Bob Etheridge (D-NC) is giving the nuclear test to the idea that no publicity is bad publicity. Having seen the video on “several blogs,” the congressman has released an apology. I know congressmen get away with far worse than this (hiding money in their freezers, prostitution coordination in their houses), but I think Etheridge must be rejected for his district in favor of someone more level-headed. I mean, two congressmen smacking each other around one thing, but grabbing the neck of a college student who asked him a question on the street?
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Outrage
According to reports, the Taliban in Afghanistan have hanged a 7-year-old boy.
A 7-year-old boy was murdered by the Taliban in an apparent act of retribution this week. Afghan officials said that the child was accused of spying for U.S. and NATO forces and hanged from a tree in southern Afghanistan.
Daoud Ahmadi, the spokesman for the provincial governor of Helmand, said that the killing happened days after the boy’s grandfather, Abdul Woodod Alokozai, spoke out against militants in their home village.
For all you relativists who have trouble figuring out the complicated differences between good and evil, this is what we call evil.
Stopping a boat running a legal military blockade is not evil.
Just for the record.
You might want to make a note of this.
Story City (and Minneapolis) story
It was a pretty strenuous weekend, by my effete standards, but I made it through to the safe haven of another work week. The continuing theme was rain: I feared it; I expected it. I was pleasantly surprised.
Friday morning I drove down Highway 35 to Story City, Iowa (which, if you’ve been reading for a while, you may recall is the birthplace of my sainted grandmother) for the Scandinavian Days festival. I was representing the Viking Age Club & Society all by myself this year, with Sam the Viking, who owns the Viking boat, up from Missouri to keep me company. Here’s our camp.
Continue reading Story City (and Minneapolis) story
Biodiversity: The New Global Warming
E. Calvin Beisner points to an upcoming U.N. report to say climate alarmists are shifting from climate change to protecting various species around the world as another way to advance totalitarian politics.
Nonetheless, as global warming fears collapse in the face of Climategate, the green socialist machine is scrambling to be ready to switch gears. Perhaps the new rationale for global wealth redistribution and deindustrialization will be preserving biodiversity. It’s a good candidate: It has all the flaws of global warming – bad science, bad economics and totalitarian politics.
Thunderhead
Reedikuluz
The National Spelling Bee is on now, and there are protesters outside the competition who want our spelling rules changed.
Roberta Mahoney, 81, a former Fairfax County, Va. elementary school principal, said the current language obstructs 40 percent of the population from learning how to read, write and spell.
“Our alphabet has 425-plus ways of putting words together in illogical ways,” Mahoney said.
The protesting cohort distributed pins to willing passers-by with their logo, “Enuf is enuf. Enough is too much.”
Thanks to Peter Sokolowski for this link. He is a lexicographer with Merriam-Webster and claims, “English spelling is arbitrary, but it is the key to the rich history of the language. Normalize the spelling, and we lose touch with history.”
Tough Black Men
Ken Blackwell suggests, “Maher says what liberals think.” So, don’t ask for outrage, cause it ain’t comin.
I'm so excited, one of my eyebrows twitched
I’m kind of excited about this. Thanks to Grim’s Hall for putting me onto it.

This is a painting I’ve loved for years. It’s included in Osprey Publishing’s volume, Elite 3: The Vikings. Osprey publishes many, many fine books on military history, replete with illustrations. By far their best artist was the late Angus McBride, who painted this one. It illustrates a moment just prior to the death of King Olaf Trygvesson, an event that happens (offstage) in my novel, The Year of the Warrior.
I have a couple quibbles. The saga says that Olaf was wearing a red kirtle (or cloak, translations differ) over his mail that day. And anyone who wears mail knows that—especially with a shirt as long as that one—you wear it with a belt, to take some of the weight off your shoulders.
But I consider it probably the best Viking painting ever done, and I’ve got one coming. Osprey has made a limited number of prints available, and my order is in, my copy in the mail. They only announced it yesterday, so if you’re interested you might e-mail them yourself and try your luck, but I wouldn’t count on any being left by now. I think this is a print a lot of people will want.
Which reminds me of the funniest thing I heard during the Viking fighting in Elk Horn last weekend— “There’s no laughing in combat!”
And speaking of Vikings, I’m going to be representing the Viking Age Club and Society in Story City, Iowa tomorrow and Saturday at the Scandinavian Festival. Then I’ll be with the other Vikings for Danish Day at Danebo Hall in Minneapolis, on Sunday.
If I live.
As always, my renter will be protecting my house. He recently contracted rabies.
Stuff from FakeAPStylebook
This kind of thing abounds, and some of it, like the stuff at The Bureau Chiefs Store, is pretty good.
“Remember, brevity is.”
Tivoli report, 2010
Tivoli Fest in Elk Horn, Iowa this year was good. Exhausting, as always, for an old man like me, but good. I have no complaints.
I didn’t take any pictures. I took my camera, but did nothing with it. There are plenty of pictures, taken by others, on Facebook, but I myself didn’t see much that was different from last year, so the pictures in my report from a year ago ought to serve adequately.
Our first activity was a “Viking wedding.” A couple already married legally (or soon to be married; I didn’t ask) were given a heathen ceremony next to the replica Viking House. I attended out of politeness, and wished them well, and was relieved to learn that the celebration wasn’t going to be so authentic as to require three solid days of drunken feasting.
One of the most important questions in planning any event is “What will I forget to bring this year?” The answer for 2010: my sleeping bag. Once again I was using a borrowed club Viking tent, and I had an inflatable mattress to sleep on. I always keep a waterproof tarp in my car, so I tried using that for warmth. By the middle of the night I found it inadequate, and so I put on the shirt I’d worn the day before. Shortly before I got up, I had the thought, “You idiot. You brought two cloaks. What do you think a cloak is for?”
Saturday was well organized. We had group battles (seven men per side) scheduled for 12:30, 3:00 and 6:00. Lots of fun. I think I was left standing once, but only because I’d been (theoretically) badly wounded in the right arm, and so fell back, out of the fight.
We had the same Scottish cook as last year, and the food was good, plentiful and (relatively) authentic. Once again there was a haggis—a “beef haggis” (somebody said such things are acceptable in a pinch), and I thought it better than last year’s. The evening was given over to conversation, ranging from the scholarly to the scatological. I had the great pleasure of having a conversation with an Englishman (who bought one of my books). His opinions weren’t at all the sort that I expect from Englishmen nowadays, but maybe that explains why he lives in Iowa now. He’d studied history and archaeology, and been a Saxon reenactor, in his homeland, and I like to think I was able to talk to him on something approaching an equal level. He did disappoint me, however, by informing me that my proper Anglo-Saxon pronunciation of the name of the Venerable Bede (Bae-deh) was pretty much a waste of time, because everybody pronounces it “Bead” over there, just like over here (on the rare occasions anyone ever talks about him at all over here).
Afterwards, another delightful fireworks display, marred only by the fact that a couple fires started in the launching area. This engendered considerable mirth among us Vikings, and several guys speculated about the fate of “One-eyed Bob and his crew of four-fingered pyrotechnicians” who (they were certain) were in charge of everything. The volunteer fire department came in to douse the fires, but in fact left one of them smoldering, and it flared up again. But then I went to bed, and apparently no disaster followed.
Sunday we were incited, by bloody-minded festival organizers, to stand along the edges of the street and harass bicyclists participating in the official festival bike ride. There were no casualties. Later I went up to the fire department to enjoy the all-you-can-eat aebelskiver breakfast (an aebelskiver is a sort of Danish pancake, fried in balls rather than flat. Wonderful eating). I did not taunt the firemen on their shoddy performance the night before.
We didn’t do any big battles on Sunday, but the Skjaldborg guys from Omaha gave my group some training in areas in live steel combat where we’d picked up bad habits. It all made sense, and I was grateful for the correction. They also showed us how to fight with an axe, and one of them presented us with our first club fighting (blunt) axe. If anybody from Skjaldborg reads this, much thanks.
Tivoli wouldn’t be Tivoli without rain, but the rain that came on Sunday afternoon was pretty light, so we didn’t have to take wet tents home. I drove down and back with a young member of our group, a new fellow, and having company (especially a C.S. Lewis fan) made the journey a whole lot shorter.
But no less exhausting.
Still, the dream I had Saturday night, of encountering a skidding, out-of-control semi-trailer truck on the highway, did not come true. I am not a prophet, and all things considered, I’m glad of that.
