Don Edwards

So the front gives you trouble, and so does the back?

Well, it's a koala. Thinking is quite an accomplishment. And near-starvation is probably a prerequisite.

Yep. In the real world, the problem with anarchy is too many governments exercising strict control over very small areas that overlap with no agreement about how they do so.

Hey, /me is busy thinking. Leaf him alone.

Just want to mention that, at least in the US, it was common during the cold war to say "Russia" when one technically meant "the USSR". Two syllables rather than five...

Bumping into them?

Wildspec: it wasn't Zeus, it was Zaqo. Which is Deus, minus 4 on each character.

I have a feeling that the Immortals are less than 100% free to rewrite their laws any way they like - that there are some constraints they can't violate, or maybe they can violate a little bit over on this edge if they are careful to stay sufficiently clear of that edge over there. And that the "can't go through walls" is a side effect which they discovered after agreeing to new rules.

I bet the bed usually wins...

At one time I could have blazoned that*... don't remember enough now. * described it in proper heraldic terminology and format

Why would she think that it can't? And what other sort of change might Jerry/Zeus be warning her of, that he'd (think he should) try to be secretive about?

Some of the word salad that most conspiracy theories consist of, should do.

And I'm suspecting Cole's Law.

No, I think Kathy has him beat on that one.

I'm great with names. I can forget anybody's.

Probably wanted to make sure the acronym was pronounced with "horse" at the end - not "whores".

Cosby was one of the many comedians whom I rarely if ever found the least bit comedic.

And the other day I read something about a post-apoplectic movie...

But that wouldn't be an acrobatics check, just for the walking. If you fail the diplomacy check, you might need some acrobatics check in the ensuing combat. But that's not just walking.

Profa is so popular that Antifa often looks a lot like it.

The army of Westria lined the ridge to the north of the narrow valley. Knights in plate armor astride their horses, light cavalry and infantry in chain, archers in leather, and wizards in robes eyed the Nomi forces similarly arrayed to their south. This day might define the balance of power among the kingdoms on the great island of Everness for the next several generations. A plume of road-dust appeared over the lower, eastern end of the valley, slowly moving toward them. The commanders on both sides paused, wondering who would be so foolish as to take that road on this day. Two sets of hooves pounded up the valley, one approaching the Westrain leaders, the other the Nomi. Hurried conversations, and the newly-arrived soldiers were handed staves with white banners attached. They - and only those two - then went down into the valley, meeting at the stream which approximated its centerline. Conversing briefly, they returned to their own commanders. Orders were given. The mounted soldiers dismounted, and most of the troops on both sides withdrew down the far sides of their respective ridges, leaving only guard details keeping an eye on each other. The wagon continued up the valley, drawn by a pair of wyverns. The young woman driving it smiled as the subtle changes in the appearance of the ridges revealed to her that the armies were withdrawing. Many good men will live at least one more day, because I am here. And perhaps... Grantorex soared over the mountain, and glanced down the valley to the east. She could just make out a plume of road dust in the distance. After a brief return to her cavern she flew toward it. On her way she noted the two armies' supply caravans, and the cattle that were both draft animals and stocks of meat for the soldiers - they could spare a few on each side. Brief detours had her sweeping over each army in turn, notifying them of the presence of one they would not wish to annoy. Moments later she could make out the two wyverns. Good. This wagon was almost certainly the one she awaited. A closer approach confirmed it, and the young human made gestures she knew to be friendly greetings. She plucked an animal from one of the armies with one huge forepaw, and likewise from the other army with the other. Then she chose to settle on the valley floor, next to the stream, almost exactly between where the two armies' commanders had been earlier. It would save her visitor two days' travel each direction - those poor non-flying creatures are so slow! And also disrupt the armies' intentions which, left unchecked, would render the valley unfit for deer or cattle - her food supply - for several years. The stream ran red with blood. From the two cattle she had taken. She managed with some difficulty to hang one of them from a tree, close to the ground, and then ate the other. Shortly before sunset the wyvern-drawn wagon reached where she lay. "Minka," Grantorex rumbled, "how fare your hoard and your clutch?" "My hoard does well enough, thank you. But I have not taken a mate, so have no clutch as yet." "Ah, well, even for a human you are yet young. Here is the design I was thinking of." She rolled out the animal-hide she had retrieved from her cavern. Minka was experienced at interpreting dragon artwork. Grantorex's finest claw-tip was thicker than Minka's thumb, so certain inadequacies were expected. The young woman took another hide from inside her wagon, along with brushes and paints, and quickly painted an outline strongly resembling Grantorex's work but in much finer detail. After some discussion and a few small additions, the two females agreed on the design. Minka then turned to the dead cow. Skinning it, she cut off several choice segments for her own use over the next few days, and fed a fourth part of the remainder to the wyverns. The next morning she got out her needles, drills, and pigments, and began copying the design from the animal hide to Grantorex's scales, between her wings. The process took fifteen days. As the seasons were turning, the two armies had to return home so the men could harvest the crops; peace would return for at least a few months. They did lose a few more cattle before leaving, though. A bag of jewels were transferred from Grantorex's hoard to Minka's. The former flew back to her mountain. Minka took down the animal hides hanging on the sides of her wagon and replaced them with the two versions of what she had just done for Grantorex. Then she turned her wagon back down the valley and toward the road to her next client. She traveled in perfect safety of course. Nobody - neither armies nor highwaymen - would dare trouble the girl who did dragon tattoos. ------------------------------------------------------------- yeah, that story exists because I misread a book title...

I don't care for the younger of the US's current two major political parties being the one dubbed "old".

The kittens thought the Husky was a wonderful kitty toy, thing to ride around on, and warm bed. The mother cat thought the Husky was a terrifying monster.

And after a few tries, they are really pucked up.

Did she have a bad experience flying? (I love flying... but not enough to deal with airports.)