Friday, August 28, 2015


Progress continues.

Well, no one wants to see the further adventures of Uranus Ucker- which is fine, it's fine. Not every idea can be a good one after all. I initially planned to go from one parody to another- Donald Trump's Candidacy....

Courtesy of Something Awful's DnD Goons.

...and I still might, but for the time being the fact he hasn't been laughed out of the running appalls me far too much to joke about it properly just yet. I can suggest a better alternative in the meantime.

2016 is Their Year

I've been thinking of taking up vaporizing lately. Or, as people insistent on using the minimum amount of syllables call it- vaping. I've written about it before, as some of you may recall. Vaporizers are without a doubt a superior method of nicotine delivery, but what dawned on me most recently is that they could be no small amount of fun without any nicotine whatsoever.

What bothers me now, when contemplating a habit involving flavored vapors, is the name.

They keep calling it vaping.

I refuse to vape.

What do you call someone who vapes? A Vapist?

"Hello, I am a Vapist, would you like to Vape? I can show you how! GET ON THE GROUND, NOW! PUT THE TIP OF THIS IN YOUR MOUTH AND SUCK!"

No, I think not.

And the habit is such a waste of potential- if you were to loudly discuss the parts of a vaporizer while assembling it it would sound far less like you were planning a trip to flavor country and far more like you were building a death ray to fry it with.

This will vape you.
Vape... it sounds somewhere between infantile and vaguely offensive.

Call them what they are, Vaporizers! If you smoke when you smoke, vapor when you vapor.

Not vape. End vape culture!

And now, in a farewell to Jupiter Ascending-

Nineteen minutes of wrong, which makes it one of the longest of these. I'm still not sure they got all of it.

Progress continues.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Not Jupiter Ascending, Part 3

Progress continues.

I've been very distracted as of late. We're making some progress with our latest troubles, but I really hoped to have everything fixed by now. It's all painfully frustrating.

I've hardly been able to get into playing Guild Wars 2 accordingly, which has explicably hamstrung my efforts to make anything of the guild I started within it.

I really should try though. The employee who's account I've been using recently gave it to me outright, apparently they have burnt out on playing it. This is fortunate as it was always a bit awkward when someone they knew wanted to speak with them while I was playing my characters.

This also means I have more or less inherited their characters as well, which consist of a human guardian that appears to be the love child of Darth Vader and a Furnace, a Sylvari Engineer/Medic with an eldritch horror of some sort on their back, a big green-armored Norn and an Asura Mesmer that is trying very hard to look like an alcholic hobo warrior. I'll... do something with them.

Screenshots on request.

I've been sure to thank #82 for their generosity and recompensed them somewhat.

Meanwhile, here is the third parody installment. Even greatly abbreviated for the sake of parody this is a tedious film... If anyone out there is enjoying this, I'll continue- but even I'm having second thoughts in the meanwhile.


In the deepest recesses of the forbidden sector, on the Planet Taboo, situated within the Verboten Peninsula, inside the Alcatraz Palace, Lord Reticulatus Saxabras sits on the Throne of No-Nos and turns his attention to an approaching minion.

Reticulatus : "Excellent. I trusst you have put Mommy in her quarters and given her the ssafe word, Mr. Night?"
Mr. Night: "There was a... mistake, my Lord. Ms. Duvalier had a different genetic makeup, their name was used by someone else. N-now we have determined the reincarnation is there, they turned up for the donation procedure- but we did not get there in time before they were taken-"

Reticulatus : "TAKEN?! BY WHO?!"

Mr. Night : "By a former Legionnaire... Channing Tatum, m'Lord..- But we are on their trail! We'll-"

"Throttle yoursself unconscious immediately, Mr. Night."
"Of course, my Lord. We'll find the-ek..."

Meanwhile, back on earth...

It was hard to accept what Channing Tatum was saying. If I hadn't seen little grey men probe the hell out of my employer just so many hours ago now- there was no way I could.

"Let me see if I get this straight..."
Uranus : "You're telling me that Humanity didn't evolve on earth, but is in fact the dominant species in the galaxy- which it rules in a pseudo-corporate fuedalist manner- with all of the power in the hands of millenias-old genocidal maniac nobility called 'Entitled' who liquefy planetary populations of less-developed humans in order to create an... elixir of eternal youth for personal use and profit."

Channing squirmed at some of my terminology for some reason.

Channing: "Well, that sounds a bit harsh... I mean, they do seed human life on the planets first. They own the planets and the people on it."

Uranus : "So they own you."

Channing: "No. Well, I mean, one of them hired me to find you- but I'm just hired, not owned."

Uranus : "But they own me."

Channing : "Well... yes, up until we get you titled that is. Then they won't."

Uranus : "Because I'm Entitled then."

Channing : "Exactly."

Uranus : "I need a gun."

Channing : "What? Why?"

Uranus : "Self defense." I lied. "I don't think these other Entitled will want me joining their ranks."
Not when they learned what I had in mind anyway.

Channing : "But you're the reincarnation of the most powerful House's matriarch! The children from your past life are just thrilled to have you back! Once we get you to my employer, their MechaLuchadores won't let anyone hurt you."

Uranus : "A gun, please."

He stared at me a moment, then sighed and handed over an alien pistol of some sort.

Channing : "If it makes you feel better."

He then gave me a brief tutorial in it's use, after which I tucked it away.

Uranus : "Allright then, what is the next step?"

Channing : "We're off to see my mentor, who can arrange for us to get a ride to my employer's place. From there, we go to the Hall of Records and get you Entitled. I get paid, you start a new life- everyone is happy."

Uranus : "Can't you just... beam us up?"

Roughly what I had in mind.
Channing laughed.

Channing : "Off of the top of Sears Tower in Chicago in plain view of everyone?! We'd be blown up by planetary guards in no time! No, no. We drive."

Uranus: "Oh. Well. So long as the windows are rolled down..."

Channing : "Great! Now, I'll just get my fursuit back on and we'-"

Uranus : "No."

Channing : "What? Why not? I don't feel like myself out of it, you don'-"

Uranus : "No. Look, I'm going to be Entitled- do you really want to cross me?"

Channing whined in a manner very much more dog than wolf-like, but grudgingly set about getting ready.

In short order we were on the road- in an awkward silence. I recognized the silent treatment.

After an hour, I finally cracked.

Uranus : "Look, I'm sorry- but you really needed to wash that thing."

Channing grunted irritably.

Uranus : "Who is this mentor of yours anyhow?"

He grumbled a moment more before answering, apparently deciding to give it up.

Channing : "Buzz Abeebee."

I rolled my eyes and lied back in the carseat. Galactic citizens approached my Father's poor taste in names, clearly.


Progress continues!

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Not Jupiter Ascending, Part 2

Progress continues.

We keep picking up radio chatter from Mercenary teams, still looking for our facilities in increasingly bizarre places. From the sound of it, they've lost a tremendous amount of faith in this Retekra's intelligence. Both their information and personal intellect.

I am almost desperate to find out why they would be listening to anyone mad enough to rename themselves to an inversion of my name.

I mean, even Bizzaro from Superman lore was Bizzaro. Not Namrepus.

Anyhow, Part 2 of Uranus Distending.


I hardly had time to call any of the proper tabloids for prices, that was going to take a measure of discretion. I mean, my employer didn't remember a thing that had happened to her- but were sorely (hah) distressed by a sudden new-found discomfort with walking.

These alien guys clearly had tricks up their sleeves, and the last thing I wanted to do was wake up, find myself walking funny- and not remember anything about it.

I did have time to decide that I would go through with the harvesting anyway. I mean, just because I planned on offing myself shouldn't mean my ova shouldn't go on.

As I waited in the Clinic lobby, I looked over the footage of my employer's extra-terrestrial disgracing.


As I looked the footage over I had the troubling thought.... 
What if I had received an poorly-timed phone call while recording this? I don't have my phone on silent and my ringtone would surely have given me away.

I mean, they would have probably erased my memory just like my employer's, and if they can erase human memory then a Cell Phone's should prove no challenge.

Fortunately no such thing happened.

The Nurse's announcement they were ready for me saved me from further contemplation.

Wordlessly, I got undressed and braced myself for the procedure.

If you thought about it, human egg harvesting is really rather kinky. You get naked, put on a robe, hop up on a table-bed in front of an assortment of men and women you don't know in the slightest who then go poking around your reproductive bits looking for souvenirs while you're unconscious and/or high as balls.

 I let them put the gas mask on me and took a deep breath. The anesthesiologist watched me carefully. She seemed nice. Wait, wha-

HOLY CRAP! They've given me the GOOD STUFF!
 Consciousness slipped away, but I managed to get out a few more words.

"Use... plenty... of lube..."

Nurse : "Miss Ucker?"
I awoke rather blearily.

Nurse : "Miss Ucker, you are ready to go."

Uranus : "Huh? Oh, please, call me Uranus."

Nurse : "No. How are you feeling?"

Uranus : "Oh. Uh... Fine, I think. How did it go? Do I get pictures, video?"

Nurse : "I'm afraid not Miss Ucker, but the procedure went smoothly enough. The surgeons were a bit put off by all the moaning, but they're professionals. They pulled through."

Uranus : "Well. Ok then. I'll just... get dressed and go then."

Nurse : "Please, Miss Ucker. Please. Your... companion is stinking up the waiting room."

Uranus : "I wasn't expecting anyone would be waiting on me."

Nurse : "Oh? Well then, you really won't be expecting Channing Tatum. Or so they claim to be."

Uranus : "Wouldn't you be able to tell?"

Nurse : "No. Please leave."

Well, this was a surprise. Someone claiming to be Channing Tatum waiting outside for me?

Naturally I dressed rapidly and rushed out. Then, it hit me. The Nurse wasn't lying about the odor. It was... sweat and funk and I'm not sure what else. While I waited for the room to stop spinning- he approached me.

Channing Tatum : "Cmm wiff mr erf yoo wnt to liff."
Uranus : "What? I can't understand you through that. Also... how many days straight have you been wearing it?"

Channing Tatum shook their oversized head and grabbed my hand in their 'paw'. They began dragging me out of the Clinic and while initially hesitant I learned two things in rapid succession.

One, this was no ordinary fursuit. There was some sort of sturdy mechanical infrastructure in the paw that gave it a solid grip.

Two, the felt or plush material it was otherwise made from squished wetly. I tried not to think about that part.

Uranus : "Ok, ok, I'm coming..."

Mr. Tatum here took me to their van, which waited outside. We then drove silently to Sears Tower. They let us in without issue, surprisingly, and he led me to a service elevator. It was a long awkward ride up to the topmost floor.

I could no longer smell anything, which was a mercy, but my eyes would not stop watering.

Once there he left me for a moment, eventually returning slightly less furry.

He then set about explaining something about aliens but my eyes just glazed over.
Two things had me shocked.

One, he was actually Channing Tatum.

Two, it was possible for him to smell worse. He may have taken off the Fur Suit, but he clearly hadn't thought to take a shower.

Channing : "Following me so far?"

Uranus : "You're Channing Tatum."

Channing : "Yes, and you are now one of the few people- on Earth- to know why my name matches no naming traditions on Earth. Though my Fursona name is Fangwind."

Uranus: "Huh?"

Channing Tatum sighed heavily, and began again.

Oddly it dawned on me that he seemed to share my love of tight-fitting vests... I wasn't sure how to feel about that in the present situation, so I simply wiped my eyes, tried to breath through my mouth and listened.


In closing, Jurassic World, Everyone.

Progress continues!

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Not Jupiter Ascending, Butt... Part 1

Progress continues.

Stress runs high however, and my patience is not what it should be accordingly. To add insult to injury I can't quite get over how truly awful Jupiter Ascending is. It's humorless dismal nature just won't wash away.

So, as with the Womanitely clickbait article it dawned on me that I could probably write up something vastly better than Jupiter Ascending and maybe, just maybe, get it out of my system so I can froth irritably over relevant problems alone.

It's going to be a long time before I dare subject myself to the new Fantastic Four movie, but despite a more unified understanding of how crap THAT movie is (presently 8% on the Tomatometer) I rather feel Jupiter Ascending is still worse. Perhaps even because it sits at a higher score, it's position secured by people who liked the pretty colors and flashing lights.

That... is a bit harsh. I take that back.

But I am not editing it out.

Anyhow, I present the first installment of Defensible Parody. If it amuses, I would appreciate comments to that effect- would help remind me to see it through to the end amidst all else which is taking place here.

*Opening Credits*

My mother met my father Max Ucker, a man who had a dream- a dream to look at sparkly things. Being fond of sparkly things herself, they hit it off immediately.

Unfortunately, one day while they were playing around with massive amounts of Vaseline, they were the targets of a home invasion. Sensing an opportunity to escape via the sweet release of death, he committed suicide by robber via challenging them to tug of war over a telescope. Or, alternatively, he sincerely felt the Telescope more important than Mother or the still as-of-yet unborn me.

I like to imagine it was the former, but truly he was a man of misplaced priorities.

Mother of course was horrified. That he was dead. So, pregnant with me she took to the seas and sailed to the promised land of America with an assortment of social misfits wracked with grief over crimes committed in their youths- I was born somewhere around the third story wherein a sad clown talked about his deep regret over abandoning his child to the mysterious roving masterless militias of Russia.

Being born in international waters ensured I would not be an American Citizen. Despite this, the Americans let me in alongside my mother. I suspect it was out of pity for my Father's other legacy, horrible taste in names.

For you see, my name is Uranus Ucker.

It's not what I would have chosen for me, but your name's your name.


Fortunately mother had connections. Relatives in the U.S. who helped her- and once I was old enough me- get the most lucrative and dignified of under-the-table jobs available to illegal immigrants- which by this time we most assuredly were- cleaning toilets for Republican Senators.

It kept food on the table, but it was hard. Often I would groan and say 'I hate my life.' perhaps longing for the sweet release of death I try to tell myself he sought- but the reality kept me focused. I had a purpose. I was going to have vengeance... and destroy the Telescope that got my Father killed.

Then I would kill myself.

It took me years... but I finally found it, on e-bay. It looked just like the telescope Mother had described. That had so seduced my Father with it's sexy, glossy curves that he was willing to take a bullet just to try and keep it.

Soon, my Nemesis... Soon.
But there was a problem: it was expensive. My savings were diminished by my obsession with tight-fitting vests- their squeezing the only thing that made me feel loved. Worse, the one bid I could afford to make was quickly topped by Starluvr69247.

Despair overwhelmed me, but on hearing my shrill screams of impotent fury my cousin Vladie proposed a solution: let him be my pimp.

Being whored out was a tempting solution of course, but I could hardly expect to earn the money needed on such short notice. He has a warm heart though and after a moment of contemplation came up with another proposal. He was planning to force a woman to sell her eggs to a fertility clinic- instead he would allow me to take their place. The first meeting would be tomorrow.

I asked him what the payoff would be and he informed me it would be a smooth 30% of the proceeds from the sale. More than enough to buy the telescope. It didn't truly matter, but I asked him why my share would be so much lower when I was the one risking legal ramifications by impersonating another woman and, if caught, probably deported to international waters. Not to mention undertaking an unnecessary surgical procedure.

"That's capitalism, babe. Shit rolls downhill. Profits flow up."

"Why the hell should that be an acceptable reason?"

Alternatively, he added, he could just shoot me and dispose of the body. As an illegal, hardly anyone would care. I told him 'Not Yet' and agreed to his terms.

The Telescope must go first.

The initial meeting with the Clinic went well. I did not expect that they needed to examine my DNA directly, but as it shouldn't have been on any Government database- not that you ever know with the NSA- I allowed it.

And just like that, it was over and an appointment was set for tomorrow for the actual egg harvesting.

"Harvesting". The word is kind of chilling isn't it? Maybe I could get into this. After all, something could go horribly wrong and if I die during that, how would I care about the telescope?

Later that very night, darkness has settled over the city. From atop a building three shadowy figures spout borderline non-sequiturs.

Black Mercenary Guy : "I think this guy was a Legion Tracker."

Azure Raver : "The hair dye didn't work, and the piercings didn't work, but I will find a way to finally make my parents pay."

Suddenly, their babbling is interrupted as a strange figure approaches the fertility clinic they were watching over.

The mysterious figure applies a space gadget to the back door of the clinic. The Lycanite looks up suddenly and sensing their presence, poses seductively.

Channing Tatum, as played by Fenris Wolfbane.

Azure Raver : "He's a Jacker."

Kodakman : "HOW CAN YOU TELL?"

Azure Raver : "Look, that's clearly a Lycanite F. They're a Jacker allright. I bet the inside of that suit is all kinds of sticky."

Black Mercenary Guy : "That's disgusting."

Azure Raver : "Yeah, that's why the Space Government makes them fight in the Foreign Legion. Those that survive their deployment earn an immunity from space indecency laws. This one clearly survived."

Black Mercenary Guy : "Yeah, this has to be the Tracker..."

Kodakman: "DO WE STOP HIM?"

Azure Raver : "Fuck no. Moldevort isn't paying us enough to touch that."

Black Mercenary Guy : vomits noisily


Disappointed, but unmolested, Channing Tatum enters the clinic and- after sniffing around in an alarmingly literal fashion- acquires what he needs.

It was work as usual for me the next day, I was working in the house of our employer, the woman Vladie was blackmailing into selling her ova before I stepped in. Her name had been on the application. She was strangely grateful for my interference, apparently preferring to think I had jumped into the situation to spare my wealthier, legal better from the indignity.

I was tempted to set them straight, but figured allowing an elite to imagine I was actually their subservient Best Friend Forever might have some benefit before I could finally embrace death with dignity.

They had a new crisis, already, and claimed to need my advice.

Oh noes. They cannot decide what dress to wear for rich boyfriend who might propose.
If I did not need to destroy that Telescope I would have hollowed my skull on the spot.
I provided my advice dutifully. Says I,

"Well, the choice of dress hardly matters, but if they are considering marriage the more conservative one might help your chances and, if they ask, you might as well say yes. Let's be fair, you have terrible judgement and are never going to get younger so even in a divorce you would fare better than you are now- so long as you can avoid a prenuptial agreement."

While they stared vapidly into space at my response, I went into the closet to dust- as was my menial labor job.

And that's when it happened. Little grey men quietly entered the apartment and knocked my employer unconscious somehow. With ingenious alien devices, they made her float through the air...

They then tested her with some... gun thing. They seemed perplexed by the results.

That done, the real fun began. Oh, the things they did to her. First rate fonging it was. I am not sure there were words in english for it. Being a good little illegal alien servant, I did everything I could in this situation.

Cha-Fucking-Ching, Baby. Proof of alien life, rambunctiously probing a debutante.
Maybe I could leave it to my relatives in my suicide note. I bet the Enquirer, if no one else, would pay a hefty sum for this. The finest, raunchiest footage Nokia is capable of capturing. 
They were quick though. True Minutemen  Minute-Things. Cleaned up after themselves thoroughly too.

They left her unconscious on the bed. It was shocking, and a bit sexy. I pondered if I needed to even go through with the egg harvesting now really- surely this would pay for The Telescope and then some.

I was caught off guard when the employer sudden snapped awake again.

Uranus: "What? Oh yes, you nodded off a bit there. Welp, I'm done here. Have a nice night!"

Will Uranus go through with the egg harvesting? What has Channing Tatum's Fursuit Nose Smelled? These answers and more await.

Progress continues.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Space Princess Inherits Earth From Self: China in Awe

Progress Continues!

I saw a movie quite recently that has affected me, deeply. Which is to say, I found it painful to watch.

Up until this point I had been under the impression that the singular worst modern movie to date was Green Lantern, which begins with an entitled, irresponsible and incompetent protagonist  who ends the movie as an entitled, irresponsible and incompetent protagonist with a great deal of power incomprehensibly left in their hands.

Green power.
Over the course of that movie he womanizes, gets his hardworking colleagues fired through his own incompetence, and quite likely murders them with his newfound powers when they, with humble mundane fists, make an effort to register their displeasure with the financial crisis he landed them and their families in.

The 'dickheads' mentioned in this.

It's a fairly loathsome film, filled with tedious tropes where you are obligated to cheer for the pretty people and hate the ugly people in willful ignorance of their other qualities and failings and generally left me resentful of the time irrevocably lost in watching it... and yet it has been eclipsed. Utterly eclipsed.

The Wachowski siblings have created, to steal the throne, Jupiter Ascending.

I had, in a situation I did not anticipate, needed to choose between it and the eugenics experiment movie Insurgent. Regrettably on the logic that at least Jupiter Ascending would be a self-contained story, I chose it.

A horrible mistake.

One of many made in or in the vicinity of this film.
For people who strictly value flashy CGI and stunt photography- the film has redeeming value- but is best, then, watched on mute with subtitles turned off. Paying any attention to the story is only going to bring you pain and disappointment.

Everything about the writing is so lazy and terribly absurd that comedians and parodies have been hard pressed to come up with anything sillier. Honest Trailers gave up and simply elected to read off what happens in the film verbatim- I'll refer you to that later on.

The movie attempts to teach a few lessons, badly, a few of which are :
  • Buying crap will make you happy.
  • Ignorance is bliss.
  • Competence is unnecessary when you're rich.

The last one, sadly, is true to a point- as this movie aptly demonstrates.

There is an attempt to sell the value of humility, but it falls flat when it is so painfully apparent the creators didn't have any to speak of and equate it solely with happily scrubbing toilets.

Justly, the movie has cratered in the United States. Unjustly, according to Business Insider, it's starting to earn some of it's 179,000,000 dollar budget back (not including promotional costs) in China where I can only assume it is the #1 Hit Comedy under the new title which translates roughly into "Star Doggy's Toilet Princess of Earth".

Other movies that did gangbusters in China where they otherwise bombed in the U.S.? Iron Man 3. Which might have been aptly retitled "Mr. Stark's Sad Wacky Fire People Adventure"

Not a favorite film either, admittedly, but once again the special effects are not to blame.
I digress. Without further ado, and to save you the pain should you feel tempted to watch the film- the Honest Trailer for Jupiter Ascending.

It is every bit that bad. The Trailer is vastly improved over the movie, most especially for being dramatically shorter. I am fairly certain Sean Bean's character, Stinger, didn't die in this film as a stipulation of Sean Bean who did not want his appearance in this film linked with his work in any other half-decent film any more than could absolutely bee helped.

Something is very wrong with a movie written in such a fashion that you find yourself not only wishing death on every last character in the movie but furthermore IF you somehow had your wish GRANTED... Everyone else in the movie's universe would be objectively better off.

Over the course of the movie you learn that the galaxy is ruled by Humanity- or rather elite Nobles called the Entitled- who have been seeding planets with human life only to come back and kill the entire population of those planets later in order to turn them into Elixirs of Youth for immortality, fun and profit.

If every character in Jupiter Ascending had died, three of these Entitled would have been killed- quite possibly saving untold worlds of humans from 'Harvesting'.

Instead, shallow caricature of a 'humble' new Entitled- the supposed protagonist- fails to kill any of them and relies on their new Entitled nature and 'legal' 'ownership' of the Earth and everyone in it to protect the Earth as she returns to cleaning toilets and using space roller skates to go flying with her newly re-winged wolf-boy Hero.

As opposed to, say, letting the world know of the horrible danger they're in and advancing Earth's technology to give it a fighting chance against the Entitled who, most certainly, are not going to abandon their efforts to 'harvest' the planet.

I'm fairly certain such a character will just liquefy enough people to undertake their own immortality the moment they find crows feet in the mirror. Then, you know, maybe just a few more for a bit of trade goods or to extend the lifespans of her friends and family. By the time they are a millenium old- a small fraction of the age of her peers in the fraternity of genocidal space cannibals- there is little reason to believe they'd be distinguishable from them.

Indeed, the world would have been better off if every last character in the movie had just... had a fatal brain stroke of the kind any audience member trying to SINCERELY MAKE SENSE of this movie risks.

Now that's one hell of a failure of writing.

Progress continues.

Monday, August 10, 2015

Super Advanced Psionics and Lizardpeople LARP

Progress continues!

Though not fast enough. Never fast enough, really. Quite frankly this continued debacle with Retekra Industries has had me incredibly stressed. So much so that I've decided I need a new hobby. Role-playing in Guild Wars 2 has been fun, so I thought I would try something new and take part in a classic honest-to-goodness Dungeons and Dragons tabletop campaign.

I have since learned that real world military campaigns are only slightly more complex to plan.

So, I have been undertaking research to make this campaign in which I will play- as a yet to be named brown-eyed second generation Half Elf Wizard/Binder with aspirations towards Effigy Mastery and a Thrush familiar named Limbaugh (who only shuts up with command and is prone to advising people against their own best interests)- a truly valiant effort.

In my studies I have learned some fascinating things. For instance, do you know what the longest running Dungeons and Dragons Campaign is?

The Ramtha School of Enlightenment Campaign- and what a campaign it is!

It began in 1977 when Judith Darlene Hampton (now known as Judy Zebra Knight- or more commonly J.Z. Knight- because I think even they know that's just far too silly.) rolled up her character: Ramtha, an ancient Lemurian Warrior.

Pictured here. (Fun fact, Lemurians were cut from inclusion in a Star Wars movie.)
So talented were they at role-playing Ramtha the Lemurian Warrior that a great many people signed up to take part in this game despite an absolutely egregious buy-in cost- which is to say the entirety of their life savings and any assets such as businesses they may own.

Buying into the campaign allows you to live in a commune near Mount Rainier and work for Ramtha in order to level up and eventually gain any number of promised powers such as :

  • Novice : The Ability to Make Water Crystals Prettier By Saying Nice Things to Them.
  • Adept   : The Ability to Travel Backwards In Time
  • Master  : The Ability to SHAPE REALITY With Your Mind!

Here we have an example of Judy Zebra Knight Role-Playing Ramtha the Lemurian.

These powers are important and will be sorely tested once the combat segment of the campaign starts.

You see, the campaign is being held primarily at the Ramtha School for Enlightenment near Mount Rainier, Washington, United States because there is a race of evil lizard people who are trapped under the Mountain and one day soon, any day now, they will burst forth and slay everyone who doesn't have an excess of copper lying around, because as everyone knows evil subterranean lizard people cannot abide copper.

They might also attack from space. Judy Zebra Knight likes to keep their players on their toes.

Presumably on this day the followers of Ramtha will venture forth to do battle with these vile creatures using their amazing minds. Which, to be fair, really is the only way to slay imaginary creatures.

As far as I can tell the only class, prestige or otherwise, cultists of Ramtha can aspire to is to be a 'Remarkable Life'. Something like a Psionic Favored Soul I'm thinking.

Come for the Spiritual Boot Camp, stay because now you're broke and they locked the front gate.
The game has been so successful that it has even drawn superstar players such as Salma Hayek, who apparently elected not to become a Remarkable Life or otherwise could not stay in character. They apparently believe in God and Jesus, which is very much against the Ramthan doctrine that stresses you yourself are God. Though, naturally, some people are more God than others- specifically Judy Zebra Knight who's character Ramtha's name means 'God' in ancient Lemurian.

That's why they get to reap in millions in annual revenue.

Judy Zebra Knight has been mocked and criticized, according to wikipedia, by no less than Carl Sagan himself who expressed doubt that Judy Zebra Knight is in fact channeling a Lemurian General who led an army of 3.5 million against the natives of Atlantis during the Pleistocene Ice Age.

This of course has not rattled people who believe they can see mystical energy.
"This school, these teachings and this truth has saved my life many, many times," said Stephany Ray, 56, of Yelm. "The school has taught me to love myself, has taught me and helped me to find the God within me. ... I always knew there was more to life, but I didn't know what or how."
Ray was living in Philadelphia and was a vice-president and certified financial planner for Prudential Bache Securities when she first attended a New York "Ramtha Dialogue" in 1984.
She spent a few years traveling around the country to attend other Ramtha events before moving to Yelm in 1988.
Ray said she doesn't see a woman when Knight channels Ramtha. She sees an entirely different "energy."
"It's a male energy, it's a loving energy, it's a powerful energy, and it's a truthful energy," Ray said.
Unfortunately it has gone a bit too far at at times, when now-named Judy Zebra Knight used her character of Ramtha to convince one Jeff Knight that he was her one true love and thus to marry her... ...and then that he should forgo any treatment for HIV because Ramtha would cure him of it.

Thirty-plus minutes of sheer depression. Far too late, Mr. Knight came to his senses and sued- but died of AIDS before he could appeal- the courts ruled against him. Not for the first time the courts have been favorable to the quite-wealthy Zebra.

Judy Zebra Knight however has kept the last name because, it would seem, all things considered that's all she really wanted from him in the first place. Would have been far more ethical just to change their name really.

Here's the 20/20 episode referenced in that interview by the way, if interested.

More recently, or rather in 2012 at least, Judy Zebra Knight got into a great deal of hot water after being caught in a video ranting about jews, mexicans and so on virulently.

The most troubling common thread about all of those links however is that while they reference the slur-laden ranting video- the video itself has been purged from every link. Purging unfavorable things from the internet is hard to do. I'm quite alarmed they, even with their millions, managed to do it.

Why, in my casual searching I was only able to find a few fragments of it.

The closest thing to an intact video is found HERE
From the Examiner Article, which in turn is from, Judy Zebra Knight and Granddaughter with President Obama. I most fervently hope this has no link to their success in purging the internet, but either way I have just lost a great deal of respect for President Obama- who accepted a fair chunk of money from them.

Something is usually wrong when the Republicans are THIS RIGHT.

Also, HERE is a blog post summing up more absurdity and ignominy- including mention of a case where a court in Vienna ruled that JZ Knight was in fact channeling the one true imaginary Lemurian.

In closing, anyone who could actually reshape reality with their mind WOULD NOT NEED PLASTIC SURGERY. Least of all THAT MUCH of it.
I meant for this one to be funny, but quite frankly I'm a bit creeped out now. Excuse me, I'm going to go raise the security level a bit...

Progress continues.

Friday, August 7, 2015

False Messiahs

Progress continues.

Retekra Industries has hit a new low.

They are claiming now to have their own Director Retekra.

Going so far as to lift my profile picture from this very blog.

A short quote reads thusly:
"Director Retekra possesses a unique perspective on the challenges inherent in advanced human cloning techniques and a wealth of knowledge gained from over a decade of working on the sharpest edge of science. With his abilities and knowledge, Retekra Industries is certain to deliver whatever you need from this young scientific frontier."
Every effort has been made to create a false history for this "Director Retekra" from a supposed educational career starting from the Texas Institute of Technology to what appears to be what someone presumes my educational background is.

Over the objection of #0 I can confirm they were correct about my own graduation from the Texas Institute of Technology and the Dale Carnegie Institute. As for the rest, they were way off.

I have not always made friends wherever I've gone, but I've made no enemies willing to change their name into a parody of mine so I am fairly certain this Retekra and I were never classmates.

And yet...

We've picked up a great deal of radio chatter. Groups of mercenaries seeking our facilities on 'Retekra's Information'. They've found nothing, but they keep moving with purpose. The information they are getting must be abominable, but they do not question it until their searches turn up empty.

I am quite painfully balanced between intrigue and fury. There is something more happening here and it's killing me to have to wait. Perhaps this too is intentional, something else to suffer as part of this hideous mockery of myself and our work.

Well, perhaps it is some comfort then that the end of days is upon us. It turns out the Christians were right and Jesus came back to herald the end of the earth.

Behear! Lord Ray-El. 14 minutes of desperate crazy.

Not to be confused with THIS Lord Rael, though.
Lord Ray-El, apparently actually named Raymond Howard Lear, is apparently an abusive ex who somewhere around 2011 got it into their head that L. Ron Hubbard  Claude Vorilhon had the right idea and decided to see how far he could get with arbitrarily declaring himself the savior of Mankind.

Unlike the mysteriously successful Raelian Founder however, about the only people to take them seriously were Youtube Conspiracy Truthers- and even then only to expose him.

Many other videos go on to label him as an Illuminati pawn, but that is rubbish as Illuminati pawns tend to be relatively successful until they get uppity and are replaced discreetly. The best thing Ray-El has going for him is that his website continues to be running.

If you can't trust The Holy and Apostolic Order of the Temple, who most certainly weren't made up on the spot, who can you trust?

Curiously, Not-Jesus here remains quite active and is one of the few modern false Messiahs you can follow on Twitter.

7,516 followers. Rather low for the man who handed out the cure to Alzheimer's yet rather high for a delusional beard model.
Ancient Monk Scribes used to discard their writing implement after writing God's name and get a new one out of respect. Rayel's Knights can't even be bothered to get their own Twitter Account.

Really, Rayel is trying to capitalize on the Christian Faith for fame and fortune, and he's wasting his time. L. Ron and Rael created entirely new (batshit insane faiths) because they realized what Rayel did not. The Christian market for False Prophets/Messiahs is absolutely in a glut and has been for some time. (According to that rather excited-looking Christian site, Oprah qualifies as well.)

Good luck trying to get converts by pretending to cure your followers of alzheimers in a tweet, Rayel.

There's just no competing with those production values.

This isn't Jesus, if you were terribly knowledgeable about Jesus' origin your first hint would be it's not a middle-eastern gentleman of jewish descent. If you were slightly less knowledgeable, you would recognize a young Charles Manson.

This was created for sharing on Facebook and the like by the mysterious SB4TK, and I think it truly deserves to be.

Progress Continues.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Briefly, Horrors of Land and Sea.

Progress continues.

Regrettably I have not found the time to write anything remarkable today. There was some Dentist who shot an elderly Lion and now bored people want to lynch them, so they've gone into hiding while everyone they hired to help them faces heavy charges.

The Dentist in question was an idiot who had more, pardon the cliche, dollars than sense but- let's face it- endangered or not Lions are jerks.

Reasons why can be found here among those listedBu by Glados' Lion Core.

The Dentist in question should be caught and fined into oblivion and maybe gifted a short vacation in jail but anyone who thinks this event warrants their condemnation to any sort of hell has clearly not considered that maybe the Lion's endangered status is partially because they are the worst cats.

Though the cubs are adorable until their stepdad eats them.

In any case, I cannot be arsed to care terribly much- so have Not-Morgan-Freeman drop some useless fact bombs on you about horrors Nature Hath Wrought while I return to work.

Progress continues.