I wonder if the Viking Age Club and Society of the Sons of Norway will be asked to participate in Walker, Minnesota’s annual Ethnic Fest again, next year.

I fear we’ve made ourselves unwelcome up there.

No, I’m not talking about the arson in the courthouse. Or the sacking of the coffee shop. Or the drunken assault on the Irish dancing troupe (admittedly a lapse of judgment on our part).

No, I’m talking about the weather. The legend of the Ethnic Fest, as passed down through the generations by the village elders, states that it has never rained on the event in its history.

Until last year, when the VAC&S came.

And this year, when we came again.

Rainy events are a drag. We can’t put out our stuff for sale (because it gets wet and loses its intrinsic market value) or our display equipment (because it rusts). Basically we just hung out in costume, most of us huddled under my sunshade (suddenly the most popular tent in the camp). With a waterproof tarp draped over it, it provided a relatively dry spot.

We did, however, do two live steel combat shows. So the town got something for its money.

It was actually raining lightly during our first show. Think of the final battle in The Thirteenth Warrior. It was pretty much like that. Except, of course, that I’m much better looking than Antonio Banderas.

By the time of the second show, the sky had cleared enough for the guys to unpack the chain mail assembly demonstration, always a venue of great fascination to teenage boys.

When all was done and we’d packed our wet canvas in our SUVs, our group repaired to the nearby Ojibway casino for supper. After a very nice buffet, the others turned to gambling. I myself went back to our gracious hosts’ home to bed, having explained politely to my friends that they were all going to Hell.

I’ve had better weekends, but at least I wasn’t in Galveston.

. . . it will make it into the Congressional Record, said humorist Will Rogers. He was explaining the honor he had in having his material read into the Congressional Record. Normally, he said, you had to work your way up to being an actual senator before your stuff is funny enough to make it into the Congressional Record. Perhaps, Rogers was someone who could talk politics with common folk in his day. Mickey Mclean wonders if many of us still can.

I’m not sure I can do it well in person. I don’t have much opportunity to do it, but when I do, I find it’s much easier to lean on general cynicism (all politicians are blind and corrupt; they all waste our money) than to talk over something specific. I can wrangle a tough issue with one friend of mine, but we mostly agree, so it isn’t a real challenge. When I’m with people I disagree with, I usually just listen.

The Literary Saloon points to an article out of England titled, “Can intelligent literature survive in the digital age?” The answer to that is probably mixed, but the Saloon quotes a small bit that claims the new crop of British writers have never heard of Twitter and are embarrassed by blogging. When will most literary folk have a good perspective on technology? Maybe after another 40 years in the desert when the older ones have died off, we’ll get around to understanding where and what the Internet is good for.

But I don’t blame them much. “Now, many serious writers complain, challenging fiction doesn’t appeal; ‘difficult’ novels don’t sell.” That’s got to bite, and online writing or other new media are good whipping boys for that pain.

But there’s more too. Literary agent Clare Alexander is quoted saying:

There’s also the other side of the digital revolution – that original ideas filter through to print from the internet. Yes, occasionally a blog becomes a book – about sex, usually – and the really original ideas percolate through, but most stuff online is crap!

I don’t believe the publishing industry will have an ‘iPod moment’. People say that the new generation isn’t interested in reading books, but they forget that this is the generation that grew up reading Harry Potter.

They won’t have an iPod moment because they appear to need whole bottle of Wodehouse’s Buck U-Uppo. A breath of fresh air is what can stay outside the door as far as publishers are concerned. Still I doubt all is lost. In several years, no doubt, a bunch of homeschoolers will take over the industry.

It would be wrong and insensitive to make a joke about this story:

A British woman who was scratched several times by a rat she was trying to set free from her bird feeder died six days later from the wound, The Daily Mail reported Friday.

It would appear from this account that her love for animals led her to attempt to set the animal free rather than call somebody to kill it.

When Jesus told us not to throw pearls before swine, he was affirming certain sensible kinds of discrimination. Discrimination in itself is not bad. You’ve got to determine whether it’s discrimination based on a relevant or an irrelevant difference.

In other words, you’ve got to discriminate between different kinds of discrimination.

The differences between people and animals, or the differences between kittens and rats, are not irrelevant ones.