Misplaced Sleep

It's hard to remember life before middle school. But I remember this one from preschool:

Back in the day, we had these things called Afternoon Naps. The Teachers would lock themselves and us in the Sleeping Room. Then we'd unpack these metal cots and cover up with blankets that we brought from home, complete with teddy bear and Superman designs. When we were all tucked in, the Teachers would shoot out the lights. It used to take them quite a while before they discovered the light switch, because in case you've never rolled your eyes up while the teacher rambles on about trivial and boring things that we would never need later in life, classrooms have a lot of lights. When we were in complete darkness, they'd don their night vision goggles and patrol the room wearing black ninja suits. It wasn't good for someone to be caught awake by our captors.



Being hyper little Energizer bunnies, of course we wouldn't, couldn't sleep. We'd lie, quite uncomfortably, staring at who ever happened to be beside us. When the footsteps belonging to the Teachers came by, we'd squeeze our eyes shut and hoped the Teachers were gullible enough to be fooled by our pretend-sleep: they usually were and we prided ourselves on our acting skills.

If someone needed to go to the restroom, we'd all strain to see through the dark who needed to do their business, only to squeeze them shut as our eyes constricted to the sudden flooding of light through the gateway between unconsciousness and consciousness. Every once in a while, something stupid like a fart or some actually sleeping kid instantly awakening from an unexpected fall to the ground would evoke giggles that spread contagiously throughout the room until the Teachers came and told us to be quiet.

Finally, Afternoon Nap time was over. The light would come on, and we'd all pretend to be extremely annoyed by the rude awakening. We'd grumble, yawn, and rub our eyes. Afterwards, we'd "sleepily" put away all the beds and blankets and return to our classrooms. While we were taking our lessons, then we would finally sleep.

Looking back upon those preschool days, I laugh at the futile efforts of the Teachers to make us sleep. There's all this talk about sleeping for little kids, but it doesn't make sense. If we needed it, then we would sleep. Simple as that. It's a waste of time. We're young, and the world is wide. There's so much more to see than just the back of our eyelids.

I'm sure that they had good intentions for making us sleep. But if we could take all that time when we didn't need it and used it now, in high school. Everything must be balanced (except for fun). We can't have a sleep heavy part of our lives and then all of a sudden no sleep part of life. Then the universe will be thrown into chaos and we'll grow old, get stressed out, and have eye bags.

Art of Studying

Some people study by reading their books. Other people study by reviewing notes. Still others quiz each other.

I believe that studying, in the academical review sense, is an obsolete practice.

In my experience, when people study by reading texts, they merely skim over it. They believe that in para-reading, they will refresh their memory. However, in almost all cases*, people only look at what they already know. Things that they don't know, they won't know to look at. And if you only look at what you already know, then you have expended effort and time for nothing.
The only way that studying by reading is practical is either by actually going through the text word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph and actually paying attention, which is harder said than done. The only other way books are useful if you know that there is something you don't know and you go back to learn that information.
Worst case scenario is that you simply read, but the information passes through without processing.

Other people study by reading notes. This has the potential to be beneficial, unless you wrote the notes yourself. Chances are, you will make the mistake of looking over what you know, since writing down things helps people remember. On that note (no pun intended), you can take it upon yourself to transcribe the notes, which is almost guaranteed to help you remember everything. But writing (and even typing) entire scripts can be quite laborious and time-consuming.

Peer testing might also be a viable way to study, but unless you have high self-discipline, it is quite likely that your study session will degenerate into an entirely different tangent**.

Completing mock tests and reviews are probably the best way to go. Like transcribing, however, it is quite the time consuming, and it assumes that you will not fall prey to procrastination.

I personally tudy very little, if at all.
My philosophy: Either you know it or you don't.
If you don't know it, tough luck. If you do know it, well, then you can pride yourself on avoiding an atrocious, inefficient act in studying. You have saved time, eye strain, and brain strain better spent on self-gratifying activities such as composing blogs and instant messaging.

*Throughout my testing and limited studying career.
**Girls will end up talking about boys and shopping. Guys will end up verbally assaulting each other's mothers and begin a fist-fight. Girls and guy might end up flirting.
Note: This post should not be considered as professional advice on studying. Moufflets is not responsible for any negative results incurred by the influence of this post.

The Ultimate Procrastination Environment

Six projects: English, English, English, English, Biology, and History. Then throw in a pile of math homework that you can't understand.

It's bad alright. But that's not the worst part. The worst part is, none of them are due right away.

This situation is perfect for procrastination. Add in a blog to write, a newly reformatted computer than you need customize to your exact preferences, an Instant Messaging program that you can't seem to shut down, and new book by Matthew Reilly (review coming soon) that you can't wait to read, and a blog to write which you are reading at my expense.

Apparently, middle school, and even first semester was way too easy. I could procrastinate almost as much as I wanted and still be fine. Wikipedia calls it "genius procrastination." But I'm not used to this sudden work overload and now I have degraded into the "tense-afraid" type with a hint of "relaxed."

It frightens me sometimes. Here I am, in my first year of high school, and I'm already feeling overwhelmed. Three more years to go, and not even any APs yet.

But for now, first things first. We always get over it, even if it means cramming.

"Hard work often pays off over time, but laziness always pays off now."

Extra help for those who need it.

Chinese Tea Party

Today, I had to learn how to attend a tea ceremony at my Chinese school.

Okay. Before we could even enter the tea room, which was actually just an assembly hall, we had to wash our hands. They had these not-so-clean looking stone bowls with lemon slices floating around. They probably hoped that citric acid could disinfect us.

While we were waiting outside, I noticed something. My Chinese school is supposed to be a nonprofit organization, yet I noticed that they had flat screen TV's and even security cameras. I'm sure that there could be some better use for that wealth.*

Finally, the people were ready for us. Then it was like a roller coaster ride. They split us up into groups of six and we went off, headed by a mute lady. Buckle up, keep your hands clasped in front of you, your head bowed to your chest, don't scream, and enjoy the ride.

The layout of the room included a small raised ledge in front of the entrances. It would've proposed a small obstacle in getting around, but there was a space in the center. On the other side of this ledge, were our little Rubbermaid tables and chairs, fit for little children about half my size.

You would have thought that you would walk down the middle to get to your tables. Quite on the contrary. We were lead, single file like back in the olden elementary school days, using the longest way possible to get to our tables. When we finally got there, we couldn't sit just yet. We had to walk, twice, around our tables before we finally took our seats. It is important to note that everything was done as slowly as possible and that meditative music with the annoying plucking of an out of tune lute was playing.

I thought that my legs could finally take a break from the tedious tip-toeing, but as soon as we sat down we had to stand back up to bow to a portrait of an old monk I suspected was the founded of the school's foundation*. Great, now my back gets to ache. Where's that Advil?

Next on the agenda, meditation. They told us to close our eyes and listen as they put on some computer-generated noise that vaguely resembled bird calls, windy tundras, and rushing woodland streams. Apparently, it was enough to fool some people, because they answered with birds and wind. I, alone in reality, smugly answered a "CD player". The other students must have thought I was hearing things because they began laughing. But I knew better.

We sat back down again for a lesson on taking off shoes. Everything must be done slowly and considerately to others. You can't kick of your shoes; you must nicely remove them. You also can't leave it right in front of the door, for it would block others way. So being courteous, you very slowly bend down, pick up your shoes, and slowly deposit them to the side. While you take your sweet time trying not to inconvenience others, people are standing behind you, twiddling their thumbs and waiting for their turn to get in the way of others.

Also, when putting back on your shoes, you must pick up your shoes, slowly as usual, and walk else where to put them on, even though it'd be faster just to stick your feet into them and start stamping. Better hope you're wearing black socks, because they never get dirty the more that you wear 'em the blacker they get.

Thankfully, the shoe tutorial was over. Now, it was time for tea serving enlightenment. How you carry the tray is quite important. You can't carry it too high, because that would seem like something is dirty. Understandable. You can't carry it too low, because it makes you seem lazy and efficient. Not so understandable. You have to carry in the most energy-consuming way possible; your hands must be completely flat underneath the try, with your thumbs gripping the side so as to provide the most uncomfortable position and maximize your chances for wrist injury.

As if you didn't bow enough, you have to bow when serving the tea, as well as having the most artificial of smiles plastered upon your face.

At any rate, several ladies brought us our tea. We then had to take turns pouring the tea into cubic centimeter cups in a counter-clockwise fashion. Say thank you to your pourer. Smile. Pick up the pitcher. Pour. Acknowledge thank you. Set pitcher down. Time consuming, isn't it? The tea, they explained, was a special tea custom grown for the organization. My hopes brightened. Perhaps it was an exotic boba milk tea. Fertilizer. The stuff was yellow and tasted like your everyday mass-produced Asian tea.

The hostess then said, "Help yourselves." I grabbed the teeny cup and prepared to throw it back, but apparently, the hostess wasn't quite done speaking. We're supposed to daintily hold your cup with your pinky finger stuck out. Just kidding. Using your thumb and forefinger, grip the cup near the lips while supporting it from the bottom with your other three fingers. It was so unstable that I was constantly scared that I would spill.

Highlight of the day. Snacks. But no crumpets. I was hoping to meet a moufflet cousin, without frosting. There was some red bean cake, a raisins and marshmallow skewer, and some interesting little droplet of a something. I braced myself for the proper way to eat. Perhaps you were supposed to nibble, seeing as how everything was supposed to be slowly done. But no instructions came, and I ate all of it in less than a minute. After eating all the food, I discovered something at the bottom of the little plate. It was a sprig of a green something, and it looked very pretty and not for eating. But, food was food, and I ate it anyways.

That about concludes the tea ceremony. On a final note, the instructor asked if we would like to share any comments. I went up there, and explained how I learned that we must do everything as slow as possible, walk as much possible, get scoliosis as much as possible, and use as much energy as possible, and be as inefficient as possible. The teacher just kept smiling. I thought it was just public relations, but somehow I had this feeling that she didn't know I was making fun of her. What she doesn't know won't hurt me.

*Kind of like Communism, isn't it?

Moufflets: a History

Moufflets. It's French for muffins.

My English teacher once called our class that. Then someone decided, "No, we're cupcakes." Then our A.D.D. riddled class descended into a discussion about small hand-sized cakes that are generally cylindrical and have rounded conical tops, with our without frosting.

But why did I pick Moufflets? Well, it's a long story, you see. I was going to pick something like, "My two bits", or something along the lines, but apparently the domain names were taken. I would have been fine, but as it happens, the author of the blog first post was on November 12, 2003. Incidentally, it was also his last post. His post:

Here I am, world. My name's Mark, and this is my first blog. I'm 30 years old, and am currently in Oklahoma, U.S.A., as a United States Army soldier. I'm one of those people who annoys (only slightly) those around me by having the need to share whatever's on my mind. Welcome to the club. Enjoy your stay.

Well, now he's 35 years old, and he's annoying me (more than slightly) by having the need to share whatever is on his mind by taking up a perfectly good domain name. Other names such as "My two cents", was also taken.

"My two cents" did a little better than Mark over there at "My Two Bits". He made four posts, last one being in 2001; seven years and a day before I made my Moufflets blog. Interestingly, one of his four posts said, "I hate blogger!!!". So get off blogger and gimme your domain name, thank you very much. On the other hand, those names now sound a bit corny. I think moufflets was the best choice afterall.

So that concludes the history of the naming of this blog, which incidentally is not the main topic of this blog.

Whitley Strieber - 2012: the War for Souls

I have decided to include book reviews on my blog, so now you have something practical to look forward to amongst my random and inflammatory posts. Of course, the books I read are not necessarily practical books themselves.

Today's special:

2012: the War for Souls
Written by Whitley Strieber
Genre: Science Fiction
Published by Tor Books
ISBN: 978-0-7653-1896-1



The Mayans predicted that on December 21, 2012, the world would end, or least the human part of it. Well, in this book, fourteen sacred sites around the world (such as the Great Pyramids and Easter Island among them), are blown up and replaced by black lens. These black lens emit mysterious orange balls of light which go about zapping people's souls out of them. Then devil babies collect the souls to sell to themselves and stuff. There's a parallel universe in which a guy named Wylie Dale is writing a book called 2012 which is about what happens in the book and no matter what he does he cannot erase 2012. Anyways, in the other parallel universe, which has two small moons and is where all the chaos is taking place, whatever Wylie Dale rights happens. Then there's all this mumble jumble about looking into your soul and such and the good guys win in the end.

Rating: 7 / 10

This book is really quite confusing. It flips between two parallel universes, and which one the story really takes place in is quite hard to understand. That's mostly all of the bad, but it counts for a lot. There's nice weaving in of mythical figures, and the story gets really fast paced and exciting towards the end, especially since you get used to the flip flopping between universes by then. The story also dips into the subtleties of human consciousness and soul-science, which is rather unique.
I would recommend this book only if you're willing to withstand the rigors of its twisting plot, but wish to get rewarded later on. But if you're looking for something about the end of the world, I would recommend Domain by Steve Alten. Same great integration of ancient and magical creatures, but with none of the confusion. Steve Alten's sequel is also recommended, as it goes into the paradox of time loops.

Shower Episodes

Showering is a sacred time.
It is a time of peace, renewal, and singing without worrying about anyone else hearing.
But sometimes bad things desecrate this wonderful time

Bloody Noses
You just washed your body, and then your hands go to your face and then come down bloody. Of all the times to have a bloody nose, why the shower? Everything is wet, so the blood runs all over the place. You tilt your head up, hoping to stop the flow, only to have blood run down your throat as your attempt to shampoo your hair. Finally, you've had enough. You slide open the door and reach around trying to find the toilet paper. On your first grab, you find wall. On the second grab, you find more wall while your arm drips water all over the floor. Finally, you find the roll. You try to get it off the roll holder and almost drop axle into the toilet. With the roll in your hand, you rip off a length of the Charmin ultra, leaving wet fingerprints on the super-absorbent (you didn't think of this when you bought that twelve pack) Charmin ultra roll. Then you ball the paper up and plug it into your nose, after which you suffer the indignity of the plug and go through the difficulty of trying to finish showering without getting the nose plug soggy. For the grand finale, you have to attempt to dry and dress yourself without getting blood on your towel and clothes. Bloody noses sure make bliddy messes.

Blackouts
Other bad things include blackouts, leaving you to shower in the dark. Luckily, the heater is still running (unless your living in San Francisco in the year 1906 and there's been an earthquake, then tougher luck) and you have warm water. But don't trip on the soap or bang your cranium on the shower head.

Who flushed the toilet!?!
Also, don't you just hate it when you've got the water running at the perfect temperature, and then someone in the house either flushes the toilet or uses the hot water. Meanwhile, you're unaware of this unauthorized water usage, and continue showering. Then, not gradually, the water suddenly becomes extremely hot or extremely cold, making you jump and then land on your back on the rather dense shower floor. But that's not enough. The water doesn't return to normal for about a minute, which in the meantime you are trying to avoid the hostile water and shivering the cold air while that moron at the other end of the pipe goes about oblivious to your suffering. Whatever happened to first come first serve?

Second Period Rush Hour

"Sorry honey, I'm going to be late to dinner tonight. I'm stuck in the second period rush hour. It's bad, you know how it is in the hallways."

That poor man above needn't be late if it weren't for idiots talking in the hallways, although that man shouldn't have been on the road using a cell phone, anyways.

First of all, the hallways are bad enough. Take two hundred people and their backpacks and stuff them into a 100 meter stretch of space that's legally only supposed to hold about a hundred people. Now each make individual move in random directions against the flow traffic, which either doesn't exist or is going everywhere at once. It's pretty bad all right.

But wait. Now throw in a couple of idiots strategically stopping in the middle of an intersection to talk. Are your friends accidents or something? Because that's how traffic builds up on the highways. Accidents don't cause congestion all by themselves; they need idiots to stop and take part in them.

Anyways, the friends must be accidents because people also decide that they need to engage in a Public Display of Affection and hug, kiss, or hold hands when someone is trying to squeeze through between them.

Balloons and slow walking people are also quite annoying. It's quite hard to resist the urge to go up to someone who happens to be acquainted with the one of the worst kinds of friends (ones who are bad enough to give balloons), and ask how old they are. After that, you punch them that many times multiplied by the number of helium filled rubber bags they're carrying. Slow people you just want to sock in the back of their heads and walk over them.

That about sums up the chaos during passing period at my high school. As an afterthought, throw in a couple self-important proctors and their golf carts with flame decals.


Note: Zoom closer for better view at the text.

Inhuman or Superhuman?

Look closely at the person sitting next to you?

It's possible that he or she is a robot in disguise. But how can they be?
Are they not a little to perfect, too beautiful, too smart even though they don't perform a perpetual robot dance and they don't speak monotonously?
Don't be fooled, that was then. With today's technology, it wouldn't be too hard for someone with the right tools to create a computer that could pass the Turing test, a test to see whether or not a human could tell if a computer speaker is human, and took and act like a human.

I have a friend like that*. She gets straight A's, is Speech and Debate among other things, and plays the violin like a pro. In seventh grade, I finally realized that she wasn't human. No real human could do that all that and still have a life. And so I confronted her/it about it, but all she would do is get mad at me in a very human way and perhaps whack me in a very human sign of mock anger. The first time she whacked me I braced myself in case her super/inhuman strength would send me flying through the wall. Apparently, this robot model is aware of its strength and can restrain itself; a step up from the blunt T-80 models Skynet used to send back in time. In any case, she wouldn't admit that she wasn't truly one of us.

Robots are sure good keepers of secrets.

The Worst of Society

Here are three types of people society could do without:

Rude People
Honestly, do people have to be so rude? It's not even about the rudeness itself actually. It's about the lack of finesse with which they go about pissing other people off. They resort to lame comebacks such as "You're gay," or "[insert expletive] you." Then there's the proverbial "Your Mom" stabs. "I'm going to go do your mom". "You're mom's a [whatever you and your rude friend are talking about]." You don't even have to be arguing for them to say that. Perhaps your silence is offending them. It's a sign of weakness actually, because it only goes to show that they don't have the guts to actually offend you directly. If you're going to be rude, at least show some wit.

Litterbugs
Stop throwing your trash all over the place! We know you want to be fat and lazy, but losing that one calorie to walk to the trash can and throw it away isn't going to prevent you from blocking up your arteries.


People Who Write L1k3 Th1s
Why d0 P30pl3 th1Nk 1t i5 "c00l" t0 wR1t3 1k3 th1s?
Do you know how much energy I put into writing those eleven words in the sentence above? I could have thrown away made a hundred trips to throw away trash, and in addition, the holiday colors of Spell Check and "Sentence Fragment: Please consider revising" is driving me crazy. People may think writing in proper English is too much work, yet they contradict themselves by typing in this inefficient orthography. It's quite illogical to put so much effort into something that does not serve your own selfish interests, much less damage it.
It appears that this butchering of the ASCII language occurs a lot when people make their screen names*. When exchanging SN's, idiot "l337" speakers must say their name and then instruct me to convert every convertible letter into a number. Wouldn't it be so much easier to write their names in proper English and then add all those numbers at the end of the word like the computer always suggest when you use a name that's been taken?
Imagine what would happen if they were allowed to use symbols in their screen names.

*As if that's not bad enough, screen names of dunces like these tend not to make sense when spoken verbally and/or are preceded and/or followed by "xX" or "<3">

Dramatic Stereotypes

Dramas have a long and disgusting history. Why people enjoy drams is quite remarkable. Maybe they have a lack of drama in their own lives, or perhaps enjoy wasting precious water over needless tears.


Contemporary Dramas:
Taiwanese Dramas (tDRMA)*
These dramas from a country that is still in the process of determining whether or not it is actually part of China, and therefore whether or not its drama productions should be known as Mandarin (mDRMA) or Chinese Drams are usually based on romances, which is part of the reason while it is bad. There are many different shows, but most of them involve students attending a college or university falling into love triangles before they have a means to support themselves. Actually, let me rephrase that. They must have some kind of monetary aid as they dress expensively and have extravagant haircuts. However, this goes against everything we know of Asian culture. What kind of Asian parent would allow their kids to fall in love, much less lend money for unnecessary things before the child has become CEO of some big corporation? Most films also star a male(s) who make most Asian girls swoon and has a decidedly Asian haircut, usually with bangs. These shows are also produced in Taiwanese or Mandarin and requires subtitles to understand. Some tDRMA is complementary to the storylines of mangas (mDRMA).

Korean Dramas (kDRMA)*
Korean dramas are a close cousin of Taiwanese dramas and feature an Asian male whom Korean and non-Korean girls alike find physically combustible with an Asian helmet-style "fob" hairdo. The women are usually lightly-skinned and may also have a helmet hair. The characters enjoy dressing in formal or semi-formal costumes and are also falling in love. But a simple romance is not enough. There has to be some kind of love polygon and a girl with cancer**. kDRMAs are renowned for having numerous and lengthy flashbacks accompanied by melodramatic music. The one and only drama that I do not consider a waste is Da Jang Geum because it is about food (although not muffins) and I like food. Taiwanese and Korean Dramas also have bad transitions. You're watching the show, and it's about time for a commercial break. So then you keep watching, an all of a sudden the show just cuts. Like cut with a scissor. There's no transition, no fade out, no real ending.

Western Dramas
English speaking dramas are usually either about doctors, crime-scene investigation, law suits, and well, teenage romance, and sex. Western dramas also have an element of romance in them (as does everything). In CSIs, the investigators talk about the love lives of dead bodies; in medical shows, doctors flirt with each other over dying bodies; in law shows, they court each other in court, and in sex shows, they physically display their love.
To their credit, at least they have variety.

Older Dramas:
Chinese Dramas (cDRMA)
Chinese dramas are absolutely horrific. They involve men with long, wispy beards in bathrobes and boxy headgears and men in women's clothes with powdered faces. They speak in whiny voices and are accompanied by a weird plucked instrument and an infernal pot-and-pan.
The Communists have also left their grimy marks on drama, using it as a form of propaganda.

European Dramas
European dramas are also known as operas. Not deserving to be called classical music (with the exception of Phantom of the Opera), they star bearded men with liquid grain storage devices (beer bellies) and women who are gifted with the ability to control their screams.
Going further back in time, we arrive at the Medieval Age. The dramas here were written by Shakespeare, which I have never watched, and hardly read. However, they must have been a pain to understand with the language thou useth in thy plays.

Greek Dramas
No comment.

*Descriptions applicable to both.
Wikipedia used as a source.
**Idea from a friend.

The Holy Bell

The Bell is omnipotent.
It is the creator of Time. The Bell starts the day, and the Bell ends the day. The Bell created school, classwork, lunch, and homework in five days. The Bell in Its mercy gave us the sixth and seventh day to do the homework that the Bell created for us.

The Bell is omnipresent.
It is in A Hall, it is in G Hall, it is in J Building, it is everywhere but P Lot.

The Bell is our Savior.
It rings to save you from the boredom of class. It rings to save you from answering the question that you don't know.

The Bell is our Judge.
Those who believe and follow the Bell will arrive on time and are awarded by having no tardies or truancies. Those who do not follow the Bell are punished are dragged to the depths of the Attendance Office by Deans upon their golf-carts.

The Bell shut up in June to save its students, its children, whom it could care neither more nor less for. The Bell was resurrected in September to punish the indolence of its children over the summer.

The Bell gave the Principal Ten Commandments to rule the Principal's students:

1. I am the Bell and I dismiss you, but the teacher's dismissal over rules me.


2. You shall not listen to an iPod in class.


3. Listen for the Bell and do not be late.


4. Honor your teacher and your Principal.


5. You shall not throw things in class.


6. You shall not commit sexual harassment.


7. You shall not steal in the locker rooms.


8. You shall not lie to your teachers.


9. You will not covet the answers of your classmates.


10. You will not covet the grade of A- or below.

Inspired by Elie Wiesel's Night.

The bell. Already we must separate, go to bed. Everything was regulated by the bell. It gave me orders, and I automatically obeyed them. I hated it. Whenever I dreamed of a better world, I could only imagine a universe with no bells.

Check out the Assertive Atheist's Ten Commandments.

Cheesy Romances

Why would anyone want to read a cheesy romance?
They can make you cry and they can make you laugh, but in the end, they are what they are: cheesy.

There is no more a static genre than romances, even compared to non-fiction. In fact, they all have the same contents.

• Boy meets girl.
• Girl meets boy.
• They engage in mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

I have listed the three stages of the Archetypal Romance Story. These can be shuffled in any order you like, and 3 x 2 x 1 equals 6. There can only be six unique storylines, yet illogically there are somehow more than six books. Sophie Kinsella (author of the Shopaholic series) herself has written more than six books, as has Nicholas Sparks. Why any decent author would plagiarize, much less copy themselves, is beyond me.

Furthermore, cheesy romances are a threat to society. It is books like these that may turn our world into one avidly described by Ray Bradbury in Fahrenheit 451. We must read books that allow us to think, imagine, and go beyond the limits of reality such as mindless books with Rambo-style action that cause you to unconsciously start making your own sound effects to match the explosions and gunfire tearing the book apart and revel in the unnatural skills that the hero possesses. Unfortunately, the brain washing of romance has already begun. There are no longer any purely action movies. Nearly every movie or story has some kind of relationship in them, ruining everything.

Recommended Unromantic Authors:

• John Ringo
• Matthew Reilly
• Harry Turtledove
  

Sinister Soybeans

I am fairly certain that soybeans are attempting world domination.
These hairy little legumes are as Wikipedia describes it, "small, inconspicuous, [and] self-fertile". I am pretty sure that there is some extra large Master Bean lying somewhere underneath Beijing, pale white and pulsating.

At first, the soybean was just a seemingly innocent and useless plant being utilized for fertilizer. Now these things are everywhere! They're trying to replace salt, milk, and turkey! And as if it's not bad enough, they're trying to replace the staple diet of meat!

After interrogation (not by torture of course, for that would be inlegume), a bean revealed to me that the plan was to replace every one of our food sources and then secrete some hormone that allows them to exert mind-control over us. Rumor has that the soybeans may have been genetically engineered by North Koreans* to become a sentient hive organism.

The soybean's also have a contingency plan. They display temporary "beneficial" effects, deluding health conscious people to increase their demands for more soy products. Rain forests have been cleared away to make room for soy farms, attributing to less rainfall in the region, where clean water is not always available. In fact, planting soy fields is worse than using the same land to graze cows.

According to Douglas Adam's Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy:

[Each] major Galatic civilization tends to pass through through three distinct and recognizable phases, those of Survival, Inquiry and Sophistication, otherwise known as the How, Why and Where phases.
For instance, the first phase is characterized by the question How can we eat? the second by the question Why do we eat? and the third by the question Where shall we have lunch?

Humans, as a civilization, have surely gotten to the point of Sophistication. As a Sophisticated species, have developed techniques to synthesize flavorful foods. It would be unseemly for us to regress to the point of eating a compost-heap of soy "meat", which is bland, gray, textureless**, as well as detrimental. Soy contains phytoestrogens, which simulates the effects of the female signature hormones and phytates, which hampers the absorption of minerals. This could be a problem for boys, who if fed soy products at an early age may find themselves with small mammary glands and/or small penises.

Finally, processed foods are becoming notorious for causing cancer and other bad things, so why take the chance of eating mechanically-separated patties made from pesticide-sprayed soy grown on farms worked by cheap labor where quality-check is unheard of? So spare yourselves and eat the real thing. Eat meat!

*Unverified sources.
** Verified primary source: try it yourself. Nutritional information. Beneficial information disregarded.

Animal Farm: Lenin Left Out?

There comes a time in life when you are supposed to read Animal Farm (George Orwell 1945), or at least in my case, watch the movie.

Watching a movie usually has good, relaxing connotations, but nooo, our teacher just has to toss us a packet and tell us to fill it out as we watch.

So we start filling it out. We establish in class that Snowball Leon Trotsky, Napoleon the evil Stalin. But when all was said and done, we were missing someone. I racked my mind. Hitler? No. George W. Bush? Ahah! It was Lenin.

At first glance, it seems like Old Major could be Lenin. It still does seem like Old Major could be Lenin at second glance. But my history teacher says that Old Major is Marx. So we go on to talk about Benjamin the jackass and all the other "common" animals, but still no Lenin. Outrageous. There could be no Russian Revolution without Lenin! What was George Orwell thinking?

So, as we are supposed to do when we have questions, I asked the teacher. She kept saying, "We're not there yet," although she keeps talking about the Building of the Windmill even though we truly aren't there yet in the movie. So I wait, and the movie's over and still no sign of Lenin.

Perhaps the Russian Revolution never really happened*?

*A poke at those idiots who don't believe the Holocaust or the Armenian Genocide.

Vernacular Dancing in the 21st Century

There are many types of dances out there, and the only one I've ever truly learned was the Chicken Dance, which was ingrained into me ever since extraterrestrial sentient green egg-yolks abducted me to feed to a ginormous three-eyed chicken god known as Poultra.

But recently, some friends of mine have learned several types of dancing. These vertical expressions of horizontal desires legalized by music are quite fascinating.
Perhaps it is part of Homo sapien behavior. I suppose it is a step up from the primeval "cock-fights" and territorial disputes among belligerent male packs that infest the less-civilized areas of our world. Or maybe this dancing is a way to display one's adeptness at damaging one's body in order to attract members of the opposite sex (Note: Is it possible that the nomenclature for "breakdancing" comes from the damaged bodies that result from this physically demanding activity?)

I will continue to observe this unique phenomena and post further insights.

It all started here...

It all started when I was sitting in zero period Academic Decathlon, reading 15 Minute Lunch's blog and decided that I wanted to write my own blog. Blog. Everyone seems to be using that word. But what is a blog?


So Googled it. "Blog":

A sponsored ad for some blog space.

Then some stock information for BLOG. Maybe I can invest in my own blog; buy a share of myself. After all, it's gone up 2.62% (Mar 3 7:45pm ET).


Next, a link to Blogger. That makes more sense than the stock lookout on Bladelogic, Inc. Never heard of that company.
Then we have Google Blog. How modest of them not to put themselves on top of the list.

After Google Blog, there's Facebook blog. There's a little blurb:

The Blog: Since
you're here reading, you know what the blog is. This is a good place to
get extended information about what's going on at Facebook. ...

Quite on the contrary. There's a reason why I'm researching "blog".

John Schwartz's Blog.

A weblog site maintained by
the CEO and President of Sun Microsystems, featuring insight to the company and
its products.

Now why in the world would I want to know about Sun Microsystems? This link should've been found on the googleth (please let me know if there is a proper word involving 'google' that means "In the very back") page.

What I was really looking for (which I cheated and clicked on before I wrote all this before), was Wikipedia. By some oversight, it turns out that Wikipedia was the between Blogger and Facebook Blog. Wikipedia says,

A blog (a portmanteau of web log) is a website where entries are commonly displayed in reverse chronological order. "Blog" can also be used as a verb, meaning to maintain or add content to a blog.

Many blogs provide commentary or news on a particular subject; others function as more personal online diaries. A typical blog combines text, images, and links to other blogs, web pages, and other media related to its topic. The ability for readers to leave comments in an interactive format is an important part of many blogs. Most blogs are primarily textual, although some focus on art (artlog), photographs (photoblog), sketchblog, videos (vlog), music (MP3 blog), audiopodcasting) are part of a wider network of social media. Micro-blogging is another type of blogging which consists of blogs with very short posts. As of December 2007, blog search engine Technorati was tracking more than 112 million blogs.

What will my blog be? We shall see.