I went to the woods because I wanted to live alone in the woods.

Sara

2005-03-25T16:38:00.000-08:00

She drove away, knowing full well
She was leaving emptiness behind her

And then—
Hours of sobbing vehemently into the chest of our own best friend—
Her arms holding our shaking frame as her jacket dampened—

And then—
Lifting our head we note the tactless snot that decided to leave its home
And migrate to the jacket—sniff loudly and apologize weakly—she doesn’t mind

And then—
In a parking lot—clutching for support—broken heart still mending itself
In the best way it knows—slowly

And then—
It occurs to us—always there—always been our last lifeline when things went bad with
The bitch—mistreated

And then—
Over days—support turns to an excuse—being with her is like tobacco fumes
To lungs long devoid of nicotine—without the nasty aftertaste—

And then—
Happy again we become—she may not say she loves me yet—
But at least she doesn’t lie.

Still life through the dull globules of a man who was once 10 but is now much older

2005-03-16T20:53:00.000-08:00

I remember—the day I turned 10
Years old—

I opened the door to the garage,
Mother had told me to find father
To tell him the car was warmed up—

He wasn’t in his room—
All that I saw were some scattered papers
And a well-worn red pen—
So I checked to see if he had
Figured it out on his own—

I opened the door to the garage
And entered into a misty world
Of fumes—I’d always loved the
Smell of burning fuel—even though
It made me feel woozy after too much
Exposure—

Father was in the car, his hand gripping the
Wheel and his broken-looking face
Arched back, like a man heaving his last sigh
Before driving off to work—

‘Oh God’ she screamed, but it seemed
But a whisper through the fog—
‘Oh Jesus’
But Jesus wasn’t there—
Jesus was gone and I was left in that
Garage—

Later I went to grab some aspirin
Because the fumes had given me a
Headache—and my eyes were sore—
And I had always been used to self-medication—
Mature for my age—

I found the bottle but it was empty—

Mother had always been a brave one—
But father was the bravest.

I'd like to point out that i have no idea where this came from, it just popped into my head at 3am. My parents are still very much alive, and I frankly cannot possibly explain the presence of this poem on a word-processing document on my computer. It just fell out of me at a wee small hour of the night. Comments are appreciated^^

So yeah

2005-02-27T13:08:00.000-08:00

It's been ages since last i posted. Hmmm what have I to say.

Nothing funny has happened lately.

My parents came down to visit, we went to listen to some classical stuff and ate at a restaurant my roommate suggested. He said they have steak. The did not have steak. So I ate fish instead. Next best thing I suppose. Stupid roommate. *grumbles

It was good to see the family again, even though i just saw them last weekend when i planned that surprise trip to visit my family. Ok mostly to visit my girlfriend but i saw the family here and there too.>D March 7th is coming up fast and I have two birthdays to worry about. My shopping is half done tho. Mmmm spending money on people is fun. Way more satisfying than buying shit for myself.

I think in a couple weeks I'm going to order my tophat and cane. Yes, tophat and cane. For those of you who don't already know, I have this weird fetish with being overdressed. Between prom and the operas I'm gonna go to next year, I think looking most victorianly stylish is a good plan overall. Mmm dress canes aer so sexy.>D

Life has been good of late despite the torrid difficulties i've been having with some of my friends. I've got it mostly under control now tho, for I am Garrett. I do not lose battles. Things are starting to settle now, thank God. What a pain in the arse having depressed friends is. Not that i'm insensitive or anything.

Far from it, asshole.

yeah um... shit i'm sorry mike.

I love you kim.

<3

-peace, jiggas

2005-01-28T16:32:00.000-08:00

Ahh what a day. It's been a long one. I went to bed last night a wee bit past midnight and found myself among the world of the waking once again at the ungodly hour of noon. What do they think I am anyway? A machine?

Well this ill-oiled machine got running right quick and scrambled to throw together a coherent outline for the speech I'm being forced to do on monday. What about, you ask? Fuck off, I reply. Its none of your business, so back off before I kick your ass into last wendesday. Feckin arse, you people seem to think I'm here to tell you about my life or something.

It took me a solid hour to get that outline into working order, and even after that was fully prepared my work was far from done. Impromptus began today so I had to ensure that I was at least marginally prepared for the possible topics teach had posted earlier. That being done, I got up off my lazy ass and began my jolly meander to my cell-for-an-hour. That would be my classroom.

Although I had no real reason to be nervous, since I have the joy of going third to last in this round of speeches, I found myself to be shaking in my seat. The prospect of impromptus is as terrifying as you may expect (its a zero-preperation speech, for you plebians out there,) and I was quite aware that the wee bit of research I had done was quite insufficient should my name be called. So I sat in that classroom sweating my bollocks off and praying that god would have mercy on my poor unfortunate soul.

As I sat there it became readily apparent that I had imbibed entirely too much coca cola as I performed my waking duties and ended up with my legs shut so tight one would think it was a veritable damn. This complicated the problem of sweat. If I let loose any even slightly substantial fart it would have been all over. I would have been the most miserable person on Earth.

I did not fart, however, and God indeed decided that my soul... was saveworthy. We didn't get around to impromptus today so once everybody's speeches of introduction were over I was able to effectively run from the classroom to the nearest restroom and relieve myself of several gallons of liquid waste. And fart.

Then I got back.

And I did jack shit.

Because that's what you do...

...IN COLLEGE!

-and ne'er a fart she smelled.

BEWARE YE MALES, THE TREACHEROUS WAYS OF WOMAN

2005-01-27T19:58:00.000-08:00

'Tis not the horror of a broken heart I speak of, nor the devilish things that woman can do to a man to get what she wanteth, I speak of the true terrors of woman: what she can do to the mental stability and personal sanity of a man.

I recently realized that in the weeks since I started dating my girlfriend, I have slowly transformed from the witty and happy-go-lucky carefree asshole i once was to a simpering ninny so in touch with his 'feelings' that any passerby would surely presume me to be gay. Or a really ugly woman. With a goatee.

REGARDLESS

Happiness is a dangerous thing. It can transform a bitter, cynical, work-obsessed college student like myself into an empty shell of his own lost self. He can lose touch with his inner asshole. (Don't read too much into that statement, people.) How often do I fart with impunity? Not as often as I used to. I still chuckle merrily when I do, however.

So what is to be learned of this? Please, please, please, if you value your ability to crack a cruel and deliciously malicious joke at the veritable drop of a hat, never ever long after happiness. Fight those feelings you feel when yonder female comes near you. If you feel compelled to say something polite, force yourself to fart rudely or unleash a mighty belch in the general direction of your friends. Light up a cigarette and exhale forcefully. Explode with a mighty guffaw at the struggles of the nearest handicapped individual. SAVE YOURSELF BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE!

Don't fall into the trap I have! Save the asshole you know you are! Don't let woman make a gentleman of you! Don't... Don't...

Yes, dear. I love you too, darling. I love you more than life itself. (indeed true)

save yourself...

An poem of smallish stature

2005-01-19T20:14:00.000-08:00

It's itty bitty but methinks it says it all.

Is this it?
Is this what I have been
Searching for?
In a word—
Uncertain—
In two words—
I believe.

Crazy break

2005-01-11T08:00:00.000-08:00

Well I'm back at school and a whole shitload of stuff has changed... seems like the only thing that stays constant for me is what few friends i have, my family and my dorm room. Heh it's just a dirty as I left it. Life has been an emotional roller coaster for the entire time I was at home, I'm almost glad to be back here where the only thing that I have to worry about is the test tomorrow and my speech later this month. YAY ACADEMICS. I'm all emotioned out, need some rest. My coffee's kinda weak cuz i didn't let it perc for long enough and i'm too lazy to dump it back in the pot and run it through again. FOILED AGAIN!!!! *farting noises... Um... FARTED AGAIN!!!!

There's really only one thing thats somewhat bad about being back here, but its really quite substantial. I want my kimi. :( Being away sucks. I miss you, hon, if you're reading this (which i doubt.) I miss a lot of things but that's number one.

Oh well I guess I'll just have to sit here, look at pictures if i feel like it and dream about spring break. And my kim.

-fart on speech classes

New poem... and yes, it did end tonight.

2005-01-04T19:31:00.000-08:00

A stricken man
Walks
Down the street—

Wandering slowly—
His thoughts
Far from where
He is—

The slender redhead
Burns silently between
His fingers—as he
Walks she returns to his
Lips and he drowns
His woe in
Carcinogens—

The salty liquid
Essence of his
Pain
Dribbles unhurriedly
Down his face—
Mixing with the
Rivulets of rain
Dripping down from
His waterlogged
Cap—

Pathetic fallacy—

All falls down to the cold
Unfeeling Earth—
Made hard by all
Mankind’s sorrow—

His eyes direct their
Gaze unknowingly
At that uninterested
Ground—takes the
Cigarette to his mouth
Again—only ashes—

The butt flies through
The air—explodes in a
Spectacle of sparks—
Fizzles and dies—

The man walks on for
A moment—
Stumbles onto the side—

Falls—

He lays there—indisposed
Weeping silently—
Violently—his tears
Staining the earth—
Like acid rain and
CFCs—

Wracked—

And when his tears have
Stopped—his body’s salt
Deposits all gone—he
Looks around him—
Tries to stand—

A hand appears—

And another—

These, the hands that hold
Us up when we fall,
Steady us when we are
Unsure of our footing—

He takes the hands and he
Rises—slowly—
The hands stabilize him
As he stumbles slowly
Forward into the arms that
They belong to—

The ones that stand by
Him—

He gathers his breath,
Looks at the people who
Have helped him—
Sees that he can gain
Strength from them—

‘Alas, for I was blind,
I think—
The pain must end
Tonight.’

2004-12-29T21:42:00.000-08:00

Sorry i haven't posted for a while; I've been home and stuck on dialup for a week now and haven't had time to do any online bloggerfying. I've been too busy seeing people i haven't seen in FAR too long. One of these days my poetic spirit or the standard Garrity jollity will return, until then this little thing will have to do. Shoutout to all my homies, its fuckin great being home! Even though everything closes at bloody 11 pm.

-Fart to ya motha.

2004-12-13T20:47:00.000-08:00

Well its was a beautiful day in oxford ohio.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to enjoy it at all due to the incessant amount of writing I had to do for my two English classes.

Fuck finals is what I says.

I worked for 48 hours straight with 10 hours total of sleep, and I mean WORKED MY ASS OFF. Its about time to go to bed, I've been out in the cold for too long and my body desires rest. Badly. So yes, I know this is a short post, sorry about that but nothing really has happened of late. Finals need to be over. FUCK FINALS.

-fart on finals

2004-12-12T00:52:00.000-08:00

For those of you who wonder what he who knows more than ye looks like, here he be.^^

2004-12-09T19:09:00.000-08:00

I know it seems stereotypical... just finish the damn poem and you might be pleasently surprised.

6
A lament—

It is a little thing
That we find ourselves
Attached to—
Incapable of repressing
These feelings we
Have—
An unquenchable
Desire—
We cannot put it behind
Us—

We find ourself—
Repulsed—
By this thing that we
Cannot seem to
Control—

When I see you
I find myself
Enveloped—by this
Lust for you—

I know that you will
Only hurt me in the
End—

Cause me suffering
And pain
When all is said
And done—

And still we find
Ourself returning
To your sweet embrace
Hating you even as we
Love the completeness
You bring—squelching
All our fears—

When things go bad
We return to you—
The swimming you fill
Our Head with—the
Warmth
Our body feels when
We inhale your damned
Perfume—

We fight these things
We feel—the yearning
We cannot escape—

And we are filled
With sadness—

Like a vice
We hate you—
We hate you.

So many other people
We see caught in your
Web of lies and
Deception—false
Happiness—

Knowing you for
Only this little time
We cannot escape—
We are trapped
In the endless spiral
You bring with you
And your baggage—

Walking down the
Street with you—
The burning that
We feel—

Life without you
Feels so bland—
Yet we know that
We are only hurting
Ourself—by filling
Ourself up with you

Why can’t I set you
Aside? Why do I
Keep returning to you
When I know that you
Are no good?

Why can’t I face up
To my weakness
And let you drift
Away—work your
Evil with someone
Else—

I ponder this
Even as I embrace
You—I know that
Things cannot go
On like this—
Love and hate—
Cannot go so well
Together—

Why can’t you release
Your ironfisted
Grasp on me?
Why can’t I remove
Myself from the evil
You are?
Separate myself from
You once and for All—
Live my life away from
You—long afar

I step aside for a
Moment—look upon
Myself to see what
I have become: another
Statistic in your long
Line of failures—

I look upon you,
Little deathstick,
See you burning
There between my
Two fingers—
And again I vow
I shall never
Allow myself to
Try to fill the void
In my life I think is there
With something so
Harmful—

So I put you aside, for
The third time this
Week—decide that I do
Not need you anymore—

After this pack
Is through.

Instalment five of Song of Ourself

2004-12-07T22:14:00.000-08:00

5
Floating down
A misty stream
That we did not
Know—
Existed before—

Our line cast
Dragging placidly
Behind the boat
As we reel it in—
Hoping for a catch—

The boat stops—
Caught on the slope
Along the sides—
A swift kick to the mud
Leaves our boots
Encrusted—but lets the
Boat move on again—

We lay back and relax
Letting the line do the
Work—
Admiring the sky that
Was not blanketed in the
Shroud of night before
But now—
It is

Our hands behind our
Head—we observe
And look about us
And as we do
A strange beast—
It seems a vehicle
For a restless
Nighthawk—
Drives by as we float
Downstream—

Suddenly the boat
Ceases beneath us and
We are in a field—
Misty as before—
And dark—

A cold streetlight—
Shining not warmth or
Comfort—
Gazes down upon the
Field—

Into the light,
Cold and blue—
Steps a man—
In speckled garments
Bedecked—a smock—
His mirror above his
Right eye—
Spectacular spectacles—
Allaying our fears—

When suddenly he
Ejaculates
‘Alas, for I am blind…
I think!’
His eyes—suddenly
Useless placeholders—
He gropes towards us
And falls—
And frightened by his
Manner we run—

Endlessly through the
Mist—

We run but soon
We have forgotten
What we are running
From—lost in the
Annals of the memory—

We stop our dash—
Pause for a moment in
The denseness of the
Fog—

And see the shadow of
An image—
Indiscernible yet
Somehow real—

We reach out to it
Though we know not
What it is—

The shadow forms
Into a graceful
Silhouette—
It is she—

We reach but
The shadow becomes
Blurry again—
Moving slowly out of
Sight—we follow but
As fast as we move it
Stays afar—until we
Stop—
And it does too

The shadow of an
Image becomes solid
Once again and she
Beckons to us—
We respond
‘I long to be with you
But you are so far
Away!’

Her joyous smile
Becomes a solid
Line—
‘Come home to me,’
She pleads—and
We reach out for
Her hand—extended—

Anon she turns around
And runs frolicking
Through the field—
The mist envelops her
Again—the image
Finally fleeting—

A shadow as before—
Untouchable but strong
And then the car drives
By again, the doctor at
The wheel—
‘Alas for I am blind I
Think!’
The boat lies tossed
Aside—

And a cacophonous
Noise—the rumblings
Of guitar—bring us to
Another world—
The soft blue and green
Glow from the innards
Of a machine at the foot
Of where we lay—
Illuminates the room—
Green box-like numbers
Show the day must
Start again—

But the ramblings of
That world that
We have inhabited
For oh so short a time—
Stay with us as we walk
To class—and wish to
Be asleep—

And as the day draws to
A close—
And night sets in again
An eerie mist does fill
The air—a lamppost
Stiff and cold—

For a moment then
We see The man—
‘Alas for I am blind’
And the distant shadow
Far away—hazy
Visions of the Mind.

First Collaborative Wiggand-Mahoney Piece in a good long while

2004-12-04T19:18:00.000-08:00

THE HISTORY OF RUSSIA

Russia was invented when the first king of the land, Comrade Russiaski, united the smaller Slavic countries that had fought for ages over the price of vodka by threatening any dissenters with a large sickle and hammer made of white gold. This apparatus had been given him by his great-grandfather Comrade Edward the XVIVX, who was still alive, but whose only use to the campaign was as a torture device, since his stories were so boring and his farts so rancid. After uniting the countries of the land, Comrade Russiaski named himself the Shining Tsar Russiaski III, the “III” signifying that he had a very poor understanding of math; the “tsar” indicating his poor spelling abilities.

Russiaski III ruled for many years, making many proclamations and cutting off many heads with his white gold sickle. The sickle soon became very dull, however, gold being a soft metal, and he placed it in his illustrious treasure-troves (since all kings have treasure troves) on a pedestal of honorableness. The sickle has been lost to thieves, however, and is suspected to be a family heirloom of some thiefly family.

King Russiaski’s dominion was quite considerable, the lands he controlled stretched from one end of Russia all the way to the other. Surprisingly, few cities popped up throughout the existence of Russia; even today the only cities in the massive country are St. Petersburg and Moscow. With such a massive population, it seems odd that only two cities would come into being. But Russia is an odd country, and it always has been.

Eventually, the farmers and men in big warm coats who populated the outskirts of Russia decided that they no longer wanted a king. So they started calling the leader of the country Emperor. This practice continued for years until it was the accepted term for the ruler of Russia.

This title, that of emperor, led to many of the wars Russia had to fight. Most prominent among these wars was during the Napoleonic Era. Napoleon and Emperor Alexander were at the biannual Emperor’s Fancy Hangout Ball one year when they became into talking. The conversation was going very well, considering they couldn’t understand each other’s language, and the two became fast friends. They fought wars together, made alliances and were generally the best of Imperial pals, the whole time assuming that the other was saying good things about him. But then one day when they were over Napoleon’s house playing scrabble, which Alexander usually lost, since most of his language’s letters weren’t in the box, Napoleon used a word that Alexander didn’t believe was real. As he stood up to consult a dictionary, he let off a most terribly malodorous bit of gas, which caused Napoleon to blanch and almost to lose his Hors d'oeuvres. Napoleon ordered Alexander out of his house. When Alexander pleaded with him for forgiveness Napoleon had him escorted out of the country by two burly French bodyguards with smelly armpits. This bit of reciprocal insulting set the two countries at odds, leading to a large war.

Alexander made a number of silly mistakes, Napoleon won many many battles and eventually found his way to Moscow (one of Russia’s two cities, discussed earlier.) When he arrived, all the people had evacuated (probably to St. Petersburg,) and the city was empty. Napoleon sat himself down in a big easy chair and said “Ah yes, I am god, I have won.”

French troops proceeded to pillage and destroy the majority of the city, drinking the not inconsiderable quantities of leftover vodka. Fire spread throughout most of Moscow and any man who let wind ran the risk of catching his britches afire. Napoleon decided that his work was done and he would return back home since it was very cold. “It’s not a retreat, of course, for god never ever retreats. But I have won, and I am god.”

Russian troops picked away at the remnants of the French force, poking the proverbial flank of the retreating beast with a proverbial hot pointy object. As French troops crossed the river out of Russia, Ruski battalions fired onto the exiting mass to provide that extra enthusiasm they seemed to need and Napoleon was heard from the other side to say “But I am still God! Someone help me onto my horse!”

Emperors came and went and some people wrote some books (either very big or very hard, depending on how their mistresses liked it,) and eventually people, upset over the lack of vodka, put their faith into the communists. This, of course, made the two cities very very dirty instantaneously and increased the price of vodka. The latter displeased workers very much and the USSR was not terribly well-liked. However, the USSR had big guns and the working masses had no guns (they carried mostly farm implements and empty vodka bottles), thus they dealt with their problems (including the high price of vodka,) by drinking more vodka.

The USSR became a superpower after WWII where they single-handedly farted on German forces using AK-47s, Molotov Cocktails, and good old-fashioned Russian halitosis. This mass fart gained the Soviet Union many accommodations in the world, including the American superpower turning a blind eye to its displeasing policies and power-hungry invasion tactics. While America didn’t much seem to care about the deaths of innocents, it did seem to care about the death of its preeminence in aeronautics, evinced by its horror upon the launch of Sputnik, a large potato launched into low orbit from an area outside one of Russia’s two cities. Sputnik was a huge success for the Russians, and to this day they celebrate the historic launch date by throwing potatoes into the air.

While the Russian people struggled to acquire more vodka, the USSR struggled to acquire an edge in the new “space race:” the first part of a Cold War, so named because it is very cold in Russia. This race was neck-and-neck, as it were, until America finally developed the technology to fake a landing on the moon. After broadcasting this phony footage to the masses, the space race was over and the race to build bigger guns began.

The Cold War continued and America made many advances in technology (most notably Tupperware;) Russia kept up rather well, increasing the price of vodka to pay for ever-expanding research and development of a military application for Tetris. When President Reagan introduced his idea for “Star Wars,” many people laughed at him and said that it was a stupid idea for a movie. The rights eventually went to George Lucas, who copied the idea and made three very excellent movies. Still maintaining the idea had been his, he decided to prove it by making three new movies that would surpass the first three. The USSR made a promise as well, saying that it would collapse. The Soviets kept their promise.

The collapse of the USSR had many repercussions for the world, including a not inconsiderable drop in the price of vodka. Soviet successor states, countries formerly under the control of the USSR, suffered economy farts and many stumbling blocks on the return to capitalism. Reintroduction of Democracy is still in process to this day; communists die hard. They are especially difficult to kill, since they are Reds. One can’t see if they are bleeding.

Russia today is in what can most easily be described as a poop economy phase. The switch from communism to capitalism is never an easy one, especially when money has such a silly name as Rupees. Or is it Rubles? Either way, it is a silly name for money, and does not work well with capitalism (the uneducated fear contracting rubles and thus shy away from earning money.) Most of Russia’s market is black, hence the very large portion of gun sales in its GDP. AK-47s remain Russia’s main export, seconded by vodka. The third largest export is wives, followed closely by spies.

What lies in the future for Russia? Perhaps one day, more cities will be built, allowing a larger percentage of the population to work industrial jobs instead of distilling vodka or building illegal weaponry in back-alley shops. Perhaps one day its government, ostensibly democratic, will actually allow some semblance of free will and thought to the denizens who elect it. Perhaps one day it will shine in an arena other than gymnastics competitions (provided the judges are Russian). Perhaps one day they will develop a less strange method of dancing. Whatever lies ahead for the great country of Russia, one can be sure that the strong people who populate its great borders will meet the future with a bounce in the step, an iron fist or two and a large bottle of well-distilled vodka, facing the challenges they come across with plenty of spirit(s) and only a wee bit of disorientation.

Song of ourself, instalment 3

2004-12-02T20:27:00.000-08:00

aaaaa bairnthavesomemorepoetry
3

What makes us
Who we are
That what I am

That thing—
Garrett
Different from
Everybody else
That much is clear
But why
And how—
Not so much

The wonderment
At the self
That thing that poets
Try to avoid
They write about their
Loves
Their losses
Unrequited longing

But rarely do they
Write about themselves

Hubris—

The self is a horrifying
Thing to contemplate

Is it the humor?
The stylistic memoirs
He creates—?
The desire to preserve
The self against the odds—The expected
Norm?

He has his
Eccentricities
He doesn’t fit in
Anywhere
Yet he finds his place
Everywhere

His home is in his books

Are we defined by
The people we
Love?
The people who
Love us back?
However they may
Show it

We have a small
Number of
Friends—
They come and go
A few stay along for
The ride
But most are temporal—
We grow or they do
Even as time stands
Still—

There are those
We can keep no secrets
From
And yet we do
That little gnawing
Secret—
That we can never tell.

We have our habits
Some good, some less

The mannerisms that
Make themselves
Known
At the oddest possible
Times—

He drives himself
Mad
Sometimes when his
Brain outraces his
Heart—
His soul lags behind
Or blows ahead—
Leaving his reason
Behind
That all-important
Thing—Thought

To ponder the heart
Is as the squirrel
Ruminating
O’er the massive Oak
Understanding can’t be
Found
Yet it is integral to his
Life—
And he accepts it for
What it is
Even if he doesn’t
Comprehend.

Drowning—
In a mass
Of
Me
As dangerous a
Game
As playing with fire

We desire to be Consumed
We seek combustion
Yet we shrink away
From the fire that Threatens
To fill us up
To undo that
Which we have created
That fragile self-Image—

Is it the love of
Nature—
The desire to be
Loved—
Or is it an addiction
To a sweet green
Liquid available
At the local
Supermarket?

And even as these
Questions—
Fill the mind we
Seek to know
The people around Us
But one can hardly
Know—Them
Unless the self can be
Found.

But I am he.

What a friggin day

2004-12-02T19:59:00.000-08:00

Wow. Just wow. Those of you who know me, you know what I'm talking about. Those of you who don't, it's a long story and you don't need to. Suffice to say I've had the most emotionally trying evening in the short history of my life, on top of no cigarettes for about 24 hours (i'm quitting,) I feel like sobbing and laughing all at the same time. I know its cliche but what can ya do. Suffice to say it involves yonder poem below, my life is very different now. I want to sleep, but I can't. I want to explode, I want to die, I want to live... Fuck this sounds like poetry. You'll be seeing this again. ;) Good night everybody, I'm going to eat some pizza and pretend to sleep.

-Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa bairnt i farted.

Song of ourself, second instalment

2004-11-29T20:14:00.000-08:00

This is extremely personal and I am unfathomably self-concious about writing poetry, be kind.

2
Existential ponderings
Of a
Broken mind
And a torn heart
What is he thinking
Does he even
Know?

He doesn’t—
Why do
These things
Happen to me
He wonders
And the only
Answer
He can come up
With is
We don’t
Know.

Always the
Inaccessible
Always too
High for
His lowly
Self—

He doesn’t know
What she thinks
What she feels
For him—
He knows
What she feels for
Someone else—
He helps her and
Is her shoulder
For crying

But he wants to hold
Her
Tell her What he
Feels—

But he fears

Why do these
Things happen to
Us
He asks
Over and over
But ne’er an
Answer
Does he receive

He wants to laugh
He wants to sob
When he sees her
Sad and unhappy
He loses himself
In anger
And similar
Misery

All he wants is
To see her happy
But what of
Ourself?

So far away
And yet so close
My brain twin
We’ve known her
For so short
A Time

The feelings
A pile of
Confusion—

A jumble—

How to sort
This out?
How to find out
Where we stand
So he writes
His words are not
Artful
The poem that
Makes its way to
The page
Little more organized
Than his troubled
Mind—

He wonders who
Will read this—
He knows damn well
He wonders if he can
Handle that
Such a blast of emotion
Read by a stranger’s
Eyes—

We know that
It doesn’t matter
And that nobody
Really cares
The love life
Of a confused youth—

We’ve read these poems
Before
And been disgusted by
Them—No mere kid
Knows what he’s
Talking about

He has read the poems
And decried their
Infancy of development
Unveiled their
Mediocrity

Torn them down for
Trying to be more
Than they
Are—

No youth knows
Love
Even if they think they
Do
I am no exception

He’s felt it before
Equally substantial
Yet—
Different

And as we see ourself
Becoming one of them
We hate it
We hate ourself

But I am he.

Post-thanksgiving schoolness=BOLLOX I SAY

2004-11-29T10:07:00.000-08:00

Had a lovely thanksgiving break.

Ate lots of turkey, pizza and all sort of various fast food establishments. Bought some shoes that don't cause me to wish that i could be struck by lightening twice in a row then roasted over an open fire so that I don't have to step one more time and feel the back of the shoe tearing a gaping black hole of a wound in the back of my poor, distressed and overused foot.

Hung out with some old high school homies, hung out with some young high school homies, realized that one of them is much, much cooler than I thought and discovered that I may think a bit more of her than I thought I did. Nuff said, my love life is crap.

Such a wonderful abundance of fart humor! Hung out with Mahoney twice over the week (both times at hours when our respecive homes were quite thoroughly asleep,) and laughed my proverbial ass off with the humor I can't imagine living without for long time periods. Think we blew about a quarter tank of gas just trying to find someplace that was still open. Loooong drive just to realize that Dennys is the only place in a real town that stays open past 11. Made me long for college again.

Now I'm back and that's hardly the case.

Two weeks til finals. I can't even enjoy a good fart without worrying about them. Feckin finals. Feckin feckin finals.

As xmas break slowly draws closer, the joy of presents and seasonal cheer is quite overshadowed by the gloom of the tests that come before. Big tests. Big scary tests. Big scary tests with sharp pointy teeth and flaming claws of angry numerical loathesome poop.

Yay for college.

-Luke, I am your fart.

Cake by Wiggand

2004-11-19T20:55:00.000-08:00

A further tribute to Cake

In a room filled with moisture,
The cold breathing of the sky
A man sits alone, unperturbed and relentless
Searching data for that datum that shall answer him why

Does the world go on this way
With its strange convolutions
Mindless wars, dropping bombs
And the needless executions.

And he sits and he stares
At the monitor before him
And his sleeping alter-ego
Tries his hardest ignore him.

For the World
Is a construct
And the more we try to ponder
The black canvas our our minds
We only find ourselves lost
In the emotions of our times.

The historian looks back on us
And his theory crytalizes
Putting facts in an order
Yet he never realizes

That his theory has no power
At its basest it's a construct
And its basis is assumptions
That are ultimately product

He can't describe the times like we can
But then no one sees the point
So its left to academics
To interpret and appoint

Significance to trifles.
To define what keeps us going
As the story keeps on growing
Yet he ends where he began

And so from nothing he gets nothing
In his theory of the past.
In the end he'll be a footnote
In the textbook after last.

To the ignorant poplulous: bend, twist, pull... and pop! Your head is out of your ass!

2004-11-15T09:35:00.000-08:00

...Now wipe off your nose.

But in all seriousness, I was just recently accosted with the most horrifying collection of abject ignorance that I have ever had the misfortune to stumble upon, and feel I must bring a few things to the table. I'm not naming any names, but said individual requires a bit of education on, well, education-and the importance thereof. I've ranted about this before, I see that the time has come, once again, for the shizzle to hit the fizzle, bizzles.

Any fool who disbelieves the findings of science and the laws therein either forgot their medication for the day or has never fallen on their ass before and thus proven at least one scientific law. The latter seems unlikely because any person with the audacity to imply of the moon "maybe it lights up at night and that shit about reflecting light is all wrong" could hardly be advanced enough to walk stably on two legs.

As for history, I think its safe to assume that the people who don't understand its significance will never make much difference in society, since it is thankfully true that the people who lead nations generally have an IQ of thirty or above (George Bush excluded.) Of course the ignoramuses of the world need not worry their little heads about the past and learn from it, they'll be too busy working in a dead-end job wondering what they did with the last twenty years of their life to use the knowledge for any greater good. So yes, nitwits of the universe, History is useless to you. But then, so are shoelaces, since I'm sure you have similar aptitude for both.

The measurement and behavior of triangles is not only important, it is the basis for virtually all mathematics. I presume that said individual was referring to Euclidian geometry, however it is not entirely clear. If that is so, it is quite clear that you have no clue what you are talking about, which really doesn't surprise me. A "sin45 triangle" is quite vague, I'd pass you one if I had one, but the idea of the triangle as an abstract concept apparently escaped you. Such flagrant generalizations (sin 45 triangle can mean anything, indeed it means nothing,) make you look even dumber, an ironic occurance since you were likely trying to look smart by disavowing the importance of something you have "learned." Throwing the smybol for the mathematical function of Sine, a random number and the word triangle haphazardly together has as much significance for somebody who knows what they're talking about as ∫2xCos(x^2)dx=Sin(x^2) + C does to the layman. Oh, and yes, you couldn't solve that problem without knowledge of Pythagoras. Dunderhead.

A certain knuckle-dragger also mentioned the grammatical concept of passive voice. From the lack of an explanation, wrong or otherwise, I get the sense that they have absolutely NO CLUE what that phrase describes. Let me elucidate, an it please ye. The passive voice is a very conversational method of sentence construction wherein the subject of the sentence does not perform any action, the action is performed on it. For example: "The lummox was made fun of by the smarty farty pants." Using more formal grammer, which teachers will like more and not remove body parts for: "The smarty farty pants made fun of the lummox." As you can see, in proper writng the subject should always be performing the action, as opposed to sitting around and expecting something to just happen to it. Like some people's approach to learning.

Obviously any spelling lessons the oft-mentioned induhvidual in this post ever had were useless. I need not say more.

As for poetry analysis, the point is simple. Somebody wrote it, you have been given the excellent opportunity to sample it, and you must decide on what it means. If you are bad at it, you must practice. If you never get the hang of it, that's your loss. As for shoving heads further and further up one's ass, I believe that the content of the blog from which all this nonsense came can hardly be described as anything else. Writing lame rambling answers is not the point of poetry exercises. But I wouldn't expect you to get that. Superficiality goes deeper than i would have thought. So does idiocy.

The world would be better off without atonal sludge like slipknot. They suck, they are an insult to the thing that was once considered metal; they are unmanageable noise with the musical ability of five-year-olds and without the intellect. All they do is spread a message of hate and anger; their fan base consists of unhappy little fucktards who love to hear their sick fantasies of violence and destruction played out before them, since they have neither enough balls nor enough individuality to stand up to the norm and make something of themselves. So they listen to slipknot, act surprised when their parents disapprove of the garbage they pollute their minds with, wear a lot of black and call themselves individuals. Just like all the other induhvidual, school-hating, chain-donning, knuckle-dragging, pencil-gnawing delinquents this world has been blessed with.

Save your $103, buy some real music (Metallica, Ensiferum, Benny Goodman, Beethoven, for chrissake, Kittie is better than that shit!) sit your ass down and read your poetry, measure your triangles and try, just try to understand the incredible significance of events like the world wars. God save us if you ever have offspring.

Because they'll probably asphyxiate when they are born with their heads up their asses.

Fart on crime

2004-11-14T18:13:00.000-08:00

It is my expert opinion that quizzes are a crime against humanity.

College curriculums are generally designed to revolve around two or three tests, with little or no feedback between that. This system works perfectly for people who are here to actually learn; we do the work like we're supposed to. However there are inevitably idiots who couldn't follow a syllabus any better than they could ingest it without problems. Thus, some teachers decide to cater to the nincompoops of the college society, who generally drop out after a year anyway, and split the semester up more thoroughly via quizzes and similar retardation. This being said, we smart kids who need not such hand-holding are forced to take numerous quizzes that have the unpleasent effect of making us study when we normally wouldn't. Confound you, nincompoops!

Yes, yes, I have a music quiz on wednesday. No, no, I do not plan to study. Much. Perhaps a nice go-over of my notes, but no more. Well at least its not art. Blech.

Not much has happened today, thus I have little to say. Been sittin in the room all day putting homework off; I've even managed to convince myself I don't have any! I'm so clever. Its always nice to not have any homework to worry about ;)

Well that's that.

-An eye for an eye, a fart for a fart.

Good weekend so far

2004-11-13T22:32:00.000-08:00

It hath been an goodly weekend thus far.

Last night I went to see a production of West Side Story on which cast there was somebody I knew; suffice to say the play was excellent and Justin did a superb job. It was a good time and as a bonus, the perfect woman (a girl from my English class,) was there. I saw her randomly as I was finishing my cigarette prior to entering the building and had the immense pleasure of sitting next to her for the play. Damn my luck is good! Shes a great person and quite intimidating. Will anything happem? Probably not but we'll have to see. ^^

This evening I went to see Le Nozze di Figaro, an excellet production of the opera by Mozart. I was thoroughly impressed by the singers and the overal production, it was really fantastic! I Never thought Opera could be so entertaining. Well, it was and I suggest anybody who has the opportunity to view said opera had best do it. Broaden your horizens! And for a bit of encouragement, I guaruntee you'll laugh your ass off. It's that amusing. Crazy italian people with lustful arias are almost as funny as british people. I swear it.

Had a pipe with a pal after the opera, fitting for such subject matter. Got home, grabbed some grub and now I'm back in my dorm room wondering what to do. I didn't get up until 4 in the afternoon so I'm not a smidge tired. Hmmmm maybe I should watch a movie. Pirates of the Carribean anyone? Feel free to join me. ;)

God I love college. w00t.

-And a fart in every pot.

Lovely day

2004-11-11T23:02:00.000-08:00

Well mother nature decided to urinate all over the world again.

By that I mean it rained rather heavily and was a damn cold day.

So I got to swim through the light drizzle that permeated the day going to each class, wondering if the class I was to be attending was worth the pain. Generally it wasn't; EDP teach got pissed off because nobody knew anything and made us leave early. (Yes, made. Most of us wanted her to impart more knowledge of how children think.) Then I had English class, which was halfway enjoyable. I got to read Dickenson out loud! ^^

After that it was poop.

Got rejected by a girl and rained on and my quitting cigarettes failed miserably due to all the stress all this is causing. Yay for the tobacco companies. Rain fits my mood.

Downloaded (or bought if you are a record exec,) a bunch of new Cake and Bjork, listened the crap out of it and loitered the evening away. Now its 2 am my roommate just came home with a buddy from home who shall be sharing our smallish abode. Great. I'll bet he snores. Pessimism sucks.

So if you don't like Dickinson or rain or depression, this was not the post for you. If you do, however, you are quite verifiably a sick bastard. May God smite ye with smitefulness.

I'm gonna fart along to some Cake.

When will the weeks from hell end? Oh yes, Thanksgiving break.

2004-11-10T13:04:00.000-08:00

I've officially resigned myself to the fact that I will never get rest from all this damn stress.

It occured to me the other day that my HON 280 class requires me to go to 8 programs and I have been to two so far. There aren't enough programs for me to attend left to get all 8! So I have to scramble to go to every single one there is left in order to get the maximum possible:6 and beg the teacher to give me something to do that wasn't on the list. All these programs in two weeks is really cramping my schedule-and my style; I have no time to nap or study properly or even stare at the ceiling! Let this be a warning: don't slack off just because the class is a pass/fail. It may not affect your gpa but its like a kick in the face if you can't even manage to pass a one-credit-hour class.

aaaaaa bairnt.

Classes were easy today, but then they always are on M-W-R. I got my Midterm essay back in ENG 131 and got an A. Reading Dune finally helped me in school! YIPPEE! Yay for Muad'dib!

I still haven't had a real meal for an eternity; time and hungry friends haven't been in abundance these days. Farts have though. ^^ Still want a Whopper. First thing Thanksgiving break I'm getting a Whopper. Mmmmmm Burger King.

Great I just made myself hungry. Time to grab something from my extensive stock of goodies and munch dowb before my HST 111 discussion group at 5. That should be interesting; I actually read the stuff for once. Hehe i'm awful.

The Self-Defense workshop I helped work on went really well; I was amazed and pleased by the turnout. I was expecting pretty paltry crowd but it was PACKED! Good thing I bought all that food... even with the huge group there were plenty of leftovers. ^^

Unlike Dr. Mahoney my relationship with the weather is such that I can usually beat it without having to do a victory dance or bellowing my legs. Today was nice; it's awfully warm here tho. 65 right now. Blech.

Well I don't really have a great deal more to say, so I must bid ye adieu for now. Hopefully by the end of the week I won't end up totally insane.

-fart

Theresa Heinz Kerry Racist!

2004-11-09T20:20:00.000-08:00

In an astonishing post-election interview yesterday, Theresa Heinz Kerry made a shocking comment that made many Democratic voters reconsider their decision to vote for John Kerry. Unfortunately, the election is over so most simply farted.

During the interview, the Kerrys' post-election activites were discussed: what their plans for the future were, plans for de-britneyfying their daughter Alexandra's wardrobe, post-election meal plans and post-election household duties. Mrs. Kerry even discussed her plans for a post-election shopping spree and hairstyling, all at the expense of Senator Kerry's post-election pocket.

Among all this talk the subject of Post-election laundry came up, and Mrs. Heinz Kerry emitted the following comment concerning her method of Laundry management:

"First I develop a workable plan to seperate the coloreds from the whites, taking special precautions that the two don't mix. It would be most terrible if the two were to be in the same place at the same time. I then implement that plan with the greatest accuracy I can manage, just hoping that none of the coloreds find their way into the collection of whites."

Fox news instantly snatched up this comment and reported it in incorrect contexts every five minutes for a full twenty-four hourse. When asked why they were so quick to discredit the family, a head executive of the network was quoted as saying:

"Because they are Democrats."

Mrs. Kerry was horrified by the commotion her comment had made; she was later quoted on Fox News saying:

"It was just an innocent comment! I didn't know that anybody would be insulted! I was talking about [censored] for God's Sake!"

The Fox News reporter conducting the interview then scolded her for using the name of God in vain, for there were children and impressionable individuals watching.

Most of the Kerry family has gone into hiding, but Alexandra is still hoing it up campaigning in various cities, not having realized that the election was, in fact, over.

-I'm George Bush and I approve of this Article.

Beginning stages of my Song of Myself

2004-11-09T19:28:00.000-08:00

And so we ask who
We are and
Why—
We are here and we discover that it—it isn’t
To write poetry

I am that what
I am—A conflagration of
Chemical compounds working
In tandem to see, taste
Touch, breathe and otherwise
Absorb the world around me?

But we are more
Than that.

We have brains
Like all the rest—
But we too have
Minds and
Dare I say it—
Souls?

I write like
Monty Python (that’s what
They say)
I always
Thought I wrote
Like me.

But how
Can I write
Like me if
I know not
What
I am or why
I am here?

I compare myself to
Myself
And compare the comparison
To a contrasting
Opinion
Until
All that I see
Is a mess
Of me

And I cringe.

I see the
Soul entrapped
In this thing—
They call it a body—
With its shortcomings
And its flaws—
And its strengths
And its unseen
Power

I write
And as I
Write part
Of me Finds
Its way onto
The page
I regurgitate
The bile of my soul
And it spills
With my letters
And my words.

I love to laugh
Wit
Fart humor
Are the same
For me.

An eructation can
Be witty at
The proper
Time—
Humor is
Where I Live
My life.

If I’m not
Laughing
I’m not living.

Thank god for
People like me
Who care about laughter
Comedians
Friends
Parents
It’s a ball
This thing called
Life.

Longish day

2004-11-09T14:38:00.000-08:00

'Twas a longish day today.

Went to bed around 2:30 last night, sleepy and tired. Woke up to register for classes at 6:50, sat and waited for the clock to turn over so I could register. Just kept clickin and clickin back and forth and back and fourth until it let me in. Once it finally did I was zoomin around like a madman to get all my classes in with maximum fastfulness. I seriously registered for all my classes in about five minutes. I planned way ahead and checked all my classes to see what was available and what wasn't: good thing I did cuz some of my original choices were full already. The Russian lit class I really wanted to take had only FIVE SPOTS in it! WTF is that? So I opted for a nice French lit class; they're almost as nifty-spiffy peachy-keen. Bam bam bam bam bam I got 15 credit hours for next semester, I'm goin to bed.

Woke up again at 10:30, threw on some clothes and went to EDP 201, learned about intellgcnce and retards. I mean handicaps. I mean... Disabled students. Can't say anything these days; it's sad. Farted my way through that class, grabbed some grub and read some poetry. Read about two pages, decided that was enough and shitted around until half an hour before class started. Decided around then I had better do my daily writing and realized I was supposed to write my own poetry. Reneged on that and just wrote a response to what I'd read. The poem wasn't required, so why do it? I'll probably end up writing it the final portfolio anyway. I started it in class cuz it was boring: the TA was teaching. It sucks. But then it's poetry.

Went to the grocery store and bought enough food for 30 people (I am in charge of food duties in a program in the basement tonight.) Biggest problem there is that I have no car. Just walking to the bus stop and from the spot where I got off the bus home was a bitch. But that's done now; I can live happier. And fart with impunity.

Got my Searchlight today, want to read it and see what stupid shit angelo wrote for this month. HEHEHE. Stupid republican

Now I'm going to grab some more grub and restock my personal stores of junk food; I'm runnin low on munchies. God I love free food.

-May the fart be with you

Something missing

2004-11-08T10:40:00.000-08:00

I just realized that I forgot something in the last post. I was so busy ranting about Kimmi the Bitch that I forgot to use the word fart! So without further ado-doo, Fart. Farty Fart. Stinky smelly noisy fart. FART.

Ah. I feel better.

-Fart.

HISTORY SUCKS!!!

2004-11-07T22:47:00.000-08:00

Note to self: never ever take a project from somebody when they tell you it shouldn't take too long.

Even if they offer you five bucks.

Gee, I've had this project assigned for 3 weeks, I think I'll wait until two days before its due to realize that I don't have any time to do it. Hmmmm I wonder what I should do. Hey, that Garrett kid is pretty smart. I have his phone number from some incident way back when I agreed to hang out when he came home from college for a few days and then I didn't because I have no capacity for planning. I'm on thirty soccer teams and play six games a day. I'm so surprised that this project just creeped right up on me and was due in two days. What am I to do? Ha ha Garrett is a sucker I'll offer him five bucks to do it and that will make him think it is easy and no big thing. HAHAHAHA I'm an evil bitch. What? You couldn't finish the project? What am I to do? I'm so shocked by all these developments! What? You've been working for 7 hours? I'm an ungrateful piece of shit! Now I have to skip school tomorrow so I can get the thing in; I hate you! I won't say it but I hate you! My life sucks! Why do these things always happen to me?

$5 ain't even gonna cover the writing fee, hon. For the research you failed to mention you hadn't done, the pathetic fake-outs you threw at me when I told you we needed to work together to get it done and the inordinant amount of work I had to do organizing what paltry information you DID provide me with should amount to overtime wages of about $6 million. Call me when you have the money. That's the last time I agree to "help you out with" (read: do) your goddamn History projects. It's people like you that feed off of the good intentions of people in this world; your sycophantic bullshit isn't fooling anyone anymore. Stop saying you love me every time I write a sentence and get the fuck to work. This isn't my project. It's not my grade. Take some responsibilty and if you work your ass half as hard as I did making something from nothing you may get somewhere in life. If not... well you can go fuck yourself.

You are an evil person, Kimmi Tabar.

You are an evil person.

I'm a shrink

2004-11-06T14:20:00.000-08:00

*Jamis walks into dorm room, finds couch that is conveniently located next to big comfy chair. Garrett nods towards couch, Jamis gets comfortable and stares at cracks in ceiling until Garrett completes paperwork.

Garrett: under breath Great, this nutcase again.

Jamis: Butterfly.

Garrett: Alright Jamis, are you ready to begin?

Jamis: Huh? Oh, of course doctor.

Garrett: So I hear you broke another alarm clock.

Jamis: That's why my parents sent me here.

Garrett: Is there any reason why you broke the alarm clock?

Jamis: It woke me up.

Garrett: I see. Isn't that what it was designed to do?

Jamis. Yes.

Garrett: Well?

Jamis: But it woke me up.

Garrett: Did that seem to you good reason to break it?

Jamis: I didn't have a reason. It woke me up. It broke.

Garrett: How did it break?

Jamis: I flailed my hand in the general vicinity of the alarm clock until the noisy noise went away.

Garrett: You must have been flailing pretty hard.

Jamis: It woke me up.

Garrett: So waking up makes you angry?

Jamis: You could say that.

Garrett: And you take this anger out on the alarm clock?

Jamis: It woke me up.

Garrett: I think you have pent up rage.

Jamis: It WOKE ME UP!

Garrett: Pent-up alarm clock rage.

Jamis: Rarrrororrrow!

Garrett: Here, take two of these pills a day and buy a new alarm clock.

Jamis: What's the name of my disorder this time, doc?

Garrett: Same as always, Jamis: You're blonde as hell.

Jamis: Ooooooooh candy.

Garrett: Those are pills, Jamis.

Jamis: Happy candy.

Garrett: Sigh.

Jamis, oh ye, queen of blondefulness, wilt thou marriage me?
No?
*chainsaw

Froiday

2004-11-05T11:51:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been another long fart of a day; I finally made it to my English class for the first time in two weeks. And it was a struggle too. I had to punch myself in the face repeatedly in order to force myself out of bed. Even with such strong persuasive methods as I was using, I still ended up with a lengthy three minutes to get ready for class. This consisted primarily of putting on pants, an undershirt and a hoodie and booking outta the room as fast as possible. I got to class and teach once again managed to finagle freudian psychology into books written hundreds of years before Freud was even a twinkle of oedipal strife in his father's eye. Oh yes, and Margaret Cavendish is officially the most boring writer who ever put pen to paper. I'm an English Education major and it bored the snot out of me! What does that say, hm?

Some crazy spoiled brat whos parents told her she was a good writer set out to write her own version of Utopia. More's Utopia didn't even work; what made this girl think she could do a better job than an old man with a beard? Everybody knows that old men with beards write the best books, to make up for the particularly rancid nature of thier farts.

I just had an excellent idea. I'm going to hide easter eggs in this blog. Some of the text will actually be links, but it will be the same color as evrything else. haha you'll just have to roll your mouse over the text to find them! What fun! Weeeeeeeeeeee!

I had an excellent pipe yesterday; I'm down to half a pipe a day and no cigarettes. If I can get down to a pipe a week I think I can consider myself to have "quit." I'll never stop the pipe; its my pride and joy. Besides it cost $60.

Bjork is hot. I don't care what you say, she's hot. Not as hot as halle, keira and the rest, but hot and quite a genius. I'd bjork her any day.

If you disagree, I'll have to fart on you. You have been warned.

Still reeling

2004-11-04T13:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I slept through two classes. Today I made it to all of them. Impressive, is it not? I guess it probably wasn't smart to stay up all night watching the election. The tiredness has carried over to today, though it could be much worse. Its not like I'm skipping classes to catch up on my election night sleep (I took care of that already.)

Classes were interesting today. Ed Psych never fails to fascinate me, even as I fight to keep my eyes open because I just woke up five minutes before class started. We learned about the concept of intelligence and how many people misunderstand the concept of it. IQ is a test specifically designed to measure a person's ability to perform on school-related tasks. It has nothing to do with a person's actual ability to learn, and it isn't set in stone. It's not, as Rosemary said, "permanently stamped on your brain." These scores can change as people learn how better to attack problems and such; you can get smarter. I found that vastly interesting and farted with glee at the realization that I could get even smarter! The world is in for a big treat in a few years!

Food... I want real food... all my friends live off of lunchables and chips... I can do that too but I want a frickin HAMBURGER! Food godammit! FOOOOOD!

At least I have lots of crack and coke to keep me alive for the time being. I don't know what I'd do without those two. They make my life worth living.

I realized something today. Well, not realized but had reaffirmed actually. The Democratic party just got raped up the ass so hard that shit came out of their mouths. What are we going to do next election? We have no candidates! The Republicans destroyed us so badly that even political experts are totally baffled at what to do next. God save us if they try to put in some crazy liberal or something outrageous like that. Or worse, Hilary. God if they do something that stupid the party will just self-destruct and be replaced by the green party. And we all know how well they'll fare in a deeply religious and conservative country.

As far as I'm concerned this election has been an unacceptable travesty for the Democrats, and I fart on the Party organizers. Fart. Stinky Smelly Political Fart.

God Save us all from what we have done.

Aftermath of the retardation of a nation

2004-11-03T13:35:00.002-08:00

Well it appears as though I did not recieve enough write-in votes to carry even one state. This is unfortunate; I will have to try much harder next election. And perhaps get the campaign running a little earlier. When I realized I didn't have enough votes to attain the presidency, nor even a sufficient number of years behind me, I anxiously sat glued in front of my computer and my television watching the results and praying for liberation from tyranny .

My excitement was palpable as the exit polls came in, projecting good results for my candidate of choice, mr. Kerry. (I could not vote for myself because I had voted absentee well before I decided to run.) With fingers, legs, and every other movable pair of body parts crossed, I reveled with each state Kerry won and roiled with anger with each victory for the nincompoop. I squealed and screamed like the best of 'em, but to no avail. The idiot voters in "a-hi-a" could not hear my cries. And so they voted on moral issues, effectively not only throwing their votes in the toilet and urinating on them, but pooping on them as well. My outrage was unfathomable. I felt an uncontrollable urge to purchase a chainsaw , for which I still cannot define the cause.

Since abortion and the marriage of two men are so much more important than the economy, foreign relations, or even a war which is killing thousands of American youths, I'm afraid I was wrong all along. I believed there was some small amount of integrity left in this nation. I humbly apologize to the Republicans, for insulting them with my allegations that people were smart enough not to vote for them. I was erroneous in these assertions, apparently the American public is just as easily fooled after the fiasco in Iraq as they were before it. For it's a "just" war. I see that now.

In fact, I have changed my postion entirely (once again; Democrat to Glish Glisher was my first change, back to Democrat after that, and now to Republican.) I have actually aligned myself with the neoconservatives, whose wisdom I failed to see before. Yes, America is strong and should ensure the creation of a Democratic world where everybody loves America because everybody will be American. Yay for imperialism! Bush/Cheney 2008! and 2012! and 2016! AND FOREVERMORE!!!!!

God Save America if somebody intelligent ever gains a foothold in the presidency! A thinking president is a dangerous thing, best have somebody who follows the advice of his panel of aides without question and keeps his ideas to himself.

The people have spoken!

The bastards.

Top ten... I have no idea.

2004-11-02T19:24:00.000-08:00

Here is a list of my top ten things that i like to put in top ten lists.

10) Funny Things

9) Eructing from the nether regions of the gastric physiology (also fits in #10)

8) Reading things written by Dr. Mahoney
7) Reading things written by myself

6) Reading things written by other people besides #7 and #8

5) Pipes (tobacco you nitwit)

4) Polysyllabic things

3) The word smelly

2) Jumblies

1) British people

(AMUSING BRITISH VOICE)

Yay for smelly thrusty jumblies!

I say, old boy, I seem to have trod in a great heap of turd! Now mine shoe is smelly! Bollox, that smells not like cupcakes! Curses, now I must clean mine bloody smelly shoe! What a great pile of balderdash!

Heh british people are funny. JOLLY GOOD, CHEERIO PIP PIP AND AWL THAH!

Wiggand For President!!!!

2004-11-02T17:05:00.000-08:00

THE BIRTH OF THE "GLISH GLISH" PARTY IS AT HAND!

Wiggand for President!

As the election is upon us and I'm sure many of you loyal readers are unsure of who to vote for, considering both candidates to be unworthy of the office we all adore, let me unburthen thy souls. In a last-ditch effort to make this election seem to have a point, I've decided to perform a last-minute run for president of the United States. Since I'm sure all my readers will vote for me, I need not explain my views at all. However, I'm sure that in the effort to get out the vote (which I strongly advocate,) I'm sure my readers will need some propaganda to convince their friends to write me in on their ballot. Sadly, I'm not a propagandist, and can only provide you with the platform I will run on. GET OUT THAT VOTE!

1) The economy.
My stance on the economy is simple and I tie it in with my stance on foreign policy and even with my immigration stance. I propose all-out nuclear war on the entire world (Except Canada and Mexico,) without telling anybody about it, especially the UN. The little turds in the UN probably won't approve of my methods, but that won't matter when they're all dead anyway. Those areas with natural resources we require, instead of being nuked, will simply be bombed with the chemical weapons I have stored in my closet in case my roommate gets too cranky. Any survivors will be forced to listen to EMO music until they bleed to death from their ears. If they enjoy the music, they will be shot. People who listen to EMO need to be shot anyway. By ridding the world of pesky nations like France, England and good ol' Poland we will rid ourselves of annoyances like job outsourcing and strange food that isn't McDonalds. Trade competition will cease and we can use all the money that stays in our economy to buy cheaper drugs from Canada. Or steal it. What are they gonna do about it, huh? Throw maple leaves at us?

2) Foreign relations.
Already taken care of.

3) Immigration.
To raise wages for American workers and keep overaggressive immigration at bay, all illegal immigrants will be collected in holding pins in Southern North Dakota and then used for huge gladiatorial contests every time 500 are collected at once. The proceeds from ticket sales and pay-per-view will pay for Social Security. God I'm a genius.

4) Medical reform.
My plan is very simple. I declare the AMA to be a terrorist group bent on ruining the health of Americans everywhere. They ignore well-researched solutions to problems (such as cancer) simply because the cures that have been discovered don't involve any kinds of drugs. They are in the pocket of the drug companies. So I say we empty that pocket by bombing the crap out the AMA headquarters and systematically hunting down each and every doctor who has ever denied the validity of the findings in Robert Barefoot's "Death by Diet" and "The Calcium factor" and beating them to death with a box of pill bottles. Since this will considerably decrease the number of doctors (most of them are too big of wussy turds to stand up to the evil empire of the AMA,) I also propose providing medical textbooks for every citizen, so they can take care of themselves in the case of minor injuries and sickness. The doctors who survive my cleansing, er, terrorist hunt can take care of people with problems too big for self-help, like hangnails and splinters. This will not only minimize the problem of frivolous lawsuits but also bring drug companies back to the status of good businesspersons, since their partner in crime was so brutally punished. How can you disagree with that?

5) Domestic issues.
With immigration taken care of, outsourcing impossible, all the bad nations in the world no longer a problem and free medical textbooks for all, I can't imagine there could possibly be any domestic problems in America. If there are, I'll drop bags of pennies on the protestors. Those numbskulls who don't like me and aren't killed by the heavy bags will no longer hate me because I just gave them a 20-pound bag of pennies. That’s a lot of pennies. Imagine what you could do with all those pennies...

6) The war on terror.
Over.

7) Taxes.
I'll cut them. With expenses cut so much by my ingenious methods of economic protectionism and my effective, affordable solution to the war on terror, money will be flowing like the blood from Osama's eye sockets. With the government having nothing better to do than sit on their dandies and tell me what a good job I've done, our expenses will drop astronomically and we'll be in a surplus within two years. After I buy myself a B-2 bomber to congratulate myself.

8) Abortion and Gay Marriage.
Not important issues in this election. If you think they are, you're probably too retarded to walk to the polling places by yourself so I'm not worried about your vote. Just stay home and watch Nickelodeon on the telly, Lenny. I'll give you people who define your stance on politics solely on abortion and/or gay marriage a 12-pound bag of skittles and a bunny rabbit if you just stay home and let the smart people do the voting.

9) Gun control.
Free guns for everyone! Only condition: if you use it wrong I cut off your head with a salad fork. Shoot birds, deer, your foot, I don't care. Shoot your neighbor it'll be the last thing you do. No 2-hour waits for gun purchases, no gun crime. It's that simple.

I'm fairly sure I've covered all the bases here. If anybody has any questions concerning my stance on any of these issues, you are retarded; don't talk to me. If you want clarifications concerning my exact plans (this is just an overview) feel free to leave a post with your question conveniently packed inside. I'll answer as quickly as I can. I think I could lead this country into an era of prosperity that hasn't been seen since... well since Bush got into office. So be sure to vote for me (it'll be a write-in so only YOU have the power,) and not for Bush. Because Bush sucks. If you don't think Bush sucks, leave my Website now. I track every person who comes here and research their political opinions. If a Bush supporter visits this site more than 3.54 times, I will deem you a terrorist and hunt you down with the doctors. That is all. Good night, my fellow Americans.