June 23, 2008

Eric: Home again!

Snarky!

Back from Vegas, feeling somewhat ill -- hardly surprising, after a whirlwind desert week filled with educational conferences, evenings out, occasional liquor, and, y'know, getting married. The wedding was lovely, with evaporative cooling surrounding us with a light mist as we said vows under a rather nice outdoor gazebo. Weds was beautiful. I didn't trip at any point.

It's done.

I'll have more to say on it and many other things later this week, but as I said I'm feeling ill and besides, I want to show off Snarky, the Snarkasaurus, as created in the free demo of the Spore Creature Creator. This is an amazingly cool thing to play with -- I've created something like a dozen creatures so far, and I'm really chomping at the bit to get the full game (or even the full version of the creature creator -- but the game isn't until September and it'll be a few weeks before a ten dollar cool thing is a prudent investment). I think he came out pretty well given the limited tools, and he looks so happy.

Which is how I'm feeling too. Sick? Sure. Still jetlagged? You bet.

But happy.

More later. In the meantime, Eric Burns-White is signing off to lie down and feel a bit ill.

(Yes, Eric Burns-White. I'll explain my choice in detail later, though one friend has mentioned I've managed to up my pretentiousness another eight points, and another friend has said "wow -- your lifelong ambition to be E. B. White has finally seen fruition!" I have literate friends.)

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 5:28 PM | Comments (17)

June 19, 2008

Eric: My mind is going, Dave. My mind is going. I can feel it.

So, I'm at EduComm. This is why I'm actually here, beyond, you know, my wedding.

I am in a conference called "top 10 web 2.0 applications."

The presenter is now telling us about a new concept on the web -- something that might really change things.

It's called 'blogging.'

So, you know. You guys might want to watch out for that.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 3:02 PM | Comments (13)

June 18, 2008

Eric: Updates!

Las Vegas is very very hot. Naturally, the wedding will be outdoors. We are not necessarily bright.

The auctions continue apace -- bid early and often! Before we left, we added a bunch of other things, including Shadowrun, the Book of Vile Darkness (by Monte Cook!), Tom Strong, GURPS Traveller Starports (by John M. Ford!) and d20 Future! And that's not even all.

I will do my best to check in, preferably drunk, later this week. Right now, I'm sitting at a work related conference, and am therefore sober. It is not an improvement.

Thanks all!

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 2:37 PM | Comments (1)

June 16, 2008

Eric: Ahhh... nothing says 'wedding' like 'getting rid of some crap!'

And hello and good morning, action force! It's the start of a new week -- and as it works out, a pretty important week for Weds and I. We get up tomorrow morning, bright and early, and head down to Boston to board a plane which then takes us to Las Vegas, Nevada. There, I go to a work related conference with other folks from work. In the evenings, we hang out and listen to the sounds of the bells.

And then, at the end of the week, there's a wedding. And that's downright awesome.

Needless to say, of course, we need more money than we currently have. And as we have done before and promised to do this time, we're turning to eBay -- land of getting rid of stuff -- to raise said funds while also clearing some room. It's win-win!

My eBay page is still here, and there's about 30 items up right now with more being added this afternoon. It's cool stuff! Here's a few highlights:

I won't kid you -- this has been a very expensive month for us. Between moving, getting household stuff set up, and preparing for a Wedding (just because we're going the Vegas route doesn't mean there's not, y'know, money that needs spendin') things are a lot tighter than we'd hoped for this stage of things. If folks have an inclination to use the donation button on the sidebar, we'd certainly be appreciative, though I'd admit I feel odd asking for that. Thus, we put stuff up for sale, and continue to do so. So please, bid early, bid often, and tip your waitresses. You know, your waitress doesn't get paid very much -- it's your appreciation that means she eats. Now, please enjoy the dulcet tones of mister Rudy Vallee.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 9:25 AM | Comments (5)

May 29, 2008

Eric: It's the "Wednesday Has Moved And Eric And Weds Are Getting Married In Vegas Baby So We Need Room And Money" eBay Extravaganza!

G'morning, all -- as promised, it's time to shamelessly sell things! Wednesday moved here over the past couple of weeks, which has been amazing and fun and exciting and expensive and have we mentioned it will be months before Weds can legally receive money for work in this country? We haven't? Well, it's true! The guv'ment done has rules and we follow those rules, dang it!

Further, in less than a month Wednesday and I fly to the city of Sin to... er, stop sinning. I have a conference work is sending me to in beautiful, neon-laden Las Vegas, and Weds is coming along with because... well, we have to get married within 90 days of her entering the country, so we pretty much need to elope, and we're going to be in Vegas anyway. Plus we have some friends who are meeting us there. So we need money for Vegas, money for the wedding, and money for immediately after Vegas since we don't need to stop eating when we get back from a trip, you know.

It is also worth noting? We now have a lot of stuff in our apartment, and some of it needs new homes. Our kitchen has been overwhelmed by boxes.

So. We're doing what geeks do when they need money and space -- we're selling bunches of stuff on eBay, and you're invited!

The stuff we're selecting tends to be stuff A) we have duplicates of (oddly enough, we have a lot of the same stuff), B) is clearly stuff we're never going to use (I have a lot of DVDs already up on eBay -- DVDs that have never been taken out of their shrinkwrap. Obviously, watching them isn't a priority so they might as well go to a new home), C), stuff we have no idea how we got in the first place (I own a Kim Possible DVD? Really? No, really? Huh.) and D) stuff that we like but that can fetch some needed coin.

My eBay page is churning away, working on 23 happy 3 day turnaround auctions with more being added throughout today and beyond. Why 3 day? Why not!? There's been some activity already, but there's going to be lots more.

For those who might wonder -- this isn't specifically a donation drive. The paypal button is still up, of course, and we will be appreciative for any donations we get. However, with the dearth of posts around here, I would feel dumb as a post shilling for cash that way. And even if we get donations, we're still going to sell bunches of stuff because... well, see A-D above!

For those also wondering -- yeah, there should be a State Of later today, work willing.

So, here's a few highlights of what's currently on the page:

There's also a bunch of GURPS stuff that's gone up, and more to come this morning, so folks looking for RPG goodness will find it. Also, some nonGURPS RPG stuff later on.

Please enjoy some delicious auction commerce!

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 11:09 AM | Comments (10)

May 22, 2008

Eric: Life can be wonderful sometimes.

So, a week ago tomorrow I went to Canada for the last time in a long while, and while I was there I had surprisingly good mall Korean barbeque and saw the always astounding Frank "Damonk" Cormier and Meaghan "No Nickname" Quinn. It also seemed like we found a number of cool things to do in Ottawa for the first time, including finding a great restaurant that was actually open at midnight on a Friday, which would have been useful to know eighteen months ago and for the remainder of my visits.

At one in the morning Sunday Night to Monday Morning, I pulled back into my apartment parking lot with a vehicle crammed full of stuff and a woman. And finally, after years, she can just stay. She can. Just. Stay.

We are now aiming for the June elopement, and we are working on setting up the household. To that end, we're going to be starting some monumental eBaying in the next day or two to A) defray expenses both for this stuff and for the next month's... thing... and B) make some much needed room in the now-joint apartment.

When I wake up in the morning, she is there. And for the first time, I don't have to have that momentary bittersweet knowledge that within the next day, or week, or month she's going away again. She isn't. She's never going away again.

Life is good.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 10:17 AM | Comments (6)

April 21, 2008

Eric: I know, the thought I may have written more than is required will *shock* you all....

On Friday of last week, Wednesday and I had our interview at the United States Consulate in Montreal -- the last step in the long, long, ever so long process of getting our K-1 Visa approved so Wednesday can move to this country and the two of us can be married.

A friend of mine asked me if they asked us weird questions at the interview. You know, "what color is her kitchen" or "what side of the bed do you sleep on," with a view to proving whether or not we're a real couple or if this was a year long, expensive fraud we were perpetuating on the government.

To answer: no, they did not. This may be because when they asked us the first question, "how did you two meet," we talked and giggled for about ten minutes as we went through the long process, explaining Websnark along the way, with a diversion here or there -- I think it was safe to say we were able to establish ourselves early on as 'actually a couple.'

However, the interviewer seemed to know that when we walked in, as he grinned and said "I'm feeling jaunty today. What say we go from the end and work our way back?" In my time, I have never known a civil servant to feel jaunty whilst rejecting someone, so we had some hope at that point.

On reflection, it may have been my statement of intent to marry.

You see, I had to provide a letter, stating definitively that I intended to marry Wednesday. This is a very specific requirement.

So... I did.

But you have to remember... this is me.

I reproduce the letter here.

To Whom it May Concern:

On January 13, 2007, at approximately 3:00 in the afternoon, I proposed to Wednesday White at the 2007 Arisia convention in Cambridge, Massachusetts in the United States of America. At the same time as I presented my formal proposal to Ms. White, it was also automatically posted to Websnark, a popular commentary blog I created and which we both have written for. The online version, and the movie of the cartoon I had friends put together for me to formally propose to Ms. White, can be found at http://www.websnark.com/archives/2007/01/submitted_witho_1.html, and a copy of the post and the (literally) hundreds of comments wishing us well are included.

After the post, we retained legal counsel and began the process of bringing Ms. White to America so that we can be married. A process which is finally (hopefully) close to complete, which has both of us excited and happy.

Please let me be clear. Assuming that our Visa is approved, it is both my intent and my honor to marry Wednesday White. Our tentative plan, assuming all goes well, is to be married in June of 2008, well within the 90 day window required by the K-1 Visa. I am gainfully employed (the day I wrote this letter was my tenth anniversary at this workplace, in fact) at [my workplace], with full benefits including paid room and board to live on campus. Ms. White will be provided for while we find her work in America, and then we plan to spend the next several decades providing for each other jointly.

I am marrying Ms. White because I love her, because I want to spend my life with her, and because I want her to live with me, in the United States of America, the land of my birth. I look forward to your assistance in facilitating this process to the best of your ability.

Thank you for your consideration. If you have any questions at all, please feel free to contact me at the above address, e-mail address or telephone number.

Sincerely,

Eric Alfred Burns
Wolfeboro, New Hampshire

The first person we saw -- the one who collected our paperwork and took Weds's fingerprints -- looked at me and said "I still intend to marry Ms. White" would have been sufficient.

Oh.

They also said "yes."

Within the month, Wednesday will live with me, and then we elope.

We won.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 1:55 PM | Comments (47)

April 9, 2008

Eric: Moments in Time: two two-day blocks. So, four days, more or less.

February 8, 2008

I was out of place.

Work had sent me to a week long training course, so for eight hours a day, I was in a small room typing on computers, learning ways of tweaking server configurations and remote setup. My trainers were good, the lessons were useful, the work was challenging enough to get my brain pumping.

Which left sixteen hours of the day when I wasn't in training. This included sleeping, mind, but even that was suspect, because the training was in Las Vegas, Nevada.

This, by the way, makes eminent sense for my employer. So long as I had the diligence to actually... you know, do my job when I was supposed to, Las Vegas is the least expensive city that the school could send me to be trained, outside of something I could drive to. And a week work of gasoline reimbursement might not be any cheaper, to be honest. I did a package deal of hotel, flight and rental car, and it was by far the least expensive package deal I'd ever gotten to go anywhere. Food, which was covered under expenses (or chargeable to my room -- which is backdoor expenses) was way less expensive for good quality food in Las Vegas than anywhere else. I was at the Excalibur, for example, and they had a strip steak meal available from seven o'clock at night until seven o'clock in the morning for seven dollars. And it was a good strip steak, I would add, with the appropriate good strip steak sides. The Excalibur buffet, which was well stocked (and actually featured on the Food Network as one of the best deals in town) wasn't materially more, and that was All You Can Eat. All told, I was saving my employers significant coin by flying to Sin City.

The Excalibur was... well, quaint. Opened in 1990 as a show and theme casino, it was a curious mixture of old school aesthetic and slick new Vegas theme fun. Its casino floor is expansive, and relatively bright and quiet. The mazes of slot machines chirped happily, of course. There were a couple of bars with live music every night, of course. But for the most part the Excalibur wasn't chaos and it wasn't decadent. It was almost homey. The Excalibur was more or less my speed.

This night, I wasn't at the Excalibur. A series of sky bridges connects the casinos at this end of the strip together -- the Excalibur, New York New York, the MGM Grand, the Tropicana, the Mandalay Bay, the Luxor and the like. And to be blunt, almost none of these casinos feel like the Las Vegas you see in the movies. They're grand, they're expansive, they're triumphs of Civil Engineering. New York New York is meant to be loud, like plunging into the streets of the Bronx during a party. The MGM Grand is, as the name implies, grand and expansive, and eerily quiet. (Not a bonus, to my mind, to a casino floor). It also has lions. It's interesting to look up as you're walking into a gift shop and realize that three feet above your head, through what at the time looks like a thin piece of lucite there's a black maned lion looking back down at you.

Lions are very large, by the by.

(Old school Vegas, by the by, did exist on our block, at the Tropicana. The Tropicana casino floor is mirrored and glitzy and cramped and looks like every movie you've ever seen about Las Vegas. It is exactly what one expects a Las Vegas casino to be. It was worth the trip, at least for one day.)

This night, I was at the Luxor. The Luxor is the famous black glass pyramid -- the theme is Ancient Egypt (technically ancient Thebes, but there were no pyramids in Thebes. On the other hand, it's frigging Vegas. Don't overthink it). The place is huge, and if the Excalibur is homey and almost friendly, the Luxor is sheer bacchanalia. Scantily clad dancers writhed on the top of gambling tables. Noise and lights and music were everywhere. The main bar was in the center of the room, and water cascaded down all around it. The casino floor was as loud as the MGM Grand was silent.

I was, to be blunt, overwhelmed. It was huge fun, but it was also out of my league and I knew it. But I was determined to enjoy myself.

April 7, 2008

"So, what's the matter?"

I shrugged to Chris, one of my coworkers. "I have a chest ache."

He arched an eyebrow. "You going to the doctor?"

"Yeah. It's really, really mild but with my heart problems even a really mild ache--"

"Absolutely. You don't take chances. Not with your heart. When do you go?"

"1:30."

"You sure you shouldn't go sooner?"

I shrugged. "It's really mild, and that's when they could fit me in. I'm staying next to a phone and I'll stay near people. If there's a problem--"

Chris half-smiled. "Sure. But you know. Don't take stupid chances, okay?"

"Since when do I take stupid chances, Chris?"

February 8, 2008

Now, I have a good gambling system. I go to a gambling floor with a crisp twenty dollar bill. I put it in my left pocket. This is my bank. At some point, I get it changed for ones, because ones are useful. When I go and gamble at the Casino de Lac Leamy in Quebec, it's way more satisfying because they give you the money as quarters and you can feed the coins into the machines. Las Vegas left quarters behind a long time ago, and even the penny, nickel, dime and quarter slots only take dollar bills. They figured out this meant they got more money.

I then put that twenty into different slot machines, one dollar at a time. I take my time. It's more fun with Wednesday because then it's about the banter, not about the gambling. The gambling is secondary. Gambling all on my own is, to be honest, a little bit dull.

Now, whenever you win in a current slot machine, you don't get cascades of coins (though the machines have the digitally sampled sounds of coins falling into their coin trays). Instead, you get that many credits added to your total. So, if you're playing quarter slots (which I prefer, on the whole), you have four credits for your original dollar, and however many credits after you play four times is what you have won off that machine. You then hit "Cash Out," and it prints a barcoded ticket with your winnings encoded onto it, which you can redeem at the bankers or at an number of machines spread throughout the floor. Or, of course, you can feed the ticket into a slot machine and keep playing.

That, by the way, is what they want you to do. They want you to "see how long you can go." If you do that, they're guaranteed to get your full twenty dollars from you, no matter how much you 'win' along the way. You're renting entertainment, and the longer you can go the better off they'll be -- especially if you're having so much fun that you decide to get another twenty dollars out, and then another twenty, and then maybe a hundred.....

I am their worst case scenario customer. I expect, going into the gambling, that said twenty bucks is going to go away. I expect not to win a thin dime. Whatever the machines return to me goes into my right pocket. Remember that my bankroll is in my left.

When I'm out of money in my left pocket, I go and redeem the tickets in my right pocket. Whatever comes out of the redemption machine is mine to keep, and I'm done gambling for the night. I never have to worry about selling my car to pay off my gambling debts. I enjoy lots of spinning wheels and noises. I can play everyone's favorite casino game "do you think that girl in the minidress is a prostitute," so popular in Vegas, where the answer is very often 'yes.' And then I hit the bar and have a couple, using my 'winnings' to fund that.

Because slot machines are designed to hook you in, you're going to get some return on investment from them if you hold yourself to a specific amount. At the Casino de Lac Leamy, up in Canada (run, I would add, by the Quebec provincial government. Now that's a lottery system), the slots are 'loose.' They pay out relatively often. In fact, when Weds and I have played twenty dollars worth of slots together, we've never failed to leave the casino floor with more money than we had entering the floor. That twenty dollars has been anything from thirty to sixty-five dollars, the three or four times we've done this.

I assume the Casino de Lac Leamy hates us.

Vegas slots ain't that loose. I was averaging $4-6 dollar losses each night, with one night I left with $26. Not a big deal. It was decent enough entertainment, though lonely without Wednesday. There's something vaguely pathetic about being forty years old and wandering casino floors by yourself in Las Vegas, feeding dollar bills into slot machines. And "is she a prostitute" becomes downright creepy as a game. Especially if they catch you looking, because if they are a prostitute, then that means they come over and solicit you. And honestly, that's an uncomfortable moment.

This night, I was in the Luxor, and "is she a prostitute" was unplayable, because essentially everyone was young and -- if women -- largely naked. The men were mostly in sportcoats and open collars. It was enjoyable, but a little over the top. If Weds had been with me, it would have been a blast. As it was, I felt displaced.

But, I was determined to have a good time.

Now, one of the things I had done was reserve little bits of my twenty dollar bankroll, each night, to "do the Vegas thing." That meant that one night (at New York New York) I played some Blackjack, to say I'd played Blackjack in Vegas. (I pissed off one of the other players for not betting smart enough. "We don't hit on fifteen when they show a five," he said, stabbing at the table. "We do not do that." I accepted his word for it. As it was, I broke even after five one dollar bets and moved on.) And I decided, while at the Luxor, that this would be my night to play a round of Roulette.

Now Roulette is a sucker's game. The odds are astronomically in favor of the house. You play Roulette because you don't mind losing. I found an electronic version -- people put X amount of money in the bank, they entered their bets on a touchscreen, and then a real, physical roulette wheel was spun by real, physical girls who paid winners in real, physical chips when they cashed out. It was 21st century, and old school, all at once. So I figured play five bucks spread out over various bets for a few minutes, take my losses and spend the other fifteen bucks at the slots, then retreat back across the bridge to Excalibur for some liquor and sleep. I was in over my head.

I did this for about three spins before I realized (there were no posted minimums) that I was at a five dollar minimum table. The system had essentially rejected all my bets, which were 'intelligently' done on things like 'even' and 'red.'

"Fine," I muttered, annoyed, and I slapped a bet. And it was the stupidest bet you could make in Roulette. I just wanted to lose my five bucks and get on with my evening, tired of this thing. So I bet a number. 23, to be exact.

Betting a number in Roulette is moronic, by the by. It's essentially the worst bet you can make in Vegas outside of betting on the Washington Generals to beat the Harlem Globetrotters. Idiots bet numbers in Roulette. If you look at the hardcore Roulette players, they play the safer bets I mentioned above, and they play corners or sides of numbers, in effect putting their bet on 2-4 numbers at once. If they bet numbers, it's out of superstition and never, ever the only bet they play on a given turn of the wheel. Only the kind of hayseed yokel who hits on fifteen in blackjack when the dealer's showing a five would play a number in Roulette as his only bet. Please, please, please. If you learn anything from my tale, learn this -- do not play numbers in Roulette. It's stupid.

So I finished, and I hit 'cash out.' A mere formality in my case, since I bet five and my bank was five, but this would close me out of the system and stop my Player's Club card from recording my activity there. (Yes, I have a Player's Club card. Telly Savalas would be proud of me, right up until he learned I played a number in Roulette. Then he'd be pissed and leave.)

There was a flurry of activity, and the attractive woman carried over a small tray of chips of various colors.

I blinked, and looked more closely at the screen.

I had cleared $295.

I looked at the number of the last bet.

23.

I had just hit on Roulette.

I was a winner.

April 7, 2008

My usual doctor was booked, and his partner had recently left the practice, so I was seeing a temp. Which was fine -- it was Doctor Fleet's handpicked temp, and I have a lot of faith in Doctor Fleet.

"It's a very, very mild pain," I said. "If it weren't in my chest--"

"We're going to run an EKG," he said. "We want to make sure everything is all right."

I nodded. "Makes sense. We don't take chances, right?"

"Absolutely."

So they taped electrodes all over my body, and I lay back, and then ran an EKG. And then they left the room for a while (after taking the electrodes off me) and I waited.

About fifteen minutes later, they came back in. "We'd like you to go over to the ER," the doctor said.

I blinked. "Is there a problem?"

"Probably not," he said. "But... well, we want to run a blood test for Troponin levels. That's an enzyme your body releases when there's damage to the heart. It's probably nothing, but we want to see -- we want to just make sure everything's okay -- and if you go to the ER you'll get the test results back more quickly."

"Oh. But it's probably nothing?"

"Probably. But we want to make sure."

So I took a copy of the EKG over, after they called ahead. I went into the outpatient ER queue.

And I was moved to the front of the queue. Which surprised me a touch. I told each new tech or nurse the symptoms ("On a scale of 1 to 10? The pain's probably just a 1 or a 2. Really, if it had been anywhere else on my body--")

They put me on a telemetry monitor. They took blood, and started an IV. They took another EKG. Everyone was very nice and pleasant, and no one seemed to be annoyed that this dumb hypochondriac was taking up time and resources.

I began to get concerned.

February 9, 2008

I was a little bit delicate, going to class the next day. Hitting in Roulette meant having more of a good time than I normally had been, including introducing myself to a couple of scotches with names I couldn't pronounce. This was the closest I was ever going to come to being a high roller, and I had fun with it.

I called Weds a number of times. She was amused, and excited over the win. I was missing her a lot but trying hard not to let that affect the good vibe. I'd god damned hit in Roulette.

That morning, though as I said delicate, I'd done some recalculation of budget. I'd paid off all my gambling for the week. I'd paid off some other personal expenses (the kind of thing that work wouldn't cover, like the Star Trek teddy bears I'd picked up for Weds. Don't judge me for my sappiness, damn it, they were cute bears). And at the end of everything, I had a hundred dollar bill in my pocket that was entirely outside of my budget. It was, in effect, free money.

I had not expected free money. And somehow, it seemed wrong to not do something with it. Something wild, and nuts. I was in Vegas and I was way ahead. And it was on a dumbass bet. Being an agnostic who enjoys superstition now and again, I tend to ascribe good luck in gambling to Fand, Celtic sea goddess, wife of Manannán mac Lir, Queen of the Faeries, and she who teaches ninjas to disguise themselves as pigeons. A decent amount of the Scotch the night before had been dedicated to her, which must have amused my bartender. Who, a couple of days later, I learned made an outstanding hot toddy, using Benedictine of all things, but I digress.

Weds, being smarter than I am, counseled keeping the hundred bucks. Or at most adding some of it to nightly revels. Bump my last few nights' gambling to thirty bucks instead of twenty. Or go see a show, maybe. Or hold onto the money and be glad for it in the weeks to come.

But that didn't seem right to me. For dumb reasons, but validly dumb. I had a hundred bucks above and beyond my budget... and I was in Las Vegas. No, I had an idea. A thing on the big list of things one wanted to do in Vegas but wasn't dumb enough to do, most of the time.

I wanted to play a hundred dollar slot machine.

Every casino had them, mind. One section cordoned off for "High Stakes Players." And I had budgeted for one moonshot slot pull -- a twenty dollar moonshot played in a high stakes slot machine, probably on my last night. If Fand or blind luck or what had you wanted to give me a big ass payout, I reasoned, I might as well give them one chance to do so. (The major jackpot on a quarter slot, generally speaking, is not materially more than I make in two weeks at work. I had not been playing with the Lottery dream of being rich in mind.)

Well, I had a hundred bucks in my pocket. Why not take the moonshot with that? I mean, when would I ever have a chance to put a hundred bucks on one pull of the machine again? I don't play in those leagues, and I wasn't going to.

So why not? Why not take this money I never expected to have and take one grand shot at the moon?

Slots, for the record, are about as safe as any Vegas bet you can play, which means most of the time they don't return very much. Obviously, most spins of the tumblers you lose. Welcome to gambling. But reasonably often, you do win. The machines work in "credits," which count as one of whatever amount is printed on the machine. On a quarter slot machine, each credit is twenty five cents. On a dollar slot, it's a dollar. On a nickel slot, it's a five cents. Most of the machines let you play more than one credit at a time, it's worth mentioning. Vegas likes money, and this was a way for people to spend it faster. I'm a one credit per play kind of guy.

So, it's not hard to hit a one credit payout on the slots, so that you get back what you put in. It doesn't cost the house anything for that, after all, and most slots players will just play again. It's not uncommon to hit 2, 3, 5 or 10 credits for one. I've hit 35 credits for a spin lots of times, which when you're playing quarter slots means an $8.75 payout. Nothing to write home about, but exciting at that one moment. I've even hit 100 credit payouts or more. Weds and I hit a forty dollar payout on a quarter slot once, which meant we hit 160 credits on the spin.

On the hundred dollar slots, one credit was a hundred bucks. Hitting a 5 to 1 would turn my $100 into $500. Hitting 35 to 1 would be $3,500. Hitting 160 to 1 would be $160,000 -- and no doubt a comped room and many opportunities to be a VIP. The casino would want that money back.

It was astronomically unlikely I would go home with hundreds of thousands of dollars. And it was nigh impossible I would go home with more. (Many machines topped out with a 3000 to 1 payout on a 1 credit play. That's a cool $750 on quarter slots. On a hundred dollar slot shot, that's three million dollars. Seductive sounding, but it wouldn't happen.) But the chances weren't bad that I would get my hundred dollars back, or even turn it into two or three or five hundred dollars.

And it wasn't money I had expected.

And I would never have this chance again.

By the end of the work day, it was clear to me I was going to do this. In the land of suckers, the hayseed sucker who hit on fifteen when the dealer was showing five and was stupid enough to bet on a single number in Roulette was going to take a hundred dollar bill -- five hundred meals, if one bought Ramen noodles -- drop it into a slot machine, and take a shot at the moon.

April 7, 2008

"Here's the thing," Doctor Boucher said. He was the ER doctor on duty. He'd consulted with Dr. Fleet directly, mind. "If you look at this EKG from your doctor's office -- see this peak that recurs every little bit? Well, right here..." he pointed to the line in question "it doesn't. It stays smooth. Now, that might have been the placement of the electrodes. That might also just be normal for you. But it might -- might -- speak to something that's wrong."

"Okay," I said, lying in an ER bed. There were electrode pads all over me, now, and I was in a hospital gown, and there were tubes in my nose feeding me oxygen. Probably with absolutely nothing wrong with me, mind. But you don't take chances. Not with your heart. Not when I have so much to live for. The final visa appointment for Wednesday and I to cross the border and get married has finally been set, for the 18th of this month. We're that close to being done with this process (assuming they approve the paperwork, of course). Then we have her move in May, and then we get married, at least on paper, in June. (We have to be married within 90 days of the border crossing or they make her go back. And as it turns out, I have a conference I and my supervisor are going to be flying to in Las Vegas within that period. Since we're going to elope no matter what happens, and since paying for Weds's ticket to fly out as well is dirt cheap, why wouldn't we do the elopement in the elopement capital of the world?) So I have to be healthy. I need to be healthy. I need to live, God Damn it.

For the record? The good package deal in June was for the Luxor. I can show Weds the roulette table. I expect the casino floor to be more fun when I have Weds with me.

"Now, we got your Troponin test back," he continued. "And a normal Troponin level should be 0.01 to 0.05. More than that is an indicator for cardiac damage."

"And?"

"You're at 0.05. Which is in the normal range and may be normal for you. But it's borderline."

"Which means I've now had two tests showing anomalies?"

"And a history of Cardiomyopathy." The Doctor nodded. "We want to keep you overnight for observation. We'll take several more blood tests, keep you on telemetry and monitoring -- we want to see if your Troponin levels rise or fall. If you have actual heart damage, they should rise, and we can track that."

"Sure, of course," I said. "Whatever you think is best." I don't take stupid chances, I reminded myself. I have too much to live for.

They brought to the observation room in a wheelchair. I told them I really felt okay to walk, but they laughed and said "hey, it's a free ride, right?" It wasn't until later that I realized they had to bring me in a wheelchair. If I walked and that pushed me into a catastrophic heart attack, they'd have been liable because I was in with chest pain -- no matter how mild -- and they were having me walk. As with Casinos, hospitals want to keep as much money as possible -- they sure don't want to lose it in malpractice suits.

I was not, I was told, admitted to the hospital. I was in an observation room, because I was under observation. The major difference is the beds aren't nearly as comfortable as when you're admitted. They're essentially gurneys with a Craftmatic adjustable bed welded to them, narrower than a twin bed. If I had a heart attack, they'd easily be able to get people and defibrillators around it. If I had to be wheeled into emergency surgery or otherwise, it was just a matter of taking the brakes off and hauling my ass where it needed to go. It made sense in every way.

But it wasn't comfortable. Essentially every tech or nurse who came in mentioned that. I told them not to worry about it -- I was simply glad they were there. And I was glad.

I made sure Weds and my parents knew. I gave a friend my emergency contact list -- representatives of everyone I knew would need to get the word if something happened. (Something, you know, meaning 'massive heart attack and dying.' Weds, of course, who would also get the word out here on Websnark and on my Livejournal, if need be. My parents, of course. My big friend Frank, who would let the Ithaca/Syracuse contingent know.

I kept a copy of the contact list with me, just in case. It had been some years since I had made plans for these contingencies. I hadn't missed them. And I got both Dad and Wednesday on the "give information to these people if they call with questions" list.

And I settled in. They got my meds list, to make sure I got my pills. And I waited, under observation.

Feburary 9, 2008

I got back to the Excalibur. This was not a night to go scoping out other casinos, I'd decided. The Excalibur, for no real reason, was home for me. It was comfortable. The bartender knew me. The prostitutes knew I wasn't in the market.

I hit my wallet and got out twenty dollars. The hundred dollar bill sat looking at me, Ben Franklin's eyes looked amused. I left it where it was for now. First, we hit the night. Same as always. Exactly as expected. A twenty dollar bill became twenty one dollar bills. I got out my Player's Club card, and I began to walk the floor, finding games to play.

Always, I thought about the end of the night. The moon shot. The single pull. Should I wait? Should that be my last bet in Vegas before I headed out to the airplane and my normal life? Should I do it at all?

I played a game based on Wheel of Fortune. I played one based on The Munsters. I played Double Diamond. A dollar in. Four credits. Four pulls. Cash out. Pick up the ticket, and move on. Taking my time. Getting some decaf coffee -- complimentary, from a trolley circling the floor. Lots of things were complimentary when you were playing the games. Hell, if you play video poker at the Jesters' Club, and put at least ten dollars in, they'll comp you single malt scotch. They want your brain mushy, your judgement relaxed. That's why I was sticking to decaf right then. My judgement was questionable enough without liquor being involved, thank you.

A dollar into a machine. Hit the "one credit" button. Ignore all the things extolling the virtues of playing two or three or five credits. Watch the tumblers spin. Feel good when they line up in a way that makes your credits go up. Not worry when the credits just go down. Cash out. Ticket in the right hand pocket.

Look over the shoulder. High Stakes, the neon sign gleams. The home of the five dollar slots, the ten dollar slots, the twenty dollar slots and the hundred dollar slots.

And then I was done. My left pocket was empty. I went and redeemed the money in my right hand pocket.

Twenty dollars when into the machines. Seventeen dollars and twenty five cents came out. An hour and a half's wanderings and occasional playing, and it had cost me two dollars and seventy-five cents.

My wallet felt heavy. I took it out. Took out Ben Franklin. I put him in my left hand pocket, the return on the night to date going into my right.

I went for another walk, downstairs, to the arcade -- where kids were allowed. There were a lot of kids in town tonight -- some sort of cheerleading competition here in the city -- and it was disconcerting to see fourteen year old cheerleaders in the center of sin. But they weren't allowed on the casino floor. Smoking was allowed on the floor, and gambling and drinking. This is one of the rarities of rarities in today's world -- a place unreservedly for adults, where you went in knowing that if you saw something offensive, it was your own damn fault for going there in the first place. The presumption was you were making your own decisions, and no one but no one was to blame if you gawked at showgirls or prostitutes, lost your Mortgage payment playing craps or betting on the Knicks, and drank yourself half-blind on single malt scotch you were comped because you spent a hundred dollars losing at video poker.

The arcade was literally a carnival arcade. No video games here. Just token drop games, guess your weight games, throw the ball and knock over the pins games. It was, I realized, entirely devoted to teaching kids to spend their money on taking a chance -- shooting for the moon. Heck, you might get a prize if you were good enough or lucky enough! Gambling, legal almost everywhere for children of all ages. Preparing cheerleaders for that day, five or six years later, when they could come to town as adults and spend their time at tables with green felt on them.

I went upstairs, and got one more bit of coffee. I felt conflicted for a moment, and then I walked to where I saw the High Stakes sign.

April 8, 2008

It was early in the morning. My back hurt, and so did my leg. Sciatica wasn't happy with the accomodations, it seemed. Doctor Fleet was there.

"Your blood pressure and pulse are excellent," he said, grinning. "And it looks like your Troponin levels have gone down to 0.01."

"So I'm okay?"

"We think so. Do you still have the ache?"

"Well, yeah."

He nodded. "We should try Mylanta. And I want you to have a stress test, just to be sure. Schedule it with my office on your way out. We'll do a nuclear resonance test at the same time -- see your ejection fraction, make sure everything is good."

"Good. Yeah, we don't want to take chances."

"Exactly. I'm going to write this up, and we'll check your last set of test results.. Give us a few hours, and you can get out of here. Sound good?"

"You bet." I grinned.

"Thought it might." He went out the door.

And he's right. Things seem to be okay -- the ache wasn't likely my lungs or heart. It might be muscular, or my back (nerve endings do funny things in the body) or any of a number of things. We test. We rule them out. We don't take chances.

After a couple of hours, they did indeed spring me. I called Weds, and called my folks, and called work. I discussed the need for second opinions and other tests that should be done and the like. "You need to be careful," my boss said, worried about me. "You don't want to take any chances."

And I went home -- my boss insisted -- and I relaxed and let the stress out a bit, playing with the cat a little. She was right. I didn't want to take any chances.

But then, I never took stupid chances, right?

February 9, 2008

I walked into the area. It was oddly quiet -- very few people play the high stakes slots. I looked at the machines that were there. The five dollar machines, the twenty dollar machines... they all looked essentially the same as the quarter or dollar slots.

And, for that matter, like the small bank of hundred dollar machines.

This is nuts, I thought. Play the twenty dollar slots. You'll get five spins on that one, not just one. Play the quarter slots all night. Keep the damn money and consider yourself lucky.

I closed my eyes, and thought about the following week. Back home, in the middle of one of the more miserable New Hampshire winters we'd had in the past ten years. What would I feel if I played this and lost? What would I feel if I didn't play it? Was it better to have your stupidity confirmed or to wonder for the rest of your life what might have been.

I thought of that paean to gambler's enabling, "If–". I have to believe this poem has been responsible for more bad decisions than almost any other poem in literature -- not counting The Bible, anyhow. For those who don't recall, the passage in question goes like this:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds–worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And–which is more–you'll be a Man, my son!

It's a hideous thing, that poem. A Man done throw all his money into the pot and shrug when he loses. A man does everything right and nothing wrong. A man keeps going. A man does it well or doesn't do it at all.

And that poem or not, I realized that the recrimination I would feel for not taking this dumbass chance would be way worse than the shrug when this money -- that I had never counted on in the first place -- was gone.

I walked to the machine. It promised up to 10,000 to 1 payouts, which wouldn't happen, though in that moment you do stop and consider what ten million dollars would give to you. It had lots of payout options of at least 1 to 1. I'd already decided that if it returned 1 to 1 it would be a sign from Fand to keep the damn hundred, and I would, gladly.

I fed in the hundred dollar bill. But for Franklin, it was just like feeding in one dollar, except instead of four credits, it gave me 1. One credit.

I closed my eyes, feeling silly for feeling nervous.

I opened them. I hit the right button to put one credit on the line. I made sure my Player's Club card was in place, and I pulled the lever, watching the tumblers spin and the electronic sounds and lights as they played their cheerful tune for me, one last time that night.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 1:53 PM | Comments (36)

August 12, 2007

Eric: It's not impossible I would make more doing this individually, but these really should be kept as a set.

5129Hz0Vytl. Ss500

Things happen.

It's not my story to tell, so I won't. But it's time we get serious. You all know my love for the Legion. Christ knows I've talked about about it. So it comes as no surprise I've been collecting the Archive Editions of the Legion of Super Heroes over time.

Well. If you have a love, or an interest, or whatever in the Legion, it's your lucky day, because I've just put up a six volume set of these archives up on eBay, for a Hell of a lot less than you'd pay for each individual volume.

That's the first six years of Legion history. The first six years. That takes you from the Legion's introduction straight through into the Shooter era. Including Ferro Lad. Including...

Well, including the Legion. Honestly, if I have to sell you on this, you're probably not the market.

These books are in pristine condition and they're beautiful. The stories are phenomenal. This is the raw stuff of heroism and the coolness of comics, wrapped in a Silver Age bow.

Treat them well.

EDIT: It says shipping is fifty-three bucks. That's if you get it express mail. Please bear in mind shipping can be as low as eleven bucks if you go media mail. At least, if you live near here. Anyway. Check the bottom of the entry for shipping costs.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 5:28 PM | Comments (5)

July 3, 2007

Eric: Meanwhile, not far away....

So. I've been trying to work out... well, things. As folks know. And the writing is a part of what I've been trying to work out, because....

...well, because. I'm a happier person when I'm writing lots of stuff, and being a happier person is pretty much a good goal in and of itself.

And that brings me to trying to find the best way to actually do more of it, and to fire the writing spirit, and all that. Because... well, because I want to, and because I want momentum, and because that's all a cool thing.

Let me begin by saying that Websnark isn't ending. Not now, not for the foreseeable future. I like this place. I like all of you. I like the outlet. I like the chance to write on any topic or any subject, at any time. It's amazingly cool, and you guys make me happy.

However, it's worth noting that Websnark, in the end, is an outlet for nonfiction. There have been exceptions, here and there, but this is primarily a blog for commentaries and essays. Critiques, or just me talking 'bout stuff. And that's been amazingly cool, but it's also been limiting. In the nearly three years this thing's been a part of my life there's been a couple million words between Wednesday and I, but my fiction output has crashed through the floor. And that has created an imbalance in my humors, increasing bile and phlegm and requiring an infusion of foods higher in fire and air.

Now, I could change Websnark if I wanted. I could add in fiction, poetry, a wet bar -- whatever I felt like, at least as far as Weds would be comfortable -- and Weds is, at heart, desirous of my being content. But that doesn't seem like the right reaction to me. Folks who come here and who have been coming here have been doing so for very specific reasons. They'll indulge the odd Sestina or the occasional bedtime story, but for the most part they'd rather there not be a monumental shift in tone.

And honestly, I don't want to change what Websnark is. I like what Websnark is.

The solution, in the end, is to expand.

Which brings me to Banter Latte.

Banter Latte is a new blog, chock full of that new blog smell. It was born in the weekend following my existential writing crisis. It is dedicated to fiction, to poetry, to whimsy -- to all the stuff that Websnark isn't. It has a bunch of new bits of writing, some old writing that's been sitting on my hard drive -- sometimes for years -- and locked posts designed to let me put up chapters of novels I'm working on.

That this will hopefully also force me to, you know, finish and refine those novels is a side benefit.

The protected posts, mind, are still meant to be accessible. See, part of the problem of the publishing world adapting to new electronic distribution is the question of what "previous publication" means. By locking the posts, I can skirt the edge between publishing my novel on the web and providing a place for fans of my work and interested parties to read drafts of the posts without actually releasing it. And keeping it out of search engines at the same time.

So. What is Banter Latte?

Banter Latte is a place for me to write. Just like Websnark. They're meant to compliment each other. Folks who like reading what I write will want to head on over there and see what there is to see. Folks who like my essays but can't imagine enduring my fiction can avoid it. (Though I'll post regular links over here to the stuff going on over there -- mostly because I don't want this place going quiet again.)

Though quiet isn't as likely. As I've said before, when I'm writing regularly, I'm usually writing prolifically. You'll notice I've written more on Websnark in the time since I started beta testing Banter Latte than in the three months before. That's likely to continue.

Why "Banter Latte?" Because as has been mentioned, I have a love of dialogues taking place while my characters are drinking beverages. Nothing more or less. Also, I tend to drink a lot of coffee or tea while writing.

There is a schedule to Banter Latte, in hopes of building an audience and (paradoxically) making things easier on me. Mondays are "The Mythology of the modern world," when I tell whimsical stories about the myths behind everyday life. Post beta period, we have two entries up right now: Introductions and Coffee, and Why Does Starbucks Drip Coffee Taste Like Crotch? These are generally going to be written new for the site, which should keep me doing a few hundred or thousand words in a week, all to keep the pump primed. Wednesdays are "Storytelling" days -- vignettes, scenes, stories, past stuff and new stuff all blended. Some of the more serious stuff will go here, though I don't promise that. Right now, we have a short story set in the greater Gossamer Commons universe -- the first entry of Gossamer Reflections, called Whisperdance.

Fridays are when the protected chapters of novels in progress go up. One of the state goals -- born of a conversation I had with my father -- is that I'm going to write one chapter of a novel each and every week, thus making the completion of said novels far more likely. Right now we are in the semi-hard science fiction novel Theftworld, which is password protected (though right up in the nav bar or also on the sidebar you'll see a link to a form for requesting it -- it's not exactly hard to get access to the password if you want it.) We have two chapters plus a prologue and a bit of preface material up.

Thtree days a week with three types of content. Tuesdays and Thursdays are Random days. Any day I feel like doing something that doesn't fit one of those categories, I'll throw something into a Tuesday or a Thursday. That's where poetry will go, fan-fiction if I've a yen to write it, bits of other stories, or whatever. Or nothing at all. Those aren't officially scheduled days, but right now it looks like there's plenty of stuff for them. We have a couple of related stories in them right now: the first part of Interviewing Leather -- meant to be a Rolling Stoneesque interview of a minor supervillain, and we have On Call, a slice of life story about a doctor who specializes in superhumans, played more for laughs.

Finally, on the weekends we'll have very basic open topic posts, for people to shout out comments or make dook dook noises or do whatever it is you kids do.

And, of course, there's a chance to buy ad space if you want. Right now, it's going for like two cents, so it's a bargain!

In the end, all of this is meant to stimulate my doing what I like to do most outside of spending time with Weds or sleeping: writing. And I'm really excited about it. I hope you guys enjoy it. And I hope this helps keep the writing stream -- in Websnark and out of Websnark -- more regular than it's been.

Thanks all. And enjoy.

Oh -- bear in mind the site is still new. There may be functionality changes, and there almost certainly will be look and feel changes. So, you know. Be warned.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 1:46 AM | Comments (10)

July 2, 2007

Eric: Man, I used to write *happy* posts....

We all have our heroes. Sometimes they're real people. Sometimes they're fictional. And sometimes the line between the two blurs, at least somewhat.

When I was quite young, I knew who my heroes were. The Legion of Superheroes. Green Lantern. The Justice League. The Avengers. The X-Men. Good guys against bad guys, and all very, very exciting.

But above all of them, there were the Micronauts. The first major comic book company book to feature a toy license, the Micronauts were much more than the story of my favorite plastic and die cast metal toys (seriously, I had hundreds of those things) -- it was a grand saga. A full on space opera. A legend. A fantasy. An epic. And I was into it. Commander Arcturus Rann -- the legendary Space Glider and leader of the Micronauts. The beautiful, powerful Marionette -- the Princess Mari, dedicating her life to saving Homeworld from Baron Karza. The wily, canny, laughing Bug -- barely a pastiche of Galactic Warrior, but mostly unique to the series, bringing roguishness and humor to the darkest of situations. The taciturn Acroyear, named for his race, prince and exile, mighty warrior. Biotron, faithful servant for a thousand years and his counterpart Microtron, yang to his yin. Force Commander, Prince Pharoid, the beautiful Slug (don't ask), the mysterious Time Travellers and their Shadow Priests, the evil of Baron Karza, the might of the Worldmind, Captain Universe -- the hero who could be you! And so, so many more....

They were my heroes, and my friends. And through the grace of the Enigma Force, I will never forget them. I owned all their comics -- a complete run. Plus the unfortunate crossover with the X-Men. Plus the trades.

Now, a lesser hero but still one I greatly enjoyed was ROM, Spaceknight! Another toy based line, but this one far more integrated into the Marvel Universe (including a universe-wide crossover where the Dire wraiths attacked), ROM was the story of Rom, a Galadoran who was the first to volunteer to be remade into a cyborg in plandanium armor, who spans the galaxy fighting to protect those who would fall.

Heroes.

They weren't real, of course. I might have had a nine year old's crush on Princess Mari, but she didn't exist any more than Brandy Clark did. Yes, there is a Steve Jackson in the world, but he's not the man who was at once a friend and a rival to Rom (I always wondered if the real Steve Jackson was amused at his Marvel counterpart). But they felt real to me. They helped me to dream of broader things, to believe in the most noble of ideals, to let my imagination run wild.

Behind them, however, there was a real hero. A man who was incredibly formative to my childhood and to the man I would grow into. His name was Bill Mantlo, and he wrote comic books.

A lot of comic books.

Really, there was a time when he worked on almost every comic in Marvel's stable. He had a memorable run on the Hulk (a run where the heroes of Earth had banished the Hulk to other dimensions because he was so dangerous -- a plotline that should sound familiar since they ripped it off for World War Hulk's setup). He worked on Thor, and Iron Man, and even Howard the Duck. He worked on the Avengers, Captain America, Ghost Rider, and he even wrote a few X-Men comics here and there. When John Byrne's star was on the ascendence and his Alpha Flight was still a major comic, it was Bill Mantlo who took it over when Byrne left. He created Cloak and Dagger, for God's sake.

You know what? I'm going to steal a list of his work from the Howling Curmudgeons -- it's easier than trying to explain just how heavily he was involved in the work of this era of Marvel:

Alpha Flight, Amazing Adventures, Amazing Spider-Man, Astonishing Tales, The Avengers, Battlestar Galactica, Captain America, Captain Marvel, Cloak & Dagger, Daredevil, Deadly Hands of Kung-Fu, The Defenders, Fantastic Four, Ghost Rider, Hero for Hire, Heroes For Hope Starring the X-Men, Howard the Duck, The Human Fly, The Incredible Hulk, Invasion, Iron Man, Jack of Hearts, Journey Into Mystery/Thor, The Mighty Thor, Ka-Zar, Marvel Age, Marvel Chillers, Marvel Fanfare, Marvel Premiere, Marvel Spotlight, Marvel Super Hero Contest of Champions, Marvel Tales (Marvel Tales Starring Spider-man), Marvel Team-Up, Marvel Treasury Edition, Marvel Two-In-One, Micronauts, Rawhide Kid, Rocket Raccoon, ROM, Sectaurs, Spectacular Spider-Man (Peter Parker the Spectacular Spider-Man), Spider-Man and Daredevil, Strange Tales (2nd series), Super-Villain Team-Up, Swords of the Swashbucklers, Tales of Suspense (Captain America/Captain America and the Falcon/Steve Rogers: Captain America), Team America, Transformers, The Vision and The Scarlet Witch (the entire miniseries), Web of Spider-Man, Werewolf by Night, What If..., X-Men, and X-men and the Micronauts.

Seriously, dude.

Mantlo had an incredible sense of character voice and motivation. His series featured grand themes, but explored them in sophisticated ways. Relationships were passionate but never simple -- there was pain and joy in equal measure, and his heroes had to walk heroic journeys -- trawling the depths of despair before they could once again find hope. They were incredible.

And Mantlo wasn't afraid to take risks. He subverted the heroic and sympathetic Force Commander, turning him into a villain before killing him off to return Baron Karza to the universe. He killed every living thing on Homeworld -- a horrible, terrible loss -- without losing the idealism that held the Micronauts together. After setting the town of Clairton, West Virginia as the home of pretty much all of Rom the Spaceknight's human friends and secondary characters, he had the entire town killed off and replaced with Dire Wraiths in an effort to kill Rom and Brandy Clark. You couldn't take anything for granted in a Mantlo story -- except that in the end, after terrific pain and sacrifice, good would triumph. But would forever wonder at the cost....

Oh, over at DC he also wrote the Invasion miniseries. Yeah. He actually did one of the monumental crosssovers they did in the eighties, and it was one of the ones that actually did have impact and didn't suck. Who knew?

I can't overestimate the impact Bill Mantlo's writing had on me. I really can't. And it was a very sad day for me when he decided to move on from comics, and enter the legal profession. And even there, he was a hero. He became a public defender, apparently a very good and dedicated one.

And then came tragedy. In 1992, Mantlo was rollerblading when he was hit by a car. He had massive head trauma that led to a coma for more than a year. When he emerged, he had brain damage that he has never (and will never) recover from, needing constant care. Expensive care, I would add. His capacities are diminished at best and will never recover.

When I learned this... all the breath just left me for a while. It was so unfair. It was so wrong. Bill Mantlo deserved so, so much better.

But if there was one thing Mantlo wrote about, it's that being a good guy -- and deserving good things --was no guarantee that you would get them. Bad things happened to good people in Mantlo's stories.

The point, in the end, was what you did with the things you've received. Bill Mantlo needs us.

He needs me.

And he needs you.

Fortunately, there's an easy thing you can do.

Writer/Illustrator David Yurkovich has produced Mantlo: A Life in Comics, a tribute and benefit book that includes fiction, history, and interviews with everyone from Marve Wolfman to Jackson Guice. It costs seven dollars and fifty cents, and all the profits -- all the profits -- are going to help insure Mantlo's care now and into the future.

You can order it here.

My own circumstances aren't good right now (though thanks to you incredible people, they're vastly, vastly better), but on my next paycheck my order for this book is going in. And I pass it forward to all of you. If you were of the era I was, and you liked Marvel Comics at all, you know Bill Mantlo's work. If not, but you like comic books of any stripe, you're a recipient of his legacy.

When tragedy comes, it falls upon all of us to bring hope back into the light, to take off the cloak of the Shadow Priest and reveal the shining embodiment of idealism given form.

Put simply, he needs us.

That's reason enough, and probably all I would ever need to say.

Dallan and Sepsis preserve you all.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 12:49 PM | Comments (6)

June 28, 2007

Eric: I wonder if everyone feels this crappy doing this.

20001027

(Stolen cheerfully from RPG World!. And check out the ultracool animation nockFORCE, by Ian Jones-Quartey and Jim Gisriel!)

I don't much care for this, but it's clear I have to do it. For a couple of months now, a series of bad breaks have kept me pretty low, financially. And people have bought of things and some folks have donated, and that's helped tons. Just absolute tons. But I can't seem to get ahead of it. It's not like I'm, y'know, spending money. And it's not like I don't have a job that pays me in money. But I just can't get in front of things, and trouble keeps pressing, harder than I'd like. And I need to get ahead of it once and for all.

So. I'm doing the auction thing, yet again. And I'll admit I'm going to miss these. First off, there is a five book collection of Nephilim -- the long out of print Chaosium occult RPG of the children of Angels and Man. This role playing game -- with lots of supplemental material by the staggeringly talented Kenneth Hite, I would add -- is one of those that RPG developers continue to cite as an influence today. Myself included. And this one auction -- this one auction -- includes the core rulebook, Secret Societies, Serpent Moon, Chronicle of the Awakening, and Major Arcana. This is a big deal listing.

Also in terms of "historic," "influential" and "well written" I have a second listing of multiple books: in this case, a listing of both The Primal Order and TPO: Pawns: The Opening Move. These were absolutely brilliant supplements, written by Peter Adkison, which took the rather lackluster support most RPGs had for gods and deities and the like in those days (Deities and Demigods listed tons of Gods, but made them into relatively standard monsters to be beaten, at least as far as their stats were concerned, as an example), and made them into something that could be quantified and used in a campaign effectively while still making them freaking GODS. There was also a brouhaha over what was a pretty clear case of copyright and trademark infringement in the games (Adkison had somewhat naively put in conversion rules for pretty much all the major and a frightening number of minor role playing games in the supplement, intending it to be a capstone to be used for other systems rather than a system in its own. Palladium, most notably, took exception to this). And what might be most interesting is these were the flagship products of a very small RPG company in the pacific Northwest which, while they sorted all this out, licensed a card game designed to be collectible from a guy named Richard Garfield.

That company's name? Wizards of the Coast. And on the backs of Magic and later Pokemon they absolutely conquered the planet. Sadly, leaving supplements like The Primal Order behind in the process. These books really are good. And this auction gives you both of them.

Thirdly, and most prosaically, there's d20 Modern. It's, you know. d20 Modern.

Finally... and I'll admit that while I hardly need the book for the rules (I have several other copies, including a legal PDF), I'm going to actively miss this one... I have the ultra-rare, first (limited) edition Black Hardcover edition of the In Nomine core rules. This was the last copy of the core rules I found -- the last version I didn't have. And it's by far the hardest to find and buy.

But, I don't need it. Not even for In Nomine. And it's got to go. They all have to go.

And I'll admit it. If you haven't donated but you've considered? Today's the day. Honestly.

(If you have donated, then I thank you.)

This isn't a threat. This isn't a "do this or Websnark goes away" or anything like that.

It's just... it's been a month. Of one thing after another after another.

Times are tough. So this is what I need to do.

If you can't spare change? Don't sweat it. I'll still be here. We'll still be friends.

Dude.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 2:52 PM | Comments (8)

June 21, 2007

Eric: Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today... to put an unfortunate miserable critter aWAAAAAY! (better he were hung first)

One eBay auction I don't feel badly about mentioning here, even with my dearth of recent posts, is this one: the first four volumes of Kitchen Sink Press's Li'l Abner. Li'l Abner is one of the most influential and important comic strips in comics history, with a range and significance that almost no strip has ever equalled. This is four solid years of Li'l Abner, starting from the very first strip and going through the inaugration of the Sadie Hawkins Day Race (and the running of the second race, which established it as a tradition, and led to nationwide "Sadie Hawkins dances" for decades to come).

Li'l Abner reached a point where the wedding of Abner and Daisy Mae actually made the cover of Life Magazine (at a time when Life was the seminal journal of record for news and events. There's nothing comparable to this in today's society.) There is a point -- I swear to Christ -- when it's estimated that 39% of all Americans read Li'l Abner every day. Honestly. 70 million Americans out of a then population of 180 million.

Kinda puts Penny Arcade into perspective, doesn't it? Or C.S.I., for that matter. Or any popular entertainment appearing regularly in any media today. Or the top ten popular entertainments in any media combined. Seriously.

These books are like a master class in establishing characters and voices, running gags, satirical events and establishing continuity without being beholden to it. Al Capp helmed the adventures of the good people of Dogpatch for fifty-four years. Fifty-four years. That's longer than Peanuts, for the record. And while Peanuts was certainly one of if not the most important comic strips of all time, specific story events in Peanuts never galvanized the nation the way events in Li'l Abner did.

I mentioned the cover of Life for the marriage of Abner and Daisy Mae. Well, some decades later, an episode of M*A*S*H featured Col. Potter trying to get news through a news blackout because it seemed like this time Abner and Daisy Mae would get hitched, and he'd be damned if it happened without him knowing about it. It was an important enough event that a television show about the Korean War namechecked it.

That doesn't even count the broadway musical it inspired -- one of the most successful in history, I would add. Or the movie that they made of that. Or the serials and other movies they made of Li'l Abner earlier. The musical itself continues to be produced all around the country. A much younger Eric A. Burns actually acted in a production of Li'l Abner in Fort Kent, Maine. I played Marryin' Sam (if you're a bachelor, pack up yer satchel're I'll have you pushin' a pram!) and our production killed. This despite an audience largely made up of people born after Li'l Abner had faded from the scene -- the characters were strong enough that you didn't need more than the musical's introduction.

If you're a student of comic strips, you want to read these things. If you're a cartoonist, you really want to read these things. If you're a fan of laughing your ass off, see above.

As sheepish and ungracious as it is to shill with such a long absence, this here's worth owning. Honest to God.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 4:27 PM | Comments (15)

Eric: State of the Burns

The question is, what now?

Websnark is going on three years of age, and obviously for the last couple of months it's been at best "quiet." Which is to say I haven't written jack shit for it.

On the other side of the equation, there's the rest of my writing life, where....

...hm. "Not. Jack and Shit."

Nothing of consequence to livejournal. Little to nothing in fiction. Little to nothing in essays or e-mails. Little to nothing... well, anywhere.

My general accessibility has also been much much restricted. I don't e-mail folks. I connect to favored chat hangouts and say nothing all night.

It's not that I'm a complete hermit. I see people at work. I talk to Weds daily, including videoconferencing. (The greatest boon to long distance dating since [inset Mail order Bride joke here].) I speak to my folks.

But I've largely withdrawn into myself. Which happens to me on occasion. My activities become solitary. I just kind of... recharge for a while. Go into a cocoon.

I've had a lot of troubles the past couple of months to boot. Some health. Some financial. Some annoying. (For the record? Losing your driver's license is a pain in the fucking ass and I don't recommend it to anyone.) Some USPS related. I really need to get another major eBay campaign going to start pulling myself up out of some of this shit, but I've been avoiding it, largely because I can't imagine cheerfully announcing more eBay auctions on here without having written anything lately. It seems ungracious, even though I'm not soliciting donations when I do it. "Hi! I'm not entertaining you right now, but feel free to buy some of my old RPG shit!"

Yeah, not so much.

I can tell this one's serious though. because both my father and my fiancée have mentioned that... you know, Eric, you haven't been doing very much writing lately, have you?

Which makes some sense. They all know that writing is kind of my mental checksum. It's what keeps me on keel. And I like to do it. I like it a lot.

So the question is "what now?"

I've thought "I should write about...." for Websnark about two hundred and fourteen times in the last couple of weeks. But I don't have anything ending that sentence just yet. I mean, there's lots of Webcomics out there and I read a bunch, but what can I say about any of them that I haven't already said a dozen times or more. The same with video games or pop culture or political science or what have you. What is there for me to say?

Dad and I discussed my beginning a "chapter a week" fiction writing program, where I do one chapter in a seven day period. It's a good plan. It might get The Recluse done. Or Theftworld. Which is still one of my favorite titles. Hell, I could write Adjusted League Unimpeachable for freaking Superguy if it would get me back on writing track.

But that doesn't help here. And I admit it. I'm selfish. I'm not ready to surrender Websnark. This is a part of my writing landscape. My writing life. My psyche.

It got me engaged for Christ's sake.

And you folks have been awfully good to me. I like you guys. And it seems like that's an important thing too.

So the question is, what should I write about. What can get the spark going? What can get the ball rolling. And make no mistake, when I write (and your milage may vary) there's momentum and inertia involved. It's way easier for me to write five thousand words on day nine of regular writing than three hundred words on day one after time off.

One friend suggested I combine my poverty with my typing skill and auction off topics for me to write about. That's something I've generally been against except for charity, though there does reach a point where it becomes appealing. Though there is generally a feeling of 'payola' involved that makes me quail. "Hi! I just spent five hundred and twelve dollars buying an essay from you. Please write about my webcomic Anime Treacle. Just tell me what you think, okay? No pressure to give me any preferential treatment. Did I mention that five hundred and twelve dollars was my food money for July? No pressure."

...uh... yeah.

So I could solicit for topics. That's always fun. Which, assuming anyone's still reading this (and as of the moment I'm typing this the freaking site's down anyway) means there'll be some comments with suggestions. I'm down with that, but then there's a potential backlog which might seem insurmountable. Or ungracious.

Man, I'm concerned with seeming gracious, aren't I?

Or maybe... maybe I could accept X amount of money to write short vignettes or fiction bits. Do something improv style. Give me a setting, a genre and characters and see what you can come up with, writer boy.

Or would that seem weird?

I dunno.

All I do know is this. I haven't forgotten you guys. I haven't forgotten Websnark, or writing.

Things are just... odd, right now.

Oh, before I forget? Howard Tayler hit seven years like a week ago, over at Schlock Mercenary, and Cheshire Crossing put up issue three in all this, too. Both topics deserve more, but at the absolute minimum, they deserve mention.

EDIT: Just to make things crystal clear, this is not, not, not! a donation solicitation. Some of you guys are amazingly generous and I appreciate that, but dude. I haven't written jack shit for two months. When I'm producing that's one thing, and thank you for your support. When I'm not, your generosity should be turned to the places that are producing. In my humble opinion. Don't make me stop this car and come back there. Don't think for one minute I won't turn around and go right back home. And I'll speed, and I don't have a license on me so if I get pulled over they'll take me to jail! Is that what you want? Well is it?

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 12:13 PM | Comments (34)

April 6, 2007

Eric: Son of MONG-- er, eBay.

Hey hi!

We're coming up on auction end for the first round of Eric's a Dumbass eBay Fun. We have lots of stuff still inexpensive, and other stuff going higher than might have been anticipated. In particular, TransHuman Space is going for just under sixteen and Gehenna's going for thirty-one.

What I find amusing through it all is that all of the "How to Draw Manga" books are going except the ones on drawing chicks. Apparently, people are more interested in learning storytelling and general techniques than hot chick techniques. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Folks who check in will also note that there are two new auctions up and generating interest -- the rare (and often expensive) Traveller20 (T20) d20 Hardback, and the less rare but extremely cool Victorian Age: Vampire Companion. And we have some other things on the table for going up over the weekend and into next week. Possibly a lot of other things -- the preliminary estimate on my car's "check engine" light going off is fifteen hundred bucks. On the other hand, we're going to get several second opinions, and doing some diligence on the potential cost of repairs is already dropping it by a lot.

Otherwise... things are going well. Weds is here. Life is good. Thank you all!

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 4:12 PM | Comments (20)

April 2, 2007

Eric: On the other hand, it's not the worst thing ever. I mean, Unfettered by Talent is way crappier. Maybe.

I did a Snarky!

(Dude! I drew Snarky! Click on the thumbnail for the big size!)

For those of you playing along at home, the copy of Sidewinder: Wild West Adventures referred to on eBay sold, and sold nicely! Within its pages you will find my first ever drawing of Snarky -- and wearing a cowboy hat no less!

It was also noted to be terrible. I was a little concerned the winner would think it merely "incompetent," but then I put the tail on and realized "no. No, this counts as full on terrible." Certainly, Ursula Vernon, the artist who created the original Snarky pictures (as well as the Snarky-in-Bow-Tie picture from the proposal video) would blink twice and shiver quietly to herself when she sees it.

Also in the picture, you will note both Eric A. Burns and Wednesday White, which is always nice to be able to show in any picture.

So anyway! Yaaaaaay! Stay in school, kids!

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 2:20 PM | Comments (15)

Eric: Dumbass lives!

Trying to stay ahead of car and ticketstuff, we now have the next stage of auctions up -- we're calling this Eric is a Dumbass eBay Excitement, or just plain Dumbass. Just think of the cross-marketing potential!

We have some cool stuff going. First off, I found my copy of Gehenna -- the end times sourcebook for Vampire the Masquerade. That one sold out quickly (and of course was reprinted, but still), and it's pretty cool if you don't already own it and have some token interest in Vampire or the world ending in horrific ways. For people with more hope for the future, there is a first edition copy of Transhuman Space by David Pulver and the good people at Steve Jackson Games. This is a fantastic supplement filled with GURPS and easily adaptable goodness, and I think you would like it! Further, there's an actual honest-to-God Webcomics related auction going on -- volume 2 of James Kochalka's Sketchbook Diaries. This is a beautiful book I picked up at my friendly local store some time before I even started typing on 'Snark -- so while it's really nice, it doesn't have huge personal resonance the way, say, my personalized copies of Narbonic or Girly do.

Finally... I'm beginning to put a very, very extensive collection of books online. These, to be rather... blunt... are a number of "how to draw and not suck" books I've collected over the years. As it turns out, buying the books, putting them on the shelf and having them work via osmosis doesn't seem to be an effective method of learning to draw, so they may as well go to other folks. Today you'll find several of the "How to Draw Manga" volumes up, and with luck you will find them useful and informative.

Anyway! That is where we are. Please, enjoy delicious bidding!

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 12:09 PM | Comments (5)

April 1, 2007

Eric: Apropos of Nothing, Custom Ringtones are Cool.

It was, at best, a long day.

Days when I'm traveling to Ottawa are days I generally try to take off from work -- or at the least take a half-day in. The trip is relatively long, there are bits I much prefer to drive in daylight than at night, there is a border crossing involved -- all told, I like to get going as early as possible.

Friday... that couldn't happen. There were two other people at work -- including my boss -- who were already scheduled for the day off. I couldn't very well take it off as well. Not with students in the halls. So the absolute earliest I would be able to leave would be three, assuming I could slip out early. And I was up early to boot, so I could be in an hour earlier than usual. Which meant I was also operating on less than normal sleep.

As it worked out, I didn't get out of work before four, and at that point I really needed a shower. So we were looking at four-thirty to five o'clock in the evening before I made it onto the road.

That was looking to be a very late night. But still. Get there. Kiss my fiancee. Say hello to Frank and/or Megs, depending on who was still up. Crash until morning. Get up. Pack the car with Weds's things, and drive back. That was the plan, and I was still focused on it.

It worked fine -- it worked like a charm....

...until Vermont.

I have a usual plan for a usual stop. I climb the mountains of Vermont along Interstate 93 to I-91, then an exit before I enter Canada I pull off and follow the GPS to my usual gas station. At said station, I make sure I have sufficient coffee for the long run through Quebec (I prefer not to stop in Quebec, as I've mentioned before), use the restroom, get any necessary snack food, and fill up on gasoline. (By filling up at the last possible moment before Canada, I reduce the total amount of gasoline I need to get in Canada. On the trip back this time I grabbed twenty five liters, which was more than I needed. But I was being extra-cautious. You will see why.)

Naturally, climbing hills is hard work for the little Honda Civic that could.

And I was tired.

And monofocused.

And my GPS had my gas station as a target, and I was keeping my eye on it and on the road.

It was just before sundown, and I was climbing one of the taller mountains -- a significant slope that goes for four or more miles before Cresting--

My car lurched. I blinked.

My car lurched again.

My car began lurching like it were going down a ski slope of moguls, instead of up an interstate.

Eyes wide, I looked down to my dashboard... and saw (to my shock, horror, and surprise) that my gasoline telltale had lit up, and my gauge was well below empty.

My GPS said I was fourteen miles from my gas station.

Had I not been on a slope going many miles angled upward, I might have made it. Seriously. As it was, whatever gas was left in my tank was pooling back on the opposite side to the intake valve, and there was no possible way I was going to make it. I gave it my level best, letting the car lurch a bit before it began to simply lose power. I pulled off onto the shoulder, coasting up as far as I could before the vehicle grew quiet, and I turned the engine off.

There was no two ways about it. I was out of gas. In Vermont. Halfway up a mountain. On the Interstate.

I had done a dumbass thing.

I'd love to tell you all the justifications. I was tired. I was monofocused. Going uphill had taken more gasoline than expected. Alien spores. But the simple truth is I was an idiot. I didn't pay close enough attention to how much gas I had left, and I had run out of gas.

So, when you're a dumbass, you cop to it. I called AAA -- the national association for bailing dumbass drivers out of their dumbass situations.

"Where are you located," the dispatcher said.

"I'm on Interstate 91, somewhere between exits 24 and 25," I answered. The GPS couldn't tell me more than that. It's designed for directions, not coordinates.

There was a pause.

"Can you see a mile marker?" the dispatcher asked. She was young, and cheerful, and clearly wanted to help.

"Nope," I said as cheerfully.

"All right," she said, and verified my cell phone number. "We'll have someone on the way. As you're on the Interstate, you're a priority, so it should only be a few minutes!"

"Thank you!" I said. And I made the two calls you have to make when you're a dumbass.

The first was to my fiancee, who was waiting for me in Canada, many hours away. I got her machine, and left a message.

The second was to my parents.

"Hi Dad," I said. "You ever do a really dumb thing?"

"Countless times," Dad said. He sounded amused. Which may have been his way of thinking 'if he's not in jail, this couldn't possibly be that bad.'

"Well! Me too! I ran out of gas."

My father did not laugh at me. He might have chuckled, but that was clearly with me. My father is not the sort of person who laughs at a guy who's waiting by the side of a major interstate -- by Vermont terms -- for AAA to send a wrecker out to pour three gallons of gas into his tank.

My mother, I believe, was sorely tempted to laugh. But she may have gotten it out of her system before Dad handed the phone to her. We all agreed on the most important -- one could even say central -- points. Namely, that I had done a dumbass thing.

For the most part, I was laughing, and cheerful. When you do something stupid, there's no sense in trying to deny it or trying to mitigate it. You're a dumbass -- end of story

We hung up, and I glanced out at the sunset. It was really beautiful. The trees on one side were still snow covered up at this altitude. The rock face on the other side of me still had long, almost magical white ice shimmering along it, gleaming in the dying sunlight. It was peaceful.

So, I listened to This American Life on my iPod and I waited for rescue.

After another fifteen minutes or so, my phone rang. It rang to the tune of "Angel Dressed in Black" by Warren Zevon, which meant Wednesday was calling.

Wednesday was, first and foremost, concerned that I was safe and help was on the way.

Secondly, she was also in agreement that I had done a dumbass thing. "I tell you not to wait for the light to come on!" she said, somewhere between exasperated and laughing. "I tell you to fill the tank when you get to one quarter!"

Which is true. She has told me this before. And I, with a particularly male sense of smug superiority, have told her that I know my car. I know how far I can stretch it. I know how far I can go without getting into trouble. Don't worry about it.

So. Not only was I a dumbass -- I was a dumbass who did a dumb thing that the woman he loved had specifically cautioned him about. Which is hardcore dumbass.

Weds was reluctant to mock me. I had to insist. Because dude -- I had done a stupid thing. I deserved mockery. I expected mockery. Hell, I expect the comments section under this post to be filled with variations of "Jesus, Eric. You're a dumbass!"

Which, you know, I was.

We elected to hang up, in case I needed cell phone battery power.

I noticed it was full on dark now. A nearly full moon provided most of the illumination. And it was getting cold. I idly remembered that I had noticed there was still snow on the trees and rocks here. Which is another way of saying "it's still winter here, y'moron," And the sun had gone down and it was now night. And I had no heater nor any way of turning the car on.

I bundled under my coat, reflecting on the 60 degree weather I had left.

And noticing that it had been quite a while since I called AAA.

So I called them back. The dispatcher I got this time said that yes indeed, a wrecker had been dispatched, and should be there any time. He (it was a he this time) cheerfully paged the driver, who said he was almost there.

I thanked him and hung up.

And waited.

And waited.

It was very dark indeed. The long road let me see headlights from a far way back, my flashers reflecting off the snow and rocks nearby, once every second and a half, for maybe half a second's time each. And it was quite cold now.

I checked the time. It had been more than an hour since I made the first call. I wasn't listening to This American Life anymore. I had long since made sure to reserve battery power for the hazard lights. Those lights meant cars shooting past me at seventy miles an hour going up the mountain didn't hit me. Those lights meant the wrecker, whenever it showed up, would see me and pull over. Those hazard lights, in other words, were going to get me back on the road before, oh, morning.

My phone rang. The theme from the Rockford Files, which meant my phone didn't know the person calling me.

It was AAA. "Hi!" the dispatcher said. "Our driver can't find you! Can you describe any landmarks?"

"He... can't find me?" I asked, somewhat incredulously. "I'm off the shoulder of the road on an Interstate."

"I know, sir. What can you tell me? Can you see a mile marker? It's a small green side at the side of the road."

I could not. And I knew what mile markers were. "It's a mountain," I said. "I'm roughly halfway up a mountain."

"Can you see any bridges?"

"No... um... I'm halfway up a mountain."

"Because we can usually track locations by bridges."

"No bridges. Sorry."

"Hm. It would help if you could find a mile marker. Could you back your car down the mountain until you pass one?"

I paused for a long moment. "You mean... release my brake, roll backwards in a totally unpowered car in the middle of the night, in hopes I'm close enough to a mile marker to see it?"

"...yes, sir."

So I did.

I believe the white markers without numbers are set a tenth of a mile apart. By that reckoning, I rolled backwards down the mountain for three tenths of a mile before I decided I simply couldn't safely continue. There was no mile marker to be found."

"All right, sir. We'll have the driver keep looking."

It was dark, and cold, and now I was on the nervous side. I was on a highway with literally nowhere I could be except on the side of the road, and AAA couldn't find me. On a mountain. In rural Vermont. With absolutely no means of moving my car.

It occurred to me that I had seen this movie before, and dumbasses in those movies got killed by slashers wearing masks. And if you think that's stupid to think about, you've never been stranded on the side of the road in increasing cold in Vermont waiting for a wrecker to show up for a long period of time.

It also occurred to me that no police cars had happened by. None. I was sitting on the side of the road for an awfully long time, and a police officer would pull over and render assistance if he saw me. That's just part of what police officers do. But none came.

Well, obviously the wrecker finally showed up. What had happened was simple enough. AAA had told him I was between exits 26 and 27, so he'd gotten on the highway at exit 260 and ridden up the road a long way, then didn't find me before the border, so he'd ridden back down south to exit 25, circled around and did it again, and then back down to exit 24.

Exits in Vermont on this stretch of road were about twenty miles apart. He had put a hundred miles on his wrecker trying to find me.

He gave me gas. And jumpstarted the car, the battery so run down that I couldn't have started it myself. I pulled out and drove to my usual gas station. I had been waiting well over an hour and a half. Which added at least that much time to my trip.

And yet, I couldn't be upset at the wrecker driver. He went where AAA said. I couldn't even be upset at AAA. Because in the end, I'm the one who ran out of gas. I had done a dumbass thing. That's not AAA's fault or the wrecker's fault or work's fault. It's just my fault. And you sometimes receive an object lesson about stupidity when you do stupid things.

This trip marked the only time I've ever had a hard time crossing into Canada. The border guard was at the least... curious about a guy who was driving with little luggage to Ottawa -- their nation's capital -- then turning around and coming back the next day. It was many hours to Ottawa from that crossing.

My favorite question he asked, with a certain amount of incredulity, was "why do you have a Canadian girrlfriend?"

I swear to God, I said "I have taste?"

I'm somewhat surprised he didn't search the car then and there.

Needless to say, I got in the country. It was well after one in the morning that I arrived at the house. Frank had gone to bed, but Megs and Weds were both up. Weds was profoundly relieved I was there. And despite friends of hers saying she should hit me with a broom, she elected to be happy and friendly and welcoming.

The next day, as I mentioned, I was overcautious with gasoline. I wanted no more trouble.

Which was no doubt why I got stopped for speeding in Quebec. And thank God Weds was in the car, because not only was I incapable of speaking French to the woman, but I actually managed to say "pardon me, I speak French" to her. I blew my language roll when all I was trying to say was "I don't speak your language."

Dumbass.

Oh, and an hour and a half from home the Check Engine light came on. I'm hopeful that's telling me I need to change my fuel filter or air filter, but I'll get it checked out tomorrow. Certainly the car was running well, regardless.

So. A late trip. An hour and a half plus on a mountainside. A speeding ticket. A check engine light. A Canadian Border Guard who wanted to know why on Earth I would fall in love with a Canadian.

(The American customs agent was just concerned we were planning on getting married while Weds was here in an attempt to keep her in the country. We made it clear that one of our trips was to go to the processing center to do such things legitimately.)

And yet, it is Sunday morning, and my fiancee is sleeping in the next room.

Dumbass or not, I'm a lucky man. And all is right in the world.

Of course, now it's time to eBay a bunch more stuff. As it turns out, Canadian speeding tickets are surprisingly expensive and Christ knows what's wrong with my engine (and whether or not it was caused by someone running out of gas while climbing a long hill).

I'm a dumbass, but I'm honest about it. And I'm home with Weds. And that's pretty nice.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 10:53 AM | Comments (22)

March 28, 2007

Eric: Quick magic update!

Well. Not five minutes after posting, I got e-mailed by Microsoft. They say that they've removed the incorrect designation, but that "...although we have removed the incorrect designation, it may take up to 24 hours for you to see this change reflected."

So, points to them for rapid response and repair. And if you're an IE7 user and you notice this going past 10:30 Eastern Daylight Time tomorrow, please let me know so I can follow up with them.

In other news, we are at one hour and forty-two minutes before the Websnark Edition Sidewinder auction ends! We're at $50 -- which seems to be a pretty solid bid by someone who clearly wants this. And honestly, I didn't expect this to go as high as fifty bucks as it was, so I'm pretty freaking stoked about it. But if you're going to do an event auction, it might as well be an event auction, so I'm mentioning that we're coming up on the end times for it, and if you actually want my book, my signature, and my terrible sketch of Snarky in a Cowboy Hat -- and want it more than fifty dollars worth -- now is the time to jump in.

Thanks, all! The Extravaganza has been staggeringly successful, people have been extremely cool, and I'm really psyched. I'll try to do non-site, non-auction content later this morning.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 10:39 AM | Comments (7)

March 27, 2007

Eric: Dude. It's a ZOMBIE ROLE PLAYING GAME.

We are at thirteen hours before the end of the Websnark Edition Sidewinder auction. That's a very cool thing. Soon, it will be over, and someone will have a copy of my game Sidewinder, personalized at their request, signed by me and featuring -- as you'll recall -- a terrible drawing of Snarky wearing a cowboy hat. With hopes it will look cute.

The rest of the Extravaganza has ended, and it has been successful. As said before, I'm going to shoot for more of a comfort level, to try and make sure we don't have a repeat of the conditions which led us here in the first place, which means some more auctions, if anyone is interested in checking them out. That means cheerful auction page goodness for you all! We've got five auctions for today, and we'll have a few more tomorrow.

Highlights include DragonQuest 3rd edition -- this is one of the classics of RPG design and history (and is not a video game, Dragon Quest VII fans), which influenced the design of later games and still has a bunch of people who like it today. There's also the revised edition of All Flesh Must Be Eaten -- one of the best RPGs of the twenty first century, and perhaps the single greatest Zombie Role Playing Game of all time.

Admittedly, there isn't a lot of competition for that.

There's a couple of Star Fleet Battles supplements, for those of you who enjoy military Star Trek campaigns, and the recent Gamma World Player's Handbook (another Bruce Baugh connected product. You'll find I own a lot of things connected to Bruce, because Bruce is brilliant. Heck, he's even GM'd an All Flesh Must Be Eaten game for me. Go figure!)

Enjoy these things, good folks and feel free to bid early and often. As for me... I'm going to keep watching the Sidewinder auction. We're up to fifty dollars, which is at least forty-nine dollars more than my artistic talents is worth, but don't let that discourage you from what will certainly be... well, a unique thing.

Full on post-game wrapup from the Extravaganza tomorrow. The new auctions? Mm. I think we're calling those something else. Like "Eric's auctions" or something. Less targeted "I need money now" and more "I could sure use more money and don't know when I'm ever going to play Star Fleet Battles."

Thank you all.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 10:51 PM | Comments (11)

March 25, 2007

Eric: Quick updates for those playing along at home!

Hey gang -- the first day of eBay Extravaganza 2007 is coming up to the end of their auctions, and it's looking cool! The current hot item remains Amber Diceless Roleplaying, which as of this writing has just under eight hours of bidding left. We're also way above the Buy it Now price on it, which gives me a certain amount of relief that it didn't go immediately. Clearly, the hunger for Amber is pronounced and significant. Zelazny would be proud.

Also coming up due today, at a lot more reasonable prices, we have the Spycraft d20 system, the Star Trek Roleplaying Game Narrator's Guide, the Star Trek Roleplaying Game Player's Guide, and the Dragonstar d20 Starfarer's Handbook. As of this typing, all four are under fifteen bucks so if you have any inclination, this would be the time! This would be... the time.

I'm debating putting more stuff up. Frankly, this has been amazingly successful -- enough that it's got me thinking about going from 'okay' to 'ahead.' And I generally feel good about doing things like eBay -- I mean, in the end, these are actual products worth something. I don't feel like I'm just out there with hat in hand. (Though folks who did donate during the last few days are astoundingly cool, and I will never think otherwise.) I don't want to cut my nose off to spite my face, but there's a positive side to this kind of housecleaning too.

One game I considered putting up on the block was Sorcerer. This is kind of the poster child of the independent games movement, and one of the first to gain popularity and success outside of the distribution channels of the major labels. It's not going up, in the end, because I reread part of it before putting it up on eBay, and I realized A) it's staggeringly cool and B) I really want to run or play it. So, it gets spared under the "can actually see self playing this game sometime soon" clause. Which, as cool as Dragonstar is, I can't say the same for. On the other hand, I can see myself writing about Sorcerer more completely soon. So, you know, there we are.

If I put up more auction stuff, I'll let you know here. It won't be another Sidewinder or sketch -- best to save those for the right circumstances -- but they might be cool for some folks out there and that's a nice enough thing.

So! Bid early, bid often, be well, have fun!

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 3:58 PM | Comments (2)

March 23, 2007

Eric: Potentially the most humiliating auction of my life. Also, *cowboy hat.*

The eBay Auction Extravaganza 2007 continues to go fantastically, with everything except the d20 version of the Star Wars Roleplaying Game getting at least one bid so far. This is exciting stuff, and I appreciate each and everyone of you. I also find it vaguely amusing that the only item to get no bids to date is probably the one that has had the most advertising and mass marketing, from the largest RPG company. Of course, given the fantastic bidding war on Amber Diceless Roleplaying -- arguably the opposite side of the coin -- perhaps that is to be expected.

And, because folks here have excellent taste, both Wonder Woman: A Complete History and Monte Cook's Arcana Unearthed were bought now via Buy it Now for Now-Purchasing-Goodness all around. Those will both be shipped out later today via everyone's friend "Priority Mail." This is seriously cool stuff.

Which brings us today's auction. And yes, it's in the singular. We're just offering one new auction today. As promised (or threatened) yesterday, this is an attempt to... well, offer up one personalized item. One piece of Eric Burns je ne sais quoi, that's more than just "something Eric had on his bookshelf that now he's selling to make up budgetary shortfalls."

Which, to be honest, isn't easy to do. I mean, most of you know me because I'm a blogger. And blogging doesn't produce many... tangible goods. I don't have a file drawer full of blog manuscripts, carefully inked out in illegible scrawl, with line marks and bits of poetry and occasional rude drawings in the margins. I don't have reams of original artwork on bristol board or cardstock or white paper. I don't have much that screams Eric Burns that I'd be willing to sell (or that anyone sane would be willing to buy.)

But... we came up with something. It's a special offer. And it will be pretty old one of a kind.

You see, back in 2002 before Websnark had begun, I was one of the principal authors of Sidewinder: Wild West Adventures, a d20 western role playing game which took the then-newly opened d20/OGL Standard Reference Document and gave it a hickory smoked flavor. The book was highly critically acclaimed, including really nice words by Kenneth Hite, which is as highly acclaimed as you got in those days. And it was nominated for the Best d20 Game ENnie,

I'm seriously proud of Sidewinder. I think it was a great product for its time. I think a lot of it stands up really well five years later. And I'd be pushing it hard if... well, Black Dog Games (and designer Geoff Spakes) hadn't reworked it into Sidewinder: Recoiled a couple of years later. Recoiled takes Sidewinder and reapplies it to the d20 Modern system -- a vast improvement that makes character creation and development greatly improved. Recoiled ac