My friend Robert (who looks nothing like me) found out that I have a website, so he’s been pestering me to help him make a video and post it to YouTube. It covers his “self-defense” system. The system is, well, actually pretty effective. If I wanted to mug someone it sure wouldn’t be Robert, just in case we touched while he handed over his wallet.

Judge for yourself.

Mark your scorecards, because tonight we launch version 4 of A Path Fantastic!

I’ve squished as many bugs as I could on my development server so it’s time to roll it out and start testing it in development. I also wanted to pull the train of self-doubt and second-guessing on design choices out of the station.

Clean up list (for myself):

• Badge for the Guide to Moral Living in Examples, because how the hell can you get to it now?
• Add links back to the one-shot stories (Urgoth the Defiler!)
• Add linklove badges to the sidebar
• Previous/next navigation appearing wonky on FF8 (and likely other browsers)
• Comment system fucked, must revirginate
• WP post timestamping not behaving according to the principles of linear time (the stamp on this post shouldn’t read “12th Round in the cycle of Hrang at the 1839th Blink of the ChronoCyclops”)

And for the curious, a ChronoCyclops is sort of like an eggtimer, but instead of buzzing when three minutes are up it shatters your cervical vertebrae with an oaken club. As a result, they’re about as easy to get as lead forks or milk cut with powdered plaster. Fucking nanny state.

Thanks to Brenton Harper-Murray of Poor Brenton’s Notebook for this guest Moral!

Troy wanted to stay in that Friday night, like he did every night, but his roommates were dead set on making that impossible. He had just gotten home from work, stretched the kinks in his back that he got from hunching over a keyboard coding at work all day. He made a bowl of ramen and sat at his computer for a relaxing night of Internet. He had just found a juicy thread on a message board when his roommates, Bierce and Lox burst in through the door with straining bags from Cut-Rite Liquors in their hands and gin on their breath.

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If you saunter on over to the archives, and scroll down to the bottom of the page, you’ll see that the first entry is dated December 16th, 2009.

Hot fucking damn, two years!

Unfortunately, I’m on a business trip with even fewer moments to spare than I had anticipated so the fanfare will have to wait until Monday. Several talented writers have been gracious enough to help me celebrate with guest Morals coming online Monday, Wednesday, and I’ll be capping the week off with a very special surprise that will kick off 2012 with a big fucking moral bang.

“So, overall, it’s not that bad living in a dragon’s stomach. Except for Nicholas. He’s been acting a bit dodgy lately.”

Aaron signed the piece of vellum, rolled it up, stuffed it into a bottle, and threw it into the puddle at the other end of the dragon’s stomach. From there, he knew, it would see the light of day. Then he walked back towards the small living room that he had set up with Nicholas and plopped onto the couch.

“When do you think he swallowed that, then?” Nicholas said. He was drinking a beer. Probably the beer that Aaron had snatched from its inevitable march towards the rectum. It was his beer. How dare Nicholas help himself.

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“I can’t believe we did it,” Shirley said, then she poured a measure of champagne out of an Erlenmeyer flask and into her throat. “I really think that we’ve changed the course of history.”

“We did. Believe it,” Clint said. He leaned on the laboratory table to steady himself.

“I can’t! We’ll go down in the history books! We’re like Pasteur! Salk! Crick, Watson and Franklin! God, we may even be listed next to them in the textbooks of the future. We’ve done no less than any of them. We’ve created the first therapeutic treatment for aging!”

“Thank god for the common cold. A minor case of the sniffles once every ten years for everlasting life.”

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