The First Feast: A Retrospective

I’m winding down to my summer hiatus and am going to be busy at work and getting my parents settled in Bar Äijä’s for the next couple of days, so here’s a quick retrospective on the second-to-last Bar Äijä’s bash: The Potluck Feast, The First Feast book release party.

It happened fairly prematurely since the book is only just finished and ready to read, but it was nevertheless a fun little party.


We even held a pub quiz, as is traditional. As I mentioned in a previous post, Mrs. Hatboy and I made an amazing little Tabo Norid as a prize. I also included a freeform artwork section this time around, because I was tired of trying to do maths while heinously drunk. For the record, I’m never going to try to do join-the-matched-pairs again, because there were just too many smartarse answers and figuring out which ones were right and wrong was just impossible.

Anyway, here’s some art.


Some of it, like this wrong-on-every-level version of the Astro Tramp 400 by someone who marked their quiz with a V (possibly cousin-in-law Wille), was just abysmal. Although the “kirkkovene” motif did sort of look like the Tramp and was repeated in several other submissions.


The drawing of Contro, complete with daffy look and warm cardigan, by my esteemed friend and official Bar Äijä’s minstrel Ilja Jalkanen, was excellent. Of course I think Contro is a bit rounder of head than this, but it’s very good.


The Pas drew a picture of Janus “Whey”, complete with nuclear explosions, double-middle-finger, flying / ejaculating penises and a failed swastika with the words “Hale Hortler”, because The Pas.


But the runaway winner of this part of the quiz was my good pal Mikko, who knocked it out of the park with a glorious Rakmanmorion, Conqueror of Space. And an adorabubble aki’Drednanth pup. Slightly overdeveloped tusks but she might be a little older here.

posted from my Huawei mobile phone while sitting in car at home in carport before leaving for work.

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
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