Megalops Atlanticus

Kiss your olympic dreams goodbye.

I was at McDonalds today, eating some spicy chicken mcbites. They had a TV on, showing some rowers in the Olympics. I thought that was funny. Here I am, chowing down on some chicken, there's some other people chowing down on Big Macs or whatever a few tables away, and on the TV is the very symbol of what I AM NOT. I am NOT an Olympian rower! I am sitting in McDonalds scarfing up cholesterol-laden fatty food, clogging my arteries with plaque by the minute. But here you go customers, you can watch this TV program about athletes who are miles and miles above you, who nearly vomit at the very thought of putting that garbage you're stuffing your face with into their own perfectly toned, muscular, beautiful bodies.

STONE OF THE MILE

The church, and religion in general, has a lot of opposition, I decided. And I don't really care anymore. Laughter is the answer to every problem. If somebody points at you, mocks you for believing in a higher power, and tells you you're stupid, just laugh. Just laugh and laugh. And then yell, in a deep epic voice, "PUMAMAN!" And you can pronounce it either "puma-man" or "pu-mayman," whichever you choose. Either way, you will confuse your cocky outspoken atheist friend, and we all know that "confusion" is a dangerous weapon when wielded properly, if you've ever played an RPG video game.

Oh, by the way, this is post #200. MILESTONE!

Pork Roast for Priscilla

"BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH.-- Me.
"Did somebody just say something?"-- Some loser sitting right next to Holden.
"BLAH BLAH BLAH!"- Me

"I swear I keep hearing Holden say something. Oh well. Just those crazy Holden voices in my head again.-- Some loser sitting right next to Holden.

ACTUAL CONVERSATION---^

1) I like how in Lord of the Rings, all Gimli has to do is bonk orcs on their helmets with his axe, and THEY'RE DOWN. WABAM.

2) I like how you.

3) On a phone call, some old lady asked another lady, at 9:30 AM, "DID YOU HAVE YOUR DINNER YET?" I don't know what it is about old people, but apparently, every meal is "dinner."

4) PO-TAT-OES.

5) Was everybody offended by my last blog? I'm not like that anymore, I promise.

ARM HAIR DISORDER

The hair on my left arm is pretty much always standing up, no matter what sort of environment I'm in. Does anybody, ANYBODY AT ALL, have any idea what's wrong with me?

Biff Johnson and the Electric Tobacco Rolling Machine Band

I was crazy in elementary school. Like, really weird. I don't think you have any idea. In 4th grade, I liked a couple different girls, but I showed my "liking" in an odd way: by being mean to them, by creepily following them home from school, and by putting death notes in their desks. One time, I put a note in Tess

Holden as a typical young 4th grader.

Terry's desk that said, "I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER." And then I drew a picture of a knife dripping blood. The next day when Tess got to her desk and discovered the note, she got all worried looking, like, REALLY worried, and was telling her friends around her how scared she was.

I, of course, thought it was a HOOT.

I may have mellowed out a little bit since then.

By the way, does anybody else hate TV commercials as much as I do? I hate about 99.9% of them. I was just telling Emily the other day, wouldn't an effective advertising campaign just be, flashing products on screen with the price underneath them? Maybe there's a guy who explains, very briefly, why the product is useful. There. The end. Instead of all these obnoxious jingles and dancing and stupid annoying people who say dumb things, which make me not want to be a consumer of that particular business enterprise. I think the majority of mine and Emily's TV viewing time is spent just watching soundless things flashing on screen because I press the mute button every 5 seconds.

Beau Soir

Beau Soir, by C. Debussy.

Lovely, lovely, have a listen, all two/three of you who read this blog.

Debussy wrote the music as a setting for a poem by Paul Bourget.

Lorsque au soleil couchant les rivières sont roses

Et qu'un tiède frisson court sur les champs de blé,

Un conseil d'être heureux semble sortir des choses

Et monter vers le coeur troublé.

Un conseil de goûter le charme d'être au monde

Cependant qu'on est jeune et que le soir est beau,

Car nous nous en allons, comme s'en va cette onde:

Elle à la mer, nous au tombeau.

Translation:

When streams turn pink in the setting sun,

And a slight shudder rushes through the wheat fields,

A plea for happiness seems to rise out of all things

And it climbs up towards the troubled heart.

A plea to relish the charm of life

While there is youth and the evening is fair,

For we pass away, as the wave passes:

The wave to the sea, we to the grave.