CERAMIC D.M. the final judgement is in!
- Thread starter alsih2o
- Start date
Mirth
Explorer
It's been one hell of a 48 hours for me.
My almost 1 year old son has been through the ringer, which means my wife and I have too
First, one of our cats scratched him on the face before we could stop her, then he was up all night last night with chest congestion so bad we thought we would have to take him to the hospital, and finally this morning he was chewing on a board book and fell on it, cutting the inside of his mouth and bleeding everywhere. Poor guy. I have to say he's quite the trooper though. He and the missus are napping peacefully right now.
All of that makes it hard to concentrate on Ceramic DM I'm almost finished with my entry, but I thought I would tease everybody first just to keep you all on your toes. Man, I need some sleep. Yawn.
Post is coming forthwith, I promise
My almost 1 year old son has been through the ringer, which means my wife and I have too
First, one of our cats scratched him on the face before we could stop her, then he was up all night last night with chest congestion so bad we thought we would have to take him to the hospital, and finally this morning he was chewing on a board book and fell on it, cutting the inside of his mouth and bleeding everywhere. Poor guy. I have to say he's quite the trooper though. He and the missus are napping peacefully right now.All of that makes it hard to concentrate on Ceramic DM
I'm almost finished with my entry, but I thought I would tease everybody first just to keep you all on your toes. Man, I need some sleep. Yawn.Post is coming forthwith, I promise
alsih2o
First Post
Drawmack said:
in 3 readings of this section i have missed maldurs post everytime. your post makes much more sense to me now drawmack
at least in competition in the ceramics world it seems that a judge is chosen, everyone makes work that they think will speak to that person while maintaining personal style and then the judge comes in and chooses pieces his/her personal style drives dorectly against. this leaves everyone feeling quite schizophrenic and entertains me greatly.
if anyone wants to see some of the wackiness that happens in ceramic shows witness: http://www.ortonceramic.com/Overview/conebox2000/conebox1.html the orton cone box show. all pieces must fot within 6x3x3 inches, the size of a standard orton cone box. this show is actually quite highly respected, a beauty mark on any potters resume
Mirth
Explorer
mirthcard vs. Speaker
What's Hell to the Devil?
The Fiend sat on the balcony (Pic #4) of the Punta Chivato Seaside Lounge sipping a gin & tonic with lemon bitters. The moonlight sparkled on the Mexican waters below, but all The Fiend could think about was how much he hated wicker furniture.
It made him smile, of course. After all, had he not created wicker furniture? What an achievement that was. Combine it with the plastic tables, the mushroom lamp, the fake seashell & concrete arch and the soft orange lighting and you had the very definition of tacky all in one place. Yes. This would do very nicely.
The Fiend had picked the Punta Chivato Seaside Lounge specifically to annoy HIM. Certainly, if HE had a choice, HE would never deign to come to a place that so obviously wallowed in its uncouthness. No no no, HE had to have the best of everything. Well, if HE wanted to have a meeting with The Fiend, then HE would have to deal with where it took place, those were the rules. HE should know, HE made them up and then bound everything to them. Screw HIM.
What in the hell was taking HIM so long? The Fiend caught the irony in his thought and chuckled to himself. Draining his glass, he called out to the waiter, "Uno mas, por favor." That drink was pretty damn good. Just enough bitterness to make your mouth pucker right up.
As The Fiend was digging the lemon slice out of the bottom of the glass, the moonlit night suddenly turned to bright daylight for a moment. The sudden flsah of light caused The Fiend to jump and all of the slushy ice and the lemon slice left in his glass spilled onto his lap. Of course, The Fiend knew what that light meant - HE had arrived (Pic #1) - and looking up from his wet crotch he confirmed it. Smug bastard.
The meeting didn't go as The Fiend expected at all. Here he thought that he was doing his job, and doing it well. Apparently THE BOSS MAN didn't think so. None of The Fiend's hard work had impressed HIM. It became quickly apparent to The Fiend what that meant - he was being fired.
In his defense, The Fiend trotted out proof of his evil. Wicker - that had to count for something, right? John Tesh ... Yanni ... Kenny G - has the music industry been the same since? What about the Menudo, New Kids on the Block, Backstreet Boys, N'Sync, Ricky Martin cycle of punishment?
One of The Fiend's personal favorites was the giant sea turtle that he had sent out against the crew of the fishing boat Rhapsody in Nova Scotia in 1956 (Pic #2). That little fright tactic had had quite the trickle down effect impacting the fishing industry, monster movies, Greenpeace and more. Can you say Godzilla? How about The Perfect Storm with George Clooney? Want to know how deep the evil goes? Marky Mark was in that movie too, and not only was he a horrible musician, but his brother Donnie was in New Kids on the Block! It's all about layers. Ah the subtle nature of evil, The Fiend intoned. But HE wasn't swayed. None of it was making HIM reconsider.
It was time to pull out the big guns. After slamming back two more gin & tonics with lemon bitters, The Fiend brought forth a faded scroll from his pocket (Pic #3). He told the tale of the boy of wood who was given life somehow Then The Fiend had snuck the drawing into the boy's dreams and told him what it meant to be a REAL boy. He whispered to the wooden child how good it would feel to have bones and skin, to be able to touch and feel and smell and taste. The boy, who never needed to eat or breath or grow old or die, gave all of that up because of the false hope that The Fiend had instilled in him. The little moron had forsaken eternal youth and immortality for hunger and the deterioration of the flesh.
Oh, the splendid irony of it all! And the story of this tragedy had been passed down as a lesson on morals for generations. Disney had made it a part of the popular culture, the fools! Plus the fact that they couldn't even begin to comprehend the sexual imagery of a boy made of wood with a nose that grows. It was his first and greatest accomplishment, that one. Surely that would change HIS mind. But alas it did not.
As HE so kindly agreed, Pinnochio had been The Fiend's first and greatest accomplishment. However, everything after that had been a kind of denouement. It was all downhill, if you will. The Fiend wasn't practicing Evil so much as just being annoying. HE couldn't have that. In order for HIM to appear to be the greatest good in the land, he needed to fight the greatest evil. The Fiend wasn't cutting it, plain and simple. There was only one recourse left.
"No!" screamed The Fiend. "Not that! The cold. The freezing, stony cold. I can't do that for eternity. I am The Eater of Dreams. I am The Killer of Hope. Please you can't do this to me!" But it was too late. The Fiend blinked his eyes and HE was gone. All was snow and stone now.
As The Fiend stared out from stone eyes at the white blanket of frost covering him and the perpetually frozen lawnmower he was doomed to push for eternity, he had only one thought, "Gnomes. Man, that Lucifer sure got that one right. Why didn't I think of Gnomes?" (Pic #5)
The End.
What's Hell to the Devil?
The Fiend sat on the balcony (Pic #4) of the Punta Chivato Seaside Lounge sipping a gin & tonic with lemon bitters. The moonlight sparkled on the Mexican waters below, but all The Fiend could think about was how much he hated wicker furniture.
It made him smile, of course. After all, had he not created wicker furniture? What an achievement that was. Combine it with the plastic tables, the mushroom lamp, the fake seashell & concrete arch and the soft orange lighting and you had the very definition of tacky all in one place. Yes. This would do very nicely.
The Fiend had picked the Punta Chivato Seaside Lounge specifically to annoy HIM. Certainly, if HE had a choice, HE would never deign to come to a place that so obviously wallowed in its uncouthness. No no no, HE had to have the best of everything. Well, if HE wanted to have a meeting with The Fiend, then HE would have to deal with where it took place, those were the rules. HE should know, HE made them up and then bound everything to them. Screw HIM.
What in the hell was taking HIM so long? The Fiend caught the irony in his thought and chuckled to himself. Draining his glass, he called out to the waiter, "Uno mas, por favor." That drink was pretty damn good. Just enough bitterness to make your mouth pucker right up.
As The Fiend was digging the lemon slice out of the bottom of the glass, the moonlit night suddenly turned to bright daylight for a moment. The sudden flsah of light caused The Fiend to jump and all of the slushy ice and the lemon slice left in his glass spilled onto his lap. Of course, The Fiend knew what that light meant - HE had arrived (Pic #1) - and looking up from his wet crotch he confirmed it. Smug bastard.
The meeting didn't go as The Fiend expected at all. Here he thought that he was doing his job, and doing it well. Apparently THE BOSS MAN didn't think so. None of The Fiend's hard work had impressed HIM. It became quickly apparent to The Fiend what that meant - he was being fired.
In his defense, The Fiend trotted out proof of his evil. Wicker - that had to count for something, right? John Tesh ... Yanni ... Kenny G - has the music industry been the same since? What about the Menudo, New Kids on the Block, Backstreet Boys, N'Sync, Ricky Martin cycle of punishment?
One of The Fiend's personal favorites was the giant sea turtle that he had sent out against the crew of the fishing boat Rhapsody in Nova Scotia in 1956 (Pic #2). That little fright tactic had had quite the trickle down effect impacting the fishing industry, monster movies, Greenpeace and more. Can you say Godzilla? How about The Perfect Storm with George Clooney? Want to know how deep the evil goes? Marky Mark was in that movie too, and not only was he a horrible musician, but his brother Donnie was in New Kids on the Block! It's all about layers. Ah the subtle nature of evil, The Fiend intoned. But HE wasn't swayed. None of it was making HIM reconsider.
It was time to pull out the big guns. After slamming back two more gin & tonics with lemon bitters, The Fiend brought forth a faded scroll from his pocket (Pic #3). He told the tale of the boy of wood who was given life somehow
Then The Fiend had snuck the drawing into the boy's dreams and told him what it meant to be a REAL boy. He whispered to the wooden child how good it would feel to have bones and skin, to be able to touch and feel and smell and taste. The boy, who never needed to eat or breath or grow old or die, gave all of that up because of the false hope that The Fiend had instilled in him. The little moron had forsaken eternal youth and immortality for hunger and the deterioration of the flesh. Oh, the splendid irony of it all! And the story of this tragedy had been passed down as a lesson on morals for generations. Disney had made it a part of the popular culture, the fools! Plus the fact that they couldn't even begin to comprehend the sexual imagery of a boy made of wood with a nose that grows. It was his first and greatest accomplishment, that one. Surely that would change HIS mind. But alas it did not.
As HE so kindly agreed, Pinnochio had been The Fiend's first and greatest accomplishment. However, everything after that had been a kind of denouement. It was all downhill, if you will. The Fiend wasn't practicing Evil so much as just being annoying. HE couldn't have that. In order for HIM to appear to be the greatest good in the land, he needed to fight the greatest evil. The Fiend wasn't cutting it, plain and simple. There was only one recourse left.
"No!" screamed The Fiend. "Not that! The cold. The freezing, stony cold. I can't do that for eternity. I am The Eater of Dreams. I am The Killer of Hope. Please you can't do this to me!" But it was too late. The Fiend blinked his eyes and HE was gone. All was snow and stone now.
As The Fiend stared out from stone eyes at the white blanket of frost covering him and the perpetually frozen lawnmower he was doomed to push for eternity, he had only one thought, "Gnomes. Man, that Lucifer sure got that one right. Why didn't I think of Gnomes?" (Pic #5)
The End.
arwink
Clockwork Golem
Erk. I've just realised I've got a deadline I have to meet real fast, so it'll be between 18 to 24 hours before I get time to seriously sit down and comment on these properly. I know what the waiting time for results is like when you're in these, so if it's a problem I'm more than happy for Clay to replace me (especially given I was a ringer in the first place )
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