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Subscribe to this list via RSS Blog posts tagged in warriors

Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

 

I've heard that warriors, charging into battle, get erections.

I wonder if it's true.

Being myself a bard rather than a warrior, I have no personal experience of the matter. Knowing my own unpredictable man's body, though, with a mind (not to mention a sense of humor) of its own, I could well believe it.

Ah, the mysteries of male physiology.

Now, erections are about lots of things—ask any guy waking up in the morning or (again, reportedly) hanged man*—and sex is only one.

But if this nugget of received wisdom is actually trustworthy, I could well understand why the Redcrest legions so feared the skyclad charges of Celtdom.

After all, it's kind of hard not to take an erection personally.

Not to mention the fact that a bobbing boner pointing in your general direction tends to be rather, er, distracting. Charging into battle against a naked, shrieking, woad-stained enemy with a sharp sword in his hand is decidedly not a good time to go losing your focus.

I don't personally know many warriors—in fact, I can't think of any—who have experienced the kind of face-to-face combat that the ancestors did, so there's no one of my acquaintance that I can ask directly. If there's a way to web-search this topic without first getting directed to every porn site on the planet—and believe me, I really don't want to go there—I have yet to find it.

(Porn sites carry lots of computer cooties, and besides, who's going to trust a porn site for information of any kind?)

Last modified on

Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

 

 

 

I've heard that warriors, charging into battle, get erections.

 

I wonder if it's true.

 

Being myself a bard rather than a warrior, I have no personal experience of the matter. Knowing my own unpredictable man's body, though, with a mind (not to mention a sense of humor) of its own, I could well believe it.

 

Ah, the mysteries of male physiology.

 

Now, erections are about lots of things—ask any guy waking up in the morning or (again, reportedly) hanged man*—and sex is only one.

 

But if this nugget of received wisdom is actually trustworthy, I could well understand why the Redcrest legions so feared the skyclad charges of Celtdom.

 

After all, it's kind of hard not to take an erection personally.

 

Not to mention the fact that a bobbing boner pointing in your general direction tends to be rather, er, distracting. Charging into battle against a naked, shrieking, woad-stained enemy with a sword in his hand is decidedly not a good time to go losing your focus.

 

I don't know many warriors—in fact, I can't think of any—who have experienced the kind of face-to-face combat experience that the ancestors did, so there's no one of my acquaintance that I can ask directly. If there's a way to web-search this topic without first getting directed to every porn site on the planet—and believe me, I really don't want to go there—I have yet to find it.

 

(Porn sites carry lots of computer cooties, and besides, who's going to trust a porn site for information of any kind?)

Last modified on

Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

Another gay bar, another mass shooting.

Sickening. Predictable.

This time, though, we fought back.

 

When the gunman opened fire at Club Q in Colorado Springs on Saturday night, two warriors—both military folk, I gather—took him down.

One, I hear, took his handgun off of him and clocked him with it. As of this writing, he's still in the hospital.

Good.

 

It's a hard world. Back in tribal days, absolutely everyone—men and women included—had at least some warrior training, growing up.

Really, they should be teaching (along with dance) self-defense in every phys ed class in every school in the country.

 

My first Hebrew teacher, Yehudit, was built like a bird—light, petite—but, like every Israeli, she'd been in the army, and been trained in krav mag'a, unarmed combat.

When the mugger pulled the gun on her and some friends in downtown Minneapolis one night, she single-handedly took him down, took the gun away from him, and said: Now: do you get out of here, or do I break your arm?

He ran, of course.

 

There are people out there that hate us and (thank you Donald Trump) believe that they have a right to do something about it and (thank you Republican Party) have legal access to assault weapons. We know this.

There will be other shootings in other gay bars. We know this.

Some things to remember if you're there when the next shooter opens fire:

Last modified on

Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 How to Cut and Shred Cabbage (Quickly & Easily!) - Evolving Table

The Tale of Simmy Batbane

 

Ka-fwumpa! Ka-fwumpa!

I wake up just enough to wonder: What is that damn cat doing now?

Ka-fwumpa! Ka-fwumpa!

In compensation for their taillessness, most Manx cats have powerfully-muscled hindquarters. Simmy was a champion jumper.

Ka-fwumpa! Ka-fwumpa!

Finally, I sit up and turn on the light. Sure enough: a bat is circling the room (deosil, for what it's worth). Every time it goes past, Simmy jumps for it.

Oh, for gods' sakes, I think. I turn off the light and lay back down.

Ka-fwumpa! Ka-fwumpa!

I've just about managed to drop back off when suddenly I'm jolted upright by an unmistakable high-pitched shriek, on the bare threshold of human hearing.

Even out of mid-air, Simmycat always gets her bat.

Simmy Batbane lived to the ripe old age (for a cat) of 21, and her memory lives after her.

 

Slaw

 

Back in the days of the Hwicce, the original Tribe of Witches, warriors were esteemed as protectors of the People. One who had slain a particularly dangerous enemy frequently became known as the Bane—slayer—of that noteworthy foe. Heroes, too, would be named for the monsters that they had slain: Sigurd Fafnirsbane, Beowulf Grendelsbane.

In our day, warriors are little esteemed, and the word bane little-heard. When used, it tends to be in less lethal circumstances than previously.

 

 

Back in the bad old Jerry Falwell Christianist days (re. Christianism: cp. Islamism, the use of Islam as a political doctrine), I had a friend who earned the epithet Nazzbane from her favorite sport of shredding street-preachers into slaw.

 

But Now...

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Posted by on in Paths Blogs
The Raven at the Cemetery

When I went out to the Veterans' Cemetery in Boulder City, Nevada, to lay flowers at Tom's marker, a large raven flew over the graveyard and landed on the peak of the roof of the building next to the Columbarium, which is where the urns and ashes are installed. I gasped in awe. I felt that it was one of Odin's ravens, come to watch over the warrior dead.

It was Memorial Day, 2022, and every grave had a small flag planted on it. The markers in the Columbarium had not been similarly decorated, though. I left flowers from my garden at Tom's marker.

...
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Pagan News Beagle: Watery Wednesday, April 5 2017

We take a look at the way in which online customers of occult services are being taken advantage of. A Pagan writer describes the "beauty of the warrior." And reflections and thoughts on the arrival of spring. It's Watery Wednesday, our segment for news and content from the Pagan community around the world. All this and more for the Pagan News Beagle!

Last modified on

Posted by on in Studies Blogs
Winter Cold

As the solstice comes upon us here in the Northern Hemisphere our thoughts turn to surviving the cold. While it's considerably milder here in Scotland than it was while I was teaching in New York, cold it is and cups of tea provide welcome warmth. It's hardly surprising that people in the Middle Ages measured their lives in winters survived. In many ways the mid-winter celebrations offer a chance to celebrate that hope and restore it for the lean months ahead.

It's the perfect time to consider the Anglo-Saxon poem The Seafarer, which I think of as a companion to The Wanderer. Both elegiac poems that mourn a lost past, they celebrate the power of the comitatus, the loyal troop of warriors and find poetic resonance in the harsh world of winter.

...
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