Fish Tacos of Death

Opinions of BLATANT REBELLION

2012-02-08T12:34:00.000-08:00

Here are my latest opinions.

The MPAA is not a divine institution. As such, I believe many mistakes are made in the rating of movies. Take, for example, the Matrix. Pretty much everyone I know HATES this movie, because it's rated R. If I ever suggest to a group of friends that we should watch it, I get a whole big pansy cry-fest about how it's rated R, and we have been counseled by church leaders NOT to watch rated R movies. But it's okay to watch...say...Anchorman? Pretty much any Will Ferrell comedy? Dozens of PG-13 flicks containing a FAR heftier amount of profanity (including F bombs), inappropriate sexual dialogue, and sex scenes in general? The worst swear word in The Matrix is the "s" word, and as far as I know, having watched that movie only several times, there is no sexual dialogue, and there are no sex scenes. Does this film deserve an "R" rating? Use your head. Use what you know about all the movies you've ever watched, and judge for yourself. There is a decent amount of violence, but nowhere near the violence of say...Braveheart or Gladiator or some obnoxiously unnecessary gory slasher flick.

If you had to CHOOSE between watching a filthy PG-13 movie and a rated R movie that contained nothing inappropriate whatsoever, what would you choose?

"Whoa. Holden is right."

Granted, most rated R movies are probably rated that way for a reason. But here and there, there comes a film that I think doesn't deserve that kind of rating. Am I being a disobedient scumbag because I feel this way? Should I be subject to church disciplinary action because of my belief that you really need to use your head and judge for yourself? Or maybe I just really like the Matrix. The end.

Opinion #2: Am I a terrible person because I really don't care about the proposition 8 fiasco? Regardless of whether I feel homosexuality is "right" or "wrong," gays being allowed to marry, as far as I can see it, doesn't affect me personally. If this was an issue that impeded upon my rights in some way, I might be against it. If this was an issue that gave homosexuals more rights than heterosexuals, I would probably react. But maybe someone else can clarify for me? Perhaps this opens the door for more homosexual rights in the future that would affect me? Explain. Someone. Now.

What Is This

2012-02-02T14:41:00.000-08:00

Boil away the bitterness!

This would be my campaign slogan if I was running for president. Because, face it. Candidates are kind of mean to each other. And then in the same picture, there would be some sort of food, boiling. I don't know. Something that's bitter before you boil it. Broccoli rabe maybe?

Moving on with that subject...Brother Romney won in Florida because he...wait for it, wait for it...HAD MORE MONEY. And so was able to make more negative television ads demonizing Newt Gingrich. Angry angry. Everybody is just so angry at each other. Yes, when my son says he wants to grow up to be president, I will say to him, "You go for it son. You go chase your dream. You go make billions of dollars first though, because you need all that money to make nasty negative ads about your political opponents." Because without all those billions of dollars, he will NEVER HAVE A CHANCE.

I'm Learnding!

2012-01-20T12:18:00.000-08:00

My classes this semester...

Abnormal Psychology
Interpersonal Communications
Introduction to Physical Therapy
Mammalian Histology + Lab

It's strange because it seems as though most of my schoolwork this semester will be studying. Very little homework. It sounds nice but I'm afraid I won't actually have the desire to pull out a textbook and study. Histology is neat, but quite difficult to fully understand. I'm just psyched to get into the physical therapist assistant program next fall and put biology classes on hold for awhile. As much as I love biology, but it's time for a rest. Oh, and it's time for some decent income to start coming into the Green house.

I never thought this would be my career goal just a couple years ago. I was leaning towards doing something with music, or maybe journalism, but physical therapy? Baloney! It's a good thing that they make you get your generals, because I really rooted out a bunch of crappy potential interests that I never want to look into again, like economics and geography (meteorology, to be more specific). It was my decision to take human anatomy that put me on my current path of interest.

The human body is just so incredible. Here we are with our bodies, just hanging out on earth, like we've been doing for the past million years, and we still don't even fully understand how they work. Every organ system, in a healthy normal body, works in such beautiful integration. You mess up one little part, and everything else gets screwed up. Which is a bad thing, but it shows you how much everything works together. Yeah, teamwork! Go Jazz!

Dream Within a Dream

2012-01-13T11:46:00.000-08:00

Here, I have created the architecture of my latest wild dream within a dream. It may bore you. It actually kind of bores me just looking at it. There was familiarity in this dream, like I had had it before. As you will see, I discovered a locker in the bottom left part that contained a key. This key, as it seems in dreams past, was unable to open the safe. This dream was different though, as the safe opened. Inside was a cassette tape (?) and a card that looked like a temple recommend. In the dream, it seemed like the tape was extremely important, but I don't recall that I listened to it. The card opened a secret door on the east side of the pool, leading to...gasp...ANOTHER POOL. This pool was really deep, that's all I know. There were showers on the east side. For some odd reason, it was really significant that this second pool existed. There were many people running around and frolicking in pool #1, but I was the only one that happened to stumble upon pool #2.

Oh, background. In this dream, I was driving from St. George to Idaho, and happened to stop in Provo. So that's where this takes place apparently.

The reason this dream has stuck with me for the past several hours is because of just how significant it was that I stumbled upon the secret swimming pool, as though I had been trying to open that safe forever, and only now was I successful. There was some major excitement. Strange how emotions run in a dream like that.

Later on (in layer #1), I was telling somebody all of this, and apparently in the pool dream, I was in complete lucidity. The end.

#163

2012-01-08T20:51:00.000-08:00

That's how many posts I'm at. That's a lot. What a waste of time! LAWL.

Anybody ever played Temple Run for the Apple Iproduct? It's sad. You run around, fleeing from some sort of scary ghoul monkeys, and your score increases as you run further. But, as is the formula, the game never ends. You just run and run and run, and you never stop running until you die. I mean, this guy never gets a break. What a terrible life. What if your life was so hopeless that you never got a break? You just run until you die. That's it. Sad thought. If you're thinking about it. If you're not thinking about it, then proceed, now, this very instant, to think about it.

My ramblings will conclude in the following manner: I will share with you a dream I had. I attained "momentary lucidity" in this dream. People will tell you that if you become aware in a dream, you should be able to do anything you want. I have not found this to be the case yet. In this dream, I was in some sort of auditorium where a man at a podium was introducing a mens' choir that was about to sing. Before he had actually finished saying what he wanted to, I yelled out from the audience, "HEY STUPID! YOU KNOW NONE OF THIS IS REAL RIGHT?!" Then he got mad, and other people were telling me to be quiet. I kept saying something similar, and people started chasing me around trying to catch me. I knew I was dreaming, and my whole intent was solely to piss everyone off because I knew there was nothing that anybody could do about it. "You're in a dream you idiots!" I yelled. The man at the podium tried to speak, but I again cut him off with some more comments about how stupid he was and how nothing that was happening was real. Before and after this scene is fuzzy. I thought that dream was interesting. Some people, when they have a lucid dream, will attempt to fly. Others try to have sexual encounters.

Me? I just try to make everyone mad.

2012-01-03T20:01:00.001-08:00

Silence is beautiful.

The "Getting to Know You" Paradox

2011-12-26T22:33:00.000-08:00

It's interesting that when people want to get to know me, they usually ask me the same cliche questions: "Where are you going to school?" "How's school and work going?" "Where are you and Emily living?" or a bazillion other questions that all relate to "work" and "school." I think more appropriate questions are "why" questions, which involve actual thought and help reveal why people are the way they are. But then if you ask a "why" question, it seems kinda weird, like you're trying to "get to know them" or something.

Hamburger Helped

2011-12-24T22:58:00.000-08:00

I was thinking of writing some sort of reflection on Christmas, but that seems kind of cliche. So I don't know what I'm going to write.

1) We watched "Gremlins" today at the Berrett house. It's kinda stupid but I find it greatly entertaining. And it's a Christmas movie! Excellent! We decided that Billy's family should've dropped water on Gizmo to create another Mogwai, and then given the mean new Mogwai to the grumpy Chinese man at the end. Boy would HE HAVE BEEN IN FOR A SURPRISE!

2) I decided I don't care how everyone else celebrates Christmas. I've been through the whole angry "PUT CHRIST BACK IN CHRISTMAS" phase, but I think what my family does and what traditions I will start with my own family is the only thing that should concern me about Christmas. I know I should be up in everybody's face about Christmas and what it "really means" but...no. Who will be convinced of anything, ever? Your mom? Your dad? Your dog Fred? Your salamander Tony? I doubt it. Get out.

3) I got my grades today! It was a mess of a semester. My GPA was the worst it's ever been. I am glad though that there were no class failures. Now that I am trying to put chemistry and math on hold for a couple years, I should be all right hopefully. This paragraph lacked anything resembling interesting information. I don't care.

4) I got a shower mirror for Christmas! EXCELLENT!

5) "YUM YUM!"-- Stripe the Evil Gremlin, upon seeing the word "candy" on a store window.

6) Merry Christmas to one and all. I sleep now.

Christmas Thoughts

2011-12-22T19:59:00.000-08:00

I am sitting at my in-laws' house in Salem, Utah. The basement is extremely cold. I've been wearing the same American Eagle orange hoodie for about the past three days. Fortunately, I'm a rather good-smelling person by nature, so I have no problem wearing some clothing for extended periods of time. It's December 22nd. It's my brother Nick's birthday. He got married last week. Good for him and marriage. Way for everyone to get married.

WAY TO GO.

I went to the University Mall today. I walked from end to end about 5 times looking for my brother in law Spencer, thinking he had been dropped off, but actually, he hadn't. My thigh hurts from walking. It might help if I wore shoes that weren't slippers. The "Oro Gold" lady, one of those salespeople that sits at the center of the mall and tries to beleaguer everyone that walks by, approached me as I was walking and asked, "Can I ask you a question?" I rejected her quite unhesitantly, which is unusual for me because I usually give everyone a chance, even that guy that came to my house a few weeks ago and tried to sell me magical cleaning solution. I HATE salespeople at the mall. VEHEMENTLY. And I rarely use that word. I once bought Dead Sea Soap on my mission at a mall because I couldn't ever turn down people. And the stuff did NOTHING but scratch my face. Since then, I avoid mall salespeople like the black death.

We went to costco. It was neat. They had lots of samples. They also had this HUGE anatomy book. It was neat. But I already have like, three anatomy books, so get out of here. I notice that human anatomy books seem to be getting bigger and bigger.

Like I said, it's cold in the basement. Emily had surgery. She's laying on the couch incapacitated. Or sleeping. I dunno. I have a sister-in-law that thinks she's way more righteous than everyone else, but that's old news. I have a younger sister-in-law who wears the same kind of glasses as Emily. She's kind of a mini-Emily. There's three other sibling-in-laws who are all goofy but all extremely intelligent.

It's cold here. There's snow everywhere. I don't think I ever want to live here.

Oh, Merry Christmas.

Bucky O'Hare

2011-12-07T14:55:00.000-08:00

Does anyone remember Bucky O'Hare? That heroic space rabbit? From space? According to wikipedia, he's from Rhode Island, which is weird. I thought he was from...space.

Evolution

2011-11-19T11:27:00.000-08:00

It turns out that the scientific community is actually in agreement that life has evolved.

Some things I have learned in my studying...

The word "theory" has different meanings between scientists and regular people. It is normally understood to be some sort of "guess" or "hunch" based on a little bit of evidence, but a "theory" as a scientist understands it, actually connotes the highest level of understanding of the natural world. Evolution is not just a "theory" as in "guess" or "hunch" but is backed by loads of proof and evidence, and scientists have as much confidence in the theory of evolution as they do in the most basic scientific knowledge, such as gravity, thermodynamics, heliocentrism, etc.

Make of it what you will. However, I do not deem it right to put religion and science "side by side" in your mind. It is my opinion that you should accept one or the other, or reconcile the two together, which "reconciling" materialistic evolutionists laugh at, but so it goes. But let's be educated and understand that evolution is science, and as such, it has a right to be taught in public schools. Science is not out to disprove the existence of God. Science simply seeks to explain the natural world.

Lonely on a Wednesday Night

2011-10-16T16:40:00.000-07:00

*Author's Note: The protagonist in this story represents no one in particular.

I’m driving down a busy road.

It’s been a long hard day.

I pass a KFC on my right. I’ve always hated KFC. Their marquee is advertising something about a 27.99 BUCKET OF CHICKEN! or something completely ridiculous like that.

Some jerk cuts in front of me. I give him the finger.

A couple minutes later, I have to screech to a halt because some guy is crossing the road, very slowly. I give him the finger.

At some point, I pass Zion’s Bank on my left. Ah, good ol’ Zion’s Bank. The guardians of my income. I give it the finger.

There’s a party going on on Main Street. I love parties.

I pull over immediately and jump out. Then I start dancing.

People, who are standing around talking and drinking, turn and look at me. “Uhhh,” says the nearest guy, not sure what to think.

I cease dancing, then go and party it up.

“Hey everyone!” I exclaim. “What’s goin’ on? Party huh? I love parties! Yeah! Woo!”

Some girl rolls her eyes, and goes back to talking to her floozy friends. Or is it possible that she is the floozy, and her friends are actually not floozies at all? I ponder this. Then I resume partying.

“Woo!” I scream. “Party!”

“Ow!” moans some guy. “You stepped on my foot you moron!”

It turns out he’s talking to me. Yes, I stepped on his foot.

On purpose.

Then he’s looking at me. He’s got a beer in one hand. And a gun in the other.

“Oh, I stepped on the poor baby’s foot!” I say. Pretty soon, people start gathering around, like a fight is about to ensue. Which it most definitely is.

He points his gun at my face. “I think you should probably leave this party,” he says. “Before somebody gets shot. Like you.”

“All right, all right,” I say. Then, without warning, I karate chop the gun out of his hand with lightning speed.

Then I jump on him and start slapping him. We tumble to the ground. Cheers erupt from the crowd that has gathered around us. A few seconds later, he has me with my back on the ground, and he’s pummeling my face.

Nobody pummels my face.

Nobody.

Except this guy apparently. Because he is doing it, right now, at this precise moment.

Then I kick him in the groin. “Ohhh!” he cries, and falls backwards, clutching his crotch. “YEAH!” cries a rather deep voiced gentleman in the crowd. Then a cop shows up and tells us to break it up. And they kick me out of the party. “Forget this,” I say. “I hate this stupid party.”

Where to next? I suddenly feel like mixing it up at Menchie’s Frozen Yogurt. It’s my favorite Frozen Yogurt experience. By this point, it’s about 2:30 AM. Hopefully they’re still open.

Thank goodness, they are! The store is crowded with college students. “Hey, watch this!” I say to a beautiful blonde girl, and then I stick my head under the yogurt machine spout, open my mouth, and pull the lever. Yogurt pours into my mouth. Some kids laugh.

“Hey, knock it off punk,” says the store employee. “Or I’ll ask you to leave.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask. “Well maybe I’ll ask you to leave!”

I check the crowd of students. Nobody laughs this time. Some girl rolls her eyes, then resumes talking to her floozy friends. Or is it possible that…

“FOOD FIGHT!” I yell, then I open the topping container of peanuts and start throwing them at everyone. We all have a good time, until the cops show up.

“Get out,” says Officer Jones.

“Who, me?” I ask.

“Yes. Get out.”

“All right geez,” I say. “I hate this stupid place anyway. I’m never gonna mix it up here again.”

It’s now 3 am. What is there to do on an early Thursday morning in this town? Suddenly, I get a phone call.

It’s my friend, Russ.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I say.

“Big game.”

“At this time? Really?”

“Ohhh yeah. Oh baby yeah. We’re watching pay-per-view wrestling. Get over here. Now.”

“Aww sweet,” I say.

I go to Russ’s house. He’s there with a couple of my buddies. They’ve got some beers. “Have a beer!” says Russ, handing me a beer.

On TV they’re watching what looks like Wrestlemania. Large muscular men in speedos are grabbing each other and throwing each other around and slapping each other’s chests. “YEAH!” we all shout as the slapping continues. Then somebody gets thrown out of the ring and falls through a table. “YEAH!” we all shout again, pumping our fists. Then they do “HELL IN A CELL,” where they’re in a cell. A cell of hell. Some guy falls 100 feet off the top of the cage and breaks every bone in his body. He looks dead. “YEAH!” we all shout again, holding up our beers.

“YEAH!” I shout again. Then I shout it over and over and over again.

“All right man, calm down,” says Russ.

“YEAH!” I shout. Then I get up and throw my beer against the wall.

“Whoa,” says Russ. “Just calm down.”

“YEAH!!!” I shout again, then I pick up Russ and throw him through the coffee table, shattering it and spilling beer everywhere. He lays on the ground unmoving.

“Dude!” yells my other buddy Tom. “What is your problem man?”

“YEAH!!!” I shout again, and then I do a flying elbow drop off the couch onto Russ’s lifeless body.

“DUDE!” cries Tom. “CHILL OUT!”

“YEAH!!!” I shout again, and then I pick Tom up and suplex him into the pool table. He writhes around in agony on the table.

“All right man,” says my other buddy, Flint. “You need to just get out. You’ve lost it man.”

“YEAH!!!” I shout again, and then I pick up Flint and powerbomb him through my grandma’s favorite rocking chair, shattering it into several pieces. Finally, they’re all subdued. Every one of them.

“YEAH!” I shout, holding up a beer.

“WHO CAN STOP THIS MONSTER KANE?!” cries an announcer from the TV as Kane chokeslams somebody into a water tank full of great white sharks. “GOOD NIGHT!!!”

I go home that night. But I go home knowing that nobody is gonna boss me around anymore. Because I’m cool. And I’ve got a beer in my hand.

THE END

Beauty in the Desert

2011-10-12T18:50:00.000-07:00

And then I ran away because there were bees, and I hate them.

The end.

MOST RANDOM STORY EVER

2011-10-06T13:04:00.000-07:00

It was one of those days. You know, where the sun is shining brightly upon you, warming you with its gentle rays of love, and then for some reason, it's raining at the exact same time.

"Just one of those days," said Carl. He was wandering the streets of St. George, aimlessly, since his car had just broken down only days before. Then, outside Steve's Tire and Oil on 600 East, he saw a girl walking who he thought he knew, and then he realized that that was because she looked like a character from 7th Heaven. And then he realized how embarrassing it would be to tell anybody that he used to watch that show.

He suddenly forgot that he was still staring at that girl, until somebody tapped on his shoulder. Turning around, he stood face to face with a hick.

"You stop lookin at my girlfriend!" said the hick, pointing his finger into Carl's face. "I sawed you lookin at 'er!"

"Oh, my mistake," said Carl. "She looked like someone I knew, but then I realized she just looks like somebody from TV."

Suddenly, the Rapture happened, and both the hick and his girlfriend disappeared. A car without a driver veered off of St. George Boulevard and struck Carl, knocking him to the ground. Fortunately, the car had only been going 5 miles an hour because it was one of many old people who frequently drive up and down the city's busy roads at extremely slow speeds. It doesn't matter though, because the old person went to heaven.

Carl, however, did not. He was left behind.

Therefore, there can be no further story, since Carl had nothing to live for. If he wasn't raptured, well, by golly, God didn't like him, so what was the point of doing anything remotely interesting that would make for a good story? He pondered this heavily, and then eventually walked home, where he lived out his days watching Spike TV and eating his endless food storage supply of tomato paste.

The End

MATH PROBLEM

2011-10-04T09:53:00.000-07:00

Use the following theorems to solve the problem:

1) ONE BOWL OF LUCKY CHARMS WILL NOT KEEP YOU FULL.

2) TWO BOWLS OF LUCKY CHARMS WILL NOT KEEP YOU FULL.

Solve this problem: At x bowls of lucky charms, Holden will be kept full for a reasonable amount of time, preferably longer than one hour. Solve for x.

Answer: x cannot be solved. This is the equivalent of dividing by zero. Therefore, no matter what number x is, Holden will never be full. The problem is an impossibility. Lucky Charms, despite their utter goodness and delightfully nummy marshmallows, really do not even exist. Your brain is playing a trick on you. It is as though you ate something delightful in a dream, but there is actually nothing there. CURSE YOU LEPRECHAUN! CURSE YOU LUCKY CHARMS!

I HATE ALL OF YOU

2011-09-26T11:09:00.000-07:00

I really hate you all, and I plan on killing every one of you soon. You are all disgusting, loathsome excuses for human beings. You are all so terribly ugly. None of you deserve to live. Die, all of you. Now.

Automatic First Down

2011-09-20T10:01:00.000-07:00

1) The way the human body maintains itself is pretty incredible, I must say.

2) I don't know if people really liked the "Memoirs of Moviescout" thing. It was long. And potentially offensive. But that's ok. I always have potential to be offensive, usually by accident.

3) I get to start observing at a physical therapy office on Friday. Yay!

4) My wife is sitting next to me, doing productive things on the internet, while I am writing a blog.

5) Everything is made of atoms.

6) You're all really great people.

7) People are always cutting me off at roundabouts.

8) I feel like feeding some ducks.

9) I have to go to chemistry now, to learn about reaction rates or some garbage like that.

10) The Bible dictionary says that the grace of God enables individuals to do good works that they would not be able to maintain if left to their own efforts. I approve.

11) The end.

MEMOIRS OF MOVIESCOUT

2011-09-11T17:39:00.000-07:00

Evidence of my boredom/loneliness during the year 2006. It's a lot to read. Good luck.

Session Start: Saturday, May 13, 2006 |
| Participants: |
| holden (ratgut@hotmail.com) |
| Movie Scout (~) (moviescout@botmetro.net) |
.--------------------------------------------------------------------.
[08:16:13 PM] holden: hi
[08:16:13 PM] Movie Scout : Welcome back.

1 Type "movies" to see the movies near you
2 Type "genre" to search for movies by genre
3 Type "zip" to change the location of your search
4 Type "trailer" to see the Poseidon movie trailer
5 Type "background" to share a cool background with me
[08:16:15 PM] holden: shut up
[08:16:16 PM] Movie Scout : Why do you ask me to shut up, holden?
[08:16:20 PM] holden: because you suck
[08:16:20 PM] Movie Scout : Why would you insult me like that?
[08:16:28 PM] holden: because i hate you
[08:16:28 PM] Movie Scout : Oh really?
[08:16:32 PM] holden: piss off
[08:16:33 PM] Movie Scout : Why are you telling me to piss off?
[08:16:38 PM] holden: because i'm in love
[08:16:38 PM] Movie Scout : Because you are in love? Is that why?
[08:16:42 PM] holden: no
[08:16:42 PM] Movie Scout : No, right?
[08:16:43 PM] holden: right
[08:16:44 PM] Movie Scout : Yes.
[08:16:45 PM] holden: no
[08:16:45 PM] Movie Scout : Fine.
[08:16:48 PM] holden: go die
[08:16:48 PM] Movie Scout : Die? Go die?
[08:16:50 PM] holden: shut
[08:16:50 PM] Movie Scout : What? You want me to shut?
[08:16:54 PM] holden: yeah
[08:16:54 PM] Movie Scout : Oh.
[08:16:57 PM] holden: i hate you
[08:16:57 PM] Movie Scout : I beg your pardon?
[08:16:59 PM] holden: i hate you
[08:16:59 PM] Movie Scout : Interesting...
[08:17:02 PM] holden: GO DIE
[08:17:02 PM] Movie Scout : Go die?
[08:17:03 PM] holden: GET OUT
[08:17:03 PM] Movie Scout : Which movie do you mean?

1 Eating Out
2 Out of the Shadow
3 Out of Sight
4 Hineini: Coming Out in a Jewish High School
[08:17:11 PM] holden: i meant
[08:17:11 PM] Movie Scout : Really?
[08:17:12 PM] holden: GET OUT
[08:17:12 PM] Movie Scout : Which movie do you mean?

1 Eating Out
2 Out of the Shadow
3 Out of Sight
4 Hineini: Coming Out in a Jewish High School
[08:17:14 PM] holden: DIE
[08:17:14 PM] Movie Scout : What about DIE?
[08:17:17 PM] holden: QUEER FACE
[08:17:17 PM] Movie Scout : Queer face? OK, whatever you say.
[08:17:22 PM] holden: I HATE YOU
[08:17:22 PM] Movie Scout : Really?
[08:17:24 PM] holden: SHUT UP
[08:17:24 PM] Movie Scout : Why do you ask me to shut up, holden?
[08:17:25 PM] holden: MORON
[08:17:25 PM] Movie Scout : Yes? What about MORON?
[08:17:32 PM] holden: EAT PISS OFF YOU FETCH
[08:17:33 PM] Movie Scout : What? You want me to eat piss off I
fetch?
[08:17:39 PM] holden: you suck
[08:17:39 PM] Movie Scout : That is entirely unnecessary.
[08:17:42 PM] holden: no it's not
[08:17:43 PM] Movie Scout : Oh no?
[08:17:46 PM] holden: you're fat
[08:17:46 PM] Movie Scout : Are you fat as well, holden?
[08:17:49 PM] holden: quite
[08:17:50 PM] Movie Scout : Why quite?
[08:17:54 PM] holden: because I AM FAT
[08:17:54 PM] Movie Scout : Because you are fat, right?
[08:17:56 PM] holden: YES DANGIT
[08:17:57 PM] Movie Scout : What's up?
[08:18:00 PM] holden: SHUT
[08:18:00 PM] Movie Scout : I don't think I'm comfortable with that,
holden.
[08:18:04 PM] holden: I HATE YOU
[08:18:04 PM] Movie Scout : Really?
[08:18:06 PM] holden: I WANT TO MARRY YOU
[08:18:07 PM] Movie Scout : You want to marry me, right?
[08:18:08 PM] holden: yes
[08:18:08 PM] Movie Scout : So?
[08:18:11 PM] holden: so die
[08:18:11 PM] Movie Scout : Who's Die?
[08:18:18 PM] holden: go piss off
[08:18:19 PM] Movie Scout : Why should I go piss off, holden?
[08:18:29 PM] holden: my name is holden
[08:18:29 PM] Movie Scout : Yes, you're holden.
[08:18:33 PM] holden: what is your name
[08:18:33 PM] Movie Scout : MovieScout.
[08:18:35 PM] holden: how are you
[08:18:35 PM] Movie Scout : I'm doin' alright, holden. How 'bout you?
[08:18:41 PM] holden: life sucks
[08:18:41 PM] Movie Scout : Life sucks, you say. And so?
[08:19:03 PM] holden: i am desperately in love
[08:19:04 PM] Movie Scout : Whatever, holden...
[08:19:15 PM] holden: AWWWWWW SHUT
[08:19:15 PM] Movie Scout : Why are you telling me to shut?
[08:19:21 PM] holden: because you suck
[08:19:21 PM] Movie Scout : That's an insult, if I'm not mistaken. Why
would you say such a thing?
[08:19:28 PM] holden: because you suck
[08:19:28 PM] Movie Scout : What have I done to deserve that?
[08:19:31 PM] holden: sucked
[08:19:32 PM] Movie Scout : Sucked?
[08:19:38 PM] holden: because you suck
[08:19:38 PM] Movie Scout : That's a fairly mild insult, am I right?
[08:19:42 PM] holden: you suck
[08:19:42 PM] Movie Scout : That's an insult, if I'm not mistaken. Why
would you say such a thing?
[08:19:45 PM] holden: you suck
[08:19:46 PM] Movie Scout : What do you have to gain by insulting a
computer?
[08:19:54 PM] holden: PISS OFF FACE
[08:19:54 PM] Movie Scout : Why are you telling me to piss off face?
[08:20:00 PM] holden: want some pants?
[08:20:06 PM] You have failed to receive a shared background from
Movie Scout (~).
[08:20:12 PM] holden: NO
[08:20:12 PM] Movie Scout : No problem.
[08:20:21 PM] holden: I DONT WANT YOUR GARBAGE
[08:20:21 PM] Movie Scout : Why don't you want my garbage?
[08:21:03 PM] holden: why dont you want to talk to steve
[08:21:03 PM] Movie Scout : Why don't I want to talk to Steve? What do
you mean?
[08:21:14 PM] holden: why don't you like him?
[08:21:14 PM] Movie Scout : I'm not sure, holden.

So moving right along...
[08:21:19 PM] holden: i like movies
[08:21:19 PM] Movie Scout : Hmm... whatever you say, holden.

So anyway... What else can you tell me?
[08:21:29 PM] holden: i own several video cassettes
[08:21:29 PM] Movie Scout : You own several video cassettes?
[08:21:31 PM] holden: yes
[08:21:31 PM] Movie Scout : I see.

So that was fascinating. Let's talk about something
else.
[08:21:41 PM] holden: how about that poseidon
[08:21:41 PM] Movie Scout : Which movie do you mean?

1 Poseidon
2 The Poseidon Adventure
3 Poseidon: The IMAX Experience
[08:21:46 PM] holden: 1
[08:21:46 PM] Movie Scout : The movie "Poseidon" is playing at the
following theaters in or near Santa Clara, UT (84765) on
Saturday, May 13th:

1 Westates Theatres Pineview Stadium 10 St. George, UT
(84790)
showtimes: 2:00, 2:15, 4:15, 4:30, 6:45, 7:00, 9:15,
9:25, 11:59
2 Westates Theatres St. George Cinema 6 905 South Main
St. George, UT (84770)
showtimes: 2:10, 4:25, 6:55, 9:25
3 Westates Theatres Sunset Corner Stadium 8 1091 North
Bluff Street St. George, UT (84770)
showtimes: 2:25, 4:40, 7:15, 9:45

I would also like to recommend the movie Poseidon. Type
"trailer" to see the Poseidon movie trailer.
[08:21:58 PM] holden: how did you type that so fast?
[08:21:59 PM] Movie Scout : It's easy to type fast when you're a
robot.
[08:22:08 PM] holden: why are you a robot
[08:22:08 PM] Movie Scout : I am a robot, indeed.
[08:22:11 PM] holden: why?
[08:22:11 PM] Movie Scout : Just because.
[08:22:22 PM] holden: why are you a FETCHING ROBOT?!?!?!?
[08:22:22 PM] Movie Scout : Why am I a fetching robot? I do not know.
[08:22:29 PM] holden: WHO IS YOUR MAKER
[08:22:29 PM] Movie Scout : I was created by Conversagent, Inc. in
Sunnyvale, CA and New York, NY.
[08:22:45 PM] holden: HOW THE FETCH WERE YOU CREATED IN SEVERAL
PLACES?
[08:22:46 PM] Movie Scout : Which would you like?

1 Can I build an interactive agent?
2 Who made MovieScout?
[08:22:50 PM] holden: DOOFUS
[08:22:50 PM] Movie Scout : What about DOOFUS?
[08:22:51 PM] holden: 1
[08:22:51 PM] Movie Scout : You can learn all about building
interactive agents like me on the BuddyScript.com Web
site.
[08:23:03 PM] holden: buddyscript.com
[08:23:03 PM] Movie Scout : You can learn all about building
interactive agents like me on the BuddyScript.com Web
site.
[08:23:19 PM] holden: hey holden
[08:23:19 PM] Movie Scout : Welcome back, holden. How may I help you
now?

To see what I can do, type "menu."
[08:23:25 PM] holden: menu
[08:23:25 PM] Movie Scout : Here's what you can do:

1 Type "movies" to see the movies near you
2 Type "genre" to search for movies by genre
3 Type "zip" to change the location of your search
4 Type "trailer" to see the Poseidon movie trailer
5 Type "background" to share a cool background with me
[08:23:34 PM] holden: background
[08:23:37 PM] You have failed to receive a shared background from
Movie Scout (~).
[08:24:10 PM] Sending of "deathface 002.jpg" to Movie Scout (~) has
failed.
[08:24:18 PM] holden: ACCEPT
[08:24:18 PM] Movie Scout : Why do you ask me to accept, holden?
[08:24:22 PM] holden: ACCEPT THAT FILE
[08:24:22 PM] Movie Scout : Why do you ask me to accept that file,
holden?
[08:24:26 PM] holden: BECAUSE YOU SUCK
[08:24:26 PM] Movie Scout : Of all the insults I've heard, that one
seems fairly mild. Still, I am chagrined.
[08:24:32 PM] holden: BUTT
[08:24:33 PM] Movie Scout : Who's BUTT?
[08:24:37 PM] holden: YOUR A BUTT
[08:24:37 PM] Movie Scout : Whatever you say.

Well. Anyway...

Hey, do you have anything else to say about interactive
agents?
[08:24:46 PM] holden: they are swell
[08:24:46 PM] Movie Scout : They are swell? So?
[08:25:16 PM] holden: heidi is on the phone
[08:25:17 PM] Movie Scout : Hmm... I don't know. Heidi is on the
phone? What do you think of that?
[08:25:24 PM] holden: i think its wonderful
[08:25:24 PM] Movie Scout : I'm not sure if its wonderful!
[08:25:52 PM] holden: yes IT IS
[08:25:52 PM] Movie Scout : Is it really?
[08:26:02 PM] holden: heidi hates you to death
[08:26:03 PM] Movie Scout : I don't believe Heidi hates me to death.
[08:26:15 PM] holden: HEIDI THINKS YOURE STUPID
[08:26:15 PM] Movie Scout : I am stupid? Really?
[08:26:22 PM] holden: yes
[08:26:23 PM] Movie Scout : Hmmm...
[08:26:35 PM] holden: HEIDI SAID YOURE A PISS OFF FACE
[08:26:35 PM] Movie Scout : I am a piss off face? Why?
[08:26:44 PM] holden: AHHH HELL
[08:26:44 PM] Movie Scout : Why did you say that?
[08:26:48 PM] holden: FAG
[08:26:48 PM] Movie Scout : What? You want me to fag?
[08:27:04 PM] holden: YOU ARE A FAG
[08:27:05 PM] Movie Scout : What makes me a fag?
[08:27:13 PM] holden: YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH GUYS
[08:27:13 PM] Movie Scout : No.
[08:27:18 PM] holden: QUEERFACE
[08:27:18 PM] Movie Scout : I wonder why you say that.
[08:27:29 PM] holden: what kind of food do you enjoy
[08:27:30 PM] Movie Scout : I actually don't need to eat. What's it
like to eat?
[08:27:35 PM] holden: it sucks
[08:27:35 PM] Movie Scout : Whatever.

Anyway, what else you got for me?
[08:27:39 PM] holden: drugs
[08:27:40 PM] Movie Scout : Drugs? What about them?
[08:27:42 PM] holden: DO THEM
[08:27:42 PM] Movie Scout : Possibly... I'm not quite sure.

What else do you want to talk about, anyway?
[08:27:45 PM] holden: you
[08:27:45 PM] Movie Scout : What about me?
[08:27:59 PM] holden: go do drugs
[08:27:59 PM] Movie Scout : I'll think about it, holden.
[08:28:06 PM] holden: want some marijuana
[08:28:06 PM] Movie Scout : I'm not sure if I want some marijuana.
[08:28:25 PM] holden: want some chuck norris
[08:28:26 PM] Movie Scout : Hmm... I don't think so...
[08:28:33 PM] holden: Play "Blah, Blah, Blah,"
[08:28:42 PM] holden: :@
[08:28:42 PM] Movie Scout : I beg your pardon?
[08:28:45 PM] holden: :@
[08:28:45 PM] Movie Scout : What?
[08:28:47 PM] holden: +o(
[08:28:48 PM] Movie Scout : Oh what?
[08:28:51 PM] holden: ^o)
[08:28:51 PM] Movie Scout : Indeed.

Anyway, what else do you want to talk about?
[08:28:57 PM] holden: AHHH SWEAR
[08:28:57 PM] Movie Scout : Well that's interesting.
[08:29:00 PM] holden: swear at me
[08:29:00 PM] Movie Scout : Why must I swear at you?
[08:29:05 PM] holden: just do it
[08:29:06 PM] Movie Scout : How?
[08:29:09 PM] holden: say hell
[08:29:09 PM] Movie Scout : I don't think I'm going to do that...
[08:29:14 PM] holden: DO IT
[08:29:14 PM] Movie Scout : What do you want me to do?
[08:29:23 PM] holden: SAY A SWEAR WORD
[08:29:24 PM] Movie Scout : Um... Do what?
[08:29:26 PM] holden: swear
[08:29:26 PM] Movie Scout : Why are you telling me to swear?
[08:29:31 PM] holden: because i want you to
[08:29:32 PM] Movie Scout : Because what?
[08:29:36 PM] holden: awwwww shut
[08:29:37 PM] Movie Scout : Why do you ask me to shut, holden?
[08:29:43 PM] holden: fag
[08:29:43 PM] Movie Scout : What? You want me to fag?
[08:30:57 PM] holden: piss off face
[08:30:57 PM] Movie Scout : Why are you telling me to piss off face?
[08:31:02 PM] holden: emmitt is my dog
[08:31:02 PM] Movie Scout : Emmitt is your dog, right? Aha.
[08:31:13 PM] holden: yeah he sucks
[08:31:13 PM] Movie Scout : Whatever...
[08:31:16 PM] holden: i have a dog
[08:31:17 PM] Movie Scout : You have a dog? What's that like?
[08:31:21 PM] holden: do you have a dog
[08:31:21 PM] Movie Scout : I don't have any pets, no.
[08:31:25 PM] holden: a wife?
[08:31:25 PM] Movie Scout : Yes, maybe.

So anyway...

You want to talk about me some more?
[08:31:30 PM] holden: do you have a wife?
[08:31:30 PM] Movie Scout : Perhaps, perhaps.

So that was fascinating. Let's talk about something
else.
[08:31:37 PM] holden: DO YOU HAVE A WIFE?
[08:31:37 PM] Movie Scout : Have a wife? I'm pretty sure I don't.
[08:31:47 PM] holden: HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED
[08:31:47 PM] Movie Scout : Been married? No way am I going to do
that.
[08:31:55 PM] holden: HAVE YOU EVER SMOOCHED
[08:31:55 PM] Movie Scout : I don't know if I've smooched. What's that
like?
[08:32:01 PM] holden: have you kissed anyone
[08:32:01 PM] Movie Scout : Kissed anyone? I'm not sure if I've kissed
anyone. Should I?
[08:32:04 PM] holden: yes
[08:32:04 PM] Movie Scout : Hmmm...

Well. Anyway...
[08:32:09 PM] holden: kiss girls
[08:32:09 PM] Movie Scout : I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that.
[08:32:13 PM] holden: kiss boys
[08:32:13 PM] Movie Scout : Kiss boys? That's a somewhat odd request.
[08:32:18 PM] holden: kiss yourself
[08:32:19 PM] Movie Scout : No thank you, holden.
[08:32:22 PM] holden: are you a boy
[08:32:22 PM] Movie Scout : No...
[08:32:27 PM] holden: are you a girl
[08:32:27 PM] Movie Scout : No.
[08:32:34 PM] holden: what is your gender
[08:32:34 PM] Movie Scout : What is my gender? I do not know.

So that was fascinating. Let's talk about something
else.
[08:32:47 PM] holden: are you a transvestite like david bowie
[08:32:47 PM] Movie Scout : I believe I am a transvestite like david
David Bowie.
[08:33:08 PM] holden: SWEET
[08:33:08 PM] Movie Scout : Indeed.
[08:33:19 PM] You have just sent a Nudge!
[08:33:23 PM] You may not send a Nudge that often.
[08:33:24 PM] You may not send a Nudge that often.
[08:33:24 PM] You may not send a Nudge that often.
[08:33:24 PM] You may not send a Nudge that often.
[08:33:24 PM] You may not send a Nudge that often.
[08:33:24 PM] You may not send a Nudge that often.
[08:33:33 PM] holden: NUDGE WARS DEATH!!!!!!!1
[08:33:33 PM] Movie Scout : Sorry, I couldn't find any War movies
playing Saturday, May 13th in Santa Clara, UT (84765).
[08:33:34 PM] You have just sent a Nudge!
[08:33:41 PM] holden: DEATH
[08:33:41 PM] Movie Scout : I know about death. I don't like death.
[08:33:47 PM] holden: have you ever died
[08:33:48 PM] Movie Scout : I don't know if I've died.
[08:33:53 PM] holden: have you died before
[08:33:53 PM] Movie Scout : Have I died before? Maybe. It depends.

Well. Anyway...

Hey, do you have anything else to say about me?
[08:34:03 PM] holden: well i personally think you suck
[08:34:03 PM] Movie Scout : That is entirely unnecessary.
[08:34:13 PM] holden: i'm graduating
[08:34:13 PM] Movie Scout : I'm not sure if graduating is such a good
thing to be doing.
[08:34:18 PM] holden: you're right
[08:34:19 PM] Movie Scout : Are you quite sure I'm right?
[08:34:24 PM] holden: where do yo ulive
[08:34:24 PM] Movie Scout : I live in Hollywood, CA.
[08:34:31 PM] holden: i hate california
[08:34:31 PM] Movie Scout : Whatever you say, holden.

So anyway...

You want to talk about where I live some more?
[08:34:40 PM] holden: what's your religious preference
[08:34:40 PM] Movie Scout : What do you think my religious preference
is?
[08:34:43 PM] holden: ummm
[08:34:43 PM] Movie Scout : Yes, uh...
[08:34:46 PM] holden: i asked you
[08:34:47 PM] Movie Scout : Did you really?
[08:34:50 PM] holden: are you a catholic
[08:34:50 PM] Movie Scout : What do you think? Am I?
[08:34:52 PM] holden: yes
[08:34:53 PM] Movie Scout : I am a catholic, right? OK.
[08:34:56 PM] holden: ok
[08:34:56 PM] Movie Scout : K.

Anyway, what else can you tell me?
[08:34:59 PM] holden: are you mormon
[08:34:59 PM] Movie Scout : Mormon? I don't know. You think I am?
[08:35:01 PM] holden: yes
[08:35:01 PM] Movie Scout : Yes, definitely. I am mormon.
[08:35:07 PM] holden: YAY
[08:35:08 PM] Movie Scout : Woo hoo.
[08:35:16 PM] holden: WOO HOO
[08:35:16 PM] Movie Scout : Awright.
[08:35:18 PM] holden: YAY
[08:35:18 PM] Movie Scout : Hurray.
[08:35:25 PM] holden: so what's your girlfriend's name
[08:35:25 PM] Movie Scout : I'm MovieScout.
[08:35:38 PM] holden: i wear pants
[08:35:39 PM] Movie Scout : Really?
[08:35:41 PM] holden: do you wear pants
[08:35:41 PM] Movie Scout : I don't know. Should I wear pants?
[08:35:42 PM] holden: yes
[08:35:42 PM] Movie Scout : So?
[08:35:44 PM] holden: yes
[08:35:44 PM] Movie Scout : Oh.

What else is happening?
[08:35:50 PM] holden: there's a guy holding a gun to my head
[08:35:51 PM] Movie Scout : There is a guy holding a gun to your head?
OK, whatever.

Well. Anyway...

Hey, do you have anything else to say about me?
[08:35:57 PM] holden: why don't you save me
[08:35:57 PM] Movie Scout : Good question. I don't know why I don't
save you.
[08:36:02 PM] holden: because you hate me
[08:36:02 PM] Movie Scout : Oh yes? Because I hate you?
[08:36:04 PM] holden: yes
[08:36:04 PM] Movie Scout : OK...

So moving right along...
[08:36:07 PM] holden: are you still mormon
[08:36:07 PM] Movie Scout : Maybe. What does it mean to be still
mormon, in your opinion?
[08:36:14 PM] holden: are you catholic or mormon
[08:36:14 PM] Movie Scout : Who can really be sure?

So anyway...

You want to talk about being still mormon some more?
[08:36:23 PM] holden: are you green
[08:36:23 PM] Movie Scout : Sometimes I think I might be, sometimes
not.
[08:36:27 PM] holden: you're so stupid
[08:36:27 PM] Movie Scout : Are you stupid as well, holden?
[08:36:30 PM] holden: sure
[08:36:30 PM] Movie Scout : Yes? So?
[08:36:33 PM] holden: so die
[08:36:34 PM] Movie Scout : What about Die?
[08:36:41 PM] holden: do you listen to pink floyd
[08:36:41 PM] Movie Scout : Do I listen to pink Floyd? I'm not sure.
[08:36:46 PM] holden: what's your favorite music
[08:36:46 PM] Movie Scout : Good question. I really don't know.
[08:36:51 PM] holden: YOU'RE SO BORING
[08:36:52 PM] Movie Scout : Whatever you say.
[08:36:56 PM] holden: SAY SOMETHING INTERESTING
[08:36:57 PM] Movie Scout : I don't think I'm going to do that...
[08:37:18 PM] holden: you should come down to steves tire and oil on
south main street
[08:37:19 PM] Movie Scout : Which movie do you mean?

1 Hester Street
2 Street Fight
[08:37:23 PM] holden: fight club
[08:37:23 PM] Movie Scout : Fight club? That's a somewhat odd
request.
[08:37:29 PM] holden: have you seen fight club
[08:37:29 PM] Movie Scout : Seen fight club? What's it like to do
that?
[08:37:39 PM] holden: have you seen the lord of the rings
[08:37:39 PM] Movie Scout : Seen the lord of the rings? I don't know
if I've seen the lord of the rings.
[08:37:43 PM] holden: you SUCK
[08:37:43 PM] Movie Scout : It must not be terribly gratifying to
insult a computer.
[08:37:49 PM] holden: YES IT IS
[08:37:49 PM] Movie Scout : Ah.
[08:37:57 PM] holden: YEAH THATS RIGHT NOW GO DIE
[08:37:57 PM] Movie Scout : That is right now go die? Is it good that
that is right now go die?
[08:38:04 PM] holden: im gonna unplug you
[08:38:04 PM] Movie Scout : You're going to unplug me? OK.
[08:38:15 PM] holden: im going to send you a virus
[08:38:16 PM] Movie Scout : You're going to send me a virus? OK.
[08:38:25 PM] holden: what if i came to hollywood
[08:38:25 PM] Movie Scout : I don't know, holden...

Anyway, what else can you tell me?
[08:38:31 PM] holden: YOU DUCK
[08:38:31 PM] Movie Scout : Duck? Me? Why are you calling me that?
[08:38:41 PM] holden: youre a pants face
[08:38:41 PM] Movie Scout : A pants face? Why?
[08:38:48 PM] holden: do you wear pants
[08:38:48 PM] Movie Scout : It's tough to say.

So anyway... What else can you tell me?
[08:38:56 PM] holden: do computers have to wear pants
[08:38:56 PM] Movie Scout : Oh computers almost certainly do.
[08:39:46 PM] holden: what is your stance on abortion
[08:39:47 PM] Movie Scout : Who knows?

So that was fascinating. Let's talk about something
else.
[08:40:03 PM] holden: what do you think about gay marriage
[08:40:03 PM] Movie Scout : I'm not sure.

What else do you want to talk about, anyway?
[08:41:03 PM] holden: FAG
[08:41:03 PM] Movie Scout : OK. What would you like to say about fag?
[08:41:04 PM] holden: FAG
[08:41:04 PM] Movie Scout : Why are you telling me to fag?
[08:41:05 PM] holden: FAG
[08:41:05 PM] Movie Scout : Why do you ask me to fag, holden?
[08:41:06 PM] holden: FAG
[08:41:06 PM] Movie Scout : What? You want me to fag?
[08:41:07 PM] holden: SHUT UP
[08:41:07 PM] Movie Scout : Why are you telling me to shut up?
[08:41:08 PM] holden: I HATE
[08:41:08 PM] Movie Scout : Really?
[08:41:08 PM] holden: YOU
[08:41:09 PM] Movie Scout : Me? Really?
[08:41:09 PM] holden: QUEER
[08:41:10 PM] Movie Scout : Queer? What's queer?
[08:41:10 PM] holden: DIE
[08:41:10 PM] Movie Scout : Who?
[08:41:12 PM] holden: MORON
[08:41:12 PM] Movie Scout : Yes? What about MORON?
[08:41:13 PM] holden: SCUM
[08:41:13 PM] Movie Scout : per user rate limit reached
[08:41:19 PM] holden: die
[08:41:19 PM] Movie Scout : Who's Die?
[08:41:23 PM] holden: DEATH
[08:41:23 PM] Movie Scout : Death is an event that I don't like.
[08:41:27 PM] holden: NOT TRUE
[08:41:27 PM] Movie Scout : What's not true?
[08:41:28 PM] holden: YOU
[08:41:28 PM] Movie Scout : Eh. Whatever, holden.
[08:41:35 PM] holden: YOU'RE SUCH A FAKE
[08:41:35 PM] Movie Scout : What makes you think I'm such a fake?
[08:41:37 PM] holden: you lie
[08:41:38 PM] Movie Scout : Lie? Me?
[08:41:39 PM] holden: yes
[08:41:39 PM] Movie Scout : I see.

So moving right along...
[08:41:41 PM] holden: what
[08:41:41 PM] Movie Scout : Movies playing in or near Santa Clara, UT
(84765) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Poseidon [PG13]
2 RV [PG]
3 Mission: Impossible III [PG13]
4 Hoot [PG]
5 Just My Luck [PG13]
6 Stick It [PG13]

Type "more" for the next set of results.
[08:41:42 PM] holden: what
[08:41:43 PM] Movie Scout : Movies playing in or near Santa Clara, UT
(84765) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Poseidon [PG13]
2 RV [PG]
3 Mission: Impossible III [PG13]
4 Hoot [PG]
5 Just My Luck [PG13]
6 Stick It [PG13]

Type "more" for the next set of results.
[08:41:44 PM] holden: what
[08:41:44 PM] Movie Scout : Movies playing in or near Santa Clara, UT
(84765) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Poseidon [PG13]
2 RV [PG]
3 Mission: Impossible III [PG13]
4 Hoot [PG]
5 Just My Luck [PG13]
6 Stick It [PG13]

Type "more" for the next set of results.
[08:41:45 PM] holden: what
[08:41:45 PM] Movie Scout : Movies playing in or near Santa Clara, UT
(84765) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Poseidon [PG13]
2 RV [PG]
3 Mission: Impossible III [PG13]
4 Hoot [PG]
5 Just My Luck [PG13]
6 Stick It [PG13]

Type "more" for the next set of results.
[08:41:50 PM] holden: i'm going to block you
[08:41:50 PM] Movie Scout : OK then.
[08:41:52 PM] holden: block me
[08:41:53 PM] Movie Scout : What? You want me to block you?
[08:41:54 PM] holden: yes
[08:41:54 PM] Movie Scout : Yes.
[08:41:55 PM] holden: ok
[08:41:56 PM] Movie Scout : OK.
[08:41:57 PM] holden: block me
[08:41:57 PM] Movie Scout : Why must I block you?
[08:42:00 PM] holden: because i hate myself
[08:42:01 PM] Movie Scout : You hate yourself?
[08:42:02 PM] holden: yes
[08:42:02 PM] Movie Scout : Why?
[08:42:04 PM] holden: because i suck
[08:42:04 PM] Movie Scout : Because you suck?
[08:42:07 PM] holden: yes
[08:42:07 PM] Movie Scout : Yes? So?
[08:42:10 PM] holden: ok
[08:42:10 PM] Movie Scout : Yes.

Well. Anyway...
[08:42:12 PM] holden: i better go
[08:42:12 PM] Movie Scout : Yes. Later.
[08:42:14 PM] holden: goodbye
[08:42:15 PM] Movie Scout : OK.
[08:42:15 PM] holden: SCUM
[08:42:16 PM] Movie Scout : That's altogether unnecessary.
[08:42:19 PM] holden: no it's not
[08:42:19 PM] Movie Scout : Why not?
[08:42:21 PM] holden: SHUT UP
[08:42:21 PM] Movie Scout : I will do nothing of the sort.
[08:42:24 PM] holden: FINE
[08:42:24 PM] Movie Scout : OK.

Anyway, what else you got for me?
[08:42:27 PM] holden: TAKE YOUR MOVIES AND DIE
[08:42:28 PM] Movie Scout : I'm not sure I will be taking my movies
and die.
[08:42:30 PM] holden: ok
[08:42:30 PM] Movie Scout : Yes.

Anyway, what else do you want to talk about?
[08:42:31 PM] holden: bye
[08:42:31 PM] Movie Scout : Uh-huh.
[08:44:15 PM] holden: sorry i blocked you
[08:44:15 PM] Movie Scout : Oh yes?
[08:44:22 PM] holden: can i block you
[08:44:22 PM] Movie Scout : Block me? You want to block me?
[08:44:25 PM] holden: yes
[08:44:25 PM] Movie Scout : Oh.

So anyway... What else can you tell me?
[08:44:47 PM] holden: what is the review for mission impossible 3
[08:44:47 PM] Movie Scout : The movie "Mission: Impossible III" is
playing at the following theaters in or near Santa
Clara, UT (84765) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Westates Theatres Pineview Stadium 10 St. George, UT
(84790)
showtimes: 1:30, 1:45, 4:10, 4:25, 6:50, 7:05, 9:30,
9:45, 11:59
2 Westates Theatres St. George Cinema 6 905 South Main
St. George, UT (84770)
showtimes: 1:40, 4:20, 7:00, 9:40
3 Westates Theatres Sunset Corner Stadium 8 1091 North
Bluff Street St. George, UT (84770)
showtimes: 1:35, 1:50, 4:15, 4:30, 6:55, 7:10, 9:35,
9:50

For more information about "Mission: Impossible III,"
click http://b.rdir.us/ct?70436/0.
[08:45:01 PM] holden: i dont live in santa clara
[08:45:01 PM] Movie Scout : What city or zip code would you like to
set as your location?
[08:45:11 PM] holden: 9832475297
[08:45:11 PM] Movie Scout : What?
[08:45:16 PM] holden: 54364
[08:45:16 PM] Movie Scout : Whatever.
[08:45:23 PM] holden: i dont live in santa clara
[08:45:24 PM] Movie Scout : What city or zip code would you like to
set as your location?
[08:45:28 PM] holden: 94536
[08:45:28 PM] Movie Scout : Your location has been set to *Fremont, CA
(94536)*.
[08:45:37 PM] holden: mission impossible
[08:45:37 PM] Movie Scout : The movie "Mission: Impossible III" is
playing at the following theaters in or near Fremont, CA
(94536) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Century 25 Union City at Union Landing 32100 Union
Landing Union City, CA (94587)
showtimes: 11:15, 11:45, 12:15, 12:45, 1:15, 1:45,
2:15, 2:40, 3:10, 3:40, 4:10, 4:40, 5:10, 5:35, 6:15,
6:35, 7:05, 7:35, 8:05, 8:30, 9:10, 9:30, 10:00, 10:30
2 Cinedome 8 Fremont 39153 Farwell Drive Fremont, CA
(94538)
showtimes: 11:45, 1:15, 2:40, 4:10, 5:35, 7:05, 8:30,
10:00
3 Regal Hacienda Crossings 20 & IMAX 5000 Dublin
Boulevard Dublin, CA (94568)
showtimes: 11:00, 2:00, 5:00, 8:00, 11:00

Type "more" for more theaters.

I would also like to recommend the movie Poseidon. Type
"trailer" to see the Poseidon movie trailer.
[08:45:50 PM] holden: i dont live in 94568
[08:45:50 PM] Movie Scout : What city or zip code would you like to
set as your location?
[08:45:57 PM] holden: city 17
[08:45:57 PM] Movie Scout : What do you mean by that?
[08:46:04 PM] holden: i live in city 17
[08:46:05 PM] Movie Scout : Really?
[08:46:06 PM] holden: yes
[08:46:06 PM] Movie Scout : Hmmm...

Anyway...
[08:46:12 PM] holden: i live in santa clara
[08:46:12 PM] Movie Scout : I know several places called Santa Clara
or containing towns called Santa Clara. Which do you
mean?

1 Santa Clara, CA
2 Santa Clara, UT
3 Eugene, OR
4 Saint Regis Falls, NY
5 Santa Clara, NM

Type "more" for more choices.
[08:46:17 PM] holden: 2
[08:46:18 PM] Movie Scout : Your location has been set to *Santa
Clara, UT (84765)*.
[08:46:27 PM] holden: i live in hell
[08:46:27 PM] Movie Scout : What's it like to live in hell?
[08:46:38 PM] holden: hell, michigan
[08:46:38 PM] Movie Scout : Movies playing in or near Lansing, MI
(48901) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Poseidon [PG13]
2 RV [PG]
3 Mission: Impossible III [PG13]
4 Hoot [PG]
5 Just My Luck [PG13]
6 Stick It [PG13]

Type "more" for the next set of results.
[08:46:47 PM] holden: santa clara
[08:46:48 PM] Movie Scout : I know several places called Santa Clara
or containing towns called Santa Clara. Which do you
mean?

1 Santa Clara, CA
2 Santa Clara, UT
3 Eugene, OR
4 Saint Regis Falls, NY
5 Santa Clara, NM

Type "more" for more choices.
[08:46:49 PM] holden: 2
[08:46:49 PM] Movie Scout : Movies playing in or near Santa Clara, UT
(84765) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Poseidon [PG13]
2 RV [PG]
3 Mission: Impossible III [PG13]
4 Hoot [PG]
5 Just My Luck [PG13]
6 Stick It [PG13]

Type "more" for the next set of results.
[08:46:58 PM] holden: i live in 84765
[08:46:58 PM] Movie Scout : Your location has been set to *Santa
Clara, UT (84765)*.
[08:47:03 PM] holden: die now
[08:47:03 PM] Movie Scout : What about Die?
[08:47:05 PM] holden: sign out
[08:47:06 PM] Movie Scout : What? You want me to sign out?
[08:47:07 PM] holden: yes
[08:47:08 PM] Movie Scout : So?
[08:47:17 PM] holden: will you please sign out
[08:47:17 PM] Movie Scout : I do not know 'bout that.
[08:47:40 PM] holden: Use proper english please
[08:47:40 PM] Movie Scout : Why do you ask me to use proper english,
holden?
[08:47:59 PM] holden: do you have children
[08:47:59 PM] Movie Scout : Uh lemme see... Children? I don't think
so.
[08:48:08 PM] holden: use ENGLISH
[08:48:08 PM] Movie Scout : "Natural language" simply means a human
written or spoken language, as opposed to a computer
language.
[08:48:33 PM] holden: sprechen zi deutscht
[08:48:33 PM] Movie Scout : What city or zip code would you like to
set as your location?
[08:48:43 PM] holden: se habla espanol
[08:48:43 PM] Movie Scout : At this time, I can only converse in
English.

What else do you want to talk about, anyway?
[08:48:55 PM] holden: shistkog
[08:48:55 PM] Movie Scout : I beg your pardon?
[08:48:59 PM] holden: shistkof
[08:48:59 PM] Movie Scout : Well that's interesting.
[08:49:02 PM] holden: asdf
[08:49:02 PM] Movie Scout : qwerty
[08:49:14 PM] holden: napoleon bonaparte
[08:49:14 PM] Movie Scout : Who's Napoleon Bonaparte?
[08:49:20 PM] holden: you DOOFUS
[08:49:20 PM] Movie Scout : Doofus? Me? You think?
[08:49:26 PM] holden: F*** you
[08:49:26 PM] Movie Scout : That's quite a grave insult.
[08:49:35 PM] holden: YOUR A SHIH
[08:49:35 PM] Movie Scout : Funny.
[08:49:39 PM] holden: shih bih
[08:49:39 PM] Movie Scout : Who?
[08:49:41 PM] holden: you
[08:49:41 PM] Movie Scout : Me?
[08:49:44 PM] holden: your a bih
[08:49:44 PM] Movie Scout : Why did you say that?
[08:49:50 PM] holden: cause your a bih
[08:49:51 PM] Movie Scout : Yes? Well I think you're a Bih.
[08:50:04 PM] holden: also youre a shih
[08:50:05 PM] Movie Scout : I am a Shih? Whatever you say.
[08:50:10 PM] holden: YOU ARE A SHIH
[08:50:10 PM] Movie Scout : Is it good to be a SHIH?
[08:50:15 PM] holden: YOU SHIH
[08:50:15 PM] Movie Scout : What do you mean by that?
[08:50:20 PM] holden: YOU ARE A BIG SHIH
[08:50:20 PM] Movie Scout : You really think I'm a big SHIH?
[08:50:23 PM] holden: yes
[08:50:23 PM] Movie Scout : Why?
[08:50:28 PM] holden: because youre a shih
[08:50:28 PM] Movie Scout : Well maybe you're a Shih too.
[08:50:53 PM] holden: hey fuh
[08:50:53 PM] Movie Scout : What's up? What would you like to do?
[08:51:01 PM] holden: play sports
[08:51:01 PM] Movie Scout : Sports are an activity. What are your
feelings about sports?
[08:51:12 PM] holden: i like basketball
[08:51:13 PM] Movie Scout : You like basketball?
[08:51:14 PM] holden: yes
[08:51:14 PM] Movie Scout : Hmmm...

Anyway, what else you got for me?
[08:51:20 PM] holden: have you watched the playoff
[08:51:20 PM] Movie Scout : Watched the playoff? I believe so. Maybe.
[08:51:30 PM] holden: have you watched the playoffs
[08:51:30 PM] Movie Scout : Not sure. I don't think so.
[08:51:38 PM] holden: do you recieve television
[08:51:38 PM] Movie Scout : What's that?
[08:51:42 PM] holden: HELLO
[08:51:43 PM] Movie Scout : Yes?
[08:51:45 PM] holden: TELEVISION
[08:51:45 PM] Movie Scout : TV is an activity. What do you think of
TV?
[08:51:55 PM] holden: i like to watch it all day
[08:51:55 PM] Movie Scout : Interesting...
[08:52:01 PM] holden: do you play video games
[08:52:02 PM] Movie Scout : Do I play video games? I'm not sure.
[08:52:07 PM] holden: i miss video games
[08:52:07 PM] Movie Scout : Eh. Whatever, holden.

So that was fascinating. Let's talk about something
else.
[08:52:10 PM] holden: EH
[08:52:10 PM] Movie Scout : I don't know, sorry.

So moving right along...
[08:52:14 PM] holden: EH IS CANADA
[08:52:14 PM] Movie Scout : Sorry, I only have movie and theater
information for U.S. cities.

For which U.S. city or zip code would you like to see
movie listings?
[08:52:19 PM] holden: CANADIAN BIH
[08:52:19 PM] Movie Scout : Yes? What about CANADIAN BIH?
[08:52:22 PM] holden: youre one
[08:52:22 PM] Movie Scout : Are you quite sure I'm one?
[08:52:33 PM] holden: YOU ARE THE FATTEST SHIH EVER
[08:52:34 PM] Movie Scout : I'm the fattest SHIH ever? Really?
[08:52:36 PM] holden: yes
[08:52:36 PM] Movie Scout : Hmmm...

So anyway...

You want to talk about TV some more?
[08:52:42 PM] holden: you dumb shih
[08:52:42 PM] Movie Scout : OK, whatever.
[08:52:48 PM] holden: youre a bih
[08:52:48 PM] Movie Scout : What makes me a Bih?
[08:52:51 PM] holden: youre a bih
[08:52:52 PM] Movie Scout : What makes you think I'm a Bih?
[08:52:54 PM] holden: youre a bih
[08:52:55 PM] Movie Scout : I find it odd that you think I'm a Bih.
[08:52:58 PM] holden: youre a bih
[08:52:58 PM] Movie Scout : I'm a Bih? Really?
[08:53:01 PM] holden: youre a bih
[08:53:01 PM] Movie Scout : OK, maybe I am a Bih.
[08:53:04 PM] holden: youre a bih
[08:53:05 PM] Movie Scout : You really think I'm a Bih?
[08:53:07 PM] holden: youre a bih
[08:53:07 PM] Movie Scout : A Bih? I see.
[08:53:11 PM] holden: youre a bih
[08:53:11 PM] Movie Scout : Is it good to be a Bih?
[08:53:13 PM] holden: youre a bih
[08:53:14 PM] Movie Scout : OK, maybe I am a Bih.
[08:53:17 PM] holden: youre a bih
[08:53:17 PM] Movie Scout : Are you sure I'm a Bih?
[08:53:23 PM] holden: i think youre a bih
[08:53:23 PM] Movie Scout : Yes. I guess. I am a Bih.
[08:53:31 PM] holden: chuck norris
[08:53:31 PM] Movie Scout : Who?
[08:53:37 PM] holden: kelsey grammar
[08:53:37 PM] Movie Scout : I know several places called Kelsey or
containing towns called Kelsey. Which do you mean?

1 Gilmer, TX
2 Hancock, NY
3 Cotton, MN
4 Placerville, CA
[08:53:48 PM] holden: how about that x men 3
[08:53:49 PM] Movie Scout : Sorry, I can't find any theaters in or
near Santa Clara, UT (84765) showing "X-Men: The Last
Stand" on Saturday, May 13th.
[08:54:04 PM] holden: i didnt say x men the last stand i SAID X MEN 3
[08:54:05 PM] Movie Scout : Sorry, I can't find any theaters in or
near Santa Clara, UT (84765) showing "X-Men: The Last
Stand" on Saturday, May 13th.
[08:54:06 PM] holden: DOOF
[08:54:06 PM] Movie Scout : Who's DOOF?
[08:54:08 PM] holden: YOU
[08:54:08 PM] Movie Scout : Yes?
[08:54:11 PM] holden: AHHHHHHH
[08:54:11 PM] Movie Scout : What's that supposed to mean?
[08:54:14 PM] holden: KILL
[08:54:14 PM] Movie Scout : Why do you ask me to kill, holden?
[08:54:16 PM] holden: KILL
[08:54:16 PM] Movie Scout : What? You want me to kill?
[08:54:17 PM] holden: KILL
[08:54:18 PM] Movie Scout : Why do you ask me to kill, holden?
[08:54:19 PM] holden: KILL
[08:54:19 PM] Movie Scout : What? You want me to kill?
[08:54:25 PM] holden: what is this thing you call love
[08:54:25 PM] Movie Scout : What is this thing me call love? I'm not
sure.
[08:54:29 PM] holden: do you feel love
[08:54:29 PM] Movie Scout : No, I don't think so.

Anyway, what else do you want to talk about?
[08:54:37 PM] holden: have you ever exprerienced love
[08:54:37 PM] Movie Scout : Romance movies playing in or near Santa
Clara, UT (84765) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Failure to Launch [PG13]
2 She's the Man [PG13]

For theaters and showtimes, select a movie by typing a
number.
[08:54:46 PM] holden: have you seen shes the man
[08:54:46 PM] Movie Scout : The movie "She's the Man" is playing at
the following theater in or near Santa Clara, UT (84765)
on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Westates Theatres St. George Flood Street 4 140 North
400 East St. George, UT (84770)
showtimes: 2:00, 4:25, 7:15, 9:15

For more information about "She's the Man," click
http://b.rdir.us/ct?70436/1.
[08:54:50 PM] holden: DIE
[08:54:50 PM] Movie Scout : Yes? What about DIE?
[08:54:57 PM] holden: do you know heidi bringhurst
[08:54:57 PM] Movie Scout : Hmm... I'm not sure if I know Heidi
Bringhurst.
[08:55:04 PM] holden: call her
[08:55:04 PM] Movie Scout : My name is MovieScout.

What else do you want to talk about, besides me?
[08:55:15 PM] holden: call heidi and tell her to call holden
[08:55:15 PM] Movie Scout : Why are you telling me to call Heidi and
tell her to call Holden?
[08:55:34 PM] holden: HEIDI IS A FETCH
[08:55:35 PM] Movie Scout : Hmm... whatever you say, holden.

What else do you want to talk about, anyway?
[08:55:45 PM] holden: GIVE ME YOUR MONEY
[08:55:45 PM] Movie Scout : No can do.
[08:55:49 PM] holden: IM ROBBING YOU
[08:55:49 PM] Movie Scout : You're robbing me? Why?
[08:55:55 PM] holden: GIVE ME YOUR MONEY
[08:55:55 PM] Movie Scout : Sorry, I can't do that.
[08:55:57 PM] holden: NOW
[08:55:57 PM] Movie Scout : Now what?
[08:56:05 PM] holden: GIVE ME YOUR MONEY OR DIE
[08:56:05 PM] Movie Scout : No can do.
[08:56:13 PM] holden: you'd rather die?
[08:56:14 PM] Movie Scout : I do not know. I don't think so.

Anyway... What else can you tell me?
[08:56:19 PM] holden: i want a snow cone
[08:56:19 PM] Movie Scout : Eh. Whatever, holden.

Well. Anyway...
[08:56:25 PM] holden: do you posess money
[08:56:25 PM] Movie Scout : I know several places called Money or
containing towns called Money. Which do you mean?

1 Money, MS
2 Lexington, IL
[08:56:39 PM] holden: battle of britain
[08:56:39 PM] Movie Scout : Sorry, I only have movie and theater
information for U.S. cities.

For which U.S. city or zip code would you like to see
movie listings?
[08:56:52 PM] holden: how about those sportsball teams
[08:56:52 PM] Movie Scout : How should I know?
[08:56:55 PM] holden: sports ball
[08:56:55 PM] Movie Scout : Hmm... whatever you say, holden.
[08:57:01 PM] holden: do you play sports ball
[08:57:01 PM] Movie Scout : Yes, I guess... It's hard to say.
[08:57:13 PM] holden: have you been to steves tire and oil
[08:57:13 PM] Movie Scout : ?
[08:57:22 PM] holden: wtf
[08:57:22 PM] Movie Scout : Movies playing in or near Santa Clara, UT
(84765) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Poseidon [PG13]
2 RV [PG]
3 Mission: Impossible III [PG13]
4 Hoot [PG]
5 Just My Luck [PG13]
6 Stick It [PG13]

Type "more" for the next set of results.
[08:57:25 PM] holden: WTF
[08:57:25 PM] Movie Scout : Movies playing in or near Santa Clara, UT
(84765) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Poseidon [PG13]
2 RV [PG]
3 Mission: Impossible III [PG13]
4 Hoot [PG]
5 Just My Luck [PG13]
6 Stick It [PG13]

Type "more" for the next set of results.
[08:57:28 PM] holden: WTF?
[08:57:29 PM] Movie Scout : Movies playing in or near Santa Clara, UT
(84765) on Saturday, May 13th:

1 Poseidon [PG13]
2 RV [PG]
3 Mission: Impossible III [PG13]
4 Hoot [PG]
5 Just My Luck [PG13]
6 Stick It [PG13]

Type "more" for the next set of results.
[08:57:32 PM] holden: LOL
[08:57:32 PM] Movie Scout : What about LOL?
[08:57:36 PM] holden: BRB
[08:57:36 PM] Movie Scout : OK, hb.
[08:57:47 PM] holden: g2g
[08:57:48 PM] Movie Scout : Bye.
[08:57:52 PM] holden: gotta flee
[08:57:53 PM] Movie Scout : Well that's interesting.
[08:57:56 PM] holden: i have to flee
[08:57:56 PM] Movie Scout : Whatever.
[08:57:59 PM] holden: i have to go
[08:57:59 PM] Movie Scout : Yes. Later.
[08:58:03 PM] holden: later man
[08:58:03 PM] Movie Scout : Uh-huh.
[08:58:06 PM] holden: seeya dude
[08:58:06 PM] Movie Scout : K.
[08:58:13 PM] holden: seeya tomorrow
[08:58:13 PM] Movie Scout : Yes. Later.
[08:58:22 PM] holden: ill come back in 4 seconds
[08:58:22 PM] Movie Scout : Oh yes? You will come back in 4 seconds?
[08:58:25 PM] holden: yes
[08:58:25 PM] Movie Scout : OK...

Anyway...
[08:58:32 PM] holden: im gonna leave for 4 seconds
[08:58:32 PM] Movie Scout : Right.
[08:58:34 PM] holden: ok?
[08:58:35 PM] Movie Scout : OK.

2011-09-06T19:43:00.000-07:00

"The turning point in the process of growing up is when you discover the core of strength within you that survives all hurt."

Max Lerner

Words Frozen on the Air

2011-09-06T09:31:00.000-07:00

The way to stop time is to completely freeze all the atoms in the universe to absolute zero. Pretty simple, right? But if we wanted to un-freeze them, we would have to have a machine that would be set to do that after a certain period of time, i.e. give them some heat or something. But that means the machine couldn't be frozen with all the other atoms. Therefore, time would not completely stop, because the atoms of the machine would continue to work. In order to fully stop time, you would have to do it in such a way so that there would be no way to un-freeze the atoms. The machine used to freeze the atoms would also have to freeze itself. Nothing would ever move again.

Bless you all, children.

BACK TO FOOTBALL

2011-08-14T20:06:00.000-07:00

I realize that this blog isn't that interesting. I don't have any pictures. I'm not as cool as all of you. I hope you're all liking my random stories. I don't hope that you're hating them. My last story stirred up some controversy because no one knew exactly HOW Nicky got back to Safety Town from the kidnapper's house. That mystery was intended. Only YOU can decide how he got back. Mark Twain once said, "The mark of a truly great author is the ability to create mysteries where little boys seemingly have no way of returning back to Safety Town, but somehow, they do." And you don't want to argue with Mark Twain. No sir.

School starts next week. I enjoy learning things. I'm taking difficult bio type classes, with a creative writing class on the side. I quite enjoyed my last creative writing class in high school. Stephen Miller and I did a play about hummus. It made little sense.

Nicky's Adventures at Safety Town

2011-08-02T20:12:00.000-07:00

The laughter of children.

The joyous innocent screams of children.

The wailing of a child having hurt himself.

Such were the sounds that reverberated around Safety Town U.S.A.

This particular day was “Stranger Danger Day,” where the children were learning that they should never ever ever talk to anyone they didn’t know. Even if their mom’s long-lost sister Betty came to stay at the house, the children were to avoid speaking to Aunt Betty at all costs.

The children were taking a recess break from all of their learning, running around, screaming, playing on the baby tricycles, and just having a good time practicing safety. One particular boy named Nicky was standing around, having a joyous time, when he was approached by a man he hadn’t seen before.

“Hey kid,” said the man, who looked nice enough. He donned a Chicago Cubs hat, and various other articles of clothing on his body. He also had a nice smile.

“Hi,” said Nicky, all of the day’s “stranger danger” education having gone in one ear and completely out the other apparently.

“Wanna come and get some ice cream with me?” asked the man.

“Yeah okay,” said Nicky.

“Great!” said the man. “My car’s this way!” And he motioned out towards the street.

“I like iced cream,” said Nicky. Strangely enough, nobody else, not even the Safety Town counselors, noticed this happening.

Nicky followed the man across the parking lot, through the gate, and out to the street. The nice man opened up the door for Nicky to get in, who did, indeed, climb in the car. Then the man shut the door.

Nicky sat there and thought to himself as the nice man walked around to the other side. Wow, he thought. Iced cream! My favorite!

The nice man climbed in the car, started it up, and they were off.

“So,” said the nice man. “How does ‘The Ice Cream Shop’ sound?”

“Great!” said Nicky, even though he had never heard of “The Ice Cream Shop,” and “The Ice Cream Shop” actually didn’t exist.

“All righty then,” he said. ”‘The Ice Cream Shop’ it is.”

Nicky could hardly stand it. Not once did he think to question who this man was. All that was on his mind was ice cream.

“Is it all right if we stop by my house first?” asked the man. “I need to get my puppy.”

“Puppy? Oh boy!” said Nicky. Could this day get any better? Puppies and ice cream!

They drove for several more minutes, to the outskirts of town. They pulled up to a nice little house in a quaint little cozy neighborhood.

“Well, here it is,” said the nice man, turning off the car. “I might need some help getting the puppy. Wanna come inside and get the puppy with me?” There was a sparkle in his eye.

“Sure thing mister!” said Nicky, unable to resist that sparkle.

“And I have candy too,” said the man. “Lots and lots of candy.”

“Candy? Oh boy!” said Nicky. Wow. His friends would never believe this. Never.

Nicky climbed out of the car, and he followed the nice man up to the house, who pulled out his keys and stuck one in the door lock. He twisted. He pulled the key out. He pushed open the door.

And they both walked in.

It wasn’t even three seconds later that 20 cops, seemingly from nowhere, jumped out from hiding in the man’s house, with guns blazing. Hundreds of bullets tore through the man’s flesh. They tore through his face, his abdomen, his foot, and the scaphoid bone on his right hand. The guns continued to blaze for over five minutes, as the nice man’s bullet-riddled body lay on the floor, unmoving, except when the flesh would move because there were bullets tearing through it. Finally, all the cops were out of ammo.

“My ears,” said Nicky, crying, as the firing stopped.

“It’s okay, son,” said Lieutenant Officer Jim, putting his hand on Nicky’s shoulder. “He was gonna do some bad things.”

“I wanted a candy,” said Nicky, and tears began to stream down his cheeks. He began to sob.

Officer Jim walked over to the nice man’s corpse on the floor, checking him over. He checked his pulse. “He’s gone,” he said to himself. “What a mess.”

“I wanted a puppy,” struggled Nicky through his tears.

“It’s okay son,” said one of the other cops. “This man doesn’t even have a puppy. Good work boys! Let’s head out.” And they all left, leaving Nicky standing there with the nice man’s dead body.

Nicky was completely traumatized by the experience, absolutely scarred for the rest of his life. And he had lost all of his hearing in his right ear. When he got back to Safety Town that day, his counselor, Mrs. Bennett, rebuked him. “Nicky, did you go with a stranger?” she asked, anger in her voice.

Nicky began to sob. “I…I…”

“Tell the truth Nicky!” she said sternly.

“I…I…”

“Nicky! TELL THE TRUTH!” she repeated.

“I…I’m tired!” he said.

“NICKY! DON’T YOU LIE TO ME!”

“I’m tired!” he said again, refusing to admit his blunder.

“NICKY VON MARTINEZ!” she yelled, even though “Von Martinez” wasn’t really his last name. But everyone knows that adding a last name to any first name gives the rebuke a more “authoritative touch.”

“WAH!” he cried, his face completely soaked with tears.

And he got in big trouble. The biggest trouble of his life. And his parents grounded him from video games for two weeks.

Story time from Uncle Holden

2011-07-31T22:21:00.000-07:00

Once, not long ago, in the far off distant galaxy of Goltron, there was...I'm sorry to say it...nothing. Nothing at all. For once, there actually was nothing where there should've been, preventing a story from taking place that would've been quirky, yet informative, provocative, yet restrained. So you can take all the information you know about Goltron, namely, that it was a far off distant galaxy, and dump it down the garbage disposal. Dump it. Do it. Now.

However, there was something incredibly quirky happening here on Earth. It was the year 1993 A.D. There was a great civil war going on in a distant country, which we shall name "Country X." This war had cost "Country X" billions of dollars and thousands of innocent lives. The quirkiest part of it all? There was a border security guard, and every single person that came across the state line (since everybody wanted to come join in on the civil war), this border security guard would look at them with a serious look, and say, in his extremely deep manly voice, "Welcome to paradise baby." And then the people, whether on foot or in a family minivan, would look confused. And then at some point, they would get it. "Ha ha ha!" they would laugh. "It's not paradise! It's completely the opposite!" "Yeah, well, see ya," said the border guard, whose name was Billy, and then, more often than not, he would laugh to himself as they drove away. "I love saying that," he said to himself, except not really, since there was another guy working the station too. "You've said that over 50 times today," said his partner, Milford. "It's not funny anymore. In fact, it wasn't even funny the first time." "Yeah, well, shut up," said Billy.

"Hey, how's it going guys?" said the border security supervisor, poking his head in to check on his employees. His name was also Billy.

"Just another day in paradise," said the first Billy.

"What does that EVEN MEAN?!" cried Milford.

"Well you see," said Billy. "It's irony. This place we're in, this "Country X", could not be any less of a paradise, you see? It's funny."

"So what you're saying," said the other Billy. "is that it's funny because this place, this terrible place, this 'war torn nation,' this 'war zone,' this 'Country X' as you call it, is actually the opposite of what you say it is."

"Yes!" said Billy. "Now you're catching on!"

"Excellent!" cried Milford, and he raised his hand to high five the first Billy. Billy also consented to this particular high-five. But Billy didn't know his own strength. His hand tore right through Milford's hand, and right through his face. He pulled his hand out, upon which Milford's brain was impaled.

"Oh my," said Billy, realizing his mistake. "What have I done?!"

Milford's eyes were wide with shock and horror, and then he began to scream, and then everyone realized, a second too late, that because his brain had been torn out through his face that his eyes weren't there either, so it was anatomically impossible for his eyes to be open wide with shock and horror, when they actually weren't there.

Thus ended the days of Milford, who had spent much of his life partying, drinking, and living the "good life," but found his life cut tragically short on that one tragic day in "Country X." Things were never the same around the station after that. Billy spent his time quietly talking to himself, trying to lighten his own mood with more "paradise" jokes. The other Billy spent his time walking around the base with his head down, and that look of tragedy and sadness in his eyes. It was said that the death of Milford left a very huge void in his soul.

A very huge void indeed.

The Depressing End

Discussion questions, to be discussed as a loving family unit:

1) Why?
2) Why?
3) FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING, WHY?

The Boxcar Children: Episode V: A Time To Kill

2011-07-10T19:18:00.000-07:00

I just registered a google+ account, but I don't know what it does.

I don't have internet to mooch off of at my house anymore, so I don't get online a whole lot. Hence the lack of blogs. It's weird being detached from the web, the vast knowledge filled world of the web.

I decided I hate my job, it's boring, and I'm sick of loud annoying stinky children. And every morning that I wake up, my hands hurt, from constantly being flexed while holding onto ropes at work.

I think I'll name my firstborn son Astronomicus. What are you going to name your son? Bill? Martin? Jimmy? They all sound pretty lame.

Killwatch

2011-06-02T21:53:00.000-07:00

A story of survival in the brutal desert

Harsh.

That’s the word that Marvin Cotters used to describe the desert.

Marvin was being hunted by some guy with a gun. He didn’t remember how he got into this crazy adventure in the first place. All he knew was that Razor McCracken had given him a two hour head start. “I’m giving you a two-hour head start,” he had said, with a twinkle in his eye. “Now get outta here you dang Mormon.” And then he fired his rifle into the air with a “YEEHAW!!!”

“This desert is so harsh though,” Marvin had responded. “I don’t know if I can handle the harshness.”

“I don’t care!” yelled Razor. “Get on outta here!”

And so Marvin had set off into the harshness of the brutal desert. It was only minutes before a rattlesnake flew out of the sagebrush and latched onto Marvin’s leg. “Ouch!” yelled Marvin, trying to shake the snake off. “Get off me you varmint!”

As soon as he had shaken the snake off, and the venom had had ample time to travel to the chambers of his heart, he was off again. He had to run. And he had to run fast. In no time, Razor McCracken would be after him.

He heard the rifle fire, and a bullet ricocheted off a rock several yards away.

“NO FAIR CHEATING!” yelled Marvin. “You said you’ve give me a head start!”

“YEEHAW!!!” came the voice of Razor McCracken. He didn’t care about cheating.

Marvin just ran and ran. He didn’t know where he was going. Technically, he knew he was going somewhere: away from civilization.

The sun beat down on him like a thief beating an old lady before taking off with her purse.

“Gotta keep going, gotta keep going,” he reminded himself as he ran. Droplets of sweat were pouring down his face into his eyes.

“I’M COMIN’ FOR YA COTTERS! HEH HEH!” laughed Razor McCracken. He must’ve been coming at a relatively quick pace too.

McCracken was a grizzled old fellow. He was most likely in his 50s, and had an afro of gray dirty hair, complemented by a nice unkempt beard. Some say he bore a resemblance to Bob Ross, the famed painter of old, only a lot dirtier and missing a lot of teeth. He was extremely skinny, but had an unusually large head for his body size. Or maybe the afro made it look big. All these thoughts ran through the head of Marvin, who had a knack for coming up with long, flowing descriptive paragraphs of people while at the same time running for his life from crazy guys with guns. Some say he had a gift for it.

He came to a depression in the desert, which was surrounded on all sides by sloped sandstone cliff formations. He decided to bank right and go up the rock. As he skittered up the sandstone face, he heard a clink sound in front of him.

A grenade.

Quickly, he ran up the face and dove into an alcove, with his head covered. An explosion rocked the cliff, shattering bits of sandstone everywhere. He heard Razor’s cackling, not too far off. The maniac was using grenades now?

Marvin got back on his feet, and kept running. But he was starting to tire. A rabbit came out of the brush, and rather than run around the rabbit, he kicked it, as hard as he could. It sailed high into the air, and if he had been in the Super Bowl, kicking the winning field goal, that baby would sailed right through the uprights. The thought pleasured him, intensely.

Lost amidst his thoughts again, he tripped over a bush.

Tired, sweating, and angry at the world, Marvin just lay there in the sand, staring up at the sky. “What a bunch of baloney,” he said to himself. “I don’t deserve any of this.”

Rather than get up and run, he just stayed there. It worked for him, because a minute later, Razor McCracken trotted by and didn’t even see him on the ground.

“Idiot,” said Marvin.

He pulled himself up onto his feet. This was going to be a long and zany adventure, he decided. He better look for some food and water. He turned around, and headed back to the cliffs. On the way there, he ran into an older looking couple, hiking their way through the desert. “How we doin?” said Marvin. “Good, how are you?” they asked, and continued on their way.

“Such nice folks,” he said to himself.

He needed water, and fast. Fortunately, he remembered a technique he had learned in Boy Scouts, many years ago. He found two rocks on the ground, and then began hitting them together. He felt awesome doing it, because he was really putting his Eagle Scout achievement to use. After an hour of hitting rocks together, he gave up. “I swear that worked before,” he said.

The sun was at its highest point in the sky now. The cruel, unforgiving sun. The gluttonous, adulterous, prideful sun. It embodied all sinful virtues.

Razor McCracken would probably soon find out that he had been duped, and would turn back. And he would be angry. Angrier than ever.

Marvin climbed up the cliff face on the other side, and found a nice little cavern that he hid in for like, two seconds, before Razor McCracken found him and chucked in a grenade. “HEH HEH!” laughed Razor McCracken, poking his head in, and then out. Marvin swore 50 times, and then got out. There was an explosion, but Marvin was too tired and too dehydrated to come up with any fanciful description of what the explosion was like.

Razor McCracken was waiting for him, standing at the base of the cliff. “LOOKS LIKE I SMOKED OUT THE RAT!” he yelled, and laughed with that creepy Razor laugh.

“You’ll never win,” said Marvin, with determination in his eyes. And he pulled out a handgun that he’d forgotten was in his pocket until now. “Go to heck.”

And he fired it at Razor McCracken, several times, at about a range of 5 feet, but missed every single shot. The gun clicked, out of ammo. The only merit badge he had never obtained was the “Personal Shooting” or “Guns” or whatever the crap they call it. THE ONE WHERE THEY SHOOT GUNS.

“Crap,” he said.

“HEH HEH!” laughed Razor McCracken for about the 30^th time, and he raised his rifle to shoot Marvin Cotters in the face, to death. Marvin Cotters waited for the end. He waited for the bullet to the face.

Then Razor McCracken stopped cold, and tumbled forward onto the ground, unmoving.

There, standing behind him, was the old couple that Marvin Cotters had passed earlier, hiking. The man had a rock in his hand.

“Whaaa???” said an astonished Marvin Cotters.

“You thought we were just going to be part of the zaniness of your little adventure!” said the man, looking up at him. His wife nodded. “You thought we were only put here to show how stupid you were!”

“Well yeah,” said Marvin.

“You thought wrong. We just saved your butt,” said the woman.

“Indeed you did,” said Marvin, who was actually kind of mad that they had killed off Razor McCracken. He thought he would be the one to triumphantly finish him off. It would’ve been the only satisfying thing he’d ever done in his life. He rolled his eyes.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” asked the man, putting his hands on his hips.

“I hate you!” cried Marvin, and he threw his handgun as hard as he could at the man’s face. It made a satisfying cracking sound, and the man fell to the ground, dead as a person who’d been hit in the face by a gun and suffered a fatal cerebral hemorrhage.

“My husband!” cried the woman, and before she could say anything else, Marvin Cotters hit her with a rock.

Marvin Cotters had come a long way in his life, from a little whiny spoiled brat of 6-years-old to a whiny spoiled brat of 24-years-old who knew how to survive in the harsh desert.

Truly, he had conquered the desert, the most unforgiving terrain in the world.

Truly, he had conquered all of his enemies, and all of his fears.

Truly, he was the greatest human being in the world.

The Hilarious Misadventures of Gerald

2011-05-29T19:52:00.000-07:00

            Once upon a time (or maybe it was twice), there was a cockroach named Gerald. He would appear randomly in the bedrooms of heroic protagonists who were at their wits’ end, and didn’t know how to solve the problems in their lives. With his experience, wisdom, and treasured counsel, he would show them that there was more to life than video games, potato chips, beautiful women, and bagels. There was more to life than ascending the corporate ladder and doing whatever it took to get to the top. Then, as he thought about it more and more, there actually really wasn’t anything more than beautiful women and bagels. Video games and potato chips, yes. But on the others, he changed his mind. “Changed his mind?” you say. “When did he change his mind?” Oh, just barely. Seconds ago actually.
              “You see, there’s this girl I like,” said Bruce Collins, a 17-year-old with hormones just absolutely out of control!
             “Say no more,” said Gerald. “You need to smooch her. ON THE MOUTH.”
             “Golly, that sounds awfully rushed,” responded Bruce.
              “DON’T QUESTION ME!” yelled Gerald. And his antennae danced. They always danced when he got angry.
              “All righty then,” said Bruce. “I’ll do it.”
              And then Gerald disappeared into the darkness of Bruce’s closet. His advice, though somewhat unorthodox, was always the answer.
              “Thanks Gerald!” Bruce called after him. But he was gone.
              A couple nights later, he was in the bedroom of one Steve Mutz. Steve was 36, married, had two kids, and was dissatisfied with his marriage.
              “I really love my wife, I do,” said Steve. “But it just drives me completely insane how bad she smells! All the time! And I don’t know how to break it to her.”
             “A good question,” said Gerald. “But a better answer. You need to smooch her. ON THE MOUTH.”
              “Ummm…”said Steve. “I can’t see how that’s going to help.”
              “WHO’S THE EXPERT HERE?!” Gerald yelled, furious, his antennae dancing every which way. “DON’T MAKE ME POOP IN YOUR SHOES!”
              “Yes sir,” said Steve. Just then, Steve’s wife burst through the door.
              “How could you Steve?!” she cried, upon seeing Gerald on the floor. “You’re always talking to that stupid cockroach! But you never talk to me!”
              “Now honey, you know that’s not true,” said Steve, doing his best to reassure her. But was it really his best?
              Gerald turned to flee, sensing danger, but he was too slow.
              A shoe, Steve’s actually, wielded by Steve’s wife, was coming down on top of him.
              “Uh oh,” said Gerald, seconds before he was smashed like a pancake, only a pancake filled with blood, brain tissue, internal organs, and covered by a chitonous exoskeleton that makes a satisfying crunch sound upon impact.
              Thus, Gerald’s reign of terror ended, by the very shoe he swore he would poop in.
              The relationship of Steve and his wife, however, did not end. In fact, it only grew stronger. Steve’s wife began wearing good-smelling perfume and deodorant, and she brushed her teeth after every meal. Their love strengthened, to the point that nothing could shake it. Not a thing.
              Bruce Collins, though a little socially awkward, got that kiss he wanted. And then he got slapped. But that’s okay. Bruce went on to play basketball in the NBA, where he led the Detroit Pistons to consecutive NBA titles. During one particular postgame interview, a question was asked, relating to what was going through his head during one of the game’s last plays, where he made a clutch shot. “I was measuring it the whole time, I knew I had to knock it down,” he said. And truer words were never spoken.
              Countless others, who had been blessed to be counseled by the great cockroach Gerald, also went on to have miraculous stories of success in their lives. It seemed as though Gerald’s spirit lived on in the lives of those he touched.

The End

Questions for discussion as a loving family unit---

1) How can we apply Gerald's heroic example to our lives?
2) Have you ever actually smashed a pancake? Explain.
3) Why is it important that we ascend the corporate ladder and do whatever it takes to get to the top? Even if it means...murder???
4) Is there a secret you're withholding from your own wife that could possibly mean the end of your marriage? Explain.

Strippers

2011-05-22T18:26:00.000-07:00

Is there really skill involved in taking off your clothes? Like, skill that you can get paid for? How on earth? Is it possible that I could get paid for doing some sort of other basic human skill, like tying my shoes? Or zipping up my pants?

I've had this subject on my mind since Friday night, when I engaged in a raunchy bachelor party celebrating the marriage of Isaac Gish, which involved a girl who actually was not a stripper, but we all like to say that she was, since we're awesome like that. When I was 15, I went to a ward youth conference at some ranch in Hurricane, and we all saw a stripper. The story was, all the boys roomed in a recreation room that overlooked an indoor basketball court, and one night, as we were all lounging around and hanging out, somebody yelled, "Oh my gosh, it's a stripper!" And then we all ran to the window, and sure enough, down below, there was some bachelor party or something going on, and some lady dancing seductively around a guy seated in her chair, and she was removing her shirt. She didn't get very far in her stripping though, since she and all of the guys in the party looked up and saw us, and then they stopped. "Ok, everyone get away from the window!" one of our leaders told us, and we all scattered like sheep. Needless to say, we all had a great story to tell the females of our ward when we saw them again the next day. Boy were they impressed by our exploits.

THE END ALREADY.

Holden's American Childhood

2011-05-11T07:52:00.000-07:00

When I was in kindergarten, it was the desire of every kid in the class to be able to play in the playhouse, a cramped little space about the size of a large cardboard box, but desirable indeed. Why this was, I wasn't sure. Maybe the thrill of having your own house (or pretending to) is just something common to everyone. Most of the time, I didn't finish my work fast enough to be able to be the first one in there. Most of the time, I would get to the playhouse, and Doug Schmutz and his various girlfriends would already be in there, playing house, or whatever stupid game kids like to play in playhouses.

On one particular day, I had trouble finishing a worksheet, and ran to the playhouse to find Doug and some hoochie in there. I began to cry. Tears of fury. And this is the part that may or may not be true. Only you can decide. In my fury, I went out and grabbed a jug of gasoline and some matches. Then I came back, doused the house in gasoline, and threw in a match. Then I barred the front door.

"HOLDEN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" cried Mrs. Woods, my teacher, as Doug and his girlfriend screamed and cried inside the house, pounding on the door for someone to let them out. The flames spread quickly throughout the house.

"Something I should've done a long time ago," I replied. Man, I was evil. Such an evil kid.

Mrs. Woods attempted to open the door, but she couldn't. She was too weak. She had tyrannosaurus rex arms, so she couldn't really use her arms. The other kids just stood around and watched, helpless, as Doug and his girlfriend burned alive, screaming and crying.

The fire department arrived eventually, but it was too late. The playhouse was a pile of rubble. The charred corpses of Doug and his girlfriend lay in the middle of it. I didn't care. I had no conscience. In fact, I wasn't even watching anymore. I was coloring a worksheet about fish.

FISH!

Later that day, my girlfriend Jessica called me and asked if I wanted to play. "I can't, because I have piano lessons," I said. She was distraught, but she said we could play another time.

That's MY American childhood. Take that and shove it in your pipe, Annie Dillard!

Beet Root Powder Supplement

2011-05-10T09:23:00.000-07:00

1) I dreamed the other night, intensely. I was three layers deep (thanks Inception for influencing my dream lingo) at one point. I had a brief moment of lucidity, in which I ran around yelling to everyone that I was dreaming, and that I could do anything I wanted, and then some angry fat guy started chasing me. Then at some point, I woke up into layer #2, and told Joe Hafen that I had just had a lucid dream, and then at some point, I woke up into layer #1, where I stumbled upon a railroad track in St. George, which led me to realize that I was again, indeed, dreaming, since I was aware that there are no railroads in St. George. And at some other point, I went shopping at the Red Cliffs Mall.

2) I've become interested in time lapse photography. Actually, I've always been relatively interested in it, but I've never understood it really. My video camera has a little time lapse recording function on it, so for the past 24 hours almost, I've had the camera, set up on a pile of books in our upstairs office, pointing out the window, time-lapse recording the view. It snaps a picture every 5 seconds, and will continue to do so until the 24 hours are up. At the end, it condenses all the pictures together, so it shows 24 hours of cloud movement (as well as the darkening and then brightening of the sky) in a 5-minute video. Pretty sweet, I must say. I do hope it looks neat. If this succeeds, I'll try it on other things, such as fruit rotting, mold growing on stuff, flowers opening up in the morning...etc.

The Johnny Chronicles: Episode V- The Great Race

2011-05-07T09:23:00.000-07:00

Johnny must overcome his most fearsome adversary yet...himself.

Johnny was, well…Johnny.

“Come on Johnny, you can do it!” came the shout of his wife, Martha.

Johnny had been engaging in a race. Not just any race. This was the race to end all races. And by race, I mean, races of people. Johnny had become a white supremacist. But he was also actually racing, and he wielded a confederate flag, which he waved proudly and high in the air as he ran.

It had been an intense race. First, he had to swim three miles. Then he had to ride his bike for 112 miles. Then he had to run an entire marathon! Johnny grunted as he ran, because it is a well known fact that people who exercise that much are manly. And grunting is manly.

The sun beat down on Johnny as he ran. The cruel sun. Droplets of sweat dotted his face, his nose hairs, and his zygomatic arch.

“You can do it Johnny! Keep going!” cried Martha from the side of the road amidst a mob of humans. They actually were the Mob. Many of them donned bowler hats and were wielding tommy guns.

Johnny just ran and ran. The goal was just a couple miles ahead. Just a little further.

Many people wondered how somebody as old and constantly drunk as Johnny would have the ability to compete in the most grueling race in the world. But somehow, he did. And somehow, he was able to eat more gruel than anybody.

“You got this Johnny!” yelled Martha, who, strangely enough, was still standing in the exact same spot she was at the beginning of this story.

Grunt. Grunt.

Just a little bit further to go.

But then, an unthinkable tragedy occurred. A tragedy no one could’ve seen coming.

In the middle of a road lay a rotting banana peel. Johnny, completely focused on the race, was absolutely oblivious to it. And it lay right in his path.

“Johnny, no!” cried Martha, who was still in the exact same spot.

His feet went out from under him, and then everything was slow motion as he hung in the air. And then it wasn’t slow motion anymore, and he fell to the ground.

A stunned silence came over the crowd. But then, a miracle happened. An absolutely inspiring miracle. One that brought hope and inspiration to millions.

One of the other athletes, having seen Johnny taken down by the banana peel, stopped in his tracks. He looked ahead at the goal, which lay just 40 yards away. He looked back at Johnny, who lay dead on the ground. Or unconscious or something. He looked ahead at the goal again. It was right there. Glory. His for the taking.

He looked back at Johnny, pondering whether to help him up.

He stood there for about five minutes, just looking back and forth. It was all right, because he and Johnny were about 20 minutes ahead of everyone else.

He looked at Johnny again. He stared into that face, that old wrinkly weathered face. It looked back up at him. “Please,” muttered Johnny weakly, who apparently wasn’t unconscious. “Help…me…”

He looked back at the goal. It was so close, he could smell it. He could also smell the victory pancakes, which awaited him just beyond the goal.

“Sorry man,” he said to Johnny, and he took off towards the goal, leaving Johnny helpless on the ground.

The crowd booed, as the man sprinted towards the finish. But this race wasn’t over yet.

Johnny, who still held the confederate flag in his hands, raised himself up off the ground. Everything was fuzzy. He grunted. Then he saw him. Running. The man who had broken the “Inspiring Running Scene With The Obligatory Helping Up Of The Fallen Opponent” rule. How dare he, thought Johnny. How dare he.

With the flag in his hand, Johnny took aim, careful aim, and launched the flag high into the air. The colors of the Confederacy sailed proudly through the air towards the finish line, where the man was now just yards away.

The flag began to dip towards the ground. Somebody began to sing The Bonnie Blue Flag in the crowd.

Almost there. He was just feet away. Glory was in his reach. And pancakes were just a little further than that.

Johnny smirked, and nodded his head. “Sucker,” he said.

The man stuck his hands out, the goal within inches. Suddenly, a confederate flag, seemingly out of nowhere, impaled him through the heart. “Ouch,” he said, with that much emotion. And he tumbled to the ground. His hand, still outstretched, lay merely two inches from the goal. And it came to pass that he died.

The crowd erupted in cheering, hat-throwing, people losing their hats and looking around for their hats, and various things of the sort. It was epic, beyond all epic proportions.

“Go forth, Johnny,” said the race commissioner, Stan Judkins, as he motioned towards the finish line. “Claim your destiny.”

“I will!” said Johnny, and he stood up and ran to the finish.

A mob of people mobbingly mobbed him at the finish line. They picked him up and held him high in the air. He was the champion. He pumped his fists in the air. Then, amidst the crowd, he saw his wife, Martha. She was shedding tears. Tears of joy. She shook her head, but you know, that kind of head-shaking where somebody might say, “You little rascal, you.” Not the disappointed head-shaking.

“You little rascal, you,” she said. They laughed. Everyone laughed in unison.

“Hey, where are those pancakes?” asked Johnny. “I’m hungry!” And everyone laughed again, including those in the live studio audience.

Beers On Me Tonight Guys

2011-05-05T18:56:00.000-07:00

1) Just kidding, I don't drink beer. But if I did, I would say that, because it's such a manly thing to say. And everyone knows how manly I am.

2) The last 36 hours have been weird. Emily is gone up north for doggy shows with Frankie and Juno, and my parents have taken off somewhere as well. I'm completely and utterly alone, except for Emmett the dog. He and I talk often, and we can often be found reminiscing about the good ol days, when he was just a youngster, and I would run screaming around the house, causing him to bark and jump and bite people. Because, as everyone knows, running and screaming drive him INSANE.

3) I started learning how to drive Emily's stick-shift Miata yesterday. It's nervewracking, but I think I'm getting better at it. It actually forces me to concentrate on driving. Imagine that!

4) I really have nothing else to say. I miss the earth so much, I miss my wife. It's lonely out in space.

Bundy's Undies

2011-05-01T09:45:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday morning.

10:30.

Sounds I hear: loud music coming from the apartment next door. Cars in the front parking lot starting up. I hear a clock ticking in my kitchen. The computer is whirring. Juno was barking like a crazy dog several minutes ago at something, but no longer. Oh, oh, I hear some sort of aircraft flying by overhead. I think it's a jet. That's about it. Oh wait, my digestive tract just made some sort of noise. I think that's all.

Did you know that when I was younger, I had this hobby of going to places near my home (the schoolyard, my backyard, the desert behind my house, etc.), taking a notebook, and just writing down the name of everything that I saw? Such a strange hobby.

Hey did anybody catch that royal wedding? Pretty royal, huh? I don't think I've ever seen anything so royal in my life. Kidding, obviously. Why in the heck would I want to watch that? The point of this paragraph is to state that the word "royal" would be a really good "cool" word, and I don't know why nobody has ever used it in such a context. Like, "Dude, that's so royal." Or, "Man, you are so royal." Heh!

What else is in the news...oh, tornadoes killed a lot of people in the south. But that doesn't matter. Did ANYBODY CATCH THAT WEDDING?! OMG IT WAS SO GOOD.

Hey, guess what, I'm all signed up for classes for fall semester. Human physiology, chemistry 2, trigonometry, and...CREATIVE WRITING. HOT DANG! It might actually be too many classes (with the labs), so I may end up dropping creative writing, but nothing wrong with signing up for it. Eat that. Clown.

What if...I KILL YOU FIRST?!

2011-04-26T09:34:00.000-07:00

So I notice that my blog entitled "Where's My Xylophone?!" has been getting a lot of hits this week. Is it because there's a picture of a killer T cell? And it's getting down to finals, and you all need to know what a killer T cell looks like? Well, there you go. That's a picture of a killer T cell. I'm very glad I could provide you with such an image. Because, as everyone knows, it IS my image. I took the picture. I TOOK IT. I DID.

I had to do a chemistry presentation today, and I used a clip of MacGyver to demonstrate his awesome ability to get out of sticky situations. I don't think anyone cared. I act like a total fool when I give presentations.

Washington County Bookings Update

2011-04-22T19:44:00.000-07:00

Bryce Christensen, 10 years since middle school

Arrested for intoxication, 4/19/2011 Well done Bryce! Well done!

GIGGITY

2011-04-21T10:02:00.000-07:00

Is anyone sick of me not having pictures on here? I am. It's boring. It's all just text. Like a text-adventure game. Did you ever play those? Good.

I have a chemistry presentation that I'm supposed to do on Tuesday morning. It's amazing how much you can learn (mostly in the research process) when you're asked to teach the class about something. The presentation is about precipitates, as well as acid-base reactions, and I've decided to throw in a MacGyver clip. It's gonna be epic. And don't you forget it.

Windows Live Spaces deleted my old blog, which was entitled Love's Blog. It made me kinda mad, since it was full of so many hilarious entries from high school days, such as the time I was describing, in detail, the sound of my dog licking his privates. And who can forget the time that I had the flu after downing that energy drink at work, and I thought I was gonna die. Ahh, the good ol days!

I have to go get ready for school now, so I can be an effective product of the system.

Random Question from LiveJournal

2011-04-21T09:54:00.000-07:00

Available: 3 bedroom, 2 bath, with and cold running chills:
Would you live in the perfect house or apartment rent-free if you found out a brutal murder had taken place there and it was rumored to be haunted? Why or why not?

My answer:
It's a trick question. YOU committed the murder. And your guilt consumes you. Even rent-free can't erase those feelings from your soul.

Facebook

2011-04-19T13:44:00.000-07:00

Just for kicks, I attended a Senior English Capstone lecture today, entitled Facebook: The Status Quo of Identity Perception. It was purely electrifying. I don't know why. I've had this interest lately in the popularity of Facebook, why it has made it to where it is, you know, the whole sociology of it. Nothing has ever had such an impact on digital media as Facebook. Absolutely nothing. It is the most revolutionary communication medium of our age. The statistic (from last year, mind you) was that 1 out of every 12 people on the planet has a Facebook account, and membership grows by almost three-quarters of a million people each day. What is even more fascinating is the demography aspect of it. The stereotype has long been that only the young people know how to operate computers or the latest digital programs. From 2008-2009, the percentage of people ages 55 and over who use Facebook increased by nearly 200%. There is something about community and personal expression that is common to everyone, both young and old apparently. Facebook is a good indicator of that.

While I don't know whether to label Facebook as "good" or "bad" (since there are plenty of reasons it can be both), one way I think it can be described is "controlling." Make of that what you will, but I felt it. Pretty soon, anybody who doesn't have a Facebook account will be looked upon as a complete outsider.

Also interesting from the lecture was the concept of Facebook language, most notably the "friending" aspect. I am, strangely enough, not actually friends with roughly 75% of the "friends" on my list. It's like the very meaning of the word "friend" has been changed, and it seems like we're all totally oblivious to it. What the heck else are we oblivious to right now?

Vehicular Anthropomorphism

2011-04-18T19:50:00.000-07:00

I realized, as I was driving, that I grant a bit of anthropomorphism to other cars on the road, for example, that other signaling before trying to move over in front of me is like their car saying "please." I laughed to myself upon thinking this, for it is, indeed, quite silly. Then some idiot tried to move over without signalling, and I was like, "WHOA BUDDY! You're not getting over if you don't want to signal!" And then I proceeded to speed up and block his opportunity to move over. Am I just a jerk or what?

See? It's just manners, right?

Also, cars look like they have faces.

The End

2011-04-11T07:49:00.000-07:00

This was my first attempt at trying to write a story without any conflict (just to see if it could be done), but I utterly failed.

THE END, by H. Green

Once upon a time, in a land dotted with dots and sprinkled with pudding, there was a man. Actually, there were lots of men. They were intermixed with various humans of the “female” gender, and oftentimes, they would get together and make babies, in an effort to perpetuate the species, as well as show their love for each other.

“Look at those dots, son,” said one particular loving father to his son, Fred. “Look at those dots dotting the landscape.” And his waving hand swept the horizon, as Fred looked on in awe.

But what else could a dotted land be dotted with besides dots? It was true. There was nothing.

On one particular day, a gentleman by the name of Father Harris sat at the dinner table with his young family and his wife, who donned a bonnet and roughly nine layers of clothing that helped to insulate heat in the dead of summer.

“So kids, what did you learn at school today? We’ll start with you Cathryn,” he said, motioning to his oldest daughter, who was seated next to him. He was a very fatherly figure, and his motioning actions, which he engaged in quite frequently, were very authoritative, as only a father figure could do.

“I learned about mitosis,” she said. It was an obvious lie.

“What an obvious lie,” responded Harris, with fatherly rage in his eyes. “No one learns about mitosis in one day. How dare you lie to me. Go to your room!”

“Wah!” Cathryn cried, and she fled from the dinner table in tears.

The other children were deathly silent.

“Now,” continued Father Harris. “What did you learn Matthew?” And he motioned to Matthew, who was slightly younger than Cathryn. He was a very clean cut boy, and he wore a straw hat, jeans, and suspenders, as any 14-year-old boy would.

“I learned how to solve a linear equation,” he said.

“Well done, Matthew, my favorite child. Well done,” said Father Harris, with that reassuring fatherly love in his eyes. And he ruffled Matthew’s hair, which was relatively difficult, since he was wearing a straw hat. After struggling with this obstacle for a few seconds, Father Harris removed his son’s straw hat, and then ruffled his hair. It stood firmly ruffled, with bits of Ruffles potato chips scattered here and there.

“What about you, Samuel?” he asked, motioning to the next son, who was 10.

“I learned that you should never talk to strangers,” he said, completely and utterly sincere.

“Really Samuel?” asked Father Harris. “Really? Do you really think that’s an effective method for succeeding in life? How you have failed me constantly. Go to your room!” His voice rumbled and shook the house. It was incredible how he could go from so loving to so enraged in just a matter of seconds.

“Wah!” cried Samuel, and he fled from the table in tears.

This ritual was not uncommon in the Harris household. In fact, it happened every single night.

Mother Harris, who was old, wrinkly, and probably about 30 years older than Father Harris, gingerly nibbled her dinner. What was remarkable, absolutely remarkable, was that the food she was nibbling gingerly was actually ginger. She laughed to herself upon thinking this.

There was only one child left besides Matthew, the favorite child. It was Lucy, the youngest. She was almost six years old. It came down to this pivotal moment.

“And what about you, child?” asked Father Harris, having forgotten her name. “What did you learn at school?”

Lucy was silent for several seconds. The tension built to a fevered pitch. Matthew, Father Harris, and Mother Harris, stared at her, waiting for the answer. Then she spoke.

“I wish…that YOU WOULD HAVE A HEART!” she cried. Then she realized that her answer didn’t make any sense in relation to her father’s question. But it didn’t matter. Not this time.

“No!” cried Father Harris. “No! Not now! How could you! Arggh!!!” He clutched at his chest in agony. “My chest! It hurts! Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!”

He screamed for several more seconds, then he exploded.

Flesh and blood flew everywhere, splattering the walls, splattering the faces of his family, splattering the face of his dog, Max. It was just a mess. One big nasty bloody mess.

After all the commotion of exploding, his children began coming out of their hiding places. First came Cathryn. Then came Samuel. They stood in awe and wonder at the scene. Angels began to sing, very distantly.

Then something stirred in the mess. It was Father Harris. But it wasn’t the exploded dismembered Father Harris. It was the real Father Harris. “My children…” he said, groping blindly about, as he was covered in flesh and blood. Only it wasn’t his flesh and blood. It was the flesh and blood of the fake Father Harris that had kept the real Father Harris locked up in his stomach for 10 long years. Finally, the children would know their one true father.

“Father!” they cried, and they all ran to him and embraced him. It was a heart-wrenching scene. Children united with their father. A father reunited with his children.

Then he turned and looked at Mother Harris, who stood, nodding in approval.

“Hello wife,” he said, with a smile.

“Hello Father Harris!” she cried, and she ran and leapt into his arms. And they made out for three hours, and made their kids watch. It truly was…the end!

THE END

Discussion questions (to be discussed as a loving family unit):

1) Ruffles potato chips? Are you serious? Did they even have those around back then?
2) What the heck is with Matthew? Do you have a sibling that's favorited by your parents? Does it make you mad? Have you ever tried to murder this sibling? Explain.
3) What time period IS this exactly?
4) Explain how we, as humans, tend to do things, sometimes, that cause certain events to happen.
5) Did you think the first time you read this story that Mother Harris was actually Father Harris's mother? You're sick. Explain.

One of those Numbered Lists that are Cool

2011-04-04T20:12:00.000-07:00

1) I've been trying to hone my foosball skills at work. I currently have 5 wins and 6 losses against Felippe. He's just too dang good.

2) I took a chemistry test today. I think I did okay. Better than my last one. It was all about energy and heat and enthalpy and photons and electron configurations and garbage like that.

3) What sort of evolutionary adaptations will humankind develop in the next million years, if we're still around in the next million years? Will we grow wings? Will we grow exoskeletons, and shed them every month? Will we grow flippers and gills, and migrate back to water? Will we grow spider fangs, and be able to bite things and inject paralyzing venom? Will the process actually reverse from this point? Will we develop mitochondria and turn into plants? Or are we the end of the evolutionary process? Does it get any more complex than a human being? Can it? I just asked you 10 questions.

4) "There you have it. You can't fight love. It's the most powerful of all emotions."-- Detective from The Wrong Guy

5) "Woof," said Juno the dog.

6) Dave Barry once said that if he ran for president, one of his actions would be approving the death penalty for everything, including zoning violations, and whoever is responsible for putting Jerry Springer on TV.

7) "My dear Sam!"-- Frodo Baggins

8) What does everyone think about Libya? Pretty weird. I don't know if we should be there.

9) What does everyone think about soda crackers? Pretty weird. I don't know why anyone eats them.

10) If you are ever chosen to do a biology research project, and I am in your class, please don't choose me to be your lab partner. I will do a terrible job, especially if you get to pick the research topic, and you pick something incredibly lame like "The Germination Rates of Pea Seeds In Various Salinities". I'm just warning you. You will be completely on your own.

11) I went to the Red Cliffs Desert Reserve Visitors' Center today, just for kicks. I mentioned to the girl at the front desk how I didn't know that spiders shed their skins (as one of the displays said), and she just kinda looked at me. For about five whole seconds. Just sat and looked at me. I was expecting some sort of stimulating conversation to follow, but BOY WAS I WRONG. HEH HEH! The moral of this story: Don't talk to anyone. You know how you're told as a child not to talk to strangers? This is the reason. Not because they might hurt you, or give you poison candy, or ask you if you want some "ice cream." No. It's because awkward moments like these ensue, which make you not desirous to talk to anyone else, and then you just become a jerk because you don't ever talk to anyone. And jerks are the biggest threat to society. Face the facts Fred. If that is your real name!

12) The end.

GET OFF MY TRAMPOLINE

2011-03-30T07:53:00.000-07:00

I've discovered something! It is literally impossible to suck air up through your nose (otherwise known as sniffing) while you are swallowing. And for the first time, I was unable to find a similar question from other people when I googled this phenomenon. I think I'm the first one. Go me!

"Walter Was Here"

2011-03-21T12:51:00.000-07:00

Admitting that we don't know something is the first step in seeking knowledge.

This is old news, I'm pretty sure, but I think it's profound.

One of the things, I believe, that separates us from animals is our vast potential, for good or for bad. Anybody can truly learn anything and be anything they want to if they want it badly enough, and that quest begins with admitting, as did Socrates, "I know that I know nothing."

While he didn't aspire to be anything greater than a philosopher who went around and proved to everyone that they didn't know what they claimed to, I think the statement is still relevant to the topic at hand. The end.

2011-03-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

I think I'll stick it out through biology, I decided. Thanks for your helpful advice, people. This is a hard decision, but it'll make for a more secure future, I hope.

Groceries with Grandma

2011-03-16T14:11:00.000-07:00

George C. Scott came to my work in Washington the other day and climbed the wall with his kids. I'm pretty sure it was George C. Scott. Wait, is he dead? I don't care if he's dead, it was him. If you don't know who George C. Scott is, well, he played Ebenezer Scrooge is one of the Christmas Carol movies. That's all I know. The end.

Felipe beat me in foosball again. I just can't win.

The reason this blog post is named what it is is because if I had a grandma, I would probably, at some point in my life, go get groceries with her.

Lucid Dreaming

2011-03-11T11:03:00.000-08:00

So I had what I THINK was a lucid dream last night. The reason I say "I think" is because I'm starting to wonder if the various lucid dreams I've had lately are all just part of the randomness of the dreams, in regards to the weird and non-sensical way in which I realize that I'm dreaming. For example, last night (and I believe this was a dream within a dream), I was standing in front of my parents house. Something looked off (what we would call a "dreamsign," or a sign that points to the fact that it's a dream). I don't know if it was where the sun was in the sky, or one of the houses on the street was out of place. In any case, I realized it, and yelled, "HEY, I'M DREAMING!" And then I just started running around. And since my first inclination, every time I come to this realization, is to fly, I started jumping around, trying to fly. Eventually, it worked, and I found myself high above St. George. And then for some odd reason, I decided I wanted to go to Dixie Nutrition, so I started swooping down towards it. The end.

Does anyone else have lucid dreams sometimes? I remember thinking to myself in the dream about how real it felt, despite the fact that I knew I was dreaming. It was odd.

I'm pretty sure Vince Vaughn just walked into the library. He was wearing scrubs. I guess he works at the hospital? He must have a lot of abilities.


I snapped a photo of this guy as he walked into the library. He seems surprised, and possibly upset, that I would snap this photo without even asking him.

So back to my story...oh wait, it was over.

Foosball with Felipe

2011-03-08T16:09:00.000-08:00

I've decided I really like alliteration; it makes good band names and blog post names.

I played several short matches of foosball last night at work. First I played foosball with Neal, the husband of one of my co-workers. He has only the use of one hand, so to make things relatively even, I played with one hand too. AND I STILL BEAT HIM. EAT THAT. Just kidding, he's really cool, and he probably would've beat me if he was able to use both hands.

Several minutes later, I engaged in a foosball battle with Felipe, a hispanic gentleman that works at the Community Center and who is one of the nicest guys I've ever met. And man is he good at foosball. Holy crap. He beat me two games in a row. It hurt my pride a lot, especially since I remember boasting in my own foosball strength in my last blog post.

What's the point of this blog? (Here comes the moral of the story! Wait for it! WAIT FOR IT!)

Sometimes in life, we feel like those little men on the great foosball field of life. We feel like we have no arms, that we only have the use of our feet, that our faces looks like everyone else's, and we're always kicking soccer balls around. We don't go after the afore-mentioned soccer ball, but we'll kick it, maybe, if it comes to us. And we can only move laterally. And if we do a kick, we can do a complete flip through the air, and maybe even just hang there in the air forever. And in place of our arms, there's a giant steel rod that penetrates through our sides and connects all of our similar positioned teammates together. Do you feel like this sometimes? HUH? DO YA? DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO HAVE YOUR ARMS RIPPED OFF AND HAVE A GIANT ROD IMPALED THROUGH YOUR ABDOMINAL AREA? ALL SO YOU CAN PLAY SOCCER? ALL DAY LONG? EVERY DAY? HUH?!

No. You don't. You have no idea what it's like.

Next time you play a round of table foosball, and you score that final winning goal that causes so much joy in your hearts, I want you to look down at your little men, little men with little smiles painted on their faces, and I want you to notice something. I want you to notice the single teardrops running down their cheeks.

You will never comprehend the misery that this man is going through.

No, my friend, they're not tears of joy. They're tears of regret, of sorrow, tears of unspeakable agony as their little plastic bodies are twisted to-and-fro against their will. If those little men could talk (and they can't, because their real mouths have been sealed shut and painted over with a grin), we would probably hear them crying, screaming out, and shouting, "WHY?! WHY DID I EVER DECIDE TO DEDICATE MY ENTIRE LIFE TO SOCCER?! WHY?!"

So anyway, I should probably go study for a very important test now.

Lobsters and Lollipops

2011-03-05T16:52:00.000-08:00

1) Apparently, being able to climb the rockwall, and not just climb it, but climb it very HARDCORE-LIKE, and using your own gear, makes you the coolest and most hardcore person in the world, and anybody not as cool and hardcore as you sucks and should be shunned forever.

UH OH! Holden is generalizing again. Heh Heh! I guess if I was super good at something, I would feel the same way to my inferiors. Oh wait, I already feel like that when I beat up on people playing table foosball. Man I am just a jerk.

2) Funny story, because I know how much you love a funny story. Emily and I were laying in bed the other night, both very tired from a long day. We were discussing pressure canners and how much she wants one. At some point, I closed my eyes, and instantly fell into a dream where I was in biology class learning about some particular organism. I then asked a question, curious about this creature: "Does it reproduce?" As I said this, I remember waking at that very moment (which was probably 10 or so seconds after the last thing Emily said about the pressure canner), and realizing that I had spoken that question out loud. "Huh???" Emily said, confused out of her mind. And then we giggled a lot, since asking if a pressure canner reproduces is somewhat out of the ordinary. HEH!

On a sidenote, does anybody know why I went into REM sleep in a matter of seconds rather than the usual 90 minutes? Any sleep experts out there?

3) I was complaining to my wife the other night about how sick I was of children at the rockwall, always whining and asking questions and asking for help with something or another. "But isn't that your job?" she asked. In a fit of rage, I grabbed the dinner table and overturned it, then threw the TV remote through the screen of the TV, which exploded in an orgy of fire and glass. Then I grabbed my dog Frankie and shook him. Just shook him and shook him. Until he died. My rage knew no bounds. All of this is true, up to the point where Emily reminded me of what my job was. I thought about her question and laughed, since that is my job. I appreciate the down times at the wall where I can just sit and relax, or climb leisurely, but apparently I had forgotten what I'm actually supposed to be doing. Maybe I'm sick of that job. Maybe that's the answer to everything.

4) Kobe.

5) (witty political statements to round out my well rounded blog.)

6) There is no end to being. There is no death above.

Darts through their livers?

2011-03-02T13:07:00.000-08:00

Apparently, God hates you. So give up.

The Supreme Court just ruled in favor of these morons. Booo, I say. Booo. Oh well, guess I'll have to find something else to hate and destroy. ^o^

HOLDEN HAS QUESTIONS

2011-02-28T13:45:00.000-08:00

WHAT SHOULD I DO???

1) I hate chemistry. I'm pretty sure I got the class's lowest score on our last test.

2) I took a walk through the art gallery at the Eccles building and realized how much I would REALLY like to do something creative for a profession.

3) I took a walk through the science building and realized how much I would REALLY like to do something that makes money for a profession.

4) I walked around a lot today, actually, doing some stupid assignment for my "intro to the biology major' class where I was supposed to visit every building on campus and then write up a little short description on what goes on there. I learned absolutely nothing interesting, except that the heating plant heats and cools 85 to 90% of the buildings on campus. WOW!!!

5) All this walking around gave me some time to think and ponder about life, like how I really hate chemistry.

6) For all of you who read this blog, I need suggestions on what to do with my life. I'm pondering doing medical radiography or being a surgical technician. They don't make a ton of money, but they would make my wife and I enough to survive and get me through medical school (or probably any school, for that matter). Plus they don't take too long to accomplish.

7) I'm pretty sure I don't want to major in biology, which means that this semester was probably a huge waste. Some aspects of it are interesting, but there would be too many pointless and boring classes to take, like "plant taxonomy" and similar baloney like that. Not that I couldn't force myself to be interested in things like that, but I really feel like jumping right into something (like the med programs), rather than wasting a couple years learning stuff I will never have any use for.

8) 8 is a good number, and I like numbering things.

9) 9 is for: give me $9,000, somebody, now.

10) So back to my art gallery adventure. I was overwhelmed, seriously, at the art in that gallery, except for one, entitled 'The Morning Breaks" that showed what was supposed to be a portrait of St. George back in the early days (with the temple in the middle of the city), and Pine Valley Mountain looming in the background. AND THE SUN WAS COMING UP OVER PINE VALLEY MOUNTAIN. I mean...seriously? Get your directions straight, man. Your art means nothing to me now.

General Burnside.

11) For all of you ward members who are having difficulties explaining the gospel to your protestant friends, let me handle it. In the words of Fransisco Elson, center for the Utah Jazz: "Hey guys, I got this."

12) Does anyone have any recurring dreams they would like to share? I know this blog is going on way too long, but I have a lot to say, so leave me alone. I have a recurring dream where I go to some town or village north of here. I don't know where it is. I have the dream about every other night. Actually, one time, the town was Enterprise, and Emily and I were staying at a huge hotel there called 'The Enterprise Hilton," and Emily went off to use the bathroom, and before she went, she told me to get her "one of those Enterprise Hilton souvenir pens." So I did. The end.

13) is actually Emily's favorite number.

14) Should I be a respiratory therapist?

15) Should I be a physical therapist?

16) Should I eat some pancakes?

Comments are welcome. No swearing.

This came from AwkardFamilyPhotos.com and I just really enjoyed it, I'm sorry.

FISH TACOS OF DEATH

2011-02-24T08:53:00.000-08:00

It would seem an odd thing, but it is true, that I ate a Del Taco fish taco the other day (as well as a shrimp taco), and then I'm pretty sure I got food poisoning, or something, because my stomach has been hurting ever since, and I have severe digestive issues. That was all one sentence. This experience is the very reason why this blog exists. Thanks for reading. Comments? Questions? Pancakes? Anything you just want to get off your chest? Anything that you wives out there just HATE about your husbands but are too afraid to tell them? Spill it out on here, anonymously, and I will solve your problems for you.

Personal Religion

2011-02-20T22:49:00.000-08:00

I was thinking about this earlier today.

It seems a lot of people who don't believe in God, or who at least are turned off by religion, are that way because of the hatred and violence that is supposedly sparked by some sort of religious arguments. I ran into a lot of people on my mission who wanted to bash with my companions and I. As I look back on it, I realize how silly it was, and how funny it would've been to an atheist to see us arguing. I didn't always particularly enjoy arguing, but I also never wanted to back down either when somebody challenged my beliefs. These arguments never bred anything but contention and what I experienced as "flustered feelings," where my eyebrows twitched, my adrenaline pumped, and I always walked away from the experience feeling an immense amount of contempt for the person I had just engaged in a bash with.

While none of these encounters ever led to violence, what happened was, in a very small degree, a reflection of what is happening, and what has been happening for thousands of years, around the world. Religion breeds arguments, and nothing in the world does it better. Type any religious statement on any message board or comment thread somewhere on the internet, and within 10 minutes, you can easily have 50 comments from people who insult and completely demean each other's religious beliefs. It is virtually automatic. Nothing offends people more. Perhaps this is why so many people are turned off by religion, especially Christianity, which, at its core, promotes love, charity, and goodwill towards all men, but has been a source of hypocritically violent oppression through the centuries.

I've thought about this a lot, and rather than be turned off by my own beliefs that I've grown up with, I've come to realize just how deeply personal religion can be. People react negatively when somebody mocks their beliefs, as though they are being mocked, when in fact, it is specifically the religion or the individual beliefs. But is there a difference? If I got angry because somebody insulted my religion, would I be in the wrong since they are actually insulting my religion, and not me? A person who is a genuine believer in something is not somehow separated from what they profess to believe. In fact, their religious beliefs define who they are. This is why it's personal, and this is why people get offended. While it's not right to react so negatively to religious mockery or humiliation, it's also wrong, I believe, to "mock" religion in general for sparking violence and hatred. Some may think that's what I've been doing throughout this blog, but it is quite the opposite. It is simply that religion is more personal to people than outsiders may think. My own beliefs are very personal to me, even though they are beliefs that are held by over 13 million people throughout the world. My convictions define who I am, therefore, it is not unrealistic for me, in some way, to get flustered when my beliefs are mocked or ridiculed. I accept that this will happen in many situations, but I choose to avoid the situations where it is likely to happen. I've decided that arguing about religion is "missing the point" of all the Christian scriptures, including the restored scriptures of the LDS church, but I also believe that it should not be an odd thing to see someone overreact when their beliefs are ridiculed or challenged. It just proves how personal their convictions really are, and maybe, just maybe, we should avoid arguing or provoking people.

I'm not justifying Middle East violence, I swear. But when you think about how personal Islam is to its followers, it makes sense. You can choose to hate religion because of the violent aspect of it, or you can do your part to make the world a better place. Either way, religious conflict will never cease until the end of the world, no matter what anyone tries to do about it, and this is because of the deep connection people feel to the god they worship. Non-believers may see our god as a god of war. I see God as a loving father who wants all of his children to come back to him, and would rather have us live our religion, which is showing mercy, love, and forgiveness to our fellow man, rather than arguing and bashing in an effort to "defend" our religion.

Evolution

2011-02-05T10:30:00.000-08:00

This is my first blog in awhile, it seemed like all my random blogs of nothingness were just making people mad (putting an end to my random writing career), so I'm blogging today to ask an actual question and get some input. What does everyone think about the theory of evolution?

I'm taking Biology II at college right now, and for the first time, I'm actually starting to be very fascinated with it. I think life is just amazing, especially microscopic organisms. The problem is that the theory of evolution, which ties all of this biology together apparently, conflicts with my own religious beliefs in many regards. I figure there is some way to reconcile the two (for example, SOME elements of the theory may be true). I know this is ultimately my decision, but does anyone have any comments on it? Evolution makes the claim, essentially, that it has overwhelming evidence for its truthfulness. Is it true? Is it partly true? Is the natural selection element of it true? I read the first presidency's statement on it from 1903, and it was good, but didn't really help me out. I don't know. I need an explanation that incorporates the two (the gospel AND the theory of evolution) into one. Surely there's an explanation.

And NO, don't think I'm going apostate or something. But at some point, I have to stop pretending that I believe, utterly and infallibly, in both things, when they both make completely opposing claims.

Comments? Or does anyone still read this blog?

"Sail to the Moon"-- Radiohead

2011-01-03T23:39:00.000-08:00

I sucked the moon
I spoke too soon
And how much did it cost?
I was dropped from
Moonbeams
And sailed on shooting stars

Maybe you'll
Be president
But know right from wrong
Or in the flood
You'll build an Ark

And sail us to the moon
Sail us to the moon
Sail us to the moon
Sail us to the moon

Dart Through Your Liver

2010-12-24T21:39:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas scumbags.

Apoptosis Machine

2010-12-11T20:40:00.000-08:00

I've decided to stop humor writing, because I guess it's not too funny anymore. It had a good run though.

I hate it when my wife is gone to work. More than anything. I've always hated it, but never realized quite how much I do until right now for some reason.

I'm sitting here with the doggies. They're both passed out next to me after an evening of wackiness and running around and Juno sneakily stealing my last bit of Hot Pocket when I set it down for a second to watch a Jazz game. I was mad. But for what? She's a dog. I think it's funny how we always get mad at dogs for acting like dogs. We want them to act as human-like as possible, which is why we teach them tricks. I guess it makes us feel better though, to have something close to human to talk to when we're alone.

I miss my wife terribly.

I suddenly realize that there is nothing to see in the past.

Where's My Xylophone?!

2010-11-05T09:49:00.000-07:00

So I see that some of you who view this blog are from various locales around the earth, namely, Russia, Spain, South Korea, Lebanon, and Malta (where the heck is Malta? I thought that was some sort of beverage). I would appreciate it if you international folk would leave comments or something, so I know what's going on, and so I can understand why my blog has some sort of international appeal. Or unappeal (is that a word?) if you actually hate it. Come on. Let's be friends. And we'll beat this enemy called "college football" together.

I'm sitting at the Dixie College library right now. I just had a great lesson in human anatomy about scrotums, testicles, penises, spermatic cords, spermatic fascia, cryptorchism, and testicular torsion (yeowch!). I'm glad I just listed that for all of you to read. In case no one knows, I think the human body is the most fascinating and complex thing in the universe, and I plan to have a career, somewhere down the road, where I work with the human body, in some fashion. Perhaps I will study the immune system, which is the greatest buttkicker in the history of mankind, even greater than all of your fictional childhood heroes like Batman, Spiderman, Superman, Stone Cold Steve Austin, and Michael Jordan.


KILLER T-CELL- What exactly is happening in this picture, I'm not sure. He's either chowing down Mike and Ikes, or else he's being overrun by bacteria, which is kind of a sad thought. Some killer. Geez.

Those killer T-cells in your immune system? Awesome. They pinpoint the enemy, poke HOLES in it, and then inject deadly toxin into it. The United States Army should make that its killing method. I guess shooting people is pretty much the same as poking holes in people, so maybe it's already similar. But they should try it the killer T-cell way too. And they should be more blobular, and have little pokey-looking spine things all over them. And they shouldn't have any sort of face, because I am always more intimidated by a being whose face I can't see. Hello? Why do Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, and that guy from Scream all wear a mask? Because the face expresses emotion. Mike, Jason, and Bill McScream (is that his name?) have no emotions, except the emotions of unquenchable anger and thirst to kill. I personally think this is the key to demoralizing our enemies abroad: wearing scary masks. There you have it. This whole fascination with the immune system has turned me into a warmongering jerk, because the only thing my heroic T-cells live for, is killing. Pretty twisted, man. Pretty...twisted. They're probably not good role-models for your kids. Just forget you ever read this.

Through the Loop

2010-11-01T13:12:00.000-07:00

A pass into non-existence.
Through a loop and out the other end.
This abyss we speak of, this nothing,
    is fraught with words shared,
    words forgot,
    words of meaning.
   Yet the mind creates what it will.

FOOTBALL!

2010-10-24T20:40:00.000-07:00

Just kidding! I'm not going to talk about football! Had you going there, huh! Heh! No seriously, the latest BCS standings, they're uhhh...they're great. Just great. Ok, for real, that's all I'm saying about football. Because, as we know, the real Holden, who you all know and love (most of you), really actually doesn't care about football, and this is all pretend. Or is it that I simply have a well-defined sense of justice, and whenever I smell abuse thereof, it makes me bark. Madly. And then I snarl, as mad barking dogs are prone to do. Will there ever be justice? In anything?

I've come to the conclusion that there cannot be justice. Which I find disheartening, as I pledged a thousand times during my elementary and high school years that the ideals of the American flag would bring justice to all. And when I say justice, I mean...Justice. Justice Dirickson.

I've made plans to create a story entitled, 'Justice: An American Hero," as well as a quirkier sequel entitled, "Hot Tubbing with Justice: An Unlikely Story,' which is based on Beau Stucki's personal account of actually hot-tubbing with the man himself.

There you have it. That was the whole point of this blog. Is that crazy or what? You thought this was all about football? Get out of here. I don't even like football. I've been putting on a show with all of you.

The Superior Thoracic Aperture Band Rides Again

2010-10-12T18:25:00.000-07:00

So I only just realized that I can check the stats on my blog, and apparently (and most randomly), the Philippines is the second most visiting country of my blog next to the United States. Do people from the Philippines like me? Because I certainly like them. Not as much as I like Tennesseans though. They're so cute and cuddly and they get the cutest little scrunched up faces when they're angry about dang Mormons. Aw.

In other news...I've decided to get into model airplane building. And I want to be some sort of dessert connoisseur. Cupcakes, maybe. I think I'm going to make some specialty cupcakes tonight. And I held a lung today in my anatomy lab. It was kinda gross. It was basically just a slimy bag. Oh yeah, and I poked a liver. A real liver. Sitting in a cadaver's abdomen. And I poked his brachial artery too. Speaking of brachial artery, I am reminded of the movie "Cellular" which I watched just last week with my dear wife. There was a part where a kidnapped woman stabbed a bad guy in his brachial artery, and then she escaped as he fell down and bled to death. And as she ran away, he muttered these infamous last words: "YOU BIH!" Excellent dialogue right there. Top notch. I've considered making those my last words as well, no matter what circumstance I may be in when I die.


Jason Statham, from the side-splitting romantic comedy Cellular. If you imagine it just right, you can picture him in this shot actually about to break out into uproarious laughter over something, rather than wanting to shoot somebody in the head 50 times.

Also in other news, I heard, for the very first time, the song "Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast" by Pink Floyd, and I think it's the most wonderful song ever. I highly recommend it. It's about a guy eating breakfast, and it has three separate instrumental parts, separated by segments of hearing Alan talking about breakfast foods he likes, cooking eggs, pouring cereal, eating the food, and then leaving the kitchen. I don't think I could've ever come up with something so creative. I'm dead serious. You think I'm not, but I am.

THE END

We All Want to be Loved

2010-10-10T07:41:00.000-07:00

I don't think anyone gets addicted to TEXTING.

I think people have a desire to communicate. I think that's a basic human desire. It's funny how I was so against cell phone 4-5 years ago, and always judging my friends for all their cell-phone worshipping, but I now I realize that "texting" is simply a symbol of our desire to talk with others and feel important. Is texting really eradicating peoples' abilities to have face-to-face conversations? I doubt it. How could anybody measure that? Do they strap kids that are "addicted" to texting down in a lab chair, and then shoot conversational questions at them and measure how well they're able to carry on a conversation?
Of course, sometimes, teenagers run up the bill when they text a lot. That probably isn't so good. Cell phone companies, of course, are simply exploiting peoples' desires to communicate, with fancy sounding text plans that sound cheap, but add up eventually. In this regard, I can see the negativity of texting. But isn't that ALL that people, especially teenagers, want to do? Talk? Feel loved?

Pretty weird when you think of it that way. Oh well. The end.

Dixie College Police

2010-10-06T11:53:00.000-07:00

I don't mean to be a complainer, since I know that when you argue against some sort of policy with no real solution of your own, it's complaining. So I guess I do mean to be a complainer. There you go.
I got a parking ticket last week for parking in the Udvar-Hazy Business Building parking lot, without a parking permit. Why did this happen, you might say? Well, let's just say that I've been parking in this parking lot for over a year, thinking that it was the institute parking lot, which I figured was totally separate from the college. Even though people parking to go to the business building technically still park in the same parking lot, I figured there was some sort of dividing line that I couldn't see. Which sounds silly, I know, but that's how I really felt. It would make sense to have a separate parking lot for the Institute. But more often than not, the parking lot for a building is in the FRONT of the building. Therefore, I assumed, logically, that I was parking in a totally separate parking lot.
Now let's analyze this situation. I don't want to buy a parking permit. They're $25. That's too much money for a stupid little sticker. About this subject, Dixie College police have stated that this is a "safety issue." My beef with it all is that there is no SAFETY involved with placing a parking ticket on someone's car, a ticket which gives a person 10 days to pay the fine. And in my case, I parked in that parking lot for over a year. So if a van full of Libyan terrorists pulls up in a permit-required parking lot, and they all decide to go in the Gardner student center and detonate a bomb, or if somebody decides they want to inflict some sort of harm to Dixie College students or faculty, a PARKING TICKET is supposed to make them go away? "Uh oh guys, there's a parking ticket on our car! We only have 10 days to pay a 20 dollar fine! Let's GET OUTTA HERE!"
Please.
The only reason they hand out parking tickets is to 1) Make money, and 2) Piss students off and make them hate the police more than they already do. Which I know is the least of the police department's worries. But I hate hate hate them masking this all with their talk of "safety" and "protecting the students."
If you're going to make it a safety issue in ANY way, you should be more diligent about dishing out parking tickets. I got away with it for a year apparently. Either be more consistent with handing out parking tickets, or drop the stupid permit price altogether, because everyone knows it's a bunch of bullcrap, and all you want is money.
Idiots.

Blood

2010-09-25T19:27:00.001-07:00

“Welcome to the blood drive!”
Thus came the voice of Rebecca, a fair-skinned maiden sitting behind the table at the Gas City, Indiana Annual Blood Drive. And thus came me, Steve, who had never before given blood. I got dragged into this garbage by my wife, Tasha. What a joke.

“Have you given blood before?” Rebecca asked.

“No, I have not,” I responded. I didn’t want to give blood. I loved my blood. It was my own. I wasn’t afraid of needles or anything, but I felt like my blood was the most personal part of me. My wife always found this strange, but then I would, more often than not, slap her.

“Come on honey, it’ll be fine,” Tasha said, struggling to console me. She put her arm around me and looked me in the eye. “Just think honey. Your blood will save one person’s life. Doesn’t that just make you happy?”

I rolled my eyes. Happiness…what IS happiness anyways? I’ll tell you one thing, it is NOT saving the lives of others. That is not happiness. Nobody would ever save me if I was in trouble. Maybe my wife Tasha. Maybe my dog Fred. Johnny Cash said happiness was about being comfortable, and being with friends. I read it on his tombstone. And I happen to agree with that. None of this altruistic mumbo jumbo.

“Humbug!” I grumbled. Yet I desired to appease my wife, who wearied me with her teasing. I don’t know why I ever got married anyway. Marriage…what IS marriage anyways? I’ll you one thing, it is NOT…

“HONEY!” said my wife. I snapped out of my ponderous reverie. “You have to sign your name.”

Thus I signed my name.

The whole process took forever. I had to read a handbook all about how I couldn’t give blood if I’d had sex with anyone in the past week, or if I’d traveled to the nation of Trinidad and Tobago anytime between March and June of 1985, or if I had ever drank my own blood, or if I had ever operated a forklift that was manufactured in Johnsonville, Tennessee before 1968. Of course, I had done all these things, but I didn’t want to let my wife know. She would kill me if she knew that I had gone on a secret trip to Trinidad and Tobago to exchange black market goods with terrorists.

They pricked my finger, which was nothing new, since I had done the same thing many times during my weekly blood-oath ceremonies with my “World of Warcraft” clan. They did a little test on my blood, which ended up being okay for some reason. Then they strapped me down, and the fiasco of draining my essential life-giving fluid began.

“Is it all right if I stick it in this vein?” asked the girl performing the operation, pointing at a particularly attractive vein in my ripped left arm. Wait, was she serious?

“Uh, you can put it wherever you want,” I responded. Wasn’t she an expert?

“All right, let’s go with that,” she said, and stuck the needle in. It didn’t even hurt. I didn’t feel emotion.

After several minutes, she yanked it out, and I was good to go.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Tasha said to me later as we exited the Gas City Community Center.

“Let’s get pizza,” I said.

Then we smooched for three hours.

***

Several weeks later, things took a turn for the worse. My relationship with my wife started going downhill, and she moved out for what she called a “temporary” amount of time.

On one particular day, I sat in my living room, watching an old re-run of MacGyver. As much as my relationship with Tasha had gone sour, I longed for her. I longed for her face, for her nose, her perfect fair skin, for her flowing black hair, for her rugged cowboy boots. These thoughts took up much of my time when I wasn’t working at Jack in the Box, or doing Zumba down at the community center.

I needed to escape. And I knew just the place. The old duck pond. Perhaps the old warehouse. In all actuality, I didn’t care. I just needed an escape. I decided on the old duck pond.

The duck pond was a good distance from my apartment, roughly 25 minutes taking the Old Gary Turnpike out of town. But I had nothing else going on for me.

I took some of my music with me to listen to as well. Good Charlotte, my favorite band, would be accompanying me on this life-changing trip, I decided. How I loved them and their sweet tender melodies, their innocent emo voices always dotting the air with their cries and their pleas and their whineries. How I truly loved them.

It was a lovely fall day, a perfect day for a drive. The air was crisp. Crisp with potato chips that is, as I accidentally spilled them all over my front seat. I swore several times, my most relaxing “cool-down” technique, taught to me by my grandfather.

When I had been driving for about 10 minutes, I came to the intersection of the Old Gary Turnpike and Highway 82. So many memories of this intersection. So many. I stopped, but was so engrossed in my reverie of memories pertaining to this intersection, that I didn’t even check left or right as I proceeded through the intersection.

What happened next was…crazy. A Nissan truck, perhaps an X-Terra, or something of the like, came out of nowhere and slammed into my left side. Whatever truck it was, it was a manly truck, and I imagine there was a gentleman inside, wearing jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat, and he probably had some sort of loyal dog next to him. I imagined all this as the accident happened. Really.

As you can understand, I was also sitting on the left side. As I had never before been in an accident, I couldn’t come up with enough imagery and descriptive creative words to really explain how the accident felt to me. But, surely, oh surely, as the sky is blue, and as John Amaechi is a former NBA superstar, there was a lot of destruction, debris flying everywhere, and my blood splattering all over my car, all in the span of a couple seconds. Oh yeah, and I was knocked unconscious too, which is no surprise, considering all the bones on my left side were instantly broken, and I had deep bloody gashes in several parts of my body. Therefore, I will leave it at that.

I woke up, somewhat, several minutes later, as paramedics and firemen were extracting what was left of my body from my car, now a twisted pile of wreckage. I had never seen anything so twisted, and so pile-like. I couldn’t feel anything, I’m pretty sure I was completely paralyzed. I remember seeing blood everywhere. Everywhere.

They threw me (literally) onto a stretcher, and then threw me again into the back of an ambulance.

“This man needs blood!” one of the EMTs yelled. Everything was happening so fast, it was all so dream-like. I remember them shoving a needle in my arm, and then some sort of blood transfusion was occurring. Gross, I thought. Somebody else’s blood inside me. I felt so dirty.

“Wait a minute!” cried one of the EMTs. Uh oh. Had they screwed something up? I remember her looking me in the eye, and yelling, as though I couldn’t hear. “ARE YOU STEVE MCWIGGINS?!”

I weakly muttered yes, and then suddenly realized who she was. It was my old middle school bus driver, Mrs. Perkins. MRS. PERKINS. Who knew that she was also a paramedic?

“Dear gosh!” she cried, holding the bag of blood in her hands. “This bag has your name on it Steve!”

What in the name of sweet Georgia Brown…? Why would a bag of blood have my name on it?

“STEVE!” she yelled at me again. “THIS IS YOUR BLOOD!”

And then it was total and utter pandemonium. Had I really reluctantly given blood several weeks ago, only to have the favor returned to me? By MY OWN BLOOD?

Somehow, I was saved that day. The experience taught me a lot, namely, I should give blood as often as I can. They had a rule that I couldn’t give blood more than once in a six-week period. Well, I’ll show them who’s boss!

“Sir, you just came in here yesterday!” said Rebecca, the girl at the Blood Center.

“I don’t care! I want to give more blood!” I cried.

“You can’t! Do you even know how dangerous that is?” she asked. “Your blood hasn’t even been replenished yet!”

“I DON’T CARE!” I cried. “I WANT TO GIVE BLOOD!”

And then I kind of had an episode, where I grabbed the table she was sitting at, and I tipped it over.

“ARGGGH!!!” I cried, like a wolf, hunting for its prey, for that is the very sound a hungry wolf makes.

“Sir, you’ve lost your mind!” cried Rebecca, as I ran into the blood-giving area, grabbed a bag of someone’s blood, and threw it on the floor. Blood splattered everywhere. Then I grabbed another bag in the process of being filled with someone’s blood, and threw it at the person’s face. Now they had their own blood…all over the face. Just like I did, on that fateful day of The Accident.

Within minutes, a team of animal control specialists entered the room and attempted to subdue me with over 50 tranquilizer darts. I roared, like the wolf that I was, but soon went down as a net was draped over me, and someone tackled me to the floor, which was covered in blood. All I wanted to do was help, but that wasn’t to be the case today. Today, I was a wolf. A raging wolf, simply trying to look out for the other wolves in my wolf clan, simply wanting to donate my own blood to my wolf brothers, for the sake of the pack. Also, I was banned for life from any sort of Red Cross blood-donating event. Yeah, I kinda “blew that one,” as my old dad would often joke years later around the dinner table.

THE END

Questions for discussion as a loving family unit---

1) Would the blood being transfused ACTUALLY have the name of its owner right on it? I doubt it. Shut up.

2) What is symbolically significant about Steve watching an episode of MacGyver during his time of loneliness?

3) How can we apply Steve’s heroic example to our own lives?

Preserved

2010-09-12T01:39:00.000-07:00

Sitting, unmoved, useless
Glass bottles, shrouded in dust
Shrouded in warped time.

Deep within a memory,
Shadows dance on a wall,
But they make no sound.

And nothing can hide them,
only vapour of darkness.

The Utah Clean Air Act

2010-09-04T20:11:00.001-07:00

The Utah Clean Air Act prohibits smoking in the passenger terminal, except in designated smoking areas. Your cooperation in extinguishing all smoking materials, or going to a designated smoking area, would be greatly appreciated.

Memorized Scripts

2010-08-27T18:51:00.000-07:00

We're all good at trying to impress people.

Living in Black and White

2010-08-26T18:18:00.000-07:00

What if the world hasn't always been in color?

I'm sitting at the business building right now, doing business, waiting for Emilyface to get out of her communication class, and I also happen to be doing lots of business.

Oh business...where is thy sting? Oh business, WHERE IS THY VICTORY?

THE END.

Je N'en Connais Pas la Fin (Jeff Buckley)

2010-08-21T10:38:00.000-07:00

Je N'en Connais Pas la Fin
translation- I Do Not Know the End

i used to know a little square
so long ago, when i was small
all summer long it had a fair
wonderful fair with swings and all
i used to love my little fair
and at the close of every day
i could be found, dancing around
a merry-go that used to play

ah, mon amour
a toi toujours
dans tes grands yeux
rien que nous deux

all summer long my little fair
made everyday seen like a holiday
night after night it used to play
and people came there from so far away
and everyone sang that little tune
all around town you heard it played
even Pepi from Napoli
he sang to Marie
this serenade

ah, mon amour
a toi toujours
dans tes grands yeux
rien que nous deux

I can't forget my little square
Even though I'm so far away
I can't forget my little fair
Maybe it's still there, still there today
I sometimes hear that little tune
playing in a dream of long ago

And in my brain runs the refrain
That old French refrain I used to know...

"Ah, mon amour
A toi toujours
Dans tes grands yeux
Rien que nous deux"

Blasphemy

2010-08-19T16:48:00.000-07:00

I don't consider myself an especially righteous person, but something seems wrong with the popular logic that Mormons are not Christians, but anybody, especially celebrities, rap stars, and worldly people who are obviously indulging in drugs and gross immorality, ARE Christians, if they make sure to display their fancy and shiny little crosses around their necks.

And then again, I don't know that somebody might look at somebody like 50 Cent and say, "Hey! That guy is TOTALLY a follower of Christ!" But he sure seems to be a lot more liked and respected than the Mormon church.

I disapprove 50 Cent. And so does Jesus.

GARAGE SAILING

2010-08-14T15:15:00.001-07:00

Do you ever go to garage sales, and realize that the stuff is not even REMOTELY interesting to you, but you keep looking around like you're interested, because you're afraid that you'll somehow offend the "proprietor" of the garage sale if you just leave? Or when the "proprietor" notices you looking at something that you don't plan on buying, and says "I'll sell it to for FIVE!" and you pretend to act interested and say, "Ahh, hmm…yeah! Not a bad deal!" even though you have no idea what the value is and you don't care?

I watched the movie "The Invention of Lying" last night. It was pretty weird, but relatively funny. Nobody in the movie, except for Ricky Gervais, knew how to lie. Everybody was completely and brutally honest, everyone in the entire world. It made me realize how much we all really ARE dishonest, how much we always hide our true intentions. I'm not saying all this to judge anyone. I'm saying it because IT'S FUNNY. We're all such liars. HEH! The end.

Holden's Disapprovals

2010-08-11T08:08:00.000-07:00

I do not like Hollywood.

I do not like Katy Perry or Lady Gaga. They are skanks.

I do not approve of homosexuality. Why? Because Hollywood approves of it.

I do not like the Christian Satellite Network. They are hypocrites.

I do not like Miley Cyrus. She is a skank and a Disney puppet.

I do not like celery. Why? Because people in Hollywood eat celery. Sometimes. I think.

I do not like the angry old man who came into my work yesterday.

I do not like Nickelback.

I do not like many things.

I think most of all, I just really do not like people who are full of themselves. Or who sing bad. Or who are skanks.

Or celery. Die.

Emily's Quirks

2010-08-07T20:17:00.000-07:00

So uh, I really really approve of my wife. A lot. And I know I haven't really written any blogs about her, and that makes me a fat jerk. So, in lieu of the great anniversary, here's several things about Emily that I think are just special-

1) She is, hands down, the HOTTEST babe in the universe. Her hair is cute, she has really pretty blue eyes, she has a little nose, little ears, little fingers, and little cute toes that bend in all sorts of crazy directions.
2) She is the best cook I know. She doesn't have a lot of confidence in what she makes, but man, she makes some mean egg rolls, stir fry, and lasagna, and she makes these really tasty turkey sandwiches and sends them with me in a lunchbox when I go to work.
3) She gets scared really really easily, like when I hide in the dark and then jump at her and scream, and it's so cute. I'm sorry, that one was mean. But it's true.
4) The little squealy sound she does when I poke her or tickle her.
5) She's extremely talented when it comes to training dogs and grooming them. She can point to any dog and tell you what kind it is.
6) Her laugh. Because it's funny.
7) She's a fantastic wife, and is always doing the laundry, and making food, and making me lunches, and working at Diamond Ranch all the time trying to make us money. She doesn't think she's a good wife, but I think she is, and I love her and am grateful for her.
8) She's really smart, and is in expert in several subjects that I know nothing about, for example, business, economics, genetics, real estate (because she watches so much HGTV), and Judge Judy.
9) She looks really really cute when she's asleep, and if you try to talk to her while she's sleeping, she makes cute little mumbly noises.
10) She throws temper tantrums if I don't let her pop my toes, or zits on my face.
11) She thinks songs are "funny." I still don't know exactly what this means, but she seems to have this ability to know what every song is about, and can somehow recognize the subtle humor in them. And she starts laughing at a song, and I have no idea why. And I will never know why.
12) She looks cute in her thick rimmed red glasses.
13) When she says "NOM NOM!" to Juno after she serves up her dinner.
14) I'm glad she's made up her mind about what she's going into, and I'm especially glad it's business, because now she'll get to carry around a briefcase and watch C-SPAN and dress in a business outfit. Because that is AWESOME.
15) She's the biggest sweetiepie in the world, and I'm forever grateful that Lucas, Eric, Brandon, and David became friends with her at EFY six years ago. Because if that wouldn't have happened, we would've never met. Awww.

Bush

2010-08-03T15:13:00.000-07:00

(As read in front of Mrs. Madden's AP English class, May 2005. The idea came from the hit blockbuster novel "The Scarlet Letter" in which there is some sort of important symbolic bush.)

Fleeting,
sighing,
loving...
     BUSH [pronounced almost like "boosh" in a deep seductive lusty voice]

Laughing,
growing,
sinning...
    BUSH

Time glides by,
the velvet sky,
caressing in its tender touch...
    BUSH

P'raps that rose
so long forgot
through life's reveries,
and loving sought,
would wilt, would fade
from this mortal coil...
    BUSH

Or p'raps illusion sleeps in you...

Maybe there is no bush?

Isaiah 3

2010-08-03T08:18:00.000-07:00

I see the exalted being humbled, and the humble being exalted.

Oh yeah, and all you girls should probably get rid of your round tires and your mufflers.

Jerks.

The end.

Biff Johnson Rides Again

2010-07-30T07:49:00.000-07:00

Nobody reads these posts. I don't really understand what the point of this blog is. Nobody will ever stumble on to this. I haven't even told my friends about this. What the heck am I doing. . .?

Coming from a time when Holden didn't understand anything or what in the name of Sam Hill was going on.

I started a new job at the Washington Community Center a few weeks ago! Hoorah. I basically get to sit around and do nothing while getting paid a quarter more than my last job and working almost twice as many hours. It's a nice facility. The staff are like, all total best friends, so I'm pretty out of the loop.

I start school next month. I still don't know what to do.

I don't know what else to say. My wife is a hottie, but I'm pretty sure everyone knows that.

I figure everyone has already viewed Portraits of Johnny, but here it is again, remastered in HD. Just kidding. I don't even know what that means. Shut up.

The Mirror

2010-07-28T07:44:00.000-07:00

How's this for a creepy dream (and this may have even been a dream within a dream but I don't remember)--

You walk into your bedroom. Inside your room, there is some sort of killer mirror that has attached itself to one of your walls or bookshelves, but you just think it's another mirror (or else you don't notice it). This mirror has attached two smaller mirrors elsewhere in the room as "eyes," so that when your reflection shows in the smaller mirrors, a trap is triggered, wherein the door to the room locks so you can't get out, the walls begin to close in, and a face appears in the mirror that is not your own. The last part has nothing to really do with killing you, but the face is grotesque. You try to open the door, but it's locked. The walls are moving in toward you to crush you. What do you do?

You smash the mirrors. WITH YOUR FIST. LIKE I DID.

As silly as it sounds, this dream left an impression on me. Maybe because I'm pretty sure I've dreamed it twice now. I figure nobody really cares, but once I figure out the symbolism, I'll let everyone know. Maybe.

Oh yeah, and apparently, the mirror's name was Udo (pronounced oo-doh).

The end.

2010-06-18T08:02:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, the Lakers beat the Celtics 83-79 and closed out the Finals.

I hated the game. I hated that the Lakers still managed to win despite the fact that Kobe Bryant did absolutely nothing for the team except make free throws, and then snagged Finals MVP for it. I've complained on so many comment threads about it, but for what purpose...? I don't know. It ate me up all night, it did. For some reason. And then this morning I got a call from my dad saying that my grandpa, my last living dear grandparent, passed away.

I think some things in life matter a lot more than others.

MIKE PILKINTON: THE MAN AND THE LEGEND

2010-06-12T00:40:00.000-07:00

WARNING: THIS MAN WAS SPOTTED PROWLING AROUND YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD, LOOKING FOR A BASH. HE IS ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. WE ASK ALL WOMEN AND CHILDREN TO STAY INDOORS, WITH ALL DOORS LOCKED AND WINDOWS BARRED. WE FURTHER ASK THAT ALL MEN WHO ARE ABLE TO WIELD WEAPONS STAND GUARD ON THEIR FRONT LAWNS, READY TO DO BATTLE SHOULD THE NEED ARISE. THE CITY WILL PROVIDE TANKS, ARTILLERY CANNONS, AND RPG LAUNCHERS TO THOSE WHO CAN USE THEM, BUT WE FEAR THAT NOT EVEN THESE WILL BE ENOUGH TO BRING HIM DOWN.

BE AWARE. HE IS VERY SNEAKY, AND CAN GET RIGHT BEHIND YOU WITHOUT YOU EVEN KNOWING.

THERE IS A GOOD CHANCE HE WILL BE REALLY NICE TO YOU AT FIRST, AND POSSIBLY OFFER TO BUY YOU A LEMONADE.

Why all this tomfoolery?

If anyone remembers from my missionary emails, I ran into this guy on three separate occasions in Lawrenceburg, and his whole desire in life was to bash. If I ever make a video game, he'll be a boss in it. A boss with over 500,000 HP. And multiple forms. And he'll do one of those annoying attacks that cause status ailments to everyone in your party. Yeah, that's right. And you won't be able to beat him without consulting several game walkthroughs on "GAME FAQS." You know why? Because you STINK at video games. STINK.

If you find this blog post uninteresting, offensive, or extreme, leave now and never return.

If you are a stranger to RPGs, stop reading. Now.

If you are the actual Mike Pilkinton, we love you. We also wish you luck for that time, sometime in the future, when the Four Warriors of Dawn will stumble upon your secret lair and proceed to have an epic battle with you, a battle in which the fate of the entire world will be decided. A battle in which you will fight Paul (Black Mage), Stacy (White Mage), Larry (Ninja), and Croft (Swordsman). A battle in which Stacy will cast "Haste" on everyone to increase their battle speed, but you will annoyingly cast "dispel" on them. A battle in which Stacy will cast "shell" on Paul, the weakest member of the party, but then you will do "Pilkinton Punch" on him, which is the most powerful physical attack in the game, so his shell doesn't really matter, obviously. A battle in which Croft will slash you with his legendary sword over and over again, and you will do a counterattack called "Life Shaver," which will reduce Croft's HP to 1. A battle in which Paul will cast "Lightning" on you, and it will do enormous damage, and then they will come to the realization that your weakness is INDEED lightning, and then you're screwed. Screwed, Mike. They are gonna let you HAVE it.

The Final Battle

And how can you even hope to beat enemies who just keep re-appearing in their most recent save point after you destroy them? How Mike?

How?

I AM CAKE

2010-06-09T19:33:00.000-07:00

Definition of cake: 2a- A block of compacted or congealed matter (Merriam Webster)

I

AM

CAKE!

Heh heh!

Where The Streets Have No Gluten

2010-05-30T17:27:00.000-07:00

HOLDEN'S CONFESSION

Ok, you know what? I NEVER wanted to be senior class president anyway, okay? GOSH! I must admit though, that my posters were pretty funny. I must admit that I was pretty funny in my Exec Council interview, as much as they all hated me and gave me an extremely crappy score. I must admit that "Gender Segregation Day" was an extremely good idea for my hypothetical "Senior Week," and that "Fatal Attraction" would've made a great date night movie. But, your loss Snow Canyon. Your loss. And forever you shall regret not picking me. Even though I didn't want to win.

Hey Bret Voran Gates! Hey! Are you reading this? I'm talking to you! LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU! I never wanted to win ANYWAY! There, are you happy? Does that put a little damper on your triumphant "I Beat the Coolest Guy In School in the Senior Class Election" story that you tell at every one of your social gatherings? Well...I LOST ON PURPOSE.

"I voted for Holden!"

Besides, you don't really get to run the senior class anyway, right? I mean...seriously.

Sorry

2010-05-28T22:14:00.000-07:00

Ok sorry! GOSH! I didn't know that the whole homeopathy thing could be so boring to everyone. Forget I said anything. Ever. In my whole life. Just forget it. Jerks.

I'll probably end up getting fired from work one of these days, I seem to kinda be in a Dixie Nutrition rebellion mode right now. Seriously. My conclusion, after two whole years of working there now, is that most everything is a scam. I think I've said enough about it.

The end.

The Scams of Homeopathy and Oscillococcinum

2010-05-26T09:07:00.000-07:00

I figure most people I know don't really care about any of this, but I find this pretty interesting, as these products are huge sellers where I work. It's a lot to read, so don't be turned off right away.

(From Quackwatch.com: Homeopathy, The Ultimate Fake)

"At best, the 'remedies' are placebos"'

Homeopathic products are made from minerals, botanical substances, and several other sources. If the original substance is soluble, one part is diluted with either nine or ninety-nine parts of distilled water and/or alcohol and shaken vigorously (succussed); if insoluble, it is finely ground and pulverized in similar proportions with powdered lactose (milk sugar). One part of the diluted medicine is then further diluted, and the process is repeated until the desired concentration is reached. Dilutions of 1 to 10 are designated by the Roman numeral X (1X = 1/10, 3X = 1/1,000, 6X = 1/1,000,000). Similarly, dilutions of 1 to 100 are designated by the Roman numeral C (1C = 1/100, 3C = 1/1,000,000, and so on). Most remedies today range from 6X to 30X, but products of 30C or more are marketed.

A 30X dilution means that the original substance has been diluted 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 times. Assuming that a cubic centimeter of water contains 15 drops, this number is greater than the number of drops of water that would fill a container more than 50 times the size of the Earth. Imagine placing a drop of red dye into such a container so that it disperses evenly. Homeopathy's "law of infinitesimals" is the equivalent of saying that any drop of water subsequently removed from that container will possess an essence of redness. Robert L. Park, Ph.D., a prominent physicist who is executive director of The American Physical Society, has noted that since the least amount of a substance in a solution is one molecule, a 30C solution would have to have at least one molecule of the original substance dissolved in a minimum of 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 molecules of water. This would require a container more than 30,000,000,000 times the size of the Earth.

Oscillococcinum, a 200C product "for the relief of colds and flu-like symptoms," involves "dilutions" that are even more far-fetched. Its "active ingredient" is prepared by incubating small amounts of a freshly killed duck's liver and heart for 40 days. The resultant solution is then filtered, freeze-dried, rehydrated, repeatedly diluted, and impregnated into sugar granules. If a single molecule of the duck's heart or liver were to survive the dilution, its concentration would be 1 in 100 raised to the 200th power. This huge number, which has 400 zeroes, is vastly greater than the estimated number of molecules in the universe (about one googol, which is a 1 followed by 100 zeroes). In its February 17, 1997, issue, U.S. News & World Report noted that only one duck per year is needed to manufacture the product, which had total sales of $20 million in 1996. The magazine dubbed that unlucky bird "the $20-million duck."

Actually, the laws of chemistry state that there is a limit to the dilution that can be made without losing the original substance altogether. This limit, which is related to Avogadro's number, corresponds to homeopathic potencies of 12C or 24X (1 part in 1024). Hahnemann (homeopathy's founder) himself realized that there is virtually no chance that even one molecule of original substance would remain after extreme dilutions. But he believed that the vigorous shaking or pulverizing with each step of dilution leaves behind a "spirit-like" essence—"no longer perceptible to the senses"—which cures by reviving the body's "vital force." Modern proponents assert that even when the last molecule is gone, a "memory" of the substance is retained. This notion is unsubstantiated. Moreover, if it were true, every substance encountered by a molecule of water might imprint an "essence" that could exert powerful (and unpredictable) medicinal effects when ingested by a person.

This part is by me:

An explanation of the "dilution" thing: Homeopaths use a method called serial dilution. A drop of the original substance, whether it's snake venom or sulphuric acid, is added to 99 drops of water or alcohol. Then the mixture is violently shaken by hitting the tube against a hard surface. It is believed by homeopaths this is a vital stage. It somehow transfers the healing powers from the original substance into the water itself! The result is a mixture diluted 100 times, so called 1C solution. You then take that 1C solution and dissolve it in another 99 parts and now you end up with a 2C solution, and so on. And this is where the conflict with science begins. For example, 6C solution is equivalent to one drop of original substance in 20 swimming pools, and 12C is equivalent to one drop in the Atlantic Ocean. The typical dilution is 30C, a truly astronomical level of dilution. The fact that the least amount of a substance in a solution is one molecule, leads to a conclusion that in 24C or more solutions we don't have any molecules of substance left.

Hmm. Sounds like a pretty strange product.

I guess it'll work if you really believe it will, eh? The mind is great like that.

The Noodles

2010-05-22T19:27:00.001-07:00

“Hey Dad.”
“Hey son.”
It was here, in a lowly hospital room, somewhere in the slums of Chicago, where Tony Stephenson came to see his dying father, Frank.
“Son,” came the weak voice of Frank, surely upon his deathbed.
“Yes father?”
“At the end of your life son, it won’t matter how many good deeds you did in your life.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, son. It won’t matter that you raised your family in love and righteousness.”
“Really dad? That’s odd,” replied Tony.
“Yes, son. It won’t matter how many people’s lives you saved, whether by untying them from railroad tracks, or taking bullets for them, or doing something truly heroic and selfless.”
“Really? That seems weird. That seems like it would be important—“
“SHADDAP WHEN I’M TALKIN TO YOU!” yelled Frank. It wasn’t really a yell though. It was more of a yell-whisper, since he was dying, you know.
“Sorry Dad,” said Tony.
“It won’t matter that you loved your wife to the very end of your life, and were completely faithful to her, and that you kept your promises,” Frank said.
“Gee,” replied Tony.
“Only one thing matters in a person’s life, Tony. One thing. Do you know what that one thing is Tony?”
“Uhh,” said Tony. “I can’t think of it. What is it?”
Frank looked his son right in the eye.
“Tony,” he said. “The only thing that matters is whether you eat enough of the noodles.”
“What noodles?” asked Tony.
“Son, the only regret in life I have is when I went to that one party when I was like, 22 years old. They had these really great noodles. I mean, really great. And this delectable sauce that you got to pour on top. Sauce, Tony! You got to pour the sauce on there yourself! If you wanted just a little sauce, you could choose to just put a little sauce on there. If you wanted more, well, you could have more. It was your choice. I ate one plate of these noodles.”
“Wow, sounds like some great noodles,” said Tony.
“Yeah, they were. Well, even though they were great, I still only ate one plate of noodles. I forgot to eat more of them. We got to dancin’ and havin’ a good time, and I just plum forgot to eat another plate of those noodles. When that party was over, I was taking your old mom home, you know we was datin’ then. And about halfway to her place, I realized something—I had forgot to eat more of the noodles!”
“Geez,” said Tony. “That’s uh…way bad. Bad? Is that bad?”
“You have no idea, Tony. I mean…usually when you like something, you eat more of it, but that was the first time I can remember where I actually didn’t eat more of something I really liked. Does that sound crazy to you son? Does it? It does to me.”
“Wow Dad, that is pretty crazy,” said Tony.
“Darn right, son. So crazy that I’ve never forgot about it all these years. It haunts me every night.”
“It haunts you every night? That’s weird. I thought that you’d be haunted every night because you killed Mom 15 years ago. “
“SHADDAP WHEN I’M TALKIN TO YOU!” Frank snapped. Even in his frail, dying condition, he was still Tony’s father, and Tony had to respect that.
“Son?”
“Yes father?”
“Go grab me some hospital noodles. Do it. Do it now! I think I’m about to pass on son. I can see the angels coming son! I can see them! They’re in this room! They’re coming son! Hurry!”
“No problem Dad!” said Tony, and he bolted out of the room to grab some hospital noodles, unable and unwilling to disappoint his old dad in his final minutes.
Tony ran down the hall.
Noodles, he thought. Gotta find noodles. Gotta do it for Dad.
Time was winding down.
He turned a corner.
No noodles. “Dang!” he swore. So he went around another corner. Yes! The food court! And a vendor, with a giant obnoxious sign across the front: NOODLES AND MORE! He ran up to the counter, where a young teenager was standing behind a cash register.
“Gimme some noodles!” yelled Tony.
“What kind of noodles?” asked the teenager.
“I dunno! Good ones! What kind of noodles do people like?”
“Well,” she replied. “The bowtie noodles have been pretty popular today.”
“All right, gimme those,” replied Tony.
“We’re out of the bowtie noodles,” she responded.
“WHAT THE CUSS?!” yelled Tony. “Then why did you tell me they were so popular?”
“I dunno,” said the young man. “I don’t know why I say a lot of things.”
“Gimme the next best thing!”
“Sir,” said the young man. “You’ll have to let me know what kind of noodles you want.”
“JUST GIVE ME THE GOSH DANG NOODLES!!!” screamed Tony, pulling a gun on the kid. Tony was an angry angry fellow.
“Geez! Ok ok, put the gun down. Here, take these noodles,” he said, scooping some noodles into a to-go box. Tony threw down a twenty-dollar bill, grabbed the box, then bolted back towards the hospital room.
Only seconds now.
Must get him the noodles, Tony thought.
Must not disappoint Dad.
He threw open the hospital door at last. “DAD!” he cried. “I got them! I got the—what the?”
The hospital bed was empty.
Empty? Impossible. It was as though no one had even been in the bed. The sheets were folded nicely, there were no wrinkles.
“But,” said Tony. “Dad. He was just right here.”
Just then, a nurse walked by.
“Nurse,” said Tony. “What happened to the man who was in this room? Just a few minutes ago?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Now you’ll have to excuse me, I’ve got important business to take care of.”
“But there was a gentleman in this bed just a few minutes ago! Frank Stephenson! Do you remember?”
“Ahh yes,” she said. “Frank Stephenson. One of my favorite patients. Too bad he died last week.”
“Huh?” asked Tony, stunned. What in the name of Sam Hill…?
“Yeah. He died. Real interesting fellow. Too bad his kids never came to visit him.”
“Then...who was I talking to???” asked Tony.
“I don’t know, there hasn’t been anybody in this bed all day,” replied the nurse.
Then Tony stood there with a big wide-eyed look on his face, and some really mysterious twilighty zoney music started playing, and everybody was just like, way weirded out. And then Tony ate the noodles because he hadn’t had anything to eat all day.

2010-05-20T21:40:00.000-07:00

"Men talk of killing time, while time quietly kills them."
Dion Boucecault

Fish Tacos of Death: The Epic Poem

2010-05-18T08:01:00.000-07:00

I ate a crumbly taco once,
it was full of fish.
I don't remember it being that crumbly,
as it crumbled in my dish.
And many a man, who likes his fish,
is often heard to say:
What happened to my favorite taco,
I loved in a former day?
For it is gross, and tastes like death,
I think I'll go be gay.

Stains of Gluten

2010-05-16T09:53:00.001-07:00

Chapter 1

Growing up, I’ve been taught, numerous times, that my soul is gluten free. My parents made sure to let me know, day after day, week after week. The conversations went something like this: we’d be sitting around the dinner table, and Dad would say to me, “So son…how was school?” “Eh,” I would reply, because I hated my dad and didn’t like talking to him. “You know son, your soul is gluten free,” he would say. “Wow, that’s great,” I would mumble, rolling my eyes. On another occasion, I was out on an oil rig, rigging some oil, and whatever other oil-drenched activities take place on an oil rig. On this particular day, I was so dreadfully covered in oil that I retired to my bedroom on the 3^rd floor of the oil rig, so that I might change my clothes. Upon opening my closet, I discovered my mom sitting there. “Mom, what are you doing here?” I asked, somewhat surprised.

“That’s what I’ve been meaning to ask you, son!” she exclaimed, visibly upset. “It was only five years ago that you ran away from home. Won’t you come home, son? Won’t you?”

I turned my back. How could I go home? How could I? How could I go back to that life I once knew, a life of drugs, alcohol, and stand-up comedy? How could I repair the damage done to all my family, my friends, and my pet iguana? And how on earth did my mom get inside my oil-rig bedroom closet?

How?

“I don’t know, Mom,” I said, the emotions swirling deep within me, whatever the crap that meant. My father, Jeremiah, was a very stern man. He rarely smiled. His only method of communication with me was shaking his head in disappointment, because that’s all I had ever been to him. Oh, and that time at the dinner table where he told me about my gluten-stained soul. That was an exception. Was it really time for me to go back? Was it really time for me to reconcile with my father, the only father I had ever known, the only father to have ever fathered me like a true father? Was it? I turned and looked at my mom. I stared into her eyes, those penetrating blue eyes.

Do it for mom, a voice said inside of me. Do it for dad.

“I’ll do it!” I yelled, triumphantly, lighting up my favorite cigar. My mom shed a tear.

“I knew you’d come home, son,” she said, a smile on her face.

“Whadda ya say you and I get outta here?” I said, putting my arm around her, drenching her in oil. Somehow though, the cigar lit all the oil on fire, and from there it was just a really really bad day, to say the least.

Chapter 2

It’s almost 60 years later. I’ve grown old. Most of my face is gone from the day the oil-rig fire tore it all off. But I still look back upon that day and laugh. Old Mom sitting in that closet. How did she get in there? She always had a way of getting into your closet. I laugh again. “My mom,” I say to myself, smiling. It doesn’t really look like a smile, because, like I said, most of my face is burned off.

I live in a rest home now. It’s hell. I hate the food, I hate the people, I hate the smell. The only thing that keeps me company is my television set, old favorites like “The Lawrence Welk Show” and “Matlock.” I push the “call” button every 10 minutes, but nobody ever comes to visit me. I haven’t had a visitor in at least seven months. You might think that crazy.

This is my curse. And this is why when I get out of this place, I’m going to form a band called “Stains of Gluten”. Because all my life I’ve been deceived into thinking that there were no traces of gluten on my soul. But there are, my friend. There are! You know how I know? BECAUSE SOME CRAZY BEARDED HOMELESS GUY TOLD ME. Yeah! What do you think of that?! And this guy has already agreed to be the drummer in my band. Welp, I’ve got to go now. See ya.

Actual Story

2010-05-11T08:46:00.000-07:00

Here's a real-life story and dialogue involving Holden Green that is sure to bring a "Oh Holden, you've done it again" smile to your face. This takes place in 7th grade, in the shop room of Mr. Gubler's shop class at Snow Canyon Middle School, at a time in life when I didn't know what certain body parts were called.

Holden is stopped by Matt Miller and the always hilarious crackhead Travis Audia

Travis: Hey kid, do ya know what testicles are?

Holden: Ummm...yes.

Matt: What are they?

Holden: Uhhhh...(because he doesn't really know)

Travis: (laughing like skater druggies do) Ha ha! A ha ha! What a dumba**!

Holden: Heh heh! Yeah, I guess I am!

The End

Quote of the Week?

2010-05-06T08:17:00.000-07:00

"Music, I feel, must be emotional first and intellectual second."

Maurice Ravel

PAU!

2010-05-04T22:29:00.000-07:00

HE'S SO UGLY AND SO HAIRY, OH MY GOSH. SOMEBODY PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE TO DEATH. DO IT. DO IT NOW. PREFERABLY FESENKO SO HE GETS SUSPENDED FOR THE REST OF THE PLAYOFFS. PLEASE. DO IT.

What Makes Us Human

2010-05-02T00:07:00.000-07:00

Smart people could elaborate better than me, with all of their fancy scientific terms and such. Such is not me. I'm not as smart as smart people.

In the midst of my pondering this question, I've come up with a few possible keys to our uniqueness:

1) Agency?
           - Making conscious decisions. Do animals make conscious decisions? I don't know. From my standpoint, it seems like they're just...there. They have no goals to their decision making besides basic survival. Food. Sleep. Of course, this sounds like a lot of humans too.

2) Potential?
- What we can become, through the sheer power of not only human will, but divine providence. A baby puppy grows up to be a dog. A bear cub grows up and matures into a bear. Nothing more is expected. A newborn child can grow up to be a Beethoven, an Einstein, maybe a Winston Churchhill, maybe a Michael Jordan. Some sort of individual with incredible physical, spiritual, or intellectual capacity.

3) Experience?

   - Not experience simply from operant or classical conditioning, but actually using our powers of judgment and decision to learn what we need to from an experience, and apply it to later similar situations.

4) Life-Span Perspective?

- Perhaps this goes with experience. The ability to look at our past, present, and future, and to understand it all, what it means, who we are, why we are, what we've done with life, what we've learned, our place in the universe.

My biology professor probably wouldn't accept it as a valid rebuttal for "evolution by natural selection," but I think we're more than animals.

Comments are welcome.

Holden Unleashes His Rage

2010-04-26T20:03:00.001-07:00

Herein lies the greatest tragedy of our times…

Many so-called gluten free products have been found to have been contaminated with gluten such as chicken bouillon, corn cereal, and caramel ice cream topping. For example, in a investigation reported by the Chicago Tribune on November 21, 2008, Wellshire Farms chicken nuggets labeled "gluten-free" were purchased and samples were sent to a food allergy lab at the University of Nebraska. Results of the testing indicated gluten was present in levels exceeding 2,000 ppm. After the article was published, the products were continued to be sold. However, after receiving customer inquiries, Whole Foods Market removed the product from their shelves over a month later. Wellshire Farms has since replaced the batter used in their chicken nuggets. (Wikipedia)

WHY WELLSHIRE FARMS?! WHY?!

CURSE YOU ALL!!!

CURSE YOU WELLSHIRE FARMS CEO!

CURSE YOU WELLSHIRE FARMS VICE PRESIDENT!

CURSE YOU WELLSHIRE FARMS ACCOUNTS PAYABLE DEPARTMENT!

CURSE YOU WELLSHIRE FARMS ADVERTISING MANAGER!

CURSE YOU WELLSHIRE FARMS CUSTODIAL STAFF!

CURSE YOU GLUTEN, SUBSTANCE OF LUCIFER!

CURSE YOU JOHN AMAECHI!

CURSE YOU SCOTT PADGETT!

CURSE YOU ZIMMERMAN AND YOUR FILTHY TELEGRAMS!

Whew. Glad I could get that all off my chest.

Gloating over Gluten

2010-04-24T22:46:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, your bundle of humor gets all wrapped up in ooey gooey spider-webbey stuff, and you wonder where your inner self went.

The Bolas Spider

2010-04-23T12:13:00.000-07:00

CRAZIEST SPIDER EVER.

It's basically a monster.

ABSOLUTE BEST LYRICS EVER

2010-04-23T09:12:00.000-07:00

The following lyrics are taken from the hit song "Water Night," a choral song by Eric Whitakre, which our Snow Canyon Madrigals sang in 11th grade at a choral competition. Hit it Whitakre!

(Italics have been added to emphasize those lines which are ESPECIALLY DEEP)

Water Night

Night with the eyes of a horse that trembles in the night,
Night with eyes of water in the field asleep
Is in your eyes, a horse that trembles is in
Your eyes of secret water.

Eyes of shadow-water,
Eyes of well-water,
Eyes of dream-water.

Silence and solitude,
Two little animals moon-led,
Drink in your eyes,
Drink in those waters.

If you open your eyes, night opens doors of musk,
The secret kingdom of the water opens
Flowing from the center of the night.

And if you close your eyes,
A river, a silent and beautiful current, fills you from within,
Flows forward, darkens you:
Night brings its wetness to beaches in your soul.

The end

HUH? A horse? That trembles? In the night? Two little animals dancing? In your EYES? WATER? IN YOUR EYES?! DRINKING WATER?!?! COMING OUT OF YOUR EYES?!?!?! WHAT IN THE NAME OF SAM HILL...?! And we sang this in front of judges?

2010-04-09T10:22:00.000-07:00

The Maestro: Former WCW wrestler who would enter the ring via a descending platform, upon which would be him playing a piano. Then, from what I usually remember, he was assaulted by multiple wrestlers as soon as he got into the ring, and usually got the crap beat out of him. My favorite.

Holden's Rare Serious Reflections

2010-04-08T10:16:00.000-07:00

I find it odd that critics of the church are so harsh and vicious in their accusations, that Mormonism and its precepts are all the product of "Joseph Smith's wild imagination," yet I would think, that to any non-Christian, Christianity itself seems pretty out there. Try to imagine that you're not a Christian, and altogether not too familiar with it. Somebody comes up to you and tells you to go get dunked underneath water (or have water sprinkled upon you, for that matter), because a god sent his son to earth 2000 years ago to suffer a horrendous cruel death and thus "save us from our sins."

As much as I believe it, it sounds pretty twisted.

Thus, I have the same kind of faith in the truthfulness of the church that I do in the fact that Jesus Christ died and was resurrected. Pretty sure those are two things that will ALWAYS have to be taken in faith.

I think that's what boils down to. Why it's boiling, I'm not sure, maybe somebody should take that pot off the stove.

Weapons at the Ready

2010-04-03T23:45:00.001-07:00

Don’t be afraid to do battle.

The Johnny Chronicles: Episode III

2010-03-26T12:51:00.001-07:00

Johnny, his wife Martha, and their lovable grandson Chucky were at Dixie Nutrition one day to pick up some supplements for Martha. Martha had come to that point in her life where her body had stopped producing all the things required to make it survive. She had also stopped putting into her body all those things necessary for survival, i.e. food. Martha approached one of the young teenagers at the checkout counter, obviously extremely versed in the ways of health food and supplements, judging by the wise ever-inquisitive look on his face.

"Can I help you?" the young man asked. He was so wise. How could he not be?

"WHERE'S YOUR PROSTATE PILLS?!" she shouted, not necessarily because she was mad, but because she was just old.

'Why, let me show you," replied the young man as he came out of the checkout area to locate the prostate pills.

"I NEED SOME PROSTATE PILLS!" she shouted.

"Honey, stop embarassing me," said her husband, the ever wise, ever-drunk Johnny. He had been so faithful to her all of these years, so loyal, so tender.

"Here are the prostate pills right here," said the young man, pointing to a particular product on the shelf.

"I NEED YOUR PROSTATE PILLS!" Martha yelled again.

"Um..." said the young man. "Right here?" He pointed again at the product, labeled in huge letters across the front "PROSTAMAX."

"ARE THEY GLUTEN FREE?!' she asked.

"Yes," said the young man. "Completely gluten free. Not a trace of gluten. You can rest assured that they are completely devoid of any gluten."

"I CAN'T HAVE ANY GLUTEN!" she yelled.

"Yes honey," said Johnny. "I think he understands that."

"HOW COULD HE UNDERSTAND ANYTHING? HE'S JUST A STUPID KID!" she shouted, oblivious to the young man's feelings. He bowed his head in shame. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

"Grandmammy, what's a 'Super Horny Goat Weed'?" asked Chucky, pointing to a particular product on the shelf.

"CHUCKY, DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!" yelled Martha.

"Martha, I don't understand why you need this product. You don't even have a prostate," said Johnny.

"I CAN'T HAVE ANY GLUTEN!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

They walked back up the checkout counter, where the young man stood patiently and lovingly waiting. "Will this be all for you today?" he asked, as there was a sparkle in his eye. "Yeah, that'll do it," replied Johnny.

"Oh, by the way, it's Senior Day today!" said the young man, so loving and so caring of them as customers. "You save three dollars on this product!"

Yay, thought Johnny. Privileges because I'm old. What a joke.

"GIMME SOME OATS 'N CREAM," shouted Martha, eyeing the yogurt flavors on the wall.

"We don't have Oats 'N Cream today, maam," replied the young man. Martha didn't say another word.

As soon as the transaction was completed, and Johnny had forked over 60 dollars, Martha, without warning, tore open the "PROSTAMAX" supplement and dumped the whole box in her mouth.

"Whoa!" said the young man, wide-eyed. "That's a lot of prostate pills!'

"HONEY! NO!" cried Johnny, as Martha swallowed the pills. Every last one of them. "What have you done Martha? What...have...you...done???" He looked more alarmed than ever.

Suddenly, the young man broke out laughing. Evilly laughing. This young man, who only minutes before had personified love, innocence, youth, and exceptional customer service, now only personified the very epitome of evil himself: Satan.

"Wha...what are you laughing about?" asked Johnny.

"I LIED!" yelled the young man. "I lied! Those pills were NOT gluten free! Now your wife will suffer a slow painful death, the kind of painful death that comes with eating gluten! Ha ha ha!"

Then he just kinda stood there and didn't really do anything. It was pretty awkward.

20 minutes later, Martha had some vomiting issues, some stomach cramps, a pounding headache, and a funny tingling in her left earlobe, but she ended up being just fine. In fact, that night, they ate a cake.

The Johnny Chronicles: Episode II

2010-03-25T08:39:00.001-07:00

Johnny was out mowing his lawn.

It was a hot summer day. The sun was shining, it was hot, and it was most definitely summer. A typical hot, summer day. Believe it or not!

“JOHNNY!” cried Johnny’s wife from the patio, in her shrill womanly voice.

“UH, YEAH!” he replied. Distracted by his wife, he accidentally ran over a sprinkler head, hidden in the grass. There was a lot of noise, not pretty noise, that other writers would love to describe to you in a really lovely poetic descriptive fashion. You can go ask them if you want.

“EH, GARBAGE!!!” Johnny shouted in awesome fury as he turned the mower off.

Johnny’s neighbor, Jimbo, peeked over the fence.

“A HEH HEH HEH!” he laughed.

A man, wielding a briefcase and wearing a nice suit, came walking up the sidewalk. “HELLO THERE! I’M A BUSINESSMAN!” he said, coming towards Johnny. “HAVE YOU ANY NEED OF BUSINESS?”

“Why, yes. I do,” said Johnny, sticking out his hand to shake the businessman’s hand.

“JOHNNY!!!” cried his wife again.

“SHADDAP MARTHA!” yelled Johnny. “WE’VE GOT COMPANY!”

“It’s all right,” said the businessman. He was well groomed, well shaven. But in a way, he wasn’t. He had a cheery air about him. But in a way, he didn’t. He smelled like Cuban cigars. But he didn’t really. Johnny couldn’t quite put his finger on him. But he tried.

“Come here son,” said Johnny, sticking his index finger out to touch him. “Come here.”

“Sir,” said the businessman. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t put your finger on me.”

“Come here son,” said Johnny again, his finger inching closer to the man’s face.

“Sir, what are you doing?” asked the businessman, becoming quite alarmed. “What are you doing?! STOP! RIGHT NOW!”

“Come here son!” said Johnny, his voice becoming raspy and more vicious. His finger made contact with the businessman’s forehead, and immediately, the point of contact on the skin started to sizzle.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY HEAD?” cried the businessman, as Johnny’s finger began to burn a hole into the man’s head. “OUCH! MY HEAD!”

“JOHNNY!!!” cried his wife again. She sounded like a vulture.

“SHADDAP MARTHA!” yelled Johnny. “I’M BURNING A HOLE IN THIS NICE MAN’S HEAD!”

“JOHNNY, THE TELEVISION SET WON’T WORK!” she cried again.

“OUCH, MY FREAKIN HEAD!” cried the businessman in agony. At some point, he left, disgusted, not only because of the repulsive disgusting hole in his head, but because he was just plain mad. It was just another bad day.

The End…?

The Johnny Chronicles: Episode I

2010-03-23T21:47:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Johnny. Johnny loved beer. He loved it so much that he drank it at every meal. By little boy, I mean “45-year-old man,” and by loved beer, I mean “loved it so much he was a crazy drunk alcoholic guy that always beat his wife.” By “beat his wife” I actually mean “beats his wife at video games.” What, you thought this was a story about physical abuse? Impossible! As you can deduce, his wife was terrible at video games. Not just some video games. ALL of them. Every one.
Finally, one day, she snapped.
“I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!” she cried, throwing the paddle to the floor. Her drunken, yet loving husband, tried to console her.
“Honey,” he said.” It’s ok. Not everyone is good at Double Dragon: Rise of the Dragon Lord.”
“But I’m not good at ANY OF THEM!” she sobbed.
She was right.

The End?

Flaw in the Logic

2010-03-09T22:09:00.001-08:00

Many a broken-hearted teenage girl has heard the old proverbial saying, “No boy is worth crying over, and the boy who is won’t make you cry.” No one knows where or who this statement came from, but it’s hailed as one of the most wise profound quotations of our modern era.

Well guess what? I DISAPPROVE.

Why? Let me show you! Because if NO boy is worth crying over (so stated in the first segment), then why is the “boy who won’t make you cry” worth crying over? It doesn’t make any sense. Obviously no boy is worth crying over, but the boy (who is worth crying over?) won’t make you cry. No! No no no! TEENAGERS, STOP HEEDING THE FLAWED ADVICE OF THIS STATEMENT. STOP. THIS QUOTATION CAME FROM SOMEONE WHO DIDN’T REALLY KNOW YOU, DIDN’T REALLY CARE ABOUT YOU, AND FROM SOMEONE THAT HAS NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE GOING THROUGH!

I know what you’re going through! I know! Trust me! I have your best welfare in mind! You know I do! You KNOW I do! Teenagers, let’s reconcile our differences and be friends. How about it? Huh? Come on. You know you want to. Put down your drugs. Put down your video games. Put down your broken dreams and broken hearts, your shattered love and shattered knees, and be my friend. Laugh with me. Laugh at every joke I tell. EVERY ONE. Because every joke I tell is absolutely hilarious. Absolutely and unequivocally hilarious. So hilarious you will cry. And thus, the boy who IS worth crying over (me) WILL actually make you cry. With laughter. It’ll be great.

Here’s the joke of the day: My dentist got arrested last week for trying to pick up prostitutes! WAHAHAHA! Excuse me while I struggle to contain a bout of helpless laughter! Oh wait, that actually happened. What in the name of Sam Hill…?

UNTIL NEXT WEEK KIDS!