Cork on the Fork

It has been asked whether or not I would go to War if in some
hypothetical instance I was drafted, and my answer is yes.

I
don’t enjoy fighting, that’s for sure, and I’m probably not much for
marksmanship.  I think George W. Bush is borderline retarded and
the War with Iraq is really just a crusade for Oil consumed by
Americans totally unnecessary sport utility vehicles and outdated
industrial operations. I don’t enjoy shooting people for no reason
other than the fact that I’m in a different army than them, and I
don’t see why soldiers should have to pay the ultimate price for
something they will never receive. 

So why would I go? Because I don’t want someone to go in my place.
I don’t feel its my duty to fight in a US Sanctioned War, but I do
feel its my duty to prevent someone else from dying in a war that I
wouldn’t participate in.  At first it would feel great to avoid
it, "Hey, I don’t have to fight in this stupid war, I claimed I was
blind in my left eye and they said I was unfit to serve. I’m
protesting this war, and I refuse to be a part of it."

What happens
when they send another guy in place of you? What happens when your
neighbors gets a telegram telling them their son died in a fight over
some worthless pile of sand?

Can you look them in the eye and say,
"So what? I’m opposed to the War."

I couldn’t do that. I just
couldn’t.

Remember, it is your duty to protest an unjust or
unnecessary war, but protest doesn’t guarantee that there will be a
peaceful resolution.

And on the Seventh Day, there was the Suitemates Update.

I don’t
know what to write about today, but I found this intriguing picture of
one of my suitemates today and decided I would write about it.

Have You Seen This Man?

Steve: “I’m going to a group meeting. Ill be back in an hour.”                                               

Me: “Alright.”

As I write this, Steve has been missing for 26
hours.

A fascinating individual with no known ties to people outside
of the Illuminati Order, Steve has been known to disappear for days on
end with no explanation as to why or where. Perhaps this is what makes
Steve so fundamentally frightening.

I plan on updating with other
suite members as soon as possible. Be ready Guys!

I never knew what to do with my life. Hell, I still don’t know what
I’m doing with my life.

who craves more time to spend alone everyday
withdrawing farther and farther to where I feel safe
but the farther I go, the lonelier I get
and it just continues

I typed this without realizing what I was
doing, and it seems I typed something I didn’t even realize I knew.

Will you remember me in 15 years?
I don’t know what I’ll remember in 15 years.
but you’re not so forgettable
also, I’m gambling on yes.
I’m going to remember you
I want it to at least line up in the space time continuum

Sometimes,
when I feel my very lowest…I think I’m somehow closer to my deep
conscious. Things I can’t realize about myself at other times seem
clearer in that instant.

he sounds like a great guy
you don’t know him.
I’m happy for you
he is, but you still don’t know him
I know you
and I know you like him
that’s enough

To sum it up – I don’t have people I can talk to in my
daily life, and I don’t think I should. I’ve spent years talking to
myself instead, and I think I’ve developed something a lot of people
try to deny in themselves.

Aside – This has got to be the most vague and unorganized peace of
tripe I’ve ever written………. but what the Hell.

In Other News:

– Jon Stewart writes a mean essay

– PJ owes me $10

– As I write
this sentence PJ returns. Its Galactic Battlegrounds Time.

If you strike me down, I’ll become more powerful
than you can possibly imagine.

What if Tiny Tim had been a rapper?

Tiptoe to da window, by da window dat’s  where I’ll be
Come tiptoe trough da tulips wit me, Kill a negro etc.

This is just one of the myriad thoughts that crossed through my
mind today.

UREC in the morning was largely uninteresting except for the
PJ/Paul weight competition.

– PJ – 132 Pounds                                                                                                              

– Paul – 134 Pounds

Repeated three times for assurance.

I hold a 2 Ib Weight Advantage, Hoorah.  However, the pain of
learning that I have dwindled to PJ’s size was incomparable to the
other pain that morning: Walking through the Men’s Locker Room.

Now, there is nothing I hate more than bare Man-Bottom and this was
no exception. I’ve spent my life resigned to the fact that I could
never enter another Urine Soaked Public Pool because of the Risk of
witnessing Man-Bottom in its full glory in some shanty-like Men’s
Locker Room. Walking into the communal bathroom every morning always
fearing that one drunken male (age 19-23) has forgotten to wear pants
begins to wear on my mind.

I saw Man-Bottom today my friends, And I don’t think I’ll ever be
the same.

Queen is indeed the Best Band of All Time.  I will never be
able to mimic what Freddie Mercury does with his voice in Bohemian
Rhapsody (Almost flutters “Mama, ooh, Didn’t mean to make you cry”)
but I can still listen to it.

We are what we love, not what loves us.

I’ve been popping Sudafed and Ibuprofen like they’re candy lately,
but this God Forsaken Cold will not cure itself. I looked like a huge
crack addict today because I cut my hand on a desk then couldn’t use
it to open the Safety Seal on the bottle of Motrin.  I had to try
opening it with just one hand and proceeded to pour them (the pills)
in the direction of my mouth which resulted in a cascade of little
white capsules down my coat. It was hard communicating  (without
speaking mind you, my mouth was full of pills)  to the Professor
who watched me struggle to quench my thirst for medication, what
exactly I was doing without being arrested on Narcotics charges.

Who Sucks:

– Those Girls in my Health Class who will not, ever,
stop talking.

– The vending machine guy who stocked Mountain Dew Code Red and A&W
Root Beer at the same time. I should have known not to mix the two
deadliest and carbonated (respectively) soft drinks.

Who’s Cool:

– Freddie Mercury

– Steve (For providing me with endless comedic relief after
consuming a Diet Dr. Pepper and wincing in pain as it ravaged his
internal organs)

– People who listen (You know I don’t ask for it  a lot
people)

Who’s Neutral:

Sam Beckett

No wait, he’s cool. he just looks neutral.

I’m no friggin’ monument to justice! I lost my
hand! I lost my bride! Johnny has his hand! Johnny has his bride! You
want me to take my heartache, put it away and forget?

In One Day:

– PHPNuke Installed

– Website Content Imported

–
Men’s Gymnastics?

– Chick Fila and Cannibal Corpse

The Joy of watching Chris Riechers laugh so hard that he cried is
unparalleled in Modern Society. Apparently, pretending my hand is a
Microphone and reciting the worlds most horrific lyrics into it while
simultaneously speaking in a low psychotic voice created a state of
near hilarity Nirvana, the likes of which have never been seen before.

Listen, it’s not that I don’t enjoy some aspects of Men’s
Gymnastics… its just hard for me to keep from wincing every time a
guy does the splits from a  full flip.  I really wished I
had seen the Women’s Gymnastic Team instead because they have the
ribbon dancing, which is really superior to anything else I can
imagine someone doing with a floor mat or a piece of equipment.

Pure Evil

Alright you primitive screwheads, listen up! You see this? This, is
my boomstick. It�s a 12 gauge double-barreled Remington, S-Marts top
of the line. You can find this in the sporting goods department.
That�s right, this sweet baby was made in Grand Rapids, Michigan,
retails for about $109.95. It�s got a walnut stock, cobalt blue steel,
and a hair trigger. That�s Right, Shop smart. Shop S-Mart.

All this talk about Corpses and whatnot has led me to recall my Bruce
Campbell Fetish.

– PJ! Pay Me!

– Jerry
Come Home?

– I had a Stroke?

Sometimes I Feel Like This, Sometimes.

Beckett finally settled down in Paris in 1937. Shortly thereafter,
he was stabbed in the street by a man who had approached him asking
for money. He would learn later, in the hospital, that he had a
perforated lung. After his recovery, he went to visit his assailant in
prison. When asked why he had attacked Beckett, the prisoner replied
“Je ne sais pas, Monsieur”, a phrase hauntingly reminiscent of some of
the lost and confused souls that would populate the writer’s later
works.

I swear to God, If I could be one tenth of what Samuel
Beckett was I could die a happy man.

Changing the Fish Tank Water must frighten  my fish. A huge
tube sucks out all the water you live in and scrapes around in the
blue gravel.  It’s got to be equivalent to a 5 on the 
Fujita Scale of Tornado Intensity.

You’ll notice my unworthy praise to Beckett in the Upper Right Hand
Corner.

Did you know Dukes has Quesadilla’s? They look pretty tasty, well,
tasty to people who enjoy food.

Today’s Featured Item:

I found this on Amazon.com weeks ago in my daily rummaging and it
has haunted my dreams ever since that day.

I thought of buying it for someone I know (Yes, I know Someone),
but realized that would be the equivalent of handing over my immortal
soul to Satan himself.

Maybe someday they will come out with a version of The Lord of
the Rings that is Narrated by James Earl Jones – That would be Hot
because James Earl Jones is James Earl Jones. Plus, he would be
reading The Lord of the Rings.

Oh, on a side note, that David Bowie CD is under 8 bucks.

Alright you sack-fed muck wompets, here is what you came for – the
hilarious or frightening picture of the day:

This is Funny Because:

a) Slimer is drinking

b) Slimer is vomiting

c) Slimer is vomiting on another person

d) The vomitee is wearing Abercrombie and Fitch (presumably)

e) Frat Boys getting vomited on is Hilarious. You know it, I know
it, and the American people know it.

Ray Stantz: You know, it just occurred to me that
we really haven’t had a successful test of this equipment.
Egon Spengler: I blame myself.
Peter Venkman: So do I.
Ray Stantz: Well, no sense in worrying about it now.
Peter Venkman: Why worry? Each one of us is carrying an unlicensed
nuclear accelerator on his back.

Rest In Peace Bill Murray. He’s not dead? What?
Dammit people, keep me informed.

I have fond memories of watching Bill Murray in
Ghostbusters.

15 Laps at UREC before I realized I shouldn’t be running anymore.

I laid down in the Elevator from the third floor to the first, partly
to see what it would be like moving vertically in a  horizontal
position and partly because I couldn’t stand up any longer.

It felt
good to be exhausted physically, it’s the next best thing to being
emotionally exhausted. I feel like I should be doing something with my
energy and since I can’t find an emotional outlet I try to burn it off
like calories.

We had a couple of beers before I drove my sister
to the party. Halfway there I veered over the center divider and felt
like I bumped into something, I veered back and a  second later I
felt another bump.

Later they told me I had crossed over the divider and hit a van
transporting senior citizens.

When they asked the driver of
the van why he didn’t get out of my way he said, “She was veering off
to the side of the road where there wasn’t any railing. I let her hit
me so she wouldn’t drive off that cliff.”

I don’t feel cold
anymore. I ride my bike around campus in shorts and simulate a 0� Wind
Chill, but it doesn’t make a difference. I forgot my keys and had to
ride back and forth across campus, bit I enjoyed it because when I
ride my bike I feel like a kid again – real happy and all.

Note to
Self: Bikes are made to transport One Person. One. I’ve tried riding
on a bike with two people and I nearly killed them when I had to stop
suddenly and they flew off the handlebars.

Learning things like this makes me just a little more depressed
than I should be. Being a white-male I was rather perturbed that
suicide is about 60 times more likely for me than girls I know. 

In Other News:

– I’ve taken to attending Alcohol Abuse and Eating
Disorder Seminars on Campus

– When I take showers I can hear the
water hitting my skull, from the inside. Maybe this is normal, but it
never seemed this loud to me before

– All my pants (One pair) are
too big for me. I have to hold my pants at the belt when I walk around
for fear that they might fall off. I must look like one of those Jnco
kids from 4 years ago.

– That girl in my GPSYC class (The One with
the powder blue shirt and straight brown hair)  had caught my
attention, until she turned around and I saw the huge Tattoo on her
lower back which resembled the Blue Cross/Blue Shield Insurance Logo

– Steve has the Hanta Virus

– Please send me pants

Have you ever gotten to a point in your life when you felt useless
because you weren’t feeding starving children in Somalia or
researching Light Speed Space Travel?

Ever pondered the Sum Total of
Your Existence?

Carl Sagan contemplated
a picture of Earth, taken from the Voyager spacecraft in deep
interplanetary space:

“We
succeeded in taking that picture [from deep space], and, if you look
at it, you see a dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it,
everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived
out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings,
thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines,
every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and
destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple
in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor
and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every
superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history
of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.

“The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the
rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in
glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a
fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the
inhabitants of one corner of the dot on scarcely distinguishable
inhabitants of some other corner of the dot. How frequent their
misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent
their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the
delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are
challenged by this point of pale light.

“Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In
our obscurity — in all this vastness — there is no hint that help
will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us.
It’s been said that astronomy is a humbling, and I might add, a
character-building experience. To my mind, there is perhaps no better
demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image
of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal
more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and
cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.”

Every day I  wake up pissed at
myself because I cant understand why I can’t value any of the things I
do or anything that someone else does. Carl Sagan had it all together
and it makes me want to stab him in the eye with a rusty corkscrew.

I want to know how to feel this way about
the planet, the people, and the places on it.

In Other News:

– Jerry got so annoyed with Julie he
pushed her into some bushes

–
The Speaker at the US Foreign Policy Symposium was very interesting.
Did you know we strong armed the Afghani People into electing Karzai?
It turns out the US values stable governments more than Democratic
ones.

– I spent 6:30 sitting in
plastic chairs today

– PJ got
tricked into Jewing an innocent man for biting his pretzel

– I survived the Hanta Virus

– I’m sorry for using so many quotes in
place of actual, real writing, but I just couldn’t turn Carl down