Camilla: You, sir, should unmask.
Stranger: Indeed?
Cassilda: Indeed, it's time. We all have laid aside disguise but you.
Stranger: I wear no mask.
Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) No mask? No mask!

The King in Yellow (Act II, Scene ii)

Regnat non regitur qui nihil nisi quod vult facit

Commemoration of St Catherine of Alexandria
Seattle

So, today in the Seattle transit tunnel, I espied an advertisement on the side of a Metro bus that kind of flabbergasted me.

It was an image of Jolly Old Saint Nick, with bright happy red text that proclaimed, "Yes Virginia... there really is no God".

There's an image of it here.

I was utterly offended, though not perhaps for the reason you might think.

Having done school marketing, I'm very much aware how much money was spent purchasing this ad. Let's just say it was not inconsiderable.

You might think they'd have thought the actual ad through a little better.

Leaving aside that it makes a claim that is scientifically unverifiable, thus undermining their entire "free thinking" position, it's a terrible ad.

Is the best way to proclaim such a definitive anti-theist statement really to use as your spokesman a fictional character based on a Christian Saint, referencing a fraudulent editorial about a fake letter?

It would seem to call your veracity into question.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

(Lt. Col. John Alexander McCrae, MD)

Commemoration of All Souls
somewhere on a train

My dear friends,


Today is the Commemoration of All Souls. This is a day we Catholics keep in remembrance for our beloved dead, and when we especially pray for the souls in Purgatory. In some Latin American countries, it has become a quasi-civil holiday you may know as the Day of the Dead.

On this day, I ask you to keep in your prayers the soul of India Escobar.

I know many of you don't keep quite the same theology (or even religion, come to that) as we do, but it would mean a lot to me (and to her) if you spent some time commending her to the Divine.

Thank you.

Feast of Saint Theresa of Avila
Seattle

Dearest reader,

During my morning commute, I usually do the crossword puzzle in the venerable Tacoma News Tribune. It's usually enough to wake my brain, though they are not so difficult that I can't use a pen to fill them in.

This morning, one of the clues was "Ragamuffin". This immediately put a silly children's counting rhyme into my head:

Ragamuffin, ragamuffin
Hovel for a nest
Tell us now
Who is the best.

It's the sort of thing children use to determine sides or captains for ad hoc ball games and the like.

Except that I don't know whether it actually exists or I made it up.

Has anyone heard of this before?

The experience was made slightly more surreal when the words "hovel" and "nest" proved to be answers in the puzzle - answers I hadn't yet filled in when the rhyme occurred to me.

In other news, today is the feast of Saint Theresa of Avila, one of the great Doctors of the Church. In college I was once called upon to write three essays about her, one from a Marxist perspective, one from a Freudian perspective, and one from a Kierkegaardian perspective.

Needless to say, the sum of the essays was no where near the total of her life and work. I think the Kierkegaard one was the most ridiculous of all. I wrote it without notes from the top of my drunken head on an electric typewriter the night before it was due.

It was my best grade in the class.

Feast of Saint Bridget of Sweden (old calendar)
Victoria, British Columbia

Dear friend,

We have had technical failures throughout this trip. Always some vital piece of equipment suddenly stops working exactly when we need it to. At the moment, both GPS aquisition and playback are working, so I expect the car to quit now.

Victoria is a city in which one could spend some weeks in a different pub every evening and not near the end of it.

Unlike Vancouver which is (as we have discovered) what happened when a bunch of ex-pat Londoners attempted to build Seattle, Victoria is what resulted when a bunch of ex-pat Seattlites attempted to build London.

It reminds me, for some reason, of this quote from G.K. Chesterton:

I believe what really happens in history is this: the old man is always wrong; and the young people are always wrong about what is wrong with him. The practical form it takes is this: that, while the old man may stand by some stupid custom, the young man always attacks it with some theory that turns out to be equally stupid.

And that's all I have to say about that. Break time is over; back to work.

Feast of Our Lady of the Holy Rosary
Vancouver, British Columbia

Dear reader,

Vancouver appears to be the result of a horde of ex-pat Londoners trying to build Seattle.

It's becoming clear to me that this is the Platonic Ideal of a city built in the 20th Century the way New York is for the 19th.

Back to the Sea to Sky Highway today, ultimately to film at Whistler.

But first, breakfast at the Tomahawk.

Did you know Whistler was named after a marmot?

Feast of Saint Bruno
Whistler, British Columbia

My dear, single reader,

I'm working for the week out of a hotel in Vancouver, British Columbia. Today and tomorrow my co-writer, Andy Spletzer, and I are working on the Sea to Sky Highway to Whistler, site of the 2010 Winter Olympics™.

Right now we're on a break while we download files from the video camera. We're hanging out in a café called "Hot Buns Bakery". You can't make this stuff up, folks.

The clientele varies from rotund and elderly tourists right through skinny narrow dirt bikers with more metal sticking out of their faces than in their bikes.

And the soundtrack is Bob Marley.

Thursday and Friday, we're working on firming up the GPS waypoints for the Vancouver to Victoria bus tour. A particularly observant and astute reader may notice that this would seem to indicate a bus tour over open water.

Well, the BC ferry fleet has more ships than the Royal Canadian Navy (or whatever they're calling it these days), and for several hours the bus is on a ferry.

We don't have to write content for that bit, which is just as well considering the ferries are going to have a pretty difficult time consistently hitting GPS waypoints with a 15 meter radius.

Commemoration of Saint Placid
Seattle

Off to Vancouver BC until Friday. Sadly, it's for work and not pleasure so much.

Toodles!

Feast of Saint Jerome
Seattle

Dear friends,

This being the feast of one of the great doctors of the Church, a man famed for his learned commentaries and translations, I thought it best to contribute to the general conversation amongst the literati who read this humble journal (yes, both of you. and the other one.)

In other words, here are some fascinating links.

The largest hoard of Anglo-Saxon gold ever found. - a very informative site indeed.

The Holy Grail of the Unconscious - Carl Jung's Dreamlands Journal?

U.S. scientists net giant squid in Gulf of Mexico - "giant" in this case meaning "six meters long".

...terrifying creatures from the ocean depths - A couple of these would certainly add something to your next Cthulhu Live! game.

'Hitler skull' revealed as female - And far too young to have been him, transgendered or no. Of course, everybody knows that Hitler was spirited out of Berlin alive by Hanna Reitsch in an FI-156 Storch and conveyed to a secret rendezvous with U-2539 in Kiel. From there, he escaped to Neu Schwaben in Antarctica, and thence to the Moon. It all makes sense. Trust me.

It does kind of clear up the reason why the Soviets felt compelled to incinerate "Hitler's" body in 1960. They knew the truth.

Speaking of which, it's Official: Water Found on the Moon.

Feast of Saint Bernard
Seattle

Dearest Reader,


Yesterday I posted a pack of thank you notes for those who had donated to Tristan's legal fund. Most were in other states; some were in other countries.

We are so very grateful.

This morning, in addition to a letter for Tristan, I posted the last payment to the attorney.

Thanks be to God.

Memorial of the Dedication of Santa Maria Maggiore
Seattle

Dearest Friends,

Again, thank you so much for your generous response to our need. Although we are still a little short in paying off Tristan's legal bills, I think you have endured enough badgering! There will be no more tin cup rattles after this.

Please, if you're on the fence, consider making a donation. Any amount will help.

In addition to previous offers, the charming amphigori is "prepared to offer the next-highest person who donates a personalized piece of pen and ink line art. If it's one of your players I am happy for it to be a personalised picture of their character."

Consideration for these thank you gifts will be given to all those who donate by FRIDAY.

Again, thank you and may God bless you.

Commemoration of Saint Jean-Marie Vianney
Seattle

Thank you to all who have helped us with Tristan's legal bills. Your generosity has touched me deeply. We're nearly there - one big last push should do.

Entries passim will get you up to speed regarding the need, and at least one incentive.

Please help if you can. Spare change would be fine. See if you've got some pennies under your sofa cushions.

Tristan and I in happier days: he graduates from High School

Commemoration of Saint Nicodemus
Seattle

I promise, dear friends, that this will come to an end soon.

Entries passim will get you up to speed regarding the need, and at least one incentive.

Please help if you can. Spare change would be fine.

Good morning!

Between the attorney and bail, we have sunk some $10,000 into this so far, and the end is near. The final bill due to Tristan's attorney is $2500.

We're fairly well broke, and we're asking for your help. Won't you please donate to the fund? Any amount will help.

As an added incentive, the largest single donor will receive a special thank-you:

a signed, first edition hardcover of The King in Yellow from my personal library, with a beautifully sculpted eldritch cover created by the talented (and slightly mad) Jason Soles.

The book was a gift to me, and it pains me to part with it, but I'm sure it will go to a good home.




( More squamous images )

Thank you to those who have so far donated - we are grateful for your support in these trying days.

Pursuant to this entry, I'm posting the photos of the signed, first edition hardcover of The King in Yellow, with a beautifully sculpted eldritch cover created by the talented (and slightly mad) Jason Soles which I shall be giving as a thank you to the single largest donor.



Click to make the image larger!

( More squamous images )

Well, my friends, last night I received the final bill from Tristan's attorney.

He very graciously offered to continue to represent Tristan through the upcoming restitution hearing gratis, but we need to come up with $2500 to close out the account.

To put that in a little bit of perspective, I'm reliably informed that I could buy four round-trip air tickets Seattle to London for the same amount.

I'm asking for your help. Won't you please donate to the fund?

As an added incentive, the largest single donor will receive a special thank-you:

a signed, first edition hardcover of The King in Yellow, with a beautifully sculpted eldritch cover created by the talented (and slightly mad) Jason Soles.

The book was a gift to me, and it pains me to part with it, but I'm sure it will go to a good home.

Edited to add photos:



Click to make the image larger!

( More squamous images )

Feast of Saint Peter Chrysologus, bishop & Doctor of the Church
Sounder Train, somewhere near Auburn, Washington

Dear friends,

Thank you for your support. I have been truly overwhelmed by the kindness and love shown to me and to my family in the past days.

Your thoughts and your prayers have been a source of solace and comfort in this impossible time.

I would like to especially thank those of you who made it to Tristan's sentencing yesterday. For those of you unable to attend, the normally negligent News Tribune did a good job at sensitively painting the scene.

( The News Tribune Story )

What the article does not say is that, while the sentence was "at the high end of the standard range" it was, in fact, the high end of a lesser charge to which Tristan ended up pleading guilty, contrary to previous reports.

In closing, dear, dear, friends would like to share with you a passage from today's Office of Readings from a sermon by Saint Peter Chrysologus that struck me this morning:

Why then, man, are you so worthless in your own eyes and yet so precious to God? Why render yourself such dishonour when you are honoured by him? Why do you ask how you were created and do not seek to know why you were made? Was not this entire visible universe made for your dwelling? It was for you that the light dispelled the overshadowing gloom....

The earth was adorned with flowers, groves and fruit; and the constant marvellous variety of lovely living things was created in the air, the fields, and the seas for you, lest sad solitude destroy the joy of God’s new creation. And the Creator still works to devise things that can add to your glory. He has made you in his image that you might in your person make the invisible Creator present on earth....

The entire sermon is worth reading, but this was the part that particularly struck me today.

It is a glorious world out there, created for our delight. While we some days do our level best to ruin it, to make the world a place of terror and filth and hatred, it is in the end a beautiful, wonderful world, and we should make the time to notice it every day.

So go out there and spread some joy.

Today my son, Tristan Andrew Ryng, was sentenced to 27 months in the state penitentiary.

It was 105° today in Tacoma. Set a record, it did, six degrees higher than ever.

I am very tired.

Today, I looked into the eyes of a man who wished to murder me, and I could not gainsay him.

Swedish swing/jazz/hip-hop.

No really.

They're kind of fabulous.



The band is called Movits! and the album is out in August.

Of course, it's 87° inside the house at 9:00 at night, so maybe that's the brain-melty talking...

Commemoration of the seven Holy Sleepers of Ephesus
Tacoma

Dearest Reader,

Saturday was spent at Tacoma's Ethnic Fest, an excuse for sampling foods from restaurants previously unknown and browsing through merchant kiosks of cultures entirely unfamiliar.

The weather has been beastly hot, though the nights have been cooling off. This is, no doubt, due to the angel of hot night time weather deciding he couldn't stand up to singingbarista's suggestions for defeating him; so he just threw in the towel.

Sunday was a surprise party for our pastor, Fr. Carmine Sacco, SJ. He was celebrating his 65th anniversary of becoming a Jesuit. No, that number is not a typo. He's baptising the grandchildren of people he baptised...

Sunday evening was a rousing splatter of Call of Cthulhu, just so Tristan would have one last game before his sentencing on Wednesday. Thanks to chordam7 for running the game and to Robin and Corey for hosting. And! most especially to sulky_girl and Robin for transportation to and from Olympia.

I took this morning off work for a last meeting with Tristan's attorney, followed by some time with Tristan to work on his statement to the court, should that be warranted. The words are his, though I did help by asking him questions and getting his thoughts put in order. Although what we wrote was very short, he could not read it aloud without tears.

Whether or not he actually reads it in court is up to his attorney.

I also wrote a statement for the court, which will be entered into the record during sentencing. I made Tristan's attorney cry.

( Statement of Thom Ryng in support of Tristan Ryng, his son )

I had planned to go into work after the meeting, but after speaking with Tristan's attorney I decided to call in. After sitting down with Tristan, I'm a bit shattered, so this was clearly a good decision.

Blathering just a bit now, dear reader, but I hope that you will forgive me. I'm good for very little else today.

Tristan's sentencing is on Wednesday at 3:00 PM at the Pierce County courthouse in Tacoma. It will be a melancholy affair, but please, if you wish to come out and support Tristan, please come down.

Feast of Saint Apollinarius
Seattle

Dearest Reader,

As we celebrate today the fortieth anniversary of what is undoubtedly the most significant human event of the twentieth century, let us pause to reflect that NASA's three decrepit space shuttles, Atlantis, Discovery, and Endeavour, will be will be decommissioned in 2010, leaving the United States with no ability to launch humans into space for the first time since 1961.

The replacement program for the shuttles, called "Constellation" (which looks to my amateur eye suspiciously similar to the Apollo vehicles) has been put on indefinite hold pending a "review" of the program, which by my count is the third such review.

As I have said many times before, humans require frontiers. Without exploration, without frontiers, the Human species will turn in on itself like rats in a cage. It's already begun. With the closing of frontiers, the twentieth century was the most violent in world history.

NASA's entire projected budget for human exploration of space for FY2010 is about $10 billion. That's less than three tenths of one percent of the Federal Budget.

So when you follow the "live" feed at http://wechoosethemoon.org/ today, ponder about not only the past, but also the future of human space exploration.

I have been reminded that today in France they celebrate the storming of the Bastille, an event in 1789 where 98 Parisians were killed while attacking a decrepit medieval prison, thus freeing four forgers, two lunatics, and the comte de Solages, whose own family and had arranged for his imprisonment on account of incest.

Why anybody would celebrate this particular event is quite beyond me.

Feast of Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha
On the Sounder Train

Dear Reader,

Work continues to be a succession of crazy deadlines. Our current round of corporate videos required my working until about 10:30 Friday night, and some small edits and corrections on Saturday morning. To clear my head I went for a walk.

In the process of wandering the neighbourhood in pursuit of a pipe rack at no less than nineteen assorted yard sales, garage sales, and estate sales (a pursuit in which I was wholly unsuccessful) I became rather too warm. The temperature was upwards of 85°, and at some point I became dehydrated and simply stopped perspiring.

While the condition did not go as far as heat stroke, I was plainly not doing well by the time I arrived back home. I drank a large amount of liquid refreshment and, fortified by a "MythBusters" marathon on the televisionary engine, I slept on the couch much of Saturday afternoon.

Fully recovered by Sunday, after Mass Francine and I constructed another section of back yard fence.

Work has continued on various Cruenti Dei projects, including Turn 12, a Renaissance Rules expansion, and background for a new continent or two. Francine found a fantastic application called NoteBook by a company called Circus Ponies. It has proved indispensable in the writing process of these new books.

I continue to re-read The Lord of the Rings. What astonishes me about these books is how much I missed on previous readings. In details great and small these are proving extremely Catholic books. Some of the details - as small as odd phrasings that in previous readings I simply glossed over - have changed my understandings of characters and even events.

Of course, it might simply be that I'm more aware at 42 than I was at 12, or even at 30.

One particular detail struck me so forcefully that I searched the very internets for confirmation of my observation, finding it in Paul Kocher's book Master of Middle-Earth. It is just this: that every event in The Lord of the Rings is told from the perspective of the smallest person.

Depending on the chapter, this is Frodo, or Pippin, or even Gimli.

This is a detail easily overlooked - indeed, I overlooked it the previous twenty or so times I've read the books - and yet it completely colours the narrative.

For those of you in the area, I'd like to re-extend my invitation, found here.