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[Yuki]

*

[Ire]

Interesting... I'd heard of the whole 'Three Percenters' thing, but had forgotten what it was all about.

I have a few videos, but only two could be considered related:
Me singing Jayne's ballad: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DxUZ29XOqlM
Field stripping an AK: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0W9ewlIz2w (Kinda old, and not all the terminology is correct; my mind tends to go blank when explaining things verbally)

[Yuki]

Actually any videos made by members are on topic, so the others would be good too.

On another note, I just got the go-ahead from Claire on making a Hardyville show. That said,
I'm looking for voice and regular actors/actresses, and will start a dedicated channel on youtube
just for this show. Depending on who I can find for those positions, and whether or not I can
get a sponsor for some of the equipment and software I'd need to make a visual rather than just
radio-type production; it could go either way. If I can, I'd like to use the song "Uprising" by Muse
as the first season's theme. I'll have to see about getting permission for that.

GD

[Yuki]

<object width="746" height="413"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/cp/vjVQa1PpcFMXtcAFmu9ZiwLCDJEjcrcFc6xBaVvVES4="></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/cp/vjVQa1PpcFMXtcAFmu9ZiwLCDJEjcrcFc6xBaVvVES4=" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="746" height="413"></embed></object>

The above is the code to embed the future Hardyville series into your blog or web page.

The channel URL follows.

http://www.youtube.com/HardyvilleTheSeries

[velojym]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxDuFUSSd8E
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mo9eqgxLUYo

[Steven Mallory]

I don't have any film making skills whatsoever and have never made one, but I have appeared on youtube a cuppla times.  Here's one of my band, Shu, playing for a local TV show- I believe in April of '07.  It wasn't done too professionally, and it seemed to us that the place was being run almost completely by kids, so the awkwardness that we were feeling might show a little, but not a terrible performance, all things considered.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TvedJtjL9-w&feature=player_embedded

I'm the guy with the beard (it was so little back then!) and the Les Paul.  There.  Now you know.  I know you guys are cool, but don't go spreadin' it around!   

[Yuki]

Here is the script for the Pilot episode up for peer review.

Movin' to Hardyville

By Claire Wolfe
© 2009 Claire Wolfe
[AUTHORIZED TV SERIES: SCRIPT EDIT PILOT EPISODE(in brackets is the director's notes)]

[Preleude: Claire is on the phone with the editor of the newspaper she writes for then hangs up, sits down at her desk and starts to write her column about her life in the country. She begins the narration first and then the next scene fades in.]

[Claire narrates while a shot of her driving down a road in the middle of nowhere on her way into town plays]

To reach Hardyville, you must grind your way up to Lonelyheart Pass, then slither on ice into the Great Brown Valley. If you know where to look, you'll find the ghost town of Lost Fortune crouched at the foot of the grade. But this time of year, it's best not to stop. From Lost Fortune, count 4,387,004 sagebrush bushes and you'll find yourself at the one-and-only stoplight in the middle of nowhere -- Hardyville.

[Next Claire parks and walks into hog trough while continueing to narrate until Dora speaks.]
Half a block north, drop in at Hardyville's center of hot cuisine, the Hog Trough Grill and Feed. That's where, on this gray and snowy day, I found Dora-the-Exile-from-Yale staring in consternation at a menu.

[Dora speaks]
"Is this chicken or steak?" she grimaced.

[Claire speaks]
"What?"

[Dora speaks]
"This." Pointing. "It says chicken fried steak. Well, which is it? Chicken or steak?"

[Claire speaks]
"Mystery food," I shrugged. "Try it. You'll hate it."

[Claire narrates again, until dialogue restarts.]
She gave me that east-coast-martyr-to-hummus-and-arugula look, then turned back to the menu in search of something edible by her standards. She wouldn't find it. In Hardyville, you adapt to chicken fried steak or stick to your own kitchen.

Pretty soon Nat-the-rancher ambled in from the feed side of the operation, plopped some horse wormer on the table, and folded himself into one of the Hog Trough's slightly uncertain chairs. Nat's old and pretty grizzled. But he wears a cowboy hat even older and more weathered than he. The hat is the wonder of Hardy County and it stays firmly on his head through all waking hours of the day. I even once saw him keep the hat on as he took a back flip off a green horse and landed in cactus.

[Nat speaks]
"Hey," he greeted me. "There's the lady who's making Hardyville famous in that newspaper column. Not too famous, I hope. Don't want a lot of strangers movin' in."

[Claire speaks]
"Don't worry. I'm telling everyone that Hardyville and all you guys are imaginary."

[Dora speaks]
"I feel imaginary sometimes," sighed Dora, still scanning the menu in hopes of locating a vegetable.

[Nat speaks]
"Imaginary, huh?" Nat mused.

[Claire speaks]
"Yeah, but strange thing; I still get a lot of requests from people who think they want to live here."

[Nat speaks]
"You think they really do? Want to live here, I mean?" Nat scratched his whiskers.

[Claire speaks]
"No. They just think they do. Most of 'em would run screaming bonkers out of here if they stayed more than a week. They imagine they want a picturesque life in some picturesque town filled with rugged individualists. But not many want to be rugged individualists, or even slightly inconvenienced individualists. Soon as they really understood in their bones that the nearest Wal-Mart is 93 miles away ... that they have to fix their own radiators ... that they might make $10,000 a year here if they're lucky ... and that the Hardyville One-Plex is going to play Anastasia clear into the next century -- pfft! gone!"

[Dora speaks]
"And once they realize there's nothing to eat except ... um ... Rocky Mountain oysters," added Dora. "By the way, what are Rocky. ...?"

[Claire and Nat speak]
"You don't want to know," Nat and I rushed to assure her.

[Nat speaks]
"Well, you two are both born city girls," Nat went on. "And you're doin' okay here."

[Claire speaks]
"Yeah, but in my case, it's simple. I'm stubborn enough to put up with anything for the sake of being left alone and having some breathing space. Hardyville's about as good as it gets for that. End of story."

[Dora speaks]
"Well, I miss concerts and libraries and ... oh, a lot of things," sighed Dora. "I even miss freeway gridlock, sometimes. But I'm getting used to it."

[Claire speaks]
"You already got used to the snow plowing," I agreed.

[Dora blushes as Claire narrates some more. ]
Dora blushed. When she first moved to Hardyville she famously violated the modern Code of the West. She moved onto a scenic little acreage half a mile past the sign that said, "Road not plowed beyond this point." Then, come the first snowstorm, she went howling into the county commissioners' office, reminding them that since she lived there now, they'd darn well better not "forget" to plow for her.

[Dora complains loudly in background to a man in an office while Claire continues to narrate.]
True, they weren't plowing her road. Just like the sign says, M'am. And they couldn't see any reason to deplete their tiny road maintenance budget now, just because some snooty college girl from Connecticut never learned how to read.

[Scene changes over to Dora and Nat coming to conclude their agreement. Claire continues to narrate.]
Unlike many notorious California folks -- or New York folks -- or Denver folks, for that matter, Dora got it. She shut up and started trading with a local rancher -- Nat. He plows, she delivers home baked bread. Dora learned. But too many transplant folks would just sit and whine about the lack of services until they finally got what they wanted -- and got our taxes launched into the sky. Or they'd leave, sniveling all the way to the coast about how we benighted rubes failed to appreciate their Bountiful Efforts to Improve Our Community.

[Scene changes to Claire typing. Claire continues to narrate.]
You see, that's what I mean when I say Hardyville is a state of mind. It's not where Hardyville is that matters. It's how Hardyville is. If you honestly want Hardyville, and all the cranky, troublesome, but spirit-filling independence it implies, then don't bring your dependencies to Hardyville. Don't bring them anywhere else you go, for that matter.

You want to live in Hardyville? I tell you the secret, then, that Hardyville is as real as it is imaginary. It's at least as real, and as much a part of twentieth-century America, as Atlanta or Minneapolis. More real than Los Angeles, Washington, DC or Aspen, Colorado.

How do you get there? If you can't find Lonelyheart Pass, you can start in the direction of Hardyville by thinking about the way you're living now. Are you racing like a little maze-rat, just to keep yourself in fancy toys? Do you fantasize about independence while tying yourself to every tax-funded service available? Are you living vicariously, via television? Do you choose to spend your days in a little gray cube? Is your mind in a little gray cube? Are you giving your freedom away to every diktat spewed by some gov-o-crat, because you're too risk-averse to declare that your life belongs to you? Have you put your kids in day care, soccer and gymnastics, more than in your life? Do you hate your life, but somehow never manage to take real steps to fix it? Are you using people -- or being used by them -- instead of having honest relationships? When it comes right down to it, do you choose convenience over independence? Do you choose the status quo over the uncertainties of happiness? Do your deeds fail to match your words, your hopes and your ideals?

Then you're not on the road to Hardyville. If you want to be on the road to Hardyville, then turn around.

Oh yes, Hardyville exists. And no, it isn't a quaint throwback to the past. It isn't some nostalgic remnant of nineteenth-century Americana. It's as modern and accessible as any other place, in its own way. But it's too inconvenient for contemporary tastes.

Most people will never make it anywhere near Hardyville. Even -- maybe especially -- most people who say they want to. Hardyville, like freedom, will remain the province of a few who give enough of a damn to put up with the inconveniences, or who care enough to change their hearts and lives for a more fulfilling, but somewhat risky, life.