piz

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  1. I know I'm dredging up an old, old thread, but I have wanted to reply to the above for a few years now and have constantly forgotten to. The word "the" can be used as an indefinite article. For example, a paper on the use of horses through the ages may open with either of the following sentences, both of which have the exact same meaning: "Horses are useful animals." "The horse is a useful animal." So, when I say "I want to study the conceptual hierarchy," I do not mean that there exists only one conceptual hierarchy any more than the second sentence above means that there exists only one horse. Anyway, my real reason for returning to this thread will be in my next post.
  2. Delegation of Rights

    The gist I have so far is this: It is not possible for your rights to be separated from you. "Delegation" here means the same as "delegation of implementation;" the latter is redundant. You have no right to initiate force. (We all knew that, it's here for completeness.) You delegate the use of retaliatory force (arrest, prosecution, punishment, restitution) to the government. You retain the use of defensive force (i.e. against immediate threat). Without getting into details (e.g. the line between defensive and retaliatory force), is that an accurate summation so far?
  3. Delegation of Rights

    A right is a principle, the exercise of a right is an action. One can take actions that are "defined and sanctioned" by a right, but a right itself is not an action. Also, one has rights which exist whether or not one ever performs any action based on them. For example, I have the right to defend myself against immediate danger, but I have yet to do so because the need has never arisen. Nonetheless the right exists. My thought is, then, that individuals authorize the government to take certain actions sanctioned by the individuals' right of self-defense, e.g. obtaining restitution. But the right itself is never handed over - government can have no rights, neither as a result of its nature, nor arrogated to it, nor surrendered to it (the last re: Dr. Binswanger's statement that rights cannot even voluntarily be given up).
  4. It's just what the name implies: An event, typically all day each day over a period of time, where characters dress in Renaissance-style clothing and reenact the period. There are nobles, knights, craftsmen, peasants, gypsies, and pirates. Artisans making and selling period wares. Demonstrations of period weaponry and fighting. Scripted performances as well as roaming performers interacting in character with fairegoers. This will be my third Ren Faire. I've had all scripted roles, not crowdworrking (however between scenes scripted actors work the crowd as well). Last time I played an actual historical figure, Czar Boris Gudunov of Russia, though the script wasn't intended to have anything resembling historical accuracy. My favorite, though, was my first one, three years ago, where I played the bad guy, an evil advisor trying to overthrow the ruling duke. Playing the bad guy is tons of fun. It was also my first time acting since 1976, and I was surprised to be cast in a major role when I was expecting to be a crowdworker. If you want to get a feel for a Ren Faire, including the behind the scenes stuff, go to www.allsfaire.tv. It's meant to be a spoof, but it's actually really accurate in its portrayal of "Rennies." I appear here and there as "Ron the Fletcher," and my one line is at the end of Episode the Tenthe, I think. (The sceptre carried by "King Gary" is the walking stick my bad guy character used. )
  5. I decided not to take either role, for pretty much exactly the reasons alann gave (it's weird how you post things that are already in my head ). I'll keep on looking for other things, and/or work on getting in or starting a band. I really only want to sing, although I do enjoy acting too. Meanwhile I'm in a little Renaissance faire again, and that's always fun. Lord William Rosencrantz, an innocent and slightly bumbling nobleman who presides over the local area and is being plotted against by my comically inept son and heir (played by my actual son).
  6. Harold Camping's prophecy

    I actually lost a friend over this (a RL friend, though the blowup occurred on Facebook). A few days before the "event," he posted something kind of humorous about it. I made a humorous comment, as those of you who see me on Facebook know I am wont to do, and we started a back-and-forth. (I would include the exact conversation, but he blocked me so I can't get to it.) Eventually the talk turned less humorous, and he said, in effect, that the rapture could happen because "anything is possible." I replied with "No, some thing are impossible. This is one of them." He said that nobody could possibly know, and it's all speculation. I said, "Nothing speculative about it." The day after the non-event, he again posted something that seemed humorous, and I commented, "Hate to say I told you so, but..." again meaning to be funny. He didn't find it so. He said, "No, you're not sorry," called me a "contrary, self-important blowhard" and that he knew the rapture wasn't going to happen, "jackass," but he had "hoped that it would happen." Then he announced that he was going to unfriend me. I concluded with "As you wish." As for "contrary, self-important blowhard," I figure that comes down to this: contrary = I disagreed with him, and not just on this occasion, and I don't engage in multicultural-style tolerance of everything self-important = I am confident about my beliefs and how I state them blowhard = I am not afraid to state my disagreements with anyone - I speak up His worldview has always been that of a rather flighty mystic and skeptic. I suppose "wispily Wiccan" is a good way to describe his beliefs, and "nobody can ever really know anything" or words to that effect was a common statement from him. I have no idea where the hope that the rapture would have occurred came from - I wouldn't have pegged him for that.
  7. Again, thanks everyone for your help and support (and praise ). Good timing on your post, Abaco, because I had two auditions this week. Monday was for the musical version of The Wedding Singer, and Wednesday was for another production of Jesus Christ Superstar. Both shows left me voice mail this afternoon. At the former, my singing was fine, but I proved something I already knew - I absolutely, beyond any possibility of doubt, have no dance skills whatsoever. That's fine, though, because (a) I know I can learn and (B ) I cared more about learning the audition process than being in that show. They've offered me a part in the ensemble, but I haven't decided if I'm going to take it. I know that for someone starting out in entertainment it's a bad idea to turn down anything, but I'm doing this because I enjoy it, not as a profession. On the other hand, I wasn't the only one there who couldn't dance, and the director and choreographer said that they never turn anyone away for (lack of) dance skills and that they teach non-dancers how to. So I could get free dance lessons out of it, which is no small thing. I'm quite well-coordinated (lots of sports), so I know I can learn. At the latter, I went to the last of three audition dates. There were five men and about 15 women, all but one man in their twenties or younger. Two of the men were quite good, although I thought I was a bit stronger than either (my voice was as solid as it's ever been that night). I, of course, don't know what talent was at the first two audition days. That show has offered me a role as "one of the priests." I don't know what that means exactly, and I have to find out because on my budget (both are non-paying jobs) I can't accept the hour-long drive twice a day, three or four days a week for rehearsals if I have a one-line solo or less. I called for more info about that.
  8. Jury Duty

    This is exactly what these people are like. They know almost nothing and haven't integrated what little knowledge they have, yet expound authoritative-like ("authoritatively" would give them too much credit) on philosophy, economics, politics, or any other topic that comes up. They spout errors on the most basic things, accept no correction even on factual matters, and dismiss differences with smug, haughty chuckles. Case in point: I recently had an exchange on Facebook with a friend (whom I also know in person) about taxes. His position, after a number of errors even in bad economics, was effectively that he felt (there's that word) that we all have a duty to pay more and higher taxes and that I should shut up and "deal with it." (The quote is exact.) I was so incensed that if we had been having the conversation face to face I would have punched him. He didn't understand my ire. He said he didn't mean anything personal, he was speaking abstractly. I pointed out (in somewhat less polite terms than this) that it wasn't abstract dollars taken out of abstract people's paychecks, nor abstract hours spent working as a slave to produce those non-abstract dollars, but he still couldn't understand why anyone would be upset about the matter. And that is one of the most intelligent of the lot. "Deal with it"! I'll be throwing that at him for the rest of my life. It's reached the point where the only conversation I can stand with them is trivial small-talk. I hate trivial small-talk, so I don't say much at all to them outside of "business" any more. It's the only way I can stand to be around them (for the time being I don't have much choice about that). Problem is, outside of this forum and a handful of others, I haven't found anyone any better.
  9. It's important to consider your own development as well. I remember when I first found Objectivism I had a real "convert's fanaticism." I stuck my opinion into everything with everybody. I know now that (1) iit's a sign of maturity in understanding not to do that and (2) my understanding of the philosophy want all that great so I probably said a lot of mistaken things. I'm much better at both now.
  10. Atlas Shrugged: Part I (2011)

    Warning: There are spoilers about this movie in this post. Not that it matters. I'm home now, so I'll add some brief remarks: Bad script. Bad acting. Bad CGI. Bad lighting. Bad choices for adaptation to film. With almost no exceptions, bad casting. Bad, bad, bad. I tried to watch the movie both as someone who knows nothing of the book, and as myself, someone who has read the book at least a dozen times (since the first time in 1998). Obviously it was difficult to get past my knowledge of the book for the former, but I think I managed it well enough. If the film had been my first encounter with the story, I would have had no idea what was going on. The story as presented is disjointed, murky, and foreign. Characters appear and disappear seemingly at random, or their names are dropped for no apparent purpose. No coherent reasons are given for the vanishing businessmen, nor for why their vanishing matters. The philosophical bases for both the good and evil characters are entirely missing, even by implication. There is little to no exposition whether spoken or shown, nor was any narrative advanced by the dialog. As a film taken solely on its own merits, it's terrible. Now, for someone who knows the book as well as I do, the movie was perhaps even more disappointing. All the above still applies, and is amplified by knowing what to expect. Nearly every character neither looks nor acts as described in the book (although the complaint about their look may be my personal prejudice). Why does Francisco talk to Hank at the party? Why do Dagny and Hank suddenly sleep together? Who is Owen Kellogg and why does he matter? What the hell is the State Science Institute and does the guy Dagny talks to there have any significance, or even a name? How about the guy who confronts Hank about the rights to Rearden Metal - who is he and what does he have to do with anything? Why is the Rio Norte line, so small a portion of the Taggart system on the visible maps, so important? Why is there no indication before he has to sell them (or give them away, as it appeared) that Rearden owns more than one business? Who is Paul Larkin and what possible reason should anyone have for caring about him? Who cares about Midas Mulligan? (His story told in background noise while other characters are having a conversation, thus easily missed.) The complaining questions could go on and on and on. The only characters I found acceptable were Hank Rearden, Orren Boyle, and maybe Philip Rearden, Gwen Ives, and the courteous, stone-faced Indian serving dinner at Ellis Wyatt's house. Yes, that last was on screen only in the background and only for a few seconds, but that still makes him better than nearly all the others - at least he was true to the book. As for Philip, in the scene where he asks Hank for the donation he's rather good, but at the party, when James Taggart listens to his rant and asks "Who are you?" I was wondering the same thing. The problems with the characters is not necessarily a reflection of acting skill, but as one reviewer said, it seemed as though there had been no rehearsal at all. Everything looked like a first take, and the actors appeared not to understand their characters or the story, let alone the philosophy, in the slightest. Worst of all was Dagny, who was so other than the incredible character Ayn Rand wrote as to be all but unrecognizable. My two favorite books in the world are The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged. I stopped counting how many times I've read LOTR at 40, and the only reason AS doesn't have the same numbers is that I've been reading the former for over 20 more years. I adore the LOTR films, despite their differences from the book. I was truly hoping to adore the film version of Atlas, and my disappointment is immense.
  11. Atlas Shrugged: Part I (2011)

    I am sitting in a theater watching the credits run for Atlas Shrugged. It was a disaster.
  12. Osama Bin Laden Killed

    Absolutely. I just returned from a heated debate with Facebook "friends" over whether or not it was right to kill Bin Laden at all. Made me ill, but it clearly illustrates your point about internal enemies.
  13. Mispronunciations

    Is that specific example really linguistic laziness? Or could it be a regional thing? In general I agree, although it bothers me far more in public speaking than in day to day conversation. BTW, I enjoy the opposite, emphasizing the 'g' - it's somehow endearing. I hear it primarily in certain British dialects. For example I recall hearing the Beatles, especially Ringo, pronouncing "ing" with a 'g' like in "gone" at the end. Or in the movie Help when George exclaims about "an evil, fiendish thinGie!"
  14. Mispronunciations

    Mine tend to run together a bit: I say "the egg" as "th' egg." But if I consciously separate them, it's definitely "thee" that's comfortable for me.
  15. Mispronunciations

    I don't remember being taught that, but now that I think about it that's how I pronounce it: "thee egg" or "thee orange." I tried to force "thuh" for them and it sounded and felt unnatural.
  16. JCS Epilogue: A local theater company just announced auditions for, you guessed it, Jesus Christ Superstar.
  17. I've never heard of an incandescent bulb being the cause of a fire. Faulty wiring, sure, but never a bulb. I just can't wait until I run out of incandescents and have no choice in the matter. Aren't you excited that we're going to be saving the planet?
  18. Introduction

    Welcome! Always great to have another fellow traveller. Yet another I.T. guy here. Primarily software design & coding. Currently looking for work in the field, although I would like to start writing Android apps too.
  19. (Sorry if this tale runs long, but it's also serving to journal the day for myself.) I ran back to the dressing room and quickly put on the rest of my costume for "live Judas": a red shirt, my rope belt, and a sort of black robe with vertical patterned stripes to go over all. My brown sneaker-tread sandals finished off the outfit. Lynn, our director, looked rather pleased to see me. The rest of the cast was lined up for their entrance, but the plan was not for me to join them. To get everyone into place, Lynn had decided to open the show with "Hosanna," the song for Jesus's entry to Jerusalem. That number normally is about halfway through Act I, but it worked well to get the whole chorus, the Apostles, Mary Magdalene, and Jesus situated for the standard opening number, "Heaven on Their Minds." So, following the overture, the entire cast, except Caiaphas, Annas, Pilate and his wife, and me, entered from the back of the church and walked up the center aisle, waving palm leaves and singing "Hosanna." The other four I mentioned entered from behind the altar, with Pilate and his wife sitting on "thrones" sort of overseeing everything from just in front of the altar (they sat there for the entire show except when singing their numbers - I have no idea why as they didn't belong in most scenes), and the priests stepping forward from them to confront the crowd accompanying Jesus up the aisle. Before any of that started, though, good old Judas had gone from the dressing room, downstairs through the basement, up the back stairs, and up into the otherwise closed balcony. As far as I could tell, no one in the audience had seen me, which was what we wanted. Sitting on the steps between the balcony pews, so that even if anyone had looked up they wouldn't have seen me, I waited for the opening strains of "Hosanna." When the song started, I stood up and sat on the railing of the balcony, watching the scene unfold below me. I went straight into character, looking somewhat exasperated and disdainful as the crowd of fanatics followed Jesus into the "city." Not that it mattered - with all eyes on the crowd and the priests, no one noticed the cynical observer up above. Out of nowhere, some guy with a camera appeared in the balcony! He sat down in the pew right next to me, right where I was going to be moving back and forth along the rail as I sang "Heaven on Their Minds." There was maybe a minute left in "Hosanna." I tapped him on the shoulder and told him I needed him to move. Snapping pictures, he acted like I wasn't even there! I did it again. This time he got up, patted me on the shoulder, told me he had what he wanted, and left the balcony just as "Hosanna" was ending. I was more than a little rattled. I had to hurry to get my concentration back, which fortunately I managed to do, because the band immediately began playing "Heaven on Their Minds." This is my favorite song of the whole show, and that I got to sing it made it even better. Now, though, it was time to find out whether or not my voice had arrived where I needed it to be. The first few lines are low and quiet enough that I got no indication where my voice was - I could have sung them perfectly right out of bed: My mind is clearer now At last, all too well I can see where we all soon will be If you strip away The myth from the man You will see where we all soon will be Then came the moment of truth: Jesuuuuuuuuus! BAM! Nailed it! Best I'd ever done! My voice had come through for me. This was going to be something special. The audience had begun to look around to see who was singing. my voice was coming from speakers near the floor in the front, and I was standing in the balcony in the back. It wasn't too long, though, before I peripherally noticed a few, then a lot, then all of the audience looking my way. Meanwhile I was shocking myself with how well I was doing. Then I made the mistake of thinking too much about what I was doing, and not just doing it. I realized I was singing the third verse where the second verse was supposed to be. I maintained my composure, though. It was disappointing, because I really like the second verse, but there was nothing for it. I just went with it. I had to pay attention to the band at that point, because there's an eight bar musical break after the second verse. In rehearsal sometimes they had picked up on mistakes and adapted and other times they had just played through. If they had noticed my mistake, they might have ended the song right after that verse. But they didn't and went into the break. That meant I was going to have to either sing the second verse where the third verse belonged, or repeat the third verse. I chose the latter, because the former wouldn't have made lyrical sense and wouldn't have suited the song's close. Going into the break instead of ending also meant I could go through with my plan for the rest of the song - using the break to leave the balcony to finish in the main aisle among the audience. I flew down the annoyingly steep stairs, managing not to trip and break myself. Eight bars of quick 7/4 time goes by in a hurry, but I made it to the center aisle with time to spare. I sang the third verse again and brought the song to a successful conclusion. Silence. We had prepared in rehearsal for applause after each song. There wasn't any. I was flustered for a moment, not just because I was expecting there to be some sort of applause but also because I knew I had just completed a fantastic performance. I hesitated for a bit. Then, not knowing what else to do, I made my planned exit out the back. As it turned out, because the show was being performed in a church, the audience was unsure whether they were supposed to applaud or be solemn. It seems they were erring on the side of caution, and I wasn't in a position to educate them on how there would be no smiting from above. In my confusion over Camera Guy I hadn't noticed that there was no applause after "Hosanna," so I wasn't prepared for the lack of reaction. We got no applause until after "I Don't Know How to Love Him," and that was because Mary Magdalene's acting coach was in the audience and got it started. After that there was noise after every number. So it was back down the back stairs, through the basement, and up the stairs to the sacristry behind the altar for my entrance in "What's the Buzz/Strange Thing Mystifying." I paused a moment in the sacristry to down some flat Diet Coke (having put one of my bottles there for that purpose), and waited to hear Mary Magdalene start in with "Let me try to cool down your face a bit" to enter from behind the altar with a scornful look on my face. I won't go into so much detail about the rest of the show. Everything went wonderfully. I didn't flub any more lines. I hit all the notes, even the high ones at the edge of my range that I had often missed in rehearsal. Jesus and I convincingly developed our relationship from mutual respect to mutual disdain. I spent a lot of time sitting in the front pew, where the soloists sat when they weren't on and had no other stage direction. (That's where I'd stashed my other bottle of Diet Coke.) All the other soloists were fantastic: Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Pilate, Pilate's wife, Simon/Peter (played by the same guy), Caiaphas, Annas, the unnamed priest, and Herod (sung by the bandleader). And I particularly enjoyed 11-year-old Abby, who absolutely charmed with her one line in "Peter's Denial": But I saw you too. It looked just like you." I am especially proud of one thing: I had some people (including myself!) in tears for the ending of "Judas's Death," where he breaks down in anguish, snaps, and kills himself. (We didn't stage the hanging, I just took off my rope belt, wrapped it around my neck, and ran down the center aisle and out the back.) Once more I went downstairs, through the basement, and up into the sacristry, as Pilate washed his hands of the whole ridiculous mess and ordered the crucifixion, this time changing into my "dead Judas" costume, a bright white choir robe, for "Superstar." There was a roar of applause when I came out for the curtain call, but I wasn't paying much attention. I was riding the high of having just completed one of the greatest accomplishments of my life. Afterwards there were congratulations, pictures, and hugs all around. I heard from many people that I was very impressive. Sure, it was no Broadway production, and I'm no Carl Anderson (though I'm grateful to him, since I borrowed heavily from his performance in the 1973 film). But it was something special, with special people. Something worth remembering for the rest of my life, no matter what I may go on to do later. And I've already been invited back for next year... (I have a few pictures gathered, most of poor quality, in this Photobucket album. I'll have more as I collect them from others who were at the show.)
  20. In case I hadn't mentioned it , I played Judas in Jesus Christ Superstar on Sunday. Let me tell you all about it: First thing when I wake up, my voice is much lower than it is later in the day. It takes maybe 4 - 5 hours to get to "normal." So, Saturday night I went to bed nice and early, so as to get lots of sleep and still get up early to be in "normal" voice by the 2:00 show. As you might expect, I didn't actually fall asleep until after midnight, and I didn't wake up Sunday morning until about 9:00, with my morning basso profundo as usual. I started talking right away, as that seems to help. Fortunately my granddaughter was in a conversational mood, it being her 16-month birthday, and we had plenty to talk about. By 10:30 I felt maybe 1/3 of the way to being able to hit those high notes. Call was at noon. I knew I wouldn't be ready by then, but I was also a little worried that I wasn't going to be ready by showtime. But in the space of taking a shower my voice made a big jump, and my confidence increased. Earlier in the week I had talked to a friend who is part owner of a company that does karaoke shows about borrowing two of their wireless microphones for JCS. He had agreed, although the mics wouldn't be available to us until the day of the show. I called him about picking them up. He said he only had one and needed to call around to his DJs to find another one. He told me he would call me back when he found it. I was a few minutes late for call (very unusual for me - I'm usually at least half an hour early for everything), but nobody noticed because everyone was crowded around the snack table. I checked my costumes (pre- and post-death Judas), my props (a small leather bag with exactly 30 nickels in it and a rope belt), and my supplies (two 2-liter bottles of Diet Coke, gone flat, for soothing my throat between songs - more on those later). Everything was ready. I gave the leather bag to my friend Paul, who was playing Annas and also was the man responsible for getting me involved in the show in the first place. He does a lot of local theater, and was at the time involved in three different shows. He hadn't quite memorized all his lyrics, so he taped a tiny cheat sheet to the leather bag for when we sang "Blood Money." We briefly practiced keeping the cheat sheet facing away from the audience. I spent a few minutes taking random pictures and having cast members sign a program for me, as a memento. At about 12:30 the cast joined the band out front to run through a few numbers that still had minor sticking points. One of these was "Superstar," the closer, which, as you most likely know, Judas sings. We'd been having some trouble with the ending. That got fixed, but I sounded terrible (by my own harsh self-assessment) and I started to really worry that I wouldn't be in full voice by showtime. I spent every free moment from then on quietly talking and singing to myself, hoping I would get ready in time. By 1:00 I hadn't heard from my friend about the microphones, so I called him. Five calls, no answer. Sure, we could get through the show with the mics we had - we had been rehearsing that way all along - but there would be a lot of distracting shuffling of them between actors, as well as worry about tangled cords. We did have one wireless mic, but I had promised the other two. So I was a bit bothered by this. At 1:15 I changed into the underneath portion of my costumes, which was merely a black t-shirt and black garb pants that were left over from a Renaissance faire role. I made another call to my friend about the mics, and this time he answered. He had the second wireless mic, but I would have to pick them up at his house. He was sick and in no condition to drive. (He had even canceled his karaoke show the night before, something he never does.) So I told the director I was leaving to get the mics. She turned a slight shade of gray before I could tell her that my friend lived only a few blocks away and that I would be back in about 10 minutes. After an incident-free trip I returned triumphantly with the mics, only to find that our sound guy hadn't showed up yet. I know my way around a sound board fairly well, but I wasn't about to mess with his setup. Fortunately he walked in just then, and we started adding the new mics to the system. Once the first one was on we did a quick test and it was working fine. Somehow, though, we found that the receiver for the first mic was picking up both the new mics, at different volumes. We decided that rather than trying to work out on an unfamiliar mic how to change the frequency of the only one of the two that could change frequency, we just wouldn't use the mic that was coming in at the lower volume. Thus we has two wireless mics instead of three, which was still double the number we had before. It was now 1:45. The doors had opened at 1:30 and people were filing in. The show was scheduled to start at 2:00. I still wasn't in costume. I didn't know if my voice had come all the way in. The sound guy had no real levels done on the new mic. The director didn't even know where I was. Who knows what other last-minute crises we were dealing with. It wasn't much different than the other shows I had done. To be continued...
  21. I have been having a sometimes heated discussion on Facebook with a real-life friend who is not only not an Objectivist, but who counts himself a capitalist while espousing strong anti-capitalist political views. In reality he's a leftist, but the political middle has shifted so far leftwards he thinks he's middle of the road. I, on the other hand, view things as so far gone that I honestly expect the collapse of the U.S. into anarchy and violence (or conquest). I have reached the point where I take any advocacy of statism personally, seeing as it's not some abstract political philosophy but directly affects individuals, of which I am one, more and more each day. His response to one of my comments got me really angry, and I said so in a comment on another Facebook post. He found that comment and took offense at my taking offense. The discussion is ongoing, but I am still offended by his attitude and refuse to give an inch because of the principles involved. (I'll post that discussion if anyone cares to see it.) Sometimes offense can't be helped. I don't care any more if someone is offended by my views. I'm tired of people believing that leftists and religionists can say what they want and because their views are mainstream they must be tolerated and I'm wrong for taking offense, but they're perfectly justified in taking offense at my views. F*** that, I will not tolerate it any more. I will say what I think and if others don't like it then too bad for them. That's not to say I go out of my way to offend (except sometimes it's fun ), and I don't inject philosophy or politics into every conversation. But I don't pull any punches any more, especially if someone punches me first.
  22. It's done. Right now there are no words except WOOOOO!!!!! I'm exhausted. More later, with pictures!
  23. BIG weekend, and I'm ready! You know, it's been a long time since I've felt excitement about something. Almost forgot what it's like. I'll report back with pictures from tomorrow's dress rehearsal - photos of the performance, and video or audio of anything, are not permitted. Here goes...
  24. Mispronunciations

    My friends at Red Vs. Blue .