https://marketplace.secondlife.com/p/Ity-Animate-Sailor-Iron-Mouse-Sailor-Moon-Villain/3488361

This is an adorable puffy dress. Sold previously at [ity.] but has been refurbished and repackaged since it’s first release!

From the Sailor Moon manga comic, Sailor Iron Mouse was arisen after she killed Sailor Chuu on her home planet and obtained supernatural powers from her soul. She became an accomplice in an evil scheme and was brainwashed thorough her role in Sailor Moon.

Too many Nekos in SL. Be a mouse

Mouse Ears/Tiara/
necklace/Ear puffs
Puffy Dress Outfit
Gloves/shorts/tail

ALL MOD/COPY

Sailor Aluminum Siren.
By day, she is a talent agent. By night, she is planning a disaster for Sailor Moon. On the team of Animates for Galaxia and a villain in the seriesin the Manga, Sailor Aluminum Siren arises after she kills Sailor Mermaid on her home planet, in return she keeps the power of the Sailor Soldier, however is mind controlled by the head honcho, Sailor Galaxia.

https://marketplace.secondlife.com/p/Ity-Animate-Sailor-Aluminum-Siren-Sailor-Moon-Villain/3468543

Shape
Tiara
Choker
Collar
Dress
Stockings
Earrings

Welcome to resize as you see fit.
MODIFY/COPY. NO TRANSFER.

Midway through Bad Religion’s New Maps of Hell, there is a great song about a man losing his religion. No, this is not a rendition or sequel to an R.E.M. song, it’s a morbid tale of the rise of a terrorist.

In the beginning of the track, the man (I’m thinking a priest) begins to become demented during his rise in his congregation. He starts to see things very differently. His message changes. By the middle of the song, we are given notion of a terrible world, a post-apocalyptic world.

“Dearest in memoriam – set phasers to stun
And grab yourself a neighbors’ skeleton to lean upon,
Did you know him in life – one filled with regret,
So soon we all forget – we ever met

It seems as though the man in the song has lost touch with those around him. The lyric “I can’t relate to you” is repeated through out the song. I believe this is the  catalyst for his transformation. It sounds like the man means to use his influence to destroy the world around him.

Musically, this song has elements similar to those of Honest Goodbye. Hardcore fans of the band may have an issue with the mainstream appeal of this song. I could definitely see this track, as well as a few others on the album, on alternative radio stations in Florida and California.

I started out liking this song right away. After reading the lyrics I came to really dig this track. It’s nice to see the fall of a man of the cloth, even if it is only fiction.

I give this track a 4 of 5 stars

Check out a live video

Acoustic version

Why am I talking about the cheap value wines all of a sudden? While in California, I visited Trader Joe’s store near by. In Connecticut, where I live, Trader Joe’s sells only beer. In Massachusetts, Trader Joe’s has very good selection of wines (I wrote a few posts about those wines before – here are couple of links for you – one about Amarone  and one more generic). Wine selection at this Trader Joe’s in San Diego definitely beats the Boston store hands down – great representation of many regions, with a lot of wines offered at a great prices. So I decided to run a simple experiment – let’s see what I can get for a $20. I spent $21 on three bottles of wine, and when I tasted the Dearly Beloved Forever Red … this blog post was born.

I will give you my tasting notes a bit later, but let me tell you – this wine was simply very, very good – at the price of $6.99, which I’m sure constitutes cheap wine in anyone’s book. I wonder how many people would reach out for this wine because of the label alone, which looks very cool, and then will put it back because they would think at $6.99 it can’t be good? I would very likely ignore this wine too, if I would not be conducting this experiment (not anymore, of course – after tasting it, I know I need a case). So what is driving the consumer behavior around the cheap wine? Outside of elitism, clever wine marketing and all the wine press which is trying to convince us that only more expensive is better, I think we have one fundamental issue coming out from our experience with cheap stuff. How many of you came back from the dollar store just to realize that what was looking almost as a treasure chest full of stuff for $10 or $15 is actually a $10 or $15 worth of junk, none of which can be used for its intended purpose? How many of us bought the cheapest tool just to understand that probability of killing oneself is a lot higher than probability of actually accomplishing the job you got the tool for? How many of us used cheapest possible material for a project, only to regret your decision every minute after and ending up paying a lot more than we would if we wouldn’t be so frugal to begin with? I think this experience is programming us to effectively disregard the cheap option simply from the fear of disappointment.

We transpose this experience onto our dealings with the wine world – and in a lot of cases we effectively end up losing. I have to tell you that I had a lot of $15-$20 wines, which end up being not good at all, with or without any comparison with this Dear Beloved wine. I tasted many $50 and $100 bottles which are not bad, but don’t give you nearly as much pleasure as this wine. Am I saying that from now on I will only be buying the wines for $6.99 or less? Not at all. And if anyone wants to spoil me with Chateau Petrus or DRC, I will be forever obliged. But if we will be able to avoid making assumptions and judgements based on the price of wine alone, we would be far better off in finding the wines we like at the prices we can afford. This is not simple. I would love to conduct a simple experiment – pour this wine to the two different glasses and tell people that wine in one costs $6.99, and the same wine in another one costs $19.99, and see how many people will wholeheartedly advocate the $19.99 wine to be far more superior to the $6.99 one. I’m sure it will be a fun exercise – something you should try at home (if you do, I will be glad to hear about your results). So we really need to work on our wine buying habits – we definitely will be far better off if we do.

Now, let me share the tasting notes with you. First, here are all three wines ($20.97 total + tax):

Let’s start with 2011 Caves du Journalet Cotes du Rhone (13% ABV, $4.99) – very soft and round. The wine rolls very smoothly in your mouth – very subtle tannins, good red fruit, good acidity – nice balance, nothing stands out, just round and smooth. Very easy to drink. Doesn’t give you any amazing “oompf”, but I’m sure would be a great party wine as it will appeal to the broad audience. Drinkability: 7.

Next – 2009 Dear Beloved Forever Red Central Coast, California (13.5% ABV, $6.99). Very nice nose of blackberries and some spice. More of the same on the palate – good red and black fruit, plums, ripe blueberries, warm spice, hint of eucalyptus, medium to full body, round tannins and and acidity, very balanced ( and stayed that way for 3 days). This is the description of much more expensive wine, but – $6.99 is $6.99… Definitely the wine to buy by the case. Drinkability: 8.

Last one - 2009 Blason de Bourgogne Montagny Premier Cru, Burgundy (13% ABV, $8.99) – Burgundy for $9? Can that be even drinkable? Nice and balanced. Nose of white apple and lychees. Very round on the palate, white fruit, with distant hint of vanilla and toasted oak, may be a tiny touch of butter. Good balance, good acidity – should be a good food wine. Drinkability: 7+.

That’s all for today folks. I’m glad it is a #WineWednesday, so this post will hopefully give you some food for thoughts. What are your great experiences with the cheap value wines, and what are the “not cheap wines” you regretted buying? Share it all here. Cheers and happy #WW!

Calling All Wave

Devolver

Finding Core

Susan Blue Ashley

Doro Pesch

INTERVIEWS TO COME

Lita Ford

Sharise Neil

Stacey Blades LA Guns

Powerpimps

Velvet Star

Cobra Ramone

HellsBelles UK

Seven Year Riot

Rough Edge

Gaz Wilde

SHOW REVIEWS

Red Hot Chili Peppers

Automan.ca

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As requested by users like finaldude456, here is the dubstep rap remix to “Dearly Beloved” from the Kingdom Hearts game, remixed by up-and-coming producer FRNKNSTYN from New Zealand. Please comment, share, and subscribe to our channels! And please excuse my bad lighting.

Video edited by : http://youtube.com/iamasherz

FRNKNSTYN

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None Like Joshua
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Lyrics:

I am the one – who must open the door
- And explore from the islands
To an alternate world
I have heard that there’s something waiting
Out in beyond
Like my fate is being called
And the feeling is strong

So we run into the sand
Bracing each of the waves
With a raft on our backs
Add a piece everyday
While my friends understand
This is easy to say
But I see the darkness come
And they take her away

- I meet the captain and the wizard of the royal court
Telling me that I have got to find the key to kingdom hearts
- Using the blade to free the hearts from everyone who’s heartless
- I have to find her to protect all the power and knowledge

- We ride the gummi ship
- to Neverland
- We see the jungle
- Maleficent
– she’s trying to find the hearts of every single royal princess
- I must protect the keyhole from the villains’ soulless interest

– the heartless will consume the careless taking broken wishes
- but we maintain the balance so as not to change their business
- cause every world is different, and our fates have been revealed
- and with the heart I will defeat them with the key I wield.

- We fight them off
- The nobodies
- To find the king
- We know they got him

- The world that never was to the Hollow Bastion
- I don’t need a weapon, now I have a heart of passion
- I don’t need a weapon, now I have a heart of passion

- I seal the door
- And save the world
- Who would’ve thought I’d be betrayed by the one I know?
- She’s without a heart
- Maybe half alive
- This is where I have to make the biggest sacrifice
- This is where I have to make the biggest sacrifice
- This is where I have to make the biggest sacrifice
- This is where I have to make the biggest sacrifice

- We fight him off
- Seeker of darkness
- To hide the key
- We know he’s got it

- The world that never was to the Hollow Bastion
- I don’t need a weapon, now I have a heart of passion
- I don’t need a weapon, now I have a heart of passion

- I seal the door
- And save the world
- Who would’ve thought I’d be betrayed by the one I know?
- She’s without a heart
- Maybe half alive
- This is where I have to make the biggest sacrifice
- This is where I have to make the biggest sacrifice
- This is where I have to make the biggest sacrifice

That is all

The donkey sits upon two sheep. . . Joseph hangs out with the shepherd, staring into the nothingness of the ground while Mary and the black wise man gaze at the Christ in the company of the Red Rose Tea owl.  A second wise man thinks he’s where he is supposed to be and wonders where the heck everyone went.  The third wise man is mysteriously absent (most likely under the couch!) and the camel has passed out from the absurdity of it all! 

Thus is the handiwork of our youngest, Micah, as he played with Grandma’s nativity set during a visit there a few months ago.  “Hurricane Micah” strikes again – as he strikes every day, turning order into chaos, humming all the while. The most popular phrases out of my mouth these days are, “Do you need to go to the corner?” “You are making me crazy!” and (most intelligent of all,) “Why in the world did you do that?” The reply to that question is without fail, “Because I did it.”  Wow, what enlightenment! 

I did not expect this child to come from me.  Me who loves slowness, craves stillness, to reflect before acting.  I did not expect that I could raise my voice this much or some days to literally cry over spilled milk.  I did not expect the mess, the weariness, the constant clamor in my mind of one million next things calling out to be done at any given moment. I did not expect spring in February, flooding in September or snow in October.  I did not expect homeschooling three children to be so hard and often feel so alone.

But you know what else I didn’t expect?  I didn’t expect the abundance of joy that pervades this space. . . the way my heart is at peace in this home more than anywhere else. . . the way I smile when the 3 munchkins laugh and play together as best friends.  The glimpses we see of their blossoming souls as we seek to make The Word of God central to all of daily life.  I didn’t expect to be deeply grateful for things like stickers, sunny days, Nutella, trash cans, going on a beach vacation in a house with 12 children ages 6 and under, awaking at five in the morning, or going to meetings!  I didn’t expect to find joy and gratitude and God’s peace in the midst of our mess but these are present because HE is present with us.

You see, the nativity may be crazy messy (and indeed it was), but there He is in the midst of it.  Your unexpected world may be crazy messy and you find yourself crying out to God constantly, “Why in the world did you do that?” only to hear in response, “Because I did it.” But as long as HE is not mysteriously missing, friend, you CAN expect His joy and peace.   Pray with me this Christmas:  “Enter this mess, Christ, Enter In.”   Show us where the mess is of our own making, and how to see past it to the unexpected joy if it is of Yours. Amen

Lovingly,           

Laura (33), Jeff (33), Bailey (9), Addie (6), Caleb (4), Micah (2)

They were green, busy, hungry little things– the objects of our very first homeschool science observation.  This past September, my family gifted us with 2 caterpillars and plenty of milkweed (their favorite cuisine!)  With glee, Addie (5), Caleb(3) and Micah (1.5!) watched their new friends through the glass cookie jar that had become their new home.  Their appetite was incredible — they devoured the leaves (one’s gluttony was the cause of his own perishing) but the other, having finally had his fill, headed for the heights of the jar to enter his unbelievable transformation.  The chrysalis was astounding in beauty– a gorgeous minty green with a ring of gold crowning the top.  Before we knew it we were marveling at a new creation and an empty clear casing where the chrysalis had hung.  We missed the emergence — perhaps it happened in a second or a minute or two when we were still sleeping or brushing our teeth.  While the rest of the world carried on, a miracle occurred for our hungry caterpillar who now donned intricate wings.  Happiness was not to be had in the new house we “built” for him.  We placed cut flowers on it’s floor and dropped sugar water upon them, but very shortly we knew it was time to let him fly.  On the day of sweet release, the children gasped and giggled as they watched the butterfly sip on marigolds, rest on our spruce tree, soar over the fields and out of sight.  Bye bye butterfly!

This is the year we have embarked on the homeschool journey, officially beginning Addie in kindergarten studies while the boys play with “educational toys” and absorb alot more than I realize, I’m sure.  I would be lying to say that every day is “pure joy” and during the most chaotic moments I wonder how much easier it would be if our childrens’ education was the responsibility of someone else.  But the calling remains steadfast and on the best of days, I see clearly the wondrous opportunities for freedom and joy in this lifestyle which some view as restrictive.  I am their teacher but I am learning with them — (how, for example, did I not realize before that the moon has no light of its own?!)  We are making incredible discoveries together and through it all, our hearts are being bound together and with the heart of God.

You see, in essence, we are raising caterpillars.  Though they are not green thankfully, they are busy and constantly hungry.  They are destructive and they poop alot too! But one day – before we know it, it will be time to let ‘em fly.  One day, or perhaps little by little, they will die to themselves, grow wings and be released to shed the beauty of Christ abroad.  Bye bye, butterfly!  Once they are out of sight, who knows where the wind of the Spirit will take them?! But for now, I will feed them and feed them and feed them some more.  I will cultivate the beauty in the hidden places of their souls by exposing them to the beauty of their Creator.  And then, God willing, I will be there to see the winged miracles emerge.

Wishing you and your family moments of wonderful discoveries and countless miracles in 2011,

Lovingly,

Jeff, Laura, Addie, Caleb and Micah

It is late Sunday night and my deadline for this letter is rapidly approaching! The ground is covered in gorgeous white, the kids are in dreamland and Jeff is watching the Survivor Samoa Finale as I attempt to “shut it out” and find the words to share with you.  I was interested in one aspect of the show earlier, as the final three contestants were being “drilled” in order to discover the one most worthy of a million dollars. The question “who are you really” was posed, and each of the three proceeded to tell their current job status/ the degree of their success, based on the money they have/don’t have. I was struck with the thought: “umm. . . Does what you do/how much money you have determine who you really are?” And, if I describe to you every detail of our lives from this past year — what we did, how Jeff’s job is going, how old the kids are, etc. will that leave you with a true glimpse of who we really are these days? Does it even matter who we are? Isn’t the purpose to focus on who Jesus is at Christmas (and always?)

The “details” of our year include new family members: a precious baby boy born to us on April 3^rd, a new brother-in-law gained in June, new niece in August, and a new sister-in-law in October, (all on the Stine side!) They include our 8 year wedding anniversary (celebrated in June while on a beach trip to N.C. with my parents and sisters), Caleb’s 2^nd birthday (complete with a tractor party and a happy birthday hayride) and Addie’s 4th year of life, celebrated with a “pumpkin-princess” luncheon. The details also include a spring gobbler bagged by Jeff in April, hunting trip to Kansas in November, and purchase of Trautman Arbor Care Inc. just a few weeks ago. My big undertakings for the year were teaching Addie to read (a sort of “trial” for home schooling) and taking part in developing a pregnancy center in Tyrone.

Yes, the details of our lives may be big to us (and even to you maybe!) but they do not adequately describe who we are, really. . .Even if I told you “Jeff is a good father, a wise and ever-optimistic husband. . ., Addie is artistic (thus, the front of this card!), opinionated, girly, smart and like the girl with the curl (either very good or horrid!) Even if I told you Caleb is still obsessed with vehicles, still a man of few words, a mommy’s boy and increasingly hostile to his little brother Micah who is blond-haired, blue-eyed (no, not the milk man’s child), delightfully happy and exactly like Curious George (curious and monkey all in one). I could even be very honest in my estimations of myself and tell you how mean and short-tempered I can be in the heat of trying moments with three little ones, and that I desperately struggle with “good housekeeping” skills, discipline and organization in general. . . That I constantly flip flop between doubt and confidence as I look towards the future and am forever longing for this speeding train of time to halt, if but for a moment every once in a while, that I may savor the joys of the present that seem to fade too quickly from my remembrance. But is all that even who I am really? Surely not!

You see, starting with ourselves in the search for identity, we always come up short, no matter what. We must begin with the One in whose image we have been created, so. .who is Jesus Really? Dietrich Bonhoeffer explains it in the simplest and most complete terms: “’The child in the manger is none other than God. Nothing greater can be said: God became a child.” In Addison’s terminology, the newborn Jesus was “Baby God.” And my very favorite description of Him is from John 1:1: he was the “Word made flesh”! Not many words, just one! Jesus is the complete expression of who God is:  LOVE.  And today, the complete expression of who we are is found in Him as well. In short, who we are really is HIS. He came to us, so that we might come to Him and never question who we are again.

So, Survivor Samoa, who is really worthy of 1 million dollars? No one but Jesus, but those found in Him are eternally rich. This Christmas, and always, may you be rich. . ..may you be His.

Lovingly,

Jeff, Laura, Addie, Caleb, Micah and Bailey

 Larry O. Dean’s 1997 debut album “Throw The Lions to the Christians” is getting cleaned up and put out for a whole new audience to hear. With the release of the re-master ready to hit shelves on March 6th, I had the opportunity to hear this record and see what it’s all about. With a title like “Throw the Lions to the Christians”, it’s hard not to be already drawn in. Could the Dean’s album live up to its great title?

 For me, I cannot shake a similarity to The Mountain Goats when I listen to the record. Dean’s vocals remind me of a sub-par John Darnielle to the point where I just want to go listen to the Mountain Goats. As the album went on, I found myself telling Dean to hurry it up and that I’ve got other things to do ….. like listen to The Mountain Goats. 

The lyrics of the songs on “Throw the Lions to the Christians” are pretty basic overall. The subject matter of the songs is fun here and there like in the third track “Trinkets”, but really they feel pretty bland. I was expecting some really clever lyrics with a title like “Throw the Lions to the Christians”. Dean should have saved the title for a more stable album. Damn, what a great title. 

The best thing about this long-player is definitely the guitar playing. The solo on “Dearly Beloved” is fantastic and hooks me in, but leaves me unsatisfied with the rest of the album. Tracks like “What’s With You” have me irritated at the lack of fluidity in the record and flirtation with various genres. Not only does the lack of fluidity get on my nerves, but so do the whiney vocals of Dean. 

I wasn’t won over by the end of the album, and tried unsuccessfully a few repeat listens in hopes I’d change my opinion. Dean’s debut solo work is not as strong as his four songs EP with Malcontent. Not by any means, but, it still has some redeeming factors. His guitar work ranges from decent to great throughout and if you are really into a band like The Mountain Goats, this may be for you.

Let’s break this down with the old report card grade. I’m going to give “Throw the Lions to the Christians” by Larry O. Dean a C-. If I didn’t like the guitar sound on this record, it’d get a much lesser grade. Now, I’m going to go listen to some Mountain Goats.

(Released on 6^th March 2012)

(6.5 / 10)

__________________________________

POKE SALAD

Yes, poke salad is real.  I had never had it unt il my junior year in college.  I was staying at a boarding house in the small town near the cattle farm where I worked.  After my morning classes I would go back to the boarding house and have lunch in the dining room with the locals.  Mr. and Mrs. S. ran the boarding house and turned the dining room into a family style restaurant at mealtimes.  Mrs. S. was an excellent cook and was well known for “down home” meals.

Prior to running the boarding house, Mr. and Mrs. S. ran a small restaurant in town, and Mrs. S. also cooked for the jail where Mr. S. was the jailer, working for the sheriff.  Mr. S. was a lazy man.  I’m not sure why they went into the boarding house business.  Maybe being the jailer was too much like work for Mr. S.  In any event, Mrs. S. did all the work at the boarding house, from cleaning the rooms, buying the groceries to cooking and serving the meals.  She was as industrious as Mr. S. was lazy.

She was slightly plump, wore a hairnet over her salt and pepper hair that was generally in a bun.  She always wore an apron except when she sat in one of the rocking chairs on the wrap around front porch.  This happened most nights after she had cooked three meals for 5 to 15 or so at each sitting, cleaned the house and taken care of the other chores.  She did this all with a smile, but there was a furrow in her forehead that never left.  In the evening, when everything was quiet and her work done, she would take off her apron and almost ceremoniously fold it over her rocking chair’s arm and sit peacefully.

There were five boarding rooms with two or three occupied by regulars and the others by short-timers that would stay for one night up to a month or so.  She was careful not to rent to troublemakers, but there were several who had checkered pasts.  Mr. S. was quick to declare his friendliness with Sheriff C., who lived around the corner, so there was never any real trouble.  Mrs. S. was nice to everyone.  Not so much, Mr. S.

Mr. S. was a big man, well over 6-feet.  He had broad shoulders, large hands, but looked soft, and he was.  He had red hair, a large hooknose and always wore a 10-gallon cowboy hat, except when he was eating.  He had no teeth.  Well, he had some, but never put them in.  Eating was somewhat of a problem, but he accomplished it nonetheless.  He was partial to Mrs. S.’s biscuits with honey and chicken and dumplings.  He constantly smoked Pall Mall cigarettes through an FDR type cigarette holder.  There was nothing else about him that would remind you of FDR, other than he was always sitting.  His favorite TV program was “The Rifleman”, which he never missed.  He was fond of saying “Wooo!” about things he liked, which he would say about most anything the Rifleman did.

After lunch each day, I would change clothes and go work at the farm.  One afternoon I was trying to build a new feed trough for the cattle.  I wasn’t having much success.  The incessant cackling of a bantam rooster increased my exasperation.  Just when I slammed the hammer into my thumb, the rooster ran across the yard.  He was about 20 yards away, but seemed like he was in my ear, cackling louder than ever.  Now it sounded more like a loud laugh.  I turned and in one motion threw the hammer at him.  The hammerhead hit him in his head.  He was dead immediately.

The rooster was wild and had hung around the barn living off of whatever bugs and seed he could find.  Apparently he had not done too good a job of it because he was skinny.  Nevertheless, I thought Mrs. S. could put him to good use, so I put him in a burlap bag and headed to the boarding house.

I arrived several hours before I normally did and Mrs. S. was in the kitchen.  She was delighted when I showed her the rooster.  She had planned for supper to be a redo of lunch.  In addition to Mr. S., there were others who would have supper that also had lunch there.  She was ingenious at leftovers, but there was only so much even she could do.  And she took pride in her meals.

She immediately began work on the rooster and asked me to go outside and pick some poke.  I had no idea what she was talking about.  She said, “It looks like a cross between dandelions and turnips.  It’s wild.  You’ll know it when you see it.”  Outside I went.  I knew it when I saw it, picked a grocery bag full and brought it in.

She said she didn’t need my help any more.  She would call me for supper.  I went upstairs to study.

Dinner came and she had a nice crowd of about 10 or so.  The menu was chicken and dumplings cooked with more butter, pepper and salt than normal.  The green side was poke salad.

When I sat down, Mrs. S. put a finger to her lips signaling me to say nothing.  The normal chatter included compliments about Mrs. S.’s cooking and this night was no different.  Mr. S. let out a “Wooo” when he tasted the chicken and dumplings.  She had worked magic cooking that tough skinny old rooster.  We had homemade chocolate pie for dessert.

Later that evening, I went out.  As I drove away I saw Mrs. S. sitting peacefully by herself on the front porch, her apron folded neatly on her rocker.

He has kept the book he used to consult about raising Angus cattle and it holds a place of honor on a shelf alongside a photo of our family at a Cubs game and a purple pencil cup that daughter Pogo made for him when she was in kindergarten.

(He also holds on to at least a half-dozen broken briefcases, his entry numbers from races he ran years ago, and several pairs of old tennis shoes “for working out in the yard.” But that’s beside the point.)

This video of a Utah jazz band playing for a herd of cattle in France is familiar to about 4,000,000+ people, but when someone sent it to me again recently, I showed it to DB, thinking he would like it, too.  The video links are being temperamental, but you can see the ‘official’ version on the band’s website.

He was not impressed.

“That’s nothing.  I used to yell ‘Hoooooo, COW’ and 300 cows would come running.”

I’ve been telling him that he should write a book about that year.  He has written a few stories and maybe I’ll post some if he agrees.  It’s a shame he has no pictures from that time.  I suppose I could video him doing his cow call.

Wouldn’t it be hilarious if Miss Piggy came running.

The uber-talented cast and crew over at The Actors’ Group outdo themselves with a trifecta presentation of Jessie Jones, Nicholas Hope and Jamie Wooten’s Futrelle-ogy series of plays:  ”Dearly Beloved,” “Christmas Belles,” and “Southern Hospitality.”  In putting together my reflections on this current slate of offerings from TAG it cannot be understated that in the normal production schedule of staged theatre it is difficult enough to stage one play but to do three plays simultaneously is nearly unheard of (or at least it is to me anyway as a casual observer)!  Our friends at TAG though pull off this superhuman feat with flying colors as I found each production crisp and refreshingly hilarious and a great way to spend both an evening as well as my hard-earned dollar.

Over the past several weeks I’ve had the pleasure of seeing each installment of the Futrelle-ogy.  I saw “Dearly Beloved” and “Southern Hospitality” back to back on November 19 and 20 respectively a few weeks ago and finished the trilogy off this past weekend on the 4th with Christmas Belles.  (I couldn’t in good conscience watch a Christmas play before Thanksgiving — just doesn’t feel right).

General Synopsis:

The Futrelle-ogy over the course of these three plays follows the misadventures of the Futrelle sisters (Honey Rae, Frankie, Twink and Rhonda Lynn played by Victoria Gail-White, Constance Hassell, Kathy Bowers and Michele Malinda respectively) and their extended family and friends who are all denizens of Fayro, TX.  Comedies at heart it often feels like you’re enjoying something similar to a cross between a sitcom or a series of Hee-Haw episodes.  I know for myself over the course of 3 plays I grew quite attached to our whacky cast of Fayro-ites.

From the TAG website here’s a brief synopsis of each individual play:

Dearly Beloved

Frankie has almost made herself sick with elaborate preparations for her daughter Tina Jo’s antebellum-inspired wedding, and the rumor mill in their small town of Fayro, Texas, is working overtime. No surprise there, the Futrelle Sisters have never been strangers to gossip. After all, they did survive the scandalous breakup of their almost-famous gospel singing trio, The Sermonettes. But Twink’s desperate attempts to get her boyfriend of fifteen-and-one-half years down the aisle, Frankie’s ongoing conversations with their dead mother, and Honey Raye’s tendency to race to the altar at every opportunity have kept tongues wagging for years.

Christmas Belles

It’s Christmas time in the small town of Fayro, Texas, and the Futrelle Sisters – Frankie, Twink and Honey Raye – are not exactly in a festive mood. A cranky Frankie is weeks overdue with her second set of twins. Twink, recently jilted and bitter about it, is in jail for inadvertently burning down half the town. And hot-flash-suffering Honey Raye is desperately trying to keep the Tabernacle of the Lamb’s Christmas Program from spiraling into chaos.

Southern Hospitality

The Futrelle Sisters – Frankie, Twink, Honey Raye and Rhonda Lynn – are in trouble again. This time, the problem is bigger than ever:  their beloved hometown, Fayro, Texas, is in danger of disappearing and it’s up to the sisters to save it from extinction.  Ever since the Super SmartMart and the rendering plant closed, folks have been leaving Fayro in droves, but Honey Raye, with a major assist from her former nemesis, Geneva Musgrave, has come up with a possible solution.

Watching each of these plays the Southern charm definitely permeated each production.  I for one definitely appreciated the efforts of the cast in bringing each of these characters to life and felt like a member of the community by the time the 3rd play started and was indeed a bit sad to let go of the lovely folks of Fayro by the time the final lights dimmed at the end of the third play.

Some of the cast of characters, aside from the eponymous Futrelle sisters, I came to enjoy in particular:

• Futrelle daughter Tina Jo/Gina Jo (Dusty Behner):  Played to a hilt as the sweet girl-next door/farmer’s daughter type.  I actually really enjoyed Behner’s portrayal and hope to see more of her in the coming year on local stages (she starred as Tina in MVT’s Tony and Tina’s Wedding earlier this year).
• Futrelle husband Dub Dubberly (Dale Hathaway):  Male patriarch of the family who was incredibly charming in his work.
• Town preacher Justin Waverly (Tony Nickelsen):  he had a ton of great punchlines  I also enjoyed Nickelsen immensely and hope to see more of him in 2012 on the local stage.
• Town sheriff John Curtis (Bob Stevens):  hilarious town Sheriff (think Roscoe from Dukes of Hazzard) who always had me rolling each time he had to draw his gun
• Town nice guy Raynerd Chisum (John Wythe White):  played to a hilt as the sweet soul of the earth country guy (think Mater from Disney/Pixar’s Cars)
• Town florist Geneva Musgrave (Mary Pat Sjostrom):  We need a Boo Koo Bouquet, lol

Overall, I highly recommend seeing any and all of these plays this weekend for whatever you can fit in in your schedule.  All shows are very hilarious and very charming.  You’ll get your money’s worth of laughs and smiles much like you would with your favorite sitcom.  Take a trip down south to Fayro, TX this weekend with your friends at TAG.

Dearly Beloved closes on Friday, December 9, 2011, 7:30 p.m.
Christmas Belles closes on Saturday, December 10, 2011, 7:30 p.m.
Southern Hospitality finishes up on Thursday, December 8, 2011, 7:30 p.m. and Sunday, December 11, 2011, 2:00 p.m.
General Admission: $20.00, Senior: $15, Student and Military (w/ ID):  $12.
You can purchase all 3 plays for $45.00
All seats on Thursday:  $12.00

*edit 11/14/2011 11:42*

Menus have been removed, sorry galleries no longer accessible until the new menu is made, and also new 404 sign.  went with a different theme, more options to work with you know?

*edit 11/14/2011 12:47*

kind of tracking/updating as i go, menu/navigation up though the pages they link to are not.

Remember the reasoning by which we wrote out a whole number as some string of digits which I call R followed by whatever goes in the units column, which I call a. (I had been thinking of R as in the “rest” of the number, but it struck me over the week that R is also the symbol used in organic chemistry to denote a chain of carbon atoms when one doesn’t really care how many of them are lined up. This interests me as I got on this thread with a set of numbers I called “alcoholic” due to their structural resemblance to organic chemistry’s idea of alcohols.) Since we’re writing in base ten, then, the number written as Ra is ten times R plus a. Ten times R can’t help being divisible by ten, or by any of the factors of ten, which are two and five (and one, which nobody cares about).

If we want to look at tests using the last two digits, we need a convenient way to write this all down. Let us again use R to mean the rest of the number from wherever it starts all the way up to the hundreds column. Let b be whatever is in the tens column, and a in the units column. The number Rba is therefore one hundred times R plus ten time b plus a. Just as we saw above, a hundred times R can’t help being divisible by a hundred or by any factor of 100, which is a not bad set: 2, 4, 5, 10, 20, 25, and 50 make the cut. Also 100 and 1, if we were interested in those.

We’re still stuck looking for anything to do for divisibility by eight, but the pattern looks pretty clear. We can’t fit eight into 100 a whole number of times, but if we go out to 1,000 we’re back on solid grounds. So we need to look at the number Rcba, with c whatever was in the hundreds column. It perhaps doesn’t seem like any great step to check for the divisibility of a three-digit number, but it’s surely easier than if we had to do something using all nine digits, which is where we seem to be stuck if we want to check whether a number can be divided by some needlessly difficult number such as seven or fifteen. With a little work you can prove — well, make a believable argument, at least — that we can eventually form a look-at-the-last-couple-digits rule for multiples of any number made up of factors of two and five, but the rest look hopeless.

Yet some of these rules exist. We know them for three and nine, since they’re the same test, and my Dearly Beloved had wanted me to explain how they work. For three or nine, we add up all the digits in a number, and if that sum’s divisible by three or nine, so is the original number. And if we come up with a sum that’s so large it isn’t obvious whether that’s divisible by three or nine, we can just add up the digits of that number, and we can keep repeating this process until we get to a number we’re comfortable with. It’s beautiful, simple, and even lets us add a simple (if not very rigorous) error-catching mechanism to arithmetic, the process of “casting out nines”.

So why can’t a similar rule work to check whether something can be divided by thirteen?

It can, and as soon as I show why all the obvious stuff above is actually not at all obvious, we can not just write a rule but know why they work.

Oh, Green Day, what would I do without you?

With a cup of steaming green tea at my elbow (I’ll be careful not to knock it over, Dad), Green Day on murmuring out of my laptop speakers, and a lovely yellow lily perched over my right ear (my little sister was so kind to give it me), I shall commence writing, ahem…. Brain vomit. (For some reason, all of you really like it… You might want to get that checked out by a psychiatrist.)

So, without further ado, (Shakespeare, anyone?) I present the biggest writing revelation of late.

Besides giving yourself permission to write crap, you also need to give yourself permission to love (or hate) your work with abandon.

This is necessary.

Why?

That is what I call a stupid question… But Mom always told me to be nice, so I’ll answer it anyway:

 If you do not love your work – hate it even – then you are complacent. You cannot be complacent and still expect to be the next J.K. Rowling.

 Emotion is the one of the greatest tools you will use in writing.

“No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader,” right? Exactly. Writing romance? If you are complacent in that, then just go burn your flash drive and get a job at the Olive Garden so you can watch what realistic romance is. Did they throw bread stick pieces at each other? Did the red wine actually go from the glass to her mouth, or did he tick her off and she decided to give him an acid grape juice facial? Don’t write it unless you know it.

That brings me to my next subject: Loving, or hating, your work is what spurs you to do something about it. If you love it, then you want to better it because that’s what love is. If you hate it, then your dying breath will be spent in trying to fix its wicked tendencies… Because that’s what hatred is. Call that a win/win. Although I do advocate loving your work – you’ll get better results. Maybe give it candy every once in a while (which can also be interpreted as one night without spell-checking the entire thing. Wouldn’t you get tired of being highlighted, drawn through, scribbled on, deleted, rewritten?) Give yourself and your WIP a break every now and then! 

Take a break and think, do you love what you are writing? No? Change it.

Do you love typing scribbles of language while your eyes bleed? (That was an a-duh question.) Do you love the outcome, though? No? Don’t do it.

If you don’t love what you’re doing, you have no right to do it.

And that’s that.

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