So the other essay I wrote didn't actually work for this assignment. I just finished writing up and printing 27 copies of a new version, produced in full below. I had to make some of this up from nothing, and other parts out of stuff that has happened before, because I don't have anything that WOULD work for this essay unless I did make it up.
I felt proud enough of this that I wanted to share it with you.
Real names removed here when used in the essay.
Adventures In Real Life
I could hear Enabler laughing in exhilaration as Roger came to a stop. He stuck his head out the window and yelled up at me, "I think we should be done for the day!"
I pulled the unlit cigar out of my mouth and shouted back, "BALLS!" I never smoke, but there's some things you need to be "smoking" a cheap cigar while you're doing, or else what's the point? I adjusted my grip on Roger's Bisley, and plucked at the tie-down securing the lawn chair to the now permanently dented roof of the jeep. "You had a way longer turn. One more go!" I heard more laughing from inside the jeep, this time from Alty, who was sometimes from the internet but mostly from Alaska.
"I never thought you guys were serious about this sunroofing thing," he said.
"We were serious, Alty. We're serious people," Roger said.
"WE'RE SERIOUS ABOUT HAVING A GOOD TIME!" I shouted down. I couldn't help it. I speak in all capital letters when I'm excited, and there's nothing quite as exhilarating as being strapped to the roof of an old beat up jeep as it drives at about twenty miles an hour down a dirt road, shooting at signs you've supplied for that express purpose, with a revolver that is louder than that harpy Eris cackling at three dumb broads fighting over some silly apple and a war that annhialated an entire city.
Enabler smacked the back of Roger's head - I could hear it even in the wide open desert and outside the car - and said "Yes, again!"
"AHH! Woman! Alty, do you see how these crazy womenfolk treat their holy man?"
I grinned. I knew I could always count on Enabler to back me up when it came to fun-having. From the muffled laughter, I knew they had rolled up their windows again. I made sure I was secured to the makeshift harness on top of the jeep. I reloaded the six shooter. I kicked the roof of the jeep as I might a steed, spurring it onward towards victory. The jeep trundled around in the clearing at the end of the nameless dirt road I had once found while driving up Oracle out past that small town Catalina, trying to escape my worries with speed and reckless lane-changing. When he was turned around, I took the safety was off (there's stupid and then there's suicidal, kids!) and kicked again, signalling Roger to
GOGOGOGOGOOOO! I whooped as he peeled out. The first sign, "NO TRESPASSING," came up on my left, fast. BLAMpwong! A solid hit! I recocked and aimed to my right, where another sign proclaiming "HIPPIES USE BACK ENTRANCE" was bearing down on me. BLAMping! Another hit! The next sign, "PRIVATE PROPERTY," was too close, but I tried anyway. Recock BLAM! Missed.Recock BLAMping!Recock BLAM!Recock BLAMpwow! Not bad, as I unhooked myself from the rooftop contraption after the jeep had rolled to a stop.
After removing the lawn chair and various ropes from the damaged vehicle and stowing it in the back, I clambered in next to Alty. I love his name, but I can't for the life of me pronounce it. So I call him by his internet handle, Alty. "Where to now?" I asked.
"The Grill, I'm starving," Roger responded. The Grill is a restaurant down on Congress Street, a block or so west of the Hotel Congress. "We'll figure out what to do next after that." We drove off.
The ride was long (and for the back seat riders, cramped), but was filled with talk and funny stories. The Good Reverend Roger, my best friend and larger-than-life extraodinaire, led the conversation. Enabler, his wife and my other best friend, was a quiet one, although not in a "I'm totally shy" or "I'm such a downer" way, more like "I'll add to this conversation when I'm good and ready, and you had best listen when I do!" way. She's awesome like that. Alty, the angry Alaskan biped, was listening to Roger with good natured incredulity. I was chilling in the back seat, laughing to hear all the outrageous things Roger recounted, some of which I personally saw, like the time at the Meetrack (small dive on Drachmann, across the street from the Downtown Pima campus) when this drunk dude and his girlfriend started... Well, they were obviously having fun, I'll put it that way, on the pingpong table, while at the same time these two guys were talking about chili recipes. Good times.
Lunch was a loud affair, full of food and good fun. Alty, the spirit stirring within him, began ranting about how stupid boys (the legal age kind, not the minor kind) are, and how eventually he can't even look men in the face, and then he swears off them forever, and then he gets a girlfriend and everything is going great until she leaves him to go back to Wisconsin and her family, and the whole cycle starts over again. It was very inspiring. Eventually, the food and the mood for ranting ran out, so we decided to walk around Fourth Avenue, and see what there was to see.
So there we were, walking down Fourth Ave., when what did my eyes see but another person I know; Shayne, the compulsive liar, repeated thief, and general sociopath who had gotten with my bestie Torch, abused her, ran around on her, saddled her with a kid, and then, when she'd finally had enough and left him, refused to support their daughter or even see the little girl ever again. All that rose in my memory and my gullet like a wave. How I hated him. How I despised him. How I wished I could wipe the ever-present smirk off his stupid face. Preferably with something sharp, like a bag of broken glass.
He spotted me, and came over to say hi. Because I guess that's what you do if you see someone you know? I was seething, enraged; how dare he intrude on my good day? "Hey, Freeky, long time no see! How are you?"
He wasn't being particularly offensive, I thought as I grit my teeth, so I supposed that it wouldn't be polite to get hostile right away. "I've been fine. Torch has been doing great, too." He looked at me blankly. Just then I noticed a girl hovering possessively behind him. She was skinny, technically pretty, and vapid looking. She was also looking at me in a weird way. Sort of judgementally.
I took a quick stock of myself: old, worn, ill-fitting jeans and T-shirt; a bit on the heavy side, with bad teeth that gives me that meth-mouth look; hanging out with a middle aged couple and some pale freak. Even so, she had no right to be judging me and my friends. Oh well, so much for polite. "I see you have a new lady friend! My, you do go through them, don't you? Is this one your main squeeze or are you seeing her behind someone's back?" I put on a look of polite curiosity. Inside, I crowed as his face turned red and he balled his fists. So what? I thought. So fucking what if he hits me? It'll be worth it. I recalled a line of Subgenius dogma, "Don't just eat a cheeseburger, eat the hell out of that cheeseburger!" Well, I was certainly taking the situation to The Wall, but I was thinking to myself
I think I'm about to bust through it. I resisted looking around at the others. I sensed that if I showed weakness, if I took my eyes off him for a minute, stopped daring him to punch me in the face, he really would. He looked at Alty, looked at Roger. Alty is a skinny dude, but he's really tall, and doesn't look like a push over. Roger is just intimidating in every possible way, including his personality, even when he's just standing there doing nothing. I realized that Shayne would probably walk away, and felt a measure of disappointment that I would not be trading blows with him; the only time in my life when I would have done so with anyone. "Whatever, you stupid bitch," he said. I tried, I really tried, but I couldn't stop the condescending laughter as it burst out of me. He turned even more red, then said "Come on," to his girl toy as they walked away.
The day was getting late, but I suddenly realized there was one more thing we could do before heading back home. We could go to the shrine of the Black Madonna!
Our friend Nigel, who is sometimes from the internet but mostly from Portland, Oregon, had visited us two years before Alty did, and had brought her (at the time) boyfriend, who was a Tucson native. He had made a study of the cult of the Black Madonna, and told us about this wall/shrine deal, near the Tucson Convention Center. I don't remember what street it's on, but you go south past the TCC (on Church I think? Whichever street the courthouse is on) parallel to the highway and turn right at the four way stop sign intersection, and then you go towards the highway for two to five blocks and turn left, and you go down a short way and there's this out of place wall with candles next to a curio style gift shop. If you get close enough to the wall to take a closer look, there's rolled up pieces of paper in there, stuck in the holes of the mortar. Nigel's boyfriend said that they are prayers to the Black Madonna from people who think they're so damned as to be irredeemable in God's eyes. I don't know if they are or not, I didn't look at them. It seemed rude and intrusive, and somehow just plain wrong.
Well, we went there, and Alty was suitably impressed, awed, and creeped out. He dared me to shout at the wall, any old thing would do. It was just that kind of creepy vibe, the kind where you're not sure if what brushed against your leg was a piece of seaweed or some eldritch elder god from beyond time and space.
"
I AINT SCURRED!" I whisper-shouted. I hesitated for a minute, then took a deep breath.
"IF YOU'RE GOING TO EAT THAT CHEESEBURGER, EAT THE GODDAMNED HELL OUT OF IT!"
EDIT:
Freeky,
Not above using sex to sell.
That's it. Somehow, I am making the pilgrimmage to Tuscon.
Awesome writing, Freeky.
Wow, that sounds like fun!
You actually ride on the top of the jeep with a revolver shooting at stuff? :eek:
I WANT IN ON THAT!!!!!!!! :fap:
Also, epic win for the condescending laughter.
Yes. Yes it is fun. And yes, you must come down here.
I promise not to let Tucson eat you.
Quote from: Pope Coyote of the Wolffnords on February 09, 2012, 06:21:31 PM
You actually ride on the top of the jeep with a revolver shooting at stuff? :eek:
I WANT IN ON THAT!!!!!!!! :fap:
Also, epic win for the condescending laughter.
Sunroofing is the sport of kings.
Awesome! I like it!
Thanks. :)
Is there any bits that need work? I'm supposed to be getting a message across without telling the audience what the message is, and instead showing it. This is being peer review in class, and then I have to rewrite it, but I trust you spags a lot more than people who can't even syntax.
I have no criticisms, Freeky, it flows really, really well.
Well done.
:banana: Ego inflation at >9000
Awesome Freeky!
i would respond, if asked what the message is supposed to be, that it is the last line. is that not what you were going for?
That was pretty fucking awesome. Damn, I need to hang out with all of you fuckers. :lulz:
Quote from: Iptuous on February 10, 2012, 05:16:47 PM
Awesome Freeky!
i would respond, if asked what the message is supposed to be, that it is the last line. is that not what you were going for?
The reader is supposed to absorb what value I hold that I'm telling you about. Like osmosis or someshit. Would you say "eating the hell out of that fucking cheeseburger" is a value I hold, based on the text?
hmmm. i guess mebbe that's a little different then 'convey a message'...
if i was to guess a value that you hold from the story, i would guess... passion or adventurousness.
whatever the case, if you don't get an A, you have my approval in whipping out the meathamma.
Quote from: Iptuous on February 10, 2012, 10:38:42 PM
hmmm. i guess mebbe that's a little different then 'convey a message'...
if i was to guess a value that you hold from the story, i would guess... passion or adventurousness.
whatever the case, if you don't get an A, you have my approval in whipping out the meathamma.
That's what I was really going for. "Go on adventure!"
Also it could be "friendship is good", because the others got a lot of spotlight.
osmosuccesful!
:)
Quote from: Iptuous on February 10, 2012, 10:45:15 PM
osmosuccesful!
:)
THIS WORD IS SO FULL OF VICTORSCOSITY THAT I AM ADDING IT TO MY DICTIONICON. Blam. :lulz:
:lulz:
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on February 10, 2012, 10:42:12 PM
Quote from: Iptuous on February 10, 2012, 10:38:42 PM
hmmm. i guess mebbe that's a little different then 'convey a message'...
if i was to guess a value that you hold from the story, i would guess... passion or adventurousness.
whatever the case, if you don't get an A, you have my approval in whipping out the meathamma.
That's what I was really going for. "Go on adventure!"
Also it could be "friendship is good", because the others got a lot of spotlight.
I got "ADVENTURE" as well as
sweet merciful fuck what are you doing to English? :eek:
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on February 10, 2012, 10:23:03 PM
Quote from: Iptuous on February 10, 2012, 05:16:47 PM
Awesome Freeky!
i would respond, if asked what the message is supposed to be, that it is the last line. is that not what you were going for?
The reader is supposed to absorb what value I hold that I'm telling you about. Like osmosis or someshit. Would you say "eating the hell out of that fucking cheeseburger" is a value I hold, based on the text?
Yes, that's what I got out of it; that this is a girl, and her friends, who are EATING THE HELL OUT OF THAT CHEESEBURGER.
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on February 10, 2012, 10:48:34 PM
Quote from: Iptuous on February 10, 2012, 10:45:15 PM
osmosuccesful!
:)
THIS WORD IS SO FULL OF VICTORSCOSITY THAT I AM ADDING IT TO MY DICTIONICON.
Blam. :lulz:
This made me giggle like a lunatic.
Quote from: Pope Coyote of the Wolffnords on February 10, 2012, 11:30:06 PM
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on February 10, 2012, 10:42:12 PM
Quote from: Iptuous on February 10, 2012, 10:38:42 PM
hmmm. i guess mebbe that's a little different then 'convey a message'...
if i was to guess a value that you hold from the story, i would guess... passion or adventurousness.
whatever the case, if you don't get an A, you have my approval in whipping out the meathamma.
That's what I was really going for. "Go on adventure!"
Also it could be "friendship is good", because the others got a lot of spotlight.
I got "ADVENTURE" as well as
sweet merciful fuck what are you doing to English? :eek:
I was synergizing awesomosity.
Where the fuck are all the Goddamn bullets? There was a whole crate in the fucking garage just last fucking month. :argh!:
There's just this little pile left on the racking. WTF?
All I can do is close my eyes and shake my head.
Quote from: Nigel on February 11, 2012, 06:57:16 AM
All I can do is close my eyes and shake my head.
:?
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on February 11, 2012, 06:56:33 AM
There's just this little pile left on the racking. WTF?
Um........
It wasn't me. Yeah. Totally wasn't me.
:lulz:
Boys are dumb. I have seen this truth in visions as well as in life.
I liked it.
I just want to state for the record that I am about as intimidating as a drunk, wet rag.
Quote from: Alty on February 12, 2012, 11:44:34 PM
I liked it.
I just want to state for the record that I am about as intimidating as a drunk, wet rag.
Don't tell that to my writing class, and I'm sure I'll do fine. :lol:
Successful essay is successful! Second draft, which will have more emphasis on dialogue to better accommodate scene segueing and also some things that perplexed the audience axed, to be posted when I'm done with it.
Tip: After writing the dialogue, say it out loud, in a conversational manner. See if it sounds authentic.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on February 14, 2012, 07:22:25 PM
Tip: After writing the dialogue, say it out loud, in a conversational manner. See if it sounds authentic.
Funny enough, the dialogue was the one thing that nobody, even the teacher, had anything bad to say about it.
That's a good tip, though. Thanks, I never would have thought of it. :)
I could hear Jen laughing in exhilaration as Roger came to a stop. He stuck his head out the window and yelled up at me, "I think we should be done for the day!"
I pulled the unlit cigar out of my mouth and shouted back, "BALLS!" I never smoke, but there's some things you need to be "smoking" a cheap cigar while you're doing, or else what's the point? I adjusted my grip on Roger's Bisley, and plucked at the tie-down securing the lawn chair to the now permanently dented roof of the jeep. "You had a way longer turn. One more go!" I heard more laughing from inside the jeep, this time from Alty (or , if you wanted his real name. I simply can't pronounce it, mostly because I am, as Alty says, a heathen), who was sometimes from the Internet¿ but mostly from Alaska.
"I never thought you guys were serious about this sunroofing thing," Alty said.
"We were serious, Alty. We're serious people," Roger said.
"WE'RE SERIOUS ABOUT HAVING A GOOD TIME!" I shouted down.
Jen smacked the back of Roger's head and said, "Yes, again!" She giggled. The giggle had a leer in it.
"AHH! Woman! Alty, do you see how these crazy womenfolk treat their holy man?"
I grinned. I knew I could always count on Jen to back me up when it came to fun-having. From the muffled laughter, I knew they had rolled up their windows again. I made sure I was secured to the makeshift harness on top of the jeep. I reloaded the six shooter. I kicked the roof of the jeep as I might a steed, spurring it onward towards victory. The jeep trundled around in the clearing at the end of the nameless dirt road I had once found while driving up Oracle out past that small town Catalina, trying to escape my worries with speed and reckless lane-changing. When he was turned around, I took the safety off (there's stupid and then there's suicidal, kids!) and kicked again, signalling Roger to GO-GO-GO-GO-GOOOO!
There's nothing quite as exhilarating as being strapped to the roof of an old beat up jeep as it drives at about twenty miles an hour down a dirt road, shooting at signs you've supplied for that express purpose, with a revolver that is louder than some jilted harpy laughing at three dumb broads fighting over some silly apple and a war that annhialated an entire city. It makes a man--or woman-- feel like they own the world. Like nothing can stop them.
I whooped as Roger peeled out. The first sign, "NO TRESPASSING," came up on my left, fast. BLAMpwong! A solid hit! I cocked the hammer again and aimed to my right, where another sign proclaiming "HIPPIES USE BACK ENTRANCE" was bearing down on me. BLAM-ping! Another hit! The next sign, "PRIVATE PROPERTY," was too close, but I tried anyway. Recock BLAM! Missed.Recock BLAM-ping!Recock BLAM!Recock BLAM-pwow! Not bad, I thought. I only missed twice.
The Jeep rolled to a stop, and I unhooked myself from the rooftop contraption and hopped down. After removing the lawn chair and various ropes from the damaged vehicle and stowing them in the back, I clambered in next to Alty. "Where to now?" I asked.
"The Grill, I'm starving," Roger responded. The Grill was a restaurant down on Congress Street, a block or so west of the Hotel Congress. "We'll figure out what to do next after that." We drove off.
The ride was long (and for the back seat riders, cramped), but was filled with talk and funny stories. The Good Reverend Roger, my best friend and larger-than-life extraordinaire, led the conversation. Jen, his wife and my other best friend, was a quiet one, although not in a "I'm totally shy" or "I'm such a downer" way, more like "I'll add to this conversation when I'm good and ready, and you had best listen when I do!" way. She's awesome like that. Alty, the angry Alaskan biped, was listening to Roger with good natured incredulity. One of the stories Roger recalled was the time at the Meetrack when this drunk dude and his girlfriend started... Well,
they were obviously having fun, I'll put it that way, on the pingpong table, while at the same time these two guys were talking about chili recipes. This is a totally true story, and one of the examples of why the Meetrack remains my favorite bar. You never half-ass anything when you're at the Meetrack.
*****
We sat down at The Grill, the lot of us positively starving. Alty read the menu, and the rules of The Grill on the back. "Wait," he said, "we aren't allowed to order cheese with tater tots? What?" He laughed.
"Yeah," Roger said. "Apparently its some sort of blasphemy, so they won't give you cheese on it. Our friend Frank the Bastard," my memory found the file Roger was about to talk about immediately, "had a long debate with the waitress on it. Eventually, she conceded that if he were to order a side of cheese separate from the tater tots, they couldn't do anything about it." We all laughed, and our waitress came to take our orders.
The conversation wandered hither and yon while we waited for our food. When it came, a few minutes of almost silence took place as we stuffed our faces as fast as we could. Alty's face began to fall as some inner monologue started playing. A few moments later, wearing a look of disgust and frustration, he opened his mouth and a rant most Holy™ fell out.
"You know something? Every time, every time I get close to making some kind of emotional connection to any dude things go south. I don't mean dates or dating, though I have more than enough horror stories about that. I mean I go south--in before LMNOuendo (ELL-em-en-oh-WEN-do¿)."
I put down my spoon. My Cap'n Crunch was getting soggy, anyway, and rants always deserve one's full attention.
"It's like a process that develops over time and repeats itself, growing exponentially. It starts with slight nervousness, like, self-doubt. Then I tell myself, you know, to get the fuck over it and let it go. But after a short time it doesn't really have any, any effect. I'll spare you all the gory details, but by the end of it--the point where I just throw my hands in the air--after cleaning up the vomit--and vow to never try to deal with men again. Then I get a girlfriend, it ends, and I tell myself, 'You ought to get over this thing with dudes, work through it. Face the fear'--I can hardly look men I know in the eye. My belly is filled with red hot rage at everything remotely masculine." He was speaking quite loudly by this point, and rose out of his seat to gesticulate. Roger and Jen had also paused to give Alty their undivided attention.
"And then the cycle starts back over! You know, I used to feel similarly about women. I used to feel that way about everybody once. But with men, the overwhelming sensation of anxiety, tension, rage, and fear sits waiting, and I don't know how to break through that wall.
"And its like, you know, nobody seems to know what the fuck I'm talking about!" He turned to us, now addressing rather than spewing, and said rather more calmly, "If you freaks have any insight to provide, I'd appreciate it. I value you guys' input." He plopped back down into his seat. The restaurant had gone dead quiet. The other patrons were probably stunned and embarrassed into speechlessness, but that was their problem. He regarded his burger and declared, "When I get my master in SCIENCE!, I'm gonna invent a ray gun that makes boys into kittens." He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully. Swallowed. "Stupid kittens."
"Preach it, Brother Alty," I testified, exuberant. "Kittens are better than boys, anyway. Well except in one way."
Alty turned to me, slightly puzzled. "How are kittens not better than boys?"
I paused, suspicious. I waited to see if he was pulling my leg. Apparently, he wasn't. "The drawback here is that kittens need carefully rationed food so they don't eat so much that they puke. Boys don't do that. Generally speaking, anyway. Otherwise, kittens are CLEARLY the better option."
The four of us laughed at that. The rest of the diner turned back to their meals. Our meal done, we concluded we had better pay and go, snickering the whole time. As we left the diner, we decided to walk around a bit, to take in the view.
Up and down Congress we walked. It was Second Saturday, and the freaks were out in full force. A number of people had dressed up as four legged things resembling elephants, and some others had dressed up as people who reminded me vaguely of a game called Warhammer 40k, or maybe of Krampus, some demon who kidnaps naughty children on Christmas Eve, if he also herded animals. The elephantine creatures, every time traffic stopped for a light, would gallop away through the streets. It was amazing and bizzarre, and fascinating to watch. There were bands, and stalls selling all kinds of novelties and craftsy things. It was bustling, crowded, and there was so many things going on I'm sure I missed most of the good stuff.
But there we were, walking down Fourth Ave., when who should my eyes have espied but Shayne. Shayne, the compulsive liar to everyone about everything, repeated thief of my shit, and general sociopath. Shayne, abuser of women, particularly my bestie, Torch. Shayne, the only person to ever have actually earned my burning, unending loathing. All that rose in my memory and my gullet like a wave. How I hated him. How I despised him. How I wished I could wipe the ever-present smirk off his stupid face. Preferrably with something sharp, like a bag of broken glass.
He spotted me at nearly the same time as I did him, and came over to say hi. I can hear you asking me, "If you hate him so much, why would he be coming over to you? Does he know how you feel?" Why yes, gentle reader, he does. As to why, I can only assume it's because I guess that's what you do if you see someone you know.
I was seething, enraged; how dare he intrude on my good day? He was wearing that winning, confident smile that so set me on edge as he approached. "Hey, Nicole, long time no see! How are you?"
He wasn't being particularly offensive, I thought as I grit my teeth, so I supposed that it wouldn't be polite to get hostile right away. "I've been fine. Torch has been doing great, too." He looked at me blankly. Just then I noticed some chick hovering possessively behind him. She was skinny, technically pretty, and vapid looking. She was also looking at me in a weird way. Sort of
judgementally.
I took a quick stock of myself: old, worn, ill-fitting jeans and T-shirt; a bit on the heavy side, with bad teeth that gives me that meth-mouth look; hanging out with a middle aged couple and some pale freak. Even so, she had no right to be judging me and my friends. Oh well, so much for polite.
"I see you have a new lady friend! My, you do go through them, don't you? Is this one your main squeeze or are you seeing her behind someone's back?" I put on a look of polite curiosity. Inside, I crowed as his face turned red and he balled his fists. So what? I thought. So fucking what if he hits me? It'll be worth it. I recalled a Subgenius commandment from The Book of the Subgenius, "Don't just eat a cheeseburger, eat the hell out of that cheeseburger!" Well, I was certainly taking the situation to The Wall (in the internet¿ discordian sense), but I was thinking to myself I think I'm about to bust through it.
I resisted looking around at the others. I sensed that if I showed weakness, if I took my eyes off him for a minute, stopped daring him to punch me in the face, he really would. He looked at Alty, looked at Roger. Alty is a skinny dude, but he's really tall, and doesn't look like a push over. Roger is just intimidating in every possible way, including his personality, even when he's just standing there doing nothing. I realized that Shayne would probably walk away, and felt a measure of disappointment that I would not be trading blows with him; the only time in my life when I would have done so with anyone.
"Whatever, you stupid bitch," he said. I tried, I really tried, but I couldn't stop the condescending laughter as it burst out of me. He turned even more red, then said "Come on," to his girl toy as they walked away.
*****
It was getting dark as we approached the day's final destination, the shrine of the Black Madonna. Hidden away in what I believe is technically South Tucson, it stands out of place, a wall of ancient conrete blocks standing alone next to a small gift shop. It was once part of a building, or so it looks. According to local legend, it had been moved to the current resting place for reasons unknown. A creepy, spooky vibe surrounded it. A candle altar, such as you might find in a Catholic church, was filled with long-dead Virgin Mary candles. Rolled up papers were stuck in the cracks in the mortar. Local legend has it that they are prayers from the damned—so damned as to be irredeemable in God's eyes—to the Black Madonna.
Alty dared me to shout at the wall, any old thing would do. The place just had that kind of creepy vibe, the kind where you're not sure if what brushed against your leg was a piece of seaweed or some eldritch elder god from beyond time and space. So you stood against the fear, to show it who's the real corporeal threat 'round these parts. Ptui.
"I AINT SCURRED!" I whisper-shouted. I hesitated for a minute, then took a deep breath and hollered, "IF YOU'RE GOING TO EAT THAT CHEESEBURGER, EAT THE GODDAMNED HELL OUT OF IT!"
Awesome!
Fantastic and hilarious!
But now I am :sad:. I've never been sunroofing.
Thanks you guise. :D
It's great!
Are we going sunroofing?
Will I need health insurance?
We're all out of bullets, thanks to TGRR's binge. He took the Bisleys too, on his quest for Curly, damn him.
I would never suggest against health insurance when it comes to Tucson.
Quote from: Sister Fracture on February 23, 2012, 09:40:06 PM
We're all out of bullets, thanks to TGRR's binge. He took the Bisleys too, on his quest for Curly, damn him.
I would never suggest against health insurance when it comes to Tucson.
HIS binge?
Quote from: Alty on February 23, 2012, 09:23:25 PM
It's great!
Are we going sunroofing?
Will I need health insurance?
Guns are wrecked, van is dead, Jeep ain't looking too good.
Naw, I think we'll satisify ourselves with dragging you around the legal district & central filth by the ankles.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on February 23, 2012, 09:41:45 PM
Quote from: Sister Fracture on February 23, 2012, 09:40:06 PM
We're all out of bullets, thanks to TGRR's binge. He took the Bisleys too, on his quest for Curly, damn him.
I would never suggest against health insurance when it comes to Tucson.
HIS binge?
:lol: So Enabler and I helped. Big deal.
Hey I only just got around to reading this one.
If you want feedback, well frankly I was too caught up in the story to find anything to improve, so that's good :)
In the first version, there was something that "hiccupped", but on re-reading I can't find the bit again, so it was probably me (I'm just looking for parts to criticism, here, since that's what you want, right?) Maybe, you could clear up the part where you shoot things a bit, you're on someone's private property and shooting the signs? But that's probably just me, I like to know what's going on before it's described and that you're not doing that is a literary technique that maybe it's just me that finds it confusing but you see it everywhere so, yeah.
I forgot that Alty came to visit you btw, when was this?
Also TCC = Tucson Convention Center? :lulz:
About the second version:
The bit about tater tots + cheese is kind of "insular", it's just there but doesn't quite connect to the rest of the story. Maybe you can link it better somehow, or perhaps bring up tater tots (as a metaphor or simile or whatever) a bit later up. Just cause you could leave it out and it wouldn't change anything. Another way to glue it into the story would maybe be if you'd use it to set the scene or something. I dunno.
The other bit about Alty's rant kind of seems to fall out of nowhere in this version. The "Alty's face began to fall" part sort of leads it in, but maybe you can make it more .. ominous? I mean, there is a silence already (which can be described more portentiously or such), and then his face falls (off?? hihi ;) like a mask) and then the background all sorts of fades away and gets dark, a spotlight turns on Alty and his voice has this, like, vicar quality to it, not quite booming, but it would have been as he spoke from the pulpit: "... [BOYS! ETC!]"
The Shayne scene could use some sort of closure, an ending, but then you'd have to make up stuff that didn't happen.
Remember, I'm really looking hard to find critiques here, scraping the barrel kinda, cause I know you want feedback. I enjoyed the story!!
The trip hasn't happened yet, Trip.
I leave Tuesday. :noodledance:
ETA: Not that that means anything, what with the time/space bending.
QuoteThe other bit about Alty's rant kind of seems to fall out of nowhere in this version. The "Alty's face began to fall" part sort of leads it in, but maybe you can make it more .. ominous? I mean, there is a silence already (which can be described more portentiously or such), and then his face falls (off?? hihi ;) like a mask) and then the background all sorts of fades away and gets dark, a spotlight turns on Alty and his voice has this, like, vicar quality to it, not quite booming, but it would have been as he spoke from the pulpit: "... [BOYS! ETC!]"
Also, This wouldn't happen in real life. I know I said this was a made up story, but I had to pretend that it really happened, because it was supposed to be a thing about something that really happened.
Separate from this, is how nonsequiter it is. Well, yeah. It's supposed to have been sticking in Alty's mind for a while, and finally he
has to say something, and then it sort of gets out of control.
Thanks for your critique! I realize now that I'm probably not supposed to debate it, but oh well. :lol:
It doesn't sound like you're debating anything :)
Also the bit you highlighted, yes that wouldn't happen in real life, but you can dramaticize it, like
---
We dug into our meals, and it was the first silence of the day. But this day being how it was, there could be no such thing. Alty swallowed something his mind had been chewing on. The built-up pressure released and it was like the background faded to a blur, a spotlight turned on Alty, even though nothing changed in the lighting of the diner. His plastic chair was the as everybody else's, but it might as well have been a pulpit. His voice wasn't booming, but given the other things that really shouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary, it might as well have been.
---
See? All perfectly true! ;-)
Quote from: Triple Zero on February 26, 2012, 01:15:54 AM
It doesn't sound like you're debating anything :)
Also the bit you highlighted, yes that wouldn't happen in real life, but you can dramaticize it, like
---
We dug into our meals, and it was the first silence of the day. But this day being how it was, there could be no such thing. Alty swallowed something his mind had been chewing on. The built-up pressure released and it was like the background faded to a blur, a spotlight turned on Alty, even though nothing changed in the lighting of the diner. His plastic chair was the as everybody else's, but it might as well have been a pulpit. His voice wasn't booming, but given the other things that really shouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary, it might as well have been.
---
See? All perfectly true! ;-)
Why don't you write more story deals? You should!
I'll think about it ... I was going to argue about how long it took me to write that, figuring it had to be 30 minutes or so, but looking back at my yesterday's Internet history it must have been about only 10 minutes. So I could write an amazing 6-paragraph column story in under an hour! Hmmm.
My last story was about space gorillas and an assaulted peanut pun. Are you sure?
Also thanks for the compliment btw :D [and feel free to use those bits if they fit in your story of course] [the bits about Alty, not the peanut pun]
Quote from: Triple Zero on February 26, 2012, 05:20:34 PM
My last story was about space gorillas and an assaulted peanut pun. Are you sure?
VERY YES.
Quote from: Triple Zero on February 26, 2012, 05:21:47 PM
Also thanks for the compliment btw :D [and feel free to use those bits if they fit in your story of course] [the bits about Alty, not the peanut pun]
Final draft has already been turned in, unfortunately.
WHO'S THE SEXY BEAST GOT DAMN NEAR PERFECT ON THIS FUCKER? OH SNAP, ITS ME.
BEGINNING GRABS READER'S ATTENTION: FUCKIN' 5/5
STORY HAS CLEAR PLOT DEVELOPMENT: FUCKIN' 5/5
USES SCENES: FUCKIN' 5/5
CONCRETE SHOWING: FUCKIN' 5/5 AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS.
CONCRETE SHOWING IN RELEVANT PARTS: FUCKIN' 5/5. STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS.
CLEARLY ILLUSTRATES A VALUE/BELIEF: FUCKIN' 5/5
REFLECTION IS INSIGHTFUL AND WELL BALANCED: FUCKIN' 5/5
DIALOGUE SOUND NATURAL AND IS TECHNICALLY CORRECT: FUCKIN' 5/5
ENDING IS SATISFYING AND REINFORCES YOUR POINT: FUCKIN 5/5
FREE FROM GRAMMAR AND PUNCTUATION ERRORS: 4/5 CUZ I MISSED A DASH SOMEWHERE.
240/250. SUCK MY HUGE THROBBING DICK, CLASSMATES WHO AREN'T SMART ENOUGH TO GET THIS SHIT.
FUCK YEAH.
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on March 06, 2012, 07:11:00 PM
WHO'S THE SEXY BEAST GOT DAMN NEAR PERFECT ON THIS FUCKER? OH SNAP, ITS ME.
BEGINNING GRABS READER'S ATTENTION: FUCKIN' 5/5
STORY HAS CLEAR PLOT DEVELOPMENT: FUCKIN' 5/5
USES SCENES: FUCKIN' 5/5
CONCRETE SHOWING: FUCKIN' 5/5 AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS.
CONCRETE SHOWING IN RELEVANT PARTS: FUCKIN' 5/5. STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS.
CLEARLY ILLUSTRATES A VALUE/BELIEF: FUCKIN' 5/5
REFLECTION IS INSIGHTFUL AND WELL BALANCED: FUCKIN' 5/5
DIALOGUE SOUND NATURAL AND IS TECHNICALLY CORRECT: FUCKIN' 5/5
ENDING IS SATISFYING AND REINFORCES YOUR POINT: FUCKIN 5/5
FREE FROM GRAMMAR AND PUNCTUATION ERRORS: 4/5 CUZ I MISSED A DASH SOMEWHERE.
240/250. SUCK MY HUGE THROBBING DICK, CLASSMATES WHO AREN'T SMART ENOUGH TO GET THIS SHIT.
FUCK YEAH.
Fucking far out! Way to go, Freeky!
FUCK YEAH. I RESERVE THE RIGHT TO SPEAK AND THINK IN ALL CAPS TODAY.
ME = WINNAR
Yay, good job Freeky! Way to go!
YAYUH. :D
Whoa, well done FREEKY!!
Enjoy your capital celebrations, you've earned them!
I pretty much pulled this out of my ass last night over the space of six hours, maybe a bit less.
_________________________________________________
GOVERNMENT? IN MY BANKS!?
(It's more reasonable than you think!)
In late 2007 to early 2008, after nearly three decades of financial stability, the economy began its catastrophic collapse. The people of America began asking who was responsible for this. Well, that's a complicated answer, but the short form is "Too Big to Fail." "Too Big to Fail" is a term used in reference to major, interconnected banks—primarily Citibank, Bank of America, and CHASE bank. The term itself is deceitful. It implies that these banks cannot fail, when in reality they only survived with massive government intervention. So it was that TARP came to be, and the banks did not become insolvent, and Congress did create the Dodd-Frank Act. The Dodd-Frank Act brought heavier regulation to the banking sector. Four years later, matters have stabilized, and the times are less dire, but has enough been done to prevent another financial disaster? What could be done to bring greater preventative measures to Wall Street and beyond? Heavier government regulation and reform in the shape of getting rid of "Too Big to Fail" is possibly the financial sector's best hope.
In the years preceding the 2007 financial crash, America had had incredible financial stability. According to director of research at the Federal Reserve Bank of Dallas Harvey Rosenblum, over the span of twenty-five years, only five percent of that time period was spent in a recession (4). The total time was thirty-two months—one 16-month long recession between July 1981 and November 1982, and two 8-month long recessions between July 1990 and March 1991 and March 2001 and November 2001 (NBER.org). During this time, says Rosenblum, the public sector became complacent, and with that complacency came a relaxing of regulation, "explicitly in law and implicitly in enforcement (4)." Clearly, a system that relaxes regulation in times of plenty, when it was those same regulations that got the system to good times in the first place, is one that needs more oversight, with a greater sense of foresight.
The whole episode seems to have started when the housing bubble finally burst, and banks which held garbage loans could not collect on them and went bankrupt. Rosenblum informs us that policy makers became alarmed when they saw that it was not just small banks, but the large, globally interconnected ones, too, who were greatly affected. They feared that losing even one of them would lead to a ripple effect, destroying other banks and the economy. This did happen. When Lehman Brothers declared bankruptcy in 2008, capital markets froze, and it took Congress and TARP to unfreeze the capital and prevent any more huge banks from collapsing(11). Policy makers weren't wrong to be afraid, but perhaps the collapse could have been prevented with more government control.
The Dodd-Frank Act was the act of a desperate government. With the people clamoring for a financial sector fix, and fingers being pointed in every direction (recall the chaos and political strife that year), they wrote a massive restructuring for banks. However, the legislation was vast and covered many areas of the financial sector, and Rosenblum tells us that dozens of agencies working to turn this legislation into regulation may not be finished until 2013 at the earliest. So far, the new laws have not helped the economy to recover, "and may have inadvertently undermined growth by adding uncertainty to the future. (17)" It seems that this is too little, too late, and too confusing by half.
An added complication to this revamping is the business of banks. Banks have lawyers and money and corporate personhood with political pull, all effective at resisting government regulation. Rosenblum points out these obvious facts, and couples them with the logical assumption that banks will use these things to twist whatever legislation that may be passed to their own benefit (21). Business is business, and what is a business's purpose other than to make more money?
The final hurdle to the law working on its own, or without the need for laws and regulations in general, is the human element. Rosenblum has this very apt observation to offer about people:
Quote
"Periodic stresses that roil the financial system can't be wished away or legislated out of existence. They arise from human weaknesses—the complacency that comes from sustained good times, the greed and irresponsibility that run riot without market discipline, the exuberance that overrules common sense, the complicity that results from going along with the crowd. We should be vigilant for these failings, but we're unlikely to change them. They're a natural part of our human DNA." (21)
In other words, people are incapable of working towards what is best for everyone versus what is going to get them the biggest personal reward. This is the reason laws and governments exist in the first place.
There those out there who would rather there be less regulation on the financial system on the grounds that companies that make more money will give their employees more money. Robert Dell, a commercial real estate banker in Atlanta, and Mark Perry, a professor of finance and economics at the University in Michigan, suggest that instead of more laws and regulations, banks instead keep more tangible capital on hand (American.com, More Equity, Less Government: Rethinking Bank Regulation). This seems like a reasonable solution on the surface, until the part of the equation where humans are dealing with more even more amounts of wealth. One can simply look at what Goldman-Sachs did with their share of TARP money—pay cuts for all employees, huge bonuses for the board!—to see the logic of giving any one business more money when they have proven they can't be trusted with a lesser amount, not to mention that would require printing more money, which would devalue the dollar even further, plunging the country into another recession fueled by huge inflation.
So what will be required to break up the Too Big to Fail banks? Rosenblum suggests that it will be breaking up the centralized nature of the Too Big to Fail banks, and the concentration of wealth and capital. This will not be easy, for a number of reasons he describes. The first (and biggest) is how to go about breaking them up. The second is how broken up is safe enough. The third is that, with as much clout as the financial sector has, Too Big To Fail institutions will fight as hard as they can against any attempt at being broken up (21). Difficult barriers, indeed.
The government has already passed legislation restructuring financial institutions and the way in which they may operate, but it will be another year at least before it becomes effective, if indeed it will be. Another crash and recession such as the one America is slowly pulling itself out of now is unacceptable. Giving banks more money, real money, is preposterous on several levels. The only thing that makes sense is to pull power away from and decentralize our wealth that the Too Big To Fail institutions have acquired.
Very nicely put.
Not the way to win. You gotta go TED Talk on this one, guhl.
Quote from: navkat on April 14, 2012, 03:33:45 AM
Not the way to win. You gotta go TED Talk on this one, guhl.
TED talk?
Also, that last one is a weekly, so I don't really care, and the other one was graded on originality and depth.
Freeky: Why the fuck aren't you published yet? :)
Quote from: Anna Mae Bollocks on April 14, 2012, 06:19:04 AM
Freeky: Why the fuck aren't you published yet? :)
I got one done once. The subject was "Who do you think ought to be president?" and I talked up TGRR a whole bunch. :lol:
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on April 14, 2012, 10:52:09 PM
Quote from: Anna Mae Bollocks on April 14, 2012, 06:19:04 AM
Freeky: Why the fuck aren't you published yet? :)
I got one done once. The subject was "Who do you think ought to be president?" and I talked up TGRR a whole bunch. :lol:
I'd like to read that one. :lol:
I approve of this ^^^
Fuck yeah, Freeky.
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on April 15, 2012, 04:46:24 AM
There is a man in Tucson who goes by the name of The Good Reverend Roger. He will never run, and he doesn't have the answers, and he doesn't represent anyone but himself. What he is is a man with a very strong sense of ethics, personality, justice, and what is right, as well as a good grasp on how people work. It is this man who I would want as president above all others.
The Good Reverend has a very hands-off approach when it comes to personal choices. Abortion, pot, religion, gay marriage, these things, he says, are all up to the person involved. A person who can't choose these things are not free.
Reverend Roger has a very hands-ON approach to corporation and big business control. As the most successful manager in his field in a worldwide corporation that deals in oil (among other things), he knows the ins and outs of what they are really doing business for, and it isn't the interests of "the little guy."
The Good Reverend loves the constitution, and it fills him with rage (I've borne witness to a good many of his rants and tirades) to see it ripped to shreds, dying by inches. His concern over the freedom of speech and the freedom of the press bothers him the most, I think, because of his life-long pursuit of truth. The approval of torture and imprisonment without a fair trial is a close second, if not tied with first place.
He is a great lover of history, and he sees in the current situation an obvious parallel with the Roman Empire, fifty years before it's fall. A common saying of his is "We're only getting what we deserve as a nation. The monkeys don't deserve freedom!" And then he laughs, but it's an angry laugh, all the same.
So why do I believe that he should be president, and be a good president at that? Because he knows how politics and people work. He knows how the government works. He is a decent human being with a strong regard for freedom. And he can't possibly be worse than what we've got right now.
It would be funnier, anyway.
Well, yeah, but I didn't want to tell THEM that. :lol:
What would be even funnier is doing away with the presidency and running the whole country just like PD.
IMHO it would actually be an improvement.
WHOOPSIE DAISIE. I just got an email from my writing teacher saying that she thinks I plagiarized my essay. I guess I'd better take these other ones down, because, you know. Plagiarism. I don't do it.
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on May 04, 2012, 06:57:08 PM
WHOOPSIE DAISIE. I just got an email from my writing teacher saying that she thinks I plagiarized my essay. I guess I'd better take these other ones down, because, you know. Plagiarism. I don't do it.
Did you get called out for plagiarizing yourself?
Quote from: I am a Guru named Coyote on May 04, 2012, 07:21:54 PM
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on May 04, 2012, 06:57:08 PM
WHOOPSIE DAISIE. I just got an email from my writing teacher saying that she thinks I plagiarized my essay. I guess I'd better take these other ones down, because, you know. Plagiarism. I don't do it.
Did you get called out for plagiarizing yourself?
I have no idea. She didn't say where she found my plagiarism at. If I did plagiarize, that'd be some astronomical bad luck because I DID write it my own damn self.
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on May 04, 2012, 06:57:08 PM
WHOOPSIE DAISIE. I just got an email from my writing teacher saying that she thinks I plagiarized my essay. I guess I'd better take these other ones down, because, you know. Plagiarism. I don't do it.
Just tell her that you post your essays on a forum, and tell her your handle. Tell her that if she wants you'll post a code phrase of her choosing so you can prove it's you.
Quote from: Nigel on May 05, 2012, 12:21:26 AM
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on May 04, 2012, 06:57:08 PM
WHOOPSIE DAISIE. I just got an email from my writing teacher saying that she thinks I plagiarized my essay. I guess I'd better take these other ones down, because, you know. Plagiarism. I don't do it.
Just tell her that you post your essays on a forum, and tell her your handle. Tell her that if she wants you'll post a code phrase of her choosing so you can prove it's you.
That's exactly what I did when I read the email. I'm still frustrated and agitated, though, because she might not check her email until next week, and she gave me a 0/250 because of this.
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on May 05, 2012, 12:31:03 AM
Quote from: Nigel on May 05, 2012, 12:21:26 AM
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on May 04, 2012, 06:57:08 PM
WHOOPSIE DAISIE. I just got an email from my writing teacher saying that she thinks I plagiarized my essay. I guess I'd better take these other ones down, because, you know. Plagiarism. I don't do it.
Just tell her that you post your essays on a forum, and tell her your handle. Tell her that if she wants you'll post a code phrase of her choosing so you can prove it's you.
That's exactly what I did when I read the email. I'm still frustrated and agitated, though, because she might not check her email until next week, and she gave me a 0/250 because of this.
I'm sure she'll reverse it. A lot of savvy teachers search quotes pulled from student essays, though, to make sure they aren't plagiarizing, so it's a good idea to not post until AFTER you've received your grade, and also to specify in each post that you wrote the essay for (class name).
Oh, and if she gives you any flak, just save them until after the end of term and then post them. They're your IP, you have a right to.
Yeah, it didn't occur to me because Adventures In Real Life didn't raise any objections, and I posted it the same day it was due.
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on May 05, 2012, 03:32:29 AM
Yeah, it didn't occur to me because Adventures In Real Life didn't raise any objections, and I posted it the same day it was due.
You would think she'd look at the rest of the thread and realize, oh, this is clearly the SAME STUDENT.
So, this is a mistake I won't make again. This whole misunderstanding has really made me want to say "Fuck it," and take an F, because who wants to work after being accused of stealing your own shit? Which is bad. bad bad bad.
You need to laugh this off, and talk to the teacher. Once you explain the situation, there's no way she'll dock you points.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on May 08, 2012, 03:11:49 PM
You need to laugh this off, and talk to the teacher. Once you explain the situation, there's no way she'll dock you points.
Yeah.
So, misunderstanding cleared up. She was suspicious of the thing because it was "too professional."
peedee,
Teaching people how to sound like they know wtf they're talking about since the Nixon administration.
You should say, "Does that mean I just tested out of this class?"
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on May 08, 2012, 07:16:43 PM
You should say, "Does that mean I just tested out of this class?"
I should have done that. :lulz: