Today I Learned:
I thought I knew my favorite spell in all of Dungeons and Dragons Edition 3.5, but I was wrong. I now, however, can confidently assert my favorite spell: Silver Beard. Paladins, the guardians of law, justice, and peace, when they reach 4th level gain the potential to cast this spell. When cast, your character either has its existing beard augmented, growing thicker and longer, OR you suddenly grow a very nice beard. This applies to even people not typically capable of growing beards, such as elves and females. This magical beard is no ordinary beard however; it is a beard that acts as armor, making you harder to hit while making you super fly. Truly, there is not a spell more powerful than one that can give an elf a manly beard. (As an amusing end note, the magical beard makes Dwarves like you more.)
Golem is a Jewish word, basically meaning unshaped substance and thus used in the Bible when discussing incomplete works, such as in Psalms 139:16. The Mishnah uses the word in reference to an uncultured, immature person, and it is used in Yiddish as a slang insult for a slow, clumsy person. In Jewish mythology, it means an anthromorphic clay figure, usually created by a holy man and given a semblence of life through his power. The most famous story regarding them is about a Prague Rabbi who created one to defend the Jews from persecution in their ghetto. In this classical sense they were always made of mud; some Jewish texts refer to Adam as a Golem until he got the ultimate Breath of Life. Up until the late 20th century this was the only real association for the Golem, until Dungeons and Dragons came around. They introduced the idea of Golems made with many materials, and due to the game's influence on Role Playing Games, Fantasy, and popular culture the modern broader definition was born.
--Flynn (ha ha. HA HA HA. Ha ha HA ha ha.)
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Day 20, Squawktober 26th, 2010
Today I learned:
Albatross' mate for life, in a process of ritual dances that takes years in their remote island colonies. They lay only one egg at a time, which can take a year to hatch and be a cute, awkward seabird. They don't hang out much in the Atlantic now, though fossils indicate they once did; they are much more a pacific bird, nearer to either pole than equator. Despite what Coleridge said, there is not in fact a widespread paranoia about shooting albatrosses or killing them; in fact, Sailors for some time have been doing killing and eating them. Which is actually made creepy when you realize that sailors DID seem to think they were lost souls. Mmmm, tastes like chicken and a life full of regret!
I decided take myself up on the Naked Mole Rat challenge and was very pleased with how interesting they are. They are the only animals in their genus, and are uniquely adapted to living in the underground desert conditions that they do; they have no pain nerves in their skin, and are pretty much immune to Cancer. They are more than just good at living; they are great at it, being the longest lived rodents at a possible 28 years of life. (For reference, this is the average life expectancy in Classical Rome and Greece.) This is largely because they have a physiological defense mechanism that slows down their metabolism in times of need, then speeding up in times of plenty. They also are one of two mammals to exhibit "Eusociality" similar to bees, with a single fertile queen and workers that are tunnelers, food gatherers, guards, or a mix of several. The queen jealously guards her throne until her death, at which point a chick version of Highlander breaks out and a new queen rises to power. Their colonies average 75 members, and they are dashed clever little beasts in some ways, eating from the inside of a large tuber out, to allow it to regenerate and feed them for longer. A single good tuber can feed a colony for well over a year. They dig with their teeth, since 25% of their musculature is in their jaw. At about three inches long they are rather small, and they are also more or less cold blooded; they can't control their body heat internally, so they rely on the generally well regulated climate in their tunnels to keep at the right temperature, huddling for warmth if need be. They are also impossible to keep alone in one's pocket, since they would probably die of confusion at the lack of colony, dirt, and abundance of LIIIIGHT.
--Flynn ("First, jump into the best night of your life, not onto. As jumping onto it implies you are outside your life, and that's just not good.")
Albatross' mate for life, in a process of ritual dances that takes years in their remote island colonies. They lay only one egg at a time, which can take a year to hatch and be a cute, awkward seabird. They don't hang out much in the Atlantic now, though fossils indicate they once did; they are much more a pacific bird, nearer to either pole than equator. Despite what Coleridge said, there is not in fact a widespread paranoia about shooting albatrosses or killing them; in fact, Sailors for some time have been doing killing and eating them. Which is actually made creepy when you realize that sailors DID seem to think they were lost souls. Mmmm, tastes like chicken and a life full of regret!
I decided take myself up on the Naked Mole Rat challenge and was very pleased with how interesting they are. They are the only animals in their genus, and are uniquely adapted to living in the underground desert conditions that they do; they have no pain nerves in their skin, and are pretty much immune to Cancer. They are more than just good at living; they are great at it, being the longest lived rodents at a possible 28 years of life. (For reference, this is the average life expectancy in Classical Rome and Greece.) This is largely because they have a physiological defense mechanism that slows down their metabolism in times of need, then speeding up in times of plenty. They also are one of two mammals to exhibit "Eusociality" similar to bees, with a single fertile queen and workers that are tunnelers, food gatherers, guards, or a mix of several. The queen jealously guards her throne until her death, at which point a chick version of Highlander breaks out and a new queen rises to power. Their colonies average 75 members, and they are dashed clever little beasts in some ways, eating from the inside of a large tuber out, to allow it to regenerate and feed them for longer. A single good tuber can feed a colony for well over a year. They dig with their teeth, since 25% of their musculature is in their jaw. At about three inches long they are rather small, and they are also more or less cold blooded; they can't control their body heat internally, so they rely on the generally well regulated climate in their tunnels to keep at the right temperature, huddling for warmth if need be. They are also impossible to keep alone in one's pocket, since they would probably die of confusion at the lack of colony, dirt, and abundance of LIIIIGHT.
--Flynn ("First, jump into the best night of your life, not onto. As jumping onto it implies you are outside your life, and that's just not good.")
Monday, October 25, 2010
Day 19, Rocktober 25th, 2010
Today I learned:
That I will stop calling this a daily thing, and say it's Monday through Friday. Any weekend updates are a bonus and I win medals and hugs for making them. I apparently just can't remember/be motivated to update this on weekends. Plus, I often am doing other things (like high fiving rockstars or stealing from the homeless) on weekends, so I have a sort of excuse. Blogging more than once a week is still an achievement for me, so nyeah. (Feel free to imagine a small trophy popping up with the text, "Achievement Unlocked: Blogging frequently!" at this point, if you will. If you won't, research naked mole rats instead and post a comment with your findings.)
Cruise Control is awesome! It makes the two and a half hour drive to Dallas much more relaxing, as you kick it in and waltz your way across lanes to avoid slow moving traffic, sashaying your way back across the lanes to avoid faster traffic. Rather than constanly monitoring your speed, you are free to pay more attention to surroundings, traffic and scenery both, and maybe even practice your one handed banana peeling + eating skills. Not that I endorse that, mind you, but you could.
Sometimes, poses of stoic suffering speak louder than rock music at a concert.
Kevin Young gives good high fives, and also would kick people in the FACE if he had size 15 feet. In addition he likes my anarchist colored Converse. Having rockstar approved shoes makes me strangely happy...also, making a rockstar's day is awesome.
Potstickers are not the same as Pigstickers, and mixing them up in some crowds is very embarrassing. Furthermore, the game "Chaos Marauders" is a quite good strategy card game. In it one is building an army of Orcs and related things, each army consisting of three battle lines, and trying to sabotage the other players' attempts to do the same thing. There are venemous creeps, sneaky gits, and crummy snotling slaves all of which play important strategic roles. (Here's a hint: DIE CRUMMY SNOTLING SLAVES)
If you want a degree sign like '°' then just hit Alt + 248, on a windows machine at least. If you're on a mac, you are cool and out of luck.
--Flynn (...jetskis to ride into the sun...)
That I will stop calling this a daily thing, and say it's Monday through Friday. Any weekend updates are a bonus and I win medals and hugs for making them. I apparently just can't remember/be motivated to update this on weekends. Plus, I often am doing other things (like high fiving rockstars or stealing from the homeless) on weekends, so I have a sort of excuse. Blogging more than once a week is still an achievement for me, so nyeah. (Feel free to imagine a small trophy popping up with the text, "Achievement Unlocked: Blogging frequently!" at this point, if you will. If you won't, research naked mole rats instead and post a comment with your findings.)
Cruise Control is awesome! It makes the two and a half hour drive to Dallas much more relaxing, as you kick it in and waltz your way across lanes to avoid slow moving traffic, sashaying your way back across the lanes to avoid faster traffic. Rather than constanly monitoring your speed, you are free to pay more attention to surroundings, traffic and scenery both, and maybe even practice your one handed banana peeling + eating skills. Not that I endorse that, mind you, but you could.
Sometimes, poses of stoic suffering speak louder than rock music at a concert.
Kevin Young gives good high fives, and also would kick people in the FACE if he had size 15 feet. In addition he likes my anarchist colored Converse. Having rockstar approved shoes makes me strangely happy...also, making a rockstar's day is awesome.
Potstickers are not the same as Pigstickers, and mixing them up in some crowds is very embarrassing. Furthermore, the game "Chaos Marauders" is a quite good strategy card game. In it one is building an army of Orcs and related things, each army consisting of three battle lines, and trying to sabotage the other players' attempts to do the same thing. There are venemous creeps, sneaky gits, and crummy snotling slaves all of which play important strategic roles. (Here's a hint: DIE CRUMMY SNOTLING SLAVES)
If you want a degree sign like '°' then just hit Alt + 248, on a windows machine at least. If you're on a mac, you are cool and out of luck.
--Flynn (...jetskis to ride into the sun...)
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Day 15, Schlocktober 21st, 2010
Today I learned:
That Justin Bieber is a rule breaker. To quote her: "Singers aren't supposed to have dairy before a show, but we all know I'm a rule breaker. Pizza is just so good!" He also has trouble thinking clearly, as evidenced by the following quote: "It was like I opened my eyes one day and noticed the world was full of beautiful girls. And I've had a hard time thinking of anything else ever since." And we can't forget the humble beginnings he had. Until three years ago, his definition of a celebrity was someone that rode a zamboni. (Again, I quote.)
--Flynn(...more medals to win at exotic car throwing competitions...)
That Justin Bieber is a rule breaker. To quote her: "Singers aren't supposed to have dairy before a show, but we all know I'm a rule breaker. Pizza is just so good!" He also has trouble thinking clearly, as evidenced by the following quote: "It was like I opened my eyes one day and noticed the world was full of beautiful girls. And I've had a hard time thinking of anything else ever since." And we can't forget the humble beginnings he had. Until three years ago, his definition of a celebrity was someone that rode a zamboni. (Again, I quote.)
--Flynn(...more medals to win at exotic car throwing competitions...)
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Day 14, Knocktober 20th, 2010
Today I learned:
I had strayed into vanity again. For clarity's sake, my personal working definition of vanity is NOT "low table with mirror or mirrors where one sits while dressing or applying makeup" but rather "tailoring my appearance for others, not myself." The rule of thumb I set for myself some years ago was that what I wore/how I did my hair etc. should ALWAYS be something I liked, whether for form or function, and that if at any point I began doing things based solely on what others thought, I would need to re-orient my stylings and get back on track. So, for instance, I have on occasion worn rather tacky clothes, because they were either practical, or I got a kick out of them. The recent realization was brought on because my hair was, at least in front, really rather long and it became annoying, and I didn't like how it looked, and I realized I only had it that way because some people are prone to complain when I cut my hair. Long story (and hair) short, I got it buzzed and am now at liberty to take showers right before bed/getting in the car/whatever, because my hair dries in five minutes, and even if I sleep on it wet it's not like it can get messed up. It's practical, I like the way I look in it, and therefor it trumps the long, cute little wave hair I had before.
I also learned that apparently this haircut makes me more attractive to middle aged women. That part is a bit weird, and was not foreseen. Apparently I make a lousy Palpatine, which is honestly fine by me.
Tahitian Noni juice is many things. First off, it's flipping delicious. At least, the candy I had based on it was some of the best I've had. Of course, that was partly just the sugar talking, but the flavor was quite good. Like, really classy starbursts, the kind you would eat if you had just finished showing off your Rolls Royce Phantom II at a gathering of classy old men in tuxedos with classy women on their arms, while listening to Vivaldi and a single tasteful explosion going off in the background. Second off, until recently, it was promoted by Danny Glover. Not that it means too much to me, but it is a random fact, which this blog is kind of all about. Thirdly, it's being marketed as a wonderous fruit of magic and might, which is mainly to line their pockets and is without a single real fact to back it up. Yes, it's tasty and good for you, like most fruit. But it is not as amazing for your health as they'd love you to think. The primary people responsible for marketing are quite good at their job; when sales dipped, they refactored their pesudoscience to be fresh and just as pseudo. Now, instead of a superfruit with flavanoids, it's a medicinal fruit with Iridoids.
--Flynn (My lawyers have ordered me not to recommend doing this, as it could cause you to become dead.)
I had strayed into vanity again. For clarity's sake, my personal working definition of vanity is NOT "low table with mirror or mirrors where one sits while dressing or applying makeup" but rather "tailoring my appearance for others, not myself." The rule of thumb I set for myself some years ago was that what I wore/how I did my hair etc. should ALWAYS be something I liked, whether for form or function, and that if at any point I began doing things based solely on what others thought, I would need to re-orient my stylings and get back on track. So, for instance, I have on occasion worn rather tacky clothes, because they were either practical, or I got a kick out of them. The recent realization was brought on because my hair was, at least in front, really rather long and it became annoying, and I didn't like how it looked, and I realized I only had it that way because some people are prone to complain when I cut my hair. Long story (and hair) short, I got it buzzed and am now at liberty to take showers right before bed/getting in the car/whatever, because my hair dries in five minutes, and even if I sleep on it wet it's not like it can get messed up. It's practical, I like the way I look in it, and therefor it trumps the long, cute little wave hair I had before.
I also learned that apparently this haircut makes me more attractive to middle aged women. That part is a bit weird, and was not foreseen. Apparently I make a lousy Palpatine, which is honestly fine by me.
Tahitian Noni juice is many things. First off, it's flipping delicious. At least, the candy I had based on it was some of the best I've had. Of course, that was partly just the sugar talking, but the flavor was quite good. Like, really classy starbursts, the kind you would eat if you had just finished showing off your Rolls Royce Phantom II at a gathering of classy old men in tuxedos with classy women on their arms, while listening to Vivaldi and a single tasteful explosion going off in the background. Second off, until recently, it was promoted by Danny Glover. Not that it means too much to me, but it is a random fact, which this blog is kind of all about. Thirdly, it's being marketed as a wonderous fruit of magic and might, which is mainly to line their pockets and is without a single real fact to back it up. Yes, it's tasty and good for you, like most fruit. But it is not as amazing for your health as they'd love you to think. The primary people responsible for marketing are quite good at their job; when sales dipped, they refactored their pesudoscience to be fresh and just as pseudo. Now, instead of a superfruit with flavanoids, it's a medicinal fruit with Iridoids.
--Flynn (My lawyers have ordered me not to recommend doing this, as it could cause you to become dead.)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Day 13, Auktober 19th, 2010
Today I learned:
I really enjoyed the Village. It was a beautiful movie, with a score that rarely "intruded," per se, but rather supported, whispering through the background of scenes and gently tickling the edge of perception, lending an almost intangible flavor to the movie. The use of color was not only very well done, it was integral to the plot in an interesting concept I thought was quite interesting. I could wish I'd not had it spoiled before watching <_< and for it to go on a little longer (the future of the characters is left almost entirely up in the air) but I thought it was a better movie than the trailers suggested. M. Night may have gone downhill since, but at least he had an uphill to go down from...
I've had two days off since May 26th. I miss my old jobs, wherein I could take time off without it being a big deal...the flexibility to do something epically random, like head off to Chicago to go on a Godzilla styled rampage in a giant rubbery robot your friend constructed painstakingly over the last three years and now needs a copilot for. Instead, I am forced into a mold of responsibi...
Today, I learned that Mold (facial hair for food) and Mold (an annoying way of constricting freedom) are spelled exactly the same. I technically have known this for years now, but just today, while typing this entry, consciously noticed it.
--Flynn (Swan dive into a hot tub. I find there are usually antique motorcycles waiting for me.)
I really enjoyed the Village. It was a beautiful movie, with a score that rarely "intruded," per se, but rather supported, whispering through the background of scenes and gently tickling the edge of perception, lending an almost intangible flavor to the movie. The use of color was not only very well done, it was integral to the plot in an interesting concept I thought was quite interesting. I could wish I'd not had it spoiled before watching <_< and for it to go on a little longer (the future of the characters is left almost entirely up in the air) but I thought it was a better movie than the trailers suggested. M. Night may have gone downhill since, but at least he had an uphill to go down from...
I've had two days off since May 26th. I miss my old jobs, wherein I could take time off without it being a big deal...the flexibility to do something epically random, like head off to Chicago to go on a Godzilla styled rampage in a giant rubbery robot your friend constructed painstakingly over the last three years and now needs a copilot for. Instead, I am forced into a mold of responsibi...
Today, I learned that Mold (facial hair for food) and Mold (an annoying way of constricting freedom) are spelled exactly the same. I technically have known this for years now, but just today, while typing this entry, consciously noticed it.
--Flynn (Swan dive into a hot tub. I find there are usually antique motorcycles waiting for me.)
Monday, October 18, 2010
Day 12, Smocktober 18th, 2010
Today I learned:
I am still drastically unused to this "blog a day" concept, so I apologize to my adoring public for the lack of updates over the weekend. Since the concept started, and is primarily maintained, on lunchbreak at work...when I'm not working, it tends not to occur to me. But, here I am regardless, NOT making up any missed entries. So nyeah.
I feel naked without my watch. One of the few ways I was conditioned growing up was that I always knew what time it was. Whether it was a clock on the wall, the VCR, or a parent nearby I could ask, I always had an idea what time it was. When I was, I think, about nine or ten, I got my first watch and have worn one nearly every day since. There has not been more than a week since that first watch that I've been without one, because it's just become a part of me; and, I always know the time. Of course many people use their cellphone as a watch, but since I'd not bothered to get a cellphone until approximately a year ago, this was not a terribly viable option. Further, it's less convenient to fish a phone out of a pocket than to look at my wrist.
And yet, despite all this verbiage aimed at making you realize just how much I am one with my watch, I managed to leave home without it this morning. I still don't know how that happened, but the horrible realization hit as I was halfway to work without it. I was already borderline late, so I couldn't go back and get it; and so I work away, trying not to freak out about this odd feeling of being exposed, of being powerless, of being...timeless. It's horrifying, and at the same time alarming how much this has thrown off my groove.
This next segment is long and deals heavily withADnD, so if you are of the opinion that Dungeons and Dragons is the spawn of satan sent to decieve us all into destroying each other with swords and wizardry, than I'd advise not reading. If you are curious about ADnD, and the Tomb of Horrors, then read on.
The Tomb of Horrors, for those unaware, is the most legendary dungeon module ever created. It's a pamphlet containing the deadliest adventure ever played by a quivering group of players in their basement/apartment/mom's dining room. It is a dungeon so lethal that it is considered optimistic to go into it with 5 players with 4 characters ready each; a dungeon so mighty, it can break your bones with its pinky!
It has long been an ambition of mine to watch/play/run this module, just because it's a classic, and because I wondered if it could possibly live up to its reputation. I was overjoyed to realize that the Anime Club at the school I recently graduated from was going to run through it, and promptly made plans to attend. Some confusion and driving around later, I was seated at the table with a grim party of adventurers. I didnt' play initially (I had read spoilers, and enthused about them with the DM) but there were six players, each with multiple characters ready to play, each eager to see the horrors of the tomb.
Within about ten minutes, four characters had already perished, new ones risen to replace them. As the game progressed, characters died as if it were going out of style; sometimes in perfectly reasonable ways, sometimes in ways that made one go "But whyyyyyyyyy?!?!?!?!?" The players gleefully pulled out character sheet after character sheet, rejoicing every time they made a save that kept them alive for another few minutes, and high fiving each other when someone died in a flagrant way. Traps went off with frightening regularity, magical portals could lead to death doom despair, or if you were very lucky, the right way. Oddly enough, there was very little real combat. From what the DM said, there was maybe 4 combats, max, in the dungeon none of which the players ran across.
By the time I left, players had changed genders, been killed before getting to take a single action besides running across the room, and 19 had been died in total, in just about 3 hours of gaming. For reference, I only killed half that much in my 90 hours of DMing, and never in a single roll. Overall, I learned one thing: All the hype is absolutely true. For once in...well...ever.
--Flynn (Can you imagine that? No. You can't. I can't. No one can, because if they did their head would explode. And that's just unhealthy.)
I am still drastically unused to this "blog a day" concept, so I apologize to my adoring public for the lack of updates over the weekend. Since the concept started, and is primarily maintained, on lunchbreak at work...when I'm not working, it tends not to occur to me. But, here I am regardless, NOT making up any missed entries. So nyeah.
I feel naked without my watch. One of the few ways I was conditioned growing up was that I always knew what time it was. Whether it was a clock on the wall, the VCR, or a parent nearby I could ask, I always had an idea what time it was. When I was, I think, about nine or ten, I got my first watch and have worn one nearly every day since. There has not been more than a week since that first watch that I've been without one, because it's just become a part of me; and, I always know the time. Of course many people use their cellphone as a watch, but since I'd not bothered to get a cellphone until approximately a year ago, this was not a terribly viable option. Further, it's less convenient to fish a phone out of a pocket than to look at my wrist.
And yet, despite all this verbiage aimed at making you realize just how much I am one with my watch, I managed to leave home without it this morning. I still don't know how that happened, but the horrible realization hit as I was halfway to work without it. I was already borderline late, so I couldn't go back and get it; and so I work away, trying not to freak out about this odd feeling of being exposed, of being powerless, of being...timeless. It's horrifying, and at the same time alarming how much this has thrown off my groove.
This next segment is long and deals heavily withADnD, so if you are of the opinion that Dungeons and Dragons is the spawn of satan sent to decieve us all into destroying each other with swords and wizardry, than I'd advise not reading. If you are curious about ADnD, and the Tomb of Horrors, then read on.
The Tomb of Horrors, for those unaware, is the most legendary dungeon module ever created. It's a pamphlet containing the deadliest adventure ever played by a quivering group of players in their basement/apartment/mom's dining room. It is a dungeon so lethal that it is considered optimistic to go into it with 5 players with 4 characters ready each; a dungeon so mighty, it can break your bones with its pinky!
It has long been an ambition of mine to watch/play/run this module, just because it's a classic, and because I wondered if it could possibly live up to its reputation. I was overjoyed to realize that the Anime Club at the school I recently graduated from was going to run through it, and promptly made plans to attend. Some confusion and driving around later, I was seated at the table with a grim party of adventurers. I didnt' play initially (I had read spoilers, and enthused about them with the DM) but there were six players, each with multiple characters ready to play, each eager to see the horrors of the tomb.
Within about ten minutes, four characters had already perished, new ones risen to replace them. As the game progressed, characters died as if it were going out of style; sometimes in perfectly reasonable ways, sometimes in ways that made one go "But whyyyyyyyyy?!?!?!?!?" The players gleefully pulled out character sheet after character sheet, rejoicing every time they made a save that kept them alive for another few minutes, and high fiving each other when someone died in a flagrant way. Traps went off with frightening regularity, magical portals could lead to death doom despair, or if you were very lucky, the right way. Oddly enough, there was very little real combat. From what the DM said, there was maybe 4 combats, max, in the dungeon none of which the players ran across.
By the time I left, players had changed genders, been killed before getting to take a single action besides running across the room, and 19 had been died in total, in just about 3 hours of gaming. For reference, I only killed half that much in my 90 hours of DMing, and never in a single roll. Overall, I learned one thing: All the hype is absolutely true. For once in...well...ever.
--Flynn (Can you imagine that? No. You can't. I can't. No one can, because if they did their head would explode. And that's just unhealthy.)
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