Brush With Greatness: Volume III

VOLUME III

I left my place of employment today at Navy Ideafaktori #17 and walked to the elevator. I was engaged in inane banter with a coworker who was also leaving. I believe we were talking about the price of tea in China, but I'll have to review my records to be sure.

Irregardlessly, we got on the elevator. As I was engaged in conversation, I paid no heed to the others who were also taking advantage of Mr. Otis' invention. The elevator reached floor "L" and everybody got out except me and two conversing gents behind me that, as I previously mentioned I was paying no heed to.

As we left floor "L," en route to my stop at "G2," I overhear one of the gentleman say "[blah-blah] [blah-blah-blah] we used to hand those out all the time when I was Governor." Governor.

Well, now I am in quite a quandry. My immediate impulse is to turn and gawk, but being that I'm the only other person in the elevator, this "Governor" would instantly know that I'm gawking at him, and I would be branded a rube and unsophisticate.

My only option at this point is to catch a fleeting glimpse when my target leaves the elevator at G1. Which I do, and catch a glimpse of former Virginia Governor Allen. Yes, that's right, I rode in an elevator with George Allen. That makes me cool, right?

Of course, on the drive home I thought of many clever things I could have said to him, "Hi Governor Macaca!" being the best one.

My impression of him: very tall man, snappy dresser.


VOLUME II

Lord Turnip and I were getting autographed copies of Blackhawk Down. As we presented our copies to Mark Bowden I asked him to write "Thanks for the advice" in my book, explaining that I could then make up any story I wanted when I told others about it. He was amused. I was cool. It erased the shame of my cowardice in VOLUME I.


VOLUME I

Ever since the end of the first Gulf War, I had vowed to Lord Turnip that, if I ever saw Wolf Blitzer in person, I would yell out "Loved you in the war!" Well, one day I finally DID see Mr. Blizter, leading a group of children across the street from me near the Capitol. I said nothing. The shame of it.

I Arrive at Wolverhampton Station and Encounter My Traveling Companions and Subsequently Order A Lemon Squash

My ride to the rail station at Wolverhampton was uneventful, though even the dreary pre-spring West Midlands drizzle had no impact on my growing excitement over the fox hunt and a chance to explore the Duke of Portland's underground library slash ballroom.

Presently, however, my coach arrived and my loyal manservant, Sebastian had several of the local urchins assist him unload my weekend traveling trunks. These of course included my 4x5x7ft large steamer dedicated to foxhunting slash explorer slash adventurer gear; my small traveling valise dedicated to non-foxhunting slash non-explorer slash non-adventurer more croquet playing clothes and my 10ft tall armoire filled with my finest evening wear. Subsequently, the hirelings completed their assigned tasks and my gear was on the train; Sebastian having paid the lot 3s/2d.

Glancing about the platform, my fellow travelers were an average sort: a squad of Girl Guides each of which bore a badge embroidered with the slogan "Nonmortouos Quaesivi" and a small Silver Moon.; three aquanauts of the Royal Undersea Service talking uneasily; a bald, Oriental Rakshasa hunter and his assistant carrying the standard crossbow and a solitary gentleman who identified himself as a "Mr. Mixo." Mr. Mixo, it should be noted bore a small medical bag which tinkled with the sound of glassware and the like.

But enough of this narrative, I climbed the step and entered the luxurious "voiture" and settled into a velvet covered, high backed chair decorated with elaborate gold trim. I gazed out of the large picture window, settled in and ordered a delicious lemon squash from the attendant. I'm sure Lady Lime Wedge would have have been delighted to accompany me for she so loves lemon squashes and all manner of drinks however after her swooning attack following our encounter with the Highwayman that the physician ordered her to one months bedrest with daily doses of laudanum to help here relax. Huzzah for modern British medicine! I'm sure she'll be fine in no time.

That said, I began to think ahead for in a mere 12 hours we would be passing within view of Mount Albert, the largest active volcano in Britain! Needless to say I was terribly excited and wondered if my companions in the first class coach (Mr Mixo, the Girl Guides (and their lovely leader) the three aquanauts (officers of course) and the Rakshasa Hunter among them) were as excited?

Finally a map of the New World we can use

I came across this map whilst at the local cartographers. It was covered in dust and hidden behind a human skin-bound version of the Necronomicon. And that was on top of a copy of the lost map to King Solomon's mines.

I think this will at long last tell us where to go on our vacation to see the American cousins this fall.

A Fine Foxhunt, Indeed

Invitation in hand, I began to concern myself with transport to the Estate of the Brigadier's cousin, the Duke of Portland. My humble estate lies just outside of Shrewsbury in the West Midlands and the Duke of Portland has taken residence in Welbeck Abbey in Nottinghampshire which is currently in the East Midlands. As is patently obvious our humble town is not served by the modern broad gauge railways although Great Western Railway has made promises only to break them time and time again!

Therefore, I shall have to make my way to the nearest station Wolverhampton via limousine and board a Pyracom class 0-6-0 broad gauge class steam locomotive. I believe the sleek and powerful Caliban is currently the top of the line locomotive servicing that particular route. No doubt I shall enjoy the fine velvet chairs in the deluxe sitting car. From Wolverhampton, I shall catch the 8:13 to Birmingham with a change of station northwards to Derby at 2 of the O'Clock Post Meridian and then Nottinghampshire that evening.

Since all should go according to plan and since the Great Western offers the utmost in comfort and security to its passengers (of my class), I shall direct my manservant, Sebastian, to pack the additional gems, precious metals and antique daggers as a necessary for a weekend outing of this sort.

Ah, I do wonder though, what his Grace, William Cavendish Scott Bentinck has in mind regarding Prince Otto. Although we all certainly shall enjoy the good sport and manly fellowship, I cannot but feel a bit uneasy - I have heard that Prince Otto has made disparaging remarks concerning our Annual Flower Show. I also understand he has hired as his manservant, a certain "wild-west gunslinger" by the name of Johnny Six-Guns.

But, tosh, I shall enjoy my eventide sherry and put my mind to rest. What could go wrong?

What Is This Craaaaap?

I've just realized that Col. Tigh is running for US President. How did THAT happen?

Rossaroni Discovers Poseidon's Temple! Claims it in Name of Britain.

Rossaroni has done it again! I've just returned from the mysterious tropical land of Or-Lan-Do and have discovered the ancient Temple of Poseidon, as seen here in these photos. This mysterious temple has a most imposing exterior, and filled this adventurer with much excitement, as well as some fear and trepidation I must add!

But, upon my brave entry into this mysterious ediface, and travelling through a circular tunnel that had swift waters coursing around it's entire circumferance (most astounding!), I was witness to a rather lame laser, fire, and water show. Rather disappointing.

The abode of The Spiderman was much more interesting.

Yours. etc.

BG Rossaroni

P.S. - I would like to offer my apologies to those in attendance (or their next of kin) at last week's Fox hunt. I was completely unaware of the severity of Prince Otto's state and, upon reflection, it was a very poor idea to arm him. And while he will be present at next week's Skeet competition, we will make every effort to keep him away from the fire arms.

18th Century Assessment Boards quite similar to those of the 21st Century

The Booz Allen Quarterly Assessment cycle is not unlike the methods of the Spanish Inquisition of 1480-1834.

Here we see the assessor in stage 1 of the cycle, auto de fe: A cripling series of drafts and re-drafts of the assessment intended to cause the author to confesss to any sin to stop the torments.

This can be seen in some detail in the attached film strip.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JLDVIViWW74