Rednecks at Play - Autumnal Geekquinox 2014

The Rare Hipster's semi-annual dinner party , the infamous Geekquinox, came around again, and not a moment too soon!  Our collective summers seem to get far too insular, with vacations, visits, illnesses and renovation projects conspiring to keep us apart, and this past season was no exception.  Getting together a minimum of twice a year, with Pete exercising his considerable kitchen fu on our behalf, is always appreciated.  (Full disclosure: any of the decent looking pictures below were taken by Earl, who has already documented his impressions of this tremendous event at his blog.)

I think all but one of the dinners has had a theme, sometimes so strong they almost overpower other elements of the meal, such as the food or the company (I'm looking at you, Star Trek!), but this time he kept it (relatively) simple and appropriate: a meat-themed extravaganza he called Redneck Rampage.

I was too preoccupied or slow to comprehend Pete's clue to the theme, but Scott and Ellen more than made up for it; he with his 'wife-beater' shirt, mossy-oak cap and reed hanky jutting jauntily from his back pocket (c.f.: Cooter's Garage), and Ellen with her Dallas Cowboys gear and tastefully slathered on blue eye shadow.  Sylvia's 'Daughter of Anarchy' look was well received, and I quickly jettisoned my golf shirt and reversed my Dutch football team hat in an ill-advised but still somehow appreciated attempt to maintain some sort of coherence with the prevailing trends.

A surprise visit by infamous 'Tele-Totty' DrinkyWinky, courtesy of an initially accidental photographic composition error, also helped keep the mood light.

"Whoa, even if you only dispense lime, it's still impressive..."

Time spent on a sun dappled deck imbibing margaritas and beers with friends is already as successful a party as I would ever want, but the menu beckoned!

Soon, Pete was re-heating his coals by use of an industrial torch, and while those were getting fired up, he ployed us with green onion cakes.  Now, these are not particularly rednecky unless you happen to live in Edmonton, where they are served with reckless abandon and enjoyed with much gusto at just about every open air event we have, from the Strathcona Farmer's Market to the Edmonton Folk Festival.  These were fantastic as always, complemented by a mixture of dark vinegar and sambel.

Before getting too much further into the meal, Pete insisted we try a libation with the dubious moniker of "Pickle-Back Bourbon".  Now, both of those things sound great to me on their own, but the idea of taking a shot of straight-up bourbon, possibly my favourite of the brown liquors, and chasing it with a shot of pickle juice straight from the jar, I felt my gorge becoming buoyant.  Still, knowing that the Lord hates a coward, we imbibers bellied up to the bar, even the ladies who normally find straight spirits coarse and dubious!

Preparing to do something stupid.

 

Doing something potentially unwise.

"Well, I'll be damned..."

Turns out, it's actually pretty good, and even works when you sip it, as Pete had some extremely nice 12 year-old Jim Beam on hand for the occasion which we obviously did not want to waste.  (More on this later.)

Proper equipment is a must, obviously.

Returning to the food, Pete served up a brisket he had been slow cooking on his big green egg since the night before, which was absolutely delicious served up on a roll.  The side was a corck of beans made in a bespoke earthen vessel for another similarly long period of time, and were leagues removed from the paltry tinned fare most of us comport ourselves with.

Sensing the fullness of his guests, Pete abandoned his plans for fried green tomatoes and returned to the grill to prepare a crowd favourite: Atomic Buffalo Turds or ABTs for short.

Somewhere between another round of pickle-back bourbon and the ABTs, succulent pulled pork was served up, which was delectable, but did impact our intake of the amazingly smoky-peppery-sausagey goodness which is the hallmark of the Atomic Buffalo Turd.  So much food!  And in the interests of health and balance, Squash Creole was also brought forth to assuage the vegetable quotient.  A high degree of preparation (and a small degree of actual child labour leveraged in the construction of the ABTs) meant Pete spent the most time ever actually visiting with his guests, which was greatly appreciated by all in attendance!

It was close to midnight before anyone had any room for dessert: an incredibly rich Texas Whiskey Cake.  "Oh, I just can't! Ooh, that looks pretty good...maybe a small slice...no! We'll share! That's it, we'll share the load..."

In the end though, as good as the food is (and it is hellaciously good, I assure you!), it's the company that keeps us hanging around when the victuals are but a memory
.

Well, that, and the fact that many of us didn't want to drive after demolishing a keg of Alley Kat Amber Ale at 3:00 am and much of the remainder of the Jim Beam thereafter.

Did I fail to mention there are a couple of teetotalers amongst our number?

No matter what yardstick you use: food, drink, fellowship; Pete's Geekquinox dinners (ably abetted by the lovely Ellen) set the high-water mark for hospitality and excellent times!

Metal for Mom & Dad - Sonata Arctica & Guests Sept 21

If you should find yourself looking for something to do tomorrow night, you could always sneak downtown after supper with the missus and I for some cocktails and egregiously loud music.

One of my favourite power metal bands, Finland's Sonata Arctica, are playing The Starlite Room, which is a bit unfortunate, since it is an 18+ show and the household's second-biggest fan is Fenya.  I'm far too button-down to risk trying to sneak her in, but hopefully I can at least get her a t-shirt.

Metal has turned out to be a pretty comprehensive genre; in fact, with the possible exception of 'jazz', I have a hard time thinking of a musical style as diverse or as fractured as the motley parade that falls under the metal banner.  Which is a good thing, because even though it's a big pie, there's a lot of toppings I am not interested in.

Being a fan of melody and harmony from way back, I just don't have a lot of interest in the emotive growling and screaming from a lot of the major players in modern metal.  I don't know whether it is just the cyclical trends of musical tastes, but if you order a heavy metal pizza, someone like me has to be prepared to pick off a lot of death-growl anchovies.  Or maybe it's the other way around, and my enjoyment of of keyboards and clear, powerful vocals makes me the anchovy lover?  Either way, the pie is big enough that we can all come away happy.

Power metal also employs some symphonic and cinematic flourishes in its music that I appreciate, and Sonata Arctica takes full advantage of this.  In fact, the video for The Wolves Die Young, the lead off single from their latest album Pariah's Child, looks like a direct-to-video knock off of Game of Thrones, and the lyrical content does nothing to dissuade this.




I'll level with you though; in a perfect world I would have gone to see SA two years ago, when they toured in support of The Days of Grays, my favourite of their albums.  It's always the way isn't it?

Still, lead singer and cheif songwriter Tony Kakko still brings a tremendous voice, resonant and powerful, as well as a variety of song styles that remind me of nothing so much as latter day Queen with slightly thrashier guitars.  They can even rock out a decent power ballad:


Now, opening acts for these types of shows can be a real mixed bag, but I've been astonishingly lucky at least once before, and I am optimistic about tomorrow's openers as well.

Delain is a symphonic metal outfit from Holland with a female lead singer, which can be a great juxtaposition with the right people in the right places.  They toook their name from a kingdom in the Stephen King fantasy story, "The Eyes of the Dragon."  The video for their track Stardust is powerful but easy to listen to, and has some very decent visuals to boot.



The other unknown is Xandria, another symphonic metal group with a female vocalist, this time from Germany.  They seem to have all the elements I like; drama vocals, keyboards, percussive guitars, but they are currently working with their fifth lead singer, so maybe they are better to listen to than play with?  Who knows.

Power metal is sometimes derided by the wider heavy-music community as 'happy metal', which strikes me as a little odd.  Don't get me wrong, there is a time and place for every emotion in music, especially anger, but hey, who doesn't want to be happy once in a while?

Anyhow, if you are so inclined, the show is at the Starlite Room, doors open at 7:00.  I apologize in advance for telling everyone to speak up when they talk to me on Monday!

Ice Bucket Doggerel

Late in August, as the trend was at its peak, a couple of people where I work organized an Ice Bucket Challenge in benefit of ALS research.

 

This trend of challenging others to douse themselves with icy cold water has now run its course, and that is probably just as well, but I am very glad we participated. There was some spectacular trash talking, an excellent display of leadership from everyone involved (from the Executive level to the trenches!), a wonderful time shared outside on one of the last really warm days of the summer, but most importantly, $3000 was raised that might not have been otherwise.

 

The video at this link shows the highlights; it's funnier if you know the people involved, but even if you don't, it's worth skipping to the 2:15 mark to see how our boss kicks it off!

 

The whole thing came together in under a week, and I was so impressed by the efforts displayed, I was moved to verse. Not good verse or anything, but for the twenty minutes after lunch spent putting it together, it made a few people smile.

 

We’ve seen lots of cool things at our Windermere place

But today made it hard to maintain a straight face

When a challenge gets dropped and an event created

To see so many colleagues get so marinated

Dihydrogen monoxide saturation

Is shocking on just about every occasion

Even more so, I’m reliably told

When said liquid is almost solid from cold

With water that’s practically refrigerated

We’re glad no one had to get defibrillated

Grimaces, flinches, but no attempts to abort

Goes a long way to show that our crew are good sports

ALS is a monster that strikes without warning

But knowledge gets spread through these ice-buckets pouring

The staff will queue up for cold water parity

And raise three thousand dollars for such a great charity

Showing bravery, humility, grace and compassion

Our leaders (and others!) stepped forth to take action

Admit it, when faced with that threat of ice bucket

Most of us would probably just say…

…“Well, at least it’s for a good cause.”

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Harsh Gaming Medicine

You would think that the last thing a game like Dungeons & Dragons would need, what with its ever-expanding library of books, would be even more rules. They keep coming, of course, as people seek to expand either the mechanics of the game or the setting for it. But beyond the rules of the game itself, there is a meta-structure, a set of 'house rules' that helps set the tone of play, and can determine the way in which the game should be played.

Some of these expectations are arrived at organically, like setting the standard that a dice rolled on to the floor do not count, but needs to be re-rolled; it reduces the disappointment when six much-needed pips peer up, off-kilter, from the grey shag of the basement carpet, and saves the time needed to have an objective witness verify the roll of a dice whose journey ended behind a chair or underneath the table.

When we returned to role-playing about five years ago, we chose the then-new 4th edition ruleset, which places a heavy emphasis on the tactical elements of dungeon crawling, perhaps at the expense of the theatrical. This was a good fit for our crowd in many ways, long absent from this style of play, and completely new to one.

To keep the game from becoming too sterile, I introduced style points: small glass tokens I give out somewhat sparingly as a reward for playing the role, speaking heroically or in character, or occasionally passing a glib turn of phrase.

Ten of the tokens can be turned in for a miniature d20, which in turn may be used to take an additional action at need, or re-roll a failed attempt at a critical juncture. I also made them exchangeable, so one player can give their dice to another in order to help smite a particularly troublesome foe, or to save an ally on the brink of death (and a somewhat tedious character creation process!). The dice provide the motivation, but the stones set the tone and keep things lively.

Last night, returning to the dungeons after a prolonged absence, I sent things in a different direction on a bit of a whim.

The first encounter in five months saw the intrepid adventurers facing off against three shambling mounds, massive plant monsters similar to Swamp Thing, or perhaps Man-Thing, depending on where your comic allegiance lie. Very early on, Jeff's half-giant fighter found himself grappled and drawn completely within one of the creatures, which set many of the remaining hearts crosswise. After Audrey's dwarf cleric sought to rescue or avenge him but failed to make contact with the beast, I produced a box of candy and shook it. "So, there is a new opportunity for re-rolls if you are interested..." I said.

They looked at me apprehensively, knowing me to be stingy with such things, and wondering about the possible cost.

"These are Jelly Bellys, but the package says 'Bean Boozled', and there are some pretty distinctive flavours in there," I continued.

"Oh God," said Pete, "This is going to be some sort of 'Bertie Bot's Every Flavour' thing,isn't it?"

I nodded. "Well, the same idea, for sure, but I don't think the Harry Potter license would support jelly bean flavours like Dog Food or Baby Wipes. Half of them are regular types though, so your odds at having something disgusting should only be 50/50."

Someone made a gagging noise.

I continued unabated. "The way it works is as follows: your first re-roll will require you to eat two of these beans, one at a time, fully and completely, without swallowing them whole or any other sort of nonsense or trickery." (Did I hear someone snapping their fingers at an option removed from them?). "Your second re-roll will require four of them, and so on, and so forth."

Audrey looked down disparagingly at the mocking '4' on her twenty-sided die, and held out her hand. "Give me two of those damn things."

I shook out two beans, dark brown and bright green, and inspected the back of the box. "The brown one is either chocolate pudding or canned dog food; if you are lucky, the other one is lime, otherwise it's grass clippings."

Audrey considered this. "The brown one first then; grass clipping sounds a lot better than dog food." She popped the darker bean into her mouth and began to chew dutifully, as the rest looked on expectantly. She nodded in short order, her face screwing up: "Yep, dog food."

She finished off the offensive morsel, and followed it with the green one, keeping true to the spirit of the game by not chasing the dog food down with a swig of cider. Thankfully the other candy was actually lime, but it was all for naught, as her second roll was only marginally better than the first.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed, and held out her hand, into which I poured four more beans. This time she got rotten egg, caramel corn, lawn clippings and another dog food, but sadly, the re-roll still failed to connect. Rather than chance the results of eight such beans, she very reasonably ended her turn.

Beginning with Pete, other players in turn got to sample berry blue, peach and tutti frutti jelly beans, as well as the far less appealing baby wipes, moldy cheese, and 'barf'. Sometimes the results improved, and sometimes they remained the same, but the suspense and curiosity about what horrible taste might be visited upon them next became a game in and of itself.

Four of the five players allowed themselves to be Bean Boozled, with both Pete and Audrey leading the way with six beans apiece, and no one escaping unscathed. Each victim seemed to take perverse pleasure in describing the experience, as with the moldy cheese: "You can really taste the rot.." Or with the barf: "I honestly thought that would be worse, because that's the only one of these flavours I've actually had before. Actually, I recommend the barf, as far as that goes."

I certainly have a hard time picturing a more entertaining use for sixteen jelly beans, even if it did slow down gameplay somewhat. In the end, I think we all considered it time well spent, especially the two of us who stayed jellybean-free.


The best games feature difficult decisions: empty the vault to put that hotel on Boardwalk, or wait another turn? Commit your best unit to a highly contested objective or play a refused flank and hope attrition favours your side? Stand on 16 or take another card? Last night, it was fun to transcend the playing field for a moment and introduce a choice with immediate, real-world consequences, as whimsical and impermanent as they were.

And best of all, I still have at least have a package left for the next session, and many undiscovered flavours, both fair and foul!

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Spirit of 77 RPG - Can You Dig It?

Part of adolescence in the '80s, for myself at least, was resenting the '70s.  The previous decade was old and tired, the current one was fresh and new; wall-to-wall orange shag and dinosaur rock was played out, Nagel posters and new wave were in.

Still, the veneer of nostalgia smooths out the rough patches and adds a playful shine that makes a lot of things more appealing the further we get away from them, and the '70s are no exception.  This summer's X-Men: Days of Future Past took us back there, as did the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy.  Even before that, hip directors reminded us how intrinsically cool this era was at times, from Kevin Smith's Burt Reynolds references to Quentin Tarantino and...well, most of everything he's done, I suppose, except maybe Inglorious Basterds.  Aided by these worthies, as well as lovingly crafted spoof films like Black Dynamite, I have started to discover a long simmering affection for the decade of my childhood, a time of Steve Austin and Evel Knievel, Bruce Lee and the General Lee, Shirley Jones and Black Belt Jones.

So when I saw a crowdfunding initiative for a tabletop role-playing game set in a bigger and badder, alt-history 1970s called Spirit of 77, I got pretty excited. So much so, in fact, that I backed a Kickstarter for the first time.

Now, I don't do a lot of role-play; we get together 7-8 times a year to play a little D&D (and have for the past, gawd, five years?!?), but our nerdy circle's primary gaming mode is boardgames, cardgames, wargames and suchlike.  The very last thing I need is another role-playing rules set I am not going to play.

And yet, I went and plunked down $30 so I can get a hard copy of the rules when they get published next spring.  And I'm already starting to think up storylines and character ideas.  There are a couple of reasons for this.

First and foremost, as much fun as fighting monsters, taking their treasure, getting better gear and leveling up is, there isn't much of a narrative to it.  I could attribute some of this to the limitations of the 4th edition D&D rules, but if I'm honest with myself, it wouldn't be too hard for me to layer on a bit more story and to get more creative.  

But it does take time, and the combats do take a while to resolve, even if they are fun. In the end, it is just far easier to use pre-written adventures with their glossy battlemaps, and play it somewhere between the tactical and the theatrical.  

The mechanics of Spirit of 77 (adapted from a ruleset called Apocalypse World) lean much more heavily towards narrative and simplicity.  All results are derived from rolling two everyday, six-sided dice, and adding a single modifier: on a 10 or higher, the character succeeds; on a 7-9, they do it, but not as well they would have liked, or with a cost.  On a 6 or less, the attempt failed, and the consequences play out.  Since we learn as much from our mistakes as our failures, failing a task actually earns the character an experience point, which is a neat approach to character improvement.  A single dice roll works out whether you backhanded the villain, or put a beatdown on an entire gang.  Keeping the focus on story advancement as opposed to leveling up, and the techniques they use to keep the players involved collaboratively, has a lot of appeal to me.

Characters can be summed up in three characteristics: their Story, their Role and their Buzz, and they demonstrate this with quite a few famous characters from the period:

• Billy Jack is a Tough Guy and Former Vet, looking for Peace of Mind.
• Foxy Brown is a Vigilante who's One Bad Mother, looking for Payback.
• The Baseball Furies are Boppers with Glam, looking for Respect.
• Jim Rockford is a Sleuth who's an Ex-Con, looking for Cold, Hard Cash.
• The Bandit is a Good Old Boy with Humble Beginnings, looking for Fame and Glory.

There is a lot to be said for the merits of operating within such a streamlined system; it actually puts me in mind of the old Ghostbusters RPG made by West End Games in the '80s, which brings me to the second, and most important reason for my backing this game:

It looks really, really fun.

Monkeyfun Studios has done a great job articulating the appeal of a high-octane '70s RPG throughout their Kickstarter page, in the rules, and in this promotional video:

The gamemaster (called a DJ) has an agenda that makes the Spirit of 77's priorities crystal clear and tells the DJ what they need to be doing, as well as a set of principles that clarify how they should be doing it.  These principles include things like "Get down with the funk", and "Address yourself to the characters, not the players", as well as "Respond with shenanigans and intermittent rewards".  As words to live by, I've certainly heard worse.

Everything exudes this spirit of playfulness: you don't fight or roll to hit, you "Deliver a Beatdown"; you don't roll a Perception check, you "Scope Out the Scene".  They describe the best approach to playing thusly:

Go Big or Go Home - Some games encourage a subtle touch,
with nuanced levels of intrigue that require careful consideration
and delicate maneuverings…. but we think that’s for sissies. The
Spirit of ‘77 is a game to be played at maximum volume at all
times. When faced with a choice of a behind-the-scenes feint
with slight reward but low risk, versus bold what-the-hell actions
that could fail spectacularly but would be amazing if they work
out… go for the gusto. If you fail, you get XP. If you succeed,
you’re a Big Damn Hero.

And the backstory!  

Richard Nixon has made a deal with aliens, and is still in the White House; renegade rock gods from another galaxy have shared with us the power of Glam; kung-fu bad-asses wander the city streets righting wrongs, and everyone is trying to stick it to The Man.
Spirit of 77 is about recreating all the classic action and adventure TV shows, movies, and comic books of the 1970's. It draws inspiration from movies like Shaft, Smokey and the Bandit, The Warriors, Barbarella, Rocky, and Enter the Dragon; TV shows like The Dukes of Hazzard, The Six Million Dollar Man, The Rockford Files, and Charlies Angels; and music like James Brown, KISS, David Bowie, Jerry Reed, and Issac Hayes. 

And even though Spotify doesn't appear to work in Canada yet, you have to appreciate their making a playlist for their free downloadable adventure "Cruise Ship of the Damned" on their website, featuring artists like Curtis Mayfield and The James Gang.

Monkeyfun have already met all but one of their stretch goals (which I am hoping will mean even more bodacious artwork in the final layout!), so the game seems very likely to be released. Earl went and backed the Kickstarter even before I did, so I am fairly confident this game will get played at least a time or two among our regular gaming comrades. I also received a link to this great 'thank you' video:

If nothing else, now that giant toy companies and publishing enterprises own so many role-playing games and the like, it feels pretty good to promote some independent thinking and audacity in the gaming world. Stick it to the man, indeed!

9906753

Fenya had all 4 of her wisdom teeth removed under general anaesthetic on Friday, which, obviously,I suppose, put a few limitations on our household over the weekend in terms of meals, noise levels and family activities. She handled it like a trooper though, embracing a liquid diet, a gruelling medication schedule and near-constant ice-pack applications with very little in the way of complaint. By Sunday night, her disposition and wakefulness had improved to the point where she was comfortable watching Raiders of the Lost Ark.

I'm always up for rewatching this film (and Last Crusade, too! And the first 15 minutes of Temple of Doom, for that matter.), but a recent flurry of local billboards and bus shelter ads made it even more topical. In October, the Telus World of Science is hosting the travelling exhibit Indiana Jones and the Adventure of Archaeology, so it made sense to refresh ourselves on the source material prior to attending.

We're really looking forward to it, since we are not only fans of the film, but also appreciate the fact that the exhibit is being produced by the same people who made the surprisingly educational Star Wars: Identities tour we attended last year. Even better, Adventure of Archaeology is being presented by the National Geographic Society, and features exhibits from the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, otherwise known as the Penn Museum, so the content promises to be excellent as well.

Raiders is one of my favourite films as it remains one of the best examples of modern adventure, despite cloaking itself in the trappings of a classic matinee serial. Colourful characters, exotic locales, relentless pacing and a lively sense of humour make it a joy to re-watch, despite the very real likelihood that the title character has almost no effect whatsoever on the outcome of the story (as per The Big Bang Theory).

And sure enough, despite having seen it any number of times, I usually manage to notice something new when I see it again. I mean, I know R2-D2 and C-3PO can bee seen adoring the wall of the infamous Well of Souls, but I never noticed how often Harrison Ford (and only him) calls it "the Well of the Souls", which, for whatever reason, just doesn't sound quite as ominous.

I know when he meets the army intelligence men at the beginning of the film, he has a book containing an illustration of the Ark of the Covenant which he pops open to show them, and it is a big enough book that it requires a carrying handle and fasteners, so I don't question the presence of the picture. What I do question though, is what the hell book could that be, that a) is so enormous it can be mistaken for luggage, b) has an illustration of a religious artifact from three millennia ago in it, and c) would have it almost in the middle? Perhaps it is alphabetized by culture, and the Ark appears under H for Hebrew.

Most importantly though, where can I get one? Or at least one that looks like it?

We have the trilogy on DVD, not BluRay, but the resolution was still high enough that we could still see Paul Freeman (Indy's rival, Belloq) being a total professional during the scene where he convinces Dr. Jones that he won't blow up the ark, while completely ignoring a fly that crawls right onto his lip, if not fully into his mouth.

One of my favourite things about the movie though, is the brilliant way it handles the disposition of the eponymous, infamous, potentially world-changing artifact. I remember how disappointed I was the first time I watched Raiders, seeing the Ark locked into an anonymous, stencilled crate and wheeled into a warehouse where, presumably, it is never seen again. Being a lot older and (hopefully) a little wiser, I find this resolution satisfying on both a dramatic and a political level.

Dramatically, it closes the file and ends the story without needing to explain why we never heard of the Ark being used to guide the allies to victory in WWII, and makes the tale just that much more believable. Despite the supernatural and fantastic elements of the climax, the warehouse permits us to keep believing that the story of Raiders might really have happened, maybe. We know it didn't, of course, but a little suspension of disbelief goes a long way with us nerds.

Politically, I had never previously considered the wisdom and potential bravery shown by the two unnamed army intelligence officers. More short-sighted or selfish men would have taken advantage of either the tremendous historical significance of 'their' find (hey, after all, they paid for it!) to advance their careers. Misguided patriotism could have led them to believe that the superweapon presented by the ark could not only keep their country safe from Hitler's predations, but make the then-isolationist U.S. a superpower a decade ahead of schedule.

Surely they had superiors asking what had happened to the subject of a search shared by Hitler; certainly some Senator on an oversight committee somewhere was thinking a university in his constituency deserved to host such a famous relic. Were either of these men Jewish? Or Catholic? Did they struggle over the decision to mothball such an artifact? As war engulfed Europe, did they second-guess themselves? After Poland? After France? Following Pearl Harbor?

In the end, it hardly matters; our sense of wonder will be beaten by our innate cynicism three falls out of four, and knowing how hard it can be for for an entrenched bureaucracy to find something it hasn't actively tried to misplace leaves us fairly confident that this artifact will never be seen again. The Ark is not just lost, now; it's been filed. And this is nothing but good news for the rest of the world. Honestly, who would you trust with such power? The state? The church?

No, we can rest easy in the imaginary world where all of this actually transpired; 1-2 wise gentlemen (or possibly their superiors, but I doubt it) took appropriate action and secured the Ark of the Covenant in a numbered but unnamed box, and what do they get for their troubles and foresight? They get labelled as "bureaucratic fools" by a mercenary academic.

I think they deserved better, don't you?

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Vintage Items of the Picture Butte Elks Hall

We spent this past weekend in Picture Butte, a town of 1700 about 20 minutes drive north of Lethbridge. It wasn't a random choice, as Audrey's family (her mother's side, specifically) have their annual Oldenburger Family Reunion there every Labour Day, and we returned after an eight-year hiatus.

The reunion itself was even more enjoyable than I expected, with much time spent catching up, playing games, and enjoying large breakfasts and larger potlucks in the spacious hall.

Audrey's Uncle Bert is a member of the Benevolent & Protective Order of Elks, Lodge #268, in Picture Butte, and has booked their hall for the foreseeable future. It is a tremendous venue for such an event, as it has not only a large basement hall and kitchen, but also a grassy fenced-in enclosure large enough for a half-dozen fifth-wheel trailers, a camperized van, and a handful of tents.

The local lodge was founded in 1936, and the current hall was built in the 1950s. A couple of items in the lower hall caught my eye, the first being the vintage shuffleboard table.

Given the number of small children about, it was probably just as well the pucks were stowed away, but I was still fascinated by the workings and typefaces of the scoreboard, as well as the coin box, designed to safely stow the dime needed for one game's worth of scoring.

The other neat feature is this old safe, set into the wall by the doors leading out into the compound.

Now, given the various events the Elks can end up being responsible for, it makes a certain amount of sense for them to have something secure for cash or other valuables, but this seemed a bit much, so I asked Bert about it.

It turns out the safe came from the local feed mill when It closed down in the 1950s. The mill owners were going to throw it out, but let the Elks take it for next to nothing. Judging from the Ford Garage monicker, it appears the B.P.O.E. may be the third owners, and likely the last.

"The tumblers are getting so worn down now," said Bert, "that you have to open it by feel."

"Like a safecracker?" I asked.

"Pretty much," he grinned. "There's only two or three guys who can actually open it now. I know the combination, but I can't open the thing."

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