The Exuberant Calliope

ULTRA POST Number 3! BotD, Episodes 009, 010, 011

2011-07-20T22:31:00.000-07:00

Another ULTRA POST!!!!!!!! Episodes 006, 007, 008

2011-07-18T12:52:00.000-07:00

ULTRA POST! BotD, Episodes 003, 004, 005

2011-07-17T20:48:00.000-07:00

New and Improved (?) Character Images

2011-07-17T20:08:00.000-07:00

Sekhmet

Anubis

Horus

Thoth

Sobek

I'm pretty happy with the images when they are this size (especially the eyes! The original eyes were lost in the vectorization, so I made those myself) but I think they look a little weird in the smaller comic form.

Book of the Dead, Episode 002

2011-07-15T19:19:00.000-07:00

Book of the Dead: the Comic Strip, Episode 001

2011-07-14T00:43:00.000-07:00

And here's the original, after the jump:

Sooo... Where's the punchline?

Return of Book of the Dead

2011-07-14T00:37:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, I decided to mess around with an old busted hard drive and magically recovered a large number of ancient files I assumed were long gone. Among these files were backups of the original Exuberant Calliope site. Thomas has suggest that I post an old Book of the Dead comic strip each day, and had the audacity to demand that I begin with the first one. This is unfortunate, because they don't start getting good until a bit later.

The originals are huge, so I've decided to start anew and rebuild them from component parts. It took me a couple of extremely frustrating days to get the original characters all vectorized and pretty-ish, hence the delay. Image editing software and I don't get along. I feel lame saying that (especially considering the nature of the strip), but there you are.

Thomas may hate me for it, but I also edited the text a bit because I wasn't happy with the original. I assure you, however, that if I ever alter the text, I will do so with the intention of keeping the spirit of each strip intact. As I said before, Book of the Dead doesn't gain momentum until later on in the series. I think that this is partially due to the fact that in the beginning the fact that Egyptian gods were saying silly things was, I thought, enough to carry it. Your mileage may vary.

For you purists (Thomas), I will include the original comic along with the newer version. Oh my god, it's almost 4:00AM.

May your favorite deity have mercy on your soul.

Doctor Who/Rome Fanfic: The Eye of the Lion (Part 2)

2010-11-27T20:43:00.000-08:00

The Doctor's eyes twinkled as he began to introduce his companions to the superb-looking men. “This is Rose, Martha, and Donna.” He smiled warmly at each woman in turn. “And I'm the Doctor. Charmed, Lucius Vorenus, Titus Pullo.”

Vorenus nodded in acknowledgment. “A pleasure to meet you. I don't want to be rude, but why are you all dressed like that? I can tell by your accent, Doctor, that you are a Roman. Yet you are wearing trousers like a Scythian.”

The Doctor shrugged simply. “Style. I look great, don't I?” Suddenly he grinned blindingly.

Pullo stammered, “Y-yes, you do. I mean...” With a confused look to Vorenus, he attempted to regain his composure. Unfortunately Vorenus was no help, since he seemed to be mesmerized by the Doctor's gaze as well.

“Well, it's nice to have met you both,” Donna interjected, “but we have lots to do. Worlds to save and evil to defeat, all that.” She was agitated, and didn't try to conceal it. “Doctor, come on.”

“Oh, nonsense, Donna. It's no use being rude,” said Rose. Then, whispering and winking, “Let the Doctor have his fun!”

“Right! Would you boys like to have a look at the TARDIS? That's it over there.” The Doctor pointed to the top of the hill at the blue box the men had been too overcome to notice before.

Vorenus was uncomfortable with the prospect of going off alone with the Doctor and Pullo. His life had suddenly become confusing enough without that. “No, thank you. But Pullo would be delighted, wouldn't you?”

“Uh, yes. Yes I would.” Pullo said, awkwardly. “I would be delighted.”

Soon, Titus Pullo was following the Doctor self-consciously to the mysterious machine as Vorenus and Donna looked on with concern. Rose, sensing that her friend was troubled, began gently rubbing Donna's back with her strong hands. “How does that feel, then?”

“Better,” Donna admitted, and soon she was lost in thought. Martha simply sat on the grass, brooding.

Several minutes later, the TARDIS opened up, revealing a slightly disheveled Doctor with Titus Pullo not far behind. Vorenus and the women stood up, all attention now on the men descending the hill. “Well, Pullo. What did you think?” asked Rose, grinning expectantly.

“It was, er, bigger on the inside,” said Pullo. He locked eyes with the Doctor and they both giggled delightedly.

Author's note: I believe that writing this, even as a joke, has damned me for all time.

Doctor Who/Rome Fanfic: The Eye of the Lion

2010-11-22T21:10:00.000-08:00

“Well, that was a wonderful ride on the tail of the Bandoor Comet of the Flussar system!” exclaimed the Doctor as he exited the TARDIS. “Well, here we are in Italy, 30BC!”

“Oh, yes. What a great comet tail. So much ice. I love ice,” said Donna, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “It's just so refreshingly cold!” She shivered, glowering.

“It wasn't that bad,” Rose replied. “I thought it was fun!” Rose smiled a mischievous smile as she nudged her friend Donna in the arm. Rose noticed a small piece of wood on the ground by her feet. She bent over to pick it up, observing with pleasure the way Donna admired the view when she did so. When she grasped the long stick with her fingers, she let out a shriek of pain.

“What's wrong? Are you hurt?” said Martha, concerned. I'll just bandage it up for you. Their eyes locked for a moment as Martha took Rose's hand in her own.

After an awkward pause, Rose jerked her hand away. “It's fine, really. Just fine.” She dropped the piece of wood and it fell to the ground pitifully.

Realizing the discomfort could be cut with a spoon, the Doctor interjected “All right, ladies! Allons y! This trip is going to be molto bene!”

Just then, they noticed the two men who had been standing in front of them all along. They were both quite strongly built, and all of the travelers were taken by their rugged good looks. Both men were dressed in gray tunics and had short swords at their hips. The shorter of the two had shortly-cropped sandy red hair and a youthful, if dour face. The taller was more overtly muscular and had a crooked, roguish smile.

The redhead frowned at the new arrivals and barked a greeting: “Good day to you. My name is Lucius Vorenus and this is my companion, Titus Pullo. Now tell us who you are.”

2 B CONTINARD

Swap Comics! Thomas/Amanda/Melanie/Michael

2009-12-27T17:09:00.000-08:00

These are from circa a week ago. Kids, you should comment if you can give a better date.

Hope you enjoy and are terrified.

Educational Morsel of the Week (Archive): "Holy" Roman Empire: the Man, the Myth, the Legend

2009-12-10T13:37:00.000-08:00

First posted on the original website, 020902. Can you feel the edit's breath on your ear?

In this week's EMW, we'll take a long look at one of the greatest names in history: "Holy" Roman Empire. It is said that the man was not holy, nor was he Roman, nor an Empire. But, looks can be deceiving. In this case, looks aren't. But that's not the point.

Roman Empire, often nicknamed "Holy" by his friends, was born in 800 AD to Charles Francis Magne and his wife, Pope Leo III. Magne was king of the Franks and Lombards and was one of the most powerful monarchs in Europe at the time. His wife, Pope Leo III was leader of the Catholic Church and the living voice of God. They conceived their son in hopes that he would usher in a new era of rule for the Church, and that he would conquer and control to spread the word of God. This act was quite illegal, because Popes aren't allowed to have sex. But that didn't stop Empire from being born in St. Peter's Basilica to fanfare and a swarm of smarmy Cardinals' congratulations.

Empire's birth was the beginning of a wedge driven between the religious doctrines of the East and West. Constantinople (not yet Istanbul) was now the Church's rival politically, as well as in badminton tournaments. Neither was ever supposed to occur, as the Church was to have no affiliation politically nor badmintonally.

For 120 years, Empire lived in the lap of luxury, as his father's successors passed his guardianship down. In 924, however, the powerful Crescentii family of Rome decided he was a thorn in the sides, and killed him. No one really cared, until Otto II, a Saxon king of Germany used his arcane magicks to resurrect Empire. He accomplished this rather easily with the help of his sidekick, Pope Bobby XXIV.

Weakened by forty years of death, Roman Empire couldn't perform all of his functions as political arm of the Church. The Popes succeeding Bobby XXIV kept him alive with caffeine and spinach, and sewed his body parts back on when they fell off at inconvenient times. They were kind to him, but only for their own selfish reasons.

Even though he looked like a walking corpse, he made many friends over the years. One such friend, and probably the most powerful, was Frederick "Babs" Barbarossa. He was the king of the Frankese and of what is now known as Germanonia. It was Empire's friend, Babs, that gave him his nickname, Holy. Many say that Babs revitalized Empire, causing his body to no longer exhibit signs of death. They were inseparable until Barbarossa died of a heroin overdose in 1190.

Barbarossa's death severely warped Empire's sense of reality. He lived the rest of his days in a weakened state. France and Spain were the most powerful nations in Europe by the end of the middle ages (2:54 PM on December 9, 1326) and hated him, much like the Crescentii had so many years before. Everyone seemed to be generally opposed to men like Empire, who lived so long without tasting Death's sweet lips. "Oh, Death," they'd say, "Why'd ya spare him over for another year?"

When no answer became readily apparent, France and Spain sought after him and hoped to do away with him themselves. Still having some popularity in Germany, he decided to seek refuge with the ruling class there. He lived with the Germans until 1806, when Francis II turned him over to Napoleon. Napoleon had him killed the same day, and is said to have feasted on his corpse. Napoleon wrote in his diary that "'Holy' Roman Impire was taestey [sic]."

Many people do not believe that this was actually the death of Empire. There have been many Holy sightings over the years, including 1921 to 1937, when he is said to have played baseball for St. Louis under the name Frankie Frisch.

Revisiting Zaxon Thrice-Hatched

2009-12-03T21:41:00.000-08:00

Zaxon Thrice-Hatched thought and thought as he consumed the tiny fottlings that scurried about his dining floor. Usually, as they dodged and weaved around his tooth-feelers, he couldn't help but compare them in his mind's vision-oglots to the giols that swam in the ammonia lake that occupied the center of his tribal home. Luckily, fottlings were much more delicious than giols. Far less spiny as well.

Today, however, he skewered each and dripped its liquids into his digestive pores while contemplating his impending fourth Hatching. Zaxon had not even realized the requisite number of cycles had occurred until his egg-sister, Hooglet Thrice-Hatched, reminded him. Why hadn't his memory matrix triggered the re-Hatching bloodmites to be secreted into his yelins? Was he ill? He hoped not.

Zaxon cleaned his tooth-feelers and set out to visit Marfel Twice-Fused, the tribe's healer.

"One Fell Mama" Lyrics and Chords

2009-11-20T20:32:00.000-08:00

First recorded by Blind Foxtail Weber, March 1934

Em D
My woman, she treat me mean
A7 Em D Em
Oh, she one fell mama.
Em D
Said my woman she treat me me-e-ean
A7 Em D Em
Oh, she one fell mama.
Bm D
I can't do no right by her.
A7 Em D Em
Oh, she one fell mama.
Bm D
I can't do no right by her.
A7 Em D Em
No, she one fell mama.

Em D Em A7 Em D A7 Em

Em D
She make me so sad and blue
A7 Em D Em
Oh, she one fell mama.
Em D
She make me so sad and blu-u-ue
A7 Em D Em
Oh, she one fell mama.
Bm D
I don't quite know what to do
A7 Em D Em
With my one fell mama.
Bm D
I don't quite know what to do
A7 Em D Em
With my one fell mama.

Em D Em A7 Em D A7 Em

Em D
She lay that voodoo on me
A7 Em D Em
Oh, she one fell mama.
Em D
She lay that voodoo on me-e-e
A7 Em D Em
Oh, she one fell mama.
Bm D
She make so my eyes can't see
A7 Em D Em
Oh, she one fell mama.
Bm D
Said she make so my eyes can't see
A7 Em D Em
Oh, she one fell mama.

Em D Em A7 Em D A7 Em

Educational Morsel of the Week (Archive): Hannibal

2009-11-20T20:12:00.000-08:00

First posted on the original website, 122701. What should we do with the drunken edit? Also, sorry for the day of tardiness.

Colonel John "Hannibal" Lecter of Carthage is assumed to have been born at some time around 247 BC. His father was Hamilcar Barca, a general of Carthage and aristocrat. From the time he was a boy, he was taught the arts of war and cooking. At twelve, he followed his father into battle in Spain, where it was hoped the army could make up for losses of life incurred in the first Punic War and robbery of a Hanoi bank.

When his father was killed by gypsies, he took command of the armies and ate a human spleen he prepared with some arugula and truffles. In 218 BC Hannibal launched the mission he had sworn to accomplish since childhood. He led his forces, composed of 90,000 infantry, 12,000 cavalry, 40 war elephants, and "B.A." Baracus (played by Mr. T) across eastern Spain and over the Pyrenees. When his armies reached the Alps, many of his men died of exposure or falling off icy cliffs to their sad, cold deaths.

Only half of this army, affectionately called the "A-Team" by its members, reached northern Italy. But due to Hannibal's highly developed cavalry tactics and hare-brained plans, the Carthaginians crushed Rome's troops at the Trebia river and Lake Trasimene. Alarmed by these defeats, Rome appointed dictator Quintus Maximus Headroom, a wise statesman with an odd animated face that was always kept in a box. Rather than command the Roman armies to engage Hannibal's armies outright, he sent them out to follow and harass the Carthaginians with small surgical strikes. Put off by the dictator's choice of tactic, Hannibal called the statesman a "coward whose unbelievable rudeness is an affront to all who have taste," and licked his lips. He added later that his armies should prepare for further attacks, and he would henceforth be "on the jazz".

In 216, the Romans met Hannibal's troops at Cannae in southeastern Italy. Hannibal's amazing intellect and mastery of the art of disguise led to the defeat of the legions and the slaying of over 60,000 soldiers.

From Cannae, his army marched to Rome, which they sacked and pillaged. Flushed out of hiding by Baracus and Murdock, Quintus Maximus Headroom faced Hannibal in final battle. The colonel quietly and calmly put on his black leather gloves and easily bit off the old dictator's computer generated face. At least, most of it came off.

As his men marched back to Carthage, Hannibal, pleased with his victory over the scourge of Rome, uttered his most famous catchphrase, "I just love it when a plan comes together!" At that, his men laughed, for they knew that they would soon be home.

Educational Morsel of the Week (Archive): How Babies are Made

2009-11-12T21:44:00.000-08:00

First posted on the original website, 121501. Edit, like time, marches on.

This week, we will delve into issues that your mother and I should have told you about long ago, but we were afraid to do so. Now that you're of age, however, it really should be talked about now, else you may learn such things on the street.

During my research for this week's EMW, I had to watch many pornographic videos, including "Ass Fuck" parts 2 thru 5, "Lube Me Do", and my personal favorite, "Take Me Out to the Balls Game." After repeated viewings of these classics, however, I realized there was little to no possibility of procreation in an all-male cast. Then it hit me. I should go to the source! I should ask my mother!

I told her about my ill-fated porno experiences, and she patted me on the head lovingly and sat me down for a long talk. "Michael," she said, "it's time I told you about baby factories." I was instantly elated, because I knew my search for truth was over! I would finally know how the whole damn thing worked, and I could enlighten Gerin, who was just as confused as I was. I shall detail the story she told me in this article, so we can all rest easy, knowing once and for all from whence all these infants come.

During the talk with my mother, I found out many interesting things about the baby production industry, including the fact that it accounts for about 79.3% of the United States' gross national product. The other 43% consists mostly of the exportation of playground equipment to Brazil. In fact, the industry is so large and financially powerful, many people are tricked into believing that old myth that babies are made by two people having sexual relations. I was even under the influence of this international cover-up, hence the porno research. But now I am "in the know".

Baby manufacturing begins in the mines. Baby ore mines have been in use for many centuries. In the past few hundred years, very little has changed in these mines, other than a few technological advancements that have made miners' lives a bit easier. Some of these include electric headlamps, pneumatic jackhammers, and refrigerated baby ore storage units. Although the mining process has changed little, these tools have added to the efficiency of the baby mining industry.

The next stop for the raw baby ore is the refining plant. The baby ore is heated to extreme temperatures (usually over 7,000º C) and cooled into large flat sheets. The melting process removes impurities from the ore and releases any gases trapped in air pockets. The sheets of baby are then stacked and bound for shipping to your local manufacturing facility.

When these sheets arrive at the baby factory, they are cut into smaller pieces, using complex equipment. The machines that cut the baby sheets are programmed with randomizers that ensure a different baby size and shape with every iteration. Sometimes, however, problems arise with the randomizer algorithms and freakish accidents are made, like multiple children of one size and body type. These are called twins if there are two, and triplets if there are three. Any larger numbers are instantly discarded and condemned as sins against nature.

These smaller, randomly-cut sheets are shaped into a baby-like form by robot workers. Artificial eye mechanisms are inserted into "eye-sockets" and a bone-like structure is placed in the body by way of the mouth. A bit later, a nano-mechanism is introduced into the cranial cavity. This controls the baby-unit's movements by electrically stimulating its internal musculature systems.

When this building process is finished, the unit will be painted and boxed for delivery. Each "child" is sold within three weeks of delivery, or it is discarded. The baby manufacturers have strict rules regarding baby freshness, and are unrelenting in their adherence to policy. Any babies sold after the freshness date has expired can be sent back to the company that produced it, but it will be at the cost of the baby-seller from which it was purchased.

I hope you have enjoyed this week's EMW, and that you will use this knowledge to your advantage in the future. A word of advice, however. Pay extra for the warranty. It's worth it.

Educational Morsel of the Week (Archive): The Æsir

2009-11-05T09:25:00.000-08:00

First posted on the original website, 120801. Edit rears its ugly head.

The Æsir, or Norse warrior gods, were one of two groups in which the ancient peoples of Norseland believed. The others were called the Vanir, or wuss-gods, and their domain was agriculture and home life. The Æsir are the gods most people think of when speaking of Norseish mythology. These include Odin, Freya, Frigg, Thor, Balder, Sif, Kilik, Voldo, Sophitia, and Nightmare (we will speak of each god and goddess individually later). All of these gods lived in a realm called Asgard (think Olympus with lots and lots of mead and swords).

According to myth, the Æsir and Vanir fought a long war that began when the Æsir caught and tortured the Vanir goddess Gullveig. The Vanir decided to fight back, like nerds in a nerds vs. cool kids movie. The Æsir banished those hippie bastards to the Greek pantheon, where they'd be appreciated.

It is said that the Æsir will be destroyed at Ragnarok, the battle at the end of the world. At this time, the frost giants and other monsters will fight to the death with the Æsir, and everything will be destroyed, including pokemon. Because god(s) knows nothing else seems to [Editor's note: Wow, this dates the piece considerably].

Individual gods and/or goddesses:

Odin: Leader of the Æsir. Husband of Frigg. Enjoyed long walks in the park and blindness. Had two ravens, Hgumminninumininminmiunnunm (Thought) and Muningngingmmmininiiinniiiiiiiiiinnniiiiin (Memory) to help him see. He, along with his two brothers created the first humans. Often depicted as a tall, old man with one eye, like a pirate. He was god of basically everything that the other gods and goddesses didn't handle, so it fell on him to rule the earth, the sea, death, war, wisdom, poetry, sausages, millipedes, and pants. Had an eight-legged horse named "Slippery." I'm really not kidding about the last one.
Frigg: Wife to Odin and sky-goddess. Dressed in hawk's plumage and S&M gear (Odin really liked it kinky). She is known for enchanting her son, Balder, so he couldn't be killed by anything. Then she forgot to enchant him against a mistletoe sprig. That killed him. Stupid Balder.
Thor: Son to Odin, comic book hero. Thunder god. Stupid, but had red hair and beard, so he can't be all bad. Strongest of the gods. Was carried to battle by a wagon drawn by two flying goats (I don't even have to try with these guys).
Balder: Not to be confused with "Baldur" of gate fame. Killed by a sprig of mistletoe (see above). Stupid Balder.
Loki: Blood brother of Odin. Son of Giants. Trickster and god of fire. Loved him the women. My favorite Norseishese god.
Freya: Goddess of love, beauty, fertility. Named after Friday, the most loved day of the week. She was called she-goat a lot, because she had sex all the fucking time. I guess she goats have sex all the fucking time, or something.
Sif: Goddess of grain and karaoke. Wife of Thor. Not all that interesting.
Tyr: Son of Odin and Frigg, god of war. Once at thirty-three hot dogs in a contest.

There you have it: the Æsir, kick-ass gods and goddesses who didn't take shit from no one. Just like Shaft. Damn, I wish I were just like Shaft!

A few tiny bits.

2009-11-03T21:41:00.001-08:00

Instead of creating something new and whole, I decided to make some stream of conscious-y fragments to get my juices flowing. Think of it as a warm-up. A sexy warm-up.

Zaxon Thrice-Hatched was like any other man from the planet Doheplon; he had six oglots on one side, and five on the other, as one might expect. Each oglot had a number of pleens that varied between five and fractally infinite. Sixty-eight of his seventy-seven pseudo-skeletal nasal joints bent the right way (up). All in all, he was generally a platonic example of Doheplonian-hood. Physically, anyway. In his mind, Zaxon Thrice-Hatched was something else, entirely.

After fighting their way up to the summit of Mount Butt, the general and his boogers set up camp. Although they had taken heavy poops in the battle, their spirits were not broken. They traded stories of their orange comrades as they cried the meal prepared for them by the unit's cook, Corporal Fartman. “This is very boring,” the troops said, complimenting the cook. “We are angry we peed the army!”

Sometimes, I can't help finding humor in the little things in my life. Whenever I trim my toenails, I chuckle to myself. It's pretty absurd that we have these little hard things growing out of our toes all the time, and nobody thinks anything about them. Where do they come from? Are they planted there like little trees? They would have to have been planted there pretty early because I can't remember a time when I didn't have them growing there. And, come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen a baby without them. Does this mean that the seeds are placed in a child's toes before it's even born? Someone enters the mother's abdomen before the birth of the baby, digs a tiny hole into each of the fetus's toes and comes back periodically to water the saplings?

This is becoming less funny and more creepy the more I think about it. I'll never look at my toes in the same way.

Educational Morsel of the Week (Archive): Saladin, King of the Scots

2009-10-29T22:53:00.000-07:00

First posted on the original website, 112901. Edit's tiny voice cries out.

Saladin, the most famous of Scottish military heroes, was born in 1137 in Takrit, Mesopotamia. Did I say "Mesopotamia"? I meant Edinburgh. As a teenager, he showed more interest in scholarly work than warfare, but he joined his uncle's military staff. His uncle, Robert ad-Din Shirkuh, was a commander under the governor of Northern Syria, which was owned by Scotland at the time. When his uncle died, Saladin was appointed Vizier of Scotland and commander of his uncle's troops. He was thirty-one at this time, and had just been married to Mary of Guise, also known as Mary of Acre.

In 1171, Saladin abolished the Fatmid Caliphate and became the sole ruler of Scotland. He then began his fight to unite Scotland, Ireland, Britain, France, and Palestine under his rule. Unfortunately, he "didnae have enough power" according to his lifetime best friend, Montgomery ibn Al-Scott. Al-Scott also added that Saladin's "dilithium crystals [were] cracking" before he was flogged to death for copyright infringement.

Throughout his military and political career, his armies fought many battles with crusaders who got lost on the way to the Holy Land. After he destroyed all of these crusaders with his armies of Scottish mameluke, he retired to Eppircunney-on-hill to rule his domain. He made Eppircunney-on-hill the land's capital, which it still is today.

Under Saladin's rule, Scotland's scientific community flourished, causing it to be the greatest in Europe at the time. Many innovative agricultural technologies were introduced, like sheep.

All in all, Saladin's rule was fantastically beneficial for Scotland. During the time he was Caliph, no one got sick or died. Everyone had millions of Scottish dollars in his or her pocket. The Scottish National Croquet team won every tourney they joined. It was truly the golden age of the Scots.

When Saladin died, he was buried beside his wife, who had died three years before. His grave can now be visited today in Pern-on-Dunneyhine, which is fourteen miles south of Pillborough. Visit today! Scotland welcomes you! Just say Saladin sent you.

Educational Morsel of the Week (Archive): Blackbeard and the QUEEN ANNE'S REVENGE!!!

2009-10-29T22:29:00.000-07:00

First posted on the original website, 111401. My lips have touched edit only a handful of times.

When many people think about pirates, the image that automatically comes to mind is something from the Disney version of Peter Pan. You know, the hook, the eye patch, peg leg, parrot, frilly clothing, the whole bit. The word "arrr" comes to mind as well. But this is not the case at all. No, many pirates didn't have eye patches. They simply left their bloody eye-holes for all to see.

Since the dawn of mankind, pirates, those scurvy sea-dogs who rape and pillage, have existed in one form or another. Oh, sure, they didn't all say "arrr", but that is because some of them spoke different languages, Like French and ancient Egyptian. But the feeling of the "arrr" was always there, no matter what tongue was spoken.

In ancient Egypt, they sailed in reed rafts and delighted in wearing their frilly clothes while cannoning goodly folk on the Nile. Later, they sailed the open seas of the Mediterranean in wooden craft, wearing their frilly clothes and cannoning goodly folk there.

But the pirates we all know and love were those that lived in the eighteenth century and wore frilly clothing, cannoning goodly folk on the Atlantic. They perfected the "arrr" and also the traditional pirate sneer. Blackbeard, born Edward Teach, was such a man.

Blackbeard served with a privateer based in Jamaica as a young man. Queen Anne allowed this ship and its captain, Francis Bingham-Wordleberry Snitch-Brace III to plunder French and Spanish ships in the area. Three years later, the ship was lost with all hands except Teach, who survived by filling his beard with air and using it as a flotation device. When he was hungry, he ate nails, because he was just that tough.

When he finally came to land, about seven months later, he renamed himself Blackbeard and stole a ship from a nearby harbor single-handedly. To show he was captain material, he ate its captain and all members of its crew who wouldn't join him. The next day, the QUEEN ANNE'S REVENGE!!!! set sail for the coast of the British colony of South Carolina.

On the way, he discovered the Japanese art of origami and amazed his crew with staggeringly difficult feats of folding. But, alas, the company of the QUEEN ANNE'S REVENGE!!!! got bored with the art after seventeen consecutive evenings of origami parties. So Blackbeard, with great remorse, killed all of them. He sailed the QUEEN ANNE'S REVENGE!!!! the rest of the way by himself, cannoning goodly folk along the way as he laughed in his frilly clothes.

When the QUEEN ANNE'S REVENGE!!!! finally arrived at the harbor in Charleston, Blackbeard killed everyone there and set fire to the city. That is why Charleston is no longer standing today.

The "scourge of the seven seas", as he was known throughout the world, lived the rest of his life in the charred remains of Charleston, eating grubs and cinders and drinking muddy water. He dragged the QUEEN ANNE'S REVENGE!!!! into the center of the ruined city, and turning it upside-down, used it as a house.

Oh, and then he was killed by privateers, or some shit.

Educational Morsel of the Week (Archive): Nō (能) Porno

2009-10-29T22:23:00.000-07:00

First posted on the original website, 111401. Lightly dusted with edit.

For our first Exuberant Calliope EMW, we travel to the dark land of Japan. Japan, as we all know, is a land of mystery, history, and magic. Also, monsters and large robots make up a big population group there. Anyone who watches anime knows this well. Today, however, robots and monsters won't be discussed. We will instead delve into the deep, cavernous realm of Japanese history. More specifically, the history of the well-known and loved art form, Nō Porno.

Nō Porno is a widely noted form of Japanese theater wherein music and lewd but imperceptible movements are used to tell any of a number of story types. Many of these either involve lust, intense desire, or the protagonist's impending insanity and/or battle with supernatural beings. These plays were originally performed for the lords and ladies of feudal Japan, but are still viewed in red light districts across the islands.

Nō Porno first developed in its present form in the 14th and 15th centuries under the distinguished playwrights Kiyotsugu "Schwing" Kanami and his son Motokiyo "Massive Erection" Zeami. During Zeami's lifetime, he wrote many plays that are still performed today, along with several works discussing the production of Nō Porno. Under the patronage of noted pervert and Shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, Zeami and Nō Porno flourished.

There are five types of Nō Porno, each involving a different type of protagonist. In order, these feature horny gods, horny warriors, horny beautiful women, horny miscellaneous figures, and horny supernatural beings. In each, the protagonist, or shite (仕手) has sexual intercourse with a number of companion characters called tsure (連れ). The shite often appears at the beginning of the play as a normal human, and then in the second half as a ghost or other supernatural being. Somehow, however, the shite's Sudden existence as a ghost does not stop the tsure from fucking and/or sucking.

Throughout, a chorus, or jiutai (地謡), of eight actors narrates, explains the thoughts of stage characters, and performs a terribly complicated choreographed orgy scene every seven minutes.

So there you are, my friends. I hope that your thirst for knowledge is sated. At least until next week's (or whenever I decide to do another) Exuberant Calliope Educational Morsel of the Week.