CGHS Library

I am Horde

While racking newspapers in the library, the spinster's grunt work, the thought occurred to me that I need to have a new t-shirt made.  On the front it will say "My Blood for the Warchief" and on the back "I Am Horde".  This is of course in reference to my fictionalized life in World of Warcraft.  As I state this out loud to the House, the result is most disquieting.  A tidal wave of raucous laughter spews forth from between her unenlightened lips.  Did she not understand that I am an instrument of The Warchief's fury? Obviously she doesn't understand the pride that comes along with being part of something larger than yourself.  

I follow this up by telling her about the new sword that I got the night before, and she seems to appreciate this a bit more, but who doesn't like swords?  I try to tell her how cool I would be if I did indeed have this t-shirt made, and despite the crippling nerdiness that comes along with such attire, the self-satisfaction and pride would be well worth it.  The House then made a comment about me only being cool in a world consisting of nothing but adolescent males, but I know that even most adolescent males would think my shirt was stupid.  I decide, though, that a world of pre-pubescent boys would be eating out of my hand with such a shirt; that it would be such a talisman of power that I would be like a god-king, ruling over my hip-challenged people, and raising the next generation of sword-loving gamers.  After coming out of the trance I seem to have worked myself into, I decide to have the shirt made after all. Damn the consequences.

-scott

Wrath of the Lich King

At midnight, early Thursday morning, 12:01 am, Blizzard Entertainment's newest expansion for their epidemic of a game, World of Warcraft officially began sales.  There were people lined up around the block to buy their copy of Wrath, as it is affectionately referred to by World of Warcraft players. At 12:15, after my five traveling companions and I had all received our copies,  we were on our way home to install and enjoy our new glorious acquisition.  My eyes were glued to my screen while I stared at a blue bar slowly growing across my screen.  Ten percent, fifteen percent, TWENTY FIVE PERCENT.  The anticipation was unbearable.  I needed to be in the game now....I didn't know what to do. I began to panic, and then DONE.  I logged onto my orc and rode the zeppelin to the frozen waste of Northrend, the newest land of adventure in the world of warcraft.  It was like Martin Luther King and JFK were marching through the streets handing money out to everyone they saw.  There was no more hunger, no war, no poverty or disease! This is the promised land, I thought; this is what mankind has been striving for, for thousands of years.  We finally made it.  This is the pinnacle of evolutionary advancement. 

 

Then I logged off and went to bed because I had stuff to do in the morning, and it was late.

 

-scott

Tuesday

So I'm discussing days of the week with everyone's favorite spinster librarian, when a torrent of words flies from my maw.  I began to foam at the mouth as I described how Tuesday is without a doubt the most unsatisfying day of the week.  I worked myself into a fervor trying to express my malcontent with this melancholy excuse for a period of time.  You see, Monday frames the weekend, it's a day where you can slide back into the week and re-adjust to real life.  Wednesday is hump day, the middle of the week. Simply surviving through Wednesday gives me a sense of satisfaction, making it better than the cursed Tuesday.  Thursday is the day before Friday. Enough said.  If you need me to explain what's good about Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, you aren't awake.  I've had five hours of sleep two nights in a row so cry, cry, cry. 

In conclusion, I'm a rabid Tuesday hater.

-scott

The Mountain Goats

Several years ago while listening to (surprisingly enough) Pandora,I heard a song called "Going to Georgia".  This was my first taste of The Mountain Goats, who are now one of my favorite artists.  I'd like to add that any live version of "Going to Georgia" you may look up (ya right) probably won't have this effect on you.  The live versions of the song don't hold the same magic that the original album cut from Zopilote Machine held with an iron fist.  The fact is that their lead singer, John Darnielle's voice is somewhat an acquired taste.      

Recently I traveled to far off Omaha to attend a show for this very band, at a bar/concert hall called The Slowdown.  This was my second Mountain Goats concert and while I found it immensely enjoyable, it didn't quite meet the expectations I had after seeing them at The Jackpot in Lawrence, KS.  The reason?  John indulged himself by playing several new songs, covers, and songs I just wasn't familiar with.  The Mountain Goats played a two hour set that extended beyond their original set list, partially because they couldn't allow themselves to be outshone by the opening band Khaki King, who played an hour and a half.  While I felt that Khaki King was a talented band, I wasn't happy to stand for an hour and a half waiting to hear the act I came to hear.  Learn your place Khaki King, the opening band should NOT play an hour and a half set.

  When Johnny D finally made it on stage, he opened his show with a classic Mountain Goats tune called "Have to Explode", about the growing tension between a drug addicted couple living above their means in a Ritz Carlton hotel located in Kingston, Jamaica.  He followed this track with the very song I had hoped to hear, called "Quito".  If you're interested, check this song out sometime, but good luck finding a decent version without buying the readily available album We Shall All Be Healed.  He followed this with another great song, "Palmcorder Yanja", a song once again about drug addicts, and the tension building between them living together in a house in god knows where.  After this John played no more songs that I would have requested, and had the lead singer/guitarist from Khaki King come out to play several songs with him.  I couldn't help but think "you've already been on the stage too long, get off and let Johnny D have his rightful place as the center of my attention."  Once the original set-list was over, the band started playing from the cuff, even taking requests from the crowd, and discussing what to play next between themselves. I have much to say about the Mountain Goats, but won't continue here.  Check them out, or don't.

-sh

Tales of the Vampires

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Vampire mania has been my favorite subject for writing this year.  Instead of skewering the vamped reality of a bloodsuckers pictureless paper world, I’m going to give the vampires some credit.

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Anything written, produced, directed, or endorsed by Joss Whedon is going to be more than good.  Tales of the Vampires is no exception.  In fact, it exceeded my expectations.  Spanning several centuries and dozens of story lines, this comic reveals unknown facets of Joss’s world and includes comics taking place in 19th century London, a 1940’s gambling hall, and stories from the modern day.  With new characters and some old favorites, Joss’s team of writers weave an exceptional thread of fantastical vampire mythos.  These comics will be food for any Whedonite and only add more to the already vast world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

-sh

Blue Bloods?

BLUE BLOODS is a book series about people and their beautiful haunting dances with the entities of the night.  Schuyler Van Alen is a (Go Figure) startlingly beautiful, fair skinned, dark haired, fifteen year old girl who dresses like she’s from the 1800’s:  the perfect jail-bait for a 250 year old pervert vampire.  Except maybe SHE is the vampire.  Her best friend, “Oliver liked to play the part of disaffected youth, but he liked shopping in SoHo even more.”  That pretty much covers him.  And, the perfect Jack Force is showing an unexpected interest in her.

I hate romances in books like this.  If you want a romance, read JANE EYRE.

-Scott

Should you read The Breakup Bible?

    My first glimpse of The Breakup Bible was stolen one morning in my local library.  After picking up an old newspaper I was suddenly blinded by something extremely pink.  The Breakup Bible, on top of being pink, is also book shaped.   

When I see a book with a title such as this I make a number of inferences.   First, that this is most definitely a girl book.  I read the back to see if this inference can be validated.  Ouch, the back more than validates my first inference.  In fact, it validates every inference I had made and allows me to make several new and improved inferences such as “I was right”.    

But that’s me, and I’m not you.  If you’re a girl, or just girly, you will probably enjoy this book as much as you enjoy walking your kittens on the beach where you meet fantastic looking men with waxed chests.  You may enjoy this book as much as you enjoy giggling while painting your girlfriends' toenails before engaging in a sexy pillowfight.    

Within two pages of the book's beginning I came across a particularly revealing sentence.  “Because if anything can make death feel like a truly desirable alternative, it’s getting dumped.”  After that sentence I found it all but impossible to hold back the tears.  I felt this girl’s pain, she would never ride in Max’s car again….she would never kiss him again! Oh the humanity.   

If you want to read a book about a sad teenage girl who can’t get over her boyfriend whose life consists of beer drinking and newspaper writing (and what else is there really?) then read this extraordinary crygasm of a tale, and weep my friends, weep.

-Scott

The Twain Reader

I'm working the closing shift at Subway and an elderly man i recognize to be rather entertaining enters the deserted store.  I greet the man and take his order, and soon after realize that he is wearing a powder blue shirt bearing only the words 'Mark Twain - CAVE!".  Beside the fact that I found this quite odd, I saw an opportunity for conversation with this outspoken old man.  

"Is that the cave from Huck Finn?" I ask the man.

  

"YEAHTHATSTHECAVEFROMHUCK!" he responds with some vigor.  "That's cool" I say, "I'm a Mark Twain fan myself."  

"OHYEAH!" The elderly man responds.  "MARKTWAIN'SGREAT. 'MEMBERWHENHESAID "IFWEWENTINTOCONGRESSANDSAIDLETTHEREBELIGHT, WE'DSTILLBEINTHEDARK!" The old man roared with laughter at his recollection of the more or less accurate quote.

"So what's your favorite book?" I ask in response, as I place the man's Philly Cheesesteak in a plastic to-go bag.

 

"TWAINBOOK?" he inquired of me, while seeming to ponder this question.

"Yeah, what's your favorite Twain Novel?" I ask expecting to hear reference to one of the more obscure pieces of literature by the famous writer, or perhaps the classic Huckleberry Finn, considered to be his masterpiece.  I expect to hear these things because it seems obvious to me that someone who has visited the cave from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, AND Huck Finn, is an authority on all things Twain. 

 

"WELL, NEVERREALLYBEENMUCHOFAREADER, BUTISUREDOLIKEMARKTWAIN!"

-Scott