Dylan Cormack

I wish there were thunder tonight. The rain that comes in droves, that slashes the streets and the tourists that crawl through them in bountiful numbers is just another pain in the ass tonight without the thunder. A pathetic pitter-patter slipping through the air, nudging my window sill and reminding everyone of an Ernest Hemingway story. Or something.

It would be glorious to be sitting here, writing down whatever will come tonight but have my thoughts punctuated by the smashing of gods running amok in the atmosphere. It would be hearty and wholesome to be shaken to anger tonight instead of being stirred by melancholy and the ambivalent moisture that occasionally falls victim to gravity. It would instantly inspire to be snapped to attention and instantly filled with power by the reverberation of frustration that can fill the cavity of the sky while my words were thrust out on the page like the spatter of paint from a flicked brush, like the crimson tide of a soldier’s bloodied sword at the end of a particularly deadly thrust.

Indeed. But that is not what the weather system that hangs steadily over the UK has in store for us tonight, so we should move on with the grace and the serenity of a losing candidate like Sarah Palin.

What? No. That never happened. It would be foolish and self-deceiving to think such a thing and only a loser would do it. And it’s not what’s on the plate for tonight. You might think that with the campaign over there is little to rage and ravage about on the airwaves and tubes. There are many people that think along such lines but I am not one of them. I have other issues to discuss, and while it’s refreshing to let the politics hang for a while and let the campaign bloat release its grip on the general electorate (and especially the pundits), I’m happy to go back to something closer to home.

Like the fact that Thanksgiving is approaching.

Oh, I know. You’re thinking, “yay, turkey and cranberry, pumpkin pie, mom’s stuffing, et al.” And that’s great. Really. But I’m not talking about “Thanksgiving.”

I’m talking about something Epic. Something that my children will talk about for decades to come, and that your kids will likely have nightmares about when I tell them of it. I’m talking about something that is rallying troops from 2 hemispheres, speaking 6 different languages from 9 different countries. I’m talking about cross-continental grocery shopping, 4 trips to Oslo airport’s legendary duty-free international purchasing center and various expeditions to find outrageous ingredients in the heart of the Dutch capital. I’m talking about unexplained kitchen disasters, mysterious explosions, emergency BASTing, and unknown recipe calculations not for the faint of spirit. I’m talking about baby dragons, I’m talking about unprecedented chilling, uncalled for levels of fun with party favors to boot.

I’m talking about TG08.

That is all ye know, and all ye need to know. For now. Stay tuned.

https://facebook.com/dylan.cormack.1 Dylan Cormack

Dylan is our political correspondent, bold and fiery as his fuse is short. He is a well-read, on-location kind of writer and is no stranger to travel. Intimately familiar with many distant and dark corners of the Earth, Dylan brings a new kind of blood to his vicious style of journalism. He sends us his words, notes and effusive rants of observation, commentary and occasional judgement.

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