Wednesday, August 29, 2018

Sagaen Fortsetter til Slutten.

I will now translate from the Sagas of the Eldest Elder Snorri… What? Ha. On 08-25-2018, OldAFSarge commented on my “The Arrowing Experience” post: “We seem to be turning into an episodic, long-running, Norse saga sort of blog, at least you and I seem to indulge ourselves in these multi-part stories.

Sagas… The Snorris, Elder and Younger, wrote down many of the verbal sagas of the Norse and Icelandic people, codifying on parchment the pre-Christian stories that had been told around the night fires, on the longboats, in the longhouses of the settlements and farms. Many stories revolved around the epic continuing struggle of the Aesir and Vanir against the forces of the Djolk (the Dark) and their forces. Though many epic battles occurred, some of these Saga deal with the more, ah, human aspects of the Norse pantheon. Their practical jokes against each other, their forays amongst their enemy which resulted in copious amounts of ale and mead being quaffed, and scads of food being eaten. In some respects, these ‘barbarian’ gods were the most ‘human’ of all the ancient religions, as they ‘hung around’ with the mortals of Midgard. 

As I said above, some of the most memorable Sagas revolved around contests not of arms, but of the wit. One hero or god (small ‘g’) with his or her compatriots, would enter into poetic battles, or even into swapping puns and jokes or insults.

Thus, this is the epic story of our light-hearted hero, Herren Bønner, and his fellows, against the Djolkalfar and Dvuerger of den etiske håndtering av dyr. (You ain’t the only one who can use google-translate, OAFSarge…)

Dawn breaks wind… Beans, no, just… no.

Dawn breaks upon the noble field of contest at the Festival i Landsbyen Griser. Bored or curious readers will remember the setup of the Avlukke av Bueskyting. The Krigere were armed, the arrows were cleaned and ready, and the field was prepared. Everyone was eagerly anticipating the arrival of theBønder and… (Really, Beans? Come on man, snap out of it.)

So some time in the mid 2000’s, we at the Archery Booth(e) had finished our setup and preparations, and were now awaiting the hordes of fair-goers to come attempt to shoot the fighters in the face (and win a soda.) We warriors were warming up, playing Chop and other Stupid Squire Games (seriously, that's what we called all the juvenile frat game-stuff we did,) and the Booth(e) Minions had all the arrows checked, cleaned and ready to go. Bows were strung (one doesn’t leave regular bows strung, it’s a no-no) when suddenly we heard strange sounds coming from our (the warriors) right, at the main road. We heard chanting, and calling, and shouting. We heard the sounds of unwashed idiots. We heard… PETA. Not 'People Eating Tasty Animals,' nope. The other PETA, those jerks that break into fur farms and release all the non-native fur animals into the wild.. highway (no, seriously, has happened several times, martins and ermines and foxes all turned into road pizza. Jerks, jerks of the highest order of jerks.)

Your hero, Beans, thought they were there to protest people shooting at him, as it was the second weekend and Bean’s feet and clavicles hurt, along with his right moob (don’t ask, just understand Beans was somewhat rotundish at the time and we’ll go with that(somewhat more rotundish now.)) But, no. No rescue for Beans. Instead, the foreign PITAs (yes, they were bussed in by PETA Corporate, from down low in the state) were there to protest the animal acts. 

Animal acts? Yes, lots of animal acts at the Hoggetowne Medieval Faire. There’s a ‘Birds of Prey’ show full of owls, falcons and hawks. There are the professional stage jousters who use pine closet rods for lances (because they blow up pretty)(about as scripted as pro-wrestling)(and,yes, there are real pro jousters, who use hardwood lances and really joust.) There are magic shows that have animals. There’s a guy with a bunny rabbit for to be petted for remittance. Sometimes someone will bring a goat or two for milking demos. There’re two camels to be ridden. Not to mention all the animals in various tasty preparations. And…. An elephant, also to be ridden.

The previous year, PETA and other animal ‘rights’ organizations had forced the City to make sure the animals had a visit by veterinarians before the show, above the inspections by the State of Florida Agricultural Inspectors. All the animals not being consumed passed with flying colors.  All the animals being consumed passed in other ways.

This particular year the PITAs and other idiots once again forced the City to get re-inspected above the State’s inspectors on the first weekend of the fair(e). And the result was… all the animals not being consumed passed with flying colors. (And there was much rejoicing. Yay.) The inspecting vet(from the local Cow College (vet school)) actually said, loudly to all, that the Elephant was probably more healthy than most people at the Fair(e) and that She was perfectly happy and frisky and good to go for at least another 30 years or more, and could the owner mind taking him (the vet) in and pamper him like he (the handler) pampered the pachyderm. (Seriously. I was there, along with lots others, we laughed, owner laughed, animal rights activists slunk away with their dreadlocks dragging on the ground.)

So, this particular Saturday morn, of the second week of the fair(e), instead of waving at and capering and making faces at all the people driving past us to go to the parking lot and the front entry gate, me and my mates stood at the fence (along with some cops and some fire-rescue people) and… stared at the protestors? Activists? Idiots? With their combination of hand-lettered signs and pre-printed materials, and their oh-so-clever chants, they presented a most un-fulsome opponent to the horrors of using animals. 

Did I say they were friggin idiots? No? Well, these friggin idiots were dressed for SOUTH FLORIDA, not NORTH FLORIDA, and since it was the first weekend of February, the wind was blowing and the temp was perfect for wearing armor and padding, which meant it was about 45-50 degrees and misting. Now, the fairgrounds are on the south side of the airport, in a long field surrounded by tall trees, and the wind will come whipping from the west-northwest and just rippppps through there. Which it was doing that day.  So frozen friggin idiots, who don't eat no meat.  (Maybe I should have fixed lamb.)

Here's the map of the Fair(e).
That dogleg heading south into 'the forest' is where the Archery Booth(e) is.
The road goes through a gate, and on the otherside is an access road that serves the parking lot.
Thus, the field of combat is shown, evil protestors outside the gate, Beans and his merry men and women inside.

Cold, windy, wet, it was a perfect day for wearing a great cloak. Especially if one is male and there are lots of chilly ladies who need to be warmed up. Seriously. Wanna become popular at a Ren-Faire or SCA event during the winter? Get a great cloak, one with lots of room. As long as you’re not too pervy and you don’t stink, you’ll be able to avail yourself of lots of frozen friendly females.

Look at all that fabric to wrap around some poor, cold ladies...
the helm is a barbute, by the way, 15th Century Italian helm, nice, very nice.
and finger gauntlets (each finger armored,) again nice, very nice.

Oh, sorry, got distracted… Lots of good memories, a man and his cloak… Ah, good times. Especially since I’m a major exotherm. Seriously. I am a walking, talking heater. One lady I know had permission from my wife to stick her nitrogen-cooled claws down my shirt front or over my kidneys anytime she wanted. Do you know what it feels like to have ice crystals shoot through your kidneys? Thanks, Chabi. I still feel the cold… Brrrr.

Oh, sorry, got distracted… again.

Wet, cold, windy weather, blowing over the dreadlocked and unwashed protestors. Seriously. What is it about the ‘Au Natural’ people that makes them just so unappealing? Is it the moldy dreadlocks (with, I am sure, a plague’s worth of creepy crawly insects, maybe a dead bird or two)? Is it the lack of water used on their bodies for at least a month? Or their clothes that are so filthy that they’ve practically become sentient? Or as Agent Smith said it so succinctly in “The Matrix,” “I hate this place. This zoo. This prison. This reality, whatever you want to call it, I can't stand it any longer. It's the smell, if there is such a thing. I feel saturated by it. I can taste your stink and every time I do, I fear that I've somehow been infected by it.” The unwashed, odorific body stench of non-meat eating human(ish) bottom dwellers. Bleh. Every time I get near one I feel like huffing Hydrogen Peroxide and bathing in Clorox.

Did I mention they were unwashed, unkempt smelly troglodytes? Do you get the feeling that these cretins may have, ah, stepped in it?

The protestors kinda looked like this, mixed with a bucket of pure stupid.
These guys probably smelled better.

Oh, it gets better.

So the Rasta People (oh, yeah, they were also protesting, at the Medieval Faire, for legalization of pot, seriously, at a Family Friendly Event) start uncoordinatedly making random noises like “Hey Hey, Ho Ho, the animals gotta go!” and other such protest-drivel left over from the 1960’s. Seriously, would like to go back in time and hold the ‘writer’ of that particular line of stupidity under water until I felt better, like, maybe half an hour or more. Other stupid chants and statements were made. 

The Ire of Beans was rising. Not quite at rant-level, but Serious Ire-ness was close to being reached.

Then they picked on the pachyderm. Saying such stupid things like “Free The Elephant!” Okay, where? This is Florida, we’re in the middle of a Pine Forest surrounded by Oak Hammock Swamp. WTHeck?

This is what the wilds look like around me.
Great place for an elephant, eh?

And, “Send the Elephant back to Africa!” Wut? The Grey One was born in a circus, literally. She’s been with her handler all her life, and most of his. In These United States. Of America. So she (the elephant) would have no earthly clue what to do in Africa. Especially since she had… SMALL EARS.

Seriously. African Elephants are very tall and have BIG EARS, mainly because it’s AFRICA HOT in AFRICA. BIG AFRICAN ELEPHANT EARS because AFRICA and HOT.

Look at them big EARS!
This is an African Elephant.

Indian elephants, are shorter and have much smaller ears, practically dwarfish in comparison because they’re forest dwellers and smaller ears fit better in the forest and India is India hot but not AFRICA HOT which is pretty darned hotter than India hot, plus India has a lot more free water lying around for elephants to wallow in and cool off than the savannahs and deserts of Africa which are AFRICA HOT!!!

Teeny, tiny EARS!
This is an Indian Elephant, which the idiots wanted to send to AFRICA!

And to make matters worse, these fidjits (fracking idiots) were so starved for essential nutrients, proteins, fats and vitamins that these examples of pristine health could not hack standing and chanting for longer than 15 minutes at a time. They did not have the super vegan powers as seen in “Scott Pilgrim vs The World.” (A rather most excellent movie that is totally good, great music, witty repartee and don’t watch it on cable with commercials because all the best parts will be missing. Rent it, stream it or do whatever you kids these days do to watch movies. It’s worth it. Those losers attempting to be failures of protestors, not worth it. Movie Vegans-Powerful because of Vegan Pure. Real Vegans-Stinky unwashed lackwitted fools with their eyes on the sides of their heads like all good prey species.)

What the special people outside of the fence thought they were.
gif from:
"Scott Pilgrim vs The World" distributed by Universal Pictures
I think it's a great movie.  That may not be the best recommendation, come to think.

And that, my dear friends and readers, tossed Squire Beans into full Godzilla mode (seriously, Chabi (frozen lady hands lady) said “Oh, Carp, Beans is going Full Godzilla!” And I did.

Welling up from deep in my fertile and twisted brain came forth “The Tirade.” Quotes, capitalizations, ominous thunderclaps (or that could have been the sounds of the jousting field,) surrounding people drawing back as the powers of Good poured into my body like The Quickening from “Highlander.”

I… Vented. Not vented, like one does under their breath when your boss just leaves your cubicle after telling you that you need to come in on Saturday… No. This was like the throaty roars of the 5 mighty Rocketdyne F-1 main engines of the Saturn V rocket lighting off.

Beans, ranting!
Yes, those are 5, count them 5 mighty Rocketdyne F-1 engines, 1.1 million thrust pounds each
of solid RANT!
We could make these today, better, cheaper, more powerful...
But, nooooo, NASA suuucks!!!  Stupid RS-25s.

To their pathetic chants of “Meat is Murder” came my very loud “Meat is Murder, TASTY TASTY MURDER!” and “MEAT, It’s What’s for Dinner!” and “They can take our land, but they can’t take our BAAAAAACOOOOOOOON!” (while doing the whole Mel Gibson interpretation of William Wallace.

To their mewling of “Send the Elephant back to Africa..” came my throaty roar of “YES, Send the INDIAN ELEPHANT back to Africa so it can be laughed at because of it's LITTLE EARS!” and “ONLY PETA would be so STUPID as to not know the difference between AFRICAN AND INDIAN ELEPHANTS!

As to their wish to send the camels away to Africa, well, “One camel was imported from Australia, THE OTHER IS A BACTRIAN!” “You’re Mother was a Bactrian and your Father smells of Elderberry!” “One Hump Good, Two Humps BAD!

In response to, well, their essence, “I’d Rather Smell Animal Poop than Animal Activists Anyday.

They started whining. 

You Know if you’d Just Eat Meat you’d be able to stand for longer than 15 minutes at a time.



And then imagine Beans, in armor, strutting around like Tyrannosaurus Rex himself in a ‘Natural Foods’ store, snarling. (Which I do, when I go to the natural foods stores in town to pick up stuff for Mrs. Andrew. Usually after eating a hamburger or BBQ. Food stench dripping from my mouth, fast, rapid motions as I stalk down the aisle in search of my prey. It’s one of my ‘quirks.’) And then having the said T-Rex mutter loudly as to the need to wash the unwashed prey in the river but how to do it with the little T-Rex arms.

Artist reconstruction of Beans going full T-Rex in the rain.
Yeah, those weak arms, only able to lift around 500lbs each...
photo still from "Jurassic Park" distributed by Universal Pictures

They really didn't like it when I squealed, like a pig.  No, really, one of my 'talents' is I can scream like a pig screaming bloody-pig-murder.  Loud, loud pig squealing.  (Hey, ya gotta be ready just in case you're canoeing down a river and someone says "Boy, I'm gonna make you squeal like a pig.") And I would do it after sneaking around behind them.  Ever have a pig squeal in your ear?  Ever been so malnourished you let a 270lb obnoxious guy in ARMOR sneak up to you?  Seriously?  My feet and ankles by themselves make more noise than a metal can full of nails bouncing down stairs.  Served them right.  (Squeeeeeeeeel, squ-squ-squ-SQUEEEEEEL!) (No, I won't attach a sound file, find one yourself.  Pigs are noisy and best served as ham or bacon.)

They protested to the cops that were standing at the gate. The cops were friends of mine, and were having to rotate out as they were laughing so much I think at least one almost peed himself. 

The audience loved it. I actually had a whole herd of munchkin Velociraptors stalking around behind my T-Rex several times.  Goofy Beans-Rex was popular with the kiddies.

I admonished the children and parents to eat their meat, else they would turn into those people, and they wouldn’t get their pudding, either.

(Meanwhile, the money was flowing in like water into a sub equipped with a screen door.)

All morning long, the Harangue continued. Visiting dignitaries from the Hague came by and declared what I was doing as “Crimes against Humanity” and since they were from the Hague, I channeled my inner Vlad and recreated a Wallachian Forest (no, not really, but one can dream…)

The Faire opened at 10 am. The protesters started whittling away by 11am.  Losers.  By 3pm there were 4 stalwarts remaining.

I took pity on them and brought over burgers.

They were not amused. One of the cops actually said, while laughing, that that was just too far.

The Moldylocks brigade left soon after.


For those who were concerned, no burgers were wasted, more like, um, waisted.  (Hey, A really good Rant-Heckle uses up vast amounts of energy.)

The next day, Sunday, Superbowl Sunday came, and no protestors. Fair(e) goers actually came up and asked me where they were? Answers ranged from “Dunno” to “Cowards” to “Well, we had a BBQ last night…(Burp)” and then I went back to more appropriate heckling.

The Elephant handler gave me a free ride on the Elephant. Ha.  In my armor.  Ha.  Went full Raj on the Fair(e).  HA!  (Just for Murphy, there were no integral ladder switches, nor integral ladders, so no buttons to push.  Mounting is by external staircase only, sorry.)

Beans. For. The. Win!

Next year came, no protestors. But the Fair(e)-goers remembered.

And so did Beans.

Elephant. I have seen the Elephant… And ridden her.

Oh, the title?  Sagaen fortsetter til slutten. - roughly translates as "The Saga continues to the End."  What?  Did you think I was talking dirty?  Silly people.


  1. AH... PETA.... another group suffering an affliction similar to TDS. Always glad to see them get their comeuppance, good show Beans!

    1. Thanks. I do so enjoy pointing out all the chemicals that go into vegan pseudo-meats, that aren't in real meat. Pisses them off. But who cares, right?

      And I have had the joy of cooking BACON and with 5 other friends, consuming delicious BAAAAACOOOON in front of PETA People. Pisses them off it does. You know what's really great about cooking bacon around vegans? If they attack, you have the perfect self-defense weapon, bacon grease...

  2. Beans, you spin a fine yarn, and just the thought of seeing the PETA punks get annihilated is almost enough to tempt me into the four and half hour trek from our winter encampment in Sunny Collier County. But the mere thought of having my kidneys attacked by women with icy hands has chilled the temptation in the bud.

    1. We all struggle against the forces of evil as we can.

      But cold hands on the kidneys in winter? And she did it to me when it was 20 degrees one day. Too cold, Tooooo Cold. I now knew how those soldiers of Napoleon felt on the retreat from Moscow...

  3. I love starting my day by reading a well written rant. Especially a five Rocketdyne F-1 engine rant.
    No pudding? And now a certain tune is running through my head.
    I have a roughly formed theory that texting may have caused the short arms of certain dinosaurs.

    I will reread this post a couple of times 'cause I'm sure I missed a few things.

    Great post!

    1. Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it. And some people were doubting my sanity as to why I got shot at the Archery Booth(e) over and over again.

      Pain is fleeting but a good noogie to the soul is forever!

  4. Now that was truly epic.

    Most entertaining and well worth the wait.

    Well done! (Though steak-wise I prefer medium.)

    1. Well, I learned from some Elder saga person...

      It was one of my best days on this Earth not directly connected to time with Mrs. Andrew. The cops I worked with talked about it for weeks. The Scadians? Next Gulf Wars I heard tales about this SCA Knight who lambasted a bunch of envirofreaks, getting most of the facts wrong, of course. History, always being rewritten.

      Medium Rare, with juices running all over to be sopped up by bread (when Mrs. Andrew isn't looking, she's a medium to medium-well type of lady.)

  5. An outstanding saga well told is a delight to read. That was well done indeed in both word and deed. Mind you, Murphy would have found some integral ladder switches, count on it.

    1. Thank you.

      As to Murphy, there is a waste-dump button, but I don't think he's lacking in wits enough to press THAT magic button.

  6. BZ, Beans. BZ. :)

    1. Thank you. I can stand alternate world views, if the alternate world view people have their facts straight, or at least attempt to get their facts straight. But these idiots were, like so many 'protestors' today, just reading off talking points from a script provided them.

      To make matters worse, do you know what the preferred shoe types are for the unwashed protestor? Either sandals or boots. Made of Leather! Duuuuuurrrrrrrr..

  7. Badgers like heffalumps! There are elephants that live less than a mile from me, in the state park! I live in Baraboo, WI, where the Tingling Brothers came from. We have two state parks, Devil's Lake State Park, and Circus World Museum. Circus World has a few elephants, for the show. In hot summer days, you can go down to Circus World, and watch the elephants swim in the Baraboo river. The Baraboo is flooded, right now, as we have had two feet of rain in the past week. The heffalumps are staying on shore! I am always pleased to see leftist protesters being vexed!

  8. Why did Ringling become Tingling when I hit post?

    1. Because the Chinese bought it?

      Yep, down heah, Sarasota used to be the winter home for several circuses, and at one time had an amusement park built to showcase the circuses, and to serve as a training ground for new acts.

      Florida State University actually has a 'Circus School' as part of the athletics programs/arts programs. They introduced it when they went coed after the war. Right next to Doak Campbell Stadium is a permanent three-ring 'tent' where they practice aerial work.

      University of Florida Vet School has a 'zoo animal' track, and they used to send out 'vet interns' to some of the circuses.

      Beans also likes heffalumps. Neat animals. Especially when they water city worker's cars.


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