Top 10 of 2010

Life has been quite busy my friends I hope to get back to a more stable pattern soon but for now Happy New Year and here's to 2010. My favorite albums of the year.

10. Big Boi – Sir Lucious Leftfoot: The Son of Chico Dusty

            The perfect music with which to pointlessly drive around one’s home town, windows rolled down, playing a little louder than you should, with the  bass on full blast. Most of the tracks have that signature Outkast “fast drum” beat in the background which only benefits Big Boi’s rhyming. The use of funk and real instruments compared to the more often used synths of the 2000’s is quite refreshing as well. Sir Lucious Leftfoot most certainly has his best foot forward.

Favorite Songs – Fo Yo Sorrow and The Train, Pt. 2

9. Robert Plant – Band of Joy

            As with all of the reviews I’ve read about this album, poor Jimmy Page, Plant ain’t coming back anytime soon. Not wailing like he used to Plant sings much softer these days but with no less power. Part old blues and folk and part deep brooding ambience reminiscent of Pink Floyd, Band of Joy is a testament that the founders of Rock and Roll still have a trick up their sleaves.

Favorite Songs – Monkey and Even This Will Pass Away

8. Janelle Monae – The Archandroid

            One part James Brown, one part David Bowie, and one part silent movie Metropolis (1927) over beats mixed by Big Boi might seem like one of the oddest mixtures imaginable but fresh on the scene Janelle Monae makes it work and more. Singing through the personality of Cindy Mayweather, Monae goes from lovely soft ballad, Sir Greendown, to up tempo in your face funk on Tightrope. While Gaga, Rihanna, and Katy Perry battle over the present queen of pop, Monae takes her influence from both the past and the distant future mixing classic funk and soul elements with lyrics inspired by her robotic alter ego Mayweather.  In a word; refreshing.

Favorite Songs – Cold War and Tightrope

7. Yeasayer – Oddblood

            Ever since seeing them in 2008 I’ve been obsessed. Experimental music is how they are classified and normally this is a cop out for saying they’re just fucking weird but in this case it fits. Each song mixes dramatically unique drum beats under ambient synths and bouncing bass lines. This is all brought together by either frantic solo singing or lovely harmonies proving that there is no one voice for this band. Having seen them live once I know that very little is lost from the studio when they perform and the complexity of the songs on Oddblood is proof that even in the digital age of music the performance has not been forsaken.

Favorite Songs – ONE and Madder Red

6. Nas and Damien Marley – Distant Relatives

            A lovely mesh of reggae and hip hop with lyrics calling out to a generation obsessed with the future to remember one’s roots. Nas once again shows why he is one of the best ever and even though he is perpetually living in the shadow of his father’s legacy Damien Marley has proven to wear that mantle with pride as he belts out hooks with the same edge as his old man. The album starts strong with As We Enter forcing you back in your seat as they lecture begins and finishes on a high note with Africa Must Wake Up, a beautiful conclusion that sums up the albums message.

Favorite Songs – As We Enter and Africa Must Wake Up

5. Eminem – Recovery

            Back to form back to form thank God Almighty Eminem’s back to form. After wiping the competition off the board with the Slim Shady LP and the Marshall Mathers LP Eminem had the ears of the world clutched tightly but his next albums, while good and successful, didn’t have that same fire and anger. Em’s fire seemed to have been cooled by the ice around his neck and his near universal acceptance as one of the best. It’s like he finally paged through his cook book and found the recipes that made him beloved, also having Dr. Dre backing him again is strongly to his advantage. All in all it’s good to hear that angry yell of Marshall again.

Favorite Songs – Cold Wind Blows and So Bad

4. The Roots – How I Got Over

            The digital age is now strongly cemented as the future for the next decade or so but you wouldn’t know it listening to the latest from the Roots. While their “peers” are sampling and mixing using computer programs ?love, Black Thought, and their ever changing compatriots stick to the basics using their God given musical talent. Thought’s lyrics as usual are deeply reflective with a hint of positivity and the hope of a brighter future. The fact that they were able to put out an album of this caliber, a beautiful collaboration with John Legend, all while being the house band for Jimmy Fallon is astounding. Now if we could only get over our confusion of how people find Jimmy Fallon funny.

Favorite Songs – How I Got Over and The Fire

3.  Black Keys – Brothers

            Simplicity at its finest. The White Stripes may have pioneered the garage band duo of guitar and drum but the Black Keys have surely taken it to a higher level. The licks that Dan Auberach churns out makes one feel like they are back in the Delta or in Chicago listening to Blues Sages rip their instruments apart and Patrick Carney’s minimalistic drumming are the perfect compliment. Unlike the less than talented Meg White, Carney’s drumming is minimal only when it fits and his fills drive the music on par with Auberach’s shredding. Nothing better than some Brotherly Love.

Favorite Songs – Next Girl and The Only One

2. Arcade Fire – The Suburbs

            The voice of the disenchanted the Arcade Fire have yet to take a bad step and here’s knocking on wood that they continue in the same fashion. A wall of sound seems to me to be the best way to describe them. Picking apart the different layers of this album is a delight. What makes me smile most is the fact that they in part threw their fans under the bus in some of their lyrics. Most notably “the kids are still standing with their arms folded tight, so young so young so much pain for someone so young well, I know it's heavy I know it ain't light, but how you gonna lift it with your arms folded tight” a critique of hipster kids standing still at concerts with folded arms and the entire song Rococo. Beautiful and layered music with thought provoking lyrics, nothing better in my book.

Favorite Songs – Rococo and The Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)

1. Kanye West – My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

            Oh how I didn’t want this to be number one. I was hesitant in downloading it, I put off listening to it, in other words I let Kanye’s public profile dictate my judgment. Never again. I read a review that compared MBDTF to the Sgt. Pepper’s of hip hop and I am inclined to agree with it. The album is like potato chips, you can’t stop at just one but continue consuming until the bag is finished and yet you still want more. Every song could be a single and while you never want one song to end you are just as pleased when the next one starts. Easily album of the year. Yeezy reupholstered the game for us and it looks mighty fine from where I’m standing. I don’t know if we can get much higher.

Favorite Songs – Dark Fantasy and Hell of a Life

Honorable Mention

Gorillaz – Plastic Beach

The Roots feat John Legend – Wake Up!

LCD Soundsystem – This Is Happening

Black Market Shenanigans

            Time again for a trip to my past my loyal and faithful stewards. A representative of S.J.U. or the Soaring Juniper’s United has arrived for a brief stay at the BVC compound. Columba Stewart is his name and he is one of the foremost historians focusing on the SJU. Now one might think this is a little self serving as most of the history of the SJU is written by a member of the SJU but his dedication to objectivity is truly astounding.

            The location of the SJU is hidden to everyone except those in the SJU. One does not so much join the SJU as they are selected before their birth. You see the SJU have many smaller factions around the world which they gladly open to the public. These institutions impart knowledge to some of the keenest minds on the planet, however they do not relinquish all of their vast knowledge to just anyone. These institutions act as a magnifying glass to the people of the world so that they may find those who have been chosen to the order.

            As you may have guessed by my knowledge of the order I was one of these chosen few. Even though I have been in the order for nigh 300 years now I am still in the neophyte stage of their order. Columba is one of the senior members of the order and his understanding of the events of the world are so diverse and brilliant that even in an evening spent with him one feels like their awareness of the humanity has doubled. He has come to join me in the Philippines to depart some of his wisdom to the younger orders like the BVC. One might say that the SJU is the crux of all of the protectorate orders on Earth, of which there are 17.

            Columba for all his age and wisdom still has a wild side that springs forth from time to time. At the secret domain of the SJU there is a font that gushes forth the sweetest nectars in the world. And I say that scientifically, it is the most delicious nectar in the world and I defy you to find one better. This premium beverage like much of the BVC’s wisdom is kept to themselves. But Columba being his sneaky self bottled a bit of this divine sauce and snuck it away with him as a Christmas present. Though it has only been a few months since my last sampling it seems like a lifetime.

Holiday Seizures

To begin I just want to clarify to all of you that while my favorite color is green my heart is already abnormally big so there is no way that I can be the Grinch. That being said I confess I am generally not the most enthusiastic about celebrating the holidays for extensive periods of time. As such the Filipino traditions of Christmas celebrating is a bit unusual to me. You see they began putting up their Christmas decorations in September; trees, wreaths, manger scenes, and the lights, lights, lights. Flashing like rave for four months straight, I fear that my brain will not be able to focus properly on anything.

You see I developed a rule in 1910 after the founding of Hallmark, I will not even consider another holiday until the one preceding it has passed. I won’t celebrate Thanksgiving until Halloween is over, I won’t celebrate Guy Fawkes Day until the Norse Winter Nights celebration is over. But this notion of celebrating a holiday almost 4 months before the event is simply baffling.

In some way it makes sense as this way the focus of Christmas, gift buying, can have enough time to take hold of everyone. This way no one is forgotten about as a person has 4 months to peruse through sales and can do ample research on what the gift would be most appreciated. That is what Christmas is about isn’t it, spreading the joy of consumerism amongst each other so as to keep the economy in the black?

And it seems that people are forgetting the meaning of Christmas more and more these days as economies around the world continue to struggle. Countries like Ireland, Spain, and Greece are more desperate for Santa and his reindeer than ever. If this is not fixed quickly than this will only be the stone that unleashes the avalanche. I’ve seen it before. There was a time that human’s spent weeks at a time in reverence of Dionysius the god of wine and revelry. Now many scholars say that these rituals were religious in nature and in some ways they were. However there was a greater symbolism at work, that of human cooperation and the benefits of taking it easy every once in a while. There are still remnants of these traditions found in St. Patrick’s Day, Oktoberfest, and a small sect hidden in the woods of the Midwest United States celebrates a week of festivities in homage to these old practices. Still, like Christmas is experiencing now, the traditions are being revered less and less as people focus more on work and toil. Instead of taking a break, or maybe spending a little of their money to stimulate the economy, they hoard away in their homes complaining the days away.

A sad state of affairs indeed, maybe there is a lesson to be taken from our Filipino brethren. The longer we keep Christmas at the forefront of our thoughts maybe we will see our economies given new life. Maybe four months is not enough preparation, maybe it takes 10 months or more. Just enough time to get all of the decorations down and boxed before we bring them back out again. I don’t know yet how I would react to this change but for the better of the world I think we owe it to try.

So write that wish list and check it twice, thrice or more if needed… 

The Final Days of Paco Picopiedra

            Too long has it been since I have soothed your ears and minds with my gentle words. However I have been a wreck of late, for you see my dear friend Paco Picopiedra has received the call from that most powerful of mystics Hacho Vinto. I was thrilled at the news that after years of study and applications Paco would be accepted into the Inner Circle of The Vintics. My happiness was mixed with grief as Paco informed me that Hacho has moved his sanctum to his lake retreat in snowy Minnesota.

Yes my friends my beloved Paco has moved on from my company in pursuit of greater knowledge. He left this morning having finally marshaled up his otter-sled team and made his way to the chilled landscape of the Land of 10,000 Lakes. I have been expecting this for some time now, after all friends must go their separate ways, pursue their own dreams, write their own legends, and carve their faces into the rock walls of the Grand Canyon.

I must confess myself slightly jealous of dear Paco. Hacho Vinto is a genius in the art of mountain building as well as the ambassador of Earth in the Galactic Senate. Before you question to far, yes George Lucas was a student of Vinto’s but stole secrets and was kicked out of the Inner Circle and a curse was put on him. This curse is of course manifest in his latest attempts at making movies.

Don’t let the fact that there are few mountains in Minnesota fool you, Hacho is responsible for some of the biggest and best mountains in the world; Everest, K2, Kilamanjaro, “The Ogre” Baintha Brakk in Pakistan, and for his Inco Jubilee, (that’s 10,000 years) he worked with his students to create Olympus Mons on Mars. His work with the Galactic Senate has been highly influential though you would never know it thanks to the Decree of the Great Inside Joke. Basically the fact that many Earthlings haven’t figured out that they aren’t the only intelligent life forms in the Universe ,and even then they are some of the least intelligent and advanced in the grand scheme of things, is the butt of many jokes to the other species. In fact most of the politics is run by comedians as they are the only ones who don’t take themselves too seriously. Humility being the defining attribute that most other civilizations vote for in the Galactic Senate.

As such Paco not only gets to join Hacho but has been given the great honor of being his junior senator. Now Paco won’t admit it but I think Hacho is grooming my friend for his position whenever he decides to retire. Needless to say Paco would have been crazy to stay with boring old Crackity in Manila. He must journey on his own way now. So the whole ordeal has been sorted out and I will try and get back to my usual musings on a more regular basis.

Best of Luck to The Honorable Paco Picopiedra…

The Draft

Welcome back readers. Life is finally at the moderate amount of crazy I like after that whole zombie thing. I caught up on sleep just in time for the annual BVC classroom draft. Every year the instructors of the BVC youth draft from the student body their own class who will receive special instruction pertaining to the instructor’s forte. As I am one of the instructors I too was expected to form a specialized class.

Now I am not the biggest fan of such things like Fantasy Football/Baseball/Basketball/Hockey/Nordic Skiing but I have plenty of friends who spend countless hours poring over stats and schedules trying to create the perfect team. After a few sessions of counsel with some of them I felt that I had a game plan that would yield me a class that was both talented and hard working but also light-hearted and endearing. For my first pick I had my eyes on a tall young man who had some Chinese decent, at the age of 23 he was one of the oldest students studying at the BVC but I have always had a good feeling about saucy veterans. For the next two picks I focused on students of keen focus and was able to acquire a young girl who has a penchant for being bold and is unafraid when it comes to asking question along with a young man with a razor sharp wit who adds both intellect and humor to his study.

I became enthralled in the process, seeing students I had my eyes on drafted by other instructors and having to make picks on the fly. Trying to assess how the students would fair over an entire semester and whether or not they would be able to handle the difficulties that awaited. One of my later picks was a young man with a quiet and dark look to him. I noticed that his aptitude scores were very high and yet no instructor had picked him up. I enquired about this with another teacher and was told that while there is no doubt about the boy’s talent he has yet to respond to any instruction given to him. Always up for a challenge I picked the boy up the next round.

On and on it went until I had my class. 38 bright and eager students with minds ready to mold. Now I was left with the task of picking which area of expertise I would lecture on. Should I lecture on medical aid in dangerous situations involving mythological creatures, or possibly astral projection, or possibly horse whispering? I tossed and turned at night wondering how my knowledge could best serve my students.

After days pondering this most difficult of decisions I landed on the topic of culture creation and shaping. Over my many years of travel and questing I have left my mark on history. Through art, philosophy, daring deeds, and my go to dance moves that Christopher Walken and I perfected, and for which he showcased in a Fatboy Slim video, the societies I have visited have all been affected by my presence. Many would think I just go about these adventures with reckless abandon, letting the chips fall where they may, but I can assure you that in most instances the events that take place are well organized and in some manner of control… I think. Anyways using examples from my experiences I will forge my pupils into the leaders of tomorrow.

Let the Education commence…

Not Again

Damn you Roman and your penchant for getting Paco and I into the most reckless and foolhardy of adventures. “Let’s go to a graveyard on Halloween, all of the Filipinos do it, what could be more fun than celebrating the lives of the dead on the holiday of the dead.” It’s dialogue right out of a zombie movie and I should have been wiser. What can I say I have a hard time turning down a party especially when the tab is covered by someone else. My affluence for parties nearly got me killed as Paco and I’s worst fears were realized again as the dead decided that laying in a coffin wasn’t as fun as terrorizing the living. Before I get too far into my story I want to point out how terribly cliché’ these zombies were, I mean reanimating on Halloween that’s almost as bad as proposing on Valentine’s Day.

So there we were casually enjoying a roast pig and minted lamb sipping on fine sherry having a conversation on how ridiculous American Eating Contests were. They compete to see who can eat the most while millions die daily from starvation, amazing. It was as Paco and I were doing our best Joey Chestnut and Kobayashi impressions that we noticed the ground under us begin to shake. The other party goers dismissed it as a small earthquake but Paco and I knew otherwise. We felt tremors like this before, years ago in Bolivia. In a flash we started looking for shelter and any weapons we could use. I grabbed a pig leg and broke off the leg of a table and Paco pulled out the 9mm he always carries. “Thank God for the 2^nd amendment,” he cried.

As expected our new friends were terrified at our sudden outburst but after firing off a round we got their attention quickly. As the sound of the gunshot subsided we began to hear the first screams as the undead began to overtake the cemetery. This was followed by the crack of more gunshots from the guards patrolling the graveyard. The earth began to shake under us again more violently than before so Paco and I rounded up the people who had not fled in terror and herded them towards a large mausoleum. A few were tripped up by hands grabbing at them from the earth and were quickly pounced on by the growing hoard. My side began to burn and I feared that I had been bitten or clawed but I soon realized that it was a side ache from the large feast running and cracking heads with the pig and table legs.

As soon as we got them safely inside and secured any possible zombies in the tombs we boarded up the doors and began to see what resources were at our disposal. Other than Paco’s 9mm there was little that could do much against the ever growing threat. Knowing that we couldn’t hold out for long we grabbed a phone and made a call to the Protectors of Eternal Death, I know sweet name right one of my better quips I must say, and told them of the outbreak. The Protectors are an elite squad of soldiers that I founded after the Bolivia incident. Headed up by the only survivor of that event other than Paco and me Balthazar Ruengrad, they specialize in zombie warfare, and were our only hope.

We waited for about an hour checking and rechecking our perimeter as the screams of the living slowly diminished into a clear monotonous groan. Knowing it was only a matter of time before they found our hideaway I hugged Roman and Paco goodbye and decided to lead as many of the zombies as I could away from the mausoleum. While I led the zombies away Paco and Roman would make a break for the BVC complex where we were more prepared to deal with this situation. We opened a crack in one of the doors and I slipped through. Moving slowly I crept along the outer perimeter of the mausoleum taking in my surroundings. The zombies were in small clusters huddled around what I only assume were bodies of the former living. At the bottom of the stairs I noticed the bodies of two of the guards one was decapitated and torn to pieces the other was groaning and crawling up the stairs towards me. I took my table leg from earlier and put the zombified guard out of his misery. This gruesome scene turned out to be a blessing as the guards weapons were strewn over their bodies. I grabbed their shotguns and pistols and bolted back up the steps shoving the shotguns into the mausoleum to help out Paco and the others. I kept both of the pistols for my own defense and took off yelling to gain the attention of those foul beasts.

For the next part of this saga I want you to remember the most terrifying moment of your life… Got it? Ok now I want you to remember the most tired you’ve ever been. Now combine those two together and you have the next 2 days of my life. I was in a graveyard near Alabang Metro-Manila when I first started running. I tried to warn everyone that I could while I ran but they just laughed at this crazy white man running. Their laughter was soon replaced by screams and moans. The congested traffic system became several people’s undoing. The jeepneys, tricycles, motorbikes, and other autos acted like a giant labyrinth death trap, and still I ran.

Night soon closed in around me and I began to move from one source of light to another taking sanctuary in being able to see. I had hoped that I could stay ahead of the waves of undead but I came to realized that I was completely surrounded. Buildings and skyscrapers casted imposing shadows and the Technicolor street lamps made me feel like I was in some sort of Circus of Horrors. The groaning of the animated corpses grew in volume to the point where I couldn’t tell where they were coming from. I decided that one direction was as dangerous as any other and started heading west. For the first time all day it seemed my luck had changed as I soon heard the comforting sounds of waves washing ashore. I followed the sound to the beach where a small group of people were busy loading a boat in an attempt to flee.

I approached the group slowly hands above my head in a sign of surrender should they be worried about whether or not I was among the living. I promised them that I meant no harm and asked if I could join their escape. Immediately arguments broke out among the group if I could be trusted or if I would slow them down. While they were yelling at each other I noticed the sounds of groans growing louder. I turned around to find a mass of zombies marching towards us. Without hesitation I began to fire at the closest attacker yelling at the group to finish packing and get on the boat. Their arguments ceased immediately and they quickly secured the rest of their provisions. When I saw that they were finished I sprinted to the boat as they were pushing away from the dock barely making the jump. We made quick introductions; there were 7 of them, 4 college students, a middle aged woman, a priest, and the owner of the boat. They told me they planned to go to Mendiola, Manila to find safety with the Filipino military. While I would generally avoid large cities during a zombie out break I knew that Paco and Roman were heading the same way so I grabbed a paddle and joined in the escape.

We paddled for through the night and well into the next day. I did not sleep a wink for a fear that one of my new companions might do something stupid. People generally lose common sense during a zombie outbreak and I knew I had to stay awake until I rejoined Paco or the P.E.D. came. Of course trying to force myself awake put me right to sleep and while I enjoyed a few minutes of shut eye the  rest of the group saw a large tanker just off shore with people moving on top. Without consulting me they anchored themselves next to it and climbed aboard. I awoke in a room onboard the tanker to the sound of screams as the infection had found its way to the ship and my new compatriots were the next victims. As I was preparing to enter the corridor I was shaken to the ground by an explosion. I heard the buzzing of the P.E.D.’s raptors bombing a zombie ridden ship. The tanker began to sink and I knew I had precious seconds before I was completely surrounded by the cold dark Pacific. I left my room and began frantically searching for anything to help me out of this predicament. After tearing my way through 3 rooms wasting all but 3 of my remaining rounds and water now at my waste I found what I was looking for, a scuba set. Not wasting any time I suited up and began swimming my way to the surface. Smelling blood in the water sharks gathered around the sinking ship like flies on a carcass. After what seemed like hours, only it was actually about 30 minutes as that was all the air I had, I made it to the surface to see the bow of the boat sink into the ocean.

Thankfully I was only about a half a mile away from shore so I started making the swim. When I reached shore I found myself in Intramuros. Intramuros is the oldest sector in Metro Manila and is only about a mile or two away from the BVC complex. With a new found spirit I started my run again, only to be greeted by even larger hordes of zombies. Manila was nearly overrun. This time though I was much more comfortable with my surroundings and the maze of the city was working to my advantage as I led many undead down dead ends (ha-ha good pun) where I was able to escape via fire escape or by climbing over a wall. My stores of energy were greatly depleted by this time and I felt more like the zombies than one of the living but I gritted my teeth for what I hoped would only be a few moments more of running. At last I had the Pasig River in sight and the bell towers of the BVC complex. I saw evidence of Paco’s handiwork in a dump truck covered in rubble blocked the entrance into the school, and as we had planned a rope dangling from one of the towers. I made the final sprint to the rope yelling for Paco or Roman and as I put my feet and hands on the open loops I was pulled to safety. Apparently Paco and Roman had made it back the night I led the zombies away driving the dump truck through all of the traffic. You can read more about it here http://coreyfriend.blogspot.com/2010/11/halloween-in-philippines.html . I should warn you that Paco likes to write under his alter-ego Corey Friend. I keep telling him that creating a fake persona will only confuse his readers but he does it anyways. Some people right? Anyways I slept for the next 24 hours while the P.E.D. went to work clearing the outbreak. Within days we were clear and life was returning to normal. Paco and I shared a laugh at the chance that the zombies would come back for us a third time. We then quickly knocked on wood realizing that it would most likely happen to us again.

Proud to be among the living…

Reunion Tour

BABY BABY BABY OH BAAABY!!!!! AHEM cough cough. Excuse me my lovely patients old Dr. Desire is warming up the old pipes. Seems like it’s been forever since Paco and I’s last show. Oh yes I should probably catch you up before I ramble on too much. You see Paco and I were contributors to one of the most glorious ages of music; 1980’s Hair Metal. It was once our profession to don layers of makeup, skin tight jumpsuits, and shred anthem and ballad on a nightly basis. It all found its beginning in the spring of 1982, and what a year it was the Argentineans invaded the Falkland Islands, a Spanish Priest tried to kill the Pope, my football club Tottenham Hotspur won the FA cup, and Michael Jackson released Thriller.

Paco brushing the dust of his old
Keytar

Paco and I were in our final year in Med School. We entered Med School after the untimely death of our friend Doctor Jules Macalester in Mozambique. Jules was awaiting the return of Paco and me and working in a small village doing charity work for the war torn nation when a band of Apartheid South African backed rebels wiped the village out, including our beloved friend and doctor. Paco and I were dealing with a huge man-eating bull shark in the Zambezi River called “Tuburao Obito.” After dealing with the brute we returned to find our friend taken from us. Rather than replace dear Jules we continued on like Zeppelin after Bonham. However we still needed a capable physician on our expeditions so Paco and I decided why not take a couple of years off and learn the art of our fallen companion.

So there we were, studying to be doctors by day and playing as the folk rock duo the Med Students of Like by night. This pattern repeated itself until 1982 when we took our last exams. And what do you know we passed with flying colors. To celebrate Paco and I took a trip to Monterey Bay where we drank the night away. After rehashing the night we had found out that we took to the stage with four other equally drunk gentlemen and began to rock and a roll like never before. Two things were born that night; Paco got so drunk that he now is unabile to walk on flat damp surfaces, honestly you should see him trying to walk after a light drizzle, it’s like a newborn taking its first step on oil covered ice, and the second birth belongs to the band that contributed the definition of rock and roll to Webster’s Dictionary, The Doctors of Lust.

Our First Album

"Lock n' Loaded and Sticky Fingers
jamming on Give Her Respect

On lead vocals Crackity “Lock n’ Loaded” Jones, on lead guitar Dominic “The Killer Bee” Jacobs, on lead bass Paticio “Nunez” Car, on lead drums Casey “Crash and Tom” Wojtalewicz, on lead keytar Paco “The Rocket Hammer” Picopiedra, and on lead trumpet Joe “Sticky Fingers” Kilkus. Rocking such hits like Love Power Shower and ballads like Give Her Respect we swept through the 80’s like a hair gel through freshly permmed hair, which we all had. Our biggest show was scheduled for the Wembley Stadium parking lot on July 13 1985. Little did we know that the band Queen was playing next door in the actual stadium so our crowd wasn’t as big as we hoped.

The Killer Bee Rocking
on Love Power Shower

We broke up before the destruction of Glam Rock at the hands of Nirvana. We thought that the Pixies or the Replacements would be the one to bring down the beast but it took a song about libido and mosquitoes to permanently stifle it. However we still stay in close contact and recently jammed together. Who knows maybe a reunion tour in on the horizon.

 And when she seems down, give her the respect she needs, dum dum de dum…

Fan Mail

Now I don't usually get myself involved with politics and the like as I find that the less I do the more I feel I have a soul. However two friends of mine Matt Harren, who has somehow tracked me down in the Philippines, what can I say some fans just go the extra mile, and Alex Kurt have sent me an amusing little letter that they wrote for a TV show called The Daily Show. Well I was so tickled by this little bit of penmanship that I decided to reward the duo by making it today's post. I hope you enjoy.

To Whom It May Concern (but don’t get us wrong, we think we’re your biggest fans, just like every other self-righteous s.o.b.),

We’re writing to apologize, in advance, for the reelection of Congresswoman Michelle Bachmann by the people of our fine state. Having been to Minnesota for the 2008 GOP convention coverage we hope you agree that it’s an okay place, and are similarly befuddled by the capacity of any plurality of our populace to elect this gay rally spying McCarthy like batch of crazy to national office three times running. The answer may be one or all of three of these reasons.

1)      While a majority of the district voted for someone other than Bachmann in 08’, we managed to turn that bit of political capital into a victory for her. It is the electoral equivalent of fielding a MLB team with two AL MVPs, a reigning batting champ, a Cy Young contender, a new stadium, and a regular string of division titles, only to be swept by the wild card in the first round of the playoffs. Ya sure, yoo betcha. Bachman somehow wins the necessary amount of votes by acting like one of the mama grizzlies that the coked-out Palin blabbers on about. (Honestly have you looked at her lately, her eyes are more bloodshot and skin is drawn tighter daily) The idea that mama grizzlies are the new face of political feminism is like saying the Lingerie Football League glorifies woman as athletes. Yet Bachman has stirred up enough dirt that the once clear view Minnesotans had of their state is now as murky as Lake Superior.

2)    The joke that has become the Democratic Party has yet to put up a candidate that seems a better option than the Wicked Witch of the 6^th. The Democrats want absolute fealty, if they see even the slightest sign of wavering faith they’ll cannibalize your seat faster than Rush Limbaugh eating… well just about anything. It’s all political pandering being played out by children who want a career and not to better their nation.

3)      Maybe we in the 6^th district have gone back to moonshining like the days of Prohibition and are on a perpetual bender, treating election days like Oktoberfest or St. Patty’s Day, entering the voting booth smelling more of booze than pride in democracy. Unlikely.

Even though her reelection will bring more witticisms from your staff, we weep at the fact that she will likely have another term to poison us with her vile, albeit childlike, rhetoric. Either way her reelection is nigh and we just thought it pertinent to prepare you for this event. In closing, keep up the good work.  We certainly aren’t about to shoulder this burden, having both fled the hemisphere.  And don’t look too harshly upon Minnesota…we gave you Bob Dylan, and we can damned sure take him back.

Sincerely,

Matt Harren

St. Cloud, Minnesota

Relocated to Manila, Philippines (seriously)

Alex Kurt

St. Paul, Minnesota

Relocated to Sumbawanga, Tanzania (also seriously)

p.s. As we are recent graduates with hopes of writing professionally, burdened with loans, entering a poor job market, against all odds, two kids from the wrong side of the track… Do you see where we’re going with this? Anyways good luck with the Rally.

(chuckle chuckle chuckle)...

The Lion Conquers the Stag

The year was 1975, the setting Manila during martial law, the BVC having been betrayed by their supposed allies in the Surely Sailors Collective Resistance (SSCR) led by that now familiar face of villainy Don Diabolico the world was in turmoil. With all the tension built up the BVC were in need of a beacon of hope, a sign that they could rally around, the guardians of Manila needed a Thrilla. Their prayers were answered by a brash and loud mouthed young man from the United States, Muhammad Ali. The reigning world heavyweight champion of the world, Ali sought to prove his dominance on foreign soil against the imposing Joe Frazier.

Many people are familiar with this fight, the Thrilla in Manila, but not many know the greater implications this fight had for the country and the order of the BVC, then known as the Boisterous Voice of Crustaceans.  With Ali’s victory and a country electrified the BVC were able to channel the positivity into the power they needed to rescue their homeland. It would take many years of tireless work until the Philippines were safe again and even today there are still remnants of these dark times.

The SSCR has continued their wretched existence to this day and act as a perpetual thorn in the side of the righteous order of the BVC. Last year it was a force of SSCR pupils that wrest the torch bearing privileges that come with the winning of the sacred tournament from our beloved champions. Many say that their victory was won by trickery and dirty dealings involving money exchanging hands, but never fear my faithful readers their brief reign has been thwarted.

It is with great pride that I announce to you that the BVC’s own Red Lions have reclaimed their rightful place as leaders of their country. I attended the final showdown between the Lions and the SSCR’s Golden Stags hosted at the hallowed sight where Ali had defeated Frazier and witnessed the brutality and grace of this epic battle. Like the titans who had pummeled each other all those years ago the two sides combated both scoring small victories here and there. Many times the SSCR attempted to use the dark ways they have become known for but our Lions did not rise to their petty challenges but rather marched forward with nobility unto victory.

Afterwards the celebrations could be heard round the entirety of Manila, the sky was illuminated with showers of blinding white and crimson conjured up by some of the older BVC brothers. For the first time on my journey I saw the full strength of the BVC as streets were closed to make way for revelry. Drinks flowed freely and the joy of the team and the community was like an electric current flowing through us all. Paco, Roman, and I have been around the world many times and experienced a myriad of joys but this was one that shall live on in my memory for a great deal.

To finish up I suppose I should inform you all that the Philippines is in the path of a Super Typhoon named Juan. While I have never met this Juan or done anything to upset him he has gone and ruined a trip I was planning on taking to one of the other islands. Very rude of him I must say. I am not too worried though as Paco and I have a current competition going on as to who can hold their breath longer underwater. We have gone for hours and adding a Super Typhoon to the wager will only make it more exciting.

Until next time if Juan decides there will be…

Battles Past and Reinforcements

Over the weekend Paco and I were toured by some of the youth of the BVC around outer Manila. Like a Filipino version of the Da Vinci Code we went from secret holy shrine to random yet meaningful obelisk standing in the middle of roundabouts, a dark and unusual path we found ourselves on. Thousands of people gathered at these places of worship and odes to past glories completely unaware of the powers hidden above, under, and within the tiles they knelt on.

I’m of course speaking about the secret Particle Accelerator that was built as collaboration between the Spanish, Americans, and the Japanese during the Vietnam War. All three countries felt that they owed the Philippines something after all of that colonization business. The accelerator was named Newton’s Tropical Playground or N.T.P. but goes by the nickname the Newt. The churches, obelisks, and holy thing-a-majigs act as detectors and other what-have-you’s. It is actually quite a coincidence that Churches were used as the mask for the detectors because the main objective of the Newt is to try and allocate the so called God particle.

Our brothers in the BVC are aware of the Newt and even help fund some of its research. Having been one of the advisors on the building of the Large Hadron Collider I must say that the Newt is quite a marvelous piece of machinery, a real testament to human ingenuity. The device though is a little old and when it really gets humming I can feel it shake my room at the BVC. While they have yet to create the God particle they have perfected the first instances of Time Travel although they haven’t been able to control it yet. I would offer some advice but I feel humanity must run its own course.

While the touring of the Newt was exciting Paco and I were much more excited about the arrival of one of our oldest friends and mentors Roman Paur. Roman’s real name has been lost to the ages but as he was one of the founding members of the Roman Empire the name Roman just kind of fits. From knife fights to equestrian tricks to a fantastic fiscal mind and a wunderkind with the stock market the Romski is a master of it all. Alas not all of his exploits are the most noble as it was he who trained Don Diabolico as well. It was decades after he had taught me and the Don had wormed his way into Roman’s good graces and Roman always having a soft spot for troubled youths thought he could reform him. Little did he know that he would help to mold the most fiendish mind the world had ever seen, as well as create a man who is my equal in most regards.

So now he is spending a little of his retirement joining Paco and myself. I am hopeful that his trained eye will help me root out some of his former students past and with the information maybe, just maybe, bring his reign of evil to an end. For right now though we are spending our time reminiscing over past exploits over the finest scotches and smoking fat cigars. You know high class stuff.

Oops the floor is a rumbling must be the Newt hard at work again…

Crackity Rages Against the New York Yankees

What in carnations? Wait what do flowers have to do with this? AAAGGGG I’m so mad I can’t even get my exclamatory remarks right. Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble, Rabble.I swear to all things holy and unholy, how in the hell can people take any pride in being a fan of the New York Yankees? We all know the reasons why they win, they sit back and wait for players to prove themselves in the league, become fan favorites and hometown heroes, and then offer them more money than their current team is worth. After they leave the team that made them into the players they trusted and loved, their old fans turn bitter and vengeful, booing and jeering them whenever their name is announced on the loud speaker. But what do the players care, they’re playing for the Yankees while becoming filthily rich. Of course then they are traded when they don’t hit at least 20 homeruns and a batting average of .270, whereupon they still have the pariah stamped on them from betraying the team that made them what they are.

So by now you’ve probably noticed that this post is a little different from my usual musings but we have entered playoff baseball season and I see the Yankees are up to their usual shenanigans. Right now they are playing a humble little team from the Midwest known as the Twins. Now I don’t like to play favorites but any team playing the Yankees is the team I want to win. While the Twins seem to be struggling to produce much offensively their defense in general has been top notch. It’s just too bad that the umpires seem to be on a mission to erase their hard work. Strike after strike is thrown and ball after ball is called. This indignant spectacle has happened twice now, a Yankee should have struck out on a pitch and then hits a lead gaining hit the next pitch.

Oh it is enough to make one weep, but then I remember there is no crying in baseball and of course I run for the liquor cabinet. But should we be really that surprised, this is the classic behavior found in all evil empires. They will do anything to win even if that means reshaping the rules to their own advantage. While this whole ordeal has been rather heartbreaking the worst part of all is the announcing of the games. The dialogue is filled with not so subtle favoritism towards the Yankees, and when they are not massaging the ego of the baseball giant they are filling the listener’s ears with the most senseless and pathetic dribble ever uttered in human speech. All it consists of is taking some popularized sports catchphrase and using it repeatedly at the most inopportune moments to create the illusion that they know something about the sport or about the team facing the Yankees.

Uggh I hardly know what to do with myself. Thankfully I have taken up the cooking duties for the monastery for the weekend. Nothing like the smell of my signature potato soup and fish frying to put me in a better mood. However make sure you are cooking for a large group as a surplus of food can do quite a bit of damage on the hips, they do not lie.

Back to the boiling pot, as you know if you stare hard enough it you can prevent it from boiling no matter how hot the water is, or at least that’s what I think the expression is. Bon Appetite…

Musings on Time Travel

 A month my friends, a month have I spent in the service of the BVC. It seems like it was only 27 days ago riding with the Admiral through the earth. But as they say time flies, which when you think about it is a very odd term. Flying time as if time is normally under the constraints of gravity, oh well I’ll ask Einstein next time I’m wandering around the early 1900’s. Which happens to be the topic of my post today; Time Travel.

Now I don’t like to bend the likes of time to often as the more you discover in the past the more the future as well as the present you know becomes vastly different. There are many schools of thought on how time travel can change the future and the different paradoxes that will arise: the Terminator Paradox of a son sending back his father to procreate himself, or the shifting time in Back to the Future that is changed as Marty McFly tampers with his parents childhood, and of course the very complex and ever changing time logic found in Doctor Who. In my experience though it has been a combination of all of these, it all depends on the event and the people. Really it is pretty hard to explain but rest assured that the fabric of existence in intact, I think, well the important thing is don’t worry.

As such I have seen quite a bit of this world’s history and it is fantastic. I’d share some tidbits with you but I do feel a moral obligation to keep things secret left that way, however I do pop in on some friends every once and a while with lottery ticket picks and the like. Oh and the song We Didn’t Start the Fire was written by Joel and I as an attempt to shift the focus of our actions when we tried drinking our way through moments in history. So truthfully Billy Joel and I did start the fire but unintentionally on one hell of a bender. Yeah not the best choice I’ve made but Joel got a hit song out of it so not a total loss. Since then I have been much more careful when traveling in time, I don’t take shots anymore.

As I await the next term to start my teaching I’m spending some time traveling some history as a refresher. Hanging out with Caesar, although I wouldn’t recommend doing this when he’s courting Cleopatra, talk about whipped. Smoking cigars with Churchill, I’ve seen him take a drag for up to two minutes, and of course who could pass up playing guitar with Ziggy Stardust himself. No not David Bowie  I mean the real Ziggy who rocked Madison Square Garden in the classic 2080 show The Martian Invasion. Oh wait that hasn’t happened yet. Forget what I just said and go back to your 2/2 techno/rap music.

Bum Ch Bum Ch Bum Ch…

The Don Strikes Again

            Crackity Jones here my beauties, sadly this post has a morbid theme. That most evil of fiends Don Diabolico has struck again. While some of my students were taking their final test that, should they pass, would allow them into the most inner sanctums of justice and do-goodery, a vile group of miscreants threw an explosive device into a group of younger students waiting to congratulate the test takers. Several of the youth were injured, some of them are still hospitalized and others have even lost limbs. A truly horrid and terrifying event indeed.

           

            The act was attributed to a Fraternity of a rival school but I knew the truth of the situation. That while the action may have been caused by the Frat it was the Don who set the plans in motion. There are many arguments in the world about whether or not Nature or Nurture is the leading effect in how a human being will act. The Don is possibly the strongest argument for the effects of being naturally inclined to do wrong. While I still know little about his childhood I know that he has had several wives all who loved him completely, his doting sister and step-brother both have been used by the Don, and of course the worst of all is the Don’s act of matricide. His mother was a lovely woman, granted she did not give me any information that could help stop her son, she was a helpful and loving woman. I should have never let it slip to the Don that I had talked to her. Ah look at me dwelling on past mistakes.

            Anyway the Don is an embodiment of villainy, a man who loves to wreak chaos and distress everywhere he goes. No doubt his knowledge of me joining the BVC has sent him into a terror that he is now trying to threaten anyone I care about in an effort to draw me away. Rest assured I have warned my closest companions and Paco and I have prepared the BVC for full lockdown should the necessity arise.

            What is most disturbing of all is the potency the Don has when inciting people. I have seen it all over the world, people with opportunities for greatness that throw them away on senseless acts of violence getting turned by the fear they cause. They prey especially on symbols and events of happiness and cooperation. The beauty and majesty that could be the human race is squandered on their petty squabbles, and we who would have peace spend our lives trying to remove the evil that the Don has indoctrined in them. Yet we never seem to catch up. So now I am after the source of the trouble to permanently stop this senseless violence and greed. It has been a long chase, lasting over a century now. I win some battles but the Don never seems to relent and finds new ways to perpetrate the same old heinous acts. So my message to you dear readers is to arm yourself against this evil. Go to school, never stop learning, keep an open mind, and most importantly dig past the superficial and discover some truth. If you do this the Don’s power will shrivel and die most assuredly.

Keep those who have suffered under the Don’s acts in your prayers regardless of your beliefs, just your thoughts are power enough…  

MANGOS! MANGOS! MANGOS!

 MANGOS! MANGOS! MANGOS! Who wants a mango? How about you old man Cecil? What about you little orphan Lewis? Mangos for everyone and their mother. Crackity Jones here once again my faithful flock proclaiming my great love of the yellow-orange fruit called the mango. Mmmm just saying it is like music to the ears. Say it with me now children Manggggggggooooooo.

The mango fruit is found in abundance in the Philippines, but only here in the gardens of the BVC do we find the Mango Sultan Chele Porfuan. Legend has it that Chele was conceived under a mango tree while two lovers ate the sensual fruit thus giving Chele his natural affinity with all things Mango. He is seldom seen anywhere else in the fortress than the garden. He eats, sleeps, and even writes Poetry, mostly about mangos, all under his beloved fruit bearing trees. A sample

Oh succulent life giving orb

Yours is the bounty which I do adore

Whether squeezed to a juice or plucked fresh from a tree

I eat your nourishment right to the seed

From the shade of you boughs I will never retreat

The secrets of your beauty I shall forever keep

Till that final day caught in deaths throws

I shall ever praise the glorious Mango

I know what you’re thinking. Is this guy’s skin different because of all the mangos he eats? And the answer is yes, yes it is. With the amount of sun he gets combined with the orange and yellow you get a beautiful color that is like a mix between caramel and that orange ice cream popsicle flavor. What’s it called? Is it Funsicle? We’ll go with that. Anyway in my wanderings around the home base I have begun to chat up sweet Chele on the adventures of his life. I like to catalogue others adventures as well so as to keep up with the ever changing world. Initially it was hard to get Chele to talk about anything except how much he loves mangos. After sometime though I was able to get him talking about how he came to the BVC. You see while Chele loves the fruit he also is an adept scientist and believes that many cures can come from the mango. His main experiments are focused in eternal youth and I must say he is doing well. Granted he has to eat a mango every half hour or so to keep it up (he has an iv of mango juice at night) he doesn’t look a day over 35 and him being at the ripe old age of 215. Granted about 170 of those years were in the BVC with his mangos. Being as I have travelled this earth for about half a millennia I was happy to be able to talk about the old issues that he missed like; When do you think the Russian Royal Family will take their country back from the Bolshevik’s, Have you heard of this new stuff called toothpaste, and of course what’s up with General Burnsides’ facial hair?

These conversations continue where they left off every time I enter the garden and my knowledge of mangos is quickly becoming vast. Other than that life is found a comfortable pattern here, our BVC warriors are continuing their driver towards perfection, Paco and I are dining with Senators and Judges at late night lounges, and the lizards are singing us to sleep with the sweet melodies of Billy Joel and Neil Diamond.

Sweet Caroline Bah! Bah! Bah! good times never seemed so good, so good, so good… 

The Beatles were Right

Today was a day off from work dear followers and I was left to idle. Idleness though is not something I am overly fond of. Sure I don’t mind a good think every once and a while, I even had a lovely stroll around the battlements of the BVC fortress. It is truly a wondrous structure, but the city of Manila is so built up that I can’t actually see a whole lot around me. I spent some time in the library looking for any information I could on Don Diabolico. Sadly my search turned up little except that the Don had a terrible case of acne as a teenager. It was clear that the BVC held the documents on him secret, most likely in a safe that can only opened by that curious key that Tarcisio wears like a necklace.

            So with nothing else to do I sat in my head for a while. Until it came to me, one of the cultural phenomena of the Philippines that I felt so confused about. Having adventured across much of Europe and America and seeing its wondrous structures and meeting its generally friendly people as well as the commercial power they both hold, I knew that the Philippines was a product of the two cultural powerhouses. Something was missing though, something vital. It was whilst sitting and thinking that I finally came upon the answer. The Philippines lacks a drinking culture.

Alas how could I have been so blind? Something that is so vital in my life slipped from underneath my watchful eye. I go for days at a time without a drink at my lips. Readers be advised I am not an alcoholic, I am an alcohol appreciator. From my days riding along with Sir Gawaine in Scotland visiting the various whiskey distilleries and saving fair maidens from themselves to brewing the master beer with the Guild of Holy Inebriation. The Guild consists of a Trappist monk from Belgium known as Br. Hans Maus, a crazy Dutchmen called Lenny, a pair of Irish/English twins called Mic and Mac, a lovely Czech girl named Maria, and the Currator from Bavaria Germany Helmut Biegmeister. Together we invented the perfect beer that could save the world but before the recipe could be sent out it was intercepted by Don Diabolico and destroyed. The Don knew that world peace would mean the end of his power monopolizing. So now the Guild tires day and night to try and perfect the brew once again while I track down the Don.

            So back to my troubles in Manila. Being unable to get to a shop to purchase the “water of life,” I have been forced to recreate a contraption I devised while on my tour of the International Space Station. Basically I’m moonshining in my room. Tubes and pots and fumes abound all solar powered as I don’t want the energy bill to give the BVC any suspicions of my actions. I learned how to rig up the contraption from MacGyver. No not the television personality, a crazed Scotsman with a penchant for the unorthodox, especially when it comes to alcohol making. I had tried to get him in the Guild but he doesn’t exactly work well in groups. He does make one hell of a drop o’shine though.

           

It surprises me that the members of the BVC are not fond of the drink. I have always believed that a man who doesn’t drink is afraid of himself, or at least of showing the world a different side of himself. Now I don’t believe that the alcohol influenced side is a person’s true side, but then again I don’t believe any side is a person’s true side. Which is why the Beatles were right when they said “Everybody’s got something to hide except me and my monkey.” And without the help of my dear chimp Aloysius, I fear that I am the only one not hiding a thing.

Back to the chemistry dear children I can smell the distillation and of course Cheers…

American Culture is an Unstoppable Bounty Hunter

Greeting feverish readers here’s a little chicken soup and vitamin C to calm that fever. Adventure is not only my business; it’s my passion, my muse, my middle name, my love child with Lady Gaga. Ok that last one’s not true, our love child’s name is Lola not Adventure. I am now at the two week point of the trip and a daily routine is finally taking shape. The BVC has finally given me given me a class schedule. I will be lecturing the youth on my favorite subject, my adventures. Naturally the students are chewing at the bit in anticipation for the class, although that may be an offensive phrase as I will be teaching two centaurs. Oh well we deal with new challenges everyday and I suppose adding half-man half-horse public correctness to the list is not the strangest thing I have encountered. An aside our proud Red Lions have come one competition closer to becoming island champions.

Now back to my aptly named title for this post. My love of adventuring is motivated by a desire to experience the new and in some ways avoid the old. Most recently I spent a good deal of time in America which happens to have its culture permeate almost every other culture I have recently visited. The Philippines is no different. Paco, my faithful friend, has but one great weakness and that is for American Hip-Pop music. From T.I. to Katy Perry he loves it all. It is here where I will introduce the personification of the Bounty Hunter that is American Culture which in this current form is known as SUPAFEST 2010. What it is, is a 4 act concert celebrating the music that Paco loves so. As you can guess I have a soft spot for the requests of Paco and when he invited me to the show I begrudgingly acquiesced. It was when I was informed of who the performers were that I realized that my hope to avoid the old had in part failed. The show was to feature none other than; Sean Kingston, Kelly Rowland, Flo Rida, and the master of Auto-Tune, if you can call it that, T-Pain. I sighed a sigh so exasperated that some might mistake it for a death gasp. Yet I remained true to my word and accompanied the giddy Paco.

I must confess that some of the show was enjoyable with some of the acts actually showing some talent. I will not tell you which but leave you to research or experience yourself. Having enjoyed myself in some fashion is something I am still trying to come to grips with. Nonetheless this in its own way has proven to be an adventure which I will find a way to treasure along with all the rest. Who knows maybe even some of my students were at the show. It will give us a jumping off point.

And what do you know your temp is finally coming down, until next time… 

The Soldiers of the BVC

To start out here is my address in the Philippines if you should care to send me anything, anything at all. A letter, a basket of goodies, some high quality whiskey, anything. Not that you need to, just saying.

Abbey of Our Lady of Montserrat
Mendiola, Manila, Philippines - 02 735 6011

Now then having been with the BVC for about a week I think it is time that I introduce you all to the cast of characters who has made my stay so enjoyable.

First off there’s Tarcisio. Tarcisio is the head of the order and one of the oldest members in the BVC. He commands the admiration and respect of all around him. While his brethren come at his beck and call he is fairly soft spoken and prefers to lead by example.  It was Tarcisio who first contacted me and asked me to teach his new recruits. I was hesitant at first but Tarcisio informed me of his past rivalry with Don Diabolico and there was no stopping my journey to his domicile.

Then there is Prior Raphael who like his Ninja Turtle namesake is the serious one. He is the overseer of the Order’s defenses. At time though his stern brow will soften and you will see and hear him laugh. It is truly a sight. However when it comes to defending the honor of the BVC he is all business. This wheeling and dealing vagabond will pull out all of the stops in order to protect his house.

Next up is Rembert. Rembert has been assigned to be mine and Paco’s handler. Whether it is joking around or performing the daily rituals Rembert commits his entire self to the task. His knowledge of Manila and the rest of the Philippines is matched only by his fun loving personality. He has also become a companion of Paco’s and mine in one of our favorite sports: Drinking. Now he doesn’t imbibe quite as much as Paco and I but he still appreciates the taste of a stiff drink.

Rembert’s partner in crime is Don Maxi. Maxi bases his life around laughter and travel. So naturally we get along famously. Whenever Paco and I travel it is generally with Maxi and Rembert and the combination of all four of us is trouble brewing. Maxi also acts as a sort of mascot for the BVC, when he comes around the mood immediately lightens.

Finally there is the mysterious renegade Lukas. Now I don’t know a whole lot about him but from what I can gather by looking at him he is a Ronin Samurai who has found a home in the BVC. You never know when he is going to break out a katana and go nuts on his piece of toast or some house hold product. I’m not saying he is an angry person he just looks like he could be easily excitable. For all I know he could be as timid as a church mouse, but he sometimes has this crazy look in his eyes that suggests he is a trained killer. He also is partial to wearing sunglasses at ludicrous times like a cast member of the Matrix which adds to my belief that he is on a violent mission of sorts. All I can say is that I wouldn’t want to be the overlord who crossed this samurai.

Back in a flash...

Mr. Jones Goes to Washington…or Manila… or maybe it’s a Secret Lair

Over these first few days on this most splendiferous adventure I have united with my new companions in the BVC and they in turn have treated me as royalty. Though it is not the first time that my aura has demanded a certain praise the feeling that accompanies it never grows old. In more recent news Paco and I were invited to one of the most secret locations owned by the BVC. It is rumored that this site is the source of all of their wisdom and power. Concealed as a half finished infrastructure the tell tale signs of ritualistic practices were notched on every wall. Or maybe that was just the measurements for the stained-glass windows, nevertheless there was magic in the air. The order went through the same motions that had become common place in the day to day scheme and my mind began to wonder as it is prone to do.

After the ceremony Paco and I browsed the grounds as per usual recording the schematics of the buildings in our heads we continued a conversation that has become a defining point in our friendship. What are the advantages and weaknesses of the infrastructure if the inevitable Zombie Apocalypse were to take place sooner rather than later. I say inevitable because after our experiences in a now nameless town in Bolivia it is only a matter of time before the virus resurfaces.

The building in question was one of the most fortified that Paco and I had ever crossed. It provided easy access to water and food, high defenses and enough open space that entrapment was almost impossible. Just to get our plan straight Paco and I went over each other’s roles if the ZA should occur. Paco being an excellent marksman as well as a capable gardener would take the role of Tower Defense. Armed with a sniper rifle, he protects the main base from intruders while tending to our food supply. He is also quite capable with a katana and is quite handy at rigging traps around the complex. Now being the wandersome hooligan that I am I would take the role of a scout. Armed with a semi-automatic hunting rifle, a fully automatic sub-machine gun, a sawed-off shotgun with a modified barrel containing a spring loaded battle-ax head for use in extreme close range, a backpack full of basic camping gear, and a bandoleer of explosives I would scrounge around the near country side for any useful gear, survivors, or anything of interest. Hoowrah!!!

After our conversation we went to lunch. It was here that we were shown how far the reach of the BVC was. At our table were two lawyers one of which was a former Congressman and the current Dean of the #1 Law School in Manila. Paco and I realized that not only were our basic needs taken care of but should anything suspicious arise we had more than enough resources at our disposal. The lunch consisted almost entirely of native foods exotic and colorful and with names to hard to pronounce let alone spell. They were mostly delicious though and life if the reader will believe it just became even more exciting for Crackity Jones…

To be connected…

The Red Lions

Aha! I am Manila, its spirit its essence its very soul. There is nothing about this city that escapes my vision. Which is what I will be saying at the end of my adventure. For now I have to explore this new world that has been presented like an oh so sumptuous feast waiting to be devoured. In these first few days the secret order of the BVC has welcomed me like a brother into their fold. I join them daily in their rituals, dancing, singing at the moon, eating their spiritual wafers, bizarre stuff really. After my travels though it is all pretty humdrum. I picked up the schedule so fast in fact that a junior member had mistaken me for one of the masters, I assured him that I was nothing more than a guest in the order though.

Eventually I was introduced to some of my potential students. These young wards were the frontline in the defense of the order’s honor. Using their physical prowess and with a joint effort they continually compete in a tournament to decide who will be the torchbearers of the island. They command the floor with an orange sphere as they seem to defy gravity their bodies twisting in an effort to achieve victory. Truly an amazing vision. I was invited to one of the events in this competition where I was proud to see that the cabal that I had enjoined myself in was a dominant force. They deftly outmaneuvered their opponents to continue their road towards perfection and once again being the so called masters of the islands. Last year the title was taken from them by a mysterious old sect that the BVC had thought they had vanquished. I inquired further about this sect and it turns out that they were founded by none other the Diabolico family. At hearing this I knew that coming to the Philippines was the right decision.

And to top off a great night dear Paco had finally arrived. Apparently there was a typhoon near Tokyo that slowed his otter driven sled to a halt. None the less the versatile Paco mushed his team through and they arrived safely albeit quite tired. United again we decided a day or two of rest was in order before instructing our new students as well as beginning our search into the history of Don Diabolico. It is only a matter of time until we track down the fiend.

Stay tuned…

The Race

Chunneling into the depths of the earth’s crust my mind drifts to the coming year……………… I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing inside the earth’s crust? Very well we will begin with that and move onto my inter-monologue in due time. Being the perpetual competitors that we are, Paco and I decided that a race to Manila would be in the best interest for everyone, with the winner being the greater gentlemen. That’s how gentlemen’s bets work right? As I was saying Paco, that cheeky miscreant, bragged that his aquatic sled-dog team pulled by otters would make quick work of the expedition, but I knew I had him bested for I had called upon the help of my old friend Nikolai Retroski the world famous geologist. You see Nikolai has just perfected his method for travelling through magma via a submersible like contraption he calls the “Incendia Viator.” As I am sure you are well aware the Philippines are a part of the Pacific “Ring of Fire” a chain of volcanoes in the ocean. It is these very lava spewers that formed the 7,107 islands that make up the Philippines.

Hmm what’s that Nikolai? Oh now look what you’ve made me do I am writing everything I say. Well Nikolai had just informed me that we are nearing the surface. I have scheduled a meeting with Admiral Arthur Jackbar of the U.S.S. George Washington which is currently docked in Manila Bay. Admiral Jackbar and I have been friends since our days living in the Mariana Trench doing research on how Lazuli Trench Frogs (volo rana) can withstand the intense pressure and can manifest oxygen in water without the use of gills. It was the Admiral who exclaimed that “It’s a trap!”... a type of venus fly trap, the Lapis Fly Trap (musca oxygenium) that lived in the frog’s nostrils that was able to convert water into oxygen for the frog to breathe. The two species living vicariously off of each other.

Anyway I have received more information from the BVC, which currently stands for the Brethren of the Valiant Carbuncle (it changes a lot apparently), on my living quarters. It seems that they have spared no expense in making me comfortable. While I am generally content with the most basic of necessities like swan down pillows and mink fur toothbrushes they have gone above and beyond. The kitchen is a few steps away, a bathroom adjoined to my own, several meditation rooms within reach, and a training facility, all in all very comfy. Pictures soon to follow. The students that I will be teaching I am informed have been engaged in rigorous and intensive martial and mental arts in preparation for my arrival. Silly little rug rats, they have no idea what I have in store. (menacing laugh) Now that I mention it I don’t even think I know what I have in store. Well I guess I’ll just wing it. Maybe Paco will know more when he gets here, if he ever does. Honestly sled-otters, I don’t know how he thought he could win the race with those furry layabouts. They’re probably swimming in circles for fun as I type.  

More soon to follow…

An Introduction

The Fiery Sky of Manila

Hello my beauties it is I Crackity Jones, man of mystery and adventurer extraordinaire. In a few days time I will begin yet another feat of unbelievable travel through the tropical wonderland of the Tagolog speakers, the Philippines. You see I have been employed by a secret society who base themselves in Manila to instruct their new recruits. Normally I skirt this kind of tutelage but this organization claims to have information about that most fiendish of villains, my arch-nemesis Don Diabolico. And a chance to learn more about the Don's past is just too valuable to pass up.

The only known image
of Don Diabolico

This organization that has gathered me into their fold has been around for centuries taking new faces as the world changes. Their current form goes by the code name of BVC. Now I have not been informed as to the meaning of theses letters but I assume it is something along the lines of Brotherhood of the Vanishing Chupacabra. Whether this is accurate or not it doesn't matter for I will join there brethren none the less and I am sure that as much as I teach their youth I will in turn gain a vast amount of knowledge from them.
Coming along with me on this adventure is that most loyal of companions, my dear friend and sherpa Paco Picopiedra. Paco and I have enjoyed each others company for many a journey and with an opportunity to consult with the great mystic Hacho Vinto, Pacho is  giddy with excitement.

Paco Picopiedra

So for now I am packing all of the basic amenities; harmonicas, talismans, vests, my lucky pack, plenty of climbing rope (God knows we don't want another Nepal situation), and most importantly an open mind willing to take on the world. Expect more in the coming days and continue on your own adventure.

Kisses,
Crackity Jones