I've got a test in economics tomorrow, so, needless to say, I have a ton of studying to do. Therefore, I got on the internet, joined an online creative writing community, and, apparently, for no reason at all, composed this ridiculous poem (I may want to consider reforming my study habits):
Prompt: When walking through the woods, a tree transforms into an elf and leads you on an unbelievable journey.
Nature Walk
As foulness fades from my fungus prone palate,
The surrounding glades resound with the announcement
Of such rare visitation: of the wayward, turned alien.
This strange sylvan quickening, is quickly quite sickening,
And, thus, scrambling for the support of a young sycamore,
I wretch out the foul picnic and am sick no more.
My breathing, still hard from the purge of old harms,
Is soothed and relieved by arboreal arms,
Maternal perhaps, how they ease respiration.
But slowly, what nature hath nature’s caress?
I quizzically turn ‘round at the question’s behest
and Bah! How shocking! I’m not by myself:
Having jumped some significant distance, herself,
In place of the tree, an equally startled elf!
Stunned, paralyzed, but slowly, I melt,
Absorbing the sight of the seemly young elf,
still frozen: a visage so wide with surprise,
I can’t help but lose track of the time in her eyes:
…an endless passage dreamscape of unreality...
…of long-forgotten structures since combined to form my mind.
“I thought you a tree,” murmurs me to the maiden.
“But if I were a tree, then how would you get laid then?”
Aaand, of course, at this point, I will have to stop writing,
But yeah, trees on mushrooms are awfully exciting. :)
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
make "alms-a-matter" part of your alma mater
"So the short version is:
You --- Click below and donate a few bucks for childhood cancer research.
I --- Shave my head (and donate a few bucks too).
You don't have to go anywhere or even get up from your computer.
Just click below and give a few bucks.The St. Baldrick's events are an awesome way to raise money for cancer research. We all have people near to us who have been or are being affected by cancer, and I know you have five bucks you can put toward this - skip the Chipotle for a day.
All you have to do:
Go to https://www.stbaldricks.org/get_involved/donate.php?ParticipantKey=2009-62913 and donate little cash.
THANK YOU SO MUCH!!
-Jeff"
I'd do it myself, but my agent won't let me shave my head. I figured I could at least make this post and a small donation. I gave $5.01 so that my name appears higher up on the list than all the dumb suckers that gave $5.00. That's charity. Don't copy my idea.
Pop quiz: Know thyself
If thy art a beaver, wave thy tail. If thy art a duck, quack thy... throat. If thy art a cloud, avoid condensation as increase in density can result in drastic weight loss. If thy art a person, give money to Jeff's thing. Hey wait, that's you!
Also, I am looking for a new agent. Working two jobs is getting exhausting. If anyone would be interested in subordinating their lives to the effort of advocating my grandeur, I'll cut you a small percentage of the profit you generate. This is not a scam! Act now!
But really, Jeff's thing is a good idea. In fact, I will not accept any candidate who has not made a donation (in increments of $5.00 or less, each under a different recognition name).
You --- Click below and donate a few bucks for childhood cancer research.
I --- Shave my head (and donate a few bucks too).
You don't have to go anywhere or even get up from your computer.
Just click below and give a few bucks.The St. Baldrick's events are an awesome way to raise money for cancer research. We all have people near to us who have been or are being affected by cancer, and I know you have five bucks you can put toward this - skip the Chipotle for a day.
All you have to do:
Go to https://www.stbaldricks.org/get_involved/donate.php?ParticipantKey=2009-62913 and donate little cash.
THANK YOU SO MUCH!!
-Jeff"
I'd do it myself, but my agent won't let me shave my head. I figured I could at least make this post and a small donation. I gave $5.01 so that my name appears higher up on the list than all the dumb suckers that gave $5.00. That's charity. Don't copy my idea.
Pop quiz: Know thyself
If thy art a beaver, wave thy tail. If thy art a duck, quack thy... throat. If thy art a cloud, avoid condensation as increase in density can result in drastic weight loss. If thy art a person, give money to Jeff's thing. Hey wait, that's you!
Also, I am looking for a new agent. Working two jobs is getting exhausting. If anyone would be interested in subordinating their lives to the effort of advocating my grandeur, I'll cut you a small percentage of the profit you generate. This is not a scam! Act now!
But really, Jeff's thing is a good idea. In fact, I will not accept any candidate who has not made a donation (in increments of $5.00 or less, each under a different recognition name).
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Textual Gratification II: The Great Valley Adventure
I am neutral to present the next installment of Textual Gratification: The Great Valley Adventure. This was a dark time, before I quit school, quit smoking, became a vegetarian, and started working out. The content is bad for you. Reader discretion is mandatory.
yay for pastoralism. Read my blog!
Clearly you are delusional in your suckiness.
At the risk of deflating my ego, let's talk.
Oh, I forgot you're all bigoted against whites.
That felt weird. Later.
I'm just glad you're in another state right now.
Eh, your anger will subside by then.
Sounds like you arranged for me not to wake up.
Don't plz. I got pro tools, started a blog, and I'm trying to do school every now and then.
Also, I work constantly. Maybe that's why it seems like I've been ignoring you.
Same shit, different shoes (that I stole from our lost and found).
Btw, I know a gentleman never bla bla bla, but how'd it go?
My vampire name is either The Golden Phoenix of Scandinavia or Serenula Lonesomhel.
Vampiricism is more my roommate's thing, cuz he is one from like fucking Croatia or whatever.
Eh its okay. I come home from work when he leaves so it works out.
He used to think he was the anti christ and I used to think I was the regular christ, so, again, it works out.
Die slowly, but not so slow that I ever have to see you again.
I'm not even watching. I'm writing about Murgok, the omnipotent dolphin overlord.
What happened to your neurons? I guess I haven't seen you in a while.
I'm thinking of a color between one and the letter d that is a verb.
Just testing the brokeness of your brain. Skate City was a good response though.
So how did it start breaking?
Eh the planet is alright. There's nothing else for you and me, really.
I just wish I had the time or money to see more of it.
O m g! I can buy a miniature usb controlled missile launcher. How annoying would that be?
I hope you melt it to teach its friends a lesson.
All you are saying... is give snow a chance?
Nyquil, good idea.
Wow, nyquil works.
That nyquil did me in. I'm gonna crash.
Nyquil fucks you up.
Nyquil was a bad idea.
Oh, thanks. Idk, I actually can't remember the last time I drew, but this was more like a schematic anyway.
Meh. You should see my paintings and sculptures.
Wow, I an just wasted.
I am wasted now.
I'm damn wasted.
Ow. I drank too much last night. What's up with you?
We talked on the phone? Look at that, dialed call. That must have been what I was doing before I came back to the car to get Brittany. Lol, I wondered where I went.
Eh, seems like it would just dig the hole deeper. Who knows who I'd have to kill after that?
What was your movie about? How big was the biggest explosion?
I have this theory that all people are made hot by virtue of their being someone's cousin. The cousinless are hideous.
The other night I was talking to these guests from West Virginia and I was teasing them about being hicks. Then I said, "It's okay. My grandparents were second cousins." They just stood there and eventually said, "West Virginia is a pretty modern place."
I went to a costume party as a lamp the other night, but I was pretty tired from work where I got bit by a dog.
Yeah... but I feel like putting up futile and counter productive resistance to my obligations.
Thank you. It's kinda my thing. The trick is to pull out an A and still have your job when it's all said and done. Nevermind the perpetual anguish.
Hey, I never claimed to be smart in your presence, I'm pretty sure, although I do make that claim a lot, so who knows.
Ooh cool. So these three Indians get arrested in St. Louis for being too drunk. To get out of jail, they explain that they were from the Northwest and that they had come to St. Louis to learn about Jesus. So, a bunch of missionaries leave for Oregon where, turns out, the natives don't care about Jesus, but the land is amazingly fertile. They wrote home, and thus began the Northwest Migration (Oregon Trail, etc.). Cuz of three drunk Indians.
I wish you could turn off your liver like a firewall. No, liver, I don't want you to work right now, save yourself for unwanted poisons.
Yeah, stupid gods. I want more organ control.
(my friend voted for herself as sorority president)
Well that's all that matters. To vote is to win, even if you lose.
It's also a crock of crap! You lost. You voted and it didn't matter and you lost!
What a waste of time!
And we only live so long... Along with the presidency, you lost some life. A big big loss for liz this time.
But for real, I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe next year?
$2.25 is a really good price for Tombstone. Did you know?
Mmm lean cuisine. Won't fill you up and always leaves you sad.
Ahh. Nice clean apt. And it only took me over two hours.
(I'm trying to help a friend plan a date)
Hmmm, rob a convenience store. Then say jk and give them the money back?
Or if you have a friend working somewhere you could pretend to rob him.
Yeah that sounds good too, I guess... Oh... just in comparison to my robbery plan.
What about Grant? You could break into his apt and then have a choreographed stool fight!
Dude, I meant like breakfast stool...
I don't argue! Your position is fundamentally flawed.
I decided to go for it! I'm just gonna do it!
I'm eating strawberry Hagendazs while reading Wealth of Nations!
You say: that's fuckin hardcore!
No I'm not! I'm gonna get really drunk off alcohol soon. Probably after work tomorrow.
What if I kill people? Kill them like a man.
So how'd you end up with the Turkish gangsters?
There's a reason they won't let those stab-happy atheists into the EU.
What topic? Well, nevermind. Did you eat anything interesting lately?
I try. Very hard.
When I was at LC my phrase "trouncing the yam" caught on.
It was not uncommon to hear, "Where are Steve and Candy?" "Oh, they're trouncin the yam."
Similarly, I find humor in the phrase "bangin her like a nut case." Just thought of that like 30 min ago.
Stupid lucky Joe's doin em both, I bet.
There's only one bed, which I always perceived as an obstacle. She would just crash with her roommate and her boyfriend and, consequently, I would just go home.
Stupid Joe. Some 6'5" pillars of tattooed manhood have all the luck.
I accidentally mentioned she was 20 at the bar and she freaked out on me, at which point I said f u, imma go play with these strangers. (Yeah, not so cool of me in retrospect) Now I'm frying salami and lamenting that they drank all the booze while I was at work.
We were on the dance floor and wonder woman and hermione disapperated. I turned to my friend the penguin and said, "Oh no! We lost our wiminz and perhaps our self worth."
Cuz I'm drinking girl drinks? I like stuff that tastes good.
Oh, eh, I can down booze like a bitter old lady, so I'm not offended.
Naw, that's just my inherent pirate nature.
Lame is the path of righteousness.
Yeah but what if a sandal hating neo nazi actually took them and burned them, and you could have saved them by stealing them?
But you can't be sure. See, you can't save everyone, so you should steal from them.
Exactly, you found the sandals and wanted to keep them safe from nazis.
I look like Charleton Heston.
Shut up! I am Charleton Heston!
Am too! Let my people go, Judas!
My fortune cookie says, "The dream is within you."
It's busier than a bitch in Burma!
Yay! Work is finally over! Election party?
John... Is this Ian?
Well that explains a lot. Wanna come to my friend Ian's election party?
Sorry, I left my phone in my car.
What a great night! I won in Beruit and poker and Obama won the presidency!! Yay! Here's to a great four years!
to be continued...
yay for pastoralism. Read my blog!
Clearly you are delusional in your suckiness.
At the risk of deflating my ego, let's talk.
Oh, I forgot you're all bigoted against whites.
That felt weird. Later.
I'm just glad you're in another state right now.
Eh, your anger will subside by then.
Sounds like you arranged for me not to wake up.
Don't plz. I got pro tools, started a blog, and I'm trying to do school every now and then.
Also, I work constantly. Maybe that's why it seems like I've been ignoring you.
Same shit, different shoes (that I stole from our lost and found).
Btw, I know a gentleman never bla bla bla, but how'd it go?
My vampire name is either The Golden Phoenix of Scandinavia or Serenula Lonesomhel.
Vampiricism is more my roommate's thing, cuz he is one from like fucking Croatia or whatever.
Eh its okay. I come home from work when he leaves so it works out.
He used to think he was the anti christ and I used to think I was the regular christ, so, again, it works out.
Die slowly, but not so slow that I ever have to see you again.
I'm not even watching. I'm writing about Murgok, the omnipotent dolphin overlord.
What happened to your neurons? I guess I haven't seen you in a while.
I'm thinking of a color between one and the letter d that is a verb.
Just testing the brokeness of your brain. Skate City was a good response though.
So how did it start breaking?
Eh the planet is alright. There's nothing else for you and me, really.
I just wish I had the time or money to see more of it.
O m g! I can buy a miniature usb controlled missile launcher. How annoying would that be?
I hope you melt it to teach its friends a lesson.
All you are saying... is give snow a chance?
Nyquil, good idea.
Wow, nyquil works.
That nyquil did me in. I'm gonna crash.
Nyquil fucks you up.
Nyquil was a bad idea.
Oh, thanks. Idk, I actually can't remember the last time I drew, but this was more like a schematic anyway.
Meh. You should see my paintings and sculptures.
Wow, I an just wasted.
I am wasted now.
I'm damn wasted.
Ow. I drank too much last night. What's up with you?
We talked on the phone? Look at that, dialed call. That must have been what I was doing before I came back to the car to get Brittany. Lol, I wondered where I went.
Eh, seems like it would just dig the hole deeper. Who knows who I'd have to kill after that?
What was your movie about? How big was the biggest explosion?
I have this theory that all people are made hot by virtue of their being someone's cousin. The cousinless are hideous.
The other night I was talking to these guests from West Virginia and I was teasing them about being hicks. Then I said, "It's okay. My grandparents were second cousins." They just stood there and eventually said, "West Virginia is a pretty modern place."
I went to a costume party as a lamp the other night, but I was pretty tired from work where I got bit by a dog.
Yeah... but I feel like putting up futile and counter productive resistance to my obligations.
Thank you. It's kinda my thing. The trick is to pull out an A and still have your job when it's all said and done. Nevermind the perpetual anguish.
Hey, I never claimed to be smart in your presence, I'm pretty sure, although I do make that claim a lot, so who knows.
Ooh cool. So these three Indians get arrested in St. Louis for being too drunk. To get out of jail, they explain that they were from the Northwest and that they had come to St. Louis to learn about Jesus. So, a bunch of missionaries leave for Oregon where, turns out, the natives don't care about Jesus, but the land is amazingly fertile. They wrote home, and thus began the Northwest Migration (Oregon Trail, etc.). Cuz of three drunk Indians.
I wish you could turn off your liver like a firewall. No, liver, I don't want you to work right now, save yourself for unwanted poisons.
Yeah, stupid gods. I want more organ control.
(my friend voted for herself as sorority president)
Well that's all that matters. To vote is to win, even if you lose.
It's also a crock of crap! You lost. You voted and it didn't matter and you lost!
What a waste of time!
And we only live so long... Along with the presidency, you lost some life. A big big loss for liz this time.
But for real, I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe next year?
$2.25 is a really good price for Tombstone. Did you know?
Mmm lean cuisine. Won't fill you up and always leaves you sad.
Ahh. Nice clean apt. And it only took me over two hours.
(I'm trying to help a friend plan a date)
Hmmm, rob a convenience store. Then say jk and give them the money back?
Or if you have a friend working somewhere you could pretend to rob him.
Yeah that sounds good too, I guess... Oh... just in comparison to my robbery plan.
What about Grant? You could break into his apt and then have a choreographed stool fight!
Dude, I meant like breakfast stool...
I don't argue! Your position is fundamentally flawed.
I decided to go for it! I'm just gonna do it!
I'm eating strawberry Hagendazs while reading Wealth of Nations!
You say: that's fuckin hardcore!
No I'm not! I'm gonna get really drunk off alcohol soon. Probably after work tomorrow.
What if I kill people? Kill them like a man.
So how'd you end up with the Turkish gangsters?
There's a reason they won't let those stab-happy atheists into the EU.
What topic? Well, nevermind. Did you eat anything interesting lately?
I try. Very hard.
When I was at LC my phrase "trouncing the yam" caught on.
It was not uncommon to hear, "Where are Steve and Candy?" "Oh, they're trouncin the yam."
Similarly, I find humor in the phrase "bangin her like a nut case." Just thought of that like 30 min ago.
Stupid lucky Joe's doin em both, I bet.
There's only one bed, which I always perceived as an obstacle. She would just crash with her roommate and her boyfriend and, consequently, I would just go home.
Stupid Joe. Some 6'5" pillars of tattooed manhood have all the luck.
I accidentally mentioned she was 20 at the bar and she freaked out on me, at which point I said f u, imma go play with these strangers. (Yeah, not so cool of me in retrospect) Now I'm frying salami and lamenting that they drank all the booze while I was at work.
We were on the dance floor and wonder woman and hermione disapperated. I turned to my friend the penguin and said, "Oh no! We lost our wiminz and perhaps our self worth."
Cuz I'm drinking girl drinks? I like stuff that tastes good.
Oh, eh, I can down booze like a bitter old lady, so I'm not offended.
Naw, that's just my inherent pirate nature.
Lame is the path of righteousness.
Yeah but what if a sandal hating neo nazi actually took them and burned them, and you could have saved them by stealing them?
But you can't be sure. See, you can't save everyone, so you should steal from them.
Exactly, you found the sandals and wanted to keep them safe from nazis.
I look like Charleton Heston.
Shut up! I am Charleton Heston!
Am too! Let my people go, Judas!
My fortune cookie says, "The dream is within you."
It's busier than a bitch in Burma!
Yay! Work is finally over! Election party?
John... Is this Ian?
Well that explains a lot. Wanna come to my friend Ian's election party?
Sorry, I left my phone in my car.
What a great night! I won in Beruit and poker and Obama won the presidency!! Yay! Here's to a great four years!
to be continued...
Sandwich; Chapter 1: Advent Rising:The Touch of The Thunderdawning
Originially posted 2/17/09
It was my day off from work, there was beautiful weather, and I was strolling down Colfax Ave to meet my gorgeous co-worker, Jan, for lunch. Never been better. My bubble was pricked by the the sound of loud voices, which I curiously followed to a nearby alley. As I turned the corner, I saw two policemen with their backs to me, beating a Hispanic man who was curled up on the concrete. I overheard one of the cops,
“This is making me hungry for Mexican food,” and his partner replied,
“Yeah, after this, let’s go get Flingchiste Sandwiches.” Then, out of the blue, the Hispanic fellow interjects,
“Flingchiste’s not Mexican, boss.” The cops stopped and looked at each other for a moment before they resumed beating him with a renewed vigor, while one of them screamed,
“YOU! HAVE THE RIGHT! TO REMAIN! SILENT!!” Suddenly, against my own will, I blurted out,
“Is it true?” The policemen started and looked around at me. One of them frowned and said,
“Nothin’ to see here, son,” while the other one asserted,
“Everything’s under control.” I found myself walking towards them, until I was only feet away. Everything was frozen as I looked at the Hispanic man and asked again,
“Is it true?” No one breathed. The police crouched next to him and slowly turned their heads, awaiting his response as if it were the score of the Super Superbowl. The poor man took his time, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could look into my eyes. The seconds were hours of peculiar anticipation. Finally he said,
“It’s not Mexican food. That’s the truth.” For a moment, I stood there in shock. However, I was ripped back to my senses when one of the policemen jerked towards me and shouted,
“Get him!” Instinctually, I turned and darted back out onto Colfax. I could hear the policeman radio me in, while the other one was shouting at the people I passed,
“Stop that guy! Somebody stop him!” I ran all the way back to my apartment and collapsed at the kitchen table, grateful that I had escaped the law. However, as I caught my breath, I began to feel a weird sensation. Slowly, I was enveloped by the bonds of a strange and different prison…
This shocking event had left me with some serious questions and concerns. If the Flingchiste Sandwich is not Mexican food, then what is it? If I can’t ethnically categorize something, then how do I know whether it’s safe or not, or how will I know if I feel like having that kind of food tonight?
The germ of uncertainty bored into my soul. In the weeks that followed, I was plagued by the sandwich. Everywhere I went, Flingchistes flitted in the corner of my eye. Their distant shadows haunted my dreams, floating through the void amidst listless, yellow question marks. Every night, I jerked awake, panting in a cold sweat as I made my way to the mirror and stared deep into the empty eyes of a man who no longer knew his world.
My performance at work began to slip. My concentration was broken by stray Flingchistes around the office. One day, Jan approached my desk and burst,
“John, I can’t hold back any more. I've been meaning to talk to you.”
“Okay, Jan. What? Go.” I gave a nervous laugh as I glimpsed a Flingchiste peaking out at me from under her long skirt.
“John…” I took a deep breath and looked up into her sad, concerned face, framed in her loose scarlet locks, “You have to let this one go. It was just some guy in an alley. Who knows what kind of drugs he was on?”
“He was telling the truth, Jan!” I replied defensively, “And I’m gonna get to the bottom of this.” I glanced at an elusive sandwich in the corner of the ceiling, then banged my fist against the desk and added,
“You can’t hide forever!”
“Look at you, John! Look at what you’ve become!" She paused, "We won't make budget this quarter... Management is considering cutting someone..." I grunted as I scanned the office ceiling. "John, two weeks ago you were up for a promotion, but now? I just… we don’t want to lose you.” Suddenly she burst in to tears, “It’s just a stupid sandwich!” she cried, burying her face in her hands and a mess of red curls. I sighed in misery as she quietly sobbed. After a moment, I touched her shoulder and said,
“I’m sorry, Jan.” She looked up at me gladly through her runny mascara, “I’m sorry,” I repeated. I placed my name tag on the desk and left the office behind.
It was a hard decision to make, and I got sick in the elevator. But when I got up and wiped off, I walked across the parking lot with new found conviction. A purpose. There is no turning back now, I thought. I will not waver, I will not rest, and I will not fail, nor will I stop, surrender, or die, or negotiate! ...until I know what kind of ethnic food the Flingchiste Sandwich is. to be continued...
Taken from a later post:
Spoiler for the critically ignored novella, Sandwich: The term "Flingchiste" is actually a mispronunciation of "Felicia Stick", the name of Philliam Penn's perennially slim mistress. Designing the sandwich to fatten her up, Philliam penned his creation for his skin and bones lover. In time, however, people would come to call the sandwich after him instead; hence, the common misidentification, Philly Cheesteak. By the end of their adventure to recover this information, having unraveled the vast Quaker conspiracy to obscure the origins of the sandwich, John and Jan had fallen in love. Today, they are considered the world's most prominent researchers in the field of sandwich origination, and are currently studying the sandwich development potential of higher primates worldwide (while staying one step ahead of the mercenary Jesuit assassins).
It was my day off from work, there was beautiful weather, and I was strolling down Colfax Ave to meet my gorgeous co-worker, Jan, for lunch. Never been better. My bubble was pricked by the the sound of loud voices, which I curiously followed to a nearby alley. As I turned the corner, I saw two policemen with their backs to me, beating a Hispanic man who was curled up on the concrete. I overheard one of the cops,
“This is making me hungry for Mexican food,” and his partner replied,
“Yeah, after this, let’s go get Flingchiste Sandwiches.” Then, out of the blue, the Hispanic fellow interjects,
“Flingchiste’s not Mexican, boss.” The cops stopped and looked at each other for a moment before they resumed beating him with a renewed vigor, while one of them screamed,
“YOU! HAVE THE RIGHT! TO REMAIN! SILENT!!” Suddenly, against my own will, I blurted out,
“Is it true?” The policemen started and looked around at me. One of them frowned and said,
“Nothin’ to see here, son,” while the other one asserted,
“Everything’s under control.” I found myself walking towards them, until I was only feet away. Everything was frozen as I looked at the Hispanic man and asked again,
“Is it true?” No one breathed. The police crouched next to him and slowly turned their heads, awaiting his response as if it were the score of the Super Superbowl. The poor man took his time, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could look into my eyes. The seconds were hours of peculiar anticipation. Finally he said,
“It’s not Mexican food. That’s the truth.” For a moment, I stood there in shock. However, I was ripped back to my senses when one of the policemen jerked towards me and shouted,
“Get him!” Instinctually, I turned and darted back out onto Colfax. I could hear the policeman radio me in, while the other one was shouting at the people I passed,
“Stop that guy! Somebody stop him!” I ran all the way back to my apartment and collapsed at the kitchen table, grateful that I had escaped the law. However, as I caught my breath, I began to feel a weird sensation. Slowly, I was enveloped by the bonds of a strange and different prison…
This shocking event had left me with some serious questions and concerns. If the Flingchiste Sandwich is not Mexican food, then what is it? If I can’t ethnically categorize something, then how do I know whether it’s safe or not, or how will I know if I feel like having that kind of food tonight?
The germ of uncertainty bored into my soul. In the weeks that followed, I was plagued by the sandwich. Everywhere I went, Flingchistes flitted in the corner of my eye. Their distant shadows haunted my dreams, floating through the void amidst listless, yellow question marks. Every night, I jerked awake, panting in a cold sweat as I made my way to the mirror and stared deep into the empty eyes of a man who no longer knew his world.
My performance at work began to slip. My concentration was broken by stray Flingchistes around the office. One day, Jan approached my desk and burst,
“John, I can’t hold back any more. I've been meaning to talk to you.”
“Okay, Jan. What? Go.” I gave a nervous laugh as I glimpsed a Flingchiste peaking out at me from under her long skirt.
“John…” I took a deep breath and looked up into her sad, concerned face, framed in her loose scarlet locks, “You have to let this one go. It was just some guy in an alley. Who knows what kind of drugs he was on?”
“He was telling the truth, Jan!” I replied defensively, “And I’m gonna get to the bottom of this.” I glanced at an elusive sandwich in the corner of the ceiling, then banged my fist against the desk and added,
“You can’t hide forever!”
“Look at you, John! Look at what you’ve become!" She paused, "We won't make budget this quarter... Management is considering cutting someone..." I grunted as I scanned the office ceiling. "John, two weeks ago you were up for a promotion, but now? I just… we don’t want to lose you.” Suddenly she burst in to tears, “It’s just a stupid sandwich!” she cried, burying her face in her hands and a mess of red curls. I sighed in misery as she quietly sobbed. After a moment, I touched her shoulder and said,
“I’m sorry, Jan.” She looked up at me gladly through her runny mascara, “I’m sorry,” I repeated. I placed my name tag on the desk and left the office behind.
It was a hard decision to make, and I got sick in the elevator. But when I got up and wiped off, I walked across the parking lot with new found conviction. A purpose. There is no turning back now, I thought. I will not waver, I will not rest, and I will not fail, nor will I stop, surrender, or die, or negotiate! ...until I know what kind of ethnic food the Flingchiste Sandwich is. to be continued...
Taken from a later post:
Spoiler for the critically ignored novella, Sandwich: The term "Flingchiste" is actually a mispronunciation of "Felicia Stick", the name of Philliam Penn's perennially slim mistress. Designing the sandwich to fatten her up, Philliam penned his creation for his skin and bones lover. In time, however, people would come to call the sandwich after him instead; hence, the common misidentification, Philly Cheesteak. By the end of their adventure to recover this information, having unraveled the vast Quaker conspiracy to obscure the origins of the sandwich, John and Jan had fallen in love. Today, they are considered the world's most prominent researchers in the field of sandwich origination, and are currently studying the sandwich development potential of higher primates worldwide (while staying one step ahead of the mercenary Jesuit assassins).
Divine Spooning
Originally posted 2/15/09
Good lord, don't ask why, but I sent an evaluation of the conceptual stability of god vs. the spoon to a friend of mine Darrell Grizzle. Actually, in the 30 seconds since I have written that sentence, I've found out that it is an old tradition for godparents to give their godchild a spoon. Darrell is my brother's godfather so maybe that's why... (Well, actually actually, initially it was about which one is more easily bent, which, if you know anything about bending spoons, is an interesting question). Anyway, Darrell, I'm sure that I speak for Rusty when I say, don't bother until you have acquired the Unbendable Spoon of God (or a comparable utensil (no apostle spoons!)).
Okay... so, in response to the conceptual stability of spoon vs. god, Darrell sent me a few questions. I'll post them here with my answers, but I encourage you, reader, to provide your own responses in the comments. I'll take those responses and add them to my post. If you would like to revise an answer that you've already given over the phone, just say so in the comments. Also, if you have any other good questions that relate to spoons and god, don't hold your tongue, unless you can do that and type your question with the other hand.
1) If the spoon bends in the forest, will anybody hear it?
John: Yes, if someone with very good hearing is bending it.
Chip: Insufficient data to compute probability.
2) Can God create a spoon so strong that even he/she/it cannot bend it?
John: And give up omnipotence?! Pshh! It is currently the second strongest spoon in the western hemisphere (The Unbendable Spoon of God).
Chip: You can abbreviate the question to its first two words, and the answer is the same as for #1.
3) Would God use a spoon to eat soup? What kind of soup would God eat?
John: Yes, obviously God uses a spoon to eat soup, unless God is asian, which HE is NOT, because neither is Santa. Actually, I just asked a Greek Orthodox preacher who was walking by (and who DOES look like Santa, lol) and he told me "His food is not of this kingdom." I replied, "So, you don't know, then?"
Chip: Ditto. But if there is a God who eats soup, it would have to be Vegetable Beef. After all, he placed us omnivores at the top of the food chain, didn't he? Or didn't he?
Matt B: Cream of Mushroom. What's the real answer?
Katie R: "Ambrosia is the food of the gods, duh."
Andrea Q: Split Pea because it is the best soup so God must be made of it.
Rusty: Clam Chowder, obvi (Why?) Cause its the best, helloooo
Andrea L: Welll as much as it pains me to say... chicken soup is for the soul right? And god's all soulful probably.
Brent A: God eats baby soup.
Jeff W: Ambrosia soup. (Well done! Someone else said that too. It's a good answer). Credit Carolyn. I just mumbled something about my tears and my balls.
Good lord, don't ask why, but I sent an evaluation of the conceptual stability of god vs. the spoon to a friend of mine Darrell Grizzle. Actually, in the 30 seconds since I have written that sentence, I've found out that it is an old tradition for godparents to give their godchild a spoon. Darrell is my brother's godfather so maybe that's why... (Well, actually actually, initially it was about which one is more easily bent, which, if you know anything about bending spoons, is an interesting question). Anyway, Darrell, I'm sure that I speak for Rusty when I say, don't bother until you have acquired the Unbendable Spoon of God (or a comparable utensil (no apostle spoons!)).
Okay... so, in response to the conceptual stability of spoon vs. god, Darrell sent me a few questions. I'll post them here with my answers, but I encourage you, reader, to provide your own responses in the comments. I'll take those responses and add them to my post. If you would like to revise an answer that you've already given over the phone, just say so in the comments. Also, if you have any other good questions that relate to spoons and god, don't hold your tongue, unless you can do that and type your question with the other hand.
1) If the spoon bends in the forest, will anybody hear it?
John: Yes, if someone with very good hearing is bending it.
Chip: Insufficient data to compute probability.
2) Can God create a spoon so strong that even he/she/it cannot bend it?
John: And give up omnipotence?! Pshh! It is currently the second strongest spoon in the western hemisphere (The Unbendable Spoon of God).
Chip: You can abbreviate the question to its first two words, and the answer is the same as for #1.
3) Would God use a spoon to eat soup? What kind of soup would God eat?
John: Yes, obviously God uses a spoon to eat soup, unless God is asian, which HE is NOT, because neither is Santa. Actually, I just asked a Greek Orthodox preacher who was walking by (and who DOES look like Santa, lol) and he told me "His food is not of this kingdom." I replied, "So, you don't know, then?"
Chip: Ditto. But if there is a God who eats soup, it would have to be Vegetable Beef. After all, he placed us omnivores at the top of the food chain, didn't he? Or didn't he?
Matt B: Cream of Mushroom. What's the real answer?
Katie R: "Ambrosia is the food of the gods, duh."
Andrea Q: Split Pea because it is the best soup so God must be made of it.
Rusty: Clam Chowder, obvi (Why?) Cause its the best, helloooo
Andrea L: Welll as much as it pains me to say... chicken soup is for the soul right? And god's all soulful probably.
Brent A: God eats baby soup.
Jeff W: Ambrosia soup. (Well done! Someone else said that too. It's a good answer). Credit Carolyn. I just mumbled something about my tears and my balls.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Textual Gratification
Originally posted 2/12/09
Well, I couldn't figure out what to write my next post about. Meanwhile, I have five months of text messages stored in my phone. I've decided to put my mouth where the paw meets the pasture, and (I don't know what that means. Its very late) throw down some best-of-texts-messages for your reading pleasure. My phone stores "sent" messages separately from the "inbox," so I'm just gonna string together some sent messages in chronological order and let you fill in the blanks. First two months, we'll see if this works... Oh yeah, warning, may contain material unsuitable for you and bla bla bla, ok.
"O. My prof is too hot to listen to. My notes are pathetic."
"Well now I'm on the train. Remind me next time I'm in class. She can migrate across my land bridge any glacial period of the week."
"I want to measure her gracial skull features with my caliper." "
I want her to show me a use for the hyoid bone aside from speech."
"Pretty girls in bikinis want to get me drunk. So much for studying."
"Turns out world tour of beer doesn't lead into paper writing very well."
"I am, in fact, a college student."
"I am deeply offended! I bleed whatever my school's colors are!"
"My doctor, the waitress at old chicago's, says I have senoritis."
"John? You're talking to Conrad Striker M.D. P.I.."
"I know. At least I have this paper cutter to play with. Finger in. Press. Sweet, I didn't get cut again. John and paper cutter 4 ever."
"If it helps, it was actually already done downloading and I still wanted to get drinks."
"Oh, idk if I can back that up with any brilliant melancholic insight."
"Fine, how bout I miss having sex with someone I believe I'm in love with."
"I'm tired of living in a state of perpetual competition. It is as tiring as it is idiotic."
"Everyone is absorbed in their own little movies and I'm tired of paying along with them."
"We are like bugs trying to grab as much web as we can, until we are completely bound when the spider arrives."
"Move less. Remain intact. Die with dignity. That was my best shot at depressing."
"Idk. The Broncos lost today. That's pretty bad."
"You know I'm not cool. Just row row row your boat, man."
"Lol. The good news is that bad news is buttercream too."
"I'm smoking while lifting. It makes me feel like a thug."
"And coughing and getting smoke in his eyes."
"Here is my #. That girl did seem ticked huh? Maybe she didn't catch my satirical tone."
"So are you guys talking again?"
"Oh, I just thought cuz of your convo last night."
"I'm still digging a hole with this girl..."
"What idk this chick is stupid i quit."
To everyone: "Lol, life is a hilariously meaningless condition! Just learn to laugh in the face of it's absurdity."
"Everything seems so reasonable to text when you are drunk..."
"I'm bored. Free entertainment please! {reaches out palm in entitled gesture}"
"Absolutly. I like having sex to be as much like viewing porn as possible. My eyes need more than the entire rest of my body." <= ..there were shallow motivations behind this not entirely true statement...
"Yeah my brain is fried"
"Wanna hear something embarassing about porn?"
"The other night, me and some friends are at chilis and charles is telling us about watching pirates with his girl when it was released, and I blurt out, o so that was back in '05. Everybody just stared for a sec before they busted out laughing." (I happened to work at blockbuster in 05, okay?)
"I am bored still. Any new theories?"
"Any supporting arguments?"
"Burger King is underrated."
"Can you qualify sketchpants for me?"
"Lol, you heard pakistan pres zardari called palin gorgeous and said he wanted to give her a hug?"
"Another thing to remember is that cia would never let nuclear attack happen. Lol they already took the fall for 9 11." <=I don't know what I'm talking about, as a rule of thumb.
"Lol, well, we'll see what happens with the economy here. Maybe we all get to go back to the block." <= Actually, maybe I do.
"Yeah its true. Myself is fun. But myself is also a slave driver."
"Nuh uh, I'm always like y haven't you started your paper, self?"
"Yeah but I'm always getting nagged."
"You could argue that the distinct things are a product of consciousness that, as an entity preexisting its own process of distinction, must be singular. But yeah, you whooped him pretty good."
"Well divisionless."
"Stupid work. Yeah, how does a characteristicless entity come to characterize itself as a characterizing entity? ehm lemme think for a sec."
"The idea of change is a product of distinguishing consciousness. The mind cannot become the latter until it already has... Damn you, paradox!"
"Unless things are not a product of consciousness and can change before we are aware of it. Uh oh."
"Oh just go crazy and even scare people if necessary."
"Today I was impersonating a t rex and shawnda told me i have 'no sense at all.'"
"No one is gonna have fun with you before you do."
"Everyone is charismatic when they are not contorting themselves, so, rarely."
"Yeah i'm behind blockbuster nailing a shelf for my keyboard onto my desk." (1:50 AM)
"I wish I had DLd drivers before I installed xp and lost my network adapter."
"It's okay I've spent the last three days in non-stop piracy and lock-picking. You are absolved of your sins by contrast."
"Con judgements in general.(?) I am the new world standard."
"No it's positive. It's like a really favorable curve."
"Well, it's already been accepted by most national governments: the me-tric system."
"Woooo! Coffee!"
"It shall be posted on my blog."
That's a good stopping point. Let me know if this was interesting or lame.
Well, I couldn't figure out what to write my next post about. Meanwhile, I have five months of text messages stored in my phone. I've decided to put my mouth where the paw meets the pasture, and (I don't know what that means. Its very late) throw down some best-of-texts-messages for your reading pleasure. My phone stores "sent" messages separately from the "inbox," so I'm just gonna string together some sent messages in chronological order and let you fill in the blanks. First two months, we'll see if this works... Oh yeah, warning, may contain material unsuitable for you and bla bla bla, ok.
"O. My prof is too hot to listen to. My notes are pathetic."
"Well now I'm on the train. Remind me next time I'm in class. She can migrate across my land bridge any glacial period of the week."
"I want to measure her gracial skull features with my caliper." "
I want her to show me a use for the hyoid bone aside from speech."
"Pretty girls in bikinis want to get me drunk. So much for studying."
"Turns out world tour of beer doesn't lead into paper writing very well."
"I am, in fact, a college student."
"I am deeply offended! I bleed whatever my school's colors are!"
"My doctor, the waitress at old chicago's, says I have senoritis."
"John? You're talking to Conrad Striker M.D. P.I.."
"I know. At least I have this paper cutter to play with. Finger in. Press. Sweet, I didn't get cut again. John and paper cutter 4 ever."
"If it helps, it was actually already done downloading and I still wanted to get drinks."
"Oh, idk if I can back that up with any brilliant melancholic insight."
"Fine, how bout I miss having sex with someone I believe I'm in love with."
"I'm tired of living in a state of perpetual competition. It is as tiring as it is idiotic."
"Everyone is absorbed in their own little movies and I'm tired of paying along with them."
"We are like bugs trying to grab as much web as we can, until we are completely bound when the spider arrives."
"Move less. Remain intact. Die with dignity. That was my best shot at depressing."
"Idk. The Broncos lost today. That's pretty bad."
"You know I'm not cool. Just row row row your boat, man."
"Lol. The good news is that bad news is buttercream too."
"I'm smoking while lifting. It makes me feel like a thug."
"And coughing and getting smoke in his eyes."
"Here is my #. That girl did seem ticked huh? Maybe she didn't catch my satirical tone."
"So are you guys talking again?"
"Oh, I just thought cuz of your convo last night."
"I'm still digging a hole with this girl..."
"What idk this chick is stupid i quit."
To everyone: "Lol, life is a hilariously meaningless condition! Just learn to laugh in the face of it's absurdity."
"Everything seems so reasonable to text when you are drunk..."
"I'm bored. Free entertainment please! {reaches out palm in entitled gesture}"
"Absolutly. I like having sex to be as much like viewing porn as possible. My eyes need more than the entire rest of my body." <= ..there were shallow motivations behind this not entirely true statement...
"Yeah my brain is fried"
"Wanna hear something embarassing about porn?"
"The other night, me and some friends are at chilis and charles is telling us about watching pirates with his girl when it was released, and I blurt out, o so that was back in '05. Everybody just stared for a sec before they busted out laughing." (I happened to work at blockbuster in 05, okay?)
"I am bored still. Any new theories?"
"Any supporting arguments?"
"Burger King is underrated."
"Can you qualify sketchpants for me?"
"Lol, you heard pakistan pres zardari called palin gorgeous and said he wanted to give her a hug?"
"Another thing to remember is that cia would never let nuclear attack happen. Lol they already took the fall for 9 11." <=I don't know what I'm talking about, as a rule of thumb.
"Lol, well, we'll see what happens with the economy here. Maybe we all get to go back to the block." <= Actually, maybe I do.
"Yeah its true. Myself is fun. But myself is also a slave driver."
"Nuh uh, I'm always like y haven't you started your paper, self?"
"Yeah but I'm always getting nagged."
"You could argue that the distinct things are a product of consciousness that, as an entity preexisting its own process of distinction, must be singular. But yeah, you whooped him pretty good."
"Well divisionless."
"Stupid work. Yeah, how does a characteristicless entity come to characterize itself as a characterizing entity? ehm lemme think for a sec."
"The idea of change is a product of distinguishing consciousness. The mind cannot become the latter until it already has... Damn you, paradox!"
"Unless things are not a product of consciousness and can change before we are aware of it. Uh oh."
"Oh just go crazy and even scare people if necessary."
"Today I was impersonating a t rex and shawnda told me i have 'no sense at all.'"
"No one is gonna have fun with you before you do."
"Everyone is charismatic when they are not contorting themselves, so, rarely."
"Yeah i'm behind blockbuster nailing a shelf for my keyboard onto my desk." (1:50 AM)
"I wish I had DLd drivers before I installed xp and lost my network adapter."
"It's okay I've spent the last three days in non-stop piracy and lock-picking. You are absolved of your sins by contrast."
"Con judgements in general.(?) I am the new world standard."
"No it's positive. It's like a really favorable curve."
"Well, it's already been accepted by most national governments: the me-tric system."
"Woooo! Coffee!"
"It shall be posted on my blog."
That's a good stopping point. Let me know if this was interesting or lame.
In Defense of Might, Morphin, Now-a-her Rangers
Originally published 01/03/09
It’s bloggin’ time! Mastodon! Pterodactyl! TYRANOSAURUS! Personally, I would either morph into a falcon, a tiger or…. (seems like I need to provide a third)… Oh! A whale! “Go, go, Whale Ranger! Mraaaawww. Click, click, click!” Plus, that would make a sweet zord. It filters out bad guys with its bristly teeth!! It maims overgrown Ahabs: “I’ll get you next time, Whale Ranger!” It will likely go extinct unless we change our mutually fatal, overly parasitic relationship with the world’s oceans.
But you didn’t come to my blog to get lectured on the irresponsible, unsustainable, and often illegal fishing techniques that are still practiced worldwide. You didn’t come here to be lectured on fertilizers containing nitrates that runoff into nearby bodies of water, causing algal blooms, which, in turn, cause hypoxia (an absence of oxygen) that can result in dead zones like the 50 mile radius around the Mississippi River Delta in the Gulf of Mexico (which also relates to my Whalezord)! You didn’t come here to be lectured about which aquatic environmental issues you won’t be lectured about, either! No, you came here today to get lectured on your political agenda against homosexuality, and, btw, you are of a Judeo-Christian faith.
As such, and as a social conservative, you might be saying, “gay people are living in sin. Just take a look at Sodom and (G)Amorah.” Yes, let’s do. Everyone knows what they were up to in Sodom. However, what went on in (G)Amorah is, today, known only by God and. Either way, they were engaged in homosexual activities. God told Abraham that they were an unsalvageable experiment, so deeply mired in sin that they had to be destroyed. Does this mean that God hates gay people? Sure, why not. I don’t care.
Abraham plays the devil’s advocate and tries to convince God not to exterminate these people. God’s all, “okay, if there are fifty good men, I’ll not blow up Sodom and (G)Amorah.” But, no, there weren’t 50 good men. Not even 20. Not even 10. Eventually, God is like, “just one good man and I won’t open a can of cataclysm, Abraham,” but no.
All God needed was one frickin good person. Therefore, you don’t need to send your kids to straight camp. As long as you focus on making yourself into a good person, we’re not gonna have a Sodom and Gomorra on our hands. Also, God didn’t say, “Yo, Abraham, go straighten these people out.” He didn’t condemn Abraham for not actively pursuing social change. All he asked from Abraham was absolute faith, which, actually, is enough of a task for a lifetime. So, maybe it would be good to focus more on your relationship with god, and less on the relationships of homosexuals.
Next up, I wonder why you think you are judging people for God. Don’t you think God can judge people on his own? In, maybe, 15th century Spain, the Inquisition aimed to create a purified Christian nation, in hopes that it would enable Ferdinand, as the Messianic “bat,” to conquer Jerusalem and usher in a new era. There is no doubt that the reassurance of being God’s chosen people allowed the Spanish to do incredible things. Cortez and Pizarro overturned two of the greatest empires in history (Aztec and Incan, respectively) with only a few hundred Christians. On the other hand, most people these days have come to regard 16th and 17th century Spanish inquisitors and imperialists as some of the most inhumane, despicable monsters in all of human history. The evils inflicted at the hands of this “purified Christian nation” should serve as a warning to anyone with a “new solution” or biblical social directive.
So, consider yourself lectured. I recognize the irony in telling people to live their lives without telling other people how to live their lives. What can I say? Murgok, the Omnipotent Dolphin Overlord, hates closed minded people, and needed a little help with the job.
“Keep our oceans clean, or kick it with Davey Jones. So says Murgok. So say we all!”
-The Clam Shell Etchings of John
P.S.: I wrote this post in response to David Freddoso's The Case Against Barack Obama. I asked an old guy why I should vote for John McCain and he gave me the book. Freddoso takes the reader's anti-homosexual attitude for granted. Apparently, I had never read a piece of neo-con literature before. Somehow I thought that the insanity of Fox News was limited to television, just because they seem more likely to burn books than write them. I gave it a fair chance, but Freddoso's hypocrisy was appalling. The twisted "verbage" he uses (such as "Obama brags," etc.) to characterize even Obama's factual statements really highlights his indictment of Obama's lamenting the absence of a Walter Chronchite because "Obama wants to tell you how to feel." Freddoso makes some legit points. Obama was a politician in Chicago. Of course he dealt with some corrupt people and organizations. He's got my vote though, so here's to the future. Anyway, I hope this post went okay for 48 hours of sleep deprivation. My presentation went well today and I feel mentally sound, but it's definitly time for bed. Thanks for reading!
It’s bloggin’ time! Mastodon! Pterodactyl! TYRANOSAURUS! Personally, I would either morph into a falcon, a tiger or…. (seems like I need to provide a third)… Oh! A whale! “Go, go, Whale Ranger! Mraaaawww. Click, click, click!” Plus, that would make a sweet zord. It filters out bad guys with its bristly teeth!! It maims overgrown Ahabs: “I’ll get you next time, Whale Ranger!” It will likely go extinct unless we change our mutually fatal, overly parasitic relationship with the world’s oceans.
But you didn’t come to my blog to get lectured on the irresponsible, unsustainable, and often illegal fishing techniques that are still practiced worldwide. You didn’t come here to be lectured on fertilizers containing nitrates that runoff into nearby bodies of water, causing algal blooms, which, in turn, cause hypoxia (an absence of oxygen) that can result in dead zones like the 50 mile radius around the Mississippi River Delta in the Gulf of Mexico (which also relates to my Whalezord)! You didn’t come here to be lectured about which aquatic environmental issues you won’t be lectured about, either! No, you came here today to get lectured on your political agenda against homosexuality, and, btw, you are of a Judeo-Christian faith.
As such, and as a social conservative, you might be saying, “gay people are living in sin. Just take a look at Sodom and (G)Amorah.” Yes, let’s do. Everyone knows what they were up to in Sodom. However, what went on in (G)Amorah is, today, known only by God and
Abraham plays the devil’s advocate and tries to convince God not to exterminate these people. God’s all, “okay, if there are fifty good men, I’ll not blow up Sodom and (G)Amorah.” But, no, there weren’t 50 good men. Not even 20. Not even 10. Eventually, God is like, “just one good man and I won’t open a can of cataclysm, Abraham,” but no.
All God needed was one frickin good person. Therefore, you don’t need to send your kids to straight camp. As long as you focus on making yourself into a good person, we’re not gonna have a Sodom and Gomorra on our hands. Also, God didn’t say, “Yo, Abraham, go straighten these people out.” He didn’t condemn Abraham for not actively pursuing social change. All he asked from Abraham was absolute faith, which, actually, is enough of a task for a lifetime. So, maybe it would be good to focus more on your relationship with god, and less on the relationships of homosexuals.
Next up, I wonder why you think you are judging people for God. Don’t you think God can judge people on his own? In, maybe, 15th century Spain, the Inquisition aimed to create a purified Christian nation, in hopes that it would enable Ferdinand, as the Messianic “bat,” to conquer Jerusalem and usher in a new era. There is no doubt that the reassurance of being God’s chosen people allowed the Spanish to do incredible things. Cortez and Pizarro overturned two of the greatest empires in history (Aztec and Incan, respectively) with only a few hundred Christians. On the other hand, most people these days have come to regard 16th and 17th century Spanish inquisitors and imperialists as some of the most inhumane, despicable monsters in all of human history. The evils inflicted at the hands of this “purified Christian nation” should serve as a warning to anyone with a “new solution” or biblical social directive.
So, consider yourself lectured. I recognize the irony in telling people to live their lives without telling other people how to live their lives. What can I say? Murgok, the Omnipotent Dolphin Overlord, hates closed minded people, and needed a little help with the job.
“Keep our oceans clean, or kick it with Davey Jones. So says Murgok. So say we all!”
-The Clam Shell Etchings of John
P.S.: I wrote this post in response to David Freddoso's The Case Against Barack Obama. I asked an old guy why I should vote for John McCain and he gave me the book. Freddoso takes the reader's anti-homosexual attitude for granted. Apparently, I had never read a piece of neo-con literature before. Somehow I thought that the insanity of Fox News was limited to television, just because they seem more likely to burn books than write them. I gave it a fair chance, but Freddoso's hypocrisy was appalling. The twisted "verbage" he uses (such as "Obama brags," etc.) to characterize even Obama's factual statements really highlights his indictment of Obama's lamenting the absence of a Walter Chronchite because "Obama wants to tell you how to feel." Freddoso makes some legit points. Obama was a politician in Chicago. Of course he dealt with some corrupt people and organizations. He's got my vote though, so here's to the future. Anyway, I hope this post went okay for 48 hours of sleep deprivation. My presentation went well today and I feel mentally sound, but it's definitly time for bed. Thanks for reading!
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