Point-Counterpoint

This is an actual e-mail conversation that happened on 21 April, 2009.

Woody: " Turnips, Admiral, I've posted another story gents."

Admiral: "Yea! All hail Woody! Death to all wyverns!"

Turnips: "I'm thinking of writing the article that blames Wyverns on the India/Pakistan split which led to millions of displaced and killed in 1947. "

A: "What are your sources? Will your article be heavily footnoted?"

T: "Yes, here is an example: Wyverns decided to split British India into a Hindu nation centered in between two primarily Muslim areas of to be known by the name given to it by Jinha and Muslim members of the Indian National Congress: Pakistan.*

* Yo Momma"

A: "It's hard to argue with you on that point. I always thought it was Basilisks that split the two countries, but perhaps I am thinking of North and South Korea."

T: "Hmm...very drakeo-determinist of you to assume that it wasn't caused by Wyvern's."

A: "You know, not all of the world's problems are caused by wyverns."

T: "See! Right there you continue your crypto-wyvernism by providing covert support for the possibility that mystical monsters other than Wyverns were the cause of great calamities of the 20th century. In so doing you undermine legitimate efforts to combat Wyverns."

A: "The whole world's black and white for you, isn't it? Your whole "you're either with me (against wyverns) or against me" attitude is very shortsighted.

Little known facts about the Basilisk:
1. Could split boulders with a single glance from their deadly eyes

2. Noxious breath would wither trees and bushes

3. Streams and rivers they drank from would be permanently poisoned

4. Odour of its sweat was foul and toxic

5. Land they passed through would become barren wasteland 6. These would counter the basilisk's lethal powers:
- The weasel [somehow immune to its death-dealing gaze]

- The rooster [the basilisk would flee at the rooster's crowing]

- The Rue plant [could withstand the basilisk's breath and was used by weasels to heal themselves if they were attacked by the basilisk]

7. All US Presidents since Harry Truman have been Basilisks

8. Would be destroyed by seeing its own reflection in a mirror"

T: "Jimmy Carter was only half Basilisk."

A: "Basiliskism is inherited through the mother, so technically, Jimmy Carter is full Basilisk"

All Ashore That's Going Ashore

The ragged remnants of Altair Flight 815 we gathered about the beach.

"I suggest we eat some of the tastier, less important passengers" declared a corpulent gentleman who tugged on his pants to keep them aloft. Curiously he wore both a belt and suspenders, neither of which seemed to be serving their purpose.

"Egad, man," the Admiral interjected, "We've only been ashore for 3 hours, surely you're not that hungry"

"Sir, I am absolutely famished, all I had before ditching we pretzel sticks" He paused, "and, they made me thirsy too" he added for good measure a bit sheepishly.

Another passenger, this one with a young lad in tow remarked that the lush greenery didn't look a bit sinister and that the propeller half-buried in the sand might make a useful tool. He'd seen as much on a popular television show.

The handsome chap, also known to his friends as Woody or Woodpecker-Smythe, to his legion of fans and adoring public, stood atop a small mound of bleached skulls to make the following announcement of duties:

"I expect this will be quite good sport until we are rescued - Lady Marzipan, why don't you go with Lady Lyme Weoghe and search out some coconuts and tropical bananas as is your wont. Turnips, why don't you get a start on the fire. I as party poet should begin a diary or poem to record or adventures. Admiral, perhaps you could mix us up a calming tonic. And, DeBock, why don't you build us a shelter, I'll need an extra wide bunk if you don't mind - and please, don't get sassy this time. I know your type."


"May a rabid wyvern use your femur as a toothpick" muttered DeBock under his breath.

Response Option Alpha Tango

A Datron model PRC-1077 radio abruptly crackled to life in a non-descript quonset hut on the West Coast of Tasmania. Silent for weeks, a message came through

The short broadcast consisted only of a mechanically repeated phrase "Execute response option Alpha-Tango - Execute response option Alpha-Tango - Execute response option Alpha-Tango." The statement was bereft of emotion or emphasis.

This broadcast was subsequently interupted by another eerily sinister voice that was, however, altogther human/humanoid. Regretably, it was broken up by a competing broadcast out of WIN-4 Wollongong.

"...Sporadic E,

"I now return you to your regulary scheduled broadcast of Australian Rules Football."

... Suspect Sprodic E"

"Today, South Fremantle versus ...."

Then all was silent.

Somewhere a plane was going down and things were about to get ugly.

AltAir Flight 815

"Man this flight to Aukland is long," thought Admiral Rossaroni, as he finished leafing through the in-flight magazine for the fourth time.

As he put down the magazine he looked around the cabin at his fellow passengers. Several rows in front of him was seated a very dapper looking gentleman who was having an argument with the stewardess over how often she was supposed to bring him a fresh gin & tonic. He was saying "every 15 minutes" while she was saying "are you barmy?" He had a kind of George Sanders look to him.

On the other side of the plane the Admiral spotted a man and his young son. The man had a bandage wrapped around his head and was helping his boy play with Legos. And by "helping," I mean he was doing most of it himself. So perhaps the boy was helping his dad play with Legos.

A few rows beyond them, the Admiral spotted a young woman who appearred to be in handcuffs. And, although she was in handcuffs, her hair was magnificently styled, as if she had trained weasels sitting atop her head. She also looked very annoyed.

Just as the Admiral was about to examine some other, ancilliary characters, the plane suddenly started shaking violently. SHAKE! SHAKE! SHAKE! SHAKE! SHAKE! Then part of the cabin ripped off and a few passengers, none of whom were important, were sucked out of the aircraft.

Fade to black.

Poetry Corner

Ode to my Giant Foam Cowboy Hat

Giant Hat
You are so Big
So Orange
So Foamy
You sit there in my closet
Mocking me
Why do you torment me so

Do you not understand the joy I feel when I wear you
Those that stare at me can sense my power
BUT THEY CANNOT HAVE MY HAT
For it is not mine to give

'Ello luv, 'ow's the leg?

Rossaroni was tired. His hand hurt and he needed a break. He stretched his arms over his head and looked around the room. The furnishings weren't exactly what the Admiral would call first rate, with a simple bed, a few chairs, and the writing desk he was sitting at, but he needed a room in town, and the Hydra's Lair was as good as any other place. It would have taken several hours each way to make the round trip to the Keepe and back. And the Planetary Sovereign was in the yard getting an incredibly expensive refit-slash-upgrade. Plus, Schlamazel the Butcher owed him for all the extra sacking he did on the way to Toronaga's. And back. And a little more a few weeks later.

The Admiral was in town at the behest of the Crown to pen a treaty with some filthy barbarian principality that the governement wanted to exploit and usurp. He was just getting to the good bit, where the government reserved the right to come to the aid of endangered commercial interests in the principality. He wondered just how long it would take after ratification of the treaty before an "incident" occured, or was manufactured. But the wording had to be just right, and he was a bit fagged right now, and needed some refreshment.

He headed out of his room and down the stairs into the tavern. As he walked gingerly down the stairs, gingerly because his trick knee was acting up again, he noticed that, as there were no ships in port right now, it was filled with only the regualrs, and therefore not very rowdy.

"'Ello luv, 'ow's the leg?" purred Edith the barmaid ("Purred?!" Belay that! I mean cackled, for she was far from comely.)

The Admiral sat at the bar. "It's acting up a bit today, Edith. A pint of bitter, please. And some Edam"

"Coming right up, your grace," she said as she finished cleaning the glass in her hand (and by cleaning, I mean she was working out a piece of grime by spitting on it). "You know, you ought to get that gammy leg looked at, before you end up wiv' one of them peg legs. Ha, ha. A proper pirate you'd be then, wouldn't you?"

Hmm, that hit a little too close to home.

"You know, some doctoring is just what I had in mind. As a matter of fact, that's why I stopped by Lady Marzipan's estate today. You see, I am well aware of the appalling state of medical care and technology in this day and age, and have no desire to have some drunken lout who calls himself a surgeon, but is actually no better than some ancient barber, hack away at my body parts. So I've hatched a plan to travel to the future to get better medical care."

Edith put the brew in front of the Admiral. "Oh, that's a good 'un, Mr. Admiral. Hoo, hoo, you can sure spin a tale, says I."

Rossaroni continued, "So I get to Marzipan's place and get straight to the point, for she doesn't put up with dilly-dallying. I asked if I could borrow her Q Device and go to the future to get my leg looked at. So, long story short, she agrees (after some haggling and certain concessions on my part) and says if I come back tomorrow, she will send me to the 21st century to a first rate sawbones."

Edith opened her mouth as if trying to form some coherent statement, as unlikely as a coherent statement from her might be.

"I know what you're thinking," the Admiral said, "why the 21st century? Why not the 22nd century, or the 30th, or 10,000th? Well, Marzipan got quite serious at this point, looked me straight in the eyes with that deadly intensity that only she can muster, and said 'If you want to use the Q Device you will never ask me about the 22nd century again. Never.' And if you saw the way she was looking at me, you'd have agreed that my knee's health, and probably that of the rest of me, depended on keeping mum about that particular subject."

" 'Ave you been nippin' at the ale all evening, your grace? Because that is a bunch of nonsensical blathering, as far as I can tell," replied Edith

"Perhaps, perhaps," said Rossaroni, not really having the energy to explain Q Device theory to a backwater tavern barkeep. "But, thanks for the pint, Edith. It was just the pick me up I needed. I'll now get back to figuring out how enslaving some wogs can increase the share price for John Company by half a pence. Cheerio!"

Cheese?

Edam.

creamy, delicious, slightly buttery flavor.

Edam cheese has a very mild taste, slightly salty or nutty and almost no smell when compared to other cheeses. It also has a significantly lower fat content than many other traditional cheeses being approximately 28 percent with an average protein content of 25 percent. Modern Edam is quite soft compared to other cheeses, such as Cheddar, due to its low fat content.

In a word...superb