The first bills we printed in May, 1810, included the faces of women and men. There was brave Queen Pylta defending a moat upon the 100 talent banking note, then there was our maiden, fair Nuuzstathena, upon what was then the 10 talent drachma. We also have honored dames foreign and not who labored to improve all of mankind's lot, like Keller Luxembourg Frank Yiessht and Curie on much of our land's official currency. We urge now the E.U., the Ynki, the Rus, to celebrate people who have shaped for us the world as we know it the world that is ours for sharing their thoughts hopes dreams and working-hours. If not for the imprint of many a lass we'd likely be living without any class and lapping at puddles and holed up in caves and not much confronting the fault of our ways. Now pull out a fifty now cast you a glance and keep you that boner-farm tucked in your pants for all of those ladies that live on your cash will save and avenge you and that in a flash. So raise you a toast to the girl at your side, for she is the source of most all of our pride, for hers is a mighty and sharply-tuned brain that's saved us from ruin again and again.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥]
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Showing posts with label pylta. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pylta. Show all posts
22 March 2015
04 October 2013
blowback mechanism debuts
Building on the success of its RPT line of personal defense weapons, the Pylta Regina Firearms Factory (PRFF) announced a new option for 2014. “RPT stands for Regina Pylta Terret,” said Thendogarst Oiylyindt, chief operating officer of PRFF. “Our slogan is, 'Easy enough, even for grandmother.' For good reason, too: our weapons are designed so that most any Grigovian – from 12 year-old member of the League of Youth Defenders to 90 year-old matriarchal block commander – can pick one up and following simple instructions drop fools from two hundred yards in defense of the motherland.” Similar to a certain popular Russian firearm, RPT rifles are designed to fire even if filled with sand, rusted shut, frozen, wet, or dropped from a 2-story building. “Our newest feature we call delayed blowback,” said Poli Daryoust while she was field-stripping and reassembling the first RPT models to emerge from the production line. “After bullet is fired, some of gas produced is stored in a chamber in the butt of rifle. When shooter is ready for next round to be chambered, she thumbs this button here, which cycles spent round out and loads another. This makes rifle more accurate compared to when fired in semi-automatic mode – for sniping situations – but of course eliminates folding stock.” Fully automatic mode is available only in the military version of the rifle; civilian models feature semi-automatic, bolt-action, and delayed blowback. Visit PRFF's official company website for more details, and happy wastreling.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
13 September 2013
on swarming micro-satellites
Eschewing standard methods for raising and operating communications and weather-tracking satellites, Queen Pylta the Terrible University in the Glorious Republic of Grigovia is pioneering the use of micro-satellites. Funded and supported by both private and public organizations, including Grigovians for A Free Cosmos and the country's National Center for Atmospheric Studies, the program is on course to reduce the cost of fielding functional orbital gear by 90% and to decentralize access to space. Lifted into the heavens by helium balloons tethered together, 4 of 12 micro-satellites fold open to become broad sails made from an ultra thin, microwave-reflective and photon-absorbent material. Using toy-inspired manipulator arms, a LIDAR (Light Detection And Ranging)- and video-based guidance system, and open-source artificially-intelligent software, the other 8 micro-satellites pull themselves into place behind the surface of the sails. Ground-based emitters then bombard the sails with microwaves, pushing the cluster into near-Earth orbit. At this point, the 4 micro-satellites closest to the tethered balloons use shears to trim them loose and activate thrusters filled with compressed gas to flip over the cluster so that the sails point (some of the time) toward the sun. The cluster's final step is for the 4 remaining satellites to run out communications antennae as well as sensors for measuring atmospheric conditions. In its initial testing phase, the program shows promise, although the system of shared intelligence – individual satellites contributing any available memory and processing power, sometimes even writing new algorithms, to help solve the puzzles they as a whole face – is still in its infancy. Long live these brave robotic cosmonauts!
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
22 March 2013
on arming rebels
The Grigovian government today issued a sharp rebuke of U.S. American efforts to sell arms to bands of Islamic extremist operating on the fringes of its western province of Tera Pyltannia, which borders Iran. Independent reports verify that operatives of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) have been working ceaselessly to provide weapons to a loose collection of tribesmen known as al Qusuf. Once allied with Grigovia's own indigenous Yaelong tribes, al Qusuf were expelled from the country after briefly instituting orthodox Sharia law back in the 1840s and subsequently abusing the rights of thousands of peaceful peasant women. “For nearly all of this region's recorded history, al Qusuf have been causing trouble,” said Dr. Ulantha Grossman, professor of Central Asian history at Queen Pylta the Terrible University, in Pyltagrad. “By all accounts, the members of al Qusuf are bad, dangerous people whose tools are repression, fear, and murder. The American government appears to be growing increasingly desperate in its attempts to destabilize the Iranian government prior to its impending violation of the latter nation's sovereignty. If this is how the Ynki spreads freedom and democracy, we want no part of it.“
Grigovian scouting parties recently captured dozens of rocket-propelled grenades as well as surface-to-air missiles capable of punching a modern fighter jet out of the sky, all of them stamped “Made In America.” Scores of individuals attempting to deliver these sophisticated weapons systems to contacts in the various al Qusuf militias were arrested, temporarily hobbled, and sent back to Washington with stern warnings against further unwarranted meddling. (In accordance with a longstanding national law, members of al Qusuf found within the borders of Grigovia are given the chance to flee; if they refuse, they are strangled to death.) “We have little control over how the American government treats the Iranians to our west or the Afghanis to our south,” said Pendogarst Ulyind, Lieutenant-Colonel of the Grigovian Border Defense Forces, from a network of well-provisioned caves somewhere in the mountains east of the Iranian-Grigovian border. “We as a people learned enough from being treated as a doormat for the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, however, to recognize clandestine foreign intervention for what it is – outright intrusion on our national sovereignty as well as a threat to regional stability.”
At least a dozen CIA operatives were carrying dossiers containing detailed information in languages familiar to al Qusuf about sites crucial to Grigovian infrastructure. “From the contents of these dossiers we conclude that U.S. American intelligence agencies are planning also to destabilize our own country's democratically elected government,” said Piendoyast Tormund, deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs for the state of Grigovia. “My office has already begun to draft a binding United Nations resolution that aims to curtail Ynki activities here in Central Asia, and we are working with Russia Today and al Jazeera to draw attention to the fact that the U.S. appears to be arming forces hostile to Liberty and the rule of law in places beyond its own borders, which violates numerous international statutes as well as its own legal code.” The Glorious Republic of Grigovia shares more than a hundred kilometers of mountainous, largely inaccessible border with Iran. In recent years, the nation has resisted nearly a dozen ham-fisted attempts by American consortia and corporations to gain control over its vast resources of rare-earth minerals.
mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥
Grigovian scouting parties recently captured dozens of rocket-propelled grenades as well as surface-to-air missiles capable of punching a modern fighter jet out of the sky, all of them stamped “Made In America.” Scores of individuals attempting to deliver these sophisticated weapons systems to contacts in the various al Qusuf militias were arrested, temporarily hobbled, and sent back to Washington with stern warnings against further unwarranted meddling. (In accordance with a longstanding national law, members of al Qusuf found within the borders of Grigovia are given the chance to flee; if they refuse, they are strangled to death.) “We have little control over how the American government treats the Iranians to our west or the Afghanis to our south,” said Pendogarst Ulyind, Lieutenant-Colonel of the Grigovian Border Defense Forces, from a network of well-provisioned caves somewhere in the mountains east of the Iranian-Grigovian border. “We as a people learned enough from being treated as a doormat for the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, however, to recognize clandestine foreign intervention for what it is – outright intrusion on our national sovereignty as well as a threat to regional stability.”
At least a dozen CIA operatives were carrying dossiers containing detailed information in languages familiar to al Qusuf about sites crucial to Grigovian infrastructure. “From the contents of these dossiers we conclude that U.S. American intelligence agencies are planning also to destabilize our own country's democratically elected government,” said Piendoyast Tormund, deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs for the state of Grigovia. “My office has already begun to draft a binding United Nations resolution that aims to curtail Ynki activities here in Central Asia, and we are working with Russia Today and al Jazeera to draw attention to the fact that the U.S. appears to be arming forces hostile to Liberty and the rule of law in places beyond its own borders, which violates numerous international statutes as well as its own legal code.” The Glorious Republic of Grigovia shares more than a hundred kilometers of mountainous, largely inaccessible border with Iran. In recent years, the nation has resisted nearly a dozen ham-fisted attempts by American consortia and corporations to gain control over its vast resources of rare-earth minerals.
mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥
09 January 2013
the young stranger
(Grigovian fairy tales 4)
It was the Week of the Lit Windows. As was their custom, the townspeople had placed candles in the windows that faced the road and gone to bed with their doors unlocked. Unlike the year before, however, winter had arrived early, furious blizzards piling the snowbanks high and keeping everyone but the most hardy inside. All hoped that someone would bring a change in the monotony, that a visitor would arrive to enliven the dark and dismal evenings.
Sure enough, one evening, a strange young man burst through the door to the Kiergoyast household. He stamped the snow off of his boots and leaned his wood-framed pack against the wall in the small foyer, where it dripped onto the polished floor. Iyoan Kiergoyast and his wife, Baruwvel, showed the stranger to his quarters and invited him to dinner. They pulled out his chair for him, the place of honor at the far end of the table, next to the youngest children. The young man told tales of crossing the high mountain passes and fleeing bandits in the sun-drenched valleys of far Hinntia, which, he claimed, lay many weeks' journey to the south, and to the east. After dinner, he shared a pipe of fine czabtyip with Iyoan and told the children stories of magnificent foreign beasts before he excused himself and went to bed, falling asleep promptly. No one heard or saw the young man leave, but the next morning, to their delight, the children found small carvings of strange animals sitting in their wooden eating dishes. The eldest girl, however, a maiden of 16 years named Opol, said she had awoken in the middle of the night to find the strange young man standing in the foyer, dressed only in his underthings and leaning mightily against the door whilst holding a knife in his hand. She claimed that his eyes had flashed with an unusual inner light and that he seemed convinced something was trying to come through the door, although she had heard nothing but his frantic panting.
Some months later, during the Festival of Life's Reawakening, a neighboring family told a similar story. A strange young man had come to their house near the end of the Week of Lit Windows; he had carried a traveling pack of unusual construction; he had given the children small wooden figurines; and he had roamed throughout the house, late at night, with a knife in his hands, although he had not brought to anyone harm, nor had he violated either of their beautiful young daughters. The village seer, an white-haired old woman named Uulanthia, said she'd had a dream in which the young man revealed himself to be the long-lost son of Queen Pylta Pyltandyennd, and that his nightly vigilance had paid off when he thwarted a group of prince-killers, who had been indeed following him, by waiting for them into the wee hours of the morning and dispatching them with swift thrusts of his blade as they came through the door.
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
It was the Week of the Lit Windows. As was their custom, the townspeople had placed candles in the windows that faced the road and gone to bed with their doors unlocked. Unlike the year before, however, winter had arrived early, furious blizzards piling the snowbanks high and keeping everyone but the most hardy inside. All hoped that someone would bring a change in the monotony, that a visitor would arrive to enliven the dark and dismal evenings.
Sure enough, one evening, a strange young man burst through the door to the Kiergoyast household. He stamped the snow off of his boots and leaned his wood-framed pack against the wall in the small foyer, where it dripped onto the polished floor. Iyoan Kiergoyast and his wife, Baruwvel, showed the stranger to his quarters and invited him to dinner. They pulled out his chair for him, the place of honor at the far end of the table, next to the youngest children. The young man told tales of crossing the high mountain passes and fleeing bandits in the sun-drenched valleys of far Hinntia, which, he claimed, lay many weeks' journey to the south, and to the east. After dinner, he shared a pipe of fine czabtyip with Iyoan and told the children stories of magnificent foreign beasts before he excused himself and went to bed, falling asleep promptly. No one heard or saw the young man leave, but the next morning, to their delight, the children found small carvings of strange animals sitting in their wooden eating dishes. The eldest girl, however, a maiden of 16 years named Opol, said she had awoken in the middle of the night to find the strange young man standing in the foyer, dressed only in his underthings and leaning mightily against the door whilst holding a knife in his hand. She claimed that his eyes had flashed with an unusual inner light and that he seemed convinced something was trying to come through the door, although she had heard nothing but his frantic panting.
Some months later, during the Festival of Life's Reawakening, a neighboring family told a similar story. A strange young man had come to their house near the end of the Week of Lit Windows; he had carried a traveling pack of unusual construction; he had given the children small wooden figurines; and he had roamed throughout the house, late at night, with a knife in his hands, although he had not brought to anyone harm, nor had he violated either of their beautiful young daughters. The village seer, an white-haired old woman named Uulanthia, said she'd had a dream in which the young man revealed himself to be the long-lost son of Queen Pylta Pyltandyennd, and that his nightly vigilance had paid off when he thwarted a group of prince-killers, who had been indeed following him, by waiting for them into the wee hours of the morning and dispatching them with swift thrusts of his blade as they came through the door.
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
02 January 2013
Shuiryiff Rovend, legendary weaver
(Grigovian fairy-tales 2)
Shuiryiff Rovend was a weaver of renown. When not mending clothes for her own or the neighbors' children, she wove rugs and throws, blankets and draperies, things both beautiful and durable. Of all the animal wools and plant fibers she had spun into yarn and woven into works of utilitarian art, however, she had not ever used the pelt of the yip-yipt-yend, an elusive, nearly mythical beast.
To celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of her country's self-liberation from Austro-Hungarian rule, Queen Pylta Pyltandyennd invited all Grigovians to showcase their artistry and ingenuity at the inauguration of Independence Square, a vast swath of green in central Grig.
'This is my chance to honor my grandparents, who died fighting for our freedom,' Shuiryiff said to her husband, upon hearing the news.
'My love, your ancestors and mine died in that war, but my skills do not extend beyond the engineering of bridges,' Wu-Zsi Rovend replied to his wife. 'Please weave a beautiful rug, or garment, and make both our families proud. My cousins are Yaelong; they live where the yip-yipt-yend live. Go to them and fetch your wool.'
After many days of travel, Shuiryiff finally tracked down her husband's cousins. Although they had never met her before, they took her in, fed her, and made her up a bed, promising to bring her to the yip-yipt-yend in the morning. Exhausted from her trip up into the high, wind-swept valleys, Mrs. Rovend soon fell asleep.
True to their word, the next morning a band of Yaelong stood ready to track down one of the elusive beasts. They were armed with net, prong, and snare.
'I do not wish to bring the animals to harm,' Shuiryiff said, eying the men's tools warily.
'It is unlikely we will even be able to find the animal's tracks, let alone catch one,' said one of the tribesmen, a young, bright-eyed boy. 'But your concern pleases us and Weuilou, the spirit of this region.'
The group saw only one yip-yipt-yend, from too far away to catch but close enough that one of the men unslung his rifle and was making ready to fire.
Shuiryiff, however, begged him to halt. 'Please, do not kill it,' she said pleadingly.
Because of her clemency and kindness, the Yaelong gave her two large bags full of the mythical beast's wool, their entire collection of the valuable threads. They had gathered it over many years and on countless roaming patrols, pulling it from high branches or teasing it out of the thick underbrush.
Upon her return home, Shuiryiff kissed her husband, hugged her children, and bent to the task of weaving the strands into a simple, functional garment designed to protect the wearer from the elements. She had just enough to make a single cloak, with a hood. As the day of the inauguration approached, the weaver traveled to the capital with her children. She chose a spot in the park and hung her cloak from a portable rack, a simple structure made of birch wood.
Soon enough, Queen Pylta came along. She was gracious with her words, praising and calling out happily as she perused the many works of fine art. When she came to the cloak, however, she fell silent, and approached it with grave awe.
'I am sorry, my queen, for bringing such a simple cloak,' said Shuiryiff. 'This glorious day called for better, but my skills are lacking, my fingers too stiff, my loom too rickety.'
Turning to face the gathering crowds, Her Somewhat Royal Majesty Pylta Pyltandyennd said: 'Look ye upon the winner of our competition. This woman wove the wool of a mythical beast into a cloak. The pattern is one from Grigovia's past, a pattern we had long thought lost, and the style of manufacture is one steeped in this nation's and proud long traditions. This woman, my dear friends and assembled fellow country-persons, is a prime example of the strength and ingenuity of the Grigovian people. To be just, I shall lay eyes upon the rest of the exhibits before we all retire to the tables near the fountain, for a modest snack.'
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
Shuiryiff Rovend was a weaver of renown. When not mending clothes for her own or the neighbors' children, she wove rugs and throws, blankets and draperies, things both beautiful and durable. Of all the animal wools and plant fibers she had spun into yarn and woven into works of utilitarian art, however, she had not ever used the pelt of the yip-yipt-yend, an elusive, nearly mythical beast.
To celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of her country's self-liberation from Austro-Hungarian rule, Queen Pylta Pyltandyennd invited all Grigovians to showcase their artistry and ingenuity at the inauguration of Independence Square, a vast swath of green in central Grig.
'This is my chance to honor my grandparents, who died fighting for our freedom,' Shuiryiff said to her husband, upon hearing the news.
'My love, your ancestors and mine died in that war, but my skills do not extend beyond the engineering of bridges,' Wu-Zsi Rovend replied to his wife. 'Please weave a beautiful rug, or garment, and make both our families proud. My cousins are Yaelong; they live where the yip-yipt-yend live. Go to them and fetch your wool.'
After many days of travel, Shuiryiff finally tracked down her husband's cousins. Although they had never met her before, they took her in, fed her, and made her up a bed, promising to bring her to the yip-yipt-yend in the morning. Exhausted from her trip up into the high, wind-swept valleys, Mrs. Rovend soon fell asleep.
True to their word, the next morning a band of Yaelong stood ready to track down one of the elusive beasts. They were armed with net, prong, and snare.
'I do not wish to bring the animals to harm,' Shuiryiff said, eying the men's tools warily.
'It is unlikely we will even be able to find the animal's tracks, let alone catch one,' said one of the tribesmen, a young, bright-eyed boy. 'But your concern pleases us and Weuilou, the spirit of this region.'
The group saw only one yip-yipt-yend, from too far away to catch but close enough that one of the men unslung his rifle and was making ready to fire.
Shuiryiff, however, begged him to halt. 'Please, do not kill it,' she said pleadingly.
Because of her clemency and kindness, the Yaelong gave her two large bags full of the mythical beast's wool, their entire collection of the valuable threads. They had gathered it over many years and on countless roaming patrols, pulling it from high branches or teasing it out of the thick underbrush.
Upon her return home, Shuiryiff kissed her husband, hugged her children, and bent to the task of weaving the strands into a simple, functional garment designed to protect the wearer from the elements. She had just enough to make a single cloak, with a hood. As the day of the inauguration approached, the weaver traveled to the capital with her children. She chose a spot in the park and hung her cloak from a portable rack, a simple structure made of birch wood.
Soon enough, Queen Pylta came along. She was gracious with her words, praising and calling out happily as she perused the many works of fine art. When she came to the cloak, however, she fell silent, and approached it with grave awe.
'I am sorry, my queen, for bringing such a simple cloak,' said Shuiryiff. 'This glorious day called for better, but my skills are lacking, my fingers too stiff, my loom too rickety.'
Turning to face the gathering crowds, Her Somewhat Royal Majesty Pylta Pyltandyennd said: 'Look ye upon the winner of our competition. This woman wove the wool of a mythical beast into a cloak. The pattern is one from Grigovia's past, a pattern we had long thought lost, and the style of manufacture is one steeped in this nation's and proud long traditions. This woman, my dear friends and assembled fellow country-persons, is a prime example of the strength and ingenuity of the Grigovian people. To be just, I shall lay eyes upon the rest of the exhibits before we all retire to the tables near the fountain, for a modest snack.'
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
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