The Lost Goats, 7

Ten minutes of vigorous waving and shouting later...

"I suppose he is in," Zander ventured.

"You mean, not down the local nightspot taking in the floor show?" Soren surveyed the desolation pointedly. "Where would he go?"

"He might be retrieving his ship. If you recall, it randomly relocated on attempted incursion."

"Bugged out," Soren translated, and then paused. "You know, this looks an awfully old place to be Adhemar's. GIven that he only left the homeship a few weeks ago."

"The sign's him."

"The sign's practically new. This place has roots." Soren stamped his foot, and a chunk of the landscape about five yards away decorously parted from the parent mass and plummeted down to smash on the surface of the glacier.

"If we could possibly save the Lord of the Dance routine for when we are inside, Soren, thank you so much." Zander was thinking hard. "Jenny said 'Pervilious Snood is your man,' yes?"

"True, O Socrates." Soren eyed the raw edge of cliff, shivered, and stepped very carefully closer to the house and Zander.

"And we thought she meant 'Pervilious Snood is your man.' But what if she just meant 'Pervilious Snood's your man'?"

"As in, he can tell us where Adhemar is now?"

"You follow me like a bloodhound. I wish you wouldn't. However, that still doesn't solve the problem of where the frod is he." Zander began pacing. "Chap comes to visit other chap. Shortly thereafter, two more chaps come looking for first chap at second chap's house. Second chap's house dark and silent--no sign of second chap--but sign outside door discouraging visitors, obviously work of first chap. What does that say to you?"

"Two things. No, three. One, first chap has taken second chap off somewhere. Two, first chap hiding in house with second chap under restraint. Three, first chap now gone, second chap still restrained in house. Four..." Soren produced his bent piece of wire. "Bochkie-hounds or no bochkie-hounds, we're going in."

"What about the minefield and the pit-traps?" Zander sighed. "No, I know this one. 'Don't worry, my Captain, I have a foolproof system. I let you go first.'" He pushed open the gate. "Mark my page, good footsteps--I mean...well, you know."

And slowly, and with much hesitation, but no deviation or repetition, they ventured across the garden towards the front door.

That's it.

I'm too polite is the problem. I make a post which was in itself fairly inoffensive to everyone, and suddenly we're back with the problem I tried to solve by censoring myself, or taking the religio-scientific discussions elsewhere (at which several people cried out that they were going to miss them and how could I) and people are being openly insulted in my comment thread. Now what they do in response to that is up to them. I don't think anyone here is not up to defending themselves if they feel the need. But this is, as inordinate numbers of people pointed out, my journal, and I set the rules, and I do not like that kind of talk going on in here.

All right. New rules, starting now. I post what I like, when I like, in this journal or any other that I own. And everyone commenting in here will mind their fscking manners when talking to my friends or comments will be deleted, and in extreme cases, banning will occur.

To reiterate my point.

On the face of it.

To someone who is a layman in both science and religion.

Going by what I have read so far.

There seems little difference to me.

Between the more or less speculative theories which have now possibly been backed up by the apparent discovery of something which might be the Higgs boson. (I think that is a fair and balanced statement of the current situation.)

And the more rarefied excesses of religious mysticism.

This is my perception as of this moment, and is therefore not subject to debate, nor do I expect to be argued with on this point.

When I am a little bit less infuriated, I may look into the subject a little more, but so far none of the links I was given in the deleted comment thread has led to anything more solid (or what I used to think of as "scientific") or more comprehensible to me than I had seen at the start, and thus my perception has not changed.

No comment is therefore necessary. You may comment if you wish, but any attempt to restart any kind of argument will be deleted out of hand.

Normal posting will resume when I am damned well ready.

Song

Steranko Moon

(Tune gestating, style slow jazz/bluesish, scansion yes I know it's odd)

Wisps of cloud across the full moon's face
This is a haunted place
Where I sit and wait
Jim Steranko used to draw her that way
Back in the day
They used to say he was great
And I curse the fate
That brought me here to face my doom
Underneath that big Steranko moon.

Dead tree reaches out with jagged claws
Moss hangs down like gauze
Grey and green
It's like a Swamp Thing from the Golden Age
A Berni Wrightson splash page
Halloween
But I've seen the trailing clouds
Inscribe a mystic rune
Right across that big old Steranko moon.

I don't know why I came out tonight
Along that lonesome road
I only know something's just not right
And it'll never be approved
by the Comics Code...

Swamp water sluggish at my feet
Looks like a rainy street
Eisneresque
Something moving out there, barely seen,
Designed by Dave McKean
Too grotesque
And rescue will come too late, but none too soon
This was a graphic novel, man, no kids' cartoon
They'll find my lifeless body picked out from the gloom
By the shining light of that great big Steranko moon.
That great big beautiful Steranko moon.

I've been waiting for this one to do itself for many many years...