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kainfamilyfortune · 5 years

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Thea - Journal Entries #14-18

“They say that the first step is the hardest. More than ever before the momentum of battle and those surrounding you, cloud your judgement to continue going forward. Like a wheel, you’ll eventually break from the speed and veracity of your actions. You will fall into a shattered pit of discarded remnants. These are your friends. This is your first step. Loss.”

- Unknown, ext. Azerothian Lightbringer pg. 11

(OOC: Raid spoilers for Battle of Dazar’Alor, also TW: Blood, Violence, Vomiting)

14. The Breach

The waves crashed against the dawning sea as we made our approach to the coast of Zuldazar. It wasn’t the most relaxing boat ride as sleep evaded most of the soldiers on board. The captains fell in line on the open deck as we caught glimpses of the cascading gold pyramid. Our goal was in sight and we had this planned down to the minute, so long as the distraction team was successful. Into the heart of a monster. Simple in concept, but what we faced was far worse. I quickly gathered the medical kit I had been preparing on the journey here, fresh with Mage Royal tinctures and Peace Bloom injections should we face capture. A peaceful death was far better than a torturous one, and one couldn’t help but be prepared when we entered Death’s chamber. Folk tales were emerging from some of the anxious soldiers who had experienced a Loa’s wrath first hand and lived to tell the tale. I didn’t know much about the troll’s worship, but I could certainly say Bwonsamdi was sure to have field day today.

I gave some confident nods to the men and women as I exited the brig and went top-side to join the other captains, Pye met my glance with pursed lips turned into a frown as he finished peering through his spy glass, reluctantly offering it to me so I could have a closer look. He pointed towards the sky, northwards. I peered inside the patina cooper tube to see a flock of pterrordax riders flying towards Nazmir. Good. Air assault was not in the picture to deal with on the docks, so this was an excellent favor in our future victory. I handed the spyglass back to a confident looking Pye. I held out my gloved hand to him, “I wanted to apologi-” He cut me off, “Can it Kain. We aren’t friends here. We aren’t friends back home. Rally your troops and make them fall in line in two minutes, I’ll meet you here with mine. Once the Lord Admiral’s ship completes phase two of operations we will have three minutes before making landfall.” He walked off with a grumble as I lowered my hand to rest atop my hammer, eyebrows raised in a matter defiance. Fine. I guess I’ll just let you die. No... no what was I thinking.

I went back into the brig attempting to harness Andrew’s prowess, he’d know exactly what to say. I approached my team as they quickly fell into line, hushing the bustle of chatter that they had. I closed my eyes and let my senses take over the rest. As I opened my eyes, I began to bellow out words that were not my own, channeling his strength.

“Fire Team Beta. It has been a great honor to train and get to know each of you in the last twelve hours. I’ve been tasked to keep you alive and I think you all have proven your track records as the damned best that the Alliance has to offer. This will not be enough for today, no. What you must do is beyond comprehension, beyond skill, beyond luck - you will be entering the heart of Horde infrastructure. Infrastructure that we will be dismantling from the inside, out. A critical blow that they will dare not recover from. Today you will break bonds. Today you will strike their heart. Or we will die. You all know what must be done. Now prove to me that you can do it. Light guide you all! Now move!”

One by one they gave me a salute as they each climbed to the upper deck to see where the future carnage would be in store. The last to disembark was Pruet, his scrawny frame in his royal blue and gold cloth fell in odds ways as he saluted me. I pulled him aside. “You are going to prove me wrong. I know it. Pye speaks highly of your intelligence. Now put some of that-” I jabbed his head with my pointer finger and traced down his chest to his heart “-book-smarts where it matters most. Remember the footing I taught you too.” I slipped my leg under his thigh to attempt to sweep him but his stance was much more secure this time around. He was ahead of the curve as he knocked me into the crates with a gust of frosty air. I couldn’t help but smile. “Very, very good. Now go up and join the rest of ‘em.”

As we edged closer and closer to the docks we could see flares lighting up the early morning sky one by one they knew we were encroaching. This was the ploy. Horns blared from the capitol city, this was followed shortly by ballista fire streaking large missiles of flame high into the sky, as they hit terminal velocity I could hear the distant cries as they found targets. One. Two. Hit meters in front of our assault. The third... Hit home. “INCOMING!” The call was deafening as the projectile crashed into the side of the hull exploding in array of debris, knocking me and few others onto our backs. I gasped for air attempting to reorient myself, my vision becoming clear as I saw a fourth projectile streak into the center of the Kul Tiran vessel that was leading us into the breach. Flames erupted from the heart, Light, no.

I could see Lord Admiral Jaina clear as day, leaning in shock on the banister towards where the wound was inflicted upon her ship. She looked back towards her captain and in split second I thought we were lost. The fifth flaming bolt aimed straight for her. Adrenaline must had taken over as she streaked a vivid amethyst bubble into the air, missing her by mere inches as she braced for the worst holding her hands aloft. The projectile shattered in a million pieces as she too gasped for air. The wide blue eyes looked like they had endured far more storms than I had ever witnessed. Two more missiles crashed into the vessel on either side and I knew that our plan was already failing. We are surely going to be lost in the storm ahead.

Time seemed irrelevant in the current span as we were bombarded by more and more death reigning from the sky, charred crew members were being dragged as boiling blood was seeping into worn wood of the deck, I couldn’t help but be frightful as our demise was imminent. I looked forward onto the coast, knowing full well we were entering the viper’s nest. Before all hope was lost, one by one, explosions lit aflame to the enemy ships that populated the harbor. I laughed in relief. We did it. Light, thank you.

15. The First Step

A mild sense of vertigo washed over me as I looked to the high mountains and shimmering gold capitol, disembarking our damaged vessel. I wielded my hammer and shield in preparation for the onslaught of attacks from Zandalari and Horde reinforcements as we rushed onto the dock, a forward was beginning to assemble with spears in hand and Horde insignia painted crimson on their shields as they rushed to cover the entrance to the city - I looked to my team and called out, “Beta Team! I want a forward on that line! Infiltrators in the front, casters in the back! I want Turtle formation going forward-” The ten infiltrators raised their shields high up in the sky as they stacked together into a woven shell to protect us from the arrows that were beginning to arc above us. Pye’s team followed suit on the right side, miming my commands as the two teams marched forward. “CASTERS ON MY MARK!” Pye bellowed at the top of his lungs as the shielded arcane wielders began focusing energy between their fingertips. A combination of frost bolts, fire balls and arcane sigils began to take root in their hands as they widened their stances.

Volleys of arrows and gunfire cascaded from the enemy line as they whirled through the air at extreme speed meeting our assault. We edged closer and closer onto the docks before getting within sixty meters of our first targets, “Fire!” Pye shouted, a cacophony of lethal magic projectiles arched through the air as they met their targets. One by one I could see weaknesses in their line as Horde soldiers fell, covered in thick layers of frost or burned to a crisp. Some floated in the air, paralyzed as their armor withered away from the arcane traps binding them. I shared glances to Pye, motioning our offense forward as we moved towards the capitol.

Swords and spears clashed as our formation broke out. The brutish trolls, towering orcs, and withering forsaken all growled and hollered in anger as we continually shield bashed them back. One after another the back line of their defense fled, seeing the outcome of their allies falling in either a slash of blows or met with a torrent of frost and fire. Finally the front-liners dispatched the last of the now mangled bodies that lay on the stone dock, blood seeping into the cracks. I looked to a now smiling Pye, but the happiness only lasted for a moment as he rose a pointed finger towards the first set of stairs of the assault that awaited us. The Zandalari troll female sat upon a dark green raptor, adorned with worn gold armor. She had a maroon mohawk that stuck out from her dull grey skin and polished piercings in her lips, ears, nose, tusks, and eyebrows. Her leer was palatable, I could see the seething rage in her glowing aqua eyes, shimmering in contrast to her golden plate armor as she steered the raptor down the steps.

My instincts surged through me as bullets, arrows, and arcane fire rained down upon us from the second plateau. They knew we were here now, but their numbers were thinning, I yelled to the troops, “Alpha, Beta, TURTLE MARCH!” As we were met in stride by the Zandalari paladin. Her christened wings burst forth in holy procession as she leaped off her raptor, somersaulting, and then gliding to meet the turtles near the water... Her broad sword clashed the shield barriers, the front men of Alpha team scattered and were thrown off the dock. Radiant swirls erupted from the ground at her feet. Pye charged with his polearm, grunting loudly as the blades connected trying to rework his footing, attempting to block her from another swipe at his men. Despite Pye being at least 6 foot, she towered over him with a glare of seething anger. Her tactics were barbaric, thrusting him back and swiping his feet right from under him. I rushed forward blocking a rogue arrow with my shield, spinning around and sprinting to my target.

I jumped up the sparsely littered crates at the gate in order to gain the advantage but she was quick on her feet, no longer focused on Pye who was still prone on the ground. I looked to the rising sun on the horizon, smiling. The Light would be on my side this day. I could feel it’s warmth as I soared through the air, throwing my hammer to cover the sizable distance. Judgment day was upon the Horde... War, famine, death... And I was the one to deal this blow. The hammer struck her in the chest, knocking her down a peg - wasn’t expecting that now, huh? I landed, wincing as the shock of pain in my ankles and legs coarse it’s way up, holding my hand out - letting my hammer return... to... my... Oh... “Oh no.” I breathed, as I saw a devilish smile encroach on the troll as she held my hammer into her chest, letting the holy fire burn the cavity that I had dealt, but she knew... she knew that I needed that to win this fight. I held my shield aloft, bashing her forward and throwing her off balance, she gripped the flaming hammer as it embedded deeper and deeper, penetrating her faded gold plate. She struck with her sword in a downward spike on my shield as I braced. “LIGHT!” I screeched. The clash was that of a tower bell, as a shock wave cascaded across the field of battle. I was knocked prone, but as was she.

I crossed the field and engaged her again before she could stand, grabbing the bloody mess of my hammer out of her chest before striking into her hip, and then her chest, then her head, Repeatedly blow after blow as the ringing in my ears slowly subsided. An arm grabbed me from behind, “THEA! THEA! STOP, WE NEED TO KEEP MOVING!” The mangled corpse sat in front of me, blood dripped down my chain mail and plate. Pye held me back as I shrugged his hand meeting his clenched jaw and focused demeanor. We jogged up to our men who had dispatched most of the defense that was now falling back, upward towards the capitol’s heart.

16. The Second Step

We had lost seven men and women on the first step altogether so that left us with forty-three to get us to the marker for Gamma and Delta teams to infiltrate the palace. Pye pushed forward as I assessed the casualties, with Delta team behind us already dragging the limb corpses towards the ships. I got the nod from the other captain, as she gave me a fierce grin - I continued up the steps with the rest of our teams.

The waves of onslaught continued despite the opposition slowly retreating but just like the first step we were met with not one, but two individuals cutting through the crowd. A menacing looking orc female in grey leathers adorned with teeth, larger than any creature than I’ve ever fought, and a sin’dorei male with short blond hair and crimson robes. He brandished his staff forward as fireballs lit up in front of us, slamming into the front most line of our troops. The smell of burning flesh hit my senses and I had to resist the urge to vomit, swallowing the heat wave that erupted before us. The orc rushed with a volatile green wisp unleashing a flurry of blows on our mages knocking them down, one by one. I charged forward, eyeing the orcish monk.

I heaved my mace towards her abdomen as she sucker punched Pruet, knocking him off balance and to the ground. My mace connected, knocking her back five feet. I had her attention now. She made up the distance as she spun and spun around kicking and lashing out in a cacophony of chi energies, blistering the ground in sickly ivy. I dodged and blocked the first two blows before her image blurred. Her foot lodged into my ribs for the first strike, following that with a leg sweep. My vision went dark as my helmet dropped in front of me. I shimmied myself reaching for it as she loomed over me kicking it away from me... this was it. My shield and mace were on the ground and she smiled in assured victory, the backdrop of horde and alliance soldiers clashing in the background. I keeled over now feeling the pain in my legs and side... I can’t. I won’t lose... I picked myself up and she bellowed in laughter as I raised my fists weakly, blowing my blood encrusted, tangled hair out of my face, “Fuck you.” I breathed as I went in for an uppercut, which was easily dodged by my far more well equipped adversary.

We exchanged blows, but she was far stronger and faster, dodging every single punch and kick - everything in my gut that she just punched was telling me to run, but I have too much riding on this victory. She kneed me in the chest as I collapsed on the ground again, spiting a spray of blood on the ancient stonework. I gripped my holy symbol and lashed a holy shock in her direction, scoring her left shoulder as it ignited in radiant energy, lighting a flame that distracted her as I rose up and shoulder charged her into a tackle. I elbowed her in the face once, twice, three times, blood pouring out of her nose as she enveloped her legs around my waist attempting to grapple my lower half. She shifted her weight and we rolled flipping positions and now I was met with a barrage of elbows and punches to the face. I was struggling to maintain consciousness as I grasped her legs attempting to squeeze out of them to wiggle myself out but she was too strong, finally I gave up, raising my arms to guard my face and upper body as she wailed another volley of blows on me.

A chill ran up my spine, my vision was blurred beyond all the drunken brawls I had ever been in. I could feel myself letting go, the overcast sky blocking any semblance of hope. She rose off of my now limb body, towering over me and smiled a toothy grin, before lifting her leg above my own. I felt the pain before it connected to what she had done. The sharp pain was dulled by the adrenaline, but it still hurt worse than any punch I had ever taken, more than any kick to the side. More than anything. My right foot was crushed under her own. The last sight before my vision went to black, was her wicked grin. And a frostbolt hitting her square in the face.

17. The Third Step

I gasped for every breath I could muster as the dusty air filtered back into my lungs. The pain was excruciating. My vision was still clouded, large black spots obscuring the majority of my sight, but what I could see was my med kit sprawled out next to me, as Pruet lifted my leg rolling it in bandages, “Ahh, ahh!” I winced in pain as he replied, “Thea... Thea, oh gods, thank the light you’re still with us.” He blurted out setting my leg down, “Uhh.. erm, which one of these is Peacebloom?” I struggled, but managed to prop myself up, I didn’t dare look to my leg, but I pointed to the opaque white/yellow vial. “I.. I only need a quarter vial. A full one would surely.. ahh... stop my heart.” He poured the vial out on the ground until there was a quarter left and lifted the vial to my mouth which stung when I touched the glass tube to my lips. I clutched the vial out of his assisting hands, downing it as the concoction took effect, numbing the pain. I took a look around the field and it was much calmer now. How long was I out? “They retreated?” I managed to get out before hacking up a combination of flem and blood.

“Yeah, after you pretty much took care of that monk, I just finished her off. Pye’s team had that mage corned, they are already at the third step.” He rushed out, obviously exhilarated, he yelled, “WE NEED A MEDIC!” I touched his forearm as he leaned over me, my words coming out a lot weaker than I had intended. “Pruet, I’m your medic.” He shook his head worried before helping me into a sitting position and I finally caught a glimpse of my leg... I could only feel a dull pain thanks to the peacebloom tincture, as the bone poked through the loose bandage that Pruet attempted to fashion on. I touched the area and the pain rose, I tilted my head to the other side and vomited. I needed to reset it and use a cantrip or something or else I would bleed out. I grabbed my leg on two sides, as Pruet propped himself on me for support. “This isn’t going to be pretty so look away.” He looked away as my gloved hands snapped my foot back into place. I yelled in pain and quickly assessed my work, as tears dripped down my cheeks. Not perfect but it would have to do. I used a few cantrips, flash of light. The light seared the flesh back together, now for the test... can I walk? “Help me up.” I said to Pruet as he pulled me up.

That sense of vertigo returned, as I looked to the mountains that lined the horizon, dizziness from the blood loss, and pain as I tried to put weight on my leg. Honestly, at least I could limp. I wasn’t dead, so that’s always a good sign. I picked up my mace and my shield and we marched towards the steps where half my team were gathering the fallen. “Head count. How many left Beta?” I looked over to one of the shield barers’ who was silently counting, “We lost fourteen. I’m not sure how many left from Pye’s squad, Lieutenant.” I looked over the few members of my team that were left, most of them tending to their own wounds. “We need to re-group with Alpha, we don’t know what we face, but surely it can’t be worse than that.”

I was wrong. After tending to a few of the soldiers’ wounds and using the last of my bandages on the few that were able enough for the fight that lay ahead of us, we marched up the steps to see a horror that was once our secret weapon to flank our western assault, Grong. Scarred from battle, eyes blazing with fury and... raised....

“AGHHHHH” Roars the former ally as he raised his skeletal fists into the air and crashed them down up Pye’s forward line attempting to calm the beast, and failing... obviously. “Oh, Light.” I mutter under my breath, carrying my wounds up the last steps looking back to the remnants of my team, “BETA! Flank Grong on the left side! Divert his attention so alpha isn’t taking all the blows! Move, Move!” I could read the hesitancy, the fear from them but this... this has to be done. I limped toward Pye who was directing another line of men towards the beast, “What the fuck are you doing? We need to distract the beast, not send the lambs to slaughter!-” I pulled him back by his pauldrons just in time for the beast to lock eyes with me, sniffing loudly and giving me a devilish grin, it smelled blood. My blood. It lumbered towards us, a combination of decaying flesh and fur, muscle and exposed bone. It reeked.

Grong went in for a slam as Pye tackled me on the right sending us flying from the impact. My leg and arm recoiled in pain but otherwise we weren’t pancakes. Pye coughed as the dust around us settled before scowling me, “Look Kain, he was on our side, how was I supposed to know that it’s out to kill us now?” I shook my head, “Pye, with all do respect, it’s obviously not anymore.” I got up and observed our surroundings, the beast was now heading over onto the left side - distracted by Beta, good. I raised my hand towards Pye who was still laying on the ground. “Together. We need to raise hell instead of join it, Commander.” He looked to me, taken aback by my words, but they were true to a certain degree. He grasped my extended hand, lifting himself up, I unsheathed my mace and shield and he grabbed his polearm from the ground, smiling at me. “Kain, you are going to make one hell of a Colonel someday.” I smiled back to him, “Don’t get all warm and fuzzy on me, we’ve got giant undead gorilla to kill.”

18. The Battle of Dazar’Alor

Gamma and Delta met us at the third step to the palace with a medical team to carry the wounded down to the ships. I declined a stretcher, instead I limped down the barren city with the few members left of our platoon that could still walk. As I looked behind us, the carnage of the mangled gorilla corpse, just in the distance, gnomish bombs blew a hole into the infiltration point - into the pyramid like structure to gain access to the throne room. We did it. Our job was done.

As we boarded the ships, tidesages greeted us before raising hell for the horde counter attack. We disembarked, not knowing the outcome of everything we had sacrificed. Everyone we lost. Great men and women who fought to protect the sanctity of our freedoms, and died. The shine of the capitol and smokestacks soaring high into the overcast sky as we sailed into the distance. Sailing home.

(OOC: Hi, hello, hey, I’m back. Much needed vacation from work and life. Inspiration has been evading me since I got back, but I feel it slowly starting to filter back in. This entry has been in the works for over a month, and my first introduction into writing combat. I would absolutely love any and all feedback so I can improve as a writer. Thanks for taking the time to read, many adventures for Thea and Silas here soon. Next few entries are going to be Thea focused since I have a TON of catch up to do, since she went to the Blooming Fest in Pandaria, and Howling Owl, and of course her journey back home from war. Exciting things! Anyway, have a great day everyone <3)

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racingtoaredlight · 6 years

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Opening Bell: April 20, 2018

First, some news…

After he was fired by President Donald Trump, now former FBI Director James Comey revealed that he had recorded several in-person and phone conversations which he had with the president through a series of typed memos based on contemporaneous notes he made during this conversations. Comey has testified to Congress as to the contents of the memos and has mentioned them in his newly released memoir, for which he is currently on a national book tour. Comey turned his memos into the Justice Department which, through Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein, had permitted some members of Congress to review the memos, so long as they kept confidential their contents. Then, in recent weeks, members of the House Judiciary Committee began to publicly demand that the Justice Department turn over all of the memos. Rosenstein demurred despite rumors that the White House might use such a move as a reason to fire Rosenstein and place the investigation of Special Counsel Robert Mueller III under greater control within the Executive Branch. This week, the Justice Department agreed to release the memos to Congress, and then within minutes of doing so last night, they were promptly leaked to the Associated Press. At first glance, the memos largely seem to confirm Comey’s previous statements and characterizations of his interactions with the president, and the former FBI Director probably appreciates the additional attention while he markets his book.

In another unexpected turn of events, former New York Mayor and Presidential candidate Rudy Giuliani announced that he was joining the president’s legal team. Cryptically, when asked about this, Giuliani, who has not been in a courtroom in nearly a quarter-century, said that he was joining Trump’s other lawyers in an attempt to “negotiate an end to the Mueller investigation.” Neither Rod Rosenstein nor Robert Mueller have indicated any desire to end the probe in exchange for anything, other than the ability to continue until no more evidence and facts are left to be uncovered. Because of this, it is not clear what Giuliani’s statement actually means. And moreover, Giuliani, who was a prominent federal prosecutor who took down several mob bosses in the 1980s, would be aware that criminal investigations do not “end” usually by negotiation. This statement feels almost like one made by Trump which Giuliani then parroted, for whatever reason. It is also uncertain what service Giuliani would provide, as he has not actively practiced law—his role at the firm Fulbright and Giuliani was been more in management and as a name partner—since he became Mayor of New York in 1993. It is possible that Giuliani could be an advisor on how federal investigations occur, but, again, he has not actually tried a federal case since Seinfeld was in its fourth season. All in all, this was a very curious addition to Trump’s team of lawyers.

In what would have been big news but for the above stories, the FBI’s Inspector General made a criminal referral to the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the District of Columbia regarding former FBI Deputy Director Andrew McCabe. McCabe, who has been at the center of a firestorm for how he allegedly mishandled supervision of the FBI’s investigation into then presidential candidate Hillary Clinton, was fired by Attorney General Jeff Sessions one day before he was to qualify for his federal pension. McCabe allegedly misled FBI agents inquiring into his handling of the Clinton investigation and the Inspector General’s report states several times that McCabe was less than candid in answering several questions, something which falls slightly short of lying to the FBI; lying to a federal agent is a felony. Inspector Generals function as the legal watchdogs for their respective government agencies. They are non-partisan, non-political appointments which usually go to career government lawyers. If the U.S. Attorney for D.C. decides to prosecute McCabe, it is possible that one of the witnesses could be his former boss, James Comey.

And now for some features:

Marie Colvin was a renowned, well-regarded war reporter who traveled the world from one conflict zone to another. Along the way, she always reported from near the center of action and often risked life and limb; in 2001 while reporting on the Sri Lankan civil war, an RPG exploded near her, causing the loss of her left eye. Colvin recovered and returned to reporting on war zones, now sporting a black eye patch. In the fall of 2012, as the Syrian civil war still in its early stages, Colvin and her French photographer were sitting in a rebel controlled enclave of Homs, Syria, getting ready to depart a renegade broadcast center which western news outlets used to report from on the fighting and destruction in Homs. Before Colvin could leave, Syrian artillery rounds began falling on the broadcast center, causing severe damage. Colvin and her photographer were killed, while several other journalists were wounded. Tellingly, the artillery rounds had fallen near the center, but were then walked back on successive shots until the building itself was hit several times; the artillery was being guided by a forward observer, indicating that the Syrian Army had located the broadcast center and perhaps knew that several western journalist, including Colvin who had filed a report by Skype from there the previous evening, would still be present. This story looks at how the Syrian military and intelligence were able to use surveillance technology acquired before the civil war to track down and kill Marie Colvin.

Alexis de Tocqueville, after the Marquis de Lafayette, is perhaps the most celebrated Frenchman in American political, literary, and social history. While Lafayette provided his expertise during the Revolution, helping to separate the states from their erstwhile colonial masters in Britain, Tocqueville’s contribution to America came decades later, when the nation had firmly established itself and developed a unique identity, untainted by any vestiges of Britishness. After taking a grand tour of the United States, Tocqueville published Democracy in America in 1835, and it proved an immediate best-seller and received critical praise. But, as with most books, it was quickly forgotten in France. Its popularity perpetuated in the United States until the horrors of the Civil War undermined Tocqueville’s sunny appreciation for the American form of governance and the society which supported it. Tocqueville was revived in the mid-20th century in the United States and Democracy in America is on the reading list of pretty much every American Political Theory or Modern Political Theory class taught in colleges today. For his praise of mid-19th century America, Tocqueville is widely lauded still in the States, but as this piece points out, Tocqueville’s admiration of America included its use of slaves, and he sought to establish a socio-economic political system similar to the American South in northern Africa during France’s military campaigns in Algeria. In short, Alexis de Tocqueville is not quite what he is made out to be by 21st century political academics and observers.

In this country, dinner and supper are often used to refer to the same meal in some regions, while in others those area distinct meals. This distinction seems to have arrived in this nation from our European forebears, but whatever one may call the meal served at the end of the day, it is undoubtedly for most Americans the primary meal of the day. It seems, however, that in France, dinner, though the primary meal of the day, was served midday. The pomp and circumstance of this meal evolved greatly from the time of Charlemagne, who apparently preferred that his soldiers wait to eat until after battle, through the Bourbon Kings, through a period of decline during the Revolution, and finally becoming a multi-part affair associated with luxury in the home of the French Foreign Minister in the 1830s, Charles de Talleyrand. This is a short history of the French art of dining, in which it is possible to see parallels to how American attitudes towards dining have evolved.

Anyone who grew up in a coastal community near a major port or ship channel or owns a boat and has sailed out into the coastal seas, has probably come across large container ships, tankers, or bulk carriers. And, if you can get close enough, there are a number of markings around the ship’s hull, most of which looks like gibberish or nonsense, but which actually contain vital information about the ship for the benefit of tug boats and port operators. This is a relatively short explainer of what all of these markings mean and what function they serve. When I was young, we used to go out in my grandfather’s 30 foot boat into the Houston Ship Channel, with lines of oil tankers, some empty and some full, steaming in and out. The sheer size of these vessels, and the wake they generate, is awe inspiring. And the markings upon the hull, at a glance, can tell you a lot about the ship without ever boarding it.

The widespread affection for dogs among the writers of RTARL and the commentariat is well-known. Many of us, myself included, have shared posts about dogs, pictures of new puppies, and remembrances of loyal companions, recently passed. While we are generally satisfied to appreciate dogs for the happiness they bring us and dogs are contented with their role as loyal, people pleasers, the relationship is more complex than that. Our relationship with dogs is both one of friend, but it is also parental in nature. Dogs are, generally, forever trying to please us, to extract from us the fullest measure of love possible. This essay by Jacob Bacharach ponders this relationship from a historical and personal perspective; from Shakespeare’s apparent distaste for dogs as “lowly” and “subservient” creatures, to his own experience with a rescue providing the only continuum in life through failed relationships and personal crises. The best quotations come towards the end, which I will not spoil here, but this should give a proper sense: “It is absurd, logically considered, to propose that the mere presence of some mammal in a room can by itself make a person better, but that is what they do.”

Reverting back to something with levity, the shoot for Caddyshack is legendary in Hollywood for the amount of excesses which took place among the actors and crew behind the scenes, including an all-night booze soaked party which took place as a category five hurricane came ashore in south Florida. It’s also well-known for how much of the script was improvised or, in some cases, ad-libbed on the spot. Sports Illustrated has a short oral history of the shoot, which shows how miraculous it was that a coherent movie, let alone a movie that has become a modern classic, emerged. Money quotation: “We brought Rodney in to the studio,” says Jon Peters, Caddyshack’s executive producer. “He comes in wearing this aqua-blue leisure suit and takes out a plastic bag and does two lines of coke. He undoes his shirt and says, ‘Where's the p----?’ ” It was a hell of a first impression.”

Finally, presidential historical Paul Brandus guest writes for the Center for Politics on the danger which confronts Donald Trump’s chances of being reelected in 2020. Brandus focuses on Trump’s weakness among Republican voters, many of whom abandoned the president when it became clear he would not be all things to all people within the GOP. Brandus suggests that Trump may be the first sitting president to attract a serious primary challenger in nearly three decades.

Welcome to the weekend.

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