Blackwolf the Dragonmaster's Diary of Magecraft

Being a Chronicle of the Inner Secrets of, and Spells of Magick as Wielded by, the Philosopher of the Internet and Unofficial Sorcerer-in-Residence of the City of New York

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Location: New York, New York, United States

As New York's Unofficial Wizard, my mission is to encourage the Mortals of Manhattan to imagine responsibly!

Thursday, April 02, 2009

Faster than a speeding tartan kilt!

OK, Mortals, listen up! Things and events are once more coming at your humble Dragonmaster faster than I can handle them, and I have much to grumble about, so kindly sit down and pay attention:

Daytime television --- at least, the broadcast networks' perception of it --- is already an endangered species. Mark Goodson's The Price is Right, the longest-running daytime network game show, is controlled these days by the goodly gentles of Gutersloh, Germany-based Bertelsmann (the twits can say FremantleMedia all they want, but, as you know, you can't fool ol' Blackwolf!); after 72 years and some 15,700-plus episodes, Procter & Gamble Television's Guiding Light, the world's oldest-existing scripted broadcast series, is scheduled to sign off for good effective September 18th; there are these idiot cryptic billboards in the subway, asking me to log on to some weird thing called; --- and Snickers is making Mortals (and yours truly) giggle with this Snacklish thing.

And while all this is going on, I'm still trying to focus on this Saturday's 11th Annual Tartan Saturday Afternoon Parade, where approximately 2200 Pipers, Drummers, Scottish Terriers, Scottish Country Dancers, Scottish Highland Dancers, dignitaries, special guests, and a few close friends are scheduled to kill two hours marching along Sixth Avenue, starting at West 44th Street, and ending at the big double-decker bus we park in the middle of West 58th Street, near the Jekyll & Hyde Club. 'Tis here, then, that the Parade wraps up for what I like to call our "Bagpipers' Block Party," where all our marchers pack up their stuff, pose for photo ops, exchange auld and new tales, and basically say hello to certain interested goodlies before dispersing to various bars in the City, to honk themselves drunk for the afternoon and onward into the evening!

(The only ones whom I could classify as ye olde obligatory 'party poopers,' if thou wouldst, are Jonathan Henken and the Mount Kisco Scots Pipes and Drums. They just pack up, hop on their specially-rented bus, and just leave! Sillies!)

Well, enough nonsense, Mortals. I've ranted long enough today, I think. As always, America, thy thoughts are welcom'd hither. Gimme an e-mail at either or

Master Blackwolf