Given current circumstances we’re announcing an official schedule change. New comics will be Tuesdays and Saturdays. We’ll pump ’em out at 5:00am pacific. I think that’s better than Mon/Fri at noon pacific, but I’m also willing to listen to feedback.
So if you really, superly, supremely object to this, sound off. I’m almost certainly in agreement. But Real Life has interfered in obnoxious ways and that’s the most realistic way we can pump out new comics consistently.
The countdown to 300 continues and the fam is debating about what we should do. Drama WILL ensue…
We’re approaching episode #300, and we’ll be at episode #100 at Arkhaven around the same time. We have 71k total views at Arkhaven as of Episode #58.
We’re so, so blessed.
We’re also in the midst of massive life changes.
But.
We want to do something special for one of these milestones. Last time we gave away a piece of “original art” and we’re perfectly willing to do that again. The problem is the entire comic is digital now so “original art” isn’t. Not really.
We can make it “special art” however.
I asked on Social Galactic for ideas and I should ask here too. Any suggestions on what we should do? We still have a couple of major toon groups to unleash on you before the cast is set: a variety of Churchians, and The Blackbirds. There’s a third group but it’s pretty much in concrete. ‘Prince’ is a name that is still controversial in our household but it’s gonna be. It has to be. It can’t not be. And we’ve been arguing over Silk for more than three years. Silk is in the same category as The Finality. “Give me a different name and I’ll consider it.” Then Codex couldn’t. Silk is fine. I might (10% chance) make it Silke but… no. No I won’t.
Rory is going to Churchi, and so will our readers. That scares me. That takes real writing skills that I’m not sure I’ve developed yet. The material is… delicate. Renaming the entire comic Vegfolk Fables takes a little pressure off, but still…
Did I not announce we’ll be renaming The Churchians? I should have. You should check out vegfolkfables.com. It’s been a broken spring, and we’re way behind all my goals for the comic.
Fix the house. Sell the house. Land… somewhere. And then become the “dark, dangerous, Veggie Tales for older teens” studio. We’re all insane now. Let’s do this.
If you are reading this, it is because I am either dead or dying.
Packed up 50 boxes of books and moved them to another area of the house. Removed all the bookshelves said books rested in (Levenger). Prepped the huge, scary, 2-story walls around a stairwell/house entry way/library for the paint guys.
Fortunately, neither “dead” or “dying” is a fatal condition. Stents overcome all.
But if I vote in November for the “right” party, whatever party that is, someone hunt down my zombie corpse and put me out of my misery with an ax. Or fire. Fire is probably the more appropriate ending.
Comic tomorrow for sure, and we really think we’ve passed the peak insanity so we’re crossing our fingers that we’re back to our Mon/Fri regular schedule.
No comic today – my fault. We have to get the entire library packed up and the bookshelves removed by Sunday. I hate leaving your Friday morning empty with nothing, so I shopped special this week.
I took the weekend off. Saturday was a voluntary rest day. My back and knee was killing me. Sunday was not a voluntary rest day but it was a rest day none the less. I’m feeling much better this morning than I have in the last month.
We’ll have a couple of comics out this week, but it will be on Tuesday and a 50/50 chance of Saturday (as opposed to our usual Friday drop). I’m pretty sure “carpet day” last week was the single worst day of this whole experience. The remaining tasks, although extensive, are manageable. Work, work, work. Yet digestible.
Moving is suddenly becoming real. We’ve been here 22 years, and although we’ll miss it we’re all looking forward to our new life and next adventure.
This week has been… [terrible]? [challenging]? [a slog]? [backbreaking]?
Pick one. Congrats, you’re a winner.
We have new carpets. Glyph spilled the first cup of coffee on them, which was disappointing because I felt that Codex would for-sure do that. Fortunately, we spent a day-and-a-half covering the new carpets with chopped-up-chunks of the old carpet so there wasn’t as much Dad-crying as there otherwise might have been. Four figures from the bank account is four figures, ya know? Even with the new math.
No energy for a funny Friday post. I would have blasted Ukraine propaganda anyway, and I’ve given up sarcasm for lent. Or is it Lent? I’m not Catholic so after a couple shots of whiskey I’m still me, and the Pope is still Argentinian. Who would have guessed that the Pope and I have something in common? Neither of us is Catholic.
Codex is going to try to have our next comic out on Monday but it will probably be Tuesday morning. We should be back to our regular Friday/Monday schedule on Friday.
In the meantime, panic as interest rates rise, the housing market crashes, and gas hits… um… it’s $4.50 here on the way to $7. Yeah. We should all panic. And vote D. Because voting R makes no difference and carries a probable jail sentence because the D’s are… just that way.
We decided to watch Zulu (1964) on Friday night. I thought it was in honor of Black History Month, but it turns out Glyph discovered Sabaton had a song about the events the movie was based on.
Rorke’s Drift was a Swedish missionary & hospital outpost defended by the British on January 22 & 23 in 1879. During the morning of January 22, nearly 1300 British troops had been killed by the Zulu during the Battle of Isandlwana, about six miles away. Survivors made their way back to the outpost, manned by 150 British regular troops and approximately 300 Natal Native Contingent (NNC) African auxiliaries.
While the Zulu King had led the main attack at Isandlwana, his half-brother peeled off about 4000 warriors to pursue survivors and wipe out the garrison.
But this isn’t about the historical events, it’s about the movie.
The film begins in the Zulu camp, with the Zulus performing a complex marriage ceremony that involves a lot of chanting and dancing. It goes on for entirely too long – 15 minutes of film time – in order to humanize the Zulus before they are wiped out during the rest of the film.
The missionary Witt and his daughter are in attendance. They exist for expository purposes and to give the viewer some nice white Christians to loathe. At the end of the scene, word arrives that the British have been decimated, and they escape to warn the garrison at Rorke’s Drift.
Meanwhile, the commander of the garrison (let’s call him Lieutenant Gamma) is shown hunting, sportingly shooting antelope and cheetah in full regalia with cape. Everyone else is sweating to death, but the heat doesn’t affect Lieutenant Gamma. He’s a dilettante and a fop.
Lieutenant Gamma
Meanwhile, an officer from the Royal Engineers is leading the men to repair the pontoons of a ferry across the local river. Let’s call this one Lieutenant Alpha. He’s a common-sense sort of guy and an expert at bridges and fortifications.
Lieutenant Alpha
Naturally, their personalities clash. We get to watch the riveting drama for the next fracking hour. I kept thinking back to the first 90 minutes of The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957). Was the will of the British officer stronger than the will of the Japanese camp commandant? And it didn’t matter. Nobody cared. It had no impact until the very end when the Japanese commandant loses too much face. Or something.
Eventually, our two Lieutenants compare their medal collections and Lieutenant Alpha got promoted three months sooner than Lieutenant Gamma. Gamma is miffed, and reluctantly gives up command. Somewhere in the midst of all this riveting martial drama Reverend Witt returns. He informs the officers that 4000 Zulu are en route for tea, crumpets, and murder.
As fortifications are hastily built, a large group of Boer cavalry ride to the camp. Huzzah! The garrison will be saved! The Zulu are terrified of three things: cavalry, stacks of medals, and dawn. Alas, the local boys can’t stay. They’ve just fought through the Zulu, they claim, and they have to recover. About this time an extremely drunk, belligerent, and black-pilled Reverend Witt screams a sermon at the African NNP: They’ll all bear the Mark of Cain and be condemned by God as murderers if they fight. First one man looks at the other: Doomed fight to the death is one thing, but death plus hellfire is right out. They skedaddle.
The story so far is not quite what happened during the actual events at Rorke’s Drift. The arriving cavalry weren’t Boer, they were a remnant from the defeated regiment. They stayed anyway. When the Zulu horde attacked, the heroic cavalry charged and fired at the enemy. Exhausted and out of bullets, they were forced to retreat. As the cavalry left, the NNP, who had helped build the hastily-assembled fortifications, left with them.
The real Reverend Witt was neither a coward nor a drunk. He helped make the fort ready, then left with the most severely wounded from the hospital before the battle. He wasn’t a soldier and had a wife and two toddlers at home to protect.
In the movie, Lieutenant Gamma knows both the leader of the Boer and the NNP officers. He doesn’t lift a finger to help. “Lieutenant Alpha,” says our fair-haired boy, “You own this mess.” Gamma is going to prove it even if he himself and everyone else has to die to make the point.
At last, with the film half over, the Zulu show up. They charge the barricades and get repeatedly shot for their trouble. We’ll have to forgive the movie technology of the day but the action is almost comical. The British repel the invasion, and the Zulu expert, let’s call him Sergeant Boer, explains it was just a test.
I didn’t mention Sgt. Boer because this column is as poorly planned as the film. Sgt. Boer is Lieutenant Gert Adendorff, a survivor of the earlier massacre and the only man to fight in both battles that day. In the film, he’s the narrator so the audience can understand the genius tactics of the Zulu, because a casual observer might conclude they enjoyed dying pointlessly en masse.
Sgt. Boer explains that the Zulu chiefs, who we see cheer-leading safely atop their cliff overlooking the fort, were counting the number of British rifles. Their accountants were itemizing every bullet. Their shaman were calculating the medal-to-bravery ratio for each man.
Zulu accountants get paid by the goat skin
The Zulu soon regroup and attack again. This time, the ferocious spear-wielding warriors are joined by Zulu sharpshooters on the cliffs. Sgt. Boer explains they’d looted the guns and bullets from the dead at Isandlwana. Many British are shot, speared, or drown, carried to the bottom of the nearby river by their own chest awards and ridiculously non-buoyant hats.
In reality, the Zulu couldn’t shoot at all. They pulled the sights as far apart as possible because the resulting shot was harder, and more magical. If they hit anything, it was a complete accident.
Lieutenant Alpha is movie-wounded in the scrum, and retreats to the hospital, telling Lieutenant Gamma he will have to take charge again. Lieutenant Gamma immediately turns into some kind of gay Superman and leads the men from barricade to barricade with complex, meticulously-disciplined firing formations, perfectly executed as every fifth man dramatically takes a spear in their tea-drinking necessities. Secret. Kings. Rule.
Somewhere amidst all this the hospital with all the wounded is invaded by those sneaky Zulu. During the real events, Private Alfred “Harry” Hook and three other wounded soldiers fought the invaders room-to-room, and saved many lives. Hook, a lay pastor, won the Victoria Cross for his heroism.
The movie depicts Hook as a criminal and a drunkard. His daughter was so disgusted by his character in the film she walked out of the theater halfway through the premier. Lucky woman.
Lieutenant Alpha is in a bad way, but he continues to fight. He has no choice. He shares his hospital bed with at least three Zulu warriors. Lieutenant Gamma comes to visit him. Now that they’re bonded by the horrors of war, he encourages his superior to continue the fight. “We need every single man to get through this!”
Movie writers: How stupid are you? He did nothing while 75% of the garrison ran away about 30 film minutes ago!
Finally, the Zulu are ready for a break. They briefly retreat. Sgt. Boer loses all hope and tells anyone who will listen how they’ll all die once the warriors return. Nary a man is left healthy. Even the British accountants and the cook bought it back in the first wave. Nobody knows how many bullets the garrison has left.
The big finale arrives. Zulu warriors line up on all sides. They commence singing, chanting, and dancing. The British soldiers sing back. The movie is resolved with a sing-off. I think that was the third time I’d barfed so I called it a night.
Sgt. Boer “They’re not taunting you, they’re respecting your BRAVERY!”
Based on the movie, you’d think most of the British were slaughtered on their way to emptying Africa of its precious natives. In reality, 15 British soldiers were killed along with an estimated 400 Zulu. Possibly 300 more badly-wounded Zulu were killed or perished after the battle.
Hollywood has been ruining our heroes and stories for a very, very long time, and Zulu is a great example. Skip it. You’d have more fun getting another Fauci Ouchie.
I’ve painted more walls than I thought existed in our house. Apparently I’m not done yet. Who builds a house with a thousand walls? Who repaints them? And why didn’t we use fire to make the moving process far, far easier?
I’m treating the equipment far better than myself. This roller, for example, is luxuriating in a nice bubble bath after a hard-days work. The shadows make the sink look filthy. It isn’t.
I feel obligated to pass on some advice regarding hanging things on your walls. Consider this bonus content. Use it. Ignore it. I’m not the wall police, your insurance adjuster, or the fire department.
If you use these doohickeys, featured next to other junk and dog hair,
The plastic bulging things. Not the screws, nails, sink, or hair.
It leaves giant holes once they fail (they will) and the thingy you want to hang never feels completely secure anyway. I don’t care what it is, from shelves (scary) to a toilet paper roll holder (less scary). I’m assuming you live in a house with drywall. If you live in a house with brick, plaster, cardboard, velvet, ice, or extruded plastic goo walls then ignore this. I have no experience in such an abode.
I filled 47 of these in my latest painting binge.
The putty dries to a nice, sensible white, guaranteed to get you kicked out of six million establishments.
Sand after drying. Then hide it all with fresh paint.
The better way is to get a board. Miter the edges (optional), paint it the wall color, and screw it into the studs. Then hang whatever you need to hang with screws. Believe me, you can place the art (or whatever) exactly where you want it and it will feel totally secure. It won’t shift, partially pull out, or leave a million huge, ugly, gaping holes if you want to move things around.
Shelf ala Quizzer. Looks good. Very secure.
This also works well for tall bookshelves. You don’t even have to paint the cleat. That’s technically what the wood backing-board is called.
My favorite way of hanging stuff, especially large stuff, is via a french cleat. You’ll have to iSearch for that. It takes a bit more technical skill to do, but it provides flexibility to switch things about and is very, very secure. Is it overkill? Yes, in most cases it probably is. But if you want flexible shelving with modular units it’s fantastic.
One more note: pictures. We have some large, heavy paintings and I’d go with these
to hang them. They aren’t as secure as I’d like, but they do the job and do it well. Better than a nail, for sure.
Keep in mind, we don’t have hurricanes or tornadoes where we live. But we do have earthquakes and politicians who have great, hairy, dashing socks. So that’s what we prepare for. I’d love to hear advice from those of you who live with different challenges. Toss them in the comments below.
We also discovered this miniature door in the office area.
It leads to an attic space. We forgot it was there. It’s been more than 20 years since we opened it. With great trepidation, we prepared for anything. Fire? Extra ballots? Mr. Tumnus?
Um, yeah. We’re traumatized, which is why we don’t have a comic for today. We’ll be back Friday, but we’re not promising anything for a week after that. The carpet guys are coming in the middle of the week after, and we’re going to play furniture Tetris like it’s never been played before: 3D. Multiple-story. Many rooms.
We’re hoping our new attic frenemy will help. We’ve promised her one of the carpet guys…