Rainy Day Rant
By: Raphael The Contradiction
So one might ask what is the addition of two bears and two geese? Is there truly an answer? Can we ever we truly begin to understand the ribald habits of the ever insatiable bears with their genuine grins of modicum dissatisfaction as even they are those who cannot truly understand why they steal picnic baskets and scare Stephen Colbert.
In days when I see the rain I’m led to believe that the sky is falling. In a strange and unknowable way it both is literally and figuratively lunging onto the world with little regard for days when we were scheduled to dance the Macarena with the Macarenians. It races down in sheets with its garish attempts to do us in by way of murder at the very moment when we understand the key equation that pi multiplied by pie actually equals cake. Murder by rain cake is murder most foul indeed.
The clouds have struck down upon us with stern looks and abject neutrality towards our dioramas of the Ed Sullivan Show. Has our liberal use of the word “dude” finally gotten their raged brains into frenzies of bloodlust and chocolate jalapeño hot sauce? A liquid tailspin drains from the heavens, which threatens to engulf our shoes and melt the witches of Eastwick. Why the witches never got sun block is beyond me. On that train of thought sun block really doesn’t help against the rain. The rain is a slippery foe of much mental cunning indeed.
I sat on the couch untilled by the demands of the modern and heavily saturated day in the shadows of the painted parlors perfectly pitched into watery disaster but not in pointless pontification. Why should purpose to move be created on such a day when smiles are only seen on the faces of similes and allegories get all the girls. I guess rainy days were made for allegories and sunny days were made for Easter Island statues having Sunday brunch.
Undulating and seeing red the time is squeezed carefully out of a Casio digital clock in order to keep the leaves from flying south for the winter. Flowers can’t see the thoughts of psychic fish while a man berates a buffalo for having no wings. The power a name creates a nexus in which few intellects can escape to explain the truths about mad hatters and men named Doug. You know what I mean. At least I hope someone does. Psychic fish I’m looking in your direction.
Updated?!?
December 13, 2009 -- Raphael the Contradiction wrote something. I didn't read it, but you can.
Welcome to the WORLD
VOCEPHUS {vo-see-fuss]
1. VOCEPHUS; Vox Vocephus: Owner and proud proprietor of THE WORLD OF VOCEPHUS
2. World Of Vocephus: A website dedicated to Super-Fun. Dig it.
Since it's your first time, I'll be gentle...
THE DEAL:
Vocephus, as you may have guessed, is the person behind the raw, pixilated brilliance you see before your eyes. I write and maintain this site for no other reason but to amuse myself, and if the few souls that gaze upon my work find some enjoyment as well, then that's just a bonus. What is this site about? It's about anything I happen to find cool at the moment, whether it be a funny link I stumbled across, or a story about one of my friends, I'll put it up here. It's just something to do, really. A small on-line hobby. A good place to do some writing, and a little design and layout. No big whoop.
Everybody and their dog has a website these days...and actually, the dog's website is much nicer than mine, if you must know. I used to believe that no one deserved nor neeeded a personal webpage...a belief I still hold to, but I figured I would do my part in wasting valuable web space. Hey, it's free, ain't it?
THINGS YOU MIGHT WANNA KNOW:
Things are pretty basic. I do the lion's share of writing up on the front page (save for the occasional guest update). There's a bunch of features, links, stuff to read, and general amusement to be found throughout the site. If you see text that's white and underlined, that's a link to another site, in case you didn't know. They're all over the place, and most of them are pretty interesting if you'll take the time to check 'em out. Also, this site is updated regularly, so if you're here cos I said 'check out my website!' with a gleam of hope in my eye, don't read it once and never come back! There's gonna be more, and it's gonna be better, I promise! Of course I understand that you probably have more important sites to visit, so I won't take up your time. Also, any references to The WOV you might see, is just short hand for The World Of Vocephus. Oh...yeah, duh. Makes my life easier not having to write it out each time.
THINGS I CANNOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR:
The WOV has an ever-expanding staff of writers that contribute various bits of what-not on a semi-regular basis. I have no jurisdiction over what they write, how they write it, or general spelling/grammatical errors you may encounter. All I know is, they make this site that much more interesting and give me some original content to post. And they work for free, too! The fools! But if you read something by a WOV staffer that offends you deeply, please do not hesitate to get over it.
QUESTIONS YOU DIDN'T ASK:
Why is the layout/design so simple? Are you just not that good at making webpages? What is the deal?
The site is and has been very simple since its conception. Yes, it began as a lack of web publishing skills, but as I went on, I decided I liked it. It's a stark contrast to all those slick websites out there. Yeah, there's a lot of words, and no, there's not a whole lot of pictures (sorry, you visual people) but that's how it is. There will be more and more pictures put up here in the future, but the meat of the content is in the writing. Take the time to actually read it...some of it is pretty damn good (or so I've heard).
I can't read that awful text. It hurts my eyes.
Not a question, but fair enough. Consider this:
Reading black text on white background causes eye-cancer, brain damage, and may cause birth defects.
Can I link your site and/or tell all my friends how cool The WOV is?
Absolutely, by all means. It'd be nice if someone other than myself checked in on this page. As a matter of fact, I'll have some buttons and banners made up soon for easy link exchange, if you wish it. Tell your mom, tell your dad, tell your girlfriend--both of them for that matter--that this is the coolest site on the web. Or just tell them there's lots and lots of steamy teen porn here.
Why are you so vague about your identity? Like anyone other than your friends look at this page. Ha!
I took a course in website writing taught by Professor Gene Ray.
I can't stop reading your page! How can I express my extreme joy and gratitude for living in a free world where excellence of this calibur is readily made available to me on a daily basis?
Well, for starters, you can sign the message board. That'd be awfully sweet of you. And of course, you can send any and all electronic correspondence to vocephus@gmail.com. If you mention that you are really lonely, I'll be sure to write you back A.S.A.P.
Who are the "Faithful Four Readers" I see referenced so often?
Myself (I'm my biggest fan), mom, dad, and of course, you.
So...who gets to contribute to the site, and how?
Ya know, the doors are open to just about anyone for any kind of contribution they might have. To be honest, if I had to run this site all on my own, it wouldn't be half as interesting. Feel free to add to existing features, suggest new ones, or become a staffer here at the WOV. All arrangements can be made via electronic correspondence, or over a slice of pie.
~~So stick around, why don't ya? You might just learn something. And maybe...just maybe...you might learn a little something about yourself.
Cake Wrecks
Stolen
by Gandhi Mangler
July 1, 2009
This site hasn't been updated in eight weeks. That means Vocephus.com is officially back!
No doubt you've heard of last year's greatest blogspot site, Cake Wrecks. Why they haven't spent $10 on a domain is beyond me! [They did. --July 21, 2009]
Here are my favorite cakes on Cake Wrecks.
The cakes below were wrecked on purpose. The ones above probably weren't.
Then there's this one.
Things We Don’t Care About Anymore, 2009 edition
by The One Armed Bandit
“Well, guess who's back in circulation?
Now, I don't know what you may have heard”
-David Lee Roth, “Yankee Rose”
It’s true, it’s damn true, after 6 long years, the WoV makes a triumphant return, akin to the second coming of Christ. Now to be fair, none of us ever expected to come back… actually, I kinda stopped caring entirely… but, much like an annual Saw movie release, apathy is no reason to not bring back a website that only us, our friends, some family… and the faithful *3 readers (the fourth reader tragically dying of swine flu).
Now, I know what you all must be thinking “so much has happened in 6 years, how can the WoV stay relevant, hip, with it and what not.” How can we recapture lightning in a bottle? I myself think back, to the humble origins of said website, the summer of 2000, and realise we are now approaching the summer of 2009, and I am a very different person, yet, somehow the same.
Since there hasn’t been in update in over half a decade, I decided to, well, rip off Vocephus to be honest, and do a new version of “Things We Don’t Care About Anymore” for my first article. Trust me, he had it coming, he stole my best joke for the roast years back.
So, without further ado…
Things We Don’t Care About Anymore, 2009 edition.
Terrorism- Apparently not catching Bin Laden yet is a good a reason as any to stop giving a damn and trying to find him anymore. Anything worth doing, is worth doing half assed I guess.
Iraq-Once the economy hit, Iraq fell to the wayside, as the hip, new “in” thing for America to be afraid of and pissed off about shoved it to the D-List. Recession is the new black.
Eskimos-Who am I kidding, no one EVER cared about those lazy snow backs.
SARS-
“Dear SARS,
This is how it’s done, pussy.
-sincerely,
Swine Flu”
Drinking coffee creamers at 7-11-Granted, that’s a little old, but Vocephus and I are the only people I know who have been asked to leave a 7-11 for hanging around the coffee creamers and drinking them just because they were free.
The Altaire 6- A gimmick band that only appealed to members of said band.
Joe Cartoon-That guy STILL does stuff?
Star Wars-Thanks a lot Mr.Lucas. Bastard
Racism-The president is black, one of the best NBA players is Chinese, latinos becoming more powerful in U.S. politics show that minorities won racism. Eskimos still useless.
George Bush-That was a long fuckin’ 8 years, wasn’t it?
John McCain-HA! HA ! HA! HA! HA!
Sarah Palin-See John McCain.
And finally….
The WoV- Really? Did anyone care anymore?
Semi-Nightmares
Almost Comatose
by Gandhi Mangler
May 7, 2009
I dreamt I was at school and the class broke into groups of three to work on an assignment and I was not in any group.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
I dreamt I was at my parents' house.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
I dreamt I was at school and there were a group of visitors in the classroom for an open house and it violated the fire code.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
I dreamt I was at a college lecture and I berated the professor.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
I dreamt I was at school and the ugly kids were nudists.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
I dreamt I was in Rome during Roman times at night and, instead of tall columns, all the buildings had three stories held up by rows of duplicate statues.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
I dreamt I was at school and I upset people by sitting in a seat in the auditorium that they were reserving for their friend.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
I dreamt I was at work.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
I dreamt I was at school and I was seated next to some dull kid from first grade.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
I dreamt I was driving and I couldn't see the road.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
I dreamt I went to my high school reunion.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
When I was a youth, I dreamt that a group of Battle Beasts invaded my house, but they were on my side.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
When I was a pre-school-aged child, I had a recurring dream that I got into my mom's yellow-brownish station wagon, put it in gear, drifted down the block, made a right-hand turn down a second road, and slammed into a telephone pole.
SEMI-NIGHTMARES!
When I was an infant, I dreamt Poppin' Fresh was trying to kill me.
NIGHTMARES!
Hail Chocobots
Stolen
by Gandhi Mangler
May 2, 2009
Overshadowed in yesterday's news by Disney/ABC's $35 million investment in hulu.com, the Hasbro toy company has invested $300 million for 50% of the U.S. version of the Discovery Kids channel. Discovery and Hasbro plan to produce shows popular enough to compete with Nickelodeon, Disney, and Cartoon Network, with a re-launch of the channel in the Fall of next year.
Hasbro will form a production company to make shows that re-establish franchises such as My Little Pony and Tonka trucks, as well as capitalize on the G.I. Joe and Transformers movies. Other fare will include new game show versions of their board games, such as "Scrabble, Cranium, and Trivial Pursuit." Trivial Pursuit: America Plays, a syndicated show hosted by Peter from the Brady Bunch, has already ran a full season, and Scrabble was popular in the '80s, with host Chuck Woolery. Lamer fare includes everything that's already being aired on Discovery Kids.
Imagine the possibilities! Candy Land: the series, with Sid & Marty Krofft! NERF, a game show like Guts played with foam sporting equipment! Clue, hosted by Martin Mull! Win, Lose, or Draw with Vickie Lawrence! Tales from the Ouiji Board! The Mr Potato Head Mysteries! The Play-Doh Kids! A silly LARPing show based on Dungeons & Dragons! Risk: The Series! Jenga! Ants in the Pants! Fun shows!
Everybody knows the best kids shows are based on toys . . . everybody except the people at Campaign for a Commerical-Free Childhood. They released a statement, reproduced in full here:
Today, toymaker Hasbro Inc and the cable-TV programmer Discovery Channel announced that they will form a joint venture to create a TV network and website with new programming based on Hasbro brands such as My Little Pony, Tonka, and G.I. Joe. The following is the statement of CCFC Director Dr. Susan Linn:
This partnership represents a new low in children’s television, a network devoted to showing infomercials for Hasbro’s toys and games. It will make a mockery of existing ad limits and the current prohibition of product placement in children’s television.
The planned network is the latest indication that the deregulation of children’s television has been an unmitigated disaster for children and families; no longer do companies feel compelled to even pretend that their programming is beneficial for children or about anything but pushing product. We hope that the FCC takes a long, hard look at this new venture as they consider whether their current restrictions on embedded advertising are adequate to protect children.
New low in children's television? Has Dr Susan Linn never seen It's Academic or Saved by the Bell: The New Class?
Protect children? If that was the aim, there wouldn't be a television anywhere but the master bedroom! Protect them from what, fun toys that develop the imagination?
Restrictions on embedded advertising? Has Dr Susan Linn never heard of a puppet named Elmo? Dora the Explorer practically has her own aisle at Toys 'R' Us, the one that used to belong to Spongebob, Pokemon, Barney, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, He-Man!
The name of the organization is as absurd as the statement. They're campaigning against ad campaigns. They're promoting the idea to stop promotions. The desired profit from their work is to end profit.
There is value in fun, a great value.
When The Hasbro Channel proves successful, is there any doubt that Mattel will follow? Imagine new cartoons featuring Hot Wheels, Barbie, He-Man, and Matchbox! The Mattel-Mars Chocobot Hour could actually happen!
If I were eight years old, I'd be very excited.
Welcome Depression
Stolen
by Gandhi Mangler
April 29, 2009
I am the only person who will publicly say that a recession is good and a depression is better.
Unemployment
Rising unemployment is good. In the last century, it was normal for merely one person in a family to have an income. Only 20% of the population should be employed. Who would want to be a laborer, anyway?
Falling Prices
Companies who want to stay in business know that they can only squeeze you of what you have, because you can't get credit and spend what you don't have.
Environment
Less garbage is purchased. Fewer garbage products means fewer gallons of gasoline and water are wasted making garbage products, such as clothing and "food" produced with dead animals.
Entertainment
More people are stealing bad entertainment through the internet. Also, fewer people are purchasing professional wrestling pay-per-view events.
Idiotic movies make less money. Judging by box office numbers, only slightly less, but still less.
Incredibly-shrinking ratings and ad revenue have pushed television executives to actually consider the consequences of doing stupid things. However, they go ahead and do the stupid things.
News
With a variety of shooting sprees and numerous bail-out outrages grabbing the attention of the news media, I haven't osmosis-learned the name of any missing young white females since Elizabeth Smart was found.
Life
You have nothing and you will never have anything else. A depression pulls down rich people to your level. Your relative standing rises. All you will have to do is kill the super-rich.
Comatose Harder
Almost Comatose
by Gandhi Mangler
April 29, 2009
I've been kind enough to provide updates to a series of articles I wrote seven years ago.
Texas Broke My Brain: I was getting kicked out of college, but the climate was nice.
Though I couldn't explain why college is a waste of time and money, I can now. A college degree itself means nothing, as proven by the people responsible for the collapse of the world economy. For three years, I was paying to read and write and not learn anything.
Eight years later, I still owe $2800 to Sallie Mae.
Roy's A Dick: My uncle came to visit.
Granny Alzheimer's died a year later, which prompted another visit from Roy. Rather than talk to him, I attended the early wake.
My Ass Is Pretty and Other Observations: I took a road trip with the parents.
Last week I was thinking Elvis was more of a tool than I thought, but this article states I thought he was 98% tool.
I don't want success as I defined it back then.
Now that my dad has retired, my parents are acting like grandparents anyway. Unfortunately, I'm like thirty years old or something.
Into the Abyss: I aol-chatted with persons of the opposite sex.
I haven't sent an instant message in at least seven years.
Detrimental: I went to Lakemont Park, boaster of one roller coaster.
I went back a few years later. I played volleyball and had fun in the sun.
Unconscientious Objector: I went to a college football game with my father, brother, and nephew.
I haven't gone to another one. They, however, have spent a good chunk of their wages on season tickets, yea verily unto this year.
Mayor for a Day: I worked at a polling place on election day.
That polling place doesn't exist anymore, but I've worked every election since. By the end of each 13-hour day, I become a bastard. Electronic voting machines are a pain in the ass.
Get the Fuck Out: Tension rose six months after moving in with my parents.
Granny Alzheimer did move in to the house for seven months at the end of her run, the final month was spent at an infirmary.
I moved out 18 months after that, having been employed long enough to have enough money to leave.
Drifting Backwards While In Neutral: After a short WOV hiatus, I returned with updates.
I don't remember liking "Andy Richter Controls the Universe" enough to praise it publicly, but there it is. I haven't had cable in the last six years.
War on Saddam: I don't remember if I just re-posted an essay I wrote in 1998 or wrote a new article repudiating the stupidity of the right-wing war on Saddam Hussein. Either way, the thing is lost.
Soon everybody knew the scam: the right-wing started a war, with the help of ratings-hungry media. Saddam was hanged after a rush to judgment. Iraq has fallen apart without a strong leader, just as Gary Brecher predicted. But at least American troops are dying for no reason. SURGE!
On the Theory of God: I disproved God.
I've gone to church about twice in the last six years, which is peculiar because the church next door is my landlord. The first time was to hide easter eggs. The second was to give it one last shot. I could not disguise my condescending glee.
When skimming these articles, I found surprisngly few cringeworthy lines. I succeeded in honestly depicting failure.
English to Engrish
Stolen
by Gandhi Mangler
April 28, 2009
Half of the old Miscellaneous Non-Such links are active, but Engrish.com is still around, and still great. Spice up your conversations by substituting Engrish words and phrases!
Alcoholics - Liquor heads
An acquired taste - A very black, painful taste
Ask for assistance for items on top shelf. - Please don't touch yourself, let us help you to try out.
Attention! - All of you listen to mee
Beagle - Worm puppy
Best wishes - May a day great for you comes!
Caution - Be Dangerous
Complimentary Baggage Handling - Take luggage of foreigner -- no charge
Conformist - Monkey
Coroner's van - Dead body freezer box
Don't feed the animals - Don't put any part of your body into the crocodile pool.
Don't Litter - My beauty comes from your painstaking care and attention.
Donut - Holething
Douche nozzle - My inside cleaner
Energetic - Full of beans
Gay kid - Closet boy
Happy birthday - I congratulate you on the birthday of you
Have a nice flight - Good luck
Jump-rope - Rope skipping
Keep off grass - Little grass is having rest, please don't disturb them or No entrance to Greenland
Kid's meal - Lunch of child
Long time, no see. Let's get together and talk. - I don't meet you recently. I want to meet you before long. At that time, let's talk about the present condition to each other.
Lunatics - People who seem to be out of their minds
In case of fire, do not panic - Please don't worry if a fire is occuring
Milkshake - Whippy ice milk
No Rock Climbing - Prohibit climbing the rockery
No Roughhousing - Please restaintedly rough action
No Running - Please not to hustle
Open 24 Hours - Don't have a rest in the whole year
Organic - Non-public nuisance
Passenger Loading Zone - Temporary park only for getting off
Psychiatrist's office - Psycho clinic
Public Toilets - Rest rooms: Please use them without hesitation
Quiet Zone - I'm the national treasure and I hate noise
Refresh - Fill with a fresh taste
Refugee camp - Shelter for people who cannot go back home
Saddleback congregation - Church of Fruits
Sampler of appetizers - All kinds of cool food
Satisfaction Guaranteed - You must be satisfied with it!
Silence is golden - No Hullabaloo
Slippery when wet - Please pay attention to your safety in the rain and snow weather
Smoking Section - Smoking? It's so ok!
Stranger - Random friend
Thank you, come again - Thank you for coming to a store. We will wait for the next coming to a store.
Transsexual - Feman
Voice instructions - Easy-to-understand guidance is given by a voice.
Watch your step - Be careful of your feet
Warantee - Protection time
Why pay more for airfare? - Why don't you buy cheapest ticket?
Yoga Instructor - Yoga Pirate
No Longer Dead
Stolen
by Gandhi Mangler
April 27, 2009
This zine, last published in January 2003, is no longer dead.
Because non-commercial radio and zines go together.
Update: 2009 April 29
After three days of data entry, Vocephus.com is restored. Forty pieces could not be found, but half of those were Vomit God's, so no big loss.
The first new World of Vocephus article in SIX years, English to Engrish, can be found here.
April 29 again
What's this?? Another article already! Gandhi Mangler is back, with Almost Comatose #13: Comatose Harder!
April 29 once more
Inspired by Gandhi Mangler's damn-the-torpedoes moxy, I've written my first piece, Welcome Depression!
May 1
HOLY COW!
May 2
I found an overlooked news item and wrote a nice article, Hail Chocobots!
May 4
Added the RSS button.
May 6
Took a day (or four days) to update the Miscellaneous Non-Such links. It has been raining for a week.
Added the Crazy Grandpa series by Becky, because the world needs it.
May 7
Gandhi Mangler wrote something that reads like a Conan skit, Semi-Nightmares.
Nine days, nine additions.
L is for Love
by Citizen L
Love- the plight of all folks our age from the Far East to the equally as far West. Emotions and hormones running rampant within our bodies giving way to that euphoria known as love. Being young and in love is great - you’ve got no substantial worries and can focus entirely on your romantic and sexual urges. Being older and in love is great too - you’ve got a solid career that you’ll have pretty much as long as you’re responsible, leaving you with weekends and weeknights to spend giving attention to your partner. Then comes us; we’ve got minimum wage jobs coupled with all the worries we could ever ask for - leaving us with just about no time at all.
The hippies can be quoted as saying it was possible to live off of love. Much like communists, however, hippies only had half the equation. Love goes nowhere without money, and money comes from jobs (or skillfully planned bank heists). In the beginning love can easily survive on a small amount of cash that any old job can provide. As time goes on, though, it becomes exponentially more expensive. You move from paying for dinner and club admission on Friday nights- to down payments on cars and houses and college for kids. So sure a simple job can work in the first stages of love, but as soon as it gets more serious you’re gonna need a lot more dough to fund it. The price of love goes up bi-monthly... your Jack in the Box Salary does not. Thus you send yourself off to college (or in the case of most of us, send ourselves off to community college). A world-class edumication in our sites for one reason and one reason alone: to be able to support our love addiction. "No problem!" you think, "I’ll just go to college AND have myself a nice little part time job." Once again I must bring in the communists to compare. This idea would be grand if you had say- a 48-hour day. But in those measly 24-hour days of ours we get stuck between a job and classes and effectively leave ourselves with 10 or so hours a week spread out through 7 days. About now is when the love of your life tells you that you’ve been dumped for the rich suburban kid who knows how to have fun and isn’t always working or at school. ... Gay, eh?
... And that isn’t all there is to love either.
All those money/job/career problems are of course assuming you’ve been able to hack your way through the dense foliage that is our population and find someone you’re compatible with. Many of us don’t have that and thus we must search, even if we don’t want to search we do it- it’s a primal subconscious thing that we cannot shake ourselves from. And sorry to tell you folks, but these days it isn’t as simple as running up behind the unsuspecting cave-woman who is washing her wares in the river. Take me for example:
I used to sit at home in the dimly lit room that I call my own and wonder to myself, 'Why can’t I find a girl like me?' For about 5 years of my life I asked myself this question- until a few nights ago it dawned on me. A 'girl like me' is sitting at home right now festering in her own filth, staring at month old soda cans on her desk, and thinking 'Why can’t I find a guy like me?' (Or perhaps, if she were REALLY a girl like me, she’d be thinking why shy couldn’t find a girl like her- which titillates me in numerous ways I won’t mention here!). So naturally to find a woman like myself I’d have to randomly break in to many households asking for their introverted non-social daughter who sits in the incandescent glow of her computer all hours of the day... Trust me, families HATE this.
So here I am, working 32 hours every week and taking 13 units in school, leaving me Tuesday nights free that I will undoubtedly spend looking at porn while I imagine in my mind what life might be like in a more perfect world (by more perfect I mean of course one where I’m getting laid).
I am left to wallow in my own shabby fantasies. Some guys have high hopes within their fantasies; two woman at once, orgies, women who are freaky beyond measurement-
None of that for me though... oh no, I’ve lost all motivation and now my fantasies are usually centered around the women who I visit that work the fast food windows of local drive through restaurants. In truth, they are paid 6.25 an hour to smile at idiots like me. In my dark fantasy world they give their smiles to me for free! And I drive around in my 'P-mobile' (the P stands for something, maybe Pimp? ... no... sadly, it’s Pedus) hitting up all the local drive through restaurants and flirting with the window women- For I AM the pimp of the late night drive through circuit- all shall fear me!
...
I leave you with some advice-- Love at our age isn’t worth it. Course we all knew that- but we strive for it nonetheless in our blind stupidity. I suggest more people jump from meaningless relationship to meaningless relationship having anonymous sex until you’re 25. Finally waking up one day in the filth of the orgy the night before with the painful realization that there’s still a gerbil in your ass- and you decide to find yourself a nice partner to settle down with. All in all, love stinks...
... but aint it grand!
P.S. -- If there are any women who have yet to enter the stage of anonymous meaningless sex, feel free to initiate some with me! ejones@citizenL.com
Love- the plight of all folks our age from the Far East to the equally as far West. Emotions and hormones running rampant within our bodies giving way to that euphoria known as love. Being young and in love is great - you’ve got no substantial worries and can focus entirely on your romantic and sexual urges. Being older and in love is great too - you’ve got a solid career that you’ll have pretty much as long as you’re responsible, leaving you with weekends and weeknights to spend giving attention to your partner. Then comes us; we’ve got minimum wage jobs coupled with all the worries we could ever ask for - leaving us with just about no time at all.
The hippies can be quoted as saying it was possible to live off of love. Much like communists, however, hippies only had half the equation. Love goes nowhere without money, and money comes from jobs (or skillfully planned bank heists). In the beginning love can easily survive on a small amount of cash that any old job can provide. As time goes on, though, it becomes exponentially more expensive. You move from paying for dinner and club admission on Friday nights- to down payments on cars and houses and college for kids. So sure a simple job can work in the first stages of love, but as soon as it gets more serious you’re gonna need a lot more dough to fund it. The price of love goes up bi-monthly... your Jack in the Box Salary does not. Thus you send yourself off to college (or in the case of most of us, send ourselves off to community college). A world-class edumication in our sites for one reason and one reason alone: to be able to support our love addiction. "No problem!" you think, "I’ll just go to college AND have myself a nice little part time job." Once again I must bring in the communists to compare. This idea would be grand if you had say- a 48-hour day. But in those measly 24-hour days of ours we get stuck between a job and classes and effectively leave ourselves with 10 or so hours a week spread out through 7 days. About now is when the love of your life tells you that you’ve been dumped for the rich suburban kid who knows how to have fun and isn’t always working or at school. ... Gay, eh?
... And that isn’t all there is to love either.
All those money/job/career problems are of course assuming you’ve been able to hack your way through the dense foliage that is our population and find someone you’re compatible with. Many of us don’t have that and thus we must search, even if we don’t want to search we do it- it’s a primal subconscious thing that we cannot shake ourselves from. And sorry to tell you folks, but these days it isn’t as simple as running up behind the unsuspecting cave-woman who is washing her wares in the river. Take me for example:
I used to sit at home in the dimly lit room that I call my own and wonder to myself, 'Why can’t I find a girl like me?' For about 5 years of my life I asked myself this question- until a few nights ago it dawned on me. A 'girl like me' is sitting at home right now festering in her own filth, staring at month old soda cans on her desk, and thinking 'Why can’t I find a guy like me?' (Or perhaps, if she were REALLY a girl like me, she’d be thinking why shy couldn’t find a girl like her- which titillates me in numerous ways I won’t mention here!). So naturally to find a woman like myself I’d have to randomly break in to many households asking for their introverted non-social daughter who sits in the incandescent glow of her computer all hours of the day... Trust me, families HATE this.
So here I am, working 32 hours every week and taking 13 units in school, leaving me Tuesday nights free that I will undoubtedly spend looking at porn while I imagine in my mind what life might be like in a more perfect world (by more perfect I mean of course one where I’m getting laid).
I am left to wallow in my own shabby fantasies. Some guys have high hopes within their fantasies; two woman at once, orgies, women who are freaky beyond measurement-
None of that for me though... oh no, I’ve lost all motivation and now my fantasies are usually centered around the women who I visit that work the fast food windows of local drive through restaurants. In truth, they are paid 6.25 an hour to smile at idiots like me. In my dark fantasy world they give their smiles to me for free! And I drive around in my 'P-mobile' (the P stands for something, maybe Pimp? ... no... sadly, it’s Pedus) hitting up all the local drive through restaurants and flirting with the window women- For I AM the pimp of the late night drive through circuit- all shall fear me!
...
I leave you with some advice-- Love at our age isn’t worth it. Course we all knew that- but we strive for it nonetheless in our blind stupidity. I suggest more people jump from meaningless relationship to meaningless relationship having anonymous sex until you’re 25. Finally waking up one day in the filth of the orgy the night before with the painful realization that there’s still a gerbil in your ass- and you decide to find yourself a nice partner to settle down with. All in all, love stinks...
... but aint it grand!
P.S. -- If there are any women who have yet to enter the stage of anonymous meaningless sex, feel free to initiate some with me! ejones@citizenL.com
L is for Laden (Bin, Osama)
by Citizen L
Based on actual Events...
Inspired by Desservo and Dr. Cox Robotika (go to a movie with them sometime)
Cast of Characters
Mohamed Atta: A simple farm-boy who was destined for greatness.(one of the sept. 11th high jackers)
Osama Bin Laden: A great teacher in the ways of the Al Qaeda
Ayman al-Zaqahiri: Osama's trusted advisor and greatest pupil.
A short time ago (sept. 1st, 2001), in a country pretty far away (Afganistan)...
It is a time of chaos in Afganistan. After the expulsion of Soviet troops, Taliban forces have managed to wrest a following and degree of control in a country wracked with civil unrest...
However there is a new threat on the horizon. A large band of forces known as the United States have been hovering over Taliban achievements and have numerous times expressed their displeasure. The United States, confident in themselves have let their guard down...
With Ahmed Shah Massood soon to be dead, and the Northern Alliance out of the picture the time for the Taliban to focus strikes upon the greater threat is nearing. Under the rule of Mullah Mohammad Omar a new wave of Taliban recruits stream through the cities of Afganistan in preparation for the war at hand...
Mohamed Atta sits alone in a small clearing of rocks. He speaks to himself calmly.
Mohamed: I don't like this place much, it's so...
Mohamed looks around and sighs.
Mohamed: ...so cold, and mysterious. I sorta feel like...
Voice: Feel like what?
Mohamed jumps from his seat and swings his Ak-47 around to point at a shadow a bit in the distance, Osama Bin Laden emerges, his hands visible in the air.
Osama: Away with your weapon! I mean you no harm!
Mohamed is slightly amused and he lowers his weapon.
Osama: I am curious as to why you are here.
Mohamed: I am waiting for someone.
Osama: Waiting no longer, someone is here!
Mohamed: I'm waiting for a great leader.
Osama: Leading not make you great
Osama begins looking through Mohamed's person belongings, Mohamed is annoyed.
Mohamed: Would you just get out of here?
Osama: Help you I will! Find your leader... hmmm
Mohamed: I'm looking for an al qaeda leader...
Osama: Oooo... Osama... you seek Osama
Mohamed: (now more interested): Yes! You know of him?
Osama: Take you to him I will.
Osama heads off, Mohamed following. Eventually they reach a small tent where Osama begins to cook some stew.
Mohamed: Why are you cooking? Can't we just go see Osama?
Osama: Patience, the al qaeda value patience. Why wish you become al qaeda, hmm?
Mohamed: Mostly my father I guess... oh wait also the way I get to control women- I... why am I telling you this, we're wasting time! Take me to Osama
Osama turns toward the radio in the corner of the tent.
Osama: I cannot teach him, he lacks patience.
Ayman's Voice: I was the same, when you met me.
Osama: He is not ready
Mohamed: (realizing that the man he is talking to is Osama) I- I am ready! Ayman, tell him I'm ready.
Osama: (To Mohamed): Ready are you? You know nothing of ready. For 8 years I have trained al qaeda- My own counsel will I keep on who is to be trained! An al qaeda must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind.
Osama: (To Ayman): I have watched this one, before you told me of him. Always he looks forward, never his mind on where he is now, hmmm. What he was doing. Hmph. Adventure. Heh! Excitement. Heh! A al qaeda craves not these things.
Osama: (To Mohamed): You are reckless!
Ayman: So was I, if you'll remember.
Osama: He is too old! Yes, too old to begin the training.
Mohamed: But I've learned so much!
Osama turns to face Mohamed, looking into his eyes Osama feels a change of heart and sighs. He turns back to the radio.
Osama: (To Ayman): Will he finish what he begins?
Mohamed: I won't fail you - I'm not afraid.
Osama: (turning to Mohamed): Oh you will be... you will be.
And so we leave our friend Mohamed, for now. Perhaps we will hear about him in future events! Or perhaps he will crash a plane and die and we'll never hear of him again... stay tuned to find out the final outcome!
L is for Late Christmas Article
(Alternately titled: L is for Lights)
by Citizen L
A note to the readers of this article:
This was written two nights after the "christmas" event, however I never really got around to editing or anything and that's why you're reading this super late. Of course you can always not read on and save reading of this article until next christmas if it would make you feel better!
Rituals -- aside from the obvious -- on Christmas (day or eve, take your pick) are something kids have learned to deal with for generations. Maybe daddy likes to gather everyone under a pretty scene while wearing the "good clothes," or maybe mommy bakes up some holiday cookies and the family sits around saying grace and thanking the lord for how happy they are, some families go caroling, play in the snow, or sit inside sipping cocoa and egg-nog getting lightly toasted.
… My family likes to get in a car and drive around looking at Christmas lights.
(It should be noted that such rituals can take place on Chanukah, quanza (dunno how to spell this one and my spell checker doesn't either), or many other religious holidays- but I celebrate Christmas, so for the purpose of this article they don't)
No Christmas for my family would be complete without the standard "drive by pretty lights and stare." As simplistic as it sounds aesthetics prove a great joy to my entire family… except of course myself. Sitting backwards in a lawn chair MacGuyver-rigged to "stay put" in the back of a curiously modified van I found myself surrounded by my over excitable mom, my sarcastic dad, my grandpa who despite a broken hip and other health problems too numerous to count manages to consider himself unbreakable, one grandma who probably wouldn't mind if slavery was never abolished, and another grandma who is as close to being in a coma as you can get without actually being on life support. Between listening to one grandma tell me about how "back in the day we had a phrase for that, we'd say; there's a nigger in the wood pile" and my other grandma speaking incoherently I found the fact that I was facing an opposite direction than everyone else in the car rather symbolic. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I hate my family; but when writing in a forum as sophisticated as Vocephus.com, I feel teenage-angst will be well received.
The highlight of the night was when the "hook" keeping my near-coma-grandmother's wheelchair locked into the passenger seat came lose. Her chair went careening back straight towards my other grandmother; obviously I caught the chair in time but it certainly got me thinking. Grandma Wars- what if Grandmotherly-fights were the norm? Wheelchair joust (which is trite by now, but I feel the need to mention it anyway), violent knitting contests, and maybe some dry-old-candy wrestling. Maybe even exhibition matches between professional wrestlers and professional grandmas, "Do you smellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll what the grandma is cooking… That's right it's a potato chip casserole"
…Looking back on that last paragraph I think I'll just continue writing as if it never existed…
Before all the light looking began we went to the house of my grandpa and grandma (the coma grandma, or CG as she shall herein be referred to in this document). CG was in bed and my grandpa was feeding her, we arrived and thus began the CG Wheelchair Docking Procedure. A small dog (looks like a Pomeranian but I have no idea what it was) named Puff ran epileptically-around the room keeping me entertained in the moments before we lifted CG from her Bed-Fortress and onto her Chair of Doom. Immediately upon being placed within the chair Puff jumped onto her lap…
This dog was amazing, I could pet it all night, my dad could pet it all night, and my mom could feed him gourmet meals- but still somehow it knew that the person who would appreciate it most would be CG. Anyone who doubts a dog's ability to sense need or love in a person needs to witness this (note: my grandma only manages to smile when the dog gets in her lap [where the dog stayed the rest of the evening, even in the car] - never did she pet the dog, or say "oooh good doggy" in one of those voices you use to talk to dogs - this dog isn't one of those trained dogs who gives sympathy to sick kids either, it's just a normal dog… I salute this dog). We drove through a few little neighborhoods and finally up Mt. Soledad, never finding the holy-grail of Christmas lights but always subject to entertainment from the many different people in the car. I even decided I'd take notes on the evening on my trusty Blizzard Entertainment note-pad. The only really note that was worth writing down was the "nigger" one, but the rest are there cause I was stretching looking for stuff to write on. (It should be noted I took the notes in basically complete darkness, so that should explain my bad writing- that, and the small brain tumor on my frontal lobe).
All in all the night I'd say was rather common as far as events like this go. Nothing especially special went on, which totally explains any "sucky aura" about this article you may be noticing. There really is no natural way to end this article, so I think I'll maybe end it in the middle of a word or even sente
by Citizen L
A note to the readers of this article:
This was written two nights after the "christmas" event, however I never really got around to editing or anything and that's why you're reading this super late. Of course you can always not read on and save reading of this article until next christmas if it would make you feel better!
Rituals -- aside from the obvious -- on Christmas (day or eve, take your pick) are something kids have learned to deal with for generations. Maybe daddy likes to gather everyone under a pretty scene while wearing the "good clothes," or maybe mommy bakes up some holiday cookies and the family sits around saying grace and thanking the lord for how happy they are, some families go caroling, play in the snow, or sit inside sipping cocoa and egg-nog getting lightly toasted.
… My family likes to get in a car and drive around looking at Christmas lights.
(It should be noted that such rituals can take place on Chanukah, quanza (dunno how to spell this one and my spell checker doesn't either), or many other religious holidays- but I celebrate Christmas, so for the purpose of this article they don't)
No Christmas for my family would be complete without the standard "drive by pretty lights and stare." As simplistic as it sounds aesthetics prove a great joy to my entire family… except of course myself. Sitting backwards in a lawn chair MacGuyver-rigged to "stay put" in the back of a curiously modified van I found myself surrounded by my over excitable mom, my sarcastic dad, my grandpa who despite a broken hip and other health problems too numerous to count manages to consider himself unbreakable, one grandma who probably wouldn't mind if slavery was never abolished, and another grandma who is as close to being in a coma as you can get without actually being on life support. Between listening to one grandma tell me about how "back in the day we had a phrase for that, we'd say; there's a nigger in the wood pile" and my other grandma speaking incoherently I found the fact that I was facing an opposite direction than everyone else in the car rather symbolic. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I hate my family; but when writing in a forum as sophisticated as Vocephus.com, I feel teenage-angst will be well received.
The highlight of the night was when the "hook" keeping my near-coma-grandmother's wheelchair locked into the passenger seat came lose. Her chair went careening back straight towards my other grandmother; obviously I caught the chair in time but it certainly got me thinking. Grandma Wars- what if Grandmotherly-fights were the norm? Wheelchair joust (which is trite by now, but I feel the need to mention it anyway), violent knitting contests, and maybe some dry-old-candy wrestling. Maybe even exhibition matches between professional wrestlers and professional grandmas, "Do you smellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll what the grandma is cooking… That's right it's a potato chip casserole"
…Looking back on that last paragraph I think I'll just continue writing as if it never existed…
Before all the light looking began we went to the house of my grandpa and grandma (the coma grandma, or CG as she shall herein be referred to in this document). CG was in bed and my grandpa was feeding her, we arrived and thus began the CG Wheelchair Docking Procedure. A small dog (looks like a Pomeranian but I have no idea what it was) named Puff ran epileptically-around the room keeping me entertained in the moments before we lifted CG from her Bed-Fortress and onto her Chair of Doom. Immediately upon being placed within the chair Puff jumped onto her lap…
This dog was amazing, I could pet it all night, my dad could pet it all night, and my mom could feed him gourmet meals- but still somehow it knew that the person who would appreciate it most would be CG. Anyone who doubts a dog's ability to sense need or love in a person needs to witness this (note: my grandma only manages to smile when the dog gets in her lap [where the dog stayed the rest of the evening, even in the car] - never did she pet the dog, or say "oooh good doggy" in one of those voices you use to talk to dogs - this dog isn't one of those trained dogs who gives sympathy to sick kids either, it's just a normal dog… I salute this dog). We drove through a few little neighborhoods and finally up Mt. Soledad, never finding the holy-grail of Christmas lights but always subject to entertainment from the many different people in the car. I even decided I'd take notes on the evening on my trusty Blizzard Entertainment note-pad. The only really note that was worth writing down was the "nigger" one, but the rest are there cause I was stretching looking for stuff to write on. (It should be noted I took the notes in basically complete darkness, so that should explain my bad writing- that, and the small brain tumor on my frontal lobe).
All in all the night I'd say was rather common as far as events like this go. Nothing especially special went on, which totally explains any "sucky aura" about this article you may be noticing. There really is no natural way to end this article, so I think I'll maybe end it in the middle of a word or even sente
L is for Loss of Hope
by Citizen L
I lay in bed at night, and I ask myself, "self… is it all worth it?" The only sane answer I come up with is, "worth what?" Which of course isn't an answer at all, just another dumb question (don't stop reading now, unless you want to. I promise this has some sorta chance of making sense in the end… or not) Why are we what we are? Humans… a species no doubt laughed at by any other sentient beings. Trapped between instinct and reason, not utilizing either of them to a worthwhile extent. Beings we deem "lesser" may in fact laugh at us when we confuse ourselves over which mate to choose or when we hesitate to kill for food. It is because of this that we set ourselves up on the higher ground and claim ourselves civilized. We're the most reasonable species we know… which is horribly sad when you consider how un-reasonable we are as a species. We kill, maim, and debase other people, cultures, and species. Ah yes, Civility.
What drives our vicious minds? Maybe a lust for control, maybe chemicals in our brains tell us it's what we need, or maybe trickle down ass-beatings (or to a less severe extent, trickle down abuse of power). You've seen the political cartoons and heard the comedians; Dad gets yelled at when at work, so he yells at mom, who yells at the kids. What do the kids do? Well we can either take the anger out directly on our peers (bullies), which of course leads to teachers and parents scolding us. Or we can take this unplaced anger and bottle it deep down inside our beings where it rots and perverts itself until one day you find yourself in a court room answering questions about what you did prior to burying the body. Power… personal power over another- it quells our rage long enough to keep us happy. We all do it, weather we like to admit it or not. Be it in obvious ways such as brute force, or in an emotional manner. Threatening, beating, pinning, twisting, manipulating, preying on the weakness of others. All for a quick fix… power over other beings- it's my drug of choice.
So sure the localized view of trickle-down abuse isn't anything new but what about the universal aspect of it? Not just how one boss ends up affecting one family. But how a billion bosses affect a billion families. Not just bosses; lives little upsets, coworkers, annoying people, bad weather, accidents - anything that causes uneasiness or anger. Compound that over generation and generation where we all tend to repress some anger and things don't seem so happy.
How else might this happen? Is it our nature as humans to be ill willed, quick to judge, and defensive? Did we gain anything by into a world of distrust? You bet your ass it did! I don't see any monkeys inventing airplanes, do you? As a species we've traded simplicity and instinct (natural order) for society and advanced culture. Maybe (hopefully?) we're just up one step on a long ladder of evolution- though personally I don't see us evolving mentally much anytime soon.
So where does that put us? Laughed at by crawdads for our blind follow of reason. Equally laughed at by aliens who follow reason so precisely that war and poverty are non-issues.
But how happy are crawdads? How happy are aliens who treat everyone equally? With all that equality your diversity goes out the window, which unleashes two distinct problems.
Everything is judged in the relative; as it stands now we have some really fucked up people in the world. Now what if we have no murderers, no robbers, no thieves, and no rapists, where does that leave Bob? Bob runs stop signs, and is now the worst human on the planet. If all we do is raise the sin curve, the bottom is still as low as you go, even if it's higher than the old low.
The other problem is just as stupid. When a species loses its diversity, it also loses its ability to survive. If we can't evolve due to a static gene pool, we die.
Can we get past our petty want for control over others? Probably… a few humans might be able to, but not enough to make a difference… not enough to teach any others. How do you convince someone to be honest to themselves and others in a world where honesty just creates anger? Here's an idea, instead of trying to change people, we just work with the new ones (kids). Teach the kids to ignore all the jerks and sew the seeds for segregation! Jerks get to drink at this drinking fountain, and the Arian race gets to drink from this one! Yay!
Anger stems from all things, it has to. Without anger how would we judge non-anger? Without hate how would we know love? Emotional extremes are a necessary evil that sickens me. Like a flu that kills me a little bit each day. I am powerless to stop it… the only thing I can do to stave it off is remove myself from people. The only asshole I'd have to deal with then would be myself.
I could end this with some cool line about death being the only way out of the vicious cycle of hell that humans put me through- but then people would think I was suicidal or something dumb like that-
Yeah, I hate humans… but I love donuts so I'll stick around.
I lay in bed at night, and I ask myself, "self… is it all worth it?" The only sane answer I come up with is, "worth what?" Which of course isn't an answer at all, just another dumb question (don't stop reading now, unless you want to. I promise this has some sorta chance of making sense in the end… or not) Why are we what we are? Humans… a species no doubt laughed at by any other sentient beings. Trapped between instinct and reason, not utilizing either of them to a worthwhile extent. Beings we deem "lesser" may in fact laugh at us when we confuse ourselves over which mate to choose or when we hesitate to kill for food. It is because of this that we set ourselves up on the higher ground and claim ourselves civilized. We're the most reasonable species we know… which is horribly sad when you consider how un-reasonable we are as a species. We kill, maim, and debase other people, cultures, and species. Ah yes, Civility.
What drives our vicious minds? Maybe a lust for control, maybe chemicals in our brains tell us it's what we need, or maybe trickle down ass-beatings (or to a less severe extent, trickle down abuse of power). You've seen the political cartoons and heard the comedians; Dad gets yelled at when at work, so he yells at mom, who yells at the kids. What do the kids do? Well we can either take the anger out directly on our peers (bullies), which of course leads to teachers and parents scolding us. Or we can take this unplaced anger and bottle it deep down inside our beings where it rots and perverts itself until one day you find yourself in a court room answering questions about what you did prior to burying the body. Power… personal power over another- it quells our rage long enough to keep us happy. We all do it, weather we like to admit it or not. Be it in obvious ways such as brute force, or in an emotional manner. Threatening, beating, pinning, twisting, manipulating, preying on the weakness of others. All for a quick fix… power over other beings- it's my drug of choice.
So sure the localized view of trickle-down abuse isn't anything new but what about the universal aspect of it? Not just how one boss ends up affecting one family. But how a billion bosses affect a billion families. Not just bosses; lives little upsets, coworkers, annoying people, bad weather, accidents - anything that causes uneasiness or anger. Compound that over generation and generation where we all tend to repress some anger and things don't seem so happy.
How else might this happen? Is it our nature as humans to be ill willed, quick to judge, and defensive? Did we gain anything by into a world of distrust? You bet your ass it did! I don't see any monkeys inventing airplanes, do you? As a species we've traded simplicity and instinct (natural order) for society and advanced culture. Maybe (hopefully?) we're just up one step on a long ladder of evolution- though personally I don't see us evolving mentally much anytime soon.
So where does that put us? Laughed at by crawdads for our blind follow of reason. Equally laughed at by aliens who follow reason so precisely that war and poverty are non-issues.
But how happy are crawdads? How happy are aliens who treat everyone equally? With all that equality your diversity goes out the window, which unleashes two distinct problems.
Everything is judged in the relative; as it stands now we have some really fucked up people in the world. Now what if we have no murderers, no robbers, no thieves, and no rapists, where does that leave Bob? Bob runs stop signs, and is now the worst human on the planet. If all we do is raise the sin curve, the bottom is still as low as you go, even if it's higher than the old low.
The other problem is just as stupid. When a species loses its diversity, it also loses its ability to survive. If we can't evolve due to a static gene pool, we die.
Can we get past our petty want for control over others? Probably… a few humans might be able to, but not enough to make a difference… not enough to teach any others. How do you convince someone to be honest to themselves and others in a world where honesty just creates anger? Here's an idea, instead of trying to change people, we just work with the new ones (kids). Teach the kids to ignore all the jerks and sew the seeds for segregation! Jerks get to drink at this drinking fountain, and the Arian race gets to drink from this one! Yay!
Anger stems from all things, it has to. Without anger how would we judge non-anger? Without hate how would we know love? Emotional extremes are a necessary evil that sickens me. Like a flu that kills me a little bit each day. I am powerless to stop it… the only thing I can do to stave it off is remove myself from people. The only asshole I'd have to deal with then would be myself.
I could end this with some cool line about death being the only way out of the vicious cycle of hell that humans put me through- but then people would think I was suicidal or something dumb like that-
Yeah, I hate humans… but I love donuts so I'll stick around.
OGRE #1: Bret the Conquerer
THE OGRE CHRONICLES
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possible, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Bret The Conqueror
Twas a cold and snowy day on May 16th 1982 and the newest edition to the Watkins Clan were being born. With a strong name of Bret Traven Watkins this boy would be someone, he would know only life as these few words can tell. "Crush your enemies, see them driving before you, and hear the lamination of their woman!" With sword in hand and codpiece for protection, the warrior was ready for the world. Nobody knew where the Watkins clan would go from there. The Snowy Wastelands of Central North America twere harsh and unforgiving toward the young warrior. They packed their goods, and like nomads, moved to the sunny area near the Mexico border, they call Spring Valley. When he was at a mere age of 4 years old he was taught to use the sword that his father forged for him, and that Crom had blessed in his Mountain of power. With this sword, and the thrust for blood there would be no stopping the warrior, but... If it weren’t for Evil powers of the School system, this warrior would have ran wild, possibly chopping people’s heads off or raping and pillaging villagers.
When the School system got hold of this Great warrior they forced him to be educated, interacting with smaller and weaker mortals the warrior was only getting stronger from the weaklings. Striving to be better every day, he was taught one more skill that added him in several ways. He was taught the age-old art of kicking a round ball around with other mortals, this game we call, Soccer. Soccer brought many new skills to this young warrior’s technique, incorporating his ruthlessness into soccer. It was not long after he started soccer; he found new ways to bring his enemies down. Foul play plagued this young conqueror's mind and it was growing stronger every day. Amongst the wild acts of violence there were many slams to the body witch resulted in a mere red card; the warrior laughed at the red cards. Some games were fine, but to the warrior a game with out a sword, is merely child’s play. A day without blood, is a day without sunshine. The day that ended this all was a sad day indeed, twas a great blow to the power of Crom in this warrior. Twas at the age of sixteen the warrior’s reign of terror over the American Youth Soccer Organization ended. It all happened one bleak winter day, the pitch was perfect, but the wind was blowing in the wrong directions. Was the doings of some kind of magic force that started the whole field war? People were losing limbs left and right; the young warrior thankfully had his sword with him. His sword felt many a poor souls neck with such fury and forces that heads rolled when the mortals made the wrong step. After the blood soaked into the field, and the bodies were dragged off into a pile that only the flies would go near. The men in charge found the young warrior guilty of an offense so bad, that he was banned for life.
With the coming of the New Year, the young warrior was becoming a man in his own right. Mastering the sword and learning to use his wits more than his foot. Soccer was a thing of the past and a new opportunity to excel would propose it self. With the influx of the device called the computer. Came new thoughts into the young warriors mind. He knew he could master this device! With all the other things he has mastered, this would surely be an easy skill. Years past and the young warrior meet other mortals equal to him. These mortals knew the power of Crom, and they would stand tall next to the warrior in his greatest time of need, whenever that be. Whilst in these shackles tied down by the evil power the School system, the young warrior was not a ladies man. He was a timid creature and not very adept with the other gender. The only thoughts of women were through his young days, as a conqueror of many towns and villages.
When it twas time for the warrior to be come a man there was a great celebration in his name. Sure there were other mortals there but that celebration was in his name, Bret Traven Watkins. All the other mortals bowed to his power and great codpiece and praised the warrior for finally beating the school system with his bare fists and wits. Sadly for the warrior, his days of childish raping and pillaging were over. The Watkins Clan thought long and hard about their decision to send the young warrior off the College. College was the final frontier for this warrior. The warrior Bret Traven has a fruitful life of raping and pillaging, and when College has loosened its strong grip upon the warrior. He shall move on to the next stage of his life.
GRADE RECIEVED: A
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possible, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Bret The Conqueror
Twas a cold and snowy day on May 16th 1982 and the newest edition to the Watkins Clan were being born. With a strong name of Bret Traven Watkins this boy would be someone, he would know only life as these few words can tell. "Crush your enemies, see them driving before you, and hear the lamination of their woman!" With sword in hand and codpiece for protection, the warrior was ready for the world. Nobody knew where the Watkins clan would go from there. The Snowy Wastelands of Central North America twere harsh and unforgiving toward the young warrior. They packed their goods, and like nomads, moved to the sunny area near the Mexico border, they call Spring Valley. When he was at a mere age of 4 years old he was taught to use the sword that his father forged for him, and that Crom had blessed in his Mountain of power. With this sword, and the thrust for blood there would be no stopping the warrior, but... If it weren’t for Evil powers of the School system, this warrior would have ran wild, possibly chopping people’s heads off or raping and pillaging villagers.
When the School system got hold of this Great warrior they forced him to be educated, interacting with smaller and weaker mortals the warrior was only getting stronger from the weaklings. Striving to be better every day, he was taught one more skill that added him in several ways. He was taught the age-old art of kicking a round ball around with other mortals, this game we call, Soccer. Soccer brought many new skills to this young warrior’s technique, incorporating his ruthlessness into soccer. It was not long after he started soccer; he found new ways to bring his enemies down. Foul play plagued this young conqueror's mind and it was growing stronger every day. Amongst the wild acts of violence there were many slams to the body witch resulted in a mere red card; the warrior laughed at the red cards. Some games were fine, but to the warrior a game with out a sword, is merely child’s play. A day without blood, is a day without sunshine. The day that ended this all was a sad day indeed, twas a great blow to the power of Crom in this warrior. Twas at the age of sixteen the warrior’s reign of terror over the American Youth Soccer Organization ended. It all happened one bleak winter day, the pitch was perfect, but the wind was blowing in the wrong directions. Was the doings of some kind of magic force that started the whole field war? People were losing limbs left and right; the young warrior thankfully had his sword with him. His sword felt many a poor souls neck with such fury and forces that heads rolled when the mortals made the wrong step. After the blood soaked into the field, and the bodies were dragged off into a pile that only the flies would go near. The men in charge found the young warrior guilty of an offense so bad, that he was banned for life.
With the coming of the New Year, the young warrior was becoming a man in his own right. Mastering the sword and learning to use his wits more than his foot. Soccer was a thing of the past and a new opportunity to excel would propose it self. With the influx of the device called the computer. Came new thoughts into the young warriors mind. He knew he could master this device! With all the other things he has mastered, this would surely be an easy skill. Years past and the young warrior meet other mortals equal to him. These mortals knew the power of Crom, and they would stand tall next to the warrior in his greatest time of need, whenever that be. Whilst in these shackles tied down by the evil power the School system, the young warrior was not a ladies man. He was a timid creature and not very adept with the other gender. The only thoughts of women were through his young days, as a conqueror of many towns and villages.
When it twas time for the warrior to be come a man there was a great celebration in his name. Sure there were other mortals there but that celebration was in his name, Bret Traven Watkins. All the other mortals bowed to his power and great codpiece and praised the warrior for finally beating the school system with his bare fists and wits. Sadly for the warrior, his days of childish raping and pillaging were over. The Watkins Clan thought long and hard about their decision to send the young warrior off the College. College was the final frontier for this warrior. The warrior Bret Traven has a fruitful life of raping and pillaging, and when College has loosened its strong grip upon the warrior. He shall move on to the next stage of his life.
GRADE RECIEVED: A
OGRE #2: Dog Bite!
THE OGRE CHRONICLES
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possbile, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Dog Bite!
It was in the spring of 1990 and it was about that time when school had just started. Everyone was talking about their toys that they received during the Christmas break even the ridiculous stories about going to their grandma’s house. It was pretty much a normal way to get back into the swing of school. Friends that you don’t normally see aside from school were there and everything was back to the way it was. Kids you had grown up with from over the course of your grade school career.
Friends like Tim Wilson, he was one of the friends that I really didn’t see outside of school. Oddly enough we hung out more and I even went to his house several times to hang out and play Nintendo. Tim’s house was a doghouse, he had two dogs, one was a small white one that yapped a lot, and the other one was a named Samson and was a big German Shepherd. One night we had the idea of me coming over this house for the night. I got permission from my parents and packed my backpack full of the bare necessities, a pair of underwear, shorts, and a T-shirt. When I arrived it was like any other sleep over, eat dinner with the family, go back to his room and play and then after getting tired from the warm glow of the TV we closed our sleepy eyes and went to bed.
That morning we woke up and had the idea of going out side to play catch. We sneaked outside to the porch while everyone was still asleep. The dogs were up and ready to play along with us. I wasn’t too fond of the dogs, or any dog for that matter, but Samson the big one scared me the most. That didn’t stop me from going out to play catch with Tim. We began to play catch and the small green tennis ball caught the eye of Samson, he wanted to play to. The game now was to keep the ball away from Samson, and we did it with the greatest of skill. Of course there will always be that one time the ball gets away and the dog gets the ball, well Samson had gotten the ball from us. It was my job to get the ball out of his grip. This was no easy task to get a tennis ball out of a big German Shepherd’s grip, once its in, its in for good.
I grasped the ball in my hand and tugged at it trying to loosen Samson’s hold over the ball. The next tug was one I put force into, at that moment Samson let go of the ball, and for one second I was on top! I had the ball! I had beaten Samson to the ball! Seconds after that my life would change forever. Everything I thought I knew about man’s best friend, everything I thought about why dogs do what they do would change. Samson didn’t want the ball anymore. When I took the ball it must have made Samson mad, and for that I paid. Samson had crunched into the left side of my face, I felt his teeth quickly pierce my skin. With my left eye I could see into the darkness of his mouth. He had only taken seconds to bite me, but it felt like minutes that he had his jaws around my face. I sat there in shock of what had just happened, blood dripping down the side of my face. Tim ran to me and was just as shocked as I was.
He rushed into his parent’s room pulling me along. His parents were just waking up and they to were shocked at what had happened to me. I wasn’t crying at the time, nor did I know the seriousness of what had happened to me. His mother took a wet wash cloth to my face and his father called my parents to let them know what happened. As I turned around there was a large mirror on the door. She took the wash cloth from my face and I saw the marks of the teeth imprinted into my face. Blood and the tears mixed creating a river that flowed down my cheek. I held the washcloth to my face and waited for my parents to pick me up and take me to the hospital.
At the hospital I was treated to more pain and horror! Lying in the bed waiting for the doctor to see me. He finally came and told me that I had to receive X-rays for any broken bones, and shoots for rabies, if i had gotten them from the dog or not. After getting the X-rays and the shoots, he took stitches and without numbing my face pulled them through the cuts in my face. The pain was unbearable and i cried uncontrollably. When it was all done I got some medicine to take, and was sent on my way home.
Still to this day I have scars from the dog that bit me over 11 years ago. My hatred for dogs hasn’t changed one bit in the past 11 years, but fear for them has. I don’t fear dogs anymore because I know that when it comes down to who’s bigger and who’s higher on the food chain the dog just cannot compete with me.
GRADE RECIEVED: C
GRADE DESERVED: A+
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possbile, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Dog Bite!
It was in the spring of 1990 and it was about that time when school had just started. Everyone was talking about their toys that they received during the Christmas break even the ridiculous stories about going to their grandma’s house. It was pretty much a normal way to get back into the swing of school. Friends that you don’t normally see aside from school were there and everything was back to the way it was. Kids you had grown up with from over the course of your grade school career.
Friends like Tim Wilson, he was one of the friends that I really didn’t see outside of school. Oddly enough we hung out more and I even went to his house several times to hang out and play Nintendo. Tim’s house was a doghouse, he had two dogs, one was a small white one that yapped a lot, and the other one was a named Samson and was a big German Shepherd. One night we had the idea of me coming over this house for the night. I got permission from my parents and packed my backpack full of the bare necessities, a pair of underwear, shorts, and a T-shirt. When I arrived it was like any other sleep over, eat dinner with the family, go back to his room and play and then after getting tired from the warm glow of the TV we closed our sleepy eyes and went to bed.
That morning we woke up and had the idea of going out side to play catch. We sneaked outside to the porch while everyone was still asleep. The dogs were up and ready to play along with us. I wasn’t too fond of the dogs, or any dog for that matter, but Samson the big one scared me the most. That didn’t stop me from going out to play catch with Tim. We began to play catch and the small green tennis ball caught the eye of Samson, he wanted to play to. The game now was to keep the ball away from Samson, and we did it with the greatest of skill. Of course there will always be that one time the ball gets away and the dog gets the ball, well Samson had gotten the ball from us. It was my job to get the ball out of his grip. This was no easy task to get a tennis ball out of a big German Shepherd’s grip, once its in, its in for good.
I grasped the ball in my hand and tugged at it trying to loosen Samson’s hold over the ball. The next tug was one I put force into, at that moment Samson let go of the ball, and for one second I was on top! I had the ball! I had beaten Samson to the ball! Seconds after that my life would change forever. Everything I thought I knew about man’s best friend, everything I thought about why dogs do what they do would change. Samson didn’t want the ball anymore. When I took the ball it must have made Samson mad, and for that I paid. Samson had crunched into the left side of my face, I felt his teeth quickly pierce my skin. With my left eye I could see into the darkness of his mouth. He had only taken seconds to bite me, but it felt like minutes that he had his jaws around my face. I sat there in shock of what had just happened, blood dripping down the side of my face. Tim ran to me and was just as shocked as I was.
He rushed into his parent’s room pulling me along. His parents were just waking up and they to were shocked at what had happened to me. I wasn’t crying at the time, nor did I know the seriousness of what had happened to me. His mother took a wet wash cloth to my face and his father called my parents to let them know what happened. As I turned around there was a large mirror on the door. She took the wash cloth from my face and I saw the marks of the teeth imprinted into my face. Blood and the tears mixed creating a river that flowed down my cheek. I held the washcloth to my face and waited for my parents to pick me up and take me to the hospital.
At the hospital I was treated to more pain and horror! Lying in the bed waiting for the doctor to see me. He finally came and told me that I had to receive X-rays for any broken bones, and shoots for rabies, if i had gotten them from the dog or not. After getting the X-rays and the shoots, he took stitches and without numbing my face pulled them through the cuts in my face. The pain was unbearable and i cried uncontrollably. When it was all done I got some medicine to take, and was sent on my way home.
Still to this day I have scars from the dog that bit me over 11 years ago. My hatred for dogs hasn’t changed one bit in the past 11 years, but fear for them has. I don’t fear dogs anymore because I know that when it comes down to who’s bigger and who’s higher on the food chain the dog just cannot compete with me.
GRADE RECIEVED: C
GRADE DESERVED: A+
OGRE #3: Prison Rape
THE OGRE CHRONICLES
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possbile, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Prison Rape
The survey concluded that 7.7% of the women (3 of 39) had been "pressured or forced...to have sexual contact...against your will" in a prison.
This is data coming from the prison system. There are thousands of men and women in the prison today being sexually assaulted. The prison system is trying to fix this problem, but there is no true way with the over population problem. The problem is that when you put the same sex together, "bitches" are made, and people get assaulted. In many prison movies, this problem is addressed, but instead of seriously addressing it, it is made fun of. Even the thought of "Bubba" in the cell waiting for you is a grim reminder of the prison system and why you do not what to go there.
This is a pretty serious subject, prison rape, but I don’t see it as much of a bad thing. I mean, sure people are being violated, and some are even being killed in the prison. But we all have to remember what we put these people into prison for. In my own very honest opinion, I find it very satisfying to know that its hell to be in prison, because if what they say is true, that our tax dollars go toward building new prisons for all the scum suckers of the world, then I think they should build some butt raping machine for all those people that go to prison, so they can all find out first hand what its like to be @#%! In the @$$ by a stranger.
GRADE RECEIVED (BASED ON PASS/FAIL SYSTEM): PASSED
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possbile, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Prison Rape
The survey concluded that 7.7% of the women (3 of 39) had been "pressured or forced...to have sexual contact...against your will" in a prison.
This is data coming from the prison system. There are thousands of men and women in the prison today being sexually assaulted. The prison system is trying to fix this problem, but there is no true way with the over population problem. The problem is that when you put the same sex together, "bitches" are made, and people get assaulted. In many prison movies, this problem is addressed, but instead of seriously addressing it, it is made fun of. Even the thought of "Bubba" in the cell waiting for you is a grim reminder of the prison system and why you do not what to go there.
This is a pretty serious subject, prison rape, but I don’t see it as much of a bad thing. I mean, sure people are being violated, and some are even being killed in the prison. But we all have to remember what we put these people into prison for. In my own very honest opinion, I find it very satisfying to know that its hell to be in prison, because if what they say is true, that our tax dollars go toward building new prisons for all the scum suckers of the world, then I think they should build some butt raping machine for all those people that go to prison, so they can all find out first hand what its like to be @#%! In the @$$ by a stranger.
GRADE RECEIVED (BASED ON PASS/FAIL SYSTEM): PASSED
OGRE #4: Gender in the Mall!
THE OGRE CHRONICLES
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possbile, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Gender In The Mall!
In this day in age there are all different styles of gender differences, and countless stereotypes. When I went to the mall with some friends I found out little about our gender differences. I believe the mall is full of window shoppers and evil women that spend money. I saw some men at the mall but it seemed they were only there to keep the woman occupied while they shopped. The man in this situation usually wore some polo shirt and carried the woman’s bags for her. Like the woman couldn’t carry her own bags in this situation? Just another gender stereotype that the man should carry the bags, or on a larger scale we could look at it as the man carrying the burden of having a job.
In the mall I was surprised to find that there weren’t a lot of young people. Mostly old people were found at Horton plaza. The highlight of this night was when we were treated to a wheel-chair. We conned the poor girl working at the help desk to get us a wheelchair on account of my appendix problem. Only after showing her the huge wound in my side was i given a wheelchair. Its my belief that since I was a male, I was able to lift up my shirt in public and show a female my stomach. Now I’m not sure a girl could do this with out being indecent or something along that lines.
The night ended with some Key Lime pie, and it was odd that the pie makers and sellers were all females. May just be me but it might be a gender work type thing going on at the pie making place. All in all it was a good night of gender watching.
Special Update! Ogre has gone of to live in Mexico for the next year or so. Look forward to reading of his Mexican adventures on these very pages!
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possbile, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Gender In The Mall!
In this day in age there are all different styles of gender differences, and countless stereotypes. When I went to the mall with some friends I found out little about our gender differences. I believe the mall is full of window shoppers and evil women that spend money. I saw some men at the mall but it seemed they were only there to keep the woman occupied while they shopped. The man in this situation usually wore some polo shirt and carried the woman’s bags for her. Like the woman couldn’t carry her own bags in this situation? Just another gender stereotype that the man should carry the bags, or on a larger scale we could look at it as the man carrying the burden of having a job.
In the mall I was surprised to find that there weren’t a lot of young people. Mostly old people were found at Horton plaza. The highlight of this night was when we were treated to a wheel-chair. We conned the poor girl working at the help desk to get us a wheelchair on account of my appendix problem. Only after showing her the huge wound in my side was i given a wheelchair. Its my belief that since I was a male, I was able to lift up my shirt in public and show a female my stomach. Now I’m not sure a girl could do this with out being indecent or something along that lines.
The night ended with some Key Lime pie, and it was odd that the pie makers and sellers were all females. May just be me but it might be a gender work type thing going on at the pie making place. All in all it was a good night of gender watching.
Special Update! Ogre has gone of to live in Mexico for the next year or so. Look forward to reading of his Mexican adventures on these very pages!
OGRE #5: EN MEXICO!
THE OGRE CHRONICLES
...IN MEXICO!
Ah yes, Olde Mexico, land of the mariatchy band, the tequilla, the
spicy women, the forbidden DANCE! We'll, not quite, more like land of old 80's
music, nasty beer, ugly short fat women, and im sorry, but they just lost the beat. Since I have been here, all I have been doing is work, work, and more work. My schedule is 9am to about 6pm or more, on account I now have two jobs. I work for the Original Akumal Dive Shop, and for Costa Turquesa (reservation, relastate place.) I am the only computer dork in the whole place, thus meaning, no more LAN parties, fucking mexicans wouldnt know what to do with a hub and RJ-45 anyway, probably try to build a fire out of it.
As for my living arrangements, I live in a room with a view of the ocean, I'm
like 1 min walk from the beach and stuff, so thats pretty cool. My bed is king sized, and my bathroom smells of shit, even though theres no shit in there (never drink the water btw.) As for my computer, when I took it out of the box, it looked fine, then I turned it over and noticed that there was a massive dent in the bottom of the case, and that the Harddrives we thrown around inside (fucking mexican airport baggage handlers THEY DIE! THEY DIE AND GO TO HELL!, DO NOT PASS GO! DO NOT COLLECT NO FUCKING 200 PESOS!) So I had to take it apart and rebuild the fucker, and now it works some what. Still no EQ (Ever Quest) sadly. It sounds like I've been complaing this whole time, there are some good things about this place, I get to dive for free, thus meaning all my certifications are for free (thousands of dollars of training for free is good.) Also there are 2 very nice , very tasty Swiss/Germans that work here, Silvia and Andrea Fux (love that last name.) They are sisters, I will try to get some pictures for you guys ok? As for raping, and pillaging, I haven't found a sound way to do this yet, but soon, very soon, the Mexicans will know the wraith of OGRE! ::taps his fingers together:: MUAHAHHAHAA!! Well, soon i will be in EQ, once I figure out some Winproxy stuff, thats about it guys. Talk to you all later
-OGHAR!
OGRE #6: Flirting
THE OGRE CHRONICLES
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possbile, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Flirting!
There are many forms of communication, when you narrow it down to just gender communication, your still out there, so when you narrow it down to just say, flirting it gets a tad bit easier to research. That is what I have done, with this particular research topic.
Flirting is something all people do when they are with someone they either like, love, or find attractive. The difference between ones flirting, and another’s is the way we flirt. The most common form of flirting is done with our body language, and the way we move react around certain people. There are other ways of flirting such as: the tone of our voice, the way we look at each other, the way we stroke the champagne class in eagerness to get into someone’s...(note: don’t get to carried away). The most common ways of flirting though, aren’t with the way you talk with someone. Communication in the case of flirting is almost always non verbally communicated. It can be verbally communicated but its more of a direct type of flirting. Non direct types of flirting are normally blushing at someone, maybe giving them a little twinkle in your eye to show them you are interested, such is the way of the flirter. Its just a game of cat and mouse really, with flirting there can be two losers, or there can be two winners. To each his/her own I am sure, because there is an idea that some people have and its that some people like to flirt because it gives them some kind of joy. Maybe its the feeling that they are in control of the situation and they take advantage of that. So you see flirting is a common form of communication in our culture as Americans and in many other cultures too. From the most common form of flirting to the least common form of flirting, there will always be flirting.
Source: www.adolescentadulthood.com
GRADE RECIEVED: C+
GRADE DESERVED: A++
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possbile, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Flirting!
There are many forms of communication, when you narrow it down to just gender communication, your still out there, so when you narrow it down to just say, flirting it gets a tad bit easier to research. That is what I have done, with this particular research topic.
Flirting is something all people do when they are with someone they either like, love, or find attractive. The difference between ones flirting, and another’s is the way we flirt. The most common form of flirting is done with our body language, and the way we move react around certain people. There are other ways of flirting such as: the tone of our voice, the way we look at each other, the way we stroke the champagne class in eagerness to get into someone’s...(note: don’t get to carried away). The most common ways of flirting though, aren’t with the way you talk with someone. Communication in the case of flirting is almost always non verbally communicated. It can be verbally communicated but its more of a direct type of flirting. Non direct types of flirting are normally blushing at someone, maybe giving them a little twinkle in your eye to show them you are interested, such is the way of the flirter. Its just a game of cat and mouse really, with flirting there can be two losers, or there can be two winners. To each his/her own I am sure, because there is an idea that some people have and its that some people like to flirt because it gives them some kind of joy. Maybe its the feeling that they are in control of the situation and they take advantage of that. So you see flirting is a common form of communication in our culture as Americans and in many other cultures too. From the most common form of flirting to the least common form of flirting, there will always be flirting.
Source: www.adolescentadulthood.com
GRADE RECIEVED: C+
GRADE DESERVED: A++
OGRE #7: Letter to Future Wife
THE OGRE CHRONICLES
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possbile, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Letter to Future Wife
I figured you would want something to keep you company as you recover from the trauma of seeing so much blood. I didn’t mean to stab that man in our bed with you twenty seven times. I guess I’m an extremely jealous man. Now that I’m rotting away in this prison and have already made friends with my cellmate. I wont need you anymore. I will at least leave you with a time that once was: when we were happy, or it seemed.
Remember the day we meet each other? It was when your family was holding that barbecue outside their trailer. I was the only one there that was somewhat clean, and the only one to actually make it past 7th grade in that little town. We got to know each other a little bit better and we got to kissen’ and huggin’, and well, I remember the first time you gave me fellatio. I’m sorry about your eye; I didn’t mean to, well you know. I guess, after that, besides the fact I had a girlfriend with an eye-patch, I guess I fell in love with a Cyclops, seeing your one beautiful brown eye, I knew my life was going to change. I remember the night I asked you, your eye gleamed in the moon’s light and I gave you my bud-lite, and you said yes, I thought I would have cried, but papa said only pussy’s cry. So I guess we got married because that night you gave me the best piece of ass I had ever received in my life, you did it like this, you did it like that, you did it with the wiffle ball bat! So two weeks later in the back yard of your trailer, we got hitched.
I bet you’re wondering what I saw in you; besides the fact you had the biggest set of hooters I had seen before. I guess it was what that one Judith Langlois said: how when we are little babies, we take a’ liken to beautiful things in the world. You were the only semi-good looking girl in this two-trailer town. You were the only waitress that gave me free beer, and when I couldn’t walk back to my place, you’d carry me back. That isn’t all I saw in you though. You were handy with the bottle opener too. When I look back at some of the better qualities, you were a kind and loving woman, you self disclosed a lot to me, and when we just held each other in the bed of my ford truck it was nice. I also think, that when you weren’t fooling around with other guys, you had qualities that made me love you more than any woman on God’s green earth. The fact that you would cook my food, and clean our little trailer was enough for me, but you would rub my feet, and sometimes, even though our love life was on a downhill, you would give me a ride in the bed. Oh the various ways we would have sex were unbelievable. When we did that Tantric sex I thought I was going to die; I guess it was good Jose came over and walked in on us, we would have been there all day.
This all changed though. When you had to go off and sleep with half the football team, get with your boss, and I even heard about you and Jose! How could you do that to me? I guess you weren’t really human. Just a daemon sent from the underworld to have sex with as many men as you could. That wasn’t the girl I fell in love with. That wasn’t the Cyclops I said I love you to. You turned into someone I couldn’t talk to anymore, into someone that just wasn’t there. You worked, and when you weren’t working you were whoring yourself off. I guess you had one of those fetishes’s with having sex with a lot of men… nymphomaniac? Whatever it was, it broke my heart in two. All I ever wanted out of a woman was to have a child, have her love me, and only me, talk with me, and hold me when I was lonely. I wanted those out of you but you didn’t give me them. I wanted them because its the way I feel, I just wanted to live a normal life, have a house with white picket fence, a Harley, that’s all, not to much to ask.
When I think of our relationship, as it was when we were in love. I think of the passion we had for each other the attraction I had to you was so much. When we would just lay in our little bed and feel so cozy and so close to each other, and my commitment to you as your husband was unchangeable. It was as though we were in some kind of love triangle. It was like that for only a while though. I once had a list of all the different love types: Game-playing, possessive, compassionate, altruistic, and pragmatic. As I read through the list, I knew that our love had none of these. Only a few of them struck me as something that we were. I guess our relationship was less than perfect.
I think it was necessary for us to keep a close relationship with each other after we got married. I’m not saying it worked out to well, but at least we tried in someway. When I wasn’t drunk and when you weren’t too tired from your job we would have talks. Do you remember those long nights when we would just self disclose to each other about life, or whatever we had to talk about? We would just share our past experiences, our histories to each other. I would listen to you and you would listen to me… sometimes at least. Just the eye contact we had. Sometimes my eyes would drift lower and lower (drools on the paper), erm, ya and we would just sit there and talk, it was a nice thing. To bad all that changed.
That all just had to change though, because the night I found you messing around with George from the bait and tackle shop. I just don’t know what went wrong. I tried to use all the techniques I got from that book you gave me for Christmas, what was it? Oh, oh yah (pulls out the book) Our Sexuality by Robert Crooks, this is the one. I read some of it so I could figure out what you wanted in our relationship, I found my self starring at the pictures on page 78, and 94 more than I read the book thou. I learned from it, and I learned from my mistakes of taking that nine-inch blade to George’s neck, chest, arms, and head. That’s what I get for loosing my temper I guess. Well now I have two life-sentences to think about what I did to George, and read this here book. Maybe I will get parole in twenty years; do you think we could try for a second go at our marriage?
Till death do we part,
Bret Watkins
GRADE RECIEVED: TEACHER TOO APPALED TO GIVE GRADE.
GRADE DESERVED: A+, & BONUS POINTS FOR UPSETTING TEACHER
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possbile, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.
Letter to Future Wife
I figured you would want something to keep you company as you recover from the trauma of seeing so much blood. I didn’t mean to stab that man in our bed with you twenty seven times. I guess I’m an extremely jealous man. Now that I’m rotting away in this prison and have already made friends with my cellmate. I wont need you anymore. I will at least leave you with a time that once was: when we were happy, or it seemed.
Remember the day we meet each other? It was when your family was holding that barbecue outside their trailer. I was the only one there that was somewhat clean, and the only one to actually make it past 7th grade in that little town. We got to know each other a little bit better and we got to kissen’ and huggin’, and well, I remember the first time you gave me fellatio. I’m sorry about your eye; I didn’t mean to, well you know. I guess, after that, besides the fact I had a girlfriend with an eye-patch, I guess I fell in love with a Cyclops, seeing your one beautiful brown eye, I knew my life was going to change. I remember the night I asked you, your eye gleamed in the moon’s light and I gave you my bud-lite, and you said yes, I thought I would have cried, but papa said only pussy’s cry. So I guess we got married because that night you gave me the best piece of ass I had ever received in my life, you did it like this, you did it like that, you did it with the wiffle ball bat! So two weeks later in the back yard of your trailer, we got hitched.
I bet you’re wondering what I saw in you; besides the fact you had the biggest set of hooters I had seen before. I guess it was what that one Judith Langlois said: how when we are little babies, we take a’ liken to beautiful things in the world. You were the only semi-good looking girl in this two-trailer town. You were the only waitress that gave me free beer, and when I couldn’t walk back to my place, you’d carry me back. That isn’t all I saw in you though. You were handy with the bottle opener too. When I look back at some of the better qualities, you were a kind and loving woman, you self disclosed a lot to me, and when we just held each other in the bed of my ford truck it was nice. I also think, that when you weren’t fooling around with other guys, you had qualities that made me love you more than any woman on God’s green earth. The fact that you would cook my food, and clean our little trailer was enough for me, but you would rub my feet, and sometimes, even though our love life was on a downhill, you would give me a ride in the bed. Oh the various ways we would have sex were unbelievable. When we did that Tantric sex I thought I was going to die; I guess it was good Jose came over and walked in on us, we would have been there all day.
This all changed though. When you had to go off and sleep with half the football team, get with your boss, and I even heard about you and Jose! How could you do that to me? I guess you weren’t really human. Just a daemon sent from the underworld to have sex with as many men as you could. That wasn’t the girl I fell in love with. That wasn’t the Cyclops I said I love you to. You turned into someone I couldn’t talk to anymore, into someone that just wasn’t there. You worked, and when you weren’t working you were whoring yourself off. I guess you had one of those fetishes’s with having sex with a lot of men… nymphomaniac? Whatever it was, it broke my heart in two. All I ever wanted out of a woman was to have a child, have her love me, and only me, talk with me, and hold me when I was lonely. I wanted those out of you but you didn’t give me them. I wanted them because its the way I feel, I just wanted to live a normal life, have a house with white picket fence, a Harley, that’s all, not to much to ask.
When I think of our relationship, as it was when we were in love. I think of the passion we had for each other the attraction I had to you was so much. When we would just lay in our little bed and feel so cozy and so close to each other, and my commitment to you as your husband was unchangeable. It was as though we were in some kind of love triangle. It was like that for only a while though. I once had a list of all the different love types: Game-playing, possessive, compassionate, altruistic, and pragmatic. As I read through the list, I knew that our love had none of these. Only a few of them struck me as something that we were. I guess our relationship was less than perfect.
I think it was necessary for us to keep a close relationship with each other after we got married. I’m not saying it worked out to well, but at least we tried in someway. When I wasn’t drunk and when you weren’t too tired from your job we would have talks. Do you remember those long nights when we would just self disclose to each other about life, or whatever we had to talk about? We would just share our past experiences, our histories to each other. I would listen to you and you would listen to me… sometimes at least. Just the eye contact we had. Sometimes my eyes would drift lower and lower (drools on the paper), erm, ya and we would just sit there and talk, it was a nice thing. To bad all that changed.
That all just had to change though, because the night I found you messing around with George from the bait and tackle shop. I just don’t know what went wrong. I tried to use all the techniques I got from that book you gave me for Christmas, what was it? Oh, oh yah (pulls out the book) Our Sexuality by Robert Crooks, this is the one. I read some of it so I could figure out what you wanted in our relationship, I found my self starring at the pictures on page 78, and 94 more than I read the book thou. I learned from it, and I learned from my mistakes of taking that nine-inch blade to George’s neck, chest, arms, and head. That’s what I get for loosing my temper I guess. Well now I have two life-sentences to think about what I did to George, and read this here book. Maybe I will get parole in twenty years; do you think we could try for a second go at our marriage?
Till death do we part,
Bret Watkins
GRADE RECIEVED: TEACHER TOO APPALED TO GIVE GRADE.
GRADE DESERVED: A+, & BONUS POINTS FOR UPSETTING TEACHER
THE ADVENTURES OF MIKE
Welcome to The Adventures of Mike! This is the unbelievable but true story of the travels and triumphs of Mike Castleberry. All accounts within are told as told to me by Mike himself. Updated as frequently as I recieve new word, this section is dedicated to following the events that transpire in Mike's life. The good, the bad, and the worse, it's all pretty much here. Although satarical at times, this page is in no way demeaning or slanderous towards any/all persons mentioned herein. We just wanna know what Mikey's been up to.The Legend:
Mike was a boy quite unlike most others. He grew up to be a man quite unlike most others, blessed with a gift some might call 'stupidity' or 'lack of common sense', but it is something a little bit more than that. No, what Mike had buried deep down in his soul was something comparable to the Westward yearning of our forefathers...only Mike was about as far West as one could travel...so he set his sights to the East, and on love. Mike has done more than most folks his age, and yet has accomplished less. But he does what you and I cannot; with no mortal conventions like a job or school to hold him down, Mike is left free to chase after his dreams, his whims, and his kooky ideas, while throwing caution to the wind. He is called many things; fool, prophet, pioneer, dumbass, cool dude...yet only one word can possibly come close to defining the man, the myth and the legend....and no one has thought of that word yet.
~written with much love and kidding by his pal Vocephus.
On To The Story!
Hear, children, and hear well...for the story I am about to unfold is by far more extraordinary than any fiction I could write. They say love makes men do strange things...brother, you have no idea.
Mike has been a friend of mine for some time. He's always been relatively unpredictable, but what I'm about to tell you threw me (and pretty much the whole gang) for a loop. I was having a conversation with Mikey via instant messaging sometime in the middle of July, when he informed me that he wouldh't be around come August. When I asked why, he said that he would be moving to North Carolina. Nothing so strange yet, right? But Mike was not moving with his family. Mike met someone on the internet, and it apparently was love at first keystroke. Now dig this:
WENDY'S STATS:
*She's 33 years young.
*Married, in the process of a divorce.
*Has one six year-old daugter.
*Currently pregnant with another child. (With the intent of having Mikey raise it as his own.)
MIKE'S STATS:
*He's 20 years old.
*SIngle, living at home.
*Has no (known) children.
*Huge fan of WWF wrestling.
So anyway, Mike lays all this on me, and says she's paying for half his flight ticket over there.
"How could I resist?"
I concede. And so he goes. Time passes, and I'm left only to wonder what's going on, half tempted to call his house and see if he even left. I get an e-mail about two weeks later, and this is what it said:
well, i'm in north carolina now, and to be honest, it kicks ass here. not only am i getting along w/ people, but i'm getting some on a daily basis, too. lol anyway, just figured i'd let you know how things are. maybe u can visit one of these days. take it easy bro, oh and you BETTER add this to the web page. so, i'll leave you with my favorite words of wisdom......
it's only rock and roll, but.......I LIKE IT! !
-Mike
I was at least relieved to hear he was still very much alive. And none the worse off as far as his sex life was concerned. And Mike, probably being the only fan of my website, became the star feature for several entires. He likes my take on the situation, although I hear the missus ain't as thrilled. Ah, well...genius oft goes unappreciated.
All seemed to be going swimmingly for a period of about a couple of weeks, when I get the news:
"She fuckin' dumped me."
Although true love was not written in the stars for Wendy and Mike, he continued to live at her home for the next few weeks. It was during this time Mike met Shelly, a girl much closer to his age group, living not much further away from where he was. But before he could make the move over to meet her, Mike found himself back on the bus headed home.
Mike made it home, but it was a matter of a few weeks before he was back on the road again, this time headed for Miluakee. Sara was her name, another web-aquaintence, and she invited our hero to her home in the Cheese State. Much to Shelly's dismay, Mike and Sara became much more than friends upon his arrival. Shortly after, Mike, Sara, and one of her friends moved out on their own to an apartment. Sara was gettin' pretty sweet pay from her job as assistant manager at the local McDonalds, and the roomate has a job too, although I don't know what that is. Mike, by will or reputation remained unemployed.
Mike's status of 'bum' was not to be for long though (the missus wouldn't have it) and he soon upgraded to Cleaning Boy at the local McDonalds. I can't wait for the gritty behind-the-counter details. Mike also asked for his lady love's hand in marriage, to which she agreed.
I've been invited out to visit these crazy kids come summer...money and time willing, I think I'll make a go at it. Could I really pass up an opportunity to document the wild Mike in his (new) native habitat? I'm also to be in the wedding as a groomsman.
Here's the first picture of Mike and his lady love Sara, fresh outta my inbox! A WOV exclusive!
As of 2/6/2001 that is the story as I know it. I continue to keep in contact with Mike, and recieve a steady diet of updates. When note worthy news is heard, you better believe it ends up on these pages. (I edit out some of the more graphic details...trust me, you'd thank me if you knew.) Keep checking back, and see what events unfold for our hero!
Check out Mike's thoughts on life, love, Van Halen, and the whole enchalada! (Enchaldas are good!) Read the Mike Files!
The Mike Files #1
The 29th of September, in the year of our Lord, 2000.
I have recently come across something that enraged me to the core, and proved
once and for all, the world is coming to an end. Now, since I was in the 6th
grade, i have been an avid fan of Star Wars books, continuing the legacy of
some of the greatest characters of all time. for a time, it was all fun and
games, Han and Leia marry and have kids, yadda yadda. Now the series is
picking up again, and getting disturbing. Luke gets married. I can tolerate
that, its about damn time the worlds oldest jedi virgin got laid. But what I
saw nex shocked me: the death of Chewbacca.
WHAT THE HELL!?! You can't just kill Chewbacca, without Chewie, all you can turn to for comic relief is Jar-Jar.... and he is neither comic nor relief. Now, I
know there are a lot of writers out there trying to make a name for themselves, and killing a character tends to do that, but c'mon, not Chewie. If you wanna kill someone, nail an obsolete character, like Lobot, or perhaps Wedge.... find a way to work in the untimely (or perhaps very timely) death of the amazing Sate Pestige, obsolete emeperor's advisor extridinaire. In fact, I could even understand cloning Porkins, only to kill his fat ass all over again. Hey thats an idea.... make him like Kenny on South Park
"Oh my god.... you killed Porkins!"
"You nerf herder!"
Well, I'd like to give a big F*ck you to Del Ray books. For this, you'll
forever burn in hell.
And to you Vocephites, may the force be with you....always.
-Mike
I have recently come across something that enraged me to the core, and proved
once and for all, the world is coming to an end. Now, since I was in the 6th
grade, i have been an avid fan of Star Wars books, continuing the legacy of
some of the greatest characters of all time. for a time, it was all fun and
games, Han and Leia marry and have kids, yadda yadda. Now the series is
picking up again, and getting disturbing. Luke gets married. I can tolerate
that, its about damn time the worlds oldest jedi virgin got laid. But what I
saw nex shocked me: the death of Chewbacca.
WHAT THE HELL!?! You can't just kill Chewbacca, without Chewie, all you can turn to for comic relief is Jar-Jar.... and he is neither comic nor relief. Now, I
know there are a lot of writers out there trying to make a name for themselves, and killing a character tends to do that, but c'mon, not Chewie. If you wanna kill someone, nail an obsolete character, like Lobot, or perhaps Wedge.... find a way to work in the untimely (or perhaps very timely) death of the amazing Sate Pestige, obsolete emeperor's advisor extridinaire. In fact, I could even understand cloning Porkins, only to kill his fat ass all over again. Hey thats an idea.... make him like Kenny on South Park
"Oh my god.... you killed Porkins!"
"You nerf herder!"
Well, I'd like to give a big F*ck you to Del Ray books. For this, you'll
forever burn in hell.
And to you Vocephites, may the force be with you....always.
-Mike
The Mike Files #2
The 12th of October, in the year of our Lord, 2000.
I've decided I'd dedicate this column to random anger, watch as I rage against
anything and everything.....
Bush (the band).... Ok fuck nuts, the ripping off Nirvana thing is getting old,
and what irratates me more is that Gavin denies it, even when DAVE GROHL says
they ripped off Nirvana. Listen man, when a member of Nirvana, tells you that
you sound like Nirvana, its time to get over yourself.
Van Halen..... is Dave back in or what? This is driving everyone insane, I
mean, ol' VH has sucked long enough, its time for Eddie to ask where Valerie
hid his balls... I say they're under his striped guitar she pawned.
Punk music.... Ok, I know a few viewers of this site ain't gonna like this,
but, I really don't give a shit. The fact is, punk sucks. "Oh wow, another
three chord masterpiece" C'mon, any guitarist proud of writing a punk song,
is like a chef proud of making mac and cheese.
Boy bands...... Just calling them a band should be a crime. Now, I've been
in bands before, and corect me if I'm wrong, but, don't bands have
instruments? BSB and their ilk are vocal groups people, at least give me my
dignity, by calling them a band, it totally ruins any of my accomplishments.
They're good at what they do, but not at what I do.
Beatle-bashers..... Jesus Christ, can't you leave well enough alone? John
Lennon is dead, why try to tear up his accomplishments? Its called respect
for the dead assholes.... oh, and Helter Skelter rocks!
"Lick It Up"..... God damn that song fucking sucks!
Blink 182..... Give me ONE good reason to like them............... Thats what
I thought
And finally... Diet Mountain Dew... Ok, carbonated piss water people!
Good day, and God bless
I've decided I'd dedicate this column to random anger, watch as I rage against
anything and everything.....
Bush (the band).... Ok fuck nuts, the ripping off Nirvana thing is getting old,
and what irratates me more is that Gavin denies it, even when DAVE GROHL says
they ripped off Nirvana. Listen man, when a member of Nirvana, tells you that
you sound like Nirvana, its time to get over yourself.
Van Halen..... is Dave back in or what? This is driving everyone insane, I
mean, ol' VH has sucked long enough, its time for Eddie to ask where Valerie
hid his balls... I say they're under his striped guitar she pawned.
Punk music.... Ok, I know a few viewers of this site ain't gonna like this,
but, I really don't give a shit. The fact is, punk sucks. "Oh wow, another
three chord masterpiece" C'mon, any guitarist proud of writing a punk song,
is like a chef proud of making mac and cheese.
Boy bands...... Just calling them a band should be a crime. Now, I've been
in bands before, and corect me if I'm wrong, but, don't bands have
instruments? BSB and their ilk are vocal groups people, at least give me my
dignity, by calling them a band, it totally ruins any of my accomplishments.
They're good at what they do, but not at what I do.
Beatle-bashers..... Jesus Christ, can't you leave well enough alone? John
Lennon is dead, why try to tear up his accomplishments? Its called respect
for the dead assholes.... oh, and Helter Skelter rocks!
"Lick It Up"..... God damn that song fucking sucks!
Blink 182..... Give me ONE good reason to like them............... Thats what
I thought
And finally... Diet Mountain Dew... Ok, carbonated piss water people!
Good day, and God bless
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