Moving on

I moved this blog over to wordpress.
Please, click on the link below to get there. (I used "please", so you know, this is important)

thrakbog.wordpress.com

See ya there ;-)

Don't think.

The title holds true in so many ways. As in:

• Don' think that I'm gone. I was just enjoying the sunny weather around here.
• Don't think you could trust the human whose home you've occupied. It's a difficult relationship to say the least.
• Don't think at all. Makes a lot of things a lot easier. But that is something humans tend to forget. Which  is somewhat confusing.

Anyway, I came to tell you about something that has struck my mind recently (which is in itself an occurrance of almost divine proportions):
It seems humans try to betray each other, which is one of their more admirable traits. In order to do so, they created something they call 'secret service'. As is appears, they have lots of those.

Chancellor Thrakbog

I think I might run a campaign to become the next chancellor of krautland. Why shouldn't I, right? They had their 'Frauenquote', now it's about time they get the 'Orkquote' which would be the logical next step on the typically human stupidity, called political correctness. But to be honest I can see myself quite cheerfully, accepting a bunch of flowers after elections, eating them or throwing them in the face of some surprised human. Yes, that would be fun, wouldn't it?

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?

Orcs' Progress

It just dawned on me that I might safely boast to be the only orc proficient with social networks. Okay, it always depends on how you define proficieny but I think I'm doing rather well, Given the fact that I had been illiterate when I arrived in this world. That brings me to the question how I could use this newly gained knowledge after my return home. She-human tells me the little device I'm currently using will be utterly pointless in my own world as long as no one invented electricity, the internet or four-layered toilet paper.

Of politics and butts

Kraut-land is odd, very odd indeed. Not only do they indulge in something called politics - which not even inlcudes huge axes and hammers - but they do it with such an amount of correctness that makes it practically disgusting.
Gird your loins, folk and gather round, I tell you what disturbs me:

Again? Really?

I have this bloody stupid flu again. I mean, how is that even possible? My whole life I've never had such a stupid illness, and since I came here it is the second or third time? This is humanity trying to gain the upper hand. But I shall not be overcome by mucus or cióughing fits. I'll stay firm in the face of things that come..., well, out of my face.
But right now, I think I may have a bit of a lie down. I'm rather hot. And for once even I know that it is not very appealing to she-human or anyone else.

Sentimental Orc

She-human is reading a book about orcs in space. Looks fantastic, I'd like to do that myself. On the other hand, it probably means, I need to get inside more tin cans. Not a very pleasant thought.
Anyway, some of the pictures in the book show orcs in their battle outfit and it reminds so much of my fellow comrades that I'm getting really sentimental right now. The heads of his slain enemies that Slaag would wear on a pole over his own head as trophies, that's a real looker. I miss him and his stubborn ignorance. I even miss my son in  law and his unpredictable usage of fireballs. Frankly, I would give a lot to be hit by one of them for once. I would cheerfully bear the noises Groisch makes when he jumps his wife. I would even go so far as to say I'd like to see and hear my family. Yes, I admit it. I miss the whole bunch. And now I will give in to that sentimental notion and have some drink. Copious quantities of alcohol are always an answer and solution to an orc's sentiment. Cheers,

Unexpected problems

I've been very busy these days, writing (dictating) my book about the origin of orcs. My chosen name for this -Thracitus - still has a nice ring to it, although orc-purists may say it sounds a bit too scholarly - and therefore unorcish - , which is absolutely right. But writing a book is in itself a traitorous act in some way. My comrades should probably never know about it. But what are the chances right now, ey? And what do I care? I do whatever I want. Dare to contradict me.

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:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZ01bSEh4fI

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.

Who better than me?

I should write a book. Seriously.
As I found out, the human I am currently sharing a flat with has quite a substantial number of books (don't make me count them, let's say: a lot). And some of these are about orcs. 'Hang on' you gonna think, and rightly so. How come that humans write books about creatures that
a) do not exist around here (at least to their knowledge, we know better of course) and
b) are not their own species?
How dare they.

Sausages

I had a proper look around, these last couple of days, despite the crappy weather. And I realized: the humans around here should by no means be called krauts. True, that stuff is available at those market-like buildings, stored in tins (everything concerning human comes in tins). But I never once saw anyone actually eat it.
What they DO eat, constantly, is bread and sausages. It comes in various forms and tastes, and it is available literally everywhere. Humans enjoying their favourite pastimes (football, not internet-trolling) - who's already there? A sausage-seller. a remote place, deep in the forest, a carpark, and? Right. Sausageman. Or Sausagewoman. the humans do not seem to mind who sells that stuff as long as they get it, preferably with a slice of bread and some green stuff called mustard. THAT is fantastic shit, I tell you. And it does funny things to the nose, when you eat at least a mouthful of it. I love it all.
So, today I may proudly say I am a sausage-orc. With a mustard-mustache. Life is great. Fuck the rain.

Re: the golden-poo-year

I thought you might want to hear how that incredibly exciting adventure began, when five dragons were threatening our world and yet the year was named after metallic excrements. One day I might tell you the whole tale but today only the beginning. If you are wondering who the guys are that are having this chat, go back to older posts and do some proper reading.

Slaag: "This is NOT a dragon!"
Me: "But it is."
Groisch: "No way! It's tiny. I feel betrayed."
Vorn: "Now you know how your wife always feels."
Noden: "And it IS a dragon."
"A toddler - at most."
"Then stay away from it. It just hatched. I don't want it to follow us because it thinks you are its mom."
"Baby dragons are harmless."
"Then why are your pants on fire?"
"Hehe. Have you been talking to my wife?"
"Seriously. Your pants are burning."
"I'm not wearing any pants - just a loin cloth."
"Too much information !!!"

Year's End

She-human informed me that today the year ends. She also told me that the name of this year is 2014. How boring can you actually be? Chronological numbers? Seriously? And believe me, I'm not complaining because I can't count to that number (not even close). It's simply unimaginative.
Not so where I come from:

Boromir is dead. I did not do it.

Once and for all: I am not guilty of murdering Boromir. Get a grip, humans.
Ahem. Forgive the emotional outbreak. I am really sick of it. I mean, I slaughtered uncounted creatures for which you could blame me and I would gladly take credit. But this one I didn't do. From the day I arrived in this world people on the street kept accusing me of finishing him and also asked me about this Sauron. I had hoped it would end when I left London but that was obviously a mistake. So I asked she-human about it and instead of explaining it herself she showed it to me on the telly. It took me days to get through the whole thing. Clearly a work of fantasy. Let me tell you a few things about this Lord of the Rings and his minions:

Christmas? Vampires? I'm confused.

Humans are stupid. It borders on a miracle that this species made it so far. That, or there are no real vampires in this world. But then why do humans believe in their existence? I had a somewhat irritating discussion (whenever I use the word 'discussion' consider it a battle of yelling) with she-human about the matter. We seemed to agree and not agree at the same time which is definitely too much to grasp for my poor little brain.

Of diamonds and poo

Still no change in the weather. She-human promised that there will be snow sooner or later. I really hope she is aware of my ignorance when it comes to delayed gratification. I want snow. Now. I don't think I've ever been so depressed by rain before. Even going out for a gluehwein or a rabbit hunt isn't fun in this weather. So in order to keep my mind engaged (and off the contents of the fridge) she-human reads me stories. I cannot bring myself to do the reading. Still burping up irregular verbs now and then.

Winter isn't coming

Winter in kraut-land is lame. Seriously, I don’t think it deserves the word winter at all. There might be other parts of this land where things are different, but right here in East-Westphalia it does nothing but rain. I went out into the woods to find some entertainment, maybe a monster to hunt, but there wasn’t any. Some rabbits, that’s it. Got wet and muddy feet and consequently into trouble when I came home.

Home alone? Never.

Please forgive me for not sharing anything with you for the last couple of days. No, wait, why am I apologizing? I am an orc, we don't do something like that. This human stuff is rubbing off on me in more than one way. The thing is: I had the flu. Again. (see last post) Never before in the 30 years I've haunted this world or any other did I have such an annoying illness. Being sick in any form is incredibly unorcish. The other members of the tribe would not let you live if they sensed a weakness. So in my world the flu would definitely be lethal. There is a strange thing about humans that they seem to care a lot for those who would not make it on their own otherwise.

self portrait

Who would have thought that painting a bloody picture could actually be a pain in the ... claw. If you're not sure what that is:

Me in a pink tutu. In order to amuse my human and kill her by making her laugh hysterically. Didn't work so far but was a close call.