Sep 30, 2001

Spitfire


Just a quick update to let everyone know I'm alive...as you can see the server is now up, but the website isn't 100% restored yet, so you'll have to just make do with this crappy update for a few days :). I'll have all other services up soon...email is back up, but passwords have changed.

Sep 20, 2001

Spitfire


Hello out there! This is going to be quick as I'm at work currently and quite busy (yeah, right).

First of all, I'd like to offer my condolences to all those effected, either directly or indirectly, by the terrorist actions against the states this past Tuesday. I can't imagine the pain some people are no doubt going through at this time in New York, and elsewhere. I'd love to offer my opinion on the whole situation, but I don't need to start a big hairy arguement over politics, that what the Discussion Board is for.

For the most part, I'd like to make everyone aware that the main RBlords server, oden, is going to be moving (physically) this weekend. I will try and minimize the downtime, but I'm afraid an ip change is inevitable. With a bit of luck, I hope to take it down Friday night, and have everything working again on Monday morning, so as a result all RBlords email accounts will not be available, nor will any other services (Sorry Mel!). I'll try and make this short and sweet. Oh yeah, and I'm planning an upgrade in server space at the same time, so to those of you who store files on oden, this is a good thing.

So thats about it...I said I wasn't going to voice my opinion about the whole terrorist incident, but I do have to post this:


The Rebuilding of the Worlds Trade Center

Sep 14, 2001

Audiophile




Audiophile here. Welcome to the Rblords update. I would like to dedicate this update to the recent attacks on The United States, or more specifically a related picture I found on the Internet.



This is a picture I came across while searching for information on the attacks in the US. The caption to this particular picture was something along the lines of "A young Afghanistan boy celebrating the attacks on America." Much to my surprise as I read along it explained that this kid was firing a real machine gun into the air in celebration. After reading that I had a major double take and had to to re-read the blurb on this kid once again confirming that he was firing a live machine gun into the air. I just stared at this picture for five minutes before I decided that I would save it and put it up on Rblords since it had such a strong impact on me.

First off I see a picture that displays irresponsibility and ignorance. I am not even talking directly about the child, but the enviroment that surrounds him. Does he understand the fullest extent of WHY he should or shoudln't be happy. And if that I cannot see how he could imagine the reality that will become of him the day the United States retalliates. Just as in this child I look at other celebrations that are being held by the older generation of Afghanistan and I wonder how they can find celebration in something as petty as their actions. Has the older generation (like their children) been programmed to hate without reason?

When you attack the most powerful country in the world and openly celebrate in front of American cameras in spite, do you ever once consider the consequences? Are these children, and their children's children going to be ready to die for a country without conscequence like the murderers that hi-jacked the planes? How can these people consider the hi-jackers actions hoeric? I would classify that as extremely cowardly. To hi-jack a plane, run it into a building killing thousands of innocent people, then leaving your country behind to bear the brunt of your idiotic actions all to make a point!!

What more can I say?

Sep 03, 2001

soul_d


If you're going to save the day, and you're hearing what I say, I fear your touch and kiss is not enough. And if you believe in me, don't think my heart's for free, I won't take nothing less than I give for love. Let me tell you, you, you know I need a miracle, I need a miracle. It's not physical, what I need to get me through.
Tell me that you understand, and you'll take me as I am. You'll always be the one to give me everything. Just when I though no one cared, you're the answer to my prayers. You lift my spirits high, come one and rescue me. Let me tell you, You, you know I need a miracle, I need a miracle...


It has been a long time coming. But I have brought to you an update. This update lacks the finesse of my previous work, but it cannot be helped. I am working under deplorable conditions. Due to my recent problems with the Sisters of Mercy machine's power supply failing, I am forced to correspond via Nicotrel. Nicotrel is like Alacatraz in a lot of ways, largely due to the hard consonants in the middle of the word. Enough about the electrical perils I have been facing, I have volumes of much more important matters to relate.

...the simple kinda life never did me no harm...

Step back to the beginning of August. I commence my two week, plus one day, leave of absence from my workplace. It felt good to leave behind the high decibel levels of the press-room for the higher decibel levels that spring forth from my Camaro's Mills-spec Stereo system. At first, my retreat left me feeling disappointed due to the Leoville Rodeo trip being canceled, due to YC's illness, and other complications. I did not hold it against YC, and made the best of the time available. Simply put, I engaged in nothing. I relaxed, and unwound. During this time, The Humphries Mafia presented me with the gift of a 15 man bench seat for my back yard. I thank them to this day. I enjoyed the first phase of my vacation. However, the time to travel to Goodspirit lake was fast approaching.

...look at the stars, look how they shine for you...

Thursday morning I packed my 74 Camaro with my supplies, as well as my sister and we traveled the three hour trek east on Highway 5, finally arriving in Canora, Saskatchewan at about three in the afternoon. I was very pleased that my Camaro made the journey on twenty dollars of gasoline, after all, it does have a boss 350 under the hood. It was a very undemanding experience at the lake. I visited with my relatives, and enjoyed the slow time. I spent a fair amount of my days getting better acquainted with my car. I cleaned it, and washed it. I spent time polishing and de-greasing. I bought Scooby-Doo shoulder protectors. I bought a stock air cleaner housing for it and painted it "raver orange." I also ran some shiny silver ducting from the snorkel to the grill so that my Camaro could taste some cold air. I even changed my spark plugs. I visited with my Godfather, which was swell. I got to see Bobbi-Jo, my Godfathers daughter, whom I hadn't seen for a great number of years. It was really nice to see her and her children. She has a wonderful, one year old, baby girl named Julia who insisted wearing my Bronco's hat backwards, just like I do. I can tell that she will be a very cool girl. There was a massive feast at Wong's Cafe on Saturday, and on Sunday, Chest (Clayton Busby) and Dawn came and visited me for the day. We had quite the adventure launching Chest's boat at George's Beach. It cost him Two Dollars to use George's Boat Launch. Due to the shallow water that this years lack of precipitation has yielded, Chest had to navigate a very difficult channel, with only the instructions George gave him to help: "Up, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, Boat Start." Other than the brief visit from Chest, I spent most of my time on my own. Each night I would wander down to the beach and watch the meteor shower. The sky was absolutely transcendent. I could see tens of thousands of stars. The milky way was visible. And the shooting stars were magnificent. I made many wishes that perhaps I shouldn't have. No matter, wishing never does any good. But I still enjoyed the spectacle. I find that I spend a lot of time by myself in places like that. I need the time to think, to search for answers to questions that I cannot ask anyone else. Sometimes I reach a moment of clarity, and I become enlightened to some fact that I wish to understand. I usually do not like the answers that come to me, and quite often am left wondering how it is that I could suddenly know what is going on, but I never question such revelations, for they are never wrong. I had previously decided to leave Tuesday morning, but changed my plans when I found out that Dog Pound would not be joining me, due to a work related conflict of interest. It was, perhaps, a good decision.

...where do we go now? where do we go? Where do we go now? Where do we go now? Where do we go now...

Tuesday night I was standing on the beach, as I had done every night before. I was smoking a cigarette, and staring at the stars. I was reflecting upon the summer, and all that it had wrought. The main topic spinning in my mind was, of course, girls. I was feeling especially lonely that night, and was rememering all the fun that I had at Emerald Lake in June. I was wondering how many years would pass before I would meet someone interesting again. This time, there was no preminition imposed on me. But soon I would learn the answer was about ten minutes. I went for a walk up the road and was soon invited to a small party. I met some interesting people there. One was a special girl named Tiffany. It is not every day that someone meets a pretty girl who apprecitates GNR, Camaros, and Rye Whiskey. Although it is doubtful that I will see her anytime soon, if ever, I will never forget her. The next morning I stowed my gear and headed home.

...fuckin' up my whole life. So I'm on my way, I leave today, if I get away, then it will be OK...

I would like to, at this time, inject a small story into this August Epic. I promised Chest a while back that I would talk about football for a while. So I shall.
They say football is a game of inches. And truly, it can be. Two teams train hard everyday, and work to exhaustion, sometimes ending careers, for a few inches. Perhaps the worst thing that I have ever seen in football is when one team runs the clock out. Think about this: Two teams, we will call them the Spartans and the Titans, are playing a game. Going into the game, the Spartans knew that the Titans were a superior team, but they trained hard, knowing upsets can happen. Their coach told them they have to want it. That they have to want it more than the other team. Flash forward. There is a minute and a half left in the Fourth Quarter, and the Titans have possession. The Spartans played the best game they have ever played in the history of the franchise, but are still down by 21 points. Neither team has any time outs remaining. The Spartans know that they are going to loose. They not only have to regain possession, but score three touchdowns in a minute and a half. That means getting the ball, and executing two onside kicks, with no room for error. Nearly impossible. What makes this feat more impossible is that the linemen have to reach the Titan's QB before he can ground the ball. Every player lines up on the scrimmage line and sets up for the impending rush. Some players are simply going through the motions, knowing that it is only a matter of time before the end of the game, while others still want it. The center snaps the ball to the QB and the Spartans surge forward. Every muscle straining as hard as it ever has. The heart pumping, the mind willing, and every second of a lifetime of conditioning and training is channelled into one instance, but before one foot is in front of the other, the QB has grounded the ball. Now they have to stand around while the Titans run down the play clock. Second down and everything repeats. Some players keep telling themselves that they can get to the ball in time. But they do not. And soon enough, the game is over. There is no climatic final play. There are no heros. Only a team that was outgunned to begin with, left to hopelessly watch as the final thirty seconds roll off the clock, while the Titans organization wanders the field, congratulating each other on a victory they knew they had to begin with. In that time, it sure sucks to be a Spartan. That is pretty much all that I want to say about football right now.

In the still of the night, I hear the wolf howl honey...

And then Jet D stepped forth and said: "Let there be Tub 2001."
I think that this years annual hot tub extravaganza was the largest in history. I have to say that I found this to be the most stressful party I have ever thrown. Not that I am complaining, for the annual hot tub party is a labour of love, but it was very hard to deal with the estimated combined head count of 200 people from the four nights. For those who are gawking, I have counted each person once for each night they attended. And then there were the gate crashers that needed evicting friday night. Special thanks to the Holowaty's, specifically Tyler's Cousin's friend, for sending all of Rylie's to my yard. Thursday night was an intersting start up to the party, with Chest Busby's naked ass invading my house. Not to mention naked Dog Pound and naked Crystal Bideaux. Besides the gate crashers, Friday was a pretty good night. I met an amazing girl who I hope that I will see again, but every day doubt it more. I doubt I will forget her anytime soon, though. Saturday night was less chaotic than Friday, no gate crashers, only police. The cops came to my yard, shone their spot light right on Chest's naked... chest, and promptly left with little said. Key moment: remembing to take Dawn's panties off of my head before speaking with the police. Special thanks to the Holowaty's for bringing four 14 year old girls to my house at 4:30 in the morning. When Sunday night arrived, I breathed a sigh of relief. At every year's hot tub party, Sunday is my night to relax. It is a much quieter party, with only a few close friends. We listened to music and drank very lightly. Special thanks to the Holowaty's for bringing a drunk 17 year old girl that they found and drugged up with mushrooms. Actually, she was very nice, and, to tell the truth, I felt a little sorry for her, on account of how hard the younger Holowaty's were hitting on her. She didn't seem too interested, but was no doubt thinking, "I'm drunk, I'm stoned, and these guys are my ride home." She did all right.

...I can feel it, coming in the air tonight, oh no...

And so I found myself with my holidays drawing to an end. I spent Monday cleaning the yard and preparing the tub for pick up. I couldn't help but take some solace in the knowledge that I could finally rest. The whole summer had been very enjoyable, and very busy, but I was lacking my inner peace. Tuesday night I regained my inner strength and confidence when I succesfully tested for the rank of 5th gup. I spent the rest of the week in quiet meditation.

Motorin' What's your price for flight? In finding Mister Right? You'll be all right tonight.

The following Friday, a special trek was made to Joe's Cabins, situated on notorious Candle Lake. With every visit, Candle Lake has tried to claim a victim from our fold. Some may remember when the tree fell on Dog Pound, as well, there was the year when Chest almost drowned pursuing his dingy. This year was no exception to the rule, as there was another near loss. Friday morning, a jovial bunch of us were traveling north. Chest, Dawn, myself, Dog Pound, and most noteworthy, Erin Winkler, made the journey in the trusty 65 Bel Air. YC and Vance arrived much later in the Supra. YC learned that day that it is not as easy to find Candle Lake as he may have thought. Of course, all of us were excited that Erin joined us. She made the commute from Cow Town especially to join us that weekend. Thank you, Erin. When we arrived, we discovered, much to our delight, that we were staying in a gigantic barn like structure with two floors, and a balcony with an excellent view of the lake. There was much insane boating on the rough waters. Erin proved that she can handle a sea bisquit like nobody's business. But, if you think that is impressive, you should see her with Limp Bizkit. Saturday, we almost lost the Bel Air to the lake when the parking pin gave out, causing the car to roll into the lake, deep enough to fill the back seat and trunk with water. YC bravely saved the classic machine. We had fun singing Kareoke and playing with fireworks. Everyone eventually ended up in bed with Dawn. I served a glorious Ukrainian lunch, and we played great Ukrainian card games. In conclusion, we all had a great time almost burning Joe's Cabins down.

And that brings this update nearly to an end. I have only a few more things I wish to mention at this time.

Jet D's Top Six Songs of Summer 2001:

  • Hanging By A Moment - Life House. Desperate for changing, searching for truth, I'm closer to where I started, I'm chasing after you. I'm falling even more in love with you...
  • Red Neck Girl - Bellamy Brothers. ...and I pray that someday I might find me a red neck girl...
  • Put it On Me - Ja Rule. Where would I be with out you? I only think about you. I know you're tired of being lonely, so baby girl put it on me.
  • Angel - Shaggy. ...despite of my behavior, you are my savior. You must be sent from up above. And you appear to me so tender, well I surrender. Said thanks for giving me your love.
  • I Don't Believe in You - Joee. ...took in your lies for a while, now I see through you. I still have my pride and it keeps me alive. See, I don't believe you. No, I don't believe in you. How can I trust you? So now what you gonna do? Because it's always about you...
  • Boiler - Limp Bizkit. ...sometimes, somethings turn into dumb things, and that's when you put your foot down...

    And because I like to keep my promises:

    Heather is a really great girl.
    Sweeter than an ice cream swirl.
    I wish she would stop trying to grab my ass. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but she's barking up the wrong tree.

    If you can name the title and artist for each lyrical excerpt that I have subdivided this update with, you will win something of Dog Pound's.

    ...ps: if this is Austin, I still love you.

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