Podcasts, an advertisement

Do you have 15 to 30 minutes during your day when you aren't using your ears? Of course you do. Perhaps while making dinner or trudging along in rush hour traffic or (if you're as lucky as me) when your job merely requires you to copy stuff from one box to another box. Instead of spending that time listening to someone else's bullshit (spouse, kids, co-workers, friends, etc) why not use it entertaining yourself. You're worth it, after all. Maybe, I don't know. Maybe not. Maybe just recommend these podcasts to the person you usually pour your bullshit on so they don't have to listen to your bullshit. Anyways, just tell the folks around you to fuck off, put on your headphones, and take a listen.

Is this entire thing just going to be one big advertisement for podcasts that I'm listening to on my drive to work or while sitting at my desk? Yep. Am I getting paid for writing this? Nope. Why am I writing this when I should be writing literally anything else? Meh, writer's block mostly. It seemed like a fun way to waste time. The boredom/frustration/all of the things that usually get me to quit writing and retreat back into binge reading and video games are starting to bubble up. Mostly the writer's block thing, though. Anyways, let's get started.

Side note: All of these podcasts can be found on iTunes and as far as I know are free, unless, you know, there's a paragraph somewhere that says Apple is allowed to take my first born or something like that (I don't know, I don't read the user agreement).


Hello from the Magic Tavern (new episodes every Sunday)

This is currently my favorite podcast. The premise is simple: Arnie Niekamp, a regular Joe from Chicago, accidentally falls through a portal and ends up in the magical land of Foon (kind of like Narnia, just ... stranger). He befriends Chunt, a talking shapeshifter in the form of a badger, and Usidore, the blue wizard. Instead of going on quests or doing the typical things anyone usually does when they arrive in a fantasy world, Arnie decides to host a podcast in an effort to teach the people of Earth more about Foon. The three of them host the podcast where they interview different creatures and beings that walk into the Vermilion Minotaur, the tavern from which they broadcast. Some of the more memorable guests include:

1. Spintax the Green: "We're finally getting real magic on this podcast!" Like Usidore, he is also a wizard. Unlike Usidore, he is a competent wizard. Spintax constantly upstages Usidore in magical feats as well as embarrassing him with stories from the time they trained together.
2. Jack Vorpal: "Where do you think swords come from? The sword eggs hatch. They start out as dagger larvae and they grow up and some, when they've been around, they begin to develop magical properties." He is considered Foon's greatest swordsman but decided to hang up his sword and become a baker instead. He talks about slaughtering a pack of Smorps, creatures that stand 4 peaches high and follow their leader, a crimson-clad wizard named Father Smorp.
3. Metamore: "I play a character called Frank Wilson. He's a 15th level HR Generalist, split class, Office Machine/Service Rep." He is apparently always in the tavern with another group of folks who play the game, "Offices and Bosses" (the Foon version of Dungeons and Dragons). He convinces the three hosts to play the game where they must try to survive the office work day. In the game, they encounter enemies such as the Talkative Co-worker and a lower level Boss.
4. Larry Birdman: "A field 2,000 yards long and 9 yards wide. Each team has 31 individuals: A Baskin, 19 Hillsmen, 10 Miscellaneous, and 1 Quarterback. The Baskin needs to take a potted flower across the field for 1 point. But if anyone catches a bird, then it is 700 points." Larry Birdman is the commissioner of the Foon Mittens League, the most popular sport in Foon. He is a former player and has several changes he would like to be made to the game.

The show is hilarious. I usually hate the interview parts of late night talk shows as well, but these are great. The fact that everyone on the show, from the three hosts to whoever is that week's guest are all improv comedians really helps the show flow as well as it does. And basically, the a lot of the show is an improv sketch, at least it seems like it, the jokes come too quickly for it to be scripted. 


The Basement Yard (new episodes every Monday)

Hopefully by now you've heard of Joe Santagato, probably from the popular Youtube videos like Idiots of the Internet or People of Walmart. If not, I would definitely recommend you watch at least all of those videos. I know, it's basically Tosh.0, which is just America's Funniest Home Videos, but I like his sense of humor. However, that is just the videos. The videos are tame when compared to the podcasts.

Typically, it's just him talking to himself, but, in my opinion, the best episodes are those which he's got someone else broadcasting with him, whether that be his brother or other family members, or his friends that drop by. There is a huge range of topics talked about on the podcast such as current events around the world, masturbation, other Youtubers, drinking stories, living life, or just shooting the shit. Every episode is just him expressing his opinion on these topics, whether they annoy him or interest him or he finds them funny, whatever it is, he'll say it and that's what makes the show great. It's basically like listening to a guy (or a couple of guys, depending on who shows up) have a couple of beers and just talk story, which, when you're struggling to get through that last hour of work, may be all you really want to hear.

The coolest part of this podcast: This asshole is doing all of this from his room, IN THE BASEMENT OF HIS FAMILY HOME! Yeah, think about that while you feel like a piece of shit. It's just him sitting in a chair with a microphone in his basement, which is also his room. No studio or producer or switchboard or writer or any of those other things anyone considers "professional". Just him in his basement and people are paying him (currently he is sponsored by "Blue Apron"). If that doesn't inspire you to do something with your life, then I don't know what will.


Shamfiction (new episodes every Saturday)

There's a writing podcast! Ok, in truth, there's actually plenty of them, but this one has an interesting concept. In this podcast, the three hosts (I've yet to care to learn their names) challenge each other to write fan fiction stories, one story a week. The only catch: The person writing the story has not seen or read the movie/tv show/book/comic. Instead the other two co-hosts will tell the third about whatever it is they are going to be writing that week: the characters, the setting, basic plot, etc.The writer will then write a brief story and the other two will score it and provide criticism based on how well the writer used the information provided to him. The two non-writers will also provide the writer with Bonus Points, certain things that he needs to hit to get full points. Previous bonus points for the episodes have included:

1. Deadpool: One X-men character, but not a good one due to budget issues and Best, creative injury sustained by Deadpool.
2. X-Files: Due to budget reasons, the first season was set in Vancouver so wherever the story is set, Vancouver needs to double for it and Best way Scully misses paranormal event and comes up with ridiculous, real-world explanation for it.
3. Bob's Burgers: Must have a burger of the day, and Someone in the family must waste money on something stupid, and Best ratio of most effort Louise puts into her plot for the lowest pay-off.
4. Friends: A good Joey, "How you doin'?" line, and One of the friends must be dating a person played by a '90s star.

And, like most fan fiction, it's best when you know what they are talking about just so you get all the references, but they do such a good job describing the thing they are writing from that it is actually possible to listen to episodes with just a limited knowledge of the storyline. I've yet to encounter a story that I disliked so far. And they've written such a variety of stories that it's impossible that you haven't seen or read at least one of the source materials.


And that's all of them for now. I'm actually listening to a bunch more (having spent hours browsing the iTunes library) but three seems like a good amount to write about for one post. Or at least I care about writing about for now.

Wizards Magic Fair

Wizards Magic Fair   (like a science fair for wizards)

Keloa huddled with his family in their grass hut as the gods rumbled in the sky above. Outside, the Melvinites and Baileyens danced, encouraging the strange sounds and welcoming the end of days.

"Father, why do they do that?" asked his youngest daughter, Kimberly, named after the first love of their Lord and Creator.

Taking a knee, Keloa looked his daughter in the eyes. "Well, honey, not everyone carries the same faith as we do. While we wait, fearful of the vengeance our God may bring, others welcome destruction as if it shall make them new." He shook his head, remembering the preaching of Father Mel of the Melvinites yesterday morning.

Keloa, first son of the Creator Jimmy and father of the Jimmen, scoffed at the idea that destruction should be celebrated. He had personally listened to the guiding voice of God Jimmy as he lead the other Lords in creating a better land for all their tribes and peoples to survive and thrive. Keloa knew then that the "Group Leader," as the other Lords of the Pantheon referred to him, would never wish for destruction of his project.

At the moment, though, his faith was beginning to waver. Earlier in the morning, there was a brilliant flash of green light and the entire world shook for several minutes. When it had finally stopped, he knew they were someplace different. No one could see past the sky to prove it, but he could sense it. The Gods had brought their creation to their home, evidenced by the cacophony of foreign voices, growls of unseen animals, and other unfamiliar sounds which Keloa could not put into words. Through it all, Keloa still believed that Lord Jimmy would preserve him and his family.

As if on cue, Lord Jimmy spoke and Keloa felt a calm spread throughout his body. He looked to his family and saw relief in their eyes as they awaited His words. "As you can see, Professor Saltwinter, our group has created a functioning, miniature eco-system and populated it with homunculi in an effort to show how we can use magic to solve many of the global climate crises the Earth is currently facing."

Tanya, Lord Queen of the winds and rain spoke next. "I conjured several, simple weather spells and and pressed them into a single containment spell surrounding the entire diorama. We all needed to work together, however, to press together a strong enough heat spell that would also circle the land mass several times a day."

"We decided on an island model mostly to contain the homunculi. Earlier models where the land mass extended to the edge of the diorama caused them to try to get past the walled edge, either by scaling it or trying to go through it. These needed to be scrapped. I shaped the land mass with the proper soil ratios and the water is in a constant state of movement through a series of anti-stasis spells." That was said by Goddess Bailey, ruler of the land and sea. Keloa had heard her story from the Baileyens: she was a destroyer by her own account, killing man's natural urge and need to explore by containing them within walls and summoning a treacherous ocean against them.

The life-giver, Mother Sandra explained their creation. "We used a simple homunculus spell and shaped them from our individual blood, dirt, and water. Another simple potion allowed them to age from child to adulthood in a matter of days so we could observe the effects from generation to generation."

And finally the voice Keloa dreaded hearing, Lord Melvin, the Grabber of the Snacks. "It even comes with a working volcano," he said in an excited voice, eager for destruction. Though his title bespoke to his generosity, neither Keloa nor his people had ever received these "snacks" which he supposedly provided.

A white liquid began pouring from the sky into Mt. Finejusshutup, truly signaling the end of days just as God Melvin had always prophesied. In just a few seconds, red lava began scorching its way down the mountain, melting everything in its path. From the one window in the hut, Keloa watched it devour the forests from which they gathered their materials and food. The dancing Melvinites and Baileyens joyously threw themselves into the approaching inferno, offering themselves as sacrifice to God Melvin and extinguishing the lives of two entire tribes on the island. Unfortunately, Keloa could not bear witness to the fates of the Tanners or the Sands tribes who lived on the other side of the island.

"Goddamnit Mel! The project isn't done yet," Lord Jimmy said as a white mist fell upon the land, instantly cooling the lava mere inches away from Keloa's hut. "Let's just wait for the judges to finish, get an A on our
project, and then we can kill them."

And just like that, Keloa had received the prophecy of destruction from Lord Jimmy. An end by final judgment. But, he thought, who is this judge who shall deliver this prophetic "A" that will signal our destruction?



As always, this story was inspired by the reddit/Writing Prompts prompt "Wizards Magic Fair". I know, typically, I've been writing something about my writing process, but actually, this one came sort of easily. When I saw the prompt I knew immediately that I wanted to have a volcano because, well, the cliche thing at all science fairs is that someone will make one of those baking soda volcanoes. Originally, it was from Jimmy's (or whatever I named the original protagonist) point-of-view, but then I thought it would look cooler from a person on the island. Oh, and if you're wondering about the cover picture, yes, I drew that. No, I don't know why since I suck at drawing. Probably because it actually looks a lot better than the one I tried to draw on Paint. Also, they don't let you into the high school science fair when you're an almost thirty year old man just wanting to take some pictures to put on the internet (that doesn't sound weird right?)

Graduation Day

Two hundred thousand pairs of eyes watched as the three of us walked on stage. "And now," said the Headmaster as he gestured to us, "your Faustus Academy of Deep Arcana graduating class of 2016!" The crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers, applause, shouts, roars, stomps and colorful, miniature explosions launched into the sky. Morris led us on stage, visibly shaking, his hands drifting up to rub the purple bruise the rope gave him when he tried to hang himself just a couple hours ago. Ahh, immortality must be a bitch, I thought. Nancy, followed behind him, a length of fabric torn from her sleeve tied over her eyes, or, more precisely, where her eyes used to be two hours ago before she dug them out. I brought up the rear, eyes straight ahead, wondering how I'd gotten here, my robes tight around me and the twenty-pound explosive vest I wore under it.

You see, it takes a special breed of asshole to apply to the Faustus Academy of Deep Arcana. You want to learn how to brew love potions or cast stunning spells? Go to the Merlin University or Boarboil College. At the Faustus Academy, there are no team sports, no academic clubs, no group projects. You're not here to learn cheap tricks or manipulate magic. You're here to dominate magic, to bend it to your will and claim it for your own. And yes, everyone knows that no one person has ever been able to control magic, and yet that doesn't stop Faustus Academy from filling a class year after year.

"And now," the Headmaster said, "I'd like to present this year's valedictorian, Morris Fortuna, with the honor of being the first to conduct his graduation ritual."

He mixed the contents of several containers together into a cauldron and snapped his fingers, instantly boiling the contents into a paste. He stripped to his waist and I saw scars carved throughout his chest, his abdomen, his back. Ritual scars, the kind that bleed and bleed and bleed. He smeared the paste onto his face, turning it a deep shade of red. With the rest of the paste, he painted a 20 foot wide circle on the stage. Morris grabbed another container and scattered a white powder into the center of the circle. Around the edges, he placed 4 heads, one in each of the cardinal directions. I recognized one of them as Margaret's and another as Johnny's. He must've been keeping them frozen since neither looked as far decomposed as they should have after we split their bodies up just before Christmas break, Sophomore year. In fact I was going to use some of Margaret's bones in my own graduation ritual.

Morris knelt before the circle and started chanting. Chanting was probably the one thing all graduation rituals had in common. The other thing was that they would all end in our deaths, just like last year's graduating class, and the year before that, and the year before that, all the way back to the founding of the school.
After of couple of minutes, the sky darkened and red lightning flashed across the sky. The ground shook and a giant pit opened in the center of the circle. The heads started chanting as well. All of the scars on Morris' body glowed red, the same red as the light now emitting from the pit. Flames and screams burst from deep within the hole.

I yawned. It was all standard ritual stuff. I really expected more from our valedictorian. To have made a deal with a pit demon, well that was just cliche. Then I saw a head. A human head with slicked-back, black hair. It rose from the pit to reveal a man of average height, dressed in a slick, black, three-piece suit. A perfectly average man, if you could ignore the red, whip-thin tail and the fact that he was floating a foot over the pit. He stepped forward to the edge of the circle as if walking on an invisible floor. He extended his hand only pull it back as if it had just been shocked. Quickly, he regained his composure and took in his surroundings before focusing his attention on Morris.

The man, who was definitely not a man, spread his arms and smiled, displaying a sharp set of fangs. "Well, Morris, it appears we've finally reached the end of our contract," he said.

Morris stood up and bowed his head. "Yes, Leviathan, this is the end." He stepped forward and descended into the flames. Leviathan laughed and followed him down, the portal closing behind him.

"Holy shit," I said to myself. Morris had made a pact with Leviathan, one of Lucifer's personal guards during the Fall. Not only that, but he'd managed to summon the devil to Earth while keeping him restrained in such a tiny cage. Very impressive.

And that's really the whole point of these graduation rituals, to show-off for one last time. To tread where those who call themselves great fear to go. To show the world what magic is truly capable of. And I'm sure it provides a boost to enrollment when someone summons a devil from Lucifer's inner circle, as well.

Nancy went next. On a hunch, I closed my eyes, assuming whatever it was she made a deal with was something that you didn't want to lay eyes upon. I could here her moving around, chanting words I didn't understand, beautiful words that the world had forgotten long ago. It was a good thirty minutes before I felt a warmth shine on my body, on my soul. I felt something I hadn't felt in the longest time - joy, bliss, contentment, forgiveness. A voice spoke back from above, a voice so deep and rich and pure, I could feel tears starting to stream down my face - and blood trickle from my ears. There was a loud boom and I was thrown back several feet.

I opened my eyes to see a crater where Nancy was standing, it's edges marked with runes and symbols I'd never seen before. Based on the lack of blood or body chunks, I assume whatever it was either took Nancy or else had disintegrated her to dust. I looked around the crowd to see that some people were not as smart and didn't close their eyes before hand. It took a good while to bandage everyone up and get them to a hospital. Through their constant babbling, I made out the words "beautiful," "wings," and "tentacles."

But that's why we do it, the graduation rituals. 4 years of study at Faustus Academy of Deep Arcana comes at a price, usually your soul, sometimes even someone else's. As I said, only a special breed of asshole applies to Faustus Academy. An asshole that knows, from the moment they apply, that no one has made it past graduation day and yet believes, truly believes that they are better than the hundreds and hundreds of wizards who came before them, that they, somehow, will finally be the one to conquer magic. And then comes 4 years of study, 4 years of doing horrible, terrible, unspeakable things to make it to graduation day. Things that would eventually drive any one of us insane when the guilt finally catches up. Every graduate knows this. People who have done the things we've done can't exist alongside proper society. And so the graduation ceremony exists so we may demonstrate our abilities before sacrificing our lives.

I made my way to an unharmed section of the stage with my materials. First, the metal stage was unsuitable for my ritual. I tapped my foot twice and snapped my fingers once, turning a large section around me into rocky terrain, sort of like what one would expect on the side of a mountain. I grabbed some bones and powdered blood from my materials and began throwing them around randomly, some over here, a bit more over there, a little less on the other side. The ambiance set, I waved my hand in the air and a huge, metal cage covered in paper talismans fell, enclosing the area and myself. After all, if this worked, the world was about to see something that hadn't walked the Earth since the time of King Arthur himself.

Then came the shoveling. It was the one part of the ritual I was not looking forward to, well, except for the dying part. Mostly because it gave me time to think. Especially about why I was so pissed about dying. It wasn't that I didn't expect it or even that I didn't deserve it.

The pit finally finished, I levitated myself out. I grabbed a 5-gallon bucket of blood and poured it down the hole. I walked to the far side of the cage and surveyed my work. Rocky terrain, bones and blood, a hole. Well, it wasn't quite the Cave of Caerbannog but it was close enough.

I didn't think it would work, but an hour later, I saw something move, hop out of the pit. I saw two, tiny red eyes in the darkness. From outside the cage, I could hear the crowd "ooh" and "ahh" and, of course, more than a couple people yelled, "it is the rabbit!"

Deep down, that's probably the biggest issue I had with the graduation ritual - that I was going to be killed by a joke. The killer rabbit of Caerbannog! Come on, how could anyone believe it was real. But there it was, almost at the very back of the book of restricted rituals. The lucky thing was that since this wasn't the real cave and I'd be summoning it, the rabbit would go back down the hole after killing me. The downside was that, as I said, I'd be killed by a rabbit.

Seeing the crowd of people, the rabbit lunged at them first, but collided with the enchanted bars of the cage. Obviously it would be a real dick move if I just let it go after the spectators. The rabbit fixed its beady eyes on me as I grabbed the detonator from my pocket. The rabbit lunged cautiously, as if uncertain about what I held in my hand.

There's no holy hand grenades in today's modern era. Trust me, I looked. I settled instead for 20lbs of C4 and as many ball bearings and nails as the vest could hold, and the whole contraption doused with holy water and blessed by the only priest I could find who believed that this was for a school project. "One! Two! Five!" I said with a smile as I released the detonator and triggering the dead man's switch.



After writing the reality fiction piece the last time, I promised my next writing exercise would go back to fantasy, and when I saw this writing prompt - There's a school that kills all of its students at the end of their senior year. Everyone knows this, but you're the only one who has a problem with it - I knew almost immediately what I wanted to write about - A Magic School Graduation. After all, Harry Potter has been a big part of my life since probably about the 6th grade and more recently, I've probably read and re-read Lev Grossman's "The Magicians" series about 2 or 3 times now. It took me a while to write this one (I think a whole week actually) mostly due to the fun I had in writing it. The original plan for the story was much longer and included a magic duel between the protagonist and a famous duelist in their world ("The valedictorian didn't fight him, not because we wanted to embarrass him, but because I was probably the sanest one and least likely to kill him" - That was going to be a line from that deleted section). I cut it out because I only wanted to use it to show just the type of wizards this school turned out when they trained here, but I think the summoning of demons and unknown creatures did a good enough job. I also originally planned for roughly 7 of them to graduate and I would run through all of their graduation day rituals but that was making the story extremely long for too little of a payoff besides to show-off whatever imaginative events I could come up with. My one hope is that you laughed at the end because I did when I tried to think of the most ridiculous thing someone could be killed by, but, for me anyway, comedy is hard to write so I'm not sure it came off that way. Mostly, I'm hoping you got a good visual experience into a fantastical world.