Be afraid...

Brace for the carnage and the subsequent rubber-chicken farm. Two words: Killer Bunnies.

For those of you who know, I really don't have to say more. For those of you who don't, it's probably prudent to let you know what you're walking into. This card/dice game pits players against one another, armed to the teeth (if they're lucky) with a Kitchen Whisk, Torque Rings or, worse yet, Sharks WFLB*. And that's only if they survive the Cyber Bunny attacks or the Plutonium Radiation. But be warned: It doesn't pay to be nice in this game, and somebunny will always get hurt, or at least abducted by aliens — if they're lucky.

Having noted a few choice tidbits of information on the subject here and there since the last Ft. Rob, I'm anticipating several knock-down drag-out fireball competitions of epic proportions between Dryden Meints and Ben Harless, with a close eye kept on Aldy, which I imagine is always a good idea. ;-)

The rest of us will likely perish several times over and in spectacular fashion, no doubt. Myself, I can only hope my bunnies suffer a terrible misfortune while trapped in an old Fiat before being attacked by the Ebola Virus — or WORSE, (Bittersweet) Chocolate-Covered Anti-Matter Raisins — power-boosted by the Minilith, thus rendering my F18 Hornet and my wimpy-yet-thoroughly-entertaining Green Gelatin (With Evil Pineapple Chunks) utterly useless. I really hate when that happens.

There will be tears. There will be laughter. There will be many people awake past midnight. Choose your bed-down locations wisely.

*With Frickin' Laser Beams!

Technology on the prairie

Good news, everyone! Chris has WiFi Internet on his cell phone plus Bluetooth, as does my computer, so we'll be able to do updates as his wireless plan permits. (No, that's not him up there. Man, it has been a long time since we've seen you, huh?)

Allow me to translate (all you math and science geniuses I'm related to hush while the English major tries to do math): [Chris + cell phone(WiFi)] + [Gina + MacBook(Bluetooth)] + (Prayer x Wireless signal) = LIVE FT. ROB BLOG

Updates likely to be posted anytime after 7 p.m. CDT since that's when his free Web minutes kick in on weekdays. Awesome.

Those farm guys are hooked up! (I love relating such stories to some of my coworkers. I swear they think Nebraska is a third-world country sometimes.)

NO ONE GETS LEFT BEHIND

Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Arewethereyet? AREWETHEREYET?!

Hello. My name is Gina, and I'll be your tour guide. Sorry.

Actually, I can think of worse things. I mean, Butch gave me an award for my Christmas letter when I was something like 11 years old. SURELY with a journalism degree and a few years of newspapering under my belt — OK, almost 10 — I ought to be able to keep this entertaining, if not spelled correctly.

As far as I can tell, the only thing standing in my way at this point is the possible absence of adequate technology on the prairie. But you know what? If photojournalists can transmit award-winning photography from a mountain during a major wildfire, I'm betting I can get the job done... somehow. Fortunately, I have a Guinea pig — er, research partner? More on that later.

And without further ado, I present to you...

Ft. Rob — THE BLOG.
*cheering goes here. ahem.*

It's a work in progress. Stay tuned... and enjoy. :-)

-G