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The sun and the sky, the all-seeing Eye?
All of my life, I've heard this lie.

Is He still alive? They said he can't die.
All of my life, I've heard this lie.

Why should I try, when that I know I'll die?
All of my life, I've heard this lie.

Die rich, or die poor. Believe, or die more?
I hate to say, but I'm not your whore.

You're old and decrepit, your idols are false.
Your ideals are broken, your freedoms are walls.

My vision is clear, this boat I can steer,
toward or away, but here I can't stay.

Homer called today, and said he got the word
He said that he hopes you still haven't heard
Of Eris.

Well, I rushed to my window. and then I looked outside;
I was sure that I saw, but could not believe my eyes
As a golden apple core dropped soundly into my life.

Oh, I don't know what she's thinking,
Or how this will go,
But I guess she's got her reasons
Even if it's just 'cause she's Eris.

<Eris? Eris? Who the fuck is Eris?>

Twenty-four years, just waiting for a chance
To tell her that I'm fleeing, without a second glance.
After all of this, I guess I should admit
that I'll stay for a bit, with Eris.

<Eris? Eris? Who the fuck is Eris?>

We grew up together,
But I never knew her name.
Saw her every day,
but didn't like her games.
Oh, Eris.

<Eris? Eris? Who the fuck is Eris?>

Now she's walking through my door,
With her golden apple core,
And there's no doubt in my mind,
that there's a basket holding more.
Oh, Eris.

<Eris? Eris? Who the fuck is Eris?>

Oh, I hope that she's leaving.
But I hope that she'll stay.
'Cause for twenty-four years
my life has been this way.
Oh, Eris.

<Eris? Eris? Who the fuck is Eris?>

Twenty-four years, just waiting for a chance
Maybe after this, it's my turn to dance.
With Eris.


Eris? Eris? All of us hail Eris!

It was a boring day. It's fall, the house is a bit cold, the fire burned itself out hours ago. The dog is sleeping, and the kids are getting ready for bed.

What am I going to do tonight... Count the stars? Maybe I will, after I pour myself a drink.

I'm not supposed do be drinking, not on these pills. The doctor tells me that I could die if I do. I'm sure that he means getting drunk. One drink isn't drinking. I have to wait for a while, the kids don't like to see me drinking. They love me, and they know that one drink too many could do me in... It's late, they'll be asleep soon. I'll sit here, and wait a few minutes.

Tom's usually the last to fall asleep; he has a hard time sleeping, poor kid. Since his mom died, he hasn't slept like he should. I think he's staying up to make sure I'm ok. Too grown up for a fourteen year old. Shouldn't have to look after me at that age.

I'll wait. I don't want them to know I'm drinking... Tom would get mad; he has a temper just like his mother's.

"Dad?" I hear one of the girls call. Why can't I place a name to her voice? Must be the medicine...

"Dad, are you ok?" It's Nancy. Jill never asks if I'm ok. She just knows, somehow.

"Yes, Nancy. I'm fine." Why did she ask? I must be too quiet.

"What are you doing, Dad?"

"I'm just reading honey, I'm going to bed soon." I'm lying. I'm staring out the window, waiting for a star to fall. I'm not superstitious, but maybe my wish will come true.

"OK, 'night Dad!" She always sounds so cheerful, she would smile during an earthquake. I don't know how she does it.

How many stars are there? I've tried to count them before, I got to thirty before I realized that there were no constellations. Then I lost count. I looked at the sky for hours that night. Spiralling galaxies, lines bending through the night sky. But, not a single constellation. I have to try to see them now; even the Big Dipper is harder to notice.

How long have I been staring at the stars for, this night? I've lost track of time... All the kids' lights are off. It's just me, a sleeping dog, and a small lamp. Quiet, at last.

Maybe I won't drink tonight. It's quiet. I wish life was always like this. No noise, no chaos, nothing to disturb me.

Oh, who am I kidding. This is the hardest part of my life. I'm not sure how I'll make it. The kids are just that, kids. They need me. Tom isn't old enough to raise two girls. He can barely take care of himself, but he doesn't notice. He tries to be an adult, and he is a great help. But, Tom is still a kid. He should be playing soccer, chasing girls, not making sure I'm alive.

One drink. I'm only going to have one drink. Scotch, because I can put that in a glass by itself. I can't make noise; this house has paper-thin walls.

Single-malt scotch. I don't know if this is good liquor or not, but it tastes fine to me. Smokey, burns a bit. Makes me feel a little woozy if I drink it too quickly, some nights I don't remember going to bed. Some nights, that's what I need.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, I'm going to count the stars.

"Battle me, boy? I'll show you skill."

Those were the words that spawned a battle that changed everything.

Brooklyn, New York has never been the same. The East Side Crew, B-Boyz, wanted the exclusive to deal in the school. The Mid Town Kidz did not give consent.

The Kidz had the guns, the Kidz had the balls, but the Kidz did not have the numbers. In a gunfight, they would be massacred.

What they did have, were some badass beats. They knew that the B-Boyz were proud. The B-Boyz would not back down from any challenge.

"Battle me, boy?" Asked D-Pax, on behalf of the Kidz.

"Boy, I'll show you skill. Rock, show 'em what you got." The East Side Crew, proud as always, had no desire to back down. They truly believed they were the best, at everything.

Rock, one-hundred-eighty pounds of muscle but not built for breakin', was a klutz. He started good. Spin, spin, step, step, but stumbling between moves. His B-Boy buddies were awestruck by his handstands. They thought he was the best. Step, step, spin, spin. Just like the first.

"HOW YUO LIKE THAT BEOTCH?!" taunted Rock. He had no clue how dumb he looked. His hands were bleeding, his knees scraped raw. He thought he had beaten the Kidz soundly. Their laughter made clear their disbelief.

"Skill? You call that skill? Shit, boy, you shouldn't step to me." This would be easy, thought Kriz. Practise had built his ability. He wouldn't even need a beat. But, the Boyz wouldn't be let go without total humiliation on every level.

Kriz set the rythym with a nod. D-Pax, being the MC, began freestyling. Their beat-boxer, Rozz, once gave KRS a beat for an album. He wasn't playin' fair today; this was pro material. The stage, their arena, was carefully chosen before hand. Gaffer had been tagging the school for years, his finest mural was the backdrop for the battle.

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of being shown true hip-hop. No-one in the school had seen this crew shine. The B-Boyz thought they were the best; they were clueless noobs in the world of hip-hop. They were laughed out of the district. Nobody was hurt, but the B-Boyz would never be seen in the same light.

"Battle me, boy? That's a sin." laughed D-Pax, with a trace of pride. This would not be his last laugh, but it would be remembered by all. The Kidz, outnumbered, had won without firing a shot. No-one was hurt, but no-one had any doubt who was on top.

I see people around here, every day. They all seem to have a kind of bliss; the bliss that comes with a prudent lack of insight. No-one likes to see the world outside of their beliefs. When they are forced to look beyond their own limits, they close their eyes. They do not want to see, lest they are blinded.

It has always been this way. I've never known what they are. Why do they enjoy such inane things? Television shows that have the same pointless plots, sporting events that are just filler for their bovine lives. Eat, sit, eat, sit, drink, drink, drink. Drink to make life what it is not.

What will come of this species? Will we finally give a madman access to a doomsday device? Will we open our eyes, and realize that this madman need not be a man at all? Sadly, I doubt it. We will never see it coming. It, quite likely, will not come in our day. Our species, the only species to achieve a state that has separated us from the planet, may never destroy itself. Instead, we will continue to eke out an existance that borders on futility. The future generations of the world will grow ever more obese and docile. They will never know the travails of their slaves. In many cases, they will never know that they have slaves, or the suffering caused by their apathy. The slaves, who will never be called by their true name, will be raised to believe that their time will come. It likely never will; they have been born in the wrong place.

The opulent countries that rule by hegemony will not always be what they are today. We will not always be at the top of the pyramid. The day will come when the strong will miss a step, when they will misjudge the determination of a weaker nation. They will, perhaps, simply fall due to their own gluttony, as we have seen in the past. There will always be an emergent power there to take their place, and this new ruler will have no qualms about taking their throne. This is the way it always has been, this is how it always will be.

The past is well known by many, these days. We all believe that knowledge will protect us. We cling desperatly to the hope that knowing history will aid us as we build our future. How wrong will the history books of our future generations show us to be. The past, it is said, has been rewritten by the victors of the day. We do not know the truth; the truth has been laundered by the blood of the fallen.

History, the real history, will be repeated again and again. The future is written in the present; the future will become the past. This is the truth of our scribes. This is what you will not be taught in school. Welcome to my world; perhaps you will come to miss your prison.

There is little to enjoy about this life. I cannot say that out loud, it will have me branded as ill. There are pills to help me enjoy life, people claim. I doubt that they have taken these pills in the doses that I have. I strongly doubt that, because I have taken doses that should not be prescribed. I have taken much larger amounts of anti-depressants than any other person I have ever met. I have been put on two antidepressants at once, because I do not think that life is perfect. I tolerate my life; I am often miserable, but I am at least aware of the world's hardship.

I once told that to a psychiatrist. He asked if I thought there was hope for the future. I did not realize he only meant my future. In retrospect, I should have said yes. I have hope; it is not the empty statement that it seems at first glance. It is not my macabre view of the world, where an early death is considered "hope." No, I hope that I will live to write epic tales. But, I do not think that there is hope for the future.

Perhaps you are one of the lucky ones. Perhaps, you've found something that makes you truly happy. If you are one of those exceedingly rare people, be thankful for what you have.

I cleaned my desk, finally. I washed all the dishes, and I found something.
A spot. A big, dark circle.

At first, I thought it was an ink blot. It isn't. It has regular edges. It's a perfect circle, with a few concentric rings inside. I remember seeing this. When I was abducted by aliens, they implanted this image in my mind. This is a laser burn. A Nalloway MK-I Radiation Weapon.

I've heard that they were coming back; the subliminal messages on the radio were a good indicator. When the newscaster said "Lock," as the first word of the first story, I recognized it. That's a code word for the Nalloway Invasion Fleet.

The next story began with "Down." That's all I needed. Lock, Down. The third word would have been my home address. They slipped. I noticed the tell-tale sign of a laser burn on my desk, and I know what to do.

Two layers of aluminum foil, that's what the Gallie Fleet implanted in my memory. Aluminum. They said "al-oo-minium," so I know it's an implanted thought. I would never think "al-oo-minium." I think "aluminum." Anyways, two layers will block most of the laser's power. It'll only cause superficial damage. I'll make a suit of armour while I wait.

I'll ambush those damn aliens. They'll have to fight me. I've even built a weapon to fight them with. Wait for it, aliens, you'll rue the day you invaded my planet!

My secret weapon? This thing.

I just hope I have enough hairspray to take down the mothership.

Bring it, you turds. Prepare to meet my wrath.

Count to ten with me.

One.
Two.
Three.

brief pause, to relax your face.


Four.
Five.

forget about five.

Six.
Seven.

Ignore all distractions.

Eight.

pause. relax. remember to breathe.

Nine.

Ten.

You made it. Look around you. What do you see?

Concentrate on a single point. Choose it carefully, and observe every detail. Remember it clearly.


Still with me? You've made it this far, now a little more

Describe it to yourself, with as much clarity as your mind will allow.

Post the description, beginning with your first thought.

It was Tuesday, so that would make it the middle of last week.

This guy comes in to buy some fuel, and I figure "OK, I'm not going to check the card." Sure enough, as I'm letting him walk out of the store I realize that his name is definatly not Kathryn.

So, I'm not really going to do much about it. After all, it's not like it's fraud or negligence or anything. Just a little oopsie. Happens all the time.

One day passes, nothing. Two days, nothing. Three, four, still nothing. He comes in two days ago, almost a week after it happened. This time, using a different card. Oh shit.

The guy is a cop.

Nothing came of it; it would seem that the other card he used belonged to a friend of his. This friend, surprisingly enough, has a father. Her father is,   more surprisingly, a police officer.

Ho-ly Sheeit.

Next time, I'll make sure.

vomit vomit vomit,
fooble booble bletch.

commet commet commet,
gooble ooble mletch.

hidy shidy ooble forp
gidy midy dooble torp
wiidy wiidy wiidy iidy

deeble dobble dorb.

AY!

AY!

AY! AY! OI!

Oi? Oi? Oi! OI! HOI!

To rule the world, you must give up the illusion of control. Instead, take up the mantle of influence and achieve your full potential. Do not question why, for why is ours alone. Your chaos will not convert them; your words never really kill them.

Ask not for slavery, demand no rebellion, instead give them what they all are selling. Take not what they offer, but give them an excess. Indeed, then they shall fall at your feet for you have given them their freedom.

yuo == one triple-homicide committing pedophile

this== one field goal for justice



enjoy jail.

It's almost 3AM... I'm not able to sleep... I'm never able to sleep... She always comes, in my dreams. The blond woman, with penetrating blue eyes.
She stares... Just sits there, in my dreams, and stares.

She spoke to me one time... She said, "You have embarked on a seven-day commitment. Always run, until you are safe." She did not explain... Since that day, I have not been able to sleep.

I must run, must run. I must run, until I am safe... She said she would protect me, from my dreams. She is like eternity resting on a feather. Always there, never there. I think she must be Eris' sister...
--

It's almost 3AM, I must be sleeping... It's so late, I'm so tired... Who's driving this boat? Am I the captain of this ship? Where is it going? Spinning... It's just spinning... Someone unfurl the sails! We must catch the wind before it is gone... Towards the walled city, that is the direction we must go, before it is too late... They said the city would flood, but this ship can withstand any deluge...
--

I know I am awake.. It has to be real, it has to be. I am awake. I am alive... My dreams cannot rule my life, my dreams cannot rule me. I am free, she told me so. Live as you are, and you will be free. They are telling me no lies, they are telling me no truths.
--

What's that noise? The buzzing, the relentless call of the waking world. I knew I was dreaming... My alarm clock... It's 3AM?! It can't be the middle of the night... I see the sun, brighter than it was before. It's 3PM? It has to be the middle of the afternoon... Did I just sleep twelve hours? A minute ago, it was 3AM and I was sailing a boat... Maybe I'll just let it go, I'm awake, only an hour late for work, and I think that I'm sane. I'm normal, I'll just keep telling myself that... They'll believe me, I'll prove to them I'm normal... Just keep going... Only have to wear the same clothes, say the same words... They'll think I'm normal...
--

3AM? What... the... fuck? Last time I looked at that clock, it was 3PM... Who's messing with my clock? It's Eris. I know she's messing with my clock, my head, my life, and even my dog. I don't want to know what Eris did with my dog. He hasn't been the same since I fed him a sheet of acid... I thought Eris would like my dog, but I guess Eris doesn't like dogs on acid... At least my neighbour's dog looks like mine, I'll switch them and my dog will be normal again. Do I still have a dog? Is that a dog? Those were some kick-ass pills, I swear that I'll never tell anyone where I got them from... I wish I could remember where I got them from...
--

Shit.. It actually is 3PM... Shit, I'm standing next to the watercooler... What the fuck? Wasn't I just sailing a boat near a walled city? Who's talking? Is that my boss? I better not answer, I don't know if I'm hearing voices... I think someone is telling me to fix the wall... What wall? Did I crash my boat into a wall? Do I have a boat? Is my dog on the boat?

Man, I gotta lay off the drugs. My boss is talking to me... The only words I understood were "fired," "clean," and "desk."

Am I supposed to light my desk on fire and clean the mess? Shit, I should go home and sleep... I'll be ok, I'll come back to work tomorrow and clean these ashes up... Nobody will mind, I'll just wear the same clothes, have the same conversations... Nobody will notice... no-one will notice... I hope no-one will notice...

I've seen this a few times, but this one is just too much.
CNN has a link, under "Watch Free Video."

It's called "Underage Internet Porn Stars."
I'm not even going to click on it.

I'm not even going to bother saying what I think about it.

Number One.
Global cataclysmic warfare.
All your exploded nukes are belong to us.

Number Two.
Pandemic.
All your chicken are make us ill.

Number Three.
Loss of atmospheric pressure.
All your head are burst.

Number Four.
Sudden extinction
Halley's Comet takes a left turn.

Number Five.
Loss of interest
No longer motivated enough to engage diaphragm.

Number Six.
Introduction of superior species.
All your humans are become their slaves. Or die fighting.

Number Seven.
Special Englightenment.
Singularity is become reality.

Number Eight.
Perceptual Disorder
World continues, we fail to notice.

Number Nine.
Mass suicide
Somebody set us up the bomb.

Number Ten.
It's already happened.
We're just stuck here.

It was the third assembly, and the wise ones felt it time to inform the Young one of a thing called Juju.

His trials had passed, and he had been revealed to himself. They knew that if he did not learn, he would not grow.

Being as he was, a very curious person, they knew that he would have to discover things on his own. However, they also knew that he was oblivious to Juju.

They had tried to show him, but he always missed the point. So, finally, they sat him in the circle and spoke thusly:

"Always be mindful of juju," slowly spoken with words chosen carefully. "But beware of it as well."

What could this Juju be? It certainly could not be real, for it was not clearly defined in the laws of the greyface.

"When you light a cat on fire, and set it loose in the world, that is juju. When the cat runs into a trailer and the trailer burns, that is juju. When the police show up to investigate the fire, and bust the meth lab next door, that too is juju."

What is this Juju? The Young One demanded that he be shown. So he was, and in very much the same way as the cat, the trailer, and the meth lab he was made aware.

"Always be mindful of juju, but beware of it as well."

What need is there to be afraid of juju? Certainly nothing bad will occur if you are mindful of it.

"Beware the dualistic nature of the Universe," said the Wise, "for it is not aware of you."

This is not juju! exclaimed the Young One, for it has no clear definition! IT IS MADE UP!

"Is it?" asked the Wise, "Do you not remember the times before it occured?"

Nothing occur before juju, because juju is not clearly defined!

"Are you the flaming cat?" No, certainly not a flaming cat.
"Are you the burning trailer?" No, there are no flames, and the Young one was not a trailer.
"A meth lab, perhaps?" The Young one knew this was a ridiculous question, and chose not to answer.

then the Wise one said, "Ah.. you are now mindful of juju. Always remember to beware of it as well."

Timmy was hit by a car when he was a child, and he has been confined to a wheelchair as a result. He's almost 17 now, so he's managed to get some flair for his newest 23-inch chair.

The rims have been chromed, and Timmy rigged a drop kit from some old parts. His uncle, and engineer, decided that Timmy's chair needed some music. Since his birthday was coming up, he decided to design a sound system.

"Your wheels aren't a ride, unless it's got room for boom!" said Andy. Timmy had no clue what he meant, but realized that he would get a stereo if he went along with it. So, after Andy had agonized over every detail, they got to work. Timmy, as patient as any teenager could be, sat on the floor and bitched until Andy was done. Andy finally managed to get the electrical system working, and he started assembling the stereo mounting kit. Five minutes later, the whole thing was together and Timmy wanted to go rollin'. Andy gave him $100 and told him to get some CD's to test it out.

Andy realized that he wasn't going to see Timmy for a while, because Timmy hadn't gone outside in the past few days. He looked happier than he had been in weeks, maybe months. He showed everyone his new stereo. Nobody had seen it before. Some of them didn't believe it would work, they told him to come back when he could prove it. Timmy swore he would, just because he had the coolest wheelchair in the town.

The employee at the convience store couldn't stop laughing when Timmy came in. He noticed that she had covered her mouth, he assumed that she was laughing at him. But today was different. He didn't care, because he had a stereo. He bought some CD's, flirted with the cashier, and then went back to show off his present some more.

When he was a block from the house, he cranked up the volume. It barely worked. "Shit," thought Timmy, "if I pull up with this thing, they'll ridicule me, and beat me up. Maybe I can make it louder by going faster..." So, Timmy spun the tires as hard as he could. He cut his hands a few times, but he did manage to get some "boom," from the subwoofer. It could have been his heart, which was still pounding from the effort. So much so, that this would have to be done in a more efficient way. Tim spent the next half-hour climbing a steep hill.

Timmy had done this once before, on his seventh birthday. He didn't like to think about that day, but he knew a bicycle could go 60km/h on this hill. "How loud will this be at 60?" he wondered.

--
"Hey man, I think that dipshit is coming by on his wheelchair." said Ryan.
"Haha, what a loser. Who puts a stereo on a wheelchair?" John didn't want an answer, but they both knew that only a loser like Timmy would.
Ryan asked, "What do you think he's gonna do? There's no way he'll be able to slow down. We're not going to hear a thing."
"I don't think he's going to stop... but I do hear something... I think it's Ace of Bass."
They laughed harder than they had ever laughed. It really was Ace of Bass. Timmy had managed surpass even their expectations.
--
"Here I go." Timmy repeated, as a kind of mantra. "This'll be the first time..." He was certain that a stunt like this would earn their respect. The speakers screamed "I saw the sign!" louder than they had since 1993! Timmy had never felt so alive! He looked up as he blew past, and saw John and Ryan rolling around on the ground laughing, and barely noticed! The wind, the road, everything melted away, blurred by speed. Everything going impossibly fast.
--
"Where are my CD's?" screamed Tasha. "Who stole my fucking CD's?!"
Both her friends were scrambling, trying not to drop the coke while pushing aside piles of garbage. "My CD's better be in here! GIVE THEM TO ME!"
--
Timmy barely had time to do anything. He grabbed at his brakes, but they were not enough.
--
"TASHA! LOOK OUT!"
--

They've been chasing me, those demons. Chasing me in my dreams, both da y and night. Dangerous, dangerous demons. They come and claim that they want to tell me the things that are to come, but when they speak it is in tounge.

Fear, the fear that they bring. Calling me from the clouds, the airplanes crashing into my bedroom walls. Fear, the fear that comes when the demons wake me from my rest. I never sleep, they do not give me that pleasure. "Wake! Wake!" they scream, louder and louder. I run from them day, I flee then at night. At dusk we meet, as I ground my feet.
A line in the sand, an unspoken demand. Begone from me now, never to return! Begone from me now, away from this world! Begone from me now, to rest in your urn. When comes the sun, my demons now run.

On avance.

thats right.
i know your secret hiding spots in the INTARNET!

edit: (i guess i was wrong.. the 90% of the internet in japan is actually stephen colbert's ego taking up 90% of the mindshare of the 'half-clued' segment of the population)

edit/edit: ^^^ wtf do i mean?

I saw a full-page newspaper ad the other day. It was for an apartment complex, and the draw of the ad was that they had full laundry facilities on-site.  The message was "we have laundry, and it's a good place to live."  The catch-phrase used was "No more creepy laundry-room guy."

I was reading this in a laundrymat. I felt like the creepy laundry-room guy. I am not, however, creepy. Complete strangers will talk to me, almost anywhere I go.  I don't make a point of flirting with girls when I'm doing laundry, but if I saw a hottie folding towels, I would probably say "Hi," if I was bored and wanted to talk.

What if she was the one reading the ad? What if she, having just learned of the "creepy-laundry room guy," was approached by a male shortly after, in a laundry room?

Most of us would never strap knives to our feet and run around on a lake. If we dull the knives, and put them on boots called "skates," we'll do it. As long as we can do it inside a heated building.

All indoor skating rinks need a parking lots. We melt the ice from that parking lot, and build a another parking lot inside, which will be covered in a man-made sheet of ice. Since the building is heated, the floor will have to be chilled to keep this ice from melting.

We don't only skate in warm buildings...we just make ice inside ovals built beside the roads that are frequently salted.

Eris is as Eris does
...and you might not like it.

Do I want to be the first to make this comparison? No, but I will.
Do you want to read it? It may anger you.

This is insensitive, and uncaring. I am not. I apologize in advance, and if you are emotionally affected by Hurricane Katrina, this is the kind of thing that will make your blood boil,


New Orleans is blowin' in the wind.
Just like Haiti, last year.
Yeah, I said it.

Georgie and Katrina,
blowin' over trees...
Trees where cities used to be.

Georgie and Katrina,
blowin' over trees...
Have you helped a refugee?

I went to a religious school, so I had to go through both religion class and science class.

I have a pretty decent grasp on the basics of both sides of the "intelligent design or evolution," debate. I know some of the evidence for each side, and I also know why evolution is bad news.

It seems like every so often, something bad happens. We aren't always sure what happened, but the dinosaurs didn't just stop existing. Then there's stuff that leads to me sitting here reading this stuff, instead of out chasing deer and hoping that I can make it back before the fire gets rained on.

So, evolution says that things always get better. The Intelligent Design frame of mind says that things are as they always have been, and this is how things will stay. Aaah. Refreshing. No damn dirty apes wrecking any statues.

We might believe in evolution, but evolution doesn't believe in us. Now, how do I get my Fundie Xtian Conversion kit?  

SPIDER VS ELECTRICITY, TONIGHT FROM TEH DESK OF BUSTED!!!

Las Vegas is putting the odds on this fight as 10 to 1...
>That's right! You never know when the unexpected is going to happen
>though, Derek, so you better place your bets carefully if you want to
>have a chance to win it big!
Damn straight, Michael! Just imagine what you'd be able to buy if you bet $1000...
>I know what I'd be doing. Hahaha!
Haha, I'm sure we can all guess what you'd be doing, Mike! Hahaha...

*CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG*
"A good evening to all present! Welcome to the first teletyped presentation of the newest Man vs Animal event! Tonight, we place the deadly Western Maple Tree Man Eater, the most deadly spider this side of the primordial goop against a cheap, department store BBQ electric lighter! This could get messy, and we have an ambulance on standby the Maple Tree Man Eater gets loose and starts killing anyone nearby!"

First Round,
The Man Eater descends from the celing... it's just below eye level now, slowly building momentum. As it gets closer, it begins secreting it's syrupy poison. The challenger spots the spider. dudges it, and unleashes a torrent of electrical power, firing his trigger again and again!

Second round,
Spider is lying semi-concious on the desk... it looks like it might be preparing for some kind of agression... OH MY GOD IT'S MOVING!
The challenger, sensing his life is in danger, attacks relentlessly with the sparker! Bang! Bang! Bang! Will it ever end?! Will it ever be over?

Third round,
The spider appears to be braindead, but still reacts to being prodded by a ballpoint pen. Unfortunately, it tries to tear the pen apart with it's massive mandible. This means that it has a bloodlust. It seems to have found out where the challenger is sitting... This could mean bad news.

Fourth round,
Finally, the killer instinct common to all Maple Tree species causes the Man Eater to show some spunk as it tries to position itself for an attack... it's eventually able to overcome the breadcrumbs, but it has a bit more trouble walking in a straight line.

Fifth round,
Spider appears to have lost all desire to fight. Too bad, because the challenger is growing eager to squeeze his trigger, and chalk up his first victory since the terrible encounter he had during the Chimpanzee vs Monkey Wrench match late last year. Since he hasn't had very much luck with the sparks alone, the challenger decides that a conductor would make the current more lethal. Since the spider had attacked the pen in a previous round, it was now involved in the fray... Pushing the arachnid onto a penny, it sensed that something was about to happen and that it would be best if it was far away... Seconds after the pen managed to get back it it's place on the desk, it saw a series of twin lightning bolts that would make even Zeus stop and watch. The spider, who had the best view of the lightning, would have much less admiration for the show.

Ladies and gentlemen, it would appear that we have a winner! Electricity wins! That's Fourteen for Animals, and Five for Technology!
> Derek, I think that it's becoming apparant that we need electricity to  
> beat these animals! So far, we're three for three with the juice!
I totally agree with you, Mike! Remember last time we let this guy loose in the Monkey's cage with that wrench? Man, I couldn't believe when that monkey rammed the wr...
> Hahah, that chimp was great! *Clears throat*
Oh, right, yeah.. Well, that's all the time we have for tonight! Tune in for our next fight, when we pit a Giraffe up against a potato cannon!

(This has no supporting evidence. Do not read.)

Illumination is like a bonfire -- it casts light everywhere, but also creates shadows.
If uncontrolled, it will destroy all things in the surrounding area.
If tended to, it will give comfort and and a pleasant atmosphere.

Enlightenment is like a flashlight -- Focused and limited.
It can be used to blind those who do not have it.
Or used as a guide, to see through the shadows.

Roses are red; Violets are blue.
Let's just be friends?
Hell, no. **** you!

I couldn't resist, after seeing another 'roses are red, ...' post

How many of you when  asked, would say that your day was "the same," as yesterday?

Have you ever  stopped to consider how many things go into today being similar to yesterday? Did the same person greet you at work, or did you see the same interesting sign on your way to the store? Coffee taste the same? Did you drive by the same buildings on your way to school?

What we don't see, is the amount of change that must happen for this to remain the same. The barrista that brewed your morning cup is either keeping a job they don't like, or maybe they're looking at a position higher up within the company. Either way, they're making decisions daily that affect you. The buildings are surely there for a reason... and all those reasons have something to do with someone else deciding to go there. Why does that person say "Hi," to you in the morning? Would their day be different if you didn't show up?

Does everything have to change, in order to stay the same?

Firstly, acquire a large notebook.
Two pens, and three pencils.
Also, bring your pea shooter.

Secondly, Purchase a few magazines.
We all get bored sometimes.
Plus, you might learn something.

Thirdly, First things are first.
Know what a fnord is.
Know what a fnord isn't.

Fourthly, search for a fnord.
They're sneaky, and always hidden.
Good luck. You'll need it.

Fifthly, Prepare for certain possibilities.
Things may be almost definate.
There are also definate maybes.

Sixthly, and here's the surprise.
There is never a 'Sixthly'
Unless there is. See above.