Wolf Battles Common Sense (And Gravity)

We are all familiar with the fact that the Wolf has structured his life as a spectacular paean to all that challenges common sense and reason. Beginning at the very moment he decided to forsake the tranquil serenity of the womb and claw his way into a cold and bracing world, the Lobo set into motion a life that would tarnish everything it touched with a heretofore unseen brand of lunacy.

The motivation behind the decision to live in this manner is unknown to all besides the unseen forces that shape the heavens and earth. Was it genetic mutation? Divine intervention? Something more sinister (Rosemary's Baby)? The world may never know.

And yet at the same time motive is irrelevant. It is a human force important only to county prosecutors and method actors. For there exists outside of elusive motivation, a tangible and concrete record of the Wolf's war against capable, prudent, and thoughtful action. There stretches behind this man an endless wake of ill conceived undertakings and the cruelty, insanity, death and destruction they wrought on the world around them.

For who could forget the Wolf's struggle to build and maintain a sprawling marble mausoleum in the dense Mexican jungle? How could we fail to remember the vicious voodoo feud that felled Dead Burt? What about his proclivities towards automotive insanity?

All of these endeavors serve to document the lunatic history of the Lobo's lifestyle. And yet they have also instilled within the man a deep belief that he has conquered common sense. They serve to announce that he is a man who operates on a plane of existence unfettered by the rules of logic and reason.

There remains, however, one undefeated aspect of the Wolf's complete and utter victory over common sense. This lone insurgent dwells in the unfinished nature of his power project. Sure, he has killed Dead Burt, scared away Dead Burt's daughter, engaged in a vicious campaign of arbolcide, and successfully strung high voltage cable all the way to his home. But he is still without electricity. The Mexican power company has refused to activate the line and have thus left him without the secure knowledge that his refrigerator will have the power needed to cool his cranberry juice. Without the feather of electricity in the Lobo's cap, common sense continues to reign supreme.

And so the Wolf has sown the seeds for the final chapter of his war on logic and reason. He recognizes, however, that to take on the Mexican powers that be is a Herculean endeavor. For this is an organization that (if such a notion is even possible) flaunts common sense in such an aggressive manner as to make the Lobo appear sober and levelheaded. Thus he has decided that if the organs of Mexican bureaucracy will deny him the means to conquer sane thought through the steady flow of an unnecessary electrical line, he will seek an alternative method for demonstrating his mastery of the insane and illogical.

This decision has led him to an appropriately lunatic solution. If the flow of electricity itself cannot serve as the trumpet call of victory, he will use the presence of the lifeless poles and lines themselves to mock all that is prudent and reasonable. And he will do it in a manner that smartly compliments his eye for style and panache.

And thus we find ourselves in the heart of the rainy season with one of the Lobo's many power poles purposefully and consciously erected at an angle that contradicts gravity's hold on the universe as we know it. That's right; he has decided to demonstrate the inefficacy of logic and reason by proving his control over the immovable force of gravity.

Many would view the listing nature of the Wolf's handiwork as the result of a dangerous combination of poorly planned construction and a saturated and shifting jungle soil. The Lobo, however, sees it rather as his final exclamation of victory over the factions of common sense and reason. In fact, so certain is he in his ability to defy such a powerful force of nature that he has fled the hot Mexican sun for the comfortable mountains of the Pacific Northwest. He has divided and conquered.

And yet in departing he has left the crowning jewel of his lunatic power project (and spoil of victory over both common sense and gravity) unattended in the wet and unstable jungle soil. Such a decision, may seem to us to be unwise, ill conceived, or even insane (it does to the Badger). And yet how many among us have devoted our lives to challenging all conventions that allow us to live comfortably, happily, and peaceably? How many among us have sought to slough off the constraints of the natural world, only to be continually confounded by them? How many amongst us believe that God is solely and personally responsible for the malfunction of our household appliances? I believe the answer is clear (the Lobo!).

A Crown Jewel Of Victory Teeters In The Distance

Gravity Strikes A Blow Against Unbridled Insanity

The Leaning Tower of Lunacy

The Badger Quietly Aids The Forces Of Common Sense

Badger Battles Coconut Dwelling Crab

With the Wolf frolicking gaily in the wilderness of the Pacific Northwest, the Badger has largely been left to his own devices. Gone are those heady days of endless plotting and counterplotting. Nearly forgotten is the relentless sense of urgency that accompanies conflict at such close quarters. What remains are the smoldering embers of a feud that once burned so hot and fast within the dense Mexican jungle.

That is not to say the danger of a raging firestorm has passed. The Tejon understands that the only thing preventing the hot coals from transforming themselves into a devastating inferno is the introduction of combustible fuel. And in this case reservoirs of potential kindling are vast.

For though the Lobo has temporarily abandoned his Caligulan compound in search of more comfortable climes, the indelible fingerprint of insanity with which he imbues his surroundings remains. Massive undertakings of marble and electricity have not been abandoned. They simply await the return of their lunatic creator.

It is in the inevitable resumption of these efforts that the Badger finds motivation to remain vigilant in the absence of his adversary. He knows that this all too brief detente will pass, and he has committed himself to ensuring a swift and calculated response to the Wolf's return.

To accomplish this goal, the Tejon has been conditioning his combat reflexes by engaging local wildlife in minor skirmishes. He actively seeks out adversaries that bite or sting or pinch and battles them into submission as a means of honing the skills so crucial in his conflict with the Lobo.

Today we find the Badger face to face with a menacing crab. He encountered the beast while gathering coconut bark for the barbecue, and not a man to simply abandon his meal at the first sight of trouble, the Tejon valiantly forced the crustacean into the shell of a burnt out coconut.

From there he gingerly avoided the crushing force of the extended claw and suavely posed for photos with his incapacitated prey. Hardly a man to induce suffering upon an innocent creature, the Badger later released the prisoner to its natural habitat.

The series of photos below depicts the Tejon as he masterfully poses with his adversary. While the Wolf idles away his time sipping cranberry juice and proselytizing his unique brand of lunacy in the western United States, the Badger remains battle ready in the jungles of Mexico. Could this be the tipping point? Only time will tell.

A Fearsome Encounter

These Claws Take No Prisoners

Hey Lil' Darlin'

Predator And Prey Strike An Accord of Peace

Wolf Battles The Open Road

It has been recently established that the Wolf is not the type of person who caters to implications that he is in any way "little." He is the Lobo, most certainly not the "Lobito," and when he does things he does them on a scale that leaves no doubt as to the virulent grandiosity of his character.

He doesn't build houses; he builds sprawling mausoleums of marble and stainless steel. He doesn't simply erect power lines; he launches campaigns of destruction that anger myriad government agencies and kill elderly German developers. And when he prepares for his annual sabbatical in the densely wooded mountains of the Pacific Northwest, he doesn't simply purchase a plane ticket and rent a car when he gets there. No, he outfits himself in a style that demands instant respect and attention.

For when one is accustomed to living within the tropical luxury of marble clad insanity, when one expects cold cranberry juice and Walker Texas Ranger, how can one be asked to forsake them when one is away from home? The answer is one cannot. And the simple solution is that one who wants these things brings them on the road.

And so the Wolf has devised a means of transportation that accomplishes these goals, all the while smartly complimenting his lust for conspicuous lunacy and mammoth impracticality. The result is a massive truck/camper combination that pushes at the outer bounds of America's constitutionally tolerant fascination with vehicular absurdity.

The photos below depict the Lobo minutes before his departure for the great green north. It is obvious that even in exiting the field of battle he conducts himself with an eye towards cultivating a sense of intimidating vulgarity. For who could have thought a modified 4x4 Ford F-350 Crew Cab Dually could be dwarfed by anything short of a 747? Who could have thought it necessary on top of all that truck and camper, to attach a steel rack and motorcycle? Who could have thought it prudent to meticulously dye each gray hair in his beard before posing in front of his own automotive Frankenstein with an animal that clearly does not wish to be there. The answer is one man. That man's name is the Lobo.

A Seamless Transition from Marble Mausoleum to Alpha Dog of the Asphalt

The Wolf Den Goes Mobile

A Road Warrior's Ode to Youth in a Bottle
(of Just For Men)

Wolf Battles Pejorative Nicknames

By now, it should be perfectly clear that the Wolf is a man who pictures himself striding through life with a brio and panache much larger than his slight frame might suggest. He knows in his soul that he is a big person stuffed into a little package and he demands that the world view him that way as well. For, if there is one thing that should be most apparent to readers, it is that the Lobo is not someone to quietly suffer the slings and arrows of attacks upon his person or surroundings.

When Dead Burt mistook him for a bowlegged yokel from Idaho, he educated the German with a formidable torrent of hate and malignancy. When Dead Burt's daughter made the same mistake, he responded with a herbicidal display of carnage and destruction. And finally, when a band of vacationing Mexicans refused to stop defecating in front of his gate, he devised a wily and effective method for dissuading them. By all accounts the Lobo is a man who, though slight in stature, projects a force of power and resonation. He engages all three dimensions in real time and does it with style.

That is why he becomes so infuriated when the few elderly Mexican women he associates with insist on addressing him as "Lobito."

For the Wolf, it is a cut that borders on the unfathomable. For really, who are these little old ladies to suggest that the Lobo is a "little" wolf? Who are they to suggest that he is little in any capacity? Don't they know that he has carved into the unyielding jungle a monument to all that is excessive and depraved and eternally unnecessary? Do they think that someone named "Lobito" would be capable of spearheading the feats of design and engineering involved in ensuring that his cranberry juice remains at a fixed temperature?

In the reality that exists outside of the Lobo's vision of himself, these women have never considered these questions. For when the nice innkeeper or friendly seamstress that sews his torn pillowcases encounter the Wolf, they see a silly little man stumbling through an ill-conceived and horribly pronounced sentence in broken Spanish. They smile, maybe say, "Si Lobito" as a kind term of endearment, and go about their business without a thought. The Lobo also smiles, turns away, and is instantly crushed by the existential implications that he is widely considered to be "little."

On more than one occasion the Wolf has expressed his dissatisfaction with the nickname to the Badger. He has never overtly betrayed the extent of the psychological turmoil he experiences upon hearing it, but the Tejon can sense the doubt and despair.

Now make no mistake, the Badger is not foolish enough to think that this uncertainty in any way diminishes the danger of the Lobo as an enemy. The events surrounding Dead Burt are still excruciatingly present in his consciousness. If anything the Lobo's existential dread could push him into rash and even more dangerous action.

But at the same the Tejon recognizes the potency of this knowledge as a psychological weapon against the Wolf. Drawing on his knowledge of propaganda, the Badger has begun an innocuous grass roots campaign to draw community awareness to the viability of incorporating the nickname "Lobito" into everyday conversation with the Lobo.

Recognizing the power of the mural in the rich history of Mexican art, the Tejon commissioned a piece by a local artist. While the finished product is simple and understated in its aesthetic, the Badger has great faith in the influence of the medium. Below lie photos of this piece of urban art. Only time will speak to its effectiveness.

A Breakthrough in the Art of Psychological Warfare?

The Badger Votes With his Thumb

Wolf Battles Common Sense: The Carnage Continues

It finally happened. The Wolf's drive to secure power for his home via high-voltage cable has crossed that obscure yet indelible line that separates foolhardy obsession from lunatic bloodlust. Yes, the Lobo has decided that someone must pay for the fact that boundless electricity continues to elude him. Sadly it is the fertile Mexican jungle that has been forced to offer up the proverbial pound of flesh.

Just as it seemed Angela the camera wielding kraut had permanently mothballed the Wolf's plans to connect to Dead Burt's existing power line, the jungle roared with news of renewed electrical progress. The Lobo decided to take matters into his own hands and he began by enlisting a crew to assist him in his assault on the surrounding trees, vines, bushes, and shrubs.

As the dust and chainsaw exhaust settled a scene of bitter brutality and destruction revealed itself. A road once surrounded on all sides by lush jungle had been transformed into a twisting thoroughfare of pastoral scar tissue. It had become, for all intents and purposes, the ideal conduit for ferrying electricity from one point to another.

The Wolf struggled to affect a posture of remorse in the aftermath of this display of unchecked aggression. He lamented the need to mar the beauty of his surroundings. He assured anyone who would listen that "it really kills [him] to cut down trees but [he] doesn't have a choice."

Many would believe him. And in light of the Lobo's repeated mantra "I want what I want," it can all come to sound entirely reasonable. The man wants a flat screen plasma television and ice cold cranberry juice. That he wants these things in a place and manner staggeringly ill-suited for them is secondary. Nature dictates that the jungle will grow back. It doesn't, however, offer any guarantees that his cranberry juice will chill itself.

Yet the Badger knows that there is more to this story than a man with limited yet specific demands cutting down a few trees in order to make his life more comfortable. For he happened to stumble across the Wolf and his legion of goons in the midst of their herbicidal orgy of destruction. And what he saw left an indelible impression of horror upon his otherwise battle hardened psyche.

To depict the scene in detail would undoubtedly scandalize even the most depraved souls. Suffice it to say, the Lobo and his minions appeared to be garnering more "satisfaction" from their work than seemed reasonable or decent. Before he could fully compose himself he even let slip that he had simply been "raping nature like I've done all my professional life." This certainly wasn't a man merely doing what had to be done for the sake of a high voltage power line.

Now what caused the Wolf to finally cross the threshold from an already profound insanity into the maniacal depths he now inhabits remains unknown. Perhaps he could no longer muster the strength to confine the Caligulan gaiety he enjoys within the marble clad privacy of his home. Maybe the voodoo faucet he opened in his battle with Dead Burt finally consumed him. Whatever the reason, his latest outburst of madness has had the (unintended?) effect of dissuading Angela from any further efforts to keep him from securing a steady supply of electricity.

The comforts of home seem to finally be within the Lobo's grasp. For the sake of humanity in general, let us hope that by the time the project is complete the Wolf hasn't developed a taste for something more exotic than cranberry juice (blood of virgins?).

Markings of a Madman

Victims of Depraved Pagan Bloodlust

At This Point the Badger Decides to Remain in the Car

Wolf Battles Mildew and Mold With Marble

Maintaining a house in a tropic environ is not an easy task. Various forces of nature seek to destroy anything foreign. Termites devour cupboards, cabinets, and doors. The heavy saline air coats surfaces with a salt grime that also attacks the innards of household appliances. And perhaps most pervasive is the tendency for mildew and mold to thrive in the hot and humid fecundity of the surrounding jungle.

Battling these insidious fungal usurpers is best conducted with ironclad vigilance and liberal dispersals of chlorine bleach. Hot spots need to be identified quickly and removed immediately. There is also something to be said for incorporating within the design of the home certain elements that impede the proliferation of mold and mildew. Sufficient ventilation and building supplies that resist moisture are the most common examples of this practice.

In the construction of his home, however, the Wolf decided to create a new paradigm. Yes, he would erect a structure impervious to the threat of fungal invasion using materials most would deem to be counterintuitive to his goals. The result was a striking marble edifice with very little cross ventilation and interior walls covered in a cloth reminiscent of burlap.

But alas, the jungle once again failed to bend to the Lobo's will and mildew rapidly spread over much of the brown fabric adorning the living spaces. As usual the Wolf's response was quick and decisive. The burlap had to go. But what to use in its place? A lesser man would have settled for walls of painted plaster. Yet the Lobo doesn't believe himself to be a lesser man (the Badger does). He is a man that rules over his domain. And so he turned to the past and sought architectural inspiration from those who governed with the moxie and panache that he brings to every day life.

It was only natural that he would settle upon the Roman Emperor Caligula. For whose legacy is more closely linked to both the austere nobility of marble clad structures and the frivolous gaiety that takes place within them? It is hard to imagine a historical figure that more completely envelopes the Wolf's worldview.

And thus the Lobo set about transforming his moldy jungle abode into a stunning architectural tribute to his lifestyle guru. The Badger was there to document the undertaking as it unfolded. As a result of the project he has become convinced that just as Rome teetered on the edge of collapse under Caligula's rule, the jungle reign of the Lobo is precipitously close to implosion. And when the marble dust of depraved insanity settles the Tejon will be poised to grasp the scepter of victory.

The Lobo's Minions Undertake Their Master's Bidding

Roman Bath From Floor to Ceiling

Attention to Detail Even Caligula Would Approve Of

Don Quixote Wishing the Wolf Were a Windmill

Badger Battles Unlawful Incarceration

For the Badger, the bonds of brotherhood run deep. Even in those moments when the fury of battle might threaten to consume all avenues of his consciousness, he retains a constant filial connection with those similarly struggling against tyranny and injustice. That the situations of his oppressed brethren have no bearing on his own conflict with the Wolf is not enough to divorce the Tejon from their struggles. No, the Badger rallies to the needs of his comrades. And today we find him valiantly rushing to the aid of a group of imprisoned tejones.

Brothers in Arms, Held Against Their Will

The details behind their confinement are largely unimportant (they have been locked up to attract the almighty tourist peso). What rankles the Tejon is that they have been placed behind bars at all. For he feels a deep spiritual connection with badgers of all shapes and sizes and to discover that even a small fragment of his brood has been incarcerated for the viewing enjoyment of Mexican toddlers is emotionally crushing.

Badger and Badgers

To ease their suffering and perhaps offer even the faintest glimpse of hope the Tejon poses as a common tourist and slips behind the prison walls. Once there he sets about comforting his long-tailed comrades. The effect of his presence is instantly visible. Watch below as the Badger's gentle words of encouragement transform a despondent tejon into a plucky ball of raccoon annoyance.

In the Face of Great Adversity, A Badger Defies the Forces of Oppression

Having Drunk From the Eternal Spring of Tejon Optomism