The House That Silence Built

All right, childers, it's that time again. I would really like some new folks on my friendslist. Who's got a sharp tongue, writes a lot about a lot of things and generally makes a party of their comments section?

Somewhere along the way, I constructed a rather grim interpretation of the ecology of Fraggle Rock. Fraggles eat radishes. This is usually in the form of the Doozers' construction work. Fortunately, the Doozers don't mind because it means they have more room with which to build. Sometimes Fraggles go out into the Gorgs' garden for the radishes straight from the patch, as it were. Gorgs then eat hapless Fraggles that didn't make it back through the hole in time. The by-products help mulch the radish patch.

After that, the only question is what do Doozers eat?

(This doesn't quite fit what we see in the show, as I learned the other day while browsing Youtube. The Gorgs regard Fraggles as vermin. I suppose those Fraggles they catch might go straight to the mulch stage. Does that mean that Margerie the Trash Heap is made out of Fraggles? Of course, it might explain her unique insight into life in and around the Rock; she's the accumulated wisdom and experiences of countless Fraggles.)

Today is a day of reckoning. Specifically, a reckoning with all the stray papers, discarded clothes and books that have managed to stack themselves in every corner of my room.

Cover me, people. I'm going in.

Dude. The bookshelves still need to be sorted properly, but all the same, it's a huge improvement over the state of things when I started cleaning.

I did run across a number of things that need to be got rid of. I don't know if I want to begin another round of eBay auctions. Stuff like a Jean Grey trading card autographed by Brian Stelfreeze, some Phantom Menace action figures, a Jubilee action figure and a Nocturnals TPB.

I'm sorry, but I really cannot get over how shockingly tidy my room is at the moment. I really need to bask in it for a while longer.

Anyway, tonight was my first foray into the mysterious world of bingo. We went to Broadacres out in Malletts Bay. It was rather surprising. I've been by the place countless times. It's a dingy blue barn of a hall, up on a rise set well back from the main road. Inside, it's done up in an Egyptian theme of all things. Murals of the Nile on the wall, statues of Egyptian goddesses and such scattered around. Surprisingly tacky, given the general understated nature of Vermont decor.

We didn't win anything, unsurprisingly. I came close once or twice, within a square or two. The other three in our party did as well. At first, I was hopelessly lost at what was going on. I thought it was your regular bingo; you know, get five in a row in one of three directions. But these games required you to make a specific pattern, or get certain boxes on the board. It took me a few games to really suss it out.

The sedateness of the place caught me off-guard. There weren't any hardcore bingo fanatics that I could see, with good luck trolls and all that. I did spy several people with special caddies to hold their dabbers of myriad colors. Otherwise, it was pretty laid back. A lot of kids played, which threw me. I wouldn't have thought kids could play bingo, since it's essentially gambling. But according to one person, you only have to be eight to play bingo.

It was fast-paced. Until you get used to the funky shapes and knowing which squares to ignore, you've really got to book to check all your cards before the next number comes up on the screen. And speaking of cards, they're not actual cards. It's a big sheet of paper with eighteen cards printed on it. And it comes as a pad of sheets, with one for each of the regular games. There are other games you have to buy sheets for separately.

It was a novel experience, but I don't know if it's something I'd want to do regularly. It's a singularly uninteractive pastime. You just sit there and mark your cards. Yeah, you can hang out with your friends, once you get the hang of things, but in the end, you're really sitting there for three hours, hoping they call your numbers.