Tuesday, August 30, 2005

And in a Moment of Silence, I Thought of This. . .

Just randomly working on my novel, the first part of the first draft of which you can find in the August archives (though I'm afraid the first draft could use some patching up), this just popped into my mind. Since the stream of blog article ideas in my mind has temporarily slowed to a trickle, I thought I'd post this small flight of fancy.

In Evolution (my novel), this is a story told to young children at sleeptime.

Once upon a time, in the beginning of time itself, there was the sea.
The ruler of the sea was the great Narcaclea.
He was powerful beyond imagining, his tentacles stretched through every corner of the earth, his song was heard through out space, and he will at last time itself.
Man was just beginning, Man was arrogant; Man thought himself greater then the world.
So Man went down to the deepest, darkest place of the sea, so far down that light itself had long ago given up its search for it. And there Man found Narcaclea. Narcaclea challenged Man. “I am powerful beyond imagining.” He said unto Man, “My tentacles stretch through every corner of the earth, my song is heard through out space, and I will outlast time itself.” Man thought awhile, pondered Narcaclea’s claim. There was a long silence; Narcaclea stared into Man’s eyes, daring him to top his boast. Then Man took out his spear, killed Narcaclea, and ate him.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Pat Did It Again

Pat Robertson is a menace to society. He recently said that, since our goverment was already planning it, the US should assassinate Hugo Chavez, the Venezuelan president. The goverment denied his claims. Hugo Chavez said he didn't know who Robertson was.

Soon after the comment, Robertson said he was misinterpreted by the press. He acheived this excuse by claiming he said something completely different from the actual comment which was, by the way, on tape. He said "assassination" he said he said "Take him out."

I Am made the point in his blog that the newspapers are turning a blind eye to this stupidity and active insanity.

This is crazy, how can there be a person like Robertson? But thats not it, there are lots of people like Robertson. Or if not like Robertson, equally insane. It's scary, it's honestly scary.

Ode To Adams

Douglas Adams, the author of "The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (a trilogy in five parts)" and so many other marvels of british humor, has passed from the realm of the mortals, and into the realm of legend. His books did not change the world, but they changed the hearts of everyone who read them. I saw the movie a little while ago, and I thought it was all right. Very recently I read the first book in the "trilogy", and it blew my mind. . .

Douglas Noel Adams was born in Cambridge on March 11, 1952. As a child he was rather ordinary, besides being the only child he knows of to have walked stright into a lamppost with their eyes wide open.

He studied at Brentwood School and later at St. Johns College, where he earned a Masters in English Literature. Soon he moved on to radio, where he acheived many small things, including collaborating with Graham Chapman on a Radio 4 christmas pantomine. He was also a script editor of the television show "Doctor Who."

While working on that, "The Hitchiker's Guide To The Galaxy" was released on Radio 4. It was later adapted into the books, a video game, and several stage adaptations.

He also wrote a few scripts of the movie, but it never seemed to be quite right, so eventually he gave it up and went on to greater things. Then he died. On Friday May 11, 2001, he suffered a heart attack. He was 49.

But it doesn't end there. Ironicly, Adamsd's death triggered the success of the thing that had frustrated him most. The movie soon went into production.

Like I said earlier, I didn't especially care for the movie, but then hey, Adam's didn't make it. But within the movie I can see bits of the original script, and inside them I can behold Adam's true brilliance.

That is my short tribute to Douglas Adams. Thank you, Douglas, for giving me and many others a moment of insight into the way the world really works, thanks for giving us the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything. . . oh. . . and thanks for all the fish.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Good Old Pat

Pat Robertson, the man who said "Many of those people involved with Adolph Hitler were Satanists, many of them were homosexuals -- the two things seem to go together."
(Pat Robertson, The 700 Club television program, January 21, 1993). The man that thinks feminism is a promoter of adultery, lesbianism, killing of children, and the practice of witchcraft. Good old Pat's done it again. He's spoken his mind, he's told everyone what's going on inside that devilish little brain of his. And, as usual, made it clear that he's a crazy, paranoid, stupid christian. He's called for the US goverment to assasinate Hugo Chavez.

(No, I am not copying this post from anyone, I heard this over NPR. My source for the quotes is http://www.positiveatheism.org/hist/quotes/revpat.htm. I feel I have to say this becuase Seth, being Seth, tends to act like himself.)

Pat, on his television show The 700 Club, said that, since the goverment was already planning it, we should just go ahead and kill the Venezuelan president. The goverment denied Pat's claims that they were in the proccess of planning an assassination, and, I'm paraphrasing here, essentially said that he was insane.

Okydoky, now we see good old Pat's lost his marbles. No? Well, just in case, here are a few more quotes:
"I am absolutely persuaded one of the reasons so many lesbians are at the forefront of the pro-choice movement is because being a mother is the unique characteristic of womanhood, and these lesbians will never be mothers naturally, so they don't want anybody else to have that privilege either."
(Pat Robertson, on The 700 Club television program, May 28, 1993).
He he he, kinda reminiscent of the intelligence of a nat, isn't it?
Here's another one:
"It is interesting, that termites don't build things, and the great builders of our nation almost to a man have been Christians, because Christians have the desire to build something. He is motivated by love of man and God, so he builds. The people who have come into [our] institutions [today] are primarily termites. They are into destroying institutions that have been built by Christians, whether it is universities, governments, our own traditions, that we have.... The termites are in charge now, and that is not the way it ought to be, and the time has arrived for a godly fumigation."
(Pat Robertson, New York Magazine, August 18, 1986).
Ok, here what scary about this, he's serious.

Mr. Robertson is insane. I'm not infering anything, I'm not acting on a biast, I'm not looking for things that aren't there, I'm just looking at his quotes, I'm looking at what he's said, and it's crazy. Period.

The poverty-stricken Robertson's young wife, unsuccessfully pleading with him to return from a month-long religious camping retreat, Dede talks to Pat about it:

Dede: "Pat, I've tried to adjust to this 'saved' jag you're on, but you've become a fanatic. All you do is read that Bible all day and sit around and talk to Jesus. I'm a nurse. I recognize schizoid tendencies when I see them, and I think you're sick. It's just not normal for a man to walk out on his wife and leave her with a small child when she's expecting a baby any minute -- while he goes off into the woods to talk to God. God doesn't tell people to do things like that. At least, my God doesn't."
Pat: "I can't leave. God will take care of you."
(Dede and Pat Robertson, quoted from Robert Boston, The Most Dangerous Man in America, pp. 25-26.).

Crazy. Period.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Quote of the Day

I was reading the paper today and this cuaght my eye:

"I wish I lived in a world where it was possible to be religious and think at the same time." - John Graves (some Texan Author)

It's good to know there are people in Texas that aren't brainwashed extreme right-wing Christians.

"In ___ We Trust"

Recently while surfing the atheist blogosphere, in a state that many of you describe as boredom, but others would call a complete absence of working mind, I came across an idea that I had to pass on.

Do you have money? Do you ever actually look at your money? If you did, you would notice the words "In God We Trust" printed on every bill. Funny how the money is printed by the goverment, the same one that is supposed to be devided from religion (but which we all know is not.

The word "God" printed on money is offensive to me, I not beleiving in god and all. This is the currency of our nation, it's fruit, the way it survives. And to have something on it that is offensive to me and I'm pretty sure most other atheists is stupid, unconstitutional, and hypocritical. But that's just me.

So, here's the idea: Take a marker, and cross out the word in question, like so:

(Thanks to I Am (www.evangelicalatheist.com) for the picture).

I know you have a marker, and I know you have atleat one dollar. If your annoyed by the words, do something about it.

And yes, crossing out the words are, in a sense, "illegal." But it is a victimless crime that cannot be traced back to you once you've spent the money. Also, the goverment is not actively enforcing the law against this, beside banning specific stamps that say things like "I don't." underneath "In God We Trust."

I'm gonna start doing that tomorrow, maybe it'll take the edge off the mindless lack of being that brought me upon this idea in the first place. It being 1:00 in the morning, I think I'll go to sleep and dream of a world without god (I mean reality), then I'll wake up refreshed, and resume staring mindlessly at the computer screen for another 18 hours. . .

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Camp Casey and the Bush Ranch

I recently went out to George W. Bush's Ranch to join the protest for a little while, and to interview Cindy Sheehan for an article I was writing about the experience for my paper THE DAYTIME.
To get there I had to go through some of the most republican infested land in the world. And these aren't the docile, domesticated republicans that u see up in Massachusetts, these are wild republicans. Left to their own ways for generations, they have created a suburbia of small houses and large churches, all lined up in an orderly fashion. These people are Bush's neighbors, and they feel strongly for him and his current plight. I mean, how would u feel if a women started camping out at near your ranch and started saying u caused the death of her son? You'd feel very distressed, I'm sure. And now George Bush's neighbors are distressed too. These people are actively hostile against Camp Casey (that's what the group of people protesting call their encampment). I honestly feared for my life when I had to ask directions to the protest.

Camp Casey was about as I had expected it to be. A few tents and tarps set up on the side of the road, a bunch of peace signs. 3 police officers were guarding the entrance to Bush's ranch. Across the big road was one lone tent, with 3 people huddling underneath it, a small sign next to it read "Pro War."
The people at the camp are very smart, free minded individuals. I interviewed a few of them. One was named Calvin. He had thought of something when asking people why they had come and listening to all of them say "I just felt I had to." So, he had made the sentence "While eating mashed potatoes, I found myself carving the head of George W. Bush." Those of you who have not seen Close Encounters need to. Calvin told me that the camp needed to be guarded at night. Though there was only 1 major incident. This was when some guy tied a chain to the back his car and drove right through all of the crosses the protestor had put up for those who died in the war. He totally devastated them, but was eventually caught by the police. Calvin says he probably won't be charged for anything though. The cops are apparently really nice, and they've been really nice to the cops, and to everyone in general. That's on Cindy's orders.
With Calvin's assistance I managed to get a short interview with Cindy while she was going form TV interview to TV interview. I asked her 2 questions, what teens can do to help the anti war effort, and what she thinks will be the result of Camp Casey. The answers were good, though since she had had so many interviews since she started the camp, probably well practiced, though I think I was the first person to ask her what teens could do to help. Cindy was really nice, smart and very polite.
Then we left the Camp, but before we went home I felt I had to stop by the Crawford Peace House. This place has been around for several years, and though not directly connected to Camp Casey, has been heaping it out financially for a while. While there I interviewed a director of the camp, and a person who was a human shield in Iraq. The human shield, one Judith Karpova, told me about how she had decided to go to go to Iraq. She told me about how her friend had had to help Iraqi parents search through piles of bodies for their children, how they had carried body parts and thrown them into piles. She's writing a book about it called Speaker of Stone. It'll be published soon, and I highly recommend it.
All in all the trip was eye opening. I had a great time and learned a lot. I think the people there will make a difference, even if it's only to alert people to, in Calvin's words, "A serious awareness that questions need to be answered." Something that Cindy said during my interview with her still sticks in my mind. After she answered me last question, as she was walking away, she turned back to me. She paused in the road and said "It's not about democrats or republicans, it's about democracy."

Sunday, August 14, 2005


I'm in Texas now, visiting relatives. All of my family lives in Texas, besides my parents and 1 uncle. I am now on the computer of another uncle, Uncle Mike. He can be witty at times, and he has broadband. This automaticly gives him my complete respect.
The airport trip was rather uneventful. As my bag was being checked I noticed something peculiar in the machine. You know the machine, its that scanner dealie that you put your bags into, wait for 20 seconds, then watch as your bags are thrown at 20 miles an hour from the machine. I'm sure you must have noticed this also. When the bag comes out of the machine, flying through the rubber strips, I saw a hand pushing it out. It also happened when my mothers bag came bursting through. I'm dead serious, I know u've seen it too.
At my grandparents house there is a dog. This dog has enough energy to become an alternate source of fuel for the U.S. Her name, and I am not joking, is Puddin'Pie. My grandmother came up with it, she is very proud of herself. I shudder every time I say it, and even when I shorten it to Puddin', it barely escapes my lips.
There's a tentative plan to go out to Bush's ranch and join the protest there, but it's a long drive, and Mom might not want to. Not that much will happen over there, but I could write an article about it for THE DAYTIME, and use it as protection everytime Seth mentions another one of his epic acheivements.
SETH: I just got back from Washington where I received an award for best jounalist in th world.
ME: Ya, well, I just got back from staking out George Bush's Ranch and striking a blow for democrats everywhere.
SETH:Uh huh, I'm about to cash in on a lottery ticket I just won and go to Greece for the summer and buy lots of encredibly expensive stuff that you could never afford.
ME: Ya, well, I just got back from staking out George Bush's Ranch and striking a blow for democrats everywhere.
In Texas all of the insects are larger. Bees are 2 inches, ants are like a quarter of an inch to half an inch, and then there are the spiders. As many of you know and many of you don't know, I am very arachnophobic, I am afarid of spiders. And the spiders down here can get up to 7 inches long. There are 3 spiders that hang out outside my bedroom window thatare bigger than my hand. They float in the air and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH THERE'S ONE NOW!!!!!! No wait, false alarm. There aren't as many spiders at Mike's house.
All in all I am enjoying my stay here. It's very hot up here, I hear from Seth it's raining back in Massachussetts, lucky. *Mumble mumble mumble.*
Anywho, I'll keep you updated, you one person who has ever read my blog. Look at you sittng there, your handsome face gazing expectantly at the screen. Your beautiful hands a blur over the keyboard. I am of course talkig about me here. If there's anybody else that reads this I'm sure you look good too.

Saturday, August 06, 2005

Well, I'm Back

SIGH - I'm back. I return a different person then when I left. While gone, I have made friendships stronger than ones I have with people I have known my whole life. If there was a heaven, it would be Friends Camp.
U probably think I'm joking. U are probably thinking, 'oh, that Chris. Always dramatizing things.' Well, YOUR WRONG. I'm being serious. I'm very different now. Before I was excessively annoying, shy, obssessive about always having to be witty. Now, I'm very slightly less annoying, I'm more outgoing then ever before, and I'm no longer a slave to my own intelligence. I'm a new person. Oh, and heres the biggest change of all: I'm bisexual. HA HA, I can see u sitting there, at ur computer, thinking 'Y the hell is Chris making such a big deal out of this?' It's becuase I like attention, that's why. I like attention so much that I am going to repeat, 'I like guys' 5 times, starting now: I like guys. I like guys. I like guys. I like guys. I like guys. Ha.
Anywho, the people at Friends Camp are awesome. Since it is a Quaker Camp, there's lots of love and hugging. Since it is populated by Quaker teens, there's lots of making out too. Some people worth mentioning are:
Emma - Emma's really cool, a very emotional person and an AWESOME person to be around.
Fiona - She lives outside of reality, she's really spontaneous, and really deep. She also used to be really understanding, but now her parents are giving her pills for that.
Genn - Genn's cool, really nice, fun to hang out with.
Isaac - Isaac is an asshole, but also an incredible person. He's kinda grown on me like a horrible cancerous tumer.
Galen - This kid is so perverted. As Fiona so well puts it, "Everybody is a pervert, some people are just better at hiding it then others." Galin does not understand that concept. But also, deep down inside, he has a brain.
Ted - Ted can play the guitar and harmonica really well. Also very hot.
Kel - Kel's cool. Strange obsession with kinky manga. Very fun to talk to.
Umm, I know I've forgotten someone. . . Oh well.

The Camp has Special Days too. Special Days are when the Camp breaks from ordinary schedule to do something special (duh). These are the special days:

Ninja vs. Pirate Day: That Day we played a massive game of Capture the flag, except with weapons specialised to our choice of character. I was ninja, duh.

Waterfront Day: Went down to the beach of China Lake and hung out all day.

Gutter Day: Giant rain gutter + like 30 pints of Ice Cream in giant rain gutter = Massive Fun. About 30 seconds in a food fight started, I and Fiona just sat there, still eating while all hell raged arounbd us. My hat will never smell the same again.

The Raft: Not a special day, but that was hwne the small group of people who had chosen the raft building program, sailed the duct tape, string, wood, and barrels that made up the raft, halfway to the island, where it split in two, and we swam it back. Amazing fun.

The Dance - The dance was AWESOME. I totally partied all night long.

The Talent Show - Everybody who knew how to play anything, did so. I put on 'A Typical Aonversation Among Two Immature Boys' (extract - "Ur Ugly. Well Ur Uglier. That what ur Mom said last night. OOOOOO. WHAT NOW. U GONNA NEED ICE FOR DAT BURN. etc.) aswell as the thing with the guys with their legs crossed, reading newspapers, 1 2 3 SWITCH, I f u were in cabaret u know what I mean. Lots of appluase, good times.

And then there were love wars. Love wars are when one cabin declares a love war on the other cabin, and then the two cabi8ns do nice things for each other. It sounds lame I know, but when it goes overboard it can be really fun. Like when Swallow Cabin (who was engaged in a love war with Eagle Cabin, my cabin) postered the inside of our cabin with about 30 cards describing their love for us. Then we took them out at 12:00 at night for stargazing and messages.

The meals were good, always different.

Well, I'm back. I'm different. And there's no way in hell I'm not going back next year!