Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Of Flame and Fury

The ashes fall, a twirling rain,
A heart beats faster, through the pain.
"What good is man?" His sad refrain -
Echoes hollowly in the rain.

"What good am I?" He cries again,
His flesh made heavy by toil and sin,
His fists strike stone, his head does spin,
There is no game for him to win.

His eyes strike hollow,
his soul rings cold,
In the shadows breaks a mold,

"A thousand times my sins I'll pay,
If for one answer I could stay;
Will I leave my mark upon this earth,
Or, like ashes, just fade away?"

Of kilts, google, and men in creepy latex underthings.

Well, a google search of 'Kilt Fetish' (later narrowed down to 'Kilt Fetish Blog') reveals the following:
1) I am not on it. 2) There are some really funny people who have written better blogs with mentions to both Kilts and Fetishes. 3) There's some really, really fucked up shit on the Internet (that last one was a gimme, but even so.) (On that note, if you ever google image search 'kilt' with safe search off, beware results page 5. ITS AS BIG AS HIS GODDAMN FOREARM)
I posit here and now that anything made out of latex is not a kilt. A man wearing a pleated, black latex garment is wearing a black latex skirt. A kilt is not a skirt (don't even start. A skirt is shorter, emphasizes the legs, and you wear something UNDER it.) and as such, these 6" black.... THINGS some sites are selling (and some bloggers are supporting, and, god forbid, wearing) are as much kilts as I'm Catherine the Great.
Kilts are long, pleated plaid garments invented first by the ancient Celts of northern Scotland who felt, rightly, that pants where un-manly. It became representative of Scotland dominantly in the 16th century, and continues to survive and thrive as a functional piece of clothing. The tartan of a kilt can denote clan, or, in some instances, military unit (see: The Black Watch). There are tartans for hunting, tartans for war, tartans for peace, tartans for individual families in the greater clan, hell, several cities and States have their own tartan. The kilt is an immense symbol of pride, masculinity and vigour (especially if worn properly), and is therefore damn sexy, and I'm not going to refute that in the slightest. Kilt Fetishes, as the title of the blog may indicate, are a-okay with me. AS LONG AS THEY ARE REAL KILTS. You see, I have issues with these things flying around the web masquerading as kilts. Therefore I consider it my civic duty to inform anyone who listens as the difference between kilt... and not kilt.


Here you have the traditional Highland Kilt. Practical, dignified, and, let's admit it, pretty damn manly. It has all the vital accoutrements (Sporran, Pin and Belt) and is pretty much your standard mental image of 'kilt'. Note how only the back is pleated, to allow the front tartan to go uninflicted by the inherent lines of pleats.


Look at this thing. Its ridiculous. Its like a plastic apron made of shame! Look at its ungainly wrinkles, its black vinyl coating! Nobody would wear this in any sort of social setting (and a kilt requires either sharp charisma or being in Scotland in the first place.) That slit looks precariously poised to show off some severely latex-chafed wedding tackle, too, and that's just defeating the purpose. Kilts aren't frames for your throbbing genitalia - and I'm making a deliberate effort to avoid the 'kilt pants' also offered from a number of sites, each with their own variations of strategically placed holes.
And this is just the tip of the iceberg - even a cursory search reveals miniature latex tutus being foisted off as 'mini kilts', or chain and spike studded leather abominations that look like what would happen if you ran a kilt through Monster Garage.
This will not stand. From this day forth I proclaim a kilted jihad against these false kilts, a one man crusade of tartan and fury. Who will stand with me in this - or will your grandchildren one day ask you where you where when they came for the Scots, leaving nothing by vinyl and unfortunate photos in their wake?

KiltFetish Goes Blue, and Pen Harakiri

Hello, dear reader, and how do we fare today?

Feeling Blue? So is Kilt Fetish - now your bluest site of blue things since that Smurf XXX site got sued into oblivion! If you haven't been abused by reading this fine blog recently, you probably haven't noticed the ongoing battle on the color shceme. This azure version you're being abused with right now is just the latest in a long series of color schemes that I've been experimenting with. White was painful to look at after a while, black screamed 'livejournal!!!', red was an utter failiure and none of the other templates really fit for me. We'll see how long blue keeps.

In other news, my impending failiure from UNM seems to be derailed at least slightly by managing to pass (by the skin of my teeth) yet another exam. This is indeed fortuitous, because had I failed to manage this test I would have been forced to pick one of two pens with which to commit seppuku in order to save face. (For those of you playing at home, that was a joke, about the pens- I was pretty much decided on the black click pen I salvaged from work.)

I'll post later this evening on what ' been keeping me so occupied of late. Till then.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Happy Birthday to.... Me

Well its been a snazzy day, to be sure! The big 19 has come and past, and now its 364 and counting till 20! (I'm optimistic, so sue me)

As I sit here, I'm in a really good mood, which is funny considering how burned out I was earlier. Amazing what pizza and familly can do for you!

Its been an amazing day, and a great B-Day. I even got a cake. AT WORK. (Which is just how awesome my co-workers are, believe you me) I've only been working at Monroe's for a year now (and even then at the absolute bottom rank of the restaraunt structure, i.e. cashier monkey) and already I've enjoyed it more than any other work I've pursued.

Scored pretty good in b-day swag, even better than I did for christmas, so far be it for me to complain - but i failed once again to claim the one object I pursued relentlessly (the elusive Mechwarrior 4: Mercenaries). Seriously, this game is starting to haunt my dreams - I'm hearing LRMs and Gauss Rifles flying between Atlases and Mad Cats in my sleep.

Speaking of Games, I've been playing one in particular recently - Yakuza 3. I was sceptical of it at first (Yakuza 1 and 2 didn't handle all that well) but Yakuza 3 has sold me on the franchise as a whole. I'll review it more in depth at a later date, when I;m more focused and not rocking out as much to new CDs.

So, from G HQ, have a good day out there, and I'll continue posting my continually bent stream of conciousness for your reading 'enjoyment'!

Friday, April 9, 2010


So you have no doubt reached this little slice of the internet by punching through that wonderful little 'adult content' blocker.

Why is it there? Well, I'd really prefer to keep this blog open, and while I certainly doubt there will be any naked chicas or any such things, I do want to keep in compliance with the Google Draconian Content Enforcement Laws, and god forbid I should be profane and insult one of my (formerly unwarned) readers.

Odds are pretty good you're over eighteen if you're reading blogs anyway. Children don't have the attention spans for such things.

However, I'll do something to warrant my ALL CAPITALS start to this posting, as inspired by my English 250 class.


Not pictured: How seahorses or their mating habits relate to Tennisee Williams' 'A Streetcar Named Desire'. Or why our professor admitted that she had been researching aforementioned seahorse mating.

I hit it with my axe!

Played D&D for the first time in a long time (might as well have been first time as I'm having to re-learn 4th Ed.) last Saturday, and again last night. Seeing as how 'Kilt Fetish' is essentially just my soapbox (even if it is within a sea of soapboxes) I would not be surprised if there will likely be many many more posts on this topic (as it inevitably takes up tremendous segments of my time).

Suffice to say, I love my group. Four players of various levels of experience and acting talent, but everyone brings something different to the table.

At first my cousin Willhelm (sic) was taking point of our group, a straight-laced paladin of Bahamut. However, Will abandoned us to pursue employment in the more tangible realm of I'll-be-out-of-state-working, so his one session is quietly shuffled under the table and his high and mighty paladin has no doubt found 'greener pastures' (or an ignoble death underwater, bereaved by pseudo-fish monsters. Who can say?)

Roderick (not his real name) and his longtime D&D experience is always a pleasure to have along, even if he does argue the rules with me from time to time (I'd be more down on that if he wasn't right so often). His dwarven cleric Sorden "Hagmaier" Barrend is becoming increasingly characterized as R. gets back into the swing of things, and is swiftly emerging as the group's impromptu combat leader.

Olivine (an assumed Alias) has been with me on this one from the get-go and is perhaps the most enthusiastic player I have at present. The quintessential rookie with her Half-Elf ranger Amen Ussia, Olivine nevertheless brings a willing role play and careful mind to the proceedings. She also helps us stay on track (we are a rather easily distracted group).... at least, when she herself is not distracted.

Mikael (also known as Blondie) is a rookie as well, but is in the process of gaining a solid grasp on the game, (so long as I can keep him hooked, that is. Otherwise his mind wanders). His enthusiasm for awesome moments make me want to constantly step up my game to deliver them, but I do have to remember to pace myself. His Elven rouge Leahcim (we end up pronouncing it Leh-kah-him, think Yiddish) is more of a ranger wannabe, but who am I to judge? Also thoroughly narcissistic, Leahcim's current "tally" is at two, soon to grow by several more no doubt due to his recent exploits on the field of battle. What Mike really brings to the game though is his excellent improv skills, which makes Leahcim an honest pleasure to interact with.

Finally, we have Deige (who's real name cannot be released for legal reasons), our newest recruit, who was thoroughly press-ganged into service, but agreed to go along with our mad schemes almost entirely out of a happy-go-lucky disposition. She hasn't immersed herself in role play too much yet, (though her barbarian shifter, Fumeyelle, is nothing if not laded with potential) but she has has endeared herself admirably to the group by just being Deige - her artistic skills in particular made for a wonderful evening, and suffice to say i will never, ever look at platypuss' (platipusses? platipusi?) the same way ever again. She joined us for our second session, and I feel she is sufficiently hooked to stay on for at least a couple more. She also provided me, unwittingly, with the title of this post, as it was her first action in combat- "Deige, i mean, Fu, the enemy is charging you, its hideous war cry gurgling in its tepid thrat, its spear poised! What do you do?" "I'll hit it with my axe!"

The session itself was fun, but combat dragged heavily at times. That may have been because of the sheer number of enemies I threw at them, but I also feel that I need a second player's handbook so that we can, you know, CHECK OUR FLIPPING POWERS BEFORE OUR TURN, HMMM?

Not that I'm critical, we're all still learning.

Next week we'll finally get the party to the island and ruins of Caer Ulric, give our newbies their deflowering first experience in a dungeon environment, and (hopefully) put an end to the mudspawn threat once and for all.

Till then I will continue updating bi-weekly (or more, should I feel anything noteworthy enough to blast across the Internet perchance occur) for your reading pleasure.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010


It occurs to me that this blog, like many the endeavour before it, is a procrastinatory effort. As I speak (or, write, I suppose) a Geology test looms large over the horizon, shadowed quietly but no less sinisterly by a World Literatures paper.

Ah, but where are my manners? My name is Galen, and it is a pleasure, dear reader, to meet you. As the title of this fair blog might indicate, I am enamoured of Kilts and Celtic vestments, prideful of deep-rooted Scottish heritage, and not beyond deploying my language to its fullest branches of bloodied lexicon.

At present, I am enveloped in the depth of my meagre domain - in the middle of this sand blasted wasteland some jestingly call a state, listening to the blaring club music of one of my neighbors. You'll note I say 'one of my neighbors' - the sound is dispersed rather evenly through the walls, making locating it and complaining to my landlord night impossible.

At some point I'll endeavour content or humor for this little shattered slice of the Internet I have claimed as my own, but at present an introduction and a bandying about of words will have to suffice.