SATURDAY, MAY 4th, 2013
The human race can be seen as one big root culture, with an infinite potential subcultures and sub-subcultures with it, dividing up types of people from different hemispheres, continents, countries, cities, towns, communities, families, races, religions, genders, orientations, industries, offices, languages, dialects, and on and on and on and on. And on.
And on.
Every culture has a set of acceptable, social behavior and rituals. Some cultures, for instance, can not seem to get enough human meat in their bellies. This cannibalistic tendency is pretty well frowned upon throughout the rest of the civilized world. Unless, of course, their mode of transportation breaks down on a frozen mountainside, and your spouse's or buddy's rump is the only thing keeping you from starvation. You must be a member of a rugby team or your last name must be Donner to qualify.
That's pretty disgusting.
Rituals galvanize entire societies, giving the lives of the peoples within it meaningful purpose. Or purposeful meaning. Think sports. Think Communion. Think Bah Mitzvah. Think family dinners (not Donner family dinners, though).
Little known to the outside world, there existed a subculture of a subculture of a subculture, some time ago. Their relevance spanned just over a decade and their modest population a dozen at the height. This tiny society participated in unique rituals, never seen before or since. They built a little colosseum and engaged in sport, honoring a little, blue deity. They built their culture out of need for empowerment. To galvanize and create an unbreakable bond, one that still exists to this day. They had their own language, ritual dress and a set of sociological standards acceptable to only them, but nowhere else. With their own set of established rules, they forged a unique existence where apologies were forbidden, compliments mandatory and showering their god with Jazz Hands was a daily occurrence, ensuring their protection from the outside world and good standing within their circle of trust. They even had their own constitution, documenting, from day one to the last, every last detail of their nonsense. This sacred book may be the only physical evidence left of their existence.
The most formal of rituals was their game. This game was the lifeblood of culture for the entirety of their journey and though some may claim this to be a dead society and a forgotten game, it is very much alive and well in the hearts of the initiated. They no longer pilgrimage to the rainy wild once a year to celebrate the life of their god, but June 1st remains a holy day for them, and Jazz Hands will be ambitiously deployed in honor of his Blueness in a little less than one month from today.
A fire will stir in the hearts and minds of the few. June 1st is "Blue Day" and we eagerly anticipate its arrival.
Rule #11: Cannibalization.
Any player with one life remaining may gain one additional life by causing another player (with more than one life) to lose a life, via spike, hereby "cannibalizing" life from their competitor.
Today's Jazz Hands eagerly anticipate. Day one-hundred and twenty-four complete.
