Moe Lane's Blog, page 814

Rewrite, GHOST OF THE DEVIL-HORSE, 12/26/2020.

I’ve decided that the story needed serious and drastic reordering, so I’m going to be spending the next week doing just that. Well, that and rewrites, and actually finishing it, and so forth.

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“So,” I went on, “we know where the airport was, and it’s better than ‘In the time of my grandsire’s grandmere, she told him that her grandsire said this place was the roosting place of the eagle-ships.’ Well, that’s nice. Kind of cheating, though?”

“It doesn’t have to always be difficult, Johnnie,” Hank said as he sipped his tea. “Sometimes we get to do things the easy way.”

“So it would seem.” I thought for a moment. “I don’t trust it, Hank.”

“Any real reason, or are you just being paranoid?”

“I work underground a lot,” I pointed out. “There’s no such thing as paranoia, down there. Everything really is trying to kill you.”

“Fair,” Hank said. “That’s why I want you along. I need a good field salvage archaeologist to take advantage of our good luck, and I need a serpent-man for when the luck goes sour. I get you, I check two boxes. So, you want in anyway?”

“Of course I want in. You had me at ‘ancient airport’,” I admitted. “Even if the Dominion’s already looted it.” The Dominion may have been viciously efficient at a limited number of things, but I knew from long experience that even the most comprehensive dig of theirs would have left behind all sorts of interesting artifacts. The Dominion has no eye for archeology, and very little time to learn better. “How’s the funding?”

“We’re getting there,” Hank said. “UNC-Cinderella sent us a bunch of grad students, and the Dwarvenwood’s contributing some because of the PCU connection. The University’s covering the rest, but I won’t lie to you, Johnny: having a serpent-man on board will do a lot to get the Deseret government to cough up extra funding.” He grimaced a little at the admission. “I know it sucks to hear that, although I’d want you along anyway.”

“Relax, Hank,” I said. “I know how the world works. Heck, I don’t even mind. Shake ‘em down with a clear conscience: I promise I won’t tell on you.”

‘Twelve Days of Christmas.’

Twelve Days of Christmas, Bing Cosby, the Andrews Sisters

My mini-review of WONDER WOMAN 1984.

Short version: it’s like a live-action, pre-Legion of Doom, pre-Wonder Twins SUPER FRIENDS, only it doesn’t suck, is good, and was interesting.

Okay, that’s more than the usual Short Version for me. The general point that I’m trying to drill down here on is that WONDER WOMAN 1984 is deliberately exploring an aesthetic where people are not inherently bad. They’re often dumb, sure, but they’re not evil. I’m as much a fan of WATCHMEN and THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS as the next person – but they have a particular aesthetic, which is one that WW84 does not share. And I wouldn’t have liked this movie if it did.

Put another way: WW84 is far more SHAZAM or AQUAMAN than it is JUSTICE LEAGUE. I’m good with that. It works well that way.

Behold! Standing Rib Roast!

Standing rib roast for dinner. Behold the progression! Stage 1: meat!

Stage 2: sear!

Stage 3: Cooked!

Stage 4: Plate!

Stage 5: In my belly! (Not shown)

Tweet Thread of the Day, Bourbon And Heath Toffee Ice Cream Sounds Delicious edition.

Homemade, too.

Dave’s homemade Christmas ice cream flavors for 2020: Brach peppermint and bourbon & Heath toffee pic.twitter.com/hgsXKlMjrT

— David Burge (@iowahawkblog) December 25, 2020

Merry Christmas!

And/or Happy Holidays.

It’s Christmas Eve!

It’s been a year, hey? But I have here an Irish coffee made with Jameson Caskmates Stout Edition*, and it’s smooooooooth. Presents are almost all wrapped, and the last two are two-minute jobs; the evening is drifting into night; and before I go to bed the standing rib roast will brought forth to make it to room temperature. I hope everybody has a good Christmas Day.

And may God bless us, every one.

Moe Lane

*It’s just what you think: Jameson made a barrel swap with an Irish brewery, and everybody involved is pleased with how things worked out. The Caskmates, according to my wife, is an excellent sippin’ whiskey: I’m certainly having no problem with it being in my coffee.

Movie of the Week: DIE HARD 2.

Because while people will continue to enjoy friendly arguments over whether or not DIE HARD is a Christmas movie, I feel it is indisputable that DIE HARD 2 is. They even had a cop tear up an airport parking ticket! Truly, it was a miracle of the season.

The BATMAN: SOUL OF THE DRAGO Retro-Kung Fu Flick trailer.

I did somehow miss this. BATMAN: SOUL OF THE DRAGON does look entertaining, though. And it’s rated R, apparently for violence. I wonder when it’ll show up on HBO Max?

Snippet the Last, TIMMY AND THE CHRISTMAS ELF.

The rest of it is going on Patreon this evening, because it occurred to me to get it up before Christmas.

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Timmy had been smart enough to figure out how the pile was a trap. Elves could mess with what you saw, he knew. So throw a brick at the pile, let the elf toss whatever off, then attack the elf for real. And if the elf was really there, well, you just hit it with a brick, right? Only thing was, you could be lucky or unlucky about where the elf really was, and Timmy had been real unlucky: it was close enough to get a stab in, and Timmy wasn’t really ready for that.

At least the elf wasn’t good at fighting; it had tried to shove its knife into Timmy’s gut, only to stumble a little because of the junk of the floor. That meant the stab turned into a slice along Timmy’s side, and owowowowow that HURT. Timmy punched back, as hard as he could, and while smacking the elf in the face hurt Timmy’s good hand a little it wrecked the elf’s nose and knocked it back about four feet.

The two squared off, glaring at each other. The elf looked a lot less human, now; its face looked cracked, with pieces kind of wriggling together as the ‘skin’ put itself back together. But it had a black glass knife that Timmy knew was really sharp, and the elf seemed really into having another go.

The elf started to talk, hawked, spat out a few teeth, and spoke. “Nasty little boy. I was behaving.”

Timmy had pulled out his own weapon; a piece of iron pipe, as heavy as he could manage to swing for more than a minute. “I don’t care,” Timmy said.