Peer Pressure, Peer Pressure, Peer Pressure.

For what ever reason, of the four hundred odd bands that were mentioned over the eve the one I remember to download was Frog Eyes. My understanding is that they are from Vancouver, or something. They are pretty crazy. I like them. Like, hmm... Hot hot heat mixed with a magical fairy after drinking too much coffee. That is not the name of a band. I mean like a real magical fairy after drinking too much coffee.

Speaking of magic, you know what is crazy? Religious Zealots. I got interested in finding out why every one started burning dungeons and dragons players as witches, or warlocks respectively back in the eighties. It turns out, that it really is only a small group of insane people who have a real problem with it, other than you know it being for nerds. Neeeerd. There are these orthodox Christian types that believe magic is real. Not like David Blaine, or Copperfield, but like Harry Potter and Petter Pan. They do not want their children pretending to cast magic in a game because they believe it will encourage their children to attempt to cast spells themselves. They are afraid their children will become wizards.

This is funny.

So you have these Christian parents raising their children with a healthy fear of god so that next time Sara gets that special feeling in her tummy about Leslie, she might just lash out at her parents by running off and joining the occult. If you fear something enough, and if you let your children understand your fear, they will use it against you. And the further you tighten that sting, the more it snaps back. If you tell your children that Harry Potter is evil and a real threat to them, you are practically telling them that magic is real. You tell them that they shouldn’t try and cast spells, and all they are going to want to do is cast spells.

How are they going to cast anything with a negative intelligence score?

Now I do not think I’ve ever seriously tried to cast anything. Perhaps I tried to use the force to move my cup a little closer, or to convince the local authorities that my companions were not who they were looking for. But I have never sat down in a circle of candles, speaking gibberish and hoping for a demon to show up. There are people who have, and it is sad.

Uehen/Sean

Fire in Suburbia

Once upon a time at the foot of a great mountain, there was a town where the people known as Happyfolk lived, their very existence a mystery to the rest of the world, obscured as it was by great clouds. Here they played out their peaceful lives, innocent of the litany of excess and violence that was growing in the world below. To live in harmony with the spirit of the mountain called Monkey was enough. Then one day Strangefolk arrived in the town. They came in camouflage, hidden behind dark glasses, but no one noticed them: they only saw shadows. You see, without the Truth of the Eyes, the Happyfolk were blind.

In time, Strangefolk found their way into the higher reaches of the mountain, and it was there that they found the caves of unimaginable Sincerity and Beauty. By chance, they stumbled upon the Place Where All Good Souls Come to Rest. The Strangefolk, they coveted the jewels in these caves above all things, and soon they began to mine the mountain, its rich seam fueling the chaos of their own world. Meanwhile, down in the town, the Happyfolk slept restlessly, their dreams invaded by shadowy figures digging away at their souls. Every day, people would wake and stare at the mountain. Why was it bringing darkness into their lives? And as the Strangefolk mined deeper and deeper into the mountain, holes began to appear, bringing with them a cold and bitter wind that chilled the very soul of the Monkey. For the first time, the Happyfolk felt fearful for they knew that soon the Monkey would stir from its deep sleep. And then there came a sound. Distant first, it grew into castrophany so immense it could be heard far away in space. There were no screams. There was no time. The mountain called Monkey had spoken. There was only fire. And then, nothing.