Today's entry has two parts. First, a brief discussion of one of the most beloved things in my life: The Amulet of Forsteri, and because I expect that to run a bit short, I'm posting the opening segments of various columns, both from The Cardboard Tube and Rooked!, which were never quite good enough (or couldn't possibly be extended long enough) to get turned into full columns.

The Amulet of Forsteri should be a common sight to most people I know; the image of Fred the Happy Face (as indirectly named by a friend of mine, long ago) set into a metal back, heavily varnished, coated in plastic, and suspended from a leather thong. The Amulet is my holy symbol; it connects me to Forsteri; it protects me when I wear it; it gives me strength, confidence, and happiness; and it glows in the dark.

The Amulet's existence begins more than five years ago (beginning counting back from when this is being written, rather than god-knows when it's being read). In the beginning, the Amulet was that most humble of all things, a key-chain, sitting unnoticed at Zellers. While on an utterly unrelated shopping trip (probably for t-shirts or something) I happened to notice the chain on a temporary rack set up to liquidate things Zellers desperately wanted to get rid of. The chain had been marked down several times already and sat at a comfortable price of about 2$. As a key-chain, the Amulet looked mostly as it did now, save that it was less scratched, less weathered, and rather than a leather strap, had a small iron ring by which one might attach it to, for example, keys. I am ashamed to admit that at the time I nearly put it down and walked away, leaving it to the tender mercies of some grubby five-year old, when a voice filled me with the sense that the key-chain was something good, something special, and something that should be mine. Whatever my other faults, I've never been one to ignore strange voices, so I paid for the key-chain and brought it home with me.

I will remind the reader that at this time in my life, I was in the late stages of Eric 3.0, and so I can be forgiven that once I had the amulet at home, I promptly forgot about it and left it to languish with the rest of my "cheap crap with happy-faces on it" collection. Time passed, though, and along came my high-school graduation. For the party, I had arranged for a very nice tuxedo and, because I hadn't found a tie I liked, I had gotten one with a Chinese collar which closed at the throat with a small obsidian-like plastic pin. While I was getting ready to leave and putting on the suit, however, I suddenly had the strange idea... Couldn't I put something else through the hole at the collar? Frantically I searched through my things and by luck stumbled upon... the keychain! Stuart, invaluable as ever, devised a way for me to attach it to the shirt without damaging either and thus attired, I went to my graduation. This picture shows me that evening, and I believe it is the only good picture of me ever taken.

After the graduation, the keychain was given a place of honor among my Stuff, until partway through that summer, when, pondering, I asked myself if I could somehow transform it into a necklace I could wear regularly. My mother generously provided a leather strap which I threaded through one of the smaller rings on the chain, and in an instant, it was transformed from schlock to jewelry. The transformation from necklace to amulet took longer, because that was a philosophical change rather than a physical one. Mere months after the first time I wore it as a necklace, I underwent the change from Eric 3.0 to Eric 4.0; this change brought with it my adoption of Forsteri as my patron deity and, thus, the very brief search for a holy symbol. It had been a key-chain, a tie, and a necklace, but at last it had found its true telos as...

That actually did end up being the length of a full entry once I wrote it, but since I promised, here are the unfinished columns for your entertainment.

Evolution
Let's talk about evolution. I believe in evolution wholeheartedly, and that's because you can see it happening in the one place where modern society can truly be observed in its natural form: shopping malls.

Before going even one word farther into this column, I feel the need to point out that the idea that evolution and creationism are conflicting theories is a common misconception, and that evolution and creationism have nothing to do with each other if you actually know what both are. Anyone who sends me flames just because I say I believe in evolution will receive the business end of my eleven years of religious education.

So anyway, shopping malls. Nowhere else do North American city-dwelling humans exist in their natural state. Of course, natural state is a matter of perspective, and I mean "natural state" in a Hobbesian sense; while shopping, the average human is nasty, brutish, and short. But they're also evolving at a perceptible rate, which is both entertaining and horrifying at the same time.

Chaos
I'd like to take a few minutes to talk about chaos. Chaos is one of the few truly wonderful things that abound in the natural world. Furthermore, it's one of the world's few truly renewable resources, and on top of that, it's something humans continually manufacture. Chaos is cheap, easy, and fun to use. All this being said, however, the true devotee of chaos is continually shocked and amazed at how most people seem to have little appreciation, understanding, or control of the chaos in their lives.

Speaking for myself, I love chaos. I enjoy things commonly associated with chaos; I have an ample dice collection, for example, only a few of which are weighted, and I enjoy keeping the letter C around me, because, after all, C is for chaos and that's good enough for me. The reason I like to keep little bits of chaos around me is that society is, by nature, a system of imposing an orderly system on a disorderly system, which is not inherently good or bad. However, most societies tend to try to impose either too much order or too little order, and both chaos and order require very careful balances to be used properly. As in all things, the key to having happy, healthy chaos in your life is moderation. Most philosophical schools arise out of the societies, and thus tend to teach that either only order or only chaos is a right way of doing things. Few people ever take the time to really think about either order or chaos, content to simply follow rules and laws, which are arguably not inherently orderly or chaotic themselves. Few people, therefore, stop to consider that order without chaos is stagnant, and chaos without order is wasteful.

Although I was born Jewish and still consider myself culturally so to a certain degree, I do not think of myself as a Jew religiously. I am, however, a devout follower of two other beliefs. One of these is the Path of Forsteri, which is irrelevant to this column. The other is Discordianism, the worship of Eris (not "Eric" as some people have asked me), Greek goddess of chaos. Modern Discordianism varies considerably from ancient Discordianism in many ways. Most importantly, Eris is worshipped in a much more friendly aspect than She was in ancient Greece. For example, in Greek myth, it is generally accepted that Eris started the Trojan War mostly to see what would happen. Modern interpretations of Eris portray Her as a much more benevolent goddess. The religion also has the advantage that the holy book, the Principia Discordia, is significantly funnier than the holy books of most faiths (except for the book of Revelations, particularly chapter 6, which is truly hilarious).

Waffles
I wouldn't call myself the Son of God, but... Actually, I think I'll get lynched if that opening continues a few more words, so I'll be writing about waffles today instead.

To put everyone in the right sort of mood, I'd like all my beloved readers to take a moment and sing, hum, whistle or whatever your favorite form of musical reproduction is, the famous folk song, "I'm a waffle, call me Dave." C'mon try it. You don't know it? Well, give it your best shot. Hum how you think it goes. I'm waiting.

Well, I'm not surprised you couldn't get that one. It was a toughie, because I just made up that song. The important thing is, you're now ready to contemplate the glory that are waffles.

When trying to decide which characters to write up portraits for, I faced the inevitable difficulty that many of the characters from my games which people have found most interesting have been written about ad nauseum in my work. That said, of all game villains who I'm not currently running, Beelzebubbles is probably the one who has prompted the most back-story and epilogue based questions from my players, while simultaneously being one of the few characters that people outside of the Alternate D&B game have not yet heard of. I proudly present, therefore, Beelzebubbles.

Name: Beelzebubbles
Race: Demon (Netherhells)
Status: Deceased
Beelzebubbles the demon was spawned in the depths of the Netherhells in the year 800 of the Gerhyden calendar, deep within lands held by the Hoohah of Information, Pah-Sti T'Naht. Centuries before the rise of the Grand Hoohah Guxx, the Netherhells were an even more chaotic place than they eventually became; no law regulated the constant intercine warfare, and demons died in the thousands daily as power was bought and stolen by rival demon lords. Beelzebubbles was spawned of two shape shifters and was himself a shape shifter; in his natural form, which he wore for many years, Beelzebubbles was human sized and shaped, with a short, bulbous tail and white, maggot-colored flesh. Beelzebubbles' forbearers were information drones: they existed as living circuits within the great Information Network of the Netherhells, using their bodies' own amorphous nature to transmit large volumes of information from one site to another. Beelzebubbles escaped this slavery when the processing station was struck by the armies of the Hoohah of Warfare, killing most of the slaves; Beelzebubbles himself escaped by assuming the form of one of the Soldiers of War and fleeing.

Beelzebubbles found his way to the capital city of the Hoohah of Information, the largest nearby center of civilization. Years passed as Beelzebubbles moved from job to job, seeking only survival, and spent time working at every task from menial labor at Slime Burger franchises to operating the Canon Travel Network. During this time, Beelzebubbles began to explore the secrets of magic and, with some small inborn talent, began to supplement his temp work with wages earned as a passable hedge mage. Affordable wizardry being rare in the Netherhells, particularly in Information held lands, Beelzebubbles eventually became competent enough to become self-employed and self-supporting, and became a contract mage for the household of a Sub-Hoohah. It was during this time which Beelzebubbles began to gain access to the technologies which the demongineers had been developing, non-magical methods of constructing immense towers, transportation networks, vehicles and anything else they could lay their hands on. Fascinated by their work, Beelzebubbles came to hold the philosophy which would become the driving force in his life: any magic which is distinguishable from technology is insufficiently advanced.

While he had risen through the ranks rapidly, Beelzebubbles now found himself stalled. The higher he went in the demon hierarchy, the more powerful and ancient the demons above him were, and since the majority of demons did not age, he had little hope of promotion coming to him if he simply waited. His magical power was limited, however, and he lacked the ability to challenge his superiors. He was, it appeared, doomed to middle-management for eternity. Unwilling to accept a fate which was cruel even by the standards of the Netherhells, Beelzebubbles bent himself to scouring all the data in the information network for some key to power. The Netherhells was home to many magics, but the truly powerful artifacts had all long-since been claimed by demons mighty enough to hold them, and so Beelzebubbles did what few demons would have had the courage to do: he turned his gaze to the surface world and the untold terrors it held.

It took Beelzebubbles twenty years to find clues to the power he sought, but ageless as he was, the time meant little to him. Legends of previously weak individuals who had come across great power eventually led to a coherent series of facts, and narrowing those down led him to a handful of truthful facts hidden within the mass of exaggeration and inaccuracy. In the year 842, Beelzebubbles tracked the legends to an ancient, collapsed temple wherein lay a sleeping evil.

Ragon, Lord of the Mists, was awakened by Beelzebubbles from a decades-long sleep, and heard the demon's petition for power. In exchange for an oath of servitude, Ragon accepted Beelzebubbles as one of his chosen, greatly enhancing the demon's innate powers of spellcraft, shape shifting, and information management. The result was for Beelzebubbles to become equal in power to any of the sub and lesser hoohahs he had previously served. Before he could return to the Netherhells, however, he found himself bound magically to his oath of servitude, and thus spent the next eight years in slavery to yet another master.

In the year 850, Beelzebubbles at last broke free of Ragon's control and attempted to slay the golem. Ragon easily defeated Beelzebubbles and put a geas upon him, such that the demon would never again be able to take direct action against him. Beelzebubbles fled, his life and his power intact, and began to travel the surface world. He soon discovered that his inability to hide the color of his skin, no matter what shape he wore, made it impossible to blend in among humans, and so he began to travel in various form; birds, snakes, rodents, and most commonly, the form of a cat. When this made it difficult to interact with humans, Beelzebubbles again had a solution- he summoned a human mage as his familiar, and began to travel in the guise of that mage's own pet. They were Beezle and Bubbles, and with the power they held between them, they sought out lost works of magic and soon became numbered among the most powerful mages of the surface.

In the year 921, now over a century old, Beelzebubbles and his mage returned to the Netherhells and, by right of power and ruthlessness, claimed the title of Lesser Hoohah of Information, answerable only to the Grand Hoohah, The Unnamable One. Beelzebubbles' first act was to try to send a team of demon warriors to slay Ragon, but was unable to do so due to the geas upon him.

For the next hundred and twelve years, Beelzebubbles consolidated his power, funded research into non-magical science, built up the Information Lands into the most powerful area of the Netherhells second only to Kartaxia itself, and sought out ways to destroy Ragon. Finally, Beelzebubbles uncovered a prophecy of unknown origin which told that if a group of heroes who had all died by their own foolishness and returned to life only to do so again, carrying between them magical items enough to level a kingdom, faced Ragon, the golem would be once and forevermore destroyed. Beelzebubbles faced one difficult problem, which was he knew of no such "heroes." He began the search for them.

Centuries passed; centuries turned into millennia. Lesser Hoohahs came and went; The Unnamable One was slain by Guxx Unfafadoo, who became Grand Hoohah in the ancient Netherhells ritual of "Got Yer Spleen." In the year 2284, Beelzebubbles located three adventurers of chaotic spirits, unreliable natures, poor wisdom and great potential. Divination revealed that they had a potential rare in mortals; when they died, their souls would go, as the souls of sufficiently chaotic mortals sometimes did, not to the upper or lower plans, but deep into the earth and to the Netherhells. Convinced by the coincidence that these were the foretold ones, Beelzebubbles began to arrange the other pieces where they had to be on the board and, in 2303, put each of them in a position where, due to their own stupidity, they were killed. Finally, Beelzebubbles arranged for them to be captured and brought to his prison, then allowed them to escape and watched them for months while he made final preparations.

In 2304, due partially to Beelzebubbles' own influence and partially to events on the surface, Ragon and the equally powerful mud-golem, Shettar, went to war. The tide turning against his wargolem armies on the surface, Ragon was lured to one of his own emergency temples in the Netherhells and the prophesized ones, along with another group of adventurers, were set against him. Beelzebubbles himself attempted to enter the fray but his plans were ruined when the adventurers imprisoned Ragon rather than destroy him. Defeated himself by their combined might, Beelzebubbles fled.

Months passed, and Beelzebubbles found that his power had begun to noticeably weaken. When he investigated, it became clear that his power had actually been waning for over a year, and he traced the loss to one of the prophesized ones he had brought to the Netherhells. The mortal had been killed when he fell into a pool of pure magical energy; it had been the very pool by which Ragon had long before empowered Beelzebubbles, and now every time the mortal mage cast a spell, he drew the magic directly from Beelzebubbles. The cumulative drain had begun to be a severe threat to his power. Beelzebubbles chased the mortal and his companions for weeks, trying to draw them to a place where he could draw the stolen power back into himself. His chance came when the adventurers became forced into a competition for the fate of the Netherhells. The First Demons were returning, as they did once a century, to challenge the creature who had dealt the greatest property damage over the past year, and the adventurers were the chosen ones. Appearing before them, Beelzebubbles persuaded them that only he could give them to power they needed to defeat the First Demons, and opened a conduit between himself and the mortal spellcaster. Rather than add his power to the mortal's, Beelzebubbles began to draw his power back to himself. At the last moment, the mortal realized the trap and reversed the magical exchange, instantly drawing all of Beelzebubbles' power into himself. The mortal was instantly obliterated, becoming one with the very force of magic itself, and Beelzebubbles, bereft of the all the magic which empowered him and had kept him alive nearly two thousand years, collapsed to dust.

Thus ended the tale of Beelzebubbles, Lesser Hoohah of Information and former chosen of Ragon.

Concluding this series of articles, some more quotes. When this was the most recent Entry, I had a link where you could download my complete quote book, but took the link down when this Entry went into the archive. If you would like a copy of my quote book and I'm still updating this page or you know me in person, feel free to contact me and ask.

Go away. I'm all right. H. G. Wells, last words
It often worries me that I, witty as I am, might not leave good last words. I imagine that nothing is more embarrassing than having a great line saved up for eighty years and then either not using it or using it when not, in fact, dying. My current plan, therefore, is to eventually settle on what I want my last words to be, and then leave instructions in my Apotheosis file that everyone should be told that that's what they were.

Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted. Martin Luther King
We should be so lucky.

It's hard to be religious when certain people are never incinerated by lightning. Calvin
I have calculated, with certainty, that the moment I became religious was just after the Ice Storm, when, in the midst of an argument with a friend, a tree fell on him at an opportune moment. God works in mysterious ways, but Forsteri's timing is always ideal.

There's nothing that will change someone's moral outlook quicker than cash in large sums. Larry Flynt
I'm a big believer in the theory that everybody has a price, largely since my price is rarely very high. I've happily sold my principles for very small values and I would do the same again.

In the end, everything is a gag. Charlie Chaplin
This has been my .sig for months now, and I have yet to find something more appropriate.

The secret of life is to appreciate the pleasure of being terribly deceived. Oscar Wilde
I should say, "the secret to living with Eric." Whatever.

In brightest day, in darkest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil's might, beware my power, Green Lantern's light. Hal Jordan
I've always had the strangest love of this phrase. It is the mantra I use when I need to activate my system; something about this line triggers my adrenalin systems, and it's one of the most potent tricks I have in my little mental arsenal. When I eventually have a place of my own, I plan to have this line written in huge letters across an entire wall.

This is not fun. I've had fun. This isn't it. Peter Venkman
Oh, well, this isn't good, not at all. I've seen good before, and it didn't look anything like this. Remember that bad thing we saw? Well, it looked like this, remember? Joel Robinson
Again, not much to add to this one.

We never say, 'who's gonna get this?' We always say 'the right people will get this.' Joel Hodgson
The great secret behind my ability to write.

I will keep nothing near me that does not make me happy. King Haggert
You really have to hear this one being spoken by Christopher Lee to get the full effect.

If I had a nickname, I think I would want it to be "Prince of Weasels", because then I could go up and bite people and they would turn around and go, "What the-?" And then they would recognize me, and go, "Oh, it's you, the Prince of Weasels." Jack Handy
Heheheh... weasels...

Nothing moves me, on Earth, as much as stupid courage. William Goldman
From the man who gave us Inigo Montoya.

It is by will alone I set my mind in motion. It is by the juice of Sapho the thoughts acquire speed. The lips acquire stains. The stains become a warning. It is by will alone I set my mind in motion. Piter de Vries
Another of my most-used mantras, this one very effective against pain/exhaustion. And again, for full effect, you really have to visualize this one being spoken by Brad Dourif.

And that's it. I spared you the bulk of my quotes (the book itself taking up 29 pages of document format), but these are probably my very favorite of all (or at least, ones for which I had a thought to add).

And now, continuing with the brief discussion of some of my favorite quotes. As with part 1, most readers will already be familiar with many if not all of these, but there's never any harm in reading them again. If you don't think these quotes are amusing or interesting... well, suffering is good for the soul, so read'em anyway.

I don't have to take this abuse from you. I've got hundreds of people dying to abuse me. Dr. Peter Venkman
A fun fact about the new Garfield movie: in the Ghostbusters cartoon, the voice of Peter Venkman (played live by Bill Murray), was done by Lorenzo Music, who also did the Garfield cartoon back in the late 80's early 90's. Now, the new Garfield film features Bill Murray as the voice of a live action Garfield. Some of us find this simple fact to be funnier than the entire movie.

I hate quotations. Emerson
This is what we call "irony." Take notes.

History will be kind to me for I intend to write it. Winston Churchill
People sometimes ask me, "won't history look back badly on you if you rule the world with an iron fist?" My typical reply is "not if the historians know what's good for them."

The best argument against democracy is a five minute conversation with the average voter. Winston Churchill
I am, of course, a vocal proponent of dictatorship as the best form of government, assuming one can find a person worthy of being that dictator.

Don't you wish there were a knob on the TV to turn up the intelligence? There's one marked "Brightness," but it doesn't work. Gallagher
For those unfamiliar with Gallagher, this is a man whose career was based around smashing a watermelon with a sledgehammer at the end of every show.

I may never get to play with the Philharmonic, but on the other hand, is Leonard Bernstein licensed to kill? Maxwell smart
I once calculated if you looked at me and any nine of my friends, there is a better than fifty-percent chance that I am the only one in the group who has no musical aptitude or training. On the other hand, how many of my friends have ever watched a teddy-bear go up in flames from the inside out?

At least I shall have the pleasure of putting you out of my misery.
Take good care of Mr. Bond. See that some harm comes to him.
Mr. Bond, you persist in defying my efforts to provide an amusing death for you. Hugo Drax
From MoonRaker, possibly the least serious James Bond film of them all, including Casino Royale and Operation 007.

It's kind of fun to do the impossible. Walt Disney
Not much to add to this one.

If you cannot convince them, confuse them. Harry S. Truman
It's always worked for me.

And, to close part 2, one of the lines most associated with me in the last two years:

All things are possible except skiing through a revolving door. Anonymous
I have debated this one endlessly, and have yet to find someone who can persuade me otherwise.

Still enough material left for part 3, so expect that in the near future.

Psychology argues that there is no such thing as altruism; it has never been measured, codified, or correlated with a personality type. Psychology believes that people only act altruistic if they have something to gain.

Why do we do nice things for people? Some of us are just plain nice and enjoy doing good things for others; I've read this is the case, but I have only ever met a small number of people who I know do this on a regular basis, and I am forced to conclude they are a small, demented minority. A much larger number of people do nice things only because 1) they owe the recipient a favor, 2) they want the recipient to owe them a favor, or 3) the recipient is someone they care for and therefore it is in their own best interests to aid the recipient. I fall firmly in the second category; I enjoy helping many people, but I only enjoy it... and thus, only do it to any great degree... when the person I am helping is someone I owe, I want to owe me, or is someone I feel compelled to help for one reason or another.

Like many schemers, I keep an encyclopedic count of who I owe favors to and to whom I owe favors. Like all manipulators, I have more people who owe me favors than to whom I owe. I make a point of not being in debt to people if I can help it, and with only a handful of exceptions... five people, by my best calculation... I do not owe anyone anything in any way, shape, or form, not counting taxes, bills, and other things that fall under the category of perpetual monetary expenses and not favors. In contrast, many people owe me favors... nearly everyone I associate with, I have made a point of putting into my debt in one way or another. Do I give you rides to or from games? It's because I want you to be well-disposed towards me if I ever ask for something. Do you owe me money I've never asked for repaid? Here's why. The wise and the weasly both agree that sooner or later you will undoubtedly need the help of others, so you may as well ensure that they owe you one when the time comes.

This all might sound a bit manipulative. You'd be right. This might also sound a little hostile; you'd be wrong. Putting people into a position where they owe you is no more unfriendly than any other social interaction, and the fact that I do nice things with the intent of personal gain doesn't negate the fact that I do nice things. Also, the fact that I manipulate people doesn't mean I don't genuinely like them. Doing favors for others is in principle not much different from putting money in the bank; you'll need it eventually, and you want to be sure it'll be there when you do.

Send feedback on this; you owe it to me.

It has been observed by my readers that this isn't really a journal in so far as that I don't write about what I've been up to, things that have happened to me, or the thoughts I’ve had recently. Others have argued that this isn't a Livejournal, since it's not filled with annoying rants, bad poetry, or curse words. It has wisely been pointed out, in fact, that what this really is, is just me writing about whatever comes to mind.

This is entirely accurate.

Webster's dictionary defines "journal" as

1 a: a record of current transactions; especially: a book of original entry in double-entry bookkeeping. b: an account of day-to-day events. c: a record of experiences, ideas, or reflections kept regularly for private use. d: a record of transactions kept by a deliberative or legislative body. e: A log.
2 a: a daily newspaper. b: a periodical dealing especially with matters of current interest.
3: the part of a rotating shaft, axle, roll, or spindle that turns in a bearing.

In contrast, the Imperial Plagiarized Encyclopedia has this to say about journals:

Journal (Noun): That place where I writes stuff sometimes; the thing what Picard always talked into; something English teachers and psychologists make you write; a magazine about Research and Stuff.

Since this page is clearly not, for example, a newspaper, or a rotating shaft, it falls to the clever reader to select definition 2b; this page is a periodical dealing with things which are of current interest to me, "current" being a matter of perspective. I don't know what people were expecting if they ended up surprised by how this page has manifested, but it seems to me that, if you're shocked that I choose to write about whatever catches my sixty-thoughts-per-minute mind and then intersperse my thoughts with deliberate spelling errors, omissions, jokes and outright lies, you probably don't know me that well.

This Isn't Really a Journal, Is It?
Powerpoint Prestation
The Next Best Thing to Being Witty (Part 2)
Character portraits:
     Claton P'Lo/Clayton Paulo
     Virrar Crysthalus
     Sebastian Pran-Dar
     The Spirit of the 21st Century
     Guxx Unfafadoo
     Naglfr
     Crucible
     Tan'El
And It Glows In the Dark, Too!
The Windblade
Accessorize!
Inimicology
Ten Minutes of Free-Writing
And, as a special bonus, unpublished issues of Rooked! originally written for Concordia's Link.

These topics and others should ensure that this journal continues to be written for at least one or two more months, and hopefully reader interest will drive the journal to continue beyond that. Tell your friends about it... tell your enemies, too! Tell anybody, who might possibly display the smallest interest because, what the hell, if I'm writing it, it may as well be getting read.

Interdum feror cupidine partium magnarum Europae vincendarum!

It is now one month since I began this project. In that time, this journal has been receiving about 4 hits per day from different IP addresses (less since I settled more into an every-3-days schedule) and I have been receiving some small amount of feedback but very little in the way of questions. I'm happy to continue writing this, but, as they say, I'm not doing it for my health. Are people out there enjoying or being enlightened or anything at all?

I'm going to take a one week (or so) break from the journal and in that time, I'd like to hear back from people who read this as to whether or not they actually want it to continue, and if they're satisfied with the sort of material being posted. I'm happy to change the content and, if there isn't enough interest in my continuing, then I'll have another hour-and-a-half per week of free time. If I'm going to continue, I'd like to get at least three or four letters saying people want me to, so if you're worried there won't be enough support, be sure to have some friends write me, or to otherwise pad the ballot box.

Today I address the first of a series of questions asking me to explain some of the quotes I tend to use. Most of you are familiar with my Quote Book which I maintain and add to religiously, and some of the quotes contained within apparently do not quite reverberate within other people the way they do within me. That said, here are very brief discussions of some of the ones I've been asked about from my Book.

When in question or in doubt, run in circles scream and shout. Lazarus Long
This one strikes me as self-explanatory. Like most humans, I have an inexplicable weakness for things that rhyme. No one knows why humans are obsessed with rhymes, even stupid rhymes, but the fact is that everyone from Bill Shakespeare to "Clone High" has commented on the power of rhyme. Plus, it's just generally good advice. With all respect to mister Adams, panic has gotten me out of a lot of situations.

Looks like we're going to need another Timmy! Mister Lizard
Who remembers the old Jim Henson TV show, "Dinosaurs!"? You may remember the small pink one named Baby Sinclair who caused property damage every episode. The program often featured the characters watching TV, and these scenes were often the highlight of the show; one program they watched was called Mister Lizard, and was a parody of the old Mister Wizard science show. Mister Lizard would conduct science experiments with his assistant, Timmy, who invariably met a horrific (and funny) end at the wrong end of, say, an active jet-engine. Guess what Mister Lizard's catch phrase was at the end of each segment?

Evacuate? In our moment of triumph? Grand Moff Tarkin
The last words of Grand Moff Tarkin, commander of the Death Star, in Star Wars: a New Hope. Shame on you for not knowing who Tarkin (or even Peter Cushing) was.

Are Amigos falling from the sky? El Guapo
You shot the invisible swordsman! Lucky Day
The three amigos. If you haven't seen it, ask to borrow my copy. Then buy your own copy, too.

You get to drink from the fire hose! Stanley Spedowski
Yes, sad but true, the first real acting role of the man who went on to be Cosmo Kramer was in the Weird Al Yankovic movie, UHF, where he played a janitor/kids' show host. On Stanley Spedowski's Playhouse, kids would hunt in the sandbox full of oatmeal looking for the prize, and when they found it, they got to sit on the plastic horse and drink from the firehose... very briefly.

You are so vain that you think just because you are alive the universe wants you to be. Deathurge
Once you move beyond assuming "God loves us" the universe becomes a much creepier place. This one's always just seemed so very, very true...

Boba Fett? Where? Han Solo
Possibly the finest line in movie history, this line is spoken by the blind Han Solo in ROTJ just before accidentally sending Boba Fett (who, as you all know, if my favorite SW character) into the Sarlacc by mistake. When watching the movie, close your eyes for this bit and just take in the sound. It's marvelous.

If there's anything more important than my ego around, I want it caught and shot. Zaphod Beeblerox
It's funny because it's true.

All right, this is between you and me. Alexander Hamilton
Your rampage ends here, Doomsday, even if it kills me! Superman For those short on US history, Hamilton was killed in a duel later that day.

There is no sin except stupidity. Oscar Wilde
Stupidity cannot be cured with money, or through education, or by legislation. Stupidity is not a sin; the victim can't help being stupid. But stupidity is the only universal capital crime; the sentence is death, there is no appeal, and execution is carried out automatically and without pity. Lazarus Long
Of all the strange "crimes " that human beings have legislated out of nothing, "blasphemy" is the most amazing - with "obscenity" and "indecent exposure" fighting it out for second and third place. Lazarus Long
Hence why I call it the "Wilde-Heinleinian Justice System."

Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. Inigo Montoya
When I was asked to explain this one, I hit the supplicant with a cardboard tube. Not my ceremonial one, my big, heavy functional one. You should all know better.

Ah, arrogance and stupidity all in the same package. How efficient of you. Londo Mollari
Londo Mollari had a much larger impact on the evolution of my personality than I care to admit.

Now you see that evil will always triumph, because good is dumb. Dark Helmet
This is, of course, the very first thing I say to myself whenever I create an evil character; it is the driving philosophy behind every single villain I use in any one of my games.

Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall down an open manhole cover and die. Mel Brooks
People who don't get this one usually didn't notice the use of the pronouns "I" and "you."

It's one of those irregular verbs, isn't it? I have an independent mind, you are eccentric, he is round the twist... Bernard Wooley
That's another of those irregular verbs, isn't it? I give confidential briefings, you leak, he is being prosecuted under section 2a of the official secrets act... Bernard Wooley
From the sitcom "Yes, Minister." The source of my obsession with the phrases "That's one of those irregular verbs..." and "That's one of those funny words..."

I believe in equality. Equality for everybody. No matter how stupid they are or how superior I am to them. Steve Martin
I say this to myself when I get out of bed, just to get ready to face the new day. It does wonders for the confidence.

Next to being witty yourself, the best thing is being able to quote another's wit. Christian N. Bovee
Words, as they say, to live by. A large part of my great ability for responsive comedy comes just from the huge amount of comedy I've studied (not read, studied).

That's part one of this potential series on quotes. Since that covered less than half of my Quote Book, I'll do a part 2 (and maybe a part 3) if there's audience interest.

It has been observed that my actions tend to fall into three categories: Deliberate and planned, part of a convoluted and elaborate scheme, or seemingly random and confusing. I find this a somewhat simplistic analysis of my behaviour... anyone would, really... but it has a certain accuracy to it which merits its discussion.

Let's begin with scheme. I like schemes, as anyone who knows me ought to know. I'm scheming all the time -- it's said that humans can run seven simultaneous thoughts, and one of mine is usually a scheme of some kind. My schemes are many and varied, and I pride myself on having schemes that extend well into the decades. Most of my schemes involve my games; people who play in games I run are aware of the fact that I almost never use notes of any kind, and this is because by the time we get to a game one week, I've already scripted nearly everything that's going to happen, and writing it down seems redundant to me. When I am caught off guard by something, I've usually schemed in enough depth to be able to make stuff up without any real trouble. I have schemes beginning and ending all the time; brief schemes might include "How am I going to paint that Necron?" or even just "what order will I do things when I leave the house to go to work?" A more long term scheme, just as an example, would be my keeping a copy of someone's student number for four and a half years, just so I can write it in a birthday card and see how they react. To a very real degree, my schemes are what keep me going from day to day (and they're fun, too).

Next is random behaviour. No behaviour is truly random, obviously... I don't decide what I'm going to do based on an RNG on my calculator, and even when I roll a die to decide on a course of action, the interpretation of that roll is rarely truly "random." That said, I do a lot of stuff other people don't understand. This category of behaviour includes, for example, my habit of taking side-streets on the spur of the moment when I'm going somewhere, just in case someone is following me, or adding a gibberish word to the middle of an otherwise serious sentence just to keep my listener on their toes. There's actually usually a very convoluted sort of logic behind my so-called random acts, but since it's usually a thirty-step logic chain making leaps no one else couple possibly follow, few people understand when, for no apparent reason, I whack them with a foam sword, or steal their cigarettes, or nudge their chair a few inches to the side, or untie their shoes. When all other explanations fail... well... I am, after all, a worshipper of no less than two gods of Chaos.

The last category of behaviour would be deliberate behaviour. The Path of Forsteri teaches that the highest purpose to which we can aspire is 1) to recognize when a job needs doing and 2) to do it. Laziness is well and good, and procrastination is good for the soul, but when a job needs to be done, it should be done, quickly, decisively, and above all, with purpose. This is harder than it sounds. Most people have a lot of trouble knowing when a thing needs doing, and even then, many people tend to let things slide past that point. Example: in psychology, I write a lot of term papers; without exception, I believe that every paper in all of my classes has, in the end, received an extended deadline, because not enough students actually get around to writing it in time. If these students followed the Path of Forsteri, they would be attuned to when the best possible time is to write that paper and, fueled with an unshakable and inexplicable sense of purpose, would sit down to write it. With very few exceptions, they would have their work done at least two weeks early. Naturally, there are holes in this theory, but in keeping my general theory that "I'm Better Than Other People" I won't waste time discussing them. That job doesn't need doing.