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Tuesday, November 2nd, 2004
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9 Things I Hate About Everyone
1. People who point at their wrist while asking for the time.... I know
where my watch is pal, where the fuck is yours? Do I point at my crotch when I ask where the toilet is?
2. People who are willing to get off their ass to search the entire room for
the TV remote because they refuse to walk to the TV and change the channel
manually.
3. When people say "Oh you just want to have your cake and eat it too." Damn right! What good is a cake if you can't eat it?
4. When people say "it's always the last place you look." Of course it is.
Why the fuck would you keep looking after you've found it?
5. When people say while watching a film "did you see that?". No Loser, I
paid $12 to come to the cinema and stare at the fucking floor.
6. People who ask "Can I ask you a question?".... Didn't really give me a
choice there, did ya sunshine?
7. When something is 'new and improved!'. Which is it? If it's new, then there has never been anything before it. If it's an improvement, then there must have been something before it.
8. When people say "life is short". What the fuck?? Life is the longest damn
thing anyone ever fucking does!! What can you do that's longer?
9. When you are waiting for the bus and someone asks "Has the bus come
yet?". If the bus came would I be standing here, dumb ass?
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Tuesday, October 19th, 2004
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(A poem written by a friend of mine serving in the Navy.)
NOT IN VAIN
By Filan Roque
Noble men must serve first to lead
For my flag, I know I must bleed
And for our nation to freely breathe
This glorious land I must leave
To bring this fight to their door
Until terror is no more
And when they lay me down to rest
Tell them that I was better than best
And when my mom begins to cry aloud,
Ask her if I made her proud
After I endure all the blood, sweat, and pain
I know my sacrifice will not be in vain.
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Thursday, September 16th, 2004
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**My Note: This is the famously monotoned actor/Visine spokesperson**
Written by eonline/Pure Pursuit
Tuesday June 29, 2004
For many years Ben Stein has written a biweekly column for the eonline website called "Monday Night At Morton's". Now, Ben is terminating the column to move on to other things in his life.
Reading his final column to our military is worth a few minutes of your time because it praises the most unselfish among us; our military personnel.
By Ben Stein: How Can Someone Who Lives in Insane Luxury Be a Star in Today's World?
As I begin to write this, I "slug" it, as we writers say, which means I put a heading on top of the document to identify it. This heading is eonlineFINAL," and it gives me a shiver to write it. I have been doing this column for so long that I cannot even recall when I started. I loved writing this column so much for so long I came to believe it would never end. It worked well for a long time, but gradually, my changing as a person and the world's change have overtaken it. On a small scale, Morton's, while better than ever, no longer attracts as many stars as it used to. It still brings in the rich people in droves and definitely some stars. I saw Samuel L. Jackson there a few days ago, and we had a nice visit,and right before that,I saw and had a splendid talk with Warren Beatty in an elevator, in which we agreed that Splendor in the Grass was ! a super movie. But Morton's is not the star galaxy it once was, though it probably will be again. Beyond that, a bigger change has happened.
I no longer think Hollywood stars are terribly important. They are uniformly pleasant, friendly people, and they treat me better than I deserve to be treated. But a man or woman who makes a huge wage for memorizing lines and reciting them in front of a camera is no longer my idea of a shining star we should all look up to.
How can a man or woman who makes an eight-figure wage and lives in insane luxury really be a star in today's world, if by a "star" we mean someone bright and powerful and attractive as a role model? Real stars are not riding around in the backs of limousines or in Porsches or getting trained in yoga or Pilates and eating only raw fruit while they have Vietnamese girls do their nails. They can be interesting, nice people, but they are not heroes to me any longer.
A real star is the soldier of the 4th Infantry Division who poked his head into a hole on a farm near Tikrit, Iraq. He could have been met by a bomb or a hail of AK-47 bullets. Instead, he faced an abject Saddam Hussein and the gratitude of all of the decent people of the world. A real star is the U.S. soldier who was sent to disarm a bomb next to a road north of Baghdad.
He approached it, and the bomb went off and killed him. A real star, the kind who haunts my memory night and day, is the U.S. soldier in Baghdad who saw a little girl playing with a piece of unexploded ordnance on a street near where he was guarding a station. He pushed her aside and threw himself on it just as it exploded. He left a family desolate in California and a little girl alive in Baghdad.
The stars who deserve media attention are not the ones who have lavish weddings on TV but the ones who patrol the streets of Mosul even after two of their buddies were murdered and their bodies battered and stripped for the sin of trying to protect Iraqis from terrorists. We put couples with incomes of $100 million a year on the covers of our magazines. The noncoms and officers who barely scrape by on military pay but stand on guard in Afghanistan and Iraq and on ships and in submarines and near the Arctic Circle are anonymous as they live and die.
I am no longer comfortable being a part of the system that has such poor values, and I do not want to perpetuate those values by pretending that who is eating at Morton's is a big subject. There are plenty of other stars in the American firmament.The policemen and women who go off on patrol in South Central and have no idea if they will return alive.The orderlies and paramedics who bring in people who have been in terrible accidents and prepare them for surgery. The teachers and nurses who throw their whole spirits into caring for autistic children. The kind men and women who work in hospices and in cancer wards. Think of each and every fireman who was running up the stairs at the World Trade Center as the towers began to collapse.
Now you have my idea of a real hero.
We are not responsible for the operation of the universe, and what happens to us is not terribly important. God is real, not a fiction, and when we turn over our lives to Him, he takes far better care of us than we could In a word, we make ourselves sane when we fire ourselves as the directors of the movie of our lives and turn the power over to Him. I came to realize that life lived to help others is the only one that matters. This is my highest and best use as a human.
I can put it another way. Years ago, I realized I could never be as great an actor as Olivier or as good a comic as Steve Martin--or Martin Mull or Fred Willard--or as good an economist as Samuelson or Friedman or as good a writer as Fitzgerald. Or even remotely close to any of them. But I could be a devoted father to my son, husband to my wife and, above all, a good son to the parents who had done so much for me.This came to be my main task in life. I did it moderately well with my son, pretty well with my wife and well indeed with my parents (with my sister's help). I cared for and paid attention to them in their declining years. I stayed with my father as he got sick, went into extremis and then into a coma and then entered immortality with my sister and me reading him the Psalms.
This was the only point at which my life touched the lives of the soldiers in Iraq or the firefighters in New York. I came to realize that life lived to help others is the only one that matters and that it is my duty, in return for the lavish life God has devolved upon me, to help others He has placed in my path. This is my highest and best use as a human.
This information is provided by PURE PURSUIT as a service to members of the Military and Air Defense Community with the purpose of offering relevant and timely information on defense, aviation, emergency, law enforcement and terrorism issues.
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Tuesday, August 17th, 2004
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THE WAY I SEE IT . . .
By Bill Horton
8/3/04
Recently I have been involved in ongoing
discussions regarding the gay agenda and gun rights.
Many of the folks I have been talking to think
similarly to my beliefs. What is hard to see is that
some have no idea where I am coming from when faced
with the question "why do you own a gun"? "Why do you
carry a loaded weapon"?
I have been told everything from I am paranoid to
I am a would-be murderer.
I have the right to do so. I have followed the
law and jumped through the necessary hoops to do it
right and I have a great deal of experience with the
particular model handgun I carry.
The gay agenda is disputed because of its
pervasive nature.
Schools systems everywhere are being pressured to
adopt the teachings of the "Gay Lesbian Straight
Education Network (GLSEN). This organization wants to
normalize homosexual behavior and they claim to teach
"tolerance".
The definition of tolerance today essentially
dictates that if you disagree in any way with the
morals of homosexuals you are a homophobe and a bigot.
Have the stones to stand up and say BS! If you
believe homosexuality to be a choice say so when asked
for an opinion. Know this, our children are being
taught that homosexuality is as normal as breathing.
If that were true then they could reproduce.
I don't care about what happens behind closed
doors, really, I don't! I DAMN WELL CARE WHAT MY
CHILDREN HEAR AT SCHOOL ABOUT SOMETHING THAT IS NOT
CONSIDERED NORMAL IN MY FAMILY!
This election year you are hearing about values
among other things. Let's focus on this for a moment.
Same sex marriage is an issue. Kerry does not
support gay marriage but he thinks it's a states
rights issue. What? What is your stand Senator
Kerry?
Marriage is defined as a union between a man and
a woman. That is simple isn't it?
This is all part of the agenda.
Kerry flipped on abortion recently. Now it seems
he believes that life begins at conception. If that
is the case then there is no "fetus" in his realm so
state sponsored murder is okay by him? Senator Kerry
supports "late term" or "partial birth" abortions.
That would be murder on his conscience! Wow another
Senator that will not take a stand to stop murder? By
the way, a common misconception from the angry left is
that conservatives want to take away rights from
women. That is not true. I believe that there is a
right to choose and I am firmly against abortion but
with regard to that choice, I simply oppose using
taxpayer money to fund abortion!
As for the military and the war on terror, where
does Kerry stand? He would not strike a nation to
prevent a strike on America. He is very determined to
support "first-responders". Okay, first responders
are important but would it not be prudent to stop it
before it starts?
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"Unless you are the lead dog the view never changes."
"There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go as long as he doesn't mind who gets the credit . . ." Ronald Reagan
"A leader, once convinced a particular course of action is the right one, must have the determination to stick with it and be undaunted when the going gets rough." Ronald Reagan - December 5, 1990
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Saturday, August 7th, 2004
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Fist of Defiance (Mista: bass, Ross: drums, Copo: vocals, Me: guitar)
Eyes To the Sky (Bobby: bass, DD: drums, Copo: vocals, Ross: guitar, Me: guitar)
The Gummybear Concern (Copo: bass[temporary], Lorenz: drums/guitar, Mista: vocals, Ross: guitar/drums, Me: guitar)
The Elevator: (Michele: bass, Lorenz: drums, Ross: guitar, Me: guitar)
xJust Diex (Me: bass, Brian: drums, Musto: vocals, Seth: guitar)
Abracatastrophe --> The Architect (Greg: bass, Pete: drums, Joel: vocals, Ross: guitar, Me: guitar)
The Valentine (filled in on guitar)
Maybe The Architect will start up again, but I doubt it now. Joel moved back to Long Island because of some personal problems, Pete is back at college in PA, Greg moved to North Carolina and Ross is doing the new Redline band. I was extremely committed to The Valentine and wanted to do it, but I guess they have others in mind. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. I just wish I wasn't so depressed the whole tour. But, its kinda hard when so much has backfired in my face; losing almost everything. When Jasmine and I split up, my entire heart and soul left me. Even still today, I wake up in the mornings and just feel nothing inside me. There's still so much pain and suffering pent up and I wish it would just go away. No one was there for me when I was hurting and even still when I was going thru it, I was being used by other people, even those I considered friends. Everyone else turned their backs on me. Anyone I considered a friend left. I got some advice from family, but everyone else has their own lives, there's not much time to help me out. Even recently some bad things came up about me. A fight broke out and some lies and secrets that were told behind my back were revealed to my face and I've just been extremely down ever since.
My best friend is rarely around. One of my hermit crabs died a while ago and that just sucks. I want to give them the best life possible, but there's nothing left in me anymore. I'm thinking of going to the shore and setting them free. There's no point in trying to give them up to a loveless pet store. I don't get much sleep and I'm always tired. Everything I put whats left of my heart into fades away. Even playing for The Valentine. I wanted that so bad and I was always there. I would've put everything I had left into it but they didnt even have the courage to tell me that they wanted someone else. If its because of my schooling than none of this makes sense. Because I know Musto has talked about "taking the risks" and doing what you have to do to make this work, and I agree. But, technically they arent even a full time band. And if Musto was really all about taking the risks, than why did he keep his job and why did he not just drop out of school? It's because NO ONE in their RIGHT MINDS takes a risk without having at least one backup plan. That's exactly what I was doing. None of those guys quit their jobs either and they can't even consider themselves a fulltime band because they don't make enough money to support such a claim. When we were out on the road (and I KNEW this was gonna happen to me, too.) We made ZERO money to take home with us. We also got screwed on some shows, too with cancellations and no guarantees. And I knew that if I didnt get some sort of security before leaving on this thing that I would be dead with my bills when I got back. I took care of the ones I had before I left, but I knew there was a 353562524526524% chance that we were not taking a dime home. Sure it was awesome to meet/talk to/hang out with JESSE SMITH!!!!!!! One of my greatest influences in music. And the other experiences are something we all need I think. To see the country we live in, to interact with other people and learn about other cultures. But, once you get home the reality sets in. So, there's obviously gotta be some other reason why I wasn't given this chance. But, why should I even think about this, this isn't even a surprise to me. I've had no luck with anything most of my life and I shouldn't start dreaming about it now.
I don't even know what else to say, I mean, my head just constantly spins. Thoughts that are better transmitted cerebrally rather than through word of mouth or even word processing programs. All I know is that deep down inside I can't trust anyone on this earth anymore. I'm not even gonna explain why cuz there's so much to it and so many events that led to my decision on that. I'm tired of always feeling sadness. I'm tired of always feeling lonliness. I'm tired of always feeling undeserving. I'm tired of always feeling worthless and rejected. I'm tired of missing...
I just have to stick to my goals (film school for directing, screenwriting and acting and story submissions to work on become a well-known author), stay strong in my faith, and know that even if everyone I come in contact with doesn't believe in me it shouldn't matter. It should only matter when I start losing hope in what I can achieve. I'm not saying I'm over any pain or heartache. But life will always be a long and tedious trudge through a bog of mud. It will always feel like we are tied to steeds pulling us in the reverse direction. But, no matter how many scars I get in life, I know they will feel and look like medals at the end.
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Thursday, August 5th, 2004
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To all you Idiots who keep claiming we're a Democracy, No, we are NOT! We are a country founded upon laws. Go read your history books and maybe it'll knock some sense into you. If we were based on a Democracy this country wouldn't have lasted as long as it has. And to the rest of you who want to sympathize with the world instead of your own country. Bye bye...catch the next boat outta here cuz I can't stand those who are unpatriotic. Start supporting your own families and our soldiers and the red, white and blue flag waving on our soil, cuz those are the only things that got us where we are today. Start showing respect. I'm done.
Mike.
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My Fellow Americans:
As you all know, the defeat of Iraq regime has been completed. Since congress does not want to spend any more money on this war, our mission in Iraq is complete.
This morning I gave the order for a complete removal of all American forces from Iraq. This action will be complete within 30 days. It is now to begin the reckoning.
Before me, I have two lists. One list contains the names of countries which have stood by our side during the Iraq conflict. This list is short. The United Kingdom, Spain, Bulgaria, Australia, and Poland are some of the countries listed there.
The other list contains everyone not on the first list. Most of the worlds nations are on that list. My press secretary will be distributing copies of both lists later this evening..
Let me start by saying that effective immediately, foreign aid to those nations on List 2 ceases immediately and indefinitely. The money saved during the first year alone will pretty much pay for the costs of the Iraqi war.
The American people are no longer going to pour money into third world Hell-holes and watch those government leaders grow fat on corruption.
Need help with a famine? Wrestling with an epidemic? Call France.
In the future, together with Congress, I will work to redirect this money toward solving the vexing social problems we still have at home. On that note, a word to terrorist organizations. Screw with us and we will hunt you down and eliminate you and all your friends from the face of the earth. Thirsting for a gutsy country to terrorize? Try France, or maybe China.
To Israel and the Palestinian Authority. You, boys. Work out a peace deal now. Just note that Camp David is closed. Maybe all of you can go to Russia for negotiations. They have some great palaces there. Big tables, too. I am ordering the immediate severing of diplomatic relations with France, Germany, and Russia. Thanks for all your help, comrades. We are retiring from NATO as well. Bon chance, mes amis. I have instructed the Mayor of New York City to begin towing the many UN diplomatic vehicles located in Manhattan with more than two unpaid parking tickets to sites where those vehicles will be stripped, shredded and crushed. I don't care about whatever treaty pertains to this. You creeps have tens of thousands of unpaid tickets. Pay those tickets tomorrow or watch your precious Benzes, Beamers, and limos be turned over to some of the finest chop shops in the world. I love New York.
A special note to our neighbors. Canada is on List 2. Since we are likely to be seeing a lot more of each other, you folks might want to try not pissing us off for a change. Mexico is also on List 2. President Fox and his entire corrupt government really need an attitude adjustment. I will have a couple extra tank and infantry divisions sitting around. Guess where I am going to put em? Yep, border security. So start doing something with your oil. Oh, by the way, the United States is abrogating the NAFTA treaty --- starting now.
We are tired of the one-way highway.
It is time for America to focus on its own welfare and its own citizens. Some will accuse us of isolationism. I answer them by saying, "darn tootin."
Nearly a century of trying to help folks live a decent life around the world has only earned us the undying enmity of just about everyone on the planet. It is time to eliminate hunger in America.. It is time to eliminate homelessness in America. It is time to eliminate World Cup Soccer from America. To the nations on List 1, a final thought. Thanks guys. We owe you and we won't forget. To the nations on List 2, a final thought. Drop dead.
God bless America.
Thank you and good night.
If you can read this, thank a teacher. If you are reading it in English, thank a soldier.
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THE WAY I SEE IT . . .
By Bill Horton
6/29/04
The news media has a job to do.
We all have jobs as well. The "job" that the
press is doing is to provide information to the
public.
We are hearing individual casualties daily from
Iraq and Afghanistan.
When I hear these names I want to level the
entire area surrounding the thugs that did the
shooting or bombing.
I am outside the realm of the diplomatic.
I get anxious toward wanting to deliver a
pounding to the enemy.
I know that there are many folks that hear the
names and it fuels their anger about the war and
drives them to hate the President.
The first WTC bombing and the USS Cole stirred me
to anger. I wanted to see heads on stakes! No overt
action was taken. That angered me! No one cared!
It is strange that solving the problem is more
unpopular than crying about it.
We tend to want to blame this on President Bush
these days. He did not kill the people in the WTC or
the Cole nor did he have any role in the 9/11 attacks.
With that said, he is blamed more than al-Qaeda.
Warfare is not neat and clean. We did not start
this. Some Muslim-extremist whack-job did this.
Doing something is far better than what was done
before, NOTHING!
We can't have it both ways, they are not going to
go away without a fight. The stated aim of all of the
nut-jobs out there is to end the U.S. and western
civilization! I know there are so-called Americans
that would rather live under some Muslim extremist
than defend America!
I know that there are folks that would "open a
dialogue" or "discuss other options". If I had to pin
a label on these folks I would be left with no other
words and I would say coward. Peace is not achieved
through surrender.
The Muslim extremists will not coexist with Christians or Jews.
We are not going to be able to come to an agreement. They want us gone.
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"Unless you are the lead dog the view never changes."
"There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go as long as he doesn't mind who gets the credit . . ." Ronald Reagan
"A leader, once convinced a particular course of action is the right one, must have the determination to stick with it and be undaunted when the going gets rough." Ronald Reagan - December 5, 1990
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MILITARY PAY ARTICLE
Subject: Airman's response
This Airman's response to the Washington Times should be printed in all newspapers across America. Especially now when the President is calling up more Reserves and National Guardsmen. Get this response out to everyone you know. It's time the Jane Fonda's & Sean Penn's of this country to wise up and support the troops that defend them.
>Military Pay Article:
On Nov. 12, Ms Cindy Williams (from Laverne and Shirley TV show) wrote a piece for the Washington Times, denouncing the pay raise(s)coming servicemembers' way this year -- citing that the stated 13% wage was more than they deserve.
A young airman from Hill AFB responds to her article below. He ought to get a bonus for this.
"Ms Williams:
I just had the pleasure of reading your column, "Our GIs earn enough" and I am a bit confused. Frankly, I'm wondering where this vaunted overpayment is going, because as far as I can tell, it disappears every month between DFAS (The Defense Finance and Accounting Service and my bank account. Checking my latest earnings statement I see that I make $1,117.80 before taxes. After taxes, I take home $874.20. When I run that through the calculator, I come up with an annual salary of $13,413.60 before taxes, and $10,490.40, after. I work in the Air Force Network Control Center where I am part of the team responsible for a 5,000-host computer network. I am involved with infrastructure segments, specifically with Cisco Systems equipment. A quick check under jobs for Network Technicians in the Washington, D.C. area reveals a position in my career field, requiring three years experience with my job. Amazingly, this job does NOT pay $13,413.60 a year. No, this job is being offered at $70,000 to $80,000 per annum .I'm sure you can draw the obvious conclusions.
Given the tenor of your column, I would assume that you NEVER had the pleasure of serving your country in her armed forces. Before you take it upon yourself to once more castigate congressional and DOD leadership for attempting to get the families in the military's lowest pay brackets off of WIC and food stamps, I suggest that you join a group of deploying soldiers headed for AFGHANISTAN; I leave the choice of service branch up to you. Whatever choice you make, though, opt for the SIX month rotation: it will guarantee you the longest possible time away from your family and friends, thus giving you full "deployment experience."
As your group prepares to board the plane, make sure to note the spouses and children who are saying good-bye to their loved ones. Also take care to note that several families are still unsure of how they'll be able to make ends meet while the primary breadwinner is gone -- obviously they've been squandering the "vast" piles of cash the government has been giving them. Try to deploy over a major holiday; Christmas and Thanksgiving are perennial favorites. And when you're actually over there, sitting in a foxhole, shivering against the cold desert night; and the flight sergeant tells you that there aren't enough people on shift to relieve you for chow, remember this: trade whatever MRE (meal-ready-to-eat) you manage to get for the tuna noodle casserole or cheese tortellini, and add Tabasco to everything. This gives some flavor. Talk to your loved ones as often as you are permitted; it won't nearly be long enough or often enough, but take what you can get and be thankful for it. You may have picked up on the fact that I disagree with most of the points you present in your opened piece. But, tomorrow from KABUL, I will defend to the death your right to say it. You see, I am an American fighting man, a guarantor of your First Amendment rights and every other right you cherish. On a daily basis, my brother and sister soldiers worldwide ensure that you and people like you can thumb your collective nose at us, all on a salary that is nothing short of pitiful and under conditions that would make most people cringe. We hemorrhage our best and brightest into the private sector because we can't offer the stability and pay of civilian companies.
And you, Ms. Williams, have the gall to say that we make more than we deserve?
Rubbish!
A1C Michael Bragg
Hill AFB AFNCC"
IF YOU AGREE, PLEASE PASS THIS ALONG TO AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE AND SHOW OUR SUPPORT OF THE AMERICAN FIGHTING MEN AND WOMEN. THANK YOU. THIS LETTER SHOULD BE APPLAUDED BY ANYONE WHO'S EVER SERVED OR HAD A FAMILY MEMBER SERVE IN THE ARMED FORCES! THIS YOUNG MAN DESERVES A MEDAL!
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A store that sells husbands has just opened in Canada
where a woman may go to choose a husband from among
many men. The store is comprised of 6 floors, and the
men increase in positive attributes as the shopper
ascends the flights. There is, however, a catch. As
you open the door to any floor you may choose a man
from that floor, but if you go up a floor, you cannot
go back down except to exit the building. So a woman
goes to the shopping center to find a husband.
On the first floor the sign on the door reads:
Floor 1 - These men have jobs. The woman reads the
sign and says to herself, "Well, that's better than my
last boyfriend, but I wonder what's further up?" So up
she goes.
The second floor sign reads:
Floor 2 - These men have jobs and love kids. The
woman remarks to herself, "That's great, but I wonder
what's further up?" And up she goes again.
The third floor sign reads:
Floor 3 - These men have jobs, love kids and are
extremely good looking. Hmmm, better" she says. "But I
wonder what's upstairs?"
The fourth floor sign reads:
Floor 4 -These men have jobs, love kids, are extremely
good looking and help with the housework. Wow!"
exclaims the woman, "very tempting. BUT, there must
be more, further up!" And again she heads up another
flight.
The fifth floor sign reads:
Floor 5 - These men have jobs, love kids, are
extremely good looking, help with the housework and
have a strong romantic streak. Oh, mercy me! But just
think... what must be awaiting me further on?" So up
to the sixth floor she goes.
The sixth floor sign reads:
Floor 6 - You are visitor 3,456,789,012 to this floor.
There are no men on this floor. This floor exists
solely as proof that women are impossible to please.
Thank you for shopping Husband Mart and have a nice
day!
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Wednesday, July 28th, 2004
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Remember the book "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus"? Well, here's a prime example offered by an English professor at an American University.
Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking and anything you wish to say must be written on the paper. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."
The following was actually turned in by two of my English students:
Rebecca -last name deleted, and Gary - last name deleted.
STORY:
(first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.
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(second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17, he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off, a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hi sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.
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Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediatelyy but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. Congress Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.
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(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 secconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret Mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow'em out of the sky!"
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(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockeery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.
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(Gary)
Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurootic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F*CKING TEA??? Oh no, I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels."
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(Rebecca)
Asshole.
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(Gary)
Bitch.
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(Rebecca)
F*CK YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!!!
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(Gary)
Go drink some tea - whore.
**********************************************
(teacher)
A+ - I really liked this one.
(received as an email)
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[ 3 thoughts \m/ ELABORATE ]
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Michael is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood
and always has something positive to say.
When someone would ask him how he was doing, would reply, "If I were any
better, I would be twins!"
He was a natural motivator.
If an employee was having a bad day, Michael was there telling the
employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.
Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to
Michael and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person
all of the time. How do you do it?"
Michael replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, you have two
choices today.
You can choose to be in a good mood or ... you can choose to be in a bad
mood..
I choose to be in a good mood.
Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or .. I
can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it.
Every time someone comes to me
complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or.... I can point
out the positive side of life. Choose the positive side of life. "
"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.
"Yes, it is," Michael said.
"Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every
situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You
choose how people affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or
bad mood.
The bottom line is: It's your choice how you live your life."
I reflected on what Michael said. Soon thereafter, I left the Tower
Industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought
about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.
Several years later, I heard that Michael was involved in a serious
accident, falling some 60 feet from a communications tower.
After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Michael was
released from the hospital with rods placed in his back.
I saw Michael about six months after the accident. When I asked him how
he was, he replied. "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my
scars?"
I declined to see his wounds, but I did ask him what had gone through
his mind as the accident took place.
"The first thing that went through my mind was the well-being of my soon
to be born daughter," Michael replied. "Then, as I lay on the ground, I
remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or ... I could
choose to die. I chose to live."
"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.
Michael continued, "...the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I
was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the
expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared.
In their eyes, I read "he's a dead man. I knew I needed to take action"
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me," said
Michael. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. "Yes, I replied."
The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply.
I took a deep breath and yelled, "Gravity."
Over their laughter, I told them, "I am choosing to live. Operate on me
as if I am alive, not dead."
Michael lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of
his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the
choice to live fully.
Attitude, after all, is everything. "Therefore do not worry about
tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough
trouble of its own."
After all today is the tomorrow you worried about
yesterday.
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[ ELABORATE ]
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Tuesday, April 27th, 2004
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Here is a math trick so unbelievable that it will stump you.
Personally I would like to know who came up with this and why that
person is not running the country. Let me know if it doesn't work for
you
1. Grab a calculator. (you won't be able to do this one in your head)
2. Key in the first three digits of your phone number (NOT the area
code)
3. Multiply by 80
4. Add 1
5. Multiply by 250
6. Add the last 4 digits of your phone number
7. Add the last 4 digits of your phone number again.
8. Subtract 250
9. Divide number by 2
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[ ELABORATE ]
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I want to address 3 issues in this paper concerning the movie, The Passion of the Christ:
1. Was the movie made simply for financial profit?
2. Is the movie anti-Semitic?
3. Is the movie too violent to watch?
Q. Was the movie made simply for financial profit?
The implication of the question is that some believe that Mel Gibson is exploiting the tragedy of the crucifixion for financial gain. This was clearly publicized when Andy Rooney from 60 Minutes maligned Gibson and concluded his comments with a question to him: "How many million dollars does it look as if you're going to make off the crucifixion of Christ?"
This is a disingenuous question at best because this question would have never been asked in reference to any other movie that has ever been made in the history of movie-making. Can you imagine anyone ever asking, “Did James Cameron prey upon the tragedy of the victims for financial gain when he made the movie, Titanic?” or “When Steven Spielberg graphically portrayed the death of American soldiers on Normandy Beach in Saving Private Ryan, did he actually intend to make a profit on his work?” or “Why did we have to pay to go see Shindler’s List? It was about the Holocaust. Surely no one is seeking to make revenue off of that nightmare!” But let’s be honest. Movies are made to make money, even movies about tragedy. If you don’t think so then give a viable explanation why the media lets us know every Monday which movie was number one at the box office over the weekend and how much that film grossed.
Now, the only one who can truly answer the motive behind the making of The Passion of the Christ is Mel Gibson. I cannot adequately speak in his stead. But the saying goes “actions speak louder than words.” Consider Mel Gibson’s actions. He financed the making of this movie with his own personal money of at least 25 million dollars. He took a financial risk in a project that he believed in, using his own earned income. This was big news long before the movie ever came out. And since we were reminded of it every day by the news media, it makes me question whether any other moviemaker has done the same thing. Did Steven Spielberg front his own personal fortune to make Shindler’s List? I don’t think so. If I’m not mistaken, the money was raised through production companies. So this tells me something about Mel Gibson’s passion for this movie and the risk he was willing to take in making it. And remember, there is no guarantee that anyone is going to recoup his or her invested money in any movie once that film is released.
And finally I have to ask what I have not heard anybody ask yet. SO WHAT? So what if he made this movie to make money? How come all of a sudden people who couldn’t give a crap about the person of Jesus Christ and his ministry, and those who mock Christianity are suddenly concerned over exploiting the tragedy of the crucifixion in the film industry? Since when does Andy Rooney, an avowed secularist, have the slightest care for the reputation of Christ and his sacrifice? That is why I believe, the whole issue of financial gain concerning this movie is disingenuous. There is an underlying motive behind the issue that I will conclude with.
Q. Is the movie anti-Semitic?
Before I answer this question I want to ask, what does the term anti-Semitic mean? According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary the term anti-Semitic is defined as: hostility toward or discrimination against Jews as a religious, ethnic, or racial group.” So the question we have to ask is, is this movie hostile or antagonistic toward the Jews as a religious, ethnic or racial group? Does this movie discriminate or show an unfairness, or bigotry toward the Jews as a religious, ethnic, or racial group? Having seen the movie twice and will no doubt see it again in the theatre before it goes to DVD, I can say from my own experience that had the anti-Semitic rant never been raised prior to seeing the movie, I would have never even entertained the concept. Movies for the most part are subjective and in reality we see what we want to see. If you want the movie to be anti-Semitic, all the explaining in the world won’t change your mind.
But having a basic understanding of the 4 gospels, I would have to say that Mel Gibson stayed within the parameters of that framework. He did NOT show the Jewish nation as a whole rejecting Christ, but rather the Jewish religious leaders, the Sanhedrin (a group of 70 men similar in rank to the Roman aristocratic senators but with religious emphasis). These Sanhedrin felt threatened by Jesus’ ministry because the crowds were following him and virtually ignoring them. The leaders feared losing their status and affluent lifestyle because of Jesus’ ministry. Their solution: get rid of Jesus, permanently. Now, this is historical fact. How else was Mel Gibson to portray the arrest and trial of Jesus Christ without implicating the Sanhedrin?
Gibson was very fair to the Jewish people. He portrayed Simon of Cyrene, the man who helped Jesus carry the cross in order to ease his burden, a Jew, though historically no one really knows what his nationality was. All we know is that he was from a country in northern Africa called Cyrene. In the movie, Simon is brave and compassionate, ultimately risking his life (while enduring the bare anti-Semitism of Roman soldiers) to come to Christ's defense. Gibson showed many Jews wailing and broken over the suffering and death of Christ. He even showed that some of the members of the Sanhedrin were against the arrest of Jesus, which is a page right out of the gospels.
Maia Morgenstern is the woman who portrayed Mary, the mother of Jesus in this movie. She is a practicing Jew from Romania and her parents survived the Holocaust, but her grandfather died in the Auschwitz death camp. Morgenstern states in an interview with the Associated Press that she “does not consider the film anti-Semitic. If there is a message, it's more about how people can be manipulated by their leaders. Mel Gibson is an artist and a director. He never imposed his religious convictions on anyone. When people go and see the film, they will primarily see a work of art."
For all the controversy over Gibson's portrayal of the Sanhedrin and the Jewish mob, it's the Romans who come across as the most mean-spirited and sadistic. The centurions take delight in the beatings, the scourging, and the crucifixion. They mock Christ and laugh with ghoulish delight when his blood splatters their clothes.
Yet even here, Gibson is careful not to paint with too broad a brush. Pontius Pilate is more a coward than a villain, and his wife, a pagan, somehow senses something divine about Jesus, something blessed about his mother. The Passion of the Christ portrays Romans and Jews of both good and ill will. It conveys no sense of corporate responsibility for Christ's death, other than the guilt that all humanity shares because of our sinfulness.
Q. Is the movie too violent to watch?
The Passion of the Christ is a violent film, but certainly not more so than, say, Kill Bill, Hannibal, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Reservoir Dogs or any number of movies that have won the praise of some of the very critics now denouncing Gibson's film. It contains cruelty, but the picture itself is not cruel, like say the wretched and critically acclaimed, Seven.
And its violence, while intense, is never gratuitous. Unlike any number of bloody films that have made millions in recent years, the depiction of pain and brutality in The Passion isn't meant to appeal to our morbid fascinations, but to horrify us with the ugliness and the brutality of the sins we commit every day. And that, I suspect, is the real reason why The Passion of the Christ has aroused such consternation.
In an age when ridiculing faith & belief in the gospel passes for intellectual sophistication, where truth is considered relative and the very notion of sin is dismissed, the film offers an honest, unapologetic portrayal of Christianity. It explicitly documents the evilness of men in this, a culture that often denies the existence of evil. The Passion of the Christ tramples on all the rules and hypocrisies of political correctness. It says there is a God, and it names him. It’s acceptable to take the name of Christ in vain or look upon churchgoers as gullible idiots, but to take Jesus Christ and his message seriously is a death knell to our ego and self-absorbed lives. And that is what the critics saw in this movie; someone taking Jesus Christ seriously. So like the Sanhedrin in the gospels the solution is to destroy the very thing that makes them uncomfortable. Not much has changed in 2000 years.
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[ 2 thoughts \m/ ELABORATE ]
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Wednesday, February 25th, 2004
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This is the only movie worth seeing. Whatever negative stuff you hear on the news, forget about it. It's just a bunch of liberal babies who need to whine about something. Just see the movie for yourself and than decide who's "right or wrong" afterwards. I seriously don't know what else to write. There's so much to it and it is something everyone needs to experience.
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[ ELABORATE ]
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Friday, February 20th, 2004
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(This was an assignment for Dr. Farrington. I have no clue if this is the final version or not.)
The time in my life that left a huge impact on me was not the time I actually moved away from everything, but when I came back to it. I had been so worried about leaving my life behind and starting anew that I never appreciated the time I spent with my family in my new home. Before I moved I was in denial. It never occurred to me that I actually just might leave everything that was real to me: friends, my band, home, and environment. The only thing that was racing through my head was the fact that this couldn’t be happening to me. I had been residing in New Jersey for all my life, and to have your world suddenly change because of one simple choice made by another was very heart wrenching. Once I began to pack for this move, I started appreciating the time I had left with my friends and surrounding environment.
The day I arrived in my new home and settled down, I read a note from a friend who was very sad to see me leave. It made me yearn for home because she stated some things that I was unaware of. So instead of assimilating with my environment, I regretted leaving what I knew to be home. During my time in Virginia, I continually contacted a college I had planned to attend for a year prior to my sudden relocation. This way I could return to my former habitat.
The day finally arrived when I was given the chance to go back home. I was supposed to leave that weekend (just spend my remaining time with my family), but it was shortened and I had to leave that Wednesday for a fellow friend, who was also residing in Virginia, was trekking back to New Jersey for work. Again, the time came and I had to bid my family goodbye. I was excited and not yet sad to be leaving. It all happened so fast anyway that to rush off due to time constraint, left me with no margin to contemplate the fact that I was leaving my family.
It had taken us seven hours to return to New Jersey, for there were so many stops along the way. I had made a couple of phone calls to my parents’ house to let them know the progress of my trip, and still it never hit me. Finally, I had arrived on the street I grew up on and made my way towards the house I would be boarding in. As I pulled into the driveway and eventually grabbed a few items to bring in with me, I made my way to the door. As soon as I walked into the house, everything was different. I was a stranger in my own home. My uncle had greeted me and even though I knew him so very well, everything about what I was at the moment had ceased to be. I now knew what my parents were talking about when they talked about growing up and how life hits you hard.
That night I was sucked into a vortex of unshakable emotion. What would I do now? I had fought so hard to go back to what I knew to be my home, and now it was all empty. Why was my family not family to me anymore? I couldn’t understand. I also realized that I wouldn’t have my own real privacy or routine tasks I performed during the day. I wouldn’t regularly be squawked at by my little brother, who I hung out with most of the time. It all hit me so rapidly and I had never gone through such emotional fatigue before...
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[ ELABORATE ]
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(A school assignment for English; dated 12/14/2000. The assignment was to create a fable and I believe we couldn't exceed four pages. So if the story seems shortcoming, that's the explanation. I tried to keep the story on track and yet stay within my limit, but don't worry, it should read rather smoothly. Enjoy...)
Unfortunately for me, my master has left. We always shared a mutual
relationship, which is rare in these times. Please, allow me to explain.
My name is Hunter. I am a black Labrador and a trained hunting dog. My
master's name is Joseph Irons and is an extremely good person. He is a
hard working, lower classman who-what is so obvious to me--struggles to
survive everyday. But even through the toughest times, he still manages
to take good care of me. I only wish I could thank him.
A few weeks ago, I traveled along side my master to a nearby tavern. He
had been scraping for food and drink since the morning, and decided just
to spend whatever money he had left at the tavern. We frequently visit
this place, so naturally, my master knows everyone. It is a place that
helps the workers collect themselves, forget their troubles, and keep
whatever sanity they have left, alive. I have a few friends here, too.
There is Bruno, a bloodhound owned by Mr. Detterick Haut. Bruno often
entices me with what daily adventures he had been through. In fact,
Bruno and I had hunted together on two occasions.
In addition to my canine companion, Solomon, the wise, old owl perches
atop the wooden beams supporting the sides of the tavern. He always
scouts the countryside-most of the time searching for danger, and
food-and as long as I've known him, he has always been right. Honestly,
I hate it, but it just seems like he knows too much. Mouse, who is no
doubt a mouse, scurries in and out of the tavern on occasion. Bruno and
I like the creature. Even though most of the time he keeps to himself,
he occasionally stops to talk. And finally there's Rendor, my favorite
guy. Well, I shouldn't say guy because...um...he's a fox. The one
dilemma is he has to hide from everybody. Especially, from a man
everyone refers to as, "Huck". An ill-tempered, husky person who always
claims that one-day, he's going to catch Rendor, and use his fur as a
scarf. The only problem with that is Rendor's way too smart for Huck. I
always talk to him-or communicate through sounds, whatever you want to
call it. He lives in a hole by the tavern and constantly watches for
people who pass by, so he can scurry in and out of his hole.
Occasionally-whenever I talk to Rendor--I have to make it seem like I'm
just looking for something or even warning people of the fox, by barking
at the hole. In truth, I'm warning my friend about the people, but since
they are so susceptible, they actually believe I'm warning them of the
fox.
Now that all of my friends have been introduced, I'll begin my story.
The day my master and I went into the tavern, we met a new man. As my
master was waiting for the food to arrive, he began talking to a couple
acquaintances. Usually by this time I do the same with mine, so I wasn't
sure of their names. Anyway, I huddled close to my master because I was
tired. They all talked about the day and how hard work was this year;
especially the harvest. Suddenly, Bruno came over and I left my master
to converse with him.
"You see that new man, over there?" he growled in a raspy tone.
"Yea, where is he from?" I asked.
"I'm not sure, but he came in an hour ago. He was all sluggish and
battered. I think he just had a hard day of working or something. It's
weird; he's just been sitting like that ever since he came in. I don't
know what's wrong." Instinctively, I glanced up toward the rafters and
saw Solomon. All he did was shake his head slowly, as if a warning.
Bruno than moved back a little and looked beyond me. As I turned around,
I saw my master move over to where the stranger was sitting. I quickly
joined him. When I arrived, their conversation was already in progress:
"What did you say?" my master asked.
"I said I could help you." The stranger replied.
"And how is that?" There was a sense of sarcasm in his voice.
"I know you may not believe me," the man began talking softly, "not many
people do; but I just came from an unimaginable place. It was in a
mountain. A cave filled with icicles and mirror-like ponds. But beyond
this, was an object that sat upon a column erecting from the earth. An
object with the power to grant a wish." There was a pause.
"That's wonderful, sir. Your story really cheered me up. But
unfortunately, no fairy tale can help me, or anyone, overcome our daily
hardships." My master began to stand but the stranger coaxed him to sit
down again.
"I am serious! I would not degrade myself in such a manner. You will
not make a fool of me."
"Don't listen to him, he is a fool!" a voice called.
"Really Joe, you can't believe him." another familiar voice. I curled
next to my master and whimpered, in order to let him know that I was
warned about this man. But of course, because of the inability to
communicate with the human species, he could not interpret my actions.
"I don't believe you, as you should have expected." My master responded.
"I will take you myself." There was another pause and then a response.
"If it can grant you a wish, then why are you in such poor condition?
What did you wish for?"
"I cannot tell." He stammered
"Why?"
"Because it's a part of the whole process. You will know when I show
you." Maybe it was the fact that my master had to struggle to survive
everyday, that gave him the ambition to strive for his wish, because he
agreed to go with the man. As we left the tavern, Bruno just looked at
me, and high above I could hear the wise owl say: "Be careful."
It took us five days to reach the mountain. The air began to chill as
we marched further. Oles, that was the name the stranger gave my master;
was in the lead, my master in the middle, and I trailed behind, looking
constantly for any signs of danger. Oddly enough, there was none.
"We are close!" Oles claimed. I continually thought about what Solomon
said, and the way everyone acted. But there was also this feeling of
trust. It always seems to turn out that the crazy people are telling the
truth. I mean in other tales that I've heard. Within an additional half
a mile, we were at the entrance to the cave.
"Now," the lead man started, "you must follow me closely. I've been
here before and therefore know the area."
We trudged into the entrance, and I was instantly amazed at the beauty
that surrounded me. He was right, there were icicles and mirror-like
ponds all around. Everything was crystal clear and sparkled endlessly.
Even the path itself was an amazing sight.
"I'm sorry, I didn't believe you!" Master said. "Now that I know this
place actually exists, can I ask you a question?"
"In due time. Let's us wait until we reach the top. Then I will answer
your question." We continued the path. I was still in bewilderment. I
just couldn't wait to return home and tell my friends about this place.
When we reached the top, our guide pointed to the walkway that lead to
the wish-making object. Then, my master once again began to speak.
"Now, would you allow me to ask you a question?"
"Yes. Anything."
"How did you know this object would grant you a wish?" Oles stood there
pondering the question, and then brought forth his answer.
"Because I'm the one who created it!"
"What? But you said, you stumbled upon."
"If I told, I made the object, you definitely wouldn't have believed me.
Therefore, I would be unable to help you." The man confessed, and my
master stood in awe as I had before when I entered this beautiful cave.
It was strange; we both did not expect it to be true. Any of it; but now
we have seen it. The crystal was suddenly in view. It lay-like the man
said-on top of a column erected from the earth.
"Now, make your wish Joseph. Make any wish you want." The man invited.
"I don't know. Now everything I have wanted is circling through my
mind."
"Just think about what you are going through now. Help yourself out."
There was a long pause. I believe five minutes had passed before my
master finally wished for something.
"I wish for a thousand pieces of gold to fill my house." Now that I
think about it. I believe my master said the last part, not only because
he didn't want to carry it all, but also because he still didn't
completely trust the stranger.
"Thank you, Joseph!" what happened next was unexpected. A trap had
sprung. A crate of spikes swung from above and pierced my master up
against the icy wall. I charged at the stranger and clamped tightly onto
his arm. Sinking my teeth into his flesh. He screamed with utmost pain,
and hit me with something that I'm not sure of. I felt paralyzed. I
couldn't do anything to save my master. All I could do was hear what was
said next:
"I've waited for a man like you, Joseph. Many years of luring
unsuspecting, poor fellows like yourself, here. And all the time getting
nothing but scraps in return. You see the only thing I really made was
the trap, not the crystal. The trap coincided with the wish making.
When I stumbled upon this cave and saw the object, I was inspired by its
power. I had heard about its ability to grant a wish, and like you, I
never believed it. But it all seemed so real after I saw this place. So
I made a wish. A simple wish really. I wished for hope. I had been so
terribly depressed that all I needed was hope. The only problem was, I
wished it to myself, in my mind. But in the end, it worked out perfectly
because just then, a tremor erupted and above me fell an icicle, which
cut open my body. I was dying quickly and the only thing I could think
of was to make my wish. I wished for life." I didn't hear a response
from my master the entire time, but I figured Oles wouldn't be telling
him this unless he was breathing. I still had the will to save him.
"When it was over, an idea had sprung into my head. I had nothing as a
person in this world. My father had been killed when I was thirteen and
my mother had also died of pneumonia when I turned seventeen. Of course,
it's the typical story you hear from psychos like myself, but it's true.
So in order to give my pain back to the world, I would use people. The
trap was simple; I release it after my victim makes his wish. Then in
return I gain what they so abruptly lost. But it always ended up in
something useless: 'I wish for a good harvest', 'I wish for a nice
meal', USELESS! Until now. That is why I want to thank you Joseph.
Just know it doesn't end with you."
Time had passed since the stranger left us both inside the cave. I
gradually regained my strength to move again. The first thing I did was
lay down next to my master. I was sad to lose him. He was my greatest
friend. But, there was nothing I could do; he was gone. I sluggishly
left the cave thinking about the deceitful stranger. Now, I follow his
tracks, hoping to find the man who betrayed us, and take my revenge.
MORAL: Do not resent the words of a fool, ignore them.
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[ ELABORATE ]
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(an older, recovered story of mine...)
Often I try to comprehend their reasoning, but things are so different
nowadays. I need you to understand for I feel you are next. It seems
like the New Age was successful, but I don't remember any of this.
They've said time and time again that things will be different. A
change. But what now? Wait! I hear people at the door.
---
I stared at the screen as the visual faded. It's scary to think that I
could be harmed. I'm one of the rebuilt. I thought of the last couple
of lines the man closed with: 'they've said time and time again that
things will be different. A change. But what now?' I've heard it all
before. And it's true. I never actually knew this man. But he must
have known me well because I received this as an urgent message. The
messages nowadays come to the screen in audio and a Writ-Tec
accompaniment. As the sender's voice is heard, the computer retypes the
message, which helps increase the readers' visual abilities.
Our computers today are built into a solid podium, in every building of
every room. The hard-drive is internal, as well as any additional input
devices. When wished to be used, the key mount-which we use to type
commands and so on into the computer-is revealed and slides out of the
podium. When not in use, a holographic program generates a barrier
around it, causing an illusion that the key mount has become part of the
podium. The best way to describe the illusion is to imagine a view of an
object sinking in water.
The screen, that is one of the vital aspects of the computer besides the
hard-drive, is shown after the key mount has revealed itself. It is
bolted to two rotating, titanium dowel rods that spin the screen in order
to face the occupant. The user then puts on a headset, with an attached
micro voice translator, and can begin working from there. The translator
is used to speak to the computer. The computer has access to any
connection allowed. The connections are placed by a local operator, who
can decide whether or not to accept it. Operators control everything.
They are the second most powerful branch in the world, besides the
government.
But I found a way to break through.
It took me multiple tries to realize that the operators just read off
incoming messages by the mainframe. When a connection is intended to go
through, the message is sent to the local operator which they get from a
master computer screen. They can then choose to finish the connection-if
it is a reasonable message-or deny it. I was denied multiple times, when
I tried to enter classified information files. A denial also comes with
another downfall. Besides the lost connection, the violator receives a
tag. After five of these tags you are arrested. The tags are kept on a
database field in the operand mainframe, under the violator's file. Then
the government receives these fields and assigns its offspring of troops
to the desired locations for apprehension.
What I figured out was if I send a virus along with my connection, the
operator reads a "safety" on the message and then sends it through the
line. The connection is complete.
That is when I began to learn I was a rebuilt.
I suppose I should start from the beginning, I don't know if I have much
time. First off, I'm leaving this message for anyone in the future who
finds it-in case, I am apprehended and possibly executed-so he may learn
the truth. I say he because only cyborgs are male.
...
When I sent my first virus, I thought I would go all out and research
our government. My connection went through and I accessed the
government's personal mainframe. Holographic images of classified
information arose on screen. Plans I might say; plans for a new race.
It appeared that the government believed mankind was weak and they needed
to create another fear-inflicting substitute. This was so other planets
would continue to believe that we were the dominant power. Troops were
sent out to annihilate mankind. These troops were the first of the New
Age. As man was thrown into slavery or eradicated, the government
poured out new creations: the cyborgs. Even though the cyborgs are
machines, they still have human tendencies. They function with a brain
and have emotions and so forth, but are much stronger.
When all cyborgs are created, they are born with a personalized barcode,
which is installed within the eye. Both eyes receive these codes, and
then the pupil is constructed over it. When needed, a special black
light is flashed over the eyes in order for officials to read the
individual barcodes. The government called the finished products the New
Wave. Another name for a new generation of a perfect society.
I continued to search through these files until I stumbled upon a list
of the creations. Thousands of names flashed across the screen. By
instinct, I asked the computer if I was on the list. The screened
scrolled down and my name appeared. I stared at the name in disbelief.
Then, after a short while I touched the name on the screen. It blinked
and the file opened. Inside, a holographic, three-dimensional image of
myself rotated on the screen. To the left of it was a dossier including
my name, height, creation date, barcode number, and a brief description.
I closed the file and the computer. I almost vomited (yes we can do
that). I felt so sick and...betrayed. Why would the government, a power
we depend on, try to destroy life. And substitute it with a synthetic
one. An unnatural life. Just to prove that we are still the dominant
species? To tell you the truth no one has actually seen the government.
I'm beginning to believe that they are machines themselves.
...
When I recovered from learning the truth, I had to pretend that I didn't
uncover these files. As if I didn't know the truth about myself or
anyone. But as time passed, I returned and entered the forbidden
mainframe to gain more knowledge. It seems that all memories of the past
of humans were wiped out of our minds. So we would think we were the
only ones. Yes, humans exist. By the time you encounter this message, I
won't be sure. The humans are used for information. So that we can
learn from their weaknesses, in order to make us stronger. I imagine
they are also experimented on, in order to find most of these things out.
For instance, the question of: what vital parts can be eliminated and
still survive? How many? And so on. I became scared, angry, and sad as
I learned more and more. Now I know that this is why the government
keeps so much from us. They are also continually accompanied by an elite
group of soldiers. These soldiers perform tasks granted by the
government and are often rewarded. Most of the time with positions,
money, or longer life. Ah yes, I forgot to mention. Cyborgs are built
with a battery life of 130 years. This is so the newer, stronger models
can replace the old versions. But even if a model comes out as a newer
addition, it can still be destroyed before its time.
This is why I received the urgent message from the fellow earlier. If a
cyborg helps a human in anyway, he is destroyed. If he exceeds a
position not granted, he is destroyed. If he barters with other planets
without consent, he is destroyed. If a cyborg longs for freedom,
attempts an escape, and fails, he is destroyed. And worst of all, if a
cyborg infiltrates government lines without authorization, he is
destroyed. I was guilty of that crime. I soon stopped entering the
mainframe and shut down my computer. It wasn't until recently, when I
received the message that I knew I had made a fatal error.
...
I must admit, I've been pacing my room the entire time I've been
explaining this. The final thing I read the last time I looked through
the files-before I realized my mistake-was that we are recycled. Whether
one is destroyed or uses up the battery life, he is used as scrap. That
scrap is than processed for the newer model. But the organs have been a
problem for reuse. This problem has puzzled the scientists for multiple
years. Most times, the organs are grown in the laboratories. Along with
this, the blood is purified and then filtered into the veins. Besides
being a lot stronger, in the cyborg sense, another feature was added.
Nerves are practically eliminated. Some are kept in the hands, feet,
chest, and of course, the brain. Everybody must be able to feel
something. The nerves are left in the most common parts of the body for
reasons given. But the rest have been deleted so we don't feel pain. If
one can't feel pain than he can continue fighting.
There was more to the message that the man sent me. His name was Samuel
Ferlane, and like me, he accessed these files, too. His passion about
the secrets of the government were a lot greater than mine. That's how
hackers are. My intentions were just spur-of-the-moment. He tapped into
my computer to notify me of a mistake we both made. Instead of using my
method of a virus, he disrupted the primary message line. This line acts
as a precursor which helps the operators decide the fate of the message.
This effected my method greatly. My virus only masked the real message
for a period of time. Soon the message line sparked the warning console
in the operator's mainframe. Suspicion arose because the warning meant
something was wrong with the line.
The operators downloaded an antivirus program, believing that this was
the problem. This executed my virus and triggered his line to be
exposed. The operators notified the government immediately.
Fortunately, Samuel was capable of contacting me before the soldiers
apprehended him. He was right, I am next. Every sound makes me worry.
I've been so nervous and scared just waiting here. And I can't escape
because they will track me.
Wait...Oh God!...They're here!
---
I stared at the screen as the visual faded. It's scary to think that I
could be harmed. Now I know, I am one of the rebuilt...
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(An old story of mine...)
Martin Boroe would do anything to keep the entertainment going. So
naturally, when he died of a heart attack on December 31, 1999, nobody
suspected anything was wrong. Martin was obviously in the entertainment
business. He was thirty-nine years old and a natural born comedian. His
shows always sold out because he was famous in America; everybody loved
him. So, as a "thank you" to his fans-and a "hello" to his retirement-he
decided to have a major production comedy routine on New Year's Eve.
Something special to welcome the new millennium. And since it was a
surprise there was to be no camera crew. Martin figured they'd be out
drinking anyway.
Everything was intensely planned, it would be perfect. The magnificent
lights. The center stage. The confetti for the closing act. The mike.
And of course, the crowd. Martin always fed off the crowd. This was one
of the reasons why people liked him so much. He could take the
audience's feelings and use them to boost his act. Whatever he could do,
or use, to entertain them was his power, That, and the fact that he was
a comic genius.
It took five hours to prepare everything, then another hour to rehearse.
Martin's crew listened to his new jokes and sarcastic views on the
world. Each member could not contain themselves, it was perfect for
that night. The plan was to start an hour before New Year's Day arrived.
When the clock was one minute passed midnight, the confetti was to be
dropped and the final act finished. Martin visualized the entire
sequence. This was, in a way, a gift to himself, too.
That night, at 9:45 pm, there was already a long line waiting for his
show. Everyone was anxious. Even though it was another comedy routine,
they didn't know what Martin had planned for them. It was cold outside
and snow blanketed the ground. By 10:15 pm, the line wrapped around the
building. There was rustling of bodies, cold breath in the air, and a
mass volume of voices. The doors opened and the people piled into the
building.
Warmth was expected from inside. It was a tremendous greeting to the
people coming from the chilled night air. The seats were soon filled by
10:40 pm. Then when the time to begin the show came, a man recited an
introduction over the loudspeaker to hush the voices. He presented
Martin Boroe and the crowd erupted in a cheer. The building was filled
with excited screams and ravings. Martin stepped out from behind the
curtain, raised his hands up in the air, and beckoned for the crowd to
cheer more. They did so as he approached the microphone.
"How is everyone tonight?" Whistling and clapping could be heard as far
as the back of the building. "Oh isn't that great." He said
sarcastically-which the people laughed to-and began his show. He joked
about everything from the president to the political system, the news to
the guy at the Burger King Drive-Thru. The crowd could hardly keep
silent, they enjoyed every joke. At 11:16 pm, Martin began feeling a
tightness in his chest. He paused, then took a drink of water. He began
to sweat and his chest became tighter. He told the crowd that there
would be a slight intermission as not to alarm anyone. The audience just
figured that he was preparing for another part of his act. In fact,
Martin prepared a Peter Pan-esque closing for when the confetti was to
be released.
When he reached the end of the stage, Martin's manager, Benny Dessek,
asked what was wrong. Martin just said he needed a little break.
"A little break? Are you crazy? You have to go back out there!" Benny
was unsettling and nervous.
"I just need to sit down for a little bit. I'll go back out when I feel
better. Now please, calm down."
"Oh this is just ridiculous! The night your going retire you decide to
quit out on us for a little bit..." As Benny rambled, Martin lied down
on a nearby couch. A crew member brought him a glass of water, which
Martin almost immediately dropped to the ground as a sharp pain ran
through him. Martin groped his chest, screamed, and leaned over the edge
of the couch. Benny and a few other crew members tried to aid Martin.
"Oh shit! He's having a heart attack." Benny exclaimed. Martin
collapsed on the floor, his heart gave way. A crew member, who was ready
to catch the comedian, checked his breathing and pulse. Nothing.
"He's gone." the man stated.
"Screw that! He's my show!" Benny pushed the man out of the way, then
turned Martin over onto his back. He tried to perform CPR, but it was no
use. He failed; they BOTH failed.
"Martin, you son of a bitch! NO!" Benny pounded Boroe's chest. Then he
leaned over and put his hands on his face.
"What do we do now, Mr. Dessek?" Another crew member asked. This man was
in charge of lighting, along with his assistant. The first crew member
who checked Martin's pulse, walked the high beams and positioned the
lights. Benny sat up, then rose to his feet and looked at the
questionnaire. He thought for awhile, then called everyone over.
The next time Martin Boroe was seen, it was 11:46 pm. The restless
crowd had now stirred into a wave of greeting sirens. Martin strolled
out onto the stage a little sluggishly, but soon made it to the
microphone. He slowly put his hand to it and spoke:
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I had a little problem but
everything's alright now." It was time to end the show. Most of the
jokes had to be cut out because of the gap period. As the show
continued, the crowd soon forgot that any time was lost. What was also
lost was the sight of the ropes holding Martin Boroe up. It's amazing
that the audience never noticed. They didn't realize that he never
blinked or that he was missing a sense of balance. Even the man that was
impersonating his voice didn't have a spot-on-match, but it was never
picked up. Benny's idea had worked.
As a specialist of walking the high beams, the crew man pronounced
Martin to be dead, was convinced to set up a rope system. He used the
thin, industrial strength version that Boroe was going to use for a part
in his gig. A harness was placed around his waist, and the additional
ropes held his arms, legs, and mouth. The rope on his mouth was tied,
was tied to his lower jaw-the man had to hold the rope up in order to
keep Martin mouth shut. It was released slightly to create the talking
effect. Scotch tape was used to keep Boroe's eyes from closing and
because it was clear, the audience wouldn't realize. There were five
crew members working the high beams the rest of the show. Benny Dessek
mocked Martin's voice over the loudspeaker. The timing was correct with
the voice and mouth operation; it was all worked out. As far as Martin's
jokes, he had had cue cards in his right breast pocket.
When the clock struck 12:01 pm, the confetti was sprinkled atop the
audience. Everyone cheered. They believed it was the perfect ending for
the millennium. Most of them were too preoccupied to see that Boroe's body
was practically dragged offstage. The people were escorted out of the
building and into the cold night.
The next day, on the morning and evening news, it was reported that
Martin Boroe was rushed into the hospital at 12:20 pm, last night. He
had suffered a heart attack.
THE END...
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