The Waterlogged Blog

For Ky Ky

2010-03-12T19:20:00.000-08:00

I made a pillow case for my dear friend's birthday. It probably won't make it there in time, but here's a picture of it.

A Chatterly Christmas

2009-12-23T21:05:00.001-08:00

When I saw the CD on the counter, I knew it needed an album cover.

OneRepublican

2009-12-06T16:28:00.001-08:00

This is the album cover for OneRepublican's new album, Waking Up. Here are some sample lyrics from their new single, All the Right Bills:

They got all the right bills and all the wrong clauses,

Someday we'll vote it down.

They get all the right insurance and all the wrong health care,

Someday we'll vote it down.

Team Jacob's New Recruit

2009-11-28T18:56:00.000-08:00

"I'm the true alpha male."

2009-06-15T14:15:00.000-07:00

Another Jelly-Filled Mess

I rock the look. I'll be the first to admit it. Never has one man made one shirt look so darn good.

Perhaps I should take a step back and explain myself. For those uninitiated into the Jellyfish Conflict of '09, no explanation will be provided. The twists and turns; alliances and betrayals; heartbreak and anguish are simply too much to be explained. Suffice it to say that my dear friend Klarissa and my mom-away-from-mom Sister Ludwig made me a shirt. Here's me rocking the look:

Now I fit in with my gelatinous relatives

I'm not sure what this turn of events means. One could be led to believe that this is a peace offering:

Smoking the peace jelly.

However, those two are far more devious than their pleasant appearance suggests. Perhaps it's a way to make me look stupid or go against my principles. Perhaps "kick me, I'm a liberal" is written on the back in invisible ink. Or worse yet, perhaps it's made of recycled fibers! This would be terrible indeed.

However, I think it seems more likely that my neighbors are just overly kind to me. Somehow, they found it in their kind hearts to forgive the room vandalizing, name calling, ferocious young man next door and help his sense of fashion at the same time. Maybe it's a dis against my fashion sense, but I appreciate Klarissa and Mama Ludwig all the same.

Earth Day: We've Finally Got Those Tree Hugging Dastards On The Run

2009-04-22T17:47:00.001-07:00

Nation, it's no secret that I start off a large number of my blogs these days with the phrase "Nation, it's no secret that..." It's also no secret that I hate the environment. That's why I was so happy to see today was "Earth Day." I can only guess that, like "VE Day," this means we've finally won the war on the environment. To celebrate, I cleaned the house this morning, using cleaning appliances like the vacuum cleaner and the dishwasher to enlarge my carbon footprint (bigger IS ALWAYS better).

There are a number of arguments for saving the planet; all of them are stupid. I will take time to debunk one of them, mostly because I want to use the energy in my laptop battery:

Nation, there's been a whole lot of talk about preserving the planet for future generations. This smacks of age discrimination (I'd like to smack everyone making this argument). Sacrificing quality of this generation to better the lives of younger generations? (it stands to reason that unborn generations are younger than this one) Classic age discrimination. Already our quality of life has diminished from that of the height of the Industrial Revolution (sort of like the French Revolution, except trees lost their heads). We are no longer allowed to dump industrial waste into clean waters, or release harmful pollutants into the air. It's clear that our "Constitutional" rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness have been infringed upon.

Nation, I demand that we, as the Siebert Nation (pronouced "See-bear") take the planet in the stranglehold of democracy. Send a letter to your Congressperson. Send several letters. The more trees we cut down, the more they'll get the point. Refuse to recycle. If it's not new, it belongs in a museum or a dump. I think I've made myself very clear here. More clear than our "Clean-Water-Act-Mandated-Cialis-And-Various-Other-Pharmecutical-Laced-Municipally-Cleaned-Water." Happy Earth Day Nation, we've finally got the tree huggers on the run.

Shattered

2009-04-12T16:33:00.000-07:00

Nation, I'm a broken man. To be honest, I don't even feel like a broken man, I feel more like a broken nothing. I used to believe in love, but now, I see that, like Santa Claus, it was nothing more than a way to sell Coca-Cola.

Someone very dear to me stomped on my heart. Or rather, she chomped on it.

Yesterday, I decided to make peace, and I decided to make a token of our friendship and my forgiveness for her putting up those terrible posters. I spent days agonizing over the perfect symbol. It had to be something amazing, and yet be meaningful. Finally, I hit upon the perfect idea, something that would endure the test of time:

I thought that finally, things would be alright between us.

Sadly, today when I opened the door, I found the shatter remnants of my gift:

Nation, I'm crushed. Nothing can console me but a half gallon of vanilla ice cream. I now know it's too much to ask to be understood and accepted. My tears run into my ice cream and make it taste terrible, a bitter reminder of my pain. But I eat on, sadly devouring the ice cream like she devoured my love for her. I hope it tasted as bad as my ice cream does.

Magnet School

2009-04-08T18:53:00.000-07:00

I've created science. I know this a bold claim to make, but I feel that in this instance I am justified. Today, I conducted an experiment on my dog that has rather important implications. Where Pavlov made his dogs salivate, I made my dog produce a liquid of a different sort.

Perhaps I should step back and explain myself. With Grandma out of the house, our dog Floppy has been looking rather depressed. I had heard that victims of serious depression could be treated with electroshock therapy. I concluded that it stood to reason that a magnet could possibly produce the same effect. I decided to proceed with a process I called "recalibrating the dog."

I held two medium powered magnets to either side of Floppy's head. I could see no immediate difference. Suddenly, Floppy moved aside, and I saw a small puddle beneath him. Yes, the magnets had relaxed his poor depressed brain so much that he had lost momentary control of his bladder!

I can already see far reaching effects of this discovery:

I already know my computer would be relaxed by a magnet. It might be so relaxed that it would lose control of its Arithmetic Logic Unit.
Barrack Obama has been criticized for being too attached to his teleprompters. Perhaps holding magnets to his head would help him relax enough to say what he really feels. ("Uh... I need to change my pants. And... uh... that's change you can believe in.")
Economists everywhere could quickly be converted from their doomsday messages with a couple of magnets around their ears. They could also stimulate the economy when they need to dry clean their soiled pants.

I would go on, but the magnets have gone straight to my head and my pants are getting cold and damp.

I'm A PC Vampire

2009-03-22T18:04:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, I saw Twilight. I'm still not sure why I said "yes" when my dear friend Klarissa called and asked if I wanted to see it at her house. I tried to read the first book over the summer, and I read for about ten minutes (the length of my break from life guarding at the Rec Center) and I determined it was not the book for me. The prologue was painfully cliché, and I couldn't give a darn about Bella's relationship problems with her father.

I'm happy to report that the movie was much better. First, it was shorter. Second, much of the annoying introspection was replaced with a slightly attractive girl's moody staring. I'd rather watch the slightly attractive than read about them any day. Lastly, the special effects were amazing.

I'm joking. A two year old probably could have done the editing.

And an only slightly older child could have written the dialogue.

That's assuming, of course, that they had learned what a spider monkey was on their kindergarten trip to the zoo.

There was, however, one thing that I really enjoyed: all the product placements. There was Rainier Beer, and Google Books! Even in the face of stifling juvenility the free market rules supreme! I'll put out my own product placement, one that is bound to make Microsoft rich!

The Green Scare

2009-03-18T11:29:00.001-07:00

Nation, it's no secret that I hate St. Patrick's Day. At least, now it isn't. You might ask, "Mark, why would you hate such a great holiday?" The answer is simple. St. Patrick's Day is nothing more than a liberal scheme to make us all accept the 'green' agenda.

Need more proof?

St. Patrick's Day isn't a federal holiday. It's a social holiday. What else starts with social? Hmm... I don't know, maybe SOCIALISM?

The pressure for everyone to wear green is violently conformist. It's an attempt to create a green wearing proletariat to topple the dark suit wearing elites of society.

Shamrock culture glorifies the four leafed clover over the normal three leafed variety. With this 'the more leaves the better' view how long is it before our children begin seeking out a certain seven leafed 'clover' and start smoking it?

The myths of plump leprechauns and their pots of gold sitting at the end of a rainbow sounds mildly familiar. Like chubby Congressmen with their welfare checks sitting in Washington?

I think there's no doubt now that there is a St. Patty Plight. It's only a short leap from wearing green, to pinching loggers, to leading PETA rallies. There's also no doubt that we need a charismatic visionary to lead the crusade against the Blarney Brethren. Mark McCarthy, perhaps?

I urge everyone to band together to fight this liberal scheme. Waste an extra piece of paper today just to show them who's in control. Let your car idle while you listen to the end of that song on the radio. Make a GreenList of known (and unknown) liberals. Let's hit 'em while they're smoking shamrocks.

Guest Writer

2009-03-01T13:25:00.000-08:00

I've decided to host a guest writer on my blog. This writer is none other than my computer! This week, for a lab in one of my computer classes, we were given the assignment to write a random sentence generator. I did so, and now I'm using it to write my blog. So here it goes (note that I've added punctuation; the program is not totally omniscient):

Nation, I am enraged because I read that snakes had convinced Hitler that hiding in a picture frame is good. I'm even more angry because I saw the Pinko Commies had a scheme to assassinate Pol Pot with a piece of recycled aluminum. I think we need to destroy liberals with an iPod capable of making anger so we can let Stephan Colbert use a guitar to dispel the myth of explosions in the Middle East. I'm calling for us to make Barrack Obama conjugate a million verbs. My computer is so much better than me I want to strangle overgrown kangaroos with a flower pot.

Here are some great lines that my computer generated:

I'm even more angry because I just found out sinful preachers have convinced David S. Carpenter that punching alligators is good.

We need to make Kyler Ludwig conjugate a million verbs.

My computer is like Barrack Obama on steroids.

The liberal media had convinced a guy named Steve that gnawing through a guitar is good.

We need to let Pol Pot kill hamsters so we can unstop the toilet with an iPod capable of hiding in a large pencil.

I just found out women named 'Gina' have been using Richard Nixon's toothbrush to melt the polar ice caps.

Now I think we all know the dangers of letting a computer write humor. It's terrifying that my computer can write all this stuff. It could say anything it wanted to while posing as me. I want you to know that my computer is the best computer in the whole entire world, and if I could, I would make blood sacrifices to it every third Tuesday of the month. I will most definitely be giving it a RAM massage after I'm done writing this.

Integrating the Inappropriate

2009-02-06T08:45:00.000-08:00

Today in my Calculus 2 class (slogan: "this time it's not Calculus 1"), we learned about improper integrals. Now, before you start thinking this was some great math drama about an aging single math professor who falls in love with a 30 year old graduate student who writes beautiful integrals, I should tell you it's not that interesting. In fact, it's so boring, I won't even describe what they are.

However, I do think there are other ways that integrals are improper. Just look at the way integrals are drawn:

Look at those curves! No wonder math majors have a hard time meeting women; they have unrealistic expectations from working thousands of math problems! The more I thought about these insidious symbol objectifying mathematicians, the more I realized just how pervasive their symb-ography is. Just look at the pi, the most innocent of numbers:

So curvaceous! Think about the toll these unrealistic symbol expectations must take upon the poor sigma sign:

It's time we step up and put an end to the flagrant use of symbolic augmentation and stop these lecherous lecturers. Write all your math using flat symbols. Write your congressperson and make Congress pass a Flat Math Act. Tell them it's sort of like a flat tax. Support members of your family that struggle with math image problems. If all else fails, save yourself the heartbreak, just stop doing math.

Adding Insult To History

2009-02-02T15:29:00.000-08:00

He did it again. So much for being a gracious winner. That's right, last night, Barack Obama rubbed his election over Arizonan senator John McCain in the good senator's face with a second victory. This victory was much more important, because it had far more commercials, which meant a much bigger chance to restart the economy (than $800 billion, I mean). I am, of course, speaking of Obama's actions to win the Super Bowl.

I'm sure this accusation upsets the liberals out there. "He didn't even give the Steelers hope!" and "Change would have been for the Cardinals to win, not the Steelers!" and "He wasn't even playing!" are probably the general arguments. Oh yeah?

I knew the guy who ran the 100 yard interception return touchdown looked too skinny!

Mr. President, you should have let the Cardinals win. Everyone knows it's a long standing tradition that the new president lets his opponent's team win the Super Bowl. You get to sign the bill to shut down Guantanamo Bay, and John McCain's Cardinals get to shut down the Steelers. It should be a fair exchange, but you've tipped the scales of justice. Look at what you've done:

That's why I'm calling for Barack Obama to set things right by stepping down from the Presidency and allowing John McCain to take his place. Unlike the Cardinals, who had a long history of losing, Senator McCain had a long history of winning office. But you, Mr. President, have put an end to that history with your own historic election. Now you've gone and won the historic 43th Super Bowl. And that's adding insult to history.

Managing the Microwave Menace

2009-01-27T17:17:00.000-08:00

Today, at University Forum, I listened to a speech entitled, "Microwaves, Icebergs and Global Warming." Naturally, I assumed that he would be refuting any evidence of global climate change. So when I heard the words, "global warming is real," I nearly went berserk with rage. I ignored the rest of the speech, instead desperately visualizing myself punching the speaker in the head each time he mentioned global warming, in an attempt to preserve my dogmatic conservative paradigm.

I was largely successful.

However, after the speech ended, I was left with no idea of what had actually been said, and only vaguely remembered animated displays of ice fluctuation. I can only guess from the title of the speech that microwaves are the cause for "global warming."

Obviously, microwaves are now a luxury the liberal schemers out there are trying to get us to give up. I don't care if it's gonna kill the planet, I want my leftovers warm. You liberals could try to tell me otherwise, but I won't be paying attention. I'll be imagining myself punching you in the face.

i, CoinFlip

2009-01-23T20:02:00.001-08:00

It's a pretty well known fact that I am an aspiring nerd. This next week in my Data Structures class (it's as deliciously scandalous as it sounds), the project is to write a program that predicts what the user will guess in a coin flip. Sounds innocent, right?

Wrong. This computer program learns based on the user's guesses. That's right, it learns. If the user uses any type of pattern, whether consciously or subconsciously, the program will learn and take advantage of it!

This is terrifying. It could spell the destruction of our nation and our movie industry. I'm sure you're thinking, "What could a program that guesses coin flipping predictions possibly do?" Well, here are a few examples to show just how insidious this program could be.

I'm considering not doing the project. But I think I'd rather get a good grade in Professor Barker's class than prevent the destruction of mankind.

Joe The Bummer

2008-12-17T15:48:00.000-08:00

Nation, I’m furious. Yesterday, when I opened up this week’s copy of Time magazine, I found this disturbing piece of information:
Oh really, Joe the Plumber? Or is it Joe the Bummer? When you set foot upon the Straight Talk Express, did you expect to get off at the corner of Fame and Fortune? Well, you got off on the wrong stop, on Backstab Alley. If you had wanted another 15 seconds of fame, you should have just asked John McCain. The gracious senator would have obliged, just like he obliged Bush's desire to speak at the Republican National Convention.

Nation, we need to stand up against this plumbing plight. We need to boycott these pipemen. Next time your toilet gets backed up, you just flush that toilet once more. Take one for America. Don’t take betrayal for an answer. If this nation didn't demand plumber loyalty, we’d all still be using chamber pots.

When Big Plumbing rides out to Washington on their recliner toilets, asking for a government bailout, you kick them back down to the U-Bend.

And when that plumber comes to your house and starts offering the legal type of crack, you reach down and pull his underwear up. This country cannot afford to pander to the immorality of the pipegrabbing minority.

Nation, listen to me. Something needs to be done about the pipe crisis. If we don’t when they ask who killed America, it won’t be Colonel Mustard in the library with the rope. It’ll be Joe the Plumber in the lavatory with the lead pipe.

Problem Solved: Economic Crisis

2008-10-26T18:40:00.000-07:00

Lately, people have been really anxious about the whole economic meltdown that's been threatening our nation.

Don't worry, I'm on it.

Fist Of McCain (Not A Cheap Karate Movie)

2008-10-19T17:45:00.000-07:00

Nation, it's no secret that my dad is a Demo. But now, so is my family. So, today, in order to combat the dangers of liberalism in my family, I slapped a McCain sticker onto the back of my hand. When I rose my fist into the air, I was literally "Raisin' McCain." I could even say that I knew John McCain like the back of my hand. As my final act of defiance, I punched a picture of Obama. That'll teach the fam.

If only they had listened to my request to do town hall meetings. By now, we could have done at least ten, and I wouldn't have had to resort to such drastic measures.

Physics

2008-10-09T06:51:00.001-07:00

I hate my physics class. I hate it more than I hate anything else in the world, except quite possibly my physics teacher. He's a terrible teacher. He's this old guy who uses the word "why" like a Dr. Seuss character. For example, he might say, "With this acceleration, why, think of all the places you'll go!" Except when he says it, he doesn't pause long enough after the "why" and it just sounds like a jumbled, incomprehensible question asked in monotone.

Pretty much everything else he says is incomprehensible too. He has this incredible ability to turn any simple concept into something impossible to understand. And when you can understand it, he goes into "Over Kill Mode" and repeats it a million times. For example, to show that a table can exert normal force against any object he, placed at least 5 objects on the table, and acted like it was a huge magic trick that they didn't fall through the table. Only the physics majors in the front row were laughing by the second go around. By the way, the picture is of him showing us that the table would even exert normal force against his "corpulent body," as he is so fond of saying.

Essentially, everyone just sleeps through the class, and good thing too, I feel like I need a nap.

Whimpey in the Pool

2008-08-25T20:22:00.000-07:00

Oh my gosh, Whimpey was in the pool tonight! And yes, ladies, he DOESN'T look so Whimpey with his shirt off. I know all the Whimpey fans out there are desperate for the update, so I'll share all the juicy details with you.

OMG! I talked to Michael J. Whimpey! Here's the conversation, pretty much verbatim:

Whimpey: Hey, do they have swim lessons here in the summer?

Me: Yeah.

Whimpey: Do they have diving lessons?

Me: No, sir. Go ahead. (Whimpey goes down slide with daughter)

Now, now, I know you're all a little "miffed" that I didn't say more to him, but I was too afraid that I might bring up painful memories of his campaign, and I didn't want to ruin his fun filled evening with his wife and kids.

'NOTHER REASON WHIMPEY'S GREAT: He actually knew our slide laprider policy. No questions asked, he just knew it. Only great people don't get angry with me when I explain it, and only the really really great people go down the slide to get a lifejacket for their kids. Mike Whimpey just showed up with his daughter and a lifejacket, ready to go.

UNFORTUNATELY, he can't dive very well. I'm no connoisseur of diving, but from the top of the slide tower, it didn't look so dignified.

SIGNS OF APATHY AMONG TODAY'S YOUTH: I told the first guard who came to rotate me that the guy standing to her left, yes that one, next to the woman in the red swimming suit, was Michael J. Whimpey. She laughed, and then said "Who?" After that, I told several people, but no one knew who he was. It's sad when kids don't know who the candidates for their city council were.

So there you have it, the whole scoop on Whimpey Night. You just had to be there to really know how great it was.

PS: He grew a very short beard.

2008-06-23T11:08:00.001-07:00

Now announcing the creation of a new blog: The Wii World Channel. For those unfamiliar with the Wii, the Wii Menu is made up of various channels (the Weather Channel, the News Channel, etc.). I'm adding a new one, the Wii World Channel. It addresses the question that we're all faced with, namely, is the Wii going to take over every aspect of life as we know it, and when it does, will it be better? The Wii World Channel candidly explores these questions, with futuristic pictures and in depth analysis. Tune in to the Wii World Channel wii-kly to see what the future could be.

Visit: wiiliefandwiilaxation.blogspot.com OR

click on the link that says "A View Of The Future" to begin your Wiiventure.

2008-06-15T13:18:00.001-07:00

I usually call him "D" or "Sir." But today, I would like to honor and respect him a little bit more. On this Father's Day, I've decided to reflect on the things that make my dad such a great dad. All the things that I am, I am because I emulated traits in him.

My dad is always kind, and very patient. He's charismatic, and everyone likes him. He's a great mediator, and he's always able to see the story from both sides.

He's smart, and has his PhD. I hope to someday be as intelligent, and have as good of an ability to make thoughtful faces as my dad.

My dad sticks up for the things he believes in. He's a Democrat, a rarity in Utah, and he sticks up for it. He gets in trouble with his superiors for his beliefs, but continues stand true to his morals.

My dad is hilarious. He has a random sense of humor that I truly connect with. He's never afraid to do silly things the rest of us are afraid to do to make someone laugh.

My dad is a provider. This is a picture of him in his samurai getup before he goes to hunt wild beasts in the morning.

My dad is always willing to help us out. Even when the job is as unpleasant as Calculus homework, or carrying Julia.

My dad always spends time with us and gets into the things we like to do. He actually knew all 150 Pokemon, and had defeated the Elite Four. He got all 120 Stars in Super Mario 64, and got every jiggy in Banjo Kazooie. He even learned to text! I love to spend time with my dad. He makes most anything fun.

My dad always treats my mom with love. He's an excellent example of what a husband should be. I hope I can be like him (that is, if I ever get married). He's a great example for me at all times, and I love my dad. Happy Father's Day, Sir.

PS: Sometimes he breaths fire, so don't get on his bad side.

Graduation Speeches

2008-05-31T16:02:00.000-07:00

Many of you attended my graduation ceremony on Friday. Quite frankly, I thought the whole thing was a waste of time. However, I won't be addressing that opinion in this blog. No, the purpose of this blog is to show a taste of what could have been.

I was asked, among others, to prepare a graduation speech and participate in a speech-off. It was basically a death match, though I refrained from killing any of the other candidates. Instead, I killed the time honored tradition of traditional graduation speeches. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present: my graduation speech.

B.F. Skinner once said, “Education is what survives when what has been learned has been forgotten.” Incidentally, B.F. stands for Burrhus Frederick, which is arguably one of the most comical names I’ve ever heard. But who was this Skinner man, the man behind the Burrhus? He was a psychologist, who drove patients insane by saying confusing things like, “Education is what survives when what has been learned has been forgotten.”

No, seriously, Professor Skinner was an influential psychologist, and a very important man. Here on Graduation Day, we also aspire to become important men. Except for those of us who are women, who aspire to become important women.

As we leave Mountain View, we ask ourselves, how can we become important men and women? My guess is that it has something to do with education surviving after what has been learned has been forgotten.

But what does that mean? When the Graduation Committee gave me this quote, they essentially gave me a blank check, allowing me to run away with the interpretation however I pleased.

“Education is what survives when what has been learned has been forgotten.” Perhaps it means we’ve already got our education, and now we should try to forget as much as possible. Perhaps the Grinch said it best when he declared, “Maybe education doesn’t come from a store, maybe education…perhaps…means a little bit more.”

And perhaps it does mean a little bit more. Here at Mountain View, much like the Grinch, we’ve puzzled till our puzzlers were sore, we’ve done school work till we couldn’t, no more. Forgive the grammar, English teachers, I just felt the need to write poetry, which is something else we’ve done here at Mountain View.

But what will happen when we’ve forgotten what we’ve puzzled, and what we’ve studied? What will remain of our high school careers? Might I suggest, in the words of B.F. Skinner, that “education, is what survives?” What will remain is our memories of the good times here at Mountain View, the friends that we’ve made, and the wonderful administration. What getting an education has taught us are the things that no book can teach, not even the Bible. We will have learned how to learn, and we will have gained confidence in ourselves. The skills we have developed, whether they be music, drama, dance, foreign language, business, computers, or underwater basket weaving, will follow us throughout our lives, whether or not we make a career of them. While the actual substance of what we have learned, the quadratic formula, the laws of thermodynamics, or iambic pentameter, may be forgotten, the life lessons taught, the talents cultivated, and the myriad things that make high school high school have intertwined to make what is called an education, which will define who we are for the rest of our lives.

So, hopefully, our lives have grown through gaining an education these past few years. However, our hearts may not have grown three times like the Grinch. As for rhymes, maybe this’ll do in a pinch.

I’ll talk no more, my speech is through,

Congratulations, senior class of Mountain View.

Poll Results

2008-04-28T16:50:00.001-07:00

The results are in. The poll has closed. And clearly, "Something Free" has won the vote with a stunning 72%. Either that or Costco has won it all, which is entirely possible. I will now interpret the results using my vast knowledge of statistics.

First, the results may be incorrect. I personally have seen votes change all the time. At one point, some economically minded person had voted for "Robbing A Bank." The vote disappeared when they were apprehended by authorities. At another time, there was a vote for "Hanging Out," but it was so lame that both the person and the vote died. And so, after much strife, we come to our present poll scores.

Secondly, we much check for either "normality" or a large sample size. It wasn't a large sample, and the sample was probably not normal. Maybe it was normal in the statistical sense, but you people are definitely a "nonnormal population." And so, I should probably not being doing statistical analysis on this poll.

Instead, I will interpret the broader meaning of this poll. First, because "Something Free" won, I must conclude that there are some girls out there that I should obviously go out with. Never pass up a date with a "financially savvy young lady." I must also conclude that it is socially acceptable to go to Costco for samples.

Unfortunately, capturing an alarming 28% of the vote were the "Boring Romantic People." These people simply disgust me. They probably think it's fun to kiss. Or hold hands, or some other unacceptable form of physical contact. Frankly, I'm sorry to see that our country has stooped so low, that our lives are becoming more like chick flicks than war movies. I think we should move towards kung-fu movies, because the women can always karate chop heads off in those movies.

And that's the option I forgot for the poll! "Karate Chopping Random People!" What a great date!

Thanks for answering the poll! Please give me ideas for the next poll, or just call me mean names for this one!

2008-04-19T19:40:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in forever, but I think really need to start again, so I'll post the funny essay thing I was supposed to write for English.

Butterflies

A butterfly is an insect of the order Lepidoptera. Like all Lepidoptera, butterflies are notable for their unusual life cycle with a larval caterpillar stage, an inactive pupal stage, and a spectacular metamorphosis into a familiar and colourful winged adult form. Most species are day-flying so they regularly attract attention. The diverse patterns formed by their brightly--

Shoot. I seem to have inserted my biology homework (I did that in class too. You would not believe the look from the English teacher when he thought that was my "funny essay."). Here goes for real:

MV Speed Bump Mauls Small Child

OREM, UT- A small child was attacked by a gigantic speed bump in the Mountain View parking lot, authorities stated Thursday night. According to local residents, the speed bumps frequently claw at the bottom of cars that travel over them, and the scattered carcasses of vehicles are strewn all over them.

Apparently they’ve developed at taste for human flesh.

Little Timmy Tompkins told police he was walking unattended through the parking lot late Thursday afternoon when one of the speed bumps reared up and attempted to devour him. As chilling evidence to his story, Timmy’s face was scratched, and so were his elbows and knees.

“He’s lucky the speed bumps are not yet fully matured,” declared Paul Pylon, a speed bump scientist at the Utah Institute of Fictional Biology. “They can grow up to three feet tall,” he further elaborated.

“It was more than big enough, and it’s a menace!” screamed an irate Ira Irking, spokeswoman for the Mothers Against Driving Dangers (MADD). Already, the speed bumps are visible on Google Earth (motto: “Proudly Helping Students Find Their Teachers’ Houses Since 2005).

“We anticipate being able to see the speed bumps from space with our naked eyes in the near future,” confided Jack “Buzz Lightyear” Jackson, the first astronaut to successfully complete the suited orbit of the flagpole outside Mountain View, and who has seen the devastating effects of the speed bumps firsthand. “These are majestic creatures, really quite magnificent,” he continued. “Though I’d have to admit I wouldn’t want one stuck down my shorts.”

Though little Tompkins was attacked by a speed bump, it was only one of the two species that make Mountain View their home. The parking lot is also the habitat for speed humps, the smaller relative of the speed bump in the Asphaltus family. The police found the humps in the north side of the parking lot.

“They are much less vicious than the bumps,” stated Pylon, who is very eager to get his fictional research into the scientific mainstream, where he can receive federal grant money. All presidential candidates have declined to comment on their position on “bump and hump research” for this article.

In fact, there is an even smaller species, called the speed lump, which is used to slow Hot Wheels Cars. The CEO of Fantastical Sounding Imaginary Biological Products, Inc. was unavailable for comment, but products from the company are expected to hit WalMart shelves early 2009, as are computers, livestock, and tactical nuclear weapons. WalMart representatives were also unavailable for comment, though an “associate” stated that he was sure WalMart sold comments at “rolled back prices.”

Timmy Tompkins is in good condition, and is expected to make a full recovery after his encounter with the speed bump. Until bump conditions in the parking lot improve, police advise throwing steaks to the speed bumps when walking past to appease them.

“You can also push a friend towards the speed bump to distract them,” Pylon cheerfully observed. “If you don’t have a friend, push a teacher.” –Mark Siebert, The Daily Fiction News

I Am Legend

2008-01-04T20:28:00.001-08:00

No. I haven't seen it. I swear I get a "Have you seen I Am Legend?" more than I get normal comments, like, "Hi," or "Death to Hillary!" It's getting to be quite a problem. In fact, as I'm writing this, someone has just Instant Messengered me and asked if I have seen I Am Legend.

I Am Legend. There's no getting around the fact. I see frightening parallelisms between my own life, and Will Smith's acting. In the movie, a virus supposedly turns everyone on the Earth except Will Smith (because he has excellent writers) into zombies who then attack said actor. Or they turn into corpses. Incidentally, this movie is turning everyone on the Earth into a zombie who is forced to attack me with the question, "Have you seen I Am Legend?" And about the corpses, I'm sure someone's had an epileptic seizure while watching the movie.

From the plot of the movie, I can see that I will soon be the only living man on Earth who has not seen the movie. The only thing I can't see mimicking the movie is the dog. Sorry, I'm pretty sure if I was the last man alive, I sure wouldn't be talking to my dog for moral support. I would be eating it for nutritional support.

Another Cause For Cancer

2007-12-02T12:09:00.000-08:00

Since the beginning of time, or at least the past couple of decades, mankind has been plagued by a problem. A problem singlehandedly responsible for obesity, rising divorce rates, and Al Gore's Nobel Peace Prize. It has also been linked to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Of course, you current events savvy people already know what I'm speaking of. For the rest of you, I refer to the annoying beeping sound videogames make when you're nearly dead.

A staple in the Pokemon and Zelda franchises, the noise has driven countless gamers into insanity. I personally kill my little guy whenever I get to that point in any game. It's the only way to maintain my hold on my mental facilities. I'm absolutely certain it's the only reason for the end of the Golden Age of the Pokemon Fad. It's a sad day when our nation's children have no idea that Squirtle evolves into Wartortle, but can easily name our nation's presidents. What is this country coming to?

We need to take action on the "Annoying Beeping of Communism" problem. Write your Congressperson and tell them your concerns. They will likely never get the letter, but their staff might laugh until drool runs onto their legal notepads. This is because they don't care. They are funded by the "Beeping Interests Economic Program" (acronym pronounced "Beep," in various degrees of vehemence, depending on the amount of anger being expressed). They couldn't care what happens to you, as long as they get their check from the Beeping Special Interest Groups. I suggest that we send them a Gameboy, with a nearly dead Pokemon and the sound on full blast. The drool on their legal notepads won't be from laughter then.

The Chargers

2007-10-12T14:50:00.001-07:00

The title of this blog is actually an attempt to gain the sports fan readership. They've been tricked. Yesterday my mom took my brothers, my sister and I to the Timp Caves. I was not particularly excited about this trip, in fact I was vocal in saying that I didn't want to go look at a stupid hole in the ground. After seeing it, I still wasn't convinced that it was all that great. I mean, I could have had a comparable experience if I went on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland, plus I would have been sitting, not to mention listening to a pirate song and watching very "real" looking pirates fight each other.

What got me even more was how much they charged to go into the place. It cost money to drive into the park. Then it cost money to hike to the caves and listen to some guy with an awful sense of humor tell us about cave formations. He really reminded me of Dwight K. Schrute, except he lacked a certain element that might have actually made him funny. In fact, he even looked like Dwight when he turned out the lights and was holding a candle to his face. However, I would never trust him, because he said his name was "Bob," when his name tag actually said "Robert." I didn't know which to believe.

Why in the world would we have to pay to go see the caves? Well, this is America. We have taxes, which basically means we pay the government to work. So, obviously, we have to pay to look at a natural formation in the country. It makes perfect sense. On the way down, my mom wanted to visit the gift store to see if they had playing cards. I'm glad it was closed. We wouldn't have been able to afford them anyways. If the place charges seven bucks a person to hike three miles, I can only imagine how much it would cost to buy some fun.

Pass the Conference Bowl

2007-10-10T18:32:00.001-07:00

Yesterday in Seminary, it was the Conference Bowl. I was hoping that it was a bowl of candy, or maybe a bowl of popcorn, but it's actually a competition to see who's class has the best knowledge of what happened in Conference. At least, that's how it's supposed to work in theory. However, because you can use notes, not to mention the notes of anyone in your class, it's actually a competition to see which class has the best notetakers. I prefer the candy.

Of course, I'm sure you're all dying to know how I did. Well, I got to go up there once. My question was asking for the name of the document created by the leading Christians under duress from Emperor Constantine. Of course, I know all of you are just screaming "It's the Nicene Creed, you moron!" I didn't scream that, but I did write Nicene Creed on my whiteboard, and quickly pushed the button to ring in my answer. No one else knew the answer. A lesser man might boast about this, but mostly I'm just concerned. Why is it that the question I answered instantaneously, without any thought, was actually a matter of Catholic history?

I won't try and answer that. I'll let whoever reads this blog leave their own sarcastic reason. Just bear in mind I wasn't the only 0ne who was out of line. Bro. Lowe, my seminary teacher, was cheating, just as he always does, letting the students in his class use his notes. "Low on the competition, high on the happiness," he declared. "Lowe in the competition, high on happiness," I revised, ad libbing a newspaper headline.

I'm sad to see that Conference Bowl has degenerated to the point where even the Seminary Teachers are cheating. What was once a noble tradition for the pure in heart is now just an excuse to call other classes mean names. Classes set themselves above each other in a show of pride. I need something to drown my sorrows in. I need to eat to relieve the pain of my soul. Pass the Conference Bowl, please.

Homecoming Or Homestaying

2007-09-30T07:51:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been getting a lot of accusations of being antisocial. Because I feel a need to defend myself, I will do it on a blog, so I don't need to talk to any of those people.

I didn't go to Homecoming. I did, however go to the football game, and I even wore my spirit shirt. Anyone who actually knows me knows that that is the most school spirit I have ever displayed in my life. We pummeled the Springville Red Devils. "And thus we see that the devil will not support his children at the last day, but doth speedily drag them down to hell." (Alma 30:60)

I'm glad I went to Homestaying instead. Here are some reasons why:

- Every time someone said that there was a girl crying at home because of me, I would just think of the wallet not crying in my pocket.

- I don't plan on going to UVSC (It will never be UVU for me). Not even a dance there.

- George Bush doesn't have Homecoming, he has a Homestead. What's good enough for W is good enough for me.

- I see enough of those people on the weekdays, I don't need to see them on the weekends too.

So there you have it. Four perfectly good reasons for being antisocial and staying home. Oh, and the fifth. Razzleberry Pie. I bet my little brother is sad he missed out on that. Sucker.

The Number Game

2007-09-07T18:10:00.001-07:00

The other day I walked into swim practice and was confronted with a vision of Orem High's JV Swim Team. There was a kid there who was in my sixth grade class, only I didn't remember his name. All I remembered was his number in the numerical system that was set up in that class. #30.

I began to realize what was done to me in that class has twisted and scarred me. I remember many of the students in that class's faces, but not many of their names. Not one of their numbers has been forgotten. It's sick how these people, the memories, and the personalities, have all been erased by numbers. They no longer hold any more value to me than an integer like 18 (Jake Mortensen).

This summer, I was assigned a number at work to clock in and clock out of. I memorized it in a day, and now it comes without any thought. My subconscious sees me as this number. I can't help but think that numbers are erasing our identities. Each time I open my math book, I am confronted with numbers. Are all the problems in the book people who lost their identities, remembered only in math books? What if one of the problems I did today and hated was actually my great great grandfather? Are my pretend friends from childhood only remembered as imaginary numbers (23i)?

The number business must stop. We need to stop chanting "We're number one," at sporting events. We're just losing our identities when we do. Take back your name! Write off those numbers! At least spell them out! Vote for the presidential candidate that supports abolishing numbers. Let's get rid of the numbers once and for all. This is 26, over and out.

School Spirit Salad

2007-09-01T14:36:00.000-07:00

This week at school we had "Hi Week." As if the questionable name was not enough, we were also supposed to dress up to show our "spirit." The theme was Salad, which deceptively enough, did not require us to make Adam and Eve clothes out of lettuce leaves. Thankfully, we just had to dress up like a different type of salad each day, even though salad technically has nothing to do with our school; the Mountain View Lettucehead would not be a good mascot (though Lettucehead would be a good name for a band).

Monday: Italian Salad Day. The problem with this day was that most people had never had an Italian Salad in their lives, and had no idea how to dress up. For some reason, most people thought pizza and pasta were Italian, not salad.

Tuesday: Ranch Salad Day. No one drenched themselves in ranch dressing. Most people just dressed up as cowboys, showing how little our student body actually pays attention in US History. The cowboys were pretty much wiped out by the ranches in the Ranch Wars. Whoops. If spikes weren't against the dress code, I would have worn a belt of barbed wire.

Wednesday: Thousand Island Salad Day. No one dressed up as an island by standing in a pool, let alone a thousand islands. For some reason they wore grass skirts. Guess we should have called it Inhabitants Of A Thousand Islands Salad Day.

Thursday: Caesar Salad Day. This one was really the only one that really made sense. It seemed simple, just dressing up as Caesar. However, there was a problem. Aren't togas against the dress code?

And so there you have it. The sad story of "Hi Week," culminating in a sophomore who overdosed. Wait... that wasn't right. Friday was Spirit day, which is just basically a contest to see who can find the biggest objects that are red or gold and then wear them (the winner wore a fire truck). I personally did not dress up any of those days. Quite frankly, I think it's a scheme by the Student Council who would just love to feel so cool and powerful because they could get people to wear fire trucks. I refuse to give them anymore power than the power to cut class on "Student Council Business." And the power to get "Hi."

Blackberries: If Only They Were All Phones

2007-08-13T09:25:00.001-07:00

Blackberries are delicious, and they look so tempting to pick.

But to get to the berries you have to go through this:

And even the flowers you go through look like this:

A lot of people in my family will get into this stuff, physically placing themselves into the thorns to get a berry. Me, I figure some other sap will do it, and I don't have to get hurt. I tend to pick them like this:

Or, even better:

Teachers In Washington

2007-08-11T09:37:00.000-07:00

Wherever I go around Washington, I am constantly reminded that school is coming back. The names of streets and various places that have to do with school are all over the place. I know that There's Eugene, Oregon, and he hails from Vale, but in Washington, I caught a glimpse of Clark's Restaurant. Apparently not one for beating around the bush, he named a restaurant after himself. That or someone who had his class named it after him... As if this wasn't enough evidence that Clark is out and about in Washington, I also saw Custer Street.

And then there was Carpenter Street. I was particularly glad to see this, because Carpenter is really almost all I'm looking forward to about this upcoming year. Unfortunately, there was also Rich's Stove, Spa and Patio. That was definitely a harsh reminder that school stinks.

Crazy Canadians

2007-08-08T20:14:00.000-07:00

This story happened to me about a month ago, but I've told it to several people, and I figured that I should just stop telling it and have them refer to a written format. That way I don't have to waste my time trying to be funny with the same joke over and over again. I don't like to be redundant.

So anyways, about a month ago I was working the late shift at the Rec Center. There was an old lady splashing water on her grandson from the hot tube. I was watching her very closely cause she had already told the head guard that she had had multiple brain strokes. I told her that she probably shouldn't be doing that, and she climbed out and stuck her finger into my face. "You're one of the mean, nasty ones, aren't you?" she demanded. "Yes, I'm the meanest and the nastiest one there is," I said, not sure if she was altogether there.

"I've been there," she said, "I was the first female Canadian lifeguard. I had to do all the regular stuff, and swim 40 miles." I wasn't sure that that was possible, seeing as how my 20 minute mile time would still leave her at over thirteen hours at my top speed. "Smoking is bad," she continued, "that's what happened to me." She walked off, leaving me highly bewildered.

Five minutes later, she came back. Dreading what she would say, I scanned the opposite end of the pool. "Have you seen my sexy daughter?" she asked. "Um... I can't say that I have, ma'am," was my response. She shambled away, leaving me feeling somewhat violated, and totally confused. Crazy Canadian.

The Bobby Pin Challenge

2007-07-14T13:24:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, it rained in the morning, resulting in an almost empty pool. I was a rover, so basically I was supposed to wander around helping any lifeguard who needed help with patrons. But there were none, so I created the Bobby Pin Challenge. The challenge was to pick up as many bobby pins off the floor as possible. I won, with a stunning 33 and a half bobby pins (I know, everyone has a problem with "half," but this literally was half a bobby pin.).

But this got me thinking. People can get fined for littering, but women lose bobby pins all the time without any punishment. This is because it is part of their biological makeup. Cats spit up fur balls, but but women are much more like dogs in this particular aspect. Women shed bobby pins. You can't hate them for it; it's just their nature.

However, it's important to consider the bobby pin issue when making choices in girls. It can make a huge difference in the bobby pin budget, not to mention the number you'll have to pick up. The shorter haired breeds shed less. Keep this in mind when you're finding the girl for you.

I'm sure this post will draw criticism from girls everywhere, but I was just telling it how it is. I'm sure you could find similar information on Wikipedia. However, I'll end up a martyr for this post. You'll find me on the pool deck, bobby pins stabbed into me in every direction. Pick 'em up, and you might be the new record holder of the bobby pin challenge.

Jerk With A Cause

2007-07-12T17:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, at the Scera Pool, I got my first save. I had to put the little boy into a special hold called the "head chin splint" to keep him from moving his head. "I'm fine," he protested, despite having come off the diving board and landing on his chin and then flipping back into the water. I tried to calm him and explain what I was doing. He tried to move his head, repeating, "I'm fine," as if I couldn't hear him. As he thrashed, trying to escape, I desperately tried to keep him under control, and keep him from doing irreparable damage to his spine. We had just moved him onto a backboard when the supervisor, who is an EMT, released him. The kid looked at me like I was some sort of jerk, stopping his fun for something as small as possible paralysis.

This has really made me question my role as a lifeguard. I've come to realize that my job as a lifeguard calls not for a rebel without a cause, but for a "jerk with a cause." I enforce irrational rules all day, just to make people hate me. As an example of what a spoilsport jerk I am and the irrational rules, I tell people not to dive into two feet of water.

People hate it when I tell them that they can't do flips into the shallow pool. Basically, they want to be safe, but not protected. It makes no sense, but the "spirit of customer service" is alive in our staff. Basically, that means we let the old people do whatever they want. Old people get MAD when they don't get their way. I learned that when we tried to close the Rec Center Pool on time. We close five minutes early to give them five minutes to use the locker rooms (actually, it's just so they get out of the locker rooms faster, cause it takes FOREVER to get them out). Some old lady got REALLY mad at me cause she had FIVE MORE MINUTES!!! (As if she could do anything much in that time) Anyways, after talking to her, the time was up, and it was too late for her to get in anyways. I felt like a jerk with a cause.

Youth Conference At The Reef

2007-07-02T07:11:00.000-07:00

This last weekend, the Youth in my ward went to Capitol Reef for Youth Conference. Minus the twelve and thirteen year olds, of course, who are excluded from every activity that could be called "The For Real Deal" on the basis of their age, a classic textbook case of age-ism. Anyways, Capitol Reef is an area that looks like most other places in Utah except for the fact that it has signs telling you not to litter or destroy the wildlife. Which is basically the concept of a Park in Utah.

I'd just like to clarify though, that Capitol Reef is nothing like the Great Barrier Reef. I know of someone who thought that, and I'd just like to console her by saying I thought that too. When I was three.

Signs
This isn't a section about freaky aliens that were wussy. This is, as most readers will understand, a section about the various stupid signs that I saw there. And those "most readers" will also be disappointed to know that there was only one. But it makes up for it in sheer quality. There was a city called Fruita. Established in 1895. Obviously, San Francisco got all the publicity, while this little enclave of... alternatively oriented people... lived a quiet life until the federal government made them a PARK. And they could no longer PARK it there.

Everybody Chris Chun Tonight!
Chris Chun is the next Chuck Norris slash Jet Li slash Jackie Chan. Slash Sean Connery. This kid is slick. He could kill you without thinking, because everyone in his family is raised from birth to become a killing machine. We were afraid to wake him up, because he might accidentally karate chop one of us while he was still groggy from sleep. In fact, we were kind of afraid to be in the same tent. I was on the opposite side, but I still figured that it would take only a couple seconds for him to blow through Grant, Kyler and Matt. And I would be next.

But the security benefits outweighed the death possibility. I didn't want to be kept up all night as incompetent little boys tried repeatedly to collapse our tent. This time, with Chris Chun in the tent, there was no such problem. Mostly because if they had, a karate chop stance hand would tear through the tent walls, searching for flesh to tear, and bones to break.

By the way, Kyler, when I told my dad about Chris Chun, he immediately began singing "Everybody Chris Chun tonight." Obviously, that's the way the song really has to be.

Sunrise Hike Beats Twilight Book (Take That, Girls)
This section actually has nothing to do with that Twilight book, which I know nothing about, except the girls in our car were trying to explain to me that the vampires glow when they're outside in the day. Actually, we went on a hike to see the sun rise. It was highly overrated. Kyler and I actually ended up admiring the manmade lakes that we saw more than the sunrise, mostly because you can't really look at a sunrise if you value your sight.

What was really amazing was that Chris Chun ran the hike. In flip flops. It was incredible. He's insane. But the problem was he ran past the point where we were looking at the sunrise. He's just a little too excited and does more work than he has to.

BS Go Fish
No camp is complete without card games at night. After we got through playing several games of Scum, we decided to play Go Fish. I suggested that we could lie, and the other person could call BS like in the game BS. Well, it sounded like a great game, and all the rules were set out, so we started. Grant asked for my queens and I had none. He called BS, and I started to show him my cards. It was at that point that I realized that the game wouldn't work. The game of BS Go Fish degenerated from there until it became regular Go Fish. At least we were playing a game though. The girls were all sleeping outside to avoid the bugs in their tents. Very intuitive.

Real Men Of Courage- Cliff Jumping
This particular Real Men Of Courage Award actually goes to a woman. Yes, the winner of the award was Sister Winn, who jumped off the cliff into the waterhole. The runner up was Terri, who is a professional, and made the biggest splashes ever, despite the fact that she was smaller than most of the guys who went off of it. As is basically the usual pattern with these, I was the Not So Real Man Of Courage who didn't do it, despite the fact that Jasmine was getting even more worked up about me not jumping off than she was about me not reading Twilight. I watched as Sister Winn, who is older than I am, and had already had her "Crazy Teenager" stage of life jumped off the cliff and fell. She was probably making a defiant gesture, and yelling a war cry as she went down. Personally, I think she may stolen my "Crazy Teenager" stage. Valeri, please steal it back for me. And I'll never make another Wonder Woman joke.

The End
I realize that the people who went would really want me to summarize the ride home and Kadan, Kyler, and Uncle Jed's converstation, but I really can't. You'd have to be there to understand. And I'm sure Kyler will write a "Stomach Of An Ox" sequel of his victory over Alyssa, so I'll refrain from stealing his thunder.

2007-06-15T07:49:00.001-07:00

Worst name for a product. Ever.

Swedes In Dire Need Of Environmental Help

2007-06-04T14:39:00.001-07:00

It has recently come to my attention that a new environmental problem has been brewing in Sweden. No, it isn't the global warming problem, because that is brewing everywhere. Global warming is probably mostly caused by fossil fuel consumption used to produce the energy needed to get the noble message of global warming out into the public. The problem that the Swedes face is overfishing.

For decades, we've thought that the salmon were in danger, that dolphins suffer from tuna fishing. But today, I'd like to submit a new victim, the Swedish Fish. I'll be the first to admit that I love Swedish Fish, and that I eat them like crazy. It doesn't matter what size they are; I'll eat the big fish as well as the baby ones. Heck, if they had caviar, I'd gladly eat that.

Obviously, since I'm admitting my problem, I can be trusted to see this issue without bias. This is one of the classic ways to pretend that there isn't bias. "Admit and Attack," the triple A of bias-less-ness. So, we all need to eat less Swedish Fish. Go out and write your Congressperson. They probably won't do anything. They're out enjoying their complimentary meals, and their "conferences" in Disneyland. But don't worry, there are other ways to get action.

Ecoterrorism would be an excellent way to protect the Swedish Fish. I say we hold an Ikea hostage until the Swedes are willing to cooperate. This would be highly effective, and I propose that at the same time, we declare that global warming is destroying the environment of the Swedish Fish. Linking any problem to global warming gets instant attention and results.

This blog is going on for too long. This is a direct result of global warming.

Yellowstone: Old Faithful Blows

2007-05-25T21:49:00.000-07:00

I went on the Geology field trip this weekend. I'm not going to pull a Clinton and ask people to define "geology field trip" when it's obvious. I'll come out in the open and admit it. We went to Yellowstone. In an overview, I'll just say that it was kind of lame. Geysers constantly erupted sulfur and water into the air. Let's just say the place stinks and blows. Literally. I mean, who wants to see a bunch of holes in the ground spewing water and steam? You see one geyser and you've seen 'em all. But I think it's about time that I revert back to the trusty "title and blasphemy" method of summarizing. After you read this, go to ludwig2028.blogspot.com to see the ultimate picture summary of the trip.

Sir Clark- Unstoppable

Nothing can stop Sir Clark. No one stops Sir Clark. Ever.

Old Faithful- Fidelity Is Highly Overrated

We went to see Old Faithful. You can't not go see it (take that, English teachers! Double Negative Punch!). This is because its regularity is greatly appreciated in a day and age when fidelity is all but ditched on the Roadside Of The Highway Of Ditched Morals. However, when I got there, it was twenty minutes late in erupting. So much for being faithful. Obviously celebrity status has made Old "Faithful" Hill (Faith Hill, get it? HAHA!!!) feel like it can ditch punctuality on the Roadside Of The Highway of Ditched Courtesies.

It's really not that great anyways. I mean, I could have made Old Faithful with my garden hose. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Old Faithful is just a hose operated by some government guy. It erupted late because the guy fell asleep. Stupid bureaucracy.

Attack Of The Geyser Crabs

Kyler and I were looking into one of those disgusting hot springs, when Kyler said, "Wouldn't it be cool if I could create a fish that could withstand boiling water?"

"Oh, they've already got worms and crabs that can!" Declared the father of a certain Canadian that I happen to know, whose name rhymes with Monsteel.

Later, Kyler and I were kind of confused. "How exactly do you cook a crab that can withstand boiling water?" asked Kyler.

"I dunno, maybe you could freeze it first," said Preston.

So for the whole trip, Kyler and I were watching out for those geyser crabs. I've heard that they are quite vicious. Several times, buffalo tracks would go into the "thermal crust" and then disappear. I'm sure the geyser crabs got them. And that "one guy's" son also got attacked, obviously. He came to school with a brace on his ankle the next day.

Attack Of The Buffalos Too

Yellowstone is home to a lot of these guys. Personally, I think they never should have made it onto the Federal Endangered Species List. I think they should go on the Federal "Things That Make Great Burgers" List. But I'm not a rich Congressperson who gets complimentary meals from lobbyists. So instead, I'll try and show the darker side of the buffalo to the public, as sort of a complimentary meal from this lobbyist.

It may look cute and fuzzy, but this is actually a monster. A man eating, ferocious beast. Look at this sign I found in the bathroom:
Yeah, not a friendly little guy. Look at him toss that little Japanese tourist! He even hates Asians! I mean, these things are monsters! They terrorize the park! The rangers are scared of them! They're so rebellious that they commonly defecate in areas that people aren't allowed to go. Somehow, they get into enclosures penned up with a two foot rail, make their statement, and get out again! It's probably some sort of way to show the gang territory of these vicious creatures. I say we abolish them. Meaning, we kill them all and have a National Buffalo Burger Appreciation Day. Congresspeople love to make national holidays while they enjoy their complimentary meals. Pretty soon we'll have National Holiday Appreciation Day.

The Asian Mafia- Perfect In Every Way

We played Mafia. It's a fun game. However one of the games was the ultimate, perfect game of mafia. Not a single member of the mafia died. Those who were sitting on the log formed a voting block. And three of them, including the Asian, were Mafia. Those who spoke against them were quickly dealt with, and as the power of the citizens dwindled, the power of the Mafia increased. Eventually, the members of the Log Block that weren't Mafia had to be killed, but they had served their purpose. It's creepy how awesome organized crime can be.

The Sign Section
I always have this section, and it's always in the beginning of the summary. So I decided to switch it up, and maybe startle you hard core veteran summary readers.

The first awesome sign I saw was that there is a city called Hitt. I'm sure they don't get much done there. How productive can you be when you just sit around hitting each other. I mean, here is a bunch of people who love violence so much that they named their city Hitt? Someone give them a copy of Halo. Or maybe they're all a bunch of mafia hit men...

Unfortunately, I can't remember anything else. It's been so long ago that I forgot (five seconds after I got home). So there it is. The summary. It's a little late, but beggars can't be choosers, eh? Not that I'm saying you're all beggars, but... ok so I was. I'm done. Please send hate mail to my house. The address is 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW Washington, DC 20500.

This I Believe

2007-05-25T13:34:00.001-07:00

A short word of explanation. This is a paper we were required to write for English. It is entirely blaspemy, so I sure hope you have a lightning rod when you read this. Here goes:

I was in the 3rd grade when I realized I was different. “Chinese, Japanese,” yelled the kids on the playground, pulling their eyes back to make slits. I stared at myself in the mirror that night, not sure if I liked what I saw. I wished that I had eyes that opened all the way, and white skin. I wished that I were more like everyone else. But over the years, I’ve found that I am empowered. That’s because I believe in being Asian.
It seems like yesterday that I took my first standardized test. I have now taken what seems like millions of them, and they all appear to have the same questions, however easy. This was where my peers and I discovered my remarkable affinity for test taking. “He’s just an Asian,” they’d say, seeing the scores. “He can block out all the wrong answers with those squinty eyes.”
Of course, there are things I can’t block out. I can still see the day when I nearly got beaten up in my mind’s eye. The kid was big, and probably destined to play football in the future. I was Asian, and at the time, I looked destined to play the part of hobbit in the Lord of the Rings. Naturally, I thought I’d end up squished or mutilated like the victims in Law and Order. I was shaking, a little damp. This was before puberty; the wetness was not from sweat. The other kid looked like he’d been through puberty three times. He was a gorilla-- perhaps his mother mixed up his milk with steroids when he was a baby. The fist wound back, and my short life flashed before my squinty Asian eyes. “Don’t fight him! He’s Chinese!” Warned his cohort. “He’s probably a black belt like Jackie Chan.” Falling to my knees, I thanked my lucky stars and my lucky genes, happy to have survived another day.
There are other Asians that are masters of survival. I’ve watched a lot of martial arts movies, full of survivors. Jackie Chan. Bruce Lee. Jet Li. They were all Asian. I watched Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, and all the characters were able to fly. I tried it, but it really didn’t work too well. Recovering from the scrapes and bruises, I realized that I’m only half Chinese. I must be missing something crucial in that other half of my genome. I guess just looking like a full Asian doesn’t endow one with the power of flight. But looking like one does mean I’ll never have to go tanning.
Sometimes I still wish that I had blue eyes and blond hair. Sometimes I wish that I looked like everyone else and wasn’t so conspicuous. But those are just some times, and I’ve found that my differences empower and protect me. And I remember just how great the color of my skin is every time I walk past a tanning salon. I believe in being Asian.

Blogging In Retrospect

2007-05-12T10:14:00.000-07:00

This is it. The final blog that I'll have to write for Sir (King) Rich. Never again will I use a joke that begins with "Unless your name is Captain, My Captain..." Never again will any blog be contrived to prove "analysis and synthesis" were occurring. I cannot even guarantee that I will ever "analyze and synthesize" again. It fills me with anguish. There is an empty spot in my heart where "analysis and synthesis" once resided. I feel that I will probably end up filling it by eating for comfort. And yet, as the cliche goes, life goes on. And so, I will look back on this year, and see just how my paradigm has been enriched through "analysis and synthesis."

I feel that I have increased my ability to draw connections between random isolated events, such as Peeps and Howard Dean. This will be infinitely useful in the future, when I become a conspiracy buff. I will also probably now actually be able to figure out who committed the crime in Law And Order before the end of the show. And this will all be accomplished by putting random bits of information together that have no connection.

I feel that I have also increased my ability to attack anyone and anything. I have upheld the virtues of Asian society and ability, maligned the Mexicans, scorned the British, and mocked the French. I have attacked Christmas. I've slandered Democrats and Republicans alike. I've mocked the school system, derided fads, and disparaged the law. I've disrespected civil engineers, Dr. Suess and garbage men. I feel confident that I could take this trait and become a radio personality and do a great job like Imus and Al Sharpton.

Thus, at the close of this year, I feel that blogging has empowered me. No subject is too large, too abstract, or too respectable to be attacked. No connection cannot be proven through manipulation of facts and "concrete detail." This assignment has prepared me for the real world. I feel that I will someday change the world in much the same way that Josef Stalin did. But first, I have to make it through the last few weeks of school. Sir Rich, this is the Chlorine Addict, over and out.

The Bean Rebellion

2007-05-06T10:15:00.001-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, my friend President Ludwig wrote about the evils of our friends across the northern border. This week, I will be forming a conspiracy theory about our border buddies to the south. Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo. It is a joy-filled occasion that no one except the supermarkets celebrate by selling frozen ethnic food for "low prices." It doesn't seem intuitive that we would celebrate some other country's independence. I thought I smelt something fishy, and probably not just the frozen fish tacos in the supermarket.

I have come to the conclusion, through extensive research (playing guitar) and analysis (napping), that the grand Empire of Mexico is attempting to take over America. Not only are there maple spies among us from the north, but there are also bean agents from the south. This has been going on since World War I with the Zimmerman Telegram. This is evident in the way our society is coming to be dominated by their culture. Not only is "salsa" taking over the food industry, but "salsa" is also a type of dance! Sombreros are used as mind control devices. I would dare you to put one on and show me you're able to resist the desire to do the Mexican Hat Dance, but then you would become a pawn of the beans.

What really steams my broccoli (and I can't even eat it cause it's Fast Sunday), is that they are trying to take over traditional Asian roles. Mexican rice is the cheap knock off of fried rice, and tacos and burritos are like demented egg rolls. NAFTA is effectively moving our economy from China to Mexico. We thought we were getting a good deal when we tapped into cheap Maple drugs, but now our figurehead economy of numbers and papers can be toppled by the flatulent (defintion: having unsupported pretensions; inflated and empty; pompous; turgid) whims of one bean, leading to a stench of panic and terror within our country. Personally, I'm disgusted by the bean flatulence, and I urge all to take action. We need to take back our country from the beans. We need to attack them and make them the 51st state. We'll start with their headquarters, Betos.

The Language Of Love: Apparently I Can't Speak It

2007-04-28T11:10:00.000-07:00

I'm taking French. I'll come out in the open and admit it. For the most part, I excel in the class. But for some reason, when I try and put the words into speech, they instantly identify me as an American. And then I'll get flustered and thinking hard about not speaking in English, start to speak Chinese. This is why, partially, I will be examining the reasons for why French is so hard in order to overcome this problem. I will also be analyzing because of Sir Rich. I will attempt to enlighten my dogmatic "blue-black" paradigm to become a philosopher, a true student of Richism (+20 for "so good" use of Rich-y Words). I've compiled a list (French for "a couple of paragraphs) of reasons why French is so hard:

1. It is illegal to pronounce the last part of any word. For example, if the word "word" were a French word, it would be spelled "wordsupercalifragilisticexpialidocious." Obviously, this is not a very efficient way of spelling things. This is why the French do NOT lead the world in industrial strength. The only two products that the French are known for are made slowly; wine and cheese are both "aged."

2. However, when it comes to speaking, the French are VERY efficient. They slur words together, and sometimes use just the first letter of a word to combine two words into a pronunciation nightmare comparable to the H-Bomb. Though conspiracy buffs might make a conspiracy from this information (imagine that!), I will try and make a logical coherent argument for the reason: they don't want to spend time talking. Instead, it will be used for the national French pastime, namely, staring out café windows, forlornly smoking.

3. Feminine and masculine words. France is a nation where gender equality stands no chance. Marie-Ségolène Royal stands no chance in the French presidential election. They have "Le Président," not "La Présidente." In fact, the only thing they really seem to agree on is that both female and male sexists are "sexistes." That's ironic (+20 for insightful "commentary").

Well, there you have it. Three reasons. I chose three because for some reason, it confers automatic credibility, which is why teachers teach the five paragraph essay. Remember these three reasons if for any reason you ever attempt to learn French.

Unless you're French, that is. In that case, I think you guys are just fantasticpneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis!!!

The Microphone Mentality

2007-04-22T09:15:00.000-07:00

Joe. As if that weren't a bad enough name for a bus driver, he had a microphone. Throughout band tour this week, I constantly wished that I had thought to bring earplugs. His lame jokes, bad enough as they were, penetrated my head, the sound waves creating fissures in my skull. It seemed impossible for this guy to use a microphone at a sensible volume. No, his weapons grade bad jokes exploded in the bus at upwards of a thousand decibels. But this isn't an isolated event. In all the music videos, band members practically eat the microphones. I'm not sure exactly why (bonus points for a semi colon); maybe they're trying to get their iron supplement. I find myself struggling to keep my mouth away from the microphone, and only do so by imagining the last guy who salivated all over it.

Why do people have to be so loud in microphones? It comes from a basic human desire to be bigger than they are. This really explains Americans. Just joking! Sort of! Not that kind of bigger! People seek to be louder, easier to notice, more likely to date a famous actor or actress, etc. This is why, when given a microphone, the average quiet, mildmannered person will suddenly be transformed into a banshee. This is what motivates people to do backflips, because the average person, though rational, will not scream, "You're suicidal!" They will scream, "Dude, you rock because you are willing to risk breaking your neck!" This is what motivates people to write blogs, in hopes that someone will comment, and make them feel loved, or at least sucked up to. This is why I'm ending this blog right now. Actually, it has nothing to do with ending the blog, but Im just really eager to go play guitar.

This Is A Long (Lawn) One

2007-04-13T16:19:00.000-07:00

Spring. It's a wonderful time. A time to enjoy the good things of life. The cool breeze. The flowers. The sound of a lawn mower. There's always at least one person in a neighborhood who seems to think it's important to be mowing their lawn at seven a.m. on Saturday morning. What causes our obsession with lawns? Why do we cultivate a weed in uniformity in front of our houses? Why is that weed, when artificially hacked to a certain length, considered aesthetic? Why do we even care? Because analysis is the first step to getting full credit in English... I mean... the solution.

At one point in time, lawns were not the social norm. People had dirt in front of their homes, or might have planted useful plants. But in the 1800's, a certain Edwin Budding invented the lawn mower, presumably to cut his hair (needless to say, he did not look very good for a couple of months). By the early nineteen hundreds, the USDA and the US Golf Association were gathering in secret government labs to try and see who could spit a watermelon seed the farthest. Wait. I must have read Wikipedia wrong. I meant to say that they were trying to create the ultimate grass type. Naturally, they settled on marijuana. Just joking! Sort of! (You thought Bill Jeff-"erson" Clinton just talked that way cause of his accent) And thus began the modern obsession with lawns. Lawns now constitute the largest irrigated crop in the country, and they can't be eaten, or, usually, smoked!

Society praises those with the best lawns. Gunfights start on the basis of lawns (I once knew a guy who would fly out of his door and yell at us if we stepped on his lawn. He was probably about to shoot us. Naturally, we dared each other to touch it during the long summer days. Nothing like a little bit of blood to excite a boring 21st century day.). Lehi High (We're not sure if this is a reference to the perfect "grass" either) is going to get a new million dollar football field. Their school gets nothing. Why is this? Well, naturally, because the football field is covered in grass! We collectively spray billions of dollars worth of fertilizers and pesticides on our lawns. And then these get into the water supply, creating mutant frogs, which then get dumb books written about them, which get converted into boring documentaries, and, if someone really evil happens to be around, educational video games! Not to mention it probably, like pretty much everything and everyone else except for Al Gore, fosters global warming, which could be catastrophic, except for the fact that the temperature has only gone up .7 degrees Fahrenheit in the last century and a half.

Naturally, I don't approve of lawns. I mean, how could I possibly, considering the fact that the mowers wake me up on Saturday morning, and even force me outside to use one sometimes? It's disgusting that our society has become enslaved by a plant! I say we boycott lawns! I say we rip them out and put concrete in in their places! Or at the very least, huge trampolines! I say we end our slavery to our grass masters once and for all! I say I never have to mow the lawn again! I say no one mows their lawn ever again! So STOP WAKING ME UP ON SATURDAY MORNING!

Talking With My Peeps

2007-04-08T15:35:00.000-07:00

Easter. It's a time when we can relax, remember the Savior, and eat ham. Luckily (If this word, in conjunction with the last sentence, and the sentence coming up offend you, please omit it), that's not all. Easter could also be called Peep Day. Peeps, those wonderful sugar coated marshmallows, really are a symbol of America. They combine the great American pastimes: (Mr. Rich, I get extra points for use of a colon, right?) eating, commercialism, sugar and fat into one lovely animal shaped food. Everyone loves Peeps. Those who don't are Commies. Unless you're a person who doesn't like Peeps whose name also happens to be Sir Rich. Then you are "Captain, my Captain."

Why are Peeps so great anyways? It has to be the nostalgic feel we get from them. Peeps, a simplistic name for a product, appeal to rural values of times gone by in this world where products are named after puns, fictional people, and "futuristic" made up words. Their shapes, ducks and bunnies, remind us of a time when the times we saw these animals were not limited only to their crude representations on foods (and as mascots). Then we swallow them.

BEEP!!! THIS IS A TEST OF THE EMERGENCY PUBLIC BROADCASTING SYSTEM. Please phoneticize that sound it makes for me.

That other paragraph gave sappy reasons for why people like Peeps. The type of answers you might expect a Congressman or some other public image caring person might give. No, if you want to see the real reason people like Peeps, maybe you should see one of those congresspeople on Peeps (Howard Dean). Yes, Peeps are a safe clean alternative to traditional drugs, where you could get a bad batch and die. We don't get "Taco Bell Situations" with Peeps. No rats went into the making of your Peeps. So relax, sit back and take a bite of your Peep. But make sure you finish reading this first, because you won't be in a position to read after the sugar hits your system. You'll be out making speeches like Howard Dean's "I Have A Scream" speech (joke found on Wikipedia, I refuse to plagiarize something as great as Wikipedia). But for now, we're not only going to eat dinner, we're going to do homework, and then we're going to Rich's room to take our lives back! BYAAH!!!

Separation Of Church And State

2007-03-31T19:50:00.000-07:00

This week, as I walked to the Seminary building, I noticed that there was caution tape parallel to the sidewalk that leads to the building. Caution tape is very hard not to notice, as we discovered when Kyler proposed that one of the candidates in the school election use it as a rallying force by distributing it throughout the school (I got some, and wrote "Asian" after every "Caution" on the tape to make the ultimate belt.). Anyways, I suspected that there must be some reason aside from the obvious aesthetic ones for putting the caution tape up. I talked to some informed people, who told me (so blame them if this is wrong) that the tape delineates the site of a wall. That will eventually be built. Unless it is built the same way that road construction is done in this city. In that case, random rocks will be dropped between the tape, and after three months, cleared away and replaced with a real wall.

But this wall will be more than just concrete. It will be an idea. A palpable victory for separation of church and state. A symbol that, by golly (I have NO idea what a "golly" is), this is America, where the phrase "under God" only appears in the Pledge of Allegiance because we want to be better than someone else, namely, the godless Commies. Our money proclaims, "In God We Trust," but prayer is banned from schools, and Darwinism has out evolved Intelligent Design, with natural selection favoring "The Origin Of Species" for the niche of "the lecture you will sleep through in Biology class."

So naturally, we will build a wall between the teacher parking lot and the Seminary building. Obviously, with the school population primarily LDS, and the minority so used to being in LDS-land that they don't even think to object, we must protect those who might be illegally parking in that lot from being offended at the sight of a building that looks like any other building except for small lettering that says "The Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter Day Saints". I personally applaud this crusade, proudly nominating it for "the stupidest use of money ever" award. I love separation of church and state, and could talk about it for hours, except I'm out of time, and have to go watch the LDS General Conference.

Seeing In A New Light Through Glasses

2007-03-23T15:45:00.000-07:00

I was going to write a horribly mean blog about one of the leaders in my ward. Then I remembered that maybe that wouldn't exactly be Christlike. Then I remembered that remembering that wasn't exactly characteristic of myself. Then I forgot what I was going to write about in the first place. Maybe it was a "stupor of thought," if you catch my drift. So I guess I'll just write about some random thing that happened to me, and then try to pull it together in an "analytical" fashion, for full points.

Yesterday, I had a Mock Trial competition. President Ludwig, obviously a born lawyer (liar), brought his reading glasses along, not because he needed help reading, but because they would make him look smarter. And they did. The aura of distinction that emanated from his person was almost so great that I was almost too distracted to humiliate the poor lawyer who tried to cross examine me. Why? Why do glasses automatically seem to confer a sense of respectability and intelligence? That is the question that I will be "analyzing" this week, but first, a word from our sponsors.

"Mark! Get your little rear end in here and knead this dough!"

I'm back. Glasses lend respectability because they are stereotypically worn by the elderly. Find me a comic strip that has an old person not wearing glasses, and I'll punch you in the face. And naturally, we have come to respect the elderly, because of their wisdom, and their ability to have been better than you at anything in their prime. Some examples of respectable elderly people are: Oprah, George Clooney, George "The Older One" Bush, and John the Beloved. Unfortunately, none of these people wear glasses. However, since stereotypical aged members of society wear glasses, the glasses confer their characteristics upon the wearer.

Glasses also make you smarter. Putting them on automatically adds thirty to your IQ. It's a proven fact, according to a survey done by ASMUS (American Society for Made Up Surveys). That's why I wear contacts; to level the playing field. Glasses probably work like a placebo, and you're probably being tricked into thinking that you're smarter, rather than just looking like a bigger nerd. So wear glasses! Let's bring back those humongous ones from times before I was born! I'm sure they contributed directly to the American victory in the Cold War. Let's pray for a rebirth in Americans wearing glasses! They'll help to make sure that No Child Gets Left Behind. And then we won't have to write blogs to reinforce our writing abilities.

An Intelligent Discussion On The Subject Of Crickets

2007-03-16T16:37:00.000-07:00

This week, for Mutual, I had the experience of playing cricket. "What is cricket?" I asked myself. All I knew was that it was some sport over in Britain, and I had only ever heard of it in old English books. They never mention exactly what the game is, or maybe I just wasn't paying very good attention while sleeping through the book. So basically, in going to the activity, all I really knew was that cricket was not a game where you try and stuff the most bugs in your mouth.

Turns out, cricket starts when a person "bowls" (translation: throws) the ball towards the batter, who tries to protect what looks like the top of a hammer on sticks by trying to hit the ball, and, if successful, runs back and forth from the hammer to a base, and then back, scoring points. "Sounds easy enough," you're saying to yourself. If you did talk to yourself, maybe you should check out some mental help. And I have a rebuttal. These ball are rocks. Not literally, but they sure felt like it. These were the type of things that you would rather not hit some part of your body, causing internal bleeding. And yet the guys who taught us to play, who were Indians (literal Indians, mind you, the type of people who might answer your questions when you call a computer help hotline, not to mention being Asian), were running around catching the balls barehanded, despite the fact that the balls were leaving craters in the field upon landing. I got up to bat, thinking it would all be fun and games, but when the first "bowl" went by, I think my underwear was about as wet as my swim suit is after practice. "How does it feel to have a rock flying at you at upwards of the speed of light?" you might ask. Not good. Thank goodness this "Casey" struck out at the bat alive.

So why hasn't this game caught on in America? Well, as an American people, we've exceeded cricket. We have our own batting and base running game with rock hard balls that would go through you if you came in contact with them. Yes, the great American pastime, baseball, has surpassed anything that the British could ever come up with, mostly because you're allowed to dump the peanut shells on the ground when you're watching the game. It's what truly makes our country great.

As a side note, at the activity, I also had the opportunity to try a "chocolate cricket." "If I eat this, will I be able to work it into a blog somehow?" I asked President Ludwig. "Probably," he answered, probably more intent on watching me gag than me getting full credit in English. So, I grabbed one of the ugly chocolate blobs and lowered it into my mouth. "Mmm... I'm gonna eat this gross disgusting bug," I declared, hoping to collect some comments of how manly I was. None came. Closing my eyes, I inched closer to my mouth. I put it into my mouth and chewed. Nothing happened. It was the anticlimax of the century (though the century is still young). I mean, all it tasted like was bad chocolate. It tasted a lot like the worthless chocolate you get at church functions during the Easter Egg Hunt, i.e., old chocolate. So next time dares you to eat one of those, don't do it. Just go and get out your old Easter Egg chocolate. Cause that's just as good, and a poor little cricket didn't have to give up its life for the chocolate.

Pilates: Don't Ever Read This One, Cause It's Not Funny

2007-03-10T12:39:00.000-08:00

This week, after my morning swim practices, I had the opportunity to participate in Pilates. It's weird stuff. As I laid with my arms stretched out, my eyes fixed on the ceiling, and angelic music playing, it was hard to believe that I was actually there. I pinched myself, but I didn't wake up. So I decided to write a blog about it instead (it sure seemed like a logical train of thought to me...). Only, I'm not sure what the blog will be about, but I know that it will be about Pilates. So hang on to your hats, and enjoy the ride.

First, a little bit of historical info on the exercise method. It was created in the early 20th century by a certain Joseph Pilates. Hence, the name, Pilates. It focuses on core strength, and the control of the mind over the body. The Chinese invented Tai Chi first, and Tai Chi sounds cooler than "Pilates." "Tai Chi" sounds like some sort of exotic tiger. "Pilates" sounds like some sort of exotic fashion designer. So there. Asian supremacy.

So why is Pilates so popular? Well, I gained a little bit of insight into that as I did it. My friends and I, all accustomed to regular "work outs" (drowning), had absolutely no problem with "advanced" techniques. It's an easy work out (not drowning), and is possible for just about anyone. Also, the music is really quiet, and the old people give you dirty glares if you talk, so the environment is almost silent. The quiet, contemplative environment really allowed me to stop and slow down to think about just how much I really needed to figure out a clever way to end this blog. Maybe, I'll just end it the way they end the Pilates class. Take a deep breath in through your nose... and exhale it out through your mouth, exhaling through the motion required to push the little "X" in the upper left hand corner of the window.

Dr. WHO?!!

2007-03-04T13:43:00.000-08:00

Today (Friday, not Sunday at 1:43), my little sister got to bring a pillow, a blanket, and snacks to school. I got to drive to swim practice at five in the morning through the snow. What was the cause for such a large difference in our experience? Well, I'll tell you, because it's possible that someone might possibly know that today is Dr. Seuss's birthday. Now, what I want to know is why all the kids at Orem Elementary were celebrating this guy. I mean, he was rich when he was alive, what more does he want?

Not much is really known about the actual life of Dr. Seuss. As such, I will elaborate on his life, making him seem as sinister as possible. First, Dr. Suess really doesn't have the last name "Seuss." He was actually Theodor Seuss Geisel, and wasn't even a doctor. As if this deception wasn't enough, he often wrote under the pen name Theo Lesieg, which is "Geisel" backwards, showing an affinity for codes and secretive spy work. His name wasn't even pronounced the way we pronounce it. It rhymes with "voice," not "juice."

So what led to the success of the secretive mystery man? Well, thanks to what I call the Seuss Formula, which will be described, he rose to the top of the nonsensical rhyme industry. The parts of the Formula are as follows:
1) Use of rhyme. When rhyming is not possible, or might take too much thought, replace first letter of the other word with a different consonant, creating some new creature (what exactly is a "sneetch"?).
2) Use of weird pictures. Often, different creatures with different names like "grinch" or a "Sam-I-Am" look almost exactly the same, except with different colors.
3) Some sort of moral of the story. This adds to the "parents buy this for your kids so they can learn how to survive in the modern world of moral apathy" value of the book.

There you have it. Just follow the formula, and you too can become a famous "doctor" writing nonsense for millions. Happy Geisel Day!

Don't Give Me Any Of That Garbage

2007-02-25T13:43:00.000-08:00

The garbageman. Ridiculed, mocked, and scorned, he is the example everyone uses of a low paying, low skill, low awesome job. "Don't drop out of school or you'll end up a garbageman," chides Society. "Stop personifying," you mutter at Society. Then you realize that there is something terribly weird, something that doesn't make any sense in this universe, something that leaves a bad aftertaste in your mouth in that last sentence. So you push "Enter" and make a new paragraph to get as much distance from it as possible... er... I push "Enter", because I'm writing this blog...

Whoa! I must have been "high" (as opposed to "goodbye") on some illegal substance when I was writing that last paragraph. Readers who managed to hang on to that rodeo ride of random (alliteration, bonus points, King Rich!) will now be treated to awesome analysis (dos bonus points).

Despite being ridiculed, garbagemen never the less (never the more, either) hold the real power in society. They rule the peace of mind of society with an iron fist ("Don't make me squeeze, Society..."). This was evident this last week on Sunday. The next day was not only garbage pickup day, but also President's Day. Thus, we were afflicted with the problem of whether or not to take out the trash, as the garbageman might not have come the next day. Eventually, we decided that it was better to be safe than sorry, so we put the can out. Now, as the glimmer of "getting it" (dos plus one bonus points!) begins to shine through a metaphorical fog of freakiness (dos plus dos bonus points!), I will turn the metaphorical lights of liberty out on the reader and send them on another rollercoaster ride of randomness. Or maybe I'll just finish the blog so I can stop this alliteration rampage (action). So anyways, we need to take the power to infringe upon our peace of mind away from garbagemen, and give it to someone more responsible. I do not suggest politicians, because they are not responsible. I do, however, support giving it to me, even though I have to power to infringe upon peace of mind through these blogs.

So Analytical It's Not Funny

2007-02-18T13:43:00.000-08:00

People think I'm funny. I'm not trying to brag. I'm just stating a rule of nature, like the law of nature that Donald Trump's hair has got to be the ugliest thing alive (yes, alive). Some people probably thought that was funny. But just think. If President Bush had said that, no one would laugh. Well, maybe they would, but just because of his accent. I'll say things that aren't really all that funny, but people still think it's funny. It's the same way for my good friend the President. It generally goes something like this.

Me: My dog died.

Them: HAHA!!!

Me: No, really.

It gets kind of tedious sometimes. Ok. So I'll stop trying to pretend like I don't enjoy the attention. People like me like attention like Micheal Jackson likes plastic surgery... Bad comparison, but still! Why do people think that stuff that I say is funny? Well, it's really all about where the "funny" is coming from. For example, I can say something absurd, and people will laugh. President Ludwig (Vote Ludwig 2028 "Tippecanoe and Kyler too!") can say something even more bizarre, and he'll get laughs that I wouldn't have. That's the reason. That's my analysis. Now that I've got those three sentences out, I can slide back into absurdity. I'll keep going. Alright. I'm done being absurd and trying to convince people that this blog is going to continue. Back to reality. A reality where I'm not so desperate for a subject that I'll try to be funny about why I'm funny. A reality without "analysis."

Asian Supremacy

2007-02-11T13:43:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, I went to a stake service project. There, I was forced to stuff little fleece balls full of batting for about two hours. I soon came to realize that my brothers and I were much more adept at this than the others. It got me thinking, is there some sort of reason for this? The answer is yes. Genetics. You see, the Asian sweatshop genes just happen to be in my genetic code. My body automatically makes a protein that fosters quick reflexes and movements, making me the ultimate factory worker. Why else was the Chinese Exclusion Act passed in the 1800's if not to protect inferior Americans from being displaced by superior Chinese labor?

In case you haven't guessed, this week's topic is Asian Supremacy. The days of white supremacy and the Aryan race are gone. Today's perfect race is Asian. This is manifest in the number of people desperately irradiating themselves to be a color that we Asians naturally happen to be. It is manifest in the number of Asians who do better than others in schools. But this is not to say that Asians are without fault. We do have squinty eyes, but who knows? That could become as fashionable as being tan. Besides, squinty eyes look really good when making an evil face.

In the event that inferior whites attempt to fight back, they will be eliminated. For starters, while English may be an intelligible mass of contradicting spelling rules, Asian languages are intelligible masses of squiggly lines, and are impossible to pronounce. Up until this date, I have only ever met one person who is able to say my Chinese name correctly, and he is the future President, and also has awesome eyes, so he's practically an Asian brother. In fact, he has demonstrated his amazing Asian sweatshop skills on many an occasion. However, even if the languages are decoded and understood, no one is a match for the Asian powers of karate. People should have watched enough Jackie Chan and Jet Li movies to know that we are unbeatable. They should have realized our powers of flight from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Lastly, they should have realized our ability to write blogs for credit in English class from reading mine.

Seniors: Better Or Not?

2007-02-04T13:43:00.000-08:00

The Spirit Bowl. The ultimate expression of school spirit and loyalty. Quite frankly, I think it's lame. But what really gets me under the collar (and I hate collared shirts), is that the seniors always win. I mean, all they said, after an hour of stupid rigged wrestling between girls, body painting of scrawny guys, obnoxious cheering, guys kissing girls with mouths full of cereal, and other drug induced stupidity, was that the seniors won. They didn't even announce how many points the seniors won by. They probably won by "how ever many it takes" points. But I don't question the validity of the ruling. After all, Sir Rich was judging (and endorsing Dr. Pepper with his shirt). Not to mention he's judging this blog. So the question this week comes in two (dos) parts (prongs): 1) Why do seniors think they're better, and 2 (dos)) why the administration made them win.

So why do seniors always have to assert their dominance of other classes? It's obviously like some obscure form of racism, called classism. This "classism" is going so far that soon there will be a KKK of classism. I'm absolutely sure of it. And they will burn big MV's into our yards. They think that because they're almost done with school, they can all be jerks. I realize that I commit the "Hasty Generalization" logical fallacy when I say this, and some seniors are good, like which ever ones are reading this blog, the ones that I love with all my heart, and anything else that will keep me from getting beaten up by a bunch of big fat burly guys. Not that all seniors are big fat burly guys either. Some of them are girls.

Now, the second (dos) part of my question comes in the form of a conspiracy theory. Now, I'm not one of those crazy fanatics who think that Rosie O'Donnell is a cow (though the resemblance is shocking), but I do believe that the administration gave the seniors the win in the Spirit Bowl. I am not implicating Sir Rich in any clandestine plot. I'm sure that he was not a party to it, but actually was forced into it, because Principal Clark kidnapped his copy of "East Of Eden" and held a pair of scissors against it. Sir Rich is, in my book, totally innocent of any wrongdoing unless he minuses my points on this assignment. Why would the administration just give the seniors the win (and the ugly trophy?)? I personally think it was an attempt to foster a feeling of school spirit, and combat senioritis (literally, an inflammation of the senior). And I'll admit that because of this, I really can't wait to become a senior. The world on a silver platter. All for me. But right now, I have to go put out that burning MV in my yard.

Civil Engineering: A Good Waste Of Money

2007-01-26T18:21:00.000-08:00

This week, I had to go to Mutual. I mean, I had the opportunity to go, because we got to listen to a civil engineer talk about Katrina for an hour and half. I'll admit that nothing could have topped off watching 150 white slides, with a couple of pictures on them. Sir Clark (aka Sir Awesome, King of the Universe, One of the Three Nephites, and Mark And Kyler's Role Model Forever) does a much better job of narrating such slide shows ("Now, we don't usually build houses on top of cars..."), and his even have RED slides, and the occasional picture of a DINOSAUR. Needless to say, soon "Dirty Little Secret" Card was texting "...---...". Wait. That was the telegraph. I meant to say that he was texting, "Save Me" to everyone he knew. Then President Ludwig threw my shoe.

But that doesn't mean that the activity was totally without interesting parts. After he got done telling us that houses float for the 200th time, the civil engineer told us stories wherein he managed to lose 2 "moles," heavy drill bit like pieces of equiptment worth five million. Then he went on to tell us that civil engineers don't make much money. Well I wonder why? Maybe it's because they're too busy losing millions of taxpayer dollars to make any for themselves. This really gets my goose (so give it back!). Why in the world does the government do such stupid things? Why do they waste our money? Probably because they wouldn't know what to do if the federal debt wasn't increasing. Afterall, credit (debt) is the sign of real economics. At least that's what the world tells us. It really doesn't make much sense, but neither does the government. Or maybe they're trying to make our lives better. It's an odd twist on the idea of the government, but I think it might be true. Here's another example of the government trying to make our lives better and just wasting our money:

No Child Left Behind. The idea of this is basically that the government spends taxpayer money to make sure that kids who would normally drop out and be supported by welfare will take tests and maintain a specific level of proficiency, so they can drop out and be supported by welfare. Obviously, it's phenominally successful. It's implementer, George "Walker, Texas Ranger" Bush stated recently that he wasn't a "lame duck." Well, obviously, No Child Left Behind is doing a great job with him too, cause he understands that he's not a duck, despite having weird looking lips that kind of look like it.

Well, I'm done. I'm going. And I can't think of some sort of witty way to end it, so I guess I'll end it with a "call to arms." (everyone get your arm and hold it in your other arm...) We need to take a stand against stupid ways of spending taxpayer money! We need to do something about this! I propose that someone else do the writing, cause I would probably just write, "...---..." cause I'm done writing this blog.

Time To Blog

2007-01-21T13:43:00.000-08:00

For decades, people have written stories about how eventually machines will take over the world and rule all humans. It's already happened. Yes, we've already all been enslaved by clocks. Society is dictated by the whims of tiny little machines that display numbers or "Roman Numerals" (which, as far as I can tell, have nothing to do with Romans, not even pictures of them). A perfect example of this is alarm clocks. Alarm clocks are these malevolent little things that like to beep when you don't want them to. They are evil. They love to make you wake up in the early morning, when no one should be up, when it's cold outside, or when it's dark outside. Imagine just how great our society would be if we didn't let the jerks wake us up, and just slept as late as possible! Sure, we'd be unproductive and lazy, but who cares? The rest of the world already thinks we are. A couple more hours of sleep would be well worth an image we already have.

So why are we slaves to time? Perhaps it's part of man's constant search for order and organization. Because deep down inside, we are all OCD. Without exception. Unless your name is Mr. Rich, and having OCD could possibly affect my grade. This leads to tons of discrimination. Societal norms dictate sleeping at night. Those who don't are labelled as "insomniacs." Society dictates that we are in class on time at obscure times like 10:43 and 26 seconds. Those who fail to conform are penalized. This really shows some sort of conspiracy. Obviously, those who are high in society have made some sort of deal with time. My guess is that they force everyone to obey clocks in return for the alarm clocks not harassing them.

This slavery has been going on since Biblical times. Ecc. 3 states that there is "a time to every purpose under the heaven." Those clocks sure are ambitious. Not simply content to dictating human lives, they want to control everything "under the heaven". We need to take action! We need to stand up for our rights! We need to push the snooze button! I have a lot more to say, but it's time for me to go.

Happy End Of The Term Eve!

2007-01-12T23:59:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's that time of the year again. I call it End Of The Term Eve. A time when we have the opportunity to sit back and contemplate just how much the term happened to be no fun at all. A time to right wrongs in the form of bad grades. A time of friendship, when the parents of the "A" students yell at teachers. A time to get everything in, including blogs. My only regret is that I will be unable to date this blog into the future on Sunday at 1:43 PM, because Lord Rich might possibly fail to notice that comments on the blog are dated, technically, before the blog ever existed.

I will now examine the Term End Neurosis that so often accompanies the term end, namely what the French call poisson du ciel (literally "wailing and gnashing of teeth"). As the acronym (TEN) suggests, it could also stand for Tortuous English Neurosis, and be explained through ten different answers. Wait. That can't possibly be correct. No way in the world would I accept an acronym that would force me to work. Instead, I will analyze the "term is Over syNdromE."

What could cause responsible (responsible, my eye!) students to procrastinate? I think the reason lays in the fact that, and I think I speak for all Americans when I say this, homework is about as much fun as reading Moby Dick. Especially when the homework IS reading Moby Dick. In fact, the homework usually has about as much significance as Moby Dick, except that Moby Dick might have more practical application in the real world than homework. This is because I find it much more likely that I will become an obsessed, fury filled sailor bent on killing a whale, than ever becoming someone who has to use the Fundemental Theorem Of Calculus (who's fundementality should really be taken into question, like question in the form of the Inquisition) in a real life situation that does not involve boring hobbies. And so, homework haters everywhere refuse to do it until the last possible moment that they might. I think I'll restate it in bold letters, and in caps, so King Rich can have an easy time finding the poisson qui a fumé un ordinateur (literally, "important part of the blog"). END OF TERM SYNDROME IS CAUSED BECAUSE STUDENTS DON'T LIKE TO DO HOMEWORK UNTIL THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND. Now I should probably post this before my last second is up.

Study: Fried Rice "The Stuff Of Legends"

2007-01-07T13:43:00.000-08:00

Fried rice is like the culinary Sistine Chapel. It may even rival Micheal "Angelo" Buonarroti's work on that ceiling (yeah, he didn't build the chapel, he just graffitied the ceiling). Well, actually it definitely rates higher with me, mostly because you can eat fried rice, unlike naked Biblical people. I base this statement off a study of people who have the user name "Chlorine Addict." The study concluded that "fried rice is the ultimate expression of human creativity."

Main researcher Chlorine Addict stated, "Something about fried rice just calls upon the common man to add whatever he might want to. It's the stuff of legends!"

"I put in all sorts of meats: bacon, ham, hamburger, sausage, etc. The veggie is variable too! But the egg, that's static. There always has to be egg," exclaimed fried rice enthusiast Chlorine Addict.

What makes the way of the fried rice (Way Of The Rice sounds like a cheap karate movie) so appealing? Perhaps it's because as stated, almost anything can be put in it. There are thousands of possible permutations! This could potentially save millions of college students from "pizza fever," by making it possible to cook the same meal without ever, technically, cooking the same meal. Perhaps the popularity comes from the fact that preparation takes so little time. Maybe it's because it takes the intelligence that General George Armstrong Custer displayed in the Battle Of Little Big Horn (equivalent to the intelligence of the average fly, except in Argentina) to prepare it. For Chlorine Addict, dashing, handsome, courageous, intelligent superhero, "it's a good breakfast food. Especially when Mom hasn't picked up any other breakfast foods for a while. You can just take whatever's in the fridge." Not only does the description of that superhero sound like me, he also seems to have the attraction of fried rice correct!

Other fried rice related comments that I wasn't able to work into this blog, that I swear are absolutely true and not made up, unless I happen to be on trial for libel or slander:

-During his presidency, President William "Bill" Clinton was seen numerous times in his office late at night with a bowl of fried rice that was NOT his wife.

-President George "Weedwhacker" Bush stated, "Sometimes I have a nice bowl of fried rice to relieve the stress of fighting the Axis (a 23.5 degree tilt) of Evil."

-Rush Limbaugh admitted having an addiction to prescription fried rice.

-Nancy Pelosi declared that, "fried rice is the reason we won the House and the Senate."

-BYU Football Quarterback John Beck consumed a bowl of fried rice before the big bowl game against the Oregon "Ducks." The meat in the rice was, needless to say, duck.

Humor: A Healthy Alternative To Sporting

2006-12-31T13:43:00.000-08:00

I'm a pretty funny guy. Who's not a Narcissist. People just tell me I'm funny. And I wonder why. I think for this week, I'll come out and bluntly state what I'm going to "analyze," so Sir Rich will have an easy time finding the "meat" (beef) of the blog is. I'm going to find one reason for why I use so much humor, and then blatantly ignore all other possibilities.

First, in order to talk about this, not to mention fill up space, we have to define humor. The Free Online Dictionary defines humor as, "a body fluid, such as-" What in the? No wonder this thing is free! For some reason they think that just because they offer a free service, they can be as sloppy as they want! I think we should bite them. Maybe we should write to our congressperson supporting the Bite Act, which would make the mandatory punishment for doing something stupid being bitten by a special professional biter. These professional biters would have to go through a complex qualification process, which would consist of being able to chew through something hard, like the plastic fruit old ladies like to trick people with at parties. I guess I'm just going to define humor myself. Humor is funny. And I don't mean those lame jokes that have been around forever, probably from the time of the ancient Greeks, or maybe the Egyptians. I can only imagine that when Howard "How 'ard? Very hard!" Carter unearthed the tomb of Tut, he found ancient Egyptian jokes in there. "What do you call a humpless camel? A humpless camel!!!" (these were very primitive jokes)

Now... what could possibly account for me being funny? Well, quite frankly, I'm sure it was a cover up. I developed humor to cover the fact that I can't play sports. The other boys were all doing back flips, hitting home runs, and demonstrating their strength by lifting the school, etc. And I have the physical ability of gravel. So I decided to be funny. Now, it's just an automatic reflex. Someone will lift their car, and to "one up" them (does this have to do with the One Ups, like in Mario?), I'll say, "That reminds me of a joke..." I'll admit it, it's a hit every time. I'm sure all around the world, guys everywhere are doing this. This explains why sports guys aren't funny. You never see a Quarter Back telling a joke before the game. No, they're always talking about how they're going to dominate. And the announcers, who all used to play football aren't funny, either. I was watching the BYU vs. Oregon ("Home of the Ducks!") game, and the announcers were awful! They were talking and all laughing, and displaying little plastic action figures, like it was the funniest joke ever. I didn't even smile. My reaction went something along the lines of, "what a bunch of losers." But it doesn't matter. They didn't have sports inadequacies to hide. They are free to make bad jokes, and be as stupid as they want. At least until Congress passes the Bite Act, that is.

Even Chlorine Addicts Get Second Chances

2006-12-24T13:43:00.001-08:00

Freedom of speech doesn't exist. It's true. I already wrote a blog about how unhappy I was to be writing a blog on Christmas Eve. Needless to say, I got caught up in the passion of the moment, and my parents censored me. None of you, except the President, will ever know the contents of the missing blog. It will haunt your dreams until it is released in the Bonus DVD, with the stupid games and the blooper reel. So for those of you who believe in second chances, here goes. I decided to write something hopelessly sappy, to make sure that I don't get censored this time. Wish me luck; this could get blasphemous.

I was looking out the window at the snow (ok, so there isn't snow, but there were paper snowflakes at the President's house), and I was amazed at the beauty of these falling ice crystals. And then I got bored. But it made me think (and those of you who know me know that this takes nothing short of a cattle prod, generally) about the uniqueness of the snowflakes. They (but I'm not sure who) say that no two snowflakes are alike. This statement can be applied to people as well. No two people are alike. Aww... how cute! This is definitely a good thing, because I would feel really bad for the poor soul who knew my evil twin. I mean, I feel sorry for the people who know the real me as it is!

So why is every person different? Well, I think that it's because there are no two people who experience the exact same things. Something is bound to be different, and this could result in differences like those between Lucky Charms vs. Marshmallow Maties. You could test this out. You could put two clones into white rooms (it's always white, any other color could have disasterous consequences like the destruction of a common stereotype) and give them the same food (cold pizza) and the same objects to play with (I just made all that up). They're not going to stay the same. They'll figure out different things to do with the objects, and they'll eat their foods in different ways (chopsticks vs. forks, or just eating vs. talking on the phone at the same time). These differences will accumulate to create totally different people. I mean, even at the cellular level (doesn't that just SOUND smart? Or at least nerdy?), they will be different. It is, well I'll come out and say it, stupid to suppose that every single one of the clones' (insert favorite big number here) cells is used the same way, and the same amount, and that the cells will even mutate the same. With that creepy and crappy (sorry Hannah) made up situation, one realizes just how correct I am. One realizes how well I've analyzed all possible outcomes, and synthesized the correct answer. Go ahead and say it, Sir Rich, "Full credit for the second try!"

Singing In The Snow

2006-12-17T13:43:00.000-08:00

Contrary to the awesome title, I wasn't doing any singing in the snow. I'm sorry if you were misled in any way. But not sorry enough to change the title. Today during church, rather than having a Priesthood lesson, the Priests went and shoveled the walks of elderly people in the ward. Naturally, we were overjoyed. I'm not sure that that's a comment on the quality of our lessons, or the quality of our souls. "Whatever the reason, his heart or his shoes, he stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the Whos." Wait. Wrong story. We ended up shoveling what had to be the longest driveway in the city. Quite frankly, I believe that having a driveway longer than two car lengths should be punishable by the law. With death. Anyways, I think I'll write a summary of the event, and try to string together a couple of intelligent analytical thoughts. Or actually, I think I'll just say the things that bugged me, and then I'll try and come up with an analytical thought about it.

The first thing that bugged me was stated above. Why in the world do these people have such long driveways? Well, they're old, and they can afford it. Mostly because they sure aren't gonna be shoveling the walks. They know their ward is gonna do "service." Or perhaps they want to stay fit by having a long walk to get the mail. Or maybe they just like the view of concrete pavement. I'm all out of ideas. Next idea!

While we were shoveling, it just kept snowing. We were just about as effective as Pickett's charge. Which was almost successful, but not quite, so people just think of it as a loss, sort of like Al Gore in the 2000 elections. Basically, by the time we got to the end of the driveway, the other end was covered in snow again. Why were we doing this then? Well, it's because it's the thought that counts. Actually, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I mean, nobody pays for thoughts. "Faith without works is dead!" Basically, we were doing this because of a more clandestine reason. When we shoveled the walk would get wet, and then the walks would ice over. Pretty soon, we would get old people flying through the air, like some sort of sick twisted circus routine. And then they would die, and we wouldn't have to ever shovel the walks again! Score!

There were these kids who we were with basically did nothing but quote movies. I've already made my position on quoting clear, but I was wondering why in the world these kids were so worthless. Perhaps they were born under a worthless star. Maybe if they did any type of work, they would have an allergic reaction, and die in a sneezing fit. Cause we didn't have any epipens. Or maybe, but this is a stretch for me, they were just lazy. And basically, I'm lazy too. Because I'm done writing this. Sorry it was so lame this week, I just felt a need to vent in a really dumb "analytical" blog. Plus I wanted to Sir Rich to have a boring time reading at least one of my blogs.

Jingle Bells? Or Just The Money Jingling In Your Pocket?

2006-12-10T13:43:00.000-08:00

America. The land of freedom. The "nation under God, with liberty, and justice for all". The land where it is a Constitutional right to create a Christmas CD. Yes, anyone, except quite possibly Dennis Rodman, can slow down Christmas songs to show "feeling" in the United States. Any random bum off the street can create his own inspiring lyrics that uplift not only the soul, but also commercialism. This explains the Beach Boys singing about the "little St. Nick" when they (the Beach Boys) have nothing to do with anything (Christmas). In fact, the Civil War actually occurred not because of the issue of slavery, but because Southern plantation owners refused to let their slaves create Christmas music. In response, Honest "Abe" Lincoln stated in his Gettysburg address that "fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposistion that all men might write a Christmas album." However, libel aside, this blog seeks not to prove the existence of this Christmas Album Culture, but rather the reasons behind it.

Some people would say that music artists write Christmas music because they simply love Christmas music. These people are stupid. No normal person would sing emotionally about a snowman, or a mutated reindeer with a red nose. No, the real reason behind Christmas CDs is money. Now this may sound like déjà vu (French for: a very good reason), but just because it's been the answer for the last two blogs, doesn't mean that I just don't want to think of a new analytical reason. People who write these songs are making loads of money. This is because everyone listens to some form of Christmas music. People are out there listening to The Best Of Darth Brooks Christmas, or whatever other style of music they might like. For example, in Math, everyday, we come in to the class, and listen to some great hick Christmas music. I mean, this stuff is great! I can just see this cowboy, with a cowboy hat, and a peice of straw in his mouth, tapping his boots to the beat, singing about the birth of Jesus to his cows. Even cows need a little bit of spiritual music (they're not all rockers, you know). And because people like to listen to Christmas music at this time of year, they will buy any Christmas album that is like the music they usually listen to. There's tons of money to be made in this industry! I think I'm gonna go right now, and write my own Christmas Album, and be rich and famous and powerful, like Dennis Rodman. And if my parents try to stop me, Civil War II.

The Environment: Who Cares?

2006-12-03T13:43:00.000-08:00

This week, I was personally responsible for the destruction of an entire acre of rainforest. That's right, I had an English paper due. But before all of you environmentalists write petitions to your Congressperson (who is probably out to "lunch" right now), listen to my explanation first. I had to include about five hundred drafts at the demand of my English teacher. Basically, I'm using the politician's way out, namely, the blame game (which, unfortunately, is not a board or card game). It was Rich's fault! As I sit here and contemplate the wholesale destruction of wildlife and the environment that goes on today, I can't help but laugh. Actually, what I meant was... write a blog about it.

In what ways do people destroy the environment? I'm currently enrolled in a Geology class, and I'm constantly learning about the stupid things that we (but not me) do to degrade the world. For example, we recently learned about the process of New Jersyfication, which is the building of groins (It's not what you're thinking! If you just thought something innappropriate, I suggest you get your mind out of the gutters. I'm not joking. Get up out of your seat, go outside and pick up your stupid mind right now!) out into the ocean (this just goes to show that I do not sleep in Geology, at least not when we're learning about fascinating subjects like New Jersyfication). This keeps sand from traveling down the coast, and makes some parts of the beach erode at a rapid rate, destroying houses. My basic response was, "HAHA, suckers!" and then I realized that this was wreaking havoc on the environment when my conscience (political correctness) kicked in.

Why do people exploit the environment? Money. Money is always the answer to any question outside of Geology field trips (the answers there are "basalts", "Lake Bonneville", "fissures", and the "Sevier Mountain Range Event", in case you ever take the class). In the old days (the days that are no longer "spring chicken", but actually "rotisserie chicken"), industries would just dump their waste (chemical waste, not...) anywhere they wanted. If someone was getting sick, getting cancer, turning into the Hulk, Wolverine, etc., it was their problem. Because the industry wasn't about to waste money on other people or the environment's safety. It's absurd to think otherwise! The Golden Rule, my eye! If there was anything gold about it, people would have stolen it ages ago.

Now a days, people exploit the environment as much as they possibly can without causing some sort of catastrophe like in The Day After Tomorrow, which not only detailed some catastrophes, but was a catastrophe itself. Industries try to make the most money possible. This is why whole forests are cut down to make paper, why the earth is mined until there's nothing there. This is why we try and avoid costly proceedures that only lead to a cleaner earth. Money can explain all of this. It can even explain why I had to write so many drafts for Sir Rich. The more we write, the more sucessful it seems the class is. This explain the length of my blogs. The longer they are, the more "analytical" thought that went into them. Unless you're capable of "analytical" thought yourself; then you know there's nothing much in here.

Thanksgiving, A Good Time For Christmas

2006-11-23T13:00:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving. A wonderful time of the year that we can slow down our lives, when we can stop and think about… Christmas. Because of this, a couple of questions come to my mind. Why do we skip Thanksgiving for Christmas? Why do we skip the grateful, and go straight to the giving ( aka receiving)? Why do eggs explode in the microwave? Now, these questions probably won’t all be answered, but I’m sure that if you looked hard enough, you could find some deep symbolism that would answer the question. If you do, you know you’re an English teacher, and should probably do community service by shooting yourself in the head. I'm just joking, Sir Rich. What would I do with my free time if you weren't there to fill it with assignments? Probably not be writing this, that's for sure!

Obviously, to start this "analytical essay," I need to establish that Thanksgiving is skipped. Many people don't like it. In our diet driven society, Thanksgiving, the day of obesity, is slowly losing its competitive edge in the hard cruel world of holidays, as more and more people are tempted (by none other than Lucifer himself) to try the "tofu turkey. (it's probably a weapon of some sort)" The other day, and this is a verbatim quote that I heard in the halls who's name shall remain secret to protect an innocent from a certain English teacher who might make this person explain where this "synthesis" came from, "Thanksgiving is lame."

Another example of Thanksgiving being skipped occurred this morning. Thanksgiving morning. I went out to get the paper. I almost didn't return. Because, every business you could possibly think of had placed ads in the paper today in preparation for Christmas. I nearly broke my arm trying to lift that thing, and I swim for 3 hours a day, and weight lift every other day! Needless to say, this in itself is a problem, cause I can only imagine how crowded the emergency rooms are going to be today, as countless people go in with broken arms.

Why are all these businesses putting out ads today, for Day After Thanksgiving Sales? Though it may seem that these people are simply trying to inform the public about what's happening in society, let's not kid ourselves. Business people are no where near that altruistic. No, contrary to common belief, businesses aren't losing money on sales. Otherwise, they wouldn't be desperately looking for any excuse to have a sale (I bet there's a 9/11 Sale, Slogan: "Give Us Your Money, It Won't Support The War Effort" or perhaps "Prices Are Falling Just Like The Twin Towers"). Believe it or not, businesses are looking to make money on Christmas, and since this is the biggest buying season of the year, every business is out to be the metaphorical "early bird" that gets the metaphorical "worm." To quote a certain French teacher, the American way is, "be greedy first, give later." Thanksgiving doesn't stand a chance, because there simply isn't enough money to be made on Thanksgiving. Only grocery stores make any money, and as powerful as Smith's (Market Fresh Every Day!) might be, it simply can't stand up to Toy's "ARR, Maties" Us (Exortion Is Fun!).

Another reason I've heard for this senseless skipping of Thanksgiving is the lack of Thanksgiving songs. Sure, I'm certain that many of you are now humming the Adam Sandler Turkey Song, and I'm definitely glad that I'm not hearing it, but there really aren't any other songs. However, I'm not sure that even Thanksgiving Songs would really get the holiday anywhere. Because there really isn't a possiblity of topping Christmas songs, many of which are about the Savior, which are really the only reminder of the true meaning of Christmas. Because, despite any other reason you might come up with for why Christmas dominates Thanksgiving, commercialism is still at the "heart" of the issue. But hey, I say bring it on, cause then we get to see what truly makes this country great, namely, credit cards.

The Long Claw Of The Law, Mocked

2006-11-19T13:43:00.000-08:00

This week, the school has been putting on a production of Les Miserables. Though I don't like to toot my own horn, I'm in the Pit Orchestra, playing the clarinet, and literally tooting my horn. Well, actually, it's the school's horn, so I don't really have a problem there. However, as I sit there listening to the same show about five hundred pi hundreths, I have a lot of time to reflect on my life. Well, actually, I lied there too, cause I don't reflect on my life, I just reflect on ways to make fun of other people's lives. But this is besides the point. At one point (and this is the point), Javert, who, for the Les Mis Illiterate, is the psycho cop obsessed with capturing Jean val Jean and wastes 20 years of his life chasing the guy, only to commit suicide (oops, just spoiled the ending). That wasn't actually a sentence, but I thought that since it was such a long appositive (though it was not a positive appositive) I'll restart that sentence. At one point, Javert sings that he "is the law, and the law is not mocked." I'll admit it, it sounded like a personal challenge, or some sort of bet. So basically, I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I really just have to prove that I am the best (like I have to even try to prove that!). But first, for those of you who were wondering, yes, Les Mis does have the obligatory part where the two love birds sing a cheesy duet on opposite sides of the stage. That basically is a law, and I just mocked it.

Where to begin? Well, first, I would like to state that this will not be an analysis of stupid laws. There are already too many books about that, based on the laws of small towns with populations that could probably be counted on your fingers. And if they're really big, with your toes too. These books are also based on the fact that none of the laws they write about are enforced. The reason I refuse to write like these books is because I will have more than enough to make fun of if I simply look at the law as a whole. And also because individual laws would require actual research and analysis, which would probably be against my professional (that's a joke!) ethics. And would also require me to stay up past my bedtime writing this. (Mr. Rich, I realize that this says that I wrote this on Sunday at 1:43 PM like all the rest of my blogs, but it was actually written the Friday before, at about ten. I simply like to cheat against myself.)

Almost every society has a code of laws. Why is this? This is because people love rules. Rules are basically the favorite activity of the people making them. Your parents make rules, your teachers make rules, your religious leaders make rules, and so does anyone else that has power over you. I am just being facetious. Actually, for Mr. Rich's sake, I was being facetious in saying that I was being facetious. Anyways, laws are actually to set guidelines for proper conduct in society. They keep the metaphorical machine of society well greased with the metaphorical engine oil of not doing things you want to do. Imagine if there weren't laws against public nudity. It would be like the old men in the locker room everywhere! Imagine if it was alright to kill someone else. Imagine if it were alright for you to stick a knife in the annoying kid who sits next to you in English. That would, although violence is highly popular in our society, be, to put it poetically, bad. So, laws are there to keep people in line. If everyone follows the laws, everyone would be just great, and there would be no need to sue anyone. Which would probably be against some sort of Constitutional Ammendment prohibiting lawyers not having jobs. Cause whenever you have the law, people always love to add a "y-e-r" to it to create, you guessed it, unless you are unable to spell, lawyers.

The second aspect of law is its creation. This generally occurs because of some sort of legislative body. Why do we have legislative bodies? Isn't the constitution of the country enough? Don't these questions really create a facade of analytical thought? Well, to answer these questions, the legislative bodies are there to help small minority interest groups (though they deny it) and also so there can be corrupt lobbyists. No, actually, contrary to common belief, legislative groups have a purpose. That purpose is to create laws to keep up with modern trends that founders of countries could never have forseen. These legislative groups can be highly productive. Given my Taiwanese patriotism, I would have to say that the Taiwanese Parliament is the greatest of these groups. On the account that, while the British may get to call each other mean names, the Taiwanese can actually participate in violence. Can't you imagine just how productive it would be if members of Congress would hit each other? That would be great! Instead of wasting tax payer money on "conventions" in nice places (Disneyland, the Carribean, and other places really conducive to legislative work in the form of good food and entertainment), they would waste it on medical treatment! And, for the sake of throwing a curveball, I'm going to write a four paragraph essay (well, I already have) to make Mr. Rich happy that it wasn't a five paragraph one, which shows some creativity in the form of wanting to go to bed. Cause I think I've mocked the law enough. Javert, you owe me five bucks.

Aw, Quote This!

2006-11-12T13:43:00.000-08:00

This week, while I was on a geology field trip, we spent many long hours in the bus. Now, this is Utah, so there were no people in the back making out. Actually, this was because there were no cute girls who... nevermind. But there was an obnoxious kid a couple of rows up that kept trying to be funny, and make me and my friend laugh. He failed miserably. His methods were worthless. As I sat in the bus, trying to block out the noise of his voice quoting various movies and humorous websites, I found myself visualizing different ways that I could make him die a horrible, painful, ignominious death. Actually, I suddenly realized that I could write a blog about him in which I would make fun of him, thus extracting revenge, AND also receive credit for it if I added some "analytical" tidbits. This is what I call killing two metaphorical birds with one metaphorical stone. Literally, the extent to which killing two birds with one stone is possible is debatable. So, in using that story, I have set the stage for this blog, in which I will analyze the culture of quoting things, or, as I call it, Bonsteel Syndrome. It will be completely sincere, in the same way that I am when I refer to the person grading these as, "O Captain, My Captain" or Sir Richie. The Third.

What causes this senseless quoting in our society? Well, as you could probably guess, there are several reasons. As you could probably also guess, I will be covering a few of them, because there are simply too many to be feasibly written about, and I also don't want to have to make up more than three. The first reason is that people are trying to be funny. This is the biggest load of bull larkey (Essay Question: What is "bull larkey?" What are its sociopolitcal and economic effects in Mozambique?) I have heard in a long time. The kid I referred to before, the one with Bonsteel Syndrome, was trying to be funny, but really wasn't. The simple reality is that it's never as funny the second time. Or quite frankly, it's not funny the thousandth time either, which is a fact that many find hard to grasp. So STOP QUOTING NAPOLEON DYNAMITE!!! Sorry. That just makes me so angry that I have to write in caps, making that statement jump out of the page (but not literally). And yet, though this is the case, we still have many (dare I say it, nerds) who quote movies, trying to recapture some of the glory of the original, desperate for attention, for laughs, for popularity, and for Phil McPherson in their fourth period class to stop giving them swirlies in the school toilets.

The second reason is because we are taught all our lives in school that quoting is the good thing to do. This reason will be divided into two sections to give me my "three reasons." The first is the reason that English teachers give you. That the quotes capture the true feelings of the author and prove that you actually read the book. However, many online study guides include an "Important Quotations" section, which really rules out the second reason. But this blogger declares on the record, and would do so in front of "O Captain My Captain," that he would never participate in such clandestine online study guiding. At least without reading the book first, and not having any clue what illegal substance the author was on when the book was written.

The "third" reason is the one that science teachers and history teachers give you. Quotes lend credibility. This also really doesn't make perfect sense. You could quote anyone, perhaps get a quote from any obscure bum on the streets. You history and science teachers are all leaning back in your seats and chuckling, grinning and murmuring to yourselves, "Ohoho, that's where you're wrong." Because, the credibility of a quote relies on the credibility of the person quoted. You need someone respected in politics, someone who's written in several academic journals you would refuse to read at gunpoint, someone who is not the custodian at your school. However, this is balderdash (The British version of "bull larkey"). For example, I could quote Hugo Chavez, and say that George "W." Bush "is the devil," but this would not necessarily render "W." worthy of the honor. Also, there are always academics on the edge of insanity (they call it being "avant garde") that you could quote. For example, on November 4, 2006, the Daily Herald newspaper printed a story about a professor at Idaho State University who is convinced that Big Foot exists, and has collected numerous footprints. A fellow professor can be quoted as saying, "It's embarrassing."

There you have it. Three good analytical reasons for quoting. And I'll be totally honest with you, I think they're pretty analytical. There so analytical they deserve full credit, but only if Sir Rich, the King of Commas, Guardian of Grammar, Lord of Literature really feels that they would, in his honest opinion, based on his infinite wisdom, merit full credit. If he would, in his mercy, bestow a full grade upon me, his humble servant, I would be very grateful. I would probably actually read books for fun. That way, I could, to quote the great man himself, who actually said this based on personal experience (This isn't confirmed, but in light of his interests, which are, undoubtedly, when considering the magnitude of the personality of his person... interesting interests (grammar), it's a logical inference) "Read to know I'm not alone."

Tamagotchi: Japanese For Stupid Fad

2006-11-05T13:43:00.000-08:00

Lately, as in today, I've been thinking about fads. Basically, this whole thing came on because I saw some girl wearing a Pokémon shirt. It grossed me out. Ok, so I'll be honest. It took me back to a time when I still believed in Santa Claus (on the record), when I didn't understand what was going on in politics (Clinton and... you get the picture), when I wasn't expected to write these stupid blogs every week, when there were still 150 of those little guys, and only three games. As opposed to the roughly 186,282 Pokémon. Wait, that was the speed of light. I get so confused with all the random bits of data they cram into my head in school. Back when there were only the Red, Blue, and Yellow Versions, as opposed to every pretty much every color you could think of. What made Pokémon so much more incredibly popular than other wannabes like Yu-Gi-Oh (More like Yu-Gi-NO!!!)? Quite frankly, I'm not sure. But to make this sound analytical, so I can get credit, I'll say it was due to the fact that the game was just the right balance of cute and "cool" monsters, difficulty without being incomprehensible (seriously, who understands Magic?), and dumb luck. And so, at this point, with no prior planning, I have decided to talk about virtual (and not so virtual) pet fads.

Another thing that was huge was the Tamagotchi. I won't try to lie to you, Tamagotchi is the top item on my Christmas List I'm mailing in a week (If you think I'm jumping the gun, go look at Toys "Nothing For Less Than One Grand" R Us's Christmas catalog from two weeks ago). I loved my Tamagotchi! It was so adorable how that little pixelly guy would kind of slide across the screen, making virtual happy faces and feces (one letter difference, and it makes a huge difference!). I remember how, being a good student, I would leave my Tamagotchi with my mom when I went to school, with express directions to feed it at least once every hour, and to make sure that the thing wasn't drowning in pixel poop. According to Wikipedia (which is slowly taking over the world), "Tamagotchi" is a combination "the Japanese word for egg ("tamago") and the syllable "chi" which denotes affection, so it could be taken to mean "loveable egg". It is also a pun on both "wotchi" (borrowed from English "watch", as in the time piece) and "tomodachi" (Japanese for friend)." Obviously, because the product was sold in America, it was important to make this little pun in Japanese. So, what precisely made these little guys so popular? Mostly because they're "pets" in every sense of the word, except they don't throw up in the middle of the living room, spit hairballs, bark at everyone (though that would be a cool feature), etc. So maybe they're just pets without all the gross parts. Plus the little guys were really cute, and it just made you all warm and fuzzy inside when it made a smiley face at you, much akin to the feeling you get whenever you watch a car blow up in a movie or video game.

In order to get a better idea of the "big picture" of pet fads, we have to take a journey back to the '70's, the time of bell bottoms and hair parted down the middle. Back then, as my dad tells me when he happens to get nostalgic, people used to have "pet rocks." I can't imagine a time when this could have happened. Millions of the rocks were sold in their little "pet rock carrying cases" nestled in a bed of straw, with the manual of how to train and raise these pet rocks. Though the originals had no features, they eventually got animal features painted on them, which clearly made them worth the four bucks they cost. You're probably sitting here and thinking that the people of the era must have been idiots, and you're probably right. But this was right after the US had just lost the Vietnam War. People needed something to cheer them up, and that wasn't a pet that was capable and very willing to make the wee wee of joy on the carpet. So, everyone rushed out and bought these rocks, making their creator an instant millionare, on account of the fact that he was making a several hundred percent profit.

And so, looking back on these examples, I will now attempt to make some sort of connection between them, for a really "analytical" finish. The similarity between these fads is, but not limited to, except during Day Lights Saving Time, and when before a word starting with a vowel, that in conjunction with each other, these fads, which commonly gain widespread popularity, are all characterized by the way they quickly died out. Ok. So that wasn't a real reason, but was just really restating the definition of a fad with added commentary (also known as "verbiage"). So I'll make up a real reason. And here it is, what I've got over good old Webster. Looking back on them, all these fads seem really stupid. They make you slap your hand to your forehead and exclaim, "What a bunch of morons!" But trust me, within a year or so, the store shelves will be lined with toilet paper roll weiner dogs. And you will be buying them.

Mispelling

2006-10-29T13:43:00.000-08:00

Over UEA weekend (you can tell I'm desperate for a topic because of how long ago this happened), I drove by Lakeridge Junior High. What I saw on their announcement board shocked me. It boldly stated that there was, "No Skool." Quite frankly, I thought that that word was one that we learned in first grade, under that category of words that we would all learn to hate. And yet, at this institution of education, the school misspelled itself. Within the analytical part of my mind, which had by then experienced an "awakening" in the form of metaphorical caffeine (analytical paragraphs I did and then forgot about) prescibed by Dr. Rich, I pondered, "how is this type of misspelling possible?" And then I realized that I was supposed to be watching the road, the caffeine wore off, and I forgot about the experience until my mind was "awakened" by another metaphorical drug I call "last minute blog panic."

One thing that has led to the culture of misspelling that we live in is instant and text messaging. Wait... that was two things... but this is about spelling, not math! The degree of misspelling in an instant message or text message is often referred to as the "text"-ure. Seriously, though, spelling is thrown out the window, quite possibly literally, in these forms of communication. They rely heavily on spelling things "phonetically," which is just another way of saying, "in as few letters as possible". A couple of examples of this are substituting "u" for "you" and "r" for "are." Another aspect of this form of communication is the use of acronyms that no one but the person who uses them understands, with examples like "btw" for "by the way," "brb" for "be right back," and "ATP" for "adenosine triphosphate." And my personal favorite, "DNA", "Dynamic Nuclear Accelerators." Needless to say, these incomprehensible forms of communication not only make no sense, but are also really fun to mock. No, I meant to say, have a large impact on the ability of people to spell correctly.

Another problem with misspelling is those darn Brits. I mean, another problem that creates spelling errors stems from the beliefs of our British brethren. These people are whack jobs. I mean, these, our brethren, and sistern, are misguided individuals who love to misspell things. The first example of this is the "'re' not 'er'" rule. This results in words, or misspellings, like "centre," metre", and "Petre." Another example is the "unnecessary 'e' rule." This rule involves putting 'e's in random places where they don't belong, like "towne." Combinations of these rules could create rather unfortunate misspellings of mass proportions, such as, "towne centre." I can only imagine what a terrorist could do with one of those rules. "Everybody freeze, or I'll add an unnecessary 'e' to your mom!" Actually, I believe that these rules of misspelling actually came from the American Revolution. In an attempt to render their communications incomprehensible to the traitors, who we fondly refer to as "patriots", the British soldiers, who we fondly refer to as "lobsterbacks," devised a new form of code, not unlike modern Pig Latin, which involved rearranging words ending in "re" and adding "e"'s to everything they could think of. This new system was highly effective, and still confuses people to this day.

As we can see from this highly informative essay (that's a joke!), this is a very real problem which must be solved if we don't wish to go back to the Dark Ages, where NO ONE knew how to spell. This might have been because the Dark Ages were too dark to see, and they just randomly scribbled, but I think that the main reason was that people made up the stuff. This resulted in strange spellings of things like, "Todaye Brothre Josef fel intu the toylet. I rekwestd that he tayke a bathe." Imagine the mass turmoil and pandemonium that would ensue from such a situation! Wouldn't that be great?! I mean, this is a very real problem that we must solve. And what is the solution to this problem? How should I know? I'm just the guy who points out the problems of society, and irresponsibly does nothing with the knowledge of these problems, who is also exempt from all these problems, because he is perfecte. I g2g.

No Adult Left Behind

2006-10-22T13:43:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I participated in the swim meet against Lehi and Pleasant Grove. When I swam my 500 yard freestyle, a race that involves 20 25 yard laps, I finished third, about two seconds after the fastest time. After the "congratulating complete strangers on a good job" phase of the race, the lady who was timing for my lane told me that I still had another two laps to swim. This didn't make much sense to me, but I swam them anyways. Later, it turned out that I had simply swam an extra 50 yards. This raises a question in my mind: Why in the world did the lady think I still had more to swim? Perhaps this was because she miscounted, and only counted 18 laps, rather 20, which was a mistake I was totally understanding of, despite the facts that there were people counting the laps on the other side of the pool, that I had personally counted 20, and that I was never passed by the other guys who had finished at about the same time I did, and who had consequently also counted to 20.

Jim Noorlander, Constitution Party Congressional Candidate for Utah's 3rd district, stated that "the number one problem... is what's being taught, and how it's being taught" in a recent debate. Not only does using this quote in this blog add "credibility" and "a professional feel", but it also raises the idea that perhaps the problem extends beyond this to include who is being taught! The federal government has, using the 'elastic clause' (which actually has nothing to do with elastics, rubberbands, etc.) as justification, instituted a program called No Child Left Behind. In this program, EVERY child must pass standardized tests designed to be passable by the average student. Who has happened to receive a labotomy. Perhaps, given the outstanding success rate of this program, adults should get their own program. No Adult Left Behind. There are numerous benefits from this sort of a program, including, but not limited to, adults of voting age suddenly realizing what a drag the tests are, and then not voting against them, in a classic display of the voter apathy that makes this country so great.

However, required education has been in place for so long that there is no reason that all adults should have received at least a rudimentary education in the American tradition of memorizing useless bits of data. So, what is to blame for the degeneration of the adult mind? An obvious answer would use television as a scapegoat. And so, to avoid further thought, this blog will do exactly that. Television is to blame!!! Though this statement is strong, it still needs concrete detail to back it up, preferably in the form of made up statistical data. However, this blogger is too lazy to look up any real data, so he will be forgoing the statistics. Instead, there will be an inflamatory remark that will get people so riled up that they won't notice that I am dodging the concrete detail requirement. Television plays off basic human instincts to keep the morons who watch it from consciously making decisions that might possibly involve pushing the power button!!! That's right. Morons. Morons who just got too angry to look for concrete details. It keeps viewers interested with sensationalism and sex for long enough for advertisers to use the thoughtless stupor created to guide viewers into buying their products. News shows pretend to be objective while forcing their ideals upon the viewers who unthinkingly accept them as objective fact. Without use, not unlike muscles, the brain molders, and this leads to the degeneration of the adult mind. Quite frankly, this trend is alarming and wrong. A democratic society cannot rely on thoughtless voters. And I cannot rely on thoughtless timers.

Heroic Herberts Moved

2006-10-15T13:43:00.001-07:00

To whom it may concern (and to those it won't concern, too),

The Adventures of Heroic Herbert have been moved to a new blog! The new blog is heroic-herbert.blogspot.com . I hope that all you loyal readers will continue to read weekly, as otherwise, I'm pretty much wasting my time.

On a side note, I've also created a blog that mocks things that I see around town, hear on TV, or see in commercials in short paragraphs. If the mocking done in Heroic Herbert and The Waterlogged Blog isn't enough for you, visit random-mocking.blogspot.com . Or just use the links on this blog to get to either blog.

Thanks for your time and readership,
The Chlorine Addict

Red Light, Green Light... Yellow Light?

2006-10-15T13:43:00.000-07:00

What cherished aspect of society should I ruthlessly mock today? Who's favorite tradition should I rip apart with no regard for others' feelings? Well, you guessed it (or more likely, you didn't), today I will be "analyzing" the culture of yellow lights. Now, a small child from a third world country probably wouldn't understand why this is such a big deal, but this is America, land of consumerism and WalMart, where you sit back in your plush chair and think, "This is such a good topic to discuss!" But only if you're a sycophant. Otherwise, you're thinking, "What a moron!"

So what exactly makes yellow lights such a controversial subject? Perhaps it is because of the many different definitions of "yellow light" in the community. The Utah Driver's Handbook (Utah Driver's Bible) states that a yellow light tells drivers to "clear the intersection." Definitions of "yellow light" range from this to the commonly held belief that "if it turns yellow, speed up!" The other day, when I was with a person, who will remain unnamed to protect a "not so innocent" from the law, a light turned yellow about 40 feet away from us. Instead of slowing down to a stop, this individual decided to go about 100 miles over the speed limit, so that we could get into the intersection. Needless to say, he, I mean, this person, ran a red light. However, I'm sure that if I had asked, the response would be, "Well, an inch of my bumper was in the intersection before the light turned red!" What could drive (literally drive, haha... I'll just stop) a person to do such a thing? One word: Impatience.

Webster's Dictionary defines "impatience" as "a lack of patience". This bit of information was not only useless, but was also easily contrived from the fact that "impatience" is simply "patience" with an "im" in front of it. However, it provides the vital function of filling space. There is a common saying that goes along the lines of, "He who first smelt it, dealt it." Wait no! That was "Patience is a virtue!" However, American society seems to be shunning this and other virtues (ex. Foley, and his discarding of virtues like chastity, morality, "not being like Micheal Jackson"). Everything has to be done quicker, and if at all possible, instantaneously. Like Little Caesar's pizza's "hot and ready to go" pizzas, which only go to further the impatience crisis. This impatience is creeping into our society and infecting people with the "yellow light mentality" and will probably eventually begin showing up in sayings of its own. Like "wait not, want not". The problem of the "yellow light mentality" is really becoming a major part of our society. No one is safe from it. Unless we take action and - you know what? I'm sick and tired of waiting for this to get over.

Stealing The Show... Er... Blog

2006-10-08T13:43:00.000-07:00

This week, I had the unfortunate experience of getting 10 bucks (aka, A "Hamilton") stolen from me. As I was filled with rage at these people who steal things from other people, or "thieves" for short, I suddenly realized that I could write a very mean blog worth credit for English. As I always say, "Venting and renting" or "whining and pining". Not that that really makes sense, but I felt the need to rhyme... on a dime. But space filling verbiage aside, what makes stealing so wrong? Aside from the fact that, "thou shalt not steal," (Biblical reference to gain legitimacy with the Christian audience) could it be that it is simply against the law (as if people have reservations against that one)? Could it be that the French word for stealing is "voler", which is a false congnate with "vole"? All of these reasons are probably legitimate in the Great Melting Pot of... Why Stealing Is Wrong.

So, why, if it is so morally wrong for people in our society to steal, is it that stealing is widespread? The reason is that stealing is not REALLY wrong in our society. Take, for example, recent movies made about stealing. Oceans Eleven, the movie about a group of thieves breaking into a casino, was so popular that it warranted a sequel. A good sequel (had to make the distinction for you people who are actually reading this with half a brain)! Thus, we see that though society condemns thieves on the record, it is actually good friends with "Stealing" and often spends evenings together watching football and drinking beer (Root beer, whew, that was a close one). And then "Stealing" steals a "Hamilton" from Society's wallet. And high fives its good foreign friend, "Voler". (yay for anthropomorphizing!)

So what motivates these thieves, or, for the purpose of throwing a metaphorical curveball in word choice, jerks (I mean it in every diplomatic sense of the word) to steal from others? They don't want to work for themselves, and earn what others already have. In this generation of "instant gratification", people expect " the world on a silver platter (not literally)". As a result, they are too lazy to work, and simply take what others have. This alarming trend in society is becoming increasingly prevalent. I recently read in the newspaper about a man in Provo, who "backed his truck up to two separate car wash cash machines, chained up, and pulled them out." This man was only caught because he was driving recklessly on the highway later on. So, how exactly did no one notice an ATM being ripped out of the ground? What were the people doing that caused them to totally miss it? Probably sharing beers with "Stealing."

Stereotyping Sure Beats Monotyping

2006-10-01T13:43:00.000-07:00

Have you ever seen someone really scary? And not just the creepy lunch lady who glares at you when you get the food? Like perhaps, an emo? Well, I have, and in my typical irresponsible way, I don't really care if you haven't because if you haven't guessed already, that was just a really lame way to introduce the subject I'm going to analyze. Or for you people who don't like lying, the subject I'm going to mock. Emo kids all dress in clothing that most people wouldn't be caught dead in. That's just a stereotype, but if this blogger doesn't rely on stereotypes, he might have to, GASP! do some actual research! Why do they all dress this way? The purpose is to be original, different, and progressive. However, all these "progressives", as the politically correct might refer to the common emo, seem to have the same "original" and "different" clothing styles.

The first aspect of the emo appearance is the use of black. Emos wear black shirts, black pants, black shoes, black eyeliner, black turbans, etc. This is because black is commonly associated with darkness and evil. In an attempt to gain the attention that they so desperately crave, emos attempt to associate themselves with evil. Obviously, this is an EXCELLENT tactic for getting attention.

Another aspect of the emo attire is body peircings. All parents with emo children have a great fear and dread of the day when a tiny voice tells their children that they have to get peircings. This is the voice of Satan. Just joking. It is actually the voice of popular culture, which, like many ideas or inanimate objects, can be anthropomorphized. (Discussion Question: Just how popular does a culture have to be to be considered a popular culture?) The voice of popular culture urges people to PAY people to literally ram a sharp object through their flesh, creating a hole in their flesh, so they can put ugly peices of metal and plastic in the holes to prevent the healing of their body. It makes a lot of sense.

The analysis of emo pants must be done in greater detail. There are two varieties of emo pants. The first is the ripped pants variety, and then there are the girl pants variety. The ripped pants variety comes from a clandestine deal between thrift stores, fashion experts, and pants making companies. The thrift stores sell used pants to pants making companies, which in turn throw them through a meat grinder, which gives them the "fashionable look" advocated by "fashion experts." The other variety of pants comes from the emos borrowing their older sisters' jeans. I will not go any further with this line of thought, because it might end with some hurt feelings, and a shooting of a certain blogger who doesn't want to be shot any time soon. You know what? I think this blogger is going to stop altogether for the previously stated reason. And because this blogger is hungry, and is going to go make lunch for himself.

Leave The Leaves Alone

2006-09-21T19:40:00.000-07:00

Recently, my parents packed the whole family into the van, and we went up the canyon to "look at the leaves." I was having a hard time wondering why any sane person with something better to do than homework would look at leaves. They're inherently boring, because they're part of trees. They don't move. They don't make inappropriate sounds. They're not interactive. And yet, we find people in our action driven society with ADHD who take time out of their busy schedules to look at leaves. "Why is this?" I asked myself. And then the answer came... because the colors are changing!

Now, let's think about this logically. The colors of leaves change when the leaves are DYING! That's pretty morbid. People get all excited about looking at trees because they're dying! This simply goes to show how much TV has desensitized society. After watching so many cop shows, and witnessing so many deaths (and that's not even including movies, which have titles dedicated to death and murder, ex. "Kill Bill") people are actually starting to enjoy watching death! Pretty soon, we'll all crowd to stadiums to watch famous people die! And when they do, the audience will simultaneously, and very ceremoniously, with a great deal of sorrow, perform the "wave."

Now that we're through with the whole death paragraph (that was to keep people interested), let's think about what makes the colors so special. I'm not so sure I can think of a reason. They turn red, orange, and yellow. Bright colors. But on the other hand, the green that they originally were is also a bright color (generally). The colors look like the trees are on fire (that's the reason for pyros). So, what's the best thing about orange, red and yellow? Well, the best reason I can think of would probably be that the letters of those words can be arranged to say, "Yo! Danger: Low Reels".

And so, as we come to the end of this blog, we come to wonder not only if this blog is long enough to receive full credit, but also if this blog will have any effect on this alarming trend in society. My guess is that it probably won't, because the text isn't in red, yellow and orange. And probably because it isn't dying.

Litterbugs: Insects or Not?

2006-09-12T17:36:00.000-07:00

Though the title implies that I will be analyzing whether or not litterbugs are insects or not, you have been misled. They are most definitely not bugs, just close relatives in the "Things You Would Squish With Your Foot If You Had The Chance" Class. What would cause someone to litter? One answer is that they are simply bozos or jerks, or a combination of both. However, not all reasons are so straight forward.

The first main reason that people litter is because they don't think that just one person will make much of a difference. This is a self centered view of the world. Obviously, there are more people in the world who litter than one. Even if only one in a hundred people (and I'll be honest, there are more) littered, we would still have 60 million people in the world who are littering. And this is just one occurrence. For some, this is a recurring habit or addiction, sort of like drugs. Imagine the environmental degradation from this!

The next reason for littering is simply to "stick it to the man" or for challenge. This is comparable to other crimes like stealing, or murder. These type of people are frequently leaving trash where it would be noticed by others. It gives them great pleasure, and then they have to move up to the next level of littering. Frequently, these wild attempts to gain attention take more effort than just throwing the trash away. Just throw it away, the girls like it better if you care about the environment. It makes them think you're sensitive.

The last reason is that people are simply too lazy to throw away their trash. After all, this is the generation where everything is just a click away on the internet. A step or two would just be too far. So, without looking away from the monitor, they toss the trash behind them for their mom or some other responsible human being to pick it up. As if moms and those responsible people don't have enough to do already.

These are the main reasons that people litter. If this blog has offended you in any way, by all means, print it out, and crumple it up. Rip it up! Burn it! Draw on it! Please recycle when you're done. But if this is offending you, you're probably a litterbug, and you'll just throw it over your shoulder.