Tag: Dunwich Complainer

Oh, Woe is Me

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My life is already getting hectic again.  I’m working on getting my book cover drawn and I think I’ve found the artist.  He’s a fellow in France and his drawings are very skillful and artistic.  Much better than I need but I think it makes sense to have a talented person handling something that I’m completely unqualified to do.  My concept is a black and white sketch of a sniper on a rooftop aiming down at an antifa riot where one rioter in black bloc is getting ready to knife a business owner trying to protect his storefront from the rioters.  It’s basically a scene from the book.

Of course, not being someone who can draw I don’t have a feel for the sense of perspective and how that would affect the relative sizes of the several figures in the scene.  That probably will dictate where the vantage point of the viewer should be.  But that’s why I want someone skilled working out those kinds of questions.

And suddenly there are all kinds of details I’m thinking about.  Is launching a book before, during or after the Christmas shopping season the best time for an independent author?  Should I explicitly sub-title the book as a series?  And what about my nom de plume?  I’ve come up with a few names and they seem to break into two groups; rugged or literary.  As an example, compare Jack Fader versus Julian Lesage.  So many details, so little attention span.

So I’m busy with all of this stuff but the day job is being super annoying just when I thought it would be giving me a break.  Oh, the pain, the pain.  And simultaneously, the family holidays are coming up so I have to help Camera Girl prepare for the festivities.  So, this week I’ve been cleaning up the yard and putting stuff away and winterproofing the vulnerable areas of the Compound.  And every year that list grows.  I noticed today that a small back gate to one of the fences was blown right off its hinges by a windstorm this week.  I knew it was weakened but I thought it would last a little while longer.  But now I’ve got to do something permanent about it.

And this morning I’m sitting with Camera Girl in the dining room and looking out on a screened in porch I see some kind of medium sized bird fluttering around in the porch.  The wind blew open the magnetized doorway of the curtain just long enough for the bird to find its way in but not long enough for it to escape so I had to go to its rescue.  I arranged for its escape but did I get even a thank you from the ungrateful avian?  Nope.  Not even a friendly chirp.  But going out there brought to my attention just how much dust and dirt had built up on the deck.  There are whole areas of this place that I don’t set foot in for seasons at a time.  I do live in a very strange and inefficient place.

Well, now that I’ve complained about the problems I’m surrounded by and shared them with you, I feel a little better.

Photog Agonistes

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About a year ago I bit into a pumpernickel bagel and there must have been a small rock in it.  Don’t ask me how.  Anyway, the molar I bit down with (I’ve since learned it’s called #31) was killing me so I went to my trusty dentist and told him I must have busted it.  He x-rayed it and poked and prodded it (Oh joy!)  And declared it okay.  Slowly it seemed to get better and I took a watch and wait approach.  Two weeks ago, I was chewing on oatmeal.  Oatmeal!  There’s nothing more innocuous than oatmeal.  Right?

Good old #31 made a cracking noise and provided me with a whole new definition of pain.  So, I knew I had a bunch of things that had to get done this week and next week so I decided that if I didn’t chew food on my right side, I could make it through and then go see the Doc.  Well two days ago that strategy failed catastrophically.  The tooth was throbbing and aching really awfully.  So yesterday I went to the dentist hoping he’d fix it before Saturday when I was starting a trip.  Instead, he punted to an outside endodontic practice.  Well, I wasn’t going to get an appointment yesterday.  It’ll be next Thursday!  In desperation I told him I needed something for the infection and pain and he gave me the generic amoxicillin prescription and a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Well, the amoxicillin has been in my system for a little over a day and it has brought the pain down from blinding stabbing pain to grinding ache.  But for some reason I’m incredibly tired and kind of feverish.  So, here’s the thing.  I have a super long travelling day tomorrow and a social occasion.  If I get home Saturday night, I’ll have Sunday to rest.  If I don’t then I’ll go from that directly to a two-day event at work with each day running about fifteen hours.  Then Wednesday I have to drive a friend to a doctor’s appointment about an hour away.  And then Thursday I get to go to the endodontist to be vivisected and dumped bleeding and groaning on the sidewalk before driving home.

This is a warning that output and quality on the site for the next six days will be very questionable.  If I start sounding loopier than usual it’s the gangrene talking and not me.  Well, anyway I’ll do my best.  The quotes and photos are already in queue and I will endeavor to get the stuff on the site but there may be some late posts.  Mea culpa, mea culpa.

Camera Girl tells me I’ve been like a pathetic loser and a baby who needs pity; pieta (although in the dialect of her family’s Italian it’s pronounced as if it’s spelled “peacod.”  Well, she’s probably right.  I would give a thousand dollars to stay home for the next week.  But promises were made and responsibilities are non-negotiable.  So, raise the curtain on my Greek Tragedy, “Photog Agonistes.”  Count no man fortunate until he is safely dead.

End of whine.

Oh, Damn the Power’s Out

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We now return you to your original program already in progress.

So yesterday Ithaqua, the Great Old One known as the “Wind-Walker” knocked out my electric power and internet connection.  What a vindictive jerk.  Well, the generator kicked in but it caught me flat-footed.  I hadn’t loaded my post for yesterday or the night before’s, “Photo of the Day.”  So, apologies.

I went through the whole dance.  I charged up an old flip phone I keep for just such situations and tried calling up my truly useless power utility and my truly useless cable company.  And spent about fifteen minutes with each trying to escape from their AI and get information from an actual human being.  Completely in vain.  The power company told me it was after their business hours so no actual humans at all.  The cable company had humans but they are actually worse than the AI.  They know nothing, they care about nothing and they sound so bored all I could think of was the, “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” monkeys.  I noticed that both outfits promised to call me when they knew something about restoration of service.

Power returned almost 24 hours later around 3pm today.  And ten minutes after restoration the flip phone rang and both companies called to say that service would soon be restored.  Words failed me.

Being cut off from television, the internet and any news of the outside world was at first annoying.  But by late this morning I think I was starting to enjoy it.  I watched a movie on DVD (Mel Gibson’s Hamlet) and some music on an MP3 player (Traveling Wilburys) and felt relief that I wasn’t entranced on YouTube or X.  But all too soon Camera Girl saw a convoy of utility trucks heading down our road.  So, she dared me to get up and follow them.  I drove about a mile up the road and there was a truly colossal white pine being sawn into manageable pieces and stacked by the side of the road.  An hour later the generator cut out and the phone started ringing and civilization had me by the throat again.  Oh Ithaqua, we hardly knew ye.

So now I have to find out what I missed.  As far as I can tell, nothing.  Democrats prancing around trying not to look irrelevant, ridiculous and despicable, but failing.  Trump and his merry band running around breaking stuff and calling out world leaders as losers.  Cable news companies firing their half-witted staff by the bucketful.  Check, check, check.  So basically, nothing happened while I was hurled back into the nineteenth century (well, kinda).

But there was some progress.  We got some warmer (if windier) weather and the majority of the ice melted off the bottom driveway.  So, I went out there with various shovels and hammer-sliced it off the blacktop and piled it on the grass.  And I went to see what condition the west field was in.  It’s the wettest area of the fields and in spring it can be 6-8 inches of mud that makes it a bad idea to walk on it.  But it’s drying nicely and maybe tomorrow I might go back there and cut down the older raspberry canes and put down fertilizer for their spring growth.  And I took out a pair of binoculars and looked at the trees and sure enough the buds are ready to bust open anytime now.  So, ignoring the world for a day was a great thing as far I can tell.    But I’m back and ready to chronicle whatever tomfoolery the usual suspects get up to.  But it’s good to see the world is finally shrugging off winter and Dunwich is ready for spring, renewal, new life and all that crap.

And with Strange Aeons Even Death May Die

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“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.

In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.”

 

“That is not dead which can eternal lie,

And with strange aeons even death may die.”

 

After yesterday’s post I received several communications from readers outraged at the manner in which such a venerable and iconic entity as the First Selectman could be allowed to leave this continuum.  Many simply refused to believe the facts such as they are and hang onto hope that Cthulhu lives.  As the quotes above attest there is a tradition that Cthulhu can remain inert for literally billions of years and still reanimate and wreak a terrible vengeance on mankind when the stars align just right (or just wrong).

Well, I will not speculate at this point on the Great Old One’s chances of resuscitation.  As Hamlet very cleverly noted, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”  And if we add to heaven and earth the depths of hell, then we begin to list the span of infinities where knowledge of the First Selectman can be hiding.  And since I already miss the old villain a little bit, I’ll keep an open mind as to his chances of reintegration.  Let’s leave it there for now.

I have finally completed the herculean task to which I was yoked.  My spirit, such as it is, has rebounded measurably and I look around me to see the state of life in the here and now.  I note the same stale prattle about polls and bickering with the names Trump, Harris, Vance and Walz attached.  Frankly all of this is too tedious to even consider.  Let all of that stew for a while.

The summer wanes and school children are already frozen with existential dread at the approach of Labor Day.  But, this time of year is not without its charms.  I was forced to rise hideously early Tuesday morning and so I was out and about before 4:00 am when I happened to look up at the sky and was struck by the brightness of the stars and planets and their inspiring beauty.  If I had not been on an unavoidable mission, I might have stood there for a quarter hour and marveled at this arresting vision.  At that moment I was reminded of this aspect of reality and how these incomprehensible phenomena we call stars can be both the source of our lives and these beautiful beacons that light up the night sky that we so rarely bother to view.  So out of the most tedious and soul-crushing activities it is possible to experience a moment of primal joy and wonder.

But now I’ll spend a day or two catching up with my various duties.  Bear with me as I take up again the reins of my daily routine and restore order to my life.  I must write and trim some posts and schedule them and I must read up on any “news” I might have missed and try to draw inspiration from my surroundings and the important things that need to be said and done.

So good morning!

Lazing Away the Day

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The First Selectman Taking a Stroll

I couldn’t face talking about politics today.  I spent a good part of the day staring out a window at the huge snowflakes swirling around in the gale force winds that blew in circles around the compound.  At one point there was an inch or two of some combination of slush and snow on the grass and asphalt.  But by 2pm the driveways were miraculously clear.  So, I decided that my well thought out strategy of not doing anything had worked brilliantly and now I should go outside and take my victory lap with my snow shovel over my shoulder.  Hail the conquering hero!

These April snow events in New England are transitory oddball affairs.  The daffodils and hyacinths and hellebores can be buried in snow and ice but surprisingly these delicate flowers take no apparent harm from it.  Even the birds who you’d think would be devastated by the snow disrupting their feeding and mating activities seem unphased by the whole thing.  In fact, the crows almost seemed to be playing in the snow and clowning around.

Another fence post cracked in the fierce winds we had last night (thanks a lot First Selectman) and I made a mental note to fix the damn thing as soon as the snow retreats away from it.  Honestly, this winter has done a good bit of damage to the infrastructure, what with the pine tree landing on the upper driveway fence and the gutter cracking off of the pool shed.  My to-do list has been growing steadily.

And yesterday my laptop told me the battery is dying.  Of course, this isn’t one of those laptops that has the external battery, so now I have to do brain surgery on it.  So, I bought an electronics tool kit with the fifty screw driver bits, pliers, pick, static wrist band and two spudger tools.  Well, since I don’t know what a spudger is I guess I can’t let myself be caught short so two must be right.  Of course, the tools are going to show up a week after everything else so I hope the battery can struggle on for that long.  All in all, the world is crumbling before my eyes and honestly, I really can’t blame it.  Currently we’re being led by moochers and morons and it’s a miracle we haven’t gone over a cliff, lock stock and barrel.

But all things considered I’m calm and relatively jovial.  The First Selectman was glad to hear that folks still remembered the good works he did back in the colonial era and that his chronicler Howard Philip is still remembered as a kook with an overactive imagination who did give Batman a place to warehouse the lunatic criminals that cropped up so consistently in Gotham City.  Although how that managed to be in New England I’ll never know.  Maybe they thought placing it far away from New York City would be good for their nerves.  Or maybe they just moved the whole darn thing to Gotham over a long weekend or something.  Anyway, all praise to His August Cephalopodliness and long may he reign over Dunwich and please don’t let him raise my property taxes again.  Amen.

Farmer Cthulhu in Hi s Fields

Late Night photog – 3 – Cthulhu Fills In

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Cthulhu – Well we’re back.  And for those tuning in late I’m Cthulhu and I’m filling in for photog while he explains some things to the FBI in DC this week.  Well, we hope it’s just this week because, honestly, I do have better things to do than amuse his audience, I can tell you that.  But enough complaining.  We’ve got a great show tonight.  I’ve provided my own band this week.  I’ve got George Harrison, Roy Orbison and Tom Petty of the Stationary Wilburys and they’ll be singing their new song, “Come on Down Bob, it’s a Dry Heat.”  And later on, I’ll be talking to Sadaam Hussein about his new book, “They Weren’t Kidding!”

But now let’s give a big hand to that master of disaster, Henry Kissinger!  Hey Henry, how the hell are you?

Kissinger – Funny you should put it that way, Cthulhu.  It is a bit hot down there for my liking but I won’t bore you with my problems.  All in all, it’s been an interesting experience.  I’ve had a chance to catch up with Dick Nixon and some of the other boys from my salad days.  Good times.  But really my next assignment is what I’m interested in.

Cthulhu – What’s that Henry?

Kissinger – I’m doing contract work for the administration down there.  Apparently, Lucifer is short on strategic thinkers, at least modern ones.  Would you believe it, Metternich was still on the job down there.  He never got anything done but just kept repeating “Might through Right! Might through Right!”  Hopeless old bird.  I don’t know what people saw in him.

Cthulhu – What kind of strategic planning does Hell need?

Kissinger – Trust me.  Everyone needs planning.  Recently Black Rock reduced our ESG score because we hadn’t assigned pronouns for Baphomet on his infernal stationery and business cards.  Those guys are brutal and they just don’t give a crap who they hurt.  So, I busted my hump first day, right out of the chute and got BR to cut us a little slack until I had a chance to reform things.  Luckily for the Prince of Darkness I know where the bodies are buried at Black Rock so everything worked out.  But I tell you there’s no rest for the wicked.  Literally!

Cthulhu – Tell me about it!  Last month I was returning from laying waste to a stellar system inhabited by fungoid beetle beings.  You know, real eldritch Great Old Ones stuff.  And accidentally I tracked in a little plutonium from the finale.  Well somehow the EPA and the NRC got wind of it and now they’re all up in my business and they’re even threatening to pull my NGO status and shut down my cult.  Bureaucrats.

Kissinger – Well, I don’t want to interfere but my contract with Lucifer isn’t exclusive and I still have lots of friends in Washington.  If you’d like, I’ll straighten the thing out for you.

Cthulhu – Why, that’s mighty nice of you Henry.  How can I repay you?

Kissinger – Funny you should ask.  There’s one thing I could really use is a flunky down here.  I need someone with absolutely no scruples, an inveterate liar and low intelligence as a whipping boy in my dealing with his Satanic Majesty.

Cthulhu – You want Biden?

Kissinger – In a word, yes.  He’s not due down here for ten more years but if you’ve got the bandwidth, it would really help me out if he could be delivered in early 2025.

Cthulhu – Hey no problem.  I’m supposed to ease him out of his gig this year so consider it done.  But I tell you; dealing directly with him is no picnic.  Even I feel contaminated after dealing with that skunk.  Well, to each his own.

Kissinger – Thanks.  But I better be going.  I don’t want to be late for my morning lake of fire immersion.  If I’m last, I get stuck next to Hitler and Stalin and then it’s just bitch, bitch, bitch.

Cthulhu – Everybody, Henry Kissinger!  Give him a big Late-Night round of applause.

Late Night photog – 2

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photog – Welcome back.  While you were watching that fascinating laxative/ADHD commercial my guests were comparing notes on libel cases they had going on.  President Trump was discussing the slander that has been making the rounds on the cable channels and other cesspools of the mainstream media.  Mr. President, are the accusations and fantasies about you setting up a fascist dictatorship in your next term something you’d be likely to pursue through a lawsuit.

Donald Trump – Negative, photog.  All of that chatter is protected by the first amendment.  I’m a public figure.  They’re allowed to say almost anything.  I’m reduced to just waiting until I’m in office and then we’ll see what’s what.

Cthulhu – I disagree Donald.  You’re really limiting your options.

Donald Trump – What do you mean CMan?  How can I get around the prerogatives of the press?

Cthulhu – Well, for instance if someone blasphemed against my eldritch self, I’d start by forcing nightmares of cosmic horror to haunt his every sleeping and waking moment.  In these nightmares he would experience the sensation of his flesh being slowly eaten away by a corrosive bath of slime that started at his feet and worked its way up to his head.  Then when he hadn’t had a moment of peace for two weeks, I’d send a parasite to crawl into his ear one night and begin slowly to gnaw away at his brain.  Eventually only his skull would be left.  It’s a fan favorite I highly recommend.

Donald Trump – Well, that was my plan B.  But this is network tv and I don’t like to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak.  But tell me CMan, doesn’t the FBI come looking for you when you say these kinds of things in public like this?

Cthulhu – They used to Donald back in the good old days.  And it was very exciting because with all the diversity and inclusion that the FBI has been practicing the variety has been amazing.  They’ve even added capon to the menu.

photog – Capon?

Cthulhu – I think they call them post-op trans-women agents.  But potato/puhtata.  They’re wonderful with a tobacco sauce marinade.  I like them cold with beer so I pop them in the fridge for a day or so.  I just wait for them to stop screeching and I know they’re ready.  And then I put them in a bowl and watch some old favorites on TCM.  I’m a sucker for those old screwball comedies.  Or a good old adventure story like Gunga Din or Kim.  But they must be running out of capon, uh agents.  None have shown up for months.

Donald Trump – CMan, not being a Great Old One I don’t have the leeway you do with respect to the criminal justice system.  I’ve got to admit it sounds kind of exciting.  Well, not the cannibal stuff, but the brain eating bug thing.  That probably solves a lot of problems.  There are at least a half dozen or so prosecutors and judges that would really benefit from having about half their brains eaten away.

Cthulhu – I tell you what.  I’ll FedEx my copy of the Necronomicon with a post-it on the page with the spell for the brain bug and you see what you think.  No pressure.  I’ve got a website that’ll only charge you by the amount of brain that gets eaten.  You can stop whenever you want and you won’t even get a lot of spam bugging you for more business.

Donald Trump – That would be great CMan.  I doubt that any of them has more than a few ounces of brains anyway so I’m sure I’ll be able to swing the payments.  Although I will say, things have been kind of tight lately.  I had to sell off the gold toilet and downgrade to silver.

Cthulhu – Damn shame.  Sorry to hear it.  Well don’t worry.  I read the other day that you’ll be instituting a fascist dictatorship once you’re reelected.  I’m sure you’ll recoup your losses afterwards.

Donald Trump – Well, I hope so, but these things are tricky.  For every Franco there are probably ten Pol Pots so you never know.

photog – I’m sorry to break up this discussion but we’ve got to go to commercial.  Take it away, Study-Lax.

Dagon’s Spawn Goes for a Stroll

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Dunwich is the home of more than just Cthulhu himself.  In addition to the First Selectman several of his fellow Great Old Ones inhabit the borders of the township.  For instance, several of Dagon’s descendants inhabit the various lakes, ponds and swamps that overgenerously hydrate the area.  As I’ve often mentioned I am adjacent to one of these swamps and from time to time one of its inhabitants sojourns through or near the grounds.

Today I was in the west field collecting the scattered remains of some cattle that a shoggoth must have devoured there when I heard the sound of tree trunks creaking and cracking under the strain of some horribly massive object forcing its way against them.  As I watched I could see some enormous white pines toppling over far off in the distance.  I cautiously made my way to the location where the trees had fallen and I saw a terrifying sight.  One of the Deep Ones, possibly Dagon’s oldest child was just finishing off the shoggoth as a small meal.  It was of course eating it alive and its victim was changing form and letting out the most horrifying sounds ever heard by a human ear.  Well, except for that time Kamala Harris laughed at one of Biden’s jokes.  That was worse.

When the Deep One was finished with its meal, it belched thunderously and the air was filled with a sulfurous fume that nearly finished me off before the wind changed direction.  Then it hauled its titanic bulk out of the mud and battered a path back into the deeper end of the swamp where it disappeared below the surface with a sickening sucking sound.

Later when the sun had set the foot prints began to glow with a sickly yellow phosphorescence and any creature, insect or amphibian that touched those glowing patches jumped away in pain and rapidly died.  And I happened to witness later that night when an enormous gas bubble broke the surface of the swamp and a yellow glowing fume drifted up.  All the leaves above the pond immediately shriveled up and fell into the water.  I guess the shoggoth was a little greasy even for one of Dagon’s kin.  I wonder if they make Alka seltzer in Great Old One size.

Luckily (or unfortunately) I had my camera with me during the event and I had the presence of mind to capture the great creature returning through the haunted wood.

I intend to send this photographic evidence to the Department of Cryptozoological Studies at Miskatonic University where I studied under the eminent dagonologist Clyde Crashcupp.  With his decades of study and razor-sharp brain he’s sure to earn at least a Nobel prize with this evidence.  I may have to lend him a tux.  He’s kind of a hermit and wears a rope to hold his pants up.

Well, I’d better get back to my chores.  There’s a family of ghouls in the neighborhood and I need to get the fences fixed before they wander by.