Tag Archives: Grey Scale Kimball^^======%

August 2, 2019 · 5:29 am

grey is the day

“I’ll never get through all these books, Chesteria A. Arthur. Conquerors draw the worse lot!”

“The whole assimilation process, yes,” speaks Grey Scale’s mate from behind. She thinks: we must get rid of this blue vase I’m leaning next to and kind of hiding, yes. And that one over there as well. Don’t have Grey Scale be reminded of her blue enemy in any way. The Big Blue Machine. Like a sleeping blue whale. So deep, so blue.

“You’ve become quiet, Chesteria my love, my dearest. Please keep talking to distract me from these confounded histories before me!”

“Okay. Just don’t turn around. I have something between my front teeth and I’m presently sucking it out. Keep at least pretending to read and I’ll move to you.”

“Alright.” She feels Chesteria’s hot, 1/2 cheetah breath against the back of her neck now. “Maybe I’ll read aloud to you. Then you will feel the weight of your eyes too. Listen: ‘In 1312 the village of Horns-on-Hatt was formed with 15 soldiers of the disbursed Copper Queen’s army. Items included 10 cows for milking, 5 golden rings, 25 standard issues of toilet paper bark, 50 bayonets, 22 rubber gloves, 14 fishing rods for the hobbit pond, 77 individually wrapped pieces of copper colored candy for the boys and girls, 88…’ well, you get the picture. Do you see what I mean?” She abruptly shuts the book without saving her place somewhere near its beginning. Dust flies from it, making golden-silvery glints in the air where the sun shines. “And, you see (she waves her arm around the table here) there’s maybe 20 more to go through. I’ve done 6 — *started* 6. I just can’t even get through the 1st chapter of most. If you can call these sections chapters. ‘Moby Prick’ did writing right. These (she waves again around her) are just ephemera, the flotsam and jetsam of dull, boring grey life. Soldiers’ lives at that in this case.” She pounds the book before her with a flat palm, as if trying to compress its three dimensional nature back into 2. “*Cartoons* would be more entertaining. *Much more*. In fact…”

Chesteria was reading her mind. She had the newspaper funnies in her back pocket, ready to whip them out to stave off breakdowns. Grey Scale Kimball eagerly pushes the “soldier book” away and flattens the funnies before her. Almost immediately she begins to smile. “Hehe. Hatfield. So funny.”

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July 30, 2019 · 9:24 am

forwards and backwards

“Have you rested enough, love?”

“I guess so,” Grey Scale responded, but still taking pretty deep gulps of air.

“You know we’re only about 100 feet from the house.”

“I know. I’ll get my second wind. I know how this goes.”

“You’ve *heard* how it goes. When’s the last time you actually ran over, say, um, 100 feet? High school?”

“I’ll have you know I tried out for track in college.” Her eyes widened. “Failed miserably, admittedly, but I tried. It was all those coconut cream pies they offered in the cafeteria. So tempting.”

“And all the cigs, I’ve heard,” responded Chesteria A. Arthur with a chuckle. “And some of those *special* cigs you like.”

“Well… maybe.” Grey Scale’s thoughts turned to ambition again, as they often do. How long to stay in this backwater village. Who’s here besides them, Marcus and Chicken Boy next door, Bullfrog and Aqua Dude, and then, let’s see, the Kevins I suppose. Kevin C. and E. at least. Kevin A. lives in the separated Northeast Quadrant on Space Ghost’s property. Non-gay they are. “Didn’t the guy with the archery set and his gal pal leave the village recently?” she asked her non-winded partner. “Something about converting back to straight?”

“I’m not sure,” Chesteria said. “Okay, enough dilly dallying. It’s time to see what you’re made of, dictator girl. Then she was up and running, so fast that she was around the bend up the hill almost before Grey Scale could turn around. This would not work out well, she knew. Better just head back to the house; pull out one of the special cigs; wait for her return. She’ll understand… she didn’t want me tagging along anyway. I’ll smoke my cig and plot world domination again. I have my eye on Horns.

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July 29, 2019 · 8:32 am

Swan Lake

“We’ll have friends here, love. Already you are jogging with that Chicken man. Lover of Marcus Fox Smartville I assume. Since they live together next door.”

“Correct.” Chesteria A. Arthur tried to make her tone as flat as possible. Grey Scale Kimball still stared at her, but she was only thinking of a next topic. She suspected something, but it didn’t cross her mind right this second.

“And I’ll get my furniture shipped in as soon as possible. Just wanted to see if I — I mean, we liked it well enough to go to all that trouble.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Chesteria exclaimed about the house, noting the stumble. “It’s perfection. Swan Lake. Swan Lake with an island. Swan Lake with an island with swans. Two of ’em! Just like us. Living in perfection.

But I can’t help notice,” she continued in a somewhat different tone, “that one stays on the island all the time while the other roams about freely. Wonder why?”

Grey Scale Kimball stares again, this time thinking about Chicken Itza and Marcus Fox Smartville directly. True to Baker Bloch’s Arnold’s worries, she called a council meeting the very next day to discuss the possibility. The Kevins’ stood up for the ersatz couple, though. Good thinking Arnold!

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July 24, 2019 · 7:57 am

truths

She wasn’t named for this gray scale alien. Instead: the gray scales of a fish to oppose the blue feathers of a bird. In toto: Grey Scale Kimball of the South pitted against Blue Feather Douglas of the North. Bird, sky, opposed by Fish, sea.

But in staring at the crop circle picture again hanging in the recently reconstructed House of Truth at the very center of Golden Sink, she’s beginning to think she *is* named for this famous, highly complex 2002 crop circle that miraculously appeared overnight in a field of wheat near Pitt, England (locally: Crabwood Farm). Both “grey scale”. Too coincidental.

http://www.cropcircleconnector.com/anasazi/wormholetechnology.html

Crabwood of August 15 was one of the most famous crop pictures in modern history, but no one could really understand its message. As shown in two pictures below, the schematic face of a “grey alien” was drawn within a large “rectangular box” that contained 60 horizontal lines, just as for an early “mechanical” TV image, chosen in the 1930’s because we use 60 Hz AC power. The variable width of each line then creates different “gray scales” (modern TV screens use far more lines to give better pictures):

Next, that rectangular box with an alien face was carefully aligned so that it would point at two, nearby TV-radio towers. This was as if to say: “Yes, our new crop picture is really meant to represent the TV image of a grey alien.” In other words, those crop artists can only see the alien “from a distance”, where the word “television” means of course “seeing over a distance”.

Now in one lower corner of that rectangular box, the crop artists also drew a “spiral disc” which contained an elaborate, ASCII-coded binary message as shown. I have omitted all concerns for punctuation or capitalization here, for increased clarity, especially since the last five bits of an ASCII code give one of 26 letters in the English alphabet.

In summary, the crop artists sent us a brief “computer recorded message” on CD or DVD, to accompany their TV-type image of a grey alien. Was Crabwood really alien-made? Many investigators thought so then, and continue to think so now….

And then there’s *Maebaleia’s* Crabwoo, she ponders further, another rectangular box (2 side-by-side, square shaped sims) whose northwest corner just touched the eastern edge of the Blue Feather Sea.

Original capital of the North before its decline and eventual death circa AL 1812-1814. Ur home of Blue Feather Douglas who derived his her name from the sea. Her arch-enemy. Her… sister? Doppleganger? Is he even a she? We’ll most likely find out soon enough.

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July 22, 2019 · 6:33 am

heat

“Tell me what is troubling you my dear. I hope you like it here in Chicken Itza.”

This is *not* Chicken Itza, Chesteria Arthur thinks. And I’m not doing this tonight.

—–

“….Chicken Itza?”

“Annie!”

—–

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July 17, 2019 · 5:39 am

limited

Before DJ-ing at Regaltown’s fabulous 50th Anniversary Man on the Moon shindig, Grey Scale Kimball just had to buy that yellow purse she had her eyes on at Maraschino. But it meant she could only spin Dark Side of the Moon that night and not the light one.

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July 13, 2019 · 8:32 am

neutral

“Who are *you*?”

“The Boss,” the other figure whispered while motioning for Little Oakley Annie to pipe down. “Who’d you think?” She indicated her torso. “Hence the color.”

“Okay. I think I get it. But what’s with the TV head?”

“Oh. Sorry. Leftover from the last scene.” Grey Scale Kimball removed the prop, then continued. “I’m obviously here to break you out of this place. This *Northern* Jael.”

“Hal-le-lujah. Let’s hit the roads.” The door opened; Grey Scale was in on the code.

—–

“The South’s gonna *rise* again,” LOA expressed as they left the House of Truth together, gathering up one of the chickens outside for a victory supper later on.

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July 13, 2019 · 6:15 am

warm

“Unlike with the chickens just outside, my creator plays fair instead of fowl. Fairmount fair.”

“As opposed to Fowlerton fowl, I get it.” Even though they might be considered rivals, Grown Up Kate McCoy, another avatar auditioning for a part in our newly blossoming Collagesity novel, was truly amused by this big orange cat she currently shared the Red Devil “Hot Spot” Sofa with, not feeling the least bit competitive with him. Didn’t hurt that he hates dogs too. We can both enter the game, she muses, perhaps as a team. Another Dynamic Duo. The Fair Party. Down with Fowl, so on. Could be a nice angle.

“You know they’re from the same hometown, Jimmy and my creator,” the large feline continues. But male as hell.

“I didn’t know that,” she replies, hand cupped under chin in a rapt listening position. “Do tell more.”

—–

“Hatfield!” Baker Bloch shouts from beside the missile across the room, so fiery upon its return. “You’re up.” He points up.

“Looks like my turn on The Moon.” The orange cat prepares to rise from the red sofa.

“Break a leg up there,” Kate encouraged before he left her side. “And put in a good word for me. Fair words instead of fowl, ha.”

He pats her diminutive hand with his giant paw. “I will.” He saw where this was going too. A team — a ticket, even. Like Jim A. Garfield and Chester A. Arthur before them. Question is: which is which? He’d have to be top dog no doubt, then pardoned himself for the expression.

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June 26, 2019 · 8:11 am

perspective 02

The “East 4 x 4”, one of the two most intensely fought over areas of the Civil War, which includes looping, heavily bombed Route 8 to the southwest. In the center: Athlone Village. We must think long and hard about the synchronicity that this very village, with the very real portal leading to Bluefield, is at the basic center of it all, lying halfway between the disconnected portions of Route 8a in Aragonese (North) and Ellingson (South). This whole area use to be a beautiful patchwork of interconnected orchards. Now: mainly waste.

Check it out yourself. I’m not making the connection up.

But then we also have the complimentary “West 4 x 4” to its immediate, well, west, centered by the Hills of Bill, another battle laden hot spot.

Together: the “8 x 4”, essentially the continental band that separated North and South, running almost from east coast to west coast (coastlines not as involved in the war). For period of about 2 years it was called the Neutral Zone. Keep in mind that 1 Real Life year is equal to about 8 1/2 Second Lyfe years here, so a little under 3 months to us flesh and bone peoples. The war itself lasted about 3 1/2 days to us.

The exact middle of the 8×4? The very summit Marcus Fox Smartville stares at in this earlier post:

THIS SIM 03

Turtle Hill some call it, because it is green and shaped like such in the past, before unnatural terraforming on one side took place. The Green Turtle to others. A logical candidate for the center of the continent itself, shared between North and South alike. And it was on this very hill the peace treaty was signed. Blue Feather Douglas himself came down for the ceremony. His Southern counterpart, Grey Scale Kimball, had the flu and could not make it.

(to be continued?)

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