09 March 2000

I must be feeling better because I want to post a Dick Story or something. I know what it is, I'm alone again (Kelly went back to New Jersey), ...no plants, no pets, no people ;) I have also been playing that silly little game called SiN in DM and CTF. That always makes me feel better!

There's a WoS Quad Damage Tournament this weekend with some cool prizes. Please join in and play ;) If you're not into the competition thing, I have gracefully volunteered myself in a few special sets of deathmatch called "Kick The Levelord's Ass" this weekend. Please read the details on www.ritualistic.com ...if you play, remember I'm old, slow, and a very poor aim ;) You'll probably be seeing a few other Tribesmen and 2015ers playing, too!

I privately and politely asked those fuckfaces at Old Man Murray (www.oldmanmurray.com) to settle our differences like men, but they haven't answered the challenge. Maybe a public taunting like this will force their hand and they can don those cute little pink panties of theirs and come try to kick my ass, too.
 

18 March 2000

Well, there is good news, though. It seems those bastards at Old Man Murray have the balls to actually show-up at E3 this year. Make sure you visit their page alot until then because after May, they won't be around either. Me and some of the boys are organizing a small lawnbag party (similar to a blanket party, but with Coke bottles instead of soap-in-a-sock) for Erik and so-called Chet. "Murray Booooys.... ...come out and playayyyyyyy!" [queue sound: two Coke bottles being rattled together on the end of my index and middle finger]. You think Jason looks buff? ...I've been working out, too, shitheads! ...and Tom is taking Karate lessons, and Berenger has been picking his nose! You are in TROUBLE!
 

20 March 2000

Charlie's death made me feel like a three-legged dog, family-wise, ...fully functional, but with a noticeable limp. I thought I understood what death meant. He was, however, 5 years younger than me and we never really got closer than sibling rivalry until the last year of his life and my last year in the Navy. However, Dad's death has really knocked me for a loop! I remember Joe Selinski would wear his then-recently-deceased Dad's wedding ring around the office. I remember thinking "Jees, he's dead and that is indeed a big bummer, ...but wearing his wedding ring?" ...now I know, Joe ;)

That's not why I'm writing all this. It's those crazy dreams in which Dad comes back and we are both fully aware that he is dead and not supposed to be here. The conversations like "Dad! ...you're dead! ...what are you doing here?" ..."It's the only way we can see each other, Richard.". Who's running this show, anyways? I am aware he's dead, I am aware of how preposterous it is that he is there, and he even answers me with a response?

If I believed in a spiritual world or anything supernatural, I would figure these are in fact visitations within some other realm. I am a devote atheist, though, and can only figure all this is coming from inside my very own little head. What's that all about? Who is running this projector, and who wrote this script? It's like there are little gremlins inside sometimes, and it's very eerie. I know that what I refer to as "me" is actually a conglomerate of seperate processes and software packages, but I like to think that the "we" is in full internal contact and aware of each other, ...obviously not.

I have definitely noticed that 5 Stages Death and Dying thing (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance: Kubler-Ross), and that's pretty weird, too. Yet another someone-else-is-driving kind of thing in which panic or stress or whatever causes the brain to go into some sort of pre-planned auto-pilot or something. There was a very noticable filter turned ON during the first few months that simply would NOT accept that dad was gone, ...gone forever! It's like arriving at an accident and not seeing all the blood and gore but instead going into action mode doing the CPR and 911ing, ...wait! ...that's backwards ;) Anyways, I'm bouncing back and forth between anger and depression right now (wondering what the fuck bartering is all about) and fully aware that "I" have very little control over what happens. Weird!
 

Do I feel like a cry-baby, whining, little shmuck, or what. I didn't mean to sound so down in that last entry about Dad. I am doing great and haven't fealt better in years. I only meant to comment that the brain, *my* brain at least, ...okay, CliffyB's brain too, ...is a weird, weird piece of science. Dreaming about a dead person and acknowledging that the person is dead, yet the dream continues on like that's cool and all. I feel like I'm in a movie theatre and haven't the slightest idea of who is up in the projection room ;) I have gotten dozens of emails related stories of true horror and loose, ...suicides, murders, prolonged deaths, etc.

How about a story Dick told me that I've neglected to share? As with all Dick Stories, this is purely for entertainment value ;) This one happened to him about 5 years ago when he left his home in New England (bloody Yanker) to pursue his dream job in a country far, far away... ...Texas. It was a three-day drive and he decided to spend the first night at an old high school friend's house in Virginia. Dick, being an artist, brought some Californian Salad and Peruvian Marching Powder with him, ...you know, ...for professional inspiration, ...and knew he couldn't find any in that strange land to which he was heading. While at his friend's house, he pondered about driving through certain southern states, with New England plates on his van, carrying these bags o' inspiration.

Not to fear, Dick thought, he'll just have the friend next-day FedTrex the Salad, PMP, and associated periphenalia to him and save all the worrying. Well, Dick got to his new home, and dream job, two days later and anxiously waited for the package. A day passed, two days, three days, ...no package. He called the friend and got the tracking number for the package and called the carrier. The package had in fact been delivered and signed for, ...signed for? ...not by Dick!

It turned out that Dick has a very popular name, Dick Longe, and the package was delivered to a lawyer with the very same moniker. Dick, still not really worried, drove to the lawyer's office only to find that the lawyer had indeed received the package, opened it, and promptly turned it over to the authorities. Now Dick was worried ;) The lawyer's secretary told Dick of the authorities and as she turned to fetch the lawyer, Dick quickly fled. There wasn't much Dick could do other than wait. Finally at his dream job and... ...POOF!

That very night, as it happened, three police cars sirened their way into Dick's apartment complex and stopped right at Dick's front window. Talk about shit in your drawers. It turned out that there was a domestic squabble right across the parking lot. To this day, Dick wonders what Force spared him, but then again, he is Dick.
 

28 March 2000

It's like the excitement that fills the stenchful air of the New Haven Collisium just before the WWF readies to rumble. The "Showdown at E3 2000" is getting ugly. This is the latest email I got from Chet the Pinkish -

Subject: Now, now I am ready to kill you...
Date: Fri, 24 Mar 2000 10:11:06 -0500
From: chet@murrayandsons.com
Reply-To: chet@oldmanmurray.com
Organization: Murray & Sons
To: Levelord <levelord@ritual.com>

A mushroom interview? I think you found the one thing that would
make us take the fight serious. I plan on mounting and hanging in
our office, the fistfull of hair that I am going to rip from your head. I
fight catfight style.

Chet

...and in this corner, we have Steven the Lynch Mob -

Subject: easy questions
Date: Sat, 18 Mar 2000 10:11:40 -0900
From: "Steven Lynch" <steveo@alaska.net>
To: <levelord@ritual.com>

P.S. Being as new as I am to the whole web dealie, I have every intention of
making it to E3 this year ( my host is hooking up the E3 press kit for me. .
. ) and even if you don't do an interview, heh. . I'll gladly stomp the
little girls from Old Man Murray for/with ya

http://hypothermia.evilavatar.com/me.htm

...we're taking bets after the odds have been finalized. The bookies are not sure yet which side Jason "Go ahead!" hall is taking in this event.

FAKK! ...I have some funny FAKK-related things. I was tooling around the net yesterday looking for cool quotes related to our beloved FAKK. I found two things worth a laugh, ...#1 There's evidently a Polish Federation of Academic Canoe Clubs (Federacja Akademickich Klubow Kajakowych, aka FAKK;).

http://www.iem.pw.edu.pl/FAKK/fakk.html

...and even better, B.) There's a cool, cool coincidence with our Norwegian kin to the north. I found this page:

http://www.angelfire.com/co/rwa/fakk.html

...and sent the lyrics to a Norwegian gaming comrad Sverre Kvernmo(working on the KISS game) who did some translating for me. Here's that email -

Subject: Only if you have time...
Date: Mon, 27 Mar 2000 21:16:36 -0600
From: Sverre Kvernmo <sverre@thirdlaw.com>
To: 'Levelord' <levelord@ritual.com>

Wasup Milord! ;)

"Fakk" is a verb and approximately means "catch!", "seize", or "capture"
usually about apprehending someone who's on the run. You'd use it to say
stuff like "catch the thief", but never "catch the buss" or anything
like that. Dorky cops might say it to each other if they're bragging
about how many bad-guys they've "fakket". ;) Anyways, if I was better at
norwegian grammar I'd be able to tell it to you better...

The song is typical norwegian drinking and brawling music ("roelpe-rock"
is the term). "Thursday night, went to the bar, got drunk on someone
else's bill, etc." There's been many an awesome drunk poet come out of
Norway, but the guys behind these lyrics are fairly average.

Fakk, fakke, fakker, fakket!
Sverre
 

29 March 2000