Linkmania

Many of you (ok, all 3 of you who read this blog) have wondered what, if anything, makes the Angry Piper less angry? What tonic soothes the savage beast that is The AP? Well, aside from my favorite alcoholic beverage, Guinness (hail the almighty pint!), there are lots of things, believe it or don't. I will attempt to give an extensive list, in the hopes that some of you may explore these links and perhaps forge some common bonds betwixt thee and me. As always, comments are welcome.

MUSIC: In the words of Jesusman, "Now, I know what you're thinking..." You're thinking my name's the Angry Piper, the rootinest, tootinest, shootinest sumbitch this side of the Pecos, and I likes me pipe music. Well, you're right. But before you think it's all about strathspeys and piobroch (those of you who know what those are), look closer. My favorite bands include some of the best in Celtic fusion, meaning traditional mixed with what the Beastie Boys would call "Da New Style". Hard rock and some mean pipers DO a listening pleasure make. My favorite of these is Seven Nations , but some others include Gaelic Storm and The Glengarry Bhoys, both of whom put on a hell of a show. Check them out next time they're in your area-I dare you not to like them. If you like your bagpipes with a bit o'punk (and who doesn't?), you may think the Dropkick Murphys have the market cornered, but you'd be wrong. Check out The Real McKenzies and Mudmen, two Canadian Bands who don't make it down south of the border nearly enough. For pure bagpipe insanity, check out Neil Anderson, former piper of Seven Nations, aka the Antipypr.
As far as traditional pipers go, you can't, and I mean absolutely can not, get any better than uilleann piper Paddy Keenan, who is the best piper in the world, hands-down ( I have listened to every single piper in the world and therefore I am comfortable making that claim.) But seriously, I saw Paddy play once, and I found myself trying to think of another time I had been in the presence of someone who is a true master of his craft, and I came up with nada. Another incredible uilleann piper is Leonard Barry, who needs to put out another cd soon.
For highland pipes (which is what yours truly plays) I haven't found anyone better than Gordon Duncan, who of course doesn't have a website that I can find. Also check the aforementioned Neil Anderson. Scott Long, the current piper of Seven Nations is amazing-you can get his solo cd of the 7N website.
I don't ONLY listen to bagpipes. My favorite band of all time is The Police, so naturally I like Sting as well (and those of you who have been longtime readers of my blog know this). The best site I have ever seen dealing with The Police and Sting is truly a labor of love and a great friggin' site. You can find it here. Another favorite of mine, someone I'm kookoo for cocoa puffs about, is PJ Harvey. And lets not forget The Foo Fighters, who I personally think are one of the best bands EVER. I liked Soundgarden a lot, and I lament their demise, but Audioslave is pretty cool too. And speaking of a master of his craft, it doesn't get much better than the late great SRV. There's more, but my life isn't all music.


BOOKS: In fact, a good portion of my life is book-related. If I were to include links to all the authors I've read whose books I've enjoyed, this would be one long blog. So, on to what I consider to be the cream of the crop.
Shakespeare Online is a terrific site for all things Bardic and you can read everything he's written online. One of my favorite writers of all time is Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.; see my previous post on The Book That Changed My Life for reasons why. James Baldwin writes the kind of books that stay with you forever, whether you're black, white, gay or straight (or anything else, for that matter). For truly compelling writing, Ashley Warlick's first novel, The Distance From the Heart of Things, is a must-read. Gabriel Garcia-Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude deserves its golden reputation, and I'm waiting impatiently for the new Arturo Perez-Reverte novel, since all his others were so damn good.
In the categories of Science-Fiction/Fantasy, J.R.R. Tolkien is still the king. I'm a devotee of the cults of Robert Silverberg and Roger Zelazny as well. You can't beat Douglas Adams for unbridled hilarity. For other S-F icons, check out Frank Herbert and William Gibson. My favorite series in the S-F category is the Chung Kuo series by David Wingrove-truly amazing stuff, and yes, I like it better than Dune. For sword-and-sorcery, Robert E. Howard is still the top dog (and unlikely to fall), although Fritz Leiber is right up there with him.
Great Weird Tales writers include Edgar Allan Poe, Gerald Kersh, Joe R. Lansdale, Robert Bloch, and of course, H.P. Lovecraft, the fountain of all that is weird.
For Mysteries, I love the works of Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, Max Allan Collins, and for sheer guilty pleasure, Mickey Spillane. Laura Joh Rowland and Ellis Peters write brilliant historical mysteries. More favorites: Donald E. Westlake, John D.MacDonald, Evan Hunter (aka Ed McBain) and Hugh B. Cave. And you don't get any greater than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Lastly (for now) there are those writers who defy all attempts to pigeonhole them. Here are three of my favorites: Harlan Ellison, Neil Gaiman, and Ray Bradbury. If I could write one fucking tenth as well as Ray Bradbury (or any of the above, for that matter), I'd change my name to The Happy Piper.
I buy lots of Used Books from Abebooks.

APPAREL: I got my plaid from Great Scot. For those hot days, I prefer my Utilikilt, Black Mocker Neo-Traditional if you're interested.


FUN STUFF: The Angry Piper likes his Playstation 2, and the best place to get cool info/reviews/cheats is Gamespy. I also like to play Warhammer, but I don't recommend getting into the hobby unless you have lots of time, and now, lots of money too. I don't play all that much anymore; for now I content myself with the occasional Heroclix game.
I used to be rather heavily into martial arts (in the years before I discovered Guinness) and still have a strong interest in them, notably Aikido and Capoeira, which is something I dearly wish I had started when I was young, rather than studying Tae Kwon Do for 6 years.
I live in New England, and I like to do my drinking at The Green Briar, where the live music on Sundays (Go Finbar!) is great. For more live Irish music in and around Boston, I always check The Celtic Arts Calendar.
Online, my life pretty much consists of this blog, eBay and Paypal, as well as many of the above links and occasional internet pornography. But when I'm not doing any of those things, I'm usually hanging out at Rubbersuit Studios, reading webcomics, or posting my two cents to Minimum Security. Sometimes I even take advice from Dr. R. Murk, and I've even been known to visit some friends, like the Angry Veteran (we're often angry together) and super-sexy Eve (whom I keep safe from Nantucket werewolves).

Enough Links? On with the comments!

Roleplaying Session Pt. 2

The scene: Same as in part one, but an hour later. CHRIS and ZACH have finished a few rounds of darts. KEITH has just got off the phone with girlfriend #2. He heads over to the others.

KEITH: (mumbles unintelligibly)

ZACH: ...and that's how I found out she was really a man. Trouble in paradise, Keith-o? (Enter RILEY and OWEN).

KEITH: Fuck it guys, let's just play.

OWEN: We brought beer.

RILEY: (sneezing) I think I'm allergic to something down here...

KEITH: What else is new? OK, guys.. as soon as Chuck gets here...(Enter CHUCK, ducking his head).

CHUCK: I'm here. I was just finishing my cigarette.

CHRIS: Zach smokes. (CHRIS, ZACH, and KEITH chuckle. The others just look confused.) Forget it-long story.

KEITH: OK guys, now that you're all here, I can start my new game: "Scots in Space!!" (They all gather around the card table. It's crowded.)
Here's the deal: You're all part of a salvage crew. You own a space tug and you operate outside of the law, meaning if you see something worth money, you appropriate it and haul it in. It's dangerous, but it's a living. Oh yeah-coincidentally you're all Scottish and your tug is the S.S. Haggis. Since this is the first time we're playing, introduce all your characters, although in the game you all know each other.

OWEN: OK. I'm Angus MacAngus, and I'm the ship's technician. I fix shit. (Owen hands out a beer to everyone but Zach, who shakes his head)

ZACH: I'll stick to coke. I'm Captain MacPeterson. I'm in charge of the tug. My code name is "Dragon Eel."

ALL: (but ZACH) Dragon Eel?

CHRIS: Dude, that sucks. That's the worst name ever. Why do you need a code name, anyway?

ZACH: ...Fine. Forget the code name. Just call me Captain.

CHUCK: I'm done with my beer. Got another one?

KEITH: Christ, he just gave it to you 5 seconds ago!

CHUCK: I was thirsty. (OWEN gives him another) Anyway, my character is Angus-

KEITH: Wait a sec. Does anyone here have a character whose first name isn't Angus? (They all look at each other. Finally, Zach and Chris raise their hands slowly.)

RILEY: I was gonna go with "Mayor McCheese", but I didn't think you'd go for it. I couldn't think of another Scottish name. Angus is the "Chris" of Scottish names. Everyone over there is named Angus. Just be glad I didn't name my guy "Colonel Angus". Heh.

KEITH: What are the chances of having 3 Anguses in the same game?

RILEY: Probably about as high as having 3 Chrises.

OWEN: I name all my characters Angus. You know that.

KEITH: OK, well, in that case, Owen gets to keep the name Angus. Everyone else's character will be referred to by their last name. What's your character's first name, Zach?

ZACH: Brick.

CHRIS: Are you Mcshitting me? You suck at names, dude. Brick?

ZACH: Just call me Captain.

KEITH: OK, go on, Chuck.

CHUCK: Got another beer? I'm empty again.

RILEY: For fuck's sake..!

CHUCK: OK...my guy's name is McKenzie. I'm a huge Scottish guy.

OWEN: Really stretching those roleplaying muscles, huh, dude?

CHUCK: I'm also the pilot.

RILEY: My name is MacReady. I'm the tug's military specialist. I'm a former mercenary. (sneezes) Christ, I really think I'm allergic to something down here.

CHRIS: I'm "Three Shots" Ernie McCaster, the science officer. I'm also really good with a laser pistol.

CHUCK: Why would a space tug need a science officer?

CHRIS: I didn't KNOW we were gonna be on a space tug.

KEITH: Don't sweat it. You can identify metals and stuff.

CHRIS: Wow. That's really...not all that cool.

RILEY: Why "Three-shots?"

CHRIS: Because, I always give my enemies three chances to hit me before I draw and fire. I'm that good.

OWEN: Are you fucking serious? Dude, this is space. People have lasers. All they need to do is hit you ONCE, and you have a smoking hole where your chest used to be. Why give them 3 shots?

CHRIS: I'm just playing in character. It's the code I live by. It's what sets me apart from all other science officers.

RILEY: (sneezes) Anyone got any tissues?

KEITH: OK, business has been slow lately for the S.S. Haggis, which is why you're so thrilled when long-range sensors pick up a floating derelict spaceship. You decide to investigate closer, so you apply the docking clamps and suit up. After a few minutes, you're all inside the derelict ship. You realize that the tug has gravity and atmosphere...

RILEY: Atmosphere? Like ambience? Heh heh. (sneezes)

CHUCK: So who is flying the tug?

KEITH: No one. It's docked.

CHUCK: Gee, I'm sure glad I spent all those points on piloting skill.

OWEN: Anyone else think it's weird that the "abandoned" space ship has atmosphere?

RILEY: "I cannae accoont for it, Cap'n." Sorry. I learned my Scottish from Chris Claremont when he was writing X-Men.

KEITH: It is odd, that's for sure. You find yourselves in the cargo bay. You all get out of your suits, seeing how you dinnae need them. The cargo bay is huge, at least 20 meters high. It's surprisingly empty, but there are a few crates against the far wall.

CHUCK: I swing on the rafters.

KEITH: They're 20 meters high.

CHUCK: Can I get up there?

KEITH: There's a stairway, sure.

CHUCK: I swing on the rafters.

OWEN: Any particular reason?

CHUCK: ...

CHUCK: ...

CHUCK: ...no.

OWEN: Angus tries to see if there are any signs of damage to the ship.

RILEY: MacReady goes to investigate the crates. I have my sawed-off shotgun, that way if I have to shoot anything I won't blow a hole in the hull and suck us out into space.

CHRIS: McCaster is ready to draw his laser pistol at a moment's notice. I set it low so I don't blow a hole through the hull and suck us out into space.

ZACH: MacPeterson yells: "McKenzie, get down here!"

CHUCK: I let go and float down.

KEITH: There's gravity, dumbass. You're 20 meters up. Wanna rethink that?

CHUCK: Oh. Right. OK, I make my way down. Think I could get another beer?

KEITH: It'll take a while to traverse the rafters. Angus, you don't see any damage in the cargo bay. MacReady, you're getting closer to the crates, when one of them explodes and something comes flying out at you.

CHUCK: I knew it! It's the monster aboard the derelict spaceship! You know...the one that killed the crew and now it's gonna kill us. I have it all figured out. Am I down there yet?

KEITH: Not even close. About anything.

ZACH: Captain MacPeterson immediately seeks to find cover and commences firing at the enemy with his laser pistol, using suppression fire to pin the hostiles until we can ascertain their numbers. My gun is also set on low, so I don't shoot a hole in the hull and suck us out into space. I'm prepping a concussion grenade as well.

OWEN: Do you HAVE a concussion grenade?

ZACH: Of course.

KEITH: Let me see your character sheet. (looks it over) There's no grenades on here. Nice try.

ZACH: I have survival gear. It clearly falls under the heading of survival gear.

KEITH: Nice try. What's MacReady doing?

RILEY: (sneezes) I hold my fire and try to see what's coming out of the crates.

CHRIS: I draw my Mcpistol and fire at the first thing that's not MacReady I see, all in one motion.

KEITH: OK, make your roll. (CHRIS rolls dice) OK, McCaster, you blow a smoking hole in something, but from where you are you cannae tell what it is.

RILEY: Can MacReady? I get closer to it, with my gun levelled. (sneezes)

KEITH: OK-McKenzie manages to climb off the rafters at the top of the stairs. McCaster is standing there with his laser pistol out. Captain MacPeterson is hidden behind a strut, hunting for grenades he was sure he packed. Angus comes over to see what's going on. MacReady has his gun pointed at...something familiar.

RILEY: What is it?

KEITH: Well, it looks like it had the body and head of a rabbit, the antlers of a deer, the wings of an eagle and (miming fangs) great big, pointy teeth...

RILEY: (sneezing) BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

OWEN: Oh, fuck you guys.

CHRIS: What?

RILEY: Wolpertingers!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

KEITH: Correction: they're "space wolpertingers."

OWEN: FUCK YOU GUYS!!!

CHUCK: What the fuck is a wolpertinger?

KEITH: I just described them to you...

OWEN: These guys are assholes. I put them in my Fantasy game once and I've never heard the end of it.

CHRIS: Well, they do sound pretty stupid...

OWEN: They're from GERMAN FOLKLORE!!! I didn't make them up!!!

CHUCK: Does that mean there are Germans in space too?

RILEY: I hope the fuck not. Check it out, dude. (shows OWEN a sketch he has made depicting a wolpertinger in a space suit, complete with fishbowl helmet.) BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! (sneezes)

KEITH: You don't have time to ponder the existence of Germans in space, McKenzie, for just then, the rest of the crates erupt , disgorging more mad space wolpertingers!

OWEN: Oh, for fuck's sake...

(The ensuing confrontation is short but bloody. In the end, the characters destroy all the space wolpertingers and suffer minimal casualties. Hours later (real time), the characters have discovered that the ship has been overrun with space wolpertingers and they must somehow eradicate them if they want to seize the ship for profit. They also discover a human survivor-an old man who calls himself "Salty". Salty is clearly mad, having watched slavering space wolpertingers devour his crew. The characters and Salty are hiding in the engine room.)

ZACH: So how the hell are we gonna get rid of these things? I say we form small fire teams and separate, attaching flashlights to the muzzles of our guns and holding them far way from our bodies so as to give a flase indication of were we are, and kill anything we come across.

KEITH: Salty says: "Dahr, ye'll be dead fer sure."

OWEN: He really talks like that?

KEITH: All the time.

RILEY: How are we fixed for ammo? I'm almost out.

CHRIS: I'm almost empty after that fight in the cargo bay.

CHUCK: I'm full, because I didn't shoot at anything. It was all over before I got down the stairs.

ZACH: Maybe we should take a trip back to the Haggis and load up.

KEITH: Salty looks at you as if to say that won't be necessary and you may find ammo on the corpses of his comrades.

CHRIS: "Looks at us as if to say..."

RILEY: Can you show us that look, Keith? Can I see what a "ammo on the corpses of my buddies" look LOOKS like?

KEITH: "Dahr, shut up." Salty says.

OWEN: Well, I'd imagine it's not a look you're likely to see very often.

RILEY: I look at him as if to say could you direct me to the nearest ammo-dispensing cadaver? (sneezes)

CHUCK: Why are we wasting time? Let's just flood the ship with nerve gas. That'll kill all of them.

CHRIS: And all of us too.

CHUCK: Hello? Not if we get in our spacesuits.

CHRIS: Hello? Which are back in the cargo hold.

KEITH: Salty says "Dahr, there be no nerve gas aboard."

RILEY: You sure he doesn't just look at McKenzie as if to say that?

CHUCK: Who cares if there's no nerve gas aboard? Can't we just make it?

OWEN: What the fuck are you talking about? How are we supposed to do that?

CHUCK: We just find a computer and tell the ship to make nerve gas.

OWEN: This isn't Star Trek, dude...

KEITH: Yeah. The ship can't CREATE anything. It has to be on the ship in the first place, and believe it or not, most people don't carry enough nerve gas to flood their ship as standard cargo. It's also outlawed.

RILEY: Dude...speaking of nerve gas, if I don't get out of this basement I think my face is going to melt. (sneezes)

ZACH: You're allergic to everything, aren't you?

RILEY: Space wolpertingers have this effect on me.

OWEN: Fuck you.

KEITH: OK, fine. Let's wrap this up for tonight then. We can pick up where we left off, or we can just say that the crew of the S.S. Haggis was never heard from again.

RILEY: I vote for that.

OWEN: I hate leaving things unresolved!!!!!

CHUCK: Any beer left?