WNW: Deconstructing Dr. Doom

Since everyone and their stuffed bull is jumping on this one, I might as well put the final nail in its coffin:


Hmm. A bit too ghetto, methinks. Perhaps a pinch of Pirates of Penzance will perk up the place:

I am the very model of a modern Marvel mastermind,
You heroes are like Laura Bush's children who've been left behind,
My plans they are quite devious with multiple contingencies,
So kindly do not bore me with your tedious soliloquies!

I'm very well acquainted with your profiles psychological,
Your powers and your gadgets and your incantations magical,
I've run the simulations and in ev'ry single one I find
I thrash you all quite handily so to defeat please be resigned!

I have all matters well in hand so do not further prattle on,
My plotting is perfection, I am preparation's paragon,
And when it comes to evil I am terrifying yet refined
I am the very model of a modern Marvel mastermind!


Ah yes. Much better.


(Apologies for not fitting this into the picture; I couldn't shrink the text enough to fit and still remain legible)

Facts about me you'd better find adorable

These are all humorous but 100% true.


1) I never go into a dark room. Ever.

This isn't born out of neurotic fear of the dark but sheer bloodyminded practicality. Sure, I want to avoid stubbed toes and barked shins, but that's not the reason why. No, I do it because in every instance of fiction where a person -- usually a woman -- goes into a dark room without turning on the light, there's something horrible lurking in the shadows.

Do I rationally think there is something waiting the shadows of my bathroom to attack me mid-pee? No. But it's such a trivially easy thing to do, turning on that light; it costs me nothing and potentially nets me everything, i.e. my life.


2) I know my way around my house, in the dark, and can easily make it to a locked room or source or source of weapons in seconds.

This may seem contradictory to Rule 1, but in fact it's a corollary. Sure, I don't want to needlessly expose myself to lurking shadowy peril, but I also don't want to be crippled in case all the lights go out suddenly, whether by thunderstorm or crazed serial Hello Kitty fetishist. Besides, those scenes where Daredevil or Batman beat the crap out of someone in total darkness? Very cool.

So, late at night, once I've made sure that no unauthorized lunatics are in my house, I turn off all the lights and sit quietly on the couch until my eyes have adjusted. Then, in the half-light, I practice my ninja moves, which involve getting into some ridiculous position on the furniture while clutching a bokken. Then I close my eyes and do it in reverse. If I can get down off the curio cabinet without breaking anything, and make it back to my room within bumping into anything, I win.


3) I always look at a chair before I sit, or at the ground before I walk on it.

Chalk this up to living with a Vietnam vet and hearing waaay too many stories about Viet Cong booby traps. People think I'm depressed or avoiding eye contact because my head is down when I walk, but in reality I'm checking for tripwires and bouncing bettys. Again, this costs me nothing if I'm wrong, but has a huge payoff if I'm right.

Also, I never fall in the toilet at night, because I always look before placing my genitals somewhere.


4) When I go to a crowded, public place like a movie theater or restaurant, I immediately look around to find the locations of the bathrooms, kitchen, and emergency exits.

Because you never know when you'll have to evacuate the premises due to fire, a gunman who wants hostages, or a zombie attack.

Plus, bathrooms.


5) I think better in bare feet.

Over-warm feet distract me. Plus, I don't have to worry about tracking dirt onto furniture if I'm barefoot.


6) Sometimes I blog naked.

Like right now! I am so totally naked in front of this computer. Hey, if I think better barefoot, then less clothing = better thinking. That's logic, bitches.

I am an idiot

Apparently I was high on crack or something yesterday, because a complete set of BSG dogtags is $119.95, not $199.95.


But if you wanna spend two hundred bucks, send 'em to me instead. That much buys you a deep tongue kiss the next time you see me at a convention.

Send me your questions about 4e D&D!

Continuing a theme here....

Remember this post?

My editor over at Another Castle forwarded me this email:

We are actually planning a desk side tour in April, which will end with a series of phone briefings at the end of the month (April 21-24). Although we're still working out which spokespeople will be available, if you could send me your (or I guess Erin's) best time slots to do interviews during those dates and we'll work something out from there. It would still be helpful to have Erin prepare her questions so if the phone briefing falls through we could go back to the questions.

Yeah, I had no idea what a "desk side tour" was, either, until I googled it.

Anyway, it looks like I have the opportunity to ask questions about the upcoming 4th edition of Dungeons and Dragon. The problem here is that I haven't been rabidly following the rumors and speculation regarding 4e, so I really don't know what to ask.

Rather than squander this opportunity, however, I figure I should try to exploit the resources inherent in teh intarwebz. If you are a fan who has a burning question regarding 4e D&D, either leave a comment here or email me at erin dot palette at gmail dot com. I will collect the best and most popular questions to ask during this interview.

Buy my stuff

Remember this?



This is the character biography card that accompanies the Battlestar Galactica replica Starbuck dogtags. It, along with replica tags for Apollo, Adama, Athena, Helo, Tigh, and Chief Tyrol, can be bought from Quantum Mechanix for $19.95 each, or the full set can be yours for $119.95.


Quoting from the website:

Each character dog tag has been recreated in metal, plated in bronze and weathered to exactly match the tags as seen on the series. All dimensions are taken directly from screen-used dog tags. All serial numbers are screen-accurate, as well. Each set of dog tags is packed securely in a Battlestar Galactica-themed blister pack and features a matching neck chain and collectable character biography card with a description of that character's story so far (as of the end of Season 3).

If you're a fan of the show, I encourage you to buy a pair. If you're a fan of Palette, I encourage to you buy a bunch, because the more profitable they are, the more likely it is that QMx will be able to have me do more freelance projects (or, Lords of Kobol willing, maybe even hire me full-time.)

Support your local Geeky Goth Girl, and all that. ;)



EDIT: If you're not into wearing someone else's dogtags, you can always order a customized pair with your name on them.

WNW: Keeeeeeeeeeeeeening

Remembering Salem

With yesterday's passing of Salem MacGourley, the world has lost a delicate, poetic soul.

Sure, he adopted an air of cool indifference, but his perceived callousness was really a dark, heavy coat that he wore to protect himself from emotional harm. If you could coax him out of it, like a bunny from its burrow, you would find (like I did) that he had a soft, fluffy, almost marshmallow-y heart. This man, who so carefully cultivated an aura of detached disdain, would giggle like a schoolgirl in anticipation of the next Dr. Who episode.

I remember he weeped openly when Rose Tyler died. Great, shameless, wracking sobs that made his entire body shudder, as if his grief was a hole into a dimension of unthinkable pain and despair. He was inconsolable for months after.

Not many people know this, but Salem and I were lovers. I was keenly aware of the problems he was having in his marriage, and I tried my best to counsel and comfort him. I soon fell in love with him, this broken man who only needed tenderness and sympathy to mend his wounds.

I eventually became the other woman that ended his marriage. I'm not proud of it, but it's true, and it's something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life.

What I found most remarkable about Salem was the fact that he never once judged me, even when I revealed to him that I was (at the time) a pre-operative transsexual. When we met in June of last year, he was incredibly open-minded about so many things. He was also skilled and tender in his lovemaking. Innovative, as well. The things that man could do with his tongue...

We hadn't announced it yet, but he proposed to me last month, on my birthday. It was all I could do not to shout from the rooftops that I would soon be Mrs. Erin MacGourley. His wedding gift to me would have been an experimental uterine transplant, in the hopes that I'd be able to bear his children. We were planning to have as many as possible and name them after characters from Dr. Who and Serenity. We would've made a killing on the convention circuit, winning costume and trivia contests.

Of course, there was also the subjugation of the blogosphere. "Sonic Lurkings from the Rhythmic Stapler", the merger of our two blogs, would have crushed all others like a juggernaut. Salem, wonderful, sensuous, robust, caring, virile man that he was, promised me Chris Sims' head on a pike.

He would have approved of the way he died: in a drunken stupor, pantsless, t-boned by the Oscar Meyer wienermobile and then hit head-on by a Wonder Bread truck. That the accident happened in Roxfall, Texas, and everyone died in the crash, would have suited his impish sense of humor. Of course, as an Irishman, he would have preferred to have drowned in a vat of Guiness, or at least Harp lager, but it couldn't be helped.



Good night, sweet Time Lord. May flights of Gallifreyans sing thee to thy rest. And I, ever your Rose, must bide.

Until your next regeneration....