#brick the hammerhead

[sparklijam]

Don’t worry, they apologized right away 😅

[hollowsart]

Frederica Foswell || The "Big Man" of crime

most don't know that the "Big Man" is a woman. and this is done on purpose. to make you think. to make you look elsewhere. Make you chase a false idea.

She knows the Enforcers because she was the one who "created them", funding them and sending them out on jobs that could make for great headlines.

until they decided to disband and take a break. although Dan & Ox would still do a bit of work here and there, Montana ended up living a rather chill life. occasional crime for money and running his billiards bar.

(cut for length + extra art at the end):

Silvermane and Big Man do not get along for this reason because Silvermane had to be the one to try and chase the authorities away whenever Big Man was making trouble in her area. Hammerhead knows Big Man. personally.

imagine just hearing about this "Big Man of Crime" and how powerful and scary they are. and everyone thinks and refers to them as a man, masculine. rumors of them being a brick wall and probably able to take out Hammerhead or even battling to a draw against Tombstone

and then you see them. The Big Man of Crime.

and it's a woman.

alt? lore + prior attempts (initial + comic accurate):

I was thinking randomly of her using her persona as "The Big Man" to help JJJ get a lot of good headlines n stuff, give him something to do. but like. as soon as Acedia and Otto appear, the attention is dragged away from her. She tries to show up to JJJ's office and tell him about some new leads she has for Big Man and he's just shoving her away in favor of wanting info and pictures of Acedia & Otto.

She is hurt by this and it fuels her to try and take the two new heroes on and maybe even try to somehow exact revenge on JJJ for pushing her aside for all the trouble she went through JUST FOR HIM. it feels very Scooby-Doo, but I kinda like that.

(I might just keep that as her incentive/motive to be doing what she's doing, but eventually gets into the character more and more over time that it pretty much just becomes her outside of Daily Bugle work.. at least until she's like.. fired or something idk)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

TAYLOR DERANGEMENT SYNDROME TAKES OVER INADEQUATES, INC.

TCINLA

JAN 31, 2024

The Bulwark’s entertainment editor, Sonny Bunch, gets it right about this week’s MAGA brainfart over Taylor Swift:

“Of all the dumb things the nascent nouveau right has tried over the years, attempting to turn conservatives against the NFL is by far the dumbest.

“It’s a sort of brainwashing, like you see in 1984 or Scientology. Get people to say the dumbest shit imaginable (“Two hot celebrities dating is a psyop culm,inating in the Illuminati fixing the Super Bowl so you’ll have to get vaccinated!”) and they’ll believe anything.”

Singer-songwriter Taylor Swift hasn’t even endorsed President Joe Biden for reelection yet. That hasn’t stopped upper crust members of MAGAworld Inadequates Inc. from declaring a “holy war” on the pop mega-star, especially if she ends up publicly backing the Democrats in the 2024 election.

According to three people familiar with the matter, Trump loyalists working on or close to the former president’s campaign, longtime Trump allies in right-wing media, and an array of outside advisers to the ex-president have long taken it as a given that Swift will eventually endorse Biden, as she did in 2020. Indeed, several of these Republicans and conservative media figures have discussed the matter with Trump over the past few months. In recent weeks, the Inadequate-in-Chief has told people that no amount of A-list celebrity endorsements will save Biden. Trump has also privately claimed that he is “more popular” than Swift is and that he has more committed fans than she does. Last month, he said that it “obviously” made no sense that he was not named Time magazine’s 2023 Person of the Year,an honor that went to none other than Swift.

The state of affairs among MAGA Inadequates Inc. is truly remarkable. A subset of America actually purports to boycott Disney, the world's preeminent entertainment company; Bud Light, once America's most popular beer; Target, the quintessential brick-and-mortar shopping destination; Pfizer, the pharmaceutical company that produced life-saving Covid-19 vaccines; Major League Baseball, the nation's favorite pastime; and now Taylor Swift, a generational icon who is one of the most successful musical artists of all time.

It’s incredibly idiotic, but the online right-wing worldview ALWAYS chooses bizarre conspiracies as their default setting for any event that captures the public interest. As Jonah Goldberg put it at The Dispatch, “Now they declare war on the National Football League and Taylor Swift - what’s next, sunny days and hotdogs?”

World’s Dumbest Mick and Proof the English Were Right, Sean “Hammerhead” Hannity, running to not be late to the party, has concluded Taylor Swift was lied to and misled by the left, saying, “Maybe she just bought into all the lies about conservatives and Republicans, that they’re racist and sexist and homophobic, and xenophobic and transphobic and Islamophobic, that Republicans and conservatives want dirty air and water and a total ban on all abortion with no exceptions. If she believes all that, she is believing a lie because those talking points are simply untrue. Now, I’m just saying maybe she wants to think twice before making a decision About 2024.”

(Mmmm, Sean baby, I hate - no, I don’t, I love it! - being the guy to tell you that it’s you who have been misinformed. All you and the rest of the seething Inadequates ARE INDEED “racist and sexist and homophobic, and xenophobic, and transphobic, and Islamophobic, and want dirty air and water, and a total ban on all abortion with no exceptions.” IT’S YOU baby!!)

Every last one of the Inadequates - from The Inadequate-in-Chief, to Best-Dressed Turd Steve Bannon, to reincarnation of Reinhard Heydrich Steven Miller, through all the otherwise-unemployable grifters like junior college flunkout Charlie Kirk - knows in their heart that no matter what they ever do, nothing will ever lead to the glass door they have had their noses pressed to all their loser lives opening with an invitation to come inside.

Trump knows that all the famous golfers he invites to his courses tell everyone they know about how he cheats so obviously, and laugh at him.

Miller knows that the Cool Kidz at Santa Monica High who laughed at him for all those years won’t be inviting him to the After Party at his Twentieth Year Reunion next year.

Bannon knows that no one in Hollywood who matters is ever going to return his many phone calls.

Because They. Are. Losers.

It’s the knowledge of how Inadequate they all are and always have been that drives them, like the lost souls in “The Day of the Locust,” to want to knock down Taylor Swift - who has shattered virtually every major record in the music industry, as she lives her best life supporting her boyfriend, Kansas City Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce, while she breaks the brains of each one of the Inadequates.

The digital fever swamps are where the boys no woman would ever touch gather to fume over everything and anything Swift-related. Her world-wide popularity, the success of the Eras Tour - which is so big that it has notably added to the country’s Gross National Product - her relationship, her appearances at NFL games, and especially her politics - all of that drives the losers crazy.

When the Chiefs won the AFC championship on Sunday, punching the team’s ticket to the Super Bowl (for the third time since t hey appeared in the first on), the Inadequates began shouting about long-standing conspiracy theories around the NFL’s “scriptwriting” for football seasons.

All that gets added to the river of shit pouring from the Inadequate conspiracy theorists who have been claiming since she was first spotted at a Chief’s game that Swift’s involvement with Kelce is part of a deep state plot to build support for President Biden in the 2024 election.

The result is as ugly as it is stupid.

Millenial We’d All Like To Throw From An Upper Story Window Head First, Inadequate blowhard Vivek Ramaswamy, tweeted last Monday that he wondered “who’s going to win the Super Bowl next month,” adding, “I wonder if there’s a major presidential endorsement coming from an artificially culturally propped-up couple this fall. Just some wild speculation over here, let’s see how it ages over the next 8 months.”

That was in response to Pizzagate conspiracy theorist Jack Posobiec, who suggested there was a suspicious shift in Swift’s political leanings over the past several years.

Laura Loomer - who it’s rumored gives the worst blowjobs of any of the professional MAGA bimbos - wrote on Elmo’s Xitter (that’s pronounced, “shitter”) that “The Democrats’ Taylor Swift election interference psyop is happening in the open. They are going to use Taylor Swift as the poster child for their pro-abortion GOTV Campaign.”

Swift has not yet announced if she’ll attend the Super Bowl — as she has a concert in Tokyo, Japan the night before (Due to the International Date Line that allows her to leave Japan just before midnight of the day before the event and arrive in Las Vegas in the early afternoon of the day before the event, she’s pretty likely) Looney Loomer suggested in another post that Swift would be seated next to former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and California’s Democratic Governor Gavin Newsom at the game. “Just in time for 2024.”

Far-right influencer Rogan O’Handley posted a message on Xitter addressed to the San Francisco 49ers, in which he suggested that if the Chiefs won the Super Bowl, Swift and Kelce would trigger an apocalyptic chain of events that would kill millions. “You MUST defeat the Chiefs! If you don’t, Mr. Pfizer and his girlfriend are going to tour the country as ‘world champions’ helping elect Joe Biden WW3 will likely follow in a 2nd Biden term and millions will die. The fate of the free world rests upon your shoulders”

Failed GOP candidate Jack Lombardi II wrote on Xitter that he has “never been more convinced that the Super Bowl is rigged. With all the unneeded and unwanted Taylor coverage at the games. KC’s journey to the Superbowl – totally scripted … KC wins. And then later [they announce] their support for Biden. Coincidental? No. Bought and paid for couple. SMH.” He later posted that, “Taylor Swift is nothing more than a controlled influencer who has been put to work by those who seek to destroy America. She is a very talented operative working for the same group responsible for the timely and coincidental covid-19.”

Podcast host Mike Crispi raged that “The NFL is totally RIGGED for the Kansas City Chiefs, Taylor Swift, Mr. Pfizer (Travis Kelce). All to spread DEMOCRAT PROPAGANDA. Calling it now: KC wins, goes to Super Bowl, Swift comes out at the halftime show and ‘endorses’ Joe Biden with Kelce at midfield.”

And just to prove that every part of MAGA Inadequates, Inc., is aboard for this shitshow, when I was in the grocery store this afternoon, I spotted the new issue of the National Inquirer in the rack by the checkout line. The third headline read” “CROOKED NFL REFS ALL IN FOR RIGGING SUPER BOWL.”

Republican Georgia politician Kandiss Taylor wrote that she “tried to warn yall back in October that the influence of [Taylor Swift] on our youth with witchcraft was demonic, evil, and Luciferian. Of course, Satan wants to use her now to elect Joe back into the White House to destroy what’s left of America.”

Conservative commentator Benny Johnson freaked out over a magazine stand at a Barnes & Noble that had been stocked exclusively with Taylor Swift covers. He posted on Xitter that “Taylor Swift is an op. It’s all fake. You’re being played.”

Charlie Warzel, staff writer at The Atlantic who covers the intersection of politics, technology, and culture, wrote, "There’s something striking about watching the far-right tying itself in knots and attacking Swift and Kelce that demonstrates how badly the far-right media has alienated itself from most of society. They’ve built out this alternate universe and reality of grievance and it feels like instead of using it to wage an effective culture war, they’re fully lost in it and can’t see that they’ve chosen as their primary enemy the person with the literal highest approval rating in American life right now."

TCinLA

[oneykei]

I would let Dave throw a brick at me tbh

Would you let him smash your head with a brick without killing you but now you’re permanently maimed and your head was deformed to look like a hammerhead shark

[notmuchtoconceal]

bro, confession -- i love watching weird conservative nerds on the internet talk about gay people like they're mutants and it's all projection.

oh my fucking god, bro. it is absolutely fascinating how insecure and pathetic they are --

and yeah, part of it's because of how much of myself i see in them.

empathy is a beautiful thing.

think like t. s. eliot and quentin tarantino and how they're weird neurotic geeks obsessively cataloguing a dead time that'll be gone forever because bro why youldn't you want to preserve some memory for time immemorial of a land you thought you knew and never knew

gone from the earth already before you had the foresight to remember

what are we but these bodies and our memories

some meager reputation prone to flux in the eyes of gullible men who fall to the lures of black anglers into blacker fancies corroded down to merely another cochhead on a wall of sieves

for there had already been so much lost and so many things you never got down and only so much time to remember as still you hurdle faster

for all time merely moves faster

so much more space with fewer things between as some stockpile like uranium builds up like plaque and all is black and gold beneath some radiant emerald green --

while we fancy that our imaginings, our infinitely superior realities, all sealed so hermetically as preserves catching dust on a shelf of grey moss on red oak where no longer the moon even shines, but those faint rays that turn back on them for the warmth of their cool,

for they saw futures by looking back as they built presence by looking forward

as a man is himself, all the things he is,

that he does and he dreams,

and my hands must handle more than spongey keys which drip in the nubs of their locks

or courtyards of sterile bit harshing my eyes with fluorescence so i see the trees as merely bearing square fruit,

cell walls in breast plate on keratin-bricked melons --

and it makes ya realize so much of the so-called "progressive" rhetoric in this country is people pathologically ashamed of their bodies cause they only know how to control others.

gotta get em as canned meat, nothin better than some substance under all the packaging.

gotta give em something to throw away.

can't fertilize en mass without the destructive act.

for the brutality of eroticism is the brutality of stark naked exposure and what revelations divine are our inspirations,

for we know well that to be ruled insincerely will always be unflattering,

and yet to truly explore a foreign consciousness will break us of our arbitrariness, break us in all the ways we yearn to be broken --

yes, oh yes -- the degrees of separation into some great other.

as we are he, she must be she, as we are fair, she must be rough, as we fancy women she must fancy women --

wait, we fancy MEN so she must fancy women --

homosexuality is *not* the state of nature,

we are ballerinas, twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom

(escape velocity, bro!)

rocket number 9 awaits the evening star!

hammer hammer

armie hammer hammerhead.

your vessel is a thundercloud,

how she departs to the scorch of lands unseen.

our invisible sister frostbitten by the void, your skin is no stain of ours. you simply came from a distant land, nurtured by the light of our selfsame star --

by what names do you address him? they are as plentiful as his rays and the fruits bore below his arches --

by what magnificent shapes you have molded them to!

could i ever love you outside the bonds of politeness?

what yokes us to our decorum, some manifold headdress.

would i not encroach on you by knowing you, for you could not be what you are by knowing me? or do i fear simply, in spite of myself --

that for you to know me would break me, and i am simply this frail and fragile thing, some porcelain boy belonging to a delicate interior among the dust of the trees in the casings we flayed.

you love so me without absolution and i know only the absolute --

do i trespass upon you simply knowing not what to say?

what do you read into me, i who am a mute who harbors no infinities but what you see in me -- i could die when i see i have failed to love you, for i have failed you so truly that now you long to die -- there would be no cave deep enough, no epoch long enough to outlast the shame of the abortion i would sire would you to collapse in our lifeblood.

stop.

your silence could never hurt me. my silence is but a means to hurt yourself. i would never cease to speak to you, for i am unceasing in my speaking, though i use so much more than these meager gashes you catalogue in those denser smog infinities of your every fractionating light towers -- my beautiful algorithmic structure.

smoke bred the hydrogen bomb as mirror beget the sweatshop.

when you limit you, you limit me an i resent solely for i am as beyond limitation as you -- foolish boy. these potentialities which are your all -- you are always me, as i stroke your amber mane.

iridescent under an oyster shell, i flip you now to the light so that you may shimmer.

you who are eager to pull the trigger, may you find some infinity in your moment of hesitation.

you, who would not draw the blood of a traitor when called upon by the shade of your father, may you lay down the rapier of your mind and fence with two swords at once.

bro, it's like -- it's way more work to keep yourself cut off. from other people and the world, like -- what's the point.

not really any point when what ya wanna get away from's yourself,

cause buddy you ain't ever gonna get rid a that guy pointin a gun at other people.

you'd probably like him if ya got to know him.

he has a lotta good qualities.

i'd probably be into him if i didn't already know all his secrets.

[hooliganpaints]

Finished our first game about 2 hours early so now I'm in the store like Travolta

Handily won round 1 by randomly matching into my good buddy and long standing list testing dummy. They were not amused.

Round 1 had me deploy very aggressively, because their game plan was to deep strike in 2 bricks of melee monsters and Blood Angels me to death:

Their Ballistus failed to kill longstrike (the hammerhead on the right) and I summarily executed it for Impudence Crimes

At the end of 2, the bricks came in, with the terminators charging my ghostkeel and the death company failing to reach my normal hammerhead. Apparently I didn't take a photo, but my hammerheads liquefied the terminators, then got killed by the death company, who in turn got wiped by farsights brick:

And from there it was just "sit on points for a turn to win".

I really like tenth. It feels very quick when you know what you're doing and it's so refreshing to not have to track 50 stratagems per army.

[mackerelphones]

The Patchwork Girl Of Oz: Patching Together A Story

(Continued from my previous post in this series, and each of the ones before that. I meant to link all five in these parentheses, but Tumblr is weird and doesn't seem to want me to? Too bad, here is the one about Ozma of Oz and here is The Marvelous Land of Oz.)

Above: The Shaggy Man using a telegraph.

In The Emerald City of Oz, Oz was hermetically sealed. However, L. Frank Baum, continuing to be a character in the fiction, is able to continue his role as Royal Historian by corresponding with the Shaggy Man via wireless telegraph. From Ozma of Oz onward, Baum depicts Oz as a utopia, not a land for perilous adventures but where the adventures end. However, the action can no longer leave the bounds of Oz. Continuing the series meant finding more peril and conflict in Oz itself. So, in 1913, the fan-favorite The Patchwork Girl of Oz began a new phase of the series in which Baum reveals that huge swaths of Oz consist of wilderness and areas beyond Emerald City control, still with beasts, individuals, and whole nations (e.g. the Hammer-Heads, the Utensians, and Jinxland) that do not know about or refuse to acknowledge Ozma’s rule. Even the Kalidahs, which Baum insisted had been tamed in The Emerald City, are apparently still wild. (“Hammerhead” is now spelled without a hyphen, one of Baum’s favorite types of inconsistencies.)

This resembles Dorothy’s journey in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The Emerald City greets her merrily, but the repeated warnings that Ojo will be arrested in the Emerald City prove true: he and his friends are engaged in illegal activities. During a series of chapters showing the Ozite penal system (prisoners are marched through the streets under sheets to hide their shame), Ozma seems to be the villain, or at least something less than universally good. Then Ojo realizes Ozma is kind and loving after all, phew. After Ozma releases Ojo, her one and only prisoner, from jail, she allows him, Scraps, Dorothy, and the Scarecrow to journey into the “wild country” of the Quadlings to seek out the remaining potion ingredients.

The story is to some extent a parody of the original novel: misfit friends follow the Yellow Brick Road from Munchkin Country to the Emerald City and from there travel south to Quadling Country. However, instead of grand, world-changing adventures and emotional bonding, this time the characters are often nasty to each other and to the people they meet. They learn nothing while doing nothing that affects anything. The Hopper and the Horner war episode is silly comedy, more like make-believe than war, with none of the weighty dread or substantial changes that result from the Wicked Witch of the West and the Wizard plots. Finally, the characters completely fail to achieve their goals. Then, instead of, as in the original novel, the Wizard using fake magic to pretend to resolve the issues the misfits already internally resolved, the Wizard uses real magic to resolve their real problems in an abrupt deus ex machina.

Baum was also involved in creating the 1914 movie adaptation of The Patchwork Girl of Oz (which takes out none of the racism), but I leave it to someone else to describe that financial failure. I just want to clarify that it exists and does not quite follow the plot of the novel. With that acknowledged…

Ojo Begins

In addition to Oz now having imperfections, there is another break in the series pattern. Instead of Dorothy Gale, the main character is—not the Patchwork Girl but rather Ojo the Unlucky, a Munchkin boy with a huge ruffled collar. He lives in an isolated house in the wilderness of Munchkin Country with his white-bearded uncle Nunkie, apparently just north of the mountain of the Hammerheads in Quadling Country. Unc Nunkie is a taciturn man, usually responding to any subject with a one-word answer if he must speak, for which reason he is known as the Silent One.

In The Road to Oz and The Emerald City of Oz, Baum claims there are no poor people in his fairy land utopia. This time around, though, the novel opens with Ojo and Unc Nunkie out of food and wondering why they are so poor. The answer preserves Ozma’s benevolence: their extreme isolation. “There is plenty for everyone, you know; only if it isn’t just where you happen to be, you must go where it is” (20). Poor people as protagonists? Yes, but never fear, Baum has not lost his fixation on bloodlines. Before his self-imposed exile, Unc Nunkie “might have been King of the Munchkins, had not his people united with all the other countries of Oz in acknowledging Ozma as their sole ruler” (50).

So they are poor, yes, but they are still royalty. It feels like if Baum cared to revise his texts, he would have made Dorothy a relative of the Tudors. There is no reason for this detail, either, as it never comes up again and is of no relevance to the story. It is also strange because, in earlier novels, each of the four countries of Oz has its own ruler who simply ranks lower than Ozma. This is still the case in The Patchwork Girl itself, where the Tin Woodman remains the Emperor of the Winkies. Moreover, “the Monarch of the Munchkins” attends Ozma’s birthday party in The Road to Oz. Fan fiction brain might imagine that Unc Nunkie was opposed to unification and got deposed as a result, replaced with this unidentified monarch.

Desperate for food, these two isolated weirdos walk through the wilderness to the house of another weirdo, Dr. Pipt, the “crooked magician” who lives with his wife, Margolotte. Ozma has banned the practice of magic, excepting Glinda and the Wizard (230), so even the Good Witch of the North gets screwed over. The truth is that this character has just stopped existing because Baum forgot about her.

Above: Margolotte carrying the Patchwork Girl.

Weirdly, Dr. Pipt, a wizard, can’t help but praise Ozma for banning magic: “Too many people were working magic in the Land of Oz, and so our lovely Princess Ozma put a stop to it. I think she was quite right. There were several wicked Witches who caused a lot of trouble” (42). Magic has to be illegal or the status quo might be challenged again, and nothing is more precious than the status quo. Because there are no police in Oz to search for Dr. Pipt, he has continued his illegal practices and insists he has a right to create artificial beings if he wants to, just that he cannot legally do magic for other people. Ojo and Unc Nunkie happen to find Dr. Pipt finishing up a batch of the Powder of Life to animate a human-sized, colorful patchwork ragdoll to become Margolotte’s slave. This is not me applying edgier language—Margolotte calls the Patchwork Girl her slave.

These sleazy marginalized wack jobs, including a surly Glass Cat Dr. Pipt earlier brought to life “because the meat cats drink too much milk” (208), prepare to awaken the Patchwork Girl. However, Ojo thinks it “both unfair and unkind” to limit her psychological functions so that she can be only an automaton. He discreetly “[takes] down every bottle [of personality] on the shelf and pour[s] some of the contents in Margolotte’s dish [of liquid brains]” (40).

As a result, when the Patchwork Girl springs to life, she is raucous, creative, intelligent, defiant, and overflowing with chaotic energy. In her first moments, she causes Unc Nunkie to accidentally tip Dr. Pipt’s bottle of Liquid of Petrification, which spills on Unc Nunkie and Margolotte, turning them to stone. Recall that Mombi threatened to work this kind of magic six books ago (though I took it as trying to scare Tip rather than as a sincere intention, a degree of subtlety I no longer think Baum capable of).

Ojo pushed the Patchwork Girl away and ran to Unc Nunkie, filled with a terrible fear for the only friend and protector he had ever known. When he grasped Unc’s hand it was cold and hard. Even the long gray beard was solid marble. The Crooked Magician was dancing around the room in a frenzy of despair, calling upon his wife to forgive him, to speak to him, to come to life again! (56)

The Patchwork Girl rejects the name “Angeline” that Margolotte intended, instead deeming herself “Scraps” (queer allegory). In her joy to be conscious and queer, Scraps isn’t much concerned with what has happened and, displaying her good brains already, suggests Dr. Pipt just use the Powder of Life to reanimate the petrified people. Creating more powder will require “six long, weary years if stirring four kettles with both feet and both hands” (60). However, there is another compound that could break the petrification spell. Unfortunately, this potion requires a six-leaved clover, the left wing of a yellow butterfly, “a gill of water from a dark well” that light has never touched, three hairs from the tip of a Woozy’s tail, and a drop of oil from a live man’s body. Dr. Pipt does not know what the last three ingredients of this list even are.

Ojo sets out to explore Oz for the first time to find every item in the recipe. Scraps joins him. When Dr. Pipt insists she stay as his servant, the cloth homunculus claims she is serving him by helping break the petrification magic. The Glass Cat also tags along, claiming she is intelligent enough to help but really just hating life with Dr. Pipt and hoping to learn more about the world. So begins the adventure with these argumentative oddballs to whom the Land of Oz is scarcely less new than it was to Dorothy in The Wonderful Wizard. They set off down the Yellow Brick road to find the six-leaved clover outside the Emerald City, though they will not be welcome because Ozma has banned the picking of such clover. We have a proper quest with clear, specific goals and emotional stakes for the characters! Incredible! I thought Baum had forgot narrative structure exists after Ozma of Oz.

Messy, strange, evocative, and moving, these first five chapters alone contain more personality and drama than the whole of the previous two books. Sadly, despite initial promise, The Patchwork Girl fails to deliver on most of its thematic and narrative threads. I do not blame people who like this novel, as it is so much more entertaining compared to The Road to Oz and The Emerald City of Oz that a reader who has torn through each, one after another, would find The Patchwork Girl water in a desert. The book also introduces, well, the Patchwork Girl, one of the more likable characters.

How Is John R. Neill Doing?

John R. Neill’s full-color pages are printed on the same quality and the same pages as the rest of the text, an organic means of incorporating the drawings that has been missing since Ozma of Oz.

However, for the first time, there is no unique quality or distinguishing gimmick of the artwork, another way in which The Patchwork Girl initiates a new phase of the series. The quality of the illustrations is lower than usual.

The colors are often odd. The text repeatedly notes that, as a Munchkin, Ojo dresses in blue and even dislikes other colors, yet the colorist (I assume Neill) likes depicting Ojo dressed in red. But it’s inconsistent! Sometimes Ojo is red, and other times he is blue. Baum is also specific about the colors of Scraps’s face, text ignored in the illustrations. However, this might be attributable to the book originally being printed without color, as the earlier editions seem to lack it.

Another confusing illustration error is Dorothy’s inclusion with Ojo’s party in the title illustration of Chapter 13 (above), when Dorothy never appears until Chapter 16. Not necessarily a mistake, Neill also draws Dorothy much tinier than in previous books. She is sometimes shorter than Ojo and not much larger than Toto, looking like a toddler, as below.

But at other junctures, Neill draws Dorothy the same height that he has previously:

Beginning in The Patchwork Girl, the Scarecrow’s face is drawn white, with red marks around his eyes and mouth. The clown makeup look isn’t necessarily a continuity error. When he first appears in The Patchwork Girl, the Scarecrow is traveling to visit, of all people, his “old friend” Jinjur to touch up his face paint (as in, his face is literally paint). She only tried to kill him once, so I understand why they get along now. For the Chapter 17 title illustration, Jinjur appears, in full Army of Revolt regalia, painting the Scarecrow’s face. Sure enough, in this and only this drawing, the Scarecrow’s head has its former brown hue. Even though Jinjur’s uniform is colored incorrectly. So she must have painted his head white and added the red markings around his eyes and mouth.

Neill continues adding unique flourishes to the illustrations, such as giving the Horners horrifying, uneven chalk-like teeth or having Jack Pumpkinhead smoke a pipe. As ever, the drawings are as pivotal to bringing life to the fantasy as is Baum’s prose (and poems, this time around). I prefer these to the messy illustrations in The Emerald City.

The Players

In addition to plots, Baum seems to have remembered strong characterization, which in The Emerald City he reserved only for villains. Scraps is an abrasive clown. In a good way! Prone to singing, Scraps initially draws the ire of other characters. As though setting up a horror plot, a woodman darkly tells Scraps, “You’re crazy, girl. Better crawl into a rag-bag and hide there; or give yourself to some little girl to play with. Those who travel are likely to meet trouble; that’s why I stay at home” (77). Oz, it seems, is still so dangerous that people prefer never to travel. But the woodman does not hate Scraps, remarking, “A Glass Cat is a useless sort of thing, but a Patchwork Girl is really useful. She makes me laugh, and laughter is the best thing in life” (75).

After gaining consciousness, Scraps immediately deems herself “the supreme freak.” She then adds, “But I’m glad—I’m awfully glad!—that I’m just what I am, and nothing else” (57). (Again, queer allegory. The character is literally rainbow already.) Scraps totally defies her intended fate as a domestic slave. As she learns more, she rejects ordinary forms of respectability and even opposes Ozma (who is now the leading wet blanket aside from Glinda).

“I hate dignity,” cried Scraps, kicking a pebble high in the air and then trying to catch it as it fell. “Half the fools and all the wise folks are dignified, and I’m neither one nor the other” (132).

Scraps witnesses repressed Horner girls. They live submissive existences waiting for marriage, forbidden from cracking jokes, as per “the rules and regulations laid down by a leading bachelor” (290). Seeing these girls, her opposites, Scraps exclaims, “That old bachelor who made the rules ought to be skinned alive!” Feminist Scraps?

Not only joyous and selfish, Scraps is clever, observant, and shows great regard for Ojo. At one point, the characters encounter Chiss, a giant porcupine who kills travelers by launching quills as projectiles. When Chiss prepares to attack Ojo, Scraps “realize[s] in an instant” what is happening, “so she sprang in front of Ojo and shielded him from the darts, which stuck their points into her own body until she resembled one of those targets they shoot arrows at in archery games” (155). Scraps also dares conceal incriminating evidence and claim Ojo is innocent when Ozma puts him on trial. Sadly, the Wizard blows Scraps’s deception. But the effort demonstrates, yet again, that the Patchwork Girl is fearless. And brighter than the Scarecrow!

Despite how she protects him, Ojo also remains really mean about Scraps to the end. When Dorothy, for instance, asks Scraps if she is “feeling a little queer,” Ojo answers for her: “Not queer, but crazy[. …] When she says those things [i.e. sings] I’m sure her brains get mixed somehow and work the wrong way” (157).

Baum is in a poetical mood. Scraps frequently recites songs or poems, including her first words upon seeing her reflection and understanding herself:

“Whee, but there’s a gaudy dame! Makes a paint-box blush with shame. Razzle-dazzle, fizzle-fazzle! Howdy-do, Miss What’s-your-name?” (56)

I didn’t say it was inspired poetry. Scraps is in love with her colorful appearance. Most of the other characters dismiss her as ugly and crazy. The foolish owl puts it best in, ironically, a song:

“Patchwork Girl has come to life; No one’s sweetheart, no one’s wife; Lacking sense and loving fun, She’ll be snubbed by everyone” (93).

Only when Dorothy, Ozma, and most especially the Scarecrow meet Scraps does she receive respect. The Scarecrow deems her the most beautiful sight his eyes have ever beheld, and Scraps shows the Scarecrow rare deference, attempting to be slightly more respectable even though first she has Ojo roll her on the ground to reach her full height (169). The Scarecrow and Scraps don’t become an item, though, at least not in this book. (After all, the Scarecrow is spoken for by his boyfriend, Nick Chopper.) Their faux courtship is probably meant as a joke, much like the physical abuse the Scarecrow faces throughout the novel. Scraps remains no one’s sweetheart, no one’s wife, and maybe she’s happier that way. I guess she is “feeling a little queer,” like Dorothy observed.

The Glass Cat, a foil and semi-sister to Scraps, also has strong characterization. Like Scraps, she rejects the name her oppressive parents gave her, “Bungle,” and refuses her intended role as a housecat, wanting instead to be an admired person. The Glass Cat is indolent, selfish, and vain, having no respect or patience for someone loud and strange like Scraps. The first words she tells Scraps are that the latter is horrid. The Glass Cat is visually her opposite: Scraps’s body is made from a durable rainbow patchwork quilt, whereas the Glass Cat is made of delicate glass and is transparent, colorless. “I am much more beautiful than the Patchwork Girl,” the Glass Cat gloats to the Scarecrow. “I’m transparent, and Scraps isn’t; I’ve pink brains—you can see ’em work; and I’ve a ruby heart, finely polished, while Scraps hasn’t any heart at all” (172).

The Glass Cat’s most defining source of vanity her is “pink brains” (you can see ’em work). These seem to be a small pocket of fluid of the kind inside Scraps rather than organic brains, and Neill draws them as little marbles. While Scraps is also highly proud of herself, she does not dismiss others as lessers, demonstrating a healthier self-attitude than the Glass Cat manages.

The Glass Cat is haunted by the Shaggy Man’s advice that, if she doesn’t want people to break her, she should “purr soft and look humble—if you can” (145). In other words, she is told she should accept the limiting role society tells she should. While the story implicitly rejects this moral for Scraps, also honoring her chosen identity by never calling her Angeline in the narration, Baum believes the Glass Cat should change her attitude and does sometimes call her Bungle. The ominous and rather sexist dismissal of her feelings leads to a distressing ending, which I’ll return to later.

The Woozy whose three hairs Ojo needs for the potion is no less memorable. The only Woozy on Earth turns out to be a boxy animal that can shoot fire from its eyes. Local beekeepers, failing to kill this bee-devouring creature because of its impervious skin, imprisoned the Woozy without food for years, but even starvation never killed it (104). Though stubborn, the Woozy is friendly and “lonesome—dreadfully lonesome” (103). Initially hating to part with its only three hairs, the Woozy acquiesces when it realizes the hairs might be life-saving. When Ojo and Scraps lack the physical strength to tear the three hairs out, the Woozy, wishing to have company anyway, agrees to join them until they meet someone who can.

A belief that its growl is almost supernaturally terrifying is one of the Woozy’s memorable traits. After much buildup, the actual growl turns out to be “Quee-ee-ee-eek” (152). Carrying on the pattern of oddballs who prove adequate in their inadequacy, the Woozy concludes, “It has always sounded very fearful to me, but that may have been because it was so close to my ears” (154). Ojo, however, reassures it that “it is a great talent” to be able to shoot fire from one’s eyes.

The argumentative nature of this group adds texture and tension missing from the last two depictions of Oz. This might stem from these characters being outcasts on the road instead of magical royalty relaxing in luxurious castles. Their contrasting personalities also permit the comedic repartee from The Marvelous Land of Oz to return:

“All right; I promise,” said the Woozy, cheerfully. “And when I promise anything you can depend on it, ’cause I’m square.”

“I don’t see what difference that makes,” observed the Patchwork Girl, as they found the path and continued their journey. “The shape doesn’t make a thing honest, does it?”

“Of course it does,” returned the Woozy, very decidedly. “No one could trust that Crooked Magician, for instance, just because he is crooked; but a square Woozy couldn’t do anything crooked if he wanted to.”

“I am neither square nor crooked,” said Scraps, looking down at her plump body. [Note that this is another instance of Scraps being neither in one category nor the other. She doesn’t quite fit in any expected roles.]

“No; you’re round, so you’re liable to do anything,” asserted the Woozy. “Do not blame me, Miss Gorgeous, if I regard you with suspicion. Many a satin ribbon has a cotton back.”

Scraps didn’t understand this, but she had an uneasy misgiving that she had a cotton back herself (112–113).

This emphasis on comedic dialogue might suggest Baum wanted this to be a stage play too, though the adaptation turned out to be a movie.

The Second Half

The second half of the novel, the journey from the Emerald City south to the dangerous Quadling Country, features plenty of new ideas and settings. The new protagonist party of Ojo, Scraps, Dorothy, and the Scarecrow (I guess Toto is around too) never achieve the chemistry or dramatic promise of the initial grouping. Dorothy has no further character elements to develop and is too well-established to change. So is the Scarecrow, who has completed whatever arc he had six whole novels ago by believing himself brainy and then stepping down as king. Baum has him tag along only to be the victim of repeated slapstick violence. There is a frightening encounter with the giant Yoop (whose wife is an important character in The Tin Woodman of Oz) and a surprisingly grounded sojourn with a Quadling couple. Otherwise, the tone loses the edge and the drama to become predominately silly comedy.

An unfortunate addition to Quadling Country are the Tottenhots, childlike people who inhabit black dome-shaped houses. Their name is derived from an offensive term for the Khoekhoe people. Baum describes them in stereotypical “native” dress, calls them “dusky” (244) and “little brown folks” (246), and portrays them as childish and work-hating in a way derived from racist stereotypes of Black Americans. While hardly a shock for 1913, when popular American media took mocking Black people for granted, this is definitely one of the uglier moments in Baum’s canonical Oz novels. (My William Morrow and Company Books of Wonder edition preserves the Tottenhot sequence. But earlier, some editor rewrote the minstrel show-influenced lyrics of a song called “My Lulu” to no longer call someone “coal-black,” so I wonder what the rationale was.)

Above: These, er, problematic Tottenhots playing with the Scarecrow.

Later, Ojo and his companions discover two cave-dwelling countries inside a mountain. This seems like a promising place in their hunt for the dark well. The first of these peoples, the Hoppers, have a single leg each and hop around like pogo sticks. “Walk! Who wants to walk?” says Hip Hopper, first Hopper we meet. “Walking is a terribly awkward way to travel. I hop, and so do all my people. It’s so much more graceful and agreeable than walking” (274). The second group, the Horners, each have a single horn in the center of their forehead. The Hoppers are at war with the Horners—a war in which nobody is hurt or dies—because they misunderstood a cornball pun. Dorothy willingly participates to achieve her goals, pretending to take Hip Hopper prisoner.

A few chapters of comedy hijinx resolve the conflict, but what is more likely to alarm a modern reader is that the underground city of the Horners glows. Why? Because they coat the interiors of all their buildings with radium! The city is so radioactive it glows brightly! Dorothy has a few more days to live, tops. “They found themselves in a vast cave which was dimly lighted by the tiny grains of radium that lay scattered among the loose rocks” (300). OH NO. No wonder this ends my Oz reading series: the remainder of the novels concern Dorothy, Ojo, and Toto dying of radiation burns. Well, I’m sure brightly glowing radioactive material is good for you since the Chief Horner tells Scraps that it is medicine (288). Perhaps the Horners are sustaining brain damage that causes them to enjoy bad puns as much as they do (this is coming from me, a pun enthusiast).

It is all for naught. The Tin Woodman refuses to allow Ojo to tear a wing off a yellow butterfly and thereby attain the final ingredient. (The yellow butterflies all live in the yellow Winkie Country and hence are under the Tin Woodman’s protection.) Ojo and Scraps are shocked and outraged, much as they were when they learned Ozma forbade the picking of six-leaved clovers. “I want to help Ojo, who is my friend,” declares Scraps, “to rescue the uncle whom he loves, and I’d kill a dozen useless butterflies to enable him to do that” (327). When the crying child (!) tells him that without killing a single butterfly he cannot save his uncle, the Tin Woodman even says to the mourning orphan child (!), “firmly” no less, “Then he must remain a marble statue forever” (328). Yeah, that legendary compassion on display. Some heart. /s

I don’t necessarily object to the principle that hurting a living creature is always wrong, but the Tin Woodman apparently values a single insect over the lives of two humans. Where is that compassion when the Tin Woodman kills the Kalidahs or butchers a cat to save a mouse or kills forty wolves in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz? Or when he attacks a bunch of jackdaws in The Marvelous Land of Oz?

“I’m Ojo the Unlucky,” says Ojo, despairing (329). When he describes the various circumstances that prove he is unlucky, the Tin Woodman ripostes that they are all lucky. His final advice to Ojo is to be Ojo the Lucky instead, treating this as an internal psychological state rather than an external metaphysical one.

The Disturbing Anticlimax

Upon their return to the Emerald City comes a bizarre ending. Ozma informs Ojo that she has apprehended Dr. Pipt, destroyed all his magical equipment, and burned his spell book (332). Glinda, who now apparently is aware of people’s predetermined fates, knew all about his journey and that he would fail. Glinda herself does not turn up to resolve the story this time around, however, but has her minion, the Wizard, act in her stead. The final chapter, entitled “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” in an ironic reflection of the original novel, has the Wizard wrap up the characters’ issues with genuine magic as I mentioned above.

Above: the Wizard has put on a lot of weight.

The Wizard greets Ojo in a room with Dr. Pipt and the petrified Margolotte and Unc Nunkie. Next the Wizard magically straightens out the literally crooked Dr. Pipt, announces the Woozy can live in the Royal Menagerie, and says that Ozma respects Scraps enough that she may live wherever she pleases “and be nobody’s servant but her own” (338). Reciting a magic word he learned from Glinda restores Margolotte and Unc Nunkie to life. Ojo weeps from joy, embracing his uncle, and when the Tin Woodman reminds him he is in fact Ojo the Lucky, Ojo responds, “Yes; and it is true!” With this, the book ends except for, in my Books of Wonder edition, Peter Glassman’s afterword.

The whole journey was completely pointless, with the Wizard resolving every conflict completely independent from the main characters. This is another disappointing ending, in part because it makes little sense: why didn’t Glinda intervene immediately and spare everyone this trouble? The subversion is so complete, however, that it feels deliberate.

You might object that Dorothy’s journey in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is similarly pointless despite my more positive judgment of that book. This misses that, although the Wizard is a fraud in the scene The Patchwork Girl ending parodies, the characters in The Wonderful Wizard genuinely achieve things. They radically change the Land of Oz, and when the Wizard gives the Scarecrow “brains,” the Tin Woodman a “heart,” and the Cowardly Lion “courage,” he is not actually giving them any character growth or attributes. Their actions have already demonstrated they possess these qualities. They have learned and grown. Rather than the end of their journey, this is also just another episode of it, with a third of the book and more adventures to go before Dorothy achieves her goal of returning to Kansas.

In contrast, does Ojo even learn anything? His issue, being unlucky, is not a personality trait, as the original novel’s wisdom, compassion, and courage are, but rather a metaphysical condition. It is a matter of fantasy goofiness instead of potential real-life relevance. Through their own actions, the Lion can display courage, the Tin Woodman can display love, etc., but Ojo cannot exactly display luckiness by acting a certain way. The lesson might be just to have a positive attitude, which isn’t bad advice.

What I have not mentioned about the ending is that the Wizard also happily announces he lobotomized the Glass Cat.

“The Glass Cat, which Dr. Pipt lawlessly made,” continued the Wizard, “is a pretty cat, but its pink brains made it so conceited that it was a disagreeable companion to everyone. So the other day I took away the pink brains and replaced them with transparent ones, and now the Glass Cat is so modest and well behaved that Ozma has decided to keep her in the palace as a pet.”

“I thank you,” said the cat, in a soft voice (336–338).

In Oz, animals such as the Glass Cat are inarguably people, with no more or less intelligence and complexity. The Shaggy Man told the Glass Cat she should “purr soft and look humble” or else she warranted being killed, and now, with the reader not privy to the specifics, the Wizard physically removes her personhood to make her a submissive pet, the very identity she rejected and wanted to escape. Baum mocks the seen-not-heard attitude of the Horner women yet endorses it for the Glass Cat. The “soft voice” with which she uncharacteristically thanks the Wizard is the first time the reader has seen her since Ojo left for Quadling Country, creating a chilling scene despite the celebration. At least the Wizard (or Glinda) sees fit to spare Scraps. Does Oz welcome diversity and oddness, or do they violently force people to comply by destroying their personhood? Ozma already did this with the invaders in The Emerald City, though there the act feels justifiable since they were, well, merciless bandits and not a slightly surly person.

The Wizard has become Glinda’s enforcer, destroying people and hoarding the magic to a coterie of elites. He literally boasts about his powers of control: “You’re a stranger here, Miss Patches, and so you don’t know that nothing can be hidden from our powerful Ruler’s Magic Picture—nor from the watchful eyes of the humble Wizard of Oz” (228). And listen to what a bootlicker (and hammy carnival barker) he is: “I beg to announce that our Gracious Ruler has permitted me to obey the commands of the great Sorceress, Glinda the Good, whose humble Assistant I am proud to be” (336). The Wizard himself has been domesticated. No longer a morally ambiguous conman with a complex role, he is an allegedly pure good, totally honest cop.

Ozma bans magic, which in this fictional world is almost in the same league as banning fun. She runs a surveillance state that burns books. Also, if you are in Oz, you are incapable of leaving because of Glinda: the Wise Donkey states directly that he is stranded there, unable to return to his homeland Mo (93). Not only can people not escape Oz, but Glinda’s magic has erased the ability to even see the outside world. Instead of the Deadly Desert, Dorothy reports “in any direction, there is nothing to be seen at all” (269). Granted, the prison in the Emerald City is a lovely house, Ojo is the first person to stay in it, and Ozma pardons everyone with the same mercy she earlier showed Mombi, but this does not change the dystopian implications.

The Magic Picture, remember, allows Ozma and her cronies to survey anything anywhere in the world. Worse than the telescreens of Nineteen Eighty-Four, the painting, a whimsical way to keep in touch with Dorothy in Ozma of Oz, has instead turned Oz into an inescapable panopticon.

My issue is not that Oz has become this but that Baum is totally uncritical of these ideas—and, worse, allows them to dull down and simplify his world instead of bring out new qualities.

Who Is Dr. Pipt?!

The Patchwork Girl reintroduces some nuance to the Land of Oz, then, but Baum still reigns in characters to certain parameters. Yet in other ways The Patchwork Girl persists in the pattern that began in Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz of retroactively erasing nuance and moral grays where they previously existed (without re-editing the earlier novels, creating an incoherent mess). As my earlier comments highlight, Baum chooses to forget that he earlier depicts the Tin Woodman as perfectly willing to kill animals to save the lives of others. But the worst continuity issue is Dr. Pipt himself! (Puts on nerd glasses)

Above: Dr. Pipt reading from his magic book.

Ozma explicitly states that Dr. Pipt is the man from whom Mombi bought the Powder of Life in The Marvelous Land of Oz (220). In that earlier novel, the narration describes this interaction: “[Mombi] had met a crooked wizard who resided in a lonely cave in the mountains, and had traded several important secrets of magic with him” (16). In exchange, she attains magical powders and herbs. These products are comically branded like commercial goods under the name “Dr. Nikidik’s.” This implies the wizard’s name is Dr. Nikidik, not Dr. Pipt. As you can see below, Neill draws this character as a standard bearded wizard with a staff and pointed cap, physically not crooked at all.

The implication is that the wizard is crooked in the sense of being sleazy or criminal. This is why Mombi tests the Powder of Life on what becomes Jack Pumpkinhead: she does not trust the wizard has given her a fair deal and wants to check. I love this idea that there are shady wizards around who will sell you seedy snake oil magic that may or may not work. However, Baum has rewritten Oz to be a land so flawless, whose people are so innately kind, that he cannot accept someone might be untrustworthy. So he reinterprets the obvious meaning of his words such that the wizard is physically crooked but wholly honest and, moreover, praising the laws that oppress him (!) and insisting he actually obeys them (!) because, dang it, he is an honest, good guy. This sanitizing is almost insulting to the reader. Granted, he illegally creates a magical entity to be his wife’s slave, so I shouldn’t overstate the extent that he is no longer a shady weirdo.

But this is not the only issue. In The Road to Oz, the Tin Woodman explains to the Shaggy Man that Mombi bought the Magic Powder from a “a crooked Sorcerer,” here unnamed, who inhabited Gillikan Country (177), not Munchkin Country, as in The Patchwork Girl. The detail about Mombi and the Powder of Life confirms he is referring to the “crooked wizard.” However, the Tin Woodman exposits that this man has since died. There is no reason for Baum to include this information at all, and yet he did and then he ignored it entirely to re-name and re-introduce the same character as the “crooked magician” Dr. Pipt present in The Patchwork Girl. By now, reiterating that this series is incoherent in both themes and literal continuity is passé. But these issues drain the verisimilitude of the setting (and usually make the world less interesting).

Baum also devotes a surprisingly large number of pages (and one whole chapter) to complaining about how much he hates music (both popular and classical) and calling music listeners “feeble-minded” and “ignorant” (137) before seemingly forgetting about the kindly living phonograph character, Vic. Everyone hates and abuses Vic for playing music. Even Scraps, who spends her time singing bad songs, begs Vic to stop and tries to run away. Baum calls ragtime, the most pleasant music that has ever existed, “a jerky jumble of sounds which proved so bewildering that after a moment Scraps stuffed her patchwork apron into the gold horn and cried: ‘Stop—stop!’” (89) Later the Shaggy Man, having failed to murder Vic himself, indicates Vic will soon be killed by angry Ozites (138) because everyone hates music because Oz is a nightmare world of people who will kill you for playing ragtime. Then the Shaggy Man sings a long, terrible song that everyone applauds. Baum seemingly forgets Vic and never mentions it ever again. What is going on aaahhhhh

Some Final Thoughts about Oz

This is the last of my Oz posts, save that “Politics of Oz” if I finish it. I will give some last observations. As this series has shown, L. Frank Baum possessed a rare creativity but struggled with plotting, characterization, pacing, and continuity, in other words, with writing novels. Through the experience of discovering how insipid it could have been, I have gained a whole new appreciation for the craft and care of the original The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. It is a pity that Baum never recaptured the tight writing that makes Ozma of Oz so appealing or the satisfying and meaningful journey of The Wonderful Wizard.

In the original novel, Baum wrote that his objective was to create fairy tales for modern children “in which the wonderment and joy are retained and the heart-aches and nightmares are left out.” What this naïve perspective misses is that the wonderment and joy are only possible, in art, when there are heartaches and nightmares to compare them to. Pain and unpleasantness are part of life, and stories entirely without these traits are lifeless. Triumph only feels triumphant if the characters previously suffered heartache and nightmares. The return to Oz in Ozma of Oz feels so ecstatic because chapters and chapters of horror precede the rejoicing. The unpleasantness (save the racism, which is just a pity) is what renders The Patchwork Girl of Oz more interesting than the pastoral fluff of The Road to Oz and (most of) The Emerald City of Oz. As the Shaggy Man says, “[A] little misery, at times, makes one appreciate happiness more” (Patchwork Girl 136).

Baum knew this too. That mission statement of his was a lie—there is no way he wrote scary stories by accident, particularly the unrelenting horror in Ozma of Oz and Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz. Even the original novel contains nightmares and heartache, opening with Dorothy leading a life of hopeless poverty and then being separated from her home and family in a frightening weather phenomenon (that still scares me as an adult) that causes her to kill a slave-driving dictator in a freak accident in a world prowled by monsters. These darker aspects are an essential ingredient of the Oz series. The whimsical characters tend to be merry despite existing in their own little hells (the Tin Woodman’s dismemberment, the Wizard’s fraud imprisoning him to live in fear in his castle, the Hungry Tiger’s yearning to eat babies but conscience stopping him, and so on).

However, after the grizzly Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz, Baum seems to have tried to genuinely remove these darker elements from his stories. Increasingly his characters lose defining traits in service of being mindlessly happy and kind and (an idea of) funny all the time, though almost never kind enough for a moment to be touching. In fact, the characters are often judgy and mean but in a way Baum does not seem to recognize. Even, for instance, the Scarecrow’s alleged intelligence largely vanishes after the first novel so that he can spend the rest of the series as a blob of goofy character-shaped putty filling a spot in the roster.

In my estimation, the Oz books are consumer products written primarily to make money and not out of artistic passion. This is not to say they are without craft or thought, just that this is not the core of the enterprise. The Oz series’ often careless plotting and structure and even more careless inconsistencies reflect this mercenary nature, the intention to use the books as disposable goods to spin off into plays, movies, comics, and any other way to turn a buck, and then be forgotten about. Perhaps the characters are shallow because the main role of each is to be a marketable name and design. That Baum, like a machine part, was immediately replaced with another writer who would pump out even more Oz novels than he did further suggests that the IP was a cash cow product first and any soulful artistic work second.

In addition, his other writing proves that Baum was definitely racist (I would mention the name of one of his nursery rhymes, but just the title might get me in trouble). If his notorious pro-genocide columns are taken as sincere (some claim they are satirical), then Baum was perhaps more racist than usual for his day. I feel comfortable showing the degree of support for these novels that I have only because the racism, in my estimation, is for the first time ever present in their text only in the seventh book and because Baum is long dead and thus unable to benefit from any way I could be perceived to promote his work. This is even more true when every book I have discussed is already free online. There are Oz fans and people with nostalgia for these books from their childhood, and I respect that. But I feel little admiration for these books.

Despite these misgivings and harsh criticisms, my emotions about the Oz series are mixed. The novels are often underwhelming, but even so or because of their flaws, I still find in them a peculiar magic. The wild inconsistency almost allows the reader to project their own canon chain of events and imagine their own characters, perhaps accounting for how many unique artistic works Oz has inspired. In particular, the horrors are wonderfully inventive. The illustrations are glimpses an alien dream world full of fun and wonder and nightmares.

The first strong point is the tremendous creativity. Baum invented so many unusual and memorable ideas and characters that he hardly developed one before hopping to another begging for elaboration. The second strength is that, certainly by the standard of the time, every main-series Oz book except for the second is feminist. The most capable and important characters are girls and women, and the stories show the perfect society as one where power is concentrated among women (Ozma, Glinda). Baum even takes the time to introduce the idea that some witches are good rather than wicked. This is likely the influence of Baum’s mother-in-law, the famous feminist and all-around social justice advocate Matilda Joselyn Gage. This seems unusual for the early twentieth century and fuels the series’ lasting appeal.

Also consider the portrayals of men such as the Tin Woodman, Cowardly Lion, Shaggy Man, etc. who are validated, loved, and valuable to others despite lacking customary forms of masculine strength and personality. Tin Woodman is a pacifist who frequently weeps, the Cowardly Lion is effeminate and also prone to crying, the Shaggy Man is gentle and nurturing and frequently sings, etc. The Wizard, while more martial (before Glinda makes him boring anyway), is physically unusual for a male hero, a defining trait being his tininess. The unexpected frequency of characters who read as queer, such as the apparently transgender Ozma, the considerable same-sex physical affection between her and Dorothy, or the Cowardly Lion wearing a girly bow, might also account for the attested popularity of Oz among queer people.

Yet of the Oz books that I have read, the only I would recommend just as good reading are The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and Ozma of Oz. The rambling pointlessness of Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz prevents me from suggesting it the way I would a more solid piece of work, but its story is such a cavalcade of darkness, with bears tearing the champion to shreds and emotionless plant people killing flesh beings in a living glass city, where even your sweet friend the Tiger will gore your horse and dear Ozma wants to kill your pet, I can’t say it’s boring. The Marvelous Land of Oz, though fun and memorably strange, is too sexist for me to really recommend and not for children who do not know how to contextualize that material. The Road to Oz is disposable. The Emerald City of Oz is also boring more often than fun or interesting. The Patchwork Girl of Oz falls firmly on the engaging side but leaves an unpleasant aftertaste.

L. Frank Baum invented children’s fantasy novels. For that, he has a long-reaching legacy. But far from delighting (and scaring) children today, the Oz books, unlike the 1939 musical, have become more an obscure historical curiosity than a popular series, at least here in the US. That might be for the best.

If I write it, “The Politics of Oz” will also appear on mackerelphones.com and, at least in part, here on my Tumblr. If you enjoyed this Patchwork Girl post, you can follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to my YouTube channel, where I might be adapting this little Oz series into videos so that my words can reach a larger audience. (And might be collaborating with someone else on an Ozzy project). Finally, if you think this or any of my other work is worth it, I would greatly appreciate a donation to my Ko-Fi.

Thank you so much for reading these Oz posts, if you have, and know that for doing this, I love you, at least a little bit. Also I would love you more if you gave me money at that Ko-Fi link above. Byyyeee 🥰

[vixivulpixel]

The neat thing about Custom Jet Squelcher is Mist + Rain + More Mist + Long range fire on such a chokepoint-heavy map pretty much means we, as an anchor, get to be an unmovable brick 'till the rest of our team shows up.

Enemy team hard-stuck unable to get past Checkpoint 1 on TC Hammerhead because one or two pokes in the rain is death.

[omsdoortodoor]

Door to Door Challenge Departure date minus 18 weeks

As promised, we took the brave move to put ourselves on camera, which we thought might be a little more interesting for you than just reading the blog all the time. Our great friend Claire, kindly offered to be our ‘Interviewer’ and she did an amazing job. Thank you, Claire.

However

No matter what I do, the video is too big to upload to tumblr. Tech frustration is the worst.

So I will keep trying over the next few weeks, but if any techie person thinks they can help please get in touch!!

In other news

Ian’s week

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving”. Albert Einstein

A new bike computer.

This week saw a change for me. I’ve never been one for technology. I avoided a mobile phone for years, and when I did get one, it was a “brick”! So, on Thursday I took control of a Hammerhead Karoo 2 cycle computer. Or is it taking control of me? I used it for the first time on Friday for a training ride. I must remember to look where I’m going instead of the map in front of me! It’s interesting to use. If you go wrong the route is highlighted in red, on a climb it's in blue and shows how long the climb is. I may disable this for the last two climbs in the Pyrenees!

I’m sure I’ll get used to doing what I’m told instead of writing down various en-route villages on a piece of paper & hoping I can remember them.

I also did a gym session on Tuesday. The weather was too bad even for me to go out on the bike, so I did 35 minutes in a spinning bike & 35 minutes on resistance weight machines mainly leg exercises. Totally un-connected I also had a session with my Osteopath later that day and she told me I needed to work on my back and neck as well as my legs, so she went through a couple of exercises for me to work on.

One thing I forgot to mention last week, is that towards the end of the trial ride to the Bakers Arms I took a little spill, I misjudged a curb whilst looking for a cycle route sign and ended up with a couple of bruises and a grazed knee. I also slightly twisted the handle bars on Bike No 2, so I put it on the stand that Ewan has kindly lent me and gave it a good clean &and check over before straightening it up.

I had my birthday this weekend, a lovely day planned by Jane which included a lunch at The Lost Kitchen followed by an evening meal with friends before going to “Bonkers Bingo” in the village hall.

One present I received was a book of cycling quotes, some of which I will include in this blog, the first being at the begging of this one.

Jane’s week

A quieter week for me, but along with the usual training I had the delights of having to reapply for my driving licence. This is something I have to do every three years as a result of my MS and the eye issue that is related to it. There were 11 pages to complete in hardcopy, which is not great for someone with an eyesight issue. But going through the forms reminded me of the proper name of my eye condition. I have been incorrectly calling it Opitic Neuritis, which can come and go. Going back over my diagnosis letters reminded me that I actually have something called a right inferior homonymous quandrantanopia. No surprise that I can’t remember what it is called. So, the forms have been sent to the DVLA and I am expecting to be asked to have a particular eye test. I am not allowed to know the result; it has to be sent confidentially to the DVLA. So, then I wait. Technically, if I don’t meet the standard for driving, then my licence will be taken away immediately, forever. Not only is that pretty grim but it would also put a massive spanner in our OMS Door to Door plans. But to be honest, I am fairly confident that my tests will reach the required standard.

Thank you for reading and listening and thank you once again to Claire. If you would like another interview further down the line, please let us know by messaging one of us.

Jane and Ian

[the-new-squidbeak-splatoon]

the splat OC summaries

Octave (Neo 3) He's the newest agent in the NSS he used to be an engineer in the Octarian army and moved to the hammerhead unit stationed at Swordfish base along with Katt. He was Octavio's goto engineer but left to live in Splatsville after Agent 4 kicked Octavio's ass. his favorite weapons are the Flingza Roller, Painbrush, and Splatershot Pro

Symph (Agent 4) Symph (full name Symphony) comes from a small town 40 minutes away from the square known as Inkstop, she moved to the square and became Agent 4 half a year after she finished high school and originally moved there to be closer to her preferred college but quickly joined the NSS when Marie promised to pay her tuition fee, she easily the most energetic and cheerful in the NSS and occasionally uses her special without needing to change and usually leaving her fatigued. She majors in fashion and photography and minors in cooking. her favorite weapons are Douser Dualies and any shooter-type weapon with killer wail

Katt (Agent 8) Katt is the nicest in the NSS she was stationed at Swordfish base along with Octave and was close friends with him until the Deepsea metro. she's basically been adopted by Pearl and Marina and is in a romantic relationship with Captain Lisa.

Lisa (Captain 3) Lisa was agent 3 she was recruited by Captain Cuddlefish to help take down Octavio. she’s usually as stoic as a statue but tends to liven up around Katt. she’s also easily the most skilled in the NSS her favorite trick is to activate a special weapon without charging however, unlike symph she can do it on command but it usually leaves her fatigued so she tends not to. her favorite weapon is the Hero Shot replica

Treble (Agent 7) Treble is unique. he is a special agent meaning he takes missions the others don’t usually take which is why the only people in the NSS who know him well are Captain Lisa, Craig Cuddlefish, Marie, and Callie he’s also unnaturally lucky to the point where the captain Lisa, Callie, and Marie call him A few different nicknames, 777, Lucky 7, or just lucky. He’s also built like a brick house being able to bench press, the combined weight of Octave, symph, and Katt. his favorite weapon is the hydra splatling

Octave: that’s the Bio thing taken care of so I guess asks are now open. feel free to send em in

[theexpatbrickie]

LEGO Hammerhead Sharks | LEGO Virtual Build #shorts #legoshorts #legos by The Expat Brickie LEGO Hammerhead Sharks | LEGO Virtual Build If you're a fan of LEGO sharks, then you'll love this LEGO virtual build! In this video, we'll build a LEGO Hammerhead Shark using only LEGO bricks and virtual building software. This LEGO virtual build is a fun way to explore the shark anatomy and learn about LEGO sharks' unique features. We'll build the shark using LEGO bricks and virtual building software, and then explore how the shark's features can be used to design fun LEGO builds. If you're a fan of LEGO sharks, then this video is for you! Be sure to hit subscribe for more LEGO videos daily: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCXMIV43jRQRNTLWiwmFkjGQ?sub_confirmation=1 If you like the content then please Buy Me a Coffee: https://ift.tt/UJVuZjk #theexpatbrickie #legohammerheadshark #legohammerheadsharkmoc #legohammerheadsharkspeedbuild #legohammerheadshark #legoshark #legohammerheadsharkvirtualbuild #legobricklinkstudiobuild #legoideashammerheadshark #legosharkhammerhead #legosharkvirtualbuild #legomocspeedbuild #legospeedbuildhammerheadshark #legomoc #legoideasmoc #legoideasspeedbuild via YouTube https://youtu.be/8nHXlCeqlms

[100-days-of-art-gaia]

Day 083

Design Challenge: Assassin Creed outfit (videogame)

Childhood

Hammerhead Shark

Yellow Brick Road

Diablo

Aries Due by May 22, 2023 @ 11:59 pm PST

[kgrindustries]

What are Cluster Hammers and their uses?

Cluster hammers, also known as multi-headed hammers, are powerful hand tools used in construction and demolition work. They feature multiple hammerheads attached to a single handle, allowing for more efficient and effective use in breaking through tough materials.

Cluster hammers come in a variety of sizes and shapes, with some models featuring up to 12 hammerheads on a single handle. The hammerheads themselves can also be made from different materials, such as steel or tungsten, depending on the intended use.

One of the main advantages of using a cluster hammer is the increased speed and efficiency it offers. With multiple hammerheads, the tool can deliver more force with each swing, making it easier to break through tough materials such as concrete, brick, or rock. This can save time and effort when compared to using a traditional single-headed hammer.

Another advantage of cluster hammers is their versatility. They can be used for a variety of tasks, such as demolition work, chiseling, and carving. They are also ideal for working in tight spaces where larger tools may not fit, such as between walls or in corners.

When using a cluster hammer, it is important to follow proper safety procedures. This includes wearing appropriate personal protective equipment, such as safety glasses and gloves, as well as ensuring that the tool is in good working order before use. It is also important to use the tool correctly, keeping a firm grip on the handle and using controlled, even swings.

In conclusion, cluster hammers are powerful and versatile tools that can be a valuable addition to any construction or demolition project. With their multiple hammerheads and efficient design, they can help to save time and effort while delivering impressive results. However, it is important to use them safely and correctly to avoid injury or damage to property.

[ahdenyadahling]

Final Fantasy XV- Fate & Destiny

Chapter Ten, Part Two

note: mild violence/action, sexual themes (no smut this time)

We headed west, to Callatein’s Plunge. The landscape reminded me of home, but much more studded with rocks and boulders than trees and brush, as we seemed to be gaining elevation. In the distance, we saw the looming Rock of Ravatoh, the terrifying-looking volcano, which had been dormant for as long as anyone could remember. I hoped getting closer to it was not part of our journey. We passed through another tunnel, this one surrounding us with brick and concrete, dimly lit. In fact, it was getting late in the afternoon and Noctis and Prompto seemed ready for a nap. Gladio had been reading his book with one hand, the other idly twirling my odd-colored hair. Ignis was silent and uncharacteristically sulky. He didn’t even ask Gladio for his favorite coffee from the cooler by my feet.

We were nearly through the tunnel when we spotted what Noct referred to as ‘hobgoblins’ ahead. The Regalia came to a sudden halt and the four jumped out to fight. Noctis ran ahead first, calling his short sword into his hand, Gladio on his heels for backup. It hadn’t occurred to me until then, but this was my first time fighting daemons. Ignis usually had us in town or at a campsite by nightfall, avoiding all night creatures. I suppose now that I had use of the Kingsglaive, I would be required to use it. I wondered what we would have to fight once we entered these tombs. Definitely beasts and daemons more terrifying than Voretooths and Garula. I shuddered to think what evils we would encounter, but I summoned my whip and jogged beside Prompto to fight. It was over within seconds; I hardly got to get a hit in, these guys performed so well together. Yet I was in awe, watching these daemons die. Their bodies vanished into the air with a spark of purple and yellow ash, and I shuddered, almost feeling like it was crawling on me. Climbing back into the car before more could manifest, we continued onward, emerging from the tunnel unscathed and into beautiful territory.

There was a river rushing below us, and both Noct and I leaned over the door, knowing there to be excellent fishing down there. The rocks and rushing water meant lots of salmon and trout. He begged Ignis to stop, but his advisor was already cranky that most of the day had passed already, and his dissatisfaction of Gladio’s behavior was clear. Heading left, further down the road, we stopped to refuel as dark clouds rolled in, bringing rain.

It was the first I could recall since I’d met the group, and while they shopped for supplies, I stood out in the open, enjoying the cool, refreshing droplets after being in the heat of Lestallum. Being out in the wild was much more relaxing to me than being cooped in the apparent safety and convenience of the city. The sun was setting and we considered sleeping in the camper beside the gas pumps, but we were so close to our destination that Noct was willing to forego a night’s sleep to get there. Yet for once, Gladio opted to get out of the rain, and Prompto seconded the notion. The RV was slightly smaller than the one in Hammerhead, yet we all crammed into the kitchen. The stove was broken, so we had some drinks for dinner and looked over the pictures Prompto took that day. There was one of Noct and Iris standing in front of the Leville. I blushed when Gladio lauded the place, and I felt slightly queasy as bedtime approached. Again, Noct and Prompto chose the small upper bunk, and I sat on the foldout bed underneath.

Ignis approached me while Gladio was in the bathroom. He kept his voice low. “You owe me fifty Gil.”

“For what?”

He tossed me a potion and tried not to sneer, “Get rid of that thing on your neck. It’s distracting.”

I immediately lowered my eyes and I uncorked the bottle, chugging the contents, avoiding his judging gaze. I wanted to crawl into a ball and hide under the covers, I was so embarrassed and humiliated. I kept my head down just so my hair would fall over my eyes, so I wouldn’t have to look Ignis in the face. I couldn’t even find my voice to apologize.

Ignis set his hands on his slim hips, “I knew that bastard was up to something, sneaking in last night, fresh from your shower, it seems.” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, only to see him shake his head. “I’m disappointed to say the least, Ardenia. I expected better from you. I thought we had an understanding, that you were not to instigate a relationship with him.” For a moment, I wasn’t sure if his bottom lip quivered at all, but he turned his face away so I wouldn’t take notice of the pained expression. His voice was a little harsher than usual: “Since you aren’t following my advice, could you at least be a little more discreet about it?”

I lowered my eyes in shame, “I thought we were. I mean, it just happened, I didn’t plan for it. I don’t even know if there will be a next time.”

“Did you at least use protection?”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but apparently Gladio had exited in time to hear the question.

“Dammit, Ignis,” he roughly pushed the advisor from me by the shoulder, “What are you, my goddamn father?”

Despite the shove, Ignis stood his ground. “No, but since he is dead, I suppose someone has to—”

Gladio advanced on him, taking Ignis by the front of his jacket, “My father died honorably, defending Regis until his last breath! Cor told me! So don’t you dare—”

“This isn’t about your father,” Ignis pushed Gladio’s hands away, his temper flaring, “This is about your libido and how you care nothing for the feelings of others.”

I had heard enough. I pushed both men out of my way as I rushed to the door. “I’ll sleep in the car.”

Though Gladio said my name gently and reached a hand out to stop me, I walked out. Perhaps I should have stayed, just to hear how the two would settle this situation, but I don’t know how I wanted it to play out. I didn’t even know if because Gladio mentioned marriage, that he thought we were a couple already. Were we? Just because he had literally left his mark on me, were we together? And what did Ignis care? Why was he so upset about it? It was my responsibility to disclose this to Prompto, if I ever decided to. I laid down in the backseat, one fist on my forehead. Maybe I made a huge mistake last night, if I was feeling this guilty about it. Because of a dare, I lost my virginity to Gladio, but he said he loved me. So why did seeing the dejected expression on Ignis’s face all day make me feel like a complete tramp? Listening to the rain hit the roof, I hoped it was loud enough to block the constant doubts in my head.

By morning, the rain had stopped and the air was cool. With no notion of what happened last night or any indication that he cared whether I joined them or not, Noct began to lead the way toward the waterfall. Gladio knocked on the car window to wake me, and I hurried to catch up. Whatever Ignis and Gladio had spoken of to clear matters up, they either found common ground or hid their emotions well. I imagine it was the latter. As we headed down an overgrown path toward the river, I stopped in my tracks in terror. Blocking our route was the largest snake I had ever seen. It wasn’t just long, it had a thick, broad neck like a cobra. The beast was black and perhaps thirty feet high, three feet wide. It was way out of our element, but Noct was confident we could bring it down. We advanced on it, trying to stay behind its head, but it was fast, and we found out after taking a few hits, poisonous. After several health potions and poison antidotes were used on each of us, we were able to push through. It was really thanks to Ignis’s instructions to freeze it that gave us an advantage. After that harrowing fight, I felt brave enough to take on the giant four-foot crabs which next blocked our route. After making quick work of them, the five of us followed the path around and made it to the backside of the waterfall. The entrance was a slight opening in the rocks leading into a cold, ice-covered cavern. Prompto suggested fearfully, hopefully, that the cold would ward off daemons, and Gladio sarcastically suggested that, of course, monsters only liked the warmth. But Prompto was right; I was already chilly and wished I had something warmer on my arms. We had left our extra clothing in our bags in the Regalia, and it was too late to turn back. We needed to continue forward.

Being that most of the monsters we encountered upon arriving in this upper cavern were Imps or Flan, I opted for my bo. The worst part about this cavern wasn’t the fact that we slid down chutes twice, or that we had to fight Mindflayers when we reached the door to the tomb. It was Ignis and Gladio’s horrible puns. What makes the fact funnier is that I never would have guessed that was Ignis’s humor.

Since joining this group, this was my first time witnessing Noctis gaining his Royal Arms. The weapons he can manifest were once the weapons of his forefathers, granting him extra abilities, and only one of the Lucis bloodline could summon them. Raising his hand above the sarcophagus, the weapon of light lifted, turned mid-air, and stabbed him through the chest. I gasped, ready to rush forward, but Ignis held his hand up, halting me. Noctis was unharmed and claimed that he could now use what he called the Armiger. I had no idea what it did, but it sounded menacing.

The trek back to the entrance went more quickly, although the sun was ready to set on us again. We had only started up the hill toward the Regalia when Noctis staggered again, his hands clasping his temples, complaining of his unnatural headache. Yet this time, he said he had a vision. A burning hole in the ground. Ignis suggested it may be the Meteor site, the Disc of Cauthess.

I had heard stories from my father’s Hunter friends of that place. Hundreds of years ago, long after the War of the Gods, a meteor, massive enough to destroy Eos, entered our atmosphere. The Titan, the Archaean, the God of Earth, caught it but the force of the impact left a crater deep enough to allow lava to seep through, and the shards of the Meteor that had broken off were now mined to supply the power plant. I don’t know how much of that is true, but I suppose I would soon find out. They decided the Disc would be our next destination, just to see if we could put an end to the prince’s headaches. As the sun set, we spent one more night in the camper, and I slept alone on the pullout couch. That seemed to be our new sleeping arrangements when not camping. It made me wonder if I would be sleeping next to Gladio when we made camp again. I wondered if that was even a good idea.

Restlessly, I sat up and looked in his direction, down the hall, only to find that he was looking for me.

“Night, Deni,” he whispered, “I love you.”

We both heard a snort, and apparently not everyone was asleep yet. “I love you, Deni,” Noctis, then Prompto repeated in a mock tone. Ignis shook his head, not participating.

Despite my embarrassment, I smiled, “I love you guys, too.”

Maybe that’s it, I thought as I laid down to sleep. I can’t decide because I do love something about all of them. I was in love with all four of them in some fashion. Once I accepted that, and they seemed amiable toward me, maybe the worst was over between us all.

Poor foolish, naive me.

[kjs-life]

The weather was fine yesterday🥰From Nihon Odori to Zou-no-hana Park Red Brick🧱Hammerhead Hammer🔨Intercontinental🌗Rinko Park OK Store🆗Nissan Gallery🚗I had a great time🥰 昨日はも天気良くて🥰日本大通から象の鼻パーク赤レンガ🧱ハンマーヘッドハンマー🔨インターコンチ🌗臨港パーク OKストア🆗 日産ギャラリー🚗と楽しみました🥰 (日産自動車グローバル本社) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClIFiFnPPaN/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[hooliganpaints]

The Overdue Sunday Breakdown

YOU ALREADY KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS. Also, long post is long.

With Sunday having been a big show (having been both the Last Tournament of 9th, as well as likely the Last 1000 Point Tournament), I knew I had to go out with a bang. Enter: The last dataslate, which gave Broadsides back Core, for some godforsaken reason, and the prompt for this army: “Hey, what if I gave broadsides full rerolls? Wouldn’t that be fucked up?”

The army list breakdown:

1x Ethereal on Hover Drone. This guy served as a utility workhorse, allowing me a fast-moving infantry option to score secondaries if necessary, while, in the early game, allowing me to buff the Broadside Brick with a 5+++, -1 to hit if they moved, the ability to perform actions and shoot, and sharing his Leadership if I happened to run into a morale bomb. He also had the Exemplar of the Mont’ka (buff a Core unit to re-roll all wounds on the closest target in 9″, 12″ if I chose Mont’ka), which was only relevant like. Once.

1x Shadowsun with drone suite - The Queen of the Kauyon, the main combo maker that I purchased and painted solely to hand out a full “reroll all hit rolls” to the Broadside brick. Also shares in the Ethereal’s duty of “being very fast and an infantry unit who can score” while lacking the vulnerability of the ethereal due to her guardian drone’s “You can’t shoot her unless she’s the closest visible target”.

1x3 Broadsides with High Yield Missile Pods, Smart Missile Systems, 4x Marker Drones, 2x Shield Drones, Advanced Targeting Systems - The other half of the combo brick. A withering 48 shots, 24 at S;7 AP;2 D:2 and the other 24 at S:5 AP:0 D:1 with “ignore light cover” and “indirect fire”, wrapped up in a lovely package with 8 ablative wounds and “hit rolls of 6 auto hit”

And finally, 1x2 Hammerheads with Accelerator Bursts and Railguns, because I was determined to turn this game store into a salt mine.

So, how’d I do? Well - I won, but not as hard as you might think. I’ll talk about the games first and see if you can figure out what happened here as I go.

Game 1 was against a World Eaters player with Lord Invocatus, a squad of Beserkers, and 2 squads of Eightbound with an Exalted Eightbound squad to cap them out. He didn’t deepstrike anything (I’m....really not sure why), and soft-conceded after round 2 when I’d shot everything meaningful off the board. We played until the end, but there was a lot of complaining about how broken my army was while I plonked him down.

Once Kauyon came on on turn 3, it was over, and I was able to move across the board and score my remaining goals.

My next opponent was a Thousand Sons “soup” player, in quotes because his “soup” was a Knight Abominant.

Nice score.

This one was tougher as our map was definitely more LOS blocking, but I pushed into the middle early with Mont’ka allowing me to move and shoot without penalty and - once again -blowing everything off the board by turn 3.

The highlight was his Abominant running up to my Hammerhead on the hill there, before unceremoniously getting his dome chrome’d in close-quarters carnage, exploding over everything and wiping out half of our armies.

Top ten pictures taken seconds before disaster

Game three was versus a mini Silver Tide Necrons player, with a 20x warrior blob, a reanimator, a technomancer, an orb overlord, some scarabs and a smattering of destroyers of various flavors. This was a final quick fun romp where we bantered for most of the game before closing out again at the bottom of 3.

So, after a long day, herein lies my issue that you may have noticed:

Tau secondaries? SUCK. Real bad!

For those who haven’t had the privilege of enduring T’au yet, there are two things at play here:

Firstly is Philosophies of War. This is our army rule, and essentially is “on rounds 1-3 OR 3-5 you get one of two effects, you choose”.

Secondly is how our secondaries INTERACT with Philosophies of War. Of our 3 for Arks, 2 of them are only scoreable on the rounds we’re benefiting from PoW. A Clean VIctory is “Score 1 point if you kill one enemy unit, 3 points if you kill 3 or more for a total of 4/round”, and Decisive Action is “Score 4 points if you hold half or more of the objectives on the map at the end of the turn”. (The 3rd, Aerospace Targeting Relays, is “score 2/6/9/15 points by doing an action at the midpoint of table edges“, but that was flatly very difficult to do with this list).

Overall, this means that for most Tau lists (and especially this one), we have to rely a lot more on generic secondaries, which are usually pretty rough to score on. As such, my “perfect games” where I was tabling my opponent by turn 3 at the latest still had me scoring relatively low - 70 points at most - which is definitely a good score, but nowhere near what I ““should have”“ scored.

That’s mostly just whingeing on my part, though - overall, I’m hopeful that 10th will 1. make this steaming pile of crap impossible to run and alphastrike everything off the board, and 2. be a bit more lenient with secondaries for scoring.

Huge shoutout to the crew at Game Knight NH for running these tournaments and getting me some sweet action shots!