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Welcome to the sixty-eighth Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

The topic this week was selected by Rocky Torok from the Northwest Territories of Edloe Island, and it was: Yak.

The excellent theme music is by Guy David

SOMETHING NEW

Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You're more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.

I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.

Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.

VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

Who had the best stories in Weekly Challenge #68?
	Tom from Footnote
	JD
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast
	Guy David from Guy David dot com
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	Elisson from blog d'Elisson
	Rocky Torok
	Chris from Chris Carlisle.net
	Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize... it's refrigerator magnets for the podcast. Massive amounts of fridge magnets were mailed out in the past week... watch your mail, and let me know if I've missed you.

It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

---

TOM

Yellow Yoni Yurt Yearned Yuri. "Yolanda Yellow Yak," Yelled Yuri. Yearling Yolanda Yak Yarelessly Yawned. Yuri Yanked Yoked Yellow Yak. Yolanda Yapped Yipped Yelped Yes. Yeasty Yam Yen Yolanda Yielded. "Yonder Yankee Yahoos" Yelled Yuri. Yak Yolanda Yexed Yellow Yams. Yuri Yammered, "You You You!" Youthful Yahoos Yanked Yearling Yak. Yuri Yelped Yipped Yapped Yes. "Yellow Yurt Yet," Yelled Yuri. Yeshiva Yale Yachtsmen Yes Yeshiva Yale Yachtsmen Yup Yodeled Yearly Yule Yodels "Yuck Yuck," Yelled Youths Yankee Yahoos Yielding Yearling "Yeah," Yelled Yuri "Yeah." Yarrished Rolanda Yawned Yernlessly. Yielding Yellow Yoni Yurt Yuri's Yarn Yesterday's Yarn "Yakity yak" Yammer Yolanda

JD

The 4th Mounted Yaks were the heart of the regiment. They had fought in every war for a 100 years. Each campaign had brought new glory. Each battle had added to the legend. Only foes knew the terror of the charge of 500 yaks. Sparks jumping from their flying hooves as they pound across a rock covered plain. Flame red eyes stabbing deep into the soul. Steel encrusted horns gleaming in the early morning sun, ready to gore. Line after line of hairy humped bovines closing in, blood lust filling their brains.

Did you ever smell 500 yaks?

Yaks.

Yuck.

CALEB

Poised the attack yak is ready to pounce Natural born killer this fiend ounce for ounce The fearsomest deadliest of all of the yaks Very few ever see one even fewer come back

Hooves like thunder, lightning for veins
Joe went looking for one but all that remains
Are his screams of anguish from up on the hill
Sometimes in autumn I hear those screams still

Now we square off this attack yak and I
I go for my rifle I hear his wild cry
And how does it end with defeat or aplomb
To find out just visit yakpenis.com

GUY DAVID

The Red Yak of Destiny is an understanding god. When we need crops for the winter, he gives us crops. When we battle with the twotelgloo tribe, we win.

Last summer, I went and asked The Red Yak of Destiny for a son, but instead he gave me a daughter. I got angry at him. I went back to him and said "you gave me a daughter when I asked for a son." He just smiled and asked me to bring my wife. Next summer I had two boys. Sure, they have long red fur and horns, but their mine.

LAIEANNA

The auditions weren't going so well and Lydia was tired. She buzzed for the next potential failure to be ushered in. None of the actors had been right for the part. The company needed someone who was perfect to appeal to their target buyers. With a new product, the first ads were always crucial.

The door swung open. Lydia glanced up at the next actor shuffling in. Shocked, she stared in awe as he began his line.

"I can't believe it's not yak butter," he said with confident surprise.

Lydia sprung up, applauding wildly. "That was fabulous, Fabio! Absolutely fabulous!"

ELISSON

Morris was a miserable Mongol.

He was the hindmost in his Horde. Weak of arm, near of sight, with compromised riding skills, there was no chance he would ever amount to anything in the empire of the great Khan.

Worst of all, he hated yaks. Loathed everything about them: their stinking wooly coats, their rancid milk, their stringy meat.

Unfortunately for Morris, the Mongol diet was 98% yak, 2% green leafy vegetables. Clothing? All made from yak wool, including the boxers. Itchy.

And, of course, everyone lived in yurts made of yak-skin.

"It's enough to make me yak!" shouted Morris.

ROCKY

It began as a social experiment.

I wanted to bring in livestock to my community, for several reasons. Besides the fact that

I'm just crazy about Yak, I really wanted to bring a little something extra to my neighbors,

besides richer soil.

I noticed the other day, one of the females was looking a little bit sad. I've seen that

look before. It was heartbreak.

With a series of dashes and dots, I had Bessie stamp out in Morse Code what was bothering

her.

With a big yak tear in her eye, she stamped out in code her pain in one single word...

RADAR....

CHRIS

Hello Clarice. Don't bother with the trace, I'll be brief.

I understand you just had a birthday. Did you receive my gift basket? The hand crème contains a special moisturizer derived from yak's milk, something you can't get stateside. I do hope you'll try it once forensics is done with it.

Tell me Clarice, was there a party at the office? Did the FBI spring for a cake, pass a card around for signatures, gather at your desk to sing happy birthday? Sounds charming; pity I couldn't make it.

Well I believe our time is up. Happy Birthday, Agent Starling.

Z

A mad, shaggy beast is running amok on Main Street, smashing cars and breaking store windows.

Sheriff calls for help, and a pickup truck pulls to a stop in the middle of the street.

His ancient boots are cracked with time, caked with mud from distant lands.

He raises his hand slowly and approaches the beast, humming a Himalayan sleeping chant.

The tornado of horns, fur, and hooves slows... and stops with a grunt.

The Yak Whisperer places his hand on the beast's forehead and smiles.

His other hand holds a gun, and he shoots.

The town will dine well tonight.

---

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Croncast - 2008-06-18.mp3
Show: #500
Length: 29:13
Size: 20.1mb
Format: mp3

Show us some love and leave us a review at iTunes

Last time I have to listen to this!
You know you like my voice, Baby
I am surprised you are not crying
It's like a Hallmark Holiday
I just wanted to make sure we hit 500 shows
Back in the day with the old gear
Doesn't it seem like you are creating more work?
Not really
Transitioning into something new
The new show is "Life in the Can"
You can get the new shows at www.lifeinthecan.com
Three days a week still and a weekly best of the three shows
The first show will be released Thursday June 27th, 2008
We're excited about the new show
It would be rad if you and I could work together
Getting paid to do the shows would be great
I went to Jeanie's house last night
Cracking open the hand carved lesbian door
No crumpled up High Life cans
The Eden like backdrop
Deer walked right up
She had deer prints on her roof
Training ground Santa's deer
Getting them presents for the house
Populating her yard with beasts
Show up and build an Arc too
Betsy "Noah" Smith
I get wait to Zeus out there
You had a part of your E Hollywood True Story
The Improv dinner theater audition
I purposely didn't tell you this, Kris
What?
Where the auditions were being held
Ok
Where was it?
At Culver's
Oh, Baby
Did you get a milkshake afterward?
Your first audition was at a fast food restaurant
It proves you want it
It's embarrassing but it does prove you want it
I'm proud of you
Most people wouldn't have gone
What's more uncomfortable than going to open mic night?
Listening to open mic night stories
We have no context for this
How did it make you feel?
Maybe she is a biker
Going out on a high note
Thanks to everyone for throwing in their support for the show
In the effort to Keep the Archive Alive
That would be funny
No it's not
Thanks for listening to everyone
Whether it has been 500 or 12 shows, thank you
We've had a great time doing the show
The new show is, Life in the Can - www.lifeinthecan.com
You just can't end it Mr B! Can you!
Keeping you happy three days a week with a bonus
Thank you for letting us entertain you.

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Tags: Life in the CanLitCHigh LifeHallmark HollidayCulver's

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How To Audition Loudspeakers - The Critical Listening Way.

In late 2003, I was in the crowded bar of the Evelyn Hotel for the album launch of Sydney rock stalwarts Bluebottle Kiss’ fifth album, Come Across. Only a few months earlier, the band had ripped through a ferocious retrospective set at the Rob Roy, which left me thoroughly converted and with a bad case of tinnitus. My excitement at hearing their new material was palpable. I may even have been shaking. When main man Jamie Hutchings walked through the room during the support acts, I gushed so much to my friend that she laughed at my “man crush.”

Fast forward to mid 2006 and Bluebottle Kiss again have a new album, their first since the departure of founding member Ben Fletcher. It’s called Doubt Seeds and it’s a double album. At 20 tracks and a little over 80 minutes, Sufjan Stevens would probably call it an EP, but it comes in one of those big clunky double-CD cases so you know it’s going to be a “big” album.

When I saw this ambitious packaging and the promotional sticker claiming that the album “evoke[s] the spirit of Tom Waits, Neil Young, Sonic Youth, Coltrane, Sonic Youth and more,” I have to admit to misgivings. Double albums are foolish at the best of times, and when they indulge the band’s long-hidden passion for free jazz, only more so.

I am pleased to reassure you that it’s nothing of the kind. Sure, it’s big; it has long horn-section freakouts; it name-checks former Australian Prime Minister Harold Holt. But it’s that rarest of beasts—an ambitious record that lives up to its claims.

Previous Bluebottle Kiss albums have borrowed heavily from the swaggering indie rock of the Afghan Whigs and Seeds is no exception. Disc 2’s “Little Black Dahlias” would not have sounded out of place on the late-90s output of either band, especially with the presence of a rejoicing choir in the mix. Still, like all Bluebottle Kiss’ magpie-like borrowing, it’s never facile aping or pastiche—it’s an exploration of what made bands like The Whigs great.

The promised free jazz influence is most apparent on “Dream Audit,” a chaotic maelstrom that morphs into a monstrous Fugazi-like rifforama and finally into Hutchings’ trademark surf-guitar influenced rock. The intensity never lets up for a second and the stylistic shifts seem anything but forced.

The mellower direction previously explored on 2002’s Revenge Is Slow returns for tracks like “Scrub the Mist.” Centred on a simple piano line and delicate banjo plucking, it still retains the passion of the louder tracks. Hutching’s sounds perpetually on the verge of collapsing under the weight of some great emotion—not in a petulant emo-kid way, but the tension of a grown man struggling with the knowledge that it doesn’t get any easier with time.

It’s clear from the liner notes that Hutchings intended this album to be a musical encyclopedia of the last half-century of music. It’s nothing of the sort, of course, but to have succeeded in drawing together so many disparate influences in a record that is still uniquely the work of one band is a triumphant achievement.

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