Right White Wing Weekend Wrap-up

Cheating at Euchre.

Apparently, the Ace of Clubs (the Ace of Wands to Sargon the Magnificent readers), is not a sure indication to make a suit. The occult science of determining which suit of cards is to be made 'trump' is a closed book to me. And arranging before-hand a mutually agreed upon set of signals to indicate 'partners' suit preference is frowned upon.

My partner, the Squire of Acton, shifted his scowl and then shifted the plug of tobacco he was chewing (called a 'quid', apparently), from the right side of his mouth to his left, and then back again. Chewing your 'quid' on the left is not done and can have you stricken from the social register in Acton. It is also a way to indicate disapproval. All white people chew tobacco, they just do not do it around anyone who is not white and would notice.

None the less, I managed a respectable finish in the Right White Wing Weekend tourney. Given where I was (a chateau upon a lake, garnished with more snow than Toronto), and the people I was with (right white wing; have jobs; reset paying taxes to support the lifestyle of taxspenders such as myself; eaters of animal flesh), I can claim a moral victory. But my appeals to having a translator to assist me in playing euchre (you can have a translator when you write a drivers test, or sit for the surgeons qualification) fell upon deaf ears.

Guns and Whiskey.

Like all white people, all white people are right wing extremists. They all have arsenals of weapons stashed in secret bunkers, along with a supply of smoked fatty meats, crates of beans, and whiskey. Just ask to be shown 'the house' and, then, the key to the fortress comes out. The proud bunker owner will show you the air filtration system that keeps out plutonium dusts and the steel door that keeps the homeless living on the surface.

Speedy Exit.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this.