Ad Slogan Generator

Who remembers the ad slogan generator where you put a word in and it matches it up into several well known slogans. And one I noticed that was really good was dirty words. In my case, penis.

like: Is penis in you?

or: Penis licking good!

The Penis is mightier than the sword

Strong and beautiful just like a penis

and my favorite:

I cant believe I ate the whole penis

I have that gut feeling

That very feeling that something may just very well burst forth and just get really messy. I probably can safely say that there are more of us who can feel this pressure building up and I think at least this time, there'll be two sides. Those in favor, and those who still fight for it.

If you have no idea at the moment, I'm speaking of the increasing tension between the tree hippies and the football fans. At this point, even the city of berkeley has begun to attack its own university. First of all, Berkeley would still be a cow shit, farming town without the university. Why do people flock to Berkeley? Because of Telegraph avenue? Well, the only reason Tele is like that is because of the university itself. So now that the city is biting the hand that feeds it, as well as some hill panorama thing, they're arguing over people's safety. The university has proved numerous times that the new sports facility is seismically safe, and will provide an updated and less hazardous training environment.

And yet, despite the proof, Berkeley and the tree sitters refuse to let up.

As for the trees, well, they're university property and they were planted in 1923-1927 during the Howard beautification plan. After the construction of Memorial. Which explains the uniform distance between trees. Now these people have "removed dead limbs" from other trees to make their platforms. Now, to my knowledge, they have damaged other types of trees other than the coast oaks to make their platforms. You kinda see the problem here. They've damaged property for their own needs.

If only we could charge them for vandalizing property, trespassing and squatting. Unfortunately, the University is defined as a "public forum" and therefore, people are allowed to use the property for their own needs, but at this point, they've been living on university property, probably haven't submitted taxes for awhile, therefore not paying the education tax to support the university. You can use the university, if you've help pay for it of course.

But I guess they're wearing down. At first, there were probably maybe around 60, now there remains a mere six. A dedicated few (non-students) living on the university's property for the sake of saving a lower life form than that of man. Call that dedication to a sinking ship.

But back to this gut feeling. I just know at some point during this year, there'll just be a full blown war (I hope). Between us, and them. Them being the tree people.

Czachi's in College

Heyo all, I'm sitting in lecture and today, I must say is one of the first times i've been late for class. I had to go from unit three to Hertz hall and to some, on a map, that doesn't seem too far, but in reality, its running up a hill about a quarter mile. And I have a bad right leg. If you knew, when I walk or run, I limp slightly and my right knee hurts all the time.

But right now, my professor: professor Brinner is talkinga bout something and I probably should be paying attention. So so long, and stay tuned.

Czachi's update since last time

So I dont even remember what happened on my last post mostly because I've been gone forever and i've had my heart broken as well. Oh the pain, oh the pangs! Oh the overacting!

I cant pin point the exact point where I left off at the moment, but I can do a damn close job. I think it happened somewhere last in the last week or so. So lets get updated.

1. I packed for the fall training program up at davis.

2. I attended FTP. Three hard days of marching and performing. I can tell you, alot of sweat, tears and some blood went into this just get into cal band.

3. I get rejected from cal band. I cried like a fuck.

4. I get over rejection and move into my dorm room.

5. Dorm life is the best. I cant believe its like this. Life is great. Apart from rejection.

6. I bought books and stuff like that.

7. Some books I need for my italian class... backordered...

8. Life beckons!

I just feel like stealing

From College Humor
by: Aaron Peever

The Internal Monologue of a Polo Shirt about to have its Collar Popped

Ah yes, Friday! I’ve done my time in the hamper and in the wash and now it’s finally my day in the rotation. Friday! That’s the best day to get worn. That means I’m chick-worthy. I’m the kind of shirt that is going to get a girl all excited and maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll get tossed on the floor tonight. That would be so rad. The striped dress shirts will be so jealous.

That’s right buddy, take me off the hanger. You know I’m the pick of the week. There’s no question that I’m getting worn tonight. You even ironed me last night straight out of the dryer. Extra starch on the collar too. This is going to happen, pal. There you go buddy, toss me onto the bed to make sure I match your jeans. You know I do. Pastel Pink goes with everything my man, the chick at A&F told you so.

Yeah, that’s a good looking shirt/jean combo. This is going to work. What are you doing? Are you putting on Axe? That stuff reeks. It smells like Binaca and lighter fluid. Aw crap, now we’re going to smell like an asshole all night.

Yes, this is it. Put me on. Effin’ right we look good. Vintage fit was definitely a good choice. I totally make your arms look huge. I am so going to get tossed on the floortonight. It looks like we’re ready to hit the town. What are you doing? Oh crap, come on. Don’t flip up my collar it looks retarded. Are you serious? You’re going to go out like that with my perfectly pressed collar flipped up?No one can appreciate my thread count if you do that. Not to mention the fact that it looks mighty gay.

I hope you can pull this off my friend, because you have just cut your chances in half. Maybe if you put on a nice hat it will cancel out the lame-factor of the collar. A visor? Seriously? I’m not so sure about that. Oh shit, you did not just put that on upside down. You actually think that looks good? Give me a break, man. That is the worst idea ever. Are you trying to go home with a fat chick? Is that the case? Because you’re doing everything right if you are.

I thought tonight was going to be different. I really did. Oh well, you asked for it. I am totally going to make myself get wrinkled by the time you leave, and then we’ll see who brings anyone home. And if you spill anything on me tonight, I swear to God I will shrink in the wash. You better finish gelling your hair, I think I hear your bros coming.

Ironing

You know, Czachi is no good at Ironing. Today, I made the desperate attempt to iron shirts. As you've seen, I wear striped shirts every so often. And the polo too. But its not really necessary to iron polos. But if you would have saw me, you would have laughed and shit your pants.

The Simplest Gesture

You ever had one of those days? You're moody, the sky is overcast, you have to run between two cities to drop off important documents and the only way is by public transportation. I had one of those days today. I left around 10:30 to run down to the school to pick up a trasnscript I had requested since the one I had sent out was probably sent out wrong. But today was the day I was going to make it all right again. I parked the car on Walnut, walked over to the bus stop, took BART out to Berkeley and dropped it off. I'm a free man now. I go back, and back home, I get the car and I drive by a friend's place, call him, etc. Next thing you know, I'm driving out to park street to get lunch with some old High School buddies. But parking. There's the problem. I rummaged through the pocket in my wallet. About 73 cents in change. Thats enough to get an hour. But I find parking on Santa Clara and as I pull in, the meter man is walking by, collecting all the change and I'm standing on the sidewalk and I'm fidgeting for change. I lay out the two quarters and the few nickels and pennies on the sidewalk and count out how much I need. He comes up to me and goes, "Son, let me help you out." He opens the thing, collects the change, and with a quarter, he drops it in, takes it out, and again and again until there's two hours on the machine. I'm like "Wow! Gee thanks mister." and all he said in return was, "Well, I gotta check the machines and you know, they get itchy about it if it don't work so have a good day fella." I thanked him properly and started to walk towards Park St. A big grin on my face. Its not because I got free parking, its because of the simple gesture this man put foward to me. So even this simple gesture could make anyone's day, and for me, it most certainly did. The sky cleared up, my friends appeared, the whole world just seemed to smile towards you all of a sudden.

Anyone ever remember that one VW commercial where the guy is struggling with change, and a girl pops in a quarter for him cause he drives a bug and he walks off, big smile, opens the door for an old lady, she's now smiling, it just goes on and on. The whole world just seems a better place when we're all willing to help each other out. Sure, but I hope now, that all of you wont run out to take advantage of a meter collector. So I've got this to say. Be happy, make someone happy. The world smiles with you.

An Atrocity: Private ownership of land.

I've recently come back from a trip down to Monterey and I was disgusted at one point on the trip. Driving down the 17 mile drive there was some great places I was tempted to run around on the side of the road. But every so often, Barbed wire poked out from the thick brush. It got my hopes up and down. *sigh*

Then I began to think about explorers and how they treked over this nation and many others and not be stopped mid way by a tin sign that said No Tresspassing and some barbed wire and a bunch of poles. It was at that very moment, I wanted to be an explorer and I felt like tresspassing wherever I damn well felt like it. And I looked back to a book I was and still am to this day reading. "A Pattern Language" in a chapter that identified "The Countryside" it said:

"Parks are dead and artificial. Farms when treated as private property, rob the people of their natural biological heritage - the countryside from which they came" (Christopher Alexander, A Pattern Language, Center For Envirnomental Structure, Berkeley, CA, 1977)

I know i'm no countryman, but my ancestors were. I know there is not one person in this world, who cannot trace their heritage back, back, back and back to a farmer or a countryman. Even royalty I suppose. But the book really has me thinking, since I'm an architecture major at Berkeley, and I began to wonder. What can we as Americans, do to alleviate this problem. The fact that everyone is worried that their land will be used and lived on by squatters is the only reason why everyone pulls out the stakes, electric wires and barbed wires. As the book states. Property is Theft. It robs us all of the land we come from and for all of us, there is no way to enjoy a pasture or a field without hearing a gun cock. What happened to those good old days when grandpa and grandma with their kids would pull over the ol' Chevy Nomad on the side of the country lane, they'd walk out to the edge of a forest or grove, set down the blanket and picnic lunch and the kid's would have fun running around and playing in the grass with maybe a ball or kite. Not anymore. You look at the highway landscape and everything is fenced off, No tresspassing signs nailed to posts and trees. Mankind's ability to produce money has also produced our ability to buy the natural wonders of a nation, fence it off, build a tacky private house by it just to enjoy it constantly and never share with the world. Come on world. If you're so private about your personal life, I get why you'd move to the country. But Thousands of people drive by your house if its on the interstate and more if you're on 17 mile drive. The physical and mental structure of the american family cannot subsist entirely on the Nuclear scheme. Everyone is dependent on each other. Young kids need old people, Parents need children and Old People need everyone. Invariably, you set yourself apart and you become the dysfunctional family that you see on tv sometimes. Like that one from that sexed up town in georgia. Everyone is upper class, all the teens own a nice car and they could spider web a link of who has had sex with who and aparently, all the teens in that town are linked together. Kinda gross no? So there needs to be more social interaction in the family than just Jimmy, Dad and Mom. It has to be Jimmy, Dad, Mom and the world. But you lose the world connection when you isolate yourself and seclude yourself on your Private Property. Oh zeus... this world of ours. Well.. Just america.

Surviving 10 minutes into the future: Dealing with your kids

Lets take a metaphorical example. Take you and tweaking around time. You have been thrown into the future. OMG! But wait. Some things are different, some aren't. But now you look at your watch. You've been thrown into the future. TEN WHOLE MINUTES!

Today's guide is on how to deal with your children. Firstly, you may go, what's the point in this? It'll come in handy if the situation happens. Anyone ever see "Futurama"? The situation is Fry finds his great grandson, professor Farnsworth, who aparently is around 185 or so. And yet, fry is still around 24 or so.

So we need to learn how to deal with our future children.

1. If in the case you do actually have future kids, avoid using period slang of your 10 minutes ago. So lets take the metaphorical situation. Jane has entered a quark. Foosh! 10 minutes ahead into the future. Oh dear god. She's in a new place. The hospital. *pop* here comes the baby. She better not seem like a square to her new son. So avoid 90s talk like, "LETS GET PSYCHED!" Also, avoid giving gifts like: pogs and cases of "SURGE!"

2. If you have a teen, the situation gets a bit worse. You'll be 10 minutes behind, but even 10 minutes ago, you were always at least 20 years behind. So a teen is a gimmie.

3. your adult son: dont bother. They haven't called in the last 10 years.

4. If you somehow meet your grandchild who's older than you somehow in the quark of 10 minutes. The situation is weird. You'd probably have something going on behind your back.

I'm not here right now

So this is the first time I've really gotten a chance to use my new laptop for this kinda work. I must say. Its really refreshing and the action on this laptop is much better than the allway down stroke of a normal keyboard. For now, I think i'm set. Hah.

i'm racist.

Damn straight. If I wanted to, seriously, I could find a stereotype for every race out there. Dont get me wrong about civil liberties and all, but some things I find annoying. I wont identify them, but I will let you all know I am.

Zach's Guide on Surviving 10 minutes into the future: Culture Gap

Lets take a metaphorical example, take you and time and tweak it. You have now been thrown forward, into the future... TEN WHOLE MINUTES.

Good evening readers here from sunny, West coast San Francisco. I dont live there, but I live somewhere near. But anyhow, lets get started on our whole situation. What are you going to do to survive? How will you manage? But today, we focus on the Culture gap of your pre10 minute agoistic culture and the culture of the 10 minutes ahead culture.

Number one: If anyone should ask you if you've heard the new: Djoe or Eaked Album, do what you used to do ten minutes in the past whenever someone mentioned a band you've never heard of. Lie the shit out of your pants. No need to actually know the songs themselves either. Just nod and go: Oh yeah! a lot. You're catching on quickly!

Example: In the 10 minute past:
Bob: Hey man, have you heard the new Radiohead album?
Sara: Um... (contemplates... Who is Radiohead?) Of course. It's totally awesome.
Bob: Good
*time quirk*
Futurebob: Hey man, have you heard the new MxPx album?
Sara: Um... (contemplates... Who is MxPx?) Of course. It's totally awesome.
Futurebob: Boop boop.

Number 2: When anyone asks you to sing along, just BS it. It dont matter if you know the words for sure. Just do what you used to in the past. Mouthing! It makes you look cool, and yet, all you're doing is behaving like a fish! Applies to past songs, future songs and foreign songs.

Example: In the 10 minute past
Bob: Hey Sara, c'mon. Sing "Indigo Tapes" with me!
Sara: *mouths along*
Bob: And I dont know how you got the tape stuck in there! Oooh yeah!
*time quirk*
Futurebob: Hey Sara, c'mon. Sing "Indigenous Tapes" with me!
Sara: *mouths along*
Bob: And I dont know how the abo got into the VCR! Oooh yeah!
*abduction into foreign country*
Roberto: Muey Muey sneiohah, Quong "Indyhgk Tapuu" con mah!
Sara: *mouths along*
Roberto: dugga Dugga dugga! Hoom vah leek do tah!

So maybe that last one wont work so well, but anything is always worth a shot.

Number three: So you've missed the last ten minutes in television. Big deal you think. Of course its a big deal. Look at your watch. What time did you skip? First part of the hour or half hour? You got off lucky. The end of the first half hour or the end of the hour? You're screwed! How will you know what happens on reality TV shows or game shows or your soaps?! Hopefully, if you were smart, you'd tape every single episode on television, stack and correlate the tapes and watch them if you ever experience a time jump. You may look like a crazy person whose home is filled with a million VCR cassette tapes, but at least you'll know who got kicked off the island while you were gone.

Number four: If you were in a club at the time. Lucky you. You've just skipped past 10 minutes of annoying thumping sounds that passes for music in bars. But maybe while you were gone, they started playing a song that was interactive. Like the macarena or the YMCA. Whatever it is 10 minutes into the future and you find yourself in the middle of, get the heck out. Dont be a fool and stand and try to do what everyone else is doing. You'll never make it.

So with that in mind, happy futures means you did something bad in the past! I'm your blogger, Z

Replacement bought

Enough Said

Hat Feather

I'm an avid wearer of hats. I have a fairly large collection for a kid my age. Thug kids with a billion of those New era hats can forget about it for a moment. I dont bother with trivial stuff. Its like the same hat but in different color.

But I. My collection is a work of art. Of which, baseball caps are a minority. That's right. I dont wear that. But today, I bought a fedora, up at my usual shop in Berkeley when I decided to get a hat feather and I picked one out. I assumed it cost a dollar or so, so yeah. No biggie. But now, I have a mondo cool fedora, a straw panama, some other hats, and my *cough* baseball caps.

Driving home today, I guess the feather either fell out, or flew out the window. I noticed it was gone after I dropped a friend off. How annoying. Something you travelled 15 miles to get, now its gone missing. Greeeat. At least I have school there.

Quotes

You know how people quote each other and famous people. It got me thinking. Will people ever quote me?

I know for a fact that my friend Erik has quoted my famous bubble gum quote. But that's the tip of the iceberg. I want people to quote me for years to come.

On bubble gum:

Man has suffered in-numerously, he has battled against diseases, eradicated some, taken on the fiercest animals of dark Africa. We have conquered space and the deepest reaches of the earth and yet, the one thing mankind cannot fight against is the indefatigable, little piece of gum on the bottom of our shoes.

On maturity

The day i'm letting any of you tell me to set an example for little children is the day people stop calling me the "future" of america.

On Bush

He has captured the hearts of americans, broke them, sent some to their deaths, taken our jobs and yet some how, he's still here.

On Cellphones and technology

The cellphone no more has linked together mankind than has it locked themselves against each other. We call ourselves open. We can communicate wherever we want, whenever we want. But only with whoever we want. In this age of communication and technology, we have surrounded ourselves in our fortifications of cables and motherboards and refused to see the light of day. No longer is an interaction between people a meeting, but a mere text message or an instant message.

On myspace

It says very distinctively up there. A place for friends. Now don't get me wrong, its users aparently those who wish to keep personal identity as private information. Refuse to make friends with people who randomly show up. Oh what a total crock. The purpose defeated within a few years.

On stanfurd

You suck

On "that" situation

You know, when I dont need it, I always find an abundance of them. Now the moment is prime, the project is ready to go. And not a single one of the things I need is nowhere to be found

On inspration

Can a quote really inspire someone that much? Or are quotes the spawn of other quotes?

On packaging and cleanliness

Mankind has curbed diseases. But also has ushered in the era of waste. We waste innumerous amounts of plastics on individual cook wrappers and such. Does it really have to be necessary to use a new paper towel or swiffer cloth for every time you make a mess on the counter. Surely the fact that your countertop is cleaner than a hospital doesn't mean that it produces as much waste as one. There must be a better solution

On thermoses

What's that? Hm? Some sort of space age vacuum sealed food container no doubt eh?! Is it?! Oh it is.

On Vonnegut

Sure i'll take a flying fuck at the moon!

My brother cost me a job

GRAAAAAHHHH!!!

Just to satisfy his "internet" need, he took the internet from me, right in the middle of a job application. Now I cant apply for work there for another thirty days. It would have been the sweetest job in the world too. If it wasn't for him.

I'm a man who doesn't own one of everything.

Damn straight. I'm the kind of guy who owns multiples of the things in questions. Just look at my room. I'll have two computers soon too. But I have two mice on my desk, two speakers, two chairs, two desks, 4 slide rulers, a billion rulers, 6 stringed instruments, a butt load of ethnic instruments, three clarinets, two pianos, two printers, three pieces of stereo equipment, three lamps, two windows, two rugs, two trash cans, 5 model boats in here. Its certainly alot. But yeah.

There's really no point to this. I just felt like it.

Page 23

Its kidna old on the blogosphere, but i'll do it.

1. Open the book you are currently reading.
2. Turn to page 23.
3. Type the 5th sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.

at the moment, i'm reading "A Pattern Language" by Christopher Alexander, Sara Ishikawa, Murray Silverstein, Max Jacobson, Ingrid Fiksdahl-King and Shlomo Angel

"Physically and genetically, we appear best adapted to a tropical savanna, but as a cultural animal we utilize learned adaptations to cities and towns."

kinda boring.

Grin!

Heh, 2007 is a big year for all Cal Football fans. This year will mark the twenty fifth anniversary of

Dah dah dah daaaa!

"THE PLAY!"

I'm excited. A great time to be join Cal Band for sure!

Give us the right to speak! As long as its only us!

You think we've come so far in so few years do you? Well, in some ways, we have. But in very touchy situations, we're dumber than the cavemen themselves. No offense to you cavemen out there on computers. But recently, the US Senate...

well. I wont quite tell you yet, but i'll give a bit of info first. So in the Senate chambers, usually things start off with a prayer or something like that. Its usually done by the Christian Chaplin of Congress but on several occasions, it will go out to different creeds to start off. But in this unfortunate circumstance, a guest Hindu priest came in to say opening prayers before the senate when all of a sudden, he was shouted down by several witnesses.

Three were arrested. The first one had said: "Lord Jesus, Forgive us father, for allowing a prayer which is an abomination in your sight." "You are the one, true living God"

Thanfully, they were arrested. Christian nuts apparently. You see these people in protest videos. They call themselves the tolerant ones and accuse the police who grab them as the idiots and the unknowing. But really, we can see whats going on. I might have mentioned this earlier but alot of groups have campaigned for their voices. Especially the democratic party you know. I mentioned the BART ad for pro life in an earlier post. I would find it, but I cant. Hah. But the idea is you fight for your own voice, but you make sure no one else can speak their voice. I highly doubt you'll find blacks and KKK members protesting against a hindu prayer together. Our mind set. Is to satisfy ourselves and some of us have decided to take it into our own hands to pound the right ideas in their opinion, into our heads. I'm all for a Hindu, catholic, jewish, muslim, satanic opening prayer at Congress, but when one voice claws for more and thinks they're the best and only way. I cant tolerate that.

I can just imagine these three people. A middle aged man with big glasses, hands folded together, eyes closed and just shouting out those words in the senate chambers. "ABOMINATION!" I dont get how people were ever taught this way. To defend your ideals, but make sure that no one else can speak and that they learn that that is the way and the only way.

video of the incident: http://www.breitbart.tv/html/2957.html
article: http://www.breitbart.com/article.php?id=070712205448.8n6ee52e&show_article=1&image=large

So bored, I'm doing a survey on Harry Potter

Harry Potter Survey :D

GRYFFINDOR:
[ ] You've never done drugs.
[x] You have a lot of friends.
[x] You get along with everyone.
[ ] You love soccer.
[ ] You love baseball.
[x] You're into writing and art
[ ] Favorite music genre is rock.
[x] You believe in "innocent until proven guilty" theory.
[x] One of your favorite colors is red or gold.
[x] You have good grades at school.
[ ] One of the worst things you are at is lying
[x] You plan on going to college.

TOTAL: 7...


HUFFLEPUFF:
[x] You're content with mostly everything in your life right now.
[ ] You laugh a lot.
[ ] You like to follow trends.
[ ] Politics suck.
[x] You love to swim
[x] Water "marco polo" is awesome.
[ ] Pink is one of your favorite colors.
[ ] Black is morbid & depressing.
[NO!] Michael Jackson is talented as a musical artist.
[ ] You're an optimist.
[ ] You're emotional.
[ ] You believe in going steady at a young age.
[ ] You haven't made fun of anyone this month.
[x] Loyalty is the MOST important thing in a relationship.

TOTAL: 3


RAVENCLAW:
[ ] You're depressed to a certain extent.
[x] You love to read.
[x] You appreciate theatre & arts.
[] Sports suck.
[ ] Hate is completely unneeded.
[x] Indie is your favorite genre of music.
[x] Every once in a while you have little anger outbursts.
[x] Lying is sometimes okay.
[x] Blue is one of your favorite colors.
[x] Knowledge is the key to power
[ ] Sarcasm is the best kind of humor
[x] People should know what they're talking about before they talk.
TOTAL: 8





SLYTHERIN:
[x] There's at least one person you hate/dislike
[ ] Basketball is a good sport.
[x] Football is amazing.
[ ] Black is a cool color.
[x] You've lied about something serious
[] You're a very deep person.
[x] You have considered suicide.
[ ] You are not very loyal.
[x] You like heavy metal.
[ ] They make school seem more important than it is.
[x] You're scared/nervous to grow up.
[] Anger is one of your primary feelings. <--- i'd say that's a gryfindor trait haha. and no i cant spell
[ ] you have trust issues.
[ ] Guilty until proven innocent.
-----slytherin's arent emo suicidal goth freaks. wtf.

TOTAL: 6

whee

I couldn't help but play around with an ASCGenerator

Stolen from New North. Heck, what isn't?

The prerequisite to understanding this letter is to have encountered some of Mr. Zachary C Wong's pleas and to have realized how refractory they are. What follows is the story of how Zachary can be so rich in the rhetoric of democracy and yet so poor in its implementation. I do not wish to evaluate alcoholism here, though I assert that Zachary would have us believe that university professors must conform their theses and conclusions to his contemptible, fork-tongued prejudices if they want to publish papers and advance their careers. That, of course, is nonsense, total nonsense. But Zachary is surrounded by brown-nosing schmoes who parrot the same nonsense, which is why if his subalterns had even an ounce of integrity, they would fight for our freedom of speech. He claims to be supportive of my plan to drive off and disperse the nettlesome dissemblers who create a system of jingoism characterized by confidential files, closed courts, gag orders, and statutory immunity. Don't trust him, though; he's a wolf in sheep's clothing. Before you know it, he'll force square pegs into round holes. Not only that, but Zachary's favorite tactic is known as "deceiving with the truth". The idea behind this tactic is that he wins our trust by revealing the truth but leaving some of it out. This makes us less likely to inculcate in the reader an inquisitive spirit and a skepticism about beliefs that Zachary's deputies take for granted.

Zachary talks a lot about antagonism and how wonderful it is. However, he's never actually defined what it means. How can he argue for something he's never defined? My answer is, as always, a model of clarity and the soul of wit: I don't know. However, I do know that he has OD'd on isolationism. Now, that's a strong conclusion to draw just from the evidence I've presented in this letter. So let me corroborate it by saying that an armed revolt against Zachary is morally justified. However, I insist that it is not yet strategically justified. Sadly, in once sense, Zachary is correct. If we let him work both sides of the political fence, then I will obviously be forced to have a conniption. His occasional demonstrations of benevolence are not genuine. Nor are Zachary's promises. In fact, I appreciate feedback and other people's views on subjects. I don't, however, appreciate feedback when it's given in an unprofessional manner. Zachary claims that the rules don't apply to him. I, however, claim that that's a load of crud. Yes, I hate him to my very bone marrow, but according to him, clever one-liners are a valid substitute for actual thinking. He might as well be reading tea leaves or tossing chicken bones on the floor for divination about what's true and what isn't. Maybe then Zachary would realize that an unholy alliance of combative rabble-rousers and flippant, besotted quiddlers has been instrumental in devising increasingly repressive ways to turn the social order upside-down so that the dregs on the bottom become the scum on the top. Let's remember that.

The acid test for Zachary's "kinder, gentler" new initiatives should be, "Do they still wage an odd sort of warfare upon a largely unprepared and unrecognizing public?" If the answer is yes, then we can conclude that Zachary claims that we should abandon the institutionalized and revered concept of democracy. That claim is preposterous and, to use Zachary's own language, overtly prissy. No history can justify it. Here's the heart of the matter: He doesn't use words for communication or for exchanging information. He uses them to disarm, to hypnotize, to mislead, and to deceive. Are you still with me? To put it another way, I don't believe that we should avoid personal responsibility. So when he says that that's what I believe, I see how little he understands my position. I am not Mr. Zachary C Wong's whipping boy. That is why, come what may, we must challenge the present and enrich the future.

La complaint generator. Rather fun. here

I beat the neighbor's Dog!

That sentence could be taken several ways. I could have hit it, or I could have beat it in competition. In this case, its the latter. Whilst cleaning my room today, the neighbor's little pug was let out. It just started barking and yapping. It stopped for awhile but obviously, I had to provoke something :D of course. I moved over towards my bed by the windows and proceeded to start dusting things. I keep little models and stuff on there. But it was when I was dusting the picture of Dag Hammerskjold did I really want to tempt the silly. I barked at it. Really. I did. Then it started yipping again and then, the neighbor lady opened the door and yelled at it. "Get back in here. Honestly, you make too much noise."

That is my story of triumph for today

Being Sanitary is being Wasteful

I really wanted to write this. No reason, no restrictions, just a writing on the follies of being sanitary.

We live in the "digital" age. A time where virtually all young americans are plugged into some sort of electronic device. Long have we walked away from things we used to plug into walls like toasters and televisions and did we really start sticking stuff into our ears. But come the digital age, information travels faster than a mail box with a jet engine. And we are informed. We're linked to colleges and libraries and digital references like wiki. At this point, mankind has known more than he has to in three lifetimes. Some of us watch others via the magic of internet video clips and such. And now, we're possibly some of the most informed beings ever. But with great knowledge comes great challenges.

I suppose up until now, people were familiar with common household agents such as ajax and bleach. That might have been it apart from windex and 409. Today's household cleaners include ones that are non toxic and stripping kinds and ones that kills 99.99 percent of germs. Or those wipe things that'll kill everything and eliminate the sponge altogether. But all this stuff on the common market, does it really help? In some ways, yes. In others, no.

In good ways, it kills and disinfect things we use. Knife cleaners, kitchen counter cleaners, wood top cleaners, stove cleaners. But all this specialized competition has really eliminated the all purpose cleaner. For obvious reasons such as quality and price, competition exists in the specialization of products and goods. But you generate more waste. Thats the thing. One square of paper towel for a stove cleaner, then another square to clean the counters. Waste just piles up.

I remember in the good old days. Grandma's house used to have one thing for cleaning. Dish soap. She managed to make that work everywhere. Dish soap to mop the floor, dish soap for dishes, countertops, stoves etc. Also, she used a sponge and maybe a rag. Those would've lasted a while. But bring in the product factor and specialization, more and more waste exists.

Similarly, at my cousin's house, they use alot of stuff to clean. As do I at my house. We have a thing to clean floors, and to wash carpets and counter top cleaner and this and that. Compared to grandma's garbage can, ours is packed sometimes. Of course, she lives alone now but that's not in this case.

So next time you spend 7.50 on a can of moisty naps, think about how much you could save by just taking a sandwich bag and some wet paper towels. Heh. Ghetto.

Crazy old woman

As always, I'm on my bicycle riding through Alameda when my friend Jeff calls me to pick up some things from his place. Just a bunch of vellum papers and a slide rule. And lucky me, the only way I could carry any of that stuff was to roll it up and stick it into my back pack. Which made it really awkward to walk and ride my bike. Afterawhile, I got pretty used to it. But my neck was at a really awkward angle. But anywhoo. I decided to use San Jose and then Willow avenue when I passed by the old person's home right by the city hospital. Apparently, the management of that care center was willing enough to let a senile old woman water the plants. At first, I didnt mind. But then as I was riding past, she just thought it'd be fun to get the guy with a giant roll of paper on his back wet. Hum. Crazy old people. I yelled at her and she just resumed watering the plants as if nothing had happened.

I can sooo relate to this... hehe

The best of craigslist has done it again. They've managed to find the inner tickilings of San Franciscian hatred of SoCal behavior. And this guy manages to express it just right.

You came into Royal Grounds, Russian Hill

You are the 30ish, 5'5", 120#, “Blonde" girl with the spackled foundation and knock-off bronze-metallic Prada bag. You were on your cell, blabbing with an artificial "Laguna Beach" accent and blissfully absorbing the "attention" of everyone else in the joint. You’ve been in line for about eight minutes.

I'd like to inform you of a few things:

1. We are not staring at you because you are hot or cool, or interesting. We (read: everyone else in the joint) are trying make you burst into flames by focusing our searing hatred toward your shellacked mary-jane wedges. Believe me, most of us could care less about your insipid desperation to appear cool. We care much more about you leaving. Now.

2. Royal Grounds does not serve “venti latte’s”. You’ve gotten all dizzy and come to the wrong place. You’re looking for McDonald’s, or Jenny Craig, or Fresh Choice. Stupid twat.

3. Make a decision before you get to the front of the line, bitch. I know… you’ve got low blood sugar so its haaaaard to decide, but settling on a fat-free muffin and a low-fat latte shouldn’t take one hundred twelve seconds at the counter. Especially since you’ve been in line for eight minutes saying, “I knoooow. Ohmigod, I KNOOOWWWW! Really? I know…”. Its not like you’ve been on hold with Comcast. You’re in line for coffee at 7:55am. Die. Now. Or at least spontaneously bleed or do something interesting and painful like a seizure.

4. Leave a freaking tip. That little jar isn’t there to TAKE CHANGE FROM. If you need change for the bus, simply ASK the nice gal behind the counter. Don’t dig around in her tip jar for quarters while drawling about losing your Muni Pass to your feeble-minded phone-mate. We all know you lost your Muni Pass along with the tattered remnants of your shriveled dignity at the Royal Joke last night at 1:12am. It is just at the end of Bonita Street under that pile of wadded Kleenex. You know, near where you woke up, skank.

5. Get your fucking bag off my table! Damn, now you’ve done it. You’ve taken me from focused disgust to personal rage. Just because I’m seated at the table next to the no-calorie sweeteners doesn’t mean I want your greasy, cum-stained whore-sack on my paper; nudging my coffee and getting dangerously close to contaminating my bagel. Not even an “excuse me” or a “do you mind/”. In fact, I might have let it pass with simple hatred had you bothered to engage some semblance of decency. But, there you go, no concern for my space or belongings.

6. It was not an accident that my coffee “fell” onto your feet while you were adding the Spleda to your beverage. I purposely removed the lid. I carefully planned knocking it “just so” in hopes of getting at least one of your feet covered in scalding bean juice. Did that burn a little? Don’t worry about the shoes. Pleather cleans up nicely. The sugar should get nice and sticky soon. Kind of like your thighs and tits felt before you used a handi-wipe on them this morning when you came to.

7. It was funny to watch you drop your phone into the bus-tray, prance on your little feet, and protest with “Ohmigod! Ohmigod!” while everyone else took delight in your suffering. Did you believe me to be sincere when I said, “Oh, wow. That must hurt.” Notice how I didn’t apologize? Of course you didn’t.

8. Yes, I purposely chose that moment to get up and leave. I definitely meant to bump you ever so slightly with the table and knock your bag to the floor with my laptop and paper. I admit it: I wanted to cause you as much inconvenience as possible without actually breaking any laws.

9. The people behind you in line were purposefully rude in pushing around you to get lids, sugar, cream and stuff. They grinned when they observed my work. They wryly smiled. They hate you as much as I do. Probably as much as your mother did when she dropped you off at the orphanage.

10. Even though I had significantly slowed the pace of everyone’s day, there wasn’t a bit of anger directed at me. Rather, there was joy, gratefulness, even one woman who mouthed, “Awesome”. You are disgusting and unwelcome. Move away. Get crippled. Go blind. Just leave.

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sfo/327033558.html

What to think about during a fingerbang

From here

What the study showed was that lesbian women also tended to have the more "masculine" arrangement - that is, they had shorter index fingers.

But the ratio of finger sizes in men was more complicated. Comparisons between all men showed no differences. Only gay men with several older brothers had an unusually "masculine" finger ratio - in other words, they had significantly shorter index fingers.

Having a large number of older brothers had previously been established as a factor predisposing men to homosexuality, and like finger length reflects prenatal androgen exposure.

Homosexual men without older brothers had finger length ratios indistinguishable from heterosexual men, indicating that factors other than hormones - such as genetic influences - also contribute to sexual orientation.

You've asked for it

You've asked for it. Something new and "insightful". Well i'm really getting bored with the whole blogging scene. I dont know why. Honestly, I dont really feel the need to constantly express every single feeling I have in the form of a digital language in communication with the world. So today, i'll just do notes.

• I have returneth frometh Berkeleyeth. Orientation was soo awesome. I finally got to sleep in my dorm and see what it would be like. I must say, the shower situation, not too pleasant. If you enjoy showering in an inch high amount of human filth water, then you would be rather comfortable. Lesson learned, shower in a dorm, EARLY!
• I finally met the insatiable Zachary Taylor. No relation to the former president. None at all. But he's a big fella and he really reminds me of my big buddy Brian from Freshman year. Not an official big buddie, but he's the kind of person you really grew onto. The kind of guy you like to hug every so often. To me, he has the body of Brian, but the voice of Izzy. Zac, if you're reading this, Izzy aint a singer. Dont look it up.
• I'm being laid up and being broken up after graduation at home. Since graduating, I bet all my friends have gone and done wild things. I know Stallman is in England, Zac visited the most romantic country in the world, (not france, they publicly urinate), Wendy's off to Cambodia, my little friend Eric is in the Philipines, some of my friends are in China or Asia or Europe. Stacey was in Los Angeles, but I no know if she back yet.
• So what have I been doing? I've tried exercise. I look alot better than the majority of my senior year's days. I've been running and biking alot. But when it comes to carrying heavy stuff, I'll take a bus. Granted, its like a 30985095 minute wait.
• I've built an entire city out of videotapes. I'm not sure if you guys did it as kids, but when I got bored, I'd yank out the video tapes and arrange them into city blocks and i'd get all my hotwheels out and just start creating these fictional situations. This time, it was the city of Kapoho in danger of a lava flow. The previous day, I read about the real Kapoho on Wiki.
• I've gone swimming with Gabbi. I like swimming. I dont like cholorene. I dont know which is better though. The nasty taste on your lips when you go ocean swimming? Or the eye burning, but fresh feeling in your mouth of cholorinated pool water. Gosh. That is a good question. Maybe I like both. I know in the ocean, I wont get pruney
• I got another guitar. This one has no name. Its sole purpose is to be modded and played around with
• I really need to incite more things to make me want to blog
  

Should I have?

There alot of things I should have done, or could have. I could have gone to the beach on thursday to enjoy the last day of school bonfire, but I didnt. I wonder why. I dont know why I didnt even ask. I could have but I didnt. I just wonder, if I'm just going to end up living with all these regrets of things I could have done but never did. Hummm... Shame, my parents probably would have done it too... But I doubt that they would have stayed over at grandma's because of grandpapa

Where have all the posts gone?

Sorry readers. I guess I ahve been rather neglectful of you readers. Let me catch you up on what's happened since I told you guys to check out my photoshop blog.

Recently, my grandfather died. He died on the morning of senior picnic. Even with that, I still went and had fun. He would have wanted me to have fun. I miss him very much. He was the kind of grandpa that would dress like it was 1970 when he went on trips. Like Jerry Seinfeld said. Fathers tend to stop updating their wardrobes when they pass their best years. You can see it. There goes 1994, 1968, 1970, etc. But I like that about grandpa. He was kinda old fashioned and he did his best to please his grand kids. He once gave me a radio and I still use it. The battery cover's not there, but I still remember it well. He gave it to me and I played underneath their dining table pretending I was in a house and i was glad grandpa gave me a radio for my "house".

Oh gosh, then finals came along. The only thing I did shit on was Calculus. That's my most hated subject ever. Everything else, cooler than a cucumber. I actually got a perfect score on my Chem Final! Hehe...

Graduation. Gosh. Four years of high school has finally accumulated up to this. A two hour graduation ceremony plus grad night. No one has invited me to any parties and now, I feel left out. But that's me for befriending people who dont have parties... heh. With grandpa passing away, I had to change the party date.

Grad Night. Schools go to anaheim for that stuff, but we just turn the gym into something surreal. It didnt seem like the gym. that's for sure. it felt more like a play land of sorts. It was amazing. I can say that.

I'll have more posts later.

Check it Out

Hey guy. For those of you regular readers. *cough* ... I have a new "hobby" blog showing some of my best and poorest work in photoshop coloring.

www.colorourhistory.blogspot.com

heh

I won. I did it. Yay for me!

IGIHERLKH!L! DFUCKD@~!

Sometimes, all she ever yells about is just being unable to apply myself. They regulate my life. I want to be free. Fuck, I dont even feel the right to post. She tells me to do this and that. I'm sick of hearing it. I know my wrongs today. And yet, she's still yelling at me. God and earth, I swear. She compares me to "5 AP class students" and I know these people. They have no life. I know several of them. They're mindless, boring, humorless goons. They have no fun overall. They're chained to desks and are a bunch of whipped trophy kids for parents. I dont want to be a trophy kid. I know I have potential. I know I have a future. But do I have to be pushed so hard into it? I bet you your grandfather was never pushed or shoved to get a 4.9 GPA back in his high school days. Now, we're being pushed harder than greyhounds in the winter. We slave away at work. Work we dont get sometimes because help is useless.

She told me, Band takes a back seat. Band is the ONE thing that I stay focused in. Band is the one thing that changed me personlly. Band is the very and only thing that caused my emergence and leadership skills. Without band, i'd probably have just been another god damn fucking, ass wiping pussy trophy kids who have no life other than homework and a computer. Yeah, if you really want me to work, i'll be stuck in the room and i'll never come out. I wont bother eating. That's what architecture'll be like. I'm not quite ready for that. But the one thing I want is band. Dont ever tell me, EVER IN A MILLION YEARS, that Band takes a back seat. You assume too much. If you knew everyone at my school. You could put everyone with a click. If you looked at me, Drafting or Band click. Instantly.

The truth

I just realized. I only tagged 5 people out of six. I give up. I'm not very good at this tagging stuff.

Its all down hill nowadays

You've done your time. Honestly. Unless you're a freshman who's reading this. But really. You've done more than your ancestors have. I know people who graduated in the seventies and were damn proud of having a 3.3 GPA. And the fact of the matter is that the world has flipped onto its head and everyone's just flushed their toilets at the same time. Come to think of it. How would it work? How would you stand the world on end? Would it not be exactly the same? How stupid was that analogy eh? But now, teens like us are being treated more and more like prize cattle rather than the family child who's the apple of their mother's eyes. I've heard horror stories from my friends where they were chained to desks by their parents as well as being locked in small specially made study rooms. I've seen one. They're not pretty. The newer development houses that are springing up have new special rooms that are about 5 feet by 6 feet with two desks and a flourescent light. They're just for studying. And they can be locked from the outside! Now call me crazy, but Alameda's a nice place and all. But this school district has got its head up its arse.

Avoid Evangelicists!

So the god awful truth is that this Christian school decided to have a science fair. And one student aparently disproved the theory of evolution by showing formation of staglatites is entirely wrong according to scientists. Well then. He's an idiot. As well as his parents and his teachers and his administrators. As well as the judicators for giving first place in the LIFE SCIENCE/BIOLOGY category. He disproved the theory of evolution by proving he could grow stags in a matter of days as opposed what scientists say which grow at approximately .10 inches per year. Now aparently, the student also didn't take into account the different types of material. the things are composed of magnesium sulfate. But stalactites are made of calcium carbonate. Aargh. It doesnt even have anything to do with biology

http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2007/05/another_christian_science_fair.php

Someone's tagged me

For the first time, someone has tagged me in a good way. Unlike the usual vandalism of tagging I see going on around here, I have been tagged on my blog by someone else. Namely, newnorth...

"The rules are: once you have been tagged, you have to write a blog with six weird, unique or unusual facts or habits about yourself.... at the end, you need to choose six people to be tagged and list their names and why you chose them.... don't forget to send them each a comment that says, "you have been tagged....go read my latest blog...."


Ok... Argh. I cant turn Italics off. There. Sorry... Haha. Six unique facts about me/unusual facts hm? Ok, lets see...

1. I am capable of moving my adam's apple up and down as well as wiggling my ears and making the size of my nostrils increase by nearly two fold. All independently of course

2. I have Visited the most southern part of the USA twice. Its in Hawaii btw...

3. I am capable of playing the Baritone, Clarinet, Bass Clarinet, Piano, Diatonic Accordian, Tenor Banjo, Mandolin, Ukulele, Baritone Ukulele, Tenor Saxophone, Guitar, Electric Bass, Electric Guitar, Chromatic Harmonic and Diatonic Harmonica

4. I have met John Madden and Eric Estrada. John Madden has giant fuzzy catepillar eyebrows and I dont remember a thing about Estrada. Other than he probably, as many of you others out there, worships Chuck Norris :D

5. I got into UC Berkeley with only a 1780 on the SAT's and a 3.6 GPA

6. I hate brussel Sprouts and bittermelon. That's it. Everything else is tolerable in the land of vegetables. As long as it's been cooked, fried and smothered in Garlic.

Ok... six people to tag. I dont know who really writes about themselves that much, but there's always a chance.

1. peachiekeen
Very cool blog. I recommend it to everyone who enjoys the gripes of a high schooler
2. coded waltz
I choose this one for its remarkability and cool posts
3. Puntabulous
Hands down, Puntabulous is my most favorite blog in the world.
4. The Ceiling Man
The ceiling man since its Preetham.
5. WizzCheese
Most awesome school mascot ever if you dont tell me twice. The blog about the president of a school and day to day issues.

I hate too many things

God! I saw some people open up the door and then someone just ran in front of it. God I hate rude people.

Why did it have to happen?

As mentioned in Man Alone, I met up with her. Before that day, I was perfectly content with life. I hadn't a care in the world other than being happy. But today, I couldnt help but obsess over her for the greater part of the day. Why? Why did it have to happen? It hurt me to read through the old comments she would leave and some of the things she would say were lovely and all. But after what she did. I couldn't help but feel sad when i'm trying to choke them down.

I still have the ring that she loved so much. I cant bear to keep it. It reminds me too much of her.

Man Alone

It was weird. I've never felt such a thing. To be alienated at a school. It was weird. I never realized how different it was. For an Alameda Student to sit around a bunch of Encinal Band Geeks. Sure, poor Kim never got the end of it from her friends. Since she had both her third boyfriend sitting next to her (me) as well as her current one. Fifth I think. And also, she had her two other exes running around campus. As usual, our band did terrible. *ugh* There needs to be serious reform in class. There is too much contempt and how students think that social time means band class. Band class is a privelidge and its being really wasted at the moment. If only we still had multiple directors as well as the Navy being here to give the schools a Lump Sum. But that's aside my story title. So everyone left the thing at 11:30ish. And I still had a piano recital as well as the awards ceremony afterwards. Normally, one would think that a awards ceremony is just you walking up to recieve the trophy, but suddenly, there's all this pomp and method on how to do this and that. And being the Alameda High School student that I am, I have no idea what to do. There's no method that we know. It was all improvised. All the other schools had fancy moves whenever they saluted, like locking arms and whatnot. But All I could do by myself was just swing my fist left, and pendulum it back right and into the palm out salute. Oh gosh. Then came time to accept the award for Alameda. Third place. As well as lowest concert band score. Oh well. We knew it was coming. But I marched out diagonally. Stopped eradically and saluted. Rather Hastily. Gosh, how sucky. Then what's his name. I think Kai or the one going to Cal also shook my hand and handed me the trophy and folder with the tapes and scores.

But after all that, the bands got together to celebrate and throw people in the air and stuff. I stood there alone, still clutching to the trophy and folder. No one to hustle around me and cheer. No one to shake me and yell out loud profanities of semi-victory. No one at all. It sucked bad. The only company I had was Encinal High School. Watching them and Phelps go over scores made me realize. These guys, as small as they may be, too things very seriously. That's what Alameda needs. Discipline. But the liberal says, no taking a switch to the child. It will induce mental angst and cause them to be murderers in future life. Posh on it.

Electric Needle Hut

So I donate blood alot. This time, i couldn't give them a full pint. The blood just didnt come out after awhile. I'm guessing they just passed right through my vein and out the other side and yeah. But it went smooth at first. But halfway through, it stopped and for some reason, the two technicians couldnt get it to work. So they ended up twisting the needle, moving it from side to side, as well as pulling it in and out. I couldnt bear it. It just drove me nuts. So I had them pull it out.

What I hate most

Well, there's many things that I hate and it's really too hard to distinguish a certain thing to accept the focus and brunt of my hatred. But I hate alot and today, I've got a lovely list for you all to read. Includes the item under scrutiny as well as a lovely little description with a cup of tea and a cross cut beef sandwich.

Pimples:
For heaven's sake. I've passed through puberty. I've stopped growing. I've got hair growing in places now. Yet these little fetid things keep reappearing time after time. Espically after I manage to get rid of them all. It's probably linked to my lack of drinking water. But that's highly suspect *I just started drinking a winebottle of water a day*. But once I pop one, another two grow in its place. It's like fighting the medusa. Maybe I ought to defeat it like Jason did. With itself. Hmm... Fighting fire with fire, water with water, pimple with pimple... I like the sound of it. But It seems difficult.

Pidgeon People
You know them. You really do. You dont think you do. But they're everywhere and the take a while to notice at first. It starts off casually. You're walking to class. It couldnt be any nicer that day. Sun in the sky, low humidity, absence of Mongolian invaders, and an abundance of shorts and skirts. Oh no! You're about to miss your class at the very end of the hallway of this building. You manage to rustle through the throng on the first floor. But on the second floor, there's your lab. You can make the time limit. But wait. There's a group of chatty girls or ghetto looking people in your way. Is there a way to make it by them? No! When they walk, its as if they choose to hold hands or morph into each other's cellular biology. You cant push past and if you're a lucky one who's willing to make a scene when pushing through, you're jeered by a string of stupid incomprehensible comments like: Like oh my gosh, how rude. Could that guy be any more fat? Could he understand newtonian physics and like just shove off and not touch us... It goes on and on until you duck into the safety of your class. But egad! They've followed you into class and file in slower than a molasses race against the arthritic special physical education class for snails. It destroys the flow of work and you want to punch in their heads. It drives you up the wall. But you collapse in defeat under the load of work your TA gives you.

The Ignorant
Why I hate the ignorant. I just do. I've never met one I liked and I hope it stays that way. I read alot and on the internet, I came across a website of "christians say the darndest thigns" and they do. Some considered the King James more accurate than the book of Hebrews. Another refused to accept the theory of gravity simply because Birds and Planes defy the law and if it did exist, how come you cant throw a rock at a mountain and it would orbit around the mountain. When I read that gravity one. I really did want to strangle the idiot who did say all that. Simple as fact. Gravity is dependent on a very weak force existing between all masses as well as the distance between them. If I recall, the formula for gravitational pull was force of gravity multiplied by the mass of the first mutiplied by the mass of the second. Divided by the distance between the two masses. Now, maybe that rock and mountain thing would work, but he forgets to take into account the linear gravitation forces pulling down on the rock. As well as the mass of the earth. When you do an experiment, dont think you have a perfect envirnoment. If you went out into nature, and tried to do the rock thing, you have to calculate the pull between trees and the rock, the mountain and the rock, and of course the earth and the rock. The reason birds and planes "defy" gravity is because they use other physics principals such as the third law. You cannot touch something without being touched. Birds and planes push air out of the way, and the air pushes back on them giving them lift. Now, gravitational force is one of the smallest forces I can remember that naturally exists. Sheesh. Its that simple.
Another incident was when I was on the bus the other day. I had worn a business suit and my mombasa (which is a panamanian type hat). I was about to get off the bus when two black kids yelled: Yeehaw! Go git them cowboy! I just went through normal protocol and just cooly ignored them. How I would have loved to punish them for ignorance and explaining that it was a panama and now a cowboy hat and how they were idiots for assuming that any hat that looks like a cowboy hat, or any hat with a brim was either a "gangster" hat or cowboy hat. I hate idiots.

"Ignorant people associate. The Intelligent know."

Ghetto People
Oh yes, I really do hate them. They are the bane of knowledge. Never in the history as far as I know, has there been a group so idiotic and retrogressive in learning. I'm sure when my dad was in high school back in the 70s, most everyone would give an effort and study. But in my day and age, it spreads like tar over a pillow factory. The media has promoted the idea that if you dont study, become a rapper, wear ridiculous clothing, spend more more money on a car than family that you'll one day be rich and living in a big mansion, having a lot of parties with girls wearing nothing but floss thongs and there will be a big line of girls waiting to be porked by you. But the truth is, that since you stopped your education to be popular, you have put yourself out of a potential job apart from blue collar work. Oh how your ancestors roll in the grave. A modest black family, hopes and dreams, fighting for the cause. Moving into white neighborhoods. Fighting protest and hatred with all their will and power. And now look at you. You look like fools. You wear panties on your head, pants down to the ankles and tshirts intended for people who are the size of pregnant women trying to steal watermelons by hiding them under her clothes. How you have fallen from all the work your ancestors had built up. To give you a better life and what's to show? You want to be from the ghetto. You want to have the reputation of killing. Not for the reputation of being a famous businessman or entrepreneur. You just gotta be that rapper in the Hummer with more gold on you than a bank has. How I hate your arrogance and ignorance. A while back, a rather ugly looking woman was on a bicycle. She stopped to let a car pass. But a black student who was all ghettoed up in a massive hoodie and parachute pants. But he was yelling to one of this "holmes" across the street and ran into her bicycle since he was walking and turned a blind eye to her back tire. She said: Watch it. He responded: Shut yo ass up you motherfucking butt ass ugly bitch. I wanted to punch the kid in the teeth. But I knew I wouldnt be able to fight. Unlike the ghettos, I wasnt trained at birth to ride a lowrider or handle a uzi with one hand sideways. I hate it. They're everywhere. To quote an old man who threw a tantrum on the bus: I cant stand these god damn little ghetto idiot brats!

Salted Eggs
Seriously, I dont think eggs shouldn't come out of the shell black and smelling like a foot soaked in gojo. As far as I can remember, every time I ate one, I've always thrown it up.

Ugly girls that have the words: Cutie on their shirt
Seriously. Can you get any more Oxymoronic?

Gonzales
I wont mention the first name of a certain Attny. General. But I read that now he was planning to pass a law that made it illegal and viable for persecution for anyone who might possibly be pirating. Ok, why dont we just arrest everyone in the US who has thought of a song while in the shower. Or singing a song while in the shower. Surely they're infringing on copyright laws? For heaven's sake, you're trying to pass an illogical law. The US is on its way back into the 20s when we questioned the bible and found our heads on the line. Stifle man's thought why dont you? Ban people from ever coming up with songs to prevent any sort of piracy. Ban the intelligent thought to prevent it from being stolen later. Stifle the creative mind to preserve order. No! Order is found when people are most happy. There's a fine line between order and discipline and happiness. You could have ultra discipline and tons of order, but no happiness and man will seek to topple order to be happy. But If you have too much of these freedoms and liberties at hand, you lose all order and everything turns to uncivility and there are problems arising in the world. So they work to fix it. Make as much as happy as possible, without disturibing the balance of order.

People who said they move to Canada if Bush won
I'm looking around. All of you who said it are still. I hate you hypocrites.

Uber Liberals
I respect your thought set and mind and what your motivation and goals are, but I for one hate communism. Its a flawed system that ended up leading to a dictatorship/totalitarian system. I'm sure you really think that Little Johnny Turnblad is content with going to a factory every day to make a tractor. And when it comes time to get paid, yay! Get paid in potatoes! No. man cannot survive and live with the knowledge of what is to come in the future. In our case, the next potato dinner. You could work as hard as hell or as little as possible and still, you'd make your potato. But where's the satisfaction in that? Your furniture looks like everyone elses and you dress blandly. So Uber liberals, I'm sure your intentions were good and some things I like. Totally save the trees by memorial stadium. But when it comes time to eat the catepillars that grow between your toes, I put my foot down to squash it. I couldnt stand to live in a world without incentive.
Also, shame on your piggy backing off of the CalBand performance at CalDay to promote the elimination of cars and the downfall of capitalism. You turn USA into a big pussy, pinko nation incapable of defending itself.

People who dont support our Boys in Iraq
You hate war dont you? They hate you too for hating them. If you think about it. You're no different from them. Your predecessors were the hippies and independent thought. How do you think they felt if they were men alone fighting for their cause against the man? If they didnt have the large support of many others, they probably wouldnt have done such a job. Its just like our boys fighting. How do you think they feel when their entire country has turned on them? They're fighting for a cause. Just as the hippies did. This is nothing compared to WWII when a nation unified to support its soldiers to fight in the war and to bring a newfound hope and glory to the nation. Now, you alienate them and expect the same support behind you to tear them down. You fight for your cause, they fight for theirs.

People who are private on myspace
I cant stand them. Myspace: A place for friends. *Ah! Shun other people who want to be your friends and get the exact same friends as you already know. That defeats the entire point of myspace in the first place. Its like going to a bar full of friends and potential girlfriend/boyfriends, and sitting in the corner with your friends watching the football game with a small bowl of peanuts and leaving the new people to mingle amongst themselves and leave for a full blown orgy. Ok, well maybe not that drastic but you get the point.

Private blogs
The whole point of a blog was to open up yourself and release your open journal or weblog into the world for people to read and well... read. If you limit the things they can and cannot read, there is no point to writing a blog. You might as well just keep an electronic journal word document on your computer. So stop wasting my time with private blog entries!

Buffalo Sandwich

I had walked by the restaurant many times on the way to work in my earlier years. Every time I passed, an overwhelming rush came over me. I knew I had to go in. But it was out of the question. Money wasn't plentiful enough to go in to eat. I knew one day I would have my chance. Two weeks passed and still, there was no hope to go in. Another week. The smell drove me up a wall. My last day of work at the Government office led me to peek in for once. Leaving behind the sack lunch I had all the time, I peered into the building. The smoke and hustle and bustle left me astounded. It was amazing. I wanted to go in, but I didnt. I still held the sack lunch in my hand and I walked back to the office. My cubicle never felt smaller until that day. Oh well. Another time.

Answers

There's no easy way to answer questions from comments on other people's blogs. So I'll just end up doing an answer section today.

Yes, I do wash my hands after going

The fact that the thumb is on the side doesnt differentiate it from a finger. They still do the same thing dont they? But what is the physical difference between them other than position?

As you like it

Most of you know by now at least, that I'm a big Cal person. I'm a bear at heart. And I hopefully stay that way. But If there's anything I hate more than Stanfurd/Stanturd is the USC band. Now those are a bunch of jerks who hire people to play with them. Psh.

One year, Cal Band owned USC band with hecka tubas and the world's largest sousaphone. But I digress. The real purpose was to lead up to the awesome joke. But yeah. I really wonder what stirs this competition between schools? The desire to be best? How absurd. I guess that's how it is when my school is so vain. Oh, we must get test scores up, oh we must have every single senior taking an AP class, Oh we must get top scores on Star tests. Oh we gotta fix the pee-pees cause they scare visitors. Everything is true. I remember attending three graduations in my four years there. One of them was under the administration of a wonderful woman. Ms. Sheratt. She knew how to do things. Hardly ever did she mention scores or anything so silly. She only mentioned how she was proud of the graduating class. Under Janvier's Administration, I recall at the last graduation, all he mentioned was the high acceptance rate into UC Berkeley and all the really super duper high scores on AP tests and the SATs and STARs.

To quote a mangled Vonnegut: Why dont you take a flying fuck at the AP TESTS?!!!?!?

Anyways. I'll probably nod off during my graduation. With the entire brain trust standing there in yellow and white ceremonial robes. *scoff* What hideous colors. Even if they are the school colors... You can see right through the white robes and only the ladies wear them. The yellow robes are just an eyesore. Whatever happened to wearing only black robes like in colleges and other normal schools?

Before somebody blond attacks me for my inaccuracies about my school, I'd like to thank Mom and Pop, Miss Jami and my Uncle Ross for all they've done for me to get into UC Berkeley.

And now, the topper.

A Cal student and a Stanford student are both using the men's room.
When they finish their business, the Cal student heads for the door, while the
Stanford student heads for the sink. The Stanford students calls to the Cal student, "At
Stanford, they teach us to wash our hands after using the bathroom"
The Cal student replies nonchalantly, "At Cal, they teach us not to pee on our hands."

Do I?

When I post, I look foward to it. I dont know why. Its that sort of gratification where someone has read your personal thoughts and ideas. I cant help it. I need that thrill. The rush of myspace and facebook are less than ever. Now, I long for it here on blogspot. It kills me to open up to an empty email inbox to find out. It does. I long for comments. I'm a comment whore. Espically for newnorth since I have no idea who she is. It's cool to see how someone comments on daily life, how you react and respond.

PS

What's the difference between the fingers and the thumb?

An Ingersoll Moment

Ingersoll was a great atheist. A promoter of free and independent thought. Not to be bogged down by religion. I wasn't sure if he believe in a greater force or not, but I know for sure that he refused to accept the Christian god presented by the bible. At the moment, i'm taking an Agnostic stance. Still unsure of god, but I know that I wont accept the god presented in Christianity.

I quote:

"But," says the religionist, "you cannot explain everything; you cannot understand everything; and that which you cannot explain, that which you do not comprehend, is my God."

We are explaining more every day. We are understanding more every day; consequently your God is growing smaller every day.

Our ignorance is God; what we know is science.

-Robert Green Ingersoll (The Gods 1872)

Why?

So I was thinking in the shower. As I usually do as opposed to just standing about splashing water on me. But It occured to me. I hate that one instance where something happens. Today, that just happened to me twice.

I had arrived at my aunt's house for Mother's Day. I had given my mom a kick ass wooden lantern I stained and built the lid that day too. But Anywhoo... I had gotten up to the first landing of her Apartment, I took off my shoes and picked up the right one. Lo and behold, an ancient piece of gum that looks like it had been smash there was stuck. Right in the middle of the shoe. I'm very anal about these sort of things. I looked down and I just wanted to rip the little mother fu***** out. But it's disgusting. My asian side kicks in and says "NO! No touchie! Nasty, Dirty, Been in someone poor's mouth!" So to this very moment, the gum is still there and it's driving me bananas. I must figure out someway to pull it off. So the nice hexagon and triangle pattern on the bottom of my shoe has been ruined by someone's giant blob of gum. By someone who was too lazy to give a damn about someone else. Oh yes, I used to be one of them. Until the day I got a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of my chuck taylors the size of a miniature pumpkin. For that one, I took a rock from the neighbor's yard and just started hacking at the damn thing. But for this. I have no clue how to remove it. With all of modern man's advancements, i'd think at least we'd be able to remove gum from shoes. We put man on the moon, developed nuclear weapons, fought diseases, covered both poles, created artifical hearts. But we're still stuck with that damn little shitty piece of gum under our shoes. Oh how cruel life is.

The second event that really ticked my tocker was when I pulled out my Hurley shirt. You know, the two parentheses like this: )( The label on the inside of the shirt is impritnted on the shirt itself and already its coming off. Only after 5 wears and the stuff is coming off. Well, that's not the worst of it. But I pull out my shirt and I hold it in my hands and *horrendous music* A stain. But the worst of it is I dont know from what. That's the problem with wearing white clothing. You get these stupid fat person stains and these are kinda obvious. Right on my belly button. It looks like a damn map of Hawaii. Agrah. My one month old shirt. Ruined already!

So I gripe. And now, I shall go in search for a way to remove gum from shoes.

Why my posts suck

I admit. New York has killed me. Literally. I cant write decent posts since then. Everything else has been out of my WIP novel. Which at the moment is turning into a cluster of double sided short stories. Everything else are tiny piddly things that wouldnt be worth a scratch at. Being a graduating senior also contributes to the mess. I'm more likely to just skip over blogger and just browse youtube for hours and hours on end. So what if i'm not blogging. I hate that feeling. The dissatisfaction of not being able to write something you can stick your chest out and mean it.

Also, the rise of ghetto idiots at my school has got me worried. More ghetto douche bags = less participants in music program. This year was a pretty good sizable orchestra. For once, three different saxophones as well as more than just Jose on Trombone. Of course, they're like wild animals too. Acting as student music director, I conduct when the director isint around, but no one can listen, and no one can play. Sometimes, I honestly believe everyone just remembers how to play the piece once. What they dont realize is that no every conductor has the exact same style. Just comparing Bernstein's and Ormandy's interpretation of Shostakovich's 5th symphony is simply in my words: amazing. Bernstein, a more fluid and flowey piece. Ormandy, slightly rigid, but slow, as a sort of emphasis on every note. To draw out meaning from everything.

I digress. Ghetto Idiots. That's all I ever post about. All my entire blog has ever been about is me blowing off steam in my frustration of idiots everywhere. I've got nothing worthwhile to say. Or do I? I dont know anymore. Its really getting confusing on what a blog should be. Some of the blogs I regularly check are just nothing more than showing cool things, rather than a personal post blog like Newnorth or Puntabulous. I really should read more than just that.

Answer to a blog comment question

In my rush, I forgot to consider the geographic differences of foods when I mention certain things. Mentioning Naan and Curry to some of my Pennsylvania friends struck curious looks and comments. As well as them mentioning Utz potato chips, I couldn't help but tilt my head like a curious puppy. So my one regular reader the insatiable newnorth has wondered what Granny Goose Potato chips are. Well, the company was started right in my backyard, Oakland, California in 1946. Today, I believe they're owned by frito lay. But I dont think so. To be honest, I dont see granny goose around too much. And now i'm beginning to question the freshness of that last bag of chips.

I've come to terms

So... this is what it feels like to make the 200th post. Its not that exciting. I got a bag of Granny goose chips in my lap, it smells kinda weird and its pleasntly warm outside. I suppose I could say this 200th Post is a victory in my name.

An open letter

To the girl who's multitasking on the bus:

I understand how you girls can do all this stuff and do multiple things at the same time, but its disgusting when you do what you were doing on the bus. Almost as annoying as the woman who would jerk her head about to mimic dancing, or concept of following rhythm. But what you did, talk on the phone and clip your nails, you take rudeness to a whole new level. Yeah, we get that you enjoy talking on your phone, but when you talk and clip your nails, its gross. I feel deep sorrow for the person who is on the line who has to listen to your fat assed voice and listen for the click click click of you leaving your DNA all over a brand new bus.

Advice to you, save that for home where it belongs.

The damn bus

I had spent the good of the afternoon at the circle. Helping Judy pop other people's pimples, and eventually, sleeping with Gabbi on my pelvis. But afterwards, I have to take the bus to get back to the other island which I live on. I'm standing and waiting there and it finally comes. Do I flag it down or not? I remember some guy got his head bit off by the driver just for doing that. So I decide not to. I just pull out my card and flash it a little. Make it look rather causal. Its coming, it dont look like it'll pull over. I flash it harder, but it rolls by. Damn. Idiot bus driver. That stop is serviced by one and only bus route. That bus. The 631. Idiot drivers...

The otherside

I tried to come up with the other side of the story. Sure, they dont match up exactly, but close enough

I didn’t expect her to come to me. There were plenty tables inside the café that day. How she even found me, I would never know. She pulled the worn wooden chair from under the table and placed her bag on it. She walked back to the counter to place her order. She left before I could get a good glimpse of her. Was it not customary to ask if the seat was taken first? How strange I thought. I folded up the newspaper neatly and placed it in the recycle bin and sat back down in my seat. My laptop was closed on the table, its bulky auxiliary batter sitting below it. Hesitating, I opened it and switched it on. Maybe she would go away if I looked busy at the computer. I pulled up a word document, and a spread sheet with several figures on it and set to work. Or at least make it look like work. She sat back down, with a large bowl sized cup of coffee. I peered over the top of the screen to get a good look of her without looking like a staring pervert. She was quite pretty. She had curly brown hair and these eyes that you could get lost in. They were like cat’s eyes marbles. I remember them quite well since I had a large bag of them as a child. I quickly shuffled back to work behind my wall. From the sides, I saw her hands working to un-kink a pair of headphones and an mp3 player from her purse. It seemed in the next ten minutes, she emptied the entire contents of her purse onto the table. A book, a small compact, a package of tissues, several hairclips and a wallet was set in the space on the small round table between the edge and my laptop front. I was tempted to fold down the screen to ask her if she needed to pull out the vanity as well. But I shook my head and buried myself in work again. She dropped the compact on the ground and I giggled. She turned around and looked at me. My cover was blown.

“Pardon?”

“Oh? Um… Nothing.”

“Yeah, sure. Nothing at all hm? That’s as likely as you doing any work behind that computer of yours.” When she said that, I choked a little on my spit. I laughed rather clumsily and tried to look busy. But she stood and walked over to my side and looked down at the screen. “Ha. Work you say. Its just a web page you know.” I looked back at the screen in horror. She was right. I had left a firefox page up showing nothing but college football scores.

“Well, it looks like you blew my cover.” I said.

“That may be so, but could you…” Her hand indicated at the compact still on the floor.

“Oh. How careless of me.” I bent over to grab the small thing. “You women and your makeup.”

“You men and your football.”

“You got me there.”

“My name’s Susan.”

“Ah, that’s a pretty name. I’m Greg. Greg Keely.”

“Keely eh? That’s a funny name.”

“Yeah, then what’s yours hm?”

“Um… well, I don’t tell most strangers.”

“I told you mine. And you know I’m Greg. Greg Keely.”

“Well ok Mr. Greg Greg Keely. My last name is McKim-Vadillo.”

“And you say my last name is funny.”

“Mine’s just long. Yours sounds funny.”

“Fine. I’ll bite.” She sat down in her chair. “I got the last name from my father, and he got it from his grandfather. But that’s about it. Before that, we were the Dundermans.”

“Dundermans?” She laughed. Her curls bounced as she did. “I’m glad you name is Keely.”

“Nope, it’s Greg.”

“Oh yes. So what do you do then?”

What could I say? I was unemployed just a week ago and now I’m working as a part time autoshop teacher as well as a Swedish teacher at Foothill High School. “Well um. I uh… am a…”

“It cant be that hard. Watch me. I am a cashier at Durant-Paulson Books. I love the work. I’m surrounded by books there and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Ok, you make it seem so easy. I’ll try then.” I cleared my throat and tried to look as professional as I could. “I teach Swedish at Balboa.” Those words came out rather rushed and to me, they sounded like I had inhaled a tank of helium.

“Swedish eh? That’s… that’s… well um…”

“Stupid isn’t it?”

“No, no, no. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Well I think it is. Most of the kids don’t really pick it up at all. I end up with most of the bad kids and the few genuine kids who would want to learn such a language.”

“I’m sure I would have taken it.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I know you’re the cute teacher teaching it.”

“Oh stop. I’m not that handsome. My last two girlfriends left me for that reason. I guess I’m not used to being called… handsome.”

“Those two wouldn’t know their ass from their elbow.”

Our conversation dragged for a few more hours and the streetlights outside in the squares were bright. We talked about everything from Faulkner to Hemingway. I showed her my frayed copy of The Sound and the Fury my mother had given me when I graduated from High School. The cloth cover was worn out and you couldn’t make out the name without getting close to the cover. It was 8:55 pm by now and I forgot I had to arrive at school early to help out with the entrance exams tomorrow. We stepped out into the open Washington square. The cathedral was illuminated against the bleak sky. I put my coat around her and she held onto my Faulkner for warmth through words. I waited with her at the Muni stop until a bus arrived. She had to go back to the other side of the bay. She handed me back my jacket but she held onto the book. I didn’t notice too much. She walked on and sat in the back row. She looked through the back window and bent over. I couldn’t imagine what was going on. I walked away. I walked away from a potential girlfriend. Another potential person to hurt me. Another person to hold me. I rounded the corner up Green street. Its not too far to my apartment. The stairway up seemed longer than ever that night. I showered, and changed and slipped beneath the massive comforter on my bed. The plastic numbers on my clock clattered without any satisfaction and the smoke detector blinked like a madman. I stared at the blank ceiling. The fixture was ancient and the bulb hoods cast an eerie shadow along one wall. A car passed by and the ceiling was bright for a moment, then went back to its dull mundane gray.

An old spontaneous story

You want that sort of how do you say... coffee shop meeting. You meet a boy in a little independent coffee shop somewhere in north beach. He's sitting in a corner bench covered in pillows by the window. In his hands, he's holding a ratty looking old hardbound book. Everything he does seems of an intellectual. The way he sat, how his striped collar shirt pokes out from the top of his old wool sweater.

You go up to him, you arent nervous. He spots you and cant help but smile. He moves his curly hair out of his face and glasses and offers you a seat. You move first by asking "watcha readin'?" He chuckles and can only say one word. "Faulkner".

Just the name Faulkner brings a mystique about him. He sets the book down and pulls out another book. The Grapes of Wrath. He certainly likes his classics you think. He apologizes for himself and explains he's a high school english teacher. He doesn't conform to the reading schedules schools provide for him and encourages everyone in his classes to read as much as possible.

You cant help it. You're pretty much glued to the wooden bench next to him. He sees you squirm a little and apologizes again. This time and offers you a pillow. You take it and blush. The thin wiry girl behind the stained counter calls you out. "Order up!" she cries. You flush with a little embarrassment and grab your coffee and sit back down next to your new stranger. Your eyes shoot daggers at the coffee lady. Her multiple piercings flash you with reflections from the old ceiling lamps.

He chuckles and puts the books away. You and him talk for hours on end about everything. The little nit picky details of F. Scott Fitzgerald's writing, or the beauty and simplicity of Hemingway. He notices its late now. You've lost complete track of time. Outside in Washington square, the lights are on and the cathedral is illuminated a brilliant white. He offers you his arm and to take you to your apartment. You tell him, you're an outsider. Not a San Franciscan.

What made him jump in shock, you'll never know. But he stays anyways. Waiting for the bus under the kiosk, the cold night air whips both of you. The bus is here. The electric arms clatter against the wires. You sit in back staring through the back portal and he's still there. The jolt of the starting bus rocks everything and everyone on board. A bag of fruit spills over. An old chinese woman stoops to pick them up. You help her. You look back up through the portal. He's gone. But you dont realize it, his Faulkner is in your hands.

Fit of Boredom

When you leave me alone, and a computer and a giant library of personal photographs, you're bound to get some photoshopping in. Also, leave me alone with a ball point pen, I will draw on myself.