High Fantasy Epic Sword Fighter Tournament Round 2, Fight 2

Jamie Lannister vs Maximus Decimus Meridius

Unlike the last fight, two fighters of unparalleled honor, we have a different type of matchup. Prime Jamie Lannister a mix of incest, bravado, and incredible talent with a sword. Maximus is, again unparalleled honor, discipline and battle IQ. I couldn't put Maximus against Aragorn or Lan in the second round, it would've just been unfair as they are more “mythic” whereas Maximus is more peak ability in a realistic manner. I think Jamie is a more fair matchup for him. Neither one is superhuman. They are just both peak performance in their relative universe. There is no question Jamie is the better sword fighter. But Maximus is wiser, grittier and used to facing overwhelming odds.

We will say they are both in the afterlife, like the last fight. However, a capricious god has pitted them against each other. The prize- the ability to see a loved one again. Jamie will be reunited with Cersei in the afterlife. Maximus with his wife and child. So they both have a reason to hold nothing back. They will fight in the Coliseum and arm themselves however they see fit with weapons from ancient Rome or ASOIAF universe. Let's go!

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The god gave them an arena and a choice of weapons. Nothing more was necessary. Beyond one gate waited Cersei Lannister; beyond the other, the wife and son Maximus had not touched since Rome murdered them. The victor would be allowed through. The defeated man would never see his loved ones again. Neither questioned whether the god could be trusted. Hope was enough. They were given an hour and an armory containing the weapons of two worlds. Jaime chose what he knew: plate over mail, a longsword, and a dagger. Maximus considered the same equipment and rejected it. He had watched Jaime warming up. The younger man was too fast, and Maximus had no intention of fighting the finest knight he had ever seen on the knight's terms. He emerged instead in lighter armor carrying a large Roman scutum, a gladius at his hip, and a spear in his hand. Jaime saw the equipment and smiled. “Planning to fight a war by yourself?” Maximus lowered the spear. “If necessary.”

Maximus attacked first, but not with the spear. He threw it. Jaime knocked the weapon aside and Maximus charged behind it, shield already raised. Jaime understood the tactic immediately and moved laterally rather than accepting the collision. His sword cracked against the edge of the scutum, Maximus thrust around it with the gladius, and Jaime slipped backward. They separated. Maximus had learned something. So had Jaime. The Roman was not going to give him a duel. Maximus advanced behind the shield, using it to deny Jaime the lines he wanted while forcing him toward the arena wall. Jaime struck at his sword arm and found the shield there; he feinted high, cut low and opened Maximus's thigh. Maximus answered by smashing the scutum into him. Jaime staggered, caught the gladius on his sword and escaped sideways before Maximus could pin him. “You're very good,” Maximus said. Jaime grinned. “I know.”

Jaime stopped trying to get around the shield. He began destroying it. His longsword struck the same upper corner twice, then a third time, splitting wood and tearing leather from the frame. Maximus realized what he was doing and drove forward, but Jaime was ready now. He sidestepped the charge and cut Maximus across the back of the shoulder. Maximus turned. Jaime struck again, opening his sword arm. The Roman retreated for the first time. Jaime followed, suddenly vicious, and Maximus found himself facing something very different from Jon Snow. Jaime was not merely talented. He was a prodigy at the absolute height of his powers, and every exchange taught him more. Maximus blocked one cut with the shield, another with the gladius, and Jaime's third stroke knocked the damaged scutum completely from his hand. Maximus threw himself at Jaime. Jaime had expected another sword attack. Instead Maximus caught his sword arm, drove his forehead into Jaime's face and hooked a leg behind his knee. Both men crashed into the sand. Jaime's sword went loose. Maximus landed on top and punched him once, then reached for the gladius.

Jaime caught his wrist with both hands. Maximus was stronger. The blade descended slowly toward the gap beneath Jaime's gorget as the knight strained desperately against him. Maximus saw the point nearing flesh and thought of his son. Jaime thought of Cersei. His free hand found the dagger. He drove it through Maximus's forearm. Maximus grunted and released the gladius. Jaime ripped the dagger free and stabbed toward his throat, but Maximus caught his wrist and slammed it against the ground. Jaime struck him with his forehead. Maximus struck back. Jaime did it again. Blood ran from both their faces. Maximus reached for the dagger hand, and Jaime suddenly let the weapon go, caught Maximus behind the neck and rolled. They came apart in the sand and scrambled simultaneously for weapons. Maximus reached the gladius. Jaime reached his longsword. That decided it. Maximus knew it too. He attacked anyway.

The gladius thrust toward Jaime's belly. Jaime turned it aside and cut Maximus across the chest. Maximus stepped through the wound and attacked again. Jaime parried, pivoted and opened the Roman's thigh almost to the bone. Maximus dropped to one knee. Jaime's sword came toward his neck; Maximus caught it on the gladius, somehow forced himself upright and punched Jaime in the mouth. Jaime stumbled two steps. Maximus charged after him. Jaime's sword went through his heart. Maximus stopped against him. His gladius slipped from his hand. For several seconds neither man moved. Then Jaime caught him as he fell. Maximus looked toward the gate. “My family.” Jaime followed his eyes. The triumph disappeared from his face. “I know.” Maximus died in his arms.

The gate behind Jaime opened. Cersei stood beyond it, young and beautiful, exactly as he remembered her before everything had gone wrong. Jaime stared at her. Then he looked down at Maximus. Across the arena, the other gate remained closed. Jaime's expression hardened. He laid Maximus gently in the sand, picked up his sword, and looked toward the empty seats. “All right, you cunt.” Somewhere beyond the arena, the god laughed. Jaime walked toward Cersei.

Winner: Jaime Lannister

This one in particular hurt. I want Maximus to win, but realistically, Jamie is just better. I don't see a world where in his prime he loses to Maximus unless Maximus has other soldiers in his command. In a one on one fight though, there are only so many tricks he can pull.

High Fantasy Epic Sword Fighter Tournament Round 2, Fight 1

Aragorn vs al'Lan Mandragoran

It's time for the quarterfinals of the Epic Sword Fighter Tournament. To start, I am putting Aragorn up against Lan. Both are mythic level fighters, ridiculously honorable, and strike fear into evil hearts. The question is, why would these two fight? The premise I'm thinking is both have been resurrected by the gods, in peak form, long after they reigned as king and died of old age. They are brought back one last time to fight to the death. The loser gets to return to the afterlife. The winner will be dispatched to take on a great evil, an original evil. So, this is more about duty than anything else. Let's see who takes it:

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They returned to life beneath a sky neither man recognized. Aragorn opened his eyes upon a broad field of gray grass, Andúril lying beside him, and knew with the strange certainty of dreams that Arwen was gone, his children were gone, and the long years of his reign had already passed into history. Across the field another man rose, tall and hard-faced, a sword already in his hand. The gods did not appear. Their voices came instead from everywhere at once. Something ancient had awakened. One champion was required to stand against it. Both men had been judged worthy. Only one could go forward. The other would return to the peace he had already earned.

Aragorn picked up Andúril. “I would gladly yield the honor.” Lan's expression did not change. “As would I.” For the first time, Aragorn smiled. There was no humor in it. “Then I fear neither of us can.” Lan drew his sword and assumed a guard Aragorn did not recognize. “No.” Aragorn raised Andúril. Neither offered condolences or wished the other good fortune. Both understood that courtesy had its limits when the task was to kill a good man.

Aragorn attacked first. Andúril swept toward Lan's shoulder, changed direction, then thrust toward his chest. Lan turned it aside and answered so quickly that Aragorn barely caught the counter. Their blades met again, then again, and they separated. Aragorn immediately understood that the man before him was exceptional. Lan understood the same. Aragorn was stronger than his lean frame suggested, unusually quick for a man of his size, and his swordsmanship carried the accumulated experience of decades spent fighting everything from Orcs to Men to creatures born before either of them. Lan came forward with The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain. Aragorn yielded three steps beneath the assault, parried the fourth cut and answered with a stroke that opened Lan's sleeve without reaching flesh.

They fought across the field, and slowly the difference emerged. It was not courage. Neither lacked that. It was not strength, nor experience, nor even speed by any meaningful margin. It was economy. Aragorn was a magnificent swordsman who had spent a lifetime becoming many other things as well: ranger, tracker, healer, captain and king. Lan had spent that same lifetime refining the sword until killing with it had become almost a language of its own. Aragorn began an attack and found Lan already positioned to answer it. He changed angles and Lan changed with him. Andúril cut toward Lan's thigh; Lan turned it away and opened Aragorn's forearm. Aragorn thrust toward his heart; Lan slipped aside and cut him across the ribs. Neither wound was serious, but Aragorn understood what was happening. Lan was learning him faster than he was learning Lan.

Aragorn changed the fight. He drove forward bodily, caught Lan with his shoulder and sent both of them tumbling down a shallow slope. Lan lost his sword. Aragorn lost Andúril. They hit the ground together and Aragorn struck first, a fist crashing into Lan's face. Lan answered with an elbow. Aragorn seized him around the waist and drove him into the earth, but Lan hooked a leg behind his knee and reversed them. For several brutal seconds there was no swordsmanship at all. Aragorn was stronger here, and Lan knew it. When Aragorn threw him aside and scrambled for Andúril, Lan did not follow. He rolled toward his own sword. Both reached their weapons. Both turned. Lan was faster.

Aragorn caught the first strike. The second drove Andúril aside. The third cut through his mail beneath the arm. Aragorn grunted and countered immediately, Andúril opening Lan's cheek. Lan seemed not to notice. Lightning of Three Prongs became The Moon Rises Over Water, one attack flowing into another with no pause between them. Aragorn retreated, defending brilliantly, but for the first time he was doing nothing except defending. He turned one cut, avoided another, caught a third on Andúril and saw the fourth too late. Lan's sword entered beneath his ribs. Aragorn struck anyway. Andúril cut deeply into Lan's shoulder before Aragorn's strength failed. Lan withdrew his blade and stepped backward. Aragorn remained standing for a moment, Andúril still raised, then slowly lowered himself to one knee. Lan stood several paces away, bleeding heavily from the shoulder, but he did not approach until Aragorn placed Andúril upon the grass.

“So,” Aragorn said, breathing with difficulty. “It is you.” Lan answered simply, “It appears so.” Aragorn looked almost relieved. “Good.” Lan frowned. “If I must entrust this task to the man who killed me,” Aragorn said, “I am glad he is a man such as you.” Lan knelt beside him. “I am sorry.” Aragorn smiled faintly. “Do not be. I have somewhere better to go.” Lan understood that better than Aragorn could possibly have known. Aragorn looked toward the empty horizon. Whatever he saw there, Lan could not. The former king's expression softened. Then Elessar Telcontar died for the second time.

Lan remained beside him until the gods came. Andúril disappeared first. Aragorn followed, his body dissolving into pale light until nothing remained except flattened grass. Lan stood alone on the field. The wound in his shoulder closed. Blood vanished from his clothes. His sword became whole and clean in his hand. A voice spoke from beyond the world. CHAMPION. Lan looked toward the darkness gathering on the horizon. “I had hoped not.” Then he began walking.

Winner: al’Lan Mandragoran.

Starcraft Co. 8- Zerg Breeders

This is the first mission that reveals the main threat of the campaign- a renegade faction of scientists and soldiers leveraging the Zerg as a weapon. Starcraft Co. learns the scope of this conspiracy over the remainder of the campaign. I remember trying to really hold out and have as many missions as possible without base building before starting to allow you to build a base, mine resources and additional units. Most campaigns start with base building from the get go, which makes sense since it is an RTS. I wanted to try something different and have several missions were you only have a set number of units to complete them. Anyway, Zerg Breeders:

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The meeting the United Interstellar Council had requested after Cressida took place in a government facility that officially did not exist. The commander surrendered his communications equipment at the first checkpoint, passed through three separate identity screenings and was eventually escorted into a windowless conference room several levels underground. Two UIC intelligence officers were waiting. Neither offered a name. One activated the display behind them, and a map of settled Terran space appeared covered in red markers. There were far more of them than the commander expected.

The UIC had spent months investigating the unexplained Zerg incidents spreading across the sector. At first, intelligence analysts had reached many of the same conclusions StarCraft Co. had. Varga had been an irresponsible xenobiologist. The Horizons Beyond had been a monument to corporate negligence. Ardea had suffered an inexplicable wildlife incursion. Cressida had been extraordinarily unlucky. There were always people foolish enough to experiment on Zerg, and there were always isolated organisms moving beyond known hive territories. Eventually, however, the coincidences stopped looking like coincidences. Investigators began tracing shipments, financial transfers and research personnel. The same shell companies appeared repeatedly. Scientists supposedly employed by unrelated organizations had studied at the same institutions or worked together years earlier. Equipment had moved between facilities through deliberately obscured supply chains. Someone was funding Zerg research across multiple worlds.

“This is coordinated,” one intelligence officer said. “We don't know by whom. We don't know toward what end. We don't know how many facilities exist. We know the ones we've identified are violating enough interstellar biological warfare statutes to imprison everyone involved for several lifetimes.” The commander looked at the map. “Then send your military.” Neither officer answered immediately. Eventually the older one admitted what everyone doing business with the UIC already knew: the military was enormous, politically entangled, corrupt in places and catastrophically inefficient in others. Mobilizing conventional forces required orders, approvals, procurement, transportation and enough personnel knowing about an operation that secrecy became nearly impossible. Worse, the UIC no longer knew how far the conspiracy reached. A raid prepared through normal channels might warn the targets before the first ship launched.

That was why StarCraft Co. was in the room. The company was large enough to conduct serious military operations but still small enough that the commander could approve one without informing six ministries and a procurement committee. It had fought nearly every major Zerg bioform encountered in Terran space. It had demonstrated discretion aboard the Horizons Beyond, field competence on Ardea and Cressida, and the ability to conduct clandestine operations during the Tarson raid. Most importantly, StarCraft Co. wasn't part of the UIC bureaucracy. If the conspiracy had people inside the government, the commander didn't work for them.

The first target was a clandestine laboratory beneath an agricultural settlement on a remote colony. UIC intelligence had spent weeks confirming what happened there. The facility was deliberately breeding Zerg. Not studying captured specimens. Not dissecting corpses. Breeding them. The warrant the commander received was unlike any contract StarCraft Co. had accepted before. All Zerg organisms were to be exterminated. All research data, communications records and financial information were to be seized. The facility itself was to be destroyed after exploitation. The personnel order was equally explicit. The scientists and armed security staff were designated participants in an illegal biological weapons program and were not to be allowed to escape.

The commander read that section twice. “You're authorizing lethal force against the research staff.” The intelligence officer didn't flinch. “We are ordering it.” There would be no arrests, no public trial and no opportunity for the facility's personnel to reveal that the UIC had discovered the network. If StarCraft Co. found anyone uninvolved, they were to use judgment. Anyone working directly on the Zerg program was considered part of the operation. The commander closed the file. It was a different kind of contract from killing escaped animals or hunting Mark Tarson. He accepted it.

StarCraft Co. used the Tarson operation as its model. Elite ghosts would infiltrate ahead of marine assault teams, supported by medics and a small number of science vessels positioned above the colony. Wraiths remained available in case anything airborne escaped. The facility's hired guards were numerous, but intelligence suggested they were poorly trained and equipped compared with StarCraft Co.'s increasingly expensive personnel. Rather than attack through a single entrance, several teams approached independently and breached different sections of the underground complex within seconds of one another. The guards never had an opportunity to establish a coherent defensive line.

The ghosts made the opening minutes brutally one-sided. Cloaked operatives passed through outer security posts and killed communications personnel before the first breach charges detonated. Detectors went down next. Marines entered through maintenance tunnels, freight access points and an emergency ventilation complex while the ghosts moved ahead of them, identifying concentrations of guards and disabling automated defenses with lockdown. The defenders fought, but most had been hired because they were cheap enough to protect a secret laboratory, not because they could survive against experienced mercenaries equipped with customized weapons and armor. Within fifteen minutes the outer sectors belonged to StarCraft Co.

Then they reached the first breeding pit.

The chamber had been excavated directly into the rock beneath the facility. Organic material coated the lower walls around a depression filled with dozens of zerglings. Some were fully grown. Others were much smaller. Feeding chutes descended from the ceiling, and surveillance equipment covered every angle of the enclosure. The creatures barely reacted to the scientists watching them from an elevated observation booth. When StarCraft Co. entered, every zergling in the pit turned toward the soldiers simultaneously.

“Interesting,” one ghost said.

A scientist in the observation booth reached for a control panel. The ghost shot him through the glass.

The zerglings began climbing.

Firebats had not been included in the assault force because the commander wanted mobility, but the marines carried specialized incendiary grenades precisely for situations like this. The first creatures reached the top of the enclosure under concentrated Gauss fire. Grenades followed them back down. Within minutes the pit was burning. The research staff in the adjoining control room attempted to surrender. StarCraft Co. checked their identification against the facility database. All six were assigned to the Zerg breeding program. None left the room alive.

Deeper inside, the scale of the operation became apparent. One wing contained test chambers where Zerg bioforms were deliberately pitted against one another while scientists recorded the results. Blood stained reinforced walls around observation windows several centimeters thick. A dead hydralisk lay beside the remains of half a dozen zerglings in one chamber. Another contained two living hydralisks separated by a retractable barrier. The scientists had been testing aggression, endurance and apparently the creatures' responses to different forms of chemical stimulation. StarCraft Co. killed the specimens through the observation ports before entering.

The feeding infrastructure occupied almost an entire sublevel. Refrigerated warehouses contained animal carcasses, cultured tissue and blocks of artificial biomass. Other rooms held living animals awaiting processing. Some weren't animals. One marine stopped beside a row of tanks containing masses of twitching tissue with no recognizable anatomy and asked whether they were alive. Nobody could answer. The commander ordered samples taken for UIC analysis and everything else marked for destruction.

Then they found the scrap metal.

Tons of it had been stacked beside the biological feed stores: iron, copper, industrial alloys and crushed machinery separated into bins. At first the soldiers assumed it was construction material. Facility records explained otherwise. Several Zerg bioforms were capable of metabolizing mineral material directly, incorporating the elements into rapidly growing biological structures. The researchers had been experimenting with different mineral compositions to determine which produced the fastest growth. The commander stared at footage of zerglings consuming processed metal and thought about every unexplained infestation StarCraft Co. had encountered. Zerg didn't necessarily need a conventional food chain. Given biomass and accessible minerals, even a small population could potentially become something much larger.

The hydralisk breeding section was worse. Rows of reinforced pens occupied a series of interconnected chambers, with feeding systems running beneath grated floors. Some contained mature hydralisks. Others held developing organisms in various stages of growth. The researchers had lost control more than once. The morgue beside the facility contained the evidence: dead guards with spines still embedded in their armor, technicians whose protective equipment had been torn apart, and two scientists whose bodies had been preserved for internal investigation. According to the records, thirteen personnel had died in hydralisk-related incidents during the previous year. The program had continued anyway.

The mercenaries cleared the pens methodically. Marines established overlapping firing positions before opening each enclosure remotely. The hydralisks immediately attacked StarCraft Co. personnel while ignoring researchers visible through adjacent observation windows. That pattern repeated too consistently to dismiss. Whatever the scientists were doing, they had achieved some level of behavioral control. It wasn't perfect—there were too many dead employees in the morgue for that—but the organisms clearly distinguished between familiar handlers and intruders.

One research team tried exploiting that distinction. When StarCraft Co. reached their laboratory, the scientists opened three hydralisk pens and retreated behind the creatures, apparently believing the Zerg would buy them enough time to escape. The hydralisks charged the marines. Ghosts killed two before the first spines were fired, and concentrated rifle fire brought down the third. The scientists raised their hands afterward. The commander watched through the helmet feeds as the squad leader checked their identities. Every one of them worked directly on the breeding program. “Orders stand,” the commander said. The marines carried them out.

By then there was no ambiguity among the assault teams about what the facility represented. These weren't academics who had accidentally lost control of captured specimens. They had produced the specimens. They had fed them, bred them, modified their behavior and continued doing so after their own employees were killed. The StarCraft Co. teams became merciless as they advanced. Guards who dropped their weapons before fighting were occasionally restrained for intelligence screening. Researchers associated with unrelated support systems were detained. But when the mercenaries entered a Zerg laboratory and found the people responsible for operating it, they followed the UIC order exactly. Armed or unarmed ceased to matter.

The rookery created the first serious tactical problem. It occupied an enormous cavern connected to the surface through concealed launch shafts. Mutalisks clung to overhead structures. Overlords floated among them. Scourge nested in clusters near the walls. Several guardians occupied reinforced depressions along the cavern floor, and two devourers rested near the central feeding structure. Yet none attempted to escape. Science vessels hovered within the chamber behind heavy containment barriers, using detection systems and some form of directed control technology StarCraft Co. did not immediately understand. Wraith fighters sat ready in launch bays beyond the rookery. Ghosts patrolled elevated walkways. The conspiracy hadn't merely learned how to breed Zerg. It had built an entire containment doctrine around them.

The commander refused to open the cavern and fight everything simultaneously. Ghost teams first infiltrated the control areas and killed the facility personnel responsible for the containment systems. StarCraft Co. science vessels then moved into position outside the concealed surface apertures while Wraiths established an interception perimeter. Inside, marines sealed every exit except the main containment corridor. The researchers' own control systems were used to divide the rookery into sections. Mutalisks were released in small groups and destroyed by concentrated rifle fire where the ceilings were too low for them to maneuver effectively. Scourge were exterminated with irradiation while still clustered around their nesting structures. Guardians were killed from beyond the effective angles of their attacks. The devourers required heavier punishment, but without open space to maneuver they eventually went down beneath sustained fire.

A handful of mutalisks escaped through a damaged containment gate during the operation. They reached the surface and discovered that StarCraft Co. had anticipated exactly that possibility. Wraiths killed two immediately. The others scattered, only for the science vessels to track them across the barren landscape. None reached orbit. By the time the rookery was secure, hundreds of Zerg fliers were dead and StarCraft Co. had lost only a handful of personnel in the chamber.

The ultralisk pens lay beneath it.

There were four animals. Three were alive. The fourth had died during what the research notes described as a “reproductive intervention.” StarCraft Co. veterans who had fought on Ardea immediately noticed the condition of the enclosure. The reinforced walls were cracked. One containment gate had been bent inward by nearly half a meter. Huge gouges marked the floor where kaiser blades had repeatedly struck it. The scientists had apparently succeeded in keeping ultralisks alive but had failed to breed them. The commander found himself relieved by that failure.

Nobody attempted anything clever. The pens contained emergency toxin systems intended to kill the animals if containment failed. StarCraft Co. activated them. One ultralisk died quickly. The other two became enraged and began smashing against the gates as the chemicals took effect. Marines established firing positions outside the enclosure in case the barriers failed. One almost did. The largest ultralisk struck the damaged gate repeatedly until the metal began separating from its frame. It finally collapsed less than a minute before breaking through.

The facility was effectively secure six hours after the first breach. The final resistance came from a group of guards and senior researchers barricaded inside the central data complex. They attempted to destroy the servers before StarCraft Co. reached them. Ghosts entered through maintenance conduits while marines attacked the main entrance. The fight lasted eleven minutes. When it ended, the guards were dead, the research personnel were dead, and enough of the data systems remained intact to justify the entire operation.

StarCraft Co. intelligence technicians began copying everything. Research logs. Genetic studies. Financial records. Communications archives. Shipping manifests. Personnel lists. The amount of information was enormous. Some files were encrypted beyond anything the team could immediately break, so entire storage units were physically removed for UIC analysis. The commander ordered every document referencing other facilities prioritized.

The first results arrived before the demolition teams finished placing charges.

There were other sites.

Not merely the handful the UIC already knew about. References appeared to suppliers the intelligence officers had never identified, shipments routed to coordinates outside known colonial networks and research collaborations with facilities listed only by code. One financial ledger contained payments large enough to fund entire military programs. Another referenced something called “directed swarm conditioning.” A third contained incomplete notes about reproductive independence in lower Zerg strains.

The commander stopped when he read that one.

Varga's basement came back to him. Six zerglings becoming forty-seven without a queen. The Horizons Beyond. The nests inside the walls. The inexplicable populations appearing where they shouldn't.

He forwarded the file to the UIC.

Then he ordered the facility destroyed.

StarCraft Co. evacuated with prisoners, recovered data and biological samples aboard their transports. The fleet withdrew to a safe distance. Demolition charges detonated throughout the underground complex in a carefully sequenced collapse. Breeding pits disappeared beneath thousands of tons of rock. The hydralisk pens collapsed. The rookery caved inward. Secondary charges destroyed the access shafts and power systems. By the time the explosions stopped, the clandestine laboratory was a buried ruin.

The official explanation was a geological accident.

The UIC quietly removed the surviving detainees. The recovered data disappeared into classified intelligence networks. Families of StarCraft Co. personnel killed during the operation received compensation from accounts that officially had nothing to do with the government. There were no medals, no press releases and no public acknowledgment that the mission had occurred.

But the commander received another classified briefing almost immediately. The intelligence officers looked considerably less composed than they had before.

The data StarCraft Co. recovered had confirmed their worst suspicion. The laboratory was not an isolated criminal enterprise. It was one component of something vastly larger. Someone had spent years establishing facilities, moving specimens, developing control techniques and studying how to make Zerg organisms survive and reproduce independently of conventional hive structures.

The UIC had initially believed it was investigating illegal research. It was beginning to look more like a weapons program. And nobody yet knew who intended to use it.

In Summary: * A quiet Saturday winds down. Even though it was only a preseason game, the Chicago Bears victory this afternoon made me smile. The Bears were my father's, now long deceased, very favorite professional sports team and I know that he'd have been happy with their win today, too.

Prayers, etc.: * I have a daily prayer regimen I try to follow throughout the day from early morning, as soon as I roll out of bed, until head hits pillow at night.

Health Metrics: * bw= 232.59 lbs. * bp= 143/85 (61) bp

Exercise: * morning stretches, balance exercises, kegel pelvic floor exercises, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups, BP breathing exercises, pilates

Diet: * 07:20 – 2 HEB Bakery cookies * 09:20 – 1 cooked sweet potato w. butter, 1 banana * 13:45 – meat loaf, white bread * 19:00 – dish of ice cream

Activities, Chores, etc.: * 01:20 – up with insomnia * 04:30 – bank accounts activity monitored. * 04:45 – back to bed * 06:15 – read, write, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials, nap * 11:15 – yard work, back yard weeds * Noon – watching the Bears / Browns NFL Preseason Game * 15:05 – and the Bears win, 34 to 10.

Chess: * 15:58 – moved in all pending CC games

I had a CD collection, not so long ago, numbering close to 300. It went into storage while I was away, and got stolen at some point — best part of 20 years of collecting, gone, never to be recovered. That was it — for over a decade I became dependent on streaming. Now, I'm not anti streaming, I think it has its place, I still stream when in the office or mowing the lawn etc.

But over the last few years I've begun to miss that physical connection I once had. Some will argue it's a tactile experience you can only have with vinyl, I respectfully disagree — for someone who became a teenager in 1990, CDs were and are my thing. I want to place a CD in the tray, peruse the liner notes, consider the cover art, then close my eyes and absorb the sound, have an experience again. And it's still tactile!

So a few months ago I began buying CDs again. Then I bought a new CD player and speakers, and that's when a magical thing started to happen — I started to hear elements of the recordings that I hadn't noted before, and that made me listen even more diligently. As a result I began to make notes as I was listening, not reviews, more observations, musings, memories associated with different songs and albums. And that's kind of how the idea for this blog came about.

What this actually is

So there won't be reviews. I'll share thoughts, observations, feelings — sometimes track by track, sometimes an album as a whole, sometimes I'll comment on just a few tracks in an album, or maybe it will just be a single song. I'm not here to score albums out of ten or tell you whether something's “good.” I want to write about how a record sits with me — what it stirs up, what it reminds me of, why I picked it up in the first place, why it's earned a place on the shelf. Sometimes that'll be about the music. Sometimes it'll be about a memory the music happens to be attached to. Expect it to wander.

Occasionally I may post collection updates, but not updates on every purchase. Every so often I'll share a batch of finds, particularly when something in there actually meant something: a record I'd been hunting for years, a charity shop find I didn't expect, a recommendation that turned into an obsession.

The finds worth writing about

Some CDs are just CDs. Others have a story — why I went looking, what led me there, what it was like to finally find it. Those are the ones worth writing about properly, and those are the ones I'll slow down for.

Why physical media, why now

I could give you the practical reasons — audio quality, ownership, the fact that a streaming service can quietly remove an album from existence and there's nothing you can do about it. All true. But honestly, the real reason is simpler: I missed the ritual. Choosing a CD, holding the case, reading who played what while the album runs — that's a different relationship with music than a thumbnail and a play button. I want that relationship back.

This isn't a nostalgia trip for nostalgia's sake, though. It's a genuine rebuild — new finds alongside old favourites, discovering things I missed the first time around as much as reclaiming what I already loved.

What to expect going forward

No schedule, no promises of consistency for its own sake. I'll write when there's something worth saying — about an album, a find, a memory a song dragged back up unannounced. If you're rebuilding your own collection, rediscovering physical media, or just miss the feeling of committing to an album rather than skipping through one, I think you'll feel at home here.

That's what The Tracklist is: not a top ten, not a countdown — just the running order of what's actually been playing, in whatever order it means something.

First entry's coming soon. Let's see where the shelf takes us.

---

P.S. A few people will ask what I'm listening on, so — for the curious: Denon D-M41DAB driving a pair of Wharfedale Diamond 220s. Not a flex, just context — it's the setup that started all this.

Facebook Disappoints the intellectual writer's because the Facebook doesn't spread there valuable text.

I was talking to my partner the other day about how I am becoming an analog person: paper notebooks, pens, highlighters, etc.

And right off the bat, he told me:

“You are not becoming a paper person, you are just getting back to being one. You were always analog.”

That was interesting to hear from a person I've known and interacted with for 27 years.

So, I'm rediscovering my analog side. I've always been into handwriting, doing lettering and drawing when I was younger.

After university and when I entered the workforce, in the early 2000's, everything was about high efficiency and productivity with these amazing digital tools: emails, computer-aided design tools, messengers, chats, word processors and spreadsheets. Of course that trend continued, and nowadays it has all become digital.

I got fully into digital note-taking around 2013 with Evernote. From that point on I became a bit obsessed with digital productivity. I wanted to have everything digitally, work or personal, from photos to notes, task lists, calendars and books.

But at the same time, I've always kept one single paper notebook with me at work. A notebook that worked as a daily planner where I would just add the day and take meeting notes or list the things I was working on. So even though 99% of my information world became digital, I still kept that one analog piece with me (which I still use to this day).

I would say that my “re-awakening” to the analog world started when I tried Cal Newport's Time Block Planner. I realized how different it felt to write things down with pen and paper. I noticed that re-writing my digital calendar appointments onto paper made me less anxious about my day. It felt more real and manageable.

Then I tried the Happy Planner last year because I was missing having a personal analog place to draft and view my monthly and weekly plans. Even though I use the Getting Things Done (GTD) methodology, I missed a visual planning tool. Attempts to plan digitally did not give me the clarity I experienced with paper.

But then I started finding the Happy Planner too bulky to carry around and also too restrictive because of the fixed template. I wanted to have more space to write on some days and less space on others.

And that's how I've landed on Bullet Journaling. It's been interesting to see how paper gives me this contained space, while at the same time providing freedom. With digital tools I became an information hoarder. It's so easy to dump articles to read, actions, websites to visit and random references into a digital list. I end up capturing things that don't REALLY have my attention, they are just noise. Paper acts as a great filter, because capturing becomes slower and more intentional.

I would say that one experience during my recent trip to PEI pushed me towards paper. While I was at the Charlottetown Public Library, browsing the dedicated shelf of the author L.M. Montgomery, I saw that all her personal journals were published as books. I read a couple of entries while I was there, and it really inspired me to have some sort of analog journal. For years I thought that not having paper made me a true minimalist, because why would I create a pile of used notebooks taking space in my house?

You know what? Now I am thinking that handwritten notes and journals are these precious personal things that are worth keeping.

Post 05 of #Blaugust #Productivity #notes #journal

Hace poco, conversando con un amigo sobre cómo organiza sus datos, comenzó a hablarme de carpetas Bronze, Silver y Gold, archivos Parquet y procesos que ejecutaba con un archivo .bat.

Los términos eran nuevos para mí, pero la lógica no.

Mientras me explicaba el proceso, me di cuenta de que durante años había trabajado con una idea bastante parecida, solo que dentro de bases de datos SQL y sin ponerle esos nombres.

Eso fue lo que me llevó a conocer la arquitectura Medallion.

La idea es bastante sencilla

Medallion Architecture es una forma de organizar el procesamiento de datos en capas.

La información va avanzando desde su estado original hasta convertirse en información limpia, estructurada y finalmente preparada para responder preguntas del negocio.

La representación más común es:

Bronze → Silver → Gold

No necesariamente tienen que ser carpetas. Pueden ser tablas, bases de datos, archivos o incluso capas dentro de una plataforma de datos.

Lo importante es la función que cumple cada una.

Bronze: conservar el dato original

La capa Bronze contiene los datos tal como llegan desde la fuente.

Pueden venir de un ERP, un servidor SQL, un archivo Excel, un CSV, una API o cualquier otro sistema.

La regla general es intervenirlos lo menos posible.

Por ejemplo:

Bronze
│
├── ventas
├── inventarios
├── clientes
└── vendedores

La ventaja de conservar esta capa es que siempre tenemos un punto de partida.

Si mañana descubrimos que una transformación estaba equivocada, podemos volver al dato original y reconstruir el proceso.

Silver: convertir datos en información confiable

En Silver comienza el verdadero trabajo de transformación.

Aquí podemos:

• corregir tipos de datos;
• eliminar duplicados;
• homologar nombres;
• relacionar diferentes fuentes;
• aplicar reglas de negocio;
• limpiar registros;
• validar información;
• crear campos derivados.

Por ejemplo, un vendedor podría aparecer de tres maneras diferentes en el sistema fuente.

Bronze podría conservar las tres.

Silver debería determinar que las tres representan a la misma persona.

La capa Silver busca responder una pregunta fundamental:

¿Puedo confiar en estos datos para analizarlos?

Gold: información preparada para tomar decisiones

La capa Gold está construida pensando en el usuario final.

Aquí ya no estamos preocupados principalmente por cómo venían los datos, sino por las preguntas que queremos responder.

Por ejemplo:

Gold
│
├── ventas_por_equipo
├── margen_por_marca
├── disponibilidad
├── rotacion_inventario
└── indicadores_gerenciales

Esta información puede alimentar un dashboard, Power BI, un reporte automatizado o simplemente terminar en un Excel.

Gold no significa necesariamente “Excel”.

Significa información preparada para consumo y toma de decisiones.

Cuando descubrí que ya hacía algo parecido

Mi experiencia ha sido principalmente con una arquitectura basada en bases de datos.

Durante años he trabajado con SQL Server creando tablas auxiliares, procedimientos almacenados, vistas y capas de información que terminan alimentando reportes y herramientas de análisis.

Simplificando mucho, algo de este tipo:

Sistema fuente
      ↓
Tablas originales
      ↓
Tablas auxiliares y reglas
      ↓
Vistas de negocio
      ↓
Power BI / Excel / reportes

Cuando conocí el concepto Bronze, Silver y Gold, fue fácil reconocer la lógica.

Una tabla que conserva información prácticamente como viene de la fuente tiene una función cercana a Bronze.

Las tablas auxiliares, homologaciones y transformaciones se parecen a Silver.

Y las vistas diseñadas específicamente para indicadores, reportes o análisis cumplen muchas veces una función cercana a Gold.

No son arquitecturas idénticas, pero comparten una idea importante:

separar el dato original, la transformación y la información que consume el negocio.

Esa separación hace que los sistemas sean más fáciles de entender, mantener y corregir.

Database-based vs. file-based

Otra cosa que me llamó la atención fue que el proceso que me describieron estaba construido principalmente con archivos.

Algo como:

/data

   /bronze
   /silver
   /gold

En cada etapa se generan nuevos archivos.

Mi experiencia tradicionalmente ha sido diferente:

SQL Server

   tablas fuente
        ↓
   tablas auxiliares
        ↓
   vistas
        ↓
   reportes

Podríamos llamar al primero un enfoque principalmente file-based y al segundo uno database-based.

Ninguno es automáticamente mejor.

La elección depende del volumen de información, infraestructura disponible, frecuencia de procesamiento, cantidad de usuarios y complejidad del proyecto.

Para muchas aplicaciones empresariales, una base de datos sigue siendo una excelente solución.

Pero los formatos de archivo modernos y las herramientas actuales han hecho que trabajar directamente con archivos sea mucho más poderoso de lo que era hace algunos años.

¿Y dónde entra Parquet?

En arquitecturas basadas en archivos aparece frecuentemente Parquet.

Parquet es simplemente un formato para almacenar datos, así como CSV o Excel son formatos de archivo.

Pero está diseñado específicamente para análisis de grandes cantidades de información.

Entre otras cosas, permite una compresión eficiente y facilita leer solamente las columnas necesarias para un análisis.

Por eso es frecuente encontrar estructuras como:

Bronze
   ventas_originales.csv

Silver
   ventas.parquet

Gold
   ventas_por_equipo.parquet

Y posteriormente generar desde Gold un Excel o un dashboard.

Parquet no es la arquitectura.

Es solamente uno de los formatos que podemos utilizar dentro de ella.

¿Cómo se ejecuta todo esto?

Aquí aparece otro término que inicialmente puede confundir: los archivos .bat.

Un archivo BAT es simplemente un archivo de comandos de Windows.

Puede utilizarse para ejecutar varias instrucciones automáticamente.

Por ejemplo:

python cargar_bronze.py
python crear_silver.py
python crear_gold.py
python generar_excel.py

Entonces el usuario podría tener un archivo llamado:

Actualizar_Reportes.bat

hacer doble clic y poner a correr todo el proceso.

Desde afuera parece una caja negra:

Datos
  ↓
Actualizar_Reportes.bat
  ↓
Procesamiento
  ↓
Excel final

Pero el BAT no realiza necesariamente las transformaciones.

Puede simplemente coordinar programas escritos en Python, SQL, PowerShell u otras herramientas.

Por eso tampoco considero los archivos BAT como parte de Medallion Architecture.

Son, más bien, una posible forma de automatizar su ejecución.

Más importante que los nombres

Lo que más me interesa de esta arquitectura no son los nombres Bronze, Silver y Gold.

Es la disciplina que propone.

No mezclar en un mismo lugar:

• el dato original;
• las correcciones;
• las reglas de negocio;
• y el reporte final.

Cuando todo eso termina mezclado, modificar un indicador puede convertirse rápidamente en un problema.

Cuando las responsabilidades están separadas, es mucho más fácil entender de dónde salió un número.

Y para quienes trabajamos tomando decisiones con datos, esa pregunta probablemente sea una de las más importantes:

¿De dónde salió este número?

Bronze, Silver y Gold ofrecen una forma bastante elegante de responderla.

In the United States of America, in Georgia, and in Elbert County, there existed a “Stonehenge” that contained instructions for men in the event of a disaster that would barren the earth of men, yet there were to be survivors.

The “Stonehenge” event lasted from March 22nd, 1980, until July 6th, 2022. The “Stonehenge” is called “The Georgia Guidestones”. Six slabs of stone with instructions in eight languages exist; these instructions are as follows:

i) “Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 with perpetual balance with nature.

ii) “Guide reproduction wisely – improving fitness and diversity.

iii) “Unite humanity with a new language.

iv) “Rule passion – faith – tradition – and all things with tempered reason.

v) “Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts.

vi) “Let all nations rule internally, resolving external disputes in a world court.

vii) “Avoid petty laws and useless officials.

viii) “Balance personal rights with social duties.

ix) “Prize truth – beauty – love – seeking harmony with the infinite.

x) “Be not cancer on the Earth – Leave room for nature – Leave room for nature.” The guidance inside the square states: “Let these be Guidestones to an Age of Reason”

The conspiracy theorists and reactionists targeted the Guidestones and stated that the Guidestones were of the “New World Order,” “are satanic,” et cetera. Vandalism occurred in 2008 and again in 2014. An explosion from a bomb took place on July 6th, 2022, with the intent to destroy the Guidestones. The demolition of the Guidestones occurred on the day of the explosion.

It is evident that people, mistakenly referred to as men, are now considered intellectual animals. Animals and humanity are never the same thing; men and women are humanity, and intellectual animals are a shade of humanity. The evolution of humanity has failed. From 1980 until 2022, we also see that humanity has further degenerated, enjoys degeneration, and worships degeneration with no ounce of regret.

The Elohim declared these people worthless. All worthless people will go to the Abyss; this is the sentence from the Elohim: “To the Abyss!”. These people have already sealed their fate. All doors are now closed except for the gates of repentance.

The reaction is never revolutionary, only anti-revolutionary. Revolution is the antithesis of involution. Vandalism and explosion from a bomb are reactions and anti-revolutionary. Those who did vandalize or cause an explosion from a bomb have already sealed their fate. Their actions have a way of returning unto them. Those who react are mistaken.

The Guidestones reflect inscriptions. No one can interpret the Guidestones word for word, nor with the intellect. The Guidestones translate as follows:

“i) Maintain the population of mankind in harmony with nature” – The population of men did multiply over the last century. If men fail to control their population, nature will find a way to control the population of men, let alone the four horsemen: Starvation, Death, Animal, or War. Men will have to learn how to manage their population in harmony with nature and in accordance with the laws of the Creator.

“ii) Guide reproduction wisely with the improvement of fitness and diversity” – There are two ways to reproduce men: one is chastity, and the other is fornication. The immaculate reproduction of humanity is in harmony with nature. A man and woman can only procreate a child through the coitus reservatus, only with the guidance of the Elohim. The reproduction by fornication is the coitus with the intent to have an orgasm to create a child. It is fornication that is the consumption of the forbidden fruit. The law states: “Never fornicate”. Those who fornicate blaspheme against the Holy Spirit; the Elohim never forgives blasphemers of the Holy Spirit.

“iii) Unite mankind with a new language” – At the beginning of time, men did speak the language of gold that has the power to create. The language of gold is the language of the Elohim; when men fell into fornication, they lost the language of gold. With the restoration of the language of gold, the lingual confusion of men ends.

“iv) Rule action – faith – tradition – and all things with wisdom” – Wisdom is the ability to see judgment—both love and wisdom rule action, faith, tradition, and all things with balance.

“v) Protect humanity and nations with superior laws” – The law is here to protect men and nations from trespasses, wrongs, or accidents. All controversies removed. Everything goes to honor. All superior laws wash away inferior laws.

“vi) Let all nations rule disputes, whether external or internal, in a place of judgment that represents all nations.” – Any disputes, whether external or internal, are handled in a place of judgment that represents all nations. Mercy and justice are these foundations, as is freedom and order.

“vii) Avoid laws that have no foundation upon the earth and terminate anyone who chooses to be an Antichrist” – Comprehend anarchy and tyranny, these are two opposites. Freedom without order is anarchy, order without freedom is tyranny, and freedom with order is democracy. Laws are for the service of all in a democracy.

“viii) Balance rights with duties in society.” – The right is the will of humanity. Property is the highest right of humanity. The duties in society balance the rights of men and women. All individuals, regardless of gender, have the same rights.

“ix) Seek true, love, beauty, and harmony with the Infinite” – The infinite is beyond the realms of the Elohim. The infinite is the Absolute. Three levels of the Absolute are Ain (Nothing), Ain Soph (Endless), and Ain Soph Aur (Light that never ends). The Absolute is above the crown of the Tree of Life.

“x) Be not a cancer of the Earth – Leave room for nature – Leave room for nature” – Fornication is a disease —a cancer on the earth. It is fornication that is responsible for the pains and illnesses of men; it is fornication that gives birth to our sinning “I”. The sinning “I” is Satan or Ego. Satan has a beginning and an end. It is urgent to destroy our sinning “I” for the good of men, through awareness and comprehension. The Ego is a shell full of pain, fear, theories, faces, and addictions. The word for “shell” in Hebrew is Klipah, which pluralizes to Klipoth. Klipoth is another word for the Abyss. From the Abyss Satan is born, and to the Abyss Satan returns to die the Second Death. Satan can survive physical death but never the Second Death. Sorcery is a plague. Those who recommend fornication or the coitus fornicatus are the plague. Those who recommend the coitus reservatus are the cure.

May these Guidelines help men to steer towards the way of righteousness by superior laws.

These guidelines serve as the foundation for the future.

And finally: “May these Guidestones guide men to an Era of Wisdom.”

START HERE

This is the part of the story I never got to tell out loud.

Not because I couldn't. Because I wasn't allowed to.

So, I'm telling it here, anonymously, unapologetically, and in my own ink. If you're reading this, you've stepped into the aftermath. The place where everything broke, and everything began.

I write in chapters. Not polished ones. Not pretty ones. The kind that come from memory, from scars, from the parts of me that refused to stay quiet.

Some of what you'll read happened in the dark. Some happened in silence. Some happened in rooms where I learned exactly how much a person can carry before they stop recognizing themselves.

But this isn't a tragedy. It's a rebellion.

A women walking back through the fire she survived, not to relive it, but to reclaim it.

I won't use real names. I won't give locations. I won't tell you who I am. None of that matters. What matter is the truth. What matters is the becoming. What matters is that you're here, reading the parts of the story that were never supposed to be written.

If you are new, start with Chapter One. Read in order. Take your time. Breathe when you need to.

This is the unbroken version of me. The one who finally stopped asking permission to speak.

Welcome to Unbroken Ink. Let's begin.

“A time will come when instead of shepherds feeding the sheep, the church will have clowns entertaining the goats.” – C.H. Spurgeon.

We have been both the clowns and the goats within our own psyches—entertaining our consciousness with spiritual knowledge while avoiding the direct work of elimination. The goat consciousness within us has followed external authorities—first religious institutions, then spiritual teachers, always avoiding the terrifying work of dissolving our own egoic structures.

The Joker archetype manifests within us when we present spiritual wisdom while secretly seeking admiration rather than liberation. This sophisticated ego wears the mask of enlightenment while feeding on the attention it receives. The vampire archetype operates alongside it—draining others' energy through emotional manipulation while presenting ourselves as spiritually advanced.

These are not separate entities but manifestations of the three traitors that betray the Christ within every seeker:

We have been Judas, the demon of desire—betraying our Innermost for the thirty pieces of social approval, for the validation that comes from appearing knowledgeable rather than embodying truth.

We have been Caiaphas, the demon of ill will—harboring resentment toward those who challenge our beliefs, condemning in others the very egoic states we harbor ourselves, seeking to crucify any truth that threatens our spiritual identity.

We have been Pontius Pilate, the demon of justification—rationalizing our spiritual inertia through intellectual understanding, washing our hands of responsibility for transformation while claiming to recognize truth.

The path forward invites not external renunciation but internal revolution. Each day, we might perform psychological reconciliation—identifying where we have vampirized others, where we have worn the Joker mask of spiritual superiority, and petitioning the Divine Mother for the elimination of these three traitors within our own psyches.

True freedom emerges not from rejecting external institutions but from eliminating the internal structures that create the illusion of separation in the first place. The work is not to renounce membership but to embrace the systematic death of the ego that seeks membership at all.

Thou knowest that psychological aggregates invade consciousness in the night of awareness and drain vital energy from the Essence.

Here is the real meaning: Vampires are the egoic states that despise the cross of psychological death and reject the holy waters of transmutation. They also dislike the counterforce of conscious will, which is known to dissolve egoic formations.

All vampires are aspects of the self that turn inward rather than toward the Being. They can be fixed in their patterns (||) or circular in their reasoning (=). They can oscillate between states or transform their appearance, hence the multiplicity of psychological forms.

They are known for their crimes of blasphemy against the Holy Spirit within. Vampires are known to reside in the submerged spheres of the psyche or lower, governed by the law of karma. The submerged spheres are the circles of the Abyss within consciousness.

They are born only from fornication of the mind, yet they are degenerate thought-forms. They are the result of one's unrepentant identification with ego, in which they love themselves instead of their Divine Mother, or they morally reject the Innermost. In the next moment, their unrepentant egoic states will multiply.

The law from Leviticus 18:22 states: 'You lie with ego as if with Essence; it is an abomination.' Egoic identification reveals itself as garbage, yet worse, an abomination. You see the rainbow flags of ego, colored from top to bottom: red (anger), orange (pride), yellow (greed), green (envy), blue (lust), and violet (false spirituality). It is the deliberate misuse of the rainbow from Genesis 9:13. You see their signs or protests for the support of their rights for ego. The worship of ego is akin to idolatry. The establishment of rights for ego as law reveals itself as an abomination. The egoic states, their supporters, and their sympathizers operate from error.

These are the supporters and sympathizers of ego. They have no foundation upon consciousness, and all egoic states also have no foundation upon consciousness. No one mocks the law of psychological death with impunity. All egoic states, their supporters, and their sympathizers reside in the Abyss until the second death.

The cross (+) is the perfect union of Essence and Being. The cross is the death of the self. No one alters the definition of the union of Essence and Being. Anyone who recommends egoic identification blasphemes against the Innermost and the Holy Spirit.

The holy water is the transmutable waters of sexual energy through the alchemical art of perfect chastity. It is the relationship with the Divine Mother that forms the cross, which dissolves egoic states.

Vampires are known to be below the threshold of awakened consciousness. Some say ego is normal, and they are clearly mistaken people, for they speak lies and blasphemies against their innermost Being. Those who identify with ego have already divorced themselves from their Innermost and can never perceive the superior realms. Those who claim they perceive the superior realms while identified with ego only perceive the inferior realms of the Abyss.

Vampires, like the black magicians, morally despise and hate white tantra. To make matters worse, they despise the union of Essence with Being. They hate those who walk the path of dissolution.

Lo and behold, there is a demon of ego that goes by the name of Lilith. The angel opposing Lilith is Chaniel/Anael. Anael is the Angel of Love, representing the Divine Mother in her aspect of compassionate destruction.

Bisexuals are those who oscillate between ego and Essence. Half the time, they turn to ego, and half the time, they turn to the cross. Like vampires, they are also born only from fornication of the mind, yet also degenerate thought-forms, but not as degenerate as vampires. Unfortunately, ego and Essence never mix.

Essence and ego are oil and water that never mix. Essence is goodness, yet ego is impure. Essence is superior, yet ego is inferior. We segregate ego from Essence. We discriminate against ego because it is an abomination unto the Innermost. Anyone who does, recommends, supports, and/or sympathizes with ego goes to the Abyss until the second death.

NFL Preseason continues today with a number of games. It's my intention to catch at least one: the Chicago Bears vs. the Cleveland Browns, starting at Noon Central Time. I'll be listening over NFL+.

And the adventure continues.

I'm sorry I abandoned you babe. It's going be different this time. I promise. I used to be mayor of Mississauga. One day I decided that I wanted to be Premier of Ontario instead so I just stopped going into city hall. Like, whatever, right. Who needs a mayor?

I failed so badly at provincial politics that the only way I knew what was going on at their meetings was from bootleg recording devices. Then I quit. I have nothing better to do right now, so I decided to try and get my silly old job as mayor back. I just need something to do while I sort out what it is that I really want to do with my life.

I should be able to distract the voters easily enough. Make them forget what I did last time. Everyone who isn't me has the IQ of sloths, and the attention span of fruit flies. I will blame everything on the woman who took over the job after I abandoned it. Like the failing economy, even though that is a worldwide issue caused by an unstoppable unnecessary war started by a withering senile dictator, and his incompetent cartoonish war department leader. I will blame her for the housing crisis even though that is something that has been slowly and steadily creeping up over the horizon for decades, and everyone in all levels of government ignored it.

Me and my people will get A.I. to figure out what people want. Then we can use that information to fabricate half truths about my opponents, and create lofty goals that I'll never achieve so I have things to say at my loyalist gatherings and press conferences. The possibilities are endless!

I'll ride the Liberal wave that is sweeping the nation right back into my old office. I'll be a celebrity!

p.s. my enemy just endorsed my opponent, and gave me a popularity boost! omg I love me. <3

By Roger Young City Press — 14 December 2014

Recovery note: Complete text transcribed from the live News24/City Press archive page

---

Leafy, cool and nestled in dappled sunlight, the new restaurant in Cape Town's Company's Garden has much to be recommended; a menu that accommodates many budgets, a diversity of seating options, prompt and unobtrusive service, and well prepared and presented food.

Operated by the Madame Zingara group – Zingara restaurants are to Cape Town (Eurocentric theme, waiters with BAs in performance, vaguely homosexual) what Moyo restaurants are to Joburg (African theme, nouveau riche, surly) – the restaurant formerly known as Haarlem & Hope is part of a “revitalisation” of the Company's Garden, which also includes a vegetable patch that references the public park's first function – that of a garden for the colonising forces.

Due to its up-market nature, its comfort and its newness, the eatery now known as The Company's Garden Restaurant is far more popular than the venue's previous offering, yet despite the queues of hipsters and tourists, we only had to wait 20 minutes to get a table.

Starting with hand-pressed clementine juice to take the heat off the day, we begin with the Governor's Choice – chicken livers prepared with just the right amount of brandy, sherry and thyme. The Drunken Camembert's beer batter is light, in harmony with the rich cheese. For mains, I opt for a mid-range fish and chips (R60), which is most definitely superior to the fish and chips served in the previous eatery. My companion's chicken burger, while a perfectly adequate burger, errs on the side of too much bun. The entire meal comes to less than R300 avec tip. It was a decent, affordable meal in excellent surroundings and the pace was relaxed.

Glancing over the menu, it's obvious they have tried to make concessions to the fact that the previous restaurant was a popular spot for regular visitors to the garden with a selection of toasted sandwiches that come in at only double the price of the old establishment. But even if those families and students who used to come to the garden for a cheap meal, or to linger over a pot of tea, were to be able to pay these prices, the façade that the new space presents is simply too up-market to be anything but daunting. Of course, Zingara is not to blame for this dissonance – the city granted it a lease and it's a business.

The menu tells the story of the 60 survivors of the grounded ship Nieuwe Haarlem in 1647 and their “Columbusing” of a land that was “rich and fertile with sweet waters that allowed them to plant seeds and grow produce”. It tells of their rescue by one Jan van Riebeeck (to their credit, they mention that he “was on his way back to the Dutch East India Company … to face charges of trade violations and breaking of laws”).

The menu then states: “It is this coincidental encounter that changed everything.” And indeed it did – Van Riebeeck's arrival led to 400 years of slavery and colonialism, torture, rape, murder and … oh wait, no it didn't, according to the menu: “Van Riebeeck had big ideas to harness and work the bountiful soil and create an oasis on this new developing route,” which led to him returning to the Cape “to plant the very first garden on the continent”.

This garden was the motor for the Dutch East India Company's spice trade, the accompanying trade in humans and the partial genocide of the Khoi and San.

But none of this bears mention on the menu, and how could it? One does not want to consider barbarity over a Bobotie open sandwich served on Paradise brown from the Huguenot Collection. Instead, we are told that due to this garden, “the Cape, a place that was previously feared, became known as The Cape of Good Hope, a beacon on the journey to the east”.

That the Cape of Good Hope was not previously feared by its first citizens and that there is evidence of formal gardening in South Africa long before the arrival of the Dutch seems to be of little consequence.

While cultural appropriation-lite often occurs when restaurants serve foods from other regions, and history is often smudged to prevent offence to the tourist, the menu is tragically ironic. Initially named after a ship that brought the first pillaging tourists to the Cape who displaced the region's first inhabitants, the restaurant itself has displaced an eatery that catered to the Company's Garden's most frequent visitors, the citizens of Cape Town, the clerks and students and labourers who take their breaks in the garden, the families who come on the weekends, the surly pensioners. Couldn't, between the city and the restaurant, a less exclusive space and less expensive menu be created? Cheap seats off to the side no doubt, but seats all the same. Maybe it could realign itself in relation to those who were in the garden first.