Tag Archives: fans and their fantasies

Thrakbog, the boy band

I had a terrible nightmare. And I cannot possibly find words to express my relief that it wasn’t real.
Here’s what happened:
Last evening she-human and I had a lengthy discussion (no yelling, just plain talking) about different tastes in music and she told me about her fancying a boy group when she was a teenager. I had no idea what she meant so she showed me pictures and videoclips of several groups of young humans (presumably male, though I’m not so sure, and neither were they, obviously) in very colourful clothes and of questionable musical talent.
So far so good (or bad).
Continue reading Thrakbog, the boy band

The legends of Barb and Seb

So, these days humans celebrate that one moment in the past when their leader was put on a stick. While cross-guy’s anniversary is still a bit dubiuos to me (see post from 31st October), she-human told me about some other guys that went through something similar and I very much enjoyed the stories of St. Barbara and St. Sebastian. I mean, to get rid of your enemies is one thing, but to do it in such a creative way, now, that says a lot about your mindset.

Sebastian apparently had been a devout follower of cross-guy and subsequently got sentenced to death and was shot with arrows. But he did not die. If you look at the paintings of the incident it really makes you wonder how anyone could possibly believe him to be dead after that shooting, because there was no blood whatsoever. Bit anemic, the guy.
So, instead of just taking this unexpected opportunity and run like the devil, this stupid idiot goes back to emperor who had ordered the execution and said: “Look, it didn’t work, I’m still alive. You might as well give up on it.”
The emperor – not having gained power for being a sissy – does not listen to the idiot (well done, him) but instead sets up another execution, this time flogging him to death. And in order to make sure that it gets really gory (I like), he throws the body into the city’s sewer.
So far so strange. What really makes me wonder, is the fact that not the emperor was sainted but the idiot who begged for being killed. Seb was really asking for it, wasn’t he? Question is, why?

And then there was Barbara. Young, pretty, clever. She was a follower of cross-guy as well, against her father’s orders. So dad got a bit upset with this obstinate child and handed Barb over to the authorities. They whipped her, beat her, cut off her breasts, burned her with torches. AFTER all that fun they had, they put her on trial (I really like this bit, because it’s so human, to come up with this pointless display of fake justice) and convicted her to death. So she was undressed (I sense a pattern there, all the pictures of these holy people showed extensive nudity) and presented her to the public. And apparently her father was the only one around with some balls, so he beheaded her himself. As an immeadiate response he was struck dead by lightning. Good show!

So I learned a couple of things from these legends:
1. humans love pictures of nude fellows, which is mildly disturbing because they look so much like naked mole rats.
2. humans admire people who wave a flag and yell “kill me, kill me, or else my god des not believe that I have faith!”
3. humans show their true creativity when it comes to torturing their fellow humans

Consequently, point 1 + 2 show that humans are idiots, but point 3 is definitely something to work with.

Orc in a wok

My human and I had a bit of a discussion. Alright, a yelling.
About a week ago I had been watching something very interesting on kraut telly. Some very odd folks were using a huge bowl-like dish by the name of Wok to sled down a track. It looked like a lot of fun. (In case you have no idea what I’m talking about: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wok_racing or: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUHQoD3lgQI )
So, naturally, I wanted to try it myself.
Luckily, she-human owns a wok, so I took it. A series of problems occured:
1. no snow or ice anywhere near where I live right now
2. rooftops are not as useful as I thought
3. stairs have no use either
4. the wok is not suited for a butt of orcish proportions
5. she-human now needs a new wok
6. I might find it difficult to sit for a while

They did not mention all that on the telly. Bunch of liars.
Do you know where I might get a bigger wok?

Orc got the blues

Finally I found something that gave me hope about the human race. And his name is Muddy Waters. What a great name. She-human said that he died over thirty years ago, but  –  all praise to human technology – I can see him on this electronic device. If you never heard of him, you only got yourself to blame. I added a link to one of his songs, in fact it is the one song, that made me reconsider my opinion about humans in general. A race that can produce a man like this can’t be all bad. And this special song is so much a bout me it’s actually frightening. He got balls, let me tell you that. So do I, you did know that already, right? You better nod silently, or else I come and get you.

Strange thing is, while I was mesmerised by this incredible song and the even more impressive singer, she-human seemed to drool over the sight of one of the skinny pale guys in the background. I will never understand her. Anyway, when I get home, I’ll tell my folk about the Blues. It’s gonna change orcish life forever. And for once, change will be good. Very good.
Watch this:

She-human said that it might not be allowed to show that song (something to do with copyrights) but I mean, seriously? This amazing song should not be kept from anyone. Also: I am an orc, so what do I care about laws? I do not even understand it, anyway.
I am a hoochie coochie orc.

Married or not married, that is apparently a question

Now, here’s a thing: I have been reading some stuff on the interweb and found something strange. It seems that quite a lot of he-humans of a certain type keep their marriages a secret from the public. I wondered about it and asked she-human who came up with a typical human – and therefore confusing – answer. Let me elaborate:
It seems there are some young males that might be called famous for some thing or other, being successful especially in the music or film business. Those men marry just like any other members of the species but they seem to hide that fact. That in itself isn’t what bothers me. There might actually be good reasons to do that, like getting more wives, avoiding evil stepmothers, or even more evil and jealous rivals, and so on.

But that is apparently not their reason to keep it a secret. It’s the female fans. She-human explained that those women – young or non-accepting about their real age – imagine themselves in a form of close proximity or even intimacy with those males. Even though ist seems highly unlikely that they ever gonna meet, they still fantasize about those he-humans. And while they’re doing that they seem to buy a lot of stuff. They spend an enormous amount of money on things this male of their fancy produces. I cannot say that they buy it to feel nearer to the male or that they want to be near him because they liked the stuff he made in the first place, which then made them fancy him even more. Maybe it’s a mixture of both.
What makes me wonder is that these women seem to have no problem fantasizing about being with said famous male no matter how much apart their lives are. But the moment that guy is married this fantasy dissolves into nothing. Is there some kind of human logic behind it that I do not understand? Probably. Perhaps humans should consider poligamy, that would solve this problem.

You see, this is all very confusing for someone like me. In my world, when you fancy someone you go and say it to her face, grab her by the arm (or something else) and drag her to your tent. Of course you have to face the consequences when she is stronger than you (a lot of she-orcs do have an enormous punch, trust me).
So, now I’m wondering if anyone ever fantasized about me. I think my wives (See? I have several. No big deal) do have some fantasies but certainly not in a romantic way, more like all the ways to get rid of me, preferably accompanied with some amount of pain, or something like that.
Dreaming about me is alright, if you happen to be in a state of fancy towards me right now. BUT I must insist that those dreams have to be nightmarish to some extend. I have a reputation, you know.