How do you end emails? If it is a professional draft then of course you may use sincerely, or thank you, but what about personal emails? If often get emails that end with, "because of Jesus," or "God bless." I don't know how to respond to that. It is a lot of pressure on me to match that level of spirituality or up it one. I usually don't end my email with anything other than my name or simply "take care." Spiritual salutations give the email a more cosmic feel, and my emails are not that important. Perhaps I am not being a good Christian. I suppose I should start ending my emails with a blessing, affirmation of faith, or challenge to the reader.
Here a few examples of what I could end an email with.
1)God bless you, even when you aren't sneezing,
B.J.
2From your fellow Christian soldier who is marching as to war,
B.J.
3)Your brother in Christ, who is not really your brother, genetically not your brother that is, but spiritually speaking, if you know what I mean,
B.J.
4)From one of God's chosen for eternal glory to another chosen by God for eternal glory, not like all those other hell-bound sinners who spend Sundays drinking beer and watching football when they should be in church praising God and repenting of their hellish lifestyles,
B.J.
5)From a Christian, and if you are not a Christian there is something I want to tell you and some pamphlets I want to send you, and possibly some nice people to come visit you, and a donation I would like you to make,
B.J.
Then again I might just stick with "take care."
B.J.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Things I Like Pt. 1
I like the following:
my nephew Noah, Charlie Chaplin, The Marx Brothers, Buster Keaton, silent films, German expressionistic films, surrealism, impressionism, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, black and white films, Ingmar Bergman, Stanley Kubrick, Un Chein Andalou, Radiohead, The Flaming Lips, Pixies, The Jesus and Mary Chain, shoegaze, The Beatles, The Doors, punk, Stiff Little Fingers, The Ramones, The Clash, The Dead Kennedys, Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange, existentialism, the history of Satan, Genesis, theology, Greek, Hebrew, Venus, Pythagoras, nihilism, argyle, Dickies, khakis, chocolate cake, Joy Division, wine, Guinness, gin and tonic, New Castle, hamburgers, devil's food cake, plumes, oranges, banana pops, cherries, green seedless grapes, arbitrariness, green, white, blue, Converse, suspenders, vests, iPods, iTunes, 90's rap, doo wop, Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, blues, Miles Davis, Abide with Me, 28 Days Later, Darren Aronofsky, Harry Potter, Blonde Redhead, fall, Halloween, X-Files, Star Trek, That 70's Show, Seinfeld, Soren Kierkegaard, Friedrich Nietzsche, Fyodor Dostoevsky, gothic novels, Franz Kafka, Jean Paul Sartre, distopianism, George Orwell, The Food Network, Throwdown, Good Eats, Iron Chef, Ace of Cakes, amazon.com, Detroit Redwings, Steve Yzerman, St. Louis Cardinals, West Virginia Mountaineers, Earl Grey, chai, Lapsang Souchang, Virginia, Tennessee, metal, oldies, girl groups, bubblegum pop, crayons, rubber ducks, booing, chess, picture albums, action figures, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Transformers, He-Man, Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Beavis and Butthead, retractable Sharpies, High Fidelity, Little Debbie, post-punk, Alfred Hitchcock, glasses, Merlot, Chardonnay, Claude Monet, Paul Klee, Salvador Dali, James Joyce, cubism, avant-garde, electric guitar, piano, organ, Gameboy, mustaches, Hieronymous Bosche, Anne Rice, Ralph Ellison, Russia, Moleskin, red ink, Orson Welles, X-Men, Spiderman, Magneto, Star Wars, rice, juice, sleeping, Mr. T, Thursdays, dub, gnosticism, the Apocrypha, Apocalypse Now, Johnathan Swift, satire, John Milton, Iago, the golden ratio, cuckoo clocks, grandfather clocks, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey, E. Howard Hunt, Julian the Apostate, Super Mario, Nintendo, Johann Sebastian Bach, campfires, King Saul, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, How Deep the Father's Love for Us, Turd Ferguson, True Love Ways, absurdism, journals, mahjong, mountains, fish and chips, reuben, chicken fried steak, Kool-Aid, Diet Mt. Dew, Fresca, pens, paper, baths, salt-n-vinegar chips, Barnes and Noble, Borders, American Eagle, Old Navy, Daddyos.com, bowling shirts, John Steinbeck, Darkness at Noon, The Dharma Bums, Arcade Fire, Chapelle Show, pandora.com, cursing, hiking, youtube.com, Rhymes with Orange, William Blake, direct deposit, Helzberg, Parthenon, Albert Camus, Shadrach, Meschach, and Abendego, Reece's, Hershey chocolate, Fruity Pebbles, Cap'n Crunch Crunch Berries, Frosted Flakes, Honey Nut Cheerios, Chicken Corn Chowder, Muenster Cheese, Brie, spinach, peas, Stratocasters, Set, Old Spice, Bath and Body Works, Great Pyramid of Giza, Cydonia, deism, Gilmore Girls, Mothman, Across the Universe, No Surprises, Jesu, the Joy of Man's Desiring, The Stranger, The Trial, Nausea, figure skating, fog, winter, leather jackets, Taco Johns, Wu-Tang Clan, Woot shirts, southern rock, indie, Modest Mouse, Godspeed! You Black Emperor, Canadian National Anthem, facebook, facebook IM, facebook inbox, diamond rings, Casablanca, Cheez-it, plums, Phantom of the Opera, corduroy, The Twilight Zone, Fight Test, Built to Last, Stalag 17, candles, Puccini, and Amy Perrey.
my nephew Noah, Charlie Chaplin, The Marx Brothers, Buster Keaton, silent films, German expressionistic films, surrealism, impressionism, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, black and white films, Ingmar Bergman, Stanley Kubrick, Un Chein Andalou, Radiohead, The Flaming Lips, Pixies, The Jesus and Mary Chain, shoegaze, The Beatles, The Doors, punk, Stiff Little Fingers, The Ramones, The Clash, The Dead Kennedys, Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange, existentialism, the history of Satan, Genesis, theology, Greek, Hebrew, Venus, Pythagoras, nihilism, argyle, Dickies, khakis, chocolate cake, Joy Division, wine, Guinness, gin and tonic, New Castle, hamburgers, devil's food cake, plumes, oranges, banana pops, cherries, green seedless grapes, arbitrariness, green, white, blue, Converse, suspenders, vests, iPods, iTunes, 90's rap, doo wop, Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, blues, Miles Davis, Abide with Me, 28 Days Later, Darren Aronofsky, Harry Potter, Blonde Redhead, fall, Halloween, X-Files, Star Trek, That 70's Show, Seinfeld, Soren Kierkegaard, Friedrich Nietzsche, Fyodor Dostoevsky, gothic novels, Franz Kafka, Jean Paul Sartre, distopianism, George Orwell, The Food Network, Throwdown, Good Eats, Iron Chef, Ace of Cakes, amazon.com, Detroit Redwings, Steve Yzerman, St. Louis Cardinals, West Virginia Mountaineers, Earl Grey, chai, Lapsang Souchang, Virginia, Tennessee, metal, oldies, girl groups, bubblegum pop, crayons, rubber ducks, booing, chess, picture albums, action figures, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Transformers, He-Man, Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Beavis and Butthead, retractable Sharpies, High Fidelity, Little Debbie, post-punk, Alfred Hitchcock, glasses, Merlot, Chardonnay, Claude Monet, Paul Klee, Salvador Dali, James Joyce, cubism, avant-garde, electric guitar, piano, organ, Gameboy, mustaches, Hieronymous Bosche, Anne Rice, Ralph Ellison, Russia, Moleskin, red ink, Orson Welles, X-Men, Spiderman, Magneto, Star Wars, rice, juice, sleeping, Mr. T, Thursdays, dub, gnosticism, the Apocrypha, Apocalypse Now, Johnathan Swift, satire, John Milton, Iago, the golden ratio, cuckoo clocks, grandfather clocks, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey, E. Howard Hunt, Julian the Apostate, Super Mario, Nintendo, Johann Sebastian Bach, campfires, King Saul, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, How Deep the Father's Love for Us, Turd Ferguson, True Love Ways, absurdism, journals, mahjong, mountains, fish and chips, reuben, chicken fried steak, Kool-Aid, Diet Mt. Dew, Fresca, pens, paper, baths, salt-n-vinegar chips, Barnes and Noble, Borders, American Eagle, Old Navy, Daddyos.com, bowling shirts, John Steinbeck, Darkness at Noon, The Dharma Bums, Arcade Fire, Chapelle Show, pandora.com, cursing, hiking, youtube.com, Rhymes with Orange, William Blake, direct deposit, Helzberg, Parthenon, Albert Camus, Shadrach, Meschach, and Abendego, Reece's, Hershey chocolate, Fruity Pebbles, Cap'n Crunch Crunch Berries, Frosted Flakes, Honey Nut Cheerios, Chicken Corn Chowder, Muenster Cheese, Brie, spinach, peas, Stratocasters, Set, Old Spice, Bath and Body Works, Great Pyramid of Giza, Cydonia, deism, Gilmore Girls, Mothman, Across the Universe, No Surprises, Jesu, the Joy of Man's Desiring, The Stranger, The Trial, Nausea, figure skating, fog, winter, leather jackets, Taco Johns, Wu-Tang Clan, Woot shirts, southern rock, indie, Modest Mouse, Godspeed! You Black Emperor, Canadian National Anthem, facebook, facebook IM, facebook inbox, diamond rings, Casablanca, Cheez-it, plums, Phantom of the Opera, corduroy, The Twilight Zone, Fight Test, Built to Last, Stalag 17, candles, Puccini, and Amy Perrey.
Monday, October 6, 2008
A Man's Best Sign
When I first started college I learned many new things: how to format a paper in Turbian, how to read Greek, how to discuss rhetorical argumentation, explain Wellhausen's hypotheses, and how to check a girl's finger for a ring.
Ring checking is the simple, sly practice of determining whether a young lady is married or not. First, you approach the female and say, "How you doin." Next, check her left hand quickly and inconspicuously for that diamond. If she does have on a ring, you turn around without saying another word. If her hand is bare of any sparkly objects, then proceed to say, "Like I was sayin,' How you doin.'"
This is something I never did before. At first I thought my friends were dorks for even going to the trouble of ring checking. However, I soon found myself searching a girl's hand for that shiny, monthly-installed paid, Marilyn Monroe approved, diamond ring that said in loud, flashy gleams, "Too late Loser, I'm taken."
Eventually, I quit checking a girl's finger for a ring. I figured that at my age, I better first check for a pulse.
Recently, I have been scanning fingers for rings once again. This time I have not been determining whether the woman is single or not, but comparing her ring to my fiance's ring. With each comparison I determine that Amy's is much more beautiful. It might have something to do with the fact that Amy is much more beautiful than all other women, but I check for cut, clarity, carat and color and still still determine that Amy's ring is superior.
Often I will catch Amy ring checking her own hand. I will smile at her and say, "That's a pretty ring. Where did you get that?" She will smile back and say,"My fiance gave it to me."
That's me!
Ring checking is the simple, sly practice of determining whether a young lady is married or not. First, you approach the female and say, "How you doin." Next, check her left hand quickly and inconspicuously for that diamond. If she does have on a ring, you turn around without saying another word. If her hand is bare of any sparkly objects, then proceed to say, "Like I was sayin,' How you doin.'"
This is something I never did before. At first I thought my friends were dorks for even going to the trouble of ring checking. However, I soon found myself searching a girl's hand for that shiny, monthly-installed paid, Marilyn Monroe approved, diamond ring that said in loud, flashy gleams, "Too late Loser, I'm taken."
Eventually, I quit checking a girl's finger for a ring. I figured that at my age, I better first check for a pulse.
Recently, I have been scanning fingers for rings once again. This time I have not been determining whether the woman is single or not, but comparing her ring to my fiance's ring. With each comparison I determine that Amy's is much more beautiful. It might have something to do with the fact that Amy is much more beautiful than all other women, but I check for cut, clarity, carat and color and still still determine that Amy's ring is superior.
Often I will catch Amy ring checking her own hand. I will smile at her and say, "That's a pretty ring. Where did you get that?" She will smile back and say,"My fiance gave it to me."
That's me!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Orientation
It was a new start, yet it all looked and felt familiar. I tried leaving part of my past, yet it was there with me. I was there to study writing, but I was confronted by my previous studies--theology. I was there to pursue an MFA, but orientation took place in what was once a Baptist church.
I entered the church, which was now being used for the university's night program, and found my way to the sanctuary. They did not call it a sanctuary, it was now the "art's center," but you could not disguise its previous function. There were neither a crucifix, nor a baptistry, but you felt reverent walking in.
I silently and respectfully found my seat. My seat was not a desk or a table, but a pew. Some were talking, some were reading, but most had their heads down in a stationary position as if in meditation. We were there to study and learn, but all would have easily transitioned into a state worship, given the right cue.
The dean ascended the stage and stood in front of the lectern. It was not a lectern. It was a pulpit and he was not facing an audience of students but a house of worshipers. We listened to each of his words, noting down the most important points. We laughed at his jokes and imagined his stories. It was not a speech. It was a sermon and it had points, and it was persuasive. We were moved by his words and motivated to become better students. Not better students, but better believers.
There was a place in the pew in front of me for a hymnal, A Bible, and a cup of communion. Communion was not served, but we were all invited after the speech to come forward and receive our free university coffee cup. We got in a line and waited our turn to receive the cup. Then we departed with a, "Have a good day." No, not "have a good day," but: "Peace be with you." "And also with you."
It was orientation. Or was it church? I can not escape the church. It has followed me into a Masters of Fine Arts program. It was there during orientation and later in class to let me know where I came from. It will continue to be there with every story or poem I turn in for class. It will be there in my journal entries and my free writing. It will be there with topics I explain, argue and discuss. It will be there in my notes and in the margins. It is everywhere I go.
It is here with me now.
I entered the church, which was now being used for the university's night program, and found my way to the sanctuary. They did not call it a sanctuary, it was now the "art's center," but you could not disguise its previous function. There were neither a crucifix, nor a baptistry, but you felt reverent walking in.
I silently and respectfully found my seat. My seat was not a desk or a table, but a pew. Some were talking, some were reading, but most had their heads down in a stationary position as if in meditation. We were there to study and learn, but all would have easily transitioned into a state worship, given the right cue.
The dean ascended the stage and stood in front of the lectern. It was not a lectern. It was a pulpit and he was not facing an audience of students but a house of worshipers. We listened to each of his words, noting down the most important points. We laughed at his jokes and imagined his stories. It was not a speech. It was a sermon and it had points, and it was persuasive. We were moved by his words and motivated to become better students. Not better students, but better believers.
There was a place in the pew in front of me for a hymnal, A Bible, and a cup of communion. Communion was not served, but we were all invited after the speech to come forward and receive our free university coffee cup. We got in a line and waited our turn to receive the cup. Then we departed with a, "Have a good day." No, not "have a good day," but: "Peace be with you." "And also with you."
It was orientation. Or was it church? I can not escape the church. It has followed me into a Masters of Fine Arts program. It was there during orientation and later in class to let me know where I came from. It will continue to be there with every story or poem I turn in for class. It will be there in my journal entries and my free writing. It will be there with topics I explain, argue and discuss. It will be there in my notes and in the margins. It is everywhere I go.
It is here with me now.
Monday, August 25, 2008
And the List Grows...
Accidents and mistakes I have blamed on having low-blood sugar.
1)Fell up the stairs.
2)Fell down the stairs.
3)Fell out of the shower.
4.Burned myself on hot tea.
5.Spilled a glass of tea at a restaurant.
6.Left a size tag on the side of my pants.
7.Called a woman by her recently dead sister's name.
8.Cut myself with an exacto-knife.
9.Flipped off my history professor.
10.Dropped an f-bomb in front of little children.
11.Dropped an f-bomb in front of the board of directors of my grad. school.
12.Shaved my head.
13.Bought a Nelly Furtado c.d.
14.Cut my finger on a copier.
15.Cut my finger on a door handle.
16.Cut my finger with a lady's razer.
17.Ripped my messenger bag on a spiraling stairway.
18.Sent a mother's day card to my mom on her birthday.
19.Voted for Ross Perot.
20.Watched Joel Osteen for 20 minutes.
21.Broke my glasses in half while cleaning them.
22.Googled my name.
23.Mistook "intimate" with "Entenmann's".
24.Overfilled the gas tank.
25.Burned my arm on a pizza oven.
26.Slipped and fell in dog urine.
27.Left an ink pen in my pocket during a wash.
28.Cut my foot on a broken piece of casserole dish.
29.Dropped Moby Dick in a toilet.
30.Dropped an heirloom down a sink.
31.Dropped my back pack on a power-strip cutting off a speaker's microphone.
32.Opened a door I shouldn't have.
33.Memorized the words to the Llama song.
34.Tripped over a garden hose falling on concrete.
35.Tripped over a floor fan in a restaurant.
36.Stepped on a four-year-old's head.
37.Plugged my laptop's power cord into an outlet with wet hands.
38.Almost impaled by a jagged tree branch during a wind storm.
39.Almost decapitated myself on a wooden roller coaster.
40.Thought my fiance would find the song, "Like a Parasite," romantic.
41.Trial subscription to Time.
42.Mistook hazard lights on a pickup for a right turn signal.
43.Bought a fiddle.
44.Weed eating for twenty minutes without the string.
45.Stepped on the sharpened eat of an arrow's head.
46.Mispronounced Fuddruckers.
47.Cursed at the end of a prayer.
48.Walked up to the stage in high school to receive an award I was not announced to get.
49.Walked into a closed door.
50.Posted a blog full of my faults, mistakes, and accidents.
My sugar's low. I need a snack.
1)Fell up the stairs.
2)Fell down the stairs.
3)Fell out of the shower.
4.Burned myself on hot tea.
5.Spilled a glass of tea at a restaurant.
6.Left a size tag on the side of my pants.
7.Called a woman by her recently dead sister's name.
8.Cut myself with an exacto-knife.
9.Flipped off my history professor.
10.Dropped an f-bomb in front of little children.
11.Dropped an f-bomb in front of the board of directors of my grad. school.
12.Shaved my head.
13.Bought a Nelly Furtado c.d.
14.Cut my finger on a copier.
15.Cut my finger on a door handle.
16.Cut my finger with a lady's razer.
17.Ripped my messenger bag on a spiraling stairway.
18.Sent a mother's day card to my mom on her birthday.
19.Voted for Ross Perot.
20.Watched Joel Osteen for 20 minutes.
21.Broke my glasses in half while cleaning them.
22.Googled my name.
23.Mistook "intimate" with "Entenmann's".
24.Overfilled the gas tank.
25.Burned my arm on a pizza oven.
26.Slipped and fell in dog urine.
27.Left an ink pen in my pocket during a wash.
28.Cut my foot on a broken piece of casserole dish.
29.Dropped Moby Dick in a toilet.
30.Dropped an heirloom down a sink.
31.Dropped my back pack on a power-strip cutting off a speaker's microphone.
32.Opened a door I shouldn't have.
33.Memorized the words to the Llama song.
34.Tripped over a garden hose falling on concrete.
35.Tripped over a floor fan in a restaurant.
36.Stepped on a four-year-old's head.
37.Plugged my laptop's power cord into an outlet with wet hands.
38.Almost impaled by a jagged tree branch during a wind storm.
39.Almost decapitated myself on a wooden roller coaster.
40.Thought my fiance would find the song, "Like a Parasite," romantic.
41.Trial subscription to Time.
42.Mistook hazard lights on a pickup for a right turn signal.
43.Bought a fiddle.
44.Weed eating for twenty minutes without the string.
45.Stepped on the sharpened eat of an arrow's head.
46.Mispronounced Fuddruckers.
47.Cursed at the end of a prayer.
48.Walked up to the stage in high school to receive an award I was not announced to get.
49.Walked into a closed door.
50.Posted a blog full of my faults, mistakes, and accidents.
My sugar's low. I need a snack.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Say My Name, Say My Name
My great grandfather's name was William. His son, my grandfather, was William, Jr., but they call him Billy to distinguish him from his father. My father's legal name is Billy, but they call him Pete to distinguish him from his father. My legal name is Billy, Jr., but they call me B.J. to separate me from William (Billy) and Billy (Pete). Then there is my mother's father, whose name is William, but they called him Bays. I don't even know why.
So when I have children there will be no Billys, Willys, Williams, Bills, Wills, or Wilhelms. If I have a boy his name will be Pierre, Gustave, or Orson. I will put an end to the Billys!
I have never been known as Billy. Since birth I have been called B.J., which makes me wonder why they even bothered to name me Billy. I've known people who have had only single letter names. I would have been fine with first name B and second name J, but instead I have this burden of a legal, first name that I don't use and no one calls me. The only person who knows me as Billy is the government and we are not on first name basis.
Now that I have turned 30 and am getting married in less than a year I wonder is it time to drop the B.J.? Should I go with something more mature sounding? But Billy? Billy is the kid with a Gameboy in his pocket and a melting Popsicle in his hand. The narrator of Slaughter-House Five kept Billy as his adult name because people always trust a "Billy," but I already have people's trust--I have a baby face and glasses.
I could go by my middle name, Wayne, but do I look like a Wayne? Wayne is the guy who changes the oil in your car. I can't even pump gas properly. Also, Wayne is Batman's last name and I am not about to put on a cape and have sidekick with green tights beside me.
Throughout my life I have gone by many names: B.J., B., J., J.B., J.B. Hog, B.J. the Bear, B.B., Bee Gee, Beejoreeno, Beelee, and on some crazy occasions Billy. My personal favorite nickname for my nickname is Beej. My fiance also has petnames for me, but no need to list those here. Her mother is reading.
Soon I will be starting my new job as a pharmacy technician and I will have a name tag. My dilemma is what should be on that name tag: Billy or B.J. I'm torn. Should I go with my legal, less juvenile sounding first name or the name that everyone knows me and loves me by?
I don't know. What do you think?
So when I have children there will be no Billys, Willys, Williams, Bills, Wills, or Wilhelms. If I have a boy his name will be Pierre, Gustave, or Orson. I will put an end to the Billys!
I have never been known as Billy. Since birth I have been called B.J., which makes me wonder why they even bothered to name me Billy. I've known people who have had only single letter names. I would have been fine with first name B and second name J, but instead I have this burden of a legal, first name that I don't use and no one calls me. The only person who knows me as Billy is the government and we are not on first name basis.
Now that I have turned 30 and am getting married in less than a year I wonder is it time to drop the B.J.? Should I go with something more mature sounding? But Billy? Billy is the kid with a Gameboy in his pocket and a melting Popsicle in his hand. The narrator of Slaughter-House Five kept Billy as his adult name because people always trust a "Billy," but I already have people's trust--I have a baby face and glasses.
I could go by my middle name, Wayne, but do I look like a Wayne? Wayne is the guy who changes the oil in your car. I can't even pump gas properly. Also, Wayne is Batman's last name and I am not about to put on a cape and have sidekick with green tights beside me.
Throughout my life I have gone by many names: B.J., B., J., J.B., J.B. Hog, B.J. the Bear, B.B., Bee Gee, Beejoreeno, Beelee, and on some crazy occasions Billy. My personal favorite nickname for my nickname is Beej. My fiance also has petnames for me, but no need to list those here. Her mother is reading.
Soon I will be starting my new job as a pharmacy technician and I will have a name tag. My dilemma is what should be on that name tag: Billy or B.J. I'm torn. Should I go with my legal, less juvenile sounding first name or the name that everyone knows me and loves me by?
I don't know. What do you think?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Erudite Locutions (Smart-Sounding Words)
These are five words I would like to use more in casual conversation, but it would sound like I'm trying to sound smarter than I really am.
1.lugubrious
mournful, dismal
How I would like to interject the word in conversation.
"Yes, Charles is looking quite lugubrious today. It is a shame, really."
What I normally would say.
"Chuck looks bad."
2.coquettish
A woman who endeavors to without sincere affection to gain the attention and admiration of men.
How I would like to interject the word in conversation.
"That gentlewoman appears frighteningly coquettish standing there twirling her parasol in our direction."
What I normally would say.
"Pretty."
3.audacity
shameless boldness
How I would like to interject the word in conversation.
"I cannot believe sir that you would have the audacity to suggest such an accusation to my personage!"
What I normally would say.
"You wanna piece of me!"
4.bombastic
pompous, overblown
How I would like to interject the word in conversation.
"My analysis concludes that this paragraph is full of bombastic pretension and needs to be revised to reflect a more reasonable observation."
What I normally would say.
"Arrogant bastard."
5.acquiesce
to accept, comply
How I would like to interject the word in conversation.
"I resignedly acquiesce to your demands, but never believe for one moment that I have readily capitulated with a reposed moral conscience."
What I normally would say.
"Okay, I'll do it."
1.lugubrious
mournful, dismal
How I would like to interject the word in conversation.
"Yes, Charles is looking quite lugubrious today. It is a shame, really."
What I normally would say.
"Chuck looks bad."
2.coquettish
A woman who endeavors to without sincere affection to gain the attention and admiration of men.
How I would like to interject the word in conversation.
"That gentlewoman appears frighteningly coquettish standing there twirling her parasol in our direction."
What I normally would say.
"Pretty."
3.audacity
shameless boldness
How I would like to interject the word in conversation.
"I cannot believe sir that you would have the audacity to suggest such an accusation to my personage!"
What I normally would say.
"You wanna piece of me!"
4.bombastic
pompous, overblown
How I would like to interject the word in conversation.
"My analysis concludes that this paragraph is full of bombastic pretension and needs to be revised to reflect a more reasonable observation."
What I normally would say.
"Arrogant bastard."
5.acquiesce
to accept, comply
How I would like to interject the word in conversation.
"I resignedly acquiesce to your demands, but never believe for one moment that I have readily capitulated with a reposed moral conscience."
What I normally would say.
"Okay, I'll do it."
Won't You Come and Sing With Me?
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Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Not Like Writing Your Name in Snow
Yesterday I got familiar with a plastic cup--I peed in it. I have a difficult time urinating in public; especially when there is a long line behind me. I can feel the eyes on my back, looking at the time, tapping their feet, clearing their throats as I try to finish. Many times I have given up and sat uncomfortably in my seat awaiting a second try.
Yesterday was worse than having to go in a public restroom because I had to go in a cup with nurses waiting behind a closed door. I had to take a drug test for a new job I am starting soon. I have nothing to worry about; I don't do drugs, but I am insecure. I'm sure they make a drug for that.
The nice nurse handed me the plastic cup and showed me the line I was to go past. She asked if that would be a problem, and I said yes. So I went into the waiting room and downed two cups of water very quickly and watched the Olympics. Unfortunately, it was indoor volleyball and not swimming, diving, or some other kind of water-related sport that could have helped along the process.
I'm diabetic, so having to go to the bathroom is usually no problem. All I have to do is swallow some spit and I will have to go five minutes later, but this day I could not go. I waited a few minutes, made a phone call, and watched Japan and America spike volleyballs back and forth at each other like they were reenacting World War II. Then finally I felt something!
The nurse led me into the little bathroom with the plastic cup. This was a first for me because I have never had to go in a cup before. I've gone in a toilet, against a wall, in the snow, in a stream, on a small fire, in a diaper, and even in the pool, but never in a cup. I'm used to drinking liquids from a cup, but not dispensing it into a cup.
Finally, I was able to go and I was overjoyed. I successfully went past the line without dripping any out. I was always good at coloring inside the lines. I proudly presented my cup of warm, yellow, urine to the nurse as if it was a gold Olympic medal. As I left the office I think I heard the National Anthem play and I too felt victorious with a cup full of my kidney juice. USA! USA! USA!
Yesterday was worse than having to go in a public restroom because I had to go in a cup with nurses waiting behind a closed door. I had to take a drug test for a new job I am starting soon. I have nothing to worry about; I don't do drugs, but I am insecure. I'm sure they make a drug for that.
The nice nurse handed me the plastic cup and showed me the line I was to go past. She asked if that would be a problem, and I said yes. So I went into the waiting room and downed two cups of water very quickly and watched the Olympics. Unfortunately, it was indoor volleyball and not swimming, diving, or some other kind of water-related sport that could have helped along the process.
I'm diabetic, so having to go to the bathroom is usually no problem. All I have to do is swallow some spit and I will have to go five minutes later, but this day I could not go. I waited a few minutes, made a phone call, and watched Japan and America spike volleyballs back and forth at each other like they were reenacting World War II. Then finally I felt something!
The nurse led me into the little bathroom with the plastic cup. This was a first for me because I have never had to go in a cup before. I've gone in a toilet, against a wall, in the snow, in a stream, on a small fire, in a diaper, and even in the pool, but never in a cup. I'm used to drinking liquids from a cup, but not dispensing it into a cup.
Finally, I was able to go and I was overjoyed. I successfully went past the line without dripping any out. I was always good at coloring inside the lines. I proudly presented my cup of warm, yellow, urine to the nurse as if it was a gold Olympic medal. As I left the office I think I heard the National Anthem play and I too felt victorious with a cup full of my kidney juice. USA! USA! USA!
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
A Review of The Gospel of Matthias
I recently read the new translation of The Gospel of Matthias. You might remember a few years ago when The Gospel of Judas caused a stir in the media. The Gospel of Matthias is the newest translation of a gnostic text released to the public. Like Judas it was discovered in the early 1970's in Egypt by a group of archaeologists. A group of scholars have been translating and authenticating the document for the past 20-some years.
Most gnostic texts are full of bizarre stories about Jesus, the Apostles, and Mary, and so was the Gospel of Matthias. What makes this text different is that it is actually funny. I don't know if this was intentional by the author, but I laughed at some of the stories.
Matthias was the man chosen in Acts to replace Judas, but nothing else is said of the new Apostle. The Gospel of Matthias reveals a lot more about this obscure figure. He is portrayed as a bumbling idiot who may not have been the best choice for the job. Many of the disciples are portrayed as clueless, but Matthias comes across like one of the Three Stooges. Maybe this is why little is said of Matthias in the New Testament.
One story that I laughed at was the text's description of Pentecost. In Acts Peter eloquently and humorously explains to the audience that they are not drunk but are filled with the Spirit. In the Gospel of Matthias, the newly appointed apostle actually was drunk! Matthias kept interrupting Peter's Pentecost address by blowing raspberries and belching loudly. That other Apostles had to drag him away while Matthias was cursing!
I tried not laugh at one story, but I couldn't help it. In Acts Stephen addresses the high priest and the council with an impassioned account of Israel's history. The audience becomes angry and Stephen is stoned as he looks into heaven. In the gnostic gospel, Matthias throws a stone at Stephen along with the crowd! Matthias was really aiming at the high priest, but accidentally hit Stephen.
Many of the apostles like Stephen were martyred, but not Matthias. The lot-chosen apostle wanted to show the other eleven that he too had strong faith. Matthias wanted to walk on the water like Peter, Matthias' hero, so he took a boat out on the Sea of Galilee, but when he stepped out of the boat he sank and drowned to death.
I don't think that The Gospel of Matthias will cause the same stir that Judas did, but I still think it would be worth your time to read it. It is interesting to see how this 3'rd or 4'th century writer thought about this little known apostle. Was Matthias really a bumbling idiot? No one will ever no for sure, but possibly The Gospel of Matthias does reveal some of the mystery behind the 12th apostle.
Read it for yourself and let me know what you think. I would be interested in your thoughts.
Most gnostic texts are full of bizarre stories about Jesus, the Apostles, and Mary, and so was the Gospel of Matthias. What makes this text different is that it is actually funny. I don't know if this was intentional by the author, but I laughed at some of the stories.
Matthias was the man chosen in Acts to replace Judas, but nothing else is said of the new Apostle. The Gospel of Matthias reveals a lot more about this obscure figure. He is portrayed as a bumbling idiot who may not have been the best choice for the job. Many of the disciples are portrayed as clueless, but Matthias comes across like one of the Three Stooges. Maybe this is why little is said of Matthias in the New Testament.
One story that I laughed at was the text's description of Pentecost. In Acts Peter eloquently and humorously explains to the audience that they are not drunk but are filled with the Spirit. In the Gospel of Matthias, the newly appointed apostle actually was drunk! Matthias kept interrupting Peter's Pentecost address by blowing raspberries and belching loudly. That other Apostles had to drag him away while Matthias was cursing!
I tried not laugh at one story, but I couldn't help it. In Acts Stephen addresses the high priest and the council with an impassioned account of Israel's history. The audience becomes angry and Stephen is stoned as he looks into heaven. In the gnostic gospel, Matthias throws a stone at Stephen along with the crowd! Matthias was really aiming at the high priest, but accidentally hit Stephen.
Many of the apostles like Stephen were martyred, but not Matthias. The lot-chosen apostle wanted to show the other eleven that he too had strong faith. Matthias wanted to walk on the water like Peter, Matthias' hero, so he took a boat out on the Sea of Galilee, but when he stepped out of the boat he sank and drowned to death.
I don't think that The Gospel of Matthias will cause the same stir that Judas did, but I still think it would be worth your time to read it. It is interesting to see how this 3'rd or 4'th century writer thought about this little known apostle. Was Matthias really a bumbling idiot? No one will ever no for sure, but possibly The Gospel of Matthias does reveal some of the mystery behind the 12th apostle.
Read it for yourself and let me know what you think. I would be interested in your thoughts.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
A Pocketfull of Sins
I visited a new church a couple of Sundays ago. I do this occasionally in order to discover how other Christians worship. The church I visited had a friendly congregation. The members were hospitable and helpful. I never felt like a stranger. This church reminded me of the church I usually attend.
The worship service was excellent. The praise band was made up of talented musicians, and the song leader’s voice was clear and powerful. The Spirit was filling the auditorium as song after song was sung. Hands were lifted in praise. Tears were streamed in joy. Voices were raised in conviction. I too joined in the praise by lifting my hands and singing out loudly.
The preacher delivered a life-challenging, amen-echoing sermon in a loud, booming voice that the sound system could not contain. It was as if God was amplifying the preacher’s voice and the Spirit was directing it outside the church so that a passerby would hear the words and be convicted.
The sermon ended with a challenge. The challenge was to cease our sinning because when we sin we are driving another nail into Jesus’ hands. The audience was then directed to the back of the auditorium. Three five-foot cross were lying on the red-carpeted floor. Each of the wooden crosses were separated by fifteen inches.
We were instructed to form lines in front of crosses and think about a particular sin in our life, which we are struggling with. Once I reached the cross I took a piece of paper and pen from the attendant. I wrote down the sin which I am struggling with. Next the attendant gave me a hammer and a nail. I nailed my at the top of the crude, wooden beam.
Hands were hammering away on the crosses as everyone’s primary sin was nailed down. Hammers were shared. Hugs were exchanged. Tears were mixing on the crosses. These nailed pieces of paper were a visual example of what our sins do to the body of Christ. We all walked away with the pounding of hammers in our ears and the challenge of the preacher in our hearts.
Sunday School followed worship. One of the memebers escorted me to a classroom. I was welcomed by the teacher with a chair and a cup of coffee. The class was going through the Gospel of John. Halfway through the lesson I had to use the bathroom. I didn’t want to leave, but I could not hold it until the class was over.
Exiting the bathroom I took a detour. Instead of going back to the classroom I went back to the auditorium. I wanted to have another look at those crosses. I had been thinking all through Sunday School what was written on the slips of paper. I peeked my head around the door and saw that no one was there.
I walked to the cross where I had stood in line. I knelt down and looked at all of the tear-stained pieces of paper nailed to the cross. I looked up to see if anyone was looking and I ripped a piece of paper off. I opened the folded slip and read what was written. It said: “I put Canadian change in Salvation Army buckets.”
I scowled at the sin, and put it in my jeans pocket. I tore another one off the cross and it read: “I insert my name for Jesus while singing praise songs.” I gasped at this horrible confession and balled it up and stuffed it in my pocket. Another sin read: “I flip off the babies in the nursery.” It went into my pocket. “I make paper airplanes out of pages from my Bible.” Another in my pocket. “I use a small cross as a back-scratcher.” “I send diabetics boxes of chocolate signed from a secret admirer.” “I poured a bottle of Coke on a stranger in a restaurant stall.” "I'm not happy and I know it, yet I still clap my hands." "I put rotting meat in my neighbor's mailbox."
Sin after sin was crammed in my pockets. After a few minutes my pockets were bulging with the sins of the church. I was sickened by all that I had read. These sinners were the same ones I worshiped with earlier. I left without saying goodbye burdened with the sins of the church in my pockets. I even tore my own sin off. It read: “I lie a lot.”
The worship service was excellent. The praise band was made up of talented musicians, and the song leader’s voice was clear and powerful. The Spirit was filling the auditorium as song after song was sung. Hands were lifted in praise. Tears were streamed in joy. Voices were raised in conviction. I too joined in the praise by lifting my hands and singing out loudly.
The preacher delivered a life-challenging, amen-echoing sermon in a loud, booming voice that the sound system could not contain. It was as if God was amplifying the preacher’s voice and the Spirit was directing it outside the church so that a passerby would hear the words and be convicted.
The sermon ended with a challenge. The challenge was to cease our sinning because when we sin we are driving another nail into Jesus’ hands. The audience was then directed to the back of the auditorium. Three five-foot cross were lying on the red-carpeted floor. Each of the wooden crosses were separated by fifteen inches.
We were instructed to form lines in front of crosses and think about a particular sin in our life, which we are struggling with. Once I reached the cross I took a piece of paper and pen from the attendant. I wrote down the sin which I am struggling with. Next the attendant gave me a hammer and a nail. I nailed my at the top of the crude, wooden beam.
Hands were hammering away on the crosses as everyone’s primary sin was nailed down. Hammers were shared. Hugs were exchanged. Tears were mixing on the crosses. These nailed pieces of paper were a visual example of what our sins do to the body of Christ. We all walked away with the pounding of hammers in our ears and the challenge of the preacher in our hearts.
Sunday School followed worship. One of the memebers escorted me to a classroom. I was welcomed by the teacher with a chair and a cup of coffee. The class was going through the Gospel of John. Halfway through the lesson I had to use the bathroom. I didn’t want to leave, but I could not hold it until the class was over.
Exiting the bathroom I took a detour. Instead of going back to the classroom I went back to the auditorium. I wanted to have another look at those crosses. I had been thinking all through Sunday School what was written on the slips of paper. I peeked my head around the door and saw that no one was there.
I walked to the cross where I had stood in line. I knelt down and looked at all of the tear-stained pieces of paper nailed to the cross. I looked up to see if anyone was looking and I ripped a piece of paper off. I opened the folded slip and read what was written. It said: “I put Canadian change in Salvation Army buckets.”
I scowled at the sin, and put it in my jeans pocket. I tore another one off the cross and it read: “I insert my name for Jesus while singing praise songs.” I gasped at this horrible confession and balled it up and stuffed it in my pocket. Another sin read: “I flip off the babies in the nursery.” It went into my pocket. “I make paper airplanes out of pages from my Bible.” Another in my pocket. “I use a small cross as a back-scratcher.” “I send diabetics boxes of chocolate signed from a secret admirer.” “I poured a bottle of Coke on a stranger in a restaurant stall.” "I'm not happy and I know it, yet I still clap my hands." "I put rotting meat in my neighbor's mailbox."
Sin after sin was crammed in my pockets. After a few minutes my pockets were bulging with the sins of the church. I was sickened by all that I had read. These sinners were the same ones I worshiped with earlier. I left without saying goodbye burdened with the sins of the church in my pockets. I even tore my own sin off. It read: “I lie a lot.”
Saturday, July 12, 2008
I Once Wore Cowboy Boots
I recently got engaged. Her name is Amy Perrey and she is the girl of my dreams. I wonder sometimes how I got so lucky to find her. I don't know what I did that impressed her so much that she actually said yes to a proposal, but I do remember trying to play it cool. All guys try this, and eventually the truth comes out. Now that I have been with Amy for over nine weeks she is starting to see the truth--I'm not that cool.
Here are five examples:
1)Amy was impressed with my knowledge of films. I don't watch movies. I watch films. I don't watch hour and half long frat boy movies full of breasts and beer but five hour long German Expessionistic silent films full of paradox and pretention.
But also...I like Star Trek!
2)Amy was impressed with how well-read I am. I don't read novels. I read literature. I don't read airport staples like Michael Crichton and John Grishom with their identifiable, predictable characters, but French existential literature with their absurd, ammoral anti-heroes.
But also...I read fantasy novels!
3)Amy liked how hip my music tastes are. I don't listen to pop. I listen to indie. I listen and brood to proto-punk, punk, post-punk, crust punk, anarcho-punk,skate-punk, prog, experimental, noise rock, shoegazing, new wave, no wave, electro, dub, acoustic, folk,straight edge, political, passifistic, vegan, alternative, straight edge,hardcore, thrashcore, mathcore, lo-fi, avant-garde, sythesized, nihilistic, distorted, atonal, and melancholic music.
But also...I have Mariah Carey's greatest hits!
4)Amy likes my indie look. I don't dress casually. I dress indie: black rimmed glasses, band-tees, vintage shirts, Chuck Taylor's,Dickies, suspenders, shaggy hair, messy hair, messenger bag, and hoodies. For a better visual visit your local B & N.
But also...I had a rat tail in the sixth grade!
5)Amy likes my sarcastic sense of humor. I don't laugh with you. I laugh at you. I have no time for your banal, sentimental observations about every flower that reminds you of your childhood. Your sanctimonious moments are my ironic observations. I roll my world-wearied eyes at your romantic gushes.
But also...I have a scrap book!
Now that you all know this I have to ask, "Please still be my friend!" And Amy, "Please still marry me!"
Here are five examples:
1)Amy was impressed with my knowledge of films. I don't watch movies. I watch films. I don't watch hour and half long frat boy movies full of breasts and beer but five hour long German Expessionistic silent films full of paradox and pretention.
But also...I like Star Trek!
2)Amy was impressed with how well-read I am. I don't read novels. I read literature. I don't read airport staples like Michael Crichton and John Grishom with their identifiable, predictable characters, but French existential literature with their absurd, ammoral anti-heroes.
But also...I read fantasy novels!
3)Amy liked how hip my music tastes are. I don't listen to pop. I listen to indie. I listen and brood to proto-punk, punk, post-punk, crust punk, anarcho-punk,skate-punk, prog, experimental, noise rock, shoegazing, new wave, no wave, electro, dub, acoustic, folk,straight edge, political, passifistic, vegan, alternative, straight edge,hardcore, thrashcore, mathcore, lo-fi, avant-garde, sythesized, nihilistic, distorted, atonal, and melancholic music.
But also...I have Mariah Carey's greatest hits!
4)Amy likes my indie look. I don't dress casually. I dress indie: black rimmed glasses, band-tees, vintage shirts, Chuck Taylor's,Dickies, suspenders, shaggy hair, messy hair, messenger bag, and hoodies. For a better visual visit your local B & N.
But also...I had a rat tail in the sixth grade!
5)Amy likes my sarcastic sense of humor. I don't laugh with you. I laugh at you. I have no time for your banal, sentimental observations about every flower that reminds you of your childhood. Your sanctimonious moments are my ironic observations. I roll my world-wearied eyes at your romantic gushes.
But also...I have a scrap book!
Now that you all know this I have to ask, "Please still be my friend!" And Amy, "Please still marry me!"
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Capn' Crunch Connoisseur
I am a completest. It is part of my obsessive compulsive disorder. I am a perfectionist about completing everything. I just can't eat Capn' Crunch. I have to eat them all: Capn' Crunch, Crunch Berries, Peanut Butter Crunch, Choco Crunch, Halloween Crunch, Christmas Crunch, Home Run Crunch, and Treasure Hunt Crunch. I even have to list them all for you.
Also I am a completist when it comes to movies. If I watch one Nightmare on Elm Street I have to watch the next 50 sequels. Not everyone has time to watch all of these sequels. Lucky for you I am an unemployed grad student. I have the time, and I can even justify it--I've worked hard for eight years, I deserve it!
I am going to save you the time from watching all of these movies by summarizing them for you. I am going to start with the Rocky movies. This way you don't have to watch over 12 hours of "Eye of the Tiger," Mr. T, sluggish dialogue, and sentimentalized boxing. Enjoy!
Rocky: Rocky fights a black guy and loses.
Rocky II: Rocky fights the same black guy and wins.
Rocky III: Rocky fights a different black guy and wins.
Rocky IV: Rocky fights a white communist and wins.
Rocky V: Rocky fights a white capitalist and wins.
Balboa: Rocky goes back to fighting black guys and loses.
Rocky inspired a nation. Rocky taught us that in life it is more important to go the distance than to win. Rocky taught us that we must get over our political differences. I almost shed a tear when Rocky addressed the Soviet audience passionately saying, "I guess what I'm trying to say, is that if I can change, and you can change, everybody can change!"
I am so inspired I feel like runnning up the steps of the Philadelphia Arts Museum like Rocky did. However, I'm so out of shape from watching all six of these movies that I will just sit at home and put in Rambo.
Also I am a completist when it comes to movies. If I watch one Nightmare on Elm Street I have to watch the next 50 sequels. Not everyone has time to watch all of these sequels. Lucky for you I am an unemployed grad student. I have the time, and I can even justify it--I've worked hard for eight years, I deserve it!
I am going to save you the time from watching all of these movies by summarizing them for you. I am going to start with the Rocky movies. This way you don't have to watch over 12 hours of "Eye of the Tiger," Mr. T, sluggish dialogue, and sentimentalized boxing. Enjoy!
Rocky: Rocky fights a black guy and loses.
Rocky II: Rocky fights the same black guy and wins.
Rocky III: Rocky fights a different black guy and wins.
Rocky IV: Rocky fights a white communist and wins.
Rocky V: Rocky fights a white capitalist and wins.
Balboa: Rocky goes back to fighting black guys and loses.
Rocky inspired a nation. Rocky taught us that in life it is more important to go the distance than to win. Rocky taught us that we must get over our political differences. I almost shed a tear when Rocky addressed the Soviet audience passionately saying, "I guess what I'm trying to say, is that if I can change, and you can change, everybody can change!"
I am so inspired I feel like runnning up the steps of the Philadelphia Arts Museum like Rocky did. However, I'm so out of shape from watching all six of these movies that I will just sit at home and put in Rambo.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Soylent Green is Peace of Mind!
I can not eat out anymore. The reason: feces. I read an article in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch about feces found on lemon slices in restaurants. You might not be surprised to learn this about some fast-food restaurant, but this report was about sit-down restaurants. You know the ones. The ones with miscellaneous stuff found in a gararge sale mounted on the walls. You pay six dollars for mozarella sticks so you can look at rusted bicycles and pictures of Elvis on wood-paneled walls.
I ate at one of these restaurants the other night. What did I order to drink? Water. The waitress said, "Would you like lemon with that." I said, "Yes, please." What she was really saying was, "Would you like a small wedge of defecation with that." What I was really replying was, "Yes, I would like to take a tongue-lapping drink out of your toilet."
I can not eat lemons anymore. I can not even look at them in the grocery store. Before, they were citric, oval, refreshing, yellow pieces of goodness, but now all I see is brown, brown, brown! That is why I am going green. Not Al Gore Green, but Soylent Green.
Soylent Green was a Sci-Fi movie from 1971 starring Charlton Heston. It is a movie about the future and overpopulation. Most of the animals are dead and nothing green will grow. The only food source available to humankind are wafers of soy that are supposed to provide all the nourishment one would need.
This future does not scare me. It gives me hope. It is a future where all the restaurants will be closed. Grocery stores will be abanonded and condemend buildings. Food vendors will be mythical figures of the past No more will disgrunteld workers spit on burgers. No more will flies buzz around and land on deli meats. It is a future where I don't have to worry about lemon slices coated with feces. It is a future for our children.
What if our future comes to this--to soy wafers? What would we miss: taste, texture, aromas, variety, fellowship, and environment? What would we avoid: crap! The future may be bleak and bland, but at least it will not be mined with E. Coli traps. Soy Green is peace of mind!
I ate at one of these restaurants the other night. What did I order to drink? Water. The waitress said, "Would you like lemon with that." I said, "Yes, please." What she was really saying was, "Would you like a small wedge of defecation with that." What I was really replying was, "Yes, I would like to take a tongue-lapping drink out of your toilet."
I can not eat lemons anymore. I can not even look at them in the grocery store. Before, they were citric, oval, refreshing, yellow pieces of goodness, but now all I see is brown, brown, brown! That is why I am going green. Not Al Gore Green, but Soylent Green.
Soylent Green was a Sci-Fi movie from 1971 starring Charlton Heston. It is a movie about the future and overpopulation. Most of the animals are dead and nothing green will grow. The only food source available to humankind are wafers of soy that are supposed to provide all the nourishment one would need.
This future does not scare me. It gives me hope. It is a future where all the restaurants will be closed. Grocery stores will be abanonded and condemend buildings. Food vendors will be mythical figures of the past No more will disgrunteld workers spit on burgers. No more will flies buzz around and land on deli meats. It is a future where I don't have to worry about lemon slices coated with feces. It is a future for our children.
What if our future comes to this--to soy wafers? What would we miss: taste, texture, aromas, variety, fellowship, and environment? What would we avoid: crap! The future may be bleak and bland, but at least it will not be mined with E. Coli traps. Soy Green is peace of mind!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Strongly Disagreeable
I have been applying for work again. I tried this last fall and only got one interview of out 20-some applications--I didn’t get the job. Because I could not find a job, I went back to college. Now that the semester is over I’m back to applying for work. I’ve applied for the following jobs: grocery stores, book stores, substitute teaching, and even children’s ministry.
When I apply for the major chain grocery stores and book stores I have to answer these confusing, double negative-filled questions to determine what kind of temperament I have. Apparently the good people of Schnucks and Borders don’t want to hire any nihilistic, self-loathing, and possibly schizophrenic employees to greet and assist their valued customers.
So, when I am answering these questions I am lying. An example of one of these questions is, “You love to be with people.” I have to answer one of the following: strongly disagree, disagree, agree, or strongly agree. The correct answer is, “strongly agree.” That is the answer I clicked, but I’m a liar.
I fill out many of these applications. For just once I would like to answer truthfully. For example, "You love to be with people.” I would answer, “strongly disagree.” If there was room to explain my answer I would say, “Because I hate you all, and wish you would all die!”
Here are more of my truthful answers and explanations.
You are proud of the work you do at school or on a job. Strongly disagree. I am not proud of anything I have done in my pessimiistic, uneventful, purposeless, crappy life.
You would rather not get involved in other people's problems. Strongly agree. I don’t care for anyone else other than me. You and your problems can kiss off. I'm too busy reading myself into every piece of escapist literature I can find.
You have confidence in yourself. Strongly disagree. I have failed at everything I have attempted to do. My self-esteem is so low I require medication.
You have no big regrets about your past. Strongly disagree. I regret ever being born in this absurd, meaningless, random world where there is neither love nor hope.
You ignore people you don't like. Strongly disagree. I like to passive-aggressively pester the people I don’t like by peeing on their car-door handles or stealing their mail.
There's no use having close friends; they always let you down. Strongly agree. I wish all of my friends would join the armed forces and protect my freedom in some remote part of the world.
You are unsure of what to say when you meet someone. Strongly disagree. I know exactly what I would say, “I am not interested in getting to know you better. You look like the kind of person whose mother smoked and drank while pregnant. I would not be surprised if you killed yourself by keeping the car running in the garage. Get out of my face and never speak to me again, please”
You do some things that upset people. Strongly agree. Like posting this blog, which neither benefits nor uplifts anybody. For all of you losers who have nothing better to do than read this blog, I want you all to get salmonella poison from tomatoes that missed being recalled by the FDA.
Would anyone like to hire me now?I have references.
When I apply for the major chain grocery stores and book stores I have to answer these confusing, double negative-filled questions to determine what kind of temperament I have. Apparently the good people of Schnucks and Borders don’t want to hire any nihilistic, self-loathing, and possibly schizophrenic employees to greet and assist their valued customers.
So, when I am answering these questions I am lying. An example of one of these questions is, “You love to be with people.” I have to answer one of the following: strongly disagree, disagree, agree, or strongly agree. The correct answer is, “strongly agree.” That is the answer I clicked, but I’m a liar.
I fill out many of these applications. For just once I would like to answer truthfully. For example, "You love to be with people.” I would answer, “strongly disagree.” If there was room to explain my answer I would say, “Because I hate you all, and wish you would all die!”
Here are more of my truthful answers and explanations.
You are proud of the work you do at school or on a job. Strongly disagree. I am not proud of anything I have done in my pessimiistic, uneventful, purposeless, crappy life.
You would rather not get involved in other people's problems. Strongly agree. I don’t care for anyone else other than me. You and your problems can kiss off. I'm too busy reading myself into every piece of escapist literature I can find.
You have confidence in yourself. Strongly disagree. I have failed at everything I have attempted to do. My self-esteem is so low I require medication.
You have no big regrets about your past. Strongly disagree. I regret ever being born in this absurd, meaningless, random world where there is neither love nor hope.
You ignore people you don't like. Strongly disagree. I like to passive-aggressively pester the people I don’t like by peeing on their car-door handles or stealing their mail.
There's no use having close friends; they always let you down. Strongly agree. I wish all of my friends would join the armed forces and protect my freedom in some remote part of the world.
You are unsure of what to say when you meet someone. Strongly disagree. I know exactly what I would say, “I am not interested in getting to know you better. You look like the kind of person whose mother smoked and drank while pregnant. I would not be surprised if you killed yourself by keeping the car running in the garage. Get out of my face and never speak to me again, please”
You do some things that upset people. Strongly agree. Like posting this blog, which neither benefits nor uplifts anybody. For all of you losers who have nothing better to do than read this blog, I want you all to get salmonella poison from tomatoes that missed being recalled by the FDA.
Would anyone like to hire me now?I have references.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
My Beef with Ketchup
There is a Wendy’s commercial from the 80’s that asks, “Where’s the beef?” I say, “Who cares? Where’s the ketchup!” No matter how rancid meat may be, ketchup can mask that taste.
However, there is one table where you will not find Heinz ketchup. The
Should the SLCC cafeteria use Heinz ketchup? I believe so and here are a few facts about Heinz: no animal products, contains Lycopene, no hidden MSG, and upside bottles. Now let me show you what Monarch is all about: paprika.
I argue that the SLCC cafeteria should switch to Heinz. Heinz is synonymous with ketchup. Monarch is synonymous with mediocrity. SLCC students fail at so much: grades, exams, reports, and MAP. Let us at least succeed in ketchup.
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