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"The moth stutters,
stares, voracious,
knots staying,
cloud, cloud.
Silhouette
of the cold,
bat,
tides,
relamps
pride,
cricket, cricket.
Night
lightnings,
fireworks
in a jar,
floods
its river
with an iris."
© 1999, George Mario Angel Quintero
From: Tentenelaire
Publisher: Editorial Párpado, Medellín, 2006
© Translation: 1999, George Mario Angel Quintero
Made for SWFactions on Eurobricks.
www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/180827-j...
Captured by pirates! While searching for the natives of Imynusoph, our trio are beset upon by the cavalier Colonel Corbett's callous rogues! The murderous pirates and their flamboyant leader drag our heroes to their camp, where intrigue abounds!
Clod blinked against the harsh light streaming in from above. His hands were shackled. It wasn’t the worst situation he’d been in, he thought. Then, to his surprise, his next thoughts were about his two companions. He hoped they were alright. It would be a million years before he’d admit it.
The sergeant called “Slyfoot” stood in the darkness a few feet away. He could feel the man watching him, disturbingly calm. Precise.
“Look at you,” he sneered. “A treasure hunter. Ha! I believed Klatoonians to be nothing but pirates and scum.”
It was a struggle to form words, but Clod couldn’t give up the opportunity for a zinger. “Look how the…tables have turned.”
He almost immediately regretted it. The droid administered a searing shock to his ribs that sent his limbs convulsing. His skin burned. He shouted, and for a moment, he panicked.
“Such wit. No more of that, I think,” he heard Slyfoot say. “You should put your words to better use, like securing a release for you and your companions. All you must do is tell me what it was you were searching for.”
“Fat chance—Augh!” Another shock. More horrible pain.
Slyfoot stepped into the light. He slowly shook his head.
“’Fat chance’, you say? On the contrary, Mr. Clod,” he said, and a smile crept onto his face. “I quite like my odds.”
“Tea or Caf, Professor?” offered Colonel Corbett, busying himself with a gleaming pot and an ion heater.
“O-Oh, tea, I suppose.”
The Colonel looked up at him, a pleasant expression on his face. “I see you appreciate my décor!”
Floon had been staring at some of the trophies scattered about; horns, hides, huge eggs, droid parts, scraps of clothing. Some from beasts, others from treasure hunters who’d come before.
“Why…yes! It’s very…eclectic. Er, thank you again for having me, Colonel.”
“Of course, of course! I must say, I’ve positively chuffed about you being here. An academy man! On Imynusoph! Chandrila, you say?”
“Er, yes. I had, er, tenure at the Chandrila Academy.”
“Ha! Chandrila! A professor from Chandrila makes my acquaintance here, of all places. Who would have thought it would happen? Certainly not me! I admit it! Please, make yourself comfortable, my questions are bound to be numerous.”
The Neimodian professor looked nervously around the tent. One of the pirates loitered at the door. Floon felt that he should do some great act of bravery, try to free Mr. Clod and Ms. Rigo, but he didn’t know where he would even start.
“Professor?”
The question shook Floon from his thoughts. “Oh, y-yes?”
Colonel Corbett smiled. “You don’t look very comfortable. Come, you’re in good company. I am a man of learning and intelligence myself.”
“Why, o-of course!” said Floon. Unable to muster a relaxed smile, he summoned a polite grimace.
The Colonel frowned. “Professor, I brought you here that we might engage in riveting conversation! Without conversation, I have no reason to bring you here rather than lock you up in our brig. Do you understand?”
Floon did, but he was not very good at staying calm when faced with threats. He knew all too well what the murderous pirates might do if the Colonel permitted. With a great amount of sweating and stuttering, he apologized. “I’m…m-most…s-sorry, Colonel. Most s-sorry. Let us…er…converse, s-shall we?”
“Very good, very good!” said the Colonel, settling in and looking at the professor expectantly. “Well then, let us get down to, as they say, brass tacks. I want to hear everything you know about the giant birds of Imynusoph! I expect I’ll be quite fascinated!”
“Er, yes…” mumbled Floon. “Quite.”
“Let go of me, you idiots!” Kitsa did her best to break her restraints through sheer will, but no dice. She settled for whacking one of her captors instead, sending him reeling with a broken nose. She couldn’t believe how lucky her aim was. And finally, something for her story!
“Let the Stud take care of her! I don’t want to get kicked again,” whined one of the pirates. The others parted, allowing the largest one, the one with the bandolier and the AT-AT driver helmet, to step towards her. He was enormous, at least 6’8”, and not what you’d call ‘lanky’. There was no chance she’d make a dent against this guy. He settled one giant hand on her shoulder, and he steered her away.
She muttered threats as they walked through the Imperial camp, shooting glances around to take in everything she was seeing. They had left the treeline onto an open savannah. The camp had clearly been an Imperial outpost, but now was all ramshackle and bolted together to keep out the wildlife. There was a junkyard of impounded vehicles that caught her attention. Most of them were scrap, but one airspeeder, red-and-white, looked intact. She took note of this for later.
She eyed the pirate. He was a muscular guy, that was for sure. Where was he taking her? A pit of gundarks, or an interrogation chamber?
Neither, it turned out. She was escorted to a quiet corner of the pirate camp, a breeze-blown tent with foliage breaking in overhead and enshrouding the space.
“You can stay here,” said the big pirate.
She scoffed. “What are you, good cop? And what’s this place, the torture waiting room?”
“It’s, well,” the pirate hesitated. “No, it’s just a tent. I had a wife when we came here. This used to be hers. Thought you’d like it more than a cage, but if I’m wrong…”
That was unexpected. She turned and sized him up suspiciously, but there wasn’t much to observe in the blank stare of the helmet’s facemask. “A wife, huh? What happened to her? Your pirate buddies shoot her?”
“You think they’d get past me? Nah, not in a million years,” he chuckled, but his tone turned somber. “No, one day she went out to get clean water, our purifier was broken, and one of the jungle beasts came out of the trees. She couldn’t get away fast enough. Her blaster misfired. That’s all it took.”
In a rare moment, Kitsa didn’t know what to say.
The pirate took a deep breath, then said, “So if you were thinking of running, I wouldn’t.”
“Sure,” she nodded, collecting herself. “Sorry about your wife. Thanks for the tent.”
“No problem,” said the pirate. He then stood there awkwardly for a moment, before asking, “So, uh, you, uh, some kind of reporter?”
Kitsa lit up. “I sure am, Galactic Gazette.”
The man swayed on his feet, coughing uncomfortably. “What’s, uh, what’s going on out there? In the galaxy? Rebels gone, yet? We heard we had another Death Star.”
Kitsa stared at the emotionless facemask for a moment. Of course, it made sense. When was the last time they would’ve heard any news?
Her story was really heating up.
She smiled and deflected the question. “What’s your name?”
“Deksen. They call me ‘the Stud’. What’s your name, uh, miss?”
“Kitsa Rigo,” she answered smartly. “What do you say about sitting for an interview with me, Deksen? In return, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
The pirate said nothing for a moment. He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. “I guess that’d be alright. We don’t exactly get much press on Imynusoph. I suppose you can tell the galaxy about our bravery.”
Kitsa sat on the medical bed, her pen poised. “So, Deksen, what’s it been like for you, out here?”
The pirate set his gun to the side and took a deep breath.
“Well…” he began.
Another shock, another burn, another stab. Harnaby Clod struggled in the interrogation gurney, his mouth full of spit. He couldn’t take much more of this. He felt like his mind was slipping through his fingers, jolted free by every prod from the droid. Karfing droid. He’d smash that droid to bits if he ever got out of this.
Another stab of a needle. His vision swam. He’d get out of this, right? Could he?
“Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what you know,” Slyfoot said, walking around him. “I’d love to see you dead, believe me. Who will remember you if you’re gone? Some dog-faced lunatic on the edge of the galaxy, no one important. No accomplishments, no fealty, nothing of note. Another dead alien.”
“You…don’t…know…mersh.”
“Hm, perhaps. But tell me…am I wrong, Mr. Clod?”
The dark room blinked in and out of existence before Clod’s eyes. He felt his tongue go limp. His heart felt like it was drying up.
The sergeant watched him, smiling cruelly. “Alright, I’ll get it out of the Neimodian, then. Good bye, Mr.-“
“Waitsh, waitsh!” Clod gasped. “Ah’ll tell yoush…”
Slyfoot brightened. “Indeed, Mr. Clod? If you tell me, as I’ve said, this can all end.”
He couldn’t do this anymore. What was he thinking?
He wasn’t. Anything to stop this. Karf this place.
“Ah’ll…ah’ll…tell yoush anything…” he wheezed.
Slyfoot straightened his cap. “Very good, Mr. Clod. Go on then.” He leaned in, until his face dominated Clod’s view. Slyfoot tried to manage his own expectations, but he couldn’t suppress his excitement. He looked down at the drooling Klatoonian.
“Mr. Clod,” he said. “Is the treasure…real?”
“Wow!” muttered Kitsa, scribbling in her notebook.
“That’s just how it is out here. It’s made the other pirates what they are. It’s made me…” he shrugged. “Changed.”
“That’s really…tough! I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer through this place.”
“Hm, I’ve been lucky…I think. But what about you, Ms. Rigo?” asked the pirate called Deksen.
“M-Me?”
He leaned in attentively. “How does a woman such as you find yourself in a place like this?”
Even with the facemask in the way, Rigo felt his gaze on her face. She frowned.
“Well, I work for the Gazette.”
He tilted his head. “Because you wish to tell stories?”
“Because I want to…” she paused before answering. “I want to make others see the truth.”
Deksen nodded slowly. He was impressed by the honesty of her answer. “Will you tell me more?”
In a strange moment, the both of them felt the softening in their spirits take its full course, and they entirely let down their guards. Kitsa avoided his gaze, but launched into a treatise on how it was she ended up here, the absurdity of the situation, and how she hoped she might get something out of it anyway because while she was here there was no one investigating the Ubrikkian corporation and something had to be done soon because those poor Duros in the factories had no one standing up for them, and if no one else was going to take Ubrikkian to task, she sure as shaft would.
Deksen listened quietly, occasionally asking questions or affirming how Kitsa felt. Eventually she had completed her story. She took a deep breath, which she had expended whilst going on about her passions.
Deksen folded his hands. “Your spirit…moves me.”
“Oh!” said Kitsa, not sure how to respond. She felt her cheeks burn, and said quietly, “Thanks for listening.”
“And thank you for talking.”
She laughed. “You’d be a much better editor than the one I’ve got. Getting him to listen is a full time job.”
A breeze blew through the tent, carrying the sounds of harsh laughter from where the other pirates were getting into the brew. Far off, Kitsa heard a howl of pain that made her skin crawl and her mind turn towards her lost companions.
After a moment of silence, she looked into Deksen’s facemask. It was a risk, could she trust an ex-stormtrooper-turned-pirate? Strangely, she felt that she could trust him more than almost anyone she’d met. This disturbed her in a profound way, but she didn’t have time to dwell on her emotions. She had to take action.
“Deksen, I need to get out of here.”
“Yes, you do.” His shoulders slumped as he prepared himself for the choice he was making. His life would never be the same after this. “And yes, before you ask; I will help you.”
Kitsa sighed with relief, but there was no time to waste. They had to get down to business. “Alright, here’s what I was thinking. Tell me if it makes sense…”
“Spiritual creatures, you say?”
Colonel Corbett stroked his moustache, listening to what Professor Floon had to say with a most attentive mind.
“Well, y-yes. Regarded as spiritual creatures by…” Floon kept himself from revealing the natives at only the last moment. “…by all who visit this planet, I’ve heard.”
It was all Floon could do to keep the existence of the native tribes a secret. Apparently these pirates had no clue they might still be around.
“Fascinating! And you say the wingspan…”
The words tumbled out of Floon like a brook. His trepidation could not dampen his excitement. “No one has seen it in millennia, but I do not lie when I say,” he leaned in, saying conspiratorially, “it is said to be three men across!”
Corbett rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Incredible! Simply incredible. Say, Professor, I know you count yourself among the squeamish, but do you suppose that shooting down a bird of spiritual importance grants a hunter more, how do you say, ‘bragging rights’?”
Floon raised an eyeridge and stared. “Are…are you…joking, sir?”
“I assure you, I am not!” said Corbett, jabbing the desk with his finger. “A hunter such as myself has precious little time for jokes, what with so much glory left unobtained. You’re the closest thing in the galaxy to an expert, Professor. Do you believe killing such a creature would grant me more glory?”
Floon watched the officer nervously. His eyes were eager, his face covered in sweat. The heat was dull and damp in the shade of the tent, the kind of environment Floon had been born into. Very much a comfort zone.
The professor summoned up all his courage, swelling up his chest in rather an alarming way. Corbett’s eyes widened.
“No!” squeaked Floon.
Corbett was puzzled. “…’No’?”
“No!” Floon stood his ground. “How can you talk of killing a creature such as this? For all your talk about appreciating great beasts, you end their magnificent lives with such…relish!” He licked his lipless mouth, his words sputtering and cracking as adrenaline shot through him. He’d never confronted anyone in his life. Certainly not anyone who was willing to kill him. “I don’t mind saying that it is…despicable! Yes, despicable!”
Colonel Corbett, who had initially been very surprised, now furrowed his brow. When he spoke, his tone was dark. “Professor…I’m not used to being talked to in such a-”
“Indeed, indeed!” squawked Floon, suddenly desperate to turn his situation around. “But nor are you used to talking to your intellectual equal, as you have said! This is true, yes?”
Corbett considered it. “Yes, it is true,” he admitted.
“Then please, hear my words, as another man of learning! These creatures are not for killing, they are for studying! For conserving! For…loving! Please, take my offer of friendship and understand I mean you no ill will. I only wish to see a force such as yourself used for…better things!”
Colonel Corbett looked bothered. He had never thought of it in such terms before. Professor Floon breathed heavily, waiting in silence, heart hammering, hoping for a reaction that spared his life.
Finally, the Colonel’s expression softened, and he began to speak. “Professor, I—“
“Colonel Corbett!” came a voice from the tent’s opening. Floon, uncharacteristically, cursed in his head. His heart sank.
“How dare you interrupt me? I said, very clearly I thought, that no one was to interrupt!”
The pirate at the opening was the huge, shirtless one, with the AT-AT driver’s helmet. “But it’s the others, sir, they’ve broken out!”
The moment had passed, Corbett’s mind was on other things. He grabbed his cap and marched towards the entrance. “Well then! Wait here with the Professor, we must hunt them down!”
Corbett marched toward the tent flap, where he was promptly whacked in the head with a blaster handle, and fell flat on his back. He lay there, hair mussed, tongue out, and unconscious.
“Oh my goodness!” cried Floon.
“Quiet, Professor! It’s just me, Kitsa. Ms. Rigo.”
Indeed it was. The reporter came ducking in, blaster in hand. The large pirate stood guard while she knelt down to rummage in Corbett’s holster.
“What-what is going on? Who is this abnormally large man at the door?” asked Floon, who’s voice dropped to an anxious whisper as he added, “Is he not one of the pirates?”
Kitsa pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Huh? Oh, that’s Deksen,” she explained simply. “He’s gonna help us escape.”
The pirate named Deksen raised a hand in casual greeting.
“O-Oh, how do you do?” Floon replied weakly, and he tipped his hat on instinct. “You are…very big!”
“I get that a lot,” came Deksen’s reply, filtered through his helmet.
“He is, isn’t he?” Kitsa grinned.
“Y-Yes—hold on; escape, you said?” squeaked Floon, who’s brain was beginning to catch up at last.
“Yes, escape,” she repeated firmly, looking him in the eye. “But we have to go now, understand? Otherwise we’ll die?”
Floon withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed at his face. “O-Oh, my. This is all rather a lot. And so sudden…”
“Yes, it is. We still have to save Clod, against my better judgement.”
“S-Save…Clod, you say?” said Floon, wilting with every word, and very close to fainting.
Kitsa smiled wryly and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, Professor,” she said, and she handed him the Colonel’s blaster before turning to leave. Deksen made to follow her.
Floon went after them, but before reaching the tent’s exit he spun around awkwardly to address his host.
“I’m…very sorry for all this,” he said to Corbett’s unconscious body. “It really w-was lovely meeting you.”
Floon felt it was polite for one to wait to be excused, but Corbett did not reply.
Thus, with a great deal of stumbling and nervous mumbling, the professor hurried to catch up with the others.
“And the natives,” said Slyfoot with relish. “You said you’ve met them before, is that true?”
“Yesh,” spat Clod. He eyed the interrogation droid floating a foot away, its red receptor blinking, prod extended towards him.
“Then you could lead us to them. You will lead me to them.”
“Didn’t you hear a word I said? They found me the first time. I don’t know how to find them now!”
Slyfoot waved a hand dismissively. “Well, no matter. They asked you to return, I’m sure they’ll show up to you soon.”
Clod wished he could wipe his mouth where he’d drooled after one of the many electroshocks. It was starting to chape. “…Thought you…were gonna let us go?” he groaned.
Slyfoot laughed. “Really? You did? I didn’t take you for a fool. No, Mr. Clod. You’ll stay in this luxury for many days to com--I said I wanted no interruptions!”
Light had flooded the room from the now-open door. He heard a blaster go off, and a red bolt smashed into the interrogation droid, knocking it to the ground.
“Pardon me!” said Professor Floon, turning the gun on Slyfoot. The pirate sergeant raised his hands in surrender. “I nearly forgot something on my way out!”
“P-professor?” slurred Clod, craning his neck to see. “I can’t believe it.”
“That’s right, it’s me! I’ve come to rescue you, Mr. Clod.”
Clod groaned with relief. He hadn’t expected this in a million years. “You gotta get me out of here, doc.”
“Indeed!” said the Professor, who prodded Slyfoot with his pistol until he gave up the key to the bindings.
“Nice entry."
Floon seemed pleased. “Thank you! I am honored by the compliment, especially from someone as…daring-do as yourself! I practiced on the way here.”
“It paid off. Now…” he stretched and groaned his weary, burnt muscles. Then he turned towards Slyfoot, who held to his dignity even while fear seeped in the cracks. Weakened though he was, the Klatoonian was dangerous. He proved this to Slyfoot by knocking him to the floor with a right hook.
“Jerk. Wish I had more time.”
“We really must go, Rigo is waiting! She found a way out!”
Clod looked at the Professor and raised an eyebrow. “You already saved her?”
“Saved her?” replied the professor, leading him into the daylight. “Why, it was her who saved me!”
“You’re kidding!”
“I am not kidding, Mr. Clod! I assure you, I am entirely serious!”
They caught up with Kitsa and Deksen at the camp’s boneyard, where ship and vehicle carcasses formed a monument to the pirates’ past conquests.
“He’s fine,” said Kitsa, in response to the alarmed look on Clod’s face. “His name is Deksen, he’s helping us.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Deksen, voice filtered through his helmet.
“Sure, sure. A pleasure,” muttered Clod. “Listen, I told that creepy imp about the natives.”
Kitsa and Floon looked at him with dismay.
“It wasn’t exactly by choice,” grumbled Clod, but he avoided their gaze. “I’m betting they didn’t torture either of you.”
They answered by way of silence.
“Of course not,” he grunted. “Who else here has a face like a Corellian hound?”
“Ahem...I cannot imagine what you went through in that little room, so I cannot blame you for anything you’ve done,” said Floon seriously. “Besides…I let slip quite a lot about the wildlife to the Colonel, and I was under no compulsion besides a foolish enthusiasm for my subject! Oh, how moronic of me. I’m far worse than you, Mr. Clod. Fear no condemnation from us.”
Clod looked at him with something approaching humility and gratitude.
“I didn’t tell anyone anything,” said Kitsa. “Except about myself.”
“Their knowledge simply means we must make greater haste to find the natives first. And with the skills and talents of us three, I find our chances encouraging!”
Kitsa gestured to their soon-to-be-stolen ride. “Especially with this thing.”
Clod hurried forward to look at what she’d found. Underneath a tarp sat a small, aged red-and-white craft. Barely enough space for two people. “What is this, an Incom? Tiny, isn’t it?”
“Who cares who built it?” she replied shortly. “It’s an Airspeeder. Deksen says it’ll still fly.”
Deksen shrugged. “We use it for scout missions.
“Wait," Clod frowned. "We can’t leave yet.”
Kitsa threw up her hands. “Why not?”
“Hat."
“Oh, for karf’s sake--I got your hat, here. Can’t believe you’d get us killed over your hat.”
“My hat! You’re alright, Rigo.”
Deksen cleared his throat. “You three should climb in, you don’t have a lot of time.”
They threw their things in the speeder. Clod clambered into the pilot’s seat and brushed some crumbs off the controls. He checked various switches and toggles with an air of familiarity. Floon crammed himself into the back.
Kitsa was last to get in. She turned and threw herself at Deksen, hugging him awkwardly. She didn’t hug many people. Were you supposed to do it so forcefully? Fortunately, Deksen didn't seem to mind. He folded her gently in his massive arms.
“Thank you. I wish you could come with us.”
His tone carried a smile she couldn’t see through his facemask.
“It was good to meet you. I’ll see you again.”
“And you’ll be okay? The other pirates won’t…”
He put a calming hand on her shoulder. “You think they could?”
“Miss Rigo!” called the professor from the speeder. “I’m quite nervous waiting in here! I wouldn’t say anything, except that my muttering has made Mr. Clod angry.”
The two shared a chuckle. Kitsa smiled sadly and let go of him. She clambered into the airspeeder with the others, where she discovered it was a much tighter fit than she’d expected. Once she’d negotiated space with Floon, she leaned against the window and gave Deksen a final wave.
The pirate waved back.
“Whoof. He’s ripped, huh?” she said wistfully.
“Ripped?” Floon squeaked. “I’d say his shirt is beyond ripped, madam! There’s hardly a shirt there at all!”
The speeder was humming to life, the way any vehicle does that’s taken some battering. A warm, clanky kind of hum.
“Alright,” said Clod from the front. “Off to find the natives?”
“Before the pirates do!” said Kitsa.
“Oh my! A race against pirates, for the good of knowledge and sentient life!” flushed Floon. “It’s all rather exciting, isn’t it?”
In case of technical problems (movies on flickr tend to stutter), just find a better copy at youtube.com - I'm dmaclego there as well.
About the mechanized Panther: it works but I would say the Tiger was a little better, for several reasons. First of all, front wheels drive may be a good idea in a real tank but not here. Secondly, front wheels in my Panther tend to slide, since they work outside of the tracks' grooves. The turret is another story - I had to restore the extra layer of plates, a sort of turntable, to reduce friction. The barrel, filled with metal axles, is quite heavy and only one stud connects the turret to the micromotor, so obviously it's not the toughest connection....
But still - as you can see, it works :) .
Edit: I have no idea why, but the movie was clipped by flickr. Youtube version is slightly longer.
I hadn't lowered the resolution before recording the video for this, so the low framerate and stuttering caused some issues.
* GMC CCKW Maintenance/Recovery Truck
* GMC CCKW Dump Truck with M2A1 105mm Howitzer (latter reverse-engineered from Brickmania)
Read the write-up on The Brothers Brick.
Girl kept padlocked in leg braces as part of a psychology experiment - by Angela Fox, inspired by a tale written by Garth Toyntanen (INSTITUTIONALISED volume 3) toyntanen.blogspot.co.uk/ note the padlocks used to secure the leg braces and the card marked "stutterer" hanging around the girl's neck.
Here psychological pressure is going to be applied in an attempt to deliberately induce stammering as part of a residential experimental psychology study the poor thing has been fooled into volunteering for. In the background can be seen a spiral device used for hypnotherapy by the psychologist in charge.
More of Angela Fox's artwork can be found on Garth Toyntanen's website beyondthebarredwindow.weebly.com/ and her books on LULU, for example www.lulu.com/shop/angela-fox/the-wardress/ebook/product-2...
British postcard in the Colourgraph Series, London, no. C 248. Photo: Paramount. Henry Wilcoxon in The Crusades (Cecil B. DeMille, 1935).
British actor Henry Wilcoxon (1905-1984) was best known as a leading man in Cleopatra (1934) and many others of Cecil B. DeMille's films. He also served as DeMille's associate producer on his later films.
Harry Frederick Wilcoxon was born on 8 September 1905 in Roseau, Dominica, British West Indies. His father was English-born Robert Stanley 'Tan' Wilcoxon, manager of the Colonial Bank in Jamaica and his mother, Lurline Mignonette Nunes, was a Jamaican amateur theatre actress, the descendant of a wealthy Spanish merchant family. His older brother was Robert 'Owen' Wilcoxon. Henry had a difficult childhood. His mother disappeared suddenly and mysteriously when he was about a year old, and his father took him and Owen to England with the intention that his own mother Ann would take care of them. But, because his mother was too frail to care for the children, they were first sent to a foster home, where they became ill from malnutrition and neglect and they were moved on to an orphanage. There, Harry suffered from rickets, and Owen developed a stutter and had epileptic fits. They were rescued from the orphanage to a new foster home. After several years Harry's father 'Tan', with his new wife Rosamond took the children home with them to Bridgetown, Barbados, where they were educated. Harry and Owen became known as 'Biff' and 'Bang' due to their fighting skills gained in amateur boxing. After completing his education, Wilcoxon was employed by Joseph Rank, the father of J. Arthur Rank, before working for Bond Street tailors Pope and Bradshaw. While working for the tailors, Wilcoxon applied for a visa to work as a chauffeur in the United States, but upon seeing his application refused, turned to boxing and then to acting. His first stage performance was a supporting role in an adaptation of the novel The 100th Chance, by Ethel M. Dell, in 1927 at Blackpool. He joined the Birmingham Repertory Theatre the next year and toured for several years. He found critical success playing Captain Cook in a production of Rudolph Besier's The Barretts of Wimpole Street at the London Queen's Theatre alongside Cedric Hardwicke. In 1932, He played at the Queen's Theatre in Sir Barry Jackson's production of Beverley Nichols' novel Evensong alongside Edith Evans.
In 1931, Harry Wilcoxon made his screen debut as Larry Tindale in The Perfect Lady (Frederick J. Jackson, Milton Rosmer, 1931), followed by a role opposite Heather Angel in Self Made Lady (George King, 1932), alongside Louis Hayward. In 1932, he appeared in The Flying Squad (F.W. Kraemer, 1932), a sound remake of a 1929 silent film based on the novel by Edgar Wallace. Altogether he made eight films in Britain till 1934. In 1933, a talent scout for Paramount Pictures arranged a screen test which came to the attention of producer-director Cecil B. DeMille in Hollywood. He cast Wilcoxon as Marc Anthony in Cleopatra (Cecil B. DeMille, 1934) opposite Claudette Colbert as the man-hungry Queen of Egypt. Harry was renamed by DeMille for the role and from then on he was Henry Wilcoxon. He was next given the lead role of Richard the Lionhearted in DeMille's big-budget spectacle The Crusades (Cecil B. De Mille, 1935) opposite Loretta Young. That film, however, was a financial failure, losing more than $700,000. After the lack of success of The Crusades, Wilcoxon's career stalled. He starred in a number of B-films, like The President's Mystery (Phil Rosen, 1936) and Prison Nurse (James Cruze, 1938) for Republic Pictures, and he portrayed the supporting role of Maj. Duncan Heyward in the commercially successful Last of the Mohicans (George B. Seitz, 1936) starring Randolph Scott. Wilcoxon himself called 'his worst acting job' Mysterious Mr. Moto (Norman Foster, 1938) featuring Peter Lorre. That year, he also played in If I Were King (Frank Lloyd, 1938) with Ronald Colman, and featured in Five of a Kind (Herbert I. Leeds, 1938) with the Dionne quintuplets. In Great Britain, Wilcoxon appeared as Captain Hardy in Lady Hamilton (Alexander Korda, 1941), alongside Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh. When America entered World War II in December 1941, Wilcoxon enlisted in the United States Coast Guard. He served with the Coast Guard until 1946, gaining the rank of Lieutenant. During his period of service, he had three films released in 1942, among them Mrs. Miniver (William Wyler, 1942), which received considerable public acclaim, as well as six Academy Awards. Wilcoxon, in his role as the vicar, re-wrote the key sermon with director Wyler. The speech made such an impact that it was used in essence by President Roosevelt as a morale builder. Upon his return from war service, Wilcoxon picked up with Cecil B. DeMille in Unconquered (Cecil B. DeMille, 1947), starring Gary Cooper. After starring as Sir Lancelot in the musical version of Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (Tay Garnett, 1949) with Bing Crosby in the title role, he featured in DeMille's Samson and Delilah (Cecil B. DeMille, 1949). Wilcoxon returned to England to feature in The Miniver Story (H.C. Potter, 1950), a sequel to the multi-Oscar-winning Mrs. Miniver (1942) in which he reprised his role as the vicar opposite Greer Garson. In the late 1940s, young actors and actresses came to Wilcoxon and his wife Joan Woodbury and asked them to form a play-reading group which in 1951 became the Wilcoxon Players.
Henry Wilcoxon played a small but important part as FBI Agent Gregory in DeMille's The Greatest Show on Earth (Cecil B. DeMille, 1952), on which he also served as Associate Producer. The film won the Academy Award for Best Picture in 1952. He also acted as associate producer on and acted as Pentaur, the pharaoh's captain of the guards in DeMille's remake of his own The Ten Commandments (Cecil B. DeMille, 1956). Wilcoxon was the sole producer on The Buccaneer (Anthony Quinn, 1958), a remake of DeMille's 1938 effort, which DeMille only supervised due to his declining health while his then-son-in-law Anthony Quinn directed. After DeMille died, Wilcoxon worked on a film based on the life of Lord Baden-Powell, founder of the Boy Scout movement, which DeMille had left unrealised, and was also ultimately abandoned. After a relatively inactive period, Wilcoxon appeared with Charlton Heston in The War Lord (Franklin Schaffner, 1965). He was co-producer on the TV tribute The World's Greatest Showman: The Legend of Cecil B. DeMille (1963). At the opening of the DeMille Theatre in New York, he produced another short film. In the last two decades of his life, he worked sporadically and accepted minor acting roles in TV shows including The Big Valley (1965), I Spy (1966), It Takes a Thief (1968), Gunsmoke (1970), Lassie (1973), Cagney & Lacey (1982), and Private Benjamin (1982). He also appeared in a few films, including F.I.S.T (Norman Jewison, 1978), starring Sylvester Stallone. He also had a memorable turn as the golf-obsessed Bishop Pickering, struck by lightning, in the slapstick comedy Caddyshack (Harold Ramis, 1980) with Bill Murray as his caddy. His final film was Sweet Sixteen - Blutiges Inferno (Jim Sotos, 1983). By loaning money from his early film acting, Wilcoxon assisted his brother Owen to establish himself in 1931 as a partner in the Vale Motor Company in London, and for a short time, he showed a personal interest in the development of their sports car, the Vale Special. At that time his girlfriend was a London-based American stage actress Carol Goodner. Wilcoxon married 19-year-old actress Sheila Garrett in 1936, but they divorced a year later. In 1938 he married his second wife, 23-year-old actress Joan Woodbury. They had three daughters: Wendy Joan Robert Wilcoxon (born 1939), Heather Ann Wilcoxon (1947) and Cecilia Dawn 'CiCi' Wilcoxon (1950). The couple divorced in 1969. Henry Wilcoxon passed away in 1984 in Los Angeles. He was 78 years old and had been ill with cancer.
Sources: The New York Times, The Scott Rollins Film and TV Trivia Blog, Wikipedia and IMDb.
And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.
Great Horned Owls are nocturnal. You may see them at dusk sitting on fence posts or tree limbs at the edges of open areas, or flying across roads or fields with stiff, deep beats of their rounded wings. Their call is a deep, stuttering series of four to five hoots.
Family Gathering - #AlleyBoys - Teddy, Diamond, Victor, Radical, Stutters, and Bruce #GritStreet #Chicago
This is part of my "Ancient Cult" series.
On a moonless night, in a black and nameless dungeon, a solitary candle holds back the reeking abyss by the pallor of its stuttering flame, and the Cult summons its old gods once more into this world.
Gear used: Olympus E-600 mounted with an M Zuiko ED 14-42mm lens, Olympus OM-D E-M5 mounted with an M Zuiko 45mm/f1.8 lens, and all editing, assembly, and post-production work carried out in GIMP.
Ya, I’m like a supahero when it comes to lovin’
Ya, I pack a punch back it up Batman and Robin
U stutter ‘n stutter,
‘N stu, stu, stu, stutterin’
I can’t the sound comin’ outta ur mumblin’
Gunnin’, we’ve just begannin’
We’re young and I’ll tell ya somethin’
Imma bad bitch chick outta Marvel flick
Watch me as I as I ninja back side flip it
Vintage playing card.
British actor Boris Karloff (1887-1969) is one of the true icons of the Horror cinema. He portrayed Frankenstein's monster in Frankenstein (1931), Bride of Frankenstein (1935), and Son of Frankenstein (1939), which resulted in his immense popularity. In the following decades he worked in countless Horror films, but also in other genres, both in Europe and Hollywood.
Boris Karloff was born as William Henry Pratt in 1887 in London, England. Pratt himself stated that he was born in Dulwich, which is nearby in London. His parents were Edward John Pratt, Jr. and his third wife Eliza Sarah Millard. ‘Billy’never knew his father. Edward Pratt had worked for the Indian Salt Revenue Service, and had virtually abandoned his family in far off England. Edward died when his son was still an infant and so Billy was raised by his mother. He was the youngest of nine children, and following his mother's death was brought up by his elder brothers and sisters. As a child, Billy performed each Christmas in plays staged by St. Mary Magdalene's Church. His first role was that of The Demon King in the pantomime Cinderella. Billy was bow-legged, had a lisp, and stuttered. He conquered his stutter, but not his lisp, which was noticeable throughout his career in the film industry. After his education at private schools, he attended King's College London where he took studies aimed at a career with the British Government's Consular Service. However, in 1909, the 22-years-old left university without graduating and sailed from Liverpool to Canada, where he worked as a farm labourer and did various odd itinerant jobs. In Canada, he began appearing in theatrical performances, and chose the stage name Boris Karloff. Later, he claimed he chose ‘Boris’ because it sounded foreign and exotic, and that ‘Karloff’ was a family name. However, his daughter Sara Karloff publicly denied any knowledge of Slavic forebears, Karloff or otherwise. One reason for the name change was to prevent embarrassment to his family. He did not reunite with his family until he returned to Britain to make The Ghoul (T. Hayes Hunter, 1933), opposite Cedric Hardwicke. Karloff was extremely worried that his family would disapprove of his new, macabre claim to world fame. Instead, his brothers jostled for position around him and happily posed for publicity photographs. In 1911, Karloff joined the Jeanne Russell Company and later joined the Harry St. Clair Co. that performed in Minot, North Dakota, for a year in an opera house above a hardware store. Whilst he was trying to establish his acting career, Karloff had to perform years of difficult manual labour in Canada and the U.S. in order to make ends meet. He was left with back problems from which he suffered for the rest of his life. In 1917, he arrived in Hollywood, where he went on to make dozens of silent films. Some of his first roles were in film serials, such as The Masked Rider (Aubrey M. Kennedy, 1919), in Chapter 2 of which he can be glimpsed onscreen for the first time, and The Hope Diamond Mystery (Stuart Paton, 1920). In these early roles, he was often cast as an exotic Arabian or Indian villain. Other silent films were The Deadlier Sex (Robert Thornby, 1920) with Blanche Sweet, Omar the Tentmaker (James Young, 1922), Dynamite Dan (Bruce Mitchell, 1924) and Tarzan and the Golden Lion (J.P. McGowan, 1927) in which James Pierce played Tarzan. In 1926 Karloff found a provocative role in The Bells (James Young, 1926), in which he played a sinister hypnotist opposite Lionel Barrymore. He worked with Barrymore again in his first sound film, the thriller The Unholy Night (Lionel Barrymore, 1929).
A key film which brought Boris Karloff recognition was The Criminal Code (Howard Hawks, 1931), a prison drama in which he reprised a dramatic part he had played on stage. With his characteristic short-cropped hair and menacing features, Karloff was a frightening sight to behold. Opposite Edward G. Robinson, Karloff played a key supporting part as an unethical newspaper reporter in Five Star Final (Mervyn LeRoy, 1931), a film about tabloid journalism which was nominated for the Oscar for Best Picture. Karloff's role as Frankenstein's monster in Frankenstein (James Whale, 1931), based on the classic Mary Shelley book, propelled him to stardom. Wikipedia: “The bulky costume with four-inch platform boots made it an arduous role but the costume and extensive makeup produced the classic image. The costume was a job in itself for Karloff with the shoes weighing 11 pounds (5 kg) each.” The aura of mystery surrounding Karloff was highlighted in the opening credits, as he was listed as simply "?." The film was a commercial and critical success for Universal, and Karloff was instantly established as a hot property in Hollywood. Universal Studios was quick to acquire ownership of the copyright to the makeup format for the Frankenstein monster that Jack P. Pierce had designed. A year later, Karloff played another iconic character, Imhotep in The Mummy (Karl Freund, 1932). The Old Dark House (James Whale, 1932) with Charles Laughton, and the starring role in MGM’s The Mask of Fu Manchu (Charles Brabin, 1932) quickly followed. Steve Vertlieb at The Thunder Child: “Wonderfully kinky, the film co-starred young Myrna Loy as the intoxicating, yet sadistic Fah Lo See, Fu Manchu's sexually perverse daughter. Filmed prior to Hollywood's infamous production code, the film joyously escaped the later scrutiny of The Hayes Office, and remains a fascinating example of pre-code extravagance.” These films all confirmed Karloff's new-found stardom. Horror had become his primary genre, and he gave a string of lauded performances in 1930s Universal Horror films. Karloff reprised the role of Frankenstein's monster in two other films, the sensational Bride of Frankenstein (James Whale, 1935) and the less thrilling Son of Frankenstein (Rowland V. Lee, 1939), the latter also featuring Bela Lugosi. Steve Vertlieb about Bride oif Frankenstein: “Whale delivered perhaps the greatest horror film of the decade and easily the most critically acclaimed rendition of Mary Shelley's novel ever released. The Bride of Frankenstein remains a work of sheer genius, a brilliantly conceived and realized take on loneliness, vanity, and madness. The cast of British character actors is simply superb.” While the long, creative partnership between Karloff and Lugosi never led to a close friendship, it produced some of the actors' most revered and enduring productions, beginning with The Black Cat (Edgar G. Ullmer, 1934). Follow-ups included The Raven (Lew Landers, 1935), the rarely seen, imaginative science fiction melodrama The Invisible Ray (Lambert Hillyer, 1936), and The Body Snatcher (Robert Wise, 1945). Karloff played a wide variety of roles in other genres besides Horror. He was memorably gunned down in a bowling alley in Howard Hawks' classic Scarface (1932) starring Paul Muni.. He played a religious First World War soldier in John Ford’s epic The Lost Patrol (1934) opposite Victor McLaglen. Between 1938 and 1940, Karloff starred in five films for Monogram Pictures, including Mr. Wong, Detective (William Nigh, 1938). During this period, he also starred with Basil Rathbone in Tower of London (Rowland V. Lee, 1939) as the murderous henchman of King Richard III, and with Margaret Lindsay in British Intelligence (Terry O. Morse, 1940). In 1944, he underwent a spinal operation to relieve his chronic arthritic condition.
Boris Karloff revisited the Frankenstein mythos in several later films, taking the starring role of the villainous Dr. Niemann in House of Frankenstein (Erle C. Kenton, 1944), in which the monster was played by Glenn Strange. He reprised the role of the ‘mad scientist’ in Frankenstein 1970 (Howard W. Koch, 1958) as Baron Victor von Frankenstein II, the grandson of the original creator. The finale reveals that the crippled Baron has given his own face (i.e., Karloff's) to the monster. From 1945 to 1946, Boris Karloff appeared in three films for RKO produced by Val Lewton: Isle of the Dead (Mark Robson, 1945), The Body Snatcher (Robert Wise, 1945), and Bedlam (Mark Robson, 1946). Karloff had left Universal because he thought the Frankenstein franchise had run its course. Karloff was a frequent guest on radio programs. In 1949, he was the host and star of the radio and television anthology series Starring Boris Karloff. In 1950, he had his own weekly children's radio show in New York. He played children's music and told stories and riddles, and attracted many adult listeners as well. An enthusiastic performer, he returned to the Broadway stage in the original production of Arsenic and Old Lace (1941), in which he played a homicidal gangster enraged to be frequently mistaken for Karloff. In 1962, he reprised the role on television with Tony Randall and Tom Bosley. He also appeared as Captain Hook in the play Peter Pan with Jean Arthur. In 1955, he returned to the Broadway stage to portray the sympathetic Bishop Cauchon in Jean Anouilh's The Lark. Karloff regarded the production as the highlight of his long career. Julie Harris was his co-star as Joan of Arc in the celebrated play, recreated for live television in 1957 with Karloff, Harris and much of the original New York company intact. For his role, Karloff was nominated for a Tony Award. Karloff donned the monster make-up for the last time for a Halloween episode of the TV series Route 66 (1962), which also featured Peter Lorre and Lon Chaney, Jr. In the 1960s, Karloff appeared in several films for American International Pictures, including The Comedy of Terrors (Jacques Tourneur, 1963) with Vincent Price and Peter Lorre, The Raven (Roger Corman, 1963), The Terror (Roger Corman, 1963) with Jack Nicholson, and Die, Monster, Die! (Daniel Haller, 1965). Another project for American International release was the frightening Italian horror classic, I tre volti della paura/Black Sabbath (Mario Bava, 1963), in which Karloff played a vampire with bone chilling intensity. He also starred in British cult director Michael Reeves's second feature film, The Sorcerers (1966). He gained new popularity among a young generation when he narrated the animated TV film Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas (Chuck Jones, Ben Washam. 1966), and provided the voice of the Grinch. Karloff later received a Grammy Award for Best Recording For Children after the story was released as a record. Then he starred as a retired horror film actor in Targets (Peter Bogdanovich, 1968), Steve Vertlieb: “Targets was a profoundly disturbing study of a young sniper holding a small Midwestern community, deep in the bible belt, terrifyingly at bay. The celebrated subplot concerned the philosophical dilemma of creating fanciful horrors on the screen, while graphic, troubling reality was eclipsing the superficiality so tiredly repeated by Hollywood. Karloff co-starred, essentially as himself, an aged horror star named Byron Orlok, who wants simply to retire from the imagined horrors of a faded genre, only to come shockingly to grips with the depravity and genuine terror found on America's streets. Bogdanovich's first film as a director won praise from critics and audiences throughout the world community, and won its elder star the best, most respectful notices of his later career.”. In 1968, he played occult expert Professor Marsh in the British production Curse of the Crimson Altar (Vernon Sewell, 1968), which was the last Karloff film to be released during his lifetime. He ended his career by appearing in four low-budget Mexican horror films, which were released posthumously. While shooting his final films, Karloff suffered from emphysema. Only half of one lung was still functioning and he required oxygen between takes. he contracted bronchitis in 1968 and was hospitalized. Early 1969, he died of pneumonia at the King Edward VII Hospital, Midhurst, in Sussex, at the age of 81. Boris Karloff married five times and had one child, daughter Sara Karloff, by his fourth wife.
Sources: Steve Vertlieb (The Thunder Child), Wikipedia, and IMDb.
There were Mods and Rockers , Punks and Skins
And the guy who sang Elvis as he emptied our bin
Outside City Hall on a Saturday they`d congregate
Abusing each other with words of anger and hate
The council wanted them moved on from outside their gates
But the police in those days had enough on their plates
It was late `77 or perhaps `78
When I first heard S.L.F. and to them I could relate
Their songs of love for this wee land
Never heard before , I could understand
Suspect Device left us stuttering thrice
While Alternative Ulster made you blood flow with ice
We have Danny Boy and Ireland`s Call
Anthems that won`t cause a brawl
But the opening bars of Alternative Ulster it has to be
The national anthem for an old punk like me
Just think for a minute of how it would be
At an International event the opposition would flee
On hearing the start of that lone guitar
The minds and spirits would forever carry a scar
................. Copyright (c) Rodney Harrison 2014
Alternative Ulster Can be heard Here
• opens new window •
American postcard by Zoetrope Images Ltd., Boston, no 432. Photo: Boris Karloff in Frankenstein (James Whale, 1931).
British actor Boris Karloff (1887-1969) is one of the true icons of the Horror cinema. He portrayed Frankenstein's monster in Frankenstein (1931), Bride of Frankenstein (1935), and Son of Frankenstein (1939), which resulted in his immense popularity. In the following decades, he worked in countless Horror films, but also in other genres, both in Europe and Hollywood.
Boris Karloff was born William Henry Pratt in 1887 in London, England. Pratt himself stated that he was born in Dulwich, which is nearby in London. His parents were Edward John Pratt, Jr. and his third wife Eliza Sarah Millard. ‘Billy’ never knew his father. Edward Pratt had worked for the Indian Salt Revenue Service and had virtually abandoned his family in far-off England. Edward died when his son was still an infant and so Billy was raised by his mother. He was the youngest of nine children, and following his mother's death was brought up by his elder brothers and sisters. As a child, Billy performed each Christmas in plays staged by St. Mary Magdalene's Church. His first role was that of The Demon King in the pantomime Cinderella. Billy was bow-legged, had a lisp, and stuttered. He conquered his stutter, but not his lisp, which was noticeable throughout his career in the film industry. After his education at private schools, he attended King's College London where he took studies aimed at a career with the British Government's Consular Service. However, in 1909, the 22-year-old left university without graduating and sailed from Liverpool to Canada, where he worked as a farm labourer and did various odd itinerant jobs. In Canada, he began appearing in theatrical performances and chose the stage name Boris Karloff. Later, he claimed he chose ‘Boris’ because it sounded foreign and exotic, and that ‘Karloff’ was a family name. However, his daughter Sara Karloff publicly denied any knowledge of Slavic forebears, Karloff or otherwise. One reason for the name change was to prevent embarrassment to his family. He did not reunite with his family until he returned to Britain to make The Ghoul (T. Hayes Hunter, 1933), opposite Cedric Hardwicke. Karloff was distraught that his family would disapprove of his new, macabre claim to world fame. Instead, his brothers jostled for position around him and happily posed for publicity photographs. In 1911, Karloff joined the Jeanne Russell Company and later joined the Harry St. Clair Co. which performed in Minot, North Dakota, for a year in an opera house above a hardware store. While trying to establish his acting career, Karloff had to perform years of difficult manual labour in Canada and the U.S. to make ends meet. He was left with back problems from which he suffered for the rest of his life. In 1917, he arrived in Hollywood, where he went on to make dozens of silent films. Some of his first roles were in film serials, such as The Masked Rider (Aubrey M. Kennedy, 1919), in Chapter 2 of which he can be glimpsed onscreen for the first time, and The Hope Diamond Mystery (Stuart Paton, 1920). In these early roles, he was often cast as an exotic Arabian or Indian villain. Other silent films were The Deadlier Sex (Robert Thornby, 1920) with Blanche Sweet, Omar the Tentmaker (James Young, 1922), Dynamite Dan (Bruce Mitchell, 1924) and Tarzan and the Golden Lion (J.P. McGowan, 1927) in which James Pierce played Tarzan. In 1926 Karloff found a provocative role in The Bells (James Young, 1926), in which he played a sinister hypnotist opposite Lionel Barrymore. He worked with Barrymore again in his first sound film, the thriller The Unholy Night (Lionel Barrymore, 1929).
A key film which brought Boris Karloff recognition was The Criminal Code (Howard Hawks, 1931), a prison drama in which he reprised a dramatic part he had played on stage. With his characteristic short-cropped hair and menacing features, Karloff was a frightening sight to behold. Opposite Edward G. Robinson, Karloff played a key supporting part as an unethical newspaper reporter in Five Star Final (Mervyn LeRoy, 1931), a film about tabloid journalism which was nominated for the Oscar for Best Picture. Karloff's role as Frankenstein's monster in Frankenstein (James Whale, 1931), based on the classic Mary Shelley book, propelled him to stardom. Wikipedia: “The bulky costume with four-inch platform boots made it an arduous role but the costume and extensive makeup produced the classic image. The costume was a job in itself for Karloff with the shoes weighing 11 pounds (5 kg) each.” The aura of mystery surrounding Karloff was highlighted in the opening credits, as he was listed as simply "?." The film was a commercial and critical success for Universal, and Karloff was instantly established as a hot property in Hollywood. Universal Studios was quick to acquire ownership of the copyright to the makeup format for the Frankenstein monster that Jack P. Pierce had designed. A year later, Karloff played another iconic character, Imhotep in The Mummy (Karl Freund, 1932). The Old Dark House (James Whale, 1932) with Charles Laughton, and the starring role in MGM’s The Mask of Fu Manchu (Charles Brabin, 1932) quickly followed. Steve Vertlieb at The Thunder Child: “Wonderfully kinky, the film co-starred young Myrna Loy as the intoxicating, yet sadistic Fah Lo See, Fu Manchu's sexually perverse daughter. Filmed before Hollywood's infamous production code, the film joyously escaped the later scrutiny of The Hayes Office, and remains a fascinating example of pre-code extravagance.” These films all confirmed Karloff's new-found stardom. Horror had become his primary genre, and he gave a string of lauded performances in 1930s Universal Horror films. Karloff reprised the role of Frankenstein's monster in two other films, the sensational Bride of Frankenstein (James Whale, 1935) and the less thrilling Son of Frankenstein (Rowland V. Lee, 1939), the latter also featuring Bela Lugosi. Steve Vertlieb about Bride of Frankenstein: “Whale delivered perhaps the greatest horror film of the decade and easily the most critically acclaimed rendition of Mary Shelley's novel ever released. The Bride of Frankenstein remains a work of sheer genius, a brilliantly conceived and realized take on loneliness, vanity, and madness. The cast of British character actors is simply superb.” While the long, creative partnership between Karloff and Lugosi never led to a close friendship, it produced some of the actors' most revered and enduring productions, beginning with The Black Cat (Edgar G. Ullmer, 1934). Follow-ups included The Raven (Lew Landers, 1935), the rarely seen, imaginative science fiction melodrama The Invisible Ray (Lambert Hillyer, 1936), and The Body Snatcher (Robert Wise, 1945). Karloff played a wide variety of roles in other genres besides Horror. He was memorably gunned down in a bowling alley in Howard Hawks' classic Scarface (1932) starring Paul Muni. He played a religious First World War soldier in John Ford’s epic The Lost Patrol (1934) opposite Victor McLaglen. Between 1938 and 1940, Karloff starred in five films for Monogram Pictures, including Mr. Wong, Detective (William Nigh, 1938). During this period, he also starred with Basil Rathbone in Tower of London (Rowland V. Lee, 1939) as the murderous henchman of King Richard III, and with Margaret Lindsay in British Intelligence (Terry O. Morse, 1940). In 1944, he underwent a spinal operation to relieve his chronic arthritic condition.
Boris Karloff revisited the Frankenstein mythos in several later films, taking the starring role of the villainous Dr. Niemann in House of Frankenstein (Erle C. Kenton, 1944), in which the monster was played by Glenn Strange. He reprised the role of the ‘mad scientist’ in Frankenstein 1970 (Howard W. Koch, 1958) as Baron Victor von Frankenstein II, the grandson of the original creator. The finale reveals that the crippled Baron has given his face (i.e., Karloff's) to the monster. From 1945 to 1946, Boris Karloff appeared in three films for RKO produced by Val Lewton: Isle of the Dead (Mark Robson, 1945), The Body Snatcher (Robert Wise, 1945), and Bedlam (Mark Robson, 1946). Karloff had left Universal because he thought the Frankenstein franchise had run its course. Karloff was a frequent guest on radio programs. In 1949, he was the host and star of the radio and television anthology series Starring Boris Karloff. In 1950, he had his own weekly children's radio show in New York. He played children's music, told stories and riddles, and attracted many adult listeners as well. An enthusiastic performer, he returned to the Broadway stage in the original production of Arsenic and Old Lace (1941), in which he played a homicidal gangster enraged to be frequently mistaken for Karloff. In 1962, he reprised the role on television with Tony Randall and Tom Bosley. He also appeared as Captain Hook in the play Peter Pan with Jean Arthur. In 1955, he returned to the Broadway stage to portray the sympathetic Bishop Cauchon in Jean Anouilh's The Lark. Karloff regarded the production as the highlight of his long career. Julie Harris was his co-star as Joan of Arc in the celebrated play, recreated for live television in 1957 with Karloff, Harris and much of the original New York company intact. For his role, Karloff was nominated for a Tony Award. Karloff donned the monster make-up for the last time for a Halloween episode of the TV series Route 66 (1962), which also featured Peter Lorre and Lon Chaney, Jr. In the 1960s, Karloff appeared in several films for American International Pictures, including The Comedy of Terrors (Jacques Tourneur, 1963) with Vincent Price and Peter Lorre, The Raven (Roger Corman, 1963), The Terror (Roger Corman, 1963) with Jack Nicholson, and Die, Monster, Die! (Daniel Haller, 1965). Another project for American International release was the frightening Italian horror classic, I tre volti della paura/Black Sabbath (Mario Bava, 1963), in which Karloff played a vampire with bone-chilling intensity. He also starred in British cult director Michael Reeves's second feature film, The Sorcerers (1966). He gained new popularity among the young generation when he narrated the animated TV film Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas (Chuck Jones, Ben Washam. 1966), and provided the voice of the Grinch. Karloff later received a Grammy Award for Best Recording For Children after the story was released as a record. Then he starred as a retired horror film actor in Targets (Peter Bogdanovich, 1968), Steve Vertlieb: “Targets was a profoundly disturbing study of a young sniper holding a small Midwestern community, deep in the bible belt, terrifyingly at bay. The celebrated subplot concerned the philosophical dilemma of creating fanciful horrors on the screen, while the graphic, troubling reality was eclipsing the superficiality so tiredly repeated by Hollywood. Karloff co-starred, essentially as himself, an aged horror star named Byron Orlok, who wants simply to retire from the imagined horrors of a faded genre, only to come shockingly to grips with the depravity and genuine terror found on America's streets. Bogdanovich's first film as a director won praise from critics and audiences throughout the world community, and won its elder star the best, most respectful notices of his later career.”. In 1968, he played occult expert Professor Marsh in the British production Curse of the Crimson Altar (Vernon Sewell, 1968), which was the last Karloff film to be released during his lifetime. He ended his career by appearing in four low-budget Mexican horror films, which were released posthumously. While shooting his final films, Karloff suffered from emphysema. Only half of one lung was still functioning and he required oxygen between takes. he contracted bronchitis in 1968 and was hospitalized. In early 1969, he died of pneumonia at the King Edward VII Hospital, Midhurst, in Sussex, at the age of 81. Boris Karloff married five times and had one child, daughter Sara Karloff, by his fourth wife.
Sources: Steve Vertlieb (The Thunder Child), Wikipedia, and IMDb.
This is a 6 exposure merge in Aurora HDR software.
I love how the stars are captured in this shot. I had to manually time the brackets to allow for interruptions for the people who were constantly walking by. This resulted in the stars moving across the sky in a stuttered pattern because of the delayed shots in the bracket.
You can set up your brackets to expose for a longer time at a diminished sensor sensitivity, but you can't get around the people carrying light up objects through your shot, hence the manual bracket timing requirement for this series of shots.
This is an old one that I'd not worked on before but I gave it a shot for a camera club competition themed "flight". It earned me a highly commended and another I took on a glider flight was placed 2nd. I missed the competition night taking a break at Ironbridge so the results email was a pleasant surprise once I'd persuaded the hotel's wifi to stutter into life on my iPad.
...from the bus station, 65034, one of the company's second batch of Scania integrals, exits John Street into Bethesda Street at the start of its journey to Stafford - a service that is due to revert from its short-lived (in these times) '10' to its far more familiar '101'.
First Potteries - 65034 - YN06 WMF -
Scania CN94UB -
Scania OmniCity B41F -
new 8/06 -
Recently painted - but still branding-free - is this part of the long-stuttering network of Fruit Routes, or a forerunner of yet another corporate livery for the First Midlands depots?
Bethesda Street, Hanley
Crossing from St Peter Port to Sark, the ferry docks at Maseline Harbour. This isn't it. This is the more sheltered Creux Harbour. Maseline Harbour is more exposed so with a swell running on the return journey, negotiating the gang plank was halting; stuttering as the ferry was first pushed against the jetty — board now, one at a time — or wait as the ferry was pushed away until the lines strained against the tide. Such was the swell that those intrepid sailors on the rear deck disembarked on Guernsey more moist than when they left Sark.
Guernsey's highest elevation is at Le Moulin on Sark. Negotiating the cliffs about the Maseline Harbour is via a tunnel through a small headland. For a fee, one then climbs the hill on a trailer towed behind a tractor, or on foot up Harbour Hill.
There's another headland roughly at right angles pierced by yet another tunnel. This leads to the more business-like Creux Harbour. Here a no-nonsense breakwall shelters a quiet anchorage with a little shingle beach in its corner.
Had I not dropped my wide angle lens this view would have been brought to you by my venerable 60D. Instead I had to resort to this phone camera. There is far too much magic in these devices. There's an inevitability that .jpeg processed in camera will be pushed just that little too far. True, I could shoot in RAW. But for one reason and another processing RAW images on the road is a nuisance. So here you have it: a not great, too much magic view of the delightful Creux Harbour taken using digital witchcraft just before I left Sark.
Let's hope this one doesn't get cut as some other movs I uploaded in the past. And doesn't stutter.
But if it does, here's YouTube link to the same video file: www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6PXHiAAHjY
I tried very hard
but the demon within
me I could not tame
a make believe
wordsmith my so
called notoriety to
fame ..on the chessboard
of our destiny life is a game
what were my parents
thinking when they gave me
a name ...a name that from a
foetus an extension of my
parents dreams I became
life last sixty years has not
been the same ...
caught as a silhouette
between the candle
the flame ...
on my grave no tombstone
no epitaph ..no claim
a blurry image within a frame
I stuttered when I told her
je taime
a sartorial Sagittarius
a broken Bow
a broken Arrow
misguided Aim
#beggarpoet
The Advanced Stacker PLUS can be used for much more than Star Trails. This is a Matt Molloy inspired stack of exposures during sunset stacked using Long Streaks mode. If you want to get a copy of the Photoshop plugin see advancedstackerplus.com
Look carefully and you'll see how I suffered from not having my intervalometer handy.
This is about 100 shots taken at 10 second intervals. All were f/11 ISO 160, 1/160th of a second.
Abellio took control of the 285 on Saturday and have started off with a lot of different diesels as temporary loans. Some ex-Park Royal London United diesels and ex-Battersea diesels (some still with the old Travel London interior) make up the current batch making for an interesting start.
I did see one new smart-hybrid bus on driver training duties for the route but I suppose Fulwell (TF) want to wait until all of them are delivered before entry into service.
So far, the service has been pretty good; no obvious curtailments although my bus was held at Harlington Road for some reason. Still hate those dreaded announcements, sounds like the voice is stuttering.
LF59XDZ (9504) is at Feltham Station on a service from Cromwell Road Bus Station to Heathrow Central via Teddington and Feltham.
In thrilling PANO-Vision!
iPhoneography on iPhone 7 Plus; set the camera to panorama and panned vertically.
"Black Hole Sun"
Soundgarden
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mbBbFH9fAg
In my eyes
Indisposed
In disguise
As no one knows
Hides the face
Lies the snake
The sun
In my disgrace
Boiling heat
Summer stench
'Neath the black
The sky looks dead
Call my name
Through the cream
And I'll hear you
Scream again
Black hole sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain
Black hole sun
Won't you come
Won't you come
Stuttering
Cold and damp
Steal the warm wind
Tired friend
Times are gone
For honest men
And sometimes
Far too long
For snakes
In my shoes
A walking sleep
And my youth
I pray to keep
Heaven send
Hell away
No one sings
Like you
Anymore
Hang my head
Drown my fear
Till you all just
Disappear
Sam doesn't really stutter but he does have a habit of starting a sentence over again if it isn't going smoothly.
Here he is, overlooking Horseshoe Canyon. Taken during our summer roadtrip across British Columbia, through the Rockies and on to Drumheller, Alberta.
The King's Speech movie was terrific. Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush never bore. I loved the camera angles and frame composition. Pairing the 2nd movement of Beethoven's seventh symphony with the climactic speech scene was perfect.
Made for SWFactions on Eurobricks.
www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/180827-j...
Captured by pirates! While searching for the natives of Imynusoph, our trio are beset upon by the cavalier Colonel Corbett's callous rogues! The murderous pirates and their flamboyant leader drag our heroes to their camp, where intrigue abounds!
Clod blinked against the harsh light streaming in from above. His hands were shackled. It wasn’t the worst situation he’d been in, he thought. Then, to his surprise, his next thoughts were about his two companions. He hoped they were alright. It would be a million years before he’d admit it.
The sergeant called “Slyfoot” stood in the darkness a few feet away. He could feel the man watching him, disturbingly calm. Precise.
“Look at you,” he sneered. “A treasure hunter. Ha! I believed Klatoonians to be nothing but pirates and scum.”
It was a struggle to form words, but Clod couldn’t give up the opportunity for a zinger. “Look how the…tables have turned.”
He almost immediately regretted it. The droid administered a searing shock to his ribs that sent his limbs convulsing. His skin burned. He shouted, and for a moment, he panicked.
“Such wit. No more of that, I think,” he heard Slyfoot say. “You should put your words to better use, like securing a release for you and your companions. All you must do is tell me what it was you were searching for.”
“Fat chance—Augh!” Another shock. More horrible pain.
Slyfoot stepped into the light. He slowly shook his head.
“’Fat chance’, you say? On the contrary, Mr. Clod,” he said, and a smile crept onto his face. “I quite like my odds.”
“Tea or Caf, Professor?” offered Colonel Corbett, busying himself with a gleaming pot and an ion heater.
“O-Oh, tea, I suppose.”
The Colonel looked up at him, a pleasant expression on his face. “I see you appreciate my décor!”
Floon had been staring at some of the trophies scattered about; horns, hides, huge eggs, droid parts, scraps of clothing. Some from beasts, others from treasure hunters who’d come before.
“Why…yes! It’s very…eclectic. Er, thank you again for having me, Colonel.”
“Of course, of course! I must say, I’ve positively chuffed about you being here. An academy man! On Imynusoph! Chandrila, you say?”
“Er, yes. I had, er, tenure at the Chandrila Academy.”
“Ha! Chandrila! A professor from Chandrila makes my acquaintance here, of all places. Who would have thought it would happen? Certainly not me! I admit it! Please, make yourself comfortable, my questions are bound to be numerous.”
The Neimodian professor looked nervously around the tent. One of the pirates loitered at the door. Floon felt that he should do some great act of bravery, try to free Mr. Clod and Ms. Rigo, but he didn’t know where he would even start.
“Professor?”
The question shook Floon from his thoughts. “Oh, y-yes?”
Colonel Corbett smiled. “You don’t look very comfortable. Come, you’re in good company. I am a man of learning and intelligence myself.”
“Why, o-of course!” said Floon. Unable to muster a relaxed smile, he summoned a polite grimace.
The Colonel frowned. “Professor, I brought you here that we might engage in riveting conversation! Without conversation, I have no reason to bring you here rather than lock you up in our brig. Do you understand?”
Floon did, but he was not very good at staying calm when faced with threats. He knew all too well what the murderous pirates might do if the Colonel permitted. With a great amount of sweating and stuttering, he apologized. “I’m…m-most…s-sorry, Colonel. Most s-sorry. Let us…er…converse, s-shall we?”
“Very good, very good!” said the Colonel, settling in and looking at the professor expectantly. “Well then, let us get down to, as they say, brass tacks. I want to hear everything you know about the giant birds of Imynusoph! I expect I’ll be quite fascinated!”
“Er, yes…” mumbled Floon. “Quite.”
“Let go of me, you idiots!” Kitsa did her best to break her restraints through sheer will, but no dice. She settled for whacking one of her captors instead, sending him reeling with a broken nose. She couldn’t believe how lucky her aim was. And finally, something for her story!
“Let the Stud take care of her! I don’t want to get kicked again,” whined one of the pirates. The others parted, allowing the largest one, the one with the bandolier and the AT-AT driver helmet, to step towards her. He was enormous, at least 6’8”, and not what you’d call ‘lanky’. There was no chance she’d make a dent against this guy. He settled one giant hand on her shoulder, and he steered her away.
She muttered threats as they walked through the Imperial camp, shooting glances around to take in everything she was seeing. They had left the treeline onto an open savannah. The camp had clearly been an Imperial outpost, but now was all ramshackle and bolted together to keep out the wildlife. There was a junkyard of impounded vehicles that caught her attention. Most of them were scrap, but one airspeeder, red-and-white, looked intact. She took note of this for later.
She eyed the pirate. He was a muscular guy, that was for sure. Where was he taking her? A pit of gundarks, or an interrogation chamber?
Neither, it turned out. She was escorted to a quiet corner of the pirate camp, a breeze-blown tent with foliage breaking in overhead and enshrouding the space.
“You can stay here,” said the big pirate.
She scoffed. “What are you, good cop? And what’s this place, the torture waiting room?”
“It’s, well,” the pirate hesitated. “No, it’s just a tent. I had a wife when we came here. This used to be hers. Thought you’d like it more than a cage, but if I’m wrong…”
That was unexpected. She turned and sized him up suspiciously, but there wasn’t much to observe in the blank stare of the helmet’s facemask. “A wife, huh? What happened to her? Your pirate buddies shoot her?”
“You think they’d get past me? Nah, not in a million years,” he chuckled, but his tone turned somber. “No, one day she went out to get clean water, our purifier was broken, and one of the jungle beasts came out of the trees. She couldn’t get away fast enough. Her blaster misfired. That’s all it took.”
In a rare moment, Kitsa didn’t know what to say.
The pirate took a deep breath, then said, “So if you were thinking of running, I wouldn’t.”
“Sure,” she nodded, collecting herself. “Sorry about your wife. Thanks for the tent.”
“No problem,” said the pirate. He then stood there awkwardly for a moment, before asking, “So, uh, you, uh, some kind of reporter?”
Kitsa lit up. “I sure am, Galactic Gazette.”
The man swayed on his feet, coughing uncomfortably. “What’s, uh, what’s going on out there? In the galaxy? Rebels gone, yet? We heard we had another Death Star.”
Kitsa stared at the emotionless facemask for a moment. Of course, it made sense. When was the last time they would’ve heard any news?
Her story was really heating up.
She smiled and deflected the question. “What’s your name?”
“Deksen. They call me ‘the Stud’. What’s your name, uh, miss?”
“Kitsa Rigo,” she answered smartly. “What do you say about sitting for an interview with me, Deksen? In return, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
The pirate said nothing for a moment. He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. “I guess that’d be alright. We don’t exactly get much press on Imynusoph. I suppose you can tell the galaxy about our bravery.”
Kitsa sat on the medical bed, her pen poised. “So, Deksen, what’s it been like for you, out here?”
The pirate set his gun to the side and took a deep breath.
“Well…” he began.
Another shock, another burn, another stab. Harnaby Clod struggled in the interrogation gurney, his mouth full of spit. He couldn’t take much more of this. He felt like his mind was slipping through his fingers, jolted free by every prod from the droid. Karfing droid. He’d smash that droid to bits if he ever got out of this.
Another stab of a needle. His vision swam. He’d get out of this, right? Could he?
“Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what you know,” Slyfoot said, walking around him. “I’d love to see you dead, believe me. Who will remember you if you’re gone? Some dog-faced lunatic on the edge of the galaxy, no one important. No accomplishments, no fealty, nothing of note. Another dead alien.”
“You…don’t…know…mersh.”
“Hm, perhaps. But tell me…am I wrong, Mr. Clod?”
The dark room blinked in and out of existence before Clod’s eyes. He felt his tongue go limp. His heart felt like it was drying up.
The sergeant watched him, smiling cruelly. “Alright, I’ll get it out of the Neimodian, then. Good bye, Mr.-“
“Waitsh, waitsh!” Clod gasped. “Ah’ll tell yoush…”
Slyfoot brightened. “Indeed, Mr. Clod? If you tell me, as I’ve said, this can all end.”
He couldn’t do this anymore. What was he thinking?
He wasn’t. Anything to stop this. Karf this place.
“Ah’ll…ah’ll…tell yoush anything…” he wheezed.
Slyfoot straightened his cap. “Very good, Mr. Clod. Go on then.” He leaned in, until his face dominated Clod’s view. Slyfoot tried to manage his own expectations, but he couldn’t suppress his excitement. He looked down at the drooling Klatoonian.
“Mr. Clod,” he said. “Is the treasure…real?”
“Wow!” muttered Kitsa, scribbling in her notebook.
“That’s just how it is out here. It’s made the other pirates what they are. It’s made me…” he shrugged. “Changed.”
“That’s really…tough! I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer through this place.”
“Hm, I’ve been lucky…I think. But what about you, Ms. Rigo?” asked the pirate called Deksen.
“M-Me?”
He leaned in attentively. “How does a woman such as you find yourself in a place like this?”
Even with the facemask in the way, Rigo felt his gaze on her face. She frowned.
“Well, I work for the Gazette.”
He tilted his head. “Because you wish to tell stories?”
“Because I want to…” she paused before answering. “I want to make others see the truth.”
Deksen nodded slowly. He was impressed by the honesty of her answer. “Will you tell me more?”
In a strange moment, the both of them felt the softening in their spirits take its full course, and they entirely let down their guards. Kitsa avoided his gaze, but launched into a treatise on how it was she ended up here, the absurdity of the situation, and how she hoped she might get something out of it anyway because while she was here there was no one investigating the Ubrikkian corporation and something had to be done soon because those poor Duros in the factories had no one standing up for them, and if no one else was going to take Ubrikkian to task, she sure as shaft would.
Deksen listened quietly, occasionally asking questions or affirming how Kitsa felt. Eventually she had completed her story. She took a deep breath, which she had expended whilst going on about her passions.
Deksen folded his hands. “Your spirit…moves me.”
“Oh!” said Kitsa, not sure how to respond. She felt her cheeks burn, and said quietly, “Thanks for listening.”
“And thank you for talking.”
She laughed. “You’d be a much better editor than the one I’ve got. Getting him to listen is a full time job.”
A breeze blew through the tent, carrying the sounds of harsh laughter from where the other pirates were getting into the brew. Far off, Kitsa heard a howl of pain that made her skin crawl and her mind turn towards her lost companions.
After a moment of silence, she looked into Deksen’s facemask. It was a risk, could she trust an ex-stormtrooper-turned-pirate? Strangely, she felt that she could trust him more than almost anyone she’d met. This disturbed her in a profound way, but she didn’t have time to dwell on her emotions. She had to take action.
“Deksen, I need to get out of here.”
“Yes, you do.” His shoulders slumped as he prepared himself for the choice he was making. His life would never be the same after this. “And yes, before you ask; I will help you.”
Kitsa sighed with relief, but there was no time to waste. They had to get down to business. “Alright, here’s what I was thinking. Tell me if it makes sense…”
“Spiritual creatures, you say?”
Colonel Corbett stroked his moustache, listening to what Professor Floon had to say with a most attentive mind.
“Well, y-yes. Regarded as spiritual creatures by…” Floon kept himself from revealing the natives at only the last moment. “…by all who visit this planet, I’ve heard.”
It was all Floon could do to keep the existence of the native tribes a secret. Apparently these pirates had no clue they might still be around.
“Fascinating! And you say the wingspan…”
The words tumbled out of Floon like a brook. His trepidation could not dampen his excitement. “No one has seen it in millennia, but I do not lie when I say,” he leaned in, saying conspiratorially, “it is said to be three men across!”
Corbett rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Incredible! Simply incredible. Say, Professor, I know you count yourself among the squeamish, but do you suppose that shooting down a bird of spiritual importance grants a hunter more, how do you say, ‘bragging rights’?”
Floon raised an eyeridge and stared. “Are…are you…joking, sir?”
“I assure you, I am not!” said Corbett, jabbing the desk with his finger. “A hunter such as myself has precious little time for jokes, what with so much glory left unobtained. You’re the closest thing in the galaxy to an expert, Professor. Do you believe killing such a creature would grant me more glory?”
Floon watched the officer nervously. His eyes were eager, his face covered in sweat. The heat was dull and damp in the shade of the tent, the kind of environment Floon had been born into. Very much a comfort zone.
The professor summoned up all his courage, swelling up his chest in rather an alarming way. Corbett’s eyes widened.
“No!” squeaked Floon.
Corbett was puzzled. “…’No’?”
“No!” Floon stood his ground. “How can you talk of killing a creature such as this? For all your talk about appreciating great beasts, you end their magnificent lives with such…relish!” He licked his lipless mouth, his words sputtering and cracking as adrenaline shot through him. He’d never confronted anyone in his life. Certainly not anyone who was willing to kill him. “I don’t mind saying that it is…despicable! Yes, despicable!”
Colonel Corbett, who had initially been very surprised, now furrowed his brow. When he spoke, his tone was dark. “Professor…I’m not used to being talked to in such a-”
“Indeed, indeed!” squawked Floon, suddenly desperate to turn his situation around. “But nor are you used to talking to your intellectual equal, as you have said! This is true, yes?”
Corbett considered it. “Yes, it is true,” he admitted.
“Then please, hear my words, as another man of learning! These creatures are not for killing, they are for studying! For conserving! For…loving! Please, take my offer of friendship and understand I mean you no ill will. I only wish to see a force such as yourself used for…better things!”
Colonel Corbett looked bothered. He had never thought of it in such terms before. Professor Floon breathed heavily, waiting in silence, heart hammering, hoping for a reaction that spared his life.
Finally, the Colonel’s expression softened, and he began to speak. “Professor, I—“
“Colonel Corbett!” came a voice from the tent’s opening. Floon, uncharacteristically, cursed in his head. His heart sank.
“How dare you interrupt me? I said, very clearly I thought, that no one was to interrupt!”
The pirate at the opening was the huge, shirtless one, with the AT-AT driver’s helmet. “But it’s the others, sir, they’ve broken out!”
The moment had passed, Corbett’s mind was on other things. He grabbed his cap and marched towards the entrance. “Well then! Wait here with the Professor, we must hunt them down!”
Corbett marched toward the tent flap, where he was promptly whacked in the head with a blaster handle, and fell flat on his back. He lay there, hair mussed, tongue out, and unconscious.
“Oh my goodness!” cried Floon.
“Quiet, Professor! It’s just me, Kitsa. Ms. Rigo.”
Indeed it was. The reporter came ducking in, blaster in hand. The large pirate stood guard while she knelt down to rummage in Corbett’s holster.
“What-what is going on? Who is this abnormally large man at the door?” asked Floon, who’s voice dropped to an anxious whisper as he added, “Is he not one of the pirates?”
Kitsa pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Huh? Oh, that’s Deksen,” she explained simply. “He’s gonna help us escape.”
The pirate named Deksen raised a hand in casual greeting.
“O-Oh, how do you do?” Floon replied weakly, and he tipped his hat on instinct. “You are…very big!”
“I get that a lot,” came Deksen’s reply, filtered through his helmet.
“He is, isn’t he?” Kitsa grinned.
“Y-Yes—hold on; escape, you said?” squeaked Floon, who’s brain was beginning to catch up at last.
“Yes, escape,” she repeated firmly, looking him in the eye. “But we have to go now, understand? Otherwise we’ll die?”
Floon withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed at his face. “O-Oh, my. This is all rather a lot. And so sudden…”
“Yes, it is. We still have to save Clod, against my better judgement.”
“S-Save…Clod, you say?” said Floon, wilting with every word, and very close to fainting.
Kitsa smiled wryly and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, Professor,” she said, and she handed him the Colonel’s blaster before turning to leave. Deksen made to follow her.
Floon went after them, but before reaching the tent’s exit he spun around awkwardly to address his host.
“I’m…very sorry for all this,” he said to Corbett’s unconscious body. “It really w-was lovely meeting you.”
Floon felt it was polite for one to wait to be excused, but Corbett did not reply.
Thus, with a great deal of stumbling and nervous mumbling, the professor hurried to catch up with the others.
“And the natives,” said Slyfoot with relish. “You said you’ve met them before, is that true?”
“Yesh,” spat Clod. He eyed the interrogation droid floating a foot away, its red receptor blinking, prod extended towards him.
“Then you could lead us to them. You will lead me to them.”
“Didn’t you hear a word I said? They found me the first time. I don’t know how to find them now!”
Slyfoot waved a hand dismissively. “Well, no matter. They asked you to return, I’m sure they’ll show up to you soon.”
Clod wished he could wipe his mouth where he’d drooled after one of the many electroshocks. It was starting to chape. “…Thought you…were gonna let us go?” he groaned.
Slyfoot laughed. “Really? You did? I didn’t take you for a fool. No, Mr. Clod. You’ll stay in this luxury for many days to com--I said I wanted no interruptions!”
Light had flooded the room from the now-open door. He heard a blaster go off, and a red bolt smashed into the interrogation droid, knocking it to the ground.
“Pardon me!” said Professor Floon, turning the gun on Slyfoot. The pirate sergeant raised his hands in surrender. “I nearly forgot something on my way out!”
“P-professor?” slurred Clod, craning his neck to see. “I can’t believe it.”
“That’s right, it’s me! I’ve come to rescue you, Mr. Clod.”
Clod groaned with relief. He hadn’t expected this in a million years. “You gotta get me out of here, doc.”
“Indeed!” said the Professor, who prodded Slyfoot with his pistol until he gave up the key to the bindings.
“Nice entry."
Floon seemed pleased. “Thank you! I am honored by the compliment, especially from someone as…daring-do as yourself! I practiced on the way here.”
“It paid off. Now…” he stretched and groaned his weary, burnt muscles. Then he turned towards Slyfoot, who held to his dignity even while fear seeped in the cracks. Weakened though he was, the Klatoonian was dangerous. He proved this to Slyfoot by knocking him to the floor with a right hook.
“Jerk. Wish I had more time.”
“We really must go, Rigo is waiting! She found a way out!”
Clod looked at the Professor and raised an eyebrow. “You already saved her?”
“Saved her?” replied the professor, leading him into the daylight. “Why, it was her who saved me!”
“You’re kidding!”
“I am not kidding, Mr. Clod! I assure you, I am entirely serious!”
They caught up with Kitsa and Deksen at the camp’s boneyard, where ship and vehicle carcasses formed a monument to the pirates’ past conquests.
“He’s fine,” said Kitsa, in response to the alarmed look on Clod’s face. “His name is Deksen, he’s helping us.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Deksen, voice filtered through his helmet.
“Sure, sure. A pleasure,” muttered Clod. “Listen, I told that creepy imp about the natives.”
Kitsa and Floon looked at him with dismay.
“It wasn’t exactly by choice,” grumbled Clod, but he avoided their gaze. “I’m betting they didn’t torture either of you.”
They answered by way of silence.
“Of course not,” he grunted. “Who else here has a face like a Corellian hound?”
“Ahem...I cannot imagine what you went through in that little room, so I cannot blame you for anything you’ve done,” said Floon seriously. “Besides…I let slip quite a lot about the wildlife to the Colonel, and I was under no compulsion besides a foolish enthusiasm for my subject! Oh, how moronic of me. I’m far worse than you, Mr. Clod. Fear no condemnation from us.”
Clod looked at him with something approaching humility and gratitude.
“I didn’t tell anyone anything,” said Kitsa. “Except about myself.”
“Their knowledge simply means we must make greater haste to find the natives first. And with the skills and talents of us three, I find our chances encouraging!”
Kitsa gestured to their soon-to-be-stolen ride. “Especially with this thing.”
Clod hurried forward to look at what she’d found. Underneath a tarp sat a small, aged red-and-white craft. Barely enough space for two people. “What is this, an Incom? Tiny, isn’t it?”
“Who cares who built it?” she replied shortly. “It’s an Airspeeder. Deksen says it’ll still fly.”
Deksen shrugged. “We use it for scout missions.
“Wait," Clod frowned. "We can’t leave yet.”
Kitsa threw up her hands. “Why not?”
“Hat."
“Oh, for karf’s sake--I got your hat, here. Can’t believe you’d get us killed over your hat.”
“My hat! You’re alright, Rigo.”
Deksen cleared his throat. “You three should climb in, you don’t have a lot of time.”
They threw their things in the speeder. Clod clambered into the pilot’s seat and brushed some crumbs off the controls. He checked various switches and toggles with an air of familiarity. Floon crammed himself into the back.
Kitsa was last to get in. She turned and threw herself at Deksen, hugging him awkwardly. She didn’t hug many people. Were you supposed to do it so forcefully? Fortunately, Deksen didn't seem to mind. He folded her gently in his massive arms.
“Thank you. I wish you could come with us.”
His tone carried a smile she couldn’t see through his facemask.
“It was good to meet you. I’ll see you again.”
“And you’ll be okay? The other pirates won’t…”
He put a calming hand on her shoulder. “You think they could?”
“Miss Rigo!” called the professor from the speeder. “I’m quite nervous waiting in here! I wouldn’t say anything, except that my muttering has made Mr. Clod angry.”
The two shared a chuckle. Kitsa smiled sadly and let go of him. She clambered into the airspeeder with the others, where she discovered it was a much tighter fit than she’d expected. Once she’d negotiated space with Floon, she leaned against the window and gave Deksen a final wave.
The pirate waved back.
“Whoof. He’s ripped, huh?” she said wistfully.
“Ripped?” Floon squeaked. “I’d say his shirt is beyond ripped, madam! There’s hardly a shirt there at all!”
The speeder was humming to life, the way any vehicle does that’s taken some battering. A warm, clanky kind of hum.
“Alright,” said Clod from the front. “Off to find the natives?”
“Before the pirates do!” said Kitsa.
“Oh my! A race against pirates, for the good of knowledge and sentient life!” flushed Floon. “It’s all rather exciting, isn’t it?”
"Forgive me if I st-stutter from all of the clutter in my head. Cause I could fall asleep in those eyes, like a water bed."
- Self
If you want to be happy don't think... if you stutter don't talk
Completely obsessed with Larry Clark this month, hence I pulled out my most Clark-esque item of clothing. He's featured in the current Interview but the article includes photos that the majority of fans are already acquainted with.
Sometimes I wish I was cool and underground and I could take edgy photos of edgy people but really the best I can do is go to the library or take photos of my friends having a snowball fight...not too controversial but lucky for me they're all gorgeous.
League of Heroes: Ascent
Episode 3: Darkest Before Dawn - Part 2
“We interrupt our continuing coverage of the New Brickton prison break, it seems that we are getting an unexpected live feed from the madness in Midtown.” The news anchor stuttered, nervously shuffling through the stack of papers on the news desk. “Frank, can you switch us over…”
Static… and then the picture suddenly changed from the busy news room to a devastated street. A blonde woman, statuesque and menacing stares into a shaky camera lens.
“Good morning citizens of New Brickton. From this day forward, it will be remembered that you sent forth your champions to face Celedon the Destroyer… and I have found them wanting. They lie here now in pathetic heaps, driven before me and broken at my feet. Is this really the best you have to offer? I demand a challenge worthy of my strength! For every hour that I am unsatisfied, I will raise another block of this insignificant city! Your only other option is complete surrender. Death or servitude, I give you the gift of choice mortals. Your first hour begins now.”
The broadcast suddenly cuts to a rainbow test pattern. Unseen by the camera, a winged figure descends to the devastated street. Upon touching down on the pavement, she kneels over the motionless form of the Indestructible Man.
“Wake up! Please!” She shakes Fred’s seemingly lifeless body, “Fred, I don‘t know what’s happened to us, but I do know that you are still alive and I know that we need to get you and your friends out of here.”
This was built for the League of Lego Heroes Group… www.flickr.com/groups/llh/
Final Fantasy XV Windows Edition
NVIDIA Ansel
Pushing the boundaries running this game with only 4GB in ram. Stutters just a lil bit, but still epic graphics
League of Heroes: Ascent
Episode 3: Darkest Before Dawn - Part 2
“We interrupt our continuing coverage of the New Brickton prison break, it seems that we are getting an unexpected live feed from the madness in Midtown.” The news anchor stuttered, nervously shuffling through the stack of papers on the news desk. “Frank, can you switch us over…”
Static… and then the picture suddenly changed from the busy news room to a devastated street. A blonde woman, statuesque and menacing stares into a shaky camera lens.
“Good morning citizens of New Brickton. From this day forward, it will be remembered that you sent forth your champions to face Celedon the Destroyer… and I have found them wanting. They lie here now in pathetic heaps, driven before me and broken at my feet. Is this really the best you have to offer? I demand a challenge worthy of my strength! For every hour that I am unsatisfied, I will raise another block of this insignificant city! Your only other option is complete surrender. Death or servitude, I give you the gift of choice mortals. Your first hour begins now.”
The broadcast suddenly cuts to a rainbow test pattern. Unseen by the camera, a winged figure descends to the devastated street. Upon touching down on the pavement, she kneels over the motionless form of the Indestructible Man.
“Wake up! Please!” She shakes Fred’s seemingly lifeless body, “Fred, I don‘t know what’s happened to us, but I do know that you are still alive and I know that we need to get you and your friends out of here.”
This was built for the League of Lego Heroes Group… www.flickr.com/groups/llh/