Review: The New Death and others

So, I mentioned the fact that I was going to review The New Death and others.

Here it is.

James Hutchings wrote The New Death and others.  Yesterday's mini-review basically summarized my thoughts — when it's good, it's great.  When it's bad, it's okay.  Can't get better than that, really.

(As an aside: the random picture and page quote combination on his "About" page gave me a picture of Devastatin' Dave, thus making James supremely cool.)

Anyway, a bit of background: James is an anarchist from Australia, and it permeates his work (his main site is here).  Several stories and poems have political subtext, though many of them are downright anvilicious (I'll take "Rumpelstiltskin" as my example, as it ends with the line, "Moral: If you can't do anything else, get into politics," but there are many examples throughout the collection).  Depending upon one's political views, this might be a deal-breaker.  No matter what one's political views, however, the frequent presence of the author in his work can be a bit off-putting.

The second criticism comes from the collection's shifts in genre and mood.  This mood whiplash can also be a weakness, as a quiet and macabre little piece reminiscent of Dunsany gives way to a stream of puns and a delivery like Woody Allen.  Overall, The New Death and others may benefit best from keeping within a specific mood.

Apart from those two general criticisms, I really liked this collection.  The author has a definite fondness for puns, paraprosdokians, and postmodernism — giving his comedy a sort of Woody Allen vibe — but Hutchings is strongest when weaving weird tales and poetry in the vein of Dunsany, Howard, and Lovecraft.

Incidentally, this is why I am inclined to review this: many of the poems and stories make Teleleli sound like a truly rad adventuring locale (then again, the tears of the gods and monastic dinosaurs bear this out).  Stories such as "How the Isle of Cats Got Its Name," "The God of the City of Dust," and my favorite among the collection, "The Scholar and the Moon," are well worth the price of admission.  Any reader should be able to get something out of it.

Despite my misgivings about some of the content trying too hard to deliver its message, his writing is excellent.  Though the mood wavers, the author's voice is strong throughout — were I to find he is a gifted storyteller among his friends, always entertaining with a pub tale or some such, I would hardly be surprised.  And while some of his prose is anvilicious, his poetry is almost never so rigid.  Though stories such as "Todd" were among my favorites, his poetry is uniformly strong.  Admittedly, I did not expect to like stories with entries such as "Under the Pyramids (based on the story of the same name by H.P. Lovecraft)," but even his poetic adaptations of existing works have the same dreamlike feel that makes his writing so strong.  This is definitely his adaptation written in his voice, and the transition is so seamless that the reader can easily forget the original.

So, despite the fact that he might want to bring certain issues to your attention with loud insistence, James Hutchings has a definite gift for words and a flair for playing with genre tropes.  The excellent work in this collection certainly makes it worth the dollar you'll spend for it.  Go order it on Amazon.com (for Kindle) and Smashwords (in various ebook formats).

Deadlands, Part V

When last we left our heroes, they managed to chase off some Rattlers, helped the St. Louis police force determine where the missing townsfolk went (they were acting as food and incubators for the Rattlers), and started on a train to Denver.  It was indicated that the head of the railroad wished for them to come to dinner.

And so they did.

As porters took everyone's bags, they started into the railroad head's mansion.  Jake and Miss O'Flahertie do not see the man in the mourning coat who gave Father Seward and David Hood their cards — he is later found to be incorporeal — but the Father and Hood see him.  He admonishes Father Seward to turn back and avoid this place, just wait for the train to take him to San Francisco, like he asked.  Father Seward ignores him and heads to the house, while Hood attempts to speak with him and passes his hand through him.  Strangely, the man is left impotently yelling on the front lawn, and does not actually step onto the porch or any portion of the house.

The group enters and greeted by the railroad head (his name currently escapes me, so I'll just refer to him as the railroad head, or the host, or the master of the house).  He is wheelchair-bound and seems to favor his right hand, as his left lays on his lap.  After introductions are made, servants show the group members to their rooms.  David Hood gets what appears to be a master bedroom, but the elderly railroad man likely doesn't go upstairs anymore, so it is used as a guest room.  Ruby O'Flahertie gets a room across the hall.  Father Seward and Jake are placed together, immediately putting them on edge, because what are the odds that putting the holy man and the sorcerer together are coincidental?

When party members arrive in their respective rooms, they find their clothes laid out for them.  Their weapons are undisturbed.  Before dressing, Father Seward speaks to Jake — given the smearing of blood from the old priest on the train, and the mysterious fellow following them, Father Seward suggests that Jake "do what he has to" if the old priest starts acting too strangely.  Everyone dresses in his or her finery — Father Seward reluctantly wears the white tuxedo he obtained from the mysterious man while Jake wears his least wrinkled suit — and proceeds to dinner.

Seated by social standing, the group finds itself separated — Hood and O'Flahertie find themselves near the head of the table, while Jake and Father Seward are cast further down.  Father Seward says grace at the request of the host, and then dinner commences.  Conversation is relatively pleasant, though it varies heavily — members of the upper classes are at one side of the table, whereas their servants are at the other end.

Eventually, dinner draws to a close.  The host takes his leave to speak with a Miss Hannity, while the other dinner guests are free to speak.  Once the business between them is finished, the host returns.  The gentlemen (relatively speaking, given the character of some of the rough-and-tumble servants) retire to a parlor to drink and smoke cigars while Miss O'Flahertie and Miss Hannity retire to a sitting room for similar conversation and respite.

Tea with the two ladies is relatively uneventful, though one of the queer, slow, black serving ladies of the house mutters disparaging comments about the two upper-class women under her breath.  When Miss O'Flahertie hears this, she attempts to stare the woman into submission, but the servant's piercing stare cows Ruby instead.  Miss Hannity intervenes to return the conversation to a semblance of levity.

As for the men, the experience is significantly more pleasant.  Jake does make certain to remark to the Father that the party guests' servants are uncouth and armed, prompting Father Seward to excuse himself to use the WC in his room — and get his gun.  Even so, the evening is pleasant.  As the master of the house falls asleep, the servants prompt everyone to return to their rooms.

(The same happens with the ladies, though the servant just abruptly turns down the lights and leaves them on their own.)

At Ruby's suggestion, the group goes to David's room to discuss matters, though Miss Hannity and her man, Jeb, also join them.  Seeing that private conversation is unlikely, Father Seward excuses himself to bed.

Father Seward unfurls his bedroll at the foot of the bed, and after arranging himself, prepares for sleep.  When Jake arrives, this causes a minor argument as each insists the other takes the bed.  Finally, Jake takes the bed after telling the Father he'll be sleeping in it the following day.

The house sleeps.

Jake is awakened by a queer sound, like metal scraping against stone — similar to a knife being sharpened, but the strokes are not so long as that.  Ruby is also awakened by it, as it sounds as though it is happening outside her door.  Jake awakens Father Seward, who painfully starts to assemble himself.  Just then, whatever is out there pounds on Ruby's door and screams.  Jake runs out the door.  Father Seward starts to go for his lantern.  Hood awakens and also goes for a lantern.  Jeb is on to move to find Miss Hannity, who is also looking for a lantern.

However, once Jake arrives, it becomes apparent that no one is there.  The various parties assemble around Ruby's room, but nobody finds anything.  Father Seward tries to explain it away as a nightmare, but neither David nor Ruby take the hint.  Hearing the racket, one of the servants gets Ruby warm milk.  Jake suggests that Father Seward asks if this place is on an Indian burial ground, but the groggy priest can't think of a way to phrase the question without sounding strange, so he lets it go.

Finally, everyone disassembles.  Father Seward locks his room and Jake and Father Seward decide to take Ruby's room for the night.  The house settles back to sleep.

Note that many strange things have happened, but everything could easily be summarized in a few paragraphs.  However, I have a suspicion that even the minor events may be important, as suggested by the next event.

Father Seward awakens first.  Everything seems to be in order, although Ruby appears to have some sort of grease around her mouth (the paranoid priest actually makes note of the fact that her left hand is beneath the covers, which will be important momentarily).  He sniffs it, and marks that it smells like pork and barley.  Unsure of what to do, he takes a deep breath, says a quick prayer, and casts succor to ease her sleep.

She awakens, muttering about her mother.  She looks somewhat alarmed once she finds herself fully awake, and she withdraws her left arm from the covers to reveal — a ragged stump, with exposed bone and muscle.  The hand is gone.

Father Seward is surprised, but manages to keep a typically stoic façade.  He is poised to clamp a hand over her mouth to suppress the ensuing scream, but it never comes as she vomits — coincidentally answering his question as to the whereabouts of the hand by regurgitating bits of bone, tissue, and fingernail.  She immediately starts muttering about servants eating the hand.  Jake hears this commotion and awakens with a start, brandishing the shotgun.  Father Seward admonishes him to look away as he is not quite certain what to make of everything yet.  Jake follows the instruction.  Father Seward prays to God and lays on hands, hoping to regrow the hand.  Instead, he feels a strange and terrible absence, as though God is not in this place.

He then informs Jake that the young lady appears to have eaten her own hand, prompting him to vomit.  Jake again suggests that Father Seward asks about the history of the property — possibly over breakfast, which smells as though it will soon be ready — and they briefly discuss the prospect of the hand being eaten in a dream (after all, it seems unlikely for her to have actually cooked and eaten her own hand without them noticing).

It is about this time that there is a knock at the door — David Hood, along with Miss Hannity and Jeb, have come to check on Ruby and see how she is doing.  Jake explains that she is not doing well, while Father Seward sits with her on the bed, trying to comfort her despite the fact she is relatively unresponsive.

Edit: How could I forget?  As they approach her room, Miss Hannity and David Hood feel strangely full.  It is unknown if they participated in the dream-eating psychodrama — by description, they weren't there — but it's probably pretty likely.

Further information is available here: Arashi talks a little about this session — and horror and player agency and game design — over at this post on The Felling Blade.  He plays Jake, by the way.

Scenario: Relic

So, a little while ago I started running a Cthulhu Dark Ages campaign.  It tapered off (though I still have the notes for it, and hope to return to it eventually).  However, the introductory adventure, entitled "Relic," can easily stand on its own.

For this reason, I submitted it to Protodimension Magazine, but as I have not yet heard from them (this was months ago, by the way), I will assume that they are not going to publish it.

As such, I'll just host it.

In "Relic," a traveling monk comes to the investigators' home town and asks for assistance in retrieving church relics.  However, it quickly becomes apparent that all is not as it appears — the monk's strange accent and turns of speech may suggest that he is a foreigner, and the relics are unlike any ever seen by medieval Bretons.

Download it here.

If you have any questions, comments, and the like, go ahead and post them in the comments or somehow establish contact with me.  Feedback is welcome.  If it's terrible, I want to know about it and make it better (or just acknowledge the advice for next time, and leave a shrine of terrible behind).

The Week's Roundup

I haven't posted in a week?  Ye gods, man.

I'd blame it on being busy, but really, there's no excuse for that.  Anyway, here's some stuff I missed:

Deadlands session.  I hear the severed Southern belle hand is this restaurant's specialty.  Expect the writeup shortly.

I may shortly find myself in a D&D campaign.  I may be playing a Warhammer-style rat catcher as a Beastmaster Ranger.  My mousing dog may be a ratty airedale terrier.  Fortunately, in 4e, rangers can resurrect their dogs with some degree of skill, so hopefully, I will never need to face the emotional pain of a fallen hound (don't worry, that post isn't a sad tale about a dead family friend; it's a blog-appropriate post about Gleichman, Zak Smith's dog in various ConstantCon games).

I am assimilating The New Death and others for review.  It has a few flaws — there tends to be a lot of mood whiplash among the stories, as some are fantastical, some are horrific, many are anvilicious, and some are filled with many puns great and terrible — but it's probably worth spending the dollar on "The Scholar and the Moon" alone.  Basically, when it's good it's great, and when it's bad it's okay; definitely worth the read.  Expect an actual review when I have time to finish it.

I should probably also review Memoirs Found in a Bathtub (essential Paranoia reading, really) and Stranger in a Strange Land while I'm at it.  Memoirs especially is appropriate for roleplaying, as noted above.  I'm currently juggling Stranger with The New Death, Mordenkainen's Magnificent Emporium and a few other roleplaying books.  Fun times.
And with that, here are a couple of things to read:

• Kenneth Hite describes game design as it relates to his eight-year-old nephew at playtime.  Read it here.

• Zak Smith fulfils a reader request about adventure design; namely, what is the minimal information one needs to a run an adventure in a given environment.  Read it here.

• Finally, Zak Smith discusses Abulafia, a random generator wiki.  He also lists some of the generators he has contributed.  Read it here.

Guest Spot: The Dunwich Experiment

In September, I mentioned The Dunwich Experiment, a Cthulhu LIVE LARP I planned to attend.  As noted, I didn't, but my good friend Nicole did.  She wrote her experiences in a loose, in-character journal format, and wanted me to share them here.  Enjoy!

Among the forensic evidence taken from the town of Dunwich, MA during a police investigation in 1969 following an incident during the “Dunwich Experiment” contest held in the town, was a journal belonging to a 22 year old college student.  This and other evidence were publicly leaked when Filmways, Inc. bought American International Pictures (AIP) in 1979.

This journal belonged to Miss Allison “Ali” Hockett of Middleburg, VA, a sophomore at Georgetown University studying parapsychology, and one of the contest winners.  It is known that she left Washington, D.C. the morning of October 3, 1969, taking the Amtrak to Boston, MA.  She traveled alone.  She is among the missing and, decades later, is presumed dead.

Excerpts from the journal pertaining to the 48 hours that have become known as “The Dunwich Incident”:


Friday 10/3/69 
Just off the train, nine hours, finally in Boston.  Read up on Dunwich history, some text for class, witchy stuff.  Waiting around the bus station for other contest winners and AIP people to arrive.  Maybe someone has some reefer?

Bus from Boston to  Dunwich is taking FOREVER.  Driver says it is an accident or bad road conditions – it is getting pretty rural.  Hanging out with Tommy Argento and Mike Barker, also contest winners.  Other two never showed.  Tommy is cool, and is in a band.  He’s also from DC – WHO KNEW? – and has a hefty flask of bourbon we’ve been passing around.  Mike is a Boston local, into the club scene.

Lady from AIP seems pretty OK, young, into good music.  Tamara... something.  Her boss, Mr. Herman is such a hard ass – loud, short, and way uptight.  Some actor is here, Gene Stockton I think?  He’s slept the entire time, didn’t see him get on the bus.

Been corrected.  His name is Dean Stockwell.  He seems out of it, like he doesn’t know what’s happening.  Wasteoid.


Saturday 10/4/69 (I think.  It must be after midnight, but my watch is busted)
WHAT IS THIS TOWN.  SERIOUSLY.

Finally rolled in 10:30, a little drunk, thanks Tommy.  The town is dark, almost entirely uninhabited.  We’re brought to the general store-cum-tavern.  We’re given dinner and start to watch the film, The Dunwich Horror.  Some locals are here and they are rude.  This old man kept shouting at the projector screen every time someone said “Dun-wich”, seems the accepted pronunciation is “Dun-ich”, not surprised.  He and this other fellow also making snide comments.  Sad, because the Whately story is fascinating and although this is Hollywood BS, it is still interesting.

Then it started. 

Mr. Herman had a seizure or something – stood up started talking loudly about Silver Thomas showing us the way, and not getting out, some crap like that, and then he fell over.  Movie was stopped for that and because locals seemed not to like it.  Mr. H was OK, and we decided to turn in for the night.  Locals said we could take any empty/unlocked house; the inhabited ones all have lights and locks on.

Walked around a bit and finally found a big house (a shack, dear god) where we could all fit.  But then.  THEN.

Mike is gone.  We lost him, and he is not at the tavern.  Did he leave with that old man’s (Boomer) daughter?  I barely registered her – very quiet, mousy – but they say she went to Boston and maybe Mike went with her.  I don’t think so.  He was pretty wasted and probably wandered off somewhere.  Others agree and so off we go with the town doctor around Dunwich.  In the dark.  The whole damn town.  They have no street lights any more, so we just use flashlights.  There is no moon and it is cloudy.  It is dark, man.

So we walk.  Then we get shot at.  OH YEAH I FORGOT.  So earlier before the movie, we had talked about going to Sentinel Hill because, I mean, right?  Amazing.  So much history, so much energy.  Anyway, Tommy snuck off up there but didn’t get close because that old man Boomer followed him and was holding him up with a shotgun.

So we’re walking, gunshot, we drop.  There’s a ‘Nam vet in town (already) and he’s got tremors and flashbacks, and fuck you Dick Nixon.  Of course he wigs out (the vet).  The gunshot is B. with some other local, but he missed.  We carry on.

Every unlocked shack, every common area.  I have my EMF meter out and there are some great hot spots – 1) Doc’s cabin (does he operate?  He says it is his wiring) 2) empty field where they say a church burned down.  AMAZING!  We search the whole town and find some weird things (a creepy photo in an empty room, odd black fabric across random windows, a dead lizard, weird writing and drawings on the walls).  But of course no Mike.  If the dumb fuck went and broke his drunk neck falling in the woods, to hell with him.  My dogs are barking and I am ready for bed.

Locals are creepy and clearly distrustful of outsiders, so we’ve put furniture against the door.  Like that will stop them.


Saturday 10/4/69 (morning)
Mike came in last night.  Wasn’t in Boston.  Says he lost us in the house hunt, met with the Mayor, got a personal tour. Whatever, he’s slimy and weird, and I’m keeping clear.

I’m first up and dressed from our shack.  Got breakfast and walked the town with Doc Willett, Delmont (the vet), and Ruby Boomer, who actually DID go to Boston.  She’s still quiet and strange.  Nothing of note, though did see two weird lights – small and red, but not any bulbs I’ve ever seen.  My EMF went crazy at them, so who knows.  Didn’t see them last night, and they were bright even in the day.

Eating Lunch.  My mind is blown, expanded, sweet Tim Leary what is this place?

Went to Sentinel Hill with Tamara and Tommy (Mr. H and Delmont too, but they left).  Crazy readings at the Hill, just crazy.  This is a place of power, I can feel it.  Tamara starts talking about spirituality, and Dunwich, and history, and then she says that she hand picked Me, Tom and Mike as winners because we and she are actually blood of the Whately family and this town is ours.  Too much to write here, but it all MAKES SENSE.  This feels right. 

She had a dream last night that we did a ritual on S.H., that Ruby had mushrooms, but Tamara had nothing to place on the altar stone (still standing, by the way, just amazing) and then the Dark Man came to her and said she did it wrong and, “You are all now void”.  Then these orbs came and swallowed everyone up.  Tamara thinks the town people (Boomer esp.) know what we are and what we’re here to do (take the town, or Whately Manor, back).

We go mushroom hunting with Ruby, me, Tamara, Tommy, Mike, etc.  Try to get Mike to talk to Tamara, which he does later, but I don’t think he gets it like me and Tommy do.  Tam. wants to actually do the ritual.  Should be fun.

Boomer and the Doc are guarding Whately Manor and won’t let us in.  We need to get in.  There are things there that we need, that are ours, but they won’t let us have them.  Tamara is right, they are working against us.  Haven’t said a word about us Whately kids, but I know they know.  Tommy wants to smash a window to get in, but Tam. says no, that’ll be noticed. 

Delmont says he can pick the lock.  Doc and B. are eating now, we have to GO.


DONE.  We broke in, took everything that was left and are in our shack, furniture piled high at the door.  Looking over these things, they’re good, but they’re not what we need.  Old shaman box toy, weird bottle with golden dust, a blank notebook, and someone’s notes from an investigation in town.  Not good enough.  Delmont said there had been other things in there earlier.  T & T know that Necronomicon (WHAT SERIOUSLY?) is one, and there are other ritual components.  Official: they’re up to no good and out to get us.  They’ll end the town utterly and us along with it.  They must be stopped.  We’ve gotta get into Doc and Boomer’s houses.

We can’t leave Dunwich.  There are invisible barriers keeping us in.  Trying to get out unleashes horrors in the mind.  Others have tried, not me.  Don’t want to, but god, we can’t get out?

Planning.  Scared.  Know they’re going to try to stop us.  But we have to do this.

Something appeared outside the tavern.  It is like a pyramid sundial but not.  Weird texture.  I touched it, got electrocuted (?), it blew me back 10 feet.  Doc helped.  DO NOT TOUCH.  It shorted my EMF reader.  Boomer seemed to know what’s up, covered it with a trash bag.  Looking out our window I can just see others standing around it talking.  Don’t like this at all.

Been walking around, just walking.  Keep finding random sheets of paper with occult drawings, ritual instructions.  Something about summoning Yog-Soth- Tam doesn’t want me to write the rest.  Names have power.  Y-S then.  Y-S is the Dark Man from her dream.  He brings nothing, the god of nihilists.  This isn’t just us any more.  This is the end of the world.  Must act.  We keep the papers on us.  Know Doc and BOOMER need them for their rit.  Must stop them at all costs.  They have the Necronomicon.

Back in our shack.  This is as safe as we’ll get.  Heart won’t stop beating so hard.  Tried to talk to Doc, who seems to be friendly with Tam. but don’t know.  Don’t trust him.  His house has something radioactive, but don’t know what it is.  Ruby met us, says her daddy has power over her, she can’t hurt him because he has her hair.  What to do.

During dinner we will break into Doc’s house and Boomer’s and steal their things and torch the place.  It is the only way.

We cut off Tommy’s hair and mine is under a scarf.  Tamara is like Twiggy and has short hair and a hat so she is safe from Boomer.  Burned Tommy’s hair in the fire.  Boomer will never get it there.

Tam. talked to Ruby.  Boomer and Doc will do their ritual at Sentinel Hill at dinner.  Our plan is ruined.  We must act now. 

Back in shack.  Tommy broke in, stole Necronom from Boomer.  Tam and I to Sentinel Hill in dark and pouring rain and kicked over the fire pit and buried the ritual pages.  They’ll never find them.  We’ll win the night.

O god theyre coming for us all of them can’t run for the barriers o god were trapped

Dean Stockwell is not Dean Stockwell
The doctor can raise the dead
Tommy sold his soul to the devil for guitar skills and unleashed Y-S and the veil between this world and the next is so fractured and now Y-S will get us
Boomer is ancient
Everyone is old families – Whatelys and Bishops and everyone o my
We must do the ritual together.  It is the only way.  The only way we’ll get out.

SUNDAY
NO TIME HAVE TO GET OUT. WE ALL TALKED IN THE TAVERN AND ALL WAS WELL BUT BOOMER TOOK THE PAGES AND THE DARK MAN IS COMING AND WE WILL NEVER GET OUT.  RAN TO OUR SHACK.  IF I HIDE HERE MAYBE HE WILL FORGET AND LOOK ME OVER. 

We killed boomer and doc brought him back but hes not right and then boomer bit the other man and hes not right too.  No one can be trusted.  We failed the whatelys.

SCREAMS NOW AND IT IS THE DOC AND DEAD BOOMER IS EATING HIM I KNOW.  THE WORLD IS FALLING AWAY BUT MAYBE HE WILL FORGET MAYBE YOG SOTHOTH WILL FORGET

O god I said his name o god I forg

Diseases

So I was thinking about ergot poisoning, probably because there was recent discussion of The Crucible and any talk of old Salem makes me think of ergotism.

That, in turn, made me consider having a fantasy-style village suffering under the effects of ergotism, which made me develop this table.

I was originally considering making a table of ruins and an accompanying table of diseases, but I just decided to give you some random medieval diseases.  Maybe I'll work on the other table sometime?

Anyway, use this for the next poor schlub who begs your cleric for healing, or for the next beggar you meet in the street.  Add D&D diseases, or just different diseases, to taste.  A period-appropriate name is given in parentheses; feel free to look on the internet, though, as diseases such as ergotism and typhus have lots of colorful nicknames.  If you're the least bit squeamish, don't go searching diseases willy-nilly on the internet (for that matter, don't even go to the attached Wikipedia articles).

You could also adapt this to a what-killed-this-random-village table by switching to only fatal diseases.

1  Ergotism ("evil fire")
2  Scurvy
3  Plumbism ("painter's colic")
4  Dysentery ("bloody flux")
5  Dropsy
6  Croup
7  Leprosy ("lepry")
8  Malaria ("the ague")
9  Smallpox ("the red plague")
10  Typhoid fever
11  Plague
12  Cholera ("black fever")
13  Tuberculosis ("consumption")
14  Impetigo ("tetter")
15  Scabies ("seven-year itch")
16  Diphtheria ("bull-neck")
17  Scarlet fever
18  Influenza ("grippe")
19  Typhus ("jail fever")
20  Gangrene ("mormal")

Here are some additional websites for further information on these or other diseases; excellent resources for archaic disease terminology:
http://www.olivetreegenealogy.com/misc/disease.shtml
http://www.labelle.org/top_diseases.html
http://dugamer.tripod.com/id52.html

A Brief Update

Egads, man!

Between being busy and having computer troubles, I haven't been posting here as often as I would like.

Ah, well.  I should shortly return to routinely spilling wordcount into the aethers.  Expect a guest post and a review within the next week or so.  Hopefully.