I rite stuff. U luk at it plz.

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OK, for real this time. I just posted a (hopefully) organized and formatted bit of writing called "Army Structure", linked here -> http://www.furaffinity.net/view/5343574

It's mainly designed as a concept document for a game, illustrating the three main schools of warfare on Sejhat as well as specializations in those schools. Just for kicks, I'd like to see if folks will actually read it and answer a few questions:

1: What is your combat school, and why did you choose it?

2: What is your combat specialty, and why did you choose it?

3: If you read about the sub-commanders, which do you think would 'fit' well with your strategy?

Easy enough questions, if you've done the reading. I figured that strategy enthusiasts might want to take a gander.

You may think you're a badass. You may think you can create badasses on pen and paper, or even in today's hardcore digital imaging software. You may even fool your friends into believing your badassery, but without a context of what is truly badass you may as well be a babe in the woods.

What makes something or someone badass? Is it lethality? Boldness? Authority? Reckless insanity? Ginormous steel-clad testicles or the feminine equivalent? It is simultaneously all of these things and none of them.

To be a badass in the eyes of the world, one has to have a combination of all of these qualities that is truly rare. Even so, badasses transcend race, gender, nationality, age, and sartorial custom. A man can be a badass even in tights and an ascot that looks like a party favor. A peasant can be a badass given the right equipment and motivation. A 60-year old in the Renaissance or a 15-year old in World War I can be worthy badasses.

Badasses are fundamentally human. They have to be. This is why most people will agree that Batman is way more badass than Superman. They are not immune to failure, and their ultimate ends are not always peaceful or hopeful, yet they persevere and become stronger through intense hardship. They shape history with their often bloody hands, and that is why we love them. The greatest disfavor we can do to badassery is to forget what true badassery is.

And so, if you're in the mood for some re-education on badasses past and present, I can't recommend http://www.badassoftheweek.com/ highly enough. It's an accessible, uproarious look at badasses, many of which will surprise you, and all of which embody the badass ideal in some way or form. The website is simple and utilitarian. You may even question the historical validity of some accounts until you realize that everyone gets a fair shake.

I can't seem to hide the flames! Thankfully, they sputtered out at about the same time I posted last night's journal.

Anyway, circumstances have proven it largely unnecessary to delete the messages as the flame war has stopped. I do have a question, though, borne out of honest confoundment! Does the 'hide comment' button actually work, or is it there just for ceremonial purposes? I tend to respect peoples' rights to free speech, which is why I've never done this before.

A discussion of a somewhat impolite nature has sprung up. The participants know who they are. I'm not asking you to stop now, but I'm giving everyone involved about 24 hours to finish airing out this discussion- unless Dragoneer beats me to the punch. After that, I am hiding all of the messages pertaining to this discussion at my discretion. Afterwords I suppose you'll have to exchange pyrotechnics through e-mails and notes.

Putting in my two cents, there are enough penis measuring contests here on FA that I don't think it's entirely necessary or practical to do so at this particular location. Additionally, there are more artful and practical ways to make a point than simply pointing and shouting. Even Phoenix Wright could tell you that.

You have until 10:30 EST on February 17, 2011 (That's 0330 Zulu time, February 18th, 2011) to resolve your disputes in the public forums.


Please forward inquiries to this video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvdf5n-zI14

For those of you keeping track of Fred Savage (the comic, I mean, not the celebrity), you may have noticed that Fred has got himself into a peculiar situation. He's chosen to rescue a man he was contracted to kill in order to avoid being killed by his employer while simultaneously making off like a bandit. The question is, if you were Fred, would you have done the same?

Fred intends to make good on Guisse's escape plans. Would you do the same, or would you try to carve your own path? Would you seek revenge? Justice? We all come across choices in our lives- but based on your personal experiences and philosophies what would you do in Fred's shoes?

This isn't an effort to grasp for ideas- I know what Fred is going to do, but it would be interesting to hear your speculations on the matter.

For all you beleaguered and busy folk who have been waiting for this day to come, or simply pass, enjoy yourselves and be merry! Enjoy the day off if you can, and if you must work don't overexert yourself!

I'll try to keep this one brief. Over the years fans and friends alike have taken notice of my mysterious absence during the winter months. The general explanation for this in the past has been some sort of annual vacation from comic work. While this is partly true, it's also a necessity on my part given one extra factor: Seasonal work.

I'm pulling some pretty long hours at the moment. The cash is nice, but it means that I tend to fritter away my free time on things like car repairs, laundry, cooking, sleep, and a bit of Christmas shopping. I wish I could say that I'm a live wire, or that I have the discipline to use my remaining time to write and draw, but that ain't me. I love sleep, long chats, and good meals too much to be an efficient artist during the Holidays.

In the mean time, there is a new, albeit late Fred Savage page. The next one may take a similarly long time to produce, but fear not! I haven't given up, or run into a bad funk.

October 17th:

After another cozy night in Antigua we had run out of scheduled events on our tour and would basically be on our own for entertainment and trips for the duration. As such, we decided to make the most out of two days in Antigua before our group split up and went home. Since it was early in the day we took advantage of light traffic and cool weather to hike up a nearby hillside to a scenic outlook above the city. In earlier walking trips we had tried to find good vantage points overlooking the town, but were either too distracted or too tired to make the effort. The greater part of the walking tour would be in pleasant, wooded hillsides separated from the city's bustle, a perfect enclave for birds. We got off to a slightly late start, but that apparently didn't bother the birds. Using binoculars and bird books we saw and identified some 13 distinct species as well as about the same number that we couldn't confirm due to one reason or another. My personal favorite was the Squirrel Cuckoo, a large brown and white bird with a long, elegant tail, but there were plenty of curious songbirds.

Atop the hill was a statue of the Cross and a gorgeous view of the city from above. There was also a broken water main, apparently, spitting water all over the hillside and causing cascading, muddy rivulets that muddied the sidewalks on the way up. While it was comforting to see the State Police overseeing the area to make sure tourists and visitors were safe due to some serious gang problems in the past, when we mentioned the water main break to them they reacted with total indifference. Not part of their jurisdiction, apparently.

Back in town we took one of our friends to the 'real' market in town, the weekend open-air bazaar, and sure enough it was teeming with activity. We hadn't gotten a real handle on our friend's desire to visit the market, however, and apparently found out that she has mild agoraphobia and found the bustle just too much to cope with, so we found the more placid artisan's fair and walked through that in order to get back to the more open spaces in town.

For lunch we ducked into a random restaurant that seemed reasonably clean. As it turned out, it was a Chinese restaurant! For anyone visiting Antigua, while the food is good all around if you're trying to dine on a dime you may want to avoid eating Chinese. In the end, while the food was up to par the prices were actually a bit higher than what you would pay in the U.S. for the same experience. Apparently Chinese take-out is a bit posh in Guatemala.

Figuring that we had seen enough crowds for the moment we headed back to the hotel, but not before stopping in at the Almanecen Troccoli, a cozy bar and liquor store with a good selection and some very polite, patient, and pretty saleswomen. I had heard that one could get good deals on some very good rum, Ron Zacapa. I picked up a bottle of Ron Zacapa 23 and a bottle of Ron Zacapa XO, aged at least 25 years, before deciding that any more would be too dicey and expensive to bring through Guatemalan and U.S. Customs. A nice physical characteristic of the bottles is that they come with hand-woven palm leaf band around the middle of each bottle. Having tried the stuff just to be sure, and at risk of sounding like some sort of Rummnelier, there's a good reason why Ron is so beloved among those who know it. It's a damn sight better than Bacardi and Captain Morgan!

That afternoon a handful of us hired a minibus and rode down to the nearby city of Esquintla. Esquintla is not as touristy as Antigua, bearing the typical cinderblock and plaster architecture of most Guatemalan towns. We visited a nice little Spanish colonial museum there, but otherwise it was a fairly typical experience, or at least not too different from what we had experienced thus far. One get spoiled by their surroundings, you know.

The afternoon gone, we returned to town and tried to hunt down a nice place to eat. We wanted something close, but also something new. One place we had scoped out was apparently only open for breakfast and lunch, so we set out to find something. In the end, we were drawn into one of the many deceptively humble doorways by a curiously dressed cigar seller on the street who, by no coincidence I'm sure, had good things to say about this fine restaurant right behind him. I wish I remembered the name of the place, cause the food was good, the ambiance was lively, and the mixed drinks were excellent. It was a wonderful way to say goodbye to some of our friends, who we wouldn't really see again once the night was through. Things got a little tearful back at Casa Capuchinas, but everyone managed to pull through and those of us who were still staying another day went to bed late, with nothing to hold us down.

October 18th:

As luck would have it, we were punished for a late bedtime by early birds. The ubiquitous grackles with their wild cacophony of intricate songs normally started at about 6 A.M. or 6:30 A.M., but today they must have been excited about something because they started off at 5:30, and twice as loud as normal. Though we didn't really make much of it at the time, we later felt two seismic tremors, likely the result of nearby Fuego literally blowing off some steam. Apparently birds get just as rattled by earthquakes as we do, only they have the benefit of foresight.

We had yet another Chapin breakfast. While discussing how we couldn't get enough of the stuff, we realized that this was our last- the following morning we would be leaving too early to have it again. Thus, we went back for seconds in spite of our inner dietitians. When the topic of the day's activities came up, most of us were content just to relax and get some last minute shopping done. A couple of us suggested that we go out with a bang by climbing up at least part of Agua, the massive volcano towering over the region. This issue was settled pretty quickly with the fear of waking up for a long day of travel completely cramped and sore, or worse, getting stuck up on the volcano in a spate of potentially bad weather. Thus, we decided to mainly loaf around. Honestly, I think it was the right decision in spite of the pressure to be foolhardy and exuberant in our youth.

George and I took one last stop at the first craft store we visited when we got to Antigua. Strangely, upon a second and more seasoned inspection we found that the store was just as cool as when we first walked in, if not more so. I think a big part of this is that there is a greater selection available aside from just more leather goods and hand-woven textiles. We chucked at and bought some pretty ribald T-shirts, among which is my personal favorite that reads:

"Yes, I am a tourist. No, I do not need a table runner, a tuk-tuk ride, or a fucking bag of cashews!"

They had a pretty neat selection of beads for sale as well, something a lot of the merchants seem to have missed. They will gladly sell beaded bracelets and trinkets for peanuts, but they could save a little effort and actually make more money by selling beads to tourists who would like to craft their own jewelry. My sister is a bit of a bead maniac, so I picked up a decent selection for her, as well as some coffee for my dad and a couple cocoa tablets for my mom. The tablets are good for making a rich, slightly bitter local variant on hot chocolate.

Those of us remaining got together again and had lunch at Epicure, where I tried Ratatouille for the first time and loved it. I've gained more respect lately for taking the occasional vegetarian meal. Part of this comes from a (possibly skewed) examination of the economics of food, as explained in another journal of mine (Steak: The Scourge of Man?). I cheated a bit, though, as it was smothered in glorious cheese.

That afternoon I went around to snap some more photos, including little sections I had missed or seen while passing by in the tour van. Later we had a seat in front of Casa Capuchinas with bottles of wine we had brought, chatting and compiling the experiences of our trip before going to Frida's, a Mexican restaurant placed right next to the historic Arco, much to the jealousy of other restaurants I'm sure. While we had heard some tales about it being so-so, I couldn't complain. The food was perfectly fine to me, though as you may have guessed at this point I might be a bit too kind when eating out.

That night we resisted the urge to chat the evening away, since we were all leaving in the morning. I spent some time packing my suitcase, which was way too big for my voyage to Guatemala but mysteriously filled up on the return trip. Before turning in I paid my bill and checked out, making sure to thank and tip the entire staff individually- this is something you'll want to do at smaller establishments rather than giving your tip as a lump sum to the concierge. While Pedro, the concierge and cook, had done a stellar job I was afraid that giving him the tip to distribute among the staff would cheat our maid Josephina out of her share, which was considerable due to her fine job. It's not uncommon for industrious women to be cheated out of fair wages, sadly.

In spite of the end of the trip, I slept well with the knowledge that it had been so wonderful and galvanizing. For years I've felt a longing to travel abroad, combined with a bit of depression stemming from perhaps a bit too much familiarity with my day-in, day-out life. It was like lifting 10 years of congestion from my mind, and I'm not going to let myself get caught sitting still for so long again.

October 19th

We all rose early, then shuffled towards the door with our bulging totes and carry-ons in tow. The five of us remaining wondered aloud if the van would be on time, since we heard that it arrived a half hour late for the other group. In the end, our fears turned out to be unfounded- the van arrived on the button.

The trip to the airport was pretty uneventful, though we were sort of surprised when we ran into traffic even in the dark of the early morning. We all got through check-in in a timely fashion and, just as we were prepared to part ways we (d'uh) found out that we were all flying back on the same plane! Thus, the long farewell began, the last of us awkwardly trying to make conversation in the terminal even though we had been emotionally prepared to say farewell long before.

Our American Airlines flight arrived on time, and we departed without mishap, all hoping that our bags didn't somehow get tangled up on the ground or shoved off the plane to make room for air freight.

One curious thing happened on the flight that I found completely needless and disgusting. It is the policy of American Airlines that passengers in Coach cannot use the forward lavatory on the plane, and that it is apparently reserved for Business Class only. I'm not some frothing socialist- I have no problem with wealthy passengers getting certain privileges. I understand. What I don't understand, however, is why an elderly passenger that is clearly in the advanced stages of Parkinson's Disease, trembling uncontrollably and plodding forward, cannot be admitted into the most convenient restroom. The poor man, who was seated at the middle of the plane, made his journey to the front only to be turned around by the dead hand of policy, and had to begin the long climb to the rear of the plane just to relieve himself. Thankfully, he made it, but it seemed simply astonishing to me that American Airlines didn't have a concession for the handicapped or infirm. I am not an elderly person, nor do I have Parkinson's, but all that man had to do was say the word and I'm sure a few of us passengers would have gotten up and given the flight crew what for.

In Miami, we found ourselves thrust into the Gordian knot of customs and connecting flights. Our clique intended to say farewell at the other end of the line, but got separated by lines of blue, red, and yellow dots on the floor. Signs pointed to dead-ends, and beleaguered TSA and customs officials, when asked what it all meant, regurgitated and mumbled the answers as though they'd already rehearsed them thousands of times in the course of the day. The thick Cuban accents of the many airport employees threw me off so much that I came to the conclusion that people spoke better English in Guatemala than they did in Miami. Without having a chance to make a final final final goodbye, I concluded that it was probably best this way, and that if anything was amiss we all had phones to contact each other.

I tucked into an 8-hour layover, which I spent ambling around the linear terminal at Miami. A word to the wise- if you're flying into Miami on a connection, give yourself some time between flights. 20 or 30 minutes might not be enough to catch your flight, even if you ride the sky train to your terminal. It's especially unwise to push the clock if you're traveling internationally, as the customs and re-checking your bags takes about a half hour in and of itself.

The flight back to Gainesville, Florida was on time in every respect, and I sat next to an ophthalmologist from Lebanon who I had a nice conversation with. At about 10 PM I arrived and, with a bit of anticipation, waited for my bag to come off the luggage conveyor. Contrary to my fears, my bag arrived unmolested and graciously smelling of dirty laundry instead of evaporating rum. My parents picked me up shortly thereafter, bringing an end to my trip, and this journal.


Hope you enjoyed it!

October 15th:

We gobbled up breakfast after waking up a bit early, then hopped into a tour van where we were greeted by our trusty guide Victor and our driver Perfecto. Even though fears of a hurricane hung over the trip through the highlands, the previous evening's news brought with it confirmation that the storm had veered northward and would miss Guatemala entirely. This brought an atmosphere of energy and optimism to the group.

Our first stop was a curious highway side stop called Catoc, where we had some coffee (and some of us breakfast) at a restaurant called Paolina's. While the area had some pretty interesting crafts for sale I only purchased some provisions for the trip and we moved on to our next stop, climbing ever higher into the mountains. The beleaguered Kia van was underpowered when it came off of the assembly line, and it didn't help our performance to have 9 people on board while climbing some fairly steep hills.

Curiously, the approach to the mountaintop stronghold of Iximche was a bit deceptive- the place is less than a mile from the highway, the route flanked with relatively flat corn fields. Once you reach the gates of the complex, however, the earth falls to either side and allows for some picturesque views of the surrounding highlands.

Iximche was not a major city, but it was a significant strategic and economical venue for the Mayans, who used its natural fortifications and its placement along the trade routes to exert control over the area. While the ruins within the compound are nowhere near as impressive or enormous as the lowland ruins of Tikal (which we didn't get to visit, le sigh) it was still wonderful to see Mayan ruins. Iximche also gives a better sense of what a stronghold city of the Mayans looked like, with its ball courts, altars, and economical use of space. Also present were the equivalent of historical re-enactors, indigenous volunteers and residents carrying on some of the traditions and dress of the Mayan ancients. Photography would have set us back some $100, and while the spectacle was impressive we agreed that it would be cheaper simply to remember the experience.

Afterwards, we moved along the highland ridges and narrow plateaus, dropping off some of our group in the eponymous city of Pacaya, near the small but feisty volcano of Pacaya. While we had the option of hiking up the volcano and snapping some pictures of its bubbling caldera, we had already committed to the trip to Atitlan, so the five of us remaining bade our farewells and continued on our way.

We had been informed of the dicey road conditions as a result of the bad rainy season, but only now did we gain an appreciation for the difficulties involved in civil engineering in this country. Even along the Pan American Highway, arguably the most important roadway in Central America, it was clear that it had been a struggle to keep it open. Almost the entire route, two of the four lanes had been closed due to mudslides. Other parts of the road were restricted due to erosion; the rain had literally eaten away the foundation of the road, leaving a deceptive but very unstable crust of asphalt over drops that occasionally plummeted hundreds of feet.

Even so, we started to descend- gradually, as opposed to the swift but unsafe alternative of falling over the edge. When we had been descending for about half an hour we wondered if we were getting close to the lake. How much further could it be? We rounded a bend and at last saw the lake, still very far below. The road became quite steep and we found ourselves in a town (I forget the name) racing down the narrow streets towards a vague body of water in the distance. After a while, we came upon a scenic outlook and stopped.

Lake Atitlan has a bunch of statistics tied to it. Highest lake in Central America, has 12 cities around its periphery, and so on, but absolutely none of the facts do the raw beauty of the place any justice. The beautiful cerulean lake is surrounded on all sides by lushly forested old volcanoes, and everything from the lofty heights of the volcanic ridges down to the cobbled together townships around the lake contributed to a sense of majesty.

We continued forevermore down the switchbacked roads, keeping in mind our destination, the city of Panajachel- a place so touristy, apparently, that it has the nickname "Gringotenango". The ugliest thing in sight were two rectangular concrete towers near the lake shore, but there was a cool story behind these. Back during Anastasio Somoza's rule in Nicaragua he had the towers built as a lavish hotel and a getaway for that country's first family. Of course, he ultimately couldn't get away from his country's problems, and when the Somozas were overthrown the Guatemalan government quickly nationalized the hotel, then proceeded to do nothing with it. Later, someone came by to paint the ugly towers green so that they wouldn't stick out so much, but this only succeeded in making them uglier. Recently a multinational hotel chain apparently purchased the towers and plans to open a hotel on the spot. Residents and visitors alike hope that their first step will be to demolish the towers.

Just when we were getting used to the idea of rolling down the hill forever, the road suddenly flattened and we were in a town- Panajachel. Moments later, we were at our hotel, Posada Don Rodrigo, one of the classiest (and not too badly priced) hotels in the city. After settling into our rooms and grabbing a bite to eat on the gorgeous balcony restaurant overlooking the lake, we took a hike through town.

The first thing we noticed was the water damage along the lakefront. Luckily, most of the homes and establishments were built far away enough from the lake to suffer from flooding, but the more you inch away from the lake the closer you get to the hills, putting one at risk of landslides. In brief, there's no shortage of trouble in paradise.

We made our way along the lakefront until a river stopped us. At first glance nothing seemed amiss, but we soon noticed that the sides of the river had eroded away quite badly. Looking upstream we were amazed to see the wreckage of entire homes, destroyed bridges, and other serious debris all carried downstream and deposited just shy of the lake. Most notably a series of large water tanks lodged in a concrete caisson the size of a house had washed away along with everything else. Just try to imagine the kind of force it would take to carry off a block of solid concrete the size of a two-story house.

The second thing we noticed was the distinct lack of tourists. We were strolling through the most swanky parts of town, with lakeside restaurants and shops everywhere. Even then, it seemed as though we were the only people in town. Accordingly, the vendors were desperate to make a sale. Since things seemed to be going so badly for the lakeside communities, just about everyone made some purchases. The prices weren't bad, either.

In the evening, we were content just to sit on the hotel balcony and watch the sun set to a chat and a few drinks. I've never been entertained by something so simple and relaxing before. After that, we ducked into our rooms and called it a night.

October 16th:

The next day we had breakfast at a little restaurant called Tuscany a short walk from the hotel. When we got back we chartered a boat to visit some of the lakeside communities.

We had heard about San Pedro Polopo on the far side of the lake, which was apparently very popular but filled with beggars. Instead we decided to visit two nearby towns: San Antonio Polopo and Santa Catalena Polopo. Santa Catalena was apparently famous for its blue hand-woven goods while San Antonio was home to a ceramics factory with some pretty unique selections that were hard to find elsewhere. We stopped in Santa Catalena first and some of us bought some woven goods (some of us had been saving up for this opportunity, especially the blue fanatics). Afterwards our boatman, who also became our defacto guide, took our group to the top of the town. We climbed quite a few stairs and dodged an astonishing amount of dog shit in order to reach a very worthwhile view of the township from above and the lake below. We went down a different way, still dancing around the turds, and miraculously our entire group got back to the boat with clean footwear!

Back on the boat, I was really impressed by the gorgeous villas and lakeside estates, many of them perched on prime spots of exposed bedrock, which is fairly difficult to find in Guatemala. I was also humbled by the jagged brown scars that seemed to be on every hillside- each the sign of a landslide. Most landslides seemed to be harmless or inconvenient. In San Antonio we saw signs of two that weren't. Apparently the town had the misfortune of suffering two direct hits from landslides that ultimately killed 22 people. Apart from the tragedy, the landslides were a real nuisance to commerce and traffic, as chunks of the two main roads leading through town had been smashed and carried down the slope. Even so, we made it to the ceramics factory, which was intact, and not only got to see the interesting processes of ceramics and pottery making on a semi-large scale, but also a nice assortment of attractive, useful, and reasonably priced items. We picked up a bunch, then I was delegated to carry the box back to the boat. Between minefields of foreseeable dog shit and slippery wet rocks, circumstances put just enough fear in me to get everything back to the boat completely unharmed.

At midday we checked out of the hotel and hopped into the tour van for the trip back to Antigua. The roads actually seemed to be worse off than when we were coming down, but we made it back all the way without incident. That evening we dined at Epicure, a wonderful gourmet establishment owned by a very smart, very attentive, and very gay restaurateur who apparently has a mirror establishment in San Francisco. I have no idea what the cuisine scene is like in San Francisco, but I was very impressed with the food, the presentation, and the ambiance.

That night wasn't really eventful. After some chatting I returned to my hotel room, watched some "La Ley y El Orden" (Law & Order) and sacked out.

Continued tomorrow in the final part!

October 12th:

The next day, it was out to the countryside! We visited an indigenous shrine of the modern variety, meaning that the temple was a pretty ho-hum concrete block building and the attendant priests dressed in western apparel, only recognizable as priests due to their red bandannas. Unbeknownst to many, while Mayan civilization disappeared at the hands of the Conquistadors its people retained many of its traditions, though to call the K'iche and Kachiqel the kindred of the Mayans is a bit of a stretch. The traditions of bloodletting and the more extreme human sacrifice have long been left by the wayside, but the less controversial aspects of Mayan culture still survive, including the significance of colors. Rather than making sacrifices, one wishing their prayers to be answered lights a candle of the appropriate color (the colors can mean anything as simple as good fortune and anything as precise as a successful housewarming party). Prayers can be carried away by smoke, such as from a cigar (never a cigarette!), or by a loud noise like that from a firecracker or an egg popping in a campfire. If there were any less tourist-friendly rituals, we weren't made privy to them.

After that little bit of enlightenment we traveled to a service project location, in this case a school called "Open Windows" where education is free and students are encouraged to participate with its flexible hours. Theoretically, a student can come to class at any time of day, provided they come every day. This way, children who have to work also have a chance to obtain a proper education. Much of the curriculum was of a primary school nature, but they also had vocational training, a computer lab, and a band! While this was my first visit, my friends told me that three years ago the school consisted of just a library and a courtyard, so it was encouraging to see tangible evidence that the donations the school depends upon put to good use. Ultimately, I ended up making a donation to the school.

That evening we returned to Antigua and ate at a little bistro right along the edge of the main plaza. While the experience was pleasant and the food excellent, we were starting to get spoiled by all of the good food at this point, so we were entertained by the very dapper waiters as they shooed away the stray dogs that kept wandering in and out of the establishment. I should make a note that there is quite a population of stray dogs everywhere you go in Guatemala, and of course their predominant concern is food. While one has to keep their eyes constantly peeled for dog shit, the dogs themselves are basically harmless. This is in contrast to some other cities in other nations facing stray dog problems where the canines have learned to band together and attack people.

October 13th:

Off to the countryside again, this time southward to the Pacific Coast. After about an hour the highlands gradually gave way to the rolling hills and tropical forests of the lowlands, and in contrast to to the Altiplano highlands it became apparent that the more easily tamed areas in the South were privy to better roads and bigger cities. The temperature also changed dramatically. The sweltering jungle heat I had been afraid of when flying into the country at last appeared, and while we didn't really suffer the transition was dramatic considering how short the trip was.

We visited an old sugar plantation called El Baul, an area that has mostly been cleared for sugarcane but has been the site of some archaeological excavations. While the highlands were dominated by the Maya, the southern coastal regions were home to the Olmec, who were arguably the predecessors of all Mesoamerican civilization as we know it. The relics were originally mistaken as Mayan, but with study it appears that El Baul, nestled in the foothills, sat along a long east-west trade route right at the border between the Olmec and the Maya. Among the statues were anthropomorphic deities, curious depictions of animals like coyotes, jaguars, and serpents, and a wonderfully intact relief depicting the outcome of a ball game. We wouldn't learn more about the relevance of the Mayan/Olmec relationship until that evening.

The plantation also had a less ancient, but no less fascinating museum of steam engines and machinery which were used on the vast sugarcane plantation a century or more ago. From tractors to rail locomotives to contraptions so bizarre that they took a lot of speculation just to comprehend, it was a total disconnect from ancient civilization and an often unseen look into the nation's more modern history. It pays to note that almost all of the machinery was manufactured in Germany before World War 1, and this was not a coincidence- apparently German emigres and statesmen alike adhered to the country, enough so that the city of Coban apparently has a distinct German flavor to it.

After El Baul we visited La Democracia, where we got a look at more peculiar stone carvings, this time big heads. This got kinda boring, since the exhibit at El Baul was in better condition and had more variety, but we made our own entertainment by striking into town and exploring its markets. Rather than the woven souvenirs of Antigua, this market had the true feel of a buzzing commercial venue, complete with turf floors, baskets and boxes of fruit, tortilla makers, abbatoirs, and all kinds of basic goods. Most of us picked up some fruit, in particular Rambutans, which we didn't expect to see in Guatemala let alone in season. Since most people don't know what a Rambutan is, my best description for it is that it is like a large lychee. One fruit fits neatly into the palm of your hand, the skin should be a uniform bright red in color with some flecks of white, and the most peculiar thing is that the skin is covered in long, soft, hair-like spines that make it look more like some splendid sea creature than a fruit. Like lychees, the fruit itself is milky white and opaque, with an inedible pit inside that you simply spit out.

We had lunch at a most peculiar highway-side restaurant. You know how on every interstate in the U.S. you'll find Shoney's, Cracker Barrel, Big Boy's, and so on? In Guatemala apparently the closest equivalent is called Sarita's. Sarita's is more commonly seen around the country as a chain of ice cream parlors, but their highway-side restaurants put just about all of the American chain dining establishments to shame with their quality and cleanliness. While I doubt very much that the restaurant was the kind of establishment that your average Central American trucker or family on the Pan American Highway would stop at for a bite to eat, it was still a bit of a shock. I've never been to a gourmet restaurant in the middle of nowhere on the side of a highway.

That evening our gang met up at the Cloister, another intimate and tasteful hotel similar to Casa Capuchinas where most of our group was staying. We sat in on an archaeology presentation, in particular a discussion about the links between the Maya and the Olmec and how this relatively new approach changes humanity's understanding of the cultures. I started the presentation with a glass of wine, then saw this innocent looking bottle of clear liquor come by, courtesy of George, one of our group mates. The stuff was called Aguardiente, and apparently this little glass flask with the picture of a colorfully dressed woman on the front is the source of many a moral ailment among the indigenous cultures. In a word, it was a barely legal form of fire water.

After a couple shots of the stuff I was somewhat dismayed to find myself quickly and profoundly drunk. We hadn't eaten at this point, so whatever alcohol was in the Aguardiente (it's not listed) went straight to my head. Then we had a problem with the projector, and sure enough I get volunteered to fix it. To my dismay, the projector was an Epson. I felt the familiar burn of pointless and endless button mashing coming on.

Miraculously, I somehow managed to figure out how to get the thing working again in spite of the fact that the instructions were in Spanish, in double, swirling around my head. I've never been able to get Epson products to work properly while sober, so now I know what I must do.

October 14th: Compared to the previous day the 14th was a kitten. This was good because I hadn't gotten very good sleep. We took a walking tour of Antigua in the morning, stopping by several locations that I had already visited and re-examining them in greater detail.

In the afternoon we visited a coffee finca, or plantation, that had given over a large parcel of land to horticultural greenhouses. We saw thousands of poinsettias, but the show stealers were the orchids. While flowers are kind of a dull topic to many, I've been dragged into the garden by my dad more often than I care to remember so I had to know this stuff.

In a rather anticlimactic way we ended the day by dining at the Casa De Los Suenos, where we learned about a nonprofit organization called Wings, which promotes family planning systems and education. To put it in perspective, we learned that Guatemala's population of about 15 million continues to grow rapidly. Even more disheartening is the fact that almost 50% of the country's population is under the age of 15, which means that without intervention the nation's population could explode. The single largest problem facing Guatemala from a social standpoint is overpopulation. Since the peace accord in 1996 the nation's economy has grown, but poverty has remained roughly the same since all of the economic gains have been swallowed up by a growing population.

Afterwards, one of our group mates who was living in country put on an additional, unscheduled, long, boring presentation about her service project. I honestly don't even remember what the project was at this point, since we were so saturated with information and needful pleas that a couple of us literally snuck out and went home. I sat through it, tried to stay awake, then shuffled back to the hotel and fell into bed. I needed the sleep since the next day's shuttle was going to pick us up at 7:00 AM. On the docket: The Mayan ruins of Iximche and the awesome, inspirational beauty of Lake Atitlan.

These will be discussed tomorrow, in part III!

Well, I'm back from Guatemala, officially. Naturally the first thing that happens after vigilantly keeping my hands clean and using purified water for all things oral for two weeks is that I return to the States and catch a cold. Even so, it's got me at my computer working on coloring, so I suppose I should be more thankful!

So, without further ado, a breakdown of my trip! I didn't spend all of the last two weeks in Guatemala- the first few days of my trip I spent with my folks in Florida.

October 9th

I flew from Gainesville, Florida to Miami, where I connected with a flight to Guatemala City. I was lucky for two reasons here- first, Gainesville flights to Miami only started at the beginning of the month, and there are only two flights a day. American Airlines also only has two flights a day to Guatemala City. Thus, I was lucky I didn't have to drive to Miami and I was also lucky not to have a 12-hour layover.

In Guatemala (which, in Guatemala, usually refers to the Capitol City and not the nation), I hopped into a tour van and rode to Casa Capuchinas, in Antigua. Along the way I nostalgically breathed in the telltale odor of a developing nation, exhaust fumes, and marveled at all of the activity. Having never been to Latin America before, I took the opportunity to try and practice my Spanish with the driver, a polite and affable guy named Perfecto, while translating all of the multitudinous billboards and signs we passed by. Thankfully I wouldn't have to rely on my rusty Spanish too much on the trip.

I arrived at the hotel late in the afternoon and met up with my friend Debbie, who was one of the organizers of this big trip. We had dinner at Dona Luisa's, a restaurant and bakery near Antigua's plaza. Afterwards we checked out some of the stores and scoped out the sights. The sun set early and, being a bit tired after the day's travels, we retired to the hotel and caught up on old times and new.

October 10th

I went to bed early and woke up early to the raucous, lively songs of some grackles. After a lovely "Chapin" breakfast, with refried black beans, platanos, scrambled eggs, and some fruit I met up with some of Debbie's friends from San Francisco, Peggy and Lynn, and we visited the weekend market. I learned that Antigua, apart from its architectural allure and Spanish Colonial feel, is actually really geared towards a weekend tourist crowd. It's a city of 2,000 restaurants, many of them gourmet, and any visitor will be spoiled for choice. In consideration of the tourism, most restaurants are cautious about hygiene, serving up cans of coke with straws, bottles of purified water, and ice from condensers rather than tap water. The city was very active over the weekend and mainly filled with well-to-do Guatemalans from the capitol, notably driving through town in Audis, BMWs, Mercedes', and other shiny imports that stood out from the amalgam of old cars more common in the country. There's also a wonderful weaving culture in the country, and in spite of the widespread availability of cheap Western clothing many indigenous people, most of them women, wear intricate hand-woven garb on a daily basis. Part of this is a growing cultural movement among Guatemalans of the various ethnic tribes to preserve their heritage, so even though a hand-woven shawl, shirt, or skirt costs 5-10 times more than its machine woven counterpart there is still local demand for them.

Of course, they're also very glad to sell these things to tourists, and while I think I was taken a couple of times due to my novice bargaining skills (expect to bargain regularly if you travel to Guate) I'm still pleased to have come away with some nice gifts for friends, family, and co-workers.

That night, I had a reunion dinner with some old friends and more than a few strangers. I was surprised to see a turnout of old friends I had known in Bangladesh who had made the journey from more distant callings to meet in a country we had never visited, but it was fantastic to catch up on old times and hear about old acquaintances. We also spent some time going over the plans for the trip, involving tour programs, visits to service projects, and optional day trips. All of this, of course, meant forking over our individual shares of the cash. There were some people in our group of 20 who were involved in some service projects or simply lived in country, and that handful of local experts proved vital in communicating and arranging much of the trip.

We were also informed of the nation's troubles as of late. Hurricane Agatha had swept through Guatemala not too long before we arrived, and on top of that the country had endured an unusually long rainy season. To put this in perspective, Guatemala is a country of lush highlands studded with volcanoes. Eons of volcanic ash means that it is very hard to locate bedrock in much of the country, which is coated in 15 feet or more of relatively soft, yet quite fertile dirt. In this dirt are boulders, some of them enormous, which can be mistaken for valuable bedrock. When it rains significantly, even fully forested areas have difficulty clinging to the nation's many slopes, and everywhere we went we saw evidence of recent landslides. Added to this is the problem of drainage, and whenever water comes coursing down the valleys and riverbeds they take along large quantities of dirt and deadly boulders. This sediment rich water manifests itself as a soupy kind of mud. At high speeds, it can easily carry along boulders as big as cars. At low speeds, it rises into peoples' homes and coats everything around with thick, muddy sludge.

As a result, there were serious concerns about traveling on certain roads through the highlands. With downed bridges, roads covered in landslides, and communities cut off by certain roadways literally eroding away, a lot of folks decided to decline a day trip to one of Guatemala's most gorgeous, but somewhat isolated locales: Lake Atitlan. In spite of this, and fears of another hurricane heading into central America, I locked myself into the trip to Atitlan when a driver from the tour agency confirmed that the roads were passable.

October 11th

On yet another perfectly clear and delightfully cool morning, I began to take the flattering moniker of Guatemala, "The Land of Eternal Springtime", as fact. In Antigua and all of the surrounding highland communities the temperature seldom fell below 60 and seldom rose over 80 Fahrenheit. With another hearty breakfast we set about our first tour program, still staying in Antigua for the moment. We went across town to Ciudad Vieja where we saw the ruins of the first Antigua, which was destroyed by the deceptively beautiful volcano of Agua in the 1500s. While accounts vary, the story I got was that Agua's crater is a lake, but after 40 unrelenting days of rain the enormous weight of the water in the volcano set it off, virtually obliterating the nascent town of Antigua in a colossal flood combined with an earthquake. What seems to support this story is the fact that scattered throughout town are the ruins of old Baroque churches and monasteries, arguably the strongest and most formidable structures available at the time. These ruins are exposed and, over time, have either been half-heartedly restored or simply built around.

We lunched at Dona Luisa's, then hopped on the bus again to drive to the northern slopes of the town where we toured the Bishop's palace. The first, and as far as I know only Guatemalan saint lived and worked there, as well as his predecessors, and even though the bishopric moved to the capitol city the nuns continue to maintain the palace as a residence and a museum. If you want to see some of the quirks, extravagance, and public works of the Roman Catholicism then this place is a must-see. I have to emphasize must-see, though... while they allow you to carry cameras into the museum, they don't allow you to photograph half of it, and of course the half they don't want you to snap up consists of the most popular or beautiful items. While I'm sure some of this is justified by protecting the relics, icons, and painted statuary from light radiation I'm pretty sure the greater part of this prohibition is to encourage the purchase of their convenient and accessible postcards and picture books.

We then set off for the nearby town of San Antonio Aguas Calientes, which had a good balance of the 'real' feel of Guatemalan townships and the colonial elegance of historic areas. While there was a nice little museum showcasing the wide variety of dress the indigenous peoples wear, the main showcase was an artisan's market which, at this point, I wasn't really interested in. I overpaid for a nice belt, but I admit I was getting tired of seeing all of these bright and busily patterned shawls and table runners. There seems to be a profound belief among weavers and craftsmen in Guatemala that at any given time in the world there is a woman stricken by a deep desire for table runners. By the hundreds. This is also apparently paired with the belief that every visitor to Guatemala knows this woman and would gladly pick up 10 or 20 of these things on her behalf.

Thus, every tourist with the boldness to walk around carrying a shopping bag will be rapidly and repeatedly set upon to help the Guatemalan people with their serious surplus of hand-woven goods. As much as I appreciated the beauty and craftsmanship of every piece, I found it ultimately tragic how the same variety of items reappeared over and over and over again. Here was an enormous stockpile of wonderful artisanship that went ludicrously beyond the actual demand for such goods. The prices of these goods also differed dramatically- in artisan guilds and markets, generally the prices for woven goods was stable, but in the open markets vendors would advertise a table runner for roughly $25 on Saturday at noon, but by the time the weekenders started hopping back into their cars you'd find no shortage of desperate vendors scurrying around selling the same table runners for $1 apiece!

That evening, we ate at a small restaurant in town where we had a local variant on chicken soup. The soda cans had a patina of grit on the top, and they didn't hand out straws. You didn't know if the water in the soup was purified or not, and no one could be entirely sure that the chicken was safe either. Needless to say, it was delightful. I highly recommend hazarding the small local restaurants with the plastic tables and chairs and the thumping Reggaeton stereo sets. There are pleasant culinary surprises to be found all over the country, if you've got the chutzpah to step outside your comfort zone. I should note that not one of us got sick from that night's meal.


Continued in Part II... tomorrow.

Hey, folks! I'm off to Guatemala and I'll be there for the next couple of weeks. I just wanted to keep y'all informed. For those of you who choose to leave me a message, please be informed that I'm not usually of the habit of waiting for weeks to respond to peoples' posts.

Thinking about Sejhat. Again. Yup. Can't stop it, so I won't try.

The last journal I posted was about old timey fightin', with the concepts and basics of early modern warfare, the kind of combat that forms a strong inspiration for the kind of combat I had in mind for the Realm of Sejhat in its current time line.

Of course, bullets and battles alone do not a proper realm make. Case in point: The Halo franchise. As I created the various races, along with their dispositions, capabilities, and failings, I realized that I was running into social, political, and economic concepts that had precedent in the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries.

Why does this matter? Because new ideas create friction with old ideas, and from this friction arises the kind of narrative we have come to love. Here are some of the concepts I've found inspiring, if not enlightening.

THE ENLIGHTENMENT-

Considered a successor to the Age of Reason and a precursor to the Modern Age, the Enlightenment fits pretty neatly into the 18th century. While it shares similarities to the Renaissance and the Age of Reason in terms of an abundance of philosophies, what makes it stand out from the others is the fact that many social concepts in the Enlightenment advocated free thought and action. Concepts like the separation of religion and state, the unimpeachable rights of man, the wealth and welfare of individuals, and the public sphere were all developed or popularized during the era. These 'radical' concepts popularly culminated in the American and French Revolutions, but in detail the Enlightenment had broad and permanent effects on wealth and power that continue influence modern affairs to this day.

MERCANTILISM-

One of the oldest and most outmoded schools of Economics, Mercantilism is essentially the belief that the amount of capital (bullion or otherwise) in the state's coffers is the sole measure of wealth. It also believes that the overall volume of trade is unchangeable. Mercantilism is also called Economic Nationalism because it encouraged exports and discouraged imports through subsidies and tariffs, respectively. Mercantilism was one of the key motivating factors in the creation and growth of overseas empires, and it also fueled a lot of conflict between world powers. It forbade 'unnecessary importation' and greatly discouraged spending capital to acquire goods. In essence, Mercantilism is penny-pinching writ large, with the main goal being to hoard wealth. It had significant weaknesses, in particular disregarding private enterprise, disregarding the fundamental reasoning behind trade, and disregarding inflation. Eventually it was succeeded by Classical Economics.

CLASSICAL ECONOMICS-

Classical Economics is the belief that the sum total of a nation's wealth is based upon its citizenry, rather than its treasury. It is also the belief that expanded trade is not only possible but beneficial, and that a free market unburdened by significant taxes is key to prosperity. This was a direct response to the failings and foibles of Mercantilism. Adam Smith is generally considered the founding father of this school of thought, though he had many significant contemporaries. The adoption of Classical Economics encouraged the explosive growth of industry, banking, and free trade, turning Mercantilism on its head. Classical Economics had its flaws, however, the most fundamental being its 'Value Theory'. The Classicists believed that the value of an object was tied to the cost of its materials combined with the cost of labor and handling. In reality, 'value' is much more arbitrary and is based primarily on need, rather than built-in costs.

INDIVIDUAL RIGHTS-

Although the most common example of this is Thomas Paine's "Rights of Man", the concept of inalienable individual rights is an old one. Generally, the concept of individual rights is the belief that individuals have the right to be protected against unfair persecution by the government or by the popular majority. It is also the belief that the people, if they are alienated by the state, have a right to overthrow the government. It's difficult to define universal individual rights, as each nation has its own concepts for what personal rights are treasured and which are not. Among these are freedom of expression, freedom of action, freedom of religion, freedom of privacy, and freedom of assembly.

INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION-

Commonly thought of as the Steam Age, the Industrial Revolution has less to do with steam motive power than it does with the overall organization of labor. Prior to the Industrial Revolution, craftsmen and tradesmen created finished goods individually, often by hand or with the aid of basic tools. For instance, to create a cotton shirt one needed to separate the cotton from the boll, clean it, spool it into thread, dye it, weave it (usually in a hand loom), cut it into shapes, and assemble it into a shirt. All of these tasks were done by small groups of artisans, from start to finish. This meant that craftsmen were skilled laborers, but that work was often painstakingly slow. In order to increase production some enterprising individuals divided the stages of work involved in manufacturing goods, giving a large number of individuals a specific task, allowing more units to be manufactured at once. This division of labor also simplified it greatly, allowing for people with little technical skill to participate in the manufacture of complex finished goods. Many multitudes of inventions, from innovations in motive power to simple improvements, accelerated production and drove down prices. Low-priced goods allowed more people than ever to afford goods that were otherwise out of reach, so increased demand often offset decreasing prices. While many craftsmen and artisans were driven out of work by the industrial revolution, it had drastic effects on the fabric of society, the stratification of wealth, and the availability of goods to every individual.

MALTHUSIANISM AND SOCIAL DARWINISM-

While very separate concepts, many rulers and people of power were mutually influenced by the concepts of Thomas Robert Malthus and Charles Darwin. Malthus, an economist and demographer, believed that unchecked population growth would always subvert the pursuit of utopia, and that a state of utopia for mankind is fundamentally unobtainable due to a scarcity of resources. Darwin, a naturalist, was influenced by Malthus in the creation of his Theory of Evolution and posited that nature selects positive traits from individuals, thus allowing useful adaptations to survive in a world of scarcity and limitation. Social Darwinism often misconstrued Darwin's work by emphasizing the 'survival of the fittest', a concept which Darwin himself did not truly embrace. Even so, the belief that utopia is unobtainable for all combined with the concept that the wealthy and successful exist because of a natural mandate created justification, in the minds of many in high society, to accept society's ills as inevitable. Social Darwinism also provided pseudo-scientific backing for racism and eugenics, and while Malthus and Darwin never advocated racism their arguments were (and are) often used to justify the stratification of wealth among a 'select' few, since altruism is misguided and only the successful should, by nature, be allowed to thrive.

DIALECTICS-

Seemingly in contrast to the concepts of 'survival of the fittest', dialectics is the belief that two contradicting concepts can, and will, coexist in the same universe, meaning that efforts to negate one or the other are futile. While one concept or another may gain prevalence it will never nullify the existence of its nemesis, thus forcing individuals to comprehend and coexist with their rivals. In philosophical terms, a Dialectical conversation differs from a Debate because two individuals with opposing viewpoints will try to seek common ground and compromise rather than try to prove each other wrong. While Dialectics as a philosophical system may even predate the Ancient Greeks, its more modern and popular interpretation is that of Georg Hegel, who introduced the notion that two contradictory notions, after disposing of their less relevant or functional parts, can combine to create an entirely new notion. For example, on the concept of living beings, Hegel believed that living is "Being", that death is "Nothing", but because the living share characteristics with the dead, life as we know it can be called "Becoming". No one ever accused Hegel of being an easy read, but the value on acceptance and compromise created by Dialectics provides an alternative to Absolutism, which tends to believe in a supreme ideal over all other concepts.



I DO BELIEVE THAT IS ENOUGH.

While I've been putting together concepts for the Realm of Sejhat, I've found myself looking pretty extensively into the era of gunpowder warfare, how nations transitioned into it, and how eventually this early form of 'modern' warfare ultimately influenced what we understand about militaries today. It's a pretty fascinating study, but it occurs to me that some of the habits of this style of fighting must seem bewildering to outsiders. Thus, here's a little question/answer on the subject.

Q: When did gunpowder arrive in the West?

A: It's fairly well known that the Chinese first developed and used gunpowder weaponry in combat, but its widespread use in battle as we know it throughout much of the West and the Near East traces its origins back roughly to the 12th century. Cannons, followed by hand cannons (a primitive precursor to a musket) first appeared in the Muslim world, then infiltrated Europe through Spain.

Q: Why did gunpowder weaponry hold appeal?

A: Initially gunpowder held a lot of interest to Muslims and Christians alike because of the properties of bombards, or early cannons. In an era of lofty castles, cannons and their ability to reduce high walls to rubble made old fortifications obsolete and gave tremendous power to those who could afford these ungainly siege weapons. Hand cannons, followed by arquebuses, then muskets are a slightly more difficult topic. At the time, crossbows, recurve bows, and longbows were the most effective infantry missile weapons available. While these bows had shortcomings of their own, firearms had both the ability to pierce heavy armor effectively as well as an air of distinction. As new, expensive weapons and powerful symbols of prestige their demand and presence gradually increased on battlefields.

Q: What were 'line infantry'?

A: Line infantry fought in regiments, or their equivalents, and were the basic infantry unit during the early modern era of combat. The term 'line infantry' can be misleading, since line infantry units did not always fight while drawn into lines of battle. They often marched in columns, and sometimes attacked in columns as well.

Q: Why did infantry march in tight formations, even under cannon and musket fire?

A: The poignant image of musketeers marching into near certain death with men dropping all around seems like an embodiment of military lunacy, but tradition, the nature of combat itself, and circumstance forced regiments and armies to adopt close knit formations. In the early periods of gunpowder combat musketeers were typically accompanied by pikemen, soldiers who carried long spears (10 to 25 feet) to stave off enemy cavalry and infantry and protect the gunners. This required close coordination and tight formation, since cavalry and infantry excel against loose or disorganized groups of soldiers. Even after the pike became obsolete, thanks to the bayonet, infantry continued to march in close formation so that officers could coordinate their movements. Tight formations also helped prevent the very real threats of routing and desertion.

Q: Why did the British Infantry wear such loud red coats?

A: The 'red coats' hail from the English Civil War, when the Parliamentarian Army reorganized in 1645. The army was called the "New Model Army", and was equipped with standardized musketry and uniforms. Since red dye was the cheapest currently available, it was used as the primary color for the uniforms, and while the New Model Army was disbanded in 1660, after the Restoration, the color never disappeared. It became a distinctive symbol of the British Army and the Empire itself.

Q: OK, but why all the gaudy uniforms, brass buttons, and visible colors? Every army in Europe seemed to have these!

A: European governments were notorious copycats, and this didn't exclude soldiers in the Americas either. If an army exhibited valor and a string of impressive victories, you could be sure that within a decade their styles of uniforms and tactics would have been adopted by many of their neighbors. In the ever-present quest to keep up with the Joneses, most militaries pursued fashion trends just as clothing outlets do now.

Q: And the tall hats?

A: The most common hat throughout much of the 18th and part of the 19th centuries was the 'tricorne', or tri-cornered hat. However, elite units such as grenadiers wore hats that emphasized their impressive stature, and an already tall man wearing an enormous hat was believed to impress fear upon the enemy- the tall hats meant crack troops. The common big hat early on was the Mitre, which is equivalent to what the Pope wears. A variation on the mitre, the 'bearskin', is still famously worn by the guards at Buckingham Palace. Other popular tall hats included the 'Shako', of Hungarian origin, the 'Czapka', of Polish origin, and the Top Hat, which was worn by elites and irregulars alike in various nations.

Q: Did the Europeans learn anything at all from fighting in the Americas?

A: Actually, yes, but not just the Americas. Fighting in the rugged Balkans also necessitated a new variety of tactics for dealing with thickly wooded, rocky, or otherwise poor terrain for rigid formations. As such, the French (Voltigeurs, Chasseurs, Tirailleurs), Austrians (Schuetzen, Jaegers, Grenzers, Pandours), Portuguese (Cazadores), and Spanish (Guerillas) were some of the first armies to field sizeable forces of light infantry or 'irregular' infantry, soldiers who used any available cover to aim at and attempt to snipe the enemy. The British also had some notable regiments of light infantry and used them extensively, but were initially slow to appreciate the concept.

Q: Wait, 'snipe'? With a musket? I thought they were inaccurate.

A: Muskets were inherently inaccurate, and this was largely due to the fact that the musket balls did not tightly fit into the barrels of muskets, creating 'windage', or a gap between bullet and barrel. Cannon balls and muskets alike had to deal with the problem of their projectiles bouncing off the walls of the barrel and altering their trajectories. This inherent inaccuracy meant that muskets, while capable of killing people at 200-300 yards, were mainly effective within 50 yards.

Even so, simply firing in the direction of the enemy or actually taking aim first produce very different results. An aimed shot sometimes had a better chance of hitting a target at longer ranges than an entire volley. Additionally, many light infantry were equipped with rifles, which were capable of hitting targets reliably at 200 yards.

Q: If rifles were more accurate, why weren't they more common?

A: Rifles could not be reloaded as rapidly as muskets and were prohibitively expensive to be carried as uniform weaponry- at least, until the latter half of the 19th century. While a musket ball simply rolls down the barrel, a rifle shot has to be 'fitted' into the grooves of the rifling, which often meant forcing or hammering the ball down the barrel, a time consuming process. Even so, riflemen could be exceedingly effective light infantry forces, as the soldiers were trained to aim for officers, sergeants, and vital personnel and could ruin enemy morale.

Q: What ended the era of line infantry combat?

A: A confluence of new technologies throughout the latter half of the 19th century made massed infantry tactics dangerously obsolete. The U.S. Civil War proved for the first time on a large scale that rifles could be supplied to standard infantrymen, and the effect was murderous. Exploding artillery shells became more sophisticated, making tightly packed formations very inadvisable. Metal cartridges and new reloading mechanisms made both infantry weapons and artillery infinitely more lethal. A final nail in the coffin of the line infantry may have been the invention of Cordite, or smokeless gunpowder.

Q: What's so special about Cordite?

A: In your typical gunpowder battle the battlefield itself became obscured by plumes of smoke, especially if the air was reasonably still. Smoke helped cover the movement of infantry across a battlefield and would naturally cover their approach so that they could get close enough to the enemy to rip them apart with musket fire. Smoke was also bad for artillery crews, since they depended on visibility to determine where to fire, what to fire, and what charge to use. Early machine guns like the Gatling Gun and the Mitrailleuse were not immune to this problem, but Cordite changed that.

Cordite lifted much of the smoke from the battlefield. Artillerists could now see where they were shooting and the machine gun suddenly became a truly fearsome weapon to contend with.

Q: Why weren't infantry taught how to aim?

A: Some were. The British Army, on top of being well-disciplined and capable of firing rapidly, also were generally better shots due to the simple fact that they had target practice. French and German forces also invested somewhat in shooting practice for their line units. Spanish, Austrian, Russian, and Ottoman units tended not to have much in the way of live fire training at all. There is a single fundamental reason behind all of this, and that is money.

Britain and France were, throughout much of the 18th and 19th centuries, the wealthiest nations in Europe and could lavish their forces with spare ammunition and gunpowder in order to train in marksmanship. Prussia, while not as wealthy, was a militaristic society and willing to make enormous per capita investments in their army. As such, not only were their soldiers issued with more ammunition, but also more training than most armies. In the Napoleonic Wars British foot, French fusiliers, and Prussian infantrymen each carried about 30 rounds of ammunition into combat. By contrast, Austrian and Russian infantry typically carried about 6 rounds each into combat. Austria and Russia, while populous nations, did not have the same robust economies as their rivals. Many soldiers would only fire one shot a year outside of combat, sometimes never. Without training, the accuracy of their fire suffered. Just as with any other implement, training time translated to skill.

Light infantry were always an exception. They were generally selected as individuals with previous musketry skill, particularly as hunters. Those light infantry without prior marksman experience, such as the Guerillas, had to learn on the job or die trying.

I'm probably a little late getting to this, but I caught this film last night not quite knowing what to expect. In fact, my friend had mistakenly believed it to be a Stephen Chow film, so we were expecting a surreal comedy along the lines of Kung Fu Hustle or Shaolin Soccer. Instead, The Good, the Bad, and the Weird has absolutely nothing to do with Stephen Chow, but without this mistaken association I might never have seen the film.

If you're not familiar with the film or the premise, the title is a really big clue. It's a sendup of Sergio Leone's "The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly", and has a plotline that stays close enough to the original that can be considered something of a remake or a homage. Since this is an Asian film (Korean, specifically), the characters are a mixture of Japanese, Chinese, and Koreans, and the main setting is the open steppe country of Manchuria and the eerily 'western' feeling outskirts of the Gobi Desert in the 1930s. The Japanese occupy Manchuria and Korea, but on the Chinese frontier bandits and ne'er do wells rule the day.

The movie is kicked off with a Japanese head honcho hiring a bandit (the Bad) to steal a map from a train. Just before they attack the train in a mayhem-filled spectacle, however, a train robber (the Weird) stumbles upon the map while robbing the wealthiest looking people on the train. He doesn't know what to make of the map, but when the Bad and his goons try to kill him he makes good his escape, partly aided by a lone drifter and bounty hunter (the Good) who attacks the bandits from behind. The Weird makes off with the map and later discovers it to be a sort of treasure map, kicking off an enormous and violent treasure hunt across Manchuria.

Most of the time today, people sort of write off the Western genre as something old-fashioned and obsolete, done to death. The image of a 'western' usually conjures up memories of John Wayne, native marauders on horseback, black hats, white hats, and the Wilhelm Scream. In spite of the later films of the genre that tried to offset the stereotype, most people of younger generations (myself included) picture Westerns as sort of fuddy duddy films. However, if anyone has had the fortune of playing Red Dead Redemption, which is an excellently crafted interactive take on the Wild West, or has seen The Wild Bunch, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, or the quintissential The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, you might have started to warm up to the idea of the 'gritty' western.

The Good, the Bad, and the Wierd doesn't really moralize, and like the best 'gritty' westerns is populated by madmen, eccentrics, scam artists, and highfalootin' capitalists (people who tend to capitalize on others' misfortunes, rather than adhere to actual capitalism). The main characters themselves aren't exactly heroic either, although the villain (the Bad) is certainly of villainous methods.

The Good, for all intents and purposes, looks like he walked out of a western storybook. He wears a felt duster, a stetson, dungarees, a vest, and cowboy boots and curiously uses a lever-action rifle while everyone else is using a mixture of Pre-WWII weaponry. As an obvious analogy to the high plains drifter, the Wierd does good to point out that the Good is not actually the hero he makes himself out to be, but just another goofball with goofball habits.

The Bad iconically always dresses in a black suit and has a humorous emo hairdo, but like his nemesis the Good somehow manages to stay immaculately clean. There's obviously a bit of tongue-in-cheek humor going on as the movie, fundamentally, is about helping us remember what's strange and silly about Westerns as well as reminding us how exciting and good they can be.

The Weird is what you may call the main character of the film, since he's introduced early and is the main focus of much of the storytelling. Unlike the Good or the Bad, the Weird gets dirty like everyone else, he fights dirty like anyone would, he doesn't have tremendous skill to support himself and so he survives through guile, trickery, and a bit of humor. He's clearly the character the audience is supposed to be able to relate to on a personal level, but even he is fundamentally iffy- a renegade who's running from his criminal past who dreams of one day owning a farm, when in reality it's clear that he knows as much about farming as I do about quantum physics.

When it comes to the fights, this film bears little resemblance to any of the martial arts flicks to come out of China within the last decade. There is a scene that gets a little silly where the Good swings around on a rope for a couple of minutes while blowing badguys away, but no one hops off of bamboo sticks or delivers some ancient secret death moves. If someone dies, it's cause they've been shot... or something far worse. Combat wise, the movie is all about the gunplay, and given the hodgepodge of characters with a hodgepodge of weapons (from wooden mallets to artillery pieces) they spring a surprising variety of interesting gun battles and tricks, and the many bullet effects in the film are quite well done. While the fighting can be over the top, I never once got bored or rolled my eyes while taking in the chaotic battles. Without going into too much detail, there's at least one kind of gunfight and one 'trick' that gets pulled that discerning action cinema buffs should appreciate. It's all there, like a candy store. Only with bullets.

In the end, The Good The Bad and The Weird is a curious cinema experiment. It's a Korean film take on the American West, but only the type of American West that was filmed in Italy. It's morally ambiguous, populated with curious characters, has a simple story that's easy to get into, and pulls a couple of humorous and clever twists along the way. While not without flaws and some of the 'guilty pleasures' of Asian cinema, it's certainly worth renting, and maybe even worth buying.

OK, so I admit, I haven't done a very good job of cultivating a fan base filled with fantasy genre buffs. I haven't drawn a single picture of an elf, dwarf, orc, or even a dragon! I don't have any comics that dabble in the fantasy genre, I've only seen the Lord of the Rings films twice, and my collection of fantasy books is a bit on the small side. In fact, I think it's just Redwall and a Whisper of Wings, both of which are considered part of the anthropomorphic fiction sub genre than overall high fantasy. I'm poorly versed on the conventional aspects of fantasy writing or what fantasy fans expect.

Granted, I don't let that worry me too much. Like with Fred Savage, I try to keep things technically and logically in the ball park, but I reserve the right to create, rather than neatly fit my content into certain expectations. I've found that even when people claim that they want to see something fresh, exciting, and unusual they actually just want a few tweaks on the conventional model. Conversely, I've also found that when some people say their favorite part about fantasy is 'dat elf's azz', they truthfully have a longing for more complex characterization and depth than what they're getting from Azeroth porn.

Regardless, I'm genuinely curious to see what most people want when they pick up and start to read a piece of fantasy fiction. Are there common themes? Is the realm itself more or less important than the characters? What elements make a good quest? Should a quest be the core of the story, or simply a means to an end? Can I use a 20-sided dice to grind pepper? These are good questions... well, at least they sound good to me.

I used to do more writing, but since I started working on comics years ago I've gotten a bit out of practice. I'm always concerned that my skills might be getting rusty, or that my contemporaries are simply passing me by. Admittedly, I have my weaknesses- I'm not quite sure what to do with a 'slice of life' type of story or a comedy, but I've always been interested in creating a fantasy realm.

Personally, I'm faced with a typical conundrum. On the one hand, if there's one thing we've collectively learned about the fantasy genre it's that elves, dwarves, and orcs are REALLY overdone. On the other hand, the children of Tolkien are something we've come to expect in a fantasy tale, and on a fundamental level there's nothing really wrong with Dwarves, Orcs, or Elves. It's just that their stories have been told predominantly one way.

You know how it is. The Elves are always tree-hugging Druids, the Dwarves are always scrappy viking types always toiling at the forge, and the Orcs are always barbarians in the Hunnic fashion. I'm sure I'm not the only person who's figured out that the problem with 'pop fantasy' is not the races, but the fact that they're always in the same cultural context. Even so, I've never tried this before, so I thought I'd start noodling around with the idea.

First off, the continent of Sejhat is neither typical fantasy nor steampunk, but a world caught somewhat in between. The Dwarves have long been masters of the forge, but their skill and culture is being ripped away by their own success and the advent of an industrial revolution. The Elves, who have always cultivated themselves as the most noble and pure race, have fallen into ossified ways, with only magic to truly protect them from the modernization sweeping the world around them. The humans, rather than being the typical 'stock' characters, are the messengers and prophets of a grand new faith that has united the entire race behind a single deity, driving society forward with fervor, purpose, and more than a little violence. The beast folk, long relegated to tribal squabbling and pettiness, have taken grand strides into the modern age and forged alliances with neighboring species, but in spite of all the talk of uniting the beast races for the sake of strength and survival many old rivalries simmer under the surface.

I've already fallen into a significant problem. When crafting a fantasy story, you first need to create a world, but if you spend too much time creating a world you might forget to write the story! Even so, I'm approaching this mainly as a literary project, and I have no idea how long it will last, so comic fans shouldn't be too worried.

You know what TF2 is. You've seen the characters. You've seen the cosplayers. You may have even played the game. There are many who ask why, years after release, TF2 continues to have a rabid following. This is the answer:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7yUYDMtsfU

TF2 ADDICTION IS MICROSCOPIC AND IT IS FLOWING THROUGH OUR VEINS.

"Whatever a man prays for, he prays for a miracle. Every prayer reduces itself to this: That twice two be not four." - Ivan Turgenev, Poems in Prose

Most of us recall the phrase "2+2=5" from either of two sources, the song by Radiohead of the same name or from George Orwell's "1984". In both cases they refer to the notion that for the sake of political and social expedience, people will believe whatever they are expected to believe even if it is untrue or illogical.

However, "2+2=5", I think, can be more intimately interpreted on an individual level, as an individual's willingness to suspend reality and logic for the sake of personal comfort and assurance. It suggests that what logic ordains to be the truth is irrelevant in our minds, since human beings are by design only partly logical. Can state propaganda and oppression, through deceit, convince people that what they think to be true is in fact false, and that a state-generated falsehood is in fact true? Certainly, but we open ourselves to trouble if we think that outside influences are the only things capable of imposing delusions on us.

Delusion is never unwelcome. Even if it is imposed on us, we eventually embrace it because it represents comfort, assurance, and oneness. It's a primordial part of the psyche that helps us survive in a chaotic, illogical existence. We don't trust pure logic. We're not biologically designed to do so, and as a consequence we love delusions, structure our lives around them, strengthen ourselves with them.

I think that stories like "1984" act as cautionary tales for when delusions go too far and when we, as a species, throw reason out the window to chase after the unattainable, but I don't believe that delusion itself is always a negative thing. Let's face it, without the ability to believe in the irrational we wouldn't have our beloved fandom, or for that matter any work of fiction, art, abstraction, invention, and religion.

It may be that human beings are the only animals capable of delusion, and that this very trait (along with sheer brain power) is responsible for our rise as a species. Then again, that may also be a delusion, and it's possible that humans are not as unique or separate from the animals as we like to think. Can animals aspire and trick themselves into doing things they shouldn't be able to? Are we really better at logical decision making? Is it our logical capacity that makes us believe we are separate from the rest of the animal kingdom, or is it our ability to believe the impossible?

Readers!

I know most of you well enough to know that you're patient folk, and your patience sometimes makes me feel a bit guilty, like I should be working more on the comic at hand than other things. However, anyone who's ever written knows that creativity is not sequential, and that ideas occur spontaneously. As such, over the course of the comic I have taken a lot of time to organize thoughts and potential scenes into potentially usable script.

The thing is, in retrospect, some of it is good material, but too elaborate or non-sequitur to really fit into the comic. Some of it is likely to make it into the comic, but only after I get to that particular story arc, which might take years! Therefore, I wanted to ask you all a question.

Would you like to see brainstorms, dialogue, and boring text stuff in between the release of the comic's pages, or do you prefer patience and suspense without the potential for spoilers?

Just as shenanigans and ne'er do wells doth partaketh of those free little ketchup packets at thine local dining establishment, mine humble comic hast been spirited away!

http://pawsru.org/fc/res/56162.html

Well, it's not quite that simple. I do find it funny that before the book was published, no such fan made 'mirror' existed for the comic. It seems that someone has saved me the trouble! Even funnier is the fact that it took a little while for folks to realize that the whole thing is posted for free online. I'm kind of flattered, actually. The feedback, what limited amount there is, has been positive.

I am rather curious about what the daily lives of these furtive individuals is like, however (yes, 'furtive' is a real word, not some stupid furry imaginary one)...

'Pirate': Say, uh, do you have any... uh... ketchup back there?

Fast Food Clerk: Sure! Here you go!

'Pirate': Five! Well, thank you, good sir. How generous! Heh. Heh heh! (twists his mustachio) How generous indeed... I can work with this!

Fast Food Clerk: Did they run out of ketchup packets by the drink machine again?

'Pirate': What drink machine?

Fast Food Clerk: That one! Oh... I see the enormous, obvious bin of ketchup packets is still filled to overflowing.

'Pirate' clenches his fists and leans heavily on the counter, glowering at the fast food clerk.

'Pirate': Do you realize what you've done?! You have taken a perfectly legitimate criminal operation and... and ruined it! This was my ketchup! Mine! I was going to share it with everybody, spitting out invective about the bourgeoisie and espousing the virtues of the common individual by sharing this exclusive item completely free of charge! But you are already doing it! You, a member of the moneyed classes, have no right, sir, no right to attempt that which is rightfully my duty! A pox on you, sir! A pox!

Fast Food Clerk: None of the other customers seem to have this complaint...

Do any of you know any musicians on FA that dabble in '80s style new wave music or with Electro/synth?

Sorry, folks. What can I say? 1 AM is angry writing time. My words were sincere, though I think the tone was influenced by the Jaegermeister in a not so flattering way.

First off, praise to the citizens of Great Britain, for they have shown restraint and dignity where their allies across the pond have gotten a bit carried away with themselves. Additionally, you were brave to trust us with the safety of your Queen for a while, truly a leap of faith in these times.

Second, to those of you who lost control of yourselves in the various discussions on Ronald Reagan, knock it off! We collectively have to face some facts. First, the images are historical context, not political commentary. Second, progressively longer tirades and harangues do not an effective argument make. Third, opinion is not fact, and vague reference is not empirical evidence.

I fully realize the consequences of approaching, even obliquely, the issue of politics. I realize that just as pornography attracts flies, commentary attracts troglodytes and beatniks. I have prepared myself for the results as best as possible.

However, I see a great deal of consternation and grief over the value of an opinion. There is this modern concept that a person's opinions determine their value as a human being, and that as a result opinions are holy or invaluable. The sad truth is that opinions, every single one, are barely worth the breaths taken to voice them.

No one cares. The world is not pleased to hear you. Your flippant remarks and shallow opinions are not needed, included, or loved. They make you seem ugly, shallow, and ignorant. They are superfluous, and if you have a membership on FA they could not be more removed from life and relevancy. They are wasted digits and pixels in the form of wasted words spewed forth from wasted cranial space that could otherwise be used to beautify or contribute something real to the real world.

I'm not encouraging people to have or not to have opinions. People will exist, and they will have opinions. What I'm asking is that people hold themselves accountable and present themselves as though they are not perfect, that there is room for error and difference. In a desert of incivility a tiny drink of humility and etiquette are worth more than a thousand opinions.

ISSUE 2: BANKRUPTCY

Today it begins. A graphical adventure both monstrous in nature and size- all divvied up the second part of the first story arc will be about 60 pages, more than twice the length of the first book.

The 'prologue' of the book is something I plan to release in a series of panels that can be more appreciated at high resolution here on FA, though it will likely be printed on a single page in the book to save some room.

The book focuses on the odyssey of Fred Savage and his rediscovered patron, Demba Guisse, as they embark upon an odyssey across the tiny, rapidly destabilizing West African nation of Nouveau Cotentan, all the while relentlessly pursued by the bloodthirsty, vengeful Colonel Paoboy Fatty.

Fred's doing it for the money. Guisse's doing it for his survival. Fatty's doing it for the power. None of them know just how hard they will have to fight or what they will have to give up to obtain these things before the day is over.