This is Vanyanan writing. What follows is, word for word and without edit, the speech of the Green God himself. This is incredible and unprecendented and frightening. I cannnot not share it with you. However, whatever Orëveriel might say, I am a follower of Ainofiriano, not of the Green God. So I must leave a disclaimer:
The Green God is a false god. He tells lies. Not exclusively (if only it were so simple), but all false gods do lie. Only Ainofiriano and the First Father speak unerring truth.
I will provide his speech without edit or commentary except for...
I wrote a blog entry titled Fat Nerd almost exactly 4 years ago. I was down 30 pounds from a high of about 290. I had participated in a 5k. And I had injured myself.
It was angry, profanity laden, desperate, and obsessed with identity stuff about nerds and jocks.
I’ve learned a lot since then. That was one of the false starts. I gained all that weight back not long after writing that post. And then I tried again, ignoring diet and going it alone on nothing but strength training. Until I went too heavy with bad form,...
Before the word “fundamentalism” became derogatory, it referring to a movement in American Protestantism that insisted upon a return to 5-10 ‘fundamental’ doctrines of Christianity (the number varies as the movement evolved).
The idea was that there were a small number of relatively simple to understand and essential doctrines to Christianity and if you found yourself building an elaborate theological or philosophical scheme that reached contrary conclusions, then this was a sign that you had gone wrong some where. You needed to return to the fundamentals and start over.
Hence the name “fundamentalist.” Emphasizing the role of fundamentals as an...
What is the first rule of being a Dungeon Master who wants to enjoy a long campaign of Dungeons and Dragons with his friends?
Maybe, “know the rules.”
Maybe, “it’s about the players, not about you.” Not bad candidates. But there is another:
Do not allow evil characters.
Do not allow one evil character. Do not allow an entire party of evil characters.
Why does every DM know this rule?
They stood alone in the deserts of West Texas, some of the cheapest, least useful, barren land in the continental United States not used for atomic testing.
“We’ve expanded into China. We had to jump through some legal hoops. Technically, ‘we’ are a subsidiary that we own in joint partnership with someone’s nephew’s wife’s uncle. But, they won’t block our IPs anymore.”
I am now 41. This somehow feels more significant than the 40-year threshold. I know enough to avoid the fallacy of round numbers.
It is Christmas Eve, and it’s not even noon. I’m sitting outside without a jacket, wearing a t-shirt. Welcome to Texas! We have a dozen little springs scattered throughout the winter.
We associate Christmas with snow, but isn’t spring weather a better symbol of Christmas? We were in the winter of our sins, but here today a baby is born, ‘tis Christ the Lord. And here, in mid-winter, is a little burst of Pentecost. The Holy Spirit descends, we take off all our armor against cold and sin and death, and we have coffee on the front porch.
I live at the corner of Gibson and Parrish. “Parrish,” with an extra R that makes me wonder if there is some word I don’t know or if I really live next to an elementary school and at the corner of a misspelling. I’d call it a typo, but it’s not a slip of the finger. Or, if it is, it’s a slip of some secretary’s finger, recorded in the city records and in my street name forever.
Christmas is almost here. Decorating the tree is a study in human nature. I never want to go through the trouble. But, then I begin and it proceeds happily, and it is done. We turn on the tree lights, we turn off the house lights, and then there is peace.
I began to write this in my notebook with the line “When I was young, every variation from linear progressive time was a nuisance.” And as soon as I wrote it, I realized it wasn’t true.
To be young is to live an entire life in the grooves of cyclic time. Life is summers at Benbrook Lake, Thanksgiving, Christmas. The annual trip up to Dalhart which smells of horses. Cartoons on Saturday morning. The funny pages on Sunday afternoon. The favorite TV show Friday at 4.