Trials of a Modern Artist

Well, I know it has been a while since I posted, my lovelies, but I have some exciting news.  Scamp has been working on a book!  That is correct.  A book.  I am writing a collection of short stories, poems, quips, and quaffles.  Okay, so the last one is a Harry Potter sports equipment reference, but the book is coming along nicely.  A few older things will be in it, but it's mostly new material.  I have recently had an offer from a friend to help me when it comes time for publishing.  I was going to go to an "as ordered" publisher and sell through Amazon, but this seems like it will be better.  The only idea I had, apart from that, was to get it all transcribed onto parchment and toss it over the bow of my ship while sailing low over major cities.  We tried that once with a song that my first mate wrote, but the local constabulary was surprisingly displeased.  Stay tuned for more information on how to get a copy of my very first book, and for some possibly exciting new things to be coming from the blog.

As always, questions, comments, and concerns (or just fan mail, if you're so inclined) may be addressed to pupabouttown@yahoo.com with "Scamp Project" somewhere in the subject.

TTFN, Ta Ta For Now!

The Wolf Who Cried Boy

Once upon a time, there was a pack of wolves. The pack was just like any other pack. They all took care of each other. They hunted together, they slept together, they lived together, they traveled together. It seemed like the perfect pack. There was one problem. One of the wolves liked to play tricks on the other wolves. One night, he ran into the den and told all of the other wolves that there was a boy wandering through the woods that they could eat. The wolves ran as fast as they could to the spot that the trickster wolf told them to go to, but there was no boy. The trickster wolf laughed and laughed and laughed. The pack was upset that there was no food, but they weren't so upset that they would kick him out of the pack. The trickster thought this was great, so the next night he ran into the den telling the pack there was a boy in the woods that they could eat. The pack was skeptical, but they ran out to find the boy, just like before. Also just like before, there was no boy. The pack was furious and made the trickster sleep out in the woods. Later that night, the trickster was awakened by the sound of someone walking through the forest. It was a little boy! The wolf ran as fast as he could to the den to tell the pack about the feast that was stumbling around the forest. The wolves didn't believe him and told him to go back to his punishment area. The trickster tried to get them to come share the bounty of the lost child, but they wouldn't believe him. The trickster finally gave up and went back to find the boy. He ran up to the boy, intending to tear out his throat and enjoy the whole child to himself. Just then, the boy turned around. The wolf saw the boy in detail, but it was too late. The boy shot lightning from his dead, black eyes into the wolf, killing him instantly. The boy tossed his strawberry blonde hair out of his soulless eyes and began to eat the wolf. The ginger finished the wolf and followed his tracks to the den. Before the pack knew what hit them, the ginger used his devil magic to burn all of the wolves. The ginger let out a laugh and left the wolf carcasses to rot. Because he had no soul, he didn't need nourishment. He rampaged through the forest killing all of the woodland creatures until he was shot from a distance by a hunter with a sniper rifle. The remaining animals made a statue of the hunter out of forest debris and lived happily ever after. Until the hunter hunted them all down.


The moral of the story is this:


It might be fun, but you should never fill your time with lies.
By your friends and family, you will become despised.
If it's unavoidable and your manners have some holes,
Try to remember you might need help, because gingers have no souls.

The Pretty Girl and the Ordinary Boy

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She was the prettiest girl in the world. All the other girls were jealous. One day, the jealous girls (this being all of the other girls in the whole world; so nothing to scoff at) decided to play a trick on the prettiest girl. They waited until she fell asleep and cut off all of her hair. They ripped up all of her clothes. They threw away all of her makeup. When the prettiest girl woke up, she was distraught. She put on the rags they had left in her closet and went outside. The boys all laughed and pointed at her, calling her names. She sat on a bench to weep. While she cried, a boy walked up to her. He was an ordinary looking boy with an ordinary voice and ordinary mannerisms. The poster child for "normal" or "average". He asked her what was wrong. She explained that someone had played a mean trick on her and that she was very sad. He held her and wiped away her tears, listening to everything she said. She kissed him. They dated for 6 months. In that time, her hair grew back and she bought new clothes and makeup. She was once again the prettiest girl. On Christmas Eve, she sat down with her boyfriend. He gave her a small box. She opened it while he bent to one knee. He asked her to marry him when she saw the beautiful ring. She said no, and explained that now she was pretty again. She could have any boy in the whole world. She left without another word and went to a party with some of her pretty friends. The ordinary boy sat in his ordinary apartment and opened his ordinary pill bottle. He took three of the pills out and swallowed them. Once the aspirin kicked in and his headache was gone, he went to the party where all of the pretty people were. They wouldn't let him in. He shot the doorman and went in to the party, guns blazing (quite literally). Just as he came face to face with the prettiest girl, she started to cry. She knew that of all of the terrible people she could date, none of the pretty boys would be bad enough for her, so she dated the ordinary psycho boy again. They had 2 sons and 2 daughters. All of their children were pretty and psycho. They lived mediocrely ever after.


The moral of the story is this;


Even after beauty fades, the ugly never will.
If you find a love inside your heart, it makes you want to kill.
It's true that things of this nature can be a little scary.
Just remember that there is no such thing as truly "ordinary".

Beware The Ides of March

Big, exciting news from the land of fantasy medieval combat reenactment!  This past weekend was The Ides of March event at Dragon Hills Retreat in Bowdon, Georgia.  The Ides of March is one of my favorite Dagorhir events.  In case you're just joining my readership (or just don't know what Dagorhir is), Dagorhir is a fantasy medieval combat game (or LARP; Live Action Role Play).  We dress in medieval or fantasy garb and fight each other with foam padded weapons.  That being said, this past event was a big one for me.  One reason that it was important is because it was the first event I've been to since June 2010.  I was very happy to see all of my old friends and make quite a few new friends.

Another large reason that it was a big deal is that my character (whom I have been playing as for over 4 years) died.  Not in the way that we fight, die, and resurrect in each battle.  Full character death.  Before I left to go to New York, my character was going through some large plot points at Sage Hill.  I was possessed by a demon, handing out riddles and prizes, and plotting to overthrow our realm.  Having been gone for a year, there was no feasible way to continue the story (or come back from it).  I spoke with one of the Sage Hill sect of Templar and he said he would help me.  I was camping with Ravenous (more on that shortly) and Rastas approached our camp.  He called me out and I went to meet him in the field in front of where we were camping.  We fought.  Hard.  He expected me to hand the fight to him, but I had to make him work for it.  I took his leg and he called for any part of Sylk (my character who was possessed) to appear and help him destroy The Seeker (the demon).  I dove onto his sword.  Sylk being dead, I am now Scamp in Dagorhir (which should make it easier for me as Scamp is also my name in the fetish world).

Possibly the most important event to take place at Ides was myself joining a unit.  I have been trying to join Ravenous for over a year now.  I was supposed to have my beat-in last Ides, but my ankle problems prevented it.  I wasn't about to let anything stop me this year.  Though I had to wear my walking boot to prevent re-injuring myself, I did my trial.  The beat-in was about endurance.  It hurt me.  A lot.  I was crying from the pain at one point.  I didn't know if I could do it.  But the encouragement of my brothers and sisters helped me prevail.  I had to do 1 versus 1 fights until I beat the Dragon (leadership of the unit) 20 times.  As I got more and more tired, that got more and more difficult.  After those, I had to fight two versus one fights.  After those, I walked the line while all of Ravenous hit me with their weapons.  I am glad I made it through and I couldn't ask for a better unit.  We are brothers.  WE ARE WOLVES!

The event was a great time and I strongly suggest those who aren't already involved in Dagorhir to give it a try,  We always have room for growth.  You've read Tolkein.  We live it.

TTFN, ta ta for now!

The Last Time I Checked, a Deck only Has 52 Cards...

Look, I am an airship captain.  As such, my responsibilities allow for only a certain amount of free time.  I fill my free time with things that I enjoy.  Do I watch the Tony Awards?  No.  Do I go to nightclubs every night for random sex in the bathroom?  No.  Do I religiously follow celebrity news and gossip?  No.  Does my lack of fervor for these things make me any less gay?  Hell no.  Being gay isn't about what you do or enjoy, other than doing and enjoying members of the same sex.  That being said, there is an epidemic upon us, my friends.  That epidemic is "the gay card".  There is no magical card that you get when you come out of the closet.  I joke about a care package with showtunes, hair product, and a copy of RENT arriving at your door when you accept who you are.  The keyword there is JOKE.

It seems that a large number of people in the gay community believe that if you don't do certain things, if you don't like certain things, if you don't wear certain things, or if you don't eat certain things that they are entitled to revoke your gay card; effectively turning you into a straight person.  It doesn't work like that, people.  I promise you that I don't know, or care, who won a Tony last year.

"You don't know who won the Tony for best show last year?  Give me your gay card!"

No.  Do you know why I'm not going to give it to you?  Because there isn't one.  Things like this are just furthering the stereotypes that the hateful straight-ful people are falling back on in their effort to deny homosexual citizens of this country equal rights.  The seemingly "necessary" stereotypes (that I have personally witnessed many gay men trying to adhere to) do nothing more than glue a big, pink target on your back.  Not too long ago, a gay couple was brutally attacked outside of their church.  By members of the same church.  I am not excusing what those hate-mongers did.  Not even in the slightest way, but incidents like that would stop happening if people stopped wearing their sexuality on their sleeve like a paper badge.

"Oh my god!  Are you saying we should all go back in the closet and hide who we are?!?!"

No.  If that is what you took from this, you need to read better.  What I am proposing is that we give the gay community better role models to choose from.  If a gay male teen has nothing to look up to except the effeminate gay best friend of the lead female in movies and TV, he will emulate the effeminate mannerisms.  While being gay is not something you choose or learn, mannerisms and habits ARE learned behaviors.  I want to see the gay best friend who doesn't make a big deal out of being gay.  The gay best friend who tells the leading lady and she isn't sure if he's joking or not.  The gay best friend who doesn't bleed glitter.

I am not a self hating gay.  I am perfectly happy being a gay male.  I just want popular culture and a decent amount of the gay community to stop giving all of the straight people I meet reasons to think that, because I'm gay, I must want to be a woman.  If you genuinely enjoy stereotypically gay things, more power to you.  Just do us all a favor and stop TRYING to fit into a community that supposedly wants equality.  A big part of equality means that we would be at the same level as the straight people.  Not above them, like some would seem to believe.

I'm sorry if this sounded harsh.  If you have a problem with it, comment here or email me at thescamppuppy@yahoo.com and let me know your feelings.  I would love to hear more viewpoints on the subject.  If I get enough response, I may even post a followup article and address your concerns and beliefs on what I see as one of the biggest roadblocks to the gay equality movement since the invention of heterosexuality.

And please, don't try to take my gay card.

TTFN, ta ta for now!

How Not to Lose Friends and Alienate People

Well, well…  I was starting to wonder if anyone actually read these.  Lo and behold!  FAN LETTER!  A very dear follower of my blog (whom I found out keeps a shortcut here ON his desktop) was talking to me about online chatting.  Now, I know that everyone wants to read an awesome story or blurb from my life, but a few things need to be put out there.  This, my adoring fans, is a compilation of opinions, unwritten rules, and common sense that I like to call “Scamp’s Guide to Internet Etiquette; Fetish Chat Room Edition”.

I will be explaining all of this from the point of view that I am familiar with (gay male to gay male), but these rules apply for pretty much any orientation and gender that use a fetish chat room (or any other chat room, for the most part).

One of the biggest things that one will see in a chat room of any kind is caps locking.  In a text based conversation, SPEAKING WITH ALL CAPITAL LETTERS IS TANTAMOUNT TO SHOUTING.  It can be a useful tool when you need to convey that you would be putting emphasis on the words you use in a conversation, but it’s not an “all the time” style of typing.  It has been posed to me by someone who uses caps locking quite often that “caps lock is the only way to let people know that what you are saying is important.”  Nobody is THAT important.  I know you think you are cool.  I know that caps lock is like cruise control for cool.  Here’s a protip for you...  Even with cruise control, you still have to steer.

This part applies to fetish chat rooms more specifically.  To narrow it down, it is most common in the Dominate and submissive chats.  In Dominate and submissive chats, submissive men try to seek out the Dominate men that they feel an ingrown need to control aspects of their lives.  This can range from semi-sub boys all the way down to slaves who consider themselves property and nothing else.  It is all well and good if the submissive is interested in the Dominate.  But what is very common to find is people who try to place themselves in the role of a Dominate, expecting those around them to give them instant respect because their screen name contains the words “MASTER”, “DOM”, “LORD, or any other in a wide array of “privileged titles”.  Just because you consider yourself a Dominate does not mean that everyone else has to lick your feet for the privilege to talk to you.  There are many out there who have earned respect.  Many who have earned their title.  Many who have earned the privilege.  This behavior is furthered by the submissives who don’t know what they want.  Or the “subs” who just want to get off while a stranger talks down to them.  They feed the proverbial “trolls” of the screen name title abusers.

Another trend spreading like wildfire through internet fetish chat rooms (and many other types of chat rooms) is that many people ignore the “meat and potatoes” of a quality person for the flashy, smoke and mirrors of the “fajita” attractive and innocent acting younger chatters.  What happens quite often is that a person can be having a decent conversation with someone of similar interests.  This conversation can range between anything from weather to actual connection which could lead to meeting up and exploring your various kinks.  Suddenly, a beautiful woman walks in from the rain, begging the private detective to help find her missing father.  No?  Oh sorry.  In a similar chain of events, a (usually) younger and more attractive person comes into the chat room and all interest in the meat and potatoes is lost in favor of the fajita that just sizzled past your table.  This is an insult to the person you were just talking to.  In other news, if that person is so attractive and perfect, why are they single and trying to hook up in a fetish chat room?  If it smells like a fish, and swims like a fish, chances are that he is a psycho who will stalk you for years to come.

Please take these few (and not terribly difficult) ideas to heart.  I know “it’s just a chat room”, but many people feel inadequate when they are sloughed off, ignored, talked down to, or just plain insulted by rude behavior, self-entitled “Doms”, and people yelling at them to “HAVE A GOOD DAY”.

You know what they say, if you can’t type something nice, the Agency will find you and break your typing hand.  Ambidextrous?  Sucks to be you!  Now, I have a huge shipment of slightly less than legal “gemstones” coming on board with my new (and slightly frazzled in the brain pan) mechanic, Joe.  He keeps making eyes at me.  I may have to take him to the Captain’s cabin and see if my booty shivers his timbers.  Excuse the pirate pun, but I’ve been aloft on my own for FAR too long.  Until next time, sparrows and swallows.

TTFN, ta ta for now!

Questions? Comments? Requests?

Ahoy there, you salty air dogs!  Blow the man down!  *giggles at my own innuendo*

So, I do what I can to keep you, the readers, entertained.  But my imagination well is running dry!  I know, it's hard to believe that one so bright and fun as myself could have a problem thinking up topics.  But, alas, it is true. What this post is intended to do is to get my fans involved in the shape and future of The Scamp Project.  Hell, I'm a sub.  I have to have SOMEONE telling me what to do, right?

Well, not quite in so many words, I suppose.  What I am calling for is a census.  Tell me what you want to see, what you want to hear, and what you want to know.  Pretty much any topic, comment, or question is fair game.  I'll even read some of your letters (or type from, if I haven't started the vlog yet).  You just have to write in.  Tell your friends.  Tell your kids.  Tell your wives.  A tell your husbands, because I'm taking requests from everybody out here.  You don't have to write and confess, I'm waiting for you.

We here at The Scamp Project are committed to bringing you the highest quality versions of Scamp's opinions, findings, research, and adventures.  But we need your help.  Comment below.  Or write an email to TheScampPuppy@yahoo.com and let me know what you think, what you want to see here, what you feel about me.  Hell, write me and let me know how you are doing.  If there is something you need help with, I will do my best to get you the answers you need.

The main thing I am saying here is WRITE IN.  You want new content?  I need new ideas.  Win-win.

Now, the lights are flickering because using the internet in my ship requires MASSIVE amounts of aether power.  With Stanley gone, I'm dashing around like an automaton with it's primary stabilization gear cut off.  Once again, I send out a call for help.  I need a mechanic!  Until next time, my compatriots.

TTFN, ta ta for now!