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The Harp Inn
130 E 17th St # A
Costa Mesa, CA 92627
Wednesdays: 7:30 PM
View All Posts
Comment Now
8:09 AM, April 16, 2015
Scores
Lincoln Died at Ford's Theatre Once. The Lions Die @ Ford Field Every Season! 79

Aaron Hernandez Will Catch More Balls in Jail than the NFL 74

Goes to jail a Tight End, Leaves Jail a Wide Receiver 59

Nailed It! 56

Late-kers 53

Resident Egon


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Bryan (Resident Egon)

Born on a mountaintop in NYC, crowdedest place in the land of the free. Moved cross the country just tryin' to see, come to California when he was only 3.

Bryan, Bryan the Quizmaster. Duke of the wild frontier. (I wouldn't want to be King...too many assassination atttempts)

"What's it like over there, in the not-bright?" the young pond-skater asked. His uncle was old, by pond-skater standards, and his back was mottled brown. He blinked slowly in response to the question. "That? That is called the shadows, little skimmer, and we do not got there, for fear of Ghai-Valax, That Which Envelopes From Beneath."

The young pond-skater was silent for a few seconds as they navigated round a small clump of bubbles, himself deftly, his uncle ploughing straight through with effort.

"And what is Ghai-Valax?"

His uncle stretched out a kink in one spindly leg. "There are many tales of him. Some say he was once a pond-skater, as we are, but when he was still a nymph he refused to moult, sealing himself away in the mud beneath the Pond and learning... things." The uncle's memory was rather dimmer than it had been, and he could not recall instantly the rest of Ghai-Valax's origins.

"Things?" the young one prompted, and his uncle sighed as he saw he would have to go into further detail. "Dark things," he hazarded. "Things that should have been forgotten, far from the bright."

Just then a whirligig swam by, on its way to devour some unattended eggs. "Are you talking about Ghai-Valax?" it asked. "I have seen him, woe! Mighty are his works!"

"What works, specifically?" asked the young pond-skimmer, in his eagerness swimming quickly away from his uncle.

"Deathless ones!" the whirligig replied, "unstoppable avatar of the dark, is Ghai-Valax!"

"But can you be more specific," said the young pond-skimmer.

"Too late! Too late! Ahaí! He comes!" cried the whirligig, "look to your uncle!"

The pond-skimmer spun-round, but of his uncle there was nothing to be seen, just a vast disturbed patch of water and a glimpse of something impossibly large moving through the depths.

"Perhaps my uncle was wrong. Perhaps it was better to remember those things, if it keeps you alive." thought the young pond-skimmer. Outwardly he asked the whirligig, who by now was spinning in a fit of religious ecstasy, "where can I learn more of Ghai-Valax, He Who Envelopes From Beneath?"

"Come this evening, to the gathering of the whirligigs," his companion replied. "Ghai-Valax surfaces there, sometimes, to pass on his teachings to us and reminisce about his life. Some say he was once a whirligig."

"Some say a lot of things," replied the pond-skimmer, then skated off to the edge of the pond, there to watch in safety.

That evening, moving slowly to avoid attracting unwanted attention, he swam back over to where the whirligigs made their court. As he drew nearer he could hear the faint susurration of foreleg on carapace that whirligigs make when impressed.

There: He saw it, the grotesque head of Ghai-Valax. It reared out of the water, many times higher than his entire body could stretch, covered in bright silver scales, and its mouth was a cave of darkness from which religious pronouncements issued, that set the whirligigs to spinning wildly.

"I am Ghai-Valax," it intoned, "lord of the pond and the brightness beyond. I have seen what lurks in the hearts of whirligigs and trawled the mud to discover all knowledge of how this world was constructed. For instance, who among you knows that beneath the layer of mud and leaves the walls of the pond are plastic? This I, Ghai-Valax, have discovered."

"Ghai-Valax! Ghai-Valax!" the whirligigs chanted, and the pond-skimmer, who was still very young, felt a new feeling in his thorax: The feeling of fear.

The fish spoke again. "There has been one thing that has eluded me, oh whirligigs, and I must have it: The silver skimmer, the fly-that-is-not-a-fly, that sits on the surface and taunts me. With it in my grasp my power will be complete, and the dominion of the pond will stretch even into the bright and the air. All shall be pond, and I shall swim among it."

The whirligigs murmured amongst themselves.

"Have none of you seen it? Very well," said Ghai-Valax, "it seems the knowledge has been hidden from you. Perhaps by the pond-skimmers, who are not of your faith."

The murmuring of the whirligigs intensified.

"We must have war with the pond-skimmers," Ghai-Valax intoned, and the young pond-skimmer shivered. This was madness, to incite the whirligigs to killing. "You must capture them all and bring them to me, so that I may eat them and learn of the silver fly."

"We must have war with the pond-skimmers! War with the pond-skimmers!" the whirligigs chanted, turning ever faster in their rage, and the pond-skimmer swam away as fast as he could without making any noise, fearful for all his kind. After their gatherings the whirligigs would be dizzy and sleepy for a day, he knew, and would hopefully forget this talk of war. But if Ghai-Valax was inciting them regularly, sooner or later it would soak into even their thick skulls that the pond-skimmers must be dealt with. And there were far fewer pond-skimmers than whirligigs.

But the young pond-skimmer knew something of the silver fly-that-was-not-a-fly that the fish-god spoke of. His mother, before her untimely death in the mandibles of a dragonfly, had spoken often of it; something that appeared from the bright and loitered on the surface, sometimes for minutes, without moving or speaking. A sign from the world beyond, she had said, perhaps a saviour of the pond-skimmers, but no-one knew more than that.

It was not until three days later, when the whirligigs were becoming ever more aggressive towards the pond-skimmers, that the silver fly appeared again, and the young pond-skimmer spotted it. Immediately he saw why Ghai-Valax had no knowledge of it: It came from the air and stayed in the bright, sunlit part of the pond, far from the shadows where the great fish made his domain.

The young pond-skimmer had no understanding of the concept of bravery; it simply seemed to him that it was obvious what must be done. He skated over to the shadows, crying as he went: "Ghai-Valax! You sack of mud! The sky has fallen and the silver fly-that-is-not-a-fly calls for you!"

He was rewarded almost instantly by a rumbling and a terrific splash as the fish broke surface. "What?" cried Ghai-Valax. Only the pond-skimmer's impudence had saved him, for his message had pricked the pride of the great fish. Had he been less talkative, it is certain he would have been devoured at once.

"It is true! It is true!" cried the pond-skimmer, skating nimbly back from the great fish, luring him into the sun. "The silver fly is here, and it shouts that Ghai-Valax, god only of foolish whirligigs, cannot face it in battle!"

The fish-god considered. "I shall eat the silver fly and gain knowledge of the world beyond the pond," it said at length, "and then I shall devour you, little skimmer, for your arrogance in waking me from my sleep at the bottom of the pond where the secrets are."

And with that Ghai-Valax dived beneath the surface of the pond before surfacing again, angrily, with the silver fly trapped firmly in his jaws, for he was Ghai-Valax, That Which Envelopes From Beneath.

But he found the silver fly far less appetizing than a whirligig or a pond-skimmer, for its claws dug into his jaws and a strange force compelled him, till by and by Ghai-Valax was drawn out of the pond entirely, bodily, into the air, far from the mud and the secrets.

And the pond-skimmer watched his vast bulk flail through the air and be drawn away, never to be seen in the pond again. He laughed, for the pond-skimmers were safe.

"Look," he said to a nearby whirligig. "Your god is gone! Ghai-Valax, That Which Envelopes From Beneath! What do you say to that?"

But the whirligig only spun faster, shouting, "We whirligigs worship and have always worshipped the silver fly-that-is-not-a-fly! Maz-Utrok, That Which Lifts Up From Above!"

And the pond-skimmer sighed, and skated away.

 

BEST ROUNDS OF THE NIGHT!!!!!!

  • More than a few of you needed a bit more 'splainin' through Round 1. It's called a damn globe, y'heathens.
  • To paraphrase Denis Leary, "You mean Stevie Ray Vaughn is dead, and we can't get Round 3 in a fuckin' helicopter?"
  • Round 6 was...well...we did warn you...Unpleasant, and Inevitable.
    • Oh shit...speaking of Round 6 there was a bonus email question. You're on the list right? You signed up with me at quiz? 

 

It seems just last month the word 'bracket' had a much more positive meaning. Otherwise I have just one thing to say, "Pennsylvania LOTTERY FUCKERS!!!!!!" Seriously...every fucking team switched 6 & 7 in R5...EVERY. TEAM.

 

  • In 3rd - Goes to Jail a Tight End, Leaves Jail a Wide Receiver
  • In 2nd - Aaron Hernandez Will Catch More Balls in Jail then in the NFL
  • And your victors in 1st - Lincoln Died at Ford's Theatre Once. The Lions Die @ Ford Field Every Season!

 

Check us out officially on the Facebooks!

Here's to being single...
Drinking doubles...
And seeing triple!

 

The Harp Inn
130 E 17th St # A
Costa Mesa, CA 92627
Wednesdays: 7:30 PM
View All Posts
Comment Now
11:33 AM, April 09, 2015
Scores
Roscoe Was Really Devastated by the Duke Boys' Win 68

Hey, You Promised You Quit! 64

Dzhokar's Wild 62

Thirsty in Suburbia 57

Stella Artois #1 Fun Time Happy Beer!!! 53

Drunkin' Funk 44

Resident Egon


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Bryan (Resident Egon)

Born on a mountaintop in NYC, crowdedest place in the land of the free. Moved cross the country just tryin' to see, come to California when he was only 3.

Bryan, Bryan the Quizmaster. Duke of the wild frontier. (I wouldn't want to be King...too many assassination atttempts)

The Decepticons were formed in response to political corruption, and a completely broken caste system. Megatron and the first Decepticons, Shockwave and Soundwave, were essentially born into the lowest caste on Cybertron, the field workers/miners. They were born into conditions where their only way to not be murdered in the middle of the night was to fight in the gladiator pits, where it was kill or be killed.

The rest of the Cybertronians were split into a middle caste and the rich caste. The middle caste were the basic workers: construction workers, archivers, other low quality, tedious lives that they had no way out of.

The rich caste controlled the entire government on Cybertron, The 'Primes'. They kept the lower classes underfoot with no way of advancing their civilization whatsoever. The middle class was well off, for the most part, but the low caste was, as they often are, disregarded completely...treated like trash.

In the pits, a particularly defiant gladiator named Megatron begins inspiring all those lower caste workers; telling them that they don't have to live this way. Megatron is the first ever who gains traction. With the help of an archiver named Optimus, begins to spread his ideas of freedom and being able to choose your life and what to do.

As Megatron's voice spreads, the 'Decepticons' begin growing into a major threat to the higher caste. Rogue Decepticons begin performing isolated and devastating terrorist attacks on various parts of Cybertron. Nothing is sacred as even spiritual and leisure zones are attacked. Slowly, Megatron realizes just how much power he has.

Megatron and Optimus are given a hearing before the high council to discuss fixing their society, as they represent the head of the more peaceful revolution. The council does not believe that Megatron has had any desire to cause destruction, just that his followers were becoming out of control.  At this hearing, the high council of Primes addresses the clerk, Optimus, for his efforts in trying to improve their society, and offer him the rank of Prime. He accepts, realizing that they may be able to fix their society without a full revolution.

Megatron becomes enraged. His closest friend has betrayed him to join the very system he hates; and this shall not stand. He signals his followers to bring down the building. Megatron swears to kill Optimus for betraying their ideals and friendship. The building collapses, killing most of the Primes. Optimus and a few others escape.

Optimus Prime becomes the leader of the reforming society, meanwhile the Decepticons gain more and more power. Thus begins the power struggle between those who want to peacefully reform, and those who want to scrap the entire system, killing anyone who opposes. The conflict continues until Cybertron is finally bled dry and they must leave. The devastated remainder of their society, the Autobots, flee from the dying planet, but Megatron gives chase. The eventually wind up on earth.

Megatron was never evil. He felt rage; rage over watching his kin die in the gladiator pits, over his closest friend betraying everything they had worked for and all of their ideals. While the ideals may appear twisted over time, and Megatron has shown the traditional signs of being power mad, he, and many of the core rebellion, still believe that what they are doing is in the right.

 

BEST ROUNDS OF THE NIGHT!!!!!!

  • I wasn't too sure about Round 1. It's all Greek to me these days.
  • Serious, if you haven't already become a fan of Postmodern Jukebox featured in Round 2, go do a Google search. The blog will be here when you get home.
  • And then the middle of the quiz where pain ensued.
  • Round 6 was positively infectious!
    • Oh shit...speaking of Round 6 there was a bonus email question. You're on the list right? You signed up with me at quiz? 

 

Damn...rough quiz last night, eh? Between 8 sportsball questions in an entire round, and a bastard of a Round 8, I'm surprised anyone walked out with a score over 50.

 

  • In 3rd - Fuck Your Wild
  • In 2nd - Hey, You Promised You Quit!
  • And your victors in 1st - Roscoe Was Really Devastated by the Duke Boys' Win

Check us out officially on the Facebooks!

Here's to being single...
Drinking doubles...
And seeing triple!

 

 

The Harp Inn
130 E 17th St # A
Costa Mesa, CA 92627
Wednesdays: 7:30 PM
View All Posts
Comment Now
8:58 AM, April 02, 2015
Scores
Give Me a Hug, Paul. God Damn It?Give Me a Hug! 83

Welcome to Indiana. Home of Homophobia 68

Hopefully We Don't Get Last Place 60

#Blessed 57

Tequila Mockingbird 55

Nailed It! 48

Cake or Death Metal? 45

Fo-fo-fo-foolin 42

Resident Egon


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Quiz Schedule
Bryan (Resident Egon)

Born on a mountaintop in NYC, crowdedest place in the land of the free. Moved cross the country just tryin' to see, come to California when he was only 3.

Bryan, Bryan the Quizmaster. Duke of the wild frontier. (I wouldn't want to be King...too many assassination atttempts)

“Oh, come on,” Jesus said, glancing over at his wrist now nailed to an irritatingly familiar wooden frame. He had only just recently returned to the Earth, welcoming his people with open arms for the official thirty-seventh coming of Jesus. Upon his arrival, however, something had immediately smacked him against the back of his head and knocked him unconscious. “Are you serious? Are you serious right now?”

“I’m so sorry,” said a man knelt down in front of him, some sort of hammer-like tool clutched in his right hand, several nails in the other. He was a younger male, probably around the age of 23, with long blonde hair and a short, curled beard. He wore a black, government issued suit, the dim, fluorescent lights overhead making it appear slightly more yellow than it really was. “Really, I am.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Jesus said, thrusting his body upward in an attempt to get free. The nails in his palms pulled against his skin slightly, but refused to budge. He glanced over at his left wrist. They’d gotten really damn efficient at the whole crucifixion thing lately. The first time, they’d had to use dozens of nails, hammering each one in at a crooked and near diagonal angle. Now, however, they’d managed to get their trade down to just two per limb. It was great that they were learning, but he hoped it would’ve been under a different scenario by now.

“You know why,” the man said, standing up slightly and stretching his back. He then knelt back down and lined one of the nails up with Jesus’ left foot. He hated this part.

“Come on,” Jesus said, closing his eyes and thrusting his head back. He pulled hands upward again, but they still refused to budge. He wasn’t going anywhere, not this time. In fact, he’d only managed to escape once out of the thirty-six—no, thirty-seven times they had crucified him thus far. He was caught within minutes and re-attached to the crucifix he’d become way too familiar with.

“Sorry,” the man said, his voice trembling slightly. “It’s not really up to me.” He nodded toward the opaque, mirrored window at the opposite end of the room. Yes, it was nice to no longer be getting crucified out in the middle of a desert, but the fact that he was receiving his crucifixion in a much more sanitary government building did little to ease his discomfort. It was more luxurious, yes, but it still required him to be crucified. At least he didn’t have to see the eyes of the onlookers that stood behind the one-way mirror.

“I’m Jesus Christ,” Jesus said, glancing down just in time to see the man lift the hammer above a nail held over his foot. He closed his eye again, a wave of pain emanating from his right leg and washing over his body. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he said, acutely aware of what he’d just said. It had become habit at this point, thanks to the hours he spent watching television while waiting to die during each crucifixion. That was one of the few changes he was actually quite fond of, that they allowed him a few basic amenities as he slowly asphyxiated and starved. Now if they would only just stop killing him, that would make things fantastic. “Come on. Can’t you use at least some sort of anesthetic first? Why do you guys need to keep doing it like this?”

“Does it still work with anesthetic?” the man said, hammering Jesus’ foot like someone attempting to hang a picture. He was the least efficient crucifier that Jesus had worked with in the last few years, missing the nail several times and instead smacking the hammer into his flesh.

“Yes,” Jesus said, squirming. “Of course it does. Why wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” the man said, abruptly ceasing his hammering. He stood up and took a step back, tilting his head as he admired his craftsmanship. “I’m not God, I don’t know everything.”

“I am,” Jesus said, gritting his teeth and pushing his head back against the cross. “So could you guys perhaps just stop crucifying me once every few years? I could share my knowledge with you. This is getting ridiculous.”

“No can do,” the man said. “We need somebody to die for our sins.”

“Just go to confession,” Jesus said, now almost yelling. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, reminding himself that they knew not what they did. “Just go to confession,” he repeated, quieter. “Or just sin less. Yeah, do that. Just stop stop sinning so much.”

The man glanced up at Jesus, his head tilted. “Sin less?” he said, as if Jesus had just said something in some sort of ancient, dead language.

“Yes, sin less,” Jesus repeated, making sure this time that he was not speaking in Aramaic. It was definitely English.

The man lifted his hand to his face and softly rubbed his short, blonde beard. “Like, not sleep with prostitutes as often?’

“Exactly,” Jesus said, slowing his breathing as he struggled to ignore the pain in his leg.

The man continued staring at Jesus, his face contorted as if he were deep in thought.

“Nah,” he said, kneeling back down and grabbing another nail from his tool belt. “I really like prostitutes.”

Jesus closed his eyes as he felt the man return his hand to his foot, the cold touch of a nail over his skin. They were so stubborn, but that was part of why he loved them. He’d let them crucify him this time, let them get away with starving him to death to wash away their sins. It was the least he could do. It would probably be the last time, though, he was pretty confident that they wouldn’t crucify him for a thirty-eighth time. That would just be ridiculous.

 

BEST ROUNDS OF THE NIGHT!!!!!!

  • Kevin Bacon
  • Kevin Bacon
  • Kevin Bacon
  • Kevin Bacon
    • Oh shit...speaking of Kevin Bacon there was a bonus email question. You're on the list right? You signed up with me at quiz? 

 

At the beginning of the night I had a couple stupid ideas for this most subtly raucous of holidays. Then on a suggestion from one of your past regular, still loyal to The Harp in spirit, gave me a suggestion I couldn't deny. And it was worth it to see all your jaws drop suddenly. The problem now is if I ever do retire, you fuckers will never believe me.

 

  • In 3rd - Hopefully We Don't Get Bacon Place
  • In 2nd - Welcome to Indiana. Home of Bacophobia
  • And your victors in 1st - Give Me a Bacon, Paul. God Damit It...Give Me a Bacon!

Check us out officially on the Facebooks!

Here's to being single...
Drinking doubles...
And seeing triple!

 

 

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