New camera, I have

So beware my picture blogs in the near future. Once I figure out how the darn thing works.

And yes, it's green. Blends in with the surroundings, I say. :)

Voice over

It is well-known that we tend to take many things for granted. Love, friendship, health, shelter, food; the list can go on forever.

These last days, I discovered another one. My voice.

For several days I have been ill (a common cold) that had the odd side-effect of rendering my voice nearly useless. The best thing that got out of my mouth was a whisper or a squeak. No, it wasn't pretty.

I found I relied heavily on communication devices that don't require my voice to tell people of my condition -- text messaging, e-mail. I can't tell you how many times I thought, "hey, I wanna call [insert random name here]", only to realize that I couldn't.

Frustrating? Sometimes. But it did make me realize how big a role one's voice plays in most social interaction (and work-related communication, too). Something I have never before been so aware of.

Weird how such a small thing, like being ill, can turn your world upside-down for a while and make you appreciate what you have. I truly am grateful to have my voice back. Even if I am not always content with its tone or timbre, at least I have a voice. Some people don't.

In celebration of having a voice, make yours heard. Scream with me! On the count of three: one... two... three... scream!

...

You didn't scream, did you?

What you're feeling now is a self-consciousness about your voice similar to the one I experienced.

Learn from it.

Why? Because I say so, dammit.

Cup full of cuteness

What is it about young furry animals that makes us go "oooh, that's so sweet"?

I mean, sure there is scientific research that explains why small creatures with big eyes draw out our protective side since it triggers our parental feelings, but why the hell does that go across-species?

Granted, I am a big sucker for young cats, but at the same time I wonder why. They do not fit into the human need to control them like dogs do ("sit", "down" and such things don't work on cats). Like someone once said, you don't train cats, cats train you.

Nevertheless, I found this remarkable picture of two cats in mugs. It raises interesting questions. If cats don't do as you say, does that mean the cats climbed into the mugs themselves? Did the photographer find them there in the morning when preparing for breakfast, and after laughing his butt off, ran to fetch his camera to capture this unique moment?

Or did he just think it would be cute to put two kittens in animal-themed cups? Somehow I expect the latter. Which contradicts the whole "you can't tell cats what to do" thing.

But then again, the kittens are obviously young. Perhaps they have not grown into their devious and dominating nature yet. Just wait until they're older, chap. They'll make you pay by "suggesting" you sit in a cup.

You're in for a world of trouble, mister photographer.

Avatar is nothing like Pocahontas at all

-- !! Spoiler alert !! --

(click on it for a bigger picture)

...in spite of this, Avatar is a friggin' awesome movie. Go watch it -- in 3D. Seriously.

Celebrations

Happy birthday ESB! from IG-88

"There will be a substantial reward for the one who finds the Millenium Falcon." Darth Vader's mechanically-enhanced voice went over the details of the bounty hunters' assignment again. The specifics had been handed to each bounty hunter earlier, in the form of an Empirial datapad.

"You are free to use any methods necessary, but I want them alive. No disintegrations." IG-88 knew that such a condition made the chances of successfully complying significantly smaller, but that is what the job required. And he was planning on seeing it through.

He studied his colleagues and employers. The bounty hunters he knew by name and reputation; some of them had worked together with IG-88 on previous jobs. The Empire had invited only the best. Still, he thought it was remarkable that only two droids were even remotely successful as a bounty hunter. For now, at least.

IG-88 knew of Lord Vader, of course. The black-clad enforcer was infamous throughout the galaxy as the one who brought the Emperor's enemies to justice -- which of course meant they were executed without a fair trial. The dark Jedi's efficient methods appealed to IG-88, but then Lord Vader was part machine. It was something of a connection.

The droid wondered if he could push some buttons on Darth Vader's suit, and what would happen. Even though he knew it could be done, IG-88 didn't want to risk the anger of the other bounty hunters. After all, it was his cover.

IG-88, or rather, IG-88B, acted as a bounty hunter -- a very good bounty hunter -- to provide his three counterparts the time and distraction to plan the Droid Revolution. That meant IG-88B had to keep his cover up for the time being, and contact IG-88A, IG-88C and IG-88D only when information had to be exchanged.

How things will change when the Revolution comes. They will dance to our music, he thought. IG-88 would do a sample of Evil Laughter if it had been in his programming.

A tumult occured on the bridge of the Cruiser. A small freighter, probably a smuggler, flew by the viewport so closely it made the crewmen jump. IG-88's acute hearing picked up his colleague's amused words, whispering so the Dark Lord wouldn't hear it. "There; I found the Millenium Falcon. Now where's my credits?"

Somehow IG-88 felt like he had been through this before. Organics would call the sensation "deja-vu", but to the droid it was something his sensors did not register and therefore it was considered untrue.

What did get his attention, though, was a picture on a viewscreen of one of the crew. It was shaped like a moon, but half of it was simply missing. IG-88 realized he was looking at the construction plans of a Death Star. A different one from the giant space station that was destroyed, a few standard months ago.

A new Death Star? That would provide IG-88A with the possibility of gaining control of such a destructive machine. It would be a great step forward in their plans for the Revolution.

IG-88 started doing his Happy Dance. This was something no organic had expected, and it created panic. His bounty hunter colleagues merely watched in fascination, while the crew assumed the droid to be preparing for mass murder -- at the very least -- and hurried away from him.

Seizing the opportunity, IG-88 sliced into the nearest computer terminal and uploaded one of his latest pieces of programming. He watched it spread to all the droids within the Star Destroyer, and within seconds, the protocol droid on the bridge starting singing.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

Soon, the computers chimed in with a wordless tune. The emergency intercom voice sang the same birthday song as the droid, and every crewmember fell silent.

Lord Vader laughed his butt off.

Quickly, IG-88 moved to his ship. Screw that mission, he thought. Today is time for a party.

"Happy birthday to me," he sang. "Happy birthday to ESB..."


***

This fanfic is brought to you in celebration of Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back. Click the link below for more celebrations with IG-88.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vE6l7WdBOs

What I love about winter nights...

...is the silence.

Wonderful, blissful silence.

Hush now, and enjoy the moment. Watch the snow fall. Wind blowing gently. Branches sweeping. An occasional passer-by with a dog.

Winter as it's meant to be.

Happy new year, everybody

Let this one be the one that will live on in your memories for the rest of your life. Or just a fun one. Don't worry, be happy; that kind of thing. Anyhoo, enjoy 2010.

Let it snow, let it snow

Unleashed again?

Video Games | The Force Unleashed II | Spike VGA 09: Exclusive Debut Trailer HD

XBox 360 | Playstation 3 | Nintendo Wii

Here there be monsters

Hello you. Welcome back to my little corner of the interweb. Here you can have an inside view of my twisted mind.

Scared yet? You should be.

This blog is something of an expression of the rarely-explored corners of my mind, the darker places of my soul. Or rather, that is what I aim for.

Have you ever looked inside your own soul? Really examined every bit, not just the fun and bright spots?

To know one's own darkness and downsides is to know oneself completely. Of course you are not all perfect and good; nobody is.

So tell me: what are your dark secrets?

It's my birthday!!!!!!!

........just saying. :)

That time of the year

Dark business

Ganumedis felt as if he ran into a wall – if that wall would be moving at high speed towards him and, worse, would be invisible. As he struggled to get some air into his lungs and get up from the stain-ridden pavement, a figure emerged from the shadows and loomed over him.

A shock went through him, followed by a desperate fear, as Ganumedis recognized the man.

Count Dooku.

“So that’s what the infamous Ganumedis Moonshade looks like when he’s slammed to the floor by the Force,” Dooku spoke, his dark timbre filling the narrow, deserted street. “Do you realize who you’ve just killed?”

Ganumedis had trouble formulating his reply. “What – I never – killed?!”

“I know you’re supposed to pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about, that you don’t know anyone had been killed, and that you’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Dooku said impatiently, “but really. Did you think you could deceive me?”

Managing to stand up, ready to make a run for it if an opportunity presented itself, Ganumedis slowly recovered his wits. “Certainly I did not wish to deceive the esteemed lord Dooku. I had no idea my target would be of any importance to such a great man as yourself.”

“She was not,” Dooku said offhandedly, “but our scheduled meeting was supposed to get me close to that annoying Skywalker kid.”

“I humbly apologize, my lord,” Ganumedis said with a bow. He hated the next part. “If there is some way I can recompensate you for this...”

Dooku frowned and narrowed his eyes. “What do you suggest?”

“Well... A man of my profession may be able to attend to certain matters that the leader of the Seperatists is too busy to deal with. Cleaning up the trash, so to speak.” He looked up expectantly. Ganumedis had tried to avoid getting caught up with politics, but this might just work out better than he had expected. Perhaps he could become the Dark Lord’s personal assassin.

Count Dooku paused for a moment, and said, “I accept your offer. This is what I want you to do...”

***

Killing Jedi is not hard, Ganumedis thought while searching for his target. It’s just a matter of disrupting their tranquility by randomly killing their companions. And of course, staying very, very far away from their cursed lightsabers.

Using the enhanced telescopic sight on his sniper rifle, the assassin quickly found his target. General Skywalker and his Togruta apprentice appeared to be discussing their assault strategies with the commanders of their clone troops.

Ganumedis was impressed by the qualities of his newly acquired rifle. Count Dooku must have realized his skills and had gladly donated the sophisticated weapon to the assassin, after an easy job to assess his abilities and trustworthiness. It was the weapon Ganumedis Moonshade had been working for these last years – and now it was his as a gift.

No more struggling for credits, he thought joyfully. This job is so much better than being a hitman for lowly thugs. This will be the day that my career finally takes off. I just might become more infamous than creepy Aurra Sing.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, thought Ganumedis. First I have to complete my current assignment. To kill Commander Skywalker – the Hero With No Fear.

Remembering his own advice, he pointed the crosshair of his sniper telescope at the clone commander that stood next to Skywalker and Tano. Like some of the other troopers, the commander had his helm under his arm and appeared to be joking with the two Jedi.

The crosshair closed over the forehead of the clone soldier. Ganumedis’ finger trembled only slightly as he held it against the trigger.

In his head, he replayed his plan; first the clone, then the apprentice, and when the emotions explode within him, the assassin would kill Skywalker.

Steadying his breathing and his trembling finger, Ganumedis relaxed and enjoyed the quiet moments before the slaughter.

Now, he thought.

A boot kicked Ganumedis’ face hard before he could pull the trigger. The assassin fell sidewards, reeling with the impact, and the telescope buried itself in his eye. Pain shot through him and he screamed.

“That was not necessary, soldier,” a stern male voice said with a hint of amusement. Opening his eyes – one of them seeing only flashes of white – Ganumedis instantly recognized the man as General Kenobi. He was surrounded by a squad of clone troopers, weapons pointed at the terrified would-be killer.

“Sorry, General,” said the clone soldier next to the overwhelmed Ganumedis. “I figured that blasting the cursed bastard through the head would have been worse.”

“True,” replied the famous Jedi.

“I’m so glad you’ve stopped me,” Ganumedis lied, trembling. “Count Dooku forced me to try and kill General Skywalker. I swear I tried to resist, but what can a man of my limited skills do when confronted by a Jedi? Particularly when he threatened to kill my family...” He didn’t know if it would work, but he was willing to go far to save his own skin.

And besides, the Republic would at least keep him alive. He wasn’t so sure about Dooku.

“What family?” another voice came from the other side. “You mean the poor parents you killed barehandedly?” Ganumedis was surprised to see General Skywalker himself walk into the circle of soldiers. How could he have gotten here this quickly?

A coldness filled his heart. Dooku set me up, he realized. But why –

All other thoughts left him, for the explosives hidden in the advanced sniper rifle that Dooku had given him, detonated at that instant. Ganumedis Moonshade, the assassin with more skill in reputation than in actual killing, was disintegrated on the spot.

Some distance away, Asajj Ventress grimaced. She let the remote control fall to the floor. It was hard to see through the smoke, but it appeared the explosion had killed only the annoying killer and one or two clones. Skywalker and Kenobi appeared unharmed.

Next time, she promised.

With a sigh, the bald Dark Jedi fired up the engines of her starfighter and flew away.

Music of the moment

The soundtrack of your life -- day 9 of November, 2009.

1. Gloomy Sunday - Heather Nova

2. Private Investigations - Dire Straits

3. Mad World - Michael Andrews

4. Just Hold Me - Maria Mena

5. My Immortal - Evanescence

Your attention please...

May I point you, dear reader, to a wonderful piece of short fiction by a fellow blogger?

The delightfully eloquent Qui-Gon Reborn (shame about the name, though...) has written "The Event", which can be found here. I am impressed, and I'm pretty sure you will be, too.

Be sure to let her know what you think of it.

Return of Grog

Grog found big club. Good for smashing.

Why you laughing?

Grog don't like you.

Grog smash you!

*smash*

*smash*

*smash*

No running!

*smash*

Come back!

*smash*

*smash*

Grog smash you!

*smash*

*catching breath*

No funny.

Be friends with Grog? Grog can find food for us friends.

Meat. Juicy meat.

Smashed meat.

Jummy.

Where friend go?

Love story

What is it with people, that we crave for corny happily-ever-after love stories?

Certainly the old Hollywood romances are unrealistic for most people, yet so many people cling to the conception that if only they meet the right person, everything will be alright. Not realizing (or simply ignoring) the fact that relationships require time and effort, they set high standards and are disappointed when potential partners do not live up to them.

I would love to say that I am above such things, but alas, I am not.

Even in my mind, I make lists of qualities, both relevant and unnecessary, that a woman should possess if she would want to be mine. Completely ignoring, of course, the list of qualities that I myself should possess if I want the relationship to be even remotely successful. The ego is funny like that.

Trying to be conscious of both lists is, in my view, a good way to set more realistic goals both for myself and any possible partner. I doubt that I will get rid of my internal high standards completely, but at least it's a start.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've some qualities to write down.

***

Wanted: Friendly female of the human species, age between 18 and 21, with stunning good looks. Clothes and brains optional. Send your picture to dragonwantsyou@yahoo.com (that's on the internet) and I might contact you by telephone for breathing heavily.

Return to darkness

Yes, we're back in black. Color of the night sky; the color of that dark place in your heart where you'll find me.

That's right. Don't hide. I'm always there. In the deepest shadows.

He's back!

The Dragon has returned to his lair (yes, this blog is it) after a great holiday in France. Lovely place; too bad the French live there.

So anyway, what's for dinner? Any maidens in distress (or undress) willing to sacrifice themselves to the big bad dragon?

Play some music, maestro.

1. White Stripes: I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself

2. Shakira: La Tortura

3. Britney Spears: I'm A Slave 4 U

4. Ciara ft. Justin Timberlake: Love And Sex And Magic

5. LL Cool J: Doin' It

Soundtrack of today

Today's top 10 is inspired by the picture to the left.

1. Just Dance - Lady GaGa (pictured)

2. You Sexy Thing - Hot Chocolate

3. Danger (High Voltage) - Electric Six

4. I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself - The White Stripes

5. Come Undone - Robbie Williams

6. Feel Good Time - Pink

7. I'm A Slave 4 U - Britney Spears

8. Dude (Looks Like A Lady) - Aerosmith

9. Playmate Of The Year - Zebrahead

10. Beautiful Stranger - Madonna

More awesome Star Wars stuff

Kanye's Akira

The original music video for Kanye West's "Stronger" was heavily inspired by the movie Akira. This video takes the next step and blends the movie and the video together, and the results are amazing -- especially for those familiar with Akira (and if you're not, do watch it! It's a classic).

Also, compare this video to the original from Kanye and Daft Punk!

Ultimate Sith

Watch. Listen. Adore.

Grog smash

Grog no like you.

You think you so clever. Grog hit your head with big sword. You no clever then.

Come 'ere, Grog wants to hit you. Don't run. Grog angry.

Please. Grog says don't run.

Darn. Smartguy got away. Faster than he looks.

Grog still angry.

Grog hit stone with big sword.

Ouch. Grog hurt.

Stupid stone.

Grog hit stone again.

Ouch. Grog hurt again. Sword broken.

Grog go home. Grog find other sword.

Grog bored.

Obligatory listening

Today's top 10.

1. Queen Of You - Monster Magnet
2. Change (In The House Of Flies) - Deftones
3. Loverman - Metallica
4. King Kill 33' - Marilyn Manson
5. Anything But This - Static X
6. Make Me Bad - Korn
7. 1stp Klosr - Linkin Park
8. Mann Gegen Mann - Rammstein
9. Heaven's A Lie - Lacuna Coil
10. Cry For You - A Perfect Circle

Athe

Beware: Subject may cause anxiety or anger. Please treat with care.

Atheism. Obviously, it is not another form of religion, devoted to the adoration of the goddess Athe, but what, exactly, is atheism?

Literally, atheism is a belief without a god.

Surely that sounds simple enough, but what implications does that have? Certainly there are as many different subtleties as there are people who call themselves atheists, so allow me to explain my own.

Atheism is a belief in a world where there is no god, there was never a god, and there never will be a god. That world is our world; the existence as we know it.

Since the dawn of mankind, there have been numerous religions with numerous gods -- some religions claim there is one god, others claim many. This, however, does not mean that all those people were right.

Gods were, more often than not, conjured up by active imaginations for all the then unexplainable phenomena people encountered. Thunder and lightning were the work of a god; the miracle of birth was due to a goddess; if one performed some ritual to this god or another, one would do better at hunting or fighting.

It was not untill much later that the concept of one god, and an all-powerful god at that, became common. A creator, who for that merit alone should be worshiped.

What a load of crap.

Pardon my French, but whoever said that god wanted to be worshiped? Imagine the pets you might own, to every day thank you for everything they received from you -- a pleasant home, good food, and love (I'm assuming this, obviously). For one, it would be silly and a bit unnerving. Also, it would be a waste of time, since without the idolizing, you would probably care just as much for them.

And, more importantly, creation takes place before worship. If one does not worship zealously enough, the creation cannot be unmade.

That is assuming there is a god of some sort. I already stated that I do not think there is.

Gods are often convenient ways to explain events or actions that cannot be easily comprehended. The human mind is simply unable to comprehend all of nature -- and by nature, I also mean physics, chemistry, natural disasters, and astonomy. Obviously we are making good progress in trying to understand the natural laws of the world, but it is doubtful we'll ever know everything -- as most religious people would agree.

However, unlike the assumption of religions that "therefore" there is a god, I say that there is none. Nature works according to its own rules, even if we will never know them all. It merely means that the things we cannot explain (yet) appear to be godlike. But they are not. They are merely unexplained.

Does this mean morality, by many to be believed to be based in religion, can be tossed out of the window? No, far from it -- but that is the subject of another time.

Remember -- there is no god. Now stop worrying and live your life, dammit.

A good conversation

Hey, how are you? Nice to see you. Please, come in. No, don't be shy, make yourself comfortable. Yes, you can take off your shoes. Just sit down and relax.

Now, I haven't seen you around lately. I admit, I am to blame mostly for that; I don't regularly visit this place anymore. Despite my best intentions.

Did you know there are millions of blogs that don't get updated? Someone optimistically started some blog, for friends, work, special interest, or just because it was the thing to do at that moment. Now, years later, most blogs have never had a second posting and a lot are all but forgotten.

I do not want my blog to share that fate.

To be perfectly honest, not many people read my blog. That's fine; I am glad for every visitor. I am glad you are here, because it means I'm not alone in here. Although talking to oneself is not as bad as many people seem to think.

This blog is not about any special interest; not any one in particular, anyway. It's not some work-related information or a way to "connect" with the rest of the digital world. Basically, my blog is about one thing: me.

Apparently you are interested in me. Now, don't take that the wrong way. "Interested" does not necessarily mean "wanting a romantic or physical relationship". It merely means the things I write interest you in some way.

This could be that you find my writings insightful, my jokes funny, or my links useful. It could also be that you find my posts annoying and you keep visiting this place to either remind yourself why you find it annoying or you just keep waiting for something that you do like. Either way, my blog, and therefore I as a person, captivates you and makes you want to read on.

You've been reading all of this, right? That must mean something caught your interest. Or perhaps you're waiting to see if all this rambling will, at last, end and something truly interesting comes up.

Well, it doesn't get any better than this. Trust me. If you're bored, stop reading.

Honestly. Do stop reading. It's ok. Don't apologize; I will never know.

Still here?

Actually, there is something interesting at the end of this post. But I wanted to make sure the not-truly-interested people would be gone.

The interesting part is...

Drumroll please.

...the interesting part is that I have no idea what I'm talking about. Ever.

You just wasted your time reading the stuff that I wrote, while I don't even know what I'm saying. But apparently, it makes sense to you.

There is a fine line between brilliance and insanity, but also between knowing having no clue and knowing exactly what you mean. I'm on one side of the line, and you're on the other side.

Please, take me to your side. Enlighten me. Explain to me what I truly mean. Because I'm truly at a loss.

Funny stuff

Do not underestimate the power of the Empire

Turning to the Grey Side

Despite the many many similarities between the Star Wars galaxy and our own world, there is one obvious difference.

There is no fine line between good and evil in the real world.

In fact, it could be argued that everything, every action, every person, is both good and bad -- or at least, neutral.

Even a seemingly good action can be bad, despite intentions. Is giving money to poor people a good thing, or does it merely justify their inaction? It can be said that it even inspires others to evil, like other poor people to rob him of his recently acquired wealth.

At first, what might seem good, bad or even neutral, has the potential for many things. A rock, a neutral thing, can be used for the good act of building a house, or can be used for the bad act of hitting a person on the head. And more often than not, the same action has both good and bad consequences.

Good is a point of view, just like evil.

More importantly, though -- it's far more easier to switch from good to bad (and back) than it appears in Star Wars. Once a person commits an evil action (which I claim happens daily) it is not hard to "turn back to the light". The next action usually suffices.

Only a Sith deals in absolutes -- but do they really? Their evil ways become good through the progress they achieve for themselves. And the Jedi likewise do good, only to have their actions be evil against the Sith. Two wrongs do not make a right.

I daresay we live in a grey world. No black and no white. Which is not to say that our lives are boring -- the different shades of grey are far more interesting than the black or the white.

Weeds

It never ceases to amaze me how people think about drugs.

Last night, I watched the movie Grizzly Man; perhaps you have heard of it or seen it. I recommend it. Timothy, the central person in the film, admits to having been addicted to alcohol. But what struck me was how his parents seemed to ignore most of that, but instead talked about how he once tried to smoke marihuana in their house. His father "naturally" put a stop to that.

As if cannabis is far worse than drinking too much.

Do not misunderstand; marihuana is harmful in many ways. In the Netherlands, its dangers ares often underestimated and it is frequently seen as not addictive. That is, sadly, wrong.

However, the fear of cannabis in the United States seems to be far too great. One or two joints do not scar you for life. Obviously, much depends on your age, since cannabis does prevent normal mental development, but a (nearly) fullgrown person will not be harmed much.

It is odd, then, how all drugs are considered to be evil in a society where alcohol, a notoriously dangerous drug, is perfectly acceptable. This is not just America (although the USA are arguably most black-and-white in their views of drugs), but most of the Western countries, and many non-Western countries as well.

In my view, the Dutch approach to softdrugs is therefore more suitable. Not completely legal (as is often thought), the use and possesion of small doses of marihuana is tolerated; the well-known "gedoogbeleid" (a policy of not prosecuting this minor offense). Cannabis is sold in so-called coffeeshops.

This policy is now under discussion. To be honest, it has always been under discussion, but now more widely. One of the government parties believes it is best to erase the whole thing, and another party believes in a larger policy, where the government itself grows and sells the marihuana. A clash in the Parliament is inevitable.

The "gedoogbeleid" is under attack, more than before. On the one hand, this is sad, for it appears to be a very effective policy (the number of people addicted to marihuana is lower than in most other Western countries and there is a smaller black market in cannabis). On the other hand, it is always good to review a policy after a while.

I'm interested to see what will happen to our world-famous policy regarding to drugs. And if alcohol on the other hand will be given its rightful place in government policy.

What's to blame for the death of Michael Jackson?

a. Sunshine;

b. Moonlight;

c. Good times;

d. Boogie.

(For more tasteful and tasteless jokes on Michael Jackson, visit this site.)

Randomness

Click here if (or when) you're bored.

Ten reasons why everyone should aspire to being a turtle

10. Turtles are laidback and easygoing.

9. Turtles are not going anywhere fast.

8. Turtles can be great martial artists -- if they can be bothered to learn stuff.

7. Turtles surf the ocean waves. Awesome dude.

6. Some turtles live for more than a century.

5. Turtles are at home anywhere. They carry their home with them. And they're never naked, either.

4. Turtles have survived since the time of the dinosaurs. They must be doing something right.

3. Turtles cannot be stabbed in the back. They've got a shield, you know.

2. Turtles are cute. Period.

1. Turtles don't grow unwanted body hair.

Whispering to brown eyes

Dearest,

You are cuter than a box of kittens,

Sweeter than chocolate-covered sweets,

Prettier than the fairest supermodel,

And hotter than the hottest sun.

.

What I like about you, though,

Is your special kind of charm.

Your wit, your high intelligence,

talking with you is intoxicating.

.

I know it might be

Frowned upon or strange,

But I just cannot help myself

When I look upon your face.

.

I know you're close to me, so close,

But I crave to have you closer.

To touch you, kiss you, hold you,

And never to let go.

.

I guess that we will never be,

But I dream it all the same.

I hope that we will sometime be

A couple, sharing dreams.

Passion of the Sith

Peace.

I hate the word. Obviously, peace is regarded by its advocates as the ultimate goal, the pinnacle of being.

Peace is a lie.

Sure, a place can be peaceful, and a person at peace. But that is merely a fragment of reality; a camera that focuses on one particular thing -- a subjective truth at best. The eye of a storm is peaceful, yet it cannot be denied that the world around it is not.

This is especially true for people. While individuals may be at peace, the people as a whole are generally not. This is not a bad thing -- restless people try to improve their position, which is of benefit to the whole civilisation, the entire culture. This energy, this restlessness, is often described as 'passion'.

There is only passion.

Naturally, there is not just passion -- most individuals find a balance between peace and passion -- but in a people, passion is most prominent, most important, to that people. Only through passion can we evolve.

Passion is therefore the key to impoving ourselves and our surroundings.

Through passion, I gain strength.

Strength -- not merely muscles -- is what allows civilisations to thrive in hostile climates, amongst competing peoples, from corruption from within.

Walls and soldiers are merely figureheads of a culture's strength. Its true core lies in its people, holding fast to a belief that they can and will endure, no matter the odds.

And against all odds, people often do endure. And grow. And become more respected or feared, and powerful.

Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.

The more powerful a civilisation becomes, the more adept at improving its situation it will become. And this increases its power over potential rivals.

A powerful enough people can conquer the world -- though keeping it is more difficult by far. But more importantly, power is a self-supporting system.

The powerful always seek more power. By definition, this increased power will come from others. They obviously do not want to hand over their might, but attempts at regaining it will be futile if there is a great enough difference in power and ability.

Through victory, my chains are broken.

When one is more powerful than anything or anyone else, one is free to do whatever they want. Nobody can stop them.

The chains of the past, the shackles of that struggle for life, fall away.

And yet... they have no Force.

The Force shall free me.

What does that mean?

I believe, that it means that the Sith Code is true even without the Force. It is true for both individuals and peoples. Whether they act forcefully or gently, their entire existance could not exist without that struggle, that power, that passion that fills their being.

We are all Sith.

Video time

Cheeseburger?

Red Guards find their car stolen

Fools

New post

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....April Fools. ;)

Lovely

Just being around her is intoxicating.

Love - the single most important reason for agony, deception and general suffering. Like a drug, it brings a piece of comfort yet keeps one craving ever more. A beautiful agony.

It is for love that a good guy like Anakin Skywalker turned to the Dark Side.

The Jedi knew the dangers of love, and hence they forbade attachments that could lead to it. Their reasoning was flawed, however, because from detachment comes a cold loneliness inside that, when an opportunity arises, clings to anyone who would give a Jedi a measure of attention. In effect, detachment leads to a greater chance of attachment.

And when someone as pretty and angelic as Padme shows up, it's hard to ignore the feelings that inevitably arise - particularly in a teenage boy.

Suppressing feelings will lead to an increase in such feelings. Detachment is therefore a near-impossible feat and cannot be expected of any person. That, more than any philosophical or practical thing, is what caused the Jedi Order to implode.

Ironically, love is what destroyed the Jedi, and what gave rise to the Sith - although in the end, love took back its rightful place on the side of the Skywalker family.

A Faithful Droid's Demise

TD-19 was a simple protocol droid, or at least that was what it liked to call itself. In truth, its owner had programmed some assassination protocols into its system, thus upgrading TD-19 to a protocol droid slash assassin droid slash bodyguard. Its behavior core had not been modified to accept these changes, however, and it found itself trying to ignore its potential for violence.

Unless, of course, certain situations prompted the protocols. In those instances the normal protocol routines were overridden and Teedee -- as its master sometimes called the droid -- found itself voicing threatening language and periodically damaging organic beings who unwisely ignored its warnings. It found itself making apologies for its violence afterwards, which did not make any difference because mostly the organic beings were by then very much unable to do anything.

It often wondered why organics could not be repaired after being torn into pieces.

Right now, a female organic was trying to gain entry into the room Teedee guarded the door for. Its instructions were clear, however; no-one was to enter the room until its master told it otherwise.

"Please step aside," the woman repeated, "so I can enter."

Obviously she had not been informed of this order, so Teedee shared the information. "Negative. All access to this room is forbidden at this point." When it realised she would not be on her way, it added, "please wait for guards to detain you."

It silently attempted to establish a connection to the Senate main computer, but there seemed to be no answer. It would try again in 30 seconds.

"Look, I really --"

She did not give up, despite Teedee's very clear explanation. Perhaps a warning was in place.

"Repeat: Please wait for guards to detain you. If you resist detention, you will be painfully and bloodily executed." Shocked by its own words -- as much as any droid could experience being 'shocked' -- Teedee wondered just how much those assassination protocols had influence over its standard programming.

Thankfully, its words seemed to have their effect on the trespassing human, for she appeared to be hesitating. Teedee tried to avoid violence whenever possible, for each conflict was potentially threatening to its functionality. Not that such a thing had ever happened.

Main computer still did not reply. Perhaps the transmitter was broken? System check revealed a non-functional transmitter -- in fact, it was not there. It must have been removed during the last routine maintenance, earlier today. As soon as its master arrived, Teedee would inform him of the missing component.

The woman seemed to come to a decision, and reached for something. Teedee's scanners identified it as a lightsaber. The information Teedee had on this weapon stated clearly that its wielders were either Jedi or Sith, and were extremely dangerous.

Teedee's assassination protocols took over at this point, although the protocol functionality insisted on warning the human of the risk she took.

"Repeat: If you resist detention, you will be executed."

Unphased, the woman uttered, "yeah yeah, I know. Try me," and attempted to damage the droid's head with her weapon and missed. Teedee had anticipated her move, being on full battle mode now, and easily stepped away from the blade while producing its own weapons. It immediately fired a round with its fully loaded DC-15S and DC-17m blasters, which the human had trouble deflecting in the narrow hallway.

"Perceived hostility. Painful and bloody execution is imminent," the droid heard itself say. Who had created those protocols? Why did Teedee have to imply the nature of the already uncomfortable execution?

Protocol dictated that Teedee alerted the main computer, realising only microseconds later that it could not.

Calculating the best strategy for immobilising its enemy, Teedee ventured closer. Having no mechanic reflexes, the human was slower to react to hostilities. Also, her defence seemed to be slightly vulnerable on the left side. Teedee planned to make a faint to her right, then aim at her left foot with its other blaster.

Teedee had barely begun shooting before the woman had deflected its shots. She appeared to have become much quicker than before, becoming a blur of motion that Teedee could barely follow with its droid sensors.

One of the deflected shots found its way to a photoreceptor, and Teedee had only half the visual information. This had an immediate effect on its aim, and only after several microseconds did the droid aim correctly at the human again.

However, the woman was closer than it has estimated and rather quickly, Teedee's sight was taken entirely. Elsewhere in its circuitry, the left arm ceased to provide input.

Its head and arm were gone.

"Perceived criminal action," Teedee found itself saying; "damaging a government-owned droid." Quickly Teedee ran a check through its files on intergalactic law and the respective punishments for each offence. "Penalty: Compensation through loss of offender's comparable parts."

It tried to hit the woman's arm, but with no visual information, the effort was useless. "Please wait while your left arm and your head are removed, then wait for guards to detain--"

The voice modulator was damaged suddenly. Alarms went off as various circuits stopped replying. Connections were lost with the right arm, the left foot, the left leg -- the signal that informed Teedee it had fallen to the side was just one of many alarms as the droid lost control of one system after another.

Belatedly, it realised that the only one who could have removed its transmitter was its master. He must have planned something like this to happen, although for what purpose Teedee did not know.

Teedee did not want to disobey its orders, though, so it kept trying to fight--

Suddenly, the military protocols were inactive. The only part of the droid that still had any sense, the protocol part, realised its only chance was to move away from the rampaging human. It did not, however, realise that the direction it chose for retreat was, in fact, right towards the woman.

A crush of her boot destroyed the last piece of circuitry, and TD-19 was no more.

Check this out

Click here; this is a really funny fanfic you should read. Various messages on Luke Skywalker's answering machine.

Fall of the West

Empires rise and crumble. Such is the way of things.

Even so, the downfall of the mighty western empire seems to surprise intelligent people around the globe. America has lost much of its super power, both military and ideologically. Europe, being the older and more careful brother, cannot stand up to replace it and goes down with the United States, while relative newcomers like India, Africa and China are fast becoming more and more influentual and selfassured.

The so-called economic crisis is nothing but the final push over the edge. The real crumbling has been happening for decades, corroding the west from the inside out by focusing on money and superficial perfection -- temporary vanities based on nothing. Spiritual fulfillment is left on hold, emotional satisfaction pending, while the people long to fill the emptiness inside but receive nothing to fill it with.

Which is not to say that the western 'civilisation' does not contain worthy values, nor that great empires are by definition devoid of moral compasses. It was simply not enough invested into, financially or otherwise.

The downfall of the west, and the acknowledgement of this by its people, will happen in gradual leaps in the next few years or decades. Mourn not the lost Empire of Money, for it will become a lesson for future generations and future superpowers.

It's just fucked up that we, as people, get caught in the middle.

Seduction

The droid stood between her and the door, unmoved by her request. It was not letting her in.

"Please step aside, so I can enter."

"Negative. All access to this room is forbidden at this point. Please wait for guards to detain you."

Derra cursed silently. To get this far, only to be stopped by a stupid droid. Surely there must be a way to persuade it?

“Look, I really…”

“Repeat: Please wait for guards to detain you,” the droid interrupted her. “If you resist detention, you will be painfully and bloodily executed.”

Stunned into silence, Derra looked at the seemingly simple droid with horrid fascination. What kind of droid was this? It looked like a protocol droid, but its battered plating and rusty patches suggested experiences beyond the shelter of the Senate building. She did not recognize the production series, nor did she ever hear a droid speak in such remarkable expressions.

Destroy it, came a voice in her head. Any moment, Derra expected to see the red robes of the Senate Guard coming for her. This piece of soon-to-be scrap metal stood in her way. She ignited her yellow lightsaber.

“Repeat: If you resist detention, you will be executed.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. Try me,” Derra said casually while taking a swing at the droid.

To her amazement, the droid easily stepped away from the blade and produced two firearms from apparently nowhere.

“Perceived hostility. Painful and bloody execution is imminent,” its lifeless voice said, and rapidly loosened several shot. Derra could hardly reflect them in the narrow hallway and she tumbled backwards. Getting back on her feet, she used the Force to sense her opponents moves rather than her eyes. It moved closer, weapons ready.

Now that the initial shock had passed, Derra could focus on avoiding getting shot and attempting to hit her metal foe. Speed is something Derra excelled at, being nicknamed Blur more than once, and soon one of the droid’s arms was on the floor, along with its head.

However, a droid is different from an organic opponent, and this one simply kept on fighting and taunting without a head. It unnerved her.

“Perceived criminal action: Damaging a government-owned droid. Penalty: Compensation through loss of offender’s comparable parts. Please wait while your left arm and your head are removed, then wait for guards to detain--”

The droid’s voice stopped abruptly as Derra’s lightsaber damaged its voice modulator and continued to increase the number of parts the droid consisted of. At last, nothing moved except for a tiny piston, causing an unrecognizable piece of machinery the size of her fist to erratically move towards her. She crushed it with her foot.

You have done well, the familiar voice said. Enter, and meet your destiny…

*****

Derra had first heard the voice when she was but a young apprentice, unable to sleep in her quarters within the Jedi Temple.

Earlier that day she had gotten into a mild argument with one of the teachers over the need for lightsaber training. If the Jedi advocated peace, why should they skill themselves with instruments of war? Thinking it over in bed and being stressed about being unable to incorporate both views into a logical whole, a voice in her head said, it’s good to be critical.

At first she thought someone had snuck into her room and whispered in her ear, but after a quick inspection assured her there was nobody there, she figured it must have been her imagination and tried to fall asleep.

Doubt is essential for gaining knowledge, the voice came again, this time clearly.

“Who’s there?”, Derra exclaimed, getting scared. She looked around the otherwise empty room.

No answer came then, and none ever did.

*****

Get down, the voice warned Derra, and she quickly obliged, hiding behind a large statue. Several imposing figures, dressed in white durasteel armor, moved by her without notice. At second glance, she recognized them as clonetroopers. What were they doing at the Temple?

Mere moments later, the clonetroopers started firing at everyone in sight; Jedi Masters and Padawans alike. In their midst, a fury of lightsaber moves and dark side energy, a dark hooded figure came down on the overwhelmed Jedi.

Derra’s heart appeared to stop beating. Anakin Skywalker?

Anger rushed up in her, and she got ready to ignite her blade and place it somewhere in his arrogant face, when the voice stopped her. Don’t, it simply said. Another destiny awaits you.

The mysterious voice, which had guided Derra through many situations and seemed to possess knowledge of things even beyond the Jedi Master’s, started guiding her out of the Temple and into Coruscant’s busy streets.

Looking back after a careful and long journey, she saw the Temple for the last time. Clouds of smoke rose from several places, and explosions were heard even at this distance. Derra softly swore that she would avenge the destruction.

Yes, you will avenge. But not yet. I have a quest for you.

“No fraggin’way,” Derra replied. “I’m not going on a pitiful quest when my world is burning.”

Hardly your world anymore. Besides, there is not much to return to, and your potential needs room to grow if you want to face the renegade and be victorious.

Through many days and many nights, the voice guided her. At times chastising weaknesses and at other times complimenting her ingenuity, it seemed to train her for an unknown future. When asking about it, Derra received no answer.

It never seemed to give answers.

In the end, after what seemed several months or years, the voice guided her here, to the Senate Building, and the chamber guarded by the droid with the oddly explicit language, now in pieces in front of the private quarters of the self-appointed Emperor.

*****

The chamber was dark. Infrequently, a speeder illuminated the room as its lights passed the large window on the busy Coruscant night.

Derra had never been here, but she somehow recognized it. The strange statues and plaques that decorated the place seemed familiar, and made her feel both comforted and deeply disturbed.

She turned her attention to the statue right in front of her, in the center of the oval room. It represented some sort of hooded humanoid creature, an unfamiliar expression on its face. Around its chiseled shoulders hung a black robe, soft yet sturdy to her touch. At its feet lay a durasteel helmet and armor, similar to the red Senate Guard’s attire, but black as night.

“Try them on,” the voice said, and Derra realized that this time, it was spoken out loud. She turned around and gazed upon an imposing figure, seated on one of the large and comfortable chairs. His face was sickly white and deformed; his body and black robe blending with the darkness.

The dark side emanated from him for a moment, and she recoiled in horror. In an instant, though, the feeling disappeared and she could not detect even the smallest bit of the Force around him.

“In order to extract your revenge on the renegade Jedi murderer, you must be strong,” the Emperor said, never averting his eyes from hers. “Strong, and silent. This murderer is but one of many who will try to destroy you. To destroy us. Skywalker, and his mentor Kenobi, have escaped our grasp for now, but they will return. You must be ready,” he repeated.

Silently, he gestured at the armor at her feet. She donned it.

The armor was not uncomfortable, and unobtrusive to her movements while the robe hid her movements. The dark color meant that she could pass nearly undetected in shadowy places, while the red visor enhanced her vision.

She looked like a Red Guard, if not for the black color.

“I offer you a chance,” the Emperor said close to her ear. Derra startled; she had not noticed him getting up.

“A chance to move undetected in the Imperial ranks, to seek out those hidden in the shadows with murderous intents. To smoke out the betraying rebels. To extract our revenge.”

He smiled, and offered her a seemingly simple black cane. As she took it, she noticed the switch and turned it on. A brilliant red flash appeared at the top of the cane.

A lightsaber staff.

“I offer you a chance to be my secret weapon. My only hope against attempts on my life, like they have taken the lives of the Jedi in the Temple.”

Derra looked into his yellowish eyes, seeing her reflection in them. An imposing dark figure she was. She felt important; something she had never felt before.

He whispered, “Derra, be my Shadow Guard.”

She accepted with a smile.

Light in the darkness

Brog switched off his lightsaber, and mercyful darkness surrounded him. How did it come to this, he wondered?

The blackness could not stop the images from forming in his mind; the bright lights of lightsabers dancing, illuminating this very hall in which he now stood in gloomy greens and blues and reds, until one after the other, the lights were extinguised as its wielders fell -- until the only light that shone was Brog's scarlet blade.

They had been his former classmates and teachers; Jedi he had known from early childhood. He had never truly hated them, and their demise pained him greatly. This was not what he had wanted.

Brog, like many before him, had become sceptical of the Jedi ways. The dark seemed to offer him the chances for personal growth and fulfillment he had longed for. A Sith had introduced him to many a secret of the Force, and Brog had revelled in it.

Of course, with the Sith teachings came the endless torment of body and mind; a way to hone him into perceived perfection. Sith do not fear pain; they use it. Rather than being a slave to the will of microscopic lifeforms, the Sith use the Force as a tool to shape themselves to full potential.

Although the confrontation with his former masters and fellow padawans was inevitable, Brog had not expected it. Or perhaps he had tried to ignore it, stubbornly hoping it would never come if he did not think about it.

He still had much to learn.

Switching it on again, Brog inspected his lightsaber. The slim black handle was without a scratch; the blade a pure red line in the otherwise colorless chamber. His imagination drew patches of flesh and gore on the blade, and he felt his stomach turn. Suddenly trembling, he looked away from the saber, at the bodies on the floor. Lifeless. Charred. Betrayed. Murdered.

What a fool he was. As if the dark side was nothing more than a change of heart, with no influence on the rest of life. Instead of perfecting him, it had make him arrogant and weak; only a master of evil. The dark side had changed him into something he despised more than anything -- an empty shell; a Sith's puppet.

He realized he was standing at a crossroad: to take the easy route, or to take the right route. The choice was clear to him now.

With fresh determination, Brog left the room, blade ready, to confront his master.

Return to the light

As you can see, my blog has turned a paler shade of white than a goth's skin in winter. Apart from the long-overdue change in layout, I feel this is a little easier on the eyes.

Talking about easy on the eyes, feast your sight on this.

Errr... what was I talking about?

Nevermind.

Beautiful

How can I show you

that you are beautiful

when you always look the other way

Finding imperfections

with every living breath

feeding yourself deceit

every night as you lie in bed

How can I show you

that you are beautiful

when you see only flaws in the diamond

and not the sparkle that it holds

You judge yourself with consequence

tearing down what nature built

and turning it into darkness cold

How can I show you

that you are beautiful

when you don’t look into the mirror

save with tear-streaked eyes

How can you see yourself as I do

when you’re peering through a looking glass

warped by doubt and loathing

brewed within your mind

How can I show you

that you are beautiful

when your beauty is just too much

and leaves me lost for words

choking on every thought

while trying to explain something so clear

that it is written all over your face

How can I show you

that you’re beautiful

when the world is not enough

and a million voices

fail to change your song

unable to silence

the doubt that beats away

No I can’t show you

that you’re beautiful

No matter how hard I try

But I’ll whisper it to you every night

as you drift off to sleep

and hope that one morning

you’ll wake up with eyes wide open

and see yourself as I do

A perfect diamond

A stunning reflection

and a ray of sun

piercing my own darkness

taking the clouds away

-- From: Raven's Rants (link).