Whether you’re listening to The Cranberries or playing the latest co-op FPS, you need to be prepared to handle a zombie. When the real apocalypse comes, you need to know where to find a crowbar. In fact, I’ve compiled a good list of advice we should all take for the impending terror. Gun rights are rubbish. I’m not saying that we need to ban guns. Quite the contrary! I’m saying that we need to start tracking where all the guns are. Let’s face it: a crowbar will only get you…read more
I’ve always been a great hunter. They say I’ve managed to cut the local animal population in half. I doubt that. It certainly hasn’t slowed down my sport if it has. My brother? He likes to cook. He likes to garden. He has the most pathetic beard I’ve ever seen. I don’t think he has ever been away from Mother for more than a day. It’s just embarrassing. One time I was away from home on a long hunting trip. I was hunting animals for their skins. I ended up…read more
(*Amanda, I hope you don’t mind if I use your name. I didn’t want to write about gas prices. Thanks for the idea, too, even if you don’t think you came up with it.) A: “Welcome to 90.4, WSPF, Orlando, Florida! I’m your host, Amanda. This morning we will be talking about the benefits of skin cancer.” A: “Here’s our first caller, Gregory. Greg–may I call you Greg?–how are you this morning?” G: “I’d rather you call me Gregory. I’m doing rather well this morning. I used plenty of sunscreen,…read more
I really should be saying goodbye to all my friends. This is my fourth year at Southern Adventist University. That wasn’t God’s plan, though. I arrived on campus with braces, short hair, and 17 short years of life experience. I was excited to be going to Southern. I had applied to Union, Andrews, and Southern. Andrews would have been the least expensive (not kidding, their merit-based scholarships rock), Union would have been the least helpful (they don’t have any programs I was interested in), but Southern seemed a perfect fit. …read more
Imagine a world where the laws of physics were more like the rules of grammar (too many exceptions, senseless at times, confusing, unknown by most people, etc.)…. For an object to move, force must be applied to it. An object whose mass is less than that of the combined masses of any objects within the squared diameter of it may, however, move on its own, provided it never comes in contact with any object travelling in an equal and opposite fashion, regardless of size. Also, any object whose mass is…read more
Do you know how to capitalize titles? I always have the hardest time with that. I think I finally figured it out, though, with some help from Google and Wikipedia. The unfortunate downside: I will never look at titles the same way. I will be critical henceforth. Nouns, pronouns, adjectives, adverbs, non-infinitive particles, subordinate conjunctions, the first word, and the last word should ALWAYS be capitalized in titles. Articles, coordinating conjunctions and infinitives, and prepositional phrases should be lowercase, as long as they are middle words. I will give some…read more
“They’ve never even been to Cambodia!” “Who’s to say that’s an entirely negative thing?” “They can’t be authorities on a subject if they haven’t even seen it.” “So you’re saying that blind people can’t ever be authoritative figures.” “No, I’m saying that to be an authority on issues of Cambodian lifestyles, you have to at least visit there.” “Okay. Basically nobody really knows a thing about the stars, then.” “Seriously? We can all see the stars. People with giant telescopes have become experts…” “You really hate blind people, don’t you?”…read more
Today at lunch, Robby quoted some Shakespeare. He couldn’t remember from what play it was, though, so he wanted to look it up on his phone. The phrase: “…and pity ’tis, ’tis true.” The method for research: iPhone + voice recognition. The result: “and titties tits big boobs” I’ll admit that they do sound somewhat similar, and I’m happy that technology always assumes that people are irreputable characters in constant search of irreputable things. (*Side note: “irreputable” is a word. Spell-check is telling me it isn’t. Spell-check is wrong.)
If I were a poet, I’d write more poetry.
Well, I’m not, and I’d hate to
write verse with symmetry,
as the distant cousin of prose was made to
be simply confounding
and utterly meaningless,
with few words resounding,
after mess of wordy disasters
made sappy and long-winded
by teens, tweens, and other poetry “masters”.
I will not rescind it,
my unbiased opinion of that horrid thing
deemed poetry by some, and by others, trash.
Of complainers, I’m king,
for which I am proud and others call me brash.
My reasons are as follows,
in no particular order,
for why poetry should be sent to the gallows,
or, if preferred, drawn and quartered:
For years since the invention of paper,
as the Chinese evidently pioneered,
we’ve seen acceptable rhyming taper
into something that has veered? been feared? at which people have jeered?
Anyway, something that allows rhyming “to” with “to”
as I did in the first four lines of this poem.
And, as most people would do,
poets in modern times have taken it upon themselves to completely abandon rhyming, rhythm, and symmetry altogether, opting instead for long bits of prose, falsely presented to the public as poetry. Unfortunately for those of us that occasionally enjoy a good read, such “poetry” is not. Although that sort has been rid of the extra baggage that rhyming, rhythm, and symmetry have added to poetry, it still carries the weight of a feather floating on the breezes of time, with an orange jacket tucked into the corner of the universe itself, like the gentle kiss of morning’s dew on the earth in the autumn leaves.
Copacetic is a good word. I was watching “The Mentalist” last night while eating my CK enchiladas, which I decided are not too bad, when Robby came in the room. Not twenty seconds later, somebody on the show said the word “copacetic”. Robby loved it. Today, Robby figured out where he first heard the word. It was in the movie “Catch Me if You Can”, a very good movie. He couldn’t remember the name of the character, though… “he’s… the… DaVinci’s father?….” I, of course, immediately was thinking of Tom…read more