Yes, you read that right, 1862. The year. I was hoping to avoid years .I apologize if this one seems rushed, but my laptop’s in the shop and I’m being forced to use my mother’s, which is running Windows 7, which I am not used to, as I’ve never gone past XP. Furthermore, she hasn’t actually purchased MS Word, meaning I can only run the program 22 more times, so I’d really like to finish this in one go.
Anyway, 1862. Apparently, a professor at NYU once called 1862 “the best year to read a newspaper,” which seems like a bit of a large assumption, especially given that newspapers of the time tended to cater to smaller audiences and thus contained more regional news items, such as the developing story surrounding the oven fire at the local bakery, or the current state of Mrs. Henderson’s cows. Personally, I would assume that the best year to read a newspaper would be 1440 (notable headline: TEST COPY).
Getting back to 1862, the year marks the early stages of the American Civil War, which rather dominated the news of the time period. It features both the first Union victory and the passage of the Homestead Act. It also features the May fifth victory of the Mexican army over their oppressors, and thus winning independence for the nation. It is now remembered yearly as Cinco de Mayo, and is usually celebrated by the excessive drinking of tequila. Which is just unnecessary, because – let’s face it – they were fighting the French, which isn’t all that big a deal.
Actually, reading further, I’m inclined to agree that 1862 was an awesome year for news. I mean, it’s got Cinco de Mayo, the Emancipation Proclamation, the patenting of the Gatling gun, the formation of the precursor to the IRS, the first meeting between a president and a group of African-Americans, Otto von Bismark’s Blood and Iron speech, and Ulysses S. Grant’s demand that all Jews leave his land.
Wait, what?
Wikipedia Wednesdays - Goathill
6/22/11
Goathill is, as any man worth his salt should know, a very small English settlement just on the border of Dorset and Somerset counties. As I’ve mentioned, it’s an exceptionally small and not-particularly-prominent locale, which makes gathering information on it for the purpose of, say, writing a 250-word paper on the subject rather difficult. One friend of a friend of a friend who lives there described the place as “a tiny little English shithole.” As it were.
From what I can understand, its two most prominent buildings are a mill and a church of St. Peter. The church – and this part actually impressed me – dates back to the 13th century, though the area around the altar was rebuilt in 1873. A local farmer recently donated the church’s pulpit and lectern, though why he had a pulpit and lectern lying about is beyond me. There’s more information available about the church than the settlement itself, which is just disappointing for everyone involved.
The mill is no longer in operation as such, and is now privately owned and lived in. Even I have to admit, it’s an awesome-looking residence. According to one source I found, the entire parish is made up of eight homes. Eight. My street has more homes than that, and I live on a tiny cul-de-sac. There’s only one explanation.
Only eight households; one of them is much larger and nicer-looking than any other; recently-rennovated 13th-century church; this place just has to hold some dark, Lovecraftian secret. I’d be willing to bet anything that the pulpit the farmer donated is actually an altar to the dark elder thing L’mur-Kathulos, and that the villagers all get together monthly for a human sacrifice, under the guidance of whoever it is that lives in the mill. The Mill-Dweller. And if you listen closely from far away, you can hear inhuman shrieks and wails emanating from below the church, the tattered souls of those damned by L’mur-Kathulos all howling out for salvation. But their cries fall on deaf ears.
…what was I talking about, again?
From what I can understand, its two most prominent buildings are a mill and a church of St. Peter. The church – and this part actually impressed me – dates back to the 13th century, though the area around the altar was rebuilt in 1873. A local farmer recently donated the church’s pulpit and lectern, though why he had a pulpit and lectern lying about is beyond me. There’s more information available about the church than the settlement itself, which is just disappointing for everyone involved.
The mill is no longer in operation as such, and is now privately owned and lived in. Even I have to admit, it’s an awesome-looking residence. According to one source I found, the entire parish is made up of eight homes. Eight. My street has more homes than that, and I live on a tiny cul-de-sac. There’s only one explanation.
Only eight households; one of them is much larger and nicer-looking than any other; recently-rennovated 13th-century church; this place just has to hold some dark, Lovecraftian secret. I’d be willing to bet anything that the pulpit the farmer donated is actually an altar to the dark elder thing L’mur-Kathulos, and that the villagers all get together monthly for a human sacrifice, under the guidance of whoever it is that lives in the mill. The Mill-Dweller. And if you listen closely from far away, you can hear inhuman shrieks and wails emanating from below the church, the tattered souls of those damned by L’mur-Kathulos all howling out for salvation. But their cries fall on deaf ears.
…what was I talking about, again?
About
6/17/11
I, like many others, am rather bad at getting things done by the point at which they must be done. Thus, I've decided to start this blog - to train myself to do so. Because I am not a very interesting person, and I have nothing better to write about in my own life (hence the title), what I'll do is click the random article button on wikipedia and write at least 250 words (roughly one page on MS Word in MLA Format) on whatever topic pops up. No matter what that topic may be, or how much or how little I know of it, I will write at least two-hundred and fifty words on it.
I'm posting this online so that - God willing - I'll have an audience to yell at me if I fail to do so on time. I'll post said write-up every week on Wednesday (for the alliteration - Wikipedia Wednesdays). I might write other things, too, if I feel like doing so; but then again, I might not. I'll likely stop writing once college begins in the fall; but, then again, I might not. We'll see.
The url, by the way - graycure - is completely meaningless, the product of a random phrase generator. Which seems appropriate, given the subject matter.
I'm posting this online so that - God willing - I'll have an audience to yell at me if I fail to do so on time. I'll post said write-up every week on Wednesday (for the alliteration - Wikipedia Wednesdays). I might write other things, too, if I feel like doing so; but then again, I might not. I'll likely stop writing once college begins in the fall; but, then again, I might not. We'll see.
The url, by the way - graycure - is completely meaningless, the product of a random phrase generator. Which seems appropriate, given the subject matter.
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