gathered and two of these camps are primarily responsible for furthering your goals.”
“Yeah, the science types and the magic types.” The leader said as he reached into a nearby mini fridge and opened a can of Diet Pepsi.
“Er, yes, well those particular groups seem to be having a slight lack of deference when they interact.”
“And I imagine you are here representing the interests of the science folk?”
“No, sir.” Responded the android, “I have, in fact, seen the logic in your plan and am interested in completing it fully. Therefore, I am willing to work with those individuals who wield mystic power no matter how irrational such powers may seem to me. Regardless of my background, I am willing to accept that magic is simply a different form of science, albeit one with incomprehensible properties. However, I have found that some of the others are unwilling to compromise their philosophy in an effort to rule their respective universes. I believe that they are failing to see the end goal for what it is. I believe we may need a better motivation.”
The leader leaned back in his chair as he took a long pull from his soda and smiled as he set down the can. “Oh, Brainiac,” He said with a condescending grin, “Don't you know that I have provided motivation for those individuals.”
“In what manner?” Brainiac asked, fearing that it would not like the answer.
“That third camp, there: the muscle.”
“The muscle?”
The leader leaned forward and his face contorted into a more sinister smile by merely angling downward. “You know who I'm talking about, Brainiac, the folks who would seem to have no place in the brain trust I have assembled. They're the motivation for anyone who doesn't want to play ball. Remember, I control the rules in this place and my rules say that they are bad ass and the smart folks are wussy. The muscle, Brainiac. Use them as your motivation. Anyone who doesn't want to cooperate? Kill them.”
Had Brainiac been a lesser being, a being of flesh, a being of emotion, it might have feared this leader. An individual who would go to such efforts to gather the forces at his disposal and was willing to sacrifice any one of them simply to motivate the others bode of someone with unimaginable power who was completely insane. Had Brainiac not made dozens of deals with mad devils of every imaginable type in his existence, it might have chosen to leave; the leader had informed those gathered that they could leave anytime they wished. However, a being with as much power at his disposal as this one had and who offered what he did could not be ignored.
Brainiac acquiesced: “Understood, sir. It shall be done.”
The man behind the desk smiled. “Thanks, Brainy! Any more problems, you let me know.”
The creature reared back its bloodied lion-like head and bellowed. Hellboy covered his ears as the monster's wail echoed throughout the chamber and into the next. The massive red hero hoped his allies were smart enough to do the same as he watched Ereshkigal's head explode from the sound. The Humbaba ceased roaring and fell into a stance that let Hellboy know the monster wasn't finished yet.
“I gotta tell you, buddy,” Hellboy said as he readied himself for another round, “All you ancient Mesopotamian horrors with your stupid powers really piss me off.”
With a battle roar as its only response, the Humbaba leapt at the heroic demon, its sword-like claws slashing for Hellboy's crimson flesh. The hero side-stepped the monster's clumsy attack and caught its leg in his stony right hand as it passed. Swinging, Hellboy slammed the ancient beast into a column, cracking the massive stone support in half. The entire room creaked as the column strained to continue holding the entirety of the ancient temple in place. As the Humbaba tried to get back on its feat, a gigantic stone block fell from the ceiling and crushed the monster's skull. Other stones began to fall as the temple began to collapse.
Hellboy turned from the creature and ran for the room's exit. The rumbling as the ancient sanctuary tore itself apart caused the hero to stumble. Rolling with the fall, Hellboy looked up just in time to see the arch above the door collapse completely and block his only escape. The demon eyed the former doorway for half a second and then looked up.
“Oh crap.” He muttered.
The hero twisted his massive body into a leap and narrowly escaped a block which shattered on his former resting place. As he awkwardly landed on his chin, a glint of metal caught his eye. His pistol, the one the Torch of Liberty had given him, lay within arm's reach. He grabbed it and stuffed it into the holster, determining that, if he lived, he would still have his lucky weapon and, if he died, well, no one would be able to admonish him for his pathetic sentimentality.
Hellboy rolled onto his back and leapt up. He searched the room for some escape, fully aware that, any second now, the sea would begin to flood the chamber and he would be done for. Dodging another stone, Hellboy began to fear that this might be his end. Finding himself near the Humbaba's lifeless husk, Hellboy eyed the monster's body.
“Well, looks like you managed to pull off what every other ugly, freak, monster god hasn't,” The demon said as looking down on his deceased opponent, “You took out the big... what the hell?”
Suddenly, a blue light engulfed the form of the monster and began to glow brighter. Hellboy reeled from the brilliance, instinctively protecting his eyes from the searing flash. As he did so, a wave of force collided with his body causing the demon to momentarily think that the sea must have exploded into the chamber and that he was going to drown. However, the impact was soon followed by a sensation of falling that lasted longer than the demon thought it should have.
Okay, Red, Hellboy thought, Anytime your eyes are closed when an op goes south and you open them, you see something that you wish you hadn't. Still, it might be better than not seeing something that eats you so...
The hero opened his eyes and looked down just in time to see the 17th-century galleon covered in zombies through the thick fog below him.
Crashing to the deck of the ship, Hellboy had the wind knocked out of him long enough to be covered by the undead monsters that swarmed the vessel's surface. The monstrous adventurer struggled to push the hungry creatures off him, but to no avail. Although the zombies' teeth could not break through Hellboy's tough hide, the weight of them, coupled with the force of his impact, was proving to be a strain on the ship's deck wood. It creaked in complaint as the heroic demon struggled to move.
“Sorry, chaps,” a voice said from beyond the sea of undead teeth and flesh, “I don't think the red fella's on the menu tonight.”
Three of the zombies fell away, headless, in the flash of a cutlass swipe. Able to find leverage, Hellboy rolled forward and used his momentum to leap from the collapsing floorboards to more secure footing. A pile of zombies fell into the bowels of the ship as the floor gave way and the demon managed to remove the last few from his body and toss them overboard before turning to face his savior. As he spun, however, he found himself staring down the business end of a flintlock pistol.
“Well, well, what 'ave we 'ere?” the man said. If ever there was an individual Hellboy could call a pirate, this man would be it. He wore leather boots folded over to his ankle and a sash that caught the wind and flowed behind him. The man's long coat hung open and beneath it, a loose shirt was unbuttoned to show the man's chest. His face was wind-worn and he had a beard that sported a number of long, beaded braids beneath his chin. The captain's hat and the two gold teeth completed the picture of everything Hellboy had always believed a swashbuckler should look like. The man smiled a wry grin, “I'm guessin' I know who you been sent by and I'm more'n willin' to have you go tell Davy Jones to piss on it. However, at this time, I find myself in a limited spot fer negotiations and am therefore willin' to work something out, savvy?”
“Listen, pal,” Hellboy said as he swatted the pistol away, “I don't know what you got against the Monkees, but if yer sayin' that you wanna work together to deal with these zombies, say no more.”
With that, the mighty demon swung his right hand and shattered the skull of an approaching undead. At the same time, the pirate swiveled and fired a shot through the throat of another zombie. Hellboy drew his pistol and began firing, each shot decapitated another walking dead. At the same time, the flamboyant warrior who had greeted the demon continued hacking away at the creatures while rhythmically loading his pistols and firing them. After a short time, the deck of the ship was nearly free of undead.
Hellboy turned to the pirate, “Are there more below deck?”
“Where, pray tell, can I get one of those?” The pirate said ignoring the demon's question and staring at the pistol in his left hand.
“Come on, buddy, focus!” the massive red hero hollered.
“Just the ones you dropped there.” The pirate replied before adding: “Is that German?”
“Damn. We better deal with those ones, too.”
“... or maybe French...”
“Where did they come from? How did I get here?”
“... I know, it's Danish!”
“Where is here?”
“... couldn't be English...”
Hellboy finally had had enough and grabbed the pirate by the lapel. “Who are you?!” he yelled.
The man blinked twice at the demon before meticulously extracting himself from the stone grip of Hellboy's right hand and straitened out his coat as he walked two paces away. When he had reached a safe distance, the man spun on his heel and removed his hat with a flourish and a bow. “The name is Captain Jack Sparrow.” he said expectingly. There was a pause before the pirate raised his head to see Hellboy's reaction; a reaction that clearly displeased the pirate. He added: “You've heard of me, no?”
“No.”
Taking this news of his lack of fame like a blow to the skull, Captain Jack reeled from the experience, seemingly barely able to return his hat to his head. The pirate, clearly in a state of advanced inebriation, stumbled backwards to rest on a crate. Finally, he seemed to have a realization ignite in his head: “You must be from some far off land.” He said using his hat to indicate the distance, “That's the only way you wouldn't've heard of Captain Jack Sparrow. Where're you from?”
“Same place this gun is from.” Hellboy replied.
“China!” the pirate exclaimed with a brief moment of understanding before saying, “No, that wouldn't be nearly far enough.”
“No, jackass. America.”
Hellboy was met with a blank stare. “Well, that's where we are now,” Sparrow replied, “The Americas.”
“No, the United States of America. You know, the most powerful nation on the planet... technologically advanced society lead by Neanderthals... America.”
Jack Sparrow looked at Hellboy as though he were seven feet tall and bright red with a tail and broken horns. After a few seconds of this, a realization struck the demon.
“What year is this?”
“Well, last I looked at a calender, which was quite some time ago, the year was 1693.”
“Crud, then you've never heard of the USA.”
“Right, don't go spellin' things around me.” Sparrow said, “I don't trust spellers.”
“Alright,” Hellboy said with some resignation, “First things first: let's deal with those flesh-eaters below deck and then we can figure out how to get me home.”
The demon moved towards the hole that had been made in the deck of the ship with caution. He heard Captain Jack take a few steps behind him and then stop suddenly.
“Oh, bugger.” The pirate swore from behind Hellboy.
“What now...?” The demon began as he turned and saw the massive cliff face into which the ship was about to collide. “Oh, crap.” He continued.
As the vessel careened towards the rocks, Hellboy could sense a glow from behind him. He turned to see the same bluish-white luminescence that had emanated from the Humbaba coming from the hole in the deck. In one swift movement, he grabbed Sparrow's coat while saying: “Come on!” and leapt into the light. This time, Hellboy managed to keep his eyes open and was astonished by what he saw. All around him were images from a myriad of locations, many of which had strange and wonderful things going on. All of them were surrounded by a frame of pure light the same color as the light into which Hellboy had hurled himself and the pirate. Below, another scene, one that looked like the busy streets of Manhattan, rushed up to greet the duo.
The pair slammed into a taxi cab and bounced to the street. Shaking his head, Hellboy looked to see if the pirate had survived. Jack Sparrow was already on his feet and was clearly livid.
“What the hell did ye do that for? I've been in tougher spots!” He admonished.
“Well, I didn't hear you coming up with any good plans.” Hellboy retorted.
“Well, I didn't have time, did I? I was already thinking...” Jack seemed to notice his surroundings, “Where the bloody hell are we, anyways?”
“New York, in my time.” Hellboy answered as he stood and looked around, “42nd Street and Madison if I'm not mis... what the hell?”
A building caught the demon's eye. He had been down this block a hundred times, but he had never noticed the marvel of architecture that stood before him. It towered over the nearby buildings and its gleaming silver exterior seemed to contrast the pollution-stained structures nearby. Hellboy stared at the nameplate on the building before reading it out loud.
“Baxter Building.”
“You've been 'ere?” Jack Sparrow said as he stepped forward to stand next to the crimson-skinned goliath.
“No, I never could have been.” The demon said coming to a realization.
“That's too bad, mate.” Sparrow replied, “'Cause I was hopin' ye might know those fellas.”
Hellboy turned to see more than half-a-dozen men and women in colorful and unusual costumes staring at the two of them, each wielding some sort of weapon or at least emanating a different form of energy. The one in the lead wore gold and red armor that seemed to fit close to his skin. He hovered in the air several yards from the two unwitting travelers and had his palm raised in their direction.
“Unregistered superhumans,” Said the machine-like voice of the armored man, “In the name of the United States, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, surrender or be taken down with extreme prejudice!”
“Bugger.” Said Jack.
“Crap.” Said Hellboy.
[Okay, your turn. Where should the story go next? Who should show up? I have a big arc in mind and the next chapter, but I really want to see what other people would do. Also, who do you think the big bad guy is? Post and let me know. By the by, anything that goes into the whole "Porn Fan Fiction" realm will be deleted. I'm just not going to go there.]
- Jess -
[This story isn't REALLY finished, but I'm not sure it ever will be. It was originally for a chracter I made for Dragonstar and I decided to convert the character to a Gateworld character. She will be showing up in some of the Gateworld stories eventually. By the by, S'zasqwai is easily the most complicated name I have ever come up with... and one of my favorites.]
Reclamation
“Excuse me!” Xelani Hellszarr hollered at the dwarf with the clipboard, “Who the hells did you say you were again?”
“Peldrinn, ma’am,” the man replied, calmly, “Corstone Peldrinn of Underscore Reclamations. We’re here to settle some debts left by your late family.”
“Already?” The hobgoblin woman exclaimed indignantly. She turned to the small, suited figure to her right, “Alson, why are they here, now?”
“I’m sorry, but with the AmUseNet’s failure to pay out over the last few episodes broadcast due to your family’s breach of contract,” said Alson Feeg, the Hellszarrs’ halfling accountant, “I am afraid the Hellszarr’s debts have rapidly gone into default.”
“Well, isn’t that what you’re paid to prevent?” Xelani asked.
“Yes, but only when I am paid,” the diminutive woman countered, “And I am afraid that the Hellszarrs’ are currently in breach of my contract as well. Currently, I find myself in the employ of one Underscore Reclamations, an unenviable position at best.”
Xelani was aghast as she looked at her former account. She couldn’t believe how quickly it all fell apart. Her family had been the subject of the number one ansible broadcast program for many years running: “Guns of the Hunters”. Led by Xelani’s parents, the clan acted as a group of freelance bounty hunters who, primarily, hunted down the criminal element. A decent portion of the galaxy had watched the Hellszarr family grow and change over the years and Xelani had been born in the first year of the program, ensuring her an unusual childhood at best.
Initially about a married pair of mercenaries, “Guns of the Hunters” followed Ezrell and Ghelli Hellszarr on their exploits. By the show’s third year, their eldest children, the twins Verkemm and Dreja, joined the two. Soon, the entire clan joined in, allowing the show to focus on the different techniques of a number of bounty hunters from episode to episode. When Xelani came of age, it was very clear that she was not going to follow in the family’s footsteps. She had been raised in relative luxury with vidscribers constantly nearby and the paparazzi, at most, a stone’s throw away. She learned to enjoy the cameras and, as she blossomed into a rather beautiful hobgoblin woman, she decided she would rather pose for the camera in a bikini than with a captured mark.
Surprisingly, Ezrell and Ghelli supported their youngest daughter’s decision. Not long after Xelani announced her intent to the media, Dreja was slain by the undead criminal mastermind known as S’zasqwei. This began a series of battles over the next two years as the Hellszarr’s strove to bring the wily villain to justice. During this time, Xelani acted as spokeswoman for the show, letting her looks and personality put her in the spotlight. She also became somewhat known in her own right, a beautiful and dangerous figure about which men could fanaticize.
When the Hellszarr’s finally tracked S’zasqwei down (a hunt that had become the buzz of the core worlds), the fun was over.
Ezrell, Ghelli, their six remaining children, and an entire camera crew disappeared, never to be seen again. Without their talent to push her celebrity, Xelani was soon forgotten.
Six standard months later, Xelani watched as a surly dwarf ordered workers to take away possessions she had always had; memories of a family lost. By the dwarf’s side, a woman the hobgoblin had once considered friend estimated the value of what was being taken. Xelani sulked over to her robotic butler, Jeeves, and quietly asked a simple question.
“So what do I have left?”
“Well, miss,” Jeeves responded in his usual eloquent tone, “You have a small vessel in relative disrepair and whatever was in your personal account, which should be considerable.”
“Errmm…” Xelani stumbled for the words.
“You haven’t touched your personal account, have you?”
“I kind of did, Jeeves.”
“I see, most unfortunate. Then you have what little you haven’t spent and the ship.”
“And you?”
“No miss.” Jeeves said coldly, “I am afraid that you are no longer my owner.”
“What?”
“I am terribly sorry, miss, but I, too, am being repossessed.”
“But, you’re my friend.” The hobgoblin girl petitioned.
“Indeed, as I am programmed to view you as mine.” The android replied with its characteristic professionalism, “Unfortunately, it seems likely that my new owners will have my memory wiped and this will no longer be the case. I do hope my new personality isn’t too embarrassing.”
“But… but…” Xelani stammered, tears welling in her eyes.
“Not to worry, miss.” Jeeves said conspiratorially as he leaned towards her, “I have placed a back-up copy of my personality matrix aboard your vessel. Should you ever manage to recover me, simply load it up and it will overwrite whatever horrid personality my new owner gives me. The only thing I won’t remember is this conversation.” The robot embraced Xelani firmly and then stood back, “Goodbye, miss.”
Xelani sadly watched as her lifelong companion was shut down and packed for shipping. Turning away, she mentally inventoried the small cache of weapons she had liberated from her parents home, as well as the contents of the box of hard copy documents.
It was always at Xelani’s mother’s insistence that the family kept hard copies of important files on the various unsavory individuals they encountered. This policy had minimalized information loss in the past; if some criminal or another managed to hack into the Hellszarrs’ computers. But Xelani herself had never been so thankful of her mother’s diligence as the moment she realized she would be able to abscond with a simple box of papers and forego any suspicion of her goal.
She had the will.
She had the gear.
She had a place to start looking.
With a little luck, her target wouldn’t even see her coming.
Alson approached Xelani as the last of transport shuttle was prepared for lift off.
“You, um, know you can’t stay here, right?” the halfling said as she indicated the mansion, the only home the young hobgoblin girl had ever known.
“Yes, I understand.” Xelani said coldly.
“Well, these are the breaks, kiddo,” Alson said in an overly cheerful tone, “Good luck to you. I hope you find a place to go”
“Oh I have someplace,” Xelani responded, forcing down the urge to punt the accountant into the shuttle’s exhaust, “Gateworld Station.”
The dropship shuddered in the turbulence as Colonel Ursk’ga and the 71st Chimera Company of the Imperial Legion tensed and prepared while strapped into their seats. The harnesses they wore were supposed to protect them from any damage that might be caused by the violent shaking of a descent from orbit into a hot combat zone. However, as is often the case, the theory of this was far superior to actually engaging in a combat drop. Still, the Chimeras did not complain and a number managed to shout out quips that would send a wave of nervous laughter throughout the Company. One quip, however, was most definitely not in good fun.
“Hey, Pinkie!” jeered Lieutenant Haziss Ket of the Flux Spiders to Lieutenant Talia Winterbourne of the Steadfast Angels, “With a little luck, my unit will be allowed to take the Angels seats on the way back, eh? We get us a view!” Ket was born of a human mother to a drow father. To celebrate the birth of his son, the elder Ket held a feast where the main course was Haziss’ mother. Lt. Ket, had always held that as a point of family pride. Ket was a heartless monster if there ever was one, but he led his unit with a sense of commitment do getting the job done. The fact that the Spiders were a lightly armored unit that specialized in wet work operations was probably the reason behind Haziss’ commitment. He was occasionally allowed to take part in wholesale slaughter, all for the glory of the Dragon Empire.
Lt. Winterbourne on the other hand was a human woman born to revere honor and justice. A war chaplain of the Redeemer God from the Unification Church, she held tightly and proudly to her ideals; ideals that, while he did not share them, Ursk’ga had the utmost respect for. When a battle was finished, and many other units were busy picking the scraps of wealth from their enemies, the Angels were taking a moment to pray to their deities for thanks and for the restful egress of their allies and enemies from the mortal world.
Talia was a good soldier who was loyal to the Legion, even if she did not share the morality of the Empire itself. On the other hand, Ursk’ga had no doubt in his mind that Haziss would gladly kill him if he thought it meant that he could gain the Colonel’s position. The pair of Col. Ursk’ga’s top lieutenants were very much opposites, both in personality and their place in battle and, therefore, in the Legion. Of course, this meant that Haziss and Talia also had a significant amount of bad blood between them. Ursk’ga could tolerate a rivalry, but he drew the line at one of his officers wishing the complete destruction of another officer’s unit.
“Lt. Ket!” Ursk’ga roared. He knew that this would get the half-drow’s attention, for all within the Chimeras knew not to anger their Colonel. Born of an orc mother and a white dragon father, Ursk’ga was more of an experiment in genetics than a child born of a lustful coupling. He had been raised with the military tradition drilled into his head and was a member of the Legion before he reached adulthood. The half-breed soon developed a reputation as a capable leader of men as well as being an indomitable warrior. It was said, within the ranks of the Legion, that Colonel Ursk’ga was the strongest being in the Empire on two legs. Indeed, Ursk’ga had found that he was stronger than most giants and even some dragons, but he left the bragging of his might to his men. They were both proud and fearful of the half-dragon. He had long ago proven that he did not need to throw the weight of his draconic heritage around in order to gain the loyalty of his troops. His bravery and prowess in battle earned their respect, the fury of his anger cowed them into obedience, and his very presence could keep them in line.
Indeed, Ursk’ga was an intimidating presence. He stood nearly eight feet tall, with a width of almost five feet from shoulder to shoulder, and a weight of nearly half a ton. His skin was covered in hard white scales that caused him to almost shine in sunlight. The half-dragon’s wide head sat atop a thickly muscled neck and was adorned with a jutting jaw that showed his thick lower canines as well as three small fins that ran from the top of his head to his back. His eyes were small icy blue orbs beneath his strong brow that appeared to be constantly furrowed. The Colonel rarely wore any armor, relying instead on his scaled hide and magical bracers to defend him, but he carried an impressive assortment of weapons. He utilized a plasma rifle as his standard sidearm, a fact that was intimidating by itself, but for an assault weapon, the Colonel utilized a huge, multi-barreled light machinegun that he slung under his right arm. Most impressive, however, was his melee weapon, a massive, enchanted sword, larger than any human could carry, that Ursk’ga had named “Worldbreaker”. He had smashed through powered armor suits with but a single blow from Worldbreaker, and shattered enemy bunkers to rubble. The sword was Ursk’ga’s constant companion, a fact which would only added to the Chimeras’ reluctance to rouse their commanding officer’s ire.
Haziss had placed his attention on the Colonel, trying to look innocent, but failing. “Should you ever repeat a sentiment such as the one you just spoke,” the half-dragon announced, “I assure you that it will be your seat that is filled as you will have been compacted into a convenient economy size by your esteemed commanding officer.”
“I apologize, Colonel,” the half-drow sneered with a bit more contempt than Ursk’ga was comfortable with, “I often forget that my drow humor is generally misunderstood by… other species.” The emphasis on the word “other” led the half-dragon to believe that Haziss might have easily replaced the word with “lesser”. The drow, and even a miserable half-breed such as Lt. Ket, believe that they are the greatest of all races in the multiverse. They say that they have gone beyond such concepts as morality and self-control to a state where the strongest may feel all the pleasure that he or she can handle and those weaker are brought under the heel of the mighty. Most other races disagreed with this philosophy, noting that the drow are little more than black-skinned elves who long ago fell to the temptation of powerful demon magics.
Ursk’ga was wont to believing the latter of the theories. He disliked drow highly, often referring to them as “dark elves” as an insult. In the half-dragon’s experience, the drow were undisciplined, hedonistic wretches with no respect for order or honor. The fact that he had put up with Haziss as long as he had was more a tribute to the half-drow’s capabilities than Ursk’ga’s patience. Still, the Colonel was starting to consider the possibility that Lt. Ket might be more a liability than a benefit to Chimera Company.
The half-dragon looked over to Lt. Winterbourne, to ascertain her feelings on this exchange. To his astonishment, she wore a worried look upon her face. This seemed highly unusual to Ursk’ga. Talia was a consummate professional who usually could be found with a demeanor of icy calm, especially when preparing to enter into battle. This was one of the things that made her such an effective officer. The men and women of the Angels could always sense the imperturbable composure of their lieutenant and would follow her lead. Wielders of divine magic were not uncommon unit leaders, but in Ursk’ga’s experience, it was a rare cleric who was able to lead without relying on her magic to rally her troops. Talia had that ability and it had served her well. In fact, the Colonel had no doubt that Talia might one day be leading her own company into battle.
Today, however, she wore a look of uneasiness. As Ursk’ga considered this, he realized why her disposition was so troubled. It wasn’t regarding the impending battle, but instead due to the Colonel’s admonishment of Haziss. The half-drow had not only insulted Lt. Winterbourne, but had implied the impending death of her entire unit. Ursk’ga had reacted without thinking, reprimanding Lt. Ket before Lt. Winterbourne had time to react. This realization made Ursk'ga somewhat uncomfortable. He had always considered himself evenhanded with his soldiers, and yet he now found himself favoring one over another. He had always admired Talia, but he had also always treated her equally. Now, it seemed he had instinctually acted on her behalf and, in turn, caused more trouble for her.
The more the half-dragon considered the issue, the more he realized that he had been somewhat favoring her in various ways for the last few months. This disturbed him highly. Why would a commander favor one of his lieutenants, even if they were as beautiful as Lt. Winterbourne? At that thought, Ursk'ga realized that he had come upon the answer: he was beginning to have romantic feelings towards the war chaplain. For a being that had spent his life pushing away his emotions, this realization was overwhelming. The Colonel writhed uncomfortably in his massive harness as the drop ship stopped shuddering upon nearing the ground. Ursk'ga knew that he had to pull his thoughts together before the Chimeras embarked, or the battle was already lost. With that, he thrust thoughts of Talia and himself from his mind and concentrated on why the company was under orders to attack in the first place.
Darhogar IV was an untouched world filled with peerless beauty. Its natural resources lay untapped, making the planet a particularly tempting morsel to the Empire. There were, however, settlers on Darhogar IV; a society made up of nature-lovers and druids. They were lead by a powerful druid who called herself "Harmonia". Besides the society of naturalists, the planet held no sentient races, meaning that the only obstacles to the control of the world were the occupants of a small city in the center of a great forest. Harmonia, however, had openly impugned the policies of the Dragon Empire for many years. During the waning days of the bronze dragon, this crime could go unpunished. However, for the last five decades, the Empire had been under the rule of Mezzenbone the red, a dragon of peerless might and avarice, who would not stand for mites that detracted from his Empire. The Dragon Emperor had ordered the Legion to send their mightiest company to Darhogar IV and wipe out the inhabitants. Of course, Ursk'ga had embellished their orders to include the idea that Harmonium and her people were a dangerous rebel element that threatened the very existence of the Empire. Moreover, in many ways, the half-dragon did not doubt that such a statement was true. If one group is allowed to speak their mind and openly defy the rulings of the standing government, then others will think they can do the same. Mezzenbone would not have been Ursk'ga's first choice for a sovereign, but he was still the Emperor and, therefore, Ursk'ga's duty was to him.
“Northeastern, southeastern, and southern perimeters secured, sir,” the gnoll replied with a thick, growling accent, “But there’s something to the East.”
“What is it?” the Colonel queried as he rounded the ship, annoyed that he had chosen to depart from the dropship via the West-facing hatchway when the first obstacle lay on the other side.
“Some sort of totem or shrine or something.” Glurthesch returned, “Whatever it is, it has guardians.”
“What sort of…?” the half-dragon began, but the answer was obvious as he reached the other side of the vessel. The Angels and several other units had already disembarked from the dropship on the eastern side. Each soldier was going about his or her duty professionally, but all were taken aback by the sight.
About 30 feet away, on edge of the very woods that the druid city was believed to lie within, was a massive, 12-foot statue of a robust woman with leaves in her long hair and her hands clasped over the end of a hammer. Where the hammer’s head should be was an altar strewn with half-melted candles, flower petals, and animal viscera. In a half-circle around the shrine and facing the newly arrived Chimera dropship, was a pack of wolves, nearly thirty of them, all sitting with a scowl on their faces.
“Indeed,” Ursk’ga uttered under a breath before barking, “Lt. Winterbourne, to my flank!”
A few breaths later, Talia was at his side. “Yes, sir.”
“Know you what this display means?” the commander inquired.
“Well, the druids here worship an aspect of the nature goddess of the Unifiers called ‘Denarri’. She is a dwarven deity of nature from a far-off planet. The shrine is presumably her likeness where they leave their offerings to her. The wolves, however, must have been sent to see what all the commotion was about.”
“Hmm,” the Colonel said as he stroked his broad chin, “So they know we’re here, then. That means we’re in for a battle.”
“Sir, with all due respect,” the human lieutenant said (it had always struck Ursk’ga as paradoxical that that very remark was often followed by a statement that was usually disrespectful), “Is it wise to assault a city of druids in a forest? They will have all the field advantages plus the fact that their nature magic will be stronger in there.”
“True, but we have our orders.” the half-dragon replied, knowing that the Lieutenant was correct. He considered the situation for a moment before adding, “We will have the advantage of firepower and we can assume that they aren’t fully aware of our compliment. If we do this right, it can be pulled off with minimal casualties to the Legionnaires.”
“Fine, sir, then I will get the Angels prepared.”
Talia returned to her unit and began shouting orders as Col. Ursk’ga developed a plan. He looked around to the Chimera units that had made planetfall in the dropship. There were sixteen units in all; not really much of an army, but a decent size for a strike force. Half the total was made up of infantry units, which provided the bulk of the troops. In addition, there were two heavy assault and two heavy weapons units who could lay down a suppressive fire decent enough to fracture even higher tech city walls. There was also an airborne assault unit, a recon unit, Lt. Winterbourne’s chaplains, and Lt. Ket’s black ops unit. Unlike many commanders, Ursk'ga did not have a unit of his own that he led into battle. He preferred to be mobile, commanding a unit if it's leader fell and otherwise going where his skills; as a commander or as a soldier, would be best utilized.
After a short time of contemplation, the Colonel had developed a plan of attack. The first thing to deal with was the wolf pack. "Lt. Haziss," He called out over his com-patch, "Have one of your men approach the wolves with caution while your snipers cover him.” After a few moments, a grizzled human, a veteran to the Chimeras, stepped out of the secure perimeter. From where he left the circle, an elf and two halflings moved forward, training their high-powered precision rifles at the nearest lupines. As the veteran approached, three of the beasts moved from their position slowly and deliberately to intercept him. Almost immediately, a red dot appeared on each wolf. The human stopped and cautiously drew his knife, prepared for any attack. The three wolves stepped within a few yards of the man and sat back down, staring at him. The veteran continued to walk forward, careful to keep his blade behind his back, and cooed at the trio of animals. To the half-dragon's astonishment, the wolves allowed the man to approach within arms reach and when the human put out his hand, the lead wolf sniffed at him with curiosity. After a moment, the beast nuzzled the man's fingers and wagged its tail. Soon enough, all three wolves were nestling up to the human, tails beating a delighted rhythm.
"Maybe this won't be so hard after all." Haziss remarked into his comlink. A moment later, the wolves growled briefly before tearing into the veteran soldier with their lupine teeth. In seconds, the three snipers had picked off all three wolves and were firing at the rest of the pack by the shrine, but it was too late for the human from the Spiders. Ursk'ga could see that his throat had been torn our and he was bleeding profusely. Before the half-dragon could send out an order, he noticed that Talia had already broken perimeter and was running for the man, her sidearm drawn and divine energy glowing from her other hand. As she reached the veteran's dying form, she fired in the direction of the wolves, more a warning shot than anything else, and knelt beside him. The Colonel could hear her call to the Redeemer as she placed her glowing hand on the man's wound. A heartbeat later, both humans were running back to the periphery of the secured area, the veteran of the Spiders still covered in his own blood, but his wound healed. The remaining wolves had been shot or had run when the shots rang out, and the area seemed clear.
"Lt. Winterbourne," Ursk'ga growled over his comlink, "I didn't order you to break perimeter."
"Sorry, Colonel," she responded, "I was acting on instinct. Corporal Hillerd was bleeding to death."
"Still," he said, not wanting to retract his admonishment in front of the whole company, "Next time save your spells until I give the order." Nevertheless, the half-dragon thought to himself, nicely done, Talia. “Alright, Chimeras!” Ursk’ga announced at the top of his voice, “Those wolves that escaped are going to be returning to the city to tell their masters what they’ve seen, which means we need to hit the druids before they can prepare for us. This means we need to move quickly. First thing’s first, unit commanders, I want a com-patch confirmation, stat!” The Colonel waited a few seconds, hoping this wouldn’t take long. He knew that each soldier had a com-patch attached to the lower left side of their necks. The patch was a combination of magic and biotechnology that allowed communications to go through only at the user’s whim. In addition, each patch was set to only be attuned to certain other patches. Each member of a unit had their patch attuned to the Colonel, their unit commander, and to every other member of the unit, but not to any other unit except for in special situations. The unit commanders could hear Ursk’ga, their own unit, and each other and Ursk’ga was attuned only to the unit commanders. In addition, Ursk’ga and the unit leaders could telepathically direct their patches to receive from any unit soldier. The patches were an ingenious innovation created by halflings from a rim world. The com-patch was actually a living telepathic organism that could be “trained” by placing it in various positions in comparison to others of its kind. This made communication easier by allowing commanders to cut down all the com chatter that would be going on during a battle. In addition, the patches were cheap to grow and maintain, making them better than both technological communicators and magical ones.
Less than thirty seconds after the Colonel had given the order, the first call came through.
“Bloodhounds are go.” Said Captain Del Furenko of the recon team.
“Spiders are go.” Came Haziss’ call, soon followed by the other unit commanders.
“Stingers are go.”
“Angels are go.”
“Breakers are go.”
“Thunderers are go.”
“Sentries are go.”
“Fury are go.”
“Devils are go.”
“Arrows are go.”
“Fists are go.”
“Monkeys are go.”
“R Unit is go.”
“Haze are go.”
“Mugs are go.”
“Razors are go.”
With Lt. Ajol’s Rave Razors calling in, Col. Ursk’ga was pleased, the whole check had taken less than two minutes. “Capt. Furenko, can your team track the wolves?” the Colonel askedx over his com-patch.
“We can try sir.” Came the reply as Del and his team of scouts that called themselves the “Bloodhounds” left the perimeter and headed for the forest.
“Sardi, take the Stingers to the sky and provide air support for the Bloodhounds!” the half-dragon ordered. The Stingers were the company’s best airborne unit. Unlike the other two airborne units, who utilizes liquid fuel propelled rocket packs, each of the Stingers was equipped with a magical ring of flight. “Ket, I want the Spiders on the Bloodhounds’ tail! Cover their rear flank! Remember, everyone, fire into the occasional tree to mark your way, we don’t want anyone getting lost in the woods today.” He wheeled to see who was left. The half-dragon considered which unit to join and finally decided to be at the forefront of the battle with the Sentries and the Fur Fury. “Azmodel, Glurtsch, your units are with me. Following them, I want units two to a row: the Steadfast Angels and the Flame Arrows; then R Unit and the Heavy Fists; then the Thunderers and the Wall Breakers; then the Grinning Devils and Silver Haze. Herzwauk, I want the Happy Monkeys bringing up the rear.”
“Affirmative, boss.” Said Corporal Herzwuak, a gnome unit leader with a strange sense of humor, but who was a fine leader, nonetheless.
“Fine, everyone stick together and keep an eye on the unit in front of you. Let’s move!” Col. Ursk’ga let the way. He could already hear the occasional laser, blaster, or gun firing off, a sure sign that the units in the lead were marking the path. When he reached the edge of the forest, he could see the first burn mark in a tree ahead of him. Still, he was worried about their perimeter. The dropship had some defenses, but who could know what it would have to deal with when their enemies manipulated the very environment around them? The half dragon decided not to take a chance. “Dropship, this is Ursk’ga. Do you copy?”
“We read you, Colonel.” Came the response from the cockpit of the Chimeras’ transportation, “What do you need?”
“I want you to go back to the Drake. We’ll need a dust-off at this point in twenty-four hours.”
“A-are you sure, Colonel?” the surprised pilot questioned. He had reason to be surprised. Without a ship on the planet, it would be impossible to retreat should the battle go awry. Still, the Colonel was optimistic about their chances but wanted to ensure that no vengeful druid destroyed their only way back to the cruiser that had transported the Chimeras to Darhogar IV.
“Unquestionably, pilot. We don’t know entirely what we’re dealing with and I don’t want to take any chances with our ticket home.”
“Understood, Colonel. See you tomorrow.” With that the dropship fired its thrusters and ascended into the sky. Ursk’ga could see some of his soldiers glancing towards their only way off the rock they had been dropped on, but was pleased to find that none questioned his decision. He led them into the dark forest, confident that the Chimeras would be victorious once again.
by Jesse D. Edmond
[This is a paper I wrote for my recent, ill-fated collegiate return. Despite the truncation of my re-newed college career, I feel this was a fairly meaningful paper... or at least, an apt piece of bullshit. Also, I DO have all my sources available if someone really wants to read them. But don't bother, they're boring.]
Ask any stage magician, illusionist, confidence artist, soothsayer, or advertising agent and they will agree that as long as there have been human beings, there have been rubes. These careers rely on rubes; those of us who have the willing suspension of disbelief, the lack of knowledge, or the simple gullibility to believe that the impossible is actually happening. Individuals whose career are thus reliant all have one thing in common, they are masters of what is called “misdirection”; the ability to allow an individual to see one thing, while another thing is happening altogether. Most people try to think of themselves as far too intelligent to be taken by such swindlers, but the truth of the matter is far different. In fact, ask almost any one of these master deceivers, and even they will have stories where they play the part of the rube.
As long as no one is done harm, it's all in good fun.
However, for quite some time now, the United States has been taken by a master stroke of deception, transforming formerly savvy executives in hundreds of corporations into the simplest of rubes all for the promise of a sure payday.
One of the primary causes of this is the data presented regarding the economic feasibility of outsourcing. Many organizations that would profit from work being sent offshore often manipulate the data itself to support their claims of outsourcing being profitable; including the US Chamber of Commerce (Freeman, 2004). After a 1997 report by the Information Technology Association of America showed a marked decline in the number of IT workers in the US, the Chamber's own report in 1998 found a similar state of affairs. However, according to Peter Freeman, Dean of the College of Computing at the Georgia Institute of Technology: “The General Accounting Office (GAO) criticized the methodology used to gather the data put forward by both ITAA and Commerce, and questioned their conclusions about a shortage” (Freeman, 2004). In fact, the GAO has quite a bit to say about the manipulation of data when talking of outsourcing. In a 2005 study, the organization discusses the fact that the data often skews in favor of offshoring by comparing one US worker's salary to that of one worker in the third world (Bhagwati, 2004). This does not tell the whole story.
In fact, these studies fail to take into account other costs associated with outsourcing to foreign nations. Robert Atkinson in an article for Policy Report states: “When presenting the facts of offshoring to stockholders, many companies do not offer up the data regarding the training of non-US workers, a costly venture in and of itself, nor even the fact that it will sometimes take two, three, or more of these workers to make up for the work of one well-educated American employee” (Atkinson, 2004). This allows organizations in support of outsourcing to reassure companies and investors that it is a profitable venture by careful manipulation of proven facts.
Many of these organizations are offshore themselves; practically ensuring a skewed viewpoint when presenting data to US corporations. Some, such as the India-based Outsource2India, provide data free of charge and “ensuring flawless performance during the offshore transition” (Outsouce2India.com, 2006). Other foreign organizations have followed suit, raking in the profit while assuring US corporations that their best interests lie overseas. How could one trust data presented by a company that benefits from positive results of said data? In point of fact, most of the information available to corporations in regards to the profitability of sending work offshore is presented by companies that have the chance to capitalize on work being sent to foreign nations (Koch, 2006). Clearly these companies cannot be trusted to provide untainted data. Despite this, many corporations are putting their own, and the United States' future in the hands of these unbiased organizations.
As previously mentioned, the data does not support much in the way of outsourcing costs beyond the simple comparison of the singular American and foreign worker. In fact, beyond the additional costs mentioned above, reduced customer satisfaction is an important side effect from offshoring (Pfeffer, 2006). Many companies that have sent work overseas have found a marked increase in complaints and a reduced rate of customer return. In fact, to many private American customers, the simple discovery that a company has been outsourcing is enough to take their business elsewhere. “Loss of customers due to reduced satisfaction is a great concern to [companies who] have undergone extensive outsourcing” says Robert Atkinson (Atkinson, 2004). He goes on to explain that cultural and language barriers often result in frustration from customers when contacting service call centers. This can cost a company millions in lost potential revenue; a fact rarely taken into account when initially discussing offshoring (Tiernan, 2005).
Of the secondary costs, security has also become a growing concern in regards to offshore outsourcing. As companies augment their overseas operations, security measures are stretched further and further (Stith, 2006). In a recent web log entry, Ted Richardson, a specialist in fraud prevention, had this to say:
“The goal needs to be to protecting people from becoming victims, EVERYWHERE! If we are going to be business partners with these firms, it is imperative; we assist them in bringing their security infrastructures up to par with ours. Otherwise, we expose them as easy targets.” (Richardson, 2006, paragraph 16)</font>
If security is not on the same level for offshore facilities, clearly, it puts an entire company at risk. Ultimately, the overall lack of experience in dealing with the possibility of major breaches in security could easily be the downfall of outsourced operations (Volino, 2004). The results of such a breach could be as minimal as lost data or research to an actual attack on an American-based facility (Maranjian, 2004). The dangers presented by these very feasible circumstances should not be ignored. In order to maintain a strong and capable economic foundation, companies must ensure that employees and facilities are secure from harm of any sort.
The greatest hidden cost of outsourcing, however, is in the morale of the American worker. One would think that the corporations that represent the backbone of a thriving economy built by the people of this nation would be willing to, at the very least, return the favor by offering job security and the ability to retire in comfort. Unfortunately, this is increasingly not the case thanks, in no small part, to offshoring. In the last few years, the morale at many companies has decreased significantly, even to the point of there being impromptu labor rallies at information technology conferences (Koch, 2003). As the trend of outsourcing continues, it seems that displaced American employees are becoming more jaded and cynical regarding their jobs; primarily due to a lack of comfort regarding job certainty. The data continues to support these concerns. “In what might be an underestimate, a University of California study concludes that 14 million white-collar jobs are vulnerable to being outsourced offshore.” says Paul Craig Roberts of NewsMax (Roberts, 2003). He also explains that these are only the most recent jobs to be danger of moving overseas and that industry workers have been in fear of their jobs for more than two decades now. With such information being constantly circulated, no wonder American workers are having morale issues. Studies continue to show a marked decrease in job satisfaction, feelings of job security, and the overall level of contentment in American workers across the board (Bhagwati, 2004). Such reduced morale, may lead to reduction of overall quality in goods and services, and, thus, loss of customers. When determining the possibility of outsourcing operations offshore, it is highly doubtful that companies take morale into much consideration, despite the effects on overall profits.
Sadly, however, the executives of these corporations take little of this into account. They are presented a vary basic and narrow vision of what their offshore operations would seem to be and ignore the rest. This gives them a very positive view on outsourcing; as though it would be the miracle a business would need to stay afloat in an tumultuous economy.
There are no miracles when it comes to business. When a board of directors looks at the evidence presented by an outsourcing resource company and sees magic, all they are really seeing is the illusion; the misdirection. The result is corporate executives who look like common rubes awaiting the showman to perform his next astounding feat. Sadly, the outsourcing trend shows no signs of abating in the near future. It makes one fear for the future of this great nation and that of the workers who built this economy upon their backs.
From: Jess <docpalindrome@gmail.com>
Date: Feb 4, 2007 8:48 AM
Subject: My Letter to Anne
To: "Mulcahy, Anne" <Anne.Mulcahy@xerox.com>, "Edmond, Jesse" <Jesse.Edmond@xerox.com >
February 4, 2007
Dear Anne Mulcahy,
My name is Jesse Donovan Edmond and, for the next week, at least, I work for Xerox in the Webster Document Solutions Center. I am certain that you will never actually read this as you likely have someone to screen the hundreds of e-mails I am certain you receive on a daily basis. However, I feel I must write this, even if just for the catharsis of feeling I have done something, anything, positive to help a group of hard-working, decent people who deserve much better than they are getting.
When I was brought into the WDSC as a contract in June of 2004, I noted immediately that this was an organization like none I had ever seen before. I have worked a number of jobs and I have seen every permutation of the peer-worker dynamic that one could imagine (or so I thought). When I stepped into my role on the team, I soon discovered that this was a group of people that strove for quality and consistency on a level I could not have imagined. Although each one of them had their individual views and not everyone got along, none of this was ever allowed to impede upon the work itself. And, should one aspect of the group fall behind or be overwhelmed, the rest of the team has always, without any exception, pulled together to ensure that the work was completed in accordance with the Service Level Agreement. Even when one of the operators, a contract, made a mistake last June that caused an uproar and cost the company a great deal of money, the rest of the WDSC team members "circled the wagons" around her and came to her defense as the error had been noted as having been possible for quite some time to that customer. It was an misstep that could have happened to anyone and everyone within the WDSC knew it. Unfortunately, this woman was, after the duration of her contract was up, fully blamed for the error by management and will never be able to work here again.
But I would hire her.
In fact, were I to own a business, there is not one individual in the WDSC production that I would not hire, and this includes everyone that I have worked with since starting in June 2004. They are a committed group of people who endorse quality and teamwork above any personal misgivings they might have amongst each other. It is an exceptional team to be part of and one of the hardest things I have ever had to do is leave them. However, I fail to see my future within this company, despite my initial positive outlook. When I started here, I had three good friends who also worked for the company. Now, all three have been laid-off and, ultimately, I can see this on the horizon for our little organization as well. In fact, it was noted to us by our management that the contracts which we support are all coming to close in 2010, at which time the need for the WDSC will be re-evaluated. History within Xerox shows that this means the ax will fall. Perhaps I am wrong about this, but it does not look positive for these people and it disheartens me. To understand why, perhaps I should give some details on myself.
Personally, I feel the need to remove myself from this situation for a number of reasons. The area which I currently support, mail, is one which does work that I do not enjoy. When I was brought on, it was primarily due to my experience with postal machines and post-office guidelines. This field is one which I fell into at a young age and have always disliked. Still, having worked with Xerox printers as a contract, I felt the promise of being able to again as a full-time employee would be worth any temporary hardship and, besides, I had done it before and survived. I was hired on and I worked with these postal machines for the entirety of my first year, supporting the print operation when it was needed and, really, whenever I could. At the start of 2006, I was placed in print full time, but asked to support mail whenever it was needed. I worked in the inserter operation a number of times throughout the year, including the entire month of July and I believe that I did so with minimal complaint. Despite the fact that I had to work so much in mail, I still enjoyed the print aspect of the business and even learned as much as I could about the third aspect of the department, ensuring that my skill set was well-rounded and that I could support the department anywhere it was needed.
In December, it was announced that I would be returning to mail in January as a contract employee, who had been fully trained in the operation, was due to leave. I was also informed that I would be placed on the team full time after January. What followed was somewhat of a breakdown. Even as I write this, I can feel a clutching in my stomach at the thought of this. I feel as though I have done what was initially asked of me and helped out wherever I can. I don't think that I should be punished for this. At the same time, I can understand why this decision was made; my skill set is high in the operation of postal machines and there is really no one else to do so.
Sadly, this does not change the fact that I no longer can grin and bear it. Early in 2006, I underwent six weeks of physical therapy for a herniated disc between my forth and fifth vertebrae, the exact injury which sent another inserter operator out on long-term disability (I believe that I was able to get my injury diagnosed and treated before it became as bad as his). While I was being treated, I began taking courses through the University of Phoenix on-line in the hopes of completing my degree and having more a more marketable skill set with which to move throughout Xerox. However, I soon discovered that the need for me to work overtime every three months severely limited my ability to complete my class work. I was able to eke through the first set of classes, but determined that I would not be able to continue my education as long as the amount of time I was required to support the inserting team remained as high.
My back has never fully healed and I continue to do the exercises I learned in therapy in order to stave off the pain. The sheer physical exertion required for the job in mail is too much, however, and I cannot continue to risk a more serious injury that would limit me the rest of my life. In addition, the fact that I cannot seem to find the time to improve my education while working as much overtime as is required puts my in an even more limiting position. These reasons, combined with the facts that I have a severe dislike of the job itself, cannot seem to be able to move away from it, and do not foresee an extended lifetime for the department itself all lead me to the unpleasant decision that I have had to make.
But you really have no idea how hard it is to leave these people.
For example, when I came into the department as a print operator, I was placed on a team with one gentleman who trained me in the ins and outs of that department. This operator is knowing for being meticulous when it comes to quality and consistency and I learned this from him. Although he could sometimes be moody, I came to value the time we worked together and respected his high degree of skill. I truly treasure the fact that I was able to be mentored by such a person and he deserves high recognition for the qualities he brings to the company.
For another employee, an woman who often feels outcast from the rest of the group because of her quirky personality, I feel I have become the one person she really feels she can talk to in the department. We have some similar interests in fiction and have each recommend a number of novels that the other could read. I believe that she feels a bit betrayed since it was announced I would be leaving. I feel the utmost guilt for this as well.
Another gentleman, who has been employed less time that myself, has a degree of mechanical aptitude unlike any I have ever seen before. He can fix anything if he has the right parts and tools, often better than the technician can. This person is also a fun individual to work with as he likes to keep peoples' spirits high and is always playing minor pranks. He makes working in the inserting area much more tolerable.
There was a contract who was employed when I first started who was working until she left for school. She was the daughter of a operator in another area and everyone got along with her very well. I, personally, found her to be highly intelligent and enjoyed the conversations that we had; in fact, I treasure them to this day. This young lady became a close part of the WDSC family. She passed away this past November under circumstances that I would rather not go into here. I was off work for my honeymoon at the time, but I came back to see her mother and family and to say goodbye. I had become close with this young woman's mother as she dealt with circumstances both prior to and after her daughter's passing. I feel as though a part of the family is gone and I feel that that is exactly what the WDSC is: a family.
I could really detail my experiences with each and every one of the people I work with. I could go on about how much I respect my manager, an individual I have come to know as someone who has to face very hard decisions every day from both above and below his position. I could talk on and on about all my experiences, both positive and negative, that I will take with me after I leave Xerox.
But I quite frankly, I think this is long enough, don't you?
As I stated earlier in this letter, I would hire every single one of these people if I owned my own business. Beyond that, as I detailed for you what has gone on, I came to realize how much I wish I could hire all of them. I wish that I could give them the security and support that they deserve from an employer. I can honestly say that I have never felt this way about a group of people I have worked with before and I doubt I ever will again. I write this, knowing fully that it will, in all probability, never be read by the intended recipient in order to make some minor stand against an injustice against a great group of people. When I hear of how the company was able to have a profitable quarter, I think of the people I know personally that were let go in order to ensure this profit. I think of the people I have come to respect, admire, trust, care for, and work with in the Webster Document Solutions Center and I wonder how long they have until they become another victim of continued profitability. I look at your picture and I see someone with caring eyes and I wonder if you know the true cost of Xerox's stock.
And I am saddened by all of this. As I sit here, a 32-year-old man with a new wife sleeping in upstairs from me, I can barely see the computer screen through the bitter tears. It hurts to leave these people; to leave all the people of this company. Good people who pull together every day to ensure the future of the company. Once, Xerox was a leader in employee satisfaction, and now terms like "industry standard" are used when it comes to such things. These people deserve better, but they would probably never say so.
I wanted to just let you know this. Not for me, I have made my decision, but for the people that I will be leaving behind.
With Sincerest Thanks,
Jesse D. Edmond
1000 Words (Month 1)
Posted on 2007.01.03 at 13:17Current Mood: Bronchial
Current Music: Pete Townshend - Psychoderilict
One-thousand words.
It doesn’t seem like so much, really. It seems like I probably accumulate having written one-thousand words on a regular basis. Oh, sure, it might not all be in the same format or for the same purpose; perhaps a few hundred in some e-mails, and some more in various sundry memos written to the mendicants I call my bosses informing them of information they should have known before I did, and maybe a bit more regarding whatever crazy idea might enter into my head at any random moment (although this is often on one of my many note pads that overflow with conceptual brilliance so awe-inspiringly insipid it will never know the light of day).
So typing up a grand worth of words once a month to post on my Live Journal should not be much of an issue. At least, that’s the theory.
The truth is, I’m fucking lazy.
Don’t get me wrong, I love to write. In fact, there is almost nothing I would rather do than place pen to paper (figuratively, at least, really fingers to keyboard, but that lacks the aplomb) to pontificate regarding whatever soapbox I happen to have found myself upon at the time. Indeed, the only thing I might like more is to plumb the depths of my imagination and let it flow out onto the screen, my stories twisting themselves into whatever shapes they wish as I act merely as the vehicle through which they are able exist.
Yeah, I love me some goddamn writing.
“So,” those of you who know me might ask, “why don’t you write and stop whining about it?”
The answer is simple: it’s easier not to.
Because I can write and enjoy writing doesn’t always mean I will. I make excuses as to why I don’t write all over the place: too tired, too sick, too sick and tired. Okay, so maybe it all ends up in the same place: I’m fucking fed up! I work 42½+ hours a week in a place that I hate and spend another 7½+ hours driving to and fro from said place of employment while I would rather be writing for a living. I get all uppity about this like no one else has ever had to do something they hate instead of something they love when the fact is that 99.99999999% of the population of the Earth has the exact same issue (I can’t back up this statistic… sorry). So really, I should shut the fuck up and sit down and write because there is absolutely no way I will ever make a living writing if I don’t write, right.
Right.
So here I am. My deal with myself for 2007 is to write a kilo of words per each of the twelve months and post it to my LJ. It doesn’t matter when I write them as long as, at the culmination of ought-seven, there are twelve blogs I have posted totaling twelve-thousand words.
So what am I going to write about?
Well, I really don’t know. I’ll probably bust some science on fun stuff like comics and gaming and movies and music and whatnot. I might spring into some political stuff, especially after the Dems are all sworn in and get we get down to the business of making things better (Note to Republicans: They have a plan... they're just not telling you.) and I might discuss some societal issues for the hell of it. I’ll try not to be negative, but I am sometimes a negative person, so no guarantees there. I can promise one thing. I am not going to write about writing one-thousand words again. It’s a stupid topic without much to add. This post should really just be a heads up: “Hey, everyone! I’m gonna write a thousand words a month for 2007. Peace.” But, I think I will go on with this post and let everyone know where I am in my life now. That should eat up the last four-hundred words I have to remaining.
Overall, ought-six was pretty damn good to me. First off, I got married to the wonderful and vivacious Laurie Sawicki. After two months of marriage, I can say, with all honesty, that almost nothing feels different with our relationship. When people ask me how it feels to be married, I tell them this; that it feels no different than before and they, almost invariably, give me a look that says “Oh, that’s too bad.” The fact of the matter is: Laurie and I have lived together for quite a while and been together for a long, long time. Before we were married, our relationship felt safe, fun, comfortable, happy, sweet, caring, vibrant, erotic, and completely satisfying. The only thing that has feels different since we took our vows in front of 150 people is that there is no option for her to leave. Now, if she decides she’s sick of my crap and sets out on her own, she A) needs to involve litigation, and B) is forced to take half of all my crap. B is the real kicker as I doubt Laurie would know what to do with 6,000 comic books.
In other words, if you want to know how I feel about being married, I love it. I love my wife and I love saying she’s my wife. Just like I loved saying she was my girlfriend or saying she was my fiancé. I love her and I love what we have and that’s how I feel.
Another (much lesser) thing that I was able to accomplish in ’06 was with the substance of my reading. I have always read comics (well, since I could read, at least), but I haven’t really ever been that good with reading other forms of media. This past year, I had resolved to read more novels and more news. I managed to complete five novels and have read the newspaper at least a couple of times a week. The main importance of this accomplishment is that, at the age of 22, I was diagnosed with a minor form of dyslexia. Since then, I have striven to read as much as I can in order to keep my “reading muscles” in shape. I also firmly believe that the main path to becoming a more prolific writer is reading everything that one can and dissecting it as much as possible. Reading is all well and good, but I believe that it is more important to understand what one reads. By the way, I highly recommend the following novels: 1432 by Eric Flint, World War: In the Balance by Harry Turtledove, Pages of Pain by Troy Denning (this was my second read through this), Silent Bob Speaks by Kevin Smith, and Brain Droppings by George Carlin.
So, despite anything I may have found annoying, '06 was a cool year and I am looking forward to what '07 will bring.Okay, that felt good. I think I can pull this off after all.
A thousand words should be no problem at all.
- Doc -
He and I had a conversation about the Rubik's Cube just a couple of weeks ago and well...
This happens.
In addition, my wife and I received an 80s Edition of Trivial Pursuit which came with a 3x3 Rubik's.
The conversation with Jerronimo was, perhaps, the first conversation I have had about a Rubik's cube in 20 years and, a mere few weeks later, Cube stuff is all over the place. Can I explain this?
Of course I can.
Jerronimo is hipper than I am.
It's just that simple.
Of course, he's also the only one that donated to my little charity.
Just for that, I sent him two "nothings".
- Doc -