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

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 Common Sense Revisited: A Visit From Dead Burt's Daughter

When we last checked in on the Wolf's senseless drive to extend a high voltage power line to his home, he had just danced a quick jig on Dead Burt's grave and was proceeding unabated with his plan. Things were going swimmingly and by his own estimates he was a mere days from consuming electricity with reckless abandon.

Well it shouldn't come as a shock to most that extenuating circumstances have once again impeded the Lobo's forward progress. This time he has been thwarted by the intervention of Dead Burt's daughter.

It seems that Dead Burt's daughter, known locally as Angela, inherited much of her father's teutonic disposition. For she has assumed the mantle forfeited by Dead Burt's death and resumed the bitter battle her father waged against the Wolf with a terrifying vengeance.

Her first order of business has been to halt any further action regarding the Lobo's desire to acquire electricity. In this endeavor she has shown remarkable tenacity. For in one fell swoop she has succeeded in striking a deep fear into the hearts of the contractors charged with completing the project.

Armed with only a camera she descended upon the worksite and threatened to take photographs of what she claimed was illegal construction. Fearing the implications of having their images set to film, the workmen fled. When the Lobo inquired about what had transpired he was told that the contractors sensed "aggression and anger," and that they were made to experience "feelings of intimidation." They have subsequently refused to proceed.

Shortly Before They Were Set Upon by a Camera Wielding Kraut

A Lone Man Quivers High Above the Jungle Floor

And thus the Wolf once again finds himself at an electrical impasse. Perhaps worse, his enemy is uncomfortably familiar. The effects of this latest setback have worn heavily on his psyche. He isn't sure that he still posses the fortitude to repeat the voodoo onslaught that defeated Albert, and yet he is absolutely certain that his life cannot continue without electricity. It is an existential crisis of staggering proportions.

For his part the Badger has remained on the periphery. He knows that fighting a two front war will likely overwhelm the Lobo. And thus he waits patiently for the moment when the Wolf is at his most vulnerable. Perhaps a moment in which his cranberry juice is too warm for the delicate nature of his palate, or maybe on an evening in which he is forced to forgo the History Channel. Rest assured that at that moment, the Badger will be there.

Wolf Battles Dead Burt: A Lesson in Revenge

It is understandable that many of you may be curious as to why the Badger goes to such great lengths to ensure that his feud with the Wolf remains undeclared. Why wouldn't he just come out and face his adversary in an open field of battle? The answers to this question are numerous and complex. For one, a cold conflict affords him unrestricted access to the Lobo's operational hub. Another is the tactical advantage he gains through his knowledge of Lobo's habits and routines. But there is also an additional, more mysterious reason. This tale from the Lobo's past may begin to at least explain some of those circumstances. A hint for the impatient reader: It involves Bad Mojo.

Long before the birth of the Tejon, before even the arrival of the man who begat him, there existed within this jungle paradise a conflict between two mighty forces. On one side was the Lobo, builder of mausoleum inspired dwellings. On the other was Dead Burt, known then simply as Albert the German.

The roots of this struggle can be traced to the day when Lobo, ever sensitive to the vast stores of electricity needed to run his home, attempted to surreptitiously extend Albert's high voltage power line another mile to his house. There was nothing overtly deceptive or criminal in this act. Lobo had no plans to siphon off or steal electricity from his German neighbor. No, he simply desired to join the line Albert had previously erected. He supplied the nineteen poles, cable, and labor. He made arrangements for the installation of another meter so that no mistake could be made as to who consumed what.

But this action roused within Albert a great anger. Certain Teutonic elements of his character that had laid dormant perhaps for generations poured forth. He decided at that moment that he would crush the Lobo with all the efficient brutality his German disposition could muster.

For we must understand that Albert had a vision. Already a minor celebrity in the world of resort development, he had descended upon the Mexican jungle from the mountains of Canada. He brought with him vast experience and formidable resources. Smartly clad in linen pants and flowing blouses, he set about transforming an empty tropical beach into a vast and sprawling resort complex. That Lobo already inhabited a small corner of this beach was of little concern to Albert. He had a vision.

Dead Burt's Canadian Vision

It turns out that nineteen extra power poles were not a part of Albert's vision. And when he saw them shooting jauntily from the ground he swore that not a single volt of electricity would ever pass through their outstretched arms. Using one of his liaisons in the Mexican power company, he put just enough money into just the right hands to ensure that Lobo would never see the completion of his project.

Dead Burt's Mexican Vision

When Lobo discovered what had happened he was also quite angry. Though it is true that he erected those nineteen posts without speaking to Albert, it is also true that he had really not done anything wrong. Seeking to pursue a diplomatic solution, Lobo approached Albert and offered his side of the story. For his part though, Albert was intractable. He informed Lobo that as long as he inhabited his earthily body and perhaps even after, no electricity would flow from his poles to Lobo's house.

The Sad Tale of a Pole Without Power

At this point relations between the two men eroded rapidly. What had once been a coexistence based upon reluctant respect and a mutual love of outlandish fashion became a communion of seething hatred. The man of the daisy dukes and hiking boots and the German dandy of a million blouses found themselves bitter enemies.

Each man brought a specific set of skills to the conflict. Albert had deep pockets and powerful connections. Lobo relied on vast reservoirs of insanity and determination. The confluence of these tactics created a crushing stalemate. Albert continued with his development and Lobo remained without power.

Lobo did have another tool, however. A tool that most would believe to be a function of his insanity, but a tool nonetheless. He began to hurl bad mojo in Albert's direction. He opened a voodoo faucet and for a year and a half, whether Albert was in Canada or Mexico, let flow a torrent of acid and malignancy. To be sure, it was a slow moving process. But just as we know the glacier will continue to inch unflaggingly forward, Lobo felt in his bones the sweet satisfaction of impending success.

In the end Albert died of a heart attack. That he was eighty-five could have been a contributing factor. It's hard to say. But it really makes no difference to the Lobo. It sealed within his consciousness a sense of true power. He had through sheer force of will vanquished a formidable adversary. The crafty German brutality of his enemy was no match for bad mojo. Albert the German came to be known simply as Dead Burt. The jungle slowly began to reclaim what would have been a sprawling development. And Lobo danced a quick jig on his grave.

Dead Burt's Mexican Vision Overrun by Jungle and Graffiti

Make no mistake, the gravity of this story weighs heavily on the Badger's psyche. Though he is a skeptic, he is also a relatively young man. The potential that bad mojo might bring about his early demise is a risk he is understandably not willing to chance. A secret feud, at least in his eyes, remains the best option. Besides, I think we can all agree that Voodoo is creepy.

P.S. Lobo still doesn't have power.