Wings Over the Pyre

Current Mood: thoughtful

• Bag acquired.


• Games packed (both PC and Cube).


• Clothes selected and packed. Heavy on the sweaters and t-shirts to wear beneath.


• Passport found.


• Messenger bag, found.


• Camera charged and packed.


• GBA-SP charged and packed.


• Charger for both, packed.


• BBQ sauce packed.


• Tea bags packed.


• Doc Martens packed.


• Extra GBA games packed.


• Money for travel acquired and packed.


• No books, laptops, or Cubes proper making this trip.

Current Mood: cheerful

"Occult underground" isn't a term you use much. First, it's redundant. Second, it makes you sound like a geek. But there is an underground community, of sorts—a very loose network of people who have a clue, at least a shred of one, about the real U.S. of A., the one not shown on TV, not sold in any store. It's a world of crooks and a world of magick, with no clear dividing line between the two. Here's the gist of what you, as a group, have heard about the occult U.S.A.

First, there's the Pinkertons. The rarely-spotted bogeymen, the jackbooted stormtroopers of the status quo. Some say they work for the Feds, or for Bill Gates, or for the goddamn Illuminati. They've been around for as long as anyone can remember, and they've always been the blunt instrument of just whoever it is that is really in charge. If you make too much noise, if you try to go public, if you melt a cop's face in broad daylight, you might get a visit from these guys. They might let you live, they might kill you fast, or they might make such an example of you that your name becomes slang for misery.

Much lower down the food chain, but much more of a presence in your daily lives, is the DixieMafia, aka the Corn Bread Cosa Nostra. The name is kind of a joke, but they sure as hell aren't. "Organized" crime is probably too strong a word for this loose association of bad ass good ol' boys, spread out through the entire South. Still, they've got their fingers in a lot of pies—drugs, guns, prostitution, contract murder. And, unlike their northern counterparts, they don't have any hang-ups about messing around with adepts and magick and the occult. Very little happens in the occult underground south of the Mason-Dixon line that these boys don't have or want a slice of. But their influence drops considerably once you go north of that line. Beyond that, most of the players you've heard of are regional. The SuicideKings rumble across the South on ritually tricked-out Harleys, looking for asses to kick. The west is known mainly for lone dukes like Coyote Bob and the Blackfoot shaman, Medicine Snake. The EyeBitingMan murders unchecked throughout the northern U.S. and southern Canada, if he's not just an urban legend.

point5b

Current Mood: impressed

Stephen Den Beste has been asked for help on answering the question, "What are Americans like?" Stephen has a great answer, but I think, as a foreigner living here, I can offer "the outsider's perspective": Americans are nothing like you've been told Americans are like.

When I moved here from New Brunswick, Canada, I had a pretty definite idea about what I was going to expect: Arrogance from people who thought they were better than me. I'll tell you something right now. I have yet to have one person ever talk down to me as a Canadian. There are no more rude people here than there are any place else I've been - and that's pretty much all over the world, truth be told. I've been everywhere. Americans are no more arrogant, self-serving, protectionist, rude, or egotistical than any person from any country I've ever been.

There is, however, one thing that sets Americans apart from others. Many people may confuse it with arrogance. Americans do not want more than anyone else in the world. Having said that, they do expect more than most other people. There is a difference. You expect (and get) more when you live in a society that embraces individuality and achievement. It might be said then, that Americans are more apt to expect things that others are resigned to only want.