Saturday, December 18, 2010
Obligatory Post on the "Social Experiment"
For seven days and seven nights I fasted in the desert. I scorned the pleasures of the world in order to free my ephemeral soul, casting all of my worldly dependencies out of my easily tempted sight. For those seven days I wandered aimlessly, looking for reason and purpose, putting my life into perspective. I trudged across the barren wastelands, utterly incapable of action without my dependencies, and completely lost. It was then that I came across a new idol. A shining white X-Box 360 appeared before my crusted eyes and chapped face. Its video output cables output the elixir of life, and its open DVD holder seemed to offer me holy sustenance. So I survived by its power, but it just wasn't enough. My infernal insatisfaction left me feeling unsated. And thus I marched on, across the sea of bleached earth, continuing on my quest to find truth and contentment. Before I could find it though, the devil appeared to me in the form of a giant book with a face on it, holding I am guessing, every form of temptation known to mankind. The face-book opened up to page 237 and spoke to me, saying "You have a phone to talk to people with, why not just use it to text as well?" At first I thought this was a brilliant idea, but I soon came to the realization that it was in fact a temptation that I had to overcome. And thus I boldly responded, "One does not live by texting alone, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God" The face-book cursed me and flew me to a computer floating in the sky. "Do you know what your homework is?' it asked. "Because I have heard it said that you have the power of MSN chat at your command and if you should jump blindly into your homework, the MSN shall catch you and bring you out unscathed." I thought that this was a wonderful idea, and that it would bring me into a blissful world of peace and harmony so I took one step towards the ledge that was the MSN shortcut. But I realized that it was exactly that; a shortcut. So I stepped back and declared "You shall not put the Homework, your God, to the test!" And thus did I defeat yet another temptation. This devilish face-book had one last temptation for me though, and it flew me into the central server of Facebook and spoketh thus, "Look at all of these people you can be social with, simply bow down and open your Facebook encounter and you shall have this social interaction and popularity!" I was sorely tempted indeed, but I knew that this would only lead to my ruin. "Get away, Facebook!" I spoke. "It is written: 'The Lord, your God, shall you worship and him alone shall you serve.' And at that moment a light appeared above my right shoulder, I picked up my phone and spoke to somebody who told me that I had done good. And I was satisfied.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
The Sentinel of the Toilet Bowl
When I thought this one up, I felt like it was pretty good. But then I thought about it some more and I realized that if I did this, then three or four of my last five blog posts would have something to do with toilets or fluid expelling functions (and guess what my next idea is!!!!). I was immediately deeply ashamed of myself, for, it seemed to me as if by pursuing these lame and cheap ideas I was further sacrificing my integrity and originality. However, since that epiphanious moment, I have taken time and recollected my thoughts and come to the conclusion that they aren't THAT cheap, and since for some weird reason it's where my inspiration is coming from, I might as well go with it. So here it is.
This is a true story, taken really out of reality, verbatim.
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in Carnation that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness. To cut to the chase, it was about 12:00 AM, and I was finishing my last UW Honors essay. To tell the truth, it was not what I would call a good essay, but that would easily be excusable, were one to take into account that I had typed it with my eyes closed and my mind dead. All in all, I think I pulled it off pretty well for being in the state closest to being a zombie. SUDDENLY! A shot rang out in the night! A thundershock, I mean! At that moment my monitor's screen flashed and I tapped out a hasty CTRL-S to try and salvage my data. Thankfully, the outage was but temporary as the light flashed right back on. I was saved for the moment, but there was no telling what the future would hold, so I prudently decided to retreat to my bedroom. Turning off the computer, I shambled downstairs and brushed my teeth. In a lucky coincidence it was at the exact second that I reached the restroom that I realized that I was in need of a relieving of myself. Thus, I finished with brushing my teeth, shut the bathroom door and shuffled over to the receptacle. I had just started trying to aim at the dead bug in the toilet when....
SUDDENLY! A flash illuminated the horizon! A lightning bolt did that, I mean! And after that blinding light! well, there was only darkness.
Readers, what was I to do? I was standing in front of the toilet, and the dams had already burst. There was no going back anymore. But all of my instincts were telling me that I had to get out of that bathroom. The hair on the back of my neck grew a couple of inches from all of the stretching it was trying to do. My stomach was full of what some people call butterflies. I don't think they were really butterflies. The point is though, I was freaked out. I wanted to leave with all of my heart, but I was having trouble making it inside the bowl just standing there! So I endured. Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes stretched into hours, and all the while my panicked imagination was showing me legions of demons amassing outside the thankfully locked bathroom door. Everything that I knew, everything that I believed in was telling me to bolt. But I could not, if I was to keep my human dignity. So I stood there in the dark, sentinel of the toilet bowl, ever wary, making sure to set a striking pose as the flashes of lightning illuminated me.
This is a true story, taken really out of reality, verbatim.
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in Carnation that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness. To cut to the chase, it was about 12:00 AM, and I was finishing my last UW Honors essay. To tell the truth, it was not what I would call a good essay, but that would easily be excusable, were one to take into account that I had typed it with my eyes closed and my mind dead. All in all, I think I pulled it off pretty well for being in the state closest to being a zombie. SUDDENLY! A shot rang out in the night! A thundershock, I mean! At that moment my monitor's screen flashed and I tapped out a hasty CTRL-S to try and salvage my data. Thankfully, the outage was but temporary as the light flashed right back on. I was saved for the moment, but there was no telling what the future would hold, so I prudently decided to retreat to my bedroom. Turning off the computer, I shambled downstairs and brushed my teeth. In a lucky coincidence it was at the exact second that I reached the restroom that I realized that I was in need of a relieving of myself. Thus, I finished with brushing my teeth, shut the bathroom door and shuffled over to the receptacle. I had just started trying to aim at the dead bug in the toilet when....
SUDDENLY! A flash illuminated the horizon! A lightning bolt did that, I mean! And after that blinding light! well, there was only darkness.
Readers, what was I to do? I was standing in front of the toilet, and the dams had already burst. There was no going back anymore. But all of my instincts were telling me that I had to get out of that bathroom. The hair on the back of my neck grew a couple of inches from all of the stretching it was trying to do. My stomach was full of what some people call butterflies. I don't think they were really butterflies. The point is though, I was freaked out. I wanted to leave with all of my heart, but I was having trouble making it inside the bowl just standing there! So I endured. Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes stretched into hours, and all the while my panicked imagination was showing me legions of demons amassing outside the thankfully locked bathroom door. Everything that I knew, everything that I believed in was telling me to bolt. But I could not, if I was to keep my human dignity. So I stood there in the dark, sentinel of the toilet bowl, ever wary, making sure to set a striking pose as the flashes of lightning illuminated me.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Heist
Luigi Confuciusson, son of Confucius, son of Vrrolf of the Red Beard who was begotten by Mikoto and L'Shawn Harimoto, children of His Royal Highness Steven Spielberg, stared intently at the metal box to his left. The box was intricately designed. Padlocks surrounded it, creating a nine layered lock. Laser beams gridded the padlocks, making a barrier so impenetrable that not even a fruit fly could get through. Metal spikes covered in acid floated along the laser beams threatening to slaughter any hand that so much as approached the treasure inside the box. The protection of God himself hovered over the spikes ready to smite sinners with holy power. Luigi whistled in awe. Now this was a challenge!
Luigi cracked his knuckles, getting ready for his last job. This was it. The big one. If he pulled this off, he would go down in history as the most successful thief to ever grace the face of the planet. He locked the door so that he could work in utmost privacy, and sat down to get a closer look at the impenetrable fortress awaiting his challenge. Wiggling his fingers, he slowly approached the box. As he got nearer, he stopped thinking about it and let his instincts take over. The first opponent was God, whom Luigi deftly defeated in thumb wrestling and finger jousting, before poking him in the eyes and tossing him into the Baltic Sea. As Luigi was instinctively doing this, he remembered the first years of his quest.
There wasn't much security back then, back in 1945. Usually all people used were wooden boxes or even nothing. The first time had been easy, on a whim. He had just needed something, so he took it. But it soon grew into a habit. All around the world wooden boxes were being invaded, and nobody knew how it was happening. They soon wised up though and added metal locks and metal boxes to protect their goods. But Luigi was ready for them. He began bringing lock picks and crowbars to complete the job and once again terrorized the world. Nobody could stop him and his nimble fingers. By that point though, it was 1979, and plastics were starting to become popular. Malleable plastic boxes began to pop up in Luigi's conquests, although it was mostly only rich places who had them. Luigi usually only targeted rich places though, because they were more of a challenge. So he rose to that challenge as well. By 2005, metal locks were obsolete. They were using electronics and computers to defeat him, but Luigi refused to be defeated. But now it was 2010, and this was the biggest mark he had ever seen.
As Luigi finished his thoughts, he became reaware of his situation. All of the defenses had been stripped away, leaving only the metal box, with the prize sitting visibly inside. Luigi shifted on the toilet that he was sitting on, and in extreme excitement grabbed at the toilet paper hanging loosely in the box. This was the final roll. He had stolen toilet paper from bathrooms around the world, never once losing to the locks or defenses that stores put up to beat him. And he just had to reach out and take this one. So he reached. But he didn't take. God reappeared in a flurry of snow and gunshots and jaguars to smash Luigi's hand and turn the toilet paper holder into an unbreakable encasement of unobtanium before vanishing in a flash of light. It was over for Luigi Confuciusson.
Certainly he tried, grunting and pulling on the box for hours as customers of the Macy's knocked on the door impatiently. But with his broken hand he couldn't do anything. So he collapsed on the ground crying. He had never lost, until his retirement run, his swan song. And now he was ultimately and definitively defeated. He couldn't do anything. And then his mind snapped. Committing the greatest sin, Luigi rage quit and just grabbed the toilet paper and pulled it all off of its roll, throwing it all over the stall. He had lost, and he knew it. He ran home to his toilet paper fortress, and laying down inside of it burned it all. And thus died Luigi Confuciusson, son of Confucius, son of Vrrolf of the Red Beard who was begotten by Mikoto and L'Shawn Harimoto, the children of His Royal Highness Steven Spielberg.
Luigi cracked his knuckles, getting ready for his last job. This was it. The big one. If he pulled this off, he would go down in history as the most successful thief to ever grace the face of the planet. He locked the door so that he could work in utmost privacy, and sat down to get a closer look at the impenetrable fortress awaiting his challenge. Wiggling his fingers, he slowly approached the box. As he got nearer, he stopped thinking about it and let his instincts take over. The first opponent was God, whom Luigi deftly defeated in thumb wrestling and finger jousting, before poking him in the eyes and tossing him into the Baltic Sea. As Luigi was instinctively doing this, he remembered the first years of his quest.
There wasn't much security back then, back in 1945. Usually all people used were wooden boxes or even nothing. The first time had been easy, on a whim. He had just needed something, so he took it. But it soon grew into a habit. All around the world wooden boxes were being invaded, and nobody knew how it was happening. They soon wised up though and added metal locks and metal boxes to protect their goods. But Luigi was ready for them. He began bringing lock picks and crowbars to complete the job and once again terrorized the world. Nobody could stop him and his nimble fingers. By that point though, it was 1979, and plastics were starting to become popular. Malleable plastic boxes began to pop up in Luigi's conquests, although it was mostly only rich places who had them. Luigi usually only targeted rich places though, because they were more of a challenge. So he rose to that challenge as well. By 2005, metal locks were obsolete. They were using electronics and computers to defeat him, but Luigi refused to be defeated. But now it was 2010, and this was the biggest mark he had ever seen.
As Luigi finished his thoughts, he became reaware of his situation. All of the defenses had been stripped away, leaving only the metal box, with the prize sitting visibly inside. Luigi shifted on the toilet that he was sitting on, and in extreme excitement grabbed at the toilet paper hanging loosely in the box. This was the final roll. He had stolen toilet paper from bathrooms around the world, never once losing to the locks or defenses that stores put up to beat him. And he just had to reach out and take this one. So he reached. But he didn't take. God reappeared in a flurry of snow and gunshots and jaguars to smash Luigi's hand and turn the toilet paper holder into an unbreakable encasement of unobtanium before vanishing in a flash of light. It was over for Luigi Confuciusson.
Certainly he tried, grunting and pulling on the box for hours as customers of the Macy's knocked on the door impatiently. But with his broken hand he couldn't do anything. So he collapsed on the ground crying. He had never lost, until his retirement run, his swan song. And now he was ultimately and definitively defeated. He couldn't do anything. And then his mind snapped. Committing the greatest sin, Luigi rage quit and just grabbed the toilet paper and pulled it all off of its roll, throwing it all over the stall. He had lost, and he knew it. He ran home to his toilet paper fortress, and laying down inside of it burned it all. And thus died Luigi Confuciusson, son of Confucius, son of Vrrolf of the Red Beard who was begotten by Mikoto and L'Shawn Harimoto, the children of His Royal Highness Steven Spielberg.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The Next Teenage Blockbuster: Chapter 2
There I was hovering, scanning the area for prey, when a sudden movement caught my eye. My eyes tracking the movement, I swiveled my head around, locking on to the small object that was diving past me. I bent my head, folded my arms into my body, and then dove down after it. Down I sped, the air whistling through my eyelashes, my cheeks flopping around in the turbulent air. Slowly I built up speed until my target was just within reach, just barely grabbable. I un-tucked my right arm from my side and pushed it through the rushing air, reaching out for the object. One by one I unclenched my fingers, grunting with the effort. With my hand fully open, I lunged downwards, grabbing the falling hamburger and firmly tucking it back into my body. I tumbled down through the air, gradually slowing down, until I came skidding to a halt 5,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean. I stood there, in the sky, chewing slowly on the food that had fallen from a passing airplane, striking a heroic pose, and feeling pretty cool.
Oh! I haven't told you have I? Well, if you haven't figured it out yet, I'm a little bit different from most people. Yeah dudes, thats right, I can fly. And it's not just floating through the air flying, it's high speed, high maneuverability supersonic flight! I gotta say that it has made my life difficult at times, to know that I'm better than other people, to know that I am superior. But I also have to admit that it is freaking awesome. Up in the sky, nothing gets in my way. I can do whatever I want. Yeah, I guess I could use my "powers" to help people out, like some kind of super hero, but I'm just a kid! Hell, I don't even know if I believe in justice. Anyways! You've probably gotten the picture by now, so we'll return to the main narrative.
I finished off that hamburger in the time it takes Team Rocket to lose a fight. Which is to say, pretty fast. Speaking of Team Rocket, I can't tell you how many times I've seen them flying past me. They're pretty chill guys, I have to say. But, back to the story again. We'll switch this into the present tense just for kicks. So there I am, standing in the sky like a G6, when I see a venti sized Coca-Cola falling over the coasts of Washington D.C. Well, I know that you gotta have Coke when you have a Big Mac, so I zoom over there and snatch it before it falls on the head of our President, Barrack Obama. Before I leave, he gives me a medal of honor. I guess I do believe in justice after all. So I now have a medal of honor, an almost digested Big Mac, and a Coke. The question is what to do with it all. What I do is chug that Coke, throw the cup out into the ocean, dilution is the solution yeah?, and just for fun, I start flying across the continent.
I'm gonna take a break to answer some questions you guys might have. Probably the first thing that popped into your mind was, how is this crazy bastard going to urinate when he's flying over continental US? Well, let me tell you, that scared me at first. I was not gonna expose myself in the middle of the air, and I was not gonna risk my bodily fluids landing on some poor sucker's head. I may not totally believe in justice, but that just isn't right! But thats why I'm special. I can fly. So I just fly up to the top of the stratosphere, making sure to wear goggles and ear plugs so I don't explode from the pressure, unzip my pants, and let loose! I'd guess the second question you noobs had, is, how does that help? Well, since I'm feeling so cool today, I'll tell you. It's the pressure. You get it? Since its so high up, the atmosphere is ridiculously thin, reducing the boiling point of liquids. Yeah, I learned this in my chemistry class. But it's helping a ton! So, the boiling point is low. Now I ask you this, rhetorically. Where is piss stored? In the body. So its got a low boiling point, and its already warm. So when its released into the outside world? Well it just evaporates. The only danger is that a passing satellite snaps a photo of me, but thats a risk I'm willing to take. Wow. It looks like I've used up all my time here, so I'll see you next time. Toodles, mon peeps.
Oh! I haven't told you have I? Well, if you haven't figured it out yet, I'm a little bit different from most people. Yeah dudes, thats right, I can fly. And it's not just floating through the air flying, it's high speed, high maneuverability supersonic flight! I gotta say that it has made my life difficult at times, to know that I'm better than other people, to know that I am superior. But I also have to admit that it is freaking awesome. Up in the sky, nothing gets in my way. I can do whatever I want. Yeah, I guess I could use my "powers" to help people out, like some kind of super hero, but I'm just a kid! Hell, I don't even know if I believe in justice. Anyways! You've probably gotten the picture by now, so we'll return to the main narrative.
I finished off that hamburger in the time it takes Team Rocket to lose a fight. Which is to say, pretty fast. Speaking of Team Rocket, I can't tell you how many times I've seen them flying past me. They're pretty chill guys, I have to say. But, back to the story again. We'll switch this into the present tense just for kicks. So there I am, standing in the sky like a G6, when I see a venti sized Coca-Cola falling over the coasts of Washington D.C. Well, I know that you gotta have Coke when you have a Big Mac, so I zoom over there and snatch it before it falls on the head of our President, Barrack Obama. Before I leave, he gives me a medal of honor. I guess I do believe in justice after all. So I now have a medal of honor, an almost digested Big Mac, and a Coke. The question is what to do with it all. What I do is chug that Coke, throw the cup out into the ocean, dilution is the solution yeah?, and just for fun, I start flying across the continent.
I'm gonna take a break to answer some questions you guys might have. Probably the first thing that popped into your mind was, how is this crazy bastard going to urinate when he's flying over continental US? Well, let me tell you, that scared me at first. I was not gonna expose myself in the middle of the air, and I was not gonna risk my bodily fluids landing on some poor sucker's head. I may not totally believe in justice, but that just isn't right! But thats why I'm special. I can fly. So I just fly up to the top of the stratosphere, making sure to wear goggles and ear plugs so I don't explode from the pressure, unzip my pants, and let loose! I'd guess the second question you noobs had, is, how does that help? Well, since I'm feeling so cool today, I'll tell you. It's the pressure. You get it? Since its so high up, the atmosphere is ridiculously thin, reducing the boiling point of liquids. Yeah, I learned this in my chemistry class. But it's helping a ton! So, the boiling point is low. Now I ask you this, rhetorically. Where is piss stored? In the body. So its got a low boiling point, and its already warm. So when its released into the outside world? Well it just evaporates. The only danger is that a passing satellite snaps a photo of me, but thats a risk I'm willing to take. Wow. It looks like I've used up all my time here, so I'll see you next time. Toodles, mon peeps.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Ironically, this is Serious
THE GREATEST MOMENT IN MARINERS HISTORY
Yeah, so I read Rick's Post about humour and wit last night and I was thinking about writing a post about it. It seems that I've been beaten to the punch by Puneet and Nathan, but I'm determined to get my two cents in, so here we are.
Basically, I spend all of my time looking for funny stuff.
What I've found is that I'm not very selective. I love some British humor (Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett, P.G. Wodehouse, Monty Python) and I love some American humor (Stephen Colbert, Jon Stewart, Steve Carrell, Will Ferrell sometimes). I fell into the trap of reading manga out of the desire to find things that make me Roll On the Floor Laughing My Freaking Abutt Off. And I found tons of good stuff (Saint Young Men is awesome look it up!).
After tons of research, I've found that true comedy is based almost completely on exaggeration and ridiculousness. The difference between British comedy and American Comedy is that British comedy exaggerates the normality of ridiculousness and that American comedy exaggerates the ridiculousness of normality. I wouldn't say that either is lesser than the other, they're just on opposite sides of the spectrum.
Maybe. I don't really analyze anything while I'm laughing, and when I'm trying to be funny I don't really plan it out. I think that everybody has a different sense of humor and that as long as it makes you laugh its good funny stuff. I love what Puneet would call intelligent humor, but I also love what he calls "Toilet Jokes" ie; Family Guy. (I must say, Family Guy is very often pretty intelligent though) But really, and I'll probably be scorned for the lack of analysis in this, I think that if its making you laugh, its funny. Unless its "Jackass 3D." That just says something about your taste. JK LOL HAHAHAHA THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN HYPOCRITICAL.
Edit: RIP Leslie Nielson!
Yeah, so I read Rick's Post about humour and wit last night and I was thinking about writing a post about it. It seems that I've been beaten to the punch by Puneet and Nathan, but I'm determined to get my two cents in, so here we are.
Basically, I spend all of my time looking for funny stuff.
What I've found is that I'm not very selective. I love some British humor (Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett, P.G. Wodehouse, Monty Python) and I love some American humor (Stephen Colbert, Jon Stewart, Steve Carrell, Will Ferrell sometimes). I fell into the trap of reading manga out of the desire to find things that make me Roll On the Floor Laughing My Freaking Abutt Off. And I found tons of good stuff (Saint Young Men is awesome look it up!).
After tons of research, I've found that true comedy is based almost completely on exaggeration and ridiculousness. The difference between British comedy and American Comedy is that British comedy exaggerates the normality of ridiculousness and that American comedy exaggerates the ridiculousness of normality. I wouldn't say that either is lesser than the other, they're just on opposite sides of the spectrum.
Maybe. I don't really analyze anything while I'm laughing, and when I'm trying to be funny I don't really plan it out. I think that everybody has a different sense of humor and that as long as it makes you laugh its good funny stuff. I love what Puneet would call intelligent humor, but I also love what he calls "Toilet Jokes" ie; Family Guy. (I must say, Family Guy is very often pretty intelligent though) But really, and I'll probably be scorned for the lack of analysis in this, I think that if its making you laugh, its funny. Unless its "Jackass 3D." That just says something about your taste. JK LOL HAHAHAHA THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN HYPOCRITICAL.
Edit: RIP Leslie Nielson!
Friday, December 3, 2010
Defining Momentum
I wrote this last year for Digital Visual Arts
The score was 109-110. There were 30 seconds left, and we had the ball. “Manny! Carry us to victory!” yelled the young and hot-blooded President as he passed the ball to Jesus’ younger brother. With 25 seconds left our team marched forward, crossing the half court line and confronting the gigantic alien team. As we waited for the clock to tick down to 8 seconds, it felt like the entire team had finally united with one purpose. Manny stood there, just outside the three point line, ball in hand, holding the hopes and dreams of the entire team—ready to fulfill or destroy them. The rest of us stood in front of him, ready to pave the way to our own victory. We four teammates were relying on Manny to score, but we knew that he needed our help as well. As Manny was ready to score for us, we were ready to stop the enemy for him.
The score was 109-110. There were 30 seconds left, and we had the ball. “Manny! Carry us to victory!” yelled the young and hot-blooded President as he passed the ball to Jesus’ younger brother. With 25 seconds left our team marched forward, crossing the half court line and confronting the gigantic alien team. As we waited for the clock to tick down to 8 seconds, it felt like the entire team had finally united with one purpose. Manny stood there, just outside the three point line, ball in hand, holding the hopes and dreams of the entire team—ready to fulfill or destroy them. The rest of us stood in front of him, ready to pave the way to our own victory. We four teammates were relying on Manny to score, but we knew that he needed our help as well. As Manny was ready to score for us, we were ready to stop the enemy for him.
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