Tuesday, July 19, 2005
It's really funny if you think about it
The way things are done genuinely make me laugh out loud. They’re really, really hilarious, if you think about it.
Last Friday, we went down to play for the commando’s funeral – the one who perished in the helicopter incident, bless him. Then it started raining. Pouring – thunderstorm. We were, as pragmatic as we are, really pleased about this, because it should mean that we wouldn’t have to slow march in the rain. Surely – I mean, they’re all about safety, right? RIGHT? Heavy rain, lightning, thunder, danger, fifteen minutes of marching over something like 400 metres, come on, surely they wouldn’t send us, with our steel, brass, and cast iron instruments, out into the rain, right?
Ha. Ha. Ha. I guess you know how this tale ends.
I think what struck me was the sheer power of the scene. And that sort of power comes from the extremity of the situation – a funeral, a last hurrah for Death’s doing – the promise that things will be done better in the future to prevent such things from happening; and there we are, marching by, paying our last respects, in the worst possible weather fathomable with a total disregard for our safety. The irony is glaring, and almost comical-esque in nature. It’s like something you’d see in a Tim Burton animation, macabre, disturbing, but vaguely humorous in startling ways.
Oh and surprise surprise, I fell ill the next day. High fever. But that was not it. Not by a long shot. I shall not elaborate here as it is utterly inappropriate for anyone to know – but I will swear that on last Sunday, 17th of July, I experienced the most pain that I have ever felt in my life. I was in tears, sobbing, whatever, you name it. I thought that I was going to die from the pain. I wanted to pass out, anything, just to end that feeling. I hope that none of you will ever have to experience such pain. It’s like nothing I’ve ever known before. Anyway, I popped by the doctor’s, took a jab, felt numb for the next 24 hours, and sat down in my room for the whole of the next day.
I’m fine now, thanks.
Ragnaros has been slain. Hurrah.
Last Friday, we went down to play for the commando’s funeral – the one who perished in the helicopter incident, bless him. Then it started raining. Pouring – thunderstorm. We were, as pragmatic as we are, really pleased about this, because it should mean that we wouldn’t have to slow march in the rain. Surely – I mean, they’re all about safety, right? RIGHT? Heavy rain, lightning, thunder, danger, fifteen minutes of marching over something like 400 metres, come on, surely they wouldn’t send us, with our steel, brass, and cast iron instruments, out into the rain, right?
Ha. Ha. Ha. I guess you know how this tale ends.
I think what struck me was the sheer power of the scene. And that sort of power comes from the extremity of the situation – a funeral, a last hurrah for Death’s doing – the promise that things will be done better in the future to prevent such things from happening; and there we are, marching by, paying our last respects, in the worst possible weather fathomable with a total disregard for our safety. The irony is glaring, and almost comical-esque in nature. It’s like something you’d see in a Tim Burton animation, macabre, disturbing, but vaguely humorous in startling ways.
Oh and surprise surprise, I fell ill the next day. High fever. But that was not it. Not by a long shot. I shall not elaborate here as it is utterly inappropriate for anyone to know – but I will swear that on last Sunday, 17th of July, I experienced the most pain that I have ever felt in my life. I was in tears, sobbing, whatever, you name it. I thought that I was going to die from the pain. I wanted to pass out, anything, just to end that feeling. I hope that none of you will ever have to experience such pain. It’s like nothing I’ve ever known before. Anyway, I popped by the doctor’s, took a jab, felt numb for the next 24 hours, and sat down in my room for the whole of the next day.
I’m fine now, thanks.
Ragnaros has been slain. Hurrah.
# posted by Paranoia Incarnate @ 5:37 AM 
