Ignore this. This was the same as the post following it, so I changed it.

4-22-03-Someday that isn’t tomorrow and isn’t yet yesterday.
Today is the day that it is. It is no other day, and shall always be today, until it no longer is a day, and then shall it be yesterday. At that time, the allocation of space given to tomorrow shall become today, and a new section of time shall fall into the block of tomorrow. Time is only as linear as the people who make it. And so the time of this shall end.

And what thoughts flow in patterns so random, filled with nothing that can be classified as coherent. And not much can be included in that pattern. Speaking of patters, the pattern of the wheel is some what not. Yeah, okay. And Carmel makes the world go round.

To solve the impossible one must be ready to make things imaginary. Listening to strange things will result in who knows what and I don’t care. I think this is full of wacked out junk and needs to be mercifully but out of its misery. Sleep now forever.

"I will fight no more forever." So said some famous soldier, who said he was going the way of peace. And it is supposedly important, but it would only be worthwhile if every person in the world said it, and kept it to their dying day, which will not–cannot–happen. Violence and death are an integral part of human nature, and are imbedded deep within people, far outside the reach of mortal man and of immortal science. It can only be touched by something far outside of us, something that most people fear feeling, seeing, interacting with. And everything people say in context to this usually has no purpose, because they solely advocate what they wish to say, not what they want to say.

Nobody entered the house anymore, for they feared the ghosts, whoever they may be. The first to see them told other he had seen the ghosts of the Wimplys, and all the others who entered there had heard the story, so their perceptual set was set and they were inclined to believe they saw the Wimplys, even though Mr. Wimply was bald, and the ghost wasn’t, and at the time of the first sighting Mrs. Wimply was still alive. It’s interesting how powerful these ideas can get ingrained. For one hundred and fifty years people thought it was the ghosts of the Wimplys that inhabited the house, never once doubting. Well, they probably doubted, just not enough to risk entering a haunted house and find out if they were right. Or enough even to sneeze in favor of another theory. But that’s life for you. To be continued.

Well folks, that’s all for our broadcasting day. We hope you enjoyed listening, and will tune in again tomorrow starting bright an early for your favorite tunes and stories, plays, and your number one news source. We start transmitting at six o’clock on weekday and Saturday mornings, eight o’clock on Sundays. Thank you, and good night.

4-21-03-This is nothing new
Music, words, and noise. Well, music is often just noise with rhythm, a beat, and the occasional nice sounding note combination. Beyond that, it is only an random conglomeration of sounds and ideas, and half the time the ideas are bad, and the other half, they don’t match the sound. But who am I to complain? I’ll leave that to the critics who half the time are over paid, and the other half the time have nothing worthwhile to say. Gesundheit. Why are manners what they are? Or grammar for that instance. These couple of sentences should be a new paragraph, but I left them attached to previous one, which creates mass confusion and hysteria. But back to the point. In a grammatically correct new paragraph.

Why are manners and formality the way they are? Why must the fork go on the left? Why do you wear a boutonniere with a tuxedo(and why is it not called a man-fl–oh, wait. I know why)? Most things pertaining to manners were set down years and years ago by dead sadists whose only goal in life was to create the most diabolical thing that will last the longest time. These are the same people responsible for budgets and the pacer test. Manners should be rewritten by the top minds of today, in order to retain some formality but also to be incredibly functional. These could even help mend the rift between the right and the left, particularly when speaking of hands. And they all said, "Achoo."

Why do people keep paying for their cars? I think you should pay once and be done with it. These monthly payment things are irritating, not to mention expensive. I think I’ve payed for my car a dozen times now. The sales person said it was only $160 per month, but he forgot to mention it’s the same price even if I don’t use the car. I think I’ll sue him for fraud.

If practice makes perfect, why do you need to keep practicing? When you practice so much, you become perfect, and when you’re perfect, you shouldn’t need to practice anymore because you cannot get any better, and being perfect, you can’t get any worse. Clearly, someone forgot to say that while practice makes you perfect, it takes more practice than is humanly possible, so clearly practice makes perfect only in a perfect world, which are isn’t because it clearly didn’t practice. Garn.

I’m not pulling your leg. Break a leg. What’s with these violent leg figures of speech? If someone got down and pulled your leg, you’d probably kick them, not to mention call the police. And possibly mace them. With gasoline. And a lighter. And if someone tells you to break a leg, could you consider that a threat? Try telling the president to go jump off a bridge, and see what happens. The Secret Service will be on you faster than a koala on the last eucalyptus leaf. Koalas are slow. Bad analogy. How about: Like a pack of cheerleaders on the last cosmetic pack. So, if you can’t say that to the president, why can you say it to actors? Are they not really people, and thus not worth protecting? And if they’re not people, do they fall under the animal cruelty act? I always though that was poorly named. It sounds like it is advocating cruelty to animals. Just don’t tell PETA that. They’ll think it was a secret conspiracy, and they’ll stage mass protests to get the name changed, and someone will have to tell them they had their leg pulled, at which time why will attempt to get a legislation passed that pans the pulling of legs of animals, because it would be cruel, although there is no legislation banning it from occurring to humans. Go jump off a bridge(if the president read that, I didn’t mean anything. And if the Secret Service is reading this, I didn’t mean you were like cheerleaders or koalas, though I know which I’d rather be. Ta-ta, I’m off to eat some leaves).

Accents are a form of art and cultural identity. The voice of one from London’s south side is completely different than that of an Australian from Queensland. If a person has an accent, they are automatically believed to be either foreigners or cultured people. Each accent reveals a distinct people and way of life, and they all contribute to the whole. If someone says "‘ere ou arr, ‘Arold," you now you have a wacko on your hand, particularly if your naim ain’t Arold. The language of men comes from many origins, and this makes little sense, due to the interference of communication from other not so fun sources. That’s all folks!

4-20-03
What ever happened to four nineteen? That day just disappeared. Oh well.

I’ve said that a lot, Oh well. As well as Of course. They seem to be the common thoughts that I have. Or don’t have. It doesn’t really matter whether their real or not, as long as they occur.

It was a dark and stormy night, the full moon obscured by the clouds. Well, no one really knows if it was full, because it was obscured by clouds, but a full moon is scarier than a waning three-quarters. The lights on the street glowed dimly, except for those in front of the Wimply Mansion. It couldn’t be rightfully called a mansion, but few people are interested in haunted shacks, so the neighborhood took to calling it a mansion. The street would glow brightly, except for the area directly in front of the broken down house. The area kids would dare each other to touch the old front gate of house as it swung and creaked in the wind. Usually it was another kid who was swinging and creaking it, because there wasn’t much wind in this part of the county. Most people believed it was haunted by the ghosts of the Wimplys, mainly because they heard other people calling it the Wimply Mansion, and figured it would be named after whoever was haunting it. It turns out most people were wrong.

The mansion was in fact haunted by the ghosts of the Turners, who legend has it were murdered in their beds while visiting the Wimplys. Well, legends usually have a way of getting blown out of proportion, but this one actually diminished with time. The truth of the matter is, the Turners were not only murdered at the Wimply’s house, but they were murdered by the Wimplys. The Turners were traveling on their yearly family vacation to the coast, and made their yearly stop to visit their old family friends, the Wimplys. Friends aren’t what they used to be. The Turners always were a little irritating to the Wimplys, but usually they brought good enough gifts for that to be overlooked. This year was different, as seen from the fact that the Turners didn’t survive the trip. It all started when the Wimplys were making breakfast in the kitchen, and the Turners walked in, all ready to eat. Later the Turners sat on the couch to watch TV. The Wimplys were irritated, but it wasn’t much new. Then Mr. Turner went to the store, and when he returned he parked his car in the driveway. It was then they knew the Turners had to die.

Late that night, as the Turners slept soundly, the Wimplys entered their rooms, each armed with rubber chicken. Less than three minutes later, it was over. The Turners had not waken up, and the chickens were unharmed. The next day, the Wimply’s loaded the bodies into the Turners car, telling the neighbors they had a hangover. The drove the car to the bridge, and pushed it off, but not before removing the change from the glove box. They returned home, and acted surprised when they heard a car had gone off the Bridge. They even pretended to sad when they heard the Turners died. Then they were sad, when they learned Mrs. Turner had diamond ring hidden in her pocket that they had failed to take out. The police never suspected the Wimplys, and never even wondered where they got all the moist towelettes. The Wimplys grew old in their house, and died there in peace. The Turners, on the other hand, were not at peace. It is they that haunt the house, waiting, wanting, willing someone to solve their case. But because the police never opened an investigation, there is no case, and thus little chance anyone will solve it. Anyway, on to the house.

The house itself was small, no more than a dozen rooms, four of which are bathrooms. The kitchen is tucked into a corner of the house, and is nothing special to look at. The entire third floor is taken up by an attic, and the second floor is only sleeping chambers. In the basement there are barrels and barrels of what is assumed to be beer, but there hasn’t been any one stupid enough to try it for thirty years, and the last person who drank it died of poisoning. On the other hand, it took him sixteen years until he died, and the police arrested his wife, but everyone knows it was the vats in the basement of the Wimply Mansion.

4-18-03
Not much to say, and not much time to say it in. Or just to say it. Oh well.

4-17-03-Oops I already missed CSI day.
What a way to start a random thought, with a random thought. Of course, all I’ve been thinking about is Pygmalion, and the fact that I can’t appear to type today, but that isn’t a worry. If I have the derivative of one over the square root of two-x plus x-squared, how does that fit in with the inverse trigometric functions that the chapter is about. It is one of the first ones and should be easy, but I am unable–at the moment–to turn it into a functional function that makes any logical sense. I tried making it into a perfect square, but my result was less than perfect, but again shall I try. Soon to return will I, having the evil problem conquered, even if I have trouble spelling conquered. Adios.

I forgot to do the calculus. Or at least get it. Silly me. So this is nothing more than a layaway thought. Soon once more I will not be here, and nothing is to be said that wasn’t once said in times past and locations present. Or whatever. Chao.

Chao looks like chaos. Chaos is not the best thing in the world, but it is inherently in the world. The Second Law of Thermodynamics states that chaos will always in crease in a closes system, and always in the universe as a whole. This presents an interesting theory to the evolutionists. Is the earth a open system, in which things can increase their order, or is it closed, and thus evolution contradicts the laws of nature? Supposedly I must go now.(Imagine Khalil voice).

And now, for less is more. That’s right, the game show in which you get less and we get more. Nothing could be better–for us. Are you ready to play? If not please indicate by reciting the names of all the leaders of China, in alphabetical order, from two-thousand B.C. until the present. Okay, seems everyone is ready to play. Our first questions is: Who invented the question mark? Seeing as no one has answered, the host shall win. The next question: What is the word in the English language most commonly spelled correctly? Oh, I’m sorry. But there is no answer, so the host wins again. Remember, if someone wins three times in a row, the game ends and they are declared the winner. Okay, question three: What is the word for ‘cut,’ in five different languages, three must be extinct. No one again, I win a third time. Game over.

This one has two days in it:
4-15-03-Twos a day
Making weird noises with your mouth is very weird. Needless to say, I have that to say. It was quite needless. The graph of the function y = x^3 + 6x^2 + 7x - 2cos(x) changes concavity at x = ? This is quite the interesting problem. I’ll have to look up concavity, because I thought it was first or second derivative, but I’m not sure. This is question #77, and thus it has a number that is real, and means the question has an answer. And it must be negative, because all five choices are negative. So off we go.

Are there better things to do? He says there is, but not that much. Of course he talks to much and my writing does not come out functional. Now he complains. You’re done! I want to hear no more of this! I want something else to write about because this is truly random and not worth my time but he won’t be quiet! Go away!!!! Now I try to change the subject. There. All changed.
A new subject is nothing new. Of course, it isn’t always that old, either. Well, let’s hope not, anyway. But now I said what I came to said, so I’ll keep saying things until I come up with something new to say that is worth at least a cursory look, if not a full fledged investigation. Further study will result in a complete understanding of nothing, which is the primary goal of this institution. Except this isn’t actually an institution, more of a conglomeration of random thoughts that want to be though of as more than a bad pun in the middle of an ugly sentence. Uh-huh, right. 4-16-03-In the middle. This was to continue yesterdays thought, but the date was enough to disrupt the entire system, so now I am operating off an entirely new thought with no ties to the past future, or any other time that has or ever will exist, except for those times at which someone is reading this and thinking a thought along these lines because they were reading a thought along theses lines, though it was written a long time ago about never being thought again, which makes the entire situation paradoxical and rather strange, not to mention ironic. That was a long sentence, and it basically said nothing worth saying, and everything worth thinking, because it encompassed all thoughts. Right.

Hope springs eternal. I would advise everyone against naming their daughters’ Hope, unless the want the next trampoline champion. Of course, that would suggest Bob Hope is either a big metal spiral or he resembles the season of birth and new life. Birth and new life are really the same thing, except that new life could imply fungus or plants, neither of which give birth, but birth is always new life, so it is unnecessary. It should read "new life and new opportunities" or something along those lines. But of course, I wouldn’t know, because I’m not Bob Hope, nor am I spring. You’ll have to ask them, I suppose. Nothing more is worth to say.

4-14-03-Hmm
Once again, we return to our intrepid random words being presented in a random fashion. Thank you and good night. That’s no way to end! At least it’s too close to the beginning to be an ending, it’s just a waste of space and time. Space and time are linked together in a way, the more space traveled in a given instant, the more time slows down. This leaves one wondering if race car drivers live longer then everyone else. Or if the time difference at that speed isn’t enough to make a visible difference on a living human. Long term astronauts, on the other hand, probably get more years out of themselves because they spend days and days going very quickly around the world.

Why is the word together only one word? It seems just as efficient to make two words, to and gether. Gether would serve many purposes then, such as come gether, which would mean to join up, or just be a form of gather with an accent. But the English language would be much more fulfilling, or at least more complicated, and that’s what we all want anyone. You’re not really a man until you can speak one of the world’s most complicated languages fluently. But that’s just me.

La-la-la-La-La-La-LA-LA-LA-LALALALALALALALA! Tra-la-la, sa-la-la. Now all that is needed is music to go with the words. Coda.

I have no idea what I am going to say, other than this stuff I am already saying. This is not what I was going to say, but because I did, it now must be, or it would not be what I said it was. . .or something like that. I could keep talking in this random form, even though it isn’t really talking because I am saying nothing and my mouth isn’t moving and all that I’m doing is typing words Pygmalion. He never used apostrophes in his writing and everything was harder to read. Sometimes it seems apostrophes are wasted effort because they’re used to break up words, though I didn’t realize that I had used an apostrophe in explaining why apostrophes are overused. I’m really going to know how to spell apostrophe by the time I’m done. I think I’ve used about a half-dozen apostrophes in talking about the need to eliminate them. My hand is beginning to hurt from holding it in the positions it has been in while I type, and the pain is mainly in the palm, and some in the wrist. For a while now, one handed. Boy I type slow with only one hand. Okay, back to two. I can hear Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers soundtrack playing on the CD player behind me. I just changed CDs, now Spiderman is in the first slot, instead of Gods and Generals. D.C. al Coda.

I have no idea what I am going. . .I already said that, didn’t I? Oh, well. My loss, my gain. And you? You stayed perfectly even throughout the entire transaction. And what a transaction was it. Not really, but it feels good to say that. Well, not really either. But there’s no point in not saying it, is there?

4-13-03-Today
Nothing much to say yet. Now to go, and to be elsewhere, not to be here today. But return I will. As I have done. No I no more to say have, so there. Of course, I never was want for little to say, and much of what is said is too much to say. Maybe what one should say is beyond what one can say, and soon beyond what will be said. Or maybe I’m just blathering. Whatever the case, the paragraph is done.

If you have the wind in the willows, can there be wind outside of the willows, or willows in the wind? And if the wind is in the willow, can it ever get out without making a hole in the tree? The wind in the willow isn’t as strong as the wind outside, and it serves no purpose while still in the willow. It can only escape if the wind outside breaks the tree and lets the wind inside out. To revert to an old topic, it would be so much easier if more words could be joined together or made into conjunctions. Instead of wind inside we would say wind’ins, and instead of wind outside we would say wind’outs. Everything would be simpler to write, and people would spend lest time with wasted words. Of course, wind in/outside isn’t a common phrase, so the production bonus would be limited. But any one reading or signing The Wind in the Willows would have a lot easier time of it. But that’s just me talking.

Of course, it’s always me talking. If someone else was talking, that would mean I operate under multiple personalities, and that would just be interesting. Anything else would be pure madness, the umbrella of which covers MP anyway. MP really means Members of Parliament or Military Police. Now that isn’t very nice to the latter, but perfectly describes the former. If all the Members of Parliament were perfectly sane, the government would never get anything done and the country would go to shambles. But with a lack of sanity in at least most of the members, unusual bills, strange ideas, and general nonsense complement and detract from each other to make the perfect laws. On to GOLF.

As many have said before, why do you call golf a sport? All it is a bunch of old guys(and young guys who are old at heart) walking around and hitting small balls with giant clubs. Is it possible to come up with a more inefficient way to use energy? I mean, if you’re going to hit balls, at least make them explosive and help demolish old buildings, or make them out of dirt and fill up all the old holes the miners left in the earth. I wonder what the world record is for the most people hitting a golf ball at the same time is? I think it would be great to gather hundreds of golfers together and hit thousands of balls into the Berkley Pit. If they were dirt balls, they would began to hit each other with the balls. But if we gave them balls of mud, they would soon fill up the pit, and the government wouldn’t have to worry about using superfund money to fix Butte. The water would flood out, and then the town would be no more, and everyone would be happy. Except for maybe those people trying to put a whole bunch of Casinos there. Oh, what a loss.

Speaking of loss–no, nothing to say there. Speaking on a condition an anonymity, I have nothing no say. That is strictly of the record. Politicians always have to have something to say, or they will never get elected. Thus I have to have something to say to everyone I meet, whether man, woman, child, senior citizen, liberal green party member, or donkey. Though the donkey would have better things to say than the green party member. Not that I’m biased or anything, but seeing as the more liberal members of that party want all tech gone, they should go over to a third world country with no technology and spoke some of their grass. Because then they would realize that our grass is much cleaner. Of course, they might also realize that they have to use technology on the trip, and so they’d stay home and chant anti-whatever-it-is-they-feel-like slogans. And then the anti-chanters would show up outside and scream protests, and then everything would fail, and we’d have to quarantine the area. Of course, it would be no loss.

4-12-03-A day with nothing to say

4-11-03-Here I am, once again.
Once again I look upon the place where you died. Once again I’m humbled and broken in side. There I go, stealing someone else’s words to use in my own stuff. Naughty me. Now it’s me. When the wind blows no more, and the sun no longer shines, when the tides no longer flow, and the hills wash away, when the rivers no longer coarse, and the clouds give no rain, still you will be there. When the trees fall down, and the rocks crumble, still you will be there. That was all my own. It was pretty cool. Apparently some people are incapable of singing. Two bad for them. Their missing out on lots of life.

Is it really worth the time to complain? If usually will do nothing for you, and get people either irritated or angry with your personage. Is that a word? Spell checkers not getting it. I suppose it is. Back to the main theme of this paragraph, though. Complaining’s main purpose is to make the complainer feel better by passing his or her troubles off onto someone else. You know what a problem with Latin originated languages is? They have only one it, and it means neither male nor female. Most languages have an it that means both male and female. That is one of the biggest flaws with English, in my opinion. This is a very tangent fulled paragraph. Oh well. It is finished.

Soon to go, soon to return. Or something like that. I’m am here, but not for long. I have little to say, and more to do. The bed awaits, and night does call. Soon this will be nothing, locked in the hall. Random rhyming is scary.

4-9-03-Today
I don’t really have anything to say, nor do I have the time to say it. Of course I had the time to say this, whatever this is. And it shall no come to a close. Have a wonderful evening, and good night. This is actually the 10th.

Part 2:

4-9-03-Etc.
There isn’t much to say here today, other than today is the day that has happened in its correct time frame. That’s another word that should be only one not two. But no one listens to me. They choose to stick to the old grammar books, and not update for the future generations. Nothing ever changes around here, the status quo is way too entrenched in its artificially hideaways. You can’t hide in the imaginary worlds, those are for only the people who really don’t exist, not for those seeking an identity and not finding one, thus attempting to give themselves one through stealing another persons hard work, or at least the home of that hard work. Role playing too often takes the place of reality, but should be its own entity. That is all.

Is it all? Or nothing at all? A simple telephone call. Is it all? See, some songs stay with you for a long time. Of course, it has nor purpose, but it stayed with me. But it does ask a good question. Is it all? Of course, that leaves you wondering ‘Is what all? Is the world all there is, or is that all the food I will get?’ So many things could fit here, that it is the perfect ambiguous question. The police officer tells you why he pulled you over, you respond ‘Is it all?’ He wonders if you pulled something else illegal, and you have no idea what you are saying. If you win the lottery and come to collect, the response after you get your money should be ‘Is it all?’ Never say ‘that,’ because they’ll either think you’re complaining or want a stiffer punishment. Always it. And I can guess what you readers will say when I finish this paragraph, unless you slept through the first half and ignored the second.

Of wastes of time, this is the least of the worlds dangers. Anything greater will result in an interesting day, and people will wonder about it. Of course, I have said of course a lot in these last couple of sentences, and it has little importance to the issue, which I have now forgotten. Now I might just have to leave because of hassle.

The following is part one of a 30 or so part series that was written long ago and now is making its public debue(or something). This one is one of the longer ones. Enjoy!

4-7-03-Monday-what not-etc.
Stravinsky uses effective language and tone to display his meaning that doesn’t work. Igor Stravinsky uses language and tone effectively to present meaning, through some such nonsense. Stravinsky presents the meaning of his piece through effective use of language and rhetoric, but that’s not right. Stravinsky conveys his point of view that orchestra conductors are nothing more than pretenders through well formed language and a variety of rhetorical devices. This one works quite well. Now there is nothing left to say, other than everything. Stravinsky’s view is effectively presented through language and rhetorical devices of many kinds. They include, but are not limited to, random gibberish.

Exactly why do men too often set their standards too high, no, not too high, but in the wrong direction? Men are right to have high standards for their future wives, but it should not be in the area of beauty and capability. It should be in who they are, not what they are. The men who set for themselves a standard of beauty in a wife are setting themselves up for doomsday. If that is their only requirement, they will likely end up divorced when their wives reaches middle age and begins to lose their attractiveness. If the man also sets up more standards in other areas, or is truly in love and does not want a divorce, he will likely end up in an affair and spread his ruin around.

Where is it at? The big blue house. Where? The big blue house down that one road. It’s the only big blue house around, you can’t miss it. But can I find it? That doesn’t matter, as long as you don’t miss it, you’ll get there. Why do I want to get there, anyway? Because it’s where you wanted to go, isn’t? But I can’t remember why I wanted to go there, so is there any reason for me to continue to go where I don’t want to? How do you know you don’t want to? Because I can’t remember why I was going there. So, they could be planning to give you a million dollars, and you would still want to go there, even though you don’t remember. But what if they were serving me with Jury duty? They do that at a courthouse. Okay, how about blackmail? You wanted to go there before, and I doubt you would want to if it was blackmail. Maybe I wanted to stop the blackmail, and eat my dinner without worrying that videos of me dancing at my senior prom get out on the internet. Why would you care about pictures from your prom? I wouldn’t, but that would be just the kind of threat someone would use to blackmail someone else, and I wouldn’t feel right disappointing them and their grand scheme. But it wasn’t blackmail, was it? No, but I’m sure it was something that I wanted, but now I don’t want. Because you don’t know what it is. That’s besides the point. I made up my mind and now I’m going to live with it, and it is my choice not to go there. But you don’t even know where there is, so you could go there without realizing it. But if I do, and I wanted to be where I didn’t know I was, then I would be wrong. And that’s important how? It’s not, but then I wouldn’t have needed to stop for directions, and then I wouldn’t have forgotten the reason I was going. And I could have just stayed in bed. And then I would have arrived knowing why I was going, instead of not getting anywhere and having no idea why I wasn’t there. You aren’t there because you don’t remember where you were going. I remember where, I just don’t remember why; and that’s the important part of the equation. How could it be important unless you were there and needed to know what you were doing there, instead of being here whining about your lack of self knowledge. Are you sure this is safe? What? Telling someone their whining. How could it be unsafe? You could damage their self-esteem, and then they may go out, and either kill other people or kill themselves. I’m not sure informing someone of the truth is. . . And then you would be to blame for all the deaths, and you would wonder why you ever talked about a blue house down the road. I talked about it because I was asked about it; boy, you’re a morbid person. You brought up death. No I didn’t; I asked how it was dangerous, and you said it could cause death, and that I would probably have to go to the funeral because I somehow brought it on. Funeral! Hm? I was going to a funeral! Oh dear, I hope it wasn’t any one close, for their sake. No, no, it was just my sisters-in-law’s uncle’s cousin’s niece’s husband’s dentist’s sister’s former boyfriend. And you are going to this because. . .? He’s my cousin. Then why did you loop all the way around like that? Because I never liked him, and like to claim that I’m not really related to him. Right, so you’re going to his funeral because? He supposedly left my his motor home, but his will will be read at the funeral, so I need to get their; do you have directions to the Pierson home? Blue house, down this road. Where? Funny, real funny. Okay, so where is it? Get in your car, point it that way, and drive as fast as you can, and when you see a blue house stop. Will that be the house? Yes, either that or the William’s, and they’ll shoot anyone who steps on their property, so you’ll get to a funeral either way.

Nothing is as it seems, waiting here for another to show up for conversation. Maybe I should talk to the one who is here, but then I would say less over here and then there might be less to say, and the world would begin to be depleted of letters. Then what was already said would be all that could ever be said, and life would loose its luster, speaking of Luster. Faulkner is crazy but he can write famous books. Luster is a simple boy who is forced to do what he doesn’t want to for no gain, and he takes his anger out on Benji. Benj is all of a sudden going out with Jenny, and whatever happened to Brandon? The distance of college was apparently too great, but then Jenny is going off to college come the beginning of next year, and thus this too shall pass or she is staying in town for college, or she is going to Seattle, and that is where Benj will be so she’ll have to go there otherwise it will be over and nothing come of it. But the quiet ones will be there, and they’ll get them, because they drank too much coffee, didn’t grow any, and are now out to get the tall people. Either that or they were really big heels, and grow 4 inches over night, and then shrink, then grow, then shrink, etc. This cycle will continue until the end of the dance, or until the shoes are lost, whichever comes first. And if the quiet ones will get them, then it’s the quiet ones they should watch. Clearly that cliche fits in this situation, but others are just as important in the future. The early bird gets the worm. First off, who would really want a worm? And how do we know that this bird is actually the early bird, not just the biggest, badest bird around, and he just scared off all the nice early birds? And clearly there also bad things to being early, because if the worm wasn’t early than the bird couldn’t get him, so it could be rewritten as the ‘The late worm saves his skin.’ One mustn’t judge a book by it’s cover. In that case, should you judge it by its reviews or its blurb? Or should one read the entire book before buying it, making sure it’s worth it, but then it wouldn’t be worth the buying because you already read it. I’d finish the book, put it back on the shelf, and then the salesperson would ask me why I weren’t buying, I would tell her that I already read it and walk out of the store. The only store that I’ll always get something at is Costco, because they have those wonderful free samples. On days when I’m too rushed for dinner, or just plain broke, I’ll head over to Costco and make the rounds, getting a couple of little meats and crackers and then I’d go around again, this time in a red haired wig, so they wouldn’t think I was talking more. The next time around it would be dark glasses, then long black hair, followed by a disco jacket, than blue Mohawk, and after that combat fatigues, then a toga, and by that point they’d have either run out of free samples or I would be full. Even if I was full, I’d still make the rounds, because the toga gets the most comments, and that is what is worth the whole trip. So instead of eating the food, I take it with me and accidentally drop it into the lobster tank. It’s rather interesting to watch the lobsters fight over little bits of food, and to be pulled out and dropped into a tank of boiling water. Now where is the sport in that?

Sometimes I think just about any word should be coupled with some- or any-. Like back there, it should have been anyword, or someword. It would make life easier, and create a whole new category of descriptive phrases, such as "Somegirl is cute." It’s more specific than "Some girl" but more general than actually naming the girl. And if you use the phrase anygirl it’s more general than "any girl" and this you’ve now created a very varied scale to measure by, and can be very specific in how you refer to anyone object without actually naming it. Society could be on the brink of advancing to a new age, if only people would began to use the system laid out here. A major advancement in history is just waiting for someone to realize that this idea is perfect, the rest of society’s ignorant, and they need to educate everyone. That person just isn’t me, because I’m too busy creating new ideas to be bothered with fixing the problems of society. Leave that up to the Nelson Mandelas, the Jimmy Carters, the Batmen of the world. I just want to get a big glass of hot cocoa–no, cider–and sit back and watch a good documentary on the territorial claims of the banana slug. No further questions, your honor.

We also need people to create problems in the world. If everyone is just fixing problems, soon everything will be fixed and all the people will get bored, the smart people will leave, and the devious ones will make problems and there won’t be anyone to fix them. This would explain Pandora’s Box a little better. The smart people fixed the world, and then left because it was too boring. Pandora happened to have a box that had a the worlds only too mosquitoes in it, though, because she was still there, she clearly wasn’t smart, and thus opened the box. The two mosquitoes flew out and began to irritate people. They got angry, and the devious ones began to be devious. In this instance the smart people made two mistakes. First, they left, second, the didn’t kill all the mosquitoes. Clearly, the second one is by far the graver offense, but since the smart people left, there is little that can be done to punish them. So we have to punish the stupid people by making them fill out tax returns without the aid of a calculator, and then we let them wonder how they owe the United States government $2,949,340.34 5/9. It’s all a result of bad math, and the Smart-Exit effect. Of course, this doesn’t explain why I’m still here, but I’m assuming this new exodus hasn’t yet occurred, because I’m the only one who thought of it, thus they can’t leave without knowing that they are leaving. Speaking of leaving, is that what it is called when trees drop their leaves? Cows go calving in the spring, do trees go leaving in the fall?

Long time no write. I almost forgot about my loyal(and largely imaginary) following here, but was reminded by one person who I am pretty sure is real(but you never can tell). So here I am, once again on the edge of nowhere(I circled nowhere yesterday, but that is a story for another time, maybe even another reality altogether). Did you know that it is very irritating to try and type with just one finger? I know, because I am trying. I was smart enough at work an hour ago to try and move a pan which(though I did not know this--at first) had just come out of the oven. I grabbed first with my gloved hand then a second later with the non-gloved hand, which got hot immediately. I jumped back and dropped the pan, but not before it could burn the membrane between my thumb and forefinger, so now I am sitting here with an ice back clutched in one hand whining to the internet(cap?) community who largely could care less, but I have the right to whine, as I happen to be mad(as certified by my title-so there). And now for a coffee break(mmm, Coffee!)