I Want to Believe

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Rah-Rah-Rah–BOOM–de-ay

An advance word: I welcome intelligent comments on any of my posts, and I try to keep an open mind, but play nice or your comments get booted out the sandbox, okay? Politics is something I'm passionate about, so I'm including the subject here on occasion. If you disagree that's your right, but don't get snarky about it here. I make no apologies for my politics, but you're always welcome to roll your eyes at my musings and depart this page. Cool, we're good then. On with the show.

The third anniversary of the Iraq adventure has arrived. I think if the current administration put as much forethought into planning the invasion as effort toward selling it to the American people, we'd be out of there already. Instead, the administration rumbles on, unaffected by reality. Our troops deserve more.

I don't have the space here to fully list the many errors made in this war, but they are legion—from "Mission Accomplished" to the latest flare-up of "sectarian violence" (Bush-speak for low-grade civil war). This past weekend Cheney (whose poll numbers have now dropped lower than Nixon's during the height of Watergate) stated on Face the Nation that his earlier statements about "the Resistance being in its last throes" and our being "greeted as liberators" were accurate. Huh?

General Casey meanwhile made the rounds, looking noticeably nervous under Russert's blanket of questions on Meet the Press. He looked like a man terrified of being quoted saying anything negative. It seems the prediction he made a year ago about there being a "fairly substantial reductions in the size of our forces" in the Spring or Summer of 2006 if the training of Iraqis proceeded according to plan will fall flat. When questioned on this, he said that troops were already being drawn down, and cited his not accepting additional troops offered in December. Sorry buster, not accepting new troops isn't what I'd call a draw-down. Tommy Franks had also predicted drawing down to 30,000 troops before the end of 2003. Oops.
I know war is an unpredictable business, but if we had been right maybe once, I'd have more confidence in these guys.

I don't vote for a hasty pull-out—we've created enough chaos as it is—but it's time for the drumbeat of reality to reach additional ears in Washington. It's time for a few people to get sacked, as the British say, beginning with Rummy. It's time to bring in new ideas. The neocon agenda, while it may have our nation's best interests at heart, has been a disaster. Forcing democracy at the point of a gun doesn't work, especially if your intelligence gathering and pre-war planning stink. Encouraging nations to democratically elect leaders also doesn't always go according to plan—just ask the folks in Israel about recent elections in neighboring states. Political history has demonstrated that organized groups tend to win elections and fanatical groups can often be surprisingly (if unfortunately) organized.

During dinner tonight A mentioned that she feels that the criticism of the Press is correct, in that they don't run much good news. It's true, there are good things happening over there, but we rarely hear about them; watching the troops rebuilding a village well isn't as exciting or ratings-worthy as blood on the street I suppose. Worse yet, at this point the White House Press Corps and the White House are playing a distressing game of tag. This Administration is more secretive than most, and their reluctance to give straight answers (or even take unscripted questions at times) is at least partially responsible for the reporters acting like a pack of hungry wolves. David Gregory, perhaps realizing that viewers expected to find him rolling on the carpet with Scott McClellan soon and losing credibility by the day, has since dialed it back a notch and even speaks more moderately on the talk shows. Good.

I'm not letting the Democrats off the hook either—their ranks haven't exactly swelled with good Iraq ideas, beyond sitting back and eating popcorn while the President stumbles. The best way for them to earn some respect (for a change) is to come up with a valid plan, rally behind it together (another foreign concept that), and sell it just as hard as the President sells his "stay the course" strategy. That would be a start.

Like it or not, we're over there, and our security is still important. We are dumping 150 million dollars a day into Iraq, and folks are dying. We need to face reality, admit where mistakes have been made, and come up with a better game plan as one united nation.

Board Game Night Recap: A Pharaoh Rises!

This past Friday we played Age of Mythology. We were looking forward to this, especially after much Willie-bragging about future victories via e-mail. It would be our first gaming night after losing Nick (see A Time Too Short below) but I felt the return to some normalcy would be welcome; when the pizza came I dealt out an extra paper plate for Nick so he knows he’s with us in spirit in this and future contests.

Initial set-up: Dom and Mark pulled the Norse culture, whereas Willie and I drew the Egyptian. We considered swapping someone out for Greek, but decided to let fate rule, after shifting table positions so duplicate cultures were not back-to-back.

The game started fast, with early recruitment. Mark quickly played to type and beefed up his army, with the clear strategy of taking the Largest Army victory cubes at the end of each turn. He also built the first Tower to guard against attack on his fields. Willie meanwhile spent his money on buildings, favoring that route. Dom and I concentrated on acquiring land and made small additions to our armies.

Mark lead with an early attack on yours truly, but my chariots and war elephants held off the Norse hordes. The Egyptian spearmen easily held off larger units and after several units dropped with no losses on my side, Mark’s forces retreated. This gave me the opening I needed, and I quickly recruited mortal forces to my ranks, bolstered by a phoenix or two, to assume role as owner of the largest army. Dom meantime leaped ahead into the Classical Age, catching everyone by surprise.

Following turns saw Mark recruit and attempt to rebuild his weakened forces, Willie continuing to build, and everyone else jumping ahead into the Classical or Heroic Ages. I attacked Dom in an attempt to net a few victory cubes (Willie had grabbed an early lead in cubes and had no intention of losing his edge) and butchered his mortals with my chariots and scorpion men, taking a field. Willie soon attacked Dom, destroying his storehouse. Dom had never really gotten a foothold army-wise and this reduced his forces further, eliminating any real threat from my Norse neighbor to the left (a good thing, since Mark loves combat in AoM and similar games).

Latter turns saw Willie jump into the Mythical Age first, still leading in victory cubes. I managed to tie his amount of buildings and deny his latest Most Buildings victory grab. Willie attacked Mark and ended up in a war of tit-for-tat attrition, taking the worst of it. Mark later responded by inexplicably attacking me (I was doing well, but Willie was clearly leading and approaching the point of buying the Wonder). I eliminated a few of Mark’s large units, including a Troll, and my only loss, a single phoenix, was restored by my priest during the combat; Mark soon retreated.

The endgame saw me buying more spearmen to bulk up my army to 15 units, and then using a special card to change 3 of them into mummies (here’s to mummification!). I tried to keep pace with Willie’s Trump style building progress. By this point folks were quite savvy about using the Gather action at the right time to deny others resources. Dom in particular came out on the losing end so many times that throwing Dom a single cube almost became a running joke. Dom responded with a last, well-placed Gather action that gained him most every cube available. Willie played a special card that gained him his Mythical Hero—yikes!! I pleaded with the others to mount an attack on Willie and reduce his number of buildings, as I could not battle him directly (AoM limits attacks to those sitting next to you).

Alas, it was for naught. Willie reduced his building costs and succeeded in building the Wonder. The final victory cubes were assigned and Willie won at 11 cubes, just ahead of my 10.

It was an awesome game, enjoyed by all. We’ll have to give Willie his bragging rights this time, but I want a rematch (perhaps with Schizohedron joining us)! After all, losing by a mere cube is a lot to take…

Side Note:
An AoM fan named Michael Doyle has designed some beautiful alternate pieces and cards for the game. His ultra-cool site can be found here!

Sweet Geek Relief

Yesterday I finally took got a break after many days of toiling on my latest project for a RPG publisher. This project was a collaborative effort, and I'm pretty excited about it. That being said, I've spent days buried in books and stats and Excel sheets, getting the numbers right. Writing RPG stuff is harder than it looks, and sending my files off to my project editor (via e-mail of course) carried that same sense of relief mixed with excitement that probably every novelist dropping their latest boxed manuscript on her publisher's door feels.

Now I'll sit back and enjoy an imaginary cigarette ... at least until my editor's comments arrive or I remember that novel I half-finished a year (or two or three) ago that still needs finishing.

Ahh, it was good while it lasted.

Comfort Food

Today was a stressful day in a month full of them; work's been crazy and life seems to be going by at 78 RPM.

Time to slow down with organic chicken breasts cooked with shallots, mushrooms, fresh rosemary, and wine (champange actually). Mmmm.

But It's Free!

A trip to the mall on President's Day with my significant other was the usual exercise of fun coupled with routine annoyances. The shopping part was fun; we haven't done a good mall run in a while, and we actually got a great many things we needed around the house. The one thing we noticed immediately however, and yesterday wasn't the first time, was that every time we were being rung up by a salesperson we were forced into the following exchange:

Salesperson: Do you have a [INSERT STORE NAME HERE] card?
Us: No...
Salesperson (now in earnest): Would you like to sign up for one?
Us (wearily): No, but thank you.
Salesperson (more earnest): But it's free!
Us (more wearily): No, that's okay.
Salesperson (dubious): Okay...

We experienced varied versions of this same exchange about five times. It didn't matter whether we were buying sportswear or videogames, the riff was the same annoying beat. After a couple hours of this, coupled with dodging poorly-steered strollers, lackluster food-court Chinese eats, and looking at endless racks of what seemed to be identical pairs of jeans, I began to feel as if I was being flogged with a cat-o-nine-tails.

We spoke about getting buttons made up to wear: NO STORE CARDS THANKS. YES, I KNOW ITS FREE, DON’T CARE. I find the whole "free" thing dubious. Years ago discount cards were a good way to ensure customer loyalty—shop with us, get a discount. Winners all around.
No, now these companies have gotten greedy. I actually signed up for one card yesterday, and I was asked for my name, phone number, address. Guess were that info is going kids? They'll sell it off to be placed on a marketing list, and we know the wonderful security employed by such companies in guarding our info from identity theft, which is, well, pretty much no security at all. One wonders if that immediate $5 savings on a videogame and future 10% discount on used games is worth the ongoing hilarity of having your identity ripped off, or of simply being spammed to death.

I doubt it.

A Time Too Short

I lost a friend this month. Indeed, writing this is difficult and I purposely gave myself some time to get some distance, so to speak. It's funny perhaps that my first true entry here is regarding death, but preachers always tell us that death is only the beginning and so maybe it all fits together.

On Friday, February 3rd I got that call that no one wants to get. My good friend Dominic was calling to tell me the news: our friend Nick had passed away the night before. Nick had just turned 43 this January. I was disbelieving, but Dom's demeanor made it clear he wasn't joking. I spent the rest of that afternoon in a daze, feeling like I'd been kicked in the stomach, and I didn't relish the thought of telling the other members of our circle the news.

I met Nick back in 1987? 1988? It was long ago, nearly twenty years now. I was working for a computer rental company, then one of the largest in the country (now long since dissolved). I worked in the "back lab" with the less-experienced techs and one day I met a fellow recently transferred from the warehouse. (In those days guys moving from the warehouse into the lab and learning the ropes wasn't unusual.) It took me a while to get to know Nick. He took a lot of good-natured ribbing from his ex-warehouse buddies and seemed like a nice guy right from the start. One fellow in particular, one Glen, always got after Nick for buttoning the very top button of his shirt. Glen would chase Nick around the warehouse every other day and nag him until he reluctantly undid the offending button. Nick had a style all his own, even then, and we all assumed he always had. Nick was a big guy, but gentle and soft-spoken, and he walked with a silent but shuffling gait.

Eventually Nick and I became friends in that easy-going way, where you hardly remember how it happened but instead it just feels like the other person has always been there. It was a relaxed friendship that waxed and waned those first years; we shared a love of Def Leppard and heavy metal (as it was in the '80s) in general, and we went to a number of concerts—'Leppard, KISS, and others, including the 6-hour "Monsters of Rock" at New Jersey's Giant Stadium. We traded CDs, grabbed lunch, and helped each other at work. Several years running our little work group—consisting of Nick, me, our mutual friend Dom, and whomever else we could grab—headed over to the local watering hole and shared a December holiday toast by belting down a shot of dark rum. Nick and I gained work experience and moved into the front lab. Eventually I shared a face-to-face worktable with Nick and when I later left the company in 1991 he inherited my vaunted "notes"—a stack of worn index cards filled with crabbed notes about jumper settings and techie data that he accepted as gingerly as if I had offered him the Dead Sea Scrolls.

As the years went on Nick was always there. Nick, Dom, and I made a yearly summer pilgrimage down to the beach and it became tradition--ride down, get breakfast near the boardwalk (always at the same place, although it changed owners at least three times), hit the beach for a few hours, grab lunch on the boardwalk (pizza or sausage sandwiches was key, this was the Jersey shore after all), play miniature golf on the rooftops (who paid was often decided by a skeeball competition earlier), hit the arcades, and then stop for dinner on the way home. Those dinners were great vehicles for long discussions about work, life, and family. We didn't care if we sat in the middle of a fancy Italian restaurant stinking of sand and Coppertone, our hair askew in that unique beach style; it was about fellowship. Those trips were some of my best times with Nick, and one summer we even spent a long weekend at Wildwood in an attempt to extend the experience.

Nick drifted easily into my larger group of friends, and he was happy to join in whatever we did. Nick played D&D with us (more on that later), went to movies, did lunches. Nick never stood out as a leader, but he was always present and his humor and unique nature was always an obvious and welcome presence. We had many lunches at Bennigan's (where Nick happily ordered the gut-busting Death By Chocolate every time) and many, many Chinese dinners in which we would grab James, Dave, or whomever we could, circle around a big round table, and share everything.

My memories of Nick are legion: His inept shuffling of cards at a poker game (I missed the event but came in as everyone was doubled over with laughter) or the hasty evacuation of all players once Nick raised (Nick couldn't bluff and the rare event of a Nicky raise often led to cries of "Nick's got a full house!" and insanely rapid folds) and the time Nick lost so much money playing one night that I, to the bemused delight of everyone else, made a show of giving Nick 35 cents toll money for his ride home. (For a better telling on Nick's poker days, see the great write-up at http://schizohedron.blogspot.com/) I can remember Nick on the beach wearing black socks and sandals, or his rubbing suntan lotion on his chest and his dense chest hair (we didn't nickname him Sasquatch for nothing!) turning the lotion into a useless white shampoo. I recall Nick lumbering into the shower at Mark's shore place and stepping on the tiled shower lip and collapsing it, to Mark's horror. I remember a white hair, white knuckle ride Nick took us on once as we followed (read: tailgated) another car down the GS Parkway (Nick was deathly afraid of getting lost). More often than not Nicky simply cracked us all up with something he did, or more often tried unsuccessfully to do.

Nick was a favorite D&D player. He wasn't what you'd call a hardcore gamer by any means, and he didn't pore over the rules they way Mark or Willie or I do, but he always offered helpful suggestions, tried to decipher what must have seemed impossibly complex rules, and in his usual selfless way participated just because it made us happy. Playing with Nick was always fun because he didn't know every rule or monster, and so the rest of us saw things through his fresh perspective and the magic came back to the game. I was in the process of rewriting Nick's character sheets the week he died, and our tiny group will save Buckey the Halfling Thief and Roth the Cleric for future adventures.

Nick also faithfully joined us in huge RISK battles (he never won but he came dangerously close in one of our very last games and the thrill on his face was great to behold), and would regularly play the other weird boardgames I regularly throw at our group. Nick particularly liked Puerto Rico and Bohnanza ("the bean game" in Nick-speak). Our last boardgame night was New Years Eve, and we played Puerto Rico and Bang! and toasted in 2006. Happily, I snapped off a few pictures that evening. It was a good night. I had to fight off the urge at Nick's wake to surreptitiously slip a game die into Nick's coffin, in case he ever wishes to join us in our future games. He will always be a presence at our table, whatever game we play.

I miss Nick already. I think of his goofy but lovable way. I think of him gaming with us. I think of him walking into my place and always giving Mojo (my tabby) a peck atop the head (Nick's gentle nature made him one of the small group that could actually hold Mojo without the beast immediately going into a panic). I think of those shore trips and the Chinese dinners. I'm sorry he will no longer be there for these things. I'll miss that child-like naivety he possessed. There will be a void in our group, and even an old agnostic like myself must believe he has gone to a better place.

I'll always be your friend Nick and somehow, someway, we'll meet again.

My First One

Done it. I've joined the masses and decided to post my thoughts for the eyes of the world.

I've been driven to do this by forces that I cannot control, but there is no choice but to go with the flow and see what develops. I'll try to write when I can, keep it interesting, and keep you guessing, gentle reader.

Stay tuned!