Thursday, November 30, 2006

Water - Food Particle

Avery - In the vents

Avery was born to duct-fly. He hurried through the dusty labyrinth, drawing closer and closer to the objective. With the plan in head and secret weapon applied, he was the pinnacle of sneaky. Body responsive gel kept him moving faster and faster. Silently swimming through the ventilation he became a ghost's footprint. Quick. Agile. Fluid.

Speed and stealth on the outside- wailing lunatic on the inside.

Penetrating the bad-guys' lair with no idea of what's waiting on the other side of grate 42-B is a frightening experience. Coupled with the recent feminization of his nervous system, Avery was a total wreck. He missed Garbage Can. His hair was ugly, and he was suddenly aware of how fat he looked. Male-Avery-Brain was sparring Female-Avery-Armpit with terrifying results. First he was the fastest animal on the planet, and now he's suddenly incapable of using the restroom by himself. Things were not right upstairs.

Driven by instinct he flew on, psychologically peeing his pants all the way down.

Garbage Can - Parking lot

It didn't take long for Garbage Can to realize he had the crappiest power ever.

Hiding behind the burnt-out suburban with the other eight alphas, Mr. Can was outclassed. Captain Hadoken could fire blue balls of energy. Garbage Can was hairy. Raging Dave wore a hat while his shadow kicked people in the crotch. Garbage Can had a unibrow. Stealing October's left shoe disobeyed the laws of physics. Garbage can was a unibrow.

Mismatched capes and blue jeans bedecked the good guys. The group was admittedly diverse. Age and former social status meant nothing now. There were fat guys and skinny guys, Old ladies and Hadoken's little sister. He didn't know for certain what to expect from the bad guys, but he was willing to bet it'd be another stereotype. Bad guys were like that, no creativity. Once they had realized that the changes had turned them into what they referred to as super heroes they rushed to find the villain that most accurately represented their powers. Adopting the same costume themes and same bad-guy banter as the fictional heroes of the past seemed like great fun to them. It was old and cliche'd, but you try telling that to Professor Ownage.

A puff of smoke appeared above the building, that was the sign.

Captain Hadoken removed his sunglasses.
He paused for a moment, on the brink of an inspirational speech.

"Screw it. let's go."

"That's my kind of leader," answered Raging Dave as the squad broke cover and ran for the bowling alley doors.

Avery - Grate 41-B

Avery hadn't given the sign. In fact, there was no sign. Captain Hadoken told him to flash the sign when he was in position. Avery was not in position, but he didn't know that. Nobody told him what the sign was, and he had forgotten the difference between 41-B and 42-B. He was pretty sure Hadoken didn't even know what the sign was. Avery didn't care about signs, his shoes didn't match.

Sounds of battle echoed through the vents, shaking Avery from his female lapse of awareness. This was no time to worry about fashion, it was time to I wonder if he likes me?

His head had been doing this for the past 40 yards of ducting. He had developed a terrible case of gender A.D.D. and knew he had to take control and regain focus. It was time to break through the vent and regain the artifact. While Alpha distracted the bad guys with a frontal assault, he'd steal the penguin and things would be aeropostale aeropostale aeropostale.

Snap out of it Avery, the deodorants playing tricks on you. Get your head in the game, man!

....Maybe I could be a nurse when I grow up...

No! You're a dude, and dudes grow up to be firefighters and astronauts, not nurses! Why do I suddenly feel less proficient in math and science? Ah! No! Manly thoughts, manly thoughts. Jennifer is attractive? What?! I'm jealous of her hair? What the? I feel like baking?!?!

Avery tumbled out of grate 41-B. He scanned the room. An abandoned kitchen, definitely not his objective. He saw the door and heard the sounds of battle, beckoning the warrior within.

He took a step for hallway. There! In the corner of his eye lay his mortal enemy. The sink was overflowing with them. The dirty dishes cried out, mocking and cajoling the effeminate Avery. "Clean me, I'm dirty! I'm such a mess! I'm just going to keep distracting you from the rest of your life until I'm all tidied up. Food particles! Look at all my food particles!"

He was faced with a choice. Be the man, save thy allies. Be the bride, clean thy dishes.

Hormones were everywhere.

Garbage Can - The Battle

The bad guys had really done it this time. They stole a penguin and told the entire good guy community that they were holding a little girl hostage. Three separate good guy squads had vied for the bid, but Alpha got the job once the other two heard about the classic exploding dam routine that was going on that same evening.

The scheduling had been hectic from day one. It seemed that within moments of the social collapse everyone had aligned themselves to the good side or bad side and then teamed up with their friends to form a super-group. For a mid-sized city like Fortharm, one could expect 20 to 30 bands of bad guys and about 15 squadrons of good guys. Intelligence was spotty. Bad guys were pulling stunts to poison the water supply and blow up the sun all the time. The good guys always planned to show up right before they pulled the trigger and save the world. Battles always ensued, it was intense.

Realizing that they were outnumbered after a whole day of frantically putting out fires and tearing down sun-exploders, the leaders of each local band of good guys met together to form a confederacy of sorts. A loose affiliation at best, it provided a means of exchanging information and 'dibs-ing' your thwart for the evening. A dibs was law. Once you called a thwart as your own, you were responsible for saving the world. Anybody slips up, and, well, life as we know it ceases. It's a self regulating system.

Frankly, Garbage Can was disappointed. After about three days of creative plans to alter the environment or stop continental drift, the bad guys ran out of ideas. They were pulling stunts now just to fight, not to accomplish anything. It was a penguin! Garbage Can had seen 30 of them a month ago at the zoo! He was angry. Angry at the fact that there were two thwarts tonight and one of them was a hoax. Angry that Avery hadn't pulled through for them, angry that he didn't have a cool utility belt.

The two opposites had met in the food court. Garbage Can didn't know why a bowling alley had a food court. He punched a bad guy in the face anyways, it felt like the right thing to do.

Alpha Squadron was outgunned, it was as simple as that. It was 24 to nine, but Garbage Can thought he saw one of them mirror himself a couple times, so it was more like 21 to nine. Not discouraged, they fought on. Hadoken yelled his trademark "Hadoken!" into the night and fired Ryu's special move first to the left, and later to the right. Bodies flew, lasers flew, matching green capes flew.

Oh gosh, they actually sprung for the matching green capes. These bad guys suck.

Avery - Kitchen

Avery was shaking. He was torn between battle and food particles. He couldn't think, he needed chocolate. He was angry and happy and desperate and terrified and confused and curious all at the same time. His mascara was running, and he hadn't even put mascara on.

Garbage Can- Battle

Garbage Can was the first to see the black streak burst through the side doors. It was blurred, moving fast, and transparent. Hard to keep track of, it seemed the only definite way to determine its position was to follow the trail of falling bad guys and bloodcurdling shrieks.

Clobersaurus Rex was sneaking up on Garbage Can. Unlike most bad guys, Clobersaurus was moderately original. He hadn't stolen his identity from a comic book. He beat enemies up with a giant wooden spoon, that's all there was to it.

Unfortunately, his spontaneity ended there. He, like all bad guys, wanted to be dramatic. He was within striking distance, his prey was too absorbed in watching the blur to notice the danger behind him. He raised the spoon to strike and then thought better of it. He needed something dramatic, and hitting your opponent while his was back turned is anything but tense and glory filled. Where was the honor, the emotional power? This was a moment deserving of a great set up, this was a moment you could make a movie out of. He cast about for something, anything to make him look cool before he smote Garbage Can with his trademark stirring device.

After what seemed an eternity of search he had found it. Satisfied with his choice, he gave a sly grin. This was going to be good.

He tapped Garbage Can in the shoulder. Startled, Garbage turned around to face the spoon-ed enemy.

Smiling like an idiot, Clobersaurus opened his mouth to say the most dramatic thing he could remember.

"You want the truth? You can't handle the tru-"

He never had time to finish.

"YOU LEFT A MESS IN THE KITCHEN!!!!!!" was all that was left hanging in the air where Clobersaurus' head had been a half moment before. A powerful kick from sleek and small feet had sent the late dinosaur flying through the air. A dainty shoe print was all that remained to remind the spoon-wielding villain that the last four months of his life hadn't been a dream.

Garbage Can ducked, the blur was everywhere at once. Ricocheting around the room at lightning speed and emitting accusation after accusation, it was a killing machine.


Down went another two, felled by the super natural and emotionally unstable blur.


"Alpha Squadron, fall back! This is out of our hands now, get out of here!" Bellowed the wounded Captain Hadoken. The blur was speeding up, inflicting concussion and unconsciousness for even the most minor offenses.


High pitched. Whiny. Amazingly terrifying.

Avery - Kitchen (three minutes earlier)

Three minutes before the blur rained a world of hurt on the bad guys, Avery's female side won. Trembling, he rushed over to the sink and frantically began to scrub. He picked up a pot, and the soapy surface slipped out of his stealthy hands. He looked down. They weren't stacked right. They had put dirty dishes in the rinsing side. They forgot to scrape the big food leftovers into the garbage can before they put it in the sink.


They had to pay.

Garbage Can - outside

Garbage can found him 40 minutes later lying in the dumpster. He approached the once deadly blur and began his written speech.

"Dear Derrick. *ahem* You are a dange- danger to yourself and others. You are having a terrible reaction to the deodorant. Please come home, we can take care of you and fix things."

Avery looked up at the familiar face of Garbage Can. He had always been there for him. Always stayed up late with him talking about the boys they liked. He had been a good friend, he decided he could go with him.

Garbage Can hadn't done any of those things. Garbage Can met Avery three weeks ago during PE. He decided it was better to let what was left of Avery's brain think that though, it'd make him easier to handle on the way back to base.

He carried the now sleeping hero back to the waiting van. 12 minutes till the next thwart. Avery psychologically unwell, Hadoken wounded in the leg. It was going to be a long night.

Take a Stand

The day of the empty promise is ended. A new dawn is breaking. A morn of hope and fulfillment.


What: Study group - homework help - ACT prep

Where: My place - inquire within if you need address

When: Friday, 5:00 PM.

Who: Anybody with homework to do or questions about subjects (except for AP biology and AP calc). Also, anybody wanting to up their ACT score.


I've thought about this for a long time. It's not going to be one of those passing fancies. Even if nobody else shows up I'll still do my homework in that time period, and review some of that mad ACT stuff. If people do show up, great, we'll all benefit.

But I've been thinking, and it's time to spread the love. As I lay in bed last night, I realized that this is the big show. The last hurrah before we all break apart and run off to college. Right now we are all bound together through this high school bit. We're here, interacting, together. If we don't make our move now we'll never have the chance.

It's like a basketball game. You've got 48 minutes while the other team is on the court to prove your dominance. After the clock is through everybody leaves. Nobody cares if you can dunk 20 minutes after the game. Your field goal percentage doesn't matter when you're shooting around by yourself. You've only got 48 minutes with the captive opponents. After those 48 they're free to leave; you've lost the opportunity.

When highschool lets out we'll go our separate ways. Some of those separate ways will take us to similar places. Others won't. Right now we are captives, we can't get away from each other.

So hey, I figure I might as well make my move now. There are still people here to benefit from it. That might not be true in the future.

What comes next is a mystery. What's here right now is positive. The stars have lined up: it's time to learn.

The earth has progressed far enough in its rotation to leave this quadrant of the earth cold and Ultimate-less. The postage-fairy has delivered the necessary materials. I've got toes and fingers, shoes and a hat.

It's on. This Friday, and the Friday after that, and the Friday after that.

The agenda will look something like this. Homework/questions at 5, ACT at 6. Wrap up around 6:30 or 7:00. There may or may not be a party afterwards, it just depends.

I think it's a grand idea. And now, for you naysayers --> a little more of my optimism.

(Yes. I'm arrogant. But hey, at least I'm trying to help people. Don't think I can help anybody on the ACT? I purchased the April 2006 test packet and answer key. I've actually taken the test and know what I'm talking about on 95% of the questions. And hey, if I end up not helping anyone with anything, at least I got to play with the whiteboard. It's worth a shot, right?)

So, let me know your comments. Alls I know is that I'm going to be chilling here at 5 come Friday getting my homework done and studying for that ACT test.

C.Thatcher ---> out.

p.s. It's national tuck-your-sweatshirt-into-your-pants day. A big congratulations to everybody who had the courage to go for it today. You've made the world a better place.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Water - Elusive Midnight

14 days after awakening, 7:05 PM, outside the bowling alley.

It smelled terrible. Much worse than August was supposed to smell.

The crew had arrived early. After a quick briefing, the two squadrons fell into position and waited for the word to go. With another thwarting scheduled right after this one, everyone was eager to get the job done.

The radio cracked. "This is Alpha Squadron to Dainty Squadron, do you copy?"

Alpha Squadron was the good guys. Nine or so people dedicated to making sure the bad guys didn't succeed in destroying the world with the new opportunities that the changes gave them. An elite fighting crew, they were four and zero for encounters with bad guys.

Recently reassigned from Alpha Squadron, Derrick Avery was the sole member of the Dainty Squadron. Proud leader, follower, and quartermaster, he crouched behind the dumpster, glaring at the radio that just addressed him.

In his head, Derrick wasn't happy with his newfound position of leadership. Squadrons are great and all, but a name like that? What ever happened to Beta Squadron? They skipped right over Charlie Squadron, and Charlie is a very respectable squadron name!

"Yeah, I copy, I'm in position," Avery replied.

"This is important Avery, do you have the package?"

The package was a stick of ladies' deodorant. Of course he had the package.

"Affirmative, I've got the package in the cadoozle, am I cleared to proceed?"

"Ten-four. Do it Dainty, go go go!"

With a deep breath, Avery uncapped the pink stick. Elusive Midnight touched skin - the change began.


When mankind realized what had happened 14 days ago, everyone's priorities were altered. The pressing questions that Art Finnigan faced last month were rendered entirely irrelevant after the change. Your major in college doesn't matter so much when you can stretch like Gumby. Questions like, "Hey Lisa, you wanna go to McDonalds?" aren't important once McDonalds has been frozen in time by the Arby's night shift. Stuff like, "Should I date Elizabeth?" is easily answered when you bear in mind that Elizabeth just grew wings and has been turning gum into terrifying projectiles.

See? Everything was different now. The priorities and concerns of the former life were cast aside once the changes came. No man's worries were left identical to the past, no man's but Derrick Avery's.

For Derrick, the question that plagued him every morning before the change plagued him still.

When Derrick woke up 14 days ago, he went through the normal morning business. Wake up, eat, shower - pause.

For six minutes every morning for the past five years, Derrick would stand in front of his dresser and ponder the deepest and potentially most important question the universe has ever seen.

"What flavor deodorant do I wear today?" he would muse, "blue rush, silver ice, or rock hard?"

It wasn't really Derrick's fault. His mom insisted on supplying him with a variety of scents and aromas. Sometimes she even stocked his dresser with four or five varieties instead of the usual three. On such occasions, he was forced to spend even more than the monumental six minutes to debate the merits of each individual stick. Eventually he would reach a decision. Derrick knew after those six minutes, without a doubt, who he wanted to be today. Derrick wanted to be rock hard, and he smelled the part.

14 days ago was no different. He considered the pros and cons of each stick. Blue rush is body responsive, but Rock Hard, that's got easy glide AND all day protection...

A dilemma indeed. One that ultimately led to Derrick choosing Silver Ice, a moderately strong stick that, in his mind, sent the message of, "Look at me, I dare to be different". Really, it was just deodorant, get over it.

That morning as Derrick looked in the mirror he beheld a masterpiece. Where Garbage Can had hair, Derrick was ice, silver ice.

Not a coincidence. Derrick was what scientists in 100 years would finally get around to classifying as a translucite. Unlike most people, the changes that overcame him were not definite characteristics manifested on the outside. Instead, Derrick assumed the powers of his deodorant.

I remind you, mankind doesn't know who punched them in the face.

But whoever it was has a sick and twisted sense of humor.


Derrick felt the changes come over him. This was his first time applying ladies' anti-perspirant. He hardly felt that the back entrance to a bowling alley was the place to be experimenting with cross-gender deodorant application, but alpha squadron had left him with few options.

All uneasiness aside, the effects of Elusive Midnight were already becoming apparent. Derrick's vision focused to a point, his hearing tightened to be crisp and unadulterated. His form was fluid, lithe, and agile. Muscles taut and ready to pounce, he was a highly specialized ninja. He felt invisible, and, melding right into the brickwork, he might as well have been. Only the most dedicated and inspecting eye could catch him now.

It's sure a good thing the bad guys always have good ventilation systems in their hideouts, or we'd all be screwed a long time ago...

With a leap of grace, Derrick landed on the roof. Deftly removing a vent-cover, he slid in, beginning the long journey into the heart of the bad-guy's lair.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Arboreal Liberty

Arboreal Liberty. I like to call it Treedom.

That is all.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Water - Sucker Punch

It was another one of those Tuesdays. Garbage Can had slept in late- a futile attempt at recuperation after last night's marathon bad-guy-thwarting. It had been like this for two weeks now. It was getting harder and harder to remember what life was like before his best friend developed the British accent. Garbage Can hadn't seen an unattractive girl in 13 days, and he was pretty confident that he was the hairiest man alive.

It had all happened so fast; the world never had a chance to reassemble after the initial shock. It was as if the entire human population had been sucker-punched by a random assailant. Mankind, collectively, was out on a picnic. A scrawny white kid wearing a baseball cap walked up, gave a nod of the head, and hit us, right in the face. A clear spring day, in view of the pope, he smacked us. No one knew quite why we got sucker punched, but before anyone had a chance to figure out we punched back. Biting, punching, laser-beaming, it's an all out brawl.

And we don't even know who punched us.

That was as far as it went in Garbage Can's medium sized brain. There wasn't time to think any more. This new life demanded action. A new era had seized upon the world two weeks ago, and this epoch was clearly not fit for the thinking types.

14 days ago, on a Tuesday morning entirely different from the current example of Tuesday, Steve Chalk woke up to his cell phone alarm. Perpetually early and most definitely out to get him, Steve had no qualms about throwing the poor device out the window. After all, it did wake him up- vengeance tastes great in the morning.

Steve took the usual 14 uneven steps to the bathroom. The release of his bodily fluids did little to wake the lumbering giant. Standing at five foot eleven, he made Chinese people gasp when he walked by.

Normal people? Nah, not as much gasping. Sort of disappointing really.

As he washed his hands, he looked up into the mirror. Squinting against the pain due to the obscene amount of light in the room, he took a deep breath. It was then, in that brief flash of agony, that he had a monumental thought. "What if I had webbed feet, and, like, I could run really fast?"

As monumental as this thought was, it bears no importance in this narrative.

Two seconds later, Steve discovered his new beard. Big, it was big. So big, in fact, that it simply meshed together with his eyebr- err... unibrow. After much tedious and painful thought (it was still morning you know) Steve came to the conclusion that he was thoroughly and entirely covered in thick and luscious hair. Bright and orange, he was concerned about his shampoo supply.

Two hours later, Steve began to realize he wasn't the only one to wake up different. His chemistry teacher failed to not ignite the whiteboard with his gaze five times. The smelly kid that nobody likes showed up to school with wings, big ones.

Perhaps the most shocking moment of the morning came shortly after Steve arrived at the high school. Showing up early to class, he took his seat. Brief moments later, his heart tried out for the US gymnastics team. Forgetting his newfound coat, he stared at the doorway. There, framed by oak not worthy of her presence, stood Alicia Brown, the ugliest girl since Stonehenge. Memory's repulsive veil slid from his eyes, and there she stood, the most beautiful being Steve had ever seen. Her hair blew in the nonexistent breeze, her body silhouetted by the absent spot light. When she moved, it was with the grace of a Mars Rover. Carefully calculated, deliberate, and filled with enough power to make even the strongest man cheer in wonder and amazement.

He was drooling, but it was alright- he had a beard.

It took Steve a moment to regain composure. She took her seat. Steve retook his (he had fallen to the floor, you see). She made a dainty little cough. Steve burped.

Mid-belch, another spectacular figure threw open the door and bathed the world with beauty once more. Ready for it this time, he managed to remain in his desk. Two more followed. It was like a mad scientist had combined all the deliciousness of a whopper with a cheetah and Ghandi's attractive girlfriend.

The glorious parade continued, Steve began to feel less dizzy. The smart kid came in, wearing green sunglasses. Fashion statement? Hardly, the man's eyes were causing plants to erupt out of anything he concentrated on hard enough. Leonard floated in to class, Hernando came in dripping something that looked like motor oil.

The whole class sat in awkward silence for the next 92 minutes, no joke. Steve was going stir crazy. It was as if everybody had their tongues tied around the changes that had come over them. He wanted so much to nudge Brett and say something suave like "Hey, check out this beard." Brett, however, refused to make eye contact, and instead was focusing on wearing a bowler cap.

At lunch, a fight broke out. Fisticuffs break out all the time, but most don't usually result in asteroid impacts. To be fair, they were small rocks, hardly life threatening. To be accurate, thousands of chunks of two or more minerals thrown together falling from heaven hurt like the dickens. The supplier of the 'roids, Charlie, got attacked by a vicious super break dance gang. Not knowing what to do, he took a chance on the death from above approach. Way to go Charlie.

It's been two weeks since the world changed. Cape sales exceeded yearly expectations on Wednesday alone. Since the new life started, Steve had participated in no less than four bad-guy-thwarting adventures. He'd seen friends come and go, nuclear crises rise and fall. His left leg was turned into a movie review.

As Garbage Can reflected on the last two weeks of his life, he couldn't help but miss the cell phone he had thrown out the window. He couldn't resist the urge to sit in his office chair like old times and spin around just once or twice. "What," he questioned, "happened to the days when my greatest worry was English homework?"

The high school was destroyed the day after the world changed. No more homework. Lots more bad guys. Garbage Can knew that this was just the beginning. The world had been thrust out of the old system. The social ladder shattered, the economy gone. He was part of this new world. Everything was different, everything was changed. Life was new, life was hairy.

Garbage Can looked at the calendar. Two bad-guy-thwartings scheduled for the evening. Great.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Spontaneus Combustion

Just watch the video.

That's all.

Thursday, November 16, 2006


One of the skills that they're going to try to teach you at any leadership conference you ever go to is going to be Evaluation. Now, they're going to try to put a cool label on it, and probably even make up a catchy catch phrase to catch the concept in your brain.

Yes. I should have used a thesaurus on that last sentence. However, I find it refreshingly refreshing not to.

In any event, it's a good skill to gain. The main concept revolves around contemplating what just happened. After you complete a task, look at what went right, examine what went wrong, and determine what to change in the future.

It's brilliant, really. So simple that most do it already, but just tricky enough that when genuinely pursued it becomes a great engine for progress and improvement.

These days I try to evaluate most things I do. You better believe that the Ultimate club is going to run a whole lot differently next year. My cross country attitude and performance will be changed, my dance moves will be altered, my very hair tweaked from day to day to achieve the results I desire.

I tend to over complicate very simple things. I take an easy concept that automatically clicks and poke and prod it until it becomes a barbecue-shaped mass of mathematical principles and philosophical dissertations.

Today we played sharks and minnows for our cross country workout, just as a throwback to the good old days. Sharks and minnows is a very simple game. You begin the game with two sharks, and their goal is to run and tag everyone else (the minnows). Once an individual is tagged they become minnows no more, but sharks forever.

As a minnow you want to run like crazy and remain uncaught. As a shark you want to catch the minnows and spawn more sharks. Once all the minnows are turned into sharks the game is over.

So really, it's like tag, except instead of you being it when a guy tags you, you're both it when a guy tags you.

As a cross country team, we're born to run. The area that we play in is quite formidable, basically the entire south half of the high school property. It's an island really, the area that you can get to without ever crossing a road. The track, the soccer fields, the front lawn, the relo's, the sidewalk, etc. As long as you don't run in the parking lot or across any streets you remain in the boundaries.

So, today I played a simple game and got a simple outcome. Tonight I have evaluated the game, and come here to share some love.

Number One: Traveling in a pack drastically improves your capability to survive. Your chance of living through an encounter with a shark is directly related to the number of other minnows you are traveling with.

You're running alone and you see a shark turn the corner and run towards you. You immediately take a 180 and run the opposite direction. Whether you survive this encounter or not depends entirely on your speed compared to the shark's speed. We will call this value "Y". If I run at a speed that I arbitrarily assign the value of five to, and the shark runs a five as well, the ratio is 5:5, or one. Chances of me surviving are about 50 percent in this encounter. Since we both run the same speed, I've got half a chance to get out, and he's got half a chance to get me. So, we can construct a formula that looks like this. Chance of me surviving on my own = .5 times Y. (Y is the ratio of my speed to his).

So, let's try another. if I run at a two and he runs at a six, our ratio will be 2:6, or 1:3. Formula is .5 Y, so I've got (1/3) times .5, or 1/6 chance of surviving. Not even good.

However, something interesting happens when I run with a partner. When a shark spots prey, he can only target one at a time if we run opposite directions. The shark is forced to choose one or the other. Statistically I have a 50 percent chance that he's going to pick the other guy.

If we add this to the formula, we end up with something like My survival chance = .5Y divided by the chance he'll come after me, or .5

Therefore I've got twice the chance of surviving an encounter with a shark if I travel with a partner. Likewise, I've got three times the chance of surviving if I travel with two partners. No wonder fish flock together, their individual chances of survival go way up.

Number Two: running with a gatorade is a bad idea.

I bought a gatorade (hereafter to be refered to as "my 'rade") right before we went out to run. I decided that I'd carry it around with me as I ran and drink as I went. Unfortunately, I cramped up because of this, and my running capabilities were greatly diminished. In the future, I will not drink 'rade as I run, but only before and after.

Number Three: Having something to throw at jose is a great idea.

Midway through the match, me and my traveling buddy found ourselves in quite the pickle. After dodging the bad guys out in the soccer fields, we ran past the baseball diamond and hopped the fence, putting us behind the home bleachers in the stadium. We ran down the hill and around the track, putting us right in front of the visitors bleachers. At this point we saw two sharks coming at us from the entrance to the track. There really was only one exit from that point, and that was the hole that the sharks had just come out of. They had superior angles on us, and there were two of them. While there were definitely two of us, we both wanted to get out of there alive, so we had to do some quick thinking.

We knew we couldn't get to the exit without doing something crazy. They had us covered with the angles, we were forced to accept that. We knew that both sharks would probably come after one individual minnow, their chances of catching one of us are doubled that way. We knew that we both wanted to escape, and so our daring plan was formulated and put into action in the same breath.

We kept running our initial course, letting them angle towards us to cut us off. When they were sufficiently close, my buddy doubled back and ran the opposite direction, causing the sharks to break from each other as one briefly pursued. She figured that wouldn't work out pretty fast, so she turned her sights back on me, with Jose having never left his initial course to destroy me. However, I now had enough of a gap between the two sharks to even the playing field in my favor, making speed a factor in the game once again. You see, when you've got two sharks right by each other it doesn't matter how fast you run. One will just hold back while you juke the shoes off of the first shark, and than tag you just as soon as you're past. But now we had the sharks seperated, so maybe a juke was possible.

I sped up, and Jose came to match me. I was running parallel to the outside fence, and I'd have to change course real soon or face a chain link corner that I wouldn't have gotten out of. Jose was only about 10 feet from me, so I faked left, then stalled for half a second.

And then I remembered, I was carrying my 'rade. It had given me obnoxious cramps, and I was feeling quite hydrated, despite only drinking half of the bottle. I settled on the only plan of action that I could see working, and chucked the bottle at Jose.

This served two very valuable purposes. Not only did it shock jose, but it also hit him in the shin. This made him terribly angry. So angry, in fact, that his new goal was not to tag me, but to hit me in the back of the head with my half-full bottle of 'rade. In the time it took him to realize he'd been thrown at and pick it up to retaliate I was gone. As soon as I released the bottle I booked it, hard straight just long enough to clear an opening back across the field and then a sharp turn to get out of that corner. I escaped, and jose missed the back of my head by about a foot. Lucky, that could have caused some damage.

Evaluating it, I can see that I got out of a life threatening situation by throwing something at Jose. Therefore, I am always going to carry some sort of projectile for sharks and minnows. It's just too valuable to pass up.

Number Four: I want to stay alive a lot more than the sharks want to catch me.

As a minnow, I only live once. There is no minnow respawn. Once you're tagged you're a shark until the game is over. Supply and demand says that since there's only one life, that life is ridiculously valuable.

Sharks, on the other hand, are already dead. Their goal is to catch people, and at any given point they may have five or six minnows that they could possible catch. Supply/demand states that since there are six possibilities, they are less valuable than if there was only one.

Since I have one out of one desire to stay alive, and they only have one out of six desire to catch me, it's a whole lot easier for me to "hit the juice" and sprint them out than it is for them to book it to catch me.

In a one on one encounter, sharks won't usually match your sprint for more than five seconds. After that period it hurts more than it is worth for the shark, whereas you've still got more value to keep running with. This is your last chance, whereas the shark will have infinitely more chances to chase minnows.

Number Five: evaluation of sharks and minnows is a really weird thing to write about at 12:16 AM. I mean really, who does that? I'll tell you.


Tuesday, November 14, 2006


Relax, you're going to be alright you big pansy.

That's what 11:42 PM version of me what's to say to this afternoon's edition of yours truly. I had a rough afternoon today, it was stressful. Today was our first day of indoor track practice. Sprinters and distance were heading over to 24 hour fitness. Coach was going to come, but he got tricked into drivers ed.

Basically, we had 20 or so people in there, and I was in charge. Now, I'm usually in charge. That's just how things work, I'm generally alright with it.

I was really irritated with it this afternoon. I'm not being payed assistant coach salary. I didn't sign up to be the coach, I signed up to run. The whole bit was stressful. Trying to shuttle everybody over there was obnoxious. It ends up that I have a very unique vision of what our treadmill work out is. I've been doing it wrong for a year now.

So, I was pretty mad about stuff. I shouldn't have had to be in charge.

Yeah, grow up pansy boy.

You're totally capable of managing 20 athletes in a gym. That's cake. You've done it before. You could forge them into an amazing troupe of acrobats in 45 minutes if you really needed to. This is not something that you can't do, so stop complaining.

I figured that out tonight. The situation isn't about to change. It seems that no matter what I do, I'm taken off of the normal path and put aside as the gopher. It happened at Ike, it's happening at Taylorsville. "What's that Sharpe? You need me to crawl in the ceiling, locate the black wire in the dark, and then feed it through to you 30 feet away? And make sure that I don't not touch the "lava" ceiling tiles, suspend my weight from heating ducts and I-beams, dodge dead animals, cat-5 cable, and piping? And you want a sandwich too? Alright, you're the boss; I'll get the suit on."

"Hey coach, how's it goi- Oh, I get to be the coach today? And you don't want tomatoes on your sandwich? Ok, sure thing."

It's going to happen. I don't do well as a drone. I think I'm destined to grow up to be a personal assistant.

That irked me a lot today. I didn't want to be like that.

But really, I am going to be like that. That's the way things are going to work, and I'm going to make it work out dang good, thank you very much.

I'm good at it. I've had a lot of practice. So what's the problem with doing it a little more? There isn't any. I'm changing my attitude. I'm not going to get stressed any more. I'm just going to do a good job, and not worry about the deeper questions behind the issue. Should I be the coach? No. Should I be the adult in charge at the gym? No; I drive a minivan.

That's not the point. The point is, I'm going to do the best job. People are going to be blown away. It's going to be intense.

In other news, we're playing cottonwood on Friday. Yeeha, I am excited. It will be a fun adventure.

Speaking of adventures, we're going to change things up schedule-wise. I think we're only going to play Ultimate every other week. Therefore, the Ultimate-less weekends will be reserved for quality adventures. I am going to spend some time planning something awesome, and we'll go for it.

Dear afternoon version of me,

Don't be a pansy. The world will continue to throw blunt objects your way. Stop the Hollywood act. Don't step in front of them and claim they're out to get you; you look stupid. Don't just take the beam and walk to first. It's time to smack those blunt objects out into the bleachers, give the cynics something to shake them out of that pessimistic dust they've been snorting. Stop rolling over and start making the world what you want it to be. You're not the victim. Pick the situation up and make it what you want.

-Evening version of me.

P.S. I like the hair.

-Amendment about 30 minutes later-

What's the deal with everyone harpin' on the immigrants? You're not better than them, and they're not ruining our lives. I did absolutely nothing to earn my citizenship. I got it for free. Letting our friend Hernando come to the states by hopping a fence and giving him citizenship does NOTHING to make my citizenship worth less. They want to sing the National Anthem in Spanish? Sounds great to me.

Really. I can't understand all the haters. I can accept that people have different viewpoints, but I don't see where they came from. I think it's fear and prejudice, honestly.

My hard theory: Suck it up. I'm not going to beat around the bush. They're coming, whether or not you accept that. They're real people too, with families and hopes and dreams just like you. You are not better than them. You are not superior because you were born in the states and had citizenship handed to you. "But I'm going to have to adapt! That's retarded, they should change for me, not me for them!" They've already changed. You're not better than them, meet them halfway. You're not the king of the hill because you got here first.

Really. Give it up folks, it's going to happen. Accept it. I don't see a problem with it. This was prompted by a forward I got, something about singing the national anthem in Spanish. I can't believe someone is actually upset about that.

If you can't tell, this has been on my mind for a while now. Rockwell made the point about giving just one more person citizenship makes my personal citizenship worth less. Supply and demand, right?

While I value and love this country, I can't help but remember that I did nothing to gain my citizenship. It was handed to me for free based on variables that I had nothing to do with to my knowledge. According to me, having or not having citizenship doesn't change a thing for me. I can't vote or hold public office. Neither can non-citizens. This might be a little 'blasphemous' to the haters out there, but right now, my citizenship doesn't mean much to me.

I love the fact that I live in America. This country is amazing. It's beautiful and logical and grand.

The fact remains. My life isn't impacted for the next three years whether I'm a citizen or not.

So why should I be upset about letting my citizenship mean less because we're letting a guy named Hernando get it by hopping a fence? I have no idea.

But apparently, some people do. Congratulations on being born on the right side of the fence. You're obviously superior, I wouldn't want to ruin your happy parade by disgracing it by, ya know, sharing the same status you share.

I'll leave you and your special drinking fountains alone. I'll go learn spanish, and you stay proud of your status and refuse to change. Sounds great.

Rahaha, bunch of haters. I just don't get it. Give it up, you're not better. "Oh noes, teh Spanish signs at WalMart!"


-Third edit-

This argument doesn't apply to veterans or immigrants who have become citizens. Both of the aforementioned worked for the rights that they have. I have great respect for those people. Because they have done work, they are justified in calling me a dirtbag for the things that I have said. As for me, I'll even call myself a dirtbag. My citizenship was handed to me, so I don't mind handing it to somebody else. Veterans and legal immigrants can disagree. I can't. That is all.

Sunday, November 12, 2006


It's 1:50 something AM, and I'm really hungry. That's not the point of this post.

Happy veterans day folks, and happy birthday to my good buddy Nick. What a stud.

Anyways, in honor of all the good men and women who have fought to keep our country and the world safe from the bad guys, we thought that it'd be fitting for us to retire an American flag.

However, we had no American flags on hand. Still wishing to honor our veterans, we did the next best thing.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Proposal with graphics

There are no graphics in this post.

I have a proposal for you all. If you accept, you will be a part of the greatest competition since that one time we all tried to hold our breaths the longest and kyle passed out.

How often does one go to a region dance and find themselves terribly disappointed with the DJ's selection of music? I'll tell you:

too often

This is your chance to do what you've always said you could - create a better playlist than the DJ.

The challenge: create the greatest region dance song list ever. Then burn a copy and give it to me.

The details: Region dances are three hours long. You are assigned to create an hour and a half list at minimum, with a maximum of three hours. Good luck fitting that on one CD, I'd suggest a DVD. Details aren't too necessary, it's pretty self explanatory. You need to find a healthy balance between fast songs and slow songs, pumping songs and lyrical songs, white guy music and black guy music.

Really it's up to you. The destiny of 200 region dance kids is in your hand. Are they going to have a good night or not?

The contest will be judged by myself, and some others if I feel like it. I will be analyzing every CD I get to determine the very best. The winner's prize will be discussed a little lower.

Here are some helpful hints.
  1. Only like, 3 people know how to swing dance. Keep that in mind.
  2. Points will be seriously deducted for including boot/scoot/boogie. Inversely, failure to include cotton eye joe will also be punished.
  3. You can't please everybody, so please the people that are important to you.
  4. Find a healthy balance of slow songs. That's why half of the people go to region dances. How many slow songs are too many slow songs? No one knows, but I'm all about more slow songs.
  5. Trends are important, notice them. It might not be the best idea to place a slow song right after a really fast song. People like me get sweaty during fast songs.
  6. The end is crucial. It is critical for you to end in a slow song. Failure to do so will result in riots.
  7. Remember to keep it region dance appropriate. I don't want to hear swearing whilst I'm grooving.
  8. If you feel like being creative you can designate certain slow songs as girl's choice, although this is risky and the actual benefits haven't been conclusively studied yet.
  9. Bonus points if your region dance has cookies.
That's the contest. Here's why you should play, check it out ->
  • It gives you an opportunity to explore your own musical tastes. It's a challenge to see how good you are.
  • It gives you a greater appreciation for the DJ's. They don't know what they're doing either.
  • It gives me a greater musical library. Hahaha, burn your cd's so I can "analyze" them. Please, I just want your music.
  • ....and your ideas. Right.
  • They'll be analyzed and mocked/praised publicly by yours truly on this here blog. I'm going to have good times with these, letting you know exactly how I feel. "Yeah, maybe that'd work at a Granger region dance."
  • One day I'm going to host a rebel dance. You know that it's going to happen one of these days. This insight will prove invaluable in my quest to create the greatest region dance ever.
  • It lets you finally say "I made a better region dance song list than this crappy DJ..." instead of the less-than-awesome "I could make a better song list...". Impress your friends with some genuine credibility behind your statement. This'll hold up in court. It's going to be that good.
  • It'll be very interesting to see the differences between boys and girls. I wonder who'll put more slow songs, the guys or the girls. I bet guys, but then again, I don't have any data to go from yet.
  • If you're crowned region dance song list champion of the world, I'm going to make a killer music video using a bunch of music from your list. I'll even dedicate it to you. You can count on this one, because I've been dying to make a music video for a long time now. But, I won't do it if only like, two people play. If more than 6 do it, I'm going to be all over it.
  • Yes, you can work in partners. You can build friendships through region dance music. Hooray.
There you go friends. The challenge has been raised. Can you do it? Do you have the management, organization, and hip skills it requires to create a killer region dance song list?

There's only one way to find out.

Many will enter, few will win.

The official challenge begins right now. It'll be publicized more throughout this next week, you can help with that too. Dooooo it. Let me know if you're going to play or not. If you need a cd/dvd let me know. It'll make me feel better about myself because I've got something that you don't. Maybe I'll give you one too, we'll see.

Region Dance IV Life.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006


Today in English we had an assignment to write an aphorism - a short and witty line that captures a strong belief that you hold about life.

Now, I knew there were about a million of them hidden away somewhere in my noggin that I had thought of previously. My memory was temporarily blocked however, and so I had to fish around for some new ones. I came up with three, distributed between myself, an 'anonymous' contributor, and Jason. Here's what we came up with.

#1, submitted by Christopher Thatcher

If you aspire to become a high school physics teacher, you should probably start collecting matching shoes and watches now...

#2, submitted by Anonymous. (it was me!)

High school relationships are alot like peeing in a urinal. Great and all, but if you get too close it'll come back and hit you.

#3 was mean, so we had Jason turn it in as his. We'll leave it to him to post it. C'mon slacker.

It's been long enough, I guess it's time to post that gym idea before it leaves my brain forever. I've held it in so long that it's lost a lot of its luster for me, I don't like it as much right now as I did back in the day when my neurons first proposed it. But hey, I'm going to lose it if I don't post it, so I might as well.

/turns on my 'ideas' music. (Dream Big - Ryan Shupe and the Rubber Band)

Everybody loves going to the gym. It's good for you. As you work out your body reduces endorphins, natural happy pills inside your brain. Your lose body fat and gain muscle mass. You find daily tasks easier and quicker, your balance is improved, and your self esteem goes through the roof. Your mind is sharper and life is better.

Exercise is an integral part of achieving happiness during your journey through life. I am confident that there is a direct relationship between the amount of exercise we get and our personal health and happiness. All of our mental and emotional capacities are improved as we improve our bodies.

In this busy world that we live in it is difficult for many to find time to exercise regularly. Gyms provide the only viable opportunity for many to get a good work out. Most don't have time to go on a nine mile run on the parkway, and few are going to be able to find a nice mountain trail to bike on for half an hour. Many gyms are available 24 hours a day to help you become better. As you drive home from work, you're free to stop in and bike for 20 minutes and follow it up with a little lifting.

The idea here is that it's quick, easy, and good for you. Gyms exist to make the whole working out experience available for everyone. I love the gym. The entire facility is pervaded with an aura of self improvement that I haven't found anywhere else in the world. Everyone there is there to make themselves better. It's not like school where the masses are funneled into molds in the hope that they will catch a bit of knowledge along the way. There are no unwilling participants at the gym, no one is forced to be there. They made the choice to come and work out in order to make themselves better. That, friends, is a very noble choice to make.

One would think that, assuming the information I have given you is accurate, everyone would be going to the gym regularly. No one would be left without a workout, the whole world would be healthier.

Unfortunately, that is not the case. A very small percentage of the world has a membership to a gym. There are a number of reasons for this, and I have identified my main three.

  • Cost. Most gyms charge a monthly membership fee.
  • Boredom. Cycling for 30 minutes while watching silent day-time soap operas and reading poorly typed captions gets old after a while.
  • Time constraints. Many are just too busy to find an hour to hit the gym.

Now, I am no expert on gyms. The truth is that I've only ever been to one, and I've never payed to be there. I truthfully do not know how the whole business side of it works. I do however have a lot of time to sit and think whilst I run or cycle at the gym, and I believe the increased oxygen flow to my brain facilitates greater mental reasoning than under normal circumstances. So, without further ado, my concept to solve the aforementioned problems.

Imagine a gym with no membership cost. A gym that you could walk right in to without ever signing a paper. Music to my ears, but it presents a serious problem for whoever is running the gym. They stand to do nothing but lose money on the adventure, gyms are expensive to keep going. You've got to pay for the equipment, the lease on the land and building, the utilities, the janitors, the workers.

So how can one make money without charging membership fees? Well, what do you have to work with?

As a gym, (and a free gym at that), you have a multitude of people coming to you every day who want to do nothing more than expend excess energy. Everything they desire for the next hour of their life revolves around moving weights from one place to another, whether that weight be their own body or a plate of iron.

These people come every day. They stay anywhere from 30 minutes to three hours, and most of them smell terrible by the time they leave. In any given day, the combined miles your gym will travel in cycling and running will total over 1000 miles. You will move ridiculous amounts of weight, defeat even the most stubborn antiperspirant.

You have, at your disposal, an army of workers that want to give up their work for free. You are leaps and bounds ahead of even the most crooked fruit farmers. The trick is learning how to make money off of these costumers without ever charging them for coming in.

So, how do you do it? Convert your gym into a genuine power plant.

When I bike, I bike hard. I pump the resistance level way up and pedal my heart out. I set a goal to travel six miles in 15 minutes. I know the pace that I have to follow, and I set out to do it. If I find myself behind target, I pick it up and pedal like mad. The last two minutes are always the worst. My thighs burn like mad, the oxygen cycle is accelerated and my heart rate goes through the roof.

And for what? Better legs and lungs tomorrow, and the satisfaction that I hit my goal. Where does all my work go? No where, the bike just cycles. The resistance is applied, and all the work I do against it does nothing but heat up whatever is holding the pedals back. All that energy is essentially wasted as heat.

Enter the next generation of work out equipment. This time instead of me turning a closed system that does nothing but work against friction when I pump those pedals, I'm going to be producing pure and unadulterated electricity. We've all played the original Mario Party, and most of us have been lucky enough to be drawn to play the one player mini game in which Mario must blister-pedal a bike to power a giant light bulb before boo shows up and eats him.

Now, our bikes don't have giant light bulbs on them, and boo hasn't attacked any of my costumers yet. However, the concept is the same. You are pedaling and converting your own mechanical energy into electric current.

All the bikes are like this, and they are all feeding in to your main gym grid. Your elliptical machines are the same as well. Rigging the weight machines will be slightly trickier, but still practical and possible.

Essentially, all of your machines will be about producing electricity to be sold back. Due to this design there's a good chance that the gym will not have any treadmills. Treadmills are the only machine that I haven't found a way to make a positive energy exchange on. Everything else stands to make some serious wattage.

That's the concept. Create a gym that is, for all intensive purposes, a power plant. Offer people a convenient place to come and cycle at, elliptical at, and lift at. Harness the power of the masses, and convert their mechanical energy into electrical current.

Now, chances of making a lot of money on this scheme are pretty low. What's the membership fee for a normal gym for a month? Let's just say 30 dollars.

Ok wow. I just did some calculations. It ends up that in 2004, a kilowatt hour of electricity was selling for something like 9 cents. A kilowatt hour is the same as 3.6 megajoules, or 3,600,000 joules. A joule, as we know, is defined as the energy required to exert a force of one newton for a distance of one meter.

However, thanks to wikipedia, we figured out that a kW h = 860,000 calories. Those are the scientific calories, not the working out calories. Working out calories are in fact kCals, or 1000 calories.

So, in short. If you were to burn 860 calories and lose no energy to heat, and then sell off all of that madness, you'd get about 9 cents out of the deal.

But hey, look on the bright side. You'd burn 860 calories. After a week of that you're gonna be ripped.

Back to all seriousness. That's all based on random stuff that I just pretended to learn 10 minutes ago. It may or may not be accurate. For the sake of me not feeling like I wasted the last hour of my life writing this plan, let's continue.

We're going to pretend that the mechanical advantage that a bike makes for me lets me make a whole lot more energy than normal. We're also going to assume that the future is going to bring us even more efficient bikes.

The concept is easy here. You build a gym that costs as little as possible to operate. You don't have anything too fancy. No swimming pool, no treadmills. Just the basics, what the common man wants. Who honestly comes to a gym to swim? Maybe .5% of the actual population of the gym ever swims. Therefore, don't spend resources on it.

You don't need a huge facility. During the day you don't need to run the lights, let the sun-lights pour in and light everything up. Build it as energy efficient as possible. Put solar panels on the roof just for fun. Then, hook all of your machinery up to a grid, and hook that grid back up to the city. Take care of all the power that your gym requires (very little) and sell the rest back.

You're not going to turn a profit like this, unless something revolutionary happens. However, you can cut costs, making things easier on everybody. Maybe it's 5 dollars a month instead of 30. Find other ways to make money off of your costumer base. Sell T-shirts, show nothing but advertisements on your televisions. Tempt them with delicious delicious gatorade marked up to a dollar a bottle.

In short, a power plant of a gym does several beneficial things for the world.
  • It has a negative carbon footprint. This baby is giving back to the environment, none of this taking away crap. Instead of contributing x amount of CO2 to the environment annually, this thing is technically taking it away. It's not only powering itself, but it powers the walmart down the street as well.
  • It creates a cheap way for people to get a work out. They don't have to pay 30 dollars to come work out, they just show up. You win, they win. We all win. Everyone is healthy, and the world is a better place.
  • If you're tricky enough you can make a little money off of it. Like, really tricky.
So that's the main idea. There's more that could go along with it. You could team up with the government to get some financial support. You could build it connected to the next library that they're gonna build, make it a partnership.

Simply put: It's ridiculous that all the lung-bursting work I like to do on those cycles does nothing but convert the glucose in my cells to ATP, then that ATP to making those cells do stuff. Those cells doing stuff makes my muscles contract, those muscles make my legs move. That mechanical energy my legs exert move the pedals. The pedals are hard to move because there's a big brake pad rubbing up against the disc inside that I'm spinning. You know what happens to the brake pad? It heats up, and that's all.

Why not fight global warming while I'm pedaling away? Why not relieve some of the stress on the power grid? Why not try to make a crazy business model fly?

Haha, that's all I've got folks. I wonder how short I could make this if I wanted to. Let's try really fast.

I've got a new business model for gyms. Instead of charging membership fees you make it so all your bikes make electricity when they are pedaled, and then you sell that electricity back to make money.

Wow. That was short.

But my post wasn't, it was long.

C'mon friends, smile. Things are alright. We're going to make it. We've seen plenty of trouble already, but none of it managed to kill us. It's not the first time there's been drama, and it's not the first time you didn't stick a 4.0; we survived the last time, we're going to survive this one.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

I don't know, a million?

A million things to say.

I was going to go to bed early.

But writing brings me way too much joy, I gotta jump in.

One day soon I'm going to roll my blog over to the beta. Currently I'm not allowed to, but that should change soon. It's going to be a momentous occasion. I think you're going to like the stuff that'll come along when it happens. I know I will.

Let's just hop right into this madness shall we? First order of business, Ultimate.

You all know that all of my ultimate dreams and aspirations were heavily influenced not only by the scottish rock band LifeGym, but the generation of frisbee players that came before me. They were my heroes, I wanted to be just like them. I'm not sure how we'd stack up against them right now if we played them in their prime versus us in our prime, it'd be close.

I remember that they didn't play as often as us during the school year. Chances to get together with everyone's hectic schedule were few and far between. In order to preserve some level of Ultimate, they made a deal. They decided that they would have an Ultimate game every night directly preceding a school dance. So, night before homecoming, they're up super late playing Ultimate. Night before sweethearts? Oh yeah, Ultimate at Bennion El.

Now, keeping with my theme of world domination, I'd like to one-up them. With us playing as often as we are it'd be stupid to claim that we're going to play every night directly preceding a school dance. That's like saying I'm going to eat lunch tomorrow, it's nothing special and we know that it's going to happen.

So, how do we one-up the sages? We have inter-scholastic competition every night directly preceding a school dance.

Yup, we want to play Cottonwood on November 17th. They don't exactly know this yet. But we're working on it, I promise.

7 on 7, our turf.

More details to come later, don't get too excited about this.

I mean sure, get excited. Just don't pee.

Topic two: Democrats now control the house.

Whoop-de-friggin-do. Really now, I don't care who controls the house. I don't. Really. You know what I've got to say to the democrats that just got elected?

"Congratulations on your election. I hope you're proud to represent the American people. Now go make the country better."

It's the exact same message I've got for the republicans. Great job guys, go keep the country working. This whole party system is bogus. I know that it'll take ages to get rid of it, but I'm starting now. I feel that the only way to get rid of the system is to get the common man against it. I will not be a hippy, I will not be a weirdo that preaches against the party system every day of my life, yelling my brains out. No, because those folks don't have any credibility with me. I see weirdos, and I say "look honey, weirdos" to my imaginary girlfriend.

I'm one guy that doesn't like the party system. Let's get rid of it and make the country work better. That's all.

So, congratulations. I hope that this new alignment of representatives is a more accurate and up-to-date portrayal of what the American public wants. Do good stuff.

Take luck too.

Topic the third, my issues with English.

Where to start? I haven't had this much trouble with a class since seventh grade. I oppose everything that I am being taught, the class constantly angers me, and I'm pretty confident that Harward is taking advantage of a loop hole in the oil-for-food program.

I'll come out and say it.

The last assignment we had taught us how to write really attractive sentences. They are intended to sound mature and and sophisticated. They employ big words and make ample use of the required terms.

Great huh?

It's a valuable skill that we're supposed to bust out on the AP test when we're writing essays.

Great. I know how to write a great paragraph about syntax.

Too bad I never learned anything about syntax. Too bad I have no clue how to establish an author's purpose from a piece.

We're over here learning how to write a sentence that makes us look smart. We were assigned to write seven or so of these things. I don't believe a word that I wrote, and I don't believe a word that anyone else wrote. I am effectively being educated in the art of deception.

"This will make you look good."

"But what if I'm not good?"

This will make you look good anyways."

"But I'm not good, that's lying."

But you'll look great."

"This is a load of bull crap and everyone can see it. I just wrote a sentence with 5 words in it worth millions of points in scrabble and not one syllable of it has any truth to it."

But you sound so mature."

"I pose the question- Are the AP readers looking for mature writing or clear and intelligent thinking? Is the course designed to teach us how to lie about rhetorical strategies, or is it designed to teach us to recognize and understand their value? If I have no idea what effect the author's tone had on the piece why should I write a paragraph about it?"

Don't make me call you sophomoric."

Yeah, that's about how it goes in my brain. I'm sparring the imaginary Mr. Jarwood. His tag team partner happens to be a giant alligator wielding a machine gun.

But it's ok, my partner is Glen.

We can't lose.

But yeah, that's the question that's been on my mind for a really long time. Is it better to learn how to be stupid and look smart, or is our time better spent making us smart so we can, ya know, look smart naturally? Why don't we spend some more quality time talking about this stuff instead of faking this stuff?

Right now English is combining three things I can't stand. Needlessly flowery language, lies, and templates.


"Write 3 different sentences using:
  • the author's name
  • plus one of these terms (sophisticated, varied, inventive, sparkling, effective, carefully crafted, flashy) use a different term for each sentence.
  • plus the word diction
  • plus a valuable verb combined with the function of the word (what the word does for the piece)
  • plus examples"
Really, it's just hard for me to throw a bunch of lies through a template and call it beneficial to my chances of passing the AP test. I think he's trying to make us better writers.

You can teach a man to write. You cannot, however, teach a man what to write.

"This is how you'll start all your paragraphs" -the imaginary mr. Jarwood.

It's just not something I like to do. Being forced to lie about something with fluffy language is one of my least favorite things in the world to do.

The stuff I wrote:

Coffer's simple tone transcends the problems of complex texts by burrowing a subteranean tunnel underneath complexity to allow the least intelligent readers an opportunity to feel the importance of her message about racism by setting the stage in common every day locations such as the coffee shop or hotel.

Coffer's light tone creates an atmosphere where readers can appreciate her message without becoming overly emotional in order to add more importance to her main points instead of invoking pity by establishing her attitude towards her offenders as sorrow for their ignorance instead of anger early on.

Miller's humorous tone liberates his audience from the pain and emotional damage of the witch trials in order to allow them to lead guilt free and happy lives by creating comical situations such as proctor's hanging or Cheever's obvious man crush on danforth.

Miller's impartial tone betrays his characters by allowing the injustices of Salem's court to find the innocent guilty in order to create a sense of helplessness and frustration in his readers by forging the court to be a bunch of retarded old men asking questions like "if you don't know what a witch is, how do you know you are not one?"

Miller's short and repetitive syntax in Act III during which Abigail and her chorus repeat everything Mary says multiplies the terror and frantic tension in the courtroom. His fast-paced and simple back-and-forth dialogue creates text that can be read or spoken very quickly, thereby opening a channel for the reader to have their emotions influenced. The screaming of Abigail and Mary, with Proctor and the judges bickering in the background contribute to the quick and short syntax that leads to a chaotic feeling in the hearts of the audience.

Coffer's balanced and varied syntax strikes the reader as logical and aesthetic, allowing one to absorb the underlying message without overburdening themselves with the difficulties of decoding vieled motives hidden behind fragmented sentences and an abundance of commas. Throughout the piece Coffer writes as one who is speaking to a group, giving the essay a natural and familiar feel. By shaking things up she keeps the audience interested and content. She varies between short and quick to long and beautiful in an attempt to educated me about the misconceptions about latino women.

No really. It's not even true.

Do you remember that post I wrote ages ago about words? About the relationship between the number of words and the value of words? Language follows the same rules that govern any basic economy - it's all supply and demand.

When there are four bananas and 300 people all want a banana, each banana is therefore worth a fortune. When there are 3 billion grapes and 4 people want one grape a piece, grapes are worthless.

As the supply of the product goes up, the worth of that product goes down. Supply and demand, scarcity brings profits.

Same deal with words. The more words there are, the less each word is truly worth.

For example, if I were to suddenly die in a baking accident I'd like to have my coolest posts printed off and given to friends and whatnot. As of several posts ago I had pages upon pages of writings in this blog. 250 or something. No one wants to read that. If I handed Kyle 250 pages of crap I had written before I died I doubt he'd read it. However, if I handed him my one best post about life, the one that made me want to be the very best person I could be, then he'd read it, and then it'd mean something.

The more words I write, the less each word is worth. It really balances itself out, because if every word is worth two and I write one hundred of them I've got a value of 200 on my hands. If I write double the words each one is worth half as much, but I still end up with 200.

The point is, I hate flowery words that don't mean anything. I hate making things longer than they need to be. I hate expending valuable resources on something that I don't believe in. I hate to betray the eloquent words that I collect for use in papers on describing someone's tone that honestly just didn't do it for me.

Know what I mean?

I ran in to the same problem with my history DBQ today. Way too much worried about the format of that thesis sentence. I was running around with Rockwell's format, doing things his way.

But that didn't work out for me. It took way too much time and it didn't end up right in the end.

And then I remembered- you already know how to do thesis statements, and you can do them well. Thank you Ms. Ward.

Her version is simple and authoritative. You say what you think as if it were fact and call it good. "The issues that led to the creation of political parties in the united states were the creation of a national bank, assumption of domestic debt by the federal government, growing regional differences and a constant fear of a return to oppression by a strong central government."

None of this "While America was taking its first steps as a nation, blah blah blah"

Keep it simple, stupid.

Say it and shut up, stupid.

Thank you Mr. Morris.

I totally played the stupid role today. I said it, but wouldn't shut up. It's all about shutting up once you're done saying it.


Speaking of AP, I really really love the AP test prep book Rockwell made us get. The people that write those are brilliant. I've only read the tips for the multiple choice portion, but wow, it's good gravy. The stuff they tell you is genuinely going to help you on the test.

Which brings up my next point. I want to be a model for the AP prep books. I want to be the guy in the green sweater on the cover of the 2008 edition. I can even put my head down to look like I'm studying. It'll be great.

Hydroxide snap, I really need a job this summer. A well paying one. I'm looking for something intense, something to make me earn my money.

See, life is expensive. The first summer I worked carpets I spent the majority of it on Stallion. The next summer I made about 1,200 dollars, and saved pretty much all of it. I've been living off of the past two years, and it's sitting at about 400 dollars left right now.

Considering I've got four 82 dollar AP tests to take later this year, it's going to be a very tight squeeze to make this last till summer.

Either way, I can get by being cheap. I've just got to get a ton of money this next summer. I would love to work carpets again, but I doubt that that'll be a possibility. Right now I'm really looking at manual labor as the preferred choice. I can't stand retail, and it's a great feeling to know that you're actually accomplishing something. With carpet you could look and see "Hey, the work I did yesterday DID make a difference, the room STILL has new carpet!" This is opposed to retail, where your mindset is something like "Ok..... if a costumer comes in I'm gonna help them. Otherwise I'm gonna keep on vegitating. Ok go."

See, if you exist simply to respond to stimuli you're nothing but 4 other requirements away from being classified as alive. You've got to be the stimulus, you've got to make things happen.

Plus, I can definitely see myself making alot of money in manual labor, as opposed to not a lot working at say, Jamba Juice.

I'm starting another blogaday. For the next week, at least. It's going to be on the lowdown. I'm just going to post every day. It's the plan.

I really do think that it's time to go. So, have a nice night friends. Thanks for listening. I've got a cool competition idea for you all to come later. Have a good one, toodles~

Monday, November 06, 2006

Changed for the Better

(8) Because I knew you.... (8)

Good song, 'gotta love wicked.

It's been a good day. I really love Sundays, they're just so good.

Tonight as I attempted to work on my English homework, I had a realization. There were much more important things for me to do.

And so I laid my homework aside and moved on to greener pastures. Yes, my homework is due tomorrow. It is not completed, but we've got that morning after grace period. I'm glad that I made this decision.

I sent a number of E-letters today that needed to be sent. I wrote to an old acquaintance I hadn't talked to in a really long time, as well as my big brother in Costa Rica. He's serving a mission right now, and it's always so cool to be able to write to him every week.

See, I rarely get into the E-letter thing. With the advent of messenger, e-letters don't get sent as often as they could. It's like text messaging versus calling someone. It's alot easier to send a text than it is to call somebody.

But, tonight, as I got in to writing these two people I realized something. I got the same feeling that i get when I blog except even cooler. It really is the same concept. I was sharing with my brother the things that I've been thinking about, the things that have gone on, all that business. It's the same stuff I do here. The difference was evident though, I was able to make the letter personal. It was just me and him. Didn't have to worry about weirdo's figuring out who I am and attempting to kidnap me mid-race. No worries about weirding out my audience with all the personal stuff.

It was nice to have a little heart to heart with my big brother, even if he's not going to read it until tomorrow morning.

I liked it so much, I want to share it with all of you. Because I consider you my friends I want to help you make your lives better. Seeing how much you have helped make mine so much greater than it would be without you, I figure I owe you.

So here's the challenge: send a friend or loved one an e-letter today. It will mean a lot to them, and it will help you learn more about yourself.

You stand to lose absolutely nothing by sending someone special an e-letter. On the other hand you are lined up to go on to great heights by doing so. You could make someone's day, you could help them out of a rough spot.

That's today's challenge. Send one person an e-letter. It doesn't have to be big. It doesn't have to be deep. Just send one person one e-letter. If you happen to recieve a special e-letter today, well, you've got a good friend somewhere. You know what to do, don't let it die.

That's the deal, do it. Please don't send everyone on your contact list an e-letter. If you've got more than one person you want to write to, write more than one letter.

It'll be good, I promise. I love e-letters. You can write to anybody. You can write to me, you can write to your mom, your old friend you had a falling out with years ago. Maybe it's time we get back to talking with one another. Maybe it's time to fix the problems of the past and move on to greater planes with each other.

That's my challenge to you, and I hope that you'll take it. Invest 15 minutes and make the world a better place. Send an E-letter to a friend. You know who to write to, you've got the power. Make somebody's day better, help them smile through the trials they're facing.

Come on everybody, let's make the world a better place.

P.S. It's just an email. E-letter is just more appropriate and more correct. Therefore, send an "email". But really you are sending an E-letter. That is all.

Saturday, November 04, 2006

Reinstating the Wonder Years

I can't ruin tonight, it's just too good.

Tonight we returned to Bennion Elementary to feel the flow again.

It's been a while. The first time we heard the lights were out was Oct 6th, just shy of a month ago. That means that it had been a week since we had played there.

We hadn't blessed the field with Ultimate for a month. I don't know how it survived.

Even more than that, I don't know how I survived.

4 weeks without amazing Ultimate? No way.

Sure, there was Ultimate. There was even some really really good Ultimate.

But it's just not the same. There's a certain magic flowing at Bennion Elementary, something we can't quite explain.

Countless generations have played there. We were not first, nor will we be the last.

It's like meeting an old friend after a long time apart. You wonder if she's changed, you wonder if you've changed.

You go to meet your old friend at the airport, and things just start to line up. It ends up she hasn't eaten since she left nepal where she was helping kids take care of their teeth. You go to a restaurant and your waiter mentions the monkees. You remember your love of their music, and just then a total stranger calls you on your cell phone and saying nothing plays all their greatest hits to you and your friend.

You walk out of the restaurant, and she slips on a stray parrot, right into your arms. Then superman flies by and drops a note saying you two should get married.

So you do.

Everything lines up perfectly for 3 hours so you two can get married.

It's a lot like that.

We as Ultimate players had been away from our friend Bennion Elementary for a long long time. Kyle didn't think he could make it this time. The restaurants were so packed that it worked out he could come. The weather lined up to be amazing, not a breeze during any of our games. The right people showed up, everybody had a good time. The grass was cut the right length, there was enough cardboard in the dumpsters to cover the knee-breaker.

All in all, about a million variables came together to create a great night. We had fun, we played quality Ultimate. We talked and laughed and joked and Nick learned a new throw.

What else can be said? It was everything I hoped it would be and more. You can't give up on Ultimate.

Bennion Elementary, oh how I missed ye.

But now that you're back I think we should see each other more often.

Oh... what's that? You think we should see other people?

You think I'm a little clingy?

Well you know what? You don't look too good in track shorts either.

Friday, November 03, 2006

Flow Abstract

One's a random creature that was supposed to be a bird and ended up a quadrupedal monster fighting a little warrior. The other is a collection of lines.

It's all about the flow. About how we react when life hands us a number. What are you going to be when x equals four?

Life is handing out numbers, it's time to step up and take our place. Grab the quantity and become the most that you can based on what you're given. Transform the graph and become better than yesterday.

Be wary of flipping yourself over the x-axis. It smells weird down there.

Just a little advice.

It's all about the flow.

The Flow

Another paint sketch. Not good at all, but a nice distraction. Makes me want to get into sketching on real paper. I hear that's easier than paint.

This whole drawing bit brings up a whole new issue: I need a scanner. I'm way too cheap to go buy one, so I'll have to scan the black market. I know the DI has at least three of them, but I doubt they'd work with XP. We'll just have to see.

The last two days have been fairly large wastes. I come home from school, and I'm home alone, so I go to sleep. Chances are I would go to sleep whether my family was home or not, but when they're gone nobody wakes me up so I end up sleeping for a very long time. It sort of kills the day, that's the truth.

There's an underlying truth here. Life is better when you exercise. That's my belief, for reals. That's the way it works for me, and I'd be willing to wager that it's the same for everyone else. I haven't been running or working out regularly since the CC season ended. I had one intense week of biking and lifting, and this week hasn't been any real workouts at all. I thought that I'd like the freedom of not having to work out every day after school, but it just seems like something is missing. I'm a lot less enthusiastic about everything without a good work out. So, yea verily, I'm going to start working out regularly again. I want to run some super distance soon, get a good nine miler in one of these days. That's the stuff.

One and a half months until I can drive other people around. I am terribly excited. I mean sure, being able to drive is great and convenient and all, but it doesn't offer anything but convenience. Every day I don't die brings me that much closer to being able to go to Walmart at 10:30 and have an adventure with my friends.

Really, it all comes down to social mobility. They talked about it in History, and we're talking about it now. Our legislature has taken away my social mobility. I'm not even mobile when there are other people around. Luckily, it's only a brief lapse of freedom, it'll be back on dec. 15th.


Sometimes I wonder about stuff. Sometimes I have ideas that look really good in my head but that really suck in real life. Like that Jr. Choir sadies list. Looking back on it now, it seems like a terrible idea. At the time I thought it was golden, and I was quite upset when it failed. It only took a few hours to realize how flawed it really was. Moral of the story - we're not as smart as we always think we are.

That's not to say we're not brilliant. We all possess incalculable potential. We've got so much more power than we think. The key is to unleash it. It's all hidden power though, not stuff that we can pop out all the time. It always manifests itself when we need it, but not until then. Basically, I shouldn't get ahead of myself.

I had a cat once.

No really, his name was Harry. Then again, it might have been a her, I really have no idea.

It's all about the flow. How we work together and the reactions that occur when x is equal to four. We, as the responsible individuals that make up the society in which we live are responsible to rise up and counter. If x equals four, you better believe that I'm going to equal some obscure number. You don't even want to know what I've got planned for the day that x equals 5, no sir.

What's the point of it all? truthfully?

I took a 3 and a half hour nap today. It's 12:36 Am, and everyone I know has gone to bed except for me. I've got thoughts in my head that don't mean too much, ideas that aren't going anywhere. I hadn't been able to throw a Frisbee straight for the last three weeks. Yesterday Kyle and Brad helped me figure out the problem.

I was lacking the flow. I was thinking too hard, playing too tense. Gradually I relaxed, and things worked out. It's not so much about the steps we take to throw the disc straight. It's not about all the little things that add up to make a great throw. What really matters, the only stuff that's going to have any influence on the outcome of tomorrow, is going to be where the disc goes and how it flies. If it gets to my target, everything's ok. If it misses, well, it's back to the drawing board.

The point, children, is beyond me.

It's bed time, that's all. This post is scrapped. Maybe one day it'll make an appearance. Until then, you get abstract paint. Scrapped. Drafted. Saved, and good night.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Lack of Sophisticated Title

It's another late evening, and that means that I should be in bed.

I said I'd write a post tonight, so I'm going to. As soon as I'm done with it I'm going to update the Alliance and go to bed. I love going to bed, it's such a great feeling.

See, the processes that I run every night before I go to bed are pretty intense. All in all, the whole battery takes at least half an hour. It's a big time investment. It's not very easy-going stuff, after all, brushing your teeth is hard work. I always check the locks at least twice, not because I'm paranoid, but because I can't remember what the outcome was the first time I did it. I take several huge drinks of water right before bed, I still don't fully understand this one. I drink a lot of that blessed liquid, I figure it's good for me.

Moral of the story is, when I go to bed, it's for good. This isn't some church picnic going to bed festival, oh no, this is the real deal. I know that I've made sure everything is taken care of before I close the book on the day. No loose ends, no unlocked doors, no obligations unfulfilled. I have been preparing and working for this moment for the entire day, it is the culmination of all my hopes and wishes for the past 15 hours. This single moment is the capstone, the final parade of my mind before all becomes fuzzy and forgotten.

In that moment, all is well. I bid farewell to my problems and concerns, my aspirations and synapses and simply let go. It's the end, the finale. I submit, stop fighting against the chemicals in my brain that dull my senses and beg for sleep. I close my eyes, and fulfill the greatest goal of the day-

Get in there tiger, and get out alive.

I made it, no lost limbs. I'm not bald yet, and Michael Jackson still scares the hud out of me. Yep, things are ok, and my brain signs off for the night.

Not sure where that one came from. That whole going to bed thing wasn't premeditated, sometimes it just happens like that. That's sort of why I love this writing business. I've been thinking about a post I'm going to write for a week now, and all the sudden I launch into a expository on my bedtime psychology. Indeed, this keyboard is the gateway to self-discovery and preservation.

My brain really only has one traintrack, two on a good day. Kyle and Nick have 4 a piece. Doc has 17, plus a major airport.

That's not to say that any one person's brain is better than another. I'm just saying that transportation of musical notes in sort of backed up in mine, that's all.

I love to get ideas down on this baby. Things that I've tossed around in my head for a whole week, get them out at their peak and capture the concept for better days. To this day, one of my very favorite posts was called Best Shot

But all in all, the plan remains the same. Keep improving on what you've got, and gradually expand. Keep it simple, live cheap, operate cheap, and save up. Get secure. Eventually, we've got an empire on our hands. What am we gonna do with an empire? We're going to make the world a better place.
Yeah buddy. See, I read that post over one late evening, and it inspired me in a way I hadn't been inspired since I stopped watching Mr. Rogers. It made me remember how I felt that night, and got me thinking about the future again. It was a good deal.

Even more recently, during my search for that particular post 20 minutes ago to figure out the title of it, I ran into my plan to carbonize French Fries. Still a cool idea, still something I want to do. Nothing will stand in my way. To quote a familiar display picture - I'm so gonna be famous.

So what's the new plan? A fitness center with a negative carbon footprint, and an Ultimate sport disc that weighs half a kilogram. See, the negative carbon footprint has been the one that's been kicking around for a week. It initially evolved during the week I was going to 24 hour fitness every day after school like a religious zealot. I was going, and getting the most intense workout I'd ever had in a gym. I biked like mad, ran like mad, lifted like mad. I was like Rambo in there. I had a lot of time to sit and think as I biked, and gradually I began to wonder how I'd run a gym if I were to establish one. That's the most recent idea, one that I've really enjoyed exploring.

Yeah, you don't get to hear about it.

Nice try though.

I'm saving it, again. Just like I've done the last four times I've posted.

It's just too cool to write at one in the morning. I think I'm really going to make a killer post with four or five new ideas, complete with diagrams and stuff. I just think it'd be good times. That's near future material right there.

The lights are back on at Bennion El. Rejoice ye denizens, ye that follow the path of the disc.

All the sudden, things are looking good. First term is wrapped up tomorrow - I do believe I've set my estate in order. I feel like I'm getting ready to die here, like I just finished signing my will. As soon as Friday floats past our grades are final for the quarter. For one who is committed to pursuing the four point oh adventure, it's a big step. This is what it comes down to. The rest of the quarter doesn't matter, this is the piece of pie that either frees the spirit or clogs the arteries. The tipping point, that one extra cholesterol molecule. Forget the past 476, this one will either kill you or fill your stomach with joy. Which side shall prevail?

It's like bowling. You run up to this line and release the 14 pound sphere, praying that it'll hit it's target. Up until a second ago, you were in complete control of that hunk of dead weight. If you wanted, you could have taken the ball on a romantic date to play laser tag. You were in charge, you controlled both your's and Howard's destiny.

In the blink of an eye things are different. Howard is hurtling towards those ten pins, and you're left with nothing but a pair of clown shoes and that hopeful gleam in your eye. You have done all that you could to ensure that the ball hits the pins. It's out of your hands now, the power and outcome lies entirely with Howard.

Howard leans to the left, and you can't do anything but whimper. Howard is magically corrected, and returns to the center of the lane. No matter what happens to Howard after the point that you let go, you had nothing to do with it. He's just going, whether you like it or not.

I've enjoyed my time with my bowling ball of grades. I've done everything I rightfully could to guarantee an outcome more glamorous than a gutter-ball. I've released, Howard is flying.

I'll let you know how he does.

Tomorrow is a brand new day. We've never been there before, and there's a really good chance we'll never get to return. Albert Einstein never took a leak on Thursday, November 2nd, 2006. In all his brilliance and funny hair, he's got nothing on me, cause I'm going to pee on the best day that the world has seen for centuries.

You know what I'm going to do on Friday? You better believe I'm going to proceed to urinate during Friday, November 3rd, 2006 - the greatest day that the world has seen for thousands of years.

Because you know what, things are on the up and up. Granted, the glaciers are on the retreat. Oil prices are still precarious, and Kim Jong still needs a new outfit to wear.

Despite the poorly dressed dictators, the worse-smelling petroleum, things are getting better. I'm going to be smarter tomorrow than I was today. I'm going to far surpass the educational limits of Thursday just as soon as I break into the realm of Friday. Cancer patients are going to have the best chance of surviving that anyone has ever seen come Friday.

Things just keep getting better and better. Tomorrow's a new day.

"Hi, I'm new here. You're new too. Maybe we can be friends.

...But probably not, I'm out of deodorant."

Forever, that's where we're headed. See you there friends.