A fun music video done in apparent tribute to the character Tony Stark from the Iron Man movies.
I could pick apart this little film a bit but it captures the tone of a post-zombie world so well that I’m not going to bother. Just watch it and see.
Weird Word: Sheaf
Sheaf
Noun
- A quantity of the stalks and ears of wheat, rye, or other grain, bound together; a bundle of grain or straw.
- Any collection of things bound together; a bundle.
- A bundle of arrows sufficient to fill a quiver, or the allowance of each archer.
Verb
- To gather and bind into a sheaf; to make into sheaves; as, to sheaf wheat.
- To collect and bind cut grain, or the like; to make sheaves.
Used in a sentence:
- The last arrow propelled itself forward with the aid of the bow string striking the remaining enemy solider square in the face, making Jeff the only archer to have gone through more than four sheaves of arrows over the course of the entire battle.
Source: Wiktionary
Commentary:
I’ve mostly heard the word sheaf used as the second noun definition. I was surprised to learn that it was an archery term. Liking archery, I was happy to use it in a sentence.
Far, far too much stock is placed “common sense” and “folk wisdom.” We perpetuate the pleasant yet disastrous LIE that “simple truths” that any random dolt can easily understand are innately superior to academic, scientific or merely “complex” solutions that require effort and study to arrive at: The hard, unpleasant fact of the matter is that most of the time the “average joe” and his simple, common-sense answer - however likable and approachable both may be - are going to be wrong; while the “cold” or “detached” intellectual is usually going to be right. Because the world is not simple and grows less so every day.
Folks, when I spout-off about “Thinkers vs. Believers” (and I’m well aware that many take reasonable exception to the terminology which is, ironically, perhaps a bit too simplified for it’s own good) this is what I’m talking about. It’s this horrible, destructive notion of acknowledging the world as a complex place requiring thoughtful, nuanced solutions that - yes! - are indeed better suited to those of an intellectual persuasion is somehow tantamount to weakness. The idea that simplistic, “right or wrong, black or white” decision making - a fundamentally ignorant approach ill-suited to modern life that too many mistake as some kind of anachronistic masculine virtue - carries some kind of moral righteousness.
“
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Solidarity by MovieBob [MovieBob.Blogspot.com] Interested in the context? Political commentator Chris Hayes elected to talk about how terms like “hero” and “valor” are blanketly-applied to military service in and of itself in the context of the Memorial Day holiday and the very reflexiveness of that respect makes it difficult to approach questions regarding when/why to use military force with the kind of thoughtful skepticism such grave matters deserve. And of course he was required to issue an apology for the possible offence his opinion caused and was vilified by other political commentatotrs. The above is two paragraphs of an article discussing what is ultimately a call for people to think. To use reason and rationality to discover truths about ourselves, each other, and the world around us. |
Free Write #27: That Goes on Your Tab
That Goes on Your Tab
By Nojh Livic
The beams of light swirled around the gnome’s hands as he manipulated the elemental forces. With his own mind he gathered these forces and separate out the particular forces he needed. It was difficult work to do, surrounded by the chaos of battle, but he was Quin, sorcerer premier. He and his companions had traveled far to find the source of necromantic magic making the dead rise to terrorize towns. They had tracked it to a dungeon in the nearby mountains where they now faced off against a necromancer of significant power.
Not as powerful as Quin of course. He was about to prove this by clearing the room of the necromancer’s minions. With the threads of air and lightning full grasped, he poured all his power into the spell until it was ready to burst forth from him. His hands spread wide and he pointed at the largest group of skeletons, aiming where the forces of magic and nature would strike.
Like usual, most of his group had run forward to engage the enemy. This often put a kink in Quin’s plans. While he was a master of the arcane elemental forces the elemental forces of the arcane often took exception to being mastered. They could be harnessed and directed but not targeted. He knew quiet a few useful spells, such as lightning bolt, that let him engage a single enemy from afar without endangering his companions but none of them had the kind of power that was needed to stop the skeletons in their tracks.
A large cloud formed above the group of skeletons despite the ground being underground. The skeletons were too busy to notice as a human stood in their midst waving a medallion. The human wore chain mail but carried no other weapons save for the metal emblem. He seemed to be faring well, keeping the skeletons a bay, despite of his lack of weaponry. However as the storm cloud began to appear, he faltered, then looked threw a glance over his shoulder at Quinn. It was not a friendly look.
Everybody in Quin’s party had experience attempting to dodge lightning if mostly because of his own tactical decisions. Plus Quinn saw the necromancer was readying yet another wave of servants to rush them, making clearing the entire room of skeletons worth more than the bruises and burns his companion would suffer should he take a glancing blow from a lightning bolt. Quin gave his cleric companion a confidant smile and let his hands fall, summoning the lightning.
—-
The gnome was giving Ellard that smug little smile of his. Ellard looked up at the sky. He understood the tactical advantage of the sorcerer’s lightning storm but he had to wonder if the gnome was out to get him. The fire storm the day before and another lightning storm two weeks ago had been advantageous too. Advantageously right above him. He braced himself while trying to keep light on his feet. The storm would strike at everything but it only struck once. He just needed to dodge at the right moment.
He felt more than watched the lightning strike, missing the skeleton in front of him by inches. Two more claps of thunder and he whirled around to see they had left scorch marks on the stone floor but nothing on bone. Again, the storm struck but failed to connect to the undead foes around him. Then he felt the tingling on the hair of his arms and knew the next strike was for him. He leapt back instinctively.
Ellard’s instincts were wrong.
It took willpower he barely knew he had to stay conscious after he recovered from the pain. There was ringing in his ears and he found he was on his knees. He still held his divine focus but his bare hand was bleeding where he had gripped it too tightly. He lifted his head and counted. Three, four, six skeletons, wielding various rusted and dented weapons, still surrounded him. None of them had been struck.
He groaned and pushed himself to his feet. This was going to be a long battle.
—-
“Well now. I think that one was worth a ballad or two, don’t you?” Quin said to the company’s bard. All five of them were burned, bruised, and a little bloodied. The gnome had doubled up with the elf musician on the horses the group was riding back to town. The necromancer was now vanquished and they had a not small amount of loot.
Ellard too was doubled up on a horse with the group’s warrior as his arm remained in a patchwork sling. The cleric had used the last of his divine magic healing the warrior and bard’s wounds that Quin and himself had gone without. The cleric gave a soft chuckle and leaned around to speak. “Sure. As long as you don’t sing it!”
This garnered a half-hearted chuckle from their other companions. Quin scowled and looked away from the others. He had once had to do a street performance with the bard in order to go undercover against a thieves guild. He had tried singing for a crowd of little kids, only to scare them away with his voice. It had ultimately gotten them the location of the guild but only because it had blown their cover, drawing guild agents down upon them, which they later interrogated. Ellard had never really let him live it down.
Quin stewed in the saddle as the conversation shifted to discussing how to divvy up loot and where to get the obviously magical gear appraised and identified. It was a long journey back to town.
—-
No less than seven empty mugs of ale sat between the cleric and the sorcerer of which only one or two had been consumed by their other companions. The bard, warrior, and ranger had already retired to the inn’s common sleeping area, leaving Ellard and Quin to their drinking contest in the attached tavern.
“That it? That’s all you got?” the gnome goaded as the cleric chugged another mug of beer before dropping it to the table loudly. He looked like he was about to puke. Fartha, the waitress already had two more mugs on a tray by the time Quin turned around. She levitated the tray across the tavern to the pair’s table. Ellard clapped again, mostly managing to slap his hands together, while Quin tried not to look too impressed. She had stopped physically serving them after the third round, when hands had started roam further from the mugs than she had desired.
“Come on then. Beat that!” Ellard shouted at the gnome as if he wasn’t less than two feet away, once he had his stomach under control. Quin eloquently replied by blowing a raspberry before taking up his mug. He was half way through chugging the mug when the human had stood up to watch, wobbling on his feet as he did. Ellard was saying something but the gnome was too focused on not drowning. Quin was just a few more gulps away from finishing the beer when the human suddenly fell over the table, knocking himself into the gnome, sending them both sprawling to the floor. The beer mug flew from his grasp and shattered on the floor with a sickening crack, followed by the boisterous pair.
“You did that on purpose!” Quin accused, squirming to get out from under the heavy human.
“Did not,” Ellard slurred, pushing himself up, only to slip a puddle of beer. “You just wouldn’t stop swaying!”
“I wasn’t swaying!” Quin said, managing to sit up. He jabbed his finger at Ellard who once again lost his balance.
“Ow. Hey! Yeah you did!” Ellard pushed at the little gnome, who only just managed to keep his balance. Ellard seemed to notice the piece of beer mug and then grinned widely. “Ha. You didn’t finish it. I win!”
“You do not!” Quin yelled, getting to his feet.
“Do to!” Ellard said, managing to sit up, laughing.
“That’s it! I’m going to kill you!” Quin said, balling his fists.
“Oh, like you try earlier you two-bit magician?” Ellard yelled, also making fists even though he remained sitting. At that prompting, Quin launched himself at the human with a slurred battle cry.
Despite being drunk, both adventurers were still excellent fighters. Ellard, however, was bigger and more experienced in melee combat than the small sorcerer. This let him deflect the first of the small fists. However his return jabs were not connecting, mostly because he kept aiming at the air to the left of the gnome.
By now their companions had awoken and were sleepily holding weapons, looking around for the fight. Upon finding that it was their friends, not a random bunch of orks, fighting they were somewhat at a loss for what to do. However before any of them could do anything, two stools by the bar danced into the air before flinging themselves straight at the drunks. The stools struck both men directly in the head while they were in mid punch, knocking them out cold. They slumped forward against each other, then rolled onto the beer soaked wooden floor.
The waitress dusted her hands from across the room then glared at the drunk men’s companion. “I’m not cleaning that up,” Fartha declared, dropping her apron on the bar. “And that is going on all your tabs.” A confused trio watched the waitress stomp up the stairs.
Charlie Stross, an author of science fiction among other things, wrote an article in response to an SF Signal discussion of the question:
“Are SF writers “slacking off” or is science fiction still the genre of “big ideas”? If so, what authors are supplying these ideas for the next generation of scientists and engineers?”
And so he wrote this article: SF, big ideas, ideology: what is to be done? by By Charlie Stross
He discusses the history of science fiction as well as a few other topics. Let me quote one paragraph:
The second assumption is that science fiction has primarily been a genre of big ideas. I’m not at all sure that this is the case. Certainly fiction with big ideas has found a home within SF, but that’s not the same thing at all! For almost all of its history, most SF has been pulp adventure fiction, conceived and written as escapism — lest we forget, Damon Knight’s original characterisation of space opera as horse opera (the Western) with blasters instead of six-guns and space ships instead of horses still holds water. The big ideas are, if anything, secondary, not to mention exhibiting a tendency to date badly and carry sinister ideological overtones (as William Gibson so brilliantly skewered in his short story “The Gernsback Continuum”).
The entire article is well worth reading.
Those of you already snickering at the title should probably just click here right now.
Mira Grant is the author of the Newsflesh triology, of which the third and final chapter just hit bookshelves not a few days ago. Mira Grant also happens to be the well-known pen name of Seanan McGuire. Seanan McGuire is the author of several urban fantasy series including October Daye and Incryptid.
And in this article, Seanan McGuire interviews Mira Grant. Enjoy!
Weird Word: Burgeon
Burgeon
Verb
- To grow or expand.
- To swell to the point of bursting.
Used in a sentence:
- The balloon began to slowly burgeon as they filled it the warm hair they would need lift off up into the stars.
Source: Wiktionary
Commentary:
Not so weird of a word for those of you who read more historical fiction. I think I’ve heard the term “burgeoned into a tall young man” a few too many times to make this word that weird. Little interesting fact, prior to meaning grow or expand, it used to be a noun that referred to the bud or sprout of a plant. That meaning is considered obsolete however.
