Our Flustered Captain

What's that? A mighty gale from the south? Curses be! Why is it that every time a sea captain gets a moment to himself, there's always some damnable gale or other...steady as she goes, Mr. Mate. Bolster that standing rigging, Toulouse; clamp that spritsail, Jegger. All of you whelps mind the run and we'll get through this accursed cloud by letting her have her way with us.

Damnable gales. Just as I was sitting down to a mug of wine and a thrilling adventure by Mr. J.P. Arlington. Those books aren't easy to come by, in the ports along our course. Arlington having fallen by the wayside of mainstream literary popularity, i suppose, a damnable shame.

That is all men. Carry on.
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(Source: fullpaidjustice, via lessright)

What is Love?

Wouldn’t we all like to know? Well, one could start by looking here.

The Relic

Anybody who likes crappy sci-fi horror should check out “The Relic.” It’s very derivative, made in ‘96, kind of missed the boat for science-monster thrillers. It features more of the same kind of stuff that made “Jurassic Park” good, but with more gore, like “The Thing.”

My only problem is that it’s called “The Relic,” when the relic in question (a stone statue) has nothing directly to do with the plot. The plot is about the big rapidly evolving monster, of which the relic is a likeness, connected to Amazonian tribal folklore that can be explained through a convenient scientific theory.

Now, if the story was Lovecraftian in construction, there would be no scientific explanation. There would be a scientific effort to understand the creature’s existence, but that effort would fail, the folklore would remain frightening and mysterious, and that’s where the true epistemological horror comes in. Science is the act of groping in the dark. It stands to reason that not all we touch should be of unqualified benefit to our existence.

Beard Angst

What I think I look like:

What I really look like: