Deep Thoughts... by willtruncheon
At ToV, my favorite character to play is a monk named Brother Findlay. Think a little bit Giles from Buffy, a little bit Sean Connery in The Name of the Rose, and a wee sprinkling of Gandalf, and that's what I'm aiming for. Anyways, when I venture forth as Brother Findlay, one of my duties (a pleasure, really) is teaching PC students about calligraphy, and the craft of making magical scrolls, in addition to being a sort of general sage. The three calligraphy students I have, who are all extremely talented in calligraphy as well as any number of more important things, are all blisteringly intelligent and WAYYYY better educated than I am IRL. I am essentially a college freshman blue-collar laborer pretending to teach an intellectual, artsy skill to brilliant people (one of whom is a semi-professional artist already) who are good enough roleplayers that they can play along without even smirking. Even when my lesson plans are inadvertently covered with blue ink from a broken vial mere moments before a plot.
Today in the truck, the car ahead of me (which had already been driving with an infuriating lack of caution) suddenly sped up and missed a woman in a crosswalk by about eight inches. I leaned out the window and called him a "cock-jouster", which just kinda came out of my mouth before I had time to think of it. I think it's pretty good, though. Cock-Jouster. Try saying it, and forming a mental image. It caught on among my crew immediately, which is a good sign. Yes, that's right, I'm proud of coining a vile epithet.
If Socialism defined is when the state owns the means of production... and the people who own the means of production (big businesses) own the people who control the state (through lobbyists, campaign financing, using your business connections to reach office, etc.)... then does that mean that big business IS the government, and therefore the state DOES own the means of production, and we actually live in a Socialist state already?
My customers today (a nice, wholesome couple in their late thirties with two young twin children) hired us for a pack & prep, which is when our crew comes in to box all their belongings and pad their furniture for a move to take place the next day. This is usually a fascinating character study, as I'm sure you can imagine. Well, at one point, the lady of the house saw me packing the bathroom closet upstairs, and one of the items I put in the box I was working on was a (gasp) box of tampons. She flushed bright red, snatched them out of my hand, and apologized profusely, saying "Oh my goodness, I'm so embarrassed, you shouldn't have to handle stuff like that". Now that's weird enough, being totally embarassed about your movers packing your sanitary products for you (especially when you've known for weeks when they were coming, and had ample time to set aside anything you didn't want them to handle). But what's weirder is that mere minutes before, I had packed this very nice young mom's voluminous collection of pornographic videos, literotica, lubricants, and a box containing something advertised as a "vibrating shoulder massager" that looked like an electric rolling pin in her bedroom. As well as a host of informative books with titles such as "How To Female Ejaculate" (is that even grammatically correct?), "Ten Minute Kama Sutra", and "Finger Play". All this stuff was in the master bedroom closet, which her husband had instructed me to pack with care, concerned for his silk ties. What would her reaction have been if she had come in while I was boxing her archived copies of "Penthouse: Variations"?
Are those two-piece tracksuits that were all the rage when J-Lo wore them officially passe now?
What am I to be for Halloween this year?