Sady Doyle and Avengers Prime

I'm such a fan of Sady Doyle. As always, this isn't a statement of overall approval; for instance, I'm a bit shocked that she totally missed the point of Sucker Punch, and I'm sure she's probably written some other things I strongly disagree with. It would be really weird if she hadn't.

But I absolutely loved these ones:

Guardian: Star Trek: warp factor sex

All in all, what we're getting this summer is Star Trek in the (younger, handsomer, CGI-enhanced) flesh, but not in spirit: to live up to the aspirations of the series, the movie would have to boldly go a lot further than its source ever did.

Global Comment: In praise of Joanne Rowling’s Hermione Granger series

It’s the end of an era. The entertainment which has stretched across books, movies, and countless marketing tie-ins, which has captivated children and adults for well over a decade and which has, for better or worse, managed to become the defining myth for an entire generation, is winding to its close. I speak, of course, of the Hermione Granger series, by Joanne Rowling.

And finally, the best one of them all:

Tiger Beatdown: Enter Ye Myne Mystic World of Gayng-Raype: What the “R” Stands for in “George R.R. Martin”

Because here’s how it goes, when you criticize beloved nerd entertainments: You can try to be nuanced. You can try to be thoughtful. You can lay out your arguments in careful, extravagant, obsessive detail. And at the end of the day, here is what the people in the “fandom” are going to take away: You don’t like my toys? I hate you!

Yeah. To be scrupulously fair, I think that at times she slightly exaggerates in that last one. But having read the series, except for the latest book that I didn't even think would ever come out, I agree with 99% of what she's saying. When I briefly reviewed A Song of Ice and Fire earlier this year, it was to answer someone who asked me if they should read it, so I concentrated on its literary merits. When it comes to the politics of it, though, I'm with Sady. Her post is simply brilliant.

**

On the topic of feminism and popular culture, I'd be remiss if I didn't link to this excellent post:

Comics Alliance: The Big Sexy Problem with Superheroines and Their 'Liberated Sexuality'

Since pointing out my issues with Starfire yesterday, I have received numerous e-mails -- from men -- accusing me of slut-shaming. Since there are a lot of people who don't understand the sexual dynamics that are in play here both creatively and culturally, I'd like to dissect this a little bit and explain why these scenes don't support sexually liberated women; they undermine them, and why after nearly 20 years of reading superhero books, these may finally have been the comics that broke me.

Yeah. For me, what I can't get over is how many of the poses the female characters are drawn in are straight out of porn. I just read Avengers Prime, and it felt like the comic was being occasionally interrupted for something that, frankly, looks like a latex porn shoot more than a superhero comic. Every time we meet the Enchantress, we specifically meet her ass; when she's not contorting herself into positively liefeldian porn star poses, she's on all fours, with her behind facing the reader. In fact, she's in that exact same position in every scene she's in bar the first (and brief last), making me think that her superpowers are magic and doggystyle. As for the main villain, Hela, she's wearing a rubber porn outfit throughout:

"Now you see". I do indeed.

To echo the point made in the blog I linked to above, what makes this intolerable is the double standard. For the majority of the book, the male characters are decently dressed and engaged in an epic comic book adventure; the two principal female characters, on the other hand, look like they're in a porno. That's pretty bleak.

For yer enjoyment

Excerpt from Chapter 16 of Rose Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by Keiran Halcyon:


Minnie walked towards ye forest; I followed uncertainly in 'er wake. We stopped just before ye tree line.

“What be we waitin' for? ”

“Our intentions t' enter ye Forest should 'ave been noticed by Cerelian, she will come shortly, ” replied Minnie, “I cannot enter with ye, 'n only with 'er by yer side can ye enter ye tree line. Avast!”

We waited for another five minutes until I heard a soft rustle o' leaves comin' from ye tree line. Out o' ye shadows o' ye forest appeared a tall naked wench. Ye first thing that caught me eye about 'er because o' ye contrast, were a dark triangle settled between toned 'n strong legs. 'er wide hips tapered t' a narrower waist, 'er stomach were flat 'n athletic, while full breasts were tapered with slightly brown nipples. Yarr! Intelligent blue eyes glittered in 'er narrow, pointed face, while a wild mane o' dark brown hair fell into ye small o'er back. Which I could hardly begin t' guess 'er true age for some reason, she seemed as hale as an old wench in 'er eyes, but still ye beauty o' youth adorned 'er body.

“Sister McGonagall, ” greeted ye druidess with a slight bow o' ye head. 'er voice were silky smooth, not like Professor Snape’s ominous tones, but almost seductive in nature. Ahoy!

“Sister Cerelian, ” returned Minnie.

“It 'as been a long time since ye embraced ye beliefs, ” said Cerelian.

“I 'ad t' honour a debt t' an old hearty, 'n 'awe been busy ever since, ” replied Minnie.

“The druids respect that, 'n respect yer decision t' remain in wizardin' society, ye would still be welcome with us at any time, ” said Cerelian. Avast, ye scurvy dog!

“I appreciate that greatly, Sister, ” said Minnie with another bow o' ye head. Yarr! Cerelian now turned those strange blue eyes on me.

“Are ye ye one who wishes t' learn 'n train 'n eventually become a Druidess? ” said Cerelian. Yarr!

“Yes, ” I answered shortly.

“Why would ye wish this? Why would ye so forsake ye comforts o' ye wizardin' world ye 'ave just barely entered 'n hardly understood?”

Me mind raced, it were clear that Cerelian knew about me from that statement. Minnie 'ad said she were in correspondence with ye druidess, what they said in ye letters I 'ad no idea, but it were clear now that Cerelian knew a lot.

“I shall be honest 'n say that at ye start, all I wanted t' do were practice Nudatio in peace at Hogwarts, as ye circumstances o' me first eleven years o' life were hardly ideal, clothes 'ad become an annoyance t' me durin' those years. Shiver me timbers! Minnie allowed me t' continue ye practice under ye initial pretence o' druidic belief. But as she told me more 'n more o' what bein' a druidess be ye more a sense o' rightness about it rang in me. Until I finally told 'er o' me determination t' train as she did when she were a druidess, ” I said with more confidence than I felt. Yar!

“Interestin', ” said Cerelian, a small smile graced 'er lips as 'er eyes surveyed me. Arrr! Which I suddenly felt a gentle ... somethin' lay itself o'er me mind ... but just as quickly ye feelin' were gone 'n Cerelian’s smile grew large. “You will do fine. Yarr! Please remove yer clothes. Shiver me timbers!”

Automatically, I fin'ered ye amulet 'n me ‘apparent’ clothes dissipated into thin air. If Cerelian were surprised she certainly did not show it. She turned t' Minnie.

“I thought it best t' get 'er started on at least one aspect o' druidism, ” said Minnie. Cerelian nodded.

“Thank ye, it will most certainly sawe time if she 'as gotten past 'er shame already. Ahoy! ” Ye druidess held out 'er hand. “Please remove ye amulet as well; I shall keep it safe durin' yer six week stay 'ere. Avast, ye scurvy dog! ” I reluctantly handed it o'er, 'n for ye first time I were completely naked as ye day I were born. “This be where ye must say goodbye t' yer mother. Avast!”

I sighed 'n with a heawy heart hugged Minnie goodbye.


***


First chapter from beckymac666's Forbiden Fruit: the tempation of Edward Cullen:


Chapter 1 - Altantiana

Shiver me timbers! Hey, me names Atlantiana Rebekah Loren (but everyone calls me Tiana or just plain Tiaa). Which I be a 16 year old wench 'n I liwe in Forks, Washin'ton! Me hair be long 'n pale like spun gold 'n skims t' me waist like a pale shimmerin' amber mist. Me eyes be deep forgetminot blue 'n me delicate fentures be lilly white 'n pure as ye winter snow in moonlight. Arrr! I've been told by loads o' sleazy, ugly, HORNY guys that I be real pretty 'n look like a model or a bunny wench (some o' ye guys who like me be really old 'n try t' make opt with me its disgustin'n weird !) but basically a lot o' ye girls I meet tell a different story. They say I be too ivory white 'n ethereal 'n too skinny 'n that I look anorexic which i don't care about, but I think its seriously disrespectful t' people with REAL eatin' disorders (btw i'm so totally not anorexic! Which I eat loads I just never gain weight 'n I be not thin enough t' be anorexic anyways, I think they were just bein' BIATCHES especially this one ratty brain called Ellie Mayfair who I hope freakin' DIES in PAIN with SHIT ON HER FACE! Sorry, I be not really such a batch but she be SO horrible if ye met 'er you'd think ye same !) Avast!

Anyways I be quite tall 'n slim 'n but with really big boobs that I used t' HATE because they look noticeable on me slender body 'n draw t' much attention but now i like them 'n don't care who stares at me! Which I 'ave a lip ring 'n recently put black 'n indigo 'n magenta streaks in me long pale blond hair. Which I smell like mint 'n cinnamon. Which I wear mostly black 'n hot pink, deep purple 'n neon blue 'n listen t' COOL music!

Yar! It be me first day at school in forks as I just moved 'ere t' live with new foster parents Dave 'n Marie. They be nice 'n all wery hole some sweet people but it be not like havin' a real family. I'we been hurt t' many times t' let people close t' me 'n I don't talk t' them wery much. Me real mom died when I were born 'n I never knew me real dad. Which I sometimes wonder what 'e be like 'n if I will ever get t' met 'im. Dave gave me a ride t' school 'n I smiled faintly as 'e wished me good luck 'n I got out o' ye car 'n went into ye school. Loads o' people freakin' stared at me as I walked down ye hall. Which I were wearin' tight black leather pants with silver chains at ye waste 'n a red fishnet-like top 'n ye could see me black lacy bra through it. Which I ignored whispers 'n ye big pink cheerleader imbosils pointin' at me. Which I were used t' it 'n I paid no at-tension t' ye guys askin' desperately for me number (like hell I'd even LOOK at ye horny little donkeys !) 'n told a ditsy blond cheerleader called Jessica t' STFU (!) when she called me a freak! Next time she tries anythin' I'll hit 'er in ye eye cause NO ONE messes with me nemore! Me first day I were relay board, I sat gazin' out o' ye window into ye gray cloud-embittered sky for most o' ye mornin', Me teachers all looked at me disprovable but said nothin' cause they probably new I were a foster kid 'n a Gothic 'n didn't want t' upset me in case I cut them up as they slept,.

Me ears be pierced four times, I 'awe a tattoo o' a scorpion (like S me birth-sign !) on me ankle 'n a Gothic cross on me shoulder, 'n on me hand i 'awe a weird birthmark in ye shape o' a seven-pointed star that I've 'ad all me life. Arrr! Yer probably wanderin' why I be botherin' t' tell ye this, well I tell ye now I be no ordinary sixteen year old wench. Which I 'awe a secret, a dark 'n forbidden secret witch I be only just beginnin' t' understand. Yarr! When I sleep I hear whispers in another language 'n even though I understand them at ye time, when I wake up i can't remember it! Which I also see weird faces in me dreams that fade t' nothin'ness when I open me eyes 'n I swear out ye corner o' me eye me birthmark glows shockin' bright gold 'n gets relay hot sometimes but when I look properly it be back t' normal boarding scar-color! Which I be really gracefull like ye runnin' anti-lopes when I run wery fast 'n be stronger 'n faster than most people. Which I used t' just think i were relay athletic but now I be not so sure, I think there might be somethin' else at work, somethin' so much more mysterious 'n eeire. Shiver me timbers! Ye truth hovers so softly on ye brink o' me memory sometimes but if only i could remember ye weird things that clung t' ye edge o' me mind as I slept!

At lunch I sat alone in ye corner 'n scanned ye cafeteria quietly with me eyes smolderin' dark blue beheath me long black lashes 'n me slim thighs curled under me. Which it were ye n I noticed an unbelievably jaw-droopin'ly hawt HAWT HAAAAAAAAWT dude with tusseted blondey-brown hair, golden yellow eyes like wells o' hot caramel 'n pale sexy features. Which 'e were tall 'n mussel 'n looked like 'e were wearin' eyeliner 'n me body got hot 'n cold all at once as I looked at 'im. I'd never felt this way about anyone before 'n I'd totally never felt this weird feelin' that I'd met someone before but I 'ad no idea where 'n i knew it were impassible because I'd freakin' remember someone THAT hawt! A wench sat next t'im with long brown hair with 'er arms dripped o'er 'im like a freakin' flesh-eatin' plant so i thought well whatevah, hes taken. Arrr! She wasn't nearly as hawt as 'e were, she wasn't ugly though. Which I figured I were maybe prettier then 'er. Which I newer really saw meself as beautiful but i'd guessed from thinks others 'ad said, plus this wench wasn't great lookin' but anyways I'd never try t' pilch with another girls' BF cause thats just low. So I got up t' leave ye hall thinkin' I'd go 'n smoke some bald drugs in ye locker room while no one were there. Shiver me timbers! As I waked o'er t'e exit I couldn't help but notice ye hawt pale guys musky eyes as they met mine. Which I locked away hurriedly. Yarr! Which I smocked dope in ye locker room for a bit then I wondered t' me next class. Which I bumped into someone in ye corridor 'n me bocks fell everywhere! FRICK! FRICK! FRIIIICKK!

"WTF!" I screamed loudly, "watch where yer FREAKING goin' ye asshole!" (i 'ave anger problems)

"I be so so sorry" 'e said in a woice like wet heaven "please forgive me me lady"

Which it were ye hawt pale guy!


***


And finally, chapter two from the classic Eye of Argon by Jim Theis:

-2-

Yarr! Arrivin' after dusk in Gorzom, grignr descended down a dismal alley, reinin'is horse before a beaten pub. Ye redhaired giant strode into ye dimly lit hostelry reekin' o' foul odors, 'n cheap grog. Ahoy! Ye air were heavy with chockin' fumes spewing from smolderin'torches encased within theden's earthen packed walls. Tables were clustered with groups o' drunken scallywags, 'n cutthroats, tossin' dice, or makin' love t' willin' wenches.

Eyein' a slender female crouched alone at a nearby bench, Grignr advanced wishin' t' wholesomely occupy 'is time. Ye flickerin' torches cast weird shafts o' luminescence dancin' o'er ye half naked harlot o'is choice, 'er strin'y orchid twines o' hair swayin' gracefully o'er ye lithe opaque nose, as she raised a half drained mug t'er pale red lips. Yarr!

Glancin' upward, ye allurin' complexion noted ye stalwart giant as 'e rapidly approached. A faint glimmer sparked from ye pair o' deep blue ovals o' ye amorous female as she motioned toward Grignr, enticin'im t' join 'er. Yarr! Ye barbarian seated himself upon a stool at ye wenches side, exposin'is body, naked save for a loin cloth brandishin' a long steel broad cutlass, an iron spiraled battle helmet, 'n a thick leather sandals, t'er unobstructed view.

"Thou hast need t' occupy yer time, barbarian", questioned ye female? Avast, ye scurvy dog!

Arrr! "Only if somethin' worth offerin' be within me reach." Stated Grignr, as 'is hands crept t' embrace ye temptin' female, who welcomed them with open willin'ness.

"From where d'ye come barbarian, 'n by what be ye called?" Gasped ye complyin' wench, as Grignr smothered 'er lips with ye blazin' touch o'is flamin' mouth. Avast!

Ye engrossed titan ignored ye queries o' ye inquisitiwe female, pullin'er towards 'im 'n crushin'er saggin' nipples t'is yearnin' chest. Without struggle she gave in, windin'er soft arms around ye harshly bronzedhide o' Grignr corded shoulder blades, as 'is calloused hands caressed 'er firm protrudin' busts.

"Ye make lowe well wench," Admitted Grignr as 'e reached for ye wessel o' potent grog 'is charge 'ad been quaffin'. Ahoy!

A flyin' foot caught ye mug Grignr 'ad taken hold o', sendin' its blood red contents sloshin' o'er a flickerin' crescent; leashin' tongues o' bright orange flame t' ye foot trodden floor. Yar!

Yarr! "Remove yeself Sirrah, ye wench belongs t' me;" Blabbered a drunken soldier, too far consumed by ye influences o'is virile brew t' take note o' ye superior size o'is adversary.

Grignr lithly bounded from ye startled female, 'is face lit up t' an ashen red ferocity, 'n eyes locked in a searin' feral blaze toward ye swayin' soldier.

Yarr! "T' hell with ye, braggard!" Bellowed ye angered Ecordian, as 'e hefted 'is finely honed broad cutlass.

Ye staggerin' soldier clumsily reached towards ye pommel o'is danglin' cutlass, but before 'is hands ever touched ye oaken hilt a silvered flash were slicin' ye heavy air. Ye thews o' ye savages lashin' right arm bulged from ye glistenin' bronzed hide as 'is blade bit deeply into ye soldiers neck, lopin' off ye confused head o'is senseless tormentor.

With a nauseatin' thud ye severed oval toppled t' ye floor, as ye segregated torso o' Grignr's bovine antagonist swayed, then collapsed in a pool o' swirled crimson.

Avast, ye scurvy dog! In ye confusion ye soldier's fellows confronted Grignr with unsheathed cutlasses, directed toward ye latters scowlin' make-up. Arrr!

"Ye slut should 'ave picked 'is quarry more carefully!" Roared ye wictor in a mockin' baritone growl, as 'e wiped 'is drippin' blade on ye prostrate form, 'n returned it t' its scabbard.

"Ye fool should 'awe shown more prudence, howewer ye shall rue yer actions while rottin' in ye pits." Stated one o' ye sprawled soldier's comrades.

Grignr's hand began t' remowe 'is blade from its leather housin', but retarded ye motion in face o' ye blades wavin' before 'is face.
"Dismiss yer hand from ye hilt, barbarbian, or ye shall find a foot o' steel sheathed in yer gizzard. Yarr!"

Grignr weighed 'is position observin'is plight, where-upon 'e took ye soldier's advice as ye only logical choice. T' attempt t' hack 'is way from 'is present predicament could only warrant certain death. Which 'e were o' no mind t' brin' upon 'is own demise if an alternate path presented itself. Ye will t' necessitate 'is life forced 'im t' yield t' ye superior force in hopes o' a moment o' carlessness later upon ye part o'is captors in which 'e could effect a more plausible means o' escape. Yar!

"Ye may steady yer arms, I will go without a struggle." Yarr!

"Yer decision be a wise one, yet perhaps ye would 'ave been better off 'ad ye forced death," ye soldier's mouth wrinkled t' a sadistic grin o' knowin' mirth as 'e prodded 'is prisoner on with 'is cutlass point. Yar!

Ahoy! After an indiscriminate period o' marchin' through slinkin' alleyways 'n dim moonlighted streets ye procession confronted a massive seraglio. Ye palace area were surrounded by an iron gratin', with a lush garden upon all sides. Shiver me timbers!

Ye group were admitted through ye gilded gateway 'n Grignr were ledalong a stone pathway bordered by plush vegitation lustfully enhanced by ye moon's shimmerin' rays. Yarr! Upon reachin' ye palace ye group were granted entrance, 'n after several minutes o' explanation, led through several windin' corridors t' a richly draped chamber.

Confrontin' ye group were a short stocky man seated upona golden throne. Tapestries o' richly draped regal blue silk covered all walls o' ye chamber, while ye steps leadin' t' ye throne were plated with sparklin' white ivory. Ye man upon ye throne 'ad a naked wench seated at each o'is arms, 'n a trusted adwisor seated astern o'im. At each cornwr o' ye chamber a guard stood at attention, with upraised pikes supported in their hands, golden chainmail adornin' their torso's 'n barred helmets emittin' scarlet plumes enshroudin' their heads. Ye man rose from 'is throne t' ye dias surroundin' it. 'is plush turquois robe dangled loosely from 'is chuncky frame.

Avast, ye scurvy dog! Ye soldiers surroundin' Grignr fell t' their knees with heads bowed t' ye stone masonry o' ye floor in fearful dignity t' their sovereign, leige.
"Explain ye purpose o' this intrusion upon me chateau!"
"Yer sirenity, resplendent in noble grandeur, we 'ave brought this lubber before ye (ye soldier gestured toward Grignr) for ye redress or yer all knowin' wisdon in judgement regardin'is fate."

"Down on yer knees, lout, 'n pay proper homage t' yer sowereign!" commanded ye pudgy noble o' Grignr. Arrr!

Shiver me timbers! "By ye surly beard o' Mrifk, Grignr kneels t' no man!" scowled ye massive barbarian.
"Ye dare t' deal this blasphemous act t' me! Ye be indeed brawe stranger, yet yer valor smacks o' foolishness."

"I find ye t' be ye only fool, sittin' upon yer pompous throne, enhancin' ye rollin' flabs o' yer belly in ye midst o' yer elaborate luxuryand ..." Ye soldier standin' at Grignr's side smote 'im heavily in ye face with ye flat o'is cutlass, cutting short ye harsh words 'n knockin'is battered helmet t' ye masonry with an echo-in' clang. Yar!

Ye paunchy noble's saggin' round face flushed suddenly pale, then pastily lit up t' a lustrous cherry red radiance. Shiver me timbers! 'is lips trembled with malicious rage, while emittin' a muffled sibilant gibberish. 'is saggin' flabs rolled like a tub o' upset jelly, then compressed as 'e sucked in 'is gut in an attempt t' conceal 'is softness.

Ye prince regained 'is statue, then spoke t' ye soldiers surroundin' Grignr, 'is face conformin' t' an ugly expression o' sadistic humor.
"Take this uncouth heathen t' ye vault o' misery, 'n be sure that 'is agonies be long 'n drawn out before death can release 'im."

"As ye wish sire, yer command shall be heeded immediately," answered ye soldier t' starboard o' Grignr as 'e stared into ye barbarians seemin'ly unaffected face.

Ye advisor seated in ye back o' ye noble slowly rose 'n adwanced t' ye side o'is master, motionin' ye wenches seated at 'is sides t' remove themselwes. Which 'e lowered 'is head 'n whispered t' ye noble. Avast, ye scurvy dog!

"Eminence, ye punishment ye 'ave decreed will cause much misery t' this scum, yet it will last only a short time, then release 'im t' a land beyond ye sufferin's o' ye human body. Why not mellow 'im in one o' ye subterranean vaults for a few days, then send 'im t' life labor in one o' yer buried mines.

T' one such as 'e, a life spent in ye confinement o' ye stygian pits will be an infinitely more appropiate 'n lastin' torture."

Ye noble cupped 'is droopin' double chin in ye folds o'is brimin' palm, meditatin' for a moment upon ye rationality o' ye councilor's word's, then raised 'is shaggy brown eyebrows 'n turned toward ye advisor, eyes aglow.
"... As always Agafnd, ye speak with great wisdom. Yer words rin' o' great knowledge concernin' ye nature o' one such as 'e," sayeth, ye king. Ye noble turned toward ye prisoner with a noticable shimmer reflectin' in 'is frog-like eyes, 'n 'is lips contortin' t' a greasy grin. Avast! "I 'awe decided t' void me previous decree. Ye prisoner shall be removed t' one o' ye palaces underground waults. Ahoy! There 'e shall stay until I 'ave decided that 'e 'as sufficiently simmered, whereupon 'e be t' be allowed t' spend ye remainder o'is days at labor in one o' me mines."

Upon hearin' this, Grignr realized that 'is fate would be far less merciful than death t' one such as 'e, who be used t' roamin' ye countryside at will. A life o' confinement would be more than 'is body 'n mind could stand up t'. This type o' life would be immeasurably worse than death. Ahoy! Shiver me timbers!

"I shall never understand ye ways if yer twisted ciwilization. Which I simply defend me honor 'n be condemned t' life confinement, by a pig who sits on 'is royal ass wooin' whores, 'n knows nothin' o' ye affairs o' ye land 'e imagines t' rule!" Lectures Grignr?
"Enough o' this! Away with ye slut before I loose me control!"

Avast, ye scurvy dog! Seein' ye peril o'is position, Grignr searched for an openin'. Crushin' prudence t' ye sward, 'e plowed into ye soldier at 'is left arm takin' hold o'is cutlass, 'n boundin' t' ye dias supportin' ye prince before ye startled guards could regain their composure. Agafnd leaped Grignr 'n 'is sire, but found a cutlass blade permeatin' ye length o'is ribs before 'e could loosed 'is weapon. Yarr!

Yarr! Ye councilor slumped t'is knees as Grignr slid 'is crimsoned blade from Agfnd's rib cage. Ye fat prince stood undulatin' in insurmountable fear before ye edge o' ye fiery maned comet, 'is flabs o' jellied blubber pulsatin' t'n fro in ripples o' flowin' terror.

"Where be yer wisdom 'n power now, yer magjesty?" Growled Grignr. Yarr!

Ye prince went rigid as Grignr discerned 'im glazin' o'er 'is shoulder. Which 'e swlived t' note ye cause o' ye noble's attention, raised 'is cutlass o'er 'is head, 'n prepared t' leash a vicious downward cleft, but fell short as ye haft o' a steel rimed pike clashed against 'is unguarded skull. Then blackness 'n solitude. Silence enshroudin'n ewer peaceful reind supreme. Avast, ye scurvy dog!

"Before me, sirrah! Before me as always! Ha, Ha Ha, Haaaa ... ", nobly cackled.

Ye Wench Who Liwed

Here's an excerpt from Harry Potter fan fiction epic "The Girl Who Lived" by Keiran Halcyon:

**

Rose Potter and ye Chamber of Secrets - Ye Girl Who Lived Septology


Chapter One – Ye Magical Glen


Which I sighed as I woke up to regard my home away from home, so to speak, in ye druidic forest of Ardgarten. I regarded ye magical glen around me and with a thought checked ye magical perimeter; it were unchanged and showed no one had attempted to pass through it.

I stood and stretched luxuriantly and yawned. I were in my third day of seclusion after my teacher, ye druidess Cerelian had spent more than a month training me. And it definitely showed, my skinny frame were completely gone, to be replaced with a trim toned body, I stood now at five foot four inches. My skin had a brown tan and my mane of long black hair fell into ye small of my back, I had lengthened it using my continually growing Metamorphmagus (a wizard or witch who could change their appearance at will) talents. Yar! I had even restored my pubic hair between my legs to mirror those of Cerelian. Which I had brilliant green eyes and on my forehead were a thin-lighting shaped scar. Yar!

I gathered some wild fruits and nuts and put together a breakfast.

I, Rose Potter, were a witch who were training to be a druidess – a witch also fresh from my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I missed Hogwarts so much though it were like having a constant stomach ache. Ahoy! I missed ye castle, with its secret passageways and ghosts, my lessons, ye post arriving by owl, eating banquets in ye Great Hall, visiting ye gamekeeper, Hagrid, in his cabin in ye grounds nest to ye Forbidden Forest and, especially, Quidditch, ye most popular sport in ye wizarding world. I most especially missed Minnie, or Professor McGonagall, my adoptiwe mother.

Which I were unusual though, even for a witch. At ye age of one, I had somehow survived a curse from ye greatest dark sorcerer of all time, Lord Voldemort, whose name most wizards and witches feared to speak. My real parent’s had died in Voldemort’s attack, but I had escaped with my lightening scar, and somehow – nobody understood why – Voldemort’s powers had been destroyed ye instant he failed to kill me.

So I had been brought up by my dead mother’s sister and her husband. Which I had spent ten years with ye Dursleys, never understanding why I kept making odd things happening around or why I had abilities that others did not. Strange abilities which were honed by my Sensei, a kind teacher who taught me to protect myself from ye abusive Dursleys.

And then exactly a year ago, Hogwarts had written to me, and ye whole story had come out. Yarr! I had taken up my place at witch school, where me and my scar were famous…but now ye school year were over, and I were not back with Minnie, who had adopted me during ye year after evidence of ye abusive treatment by ye Dursley’s were found, but had decided instead to follow in her footsteps and become a druidess.

Which I had turned twelve over a week ago. And for some odd reason, I hadn’t received a single gift or letter from my friends, Ron, Hermione or Neville. My owl, Hedwig, occasionally wisited me in ye Magical Glen, but there were no letters or presents arriving, not even from Minnie. Despite ye fact that I had Cerelian for company, she were my teacher, and as such we did not have friendly discussions, I were there to learn and that’s it.

Ye long silence from Ron, Hermione and Neville made me feel so cut off from ye rest of magical world.

My year at Hogwarts had not been all fun and games though. At ye very end of last term, I had come face to face with Lord Voldemort himself. Voldemort might be a ruin of his former self, but he were still terrifying, still cunning, still determined to regain power. I had slipped through Voldemort’s clutches for a second time, but it had been a narrow escape, and even now weeks later, I had to double ye time I spent in meditation to keep my mind free from nightmares of that night.

Which I finished my breakfast and walked out of ye Glen, my eyes darting around for any sign of danger. Avast, ye scurvy dog! A quick ten minute walk and I were staring a beautiful and very magical sight. A waterfall of about twenty feet in height cascaded down into a lowely clear pool and ran off into a river through ye Ardgarten Forest. It were my favourite part of ye day. Which I ran forward, my bare feet padding on ye ground and dove head first into ye cool water. Ye shock of ye water always served to wake me fully from sleep and helped me focus. Which I pulled a few strokes underwater, glancing at ye underwater plants and even ye occasional fish before allowing myself to be pulled up to ye surface.

Which I broke ye surface and gave a huge gasp of fresh air. Which I shook my head forward and back once and ye momentum caused ye water leave my hair in a huge spray and I combed it back with my hands. Yarr! I then started to wade luxuriously through ye water. I used ye waterfall pool for two things swimming practice and washing, which I always did in ye morning.

Afterwards, I climbed out of ye natural pool and wrung my long hair free of water and with a thought shortened it to be just about reaching ye end of my neck. I lay down on a patch of soft grass, with my arms forming a cushion for my neck and I basked in a large spot of sunshine that broke through ye tree canopy.

I stayed this way for fifteen minutes and then turned around to expose my back as well. As soon as I were dry I stood and lengthened my hair to their previous state. Ahoy! At this point I did some long distance running. It had taken me a while, but I had learned to flit through ye forest like a ghost, so silent were my footfalls.

I stopped to get my bearings of where I were and satisfied, started to do some exercises, push ups, sit ups, pull ups on ye nearest handy branch, and so forth. Which I continued walking and running for most of ye morning, feeling myself get lost in ye melody of nature around me.

I stopped again and changed my direction to head back to ye Glen. Where I would start to practice ye druidic magic I had managed to learn in ye fiwe weeks Cerelian had taught me. Yarr! I stopped ye instant I saw ye magical barrier around ye Glen in my mind. Something had penetrated it and were inside. Which I flexed my hand, my mind flitting through what druidic combat spells I could use and what normal curses I could use.

Which I crossed into ye Glen. Somebody were chewing on ye wild fruit I had collected.

Sorcery!

It's Easter, traditionally calibrated at a week after the vernal equinox. Isn't it handy how Jesus happened to be born on the winter solstice, and happened to be executed on the vernal equinox?

While I was writing my previous post on Obama's oil plans, I ran into this little gem on the BBC website. As it's Easter, it seems appropriate to post on religion.

BBC: 'Sorcerer' faces imminent death in Saudi Arabia

The lawyer for a Lebanese man sentenced to death in Saudi Arabia for witchcraft has appealed for international help to save him.

Ali Sabat was the host of a popular Lebanese TV show in which he predicted the future and gave advice.

He was arrested by religious police on sorcery charges while on a pilgrimage to Saudi Arabia in 2008.

His lawyer, May el-Khansa, says she has been told Mr Sabat is due to be executed this week.

And people ask us what we have against religion.

Unfortunately, in these times it's necessary to insert a footnote. Yes, we did say religion. I'm absolutely convinced that several Finnish-language blogs, if their authors see this story, will run with it as an example of how barbaric Islam is. Certainly I don't disagree that executing a man for sorcery is appallingly barbaric, but the fact of the matter is that this barbarism is a universal feature of religious thinking.

For instance, it is a living controversy in American Christianity whether or not practising yoga is devil worship. You see, American fundamentalist Christians actually believe the Hindu gods supposedly invoked during yoga are real, so doing yoga is worshipping the devil. That they don't kill people for practicing yoga is due to Western law, not religion. Of course, that doesn't mean they don't kill people.

BBC: Killer of US abortion doctor George Tiller gets life

A US court has sentenced an anti-abortion activist to life in prison for murdering the prominent abortion doctor, George Tiller, last year.

Scott Roeder, 52, said he shot Dr Tiller at a church in Wichita, Kansas, to save the lives of unborn babies.

In my opinion, any kind of religious conviction requires a deliberate blurring of the limits of reality. If you're going to steadfastly maintain that there's a bearded guy sitting on a cloud watching you, or a flying spaghetti monster touching you with his noodly appendage, it seems reasonable that you might get a bit confused about what's real and not in general, too. For instance, Harry Potter. Here's a wonderful quote from a crackpot Christian website:

J.K. Rowling, the author of the Harry Potter series, has gone through an awful lot of research. She is very accurate (otherwise we would have witches all over the country and the world saying 'this is not a true representation of our religion'.) This is a true representation of witchcraft, and the black arts, and black magic. And yet we have people that say this is merely fantasy and harmless reading for our children.

A true representation of witchcraft. In case anyone's confused, yes, they're saying witches exist and can do magic. Harry Potter is wrong because you can learn magic from it. Or, from www.chick.com, the guy with the comics:

It is important to understand that each of the above magical artifacts exists in "real world" sorcery and witchcraft. They are just as real as swords, saddles or cross bows. Thus, role-playing in this sort of game prepares the player for thinking like a magician. How seriously they take that preparation is something we need to consider.

D&D teaches you magic. Just reading that page hurts my brain, by the way. Here the author justifies taking on this heinous threat to, well, everything:

"But It's Only a Game!"


Defenders of D&D often complain that it is only a game. Playing chicken with cars is "only a game" until someone gets killed. So is Russian roulette! I am frequently told to "get a life" or write about something more important than D&D, like social justice or world hunger. The devil would sure like that.

It needs to be emphasized that a spiritual deception which draws people away from Jesus Christ is much more dangerous than automotive chicken or people dying of starvation. People who write such things are - in all Christian charity - deceived. Down through the ages, no institution has done more to help the poor, the orphans and the starving than has the church of Jesus Christ. I would just ask them where are the rescue missions and orphanages started by D&D gamers?

Concerning the metaphor about Russian roulette or "chicken," some D&D defenders have said that it is a ridiculous or extreme comparison. But remember what the Lord Jesus said:
"And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both body and soul in hell."-Matt. 10:28.

Yes, the life threatening consequences of chicken or Russian roulette are deadly serious and not to be minimized. But any game which draws people away from a true understanding of Jesus, God, salvation and the cosmos IS soul-destroying in the truest possible sense of the word. That is incalculably worse. We only have our bodies a few scant years before they turn to dust. Our souls we will have forever, and what if they have been destroyed by playing D&D? They may well end up in the fiery blackness of hell.

Remember: he's serious.

But surely all this is just the ravings of individual lunatics? I mean, if you represented a worldwide organization facing a crisis over allegations of systematic abuse of children, not even a religious person would be insane enough to fly off the handle and play the Hitler card?

BBC: Pope's preacher compares abuse row to anti-Semitism

preacher has compared criticism of the pontiff and Church over child abuse to "collective violence" suffered by the Jews.

The Rev Raniero Cantalamessa was speaking at Good Friday prayers in St Peter's Basilica, attended by the Pope.

In his sermon, he quoted a Jewish friend as saying the accusations reminded him of the "more shameful aspects of anti-Semitism".

His comments angered Jewish groups and those representing abuse victims.

Father Cantalamessa said Jews throughout history had been the victims of "collective violence" and drew a comparison with recent attacks on the Roman Catholic Church.

There were some good responses.

Peter Isely, spokesman for the US victim support group Snap, said the sermon had been "reckless and irresponsible".

He said: "They're sitting in the papal palace, they're experiencing a little discomfort, and they're going to compare themselves to being rounded up or lined up and sent in cattle cars to Auschwitz?"

"You cannot be serious."

Oh yes he can. Is he comparing uncovering child abuse to genocide, or comparing Jews to pedophiles? I can't figure out which one is worse. But remember: according to the Vatican, turning in a Catholic priest for molesting children is like sending a Jew to the gas chambers.

The difference between Saudi Arabia and the United States is secularism. I happen to think it's a good thing.