Happy Easter folks.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Evidence I live under a rock...
I was at a bar with some co-workers, and they started talking about
Cardassians. I asked them which Star Trek they preferred, as I like
Deep Space Nine. Turns out they weren't talking about Star Trek at
all... Kardashians. Apparently something of a phenomena I've missed
since we've cancelled our cable.
And a song...
In honor of my son, and brought to you by my (Still!) lack of sleep - as sung to Bohemian Rhapsody, by Queen
Was that a stinky too?
Or just a big poopy...
You won't know at all,
Until you peek in to my nappy.
Pinch closed your nose,
Pull back the waist and Seeeeeeee.....
I'm just a stinky boy,
You're gonna need new nappies
Because you never know, what you'll find
What comes out, My behind
Anywhere the poo goes, Doesn't really matter
To me..... To meeee.
Mamma, just pooped again
It was a brand new diaper,
now it's gonna be a five wiper.
Mama, you had just changed me.
But now I've gone and soiled my clean onsie....
Mamma, OoooOooo
Didn't mean to pee on you,
If I've not pooped again this time tomorrow
Feed me prunes!
Feed me prunes
Nothing really matters.
Anyone can see
Poopies do not matter.... To me.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
I was interviewed today. Well, sorta
For those of you who don't know, I live in what is called a transitional neighborhood. In the real estate world, this means a neighborhood that is undergoing a change, hopefully toward gentrification. In the practical sense, it means the ghetto.
I shouldn't say that. I have a lovely historic home, that I'm quite proud of, and I have some wonderful, eccentric, diverse, amazing neighbors, with personality, talent, and honestly, I can't say enough good things about the majority of these folks. They are committed to improving the area, one house at a time, and have been tenacious enough that I at least moved in here to join these urban pioneers.
Now the negatives. A bullet did come through my window a couple years ago on Halloween while I was watching Wrath of Khan. I would take it as a commentary on William Shatner's acting ability, but it was too scary for me to make jokes about, even now.
It is a high crime area. The housing values are comparatively low, and currently, only 1/3 of the homes in the area are owner occupied. Not that there's anything wrong with renters, but when historic duplexes are converted to hold single room occupants, and have over 10 units, that's a lot of population density for a very low cost of rent.
One really great thing about the neighborhood, is that the neighbors who are involved in the neighborhood association are working very hard to improve the quality of life. There is also a lot of interest and money coming in from corporate sponsors. I truly believe that in 10 years, this area will be a thing of beauty. I just don't know if I have ten years to give it. But that's another story. So enough backstory, you probably want to know about the interview. Well, maybe you're more interested in where I live, but the interview story is the one I want to tell today.
One of the task forces that I am on in the neighborhood association is a NetZero project. Essentially, this project involves utilizing a Brownfield (area that has been lightly contaminated by a toxin, that is proposed for re-development) to create a solar farm, or other clean source of alternative energy that would be used to benefit the community in some way, be it retrofitting homes in the area so they don't have to pay an energy bill, ever again (! Imagine not having to pay a gas or electric bill.... right?) or putting in a commercial / industrial building with the same benefit.
So without discussing too much more back story, one of the things that a purchaser should do before purchasing a piece of land, is to do an environmental site assessment. In my professional life, I have written a whole heck of a lot of these, so I volunteered to write one - at cost, not counting my time - for the property. This isn't an insubstantial gift. The cost of a basic one ranges from 2-5k. Small potatoes in the grand scheme of things, but there you go. It's a small savings I can offer. They were very excited about it. I still have to work out details, may have to form an LLC, but that's all future discussions.
Anyway, we had our second public meeting today! During the question and answer stage, I was coolly able to discuss lead contamination and the subsequent environmental fate and transport in plants versus animals, and how that differed on a cellular level. Let me tell you, even in retrospect I sounded smart.
Then the reporter walked up to me, stuck a microphone in my face, and asked me, "in your professional opinion, can you please define what a Brownfield is?" I turned red. I turned redder. Then I stammered out something about how I though that she should talk to the state regulator about that. Then I started apologizing profusely about how I was unable to talk to her because whenever anyone from the media started asking me questions my brain started going faster than my tongue, and I sounded like a blathering idiot. Yeah, I said that.
Then she assured me that I wasn't live. And I was all, oh, I know, but you're still going to quote me! And I'm much better at writing than talking in person.
Oh man, it went downhill from there. She ended up walking out, promising she'd get me some time.
I swear, I feel like I'm a relatively articulate, personable human being, who does indeed know what the definition of a Brownfield is (see above, yah?) Holy hockey sticks batman - that microphone... I swear it killed my brain cells.
I shouldn't say that. I have a lovely historic home, that I'm quite proud of, and I have some wonderful, eccentric, diverse, amazing neighbors, with personality, talent, and honestly, I can't say enough good things about the majority of these folks. They are committed to improving the area, one house at a time, and have been tenacious enough that I at least moved in here to join these urban pioneers.
Now the negatives. A bullet did come through my window a couple years ago on Halloween while I was watching Wrath of Khan. I would take it as a commentary on William Shatner's acting ability, but it was too scary for me to make jokes about, even now.
It is a high crime area. The housing values are comparatively low, and currently, only 1/3 of the homes in the area are owner occupied. Not that there's anything wrong with renters, but when historic duplexes are converted to hold single room occupants, and have over 10 units, that's a lot of population density for a very low cost of rent.
One really great thing about the neighborhood, is that the neighbors who are involved in the neighborhood association are working very hard to improve the quality of life. There is also a lot of interest and money coming in from corporate sponsors. I truly believe that in 10 years, this area will be a thing of beauty. I just don't know if I have ten years to give it. But that's another story. So enough backstory, you probably want to know about the interview. Well, maybe you're more interested in where I live, but the interview story is the one I want to tell today.
One of the task forces that I am on in the neighborhood association is a NetZero project. Essentially, this project involves utilizing a Brownfield (area that has been lightly contaminated by a toxin, that is proposed for re-development) to create a solar farm, or other clean source of alternative energy that would be used to benefit the community in some way, be it retrofitting homes in the area so they don't have to pay an energy bill, ever again (! Imagine not having to pay a gas or electric bill.... right?) or putting in a commercial / industrial building with the same benefit.
So without discussing too much more back story, one of the things that a purchaser should do before purchasing a piece of land, is to do an environmental site assessment. In my professional life, I have written a whole heck of a lot of these, so I volunteered to write one - at cost, not counting my time - for the property. This isn't an insubstantial gift. The cost of a basic one ranges from 2-5k. Small potatoes in the grand scheme of things, but there you go. It's a small savings I can offer. They were very excited about it. I still have to work out details, may have to form an LLC, but that's all future discussions.
Anyway, we had our second public meeting today! During the question and answer stage, I was coolly able to discuss lead contamination and the subsequent environmental fate and transport in plants versus animals, and how that differed on a cellular level. Let me tell you, even in retrospect I sounded smart.
Then the reporter walked up to me, stuck a microphone in my face, and asked me, "in your professional opinion, can you please define what a Brownfield is?" I turned red. I turned redder. Then I stammered out something about how I though that she should talk to the state regulator about that. Then I started apologizing profusely about how I was unable to talk to her because whenever anyone from the media started asking me questions my brain started going faster than my tongue, and I sounded like a blathering idiot. Yeah, I said that.
Then she assured me that I wasn't live. And I was all, oh, I know, but you're still going to quote me! And I'm much better at writing than talking in person.
Oh man, it went downhill from there. She ended up walking out, promising she'd get me some time.
I swear, I feel like I'm a relatively articulate, personable human being, who does indeed know what the definition of a Brownfield is (see above, yah?) Holy hockey sticks batman - that microphone... I swear it killed my brain cells.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
A tale of turtle terror
When we were kids, my cousins and I used to spend our summers on the family farm. It consists of about 350 acres of corn and soybeans, and enough space to handle 13 kids without us blowing anything up, or burning anything down. We did lots of hiking, fishing, trapping and four wheeling and one very memorable summer, turtle hunting.
Yes... I said turtle. Green amphibian, covered in a shell, four retractable legs, and a giant maw that hisses. For the record, the beasts I am referring to are snapping turtles. These critters are mean, green biting machines that can take a finger off with one giant snap. Also, they taste amazing when deep fried or when tossed in soup. My momma once said if it didn't get her first she'd eat it. I guess I took her advice. Take it from me, turtle are goooood.
So yeah. Once upon a time I went turtle hunting. For the uninitiated, turtle hunting consists of donning a pair of high boots, getting a group of folks together - armed with a golf club, and a shovel, and a burlap sack, and going tromping in the wilderness. Then you look for turtle sign, which is usually an indent in the mud that's generally shaped like a circle. You dig it up, and tadda! hibernating snapping turtle. Ripe for the burlap sacking.
Whelp - we found us some turtle sign, and dug it up. You guessed it, there was one mean green turtle that wasn't that interested in being our dinner. So I taunted it. I mean, I stood in front of it as my cousins tried to get it to bite on the golf club and drag it in to the sack...
Actually what I mean is that when we dug up the turtle, it slowly started to crawl toward me hissing . I bravely responded by rapidly trying to back away, convinced it was going to clamp its viscious maw down on my toenails, and splatted on my rear in the mud. We are talking 6' tall brunette goes flopping on her butt in a mud puddle, not quite screeching in terror, but there is some serious foot kicking going on in the general direction of the turtle. The cousins are laughing hysterically at this point, and I'm frantically trying to stand up to get away from the snapper, which must be a good six feet away from me. There is mud flying, and general screeching before I manage to stand up, and realize that the durn turtle is about three feet away from my feet. Hysterical laughter ensued.
There's nothing like sympathy from ones cousins, is there...
Yes... I said turtle. Green amphibian, covered in a shell, four retractable legs, and a giant maw that hisses. For the record, the beasts I am referring to are snapping turtles. These critters are mean, green biting machines that can take a finger off with one giant snap. Also, they taste amazing when deep fried or when tossed in soup. My momma once said if it didn't get her first she'd eat it. I guess I took her advice. Take it from me, turtle are goooood.
So yeah. Once upon a time I went turtle hunting. For the uninitiated, turtle hunting consists of donning a pair of high boots, getting a group of folks together - armed with a golf club, and a shovel, and a burlap sack, and going tromping in the wilderness. Then you look for turtle sign, which is usually an indent in the mud that's generally shaped like a circle. You dig it up, and tadda! hibernating snapping turtle. Ripe for the burlap sacking.
Whelp - we found us some turtle sign, and dug it up. You guessed it, there was one mean green turtle that wasn't that interested in being our dinner. So I taunted it. I mean, I stood in front of it as my cousins tried to get it to bite on the golf club and drag it in to the sack...
Actually what I mean is that when we dug up the turtle, it slowly started to crawl toward me hissing . I bravely responded by rapidly trying to back away, convinced it was going to clamp its viscious maw down on my toenails, and splatted on my rear in the mud. We are talking 6' tall brunette goes flopping on her butt in a mud puddle, not quite screeching in terror, but there is some serious foot kicking going on in the general direction of the turtle. The cousins are laughing hysterically at this point, and I'm frantically trying to stand up to get away from the snapper, which must be a good six feet away from me. There is mud flying, and general screeching before I manage to stand up, and realize that the durn turtle is about three feet away from my feet. Hysterical laughter ensued.
There's nothing like sympathy from ones cousins, is there...
Saturday, July 13, 2013
On art
It is not a secret that I live in the bustling metropolis of Indianapolis. Indy, as it is affectionately known is quite a nice city. It is the home of the world's largest Children's Museum, has historic homes that include the residences of former presidents, successfully hosted the Superbowl, and is generally considered a model for urban redevelopment. Note I didn't mention race cars or corn. Nor do I intend to. In fact, you can forget those two topics for the rest of this post.
In addition to the aforementioned, we also have a lovely art museum. Indianapolis Museum of Art (IMA).
My favorite painting they have is a piece by Turner - a watercolor depiction of sailboats during a storm, so that might tell you something about me. What, I don't know. But there you have it... Turner Wikipedia Article
Today, the Captain, the Honey, and the Inlaws and I went to the IMA. There was a traveling exhibit by Ai Wei Wei. Let me pause for a disclaimer. I am an unabashed traditionalist when it comes to both art and literature. I love trashy books, I cannot lie. But I do have a tendency to read classic novels on the beach as well. I also tend to prefer dead white guy poetry (with the possible exception of Pablo Neruda.) Because OMG... Not a great translation, but read the Spanish, even if you don't speak it.
Anyway, Ai Wei Wei's work is interesting. He was billed by the IMA as "The Most Controversial Artist in the World." I went in expecting to be shocked. Instead, I was mostly saddened. I admit, I had a hard time with the exhibit, which was probably the point. He dropped Han dynasty vases, and photographed it as it was happening. This vase probably cost more than my car. I get that he was challenging cultural ideals, but couldn't he have done something better with his money? He also used industrial paint and covered Han dynasty vases with the vibrant safety yellow colors, and used traditional Qing dynasty techniques to destroy ( I mean make a work of art... of course) at least 15 stools.. Again, I get it. But industrial paint?
Then, he had his tribute to the 2008 earthquake. I'll admit, this made me sad. He had rebar from the schools that were destroyed stacked up on the floor, and the names of the kids who were killed. The names covered an entire wall.
So yes, I have some mixed feelings about what I viewed today. Not really shock, just mostly sadness. There's a level of the ephemeral about all of his work. Photographs of naked people, photographs of Chinese police officers, intermingled with shards of 2,000 year old vases.
I think I prefer to think of art as beauty. I like Turner, remember? I do think there is room for the Ai Wei Wei's of the world, but I paid $12.00 dollars to go visit his traveling exhibit that filled two rooms of the IMA, and all I felt afterward was sad.. My Turner piece I like is in a room with Monet's, Manet's, post impressionists, some paintings from the 1100s in Spain, and an O'keefe or four. The museum itself doesn't charge for admission. I sure wouldn't mind a print of that Turner on my wall. Shards of a Han dynasty vase - well, I guess they are probably in the landfill already.
In addition to the aforementioned, we also have a lovely art museum. Indianapolis Museum of Art (IMA).
My favorite painting they have is a piece by Turner - a watercolor depiction of sailboats during a storm, so that might tell you something about me. What, I don't know. But there you have it... Turner Wikipedia Article
Today, the Captain, the Honey, and the Inlaws and I went to the IMA. There was a traveling exhibit by Ai Wei Wei. Let me pause for a disclaimer. I am an unabashed traditionalist when it comes to both art and literature. I love trashy books, I cannot lie. But I do have a tendency to read classic novels on the beach as well. I also tend to prefer dead white guy poetry (with the possible exception of Pablo Neruda.) Because OMG... Not a great translation, but read the Spanish, even if you don't speak it.
Anyway, Ai Wei Wei's work is interesting. He was billed by the IMA as "The Most Controversial Artist in the World." I went in expecting to be shocked. Instead, I was mostly saddened. I admit, I had a hard time with the exhibit, which was probably the point. He dropped Han dynasty vases, and photographed it as it was happening. This vase probably cost more than my car. I get that he was challenging cultural ideals, but couldn't he have done something better with his money? He also used industrial paint and covered Han dynasty vases with the vibrant safety yellow colors, and used traditional Qing dynasty techniques to destroy ( I mean make a work of art... of course) at least 15 stools.. Again, I get it. But industrial paint?
Then, he had his tribute to the 2008 earthquake. I'll admit, this made me sad. He had rebar from the schools that were destroyed stacked up on the floor, and the names of the kids who were killed. The names covered an entire wall.
So yes, I have some mixed feelings about what I viewed today. Not really shock, just mostly sadness. There's a level of the ephemeral about all of his work. Photographs of naked people, photographs of Chinese police officers, intermingled with shards of 2,000 year old vases.
I think I prefer to think of art as beauty. I like Turner, remember? I do think there is room for the Ai Wei Wei's of the world, but I paid $12.00 dollars to go visit his traveling exhibit that filled two rooms of the IMA, and all I felt afterward was sad.. My Turner piece I like is in a room with Monet's, Manet's, post impressionists, some paintings from the 1100s in Spain, and an O'keefe or four. The museum itself doesn't charge for admission. I sure wouldn't mind a print of that Turner on my wall. Shards of a Han dynasty vase - well, I guess they are probably in the landfill already.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Skydiving sucks
This post is triggered by a conversation with the honey and the bro the other day.
I went skydiving once. It wasn't exactly for me. To be perfectly honest, I've never understood why someone would want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. In fact, I've never understood why someone would want to climb open stairs, or stand on the edge of a cliff and feel the wind in their hair. Actually, I don't like jumping feet first off the high dive at the pool.
So I might not exactly have been the best candidate for sky diving.
Regardless, once when I was in college, I roomed with this gal who was a dare devil. She might not actually have been a dare devil, she might just have not been afraid of heights. But whatever. We lived in a themed dorm, which meant that we got more money to spend on events, and when we all got together to vote on things, it turned out that the majority wanted to sky dive. I happened to be an elected officer of the dorm (treasurer!). This meant I had the power... Actually, it meant I could add the title to my resume. Actually... It kinda meant nothing, other than they had to elect someone to count money. Anyway, I arranged for them to go sky diving, and the room mate convinced me I had to at least go along and watch in case someone plummeted to their doom. I was after all responsible.
Away to the sky diving world go us! (please google pirates of penzance lyrics for that sentence to make sense.) We arrived at the drop zone, and the skydiving instructors made it sound so easy! We would be attached by several O rings that we could inspect. We could see the world, and feel the wind in our hair, and feel alive, and all that jazz. So I signed the waiver with the goading of the daredevil room mates words in my ears.
I got myself attached to a burly fella with a mustache. Not a beard, just a mustache. The O rings were solid, and up, up, up went the tiny little, perfectly adequate little airplane.
About halfway up, the panic struck. What if the airplane crashed? I guess it was ok, I had a parachute. But what if my instructor hit his head on the way out of the doorway, and was unconscious, and I didn't realize, and crash landed?
Just as I was hyperventilating, the instructor that was attached to the daredevil room mate (who was grinning from ear to ear mind you), started pretending to pick lice from her hair and eat them. I'm pretty sure it was because I looked like I was about to pass out. Nervous laughter ensued. I was still halfway away from pleading the burly man to just let me stay on the perfectly adequate airplane, when he asked me if I wanted to do a front flip on the way out.
I'm pretty sure my incredulous stare was adequate response, because he didn't say anything else, and just grabbed the door frame, and threw us both out of the plane before I could plead for my life.
I'm proud to say I didn't scream. I actually didn't think it would matter. I was busily watching the world rush toward me at 32 feet per second. Actually, my main concern at this point, was that the wind was causing my sinuses to rapidly empty. I was convinced that the snot that was rushing out of my nose, and streaming across my cheeks was flying upwards and hitting the burly man in the face. I was inconceivably concerned about hygiene at 30,000 feet.
But then I suddenly became aware that the burly man hadn't spoken since we jumped. What if he passed out and couldn't grab the cord? My goodness! Why hadn't we grabbed the cord yet! Where was the cord anyway? What if we both died, because he passed out and didn't grab the cord?
I still didn't scream, but calmly shouted, "Burly man! Are you alive?" I'm not proud of that, nor did I actually call him burly man. His response of "Yeah, I'm still here" was a welcome sound, as was the faint whoosh of the parachute deploying.
Once the parachute deployed, all I could do was hang there limply, thinking about what would happen if a bird collided with our chute, and cropped a hole in it, or what about a freak windstorm that might spring up, and blow us to Kentucky. Not that I have anything against Kentucky, it just wasn't where my car was.
Long story short... too late... we landed. I didn't get dragged 400 feet by the parachute, or break my leg on landing, I also didn't land in Kentucky.
But I don't think skydiving is for me.
I went skydiving once. It wasn't exactly for me. To be perfectly honest, I've never understood why someone would want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. In fact, I've never understood why someone would want to climb open stairs, or stand on the edge of a cliff and feel the wind in their hair. Actually, I don't like jumping feet first off the high dive at the pool.
So I might not exactly have been the best candidate for sky diving.
Regardless, once when I was in college, I roomed with this gal who was a dare devil. She might not actually have been a dare devil, she might just have not been afraid of heights. But whatever. We lived in a themed dorm, which meant that we got more money to spend on events, and when we all got together to vote on things, it turned out that the majority wanted to sky dive. I happened to be an elected officer of the dorm (treasurer!). This meant I had the power... Actually, it meant I could add the title to my resume. Actually... It kinda meant nothing, other than they had to elect someone to count money. Anyway, I arranged for them to go sky diving, and the room mate convinced me I had to at least go along and watch in case someone plummeted to their doom. I was after all responsible.
Away to the sky diving world go us! (please google pirates of penzance lyrics for that sentence to make sense.) We arrived at the drop zone, and the skydiving instructors made it sound so easy! We would be attached by several O rings that we could inspect. We could see the world, and feel the wind in our hair, and feel alive, and all that jazz. So I signed the waiver with the goading of the daredevil room mates words in my ears.
I got myself attached to a burly fella with a mustache. Not a beard, just a mustache. The O rings were solid, and up, up, up went the tiny little, perfectly adequate little airplane.
About halfway up, the panic struck. What if the airplane crashed? I guess it was ok, I had a parachute. But what if my instructor hit his head on the way out of the doorway, and was unconscious, and I didn't realize, and crash landed?
Just as I was hyperventilating, the instructor that was attached to the daredevil room mate (who was grinning from ear to ear mind you), started pretending to pick lice from her hair and eat them. I'm pretty sure it was because I looked like I was about to pass out. Nervous laughter ensued. I was still halfway away from pleading the burly man to just let me stay on the perfectly adequate airplane, when he asked me if I wanted to do a front flip on the way out.
I'm pretty sure my incredulous stare was adequate response, because he didn't say anything else, and just grabbed the door frame, and threw us both out of the plane before I could plead for my life.
I'm proud to say I didn't scream. I actually didn't think it would matter. I was busily watching the world rush toward me at 32 feet per second. Actually, my main concern at this point, was that the wind was causing my sinuses to rapidly empty. I was convinced that the snot that was rushing out of my nose, and streaming across my cheeks was flying upwards and hitting the burly man in the face. I was inconceivably concerned about hygiene at 30,000 feet.
But then I suddenly became aware that the burly man hadn't spoken since we jumped. What if he passed out and couldn't grab the cord? My goodness! Why hadn't we grabbed the cord yet! Where was the cord anyway? What if we both died, because he passed out and didn't grab the cord?
I still didn't scream, but calmly shouted, "Burly man! Are you alive?" I'm not proud of that, nor did I actually call him burly man. His response of "Yeah, I'm still here" was a welcome sound, as was the faint whoosh of the parachute deploying.
Once the parachute deployed, all I could do was hang there limply, thinking about what would happen if a bird collided with our chute, and cropped a hole in it, or what about a freak windstorm that might spring up, and blow us to Kentucky. Not that I have anything against Kentucky, it just wasn't where my car was.
Long story short... too late... we landed. I didn't get dragged 400 feet by the parachute, or break my leg on landing, I also didn't land in Kentucky.
But I don't think skydiving is for me.
Saturday, July 6, 2013
A Game of Thrones... For Kids
Whelp, I finally finished a Dance with Dragons by George R.R Martin. I'm on the fence about this of one. A Storm of Swords was my favorite of the lot by far. I feel a little like this last particular book was more of a - let's move the pieces of the game to where they need to be for the next book. But regardless, I started thinking - I wonder if this series could conceivably be adapted to a children's story.
Before you dismiss the idea out of hand, hear me out. A lot of the fairy tales that Disney adapted beyond all recognition, started out as pretty gruesome fairy tales. I love the originals, Andrew Lang's translations are my favorites. One year for my birthday (I may have been ten?), my grandparents got me a complete set of his fairy tales, and I've been hooked on them ever since.
Anyway, Sleeping Beauty comes to mind. Prince Charming hacked his way in sure enough, and killed the evil sorceress, but he also ahem - had his way? That'll work as a euphamism...with Sleeping beauty, and love's first kiss was her babies nursing. Don't even get me started on Hansel and Gretel, or Snow White.
So- Once upon a time, when dragons were extinct, there was an evil king who ruled his realm with fear, precedence, and the history of dragons. A goodly knight took exception to his craziness, and slew him to save the peasants and the realm, and incidentally, his daddy. The problem was, that once the mad king was dead, there was some general confusion over who should be king. After much discussion, the Baratheons took the throne, and the realm prospered for several years.
See? Generally, and in all other way completely unlike the sack of King's landing, but in my opinion, a legitimate start to a fairy tale.
Let's get serious for a minute. GRRM needs to get his rear in gear and finish out a few story lines!
Before you dismiss the idea out of hand, hear me out. A lot of the fairy tales that Disney adapted beyond all recognition, started out as pretty gruesome fairy tales. I love the originals, Andrew Lang's translations are my favorites. One year for my birthday (I may have been ten?), my grandparents got me a complete set of his fairy tales, and I've been hooked on them ever since.
Anyway, Sleeping Beauty comes to mind. Prince Charming hacked his way in sure enough, and killed the evil sorceress, but he also ahem - had his way? That'll work as a euphamism...with Sleeping beauty, and love's first kiss was her babies nursing. Don't even get me started on Hansel and Gretel, or Snow White.
So- Once upon a time, when dragons were extinct, there was an evil king who ruled his realm with fear, precedence, and the history of dragons. A goodly knight took exception to his craziness, and slew him to save the peasants and the realm, and incidentally, his daddy. The problem was, that once the mad king was dead, there was some general confusion over who should be king. After much discussion, the Baratheons took the throne, and the realm prospered for several years.
See? Generally, and in all other way completely unlike the sack of King's landing, but in my opinion, a legitimate start to a fairy tale.
Let's get serious for a minute. GRRM needs to get his rear in gear and finish out a few story lines!
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