The new site's first post: It smells DELICIOUS

For the longest time I had a girl in my life that was the main part of my life. Now, she says she hates me and never wants to see or hear from me again. And there is only one thing I can say to that:

Thank Malcor, Demon of the dancing sheep.

It seems weird now, at least to me, but she-ite, I was a total tool for her. It is an embarrassing part of my life that I never want to repeat nor to remember. What pisses me off the most is that I stopped writing in my live journal. I felt so sorry for myself that I cut out all parts of my life that made femb hg gv damn sister mess ibj u7ymnbhygj messing with my keyboard saA . aaw wqa``

Damnit wqsqwse2s2sw2sw2s2sw2s2sw2s2sw2. Gawd, that was retarded. I need to muzzle my sister.

There was a game that my family used to play with me at El Chico. Because there was one in the mall, we went to it almost every Friday night. I’m weird about salsa, so every time I went to get some on my chip, my dad or sister would slam my hand down, dunking the chip and breaking off a good chunk of it in the process. Then, for some reason, something would always happen to where we would get the meal for free. It was weird, every time we were there someone would fall down and break their leg or I’d get a whole tray of margaritas tumped on me, which is as delicious as it sounds. The reason I even make this statement isn’t because I want the crazy and interesting “haavos” person to post on my shiny new site, though I cant say that would be cool; im saying it for… well I was going to say that it was because my sister was typing.

Couple things that I just learned and wanted to share before I cut out:

À Margot Kidder had a nice ass when she was in The Amityville Horror.

à Shakira, seriously, your new single, what the fuck were you thinking?

Á Women always look sexier in the summer time

 Never date someone who is already dating someone else; even if you love them, they more then likely wont stay loyal to you.

¶ Apartments are a bad investment, go for a duplex: cheaper then a house, and you only have one neighbor you have to deal with.

x With regards to World of Warcraft, the Alliance is full of homosexuals and 10 year olds who sic GM’s on you while the Horde is full of crazy people. Choose your side wisely.

Catch ya’ll later.

Everlong is a shitty class song

The following was an e-mail to a girl I once liked. It didn't work out, but i really liked this one.

Enjoy!!

Man I’m bored. I have nothing to do. You know what that means… its time for NAKED BANJO! Nah nininini nah nininini nah nah…or not (but more then likely). I really have nothing to do. As I’m writing these words, I’m sitting in my living room, sipping on the last dregs of a warm glass of generic coke. My moms down here too, but she’s mostly asleep. I feel really bad for her because she’s got a bit of a cold. So where should I begin? I doubt that you’re gonna get this before tomorrow (I doubt that I’ll even send it before twelve tonight) but what the hell’ you know. You ever notice that if you try to force spontaneity it doesn’t come out very well, but right afterward it comes out great and you get all pissed off because it never freaking works when its supposed to and then you try to explain it but all that comes out is weird disjointed comments that make you look crazy?! Yeah, me neither. I have a DVD of the clerks animated show (questions? go to google my busty lass) and the director commentary is the funniest thing you’ll hear all week. The week after, you’ll hear me try to be swave around you which beats the commentary hands down. I need to work on your libido; you’re always so much more fun when you’re hornier then Paris Hilton watching digimon porn. Which is only slightly less horny then I am right now, as measured in number of sexual fantasies per hour ( though I had to move the scale down to per second ever since you mentioned that near transparent t-shirt of yours). Thankfully, I switched to a lotion with lanolin; the stuff with the aloe didn’t prevent chafing very well. I always wanted a anime where on one episode a Shinto priest and one of those old time protestant priest, the kind with that really funky hat, just start wailing on each other. With magic or something. It would be cool. My moms watching Revelations (the mini series) on bravo. I think she wanted to see those gay guys turn someone else gay and got sucked into the story. Same thing happens to me when ever Shawshank Redemption comes on. That’s why I tend to avoid tbs, abc, tnt, and just for good measure usa and wgn on the weekends and any holiday. This was supposed to have a point but I forgot it. Anyway, send me the particulars on graduation so I can go. If you don’t get it to me before Wednesday then everyone is SOL. Which stands for shit out of fucking luck you poor virgin bastard, so I would like to get the info. I don’t know if I ever told you this but you are the only one I want, and I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I will ever want. Which is just fine and dandy for you, but it tends to be a real downer for me when I can’t even talk to you. The way you move, the way you act, the way you sound and smell are indelible marks painted on memory. I could go into the soul remarks, and put something in about blood or cutting, but that would just be to John Whitehead with a little bit of Amber and Carey for me to deal with. If you want me to do some faux beatnik I will, but only if you lose the top. Damn, this has gone on for too long. If you get this, go ahead and call so I can at least tell you good night. It doesn’t matter how late, more then likely I’ll be up. I don’t sleep well lately. More then likely its you, but it could just be the ginormous amounts of caffeine I tend to imbibe. Drink. Any way, Kitten, Im gonna end this with a few quotes I think might help you understand how I feel at this exact moment:

I’m a firm believer in the philosophy of a ruling class. Especially since I rule. – Randal

I'm too shy to express my sexual needs except over the phone to people I don't know. -Garry Shandling (though not the I don’t know part)

Any piece of clothing can be sexy with a quietly passionate woman inside it. –Anonymous

Careful. We don't want to learn from this. - Bill Watterson, "Calvin and Hobbes"

Do you want, like I want you? – Jewel

I get giddy when I think about you...how very...inconvenient. – Author known, but name with held
because its very, very funny that way.

Yes, so true. Well I’m off. Night.

No big if you can’t call though, is cool.

With undying love, even when I shoot it in the head, 

*(Deviant #19)

PS: I get giddy too. 

My immatation of Thomas Wolfe

The ringing of the phone breaks through the warm cocoon of my dream like a kick to the head. Shaking, kicking my way out of tangle of blankets, I pluck the caller id box from its space on the worn yellow carpet. Symbols and ciphers dance across its screen in a blurry haze. In anger and frustration, I tear it from the wall and throw it into the deepest darkest corner of my night shadowed room. Its too late though. Sleeps spell has been broken and my stomach growls with the hope of corn pops and orange juice. Stumbling like a blind man, I find pants and a shirt and haphazardly fall in to them. I navigate my way down the creaky, slippery steps like a drunken bull in a china shop. The laborious weight of the day falls on me like passed out co-ed, keeping me form enjoying the hail storm raging out side to its full potential. As the day begins, my thoughts drift to the silence and solitude that the night brings and that warm fuzzy glad feeling that comes with the realization that I am only hours from sleep again.

It's like that Calvin and Hobbes strip, but sadder

When I got home today, I found a dead bird on front porch. Now I didn't think much about it "oh look, a dead bird" was about all I thought. I used some tongs to pick it up and put it in a plastic bag. When I was in front of the trash can, preparing to throw it away, something very weird happened. I turned around and grabbed a shovel, and went in to the backyard a buried it. It wasn't like I changed my mind; it was more like that was the original idea to start with. Like the whole time I was out there wasn't so I could throw a bird into my trash can, it was more like it was a side trip, like I was taking the scenic route to getting the shovel. Even stranger was that as soon as I buried it, I grabbed two sticks and some weeds and fashioned a cross. I even said a makeshift prayer. At the end of the whole event, I looked up into the sky and saw two more birds circling over my head in the bluest sky I’ve ever seen.

MADDNESS!!!

Some weirdness been going down this week. Not just this week but for a good long time. I love it. Nothing’s better then when life throws you a curve ball.

I kind of proposed to a girl a few nights ago, in a state of extreme emotional distress that I’m kicking myself over now. Still it was pretty cool; I really didn’t think I had it in me. She didn’t say yes (thank the good Lord), but not because she didn’t like me. Poor thing is simply disgusted with the general idea of marriage. Not surprising when you look at the state of marriage in general, and in her family in particular. If your gonna fuck some one for their money, do like the Japanese do and simply fuck a person for money. They call’em side wives or something.

Anywho, recently I got my first booty call. I have no idea what’s been going on out in the world, maybe it’s the high pollen count or the lack of ozone, but women seem to really attracted to me lately. Of course, due to reasons (or lack of reason) I had to politely decline, but that was still f’s’king awesome! Nice clean guys don’t have to finish last!

And my truck started working, which is also trip. Bugger-me if I know what was wrong with it, or what happened to make it start working again, but one does not question good fortune. Hell, the bastards a year older then I am, I’m not surprised if it wants to take a nap every few years or so.

Talked to a few old friends, and one old girlfriend, that was pretty great.

And I got fired which is the coolest shit that could have happened all year! I never wanted to work at the place full time, and I was only there in the first place as a favor to my dad. The way it went was that my whole family worked at this place. For a tidy profit I might add. My sister and my dad have mad skills; my dad can solve just about any problem that they had and my sister is the payroll ninja. My mom there, but she has her own job and this was just a bit of side bit. I on the other hand had nothing to do but be everyone’s work monkey. I would move things, copy, collate, staple, file, and weak ass data entry into a database with more bugs in it then the villain in “A nightmare before Christmas”. On the plus side, I was contract so I could come and go as I pleased. As I pleased was about 9 am to 4 pm, the same hours as my sister with whom I car pooled, but it was still the shit. So my sister wanted to go full time and my dad wanted a raise, so my mom and I got the ax. Dumb shits! They thought I would be all distraught and broken up about it, but I could care less. I get to stay home and work on projects I‘ve been putting off because of work and I can finally take the time to get some sun. They have to get two more people to do the same job I did for twice the price and half the efficiency, and probably another person to deal with all the “gifts” I left behind. I’m not pissed; I just have a mean sense of humor. This comes at a good time because the chicks in that place have been acting really off. A lot of disturbing looks, uncomfortable touching, innuendo, and hugs that last a lot longer then I thought was necessary. If the situation was different, I’d probably tap some ass just on principle. Stupid misplaced overdeveloped sense of loyalty.

There’s more, but hell, I got to save something for later. Catch you next time on the pudding channel. And remember THERE ARE FIVE LIGHTS!

Fear!!!

Fear and Lothing in Iraq:

Was the war right?

It goes without saying (though I will any way) that there are many citizens of this country that are against the America war in the country of Iraq. They call it unnecessary, immoral, and wrong. They say that America has become imperialistic, and is trying to make an empire for itself that would rival that of the old British Empire. And then they will adamantly try to convince you that Phish is the best band in the world.

I believe that the Iraqi War, Operation Desert Freedom, Gulf War 2: Electric Boogaloo; what ever you want to call it was a necessary. The idea of a fundamentalist Muslim, a country that says we as a country are Satan’s true form on earth, with anything bigger then a slingshot pointed at my country makes me a mite bit nervous. Especially after September 11, 2001. All of those bouts of paranoia we as a nation have been having since the communist bloc fell seem justified after that. What I don’t understand is why, if you were a county hostile to the United States of America, why oh why would you openly insult it. The Middle Eastern countries saw what happened in Grenada, They watched Panama on the television, and most Middle Eastern countries are geographically close to the Balkans. What would make them think that the United States of America wouldn’t invade there country? Did Iraq think that just because they have oil and were willing to withhold it from us if we didn’t cooperate, that we would? I’ll just chalk that up to arrogance and let it be. It doesn’t have anything to do with my main idea which…is…let me see…weather or not the United States of America, our county, was justified in going to war with the Middle Eastern nation of Iraq. My answer is yes.

There are many reasons that I say yes. I believe that America has a responsibility to the world and as such must help all of its people. I believe that as a country we did as much as was prudent to keep our nation out of the war. Not as much as we could have mind you, but enough to where we weren’t going in blind. But the biggest reason I think that the United States of America was justified in its decision to get go to war with Iraq is simple self defense.

The growing anti-American sentiment in most of the nations of the Middle East is enough for me, but there are many other convincing arguments for going to war. America had been attacked on its home soil by terrorists. We wanted these terrorist so we could put them on trial for the attacks, but the home country of the terrorist wouldn’t give them up. So instead of just going off and letting them get away with it, we take them. Then another nation, who for purposes of this exercise we will call “Iroq” starts up its nuclear power plant again, starts moving around some pretty suspicious supplies, and calling for the death of all Americans. Sure, the United States of America, being the calm and rational place that it is, a place that would never have a top rated talk show who’s main draw is the fact that someone might have a fight on it, could have simply turned the other cheek and just left things as they were, but the United States of America had just invade the sovereign land of another nation because its citizens were a treat to the United States of America (God bless the man/woman who designed auto complete). If the United States of America having had done this, would allow the leader of the nation of “Iroq”, a man whom the American public doesn’t have the warmest feelings about already, to get way with directly challenging the United States of America, the government and (since the United States of America is a representative democracy) the public of the United States of America would seem weak. This would not do. Imagine if you were hosting a cocktail party and suddenly someone dared to call you by a racial slur. You natural take the bum to task. Teach him to mess with you in your in you. But then someone else, maybe the guys brother for all you know, says the exact same thing to you. If you don’t take him out, you look like an irrational butthead for your former outburst, and it makes it look like actions such as those are permissible. That you will not do anything should this same person do something along the lines of cut the hood ornament of your car, or blow up two of your countries buildings as the un-metaphored case may be. If the government of the United States of America were to allow such a thing to come to pass then the America would look weak in the eyes of the international community.

It may seem like I am trying to make light of the conflict, but I assure you, I do not. My cousin put in a stint in Iraq during the most the height of the aggression (putting in a stint is on of the first things you learn to do in the army), and I and my family supported him and the decisions of our president, George “the big W” Bush, and still do today. A man or a country should not have to put up with treats against its safety, and the safety of its people (in the case of the country). So, in the spirit of a preemptive defensive strike, I believe that the Iraqi war was a good thing, and that the United States was right in entering in to it because if we hadn’t, the United States of America would have seemed weak in the eyes of those who wish to do our great country harm. By acting in our own defence, the war is justified.

Long Deffiinition: FOR THE ENGLISH!!!!

Eugenics­­- from the Greek meaning “well-born”, eugenics is the idea of improving the human species through a process of selective breeding. With the use of selective reproduction, hereditary traits could be manipulated at the whim of the designers of the breeding program. The idea of eugenics encompasses two different ideas, “positive” eugenics and “negative” eugenics. So called “positive” eugenics is the idea of encouraging the “most fit” peoples to reproduce more often. “Negative” eugenics is the idea of encouraging the “least fit” peoples to reproduce less often or not at all.

The idea stems back to the widely held belief that behaviors we passed on form parent to offspring, i.e. if the father of a child was a criminal, then the child would be predisposed to criminal behavior. The term “eugenics” was first coined by Sir Frances Galton (February 16, 1822 - January 17, 1911), an English statistician and anthropologist, though the idea has been around since the time of the Greek philosopher Plato. Galton proposed that a “fake” lottery, controlled by the government would keep the masses unaware of the selection process so that no ones feelings would be hurt by the selections guidelines.

Many countries had eugenics policies and programs, though the idea of state run eugenics programs is almost universally despised because of its apparent association with the atrocities preformed by Nazi Germany. Two such remaining programs are the "Maternal and Infant Health Care Law" in China, and a similar law that exist on both sides of the island of Cyprus.

History #2: Electric Boogaloo

Should the United States of America have gotten involved in World War 2? In my humble opinion, I believe that we were justified in doing so, and for many different reasons.

The first one being that the axis powers attacked one of our military bases, killing many soldiers and civilians. Attacks on our military and/or civilians can’t be ignored, no matter the reason.

Another reason is that its kind of hard that Hitler would have kept to Europe and Africa. If we weren’t involved in the war during the nineteen fourties, the United States would have been forced into the war eventually. Thankfully we got in to the war when we did, because the axis powers would have been much harder to defeat if the atomic bomb had been made available to them.

Thirdly, The United States of America really needed to get in to the war. The Great Depression put the country in a hurt locker that even the vaunted “alphabet soup” policies and work programs of F.D.R. were unable to free us from it. We needed the war to stimulate our economy and bring our nation out of the Great depression. Nothing is better for national growth and economic expansion then a war. The United States of America didn’t start World War 2, but there it was, sitting there like a big box of gold coins waiting to be taken advantage of. And if there’s one thing that the United States of America is good at, its taking advantage of other peoples follies to help ourselves out of a bind. And I mean that in a good way.

In conclusion, Yes I believe the United States of America was justified in getting in to World War 2 because we had to, we wanted to, and we needed to, and I for one am glad that we did.

English Exercise 1...not really

1. Exercise number two.

I first had to modify the exercise from “in the darkness” to “while in a blindfold”. The architect went window crazy on my house, so all of the living spaces are at least mildly lit, even in the dead of night. I say living spaces, because the closets don’t have windows; but dealing with the C.H.U.D.s is more of a hassle then its worth. So, thusly blinded, I take a sip of Sam’s choice cola. Its' sickly sweet smell pervades my senses, nearly overpowering the taste. After years of imbibing this noxious yet economical brew, my taste buds must be burned out because all I taste is a slight sugary flavor mixed in with what feels like cold spring water. The spring quality is probably created by the carbon dioxide bubbles, or it might just be a result of manufacturing process. Then again I might just be crazy...

2. Exercise number one

Relaxed and calm, I lose touch with reality and slip blissfully in to a world of the mind. Curiously, it looks like one of those famous landscape paintings. It’s like a Currier and Ives print, but not exactly. It starts off with a cool breeze, a pretty strong one. Then the sound of blowing leaves. Then I’m there, the cold scent of mountain air is everywhere in this place. The sky is so blue that it hurts to look at it. The land is a verdant green. And even though this world is devoid of a sun, the light is omnipresent. I find that I’m underneath a large maple on top of a sloping hill. The land gently curves down to a lake the color of steel before rising sharply in to a lone snow capped mountain who’s rocky slopes match the color of the lake.

P.S. Is this enough touchy feely shit? I could kick it up a few, but the amount of sugery bullshit is making my teeth hurt.

History #1

Many of the larger issues of the Scopes trial are still important today. The debate of secular versus theological learning is a long one that has raged for many years. Also, the idea of the literal interpretation of the bible has been fought over constantly by both secular and non-secular groups from both sides since long before the New World was rediscovered. These are important issues simply because of the amount of people who believe in them. As a character in a Kevin Smith movie once said “Beliefs are tricky. People will kill for a belief”. The theological society at the time of the Scopes trial was frightened of opposing view points. During this time, the tent revival was in its salad day and one the most popular sermon types was of the “hellfire and damnation” variety. One of the most widely held beliefs that came out of these revivals was that children would go to hell if they died before or in-between baptisms. So, one of the greatest fears for parents was that their young Johnny would lead astray but errant beliefs. Theology has been at war with the humanistic secular thought since the end of the middle ages, but the secular circles hadn’t, until the early nineteen hundreds, come up with a satisfactory explanation to the question of “why we were here”. Then Darwin wrote “The origin of species” and the idea of the creation as told in the bible was challenged. This causes conflict.

The problem with the larger ideas in the scopes trial is that there shouldn’t even be larger issues. John Scopes broke the law, plain and simple. The trial was about if the law itself was fair or not, which has nothing to do with anything. Though, now that I think of it, sooner or later, the theologians and secularist would have probably found some other place and time to clash, so it was better that it happened in a rural area of Tennessee then in a highly populated area where riots would have been more prevalent.

I really hate college.... :(

Paragraph 1.

The rain echoed my pervading sense of doom. Like a thick wet blanket, the clouds wrapped themselves around the city. The crash of thunder shook me to my soul. All that shaking caused a bit of nausea, and the world did a flip-flop for good measure. The wind roared around me. The rain whipped my face with its icy tendrils. Walking home sucks.

Paragraph 2.

Her face is the color of vanilla latte. Her eyes are twin stars, plucked from the heavens. Her lips are the crimson of flowing blood. When happy, she is the warm sun on a summer day. When angered she is a hurricane. And her love is like a warm blanket on a cold winter night.

Paragraph 3.

Jerri says to me, “Dude, you’re a noob.” “Noob? I have the skills of Sauron. I got the One skill, the ruling skill.” I say. “Please,” she says, “you have little girl skills.” “They seem to be doing well enough for you” I say. “Amazon skill is what I have, son” she serves back to me. “Righteous,” I say placating, “now can we get back to the game?”

Really Crappy College Work!!!

Paragraph 1

The carpet of the room is a faded peach. The walls are the color of white paper that’s been left out in the sun too long. The ceiling is the same as the walls, save for the fan set smack in the middle of it. Long ropey beards of dust drip for the fans blades, almost touching the sole piece of furniture in the room. The lonely bed looks like its been there for years, the center sags notably, and a few of the box springs poke from the sides. The floor, the walls, and the bed are barren.

Paragraph 2

The ancient arthritic man scoots an inch forward. The clerk, who was lobotomized by quack doctor with shaky hands, drags the old man’s hundred pound bags of flour and corn meal across the electric eye with his broken arms. The living fossil pulls what must be a leather bound novel from his pocket and proceeds to read every page until he pulls a credit card from its folds. It scrapes across the giant card reader. Methuselah rereads the collected works of Shakespeare, Poe, and Six different versions of the bible in his mind before he remembers his four hundred and thirty seven number pin. I really just want to go home. I hate H.E.B.

Paragraph 3

My high school geometry teacher was a whale. We feared her falling down because we would either be crushed by her or killed it the earthquake that fallowed. Her rolls of fat were hypnotic because her body was affected by the moon the way waves are. Smaller students are unavoidably attracted to her, not out of any attraction, simply because her mass is great that she draws them into orbit around her. I was once told her clothing was made from old ship sails, and that she could swallow cows. I’m not being insulting, I just tell the truth.

Crappy College Work!!!

Technical Description

“I think we can rest here for a minute,” she said, panting. The room we had ducked in to was only about eight feet all the way around, but most of it was full of boxes and old furniture that gave off the smell of mildew. “Here? You really think this is the best place to be hiding from a bunch of Russians with very large caliber weapons?” My voice was getting that whine in it again. She held up the sign for silence and sat on one of the boxes. Taking the box next to her, I sighed. “What is this all about anyway? What is it these guys are after?” I asked, my head in my hands. “This.” She opened her purse and pulled out something raped in an old t-shirt. Pulling at the shirt, she revealed a key.

The key was old. Very old. It was half a foot long and carved from obsidian. Its surface wasn’t smooth but heavily grooved, like it had been chipped from a larger rock. Etched into the length of both sides were words in language that I didn’t understand. I looked like Sanskrit or some other long flowing script. The base, where the loop that would allow the key to be put on a belt or a key ring was missing, replaced with huge, intricately carved skull the size of a tennis ball. The keys teeth poked out form almost ever part of the other end, some pointing strait while others shot out at varying degrees. Each tooth was an inch long and hair thin, making the key look like a toilet bowl brush from the lead singer of Godsmacks’ house. She handed it to me and I nearly dropped it. Its weight was surprising. It looked like it only weighted one or two pounds but it was more like eight.

“What’s it to?” I asked

Her face turned serious as she looked in to my eyes. She chewed at her lower lip and answered in a hushed voice, “the world”.

Ph34r m@ B33r!!!

Have you ever had this happen to you: your hanging out with your girlfriend, she gets pissed at you; then suddenly, like getting hit with a fifty pound bag of spam, you realize that the person standing in front of you is fucking ugly as hell? It’s the most disturbing thing that’s happened to me since the sneak preview of “gigli”. Thing scared me worse then Arnold Swartzanagger becoming governor of California.

How did I get into a relationship with someone that ugly? It makes no sense. I know what most people are thinking right now, I’m probably some homely fucker you latched on to the first girl who gave me the time of day. Don’t try to lie, I see it in your eyes. The fact is, I’m not that bad looking, I’ve had my share of dat… what the fuck am I babbling about?! This is worse shit then Oprah. God, next thing you know, I’d be singing folk songs and tie dying all my clothes. Fuck that hippy bullshit. Its fucking super bowl Sunday and I aint got shit to do, thank you God! Sure, all I got is bud light, but there’s eight fucking gallons of the stuff. My dad bought it for my sisters birthday party, but she and her friends left! And in my current situation, there are only two types of b33r and both of them are free. F33r B33r matha fucker. And now, I leave you, but Ph34r not, for where I go, I shall be blitzed on 3 or four gallons of b33r. Oh, and if you don’t like the spelling, then your obviously not getting laid, because if you were, you wouldn’t have time to grype abput spelkling.

Explanation

Explanation: Why I do what I do

I guess I should explain why I put each of the papers in this portfolio in…well, this portfolio. It was a hard decision to make. So hard in fact that I decided to let the papers decide for themselves. After a gigantic battle royal that lasted all of Saturday and some of Sunday morning, the victors emerged from the ring covered in paper shreds and staples of the weaker manuscripts, all to insure that you would receive only the best examples of my writing.

Too Much Jolt

This was the first paper I wrote when I came here freshmen year. This paper has always had a place in my heart because it was the first time I wrote about my dissatisfaction with timed writing as well as the randomness of my thoughts.

Super Babies

This was the first paper I wrote as a senior. We had just watched a news documentary on extremely smart children, and were to write our feelings about it. The last sentence is a reference to Stephen King’s Dark Tower series.

Crazy Hobo Army of Doom

A paper from my blog (an on-line journal) that I chose because it was really fun to write. I think that more people need to just sit back and have fun with life.

Submitted for your approval

Chosen for the same reasons as the paper above, this paper expresses my contempt for both the IRS and telemarketers. Fun stuff.

Why freshmen move in groups

First written rant ever. Its slated type represents both my skewed out look on the subject and the fact I cant load a typewriter.

Wal-Mart: Destroyer of words and mother of trailerparks

I liked this paper because it was really a satire on all the negative people in the class. I did my best to keep it dark and over played, but by the end my personality shows clear through.

Rant long enough and eventually you will be arrested

This big bruiser was chosen because he encompasses four of my papers. Also, my mom wanted me to put it in.

Submitted For your approval

Submitted for your approval

Submitted for your approval…well, not so much your approval as submitted-because-if-I-don’t-I-get-a-bad-grade-can’t-get-into-college-and-become-a-bum-on-the-streets is the story of Tom Smith. Mr. Smith is a hard workingman in a hard working job living in a hard working town. Our story opens with Mr. Smith, after a long day of work, is returning home, where something is waiting for him that he was not expecting.

Mr. Smith (yelling): Honey, I’m home! ::Shuts the door:: Honey? (To himself) where is she?

Mr. Smith walks over to a small table just to the right of the door.

Mr. Smith: Well, at least the mail is in. ::picks up envelopes and shuffles through them:: Bill, junk, junk, Hey what’s this? ::He holds up a letter marked urgent in red stamp. He opens it, takes out the paper inside, and begins to read out loud:: (to himself) Dear Mr. Smith, we regret to in form you that due to a clerical error you currently owe the Internal Revenue Service 1.4 mill…1.4 MILLION DOLLARS!?

A blood vessel in Mr. Smith’s head burst with an audible pop and he falls to the floor, dead.

Submitted for all the reasons I submitted before, a man, a victim of incredible circumstances, dies. Another soul lost forever, In the Audit Zone.

Ring…Ring…Ring…

“What the heck?!” said Arnold Johansson. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked at the tiny digital clock on the nightstand next to his bed. The clock read 4:26 am.

Ring…Ring…Ring…

There it was again. Who would be calling him at this time of night? He had no family; his mother and father had died almost ten years ago, he was an only child, and had never married. The friends he had made at the small clerical company wouldn’t be calling him now.

Ring…Ring…Ring…

And was it just his imagination, or was the ringing becoming more insistent, like an itch that gets worse if it’s ignored? “Well,” He said, “this is one itch that’s getting scratched.”

As he got up the phone rang again, this time so loud that it caused him to stager a step. The sound was so loud that once it was over it left a (no pun intended) ringing in his ears.

Arnold reached over and in one fluid but graceless movement (he was still half asleep) he pulled the phone jack from the wall socket. He stood up and walked back to his bed.

Ring…Ring…Ring…

“Whaa?” Arnold said, spinning around to look at the phone. He hadn’t just heard it ring, had he? He walked over to the phone and crouched, scrutinizing the phone. He was like that for awhile, long enough for his legs to cramp. He stood up, decided it was in his head and turned to go to bed.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The sound coming out of the phone was loud enough to break the one window in the room and send Arnold to the floor. He felt like a bomb had just gone off in his head. He slowly started getting to his hands and knees.

RING! RING! RING!

He fell, hands coming up to his ears in a feeble attempt to shield them. The pain was excruciating. He felt a warm wetness on his hands and brought them up to his face. The moonlight that filtered in through the shattered glass of the window was just enough for him to see that his hands were covered in blood.

RING! RING! RING!

The sound didn’t seemed to be in his head more then coming from the phone. He writhed in agony on the carpet, ears bleeding the whole time dusting the floor scarlet. “Alright!” he screamed, saying the only thing that came to his mind, “I’ll pick up!”

The sound stopped.

Looking around, Arnold was confused. He picked himself off the carpet.

Ring…Ring…Ring…

In horror, Arnold looked at the phone. He shuffled over to it and, hands shaking all the while, he picked up the phone and put it to his ear.

“Is this Arnold Johansson?” a raspy voice came from the other end of the line.

“Y, yes,” he said, voice quavering “This is he.”

The tone on the other side of the line suddenly became that of a young man, his voice had the odd non-threatening quality that would usually be associated with a late night infomercial host “I was wondering if you would like to switch from your current long-distance service to American long-distance?”

I'm happy when...

Happy when…

I’m really happy when I’m proved right. You see, I’m right all the time. Which is to say, when it comes to certain things: who’s going to win at videogames or card games, the plot to an episode of the TV show “Monk”, and the outcome to any relationship, any relationship. Really, it’s true. I once went up to a 45 year old man and told him that his wife was going to divorce him, Two months later it happened. I don’t know how I do it. I must have some creepy druid magic lingering in my DNA from my Celtic ancestors. The ones from Ireland, not Boston. I got skills that would put Miss Cleo to shame. But, you see, No one ever believes me. Maybe it’s because I’m young, maybe it’s because I’m white, or it may even be because they just don’t want it to be true, but their has never been a time as far as I can remember that any recipient of one of my prognostications has even shown that they believed me.

What really gets me is when my prediction comes to pass and they come up to me and whine about it, saying things like “I had no idea this would happen.” When events such as these occur, I have to repress my sadistic side and console these easy to get along with, but ultimately oblivious people. I don’t know why, but sometimes that the way I act. Though, as soon as I’m done soothing these ignorant folk, I quickly run to a dark, secluded corner of the school and do my “Righteous Vindication” dance, which is somewhat like the Hokey-Pokey, only with a larger amount of butt wiggling and some bits of the Macarena thrown in for good measure. It may not be a pretty dance, but it is highly satisfying. Then I, with the taste of victory soaking in to everyone of my taste buds (victory oddly enough tastes like chicken) and tell a few of my closest friends, who give me a high five and other such congratulatory actions. Did I feel bad? No! Sure, I was sad that the person is now lonely and sad and depressed…*sniffle* I’m okay, I just need a moment… All right, I’ve got composure back… as I was saying; I feel no remorse for these people. Well, maybe just a little, but that’s far outweighed by the joy of me being right.

I’m also happy when I play my sublime CD loud enough to be heard through my entire house. I don’t do it that much, though, because I have relegated that type of celebration to only when a girl (I know that the P.C. term is women, but the way some of them act I just wouldn’t feel comfortable calling them that) I like breaks up with their current boyfriend. Remember, I have a bit of ESP when it comes to things like that, so I usually have everything set up the day of, or before if the force is unusually strong. My parents say I do a pretty good “Risky Business” impression.

Really there is only one thing that makes me happier and that’s when I finish things. Any old thing will do: Television shows, books, and videogames, even papers I write. Which is what I shall be doing now.

Cinderella in 60 seconds

Cinderella in 60 seconds

Stepmother: Cinderella!

Cinderella: Yes, Stepmother?

Stepmother: I don’t like you, neither do my daughters. Clean up.

Cinderella: Yes, stepmother…

Meanwhile, at the palace…

Queen: You have to get married.

Prince: No!

Queen: Then we’ll through a ball.

Prince: Ok…

At Cinderella’s house…

Stepmother: A ball? I shall take my homely daughters and leave Cinderella, because I hate her.

Cinderella, still scrubbing: Yes stepmother…

Later…

Fairy Godmother: Poof!

Cinderella: Ahh!

Fairy Godmother: Don’t worry; I’m the fairy godmother. I got a dress and a coach for you.

Cinderella: Really?

Fairy Godmother: Yeah, but it only lasts till 12.

Cinderella: Why?

Fairy Godmother: No time, just go.

At the ball…

Prince: I’m so board.

Cinderella: Hi.

Prince: I love you.

Cinderella: I love you too.

Prince: Lets get married.

Cinderella: Ok.

Clock: Clang!
Cinderella: Oops, got to go.

Prince: Wait! You left your shoe.

At Cinderella’s house…

Cinderella: I’m so sad. Oh, no! Here comes the Prince!

Prince: would you try on this shoe?

Cinderella: ok

Prince: it fits!

Cinderella: I love you

Prince: I love you!

Prince and Cinderella: Smooch!

There, now you wont have to waste two hours of you life on a Drew Berrymore flick.

Creepy

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Recap and Rants #1

Heh heh heh ha ha ha! Well, It’s the end of the week. Shit, high school takes a lot out of you. One of these days I'm just gonna jump up on one of the cars in the parking right after last bell and yelling "Fuck the lesbians, fuck the homos, fuck the Asian Connection, fuck the school, the librarians, the cop, the teachers (especially Hot assed Ms. Hernandez, if you get me), the counselors, your mom, your dad, and fuck you to!" then haul ass and hope the cross country team isn't still there.

Some weird ass shit is gonna hit the fan when the weekend is over though. Even more shit if the Asian Connection hears me talking about them. Fucking Triad style and shit. My two friends and I have got the most stupid fucking relationships in the world: I go for lesbians, Friend Number 1 goes for Jehovah Witnesses, and the other... well, your gonna want to stay away from that fucking wack job. So this one girl who Friend 1 has be apeshit over for the last 3 years is finally starts wanting to be around him. Now, normally, American teenagers would go out, have dates, and so on, right? But, she's a Jehovah Witness (what in my social circle is referred to as a J-ho, do to the incredibly gay fact that all J-hos are fucking models) and they can't go out with people who aren’t J-hos. So he's been fucked up, my other friend's been trying to set rabbits on fire to burn down the school. And the weekend aint gonna be any fucking cake walk: My ex-girlfriend and I are gonna kick it at a local arcade. One: she's a semi-lesbian. Two: she's a foot shorter then me. Three:... She got so fucking pretty. She and I keep fooling around (phonesex and stuff like that) even though we broke up 2 years ago. She has a boyfriend now, but now she all over me (kind of) and she's getting more attractive to me every fucking seconds. Also, there's this other girl, so fucking sexy that I would gladly kill for. Of course, I would probably start killing people for any reason; she would just be the cherry on top, pun intended.

Fuck this, it’s too fucking late as it is. Hell, this weekend: Operation: Get some goes into effect. Fuck all theses weird ass bitches. I'm going to sleep.

My feelings on Wal-mart

Wal-Mart:

Destroyer of worlds

And

Mother of Trailer parks

I don’t think that there was any one point in my life that I found that I was irrevocably different from what I had been before. No one moment in my existence that changed me. No grand epiphany, no heavenly choir from above, no lighting bolt out of the blue. Not even a mental slap in the face telling me “Everything you know is wrong, stupid!” Out of all the things I believed when I was a child, the only glaring inconsistency was the death of my faith in the intelligence of my species, all thanks to that monument to the greenback, Wal-Mart.

Originally, I thought that most people were individuals that could take care of themselves; beings smart and able bodied enough that (given the right kind of stimulus, i.e.: a swift kick in the rear) could turn this crazy, twisted world in to a paradise, a neo-Eden if you will. All this was before the gods of capitalism decreed that a new Super Wal-Mart store was to be built no far enough from my house. At first, I was naïve, my thinking being “Hey, now I wont have to travel so far to get comics and munchies,” comics and munchies being the only things I cared about at the time, never suspecting what horrors would soon be unleashed. The months passed like ice melting under an Arizona sun. I watched giant palace to consumerism being built; the process reminding me of decomposition, though in a kind of surreal rewind: Massive steel bones rising from the dust, being fixed in place by tendons and ligaments of earth and stone, nerves or wire and veins of pipe spreading out in spider webs from all corners, and finally a skin of brick, mortar, and paint forming to protect the vitals that would one day lie inside. Little did I realize that this False Adam I had worshiped so long would one day become my most despised and hated enemy.

The day of the grand opening came and went, the birth pangs surprisingly light, and I basked in the glow of an Indian summer. Life was the sliver lining on which I lived, unknowing and uncaring of the sinister turbulence of the thunderhead that lay inside its thin and waning brilliance. But, even if I had known, there was nothing that could be done. The disease had established itself, and its time of dormancy was near its end.

First, trailer parks sprouted up around the Wal-Mart, then moved out in an ever widening perimeter, eventually being stopped by farmland less then two miles from my doorstep. The parks moved in like a plague: infecting good, perfectly usable plots of land, filling it with sloth, vileness, and degradation until the land is black with corruption, then moving out in all points of the compass like cancer.

Then came the car accidents. Teens from a local high school near the Wal-Mart and the festering wastes occupied by the spreading trailer parks were locked in a titanic battle with irate obese pig-women with sixteen screaming kids in the back seat of their Chevy suburbans. These pig-women always seemed to be running late, which I judge by the fact that they’re driving at speeds that would make NASCAR driver ill. But, WHAT could they be going to? Some sort of blue light sale? Or some thing much more sinister?

Finally, the straw that broke the camels back so to speak, was the gradual retarding of the intelligence of all those who even came into proximity of the Wal-Mart. The conversations I over heard while in the Wal-Mart were so vapid and inane, that I feared some sort of chemical nerve agent had been released. Of course, that was when I could hear anything at all, over the siren like blaring from the endless legions of crying babies. I once had insomnia and at Three o’clock in the morning, decided to go to Wal-Mart, then was physically pushed back out the door by the sheer power of the hell spawned children that were even at that hour, residing in the store. This is one of the more common conversations I could here once the ringing sound finally ceased.

Pig-woman, sounding like a drunk, hoarse, Catherine Hepburn from “On Golden Pond”: Sir, do you know where the little thingies with doohickeys are?

Clerk, sounding like Keanu Reeves, in any movie he’s ever been in: Uh, wuh?

After hearing this, I began to feel sick, on the verge of throwing up. I tried to make it to the pharmacy, where the blood pressure machine was, so I could sit down, when a blood vessel, unable to coup with utter idiocy for the whole situation, closed off to keep my brain from committing seppuku, sending me crashing to the floor, unconscious. I floated in a deep miasma for what seemed like forever. All was gray and silent. Then, from an impossibly distant corner of that world came a voice. “Chill,” it said to me, “you’re to stressed. You got to learn to relax.”

I awakened from my state to find a pimply worker drone standing over me. My near death had drawn a lot of attention, it seemed, though my miraculous recovery from death had surly dashed the hopes of the dozen or so women named Maurine to show up on the morning news programs. I brought my hands to my face and felt a sticky film coating my lower jaw. It turned out to be my own blood, a nosebleed that had gone from creek to Niagara in a matter of seconds, however the flow did seem to be stopping on its own. As I got my baring, I noticed a pool of blood behind my head (it turned out I landed face first and that the blood was also from the rivulets that were still welling up out of my nose) and saw two words written by my own hand while I was comatose: Fr34k1ng 1d10+5. “Indeed they are,” I thought to myself, “indeed they are.”

Late, when I went home, I felt different. Lighter in a way, though colder. It took a few weeks to realize it, but after that episode, I had no faith in my fellow humans anymore. And, though something inside of me had died and was gone forever, the only thing I could think to do was “learn to relax.”

Crazy Hobo Army of Doom

Gibberish! Yeeehaaa! Man this is great! You know, I waited a long time for this, the day when I could just cut those subconscious gremlins loose and say “I’m going out for a beer, guys. Try not to set anything on fire this time.” And I’m freaken stoked! Today’s been like the end of a Stanley Kubrick flick. Of course, after a few too many sugerfree Red Bull’s, you convince me that you didn’t have a 2001 moment when you were riding the bus home. I was freaking out. I thought Hal was talking to me from out of back of the seat “I’m sorry Dave, I can’t let you… hey you aren’t Dave! Where is hell is he?” People had to restrain me, kept saying that I would stop say “Wendy’s! For the love of God, you Basterd! Wendy’s!” By the way, go to thegreatd.blogdrive.com to read a hilarious event that happened and a Wendy’s. Jeeze, talking ‘bout Wendy’s makes me kind of hungry. Hungry for Chinese food. Speaking of Chinese food, here are five weird fortune cookie fortunes

1. You just spent 10 bucks on a meal that costs $1.25 to make, and you think a stupid cookie is gonna help you? Dream on, buttpirate, Dream the fuck on.
2. AHHHHH! Look out behind you!
3. You will open a fortune cookie in your future. Ha HA! I was right!
4. Pssshh, buddy, come closer. Look, didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but that wasn’t cream in that soup, if you catch my drift.
5. You ever wonder why you never see any stray cats or dogs around here? How’s your “beef” stew?

Like a kid with ADD on speed isn’t it? Well, my anonymous hordes of listeners waiting to join my Crazy Hobo Army of Doom, I must be off. My buzz is wearing off, my hands ache with the pain of a thousand and one pill bug bites. One thing before I go, I know the holiday seasons are coming up, and I know that many of you might get depressed during the most wonderful time of the year. I have a way to combat this. Anytime you get those “This room would look wonderful in brain matter gray” blues, go up to a fat person (any fat person, though hopefully, a stranger) grab their huge stomachs, and start shakin’; all the while, screaming something like “This be giggling like a bowl full o’ jelly!” and laughing like a loon. Try it, you’ll feel great afterward. Really, would I lie?

Doors

Let me just tell you: I’m an 18 year old male high school senior. And I'm sure that some of you, and the people in high school can back me up on this, have noticed that America has been stupefying it self. Tags on toasters that tell you not to take it in the tub with you, labels on the back of window shades saying not to drive with it in place, really stupid stuff. Sure, people say, "Its saving lives" and "Think of the children!", but are these really the people we want to be saving? Do we want people who don't know putting a plastic bag over their head will kill running around on earth? Screwing up the gene pool? It’s getting so bad out there; the great omnipotent school gods are putting up freaking directions next to doors. Doors, for Pete’s sake! The most perfect device ever created by architects. How can you not know how to open a door? Your parents know (or at least they should, unless they’re from Appalachia) and if you watch your parents leaving the house enough times, and they probably do a lot just to get themselves away from your stupid ass, then you know how to open a door.

But, in all fairness to the great school gods, they (stupidly enough) are right. The people, mostly freshmen, do not understand how to operate this simple, easy to use machine? It’s a lever, plain and simple. But these people, (again, most of them are freshmen) will go up to a to a two sided door, open one side, then all of them will squeeze their fat asses through a three foot wide door. And at my school, there are only two types of girls: Fat Chicks and Fat Lesbians. There is maybe one or two good looking, but those have such deep seeded psychological problems that even that messed up ship from “The Core” couldn’t reach the bottom. So we stand and shuffle, shuffle and stand, all the while waiting for someone to grease that fat broad up and slide her through, never looking or even thinking that we could just… walk through the other door.

So, let me ask you, have we, as Americans, become slaves to conformity? Are all of us just corporate tools? I say to you brothers and sisters, never be sheep, never be goldfish waiting for the sprinkle of flakes from the gods of rules, and when your stuck in a freaking line with an easy yet nonconformist way to get out, take it.

Ground rules: not really, WOW takes up too much of my time.

This is the first time I tried anything like this, so it maybe a little jerky for the first couple of week, depending on when test are. So this is the lineup for the week. Tuesdays and

Thursdays: Profound thoughts that are original or that I got off a cereal box

Mondays and Wednesdays: Gibberish, complete and utter gibberish, hopefully.

Fridays: week recap, weekend rants, and bitterness over a nonexistent social life.

Saturdays: L33+ 4LL +H3 W4Y 5UCK3RS, though from now on its hardcore style.

Sundays: Stories: trust me you'll like it.

So anyway, its gonna be like that until you good people make enough of a stink about it or I get tired enough to change it. I think it’s a system. But hey, this is a democratic state in which we live, so you got something to say, kick it back: rants, musings, crap kicking around in the attic, send it over; can't be any stupider then the stuff I come up with.

You ever have one of those weeks?

You ever have one of those weeks? Well, if you’re reading this, then that’s a fore gone conclusion. Halloween came and went, and now it’s November. Sorry, I wasn’t able to update for so long, there were some... technical problems I had to smash in with a hammer. Don't worry; you'll see the made for TV move will be out next summer. You know what I love about this blogdrive thing? No one is listening. No one. Oh, sure, every now and again someone will open up this Pandora’s box and take a peek, but most of the time this is the internet equivalent of screaming at a brick wall. You'll never fess up to doing it, but you got to admit, it feels real good.

Let me ask ya'll, you ever really, really like someone; a person who makes you get down on your knees and thank God, Allah, Zeus, Odin, whatever, just because she acknowledge your existence? Then, for one glorious moment, you think that hell has frozen over and pigs learned to speak French, because you think you got a shot at having an ongoing relationship? That’s what Halloween was like for me. Hell, I'm self-medicating here, might as well go for the gusto and tell the Internet void what happened. I ride the school bus home. Yes, I know, I'm a high school senior taking the bus, the most pathetic thing in the world next to a legless guy shopping at footlocker. Get all the jokes out now, I don’t want you to miss the important parts because your burning out your capacity for thought try to think up a good insult to put in the comment area.

So, I'm on the bus talking to the aforementioned girl I want to have the "more-then-friends" relationship with. I tell her I have nothing to do for the Halloween and she tells me to go hang out with her and her friends. I am freaking ecstatic on the inside, cool on the out.

Now, before we go any further, I have to give you some background. I tried to take her to a movie before, one of her choosing, because she complains that she has nothing to do. She chose "Cold Creek Manor". I fucking hate fucking Randy Quaid. But, I say sure. The day of, I get all ready (my best chain and everything), even get the tickets to that crap show, and call her up to make of the time. Guess what, she can’t go because *drum roll for the most lame ass excuse ever came up with, even better then " I have to relace my shoes") she has allergies. Really bad allergies. I am a fucking dumbass

Now, on with the story: So she tells me she has to take her brother and sister out trick or treating then she'll call me back and tell me when to come over. So time passes, and it’s about 6:30. I call. Her dad answers and informs me she's out trick-or-treating with her friends and won’t be back until 8. With her fucking friends. Super Fucking Great. But, like the phantom pussy-wiped basterd I am, I think " Well, she'll call me at 8 then".

Now this part is the one that truly sucks ass: My friends call me. I wont bore you with the details, just the synopsis of them.

Friends: Dude, you got to come over, your hot ex-girlfriend is here, were all drunk, and she wont stop talking about how much she want's to have sex with you. Plus, at midnight, were gonna set fire to golf cart.

Me: sorry guys, I can’t go. This girl I really like is supposed to call me.

Friends: The one who had the allergies, or the cold creek manor bitch? Dude, she’s gonna cancel.

Me: One; She’s not a bitch, and two; she wouldn’t do that to me, not twice. She’s the one that asked me to come over. She wouldn’t cancel.

Friend 1: Five bucks says she calls and cancels.

Friend 2: Ten says she doesn’t even call and you have to talk to her during the awkward bus ride home.

Currently, I still owe ten bucks. Worse, my mom, dad, friends, assorted other family members, even my cousin in Iraq are making fun of her, and I still defend her. They already call her the CCMB (Cold Creek Manor Bitch) and Allergy girl. My cousin says he’s got his squad mates trying to come up with away to fit the Halloween thing in. I'm an intercontinental laughing stock and I'm still there saying, "No, she just hasn't had time to call". It's really hard for me to keep believing it since she has a cell phone, but I have a lot of drugs on board, so the memory comes and... what were we talking about?

So what do I do? Do I keep trying? I dunno. You people got the head on you. So give me a kick back, your ideas cant be any worse then what I’m planning to do. So kick something back, you magnificent bitch of a universe. I need some outside assistance on this.

P.s. I plan on showing her this post, if you’re interested. She doesn't care enough to visit the site when I don't tell her to. I hope she can give me back my balls on Monday, I don't think I can take all this weirdness much longer. I get the feeling I should just fuck it a get a job digging ditches for the rest of my life.