Click http://www.mediafire.com/?vdzovzltjmu]HERE to download.

Looks interesting.

Edit: Looks like the http://www.mangafox.com/manga/mahou_sho ... he_comics/]Strikers manga has updated as well.

In addition to updating the top page for the first time since last August, I have added pages for Skyefire's A Message In A Bottle and for my recent I Dream of
Djinni.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

I've forgotten who was kind enough to take over maintaining a placeholder toon for Wetter Hexe on Virtue for Helen -- if you've kept it up all these
months, thank you.

Anyway, I have news for you -- Helen has just told me that after she and Attila upgrade their system (apparently soon), she is considering getting COH/COV, at
which time she'll want to use Hexe. So let me know who you are so I can make sure you're alerted when this happens.

Thanks!
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

HEADLINE:




RIKTI WAR OVER!




RIKTI COMMANDER IN CHIEF HRO'DTOHZ SURRENDERS, TO JOIN ACCLAIMED
SUPERGROUP!





---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."

Although officially unemployed ("retired" sounds so much nicer), I'm currently helping my sister
with a book she's publishing on teaching literacy. My part of the job is copy-editing the contributions on the subject by a variety of university
professors (each provides a chapter). These are supposed to be well-educated men and women, able to communicate clearly; the subject my sister teaches is
Education, after all, and they're all more-or-less in the same field. I've been savaging their work with vicious glee.



One document included the sentence, "African American communities, for example, are a case in
point." I crossed out "for example" and inserted a terse comment: "Redundant. A 'case in point' IS an example."



(Most of my comments are actually rather more polite, and include explanations of how the style guide
we're supposed to follow dictates the changes I've made - especially in cases where the guide and my own inclinations are at variance. Still….)



"Apology accepted, Captain Needa."

Or, in the words of another of my idols (Dogbert), "I'll dismiss their life's work with a gesture and a witty comment. Bottom line, I'm just
not a people person."
-----
Big Brother is watching you.  And damn, you are so bloody BORING.

... for http://www.pvponline.com/2009/05/26/y-so-srs/]today's PVP strip, at least.

And haven't you always wanted to see the police chief say that to the costumed vigilante? (I know I have.)
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

I think it isn't too early to ask... after all, http://www.anticipationsf.ca/English/Home]Anticipation (host to the 67th Worldcon) is only a shade over two months from now.

Alas, I can't make it. I can't justify spending a week away from Ottawa and work when (a) one of my co-workers is off to care for his wife while she succumbs to cancer, and (b) my mother is still recovering from a stroke. (Things I didn't bother mentioning at the time, because Bob had more important events happening in his family's life at the same time. There's a time and place to kvetch, and that wasn't it.)

I recall somebody who attended last year's Worldcon has a relative who collects shot glasses from the various Hard Rock Cafes, and I have a spare from the Ottawa Hard Rock... and I've got a Neil Gaiman hardcover that's just perfect for a dedication... and I can't be there.

But I can justify the drive from Ottawa to Montréal and back to Ottawa for one evening (it's about 2.5 hours each way by car), if people are going to Worldcon and getting together for dinner. I'll just need to know at which restaurant and when on which evening, so I can take the afternoon off work and show up at the right place at the right time...

Oh, yes... if you're coming from NYC or Detroit, http://www.viarail.ca/en_index.html]take the train - the train station in Montréal is less than a kilometer from the convention centre, while the airport is far enough away that the Ottawa-Montréal train stops there before reaching Montréal. (NYC to Montréal by Amtrak direct run. Detroit: to Windsor by car, then Windsor to Toronto by VIA Rail, then Toronto to Montréal by VIA Rail.)
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

I've just started playing around with this and have completed the tutorial missions. Does anyone know about it and can suggest where to go from here?

The target was tall, elegant, and dressed in an overly ostentatious set of black and purple robes that in the magelight he'd conjured practically
gleamed. The ensemble was topped with a matching turban. The whole thing screamed "I will be king."

The prominent nose set firmly above his black Van Dyke-style mustache-and-goatee was elevated just high enough that he could look down over it on everyone
else -- most of all his (absent) boss, who was sadly unaware of his subordinate's opinions and plans despite the rather obvious "smelling something
bad" expression the target habitually wore when not schmoozing.

He so looked the part of the classic cliche "evil vizier" that I idly wondered if there were some kind of menswear/stylist chain through
all the universes that catered to slick villains who worked themselves into positions of power in order to betray their bosses.

The intel I'd received said he was a sorcerer of some sort. Probably explained why he could keep that red parrot on his shoulder all the time and not
have his back covered with bird shit. I was pretty sure I could take him if we were to go head-to-head, but even so it still left too big a chance that he
might win. Instead, I decided to go with an attack against which no sorcerer in this here-and-now could defend.

In position and with the target under surveillance, I settled in and waited for the right moment. It didn't take long.

My first shot blew right through that tastefully-coordinated turban and changed its color scheme from black-and-purple to
black-and-purple-and-red-and-white/grey. The parrot shot straight up in a spray of loose feathers, squawking raucously; its cries reminded me of the duck from
those insurance commercials, oddly enough.

The target was just starting to fall. I worked the action on the high-powered sniper rifle and put a "guarantee" bullet into his back and through
his chest. Not that I needed it -- no one ever took a shot like my first and got up afterwards. But I am a professional, and it cost me nothing to ensure
that the job was done right.

The parrot's squawks were swallowed by the surrounding dunes as the mostly headless body toppled, its knees hitting hitting the sand first before it
fell prone into what would have been a face-down position if it still had a face. The impact raised a little cloud of sand and dust that shone briefly in the
moonlight. In the same moonlight, the pool of blood that formed and spread under the body was mostly black.

Satisfied that my job was done, I slid the rifle into the long leather holster I'd slung on the side of my motorcycle for this little mission. Because
the faint lensing from the stealth system's fields played merry havoc with telescopic sights both optical and electronic, I'd relied on darkness,
altitude and distance to hide me; but now I re-engaged them. I gunned the drive, banked hard to the left, and made a beeline for our rooms in the palace.

On the way back I kept an eye out for my current protege. If all had gone well he would still be busy wooing the girl of his dreams, and the last thing he
needed was for his mentor to show up unexpectedly at a moment one could reasonably expect to be private. Unless the two of them were inside one of the few
clouds I avoided going through, though, they were nowhere nearby.

Good for them.

I dropped down, Harrier-style, to make a perfect two-point landing on the balcony that spanned our entire suite of rooms. I shut all the systems down,
swung off the saddle, and took up the rifle and its holster. Before I could even turn and step inside, though, I was challenged by a worried baritone
voice.

"Well?"

I turned and smiled at the speaker. "Got 'im. The kid, his girl, and her dad are all safe now." I held up the gun. "Thanks for the
firepower, Big G. It made all the difference. But I don't need it any more."

A blue hand the size of a small ham closed around the leather case, and before my eyes the rifle and its holster vanished in a spray of golden light.

"One wish left," the Genie said, uncharacteristically sober.

I nodded, and crossed the room to where the kid had left the lamp in our care, and nodded to Abu. The monkey chittered at me as I picked it up and studied
it in the soft light of the more prosaic lamps that hung from the ceiling of our chambers. Simple brasswork, almost crude in its simplicity, but the container
-- the prison -- for so much power. I walked back across the room and placed the lamp in the genie's hands. "As I swore before we began, my
friend -- if Aladdin doesn't free you, I will use my third wish to do it." I grinned. "But trust me, he'll do the right thing."

As the Genie threw his arms around my shoulders and wept -- a bit theatrically, I thought, but no less sincerely for it -- I smiled to myself. It's
good to know the plot when you find yourself fallen into a story.



DRUNKARD'S WALK, STEPLET:

I DREAM OF DJINNI

by Robert M. Schroeck

This work of fiction is copyright (C) 2009, by Robert M. Schroeck.

Jafar, the Blue Genie With The Voice Of Robin Williams, and other characters from Disney's Aladdin are trademarks of and copyright (C) 1992,
Walt Disney Studios, and are used without permission.

"Douglas Q. Sangnoir," "Looney Toons", "The Loon" and any representations thereof are copyright by and trademarks of Robert M.
Schroeck.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

Fan-made trailer for a
hypothetical Green Lantern film -- starring Nathan
Fillion.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.