Wapsi Held Hostage - Day 14 (was Castela Notice 2015-07-05)

[as363]

And to those that asked -"Where's Dave - Dave ain't heere man (TM Cheech and Chong) and - of course "41" - Thanks for all the fishes .

[Hansontoons]

And to those that asked -"Where's Dave - Dave ain't heere man (TM Cheech and Chong) and - of course "41" - Thanks for all the fishes .

Nah, man, Dave took another hit. From the tranq gun. For that pun.

[kingklash]

For the couple of you who don't know what frybread looks like:

Fresh frybread and a hearty meat soup or stew is a staple meal in most Native families. Very large batches are made for Pow-wows when evening meals are part of the proceedings, which is practically every time. Provides the base for the popular Indian, or Navajo Taco. Of course fresh warm frybread is good drizzled with honey or maple syrup. And you can bet your sweet bippy that someone in Shelly's family knows how to make it.

[MerchManDan]

Two platefuls of Korean/Polish goodness in his belly has put Dan more at ease; he rubs his chin and burps thoughtfully.
"Oh! 'Scuse me," he says. "My first WS encounter...must have been sometime during or before 2009. I think." Dan looks at the ceiling, frowns, smiles, tries to do both at once, fails, and finally sighs.
"I checked it out on a referral from another webcomic, I'm sure about that...but which one? Sinfest? No, Tatsuya Ishida almost never talks to his fans about anything, let alone other comics. Might have been Questionable Content, or Nothing Nice To Say, or even Niego...or was it the other way 'round?"
Shaking his head, Dan stands up and rummages in his left jean pocket; loose change jingles inside. He pulls out a fistful and examines it.
"Good, mostly quarters. I doubt that old vending machine in the corner takes loonies." So saying, he wanders away to buy a soft drink.

[Thor]

For the couple of you who don't know what frybread looks like:

Fresh frybread and a hearty meat soup or stew is a staple meal in most Native families. Very large batches are made for Pow-wows when evening meals are part of the proceedings, which is practically every time. Provides the base for the popular Indian, or Navajo Taco. Of course fresh warm frybread is good drizzled with honey or maple syrup. And you can bet your sweet bippy that someone in Shelly's family knows how to make it.

That's only half the story.

According to Navajo tradition, frybread was created in 1864 using the flour, sugar, salt and lard that was given to them by the United States government when the Navajo, who were living in Arizona, were forced to make the 300-mile journey known as the "Long Walk" and relocate to Bosque Redondo, New Mexico onto land that could not easily support their traditional staples of vegetables and beans. For many Native Americans, "frybread links generation with generation and also connects the present to the painful narrative of Native American history."

The U.S. Department of Agriculture reports that a plate of fried bread consists of 700 calories and 27 grams of fat. According to Chaleen Brewer, a nutritionist at the Genesis Diabetes Prevention Program, "commodity foods like processed cheese, potted meats, and the lard used in making frybread are partly responsible for a "diabetes epidemic" among her people."

So basically frybread is the food the White conquerors forced the Navajo people to eat 150 years ago, and which is still killing their tribe to this very day. You'd probably eat a healthier food if you had a creme-filled doughnut.

[Gyrrakavian]

Oh, by the way - I think the next segment of "The Centurion And The Sphinx" should be known as, "She's Having My Baby... SPHINX."

Imagine raising a child where the teething ring is fifteen pounds and solid brass...

I don't know about brass.... is there a softer metal that wouldn't be poisonous?

[Gyrrakavian]

"Eeurgh! Istill can't find where I started." Gyrre slapped the screen shut. "This would be a lot easier with my old laptop."

A smile slowly crept across his face and he quickly opened the machine and quickly roused it from the sleep it had just entered.

Gyrre smiled in triumph and looked up. "According to a quick search on my tumblr, the oldest Wapsi Square post I shared there was back in 2011 or 2012 at some point. And, I've been on tumblr since 2011." I'm trying to get facebook to load my picture album to see if I've posted anything there so I can get a more exact date." He frowns, "Well, so much for that." Gyrre reopens his tumblr to search his post archives by month.

"I did happen to find this little bit which pretty much outright says that Atsali can't read people's faces." http://wapsisquare.com/comic/paying-attention/

BTW, another good Paranormal/sci-fi webcomic is Monster Pulse, http://www.monster-pulse.com/
Monsters mysteriously made from a random organ of their host.

[Dave]

Dave gingerly pulled himself to his feet, and wobbly-walked his way over to the coffee urn at the table. He poured out a large mug of the tarry guck, stirred in a packet of Sweet-n-Low, and watched the stir-stick begin to char and smolder. Yeah, a bit weak and watery, but it's better than nothing. What does she put in those darts, anyhow? Two doses of that stuff and I feel like I've been on Mr. Quasimodo's Wild Ride for a month. He worked his way over to an empty chair at one of the tables, waited for a pause in the conversation, and coughed to get peoples' attention.

"Hi, guys. I'm Dave, and I'm a confirmed Wapsiholic."

(Hi, Dave!)

"I can tell you when it started... May 16th, 2011. I'd been checking with the Fleen blog occasionally, and the writer mentioned that the fans at a strip called Wapsi Square had been in an uproar over the weekend. It seemed as if the author had decided to kill off one of the most-established characters... or had he? Nobody could quite figure out what was happening. I clicked the link, and found myself looking at a massive, feral sphinx... bending over the tattered body of a young woman, softly weeping, and saying 'I think I can go home now.' I hadn't known what to expect... and this certainly wasn't it.

"I flipped back a few days, read the comments, and then went on a two-evening archive binge. By the end of it, there was still a lot I didn't understand... but I saw interesting characters and artwork (both growing and improving over time), subtle plotting and twists and paradoxes and bootlegger turns, and a fan community which seemed to actually get off on intelligent discussion. And then came Wednesday...

How dare I forget? Maybe I do deserve to be left...
(timelines converge)
Holy crap! The artifact blew her clothes off!

"Wow. He actually pulled it off... it's dramatic, it has a huge impact on everything, it's supported by the earlier story-line, and nobody saw it coming a week ago. That was really well done! It reminded me of G'kar's conversation with Katherine Sakai at the end of Bablylon 5's 'Mind War' - one of those moments in which a created world snaps into focus and into three dimensions, and you can see how much depth there must be in this story in order for what you just saw to make sense.

"And so, I was hooked. I'd stepped into the Wapsiverse, and a part of me has never left. I suspect it never will.

"The hooks went in even deeper when I realized that the author was selling the original, unique artwork for the strips. I'd always liked the idea of owning original comic art - cels and so forth - but had never indulged. Here was my chance. A few months later he auctioned 'Blew Her Clothes Off' - the one that had really grabbed me - and I bid and won it. I was a goner.

"Since then... well, every few months a strip comes along that I just Have To Have. These aren't the swimsuit pinups or portraits. They're almost always ones which show some pivotal moment in the strip story, or have a particular emotional intensity to them. Katherine, frantically ministering to a flatulent fish. Atsali, sobbing in fear as the walls collapse around her. A feral, crouching Nudge, skillfully baiting Phix into a raging fury. Euryale, comforting a terrified Monica. Jin's tearful reconciliation with Alan. The Jaguar Girl holding Georgette... But if opening up can help you, if I can let you know that you're not alone, I will help you walk through the darkness. And, of course, one commission with which I'm still insufferably happy.

"Fortunately, my wife is willing to let me indulge this little habit... as well as my tendency to pun without warning. I don't know where she learned that amount of mercy and toleration, but I'm very grateful!"

[jwhouk]

On the older BLC boards, I'd coined the phrase, "Pablo dropped the tranny again" - referring to those same, seemingly frequent plot shifts from one storyline to another.

[Dr. Otter]

Oh, by the way - I think the next segment of "The Centurion And The Sphinx" should be known as, "She's Having My Baby... SPHINX."

Imagine raising a child where the teething ring is fifteen pounds and solid brass...

I don't know about brass.... is there a softer metal that wouldn't be poisonous?

Well, we know already that at times, she doesn't do well with Plutonium.

[Hansontoons]

On the older BLC boards, I'd coined the phrase, "Pablo dropped the tranny again" - referring to those same, seemingly frequent plot shifts from one storyline to another.

Flashback to HBO special in the late 70's...

Emo Philips is on the 12" black and white TV on the milk crate shelf unit in dorm room telling a story about his car breaking down. He says a friend recommended he check the tranny. So he went home and asked his brother what was wrong with the car. Of course his brother has no idea.

DWC pulls vintage flak jacket from backpack and manages to get just one sleeve on while trying to duck tranquilizer dart fired from high deflection angle. Fade to black...

[GlytchMeister]

"Mrs. Dave?" Glytch called out carefully, having just seen a tiny blur of pink whizz by three inches in front of his face before embedding itself in the drywall. "I think, in a situation as crowded as this, tranqs are no longer a viable counter-punnery measure." The young man looked around and spotted a dusty mason jar.

A wide grin split Glytch's face. He picked up the jar and strode toward the center of the room purposefully, then climbed (carefully) onto a chair. Ignoring the ancient furniture's protestations, Glytch raised the jar in both hands overhead and spoke over the chattering crowd.
"Hello? Excuse me!"
There was hardly any reaction. Glytch, remembering the many conversations and references to past military experience he had seen on the forums, changed his tactics.
"Ahttehhhn-SHUN!"
Several pairs of eyes snapped to him. Some were questioning, others faintly amused, and some rather irritated. "Now hear this; now hear this! Starting now and continuing for all future meetings, this jar is now the real-life counterpart to the Pun Jar. Basic puns are to cost 25¢, especially bad puns are to set you back 50¢. Puns that require more than one sentence to set up or explain will cost $1. As you were!"
Glytch stepped down from the chair and, suddenly noticing everyone was still staring, quickly set the Pun Jar down and pulled up his hood, thankful for the deep cowl. He felt a furious blush coming on, so he took a seat, hunched low to completely conceal his face, and nursed the last few inches of soda in his bottle.

[Sgt. Howard]

"Mrs. Dave?" Glytch called out carefully, having just seen a tiny blur of pink whizz by three inches in front of his face before embedding itself in the drywall. "I think, in a situation as crowded as this, tranqs are no longer a viable counter-punnery measure." The young man looked around and spotted a dusty mason jar.

A wide grin split Glytch's face. He picked up the jar and strode toward the center of the room purposefully, then climbed (carefully) onto a chair. Ignoring the ancient furniture's protestations, Glytch raised the jar in both hands overhead and spoke over the chattering crowd.
"Hello? Excuse me!"
There was hardly any reaction. Glytch, remembering the many conversations and references to past military experience he had seen on the forums, changed his tactics.
"Ahttehhhn-SHUN!"
Several pairs of eyes snapped to him. Some were questioning, others faintly amused, and some rather irritated. "Now hear this; now hear this! Starting now and continuing for all future meetings, this jar is now the real-life counterpart to the Pun Jar. Basic puns are to cost 25¢, especially bad puns are to set you back 50¢. Puns that require more than one sentence to set up or explain will cost $1. As you were!"
Glytch stepped down from the chair and, suddenly noticing everyone was still staring, quickly set the Pun Jar down and pulled up his hood, thankful for the deep cowl. He felt a furious blush coming on, so he took a seat, hunched low to completely conceal his face, and nursed the last few inches of soda in his bottle.

THAT right there is OFFICER MATERIAL... first to get fragged...

[illiad]

hey, I notice Paheal has being doing some work recently...
google at your peril!.... : D :E

[GlytchMeister]

THAT right there is OFFICER MATERIAL... first to get fragged...

Hey, it got your attention. Mission accomplished.

[AnotherFairportfan]

Another ... * GaSP * ... week ...

[DinkyInky]

"Mrs. Dave?" Glytch called out carefully, having just seen a tiny blur of pink whizz by three inches in front of his face before embedding itself in the drywall. "I think, in a situation as crowded as this, tranqs are no longer a viable counter-punnery measure." The young man looked around and spotted a dusty mason jar.

A wide grin split Glytch's face. He picked up the jar and strode toward the center of the room purposefully, then climbed (carefully) onto a chair. Ignoring the ancient furniture's protestations, Glytch raised the jar in both hands overhead and spoke over the chattering crowd.
"Hello? Excuse me!"
There was hardly any reaction. Glytch, remembering the many conversations and references to past military experience he had seen on the forums, changed his tactics.
"Ahttehhhn-SHUN!"
Several pairs of eyes snapped to him. Some were questioning, others faintly amused, and some rather irritated. "Now hear this; now hear this! Starting now and continuing for all future meetings, this jar is now the real-life counterpart to the Pun Jar. Basic puns are to cost 25¢, especially bad puns are to set you back 50¢. Puns that require more than one sentence to set up or explain will cost $1. As you were!"
Glytch stepped down from the chair and, suddenly noticing everyone was still staring, quickly set the Pun Jar down and pulled up his hood, thankful for the deep cowl. He felt a furious blush coming on, so he took a seat, hunched low to completely conceal his face, and nursed the last few inches of soda in his bottle.

*one artfully painted arm; inky blue, snakes out of the shadows and leaves a six pack of glass bottles of soda, hopefully of a type the kid likes...kid just being a relative term, then returns as quickly as it appeared*



A voice materialises from the shadows:
"I was a regular fan of a comic called Angst Technology, and Paul Taylor, a photographer and really cool nerd hanging out there, had mentioned he had started a comic. I looked in. Monica was discussing owning exercise equipment. She was pint-sized, busty, and cheeky. I told him it was adorable. I had to check back daily, and it has been on my reading list on every digital computing device since then."

[GlytchMeister]

You... KNOW Paul?
Woooaaah...

... ... ...

Glytch stared open mouthed at the blue arm and the soda it left behind, struggling to decide whether he should trust either of them.
Eventually, he shrugged and grabbed a bottle and used the blunt side of his knife to pop the cap off and took a sniff. Well, I might as well. My nalgene's empty, I'm already obviously high as a kite or I've dropped into some wacked-out alternate universe. ... Eh, what the hell.
Glytch took a swig and was quite pleased with the flavor, whatever it was. Must have been one of those small manufacturers who make strange flavors.

[Sgt. Howard]

An odd reverberation shook through the room as if the fabric of reality itself had suffered a rip... all heads turned to the dark corner that held the mystery lady in what appeared to be a mobile shadow. Greg stared at the corner, fully transfixed...

"...she ...knows...the...Paul..." he finally uttered

[jwhouk]

(throws hands up in the air)

Okay, that takes it. That mention of exercise equipment was from December 2001.