AUGUST WAHNSINGER

At Long Last

This day has been forthcoming since æons untold, and now, it has arrived!

BEHOLD!

 

In this issue, you shall behold what occurs when the strange events that define my quotidian existence conspire against me in a tale of intrigue, bloodshed, darkelves and cockney robots!

YES! You may purchase and download (for the quite reasonable price of US$1.99) Steampunk Tales, Issue 3 where in Mr. Williams's tomfoolery fails to get in the way OF MY PUBLISHING PLAN OF DOMINATION!

Here are the applicable direct links for the media that this issue is available in:

iPhone

.PDF

MobiReader eBook

It's also available on the Kindle if you happen to have one of those things.

At last, my plans are coming to fruition! Soon, you shall all enjoy the mirth of my writings, or suffer!

Yours truly,
August "Huzzah! What a Glorious Feat!" Wahnsinger

Another Arbitrary New Year Now Well Under Way

I heard a great deal of to-do from the village just on the south-western tip of my domain the other night, and it all seemed to culminate in a countdown of sorts.

"Ah," I said, "another new year!"

I had to communicate with my advisors regarding what year it had become, as there is no universal consensus. They generally agreed that the Western, or dominant, world celebrated the birth of "2009" last Wednesday night.

Now, the way we go about with new years here on Earth really does perplex me. 31 December? What is 31 December? It's a week after Yuletide, I suppose, but that as well was set on an arbitrary date - why, it doesn't even coincide with the Winter Solstice! Of all the days in the year where something indicative of the Earth's movement around the sun occurs, they decided on a day that happens about a week-and-a-half after the darkest day of the year!

Now, the Jews have a good idea – their New Year starts at the end of a lunar cycle, and it starts around the time things are going from warm to chilly. Or perhaps we could take inspiration from the get of the Persians, and celebrate the new year on the Vernal Equinox, which seems to be what most ancient cultures were aiming for anyway.

I personally favour the method they use on Andowan. Ah! Now there's a realm where new years make sense! Firstly, their calendar splits into thirteen twenty-seven day long months, each of these months containing three nine-day long weeks. There are eight seasons, too, instead of four, each of them forty-four days long and occurring on either side of an equinox or a solstice - except for every seventh season, which gets a day taken away from it. Every year, New Year's Day comes the day of the Winter Solstice – except in "off" years that occur every eight years when it comes the day after.

That is an efficient calendar, folks! And if elves had their way with this planet, I can assure you it would match or exceed Andowan's own robust sense of time.

Alas! I am not a permanent resident of Andowan, though I often find myself bombarded with magnificent visions of its history, and taunted by its punctuality. But I must make do with planet Earth, with its bewildering and inaccurate solar calendar, and noteworthy dearth of elves.

Anyway, happy new year to those of you who have chosen to celebrate it. As you might have guessed, there were no New Year's Eve festivities in the August Wahnsinger compound. No, the lemmings and I were scouting a pack of invisible trähl-beasts, thought to have gone extinct in this dimension some 400,000 negayears ago! They have reappeared on my property, perhaps as a result of the quantum and horological experiments taking place there, and I came quite close to capturing evidence of their existence when the revellers in that village started making their ruckus.

I shall bide my time, but vengeance will be swift. Happy New Year's, indeed...

Sincerely,
August "It's Not a New Year Until the Sun's Position Rises Above the Equator" Wahnsinger

Scaly Zul'Droth vs. Washington Insider: Round 1

People have been asking me all day, "What did you think about the American vice-presidential candidate debate last night?"

Many know that I can see Sarah Palin's territory – Al'aqsa – from my home. It makes me shiver when I'm alone at night in my great subterranean mansion, with nothing more than mile upon mile of razorwire fence, intergalactic plasma-bomb technology, and trapdoors with direct portals into the bowels of Hell to protect me and my domain. Oh, she looks nice. She does that whole "culture of life" thing. But truth be told, I witnessed her true form in a dream shortly after she took governorship.

In this terrifying vision, it was revealed to me that she is a Scaly Zul'Droth from the planet Ixfoi'yalga. This truth surfaced after I fired shots at her family during my visit to Juneau on safari. I stress again, however, that shooting at the families of duly elected government officials is neither safe nor moral! I did this all for scientific purposes.

I have yet to find where she docks her spacecraft, but just know that a fleet of Naralmyngian star-cruisers awaits my command, and when she reveals the location of her ship, a reign of photon missiles shall fall screaming from the Al'aqsan sky – and justice shall once more be meted out to her foul breed!

Oh, you don't know about Scaly Zul'Droths, do you? It's probably all for the better then...

That said, I find her policies intriguing. I'm sure I'd find them even more intriguing if she were in a swimsuit, or perhaps an outfit similar to what the ladies appearing on the cover art of some of my favourite Robert E. Howard books might wear.

Yes, I watched you sodding colonists' debate last night, and don't you dare bring up the fact that Canada, as well, was a colony. This may be true, but I am a citizen of the universe!* No paltry political domain can contain my personhood. I am not a colonist!

I watched the debates and kept up a proud tradition that I have when watching political spectacles; I captured a roving Canadian MP (they traipse across my property here in the British Columbian wilderness from time to time) and tried to modulate the brainwaves of the participants using the MP as a medium. This often involves strategically placed primer cord, a pair of scissors, canola oil, and several CCs of OxyContin®. A theremin is used for the transmission device.

The MP rarely comes through this process unscathed, but the memories are so horrible that they usually get repressed. It's kind of like it never really happened for them, except when they spend the next five days profusely vomiting, often losing vital organs in the process. But my conscience is clean. No harm (aside from vomiting and possible death), no foul.

My experiment again was a success last night, and it looks as though I'll be able to renew that grant. For instance, when Biden said "The American public has a stomach for success," I was detonating small, controlled blasts in the good MP's stomach, and whispering to the theremin "Say something about the American public!" When Sarah Palin praised the work of the troop surge, the MP was experiencing a massive case of diarrhoea and bloating. I felt power unfathomable! Well, it would have been unfathomable if I hadn't experienced it several times before...

I left that poor member of the Canadian Green Party somewhere in the foothills just outside Whitehorse, YT. I'm sure he'll find someone there to help him with the aftermath when the OxyContin® wears off.

Anyway, if you're ever vacationing in Al'aqsa, try to go as far East as you can, and shoot towards the Palin residence. It'll help get us into an out-and-out war with Russia! I can't wait for that!

Also, ask them about their healthcare, and then make fun of them when they nervously admit that they worry about going to routine check-ups. Stick that up your arse, ya' bloody yanks!**

Anyway, I hope your political machinations go well, and that the end of the world comes promptly because of your foolishness and ignorance. God bless you all.

Sincerely,
August "Tomorrow Belongs to Me" Wahnsinger

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* – And Sweden (naturlised).

** – Naturally, you can't do this if you're an American, or a national of any other country that does not have dirty-red bastard healthcare.

It Feels Good to Be Back

Austin was wrong. I have been back safely in the People's Democratic Federal Republic of the Kingdom of Canadia™ for some time now. Why have I posted nothing to this blogsite, then? The aurora borealis. That's why.

Do you know what the aurora is? Well, if you don't, I shall not tell you! It takes dedication to learn the true secrets behind the aurora borealis. It takes months of hard work; hours and days alone with a thermometer, a telescope, and a moderate-to-large size assortment of capybara pelts to offer in supplication. But I have already said too much!

Nonetheless, the Northern Lights, as you wags have dubbed them, interfered with the usual means by which my thoughts interface with this website. After finally triumphing in an interstellar battle with those eldritch forces that hold the reigns of the aurora, I now return. I discovered in the meantime that I have the power to fire energy beams from my nostrils. I promise not to abuse this power in any way I see unfit. I might also get another grant from the Canadian government for this breakthrough...

Before the aurora so rudely interrupted my work, I was in New Zealand hunting for hobbits. New Zealand is a beautiful country, and much closer in proximity to my favourite avian species, but alas! There are no available underground hideaways, and I could not bear the thought of leaving behind my army of trained rodents, though an army of trained marsupials, tuataras and whetas is nonetheless tempting. My tenure in New Zealand came to an end when the closest to any hobbit I could find were various members of the New Zealander teamster union. They were short, hairy, abjured hard work, and had cheeky, cheery accents, but after capturing one and subjecting him to rigorous tests, I determined that he was just another person. And what's that worth, anyway?

Next, I decided to visit my bungalow in Switzerland. There, I travelled frequently to present my findings regarding hobbits in New Zealand with other members of the International Society for the Exploration of Nature, Science and the Esoteric (INSENSE) at their headquarters in Lausanne, which is located just above the McDonald's across the street from the International Olympic Committee headquarters. I also journeyed the continent as time allowed me, even taking in a press conference with J.R.R. Tolkien, who came back from the grave for a few minutes to give juicy tidbits about some of my favourite characters of Middle-Earth. I sent a report back to Mr. Williams through the use of a keyboard and the wi-fi connection at a local brothel.

For the record, I disdain computer keyboards. I type the stories I receive using a paper mock-up of a keyboard with electrodes attached to it. Said electrodes are subsequently attached to fifty-eight unstable Technetium atoms, which cause a key on the keyboard to be struck whenever they shed an electron.

It was at this time that I became aware of how the aurora borealis was interfering with my transmissions. I would have been alerted to this earlier, but I do not expose my naked eye to the internet. There are un-prostrated entities seeking minds that they may sequester to their purposes in an effort to build up their effervescent portfolios. These portfolios are then traded on Stock Exchanges of the Damned® and returned as soon as the victims' brains revert to a primordial stew. I am aware of these entities, and their desire to leech away the deoxyribonucleic acid that causes my powerful psyche to stand firm amidst a sea of turmoil. For this reason, I shall not look at a computer, even if I am forced to type on it.

And I didn't, by the way!

All that aside, I immediately left the Swiss bungalow to do battle with the great cosmic forces impeding my access to the blogosphere, which is located just between the D and E layers of the ionosphere. I now return, victorious, and ready to assail treat you with the writings that have come forth from the visions that extra- and outer-dimensional entities continue to bombard me with. They will not grant me peace until you have all read about them!

PLEASE, OH NIETZSCHE, MAKE IT STOP!

No, no! It can't stop! You must read them some day! All of you! And then you will know first hand what kind of torment and ecstasy I have lived through! You will learn glorious, terrible things!

I think I'm going to eat a frogurt now. They grow on trees up here in the Canadian wilderness. They're quite delicious.

Yours truly,

August "I Just Dashed Well Over A Thousand Kim" Wahnsinger