Welcome all to malum.org! This is Warren Haustrumerda’s official home to the gentle story TALL TALES OF FELONY AND FAILURE, a cautionary tale of lost love and unrepentant generosity, ending (as always) in piracy and death. It’s available FREE for your perusal as an Adobe Acrobat download and in eBook formats (for those of you with too much disposable income and too little restraint) directly on this site. It’s also newly available in multiple eBook formats at Feedbooks.com!
If you’ve enjoyed our little tale, please consider contributing at the (cleverly and efficiently named) Contribution Station. Nothing is free, even in piracy (where you pay with your soul).
TTFF can also be enjoyed audibly! (Only Chapter 1 is completed. Perfection takes time and some competence, which are presently limited resources.)
The best book Mr. Swedgin has read this year! (I realize it’s only February, but I’ll assume he/she meant the last twelve months.) I’m sure this implies greatness, and I’ll try not to forget the little people.
You too may download this disasterpiece directly from this site or at Feedbooks.com for zero American dollars, then opine until your typing fingers are stunted little nubs.
That’s right dummies. Just when you thought this terrible tale was contained, it’s ghastly reach has extended to the eBook-type website Feedbooks.com! Revel in it, bitches!
It’s true, it’s true. Tall Tales of Felony and Failure is now available in multiple eBook formats for your FREE DOWNLOADING PLEASURE!!!
By multiple, I mean two. For Amazon Kindle owners (and maybe some others), the .mobi format is recommended. For Sony Reader owners (and maybe some others. I don’t understand these things. Get the fuck off my lawn you little punks), the .epub format is recommended.
Recommended might be too strong a word. Neither of these files were reviewed prior to uploading because I only use electronic machines that also double as flotation devices or support unspeakable violence. Good Luck!
Iran has announced that it is increasing its naval forces involved in counter-piracy operations. It is sending two Ghadir-class submarines to join Iranian vessels already conducting counter-piracy operations in the Gulf of Aden.
I’ve noticed lately that many folks are fussin and fighting over proposed changes to our country’s Health Care System, including a potential FED takover that would result in murdering my GRANDPARENTS and your BABIES. Not one to look too deeply into things, I’ll take these statements as facts and stand firmly in opposition to any proposed socialistic manipulation of the status quo.
This issue, though, has layers, like an onion (Oh, Shrek! What a hoot – that Donkey just doesn’t understand some things!). Peel away the flim-flammy skin of this nationalization effort and you’ll find that the commy monster is already alive and well, right under the folds of our fat bellies! I’m speaking, of course, of MEDICARE, the first salvo in the war to make Americans stand in line for toilet paper and live in apartments where the grey paint peels faithlessly from the walls. That salvo was fired at our freedoms forty years ago, and those goddamn hippies just lapped it up between bong hits.
I recently stumbled across this internet story posted by a salty former O-Ganger, which included (I believe -I skimmed more than actually read the article) his small contempt for certain diesel powered submersibles.To this crusty lad, I provide assurances that quality ice cream can be made out of a turd, and that the PATIENCE’s archaic outer shell houses advancements in sound silencing he’s not considered.Her decks and major equipment float over magnetic fields so no acoustics will travel from them to the hull, and all of her coffee mugs are coated in plastisol.
I hope this self-proclaimed expert (italicized snidely) also reconsiders his uninformed impression of our submerged endurance.The PATIENCE’s diesel engines have been converted to run on a solution of Temerity, Courage, and Diligence, all of which we posses in no small supply.These monster engines then exhaust only Victory, which is delivered either directly inboard or to special purpose compressors for storage in our Victory Flasks (the revenue achieved through the sale of this bottled victory would surprise most). In emergency situations, the high-pressure victory stored in these flasks can also be vented directly to the ballast tanks, providing a guaranteed ascent to the surface in addition to the immediate destruction of our foes.
Because we can endlessly operate these engines at any depth without refueling, the only factor limiting the PATIENCE’s submerged operations is food for her devilish crew.We are not a finicky bunch.Dinty Moore can be (and often is) stowed anywhere and everywhere, so the always-steaming crockpot fills most voids and causes smiles.
In spite of all of our sly advancements and upgrades, though, the PATIENCEdoes operate under the assumption that a nuclear powered, subsurface watchdog is usually nearby (unless we are forced to ditch them) to monitor our Loyalty and protect our primary sponsor’s interests.As a matter of fact, we’ve established a Standard Operating Procedure to regularly execute fathometer soundings solely to broadcast our exact location, preventing potential submerged bumping caused by any deficiencies in our overseer’s broadband operator qualification process (DNSS).
I do acknowledge that our Captain would have been better served by purchasing a submersible designed specifically, from the ground up, to support our current mission types vice starting with a vessel that was initially, admittedly, unfit.The costs associated with the upgrades performed on our Wonderful Girl were staggering, and only now are true profits being realized.By the Captain’s own admission, though, he was out of sorts when he purchased her years ago, with only a vague vision of glory, fuzzy beneath his overwhelming, constant monologue of self derision.
Yesterday we returned from an extended underway, and last night was spent blissfully alone in my own bed.The cat, pleased with my return, shit on my exposed leg while I slumbered.The fecal smear was hard, flattened, and crackly when I woke, and peeling it off removed a swath of leg hair. In retribution, I removed only two paw nails.I expect the reward for my compassion and restraint to be a lesser hell when I perish. Those resting deep through my influence prevent me from heaven.
These videos were filmed by the crew of one of those fancy bow planes and VLS LOS ANGELES Class ships, which I don’t trust because I like to see my forward planes from the pier. They may or may not be a hoot to watch. I was tickled.
The Pirate Party has won a huge victory in the Swedish elections and is marching on to Brussels. After months of campaigning against well established parties, the Pirate Party has gathered enough votes to be guaranteed a seat in the European Parliament.
Apparently, the public relations wing of the Somali Pirate conglomeration is producing a livejournal blog of little value and less foresight. GNA Worldwide and, specifically, the good crew of the G.S. Patience stomached and ignored such pretension and comeuppance as inevitable in these unbridled internet days.
Many people don’t know this, but Bea Arthur was the provincial governor of southern Somalia for a few years earlier this decade. The western press calls our provincial governors “warlords” but they are just being biased assholes. Bea Arthur was a leader, a philosopher, a friend and a patriot.
Gen. Arthur ran her territory with an iron fist but a warm heart. I was down there, visiting family when she pulled into our village one day, riding in the back of a Jeep with a helmet, an AK-47, and a smile. There was a dispute about a stolen chicken, and she leapt out of the jeep and spoke with the concerned parties. As she spoke to Wendy, our town trollup, I could not help but remember her speaking to Blanche on the Golden Girls.
Anyway, she resolved the mess by shooting one of the women in the face. Her sense of justice had a certain understated elegance that I will carry with me in my heart always.
It was August 2002 and Gen. Bea Arthur of the Southern Somali Command was consolidating her power. She rode into town with her gang of marauders on a hot and hazy afternoon. She saw a man standing on the edge of a bridge, preparing to jump into the ravine below and take his own life.
She approached the man and told him to stop. She offered to show him what his town would have become if he had never lived. She then shot four nearby pedestrians and said “they would be dead, just like this.” The man realized how valuable his life was and got off of the bridge.
from jkama03@centrum.cz
to unlisted-recipients
date Sat, Apr 4, 2009 at 3:26 PM
subject I NEED YOUR HELP…
mailed-by centrum.cz
Hello,
Good Day and may God bless you with your family? I Know that my letter will come to you as a supprise as you know that we have not seen or meet each other before but My sources of your contact gave me the courage and confidence to rely and write to you you. My name is Joy Kamara, I am 22 years old now and I am the only Daughter of late chief GEORGE KAMARA from Sierra Leone. I am writing you in absolute confidence primarily to seek your assistance to transfer My Late Father’s cash of twenty one million eight hundred thousand dollars($21,800,000) now in the custody of a BANK here in Abidjan to your private account pending my arival to your country.
Please if you can assist me please write me back to my priavte email address to enable me to give you details.
Thanks and may GOF bless you.
Joy Kamara.
from Domain Admin
to jkama03@centrum.cz
date Mon, Apr 6, 2009 at 8:47 PM
subject Re: I NEED YOUR HELP…
mailed-by malum.org
Joy Kamara,
Splendid hearing from you again. Your late father’s passing fills me with sorrow, so it is with heavy heart that I agree to help you procure $28 million of the old lad’s filthy lucre. Please reply promptly with detailed instructions detailing how I may most promptly help you realize such assets. Depositing this money in my account does seem to be the most straightforward path to victory, in your case.
Promptness and detail are key here, Joy. Don’t be the stupid trollop GEORGE KAMARA always suspected you were!
A bold new experiment. Chapter 1 of TTFF as read by the author, a miserable wretch of a human being. Quality is low, as per the norm. The price, though, is better than right. More to follow, hopefully improved as we struggle toward understanding how this computer recording action works. (If anyone has any skill at reading and/or recording such reading and would like to assist in this effort, for much credit but absolutely no pay, please contact us.)
Cranston and Tom trudge off toward the crash site, a line of torn earth and trees three football fields long.What remains of the fuselage is crumpled, still smoldering and partially buried at its front end.They walk the length of the wreckage’s path, occasionally picking through the debris.They stay clear of the charred remains of their victims, some whole, some in pieces.
They make a good show of ignoring the other people there, who are performing their own investigation, albeit more professionally and with an apparently great deal more experience in these, or similar, matters.
These other people, though, are not ignoring Tom and Cranston.They are showing quite a bit of interest, forgetting their tasks for a time to watch, waiting for the inevitable authority figure to approach these two dirty, gangly, stumbling white men and decide how their presence will be greeted.Once this is done and the decision is made, they know these two will be taken away in an appropriate manner, and their work will continue.
The uniformed authority figure in question, Colonel Lu Buk of the Cambodian National Army, eventually does take notice of the pair.He approaches them trailed by two men, who are also in uniform but wearing dull green helmets instead of the sharp, shiny-billed hat the Colonel prefers.Colonel Lu Buk asks the two white men, in broken English, what they are doing there.
Cranston, of course, answers with a comment he considers witty, and is quickly beaten senseless with small clubs by the Colonel’s men before being bound and shoved in the back of a small pickup truck.Tom, ever more prudent then Cranston, holds his tongue, and is rewarded for his discretion by not being beaten senseless until after he’s bound and tossed in the back of the small pickup truck.There he lies, mostly unconscious, next to Cranston, who’s entirely unconscious.
Colonel Buk wonders, as his men drive off in the truck carrying the Americans, why he ordered the second man beaten.He decides, after some small contemplation, that it’s hard to stop beating white men once you’ve started.Satisfied, he returns his attention to the crash site, and those who are supposed to be investigating it but are instead watching him.After his stern, fresh-from-ordering-two-beatings gaze returns them to their tasks, he strides purposefully back to his air conditioned truck to enjoy his morning coffee.
The entire story is available as a single PDF download. At your leisure and pleasure, of course!
I’ve just quit smoking, and the last five hours have been a little edgy, so please forgive any shortness or expletives. That said, I’ve recently purchased Silent Hunter III (it’s been out for about four years) and am having a fantastic, while insanely frustrating, time playing it.
Fantastic, because you assume the role of a steely jawed, German speaking U-Boat skipper during WWII, wrath-handed and doom-leading. If you captain well, your wake will fill with oil, fire, and death.
Frustrating, because my particular captaining skills apparently lack. ‘ANGLE ON THE BOW? WHO GIVES A SHIT? SHOOT THE BASTARD!’ Well, sinking even huge, slow moving allied tankers, even from less than 3000 yards, isn’t that easy with unguided steam powered torpedoes if you don’t do the math and appropriately set all of your torpedo-computer-knob-things. Or just change the game settings so all of that’s automatic (I later found out).
The game requirements state Windows XP/2000 only, but the Steam version runs fine on our Vista box, so I imagine the other download versions would, also. YMMV.
There’s also a multiplayer option which I haven’t had a chance to try yet. The PATIENCE’s damn internet mast is on the fritz (get it? Fritz!), preventing extended connectivity (I’ll be lucky to finish this post). I’ll try to herd up some of the guys for a LAN match (after I get better at the game), though, and will report out with a full review after we’ve beaten the game into submission.
Silent Hunter IV is also available, but it’s not $9.95, so piss on it.
Finally, GODDAMN DUD TORPEDOES – BOUNCE OFF OF THEIR HULL WHEN I FINALLY SCORE A HIT, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I THOUGHT THE GERMANS ALWAYS MAKE GOOD STUFF!
UPDATE: I cannot, with any integrity (as though there’s a lot of that laying about), provide a full review since I lack the patience to get into the full meat of the game. Some pros/cons from my limited experience, though:
U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder is sending strong signals that President Obama – who as a candidate said states should be allowed to make their own rules on medical marijuana – will end raids on pot dispensaries in California.
“I think it definitely signals that Obama is moving in a new direction, that it means what he said on the campaign trail that marijuana should be treated as a health issue rather than a criminal justice issue.”
We can’t say that we’re huge fans of the administration’s apparent ‘hands-off’ approach to this issue. Granted, we only infrequently include marijuana in our transportation operations due to the bulk required to reach profitability, but growth of this policy to allow state determination (thus possible decriminalization) of other, more profitable recreational pharmaceuticals could significantly impact margins.
There’s a recession on, brother. Why the hell are you trying to put honest private-enterprise submariners out of work?
Some prime examples of the crew’s unquantifiable excellence:
Bridge lookout sighted float type plane; – close. Made quick dive to 120 feet. Bomb exploded as we passed 75 feet; – also close! The sub was thoroughly shaken and the event resulted in an early and prompt reveille for all hands but no damage of a serious nature was sustained.
At 3000 yards, both destroyers zigged 30 degrees to their right… and the picture became “just what the doctor ordered” for the HARDER. At a range of 1000 yards on the nearest target, both destroyers were overlapping, with a 100 degree port track showing. Gyros were near zero and torpedoes set for running at 6 feet.
Sighted aircraft… flying at a height of 100 feet, coming in off our starboard quarter and almost on top of us… He whizzed by the starboard beam at a range of about 100 yards!
Submerged to 150 feet.
First aerial bomb. Not close.
Second aerial bomb; – damned close. Increased depth to 200 feet.
And, in case you you think these events didn’t induce a pucker factor of at least 8 on the men experiencing them, a small, understated disclaimer is included in this report:
The above listed pandemonium may not be in exact chronological order but is as accurate as the happenings over that eventful few minutes can be remembered.
I can’t believe the amount of brass these WWII submariners carried onboard. Submarine piracy via the G.S. PATIENCE may have its small adventures, but there is no way in hell we’d face off against two destroyers. You can bank that promise.
At 0828 she (Japanese Patrol Boat No. 102) commenced a lethal series of depth charge runs, each charge set to detonate at a depth greater than the last. Somewhere below, the gallant HARDER was firmly bracketed, and the fifth salvo touched off explosions that finally ended the lives and career of HARDER and her entire crew.
