Pepty Pinking's New Anti-Goblin Bard Song, +1 Morale Bonus to Attack, Damage, Saving Throws

Pepty (aka Pet) on vocals, Maurice (aka Dick) on keys. Note shout-outs to individual party-members, of their various classes and races (e.g. Tu-me the dwarven cleric, etc.) per verse. The morale bonuses nevertheless apply to every player-character whether verse-appropriate or not. (Pepty couldn't squeeze a whole verse, not to mention the whole song, into one 6 F.R. second battle round. But Pepty just goes on singing, and everyone gets real inspired.) Such is the cohesion and empathy and commitment to mutual aid of our band of adventurers!!!!!!

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The morale bonus may not actually show in the faces of character-players assembled around the battle-grid. For more background information, also kindly reference this entry

Bellingham Election Night Bacchanal

I know this was happening everywhere (or at least in every town in America with a population greater than 50,000), but the moment the Obama win was announced we could here a great uproar from all over town, fireworks, horn-blasts, shouting in the street. Just then somebody (Mike K.) showed up here and led a train outside banging pots and pans. (Rachel was pretty embarrassed, but I think I was caught up in the mood myself; I'm not going to say whether she shed a tear during the victory speech . . . . my peripheral vision's always fuzzy anyway, not with tears.) When we got downtown, there was a spontaneous reprise of the thriller-dance going on in the same intersection, minus the drag. Lija and Richard's old boss thought they were doing the electric slide (which incidentally Tavis Smiley on NBC had just been telling T. Brokaw he wanted to do just right then, leading the old white guys through the studio and out on to the street), but us dead-beats knew better. I thought I was filming it, but must have been a bit too excited to press record. Instead I got this spontaneous march down Magnolia, with a somewhat resigned police escort:

I also tore my glasses from my face and declared to the other sinners: I can see, at last, at last, I can see.

Bellingham Halloween Bacchanal

SNAC crew and friends had big plans for their apocalyptic dance team, but hey some of us don't know our Revelations, others can't get the steps (me, Pet). Then there was the fact that there were going to be like a thousand zombies already at the intersection of Railroad and Holly, and I knew I'd need to be raptured to get out of it . . . .

So this was the scene when we got down to Railroad and Holly with our party wagon:

Then about an hour later, the street party, as in--the middle of the street (Holly). Some familiar faces here from around the SNAC Lodge, and lots of people we didn't know, snaking around in a massive conga line:

Then the witching hour, choreographed college students in death-drag, etc:

Ashford and Simpson

My ascension into classic adult contemporary has been pleasant. I've seen it coming for months. The connections between this genre and smooth disco haven't exactly been clear up until recently, but I can now see that it is my destiny. Urbane sophistication, here I come...

Sequins

Think sequins are fun? So did I... until I tried to sew with them. They are a nightmare. There must be some trick I haven't figured out yet, like, I dunno, avoiding them entirely. I'm going to be leaking sequins like a tinkerbell all over the place at the square dance tonight. Sorry clean up crew!

M@rth@ Stew@rt's Livingdead

Hallow's eve, 9.23 pm on railroad & holly, bellingham, washington, homemakers (oven asphyxiated) are free to roam in the open air, to lock and pop all rigor mortis ligaments on the street corner dance scene. (And boo-yah to all you Thriller wannabes, more or less.)

b-boys b-ware!

As expected, the mash-up dj at the rogue turned out to be pretty good. I told him so right before we walked out after less than an hour of his set. Why 'd we leave so soon? Because the crowd sucked worse than a indie rock posture party. We got about an hour early for our dance troop meeting (bars are a great place to focus) and by the time the dj started we had already polished off our first pitcher. During this time we had noticed some break dancers warming up, stretching, trying out some head spins with their shiny black helmet. I took it as a good sign. Not that I think break dancers make good dancers, but that there might be something worth while at the rogue besides the beer. The music starts, the b-boys do some stunts, and nobody's dancing except Richard and me. People just play pool and give us looks. At one point Richard and I battled the b-boys. For show and effect the b-boys totally won, but they had no rhythm. I wish I had my girls with me! Where was Peach and Debbie Dinner? We could have totally showed up those chumps! I did pull some random innocent bystander by the hand and lead them to the dance floor, but it didn't really work so well. I've never ballroomed battle style, but I could make it work, just you wait.

We walked out of there shortly after some blondie told me I had no ass. I said to her "Lets see what you've got" motioning to the floor. Then she signed to me that I had bad breath by waving her hand past her nose. Whatever lady. Your not even cool enough to read this blog, so shove it. I sat down in her seat and reached for her drink. Her friend said to me "your not that bad". I took a tug and said "It's empty."

We then rode to rumors, walked in, and were met by the most enthusiastic dance floor in Bellingham.

Hey, it's Orange. I'll begin with my flight to Boston on which I discovered in the seat pocket in front of me a celebrity gossip magazine, I learned that Sarah Palin's daughter-with-baby stole her best friend's boyfriend (former bestfriend says baby's father always wore a condom with her!), Britney's Spears has reuninited with family after being angry with mom for writing a tell all book about Britney's life, and Angelina/Brad have the messiest multimillion dollar mansion ever (old food crusted everywhere!). Quinn picked me up in Boston and we spent the next 3 days walking around, eating fancy pastries and observing Hempfest from afar blasting death metal in downtown Boston with Quinn's girlfriend Yevonne (sp?). Quinn says she misses everyone and is awaiting more visits from Snac Lodge and friends. Then I took the Chinatown bus to NYC and to Ben Haber's house. Ben was applying for radio jobs and then headed down to the Radical Fairies Gathering in Tennesee in a few days and he took me out to his favorite gay bar where we met Aimee Jennings and failed to sing kareoke because we were too busy chatting. I took another Chinatown bus to DC the next day. I stayed at Sydney and Rainer's house (my aunt and uncle.) They were moving the shorter (6'7") of their two sons into a townhouse nearby with his 5' tall girlfriend. I visited grandmother Margie the next day down in Richmond at her retirement home. She had been waiting for me all morning and was quite delighted to have visiters but didn't really remember who I was. We went to a performance of old songs by two men playing the fiddle and guitar. Margie and the other elder ladies in attendence, most of whom cannot remember what happened an hour ago, knew all the words to the songs and happily sang along for an hour or two. Sydney and I dozed off in the back. Meanwhile a tropical storm had blown in and was fiercely raining and blowing outside. On the two hour drive back to Sydneys house we saw 4 cars that had driven off the road. I met Mike in DC the next day to begin the wedding festivities of his fraternity brother. We attended a walking tour of Georgetown with a guide who showed us famous people's houses including where Julia Child once lived when she worked for the organization that preceeded the FBI, before becoming Americas's favorite housewife chef. Her kitchen can now be viewed at the Smithsonian Museum of American History. We ate lots of excellent food at the rehersal dinner, then more the next day at the noon sandwhich and football party and again at the actual wedding reception interspersed with dancing and speeches. The reception was conducted like a celebrity awards show complete with obnoxious overbearing DJ and grandly announced entrances. There was a candy bar out front so guest's could fill up take out boxes with an assortment of m&ms, jellybeans, taffy, butterfingers, toffee and mints for futher enjoyment on the way home. After a wedding brunch the next day, Mike and I toured about the sights including the Natural History Museum, the American Indian Musuem and a host of monuments my favorite being FDR's who had a surprising lot of great things to say, which were etched in stone amongst water features. The following day we went to Maria Cantwell's office to request a tour of the Capitol building. I've got to go now, more to follow...

Ditties and Dungeon Shanties

It's a shame that when channeling Pepty Pinking, androgyne gnome, level 1 Bard, I can't acquire more of his/her natural grace, cadence, and dulcet voice, and yet am stuck with his/her fairly unimpressive intelligence modifier and, hence, extremely poor versifying. Take for example this Rat Battle Chant (Bard Song of Inspire Courage, +1 to Attack Bonus, +2 to Damage Rolls).

Pepty's chant seems to be attempting to inspire a hunger for rat meat, therefore, filling the dungeon-adventurer party (Talken Tume, Level 1 dwarf cleric; Schwintia, level 1 elf barbarian; Maurice, level 1 elf wizard; Frado, level 1 human fighter; and Shocky the Shock Lizard, 'nuff said) with the nerve to skewer the dire rats they're currently battling with their various piercing-damage weapons. I mean "rat-attouie." Maybe there are no multiplex theaters in the Forgotten Realms, but references to middling post-golden age Disney films are kind of pathetic and sad.

Maybe Pepty's not on it's game today . . . . we'll see about next time. Pepty, as a bard, can only sing the Inspire Courage song once a day, and so is currently humming and scatting away until the time comes to chant some more relevant rhymes. Will this day ever end? (That last 42 second battle, comprising 7 combat rounds, went on for like four hours in the Remembered Realms of the Character Players!)
Our adventurers are here.

Dungeon Master Vanessa, behind Panoramic Battle Screen.

Talken Tume's Character-Player table-talks some strategy with Pepty Pinking's Character-Player.


A Size:Colossal dungeon monster (dire marmot) makes its Attack and Damage rolls.

Frado (human fighter, level 1) takes on colossal dire marmot in full battle grid scenario

Lazer Sword and Megasoid

From what I can gather they call it "Turbo Crunk". We were originally introduced to the style as "LaserBass", as described in The New Yorker of all magazines, but Peter prefers a blend of the two names, which brings us to "LaserCrunk". Hopefully time will sort out the nomenclature. In the mean time, here's a link to another blog where this issue is dished out with contributions from Megasoid themselves. There's also some tunes.

ballet and other gang related activites

I, tuffstuff, started a ballet class this week. I know what your thinking, " wow, he's so cool ", but the truth is ballet, so far, has been very difficult and a little embarrassing. I can tell that I am a very long way from achieving ballerino status. I bought tights and adance belt yesterday for an intimidating sum of nearly 70 dollars! Oh, what's a dance belt you ask? It's pretty much a black thong with a bunch of padding in the front. So, I got to wear my first thong yesterday. It's really not that bad. They've always looked so uncomfortable to me in the past but now I understand. I've been wanting to do ballet for years and now I'm doing my best to make it happen. I has been a scary at times getting up in front of the whole class and fumbling gracelessly through the motions. I'll get over it I suppose.

Also...

We're starting a dance gang. Richard, Lija, Peter, and I went out to the club last night and spotted recruits. This is how I see it going down. We build a tight gang of dancers and take our mobile sound system downtown to challenge other dance gangs and their sound systems. No cars. That last part might exclude some people but cars suck so who cares. We can have choreographed moves to certain songs, matching jackets, alter-egos, maybe even resurrect the whole trading card thing. We'll build crowds and reputations. Sounds great.

Mob Rhythm Unleashed on Streets of Bellingham

BELLINGHAM, WA--SEPTEMBER 12, 2008.




BRAVE CITIZENS CONVENED IN FRONT OF THE FEDERAL BUILDING TO BRING THEIR LOCKSTEP ENTHUSIASM IN A STAMPING FEET OVATION FOR THE SOLID LIKE A ROCK GRANITE BEATS OF THE OFFICIALLY SANCTIONED TRACKS. HERE, HERE!




LENIN, ENGELS, AND REP. LARSEN (D), 2ND CONGRESSIONAL DISTRICT, DID NOT ARRIVE IN THE PROMISED BLACK HELICOPTER OR PASTEL HOT AIR BALLOON, BUT "DA PONTIFF" BROUGHT HIS BIKE-TRAILER, AND THE MOB MOVED WEST IN THE STANDARD ESCHELON-STRUT FORMATION, ENLISTING NEW RECRUITS IN THEIR WAKE.




EXPERIMENTS WERE CONDUCTED, WITH RESULTS PENDING, THOUGH IN ALL LIKELIHOOD THE CONCLUSIONS WILL PROVE USEFUL FOR FUTURE AUTHORITARIAN CIVIC-CHOREOGRAPHY COMMAND STRUCTURES. AMONG THE RECRUITS, AND THE SURROUNDING CIVILIAN POPULATION, A GROUP ALTERATION IN WORKADAY-TRUTH-PERCEPTION WAS OBSERVED. UNIFORMED PARTICIPANTS AND CIVILIANS WERE HEARD ANNOUNCING "I FEEL LIKE I'M IN A MUSICAL" IN THE FOLLOWING LOCATIONS: CORNER OF MAGNOLIA AND RAILROAD; BENEATH THE AWNING OF THEE ROGUE TAVERN; KEY BANK PARKING GALLERY; THE ALLEY BEHIND THE RUMOURS CABARET. OVER THE MARCHING PATH OF THE THEATER OF OPERATIONS, THE RANKS OF THE SYNCHRONIZED CITIZENS SWELLED 150 PERCENT (FROM INITIAL EXPEDITION GROUP OF 10 OR SO), DOWN ANOTHER 100 PERCENT RIGHT BEFORE THE BATTERY RAN DOWN, AND SYSTEM WAS NO LONGER BOOMING.




AT 24:00, THE GENERAL STAFF OF S.C. FOUND ITSELF AT A CIVILIAN HIPPY GEOLOGIST PARTY WHERE BRIG. GEN. RICHARD (COALITION FORCES COMMAND) TOOK PIANO AND DIVISION CHIEFS ORANGE & JT PERFORMED A WALTZ. THE GLAZE-EYED EARTH SCIENTIST IN THE DOORWAY, DEMANDED OF A THREESOME OF HIS HUGGING STONY COLLEAGUES, WHILE POINTING AT THE TWIRLING S.C.s: "WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?" BY THIS POINT IN THE EVENING, SYNCHRONIZED CITIZENS ARE USUALLY CAMOUFLAGED.

MOBILE DANCE RALLY OF TRUE MOTHERLAND LOVERS

BRAVE MATRIOTS WHO CAN MARCH (HUSTLE) AGAINST THE FASCIST THREAT FROM THE WEST!! THOSE (NATIVE NEWYORKER BOOGIE SHOES) STANDING STRONG FOR MOTHERLAND!! DANCE FEET (TA-TA-TA-TA-TA) ATTENTION!! A DANCING IN STEP RALLY OF FUN ROVING (NKVD DJ PRESENT TO ENFORCE FUN)!!

MOBILE DANCE RALLY COLUMN BEGINS MARCHING WEST FROM MAGNOLIA & CORNWALL BELLINGHAM, WA, 9.23 PM, FRI. SEPT. 12 '08 SINGING, HUMMING, HUSTLING, POINTING DISCO FINGER TOWARD FREEDOM FOR ALL WORKERS!! (HELIUM INFLATED EFFIIGIES OF GREAT MEN WELCOME!)

Pet Shop Boys and street dancing.

Jt here..

I've got the Pet shop Boys on right now someone warned me about them but "sooner or later this happens to everyone" (he just said that, I thought it fitting). There's supposed to be a street party on Friday this week, "sooner or later this happens to everyone" (he just said that again) and we're going... I think. Peter is supposed to be making fliers today or something, but we still haven't got a sound system running yet. That seems to be the most important part, not the fliers, but fliers are pretty cool sometimes, builds hype.

A remix of West End Girls just came on. It's slow and smooth with choppy robot drums. This I like.

Come Home, Peter!

Who ever thought I would post on here? Well, I've fooled you all. I am not even out of town. I am sitting in my room wondering where Peter is. I may have been unreasonably irritable this morning and now my dear lady-love has abandoned me with no indication of where he has gone. Is he out mushroom hunting with father Humphrey? Is he at the library? Is he sitting in a park eating takeout from Supon's? When will this mystery be solved? I am sufficiently chastised and chastened. Come home, Peter!

Modern Talking

July of 4th Noises Hammered Out by Dan Reese-ntly of Cairo, Egypt, Now of Backyard, SNAC Lodge

jt emerges

After being on the road for days, no computer and stuff, so much has happened that it's hard to recall much at all. I'll try and work backwards and maybe we'll get somewhere.

Just as expected, I did find people to ride with. Although I started the tour alone I've spend the last four days or so riding with three other guys from the bay area. We arrived in SF last night just as the sun was setting over the bay. As I crossed the last 25 meters of the bridge there was a line of older women, cameras and fists in the air, cheering us on. These were Ben's Moms. Ben, one of the guys I had been riding with, has four Moms. After several pictures of us looking regal and accomplished over the golden gate splendor and lots of deliberating I was invited to come and eat dinner with Ben, Daniel, and the Moms. One of Ben's Moms graduated from BGSU in Bowling Green. I was just in BG! We had one of those moments. This was last night. 

I am so amazed at how social this "solo" tour has been. Every night, rolling into the hiker biker sites at the state parks, is like an adult summer camp. I get to meet all kinds of people my age all doing the same thing. We wax bike tech, gear, our friends back home, food, nature stuff, I will always bring up disco, whatever.

Before Dan, Ben, and Alyan, was Kate, Lacey, and Sarah. These were three sister, two of which were twins. I hung out with them for almost two days. We went out to eat, drank tons of coffee, and talked a lot. They were there to support me when I got stung by a bee on my tongue. Who remembers me thinking that I was going to go into anaphylactic shock next time I got stung? Well you can imagine my reaction (emotional) when it happened with out my epipen handy. I said to my friends "I got stung and I might go into shock. Do any of you have a cell phone?" I might have scared them a bit, I don't know. Well, I didn't go into shock. In fact, I didn't even swell up. I was a little embarrassed and, down the road, a little drowsy too from the Benadryl. Thats where all the coffee came in.

Today, I'm in the Bay Area. I'm staying at Dans house in Oakland and I'll be back on the road tomorrow. I've got free tickets to the Museum of Modern Art, I'm hungry, and the BART seems easy enough. I'm told that Big Sur in burning to the ground, which complicates things for my navigation to LA. Hmmm. Time to consult Google. 

This is Known as the First Snacesque Post

I am not the voice of SNAC Lodge. I might be the only one who posts here though.


This blodge is not a strict logue of time/activities/presence/absence in the SNAC Lodge, but it can be if it wants to be. Anybody who lives in the Lodge can possess Snax (me), and make the world their Lodge.