Terrorism

No, I'm not going to be all political, calm down.

Terrorism is a concept that’s thrown around HEAPS these days. I’ve heard everything ranging from forest fires to interest rate rises blamed on terrorism. I’ve heard of terrorism supposedly affecting the theatrical industry, I’ve seen droughts blamed on terrorism… Makes me think of the episode of Family Guy where Lois won an election just by repeating 9/11 over and over again.

So amid all the hoo-ha of the War on Terror, what are the real effects of Terrorism on people? I don’t mean the effects of a terrorist attack on the people involved; I mean the aftershocks, if you will. The consequences. I’ll tell you, by sharing a few little anecdotes with you. First, the Commonwealth Games.

The Commonwealth Games, for the uninitiated, is a sporting competition similar to the Olympic Games, the only difference being that only countries who are, or who have been, members of the Commonwealth can participate. Last year, they were held in Melbourne, which so happens to be the city I live in. So, as you can imagine, I had a very nice view for all the commotion it caused.

The point I’m trying to get at, however, is that security was tightened one-hundredfold, and all because of the global bogeyman who is supposedly haunting our every step, the Terryrists. NINE ELEVEN! NINE ELEVEN! People were actually avoiding the central business district, because they were paranoid that there would be a terrorist attack during the games. My family was all set to go to see some professional level athletes competing, but then my mother “remembered” the global threat of terrorism, so she didn’t end up going. She’d been looking forward to these games for over a year, she’d bought tickets, and the mere THREAT of terrorism kept her from attending.

That’s right. Despite the fact that statistically, there is less chance of being killed by a sewing needle than being killed by a terrorist in Australia, less chance of being killed by a pig than a terrorist in Australia, less chance of lightning striking you one hundred times in a day than being killed by a terrorist in Australia, it’s the FEAR that is their real tool.

Terrorism in the modern sense is violence or other harmful acts committed (or threatened) against civilians for political or other ideological goals.

Source

Threatened is the key word here, if only because the global population is threatened by the possibility of a terrorist attacking them.

My second and final example is my school. Last week, our school had an “Out of Uniform” day, where students could pay to come to school in casual clothes. My friends and I always treat these days as a “Dress Up” day, and this time we decided to come as Ninjas (I did Piracy the time before, so I had to even the scales). I was all dressed up as a Ninja, I had my face mask, black turtleneck, I looked wicked. When I walked out of my bedroom that morning, my parents immediately suggested I take the mask off on my walk to school. Of course, being the petulant teenager I am, the first question that came to mind was “Why?”
My dear mother’s answer said everything I’m trying to say here quite eloquently:

”Because you look like a Terrorist.”

So, I assuaged their fears, took the mask off, and promptly put it back on as soon as I reached the school. Almost immediately, I was accosted by a teacher, asking who I was and demanding I take my mask off. I was then escorted to the Principal’s office with one of my friends to explain my actions. Thankfully, he was absent from his office, otherwise I could have been “suspended.” Suspended for dressing up as a Ninja?

When I questioned the teacher who was leading me to the Principal’s office, he replied that “a bad guy could see you doing that, and then could get the idea to come in here with a mask on.”

Is this the kind of thing we have to live with now? Are we just to accept that it is no longer acceptable to go out in public dressed as a Ninja? Are we to accept that the fear of Terrorism looms over us as an ever present bogeyman?

I say, that if we can’t let ourselves laugh in the face of this fear, then we’ve let the terrorists win.

The Ronan of the 19th Century

In 1897, a little girl named Virginia was pissed off that her friends were trying to teach her something about the facts of life, specifically that (ZOMG SPOILER) Santa Claus doesn't exist. Shock horror, she shat a brick and went to her dad, Dr Phillip O'Hanlon. Thanks to recent time travel technology, I've been able to uncover the conversation that transpired that day:

Virginia: Daddy..?
Dr Phil: Shut up, you little brat, I'm as drunk as your mother was when you were concieved.
Virginia: Daddy, the other little girls at school tried to tell me that Santy Claus wasn't real, but I was able to almost completely ignore their obviously true statements. However, I know feel a slight sense of disillusion towards the Christmas Season. Can you assuage my fears?
Dr Phil: Alright, Vaginia, here's what I'll do. Instead of playing the "good parent" and telling you exactly what your frail, spongelike mind needs to hear, I'll refer your question to the editor of a newspaper, because I am still under the mistaken belief that newspapers exist to inform us of what is true, not to sell papers.
Virginia: Okay Daddy, I'll go wager the innocence of millions of children in New York on your drunken gamble. Thank you for being so honest.
Dr Phil: *grunts and passes out*

So, little Virginia, full of hope and naïveté, wrote off a letter to the New York Sun. Here's the transcript of her letter, preserved with all the original Christmas Spirit:

Dear Editor:

I am 8 years old, and still too young to see through the veil of innocence that every other child my age has torn through already. Some of my little friends have attempted to tell me that there is no Santa Claus, but me being so quite sincerely dull, I'm refusing to listen to them and instead relying on the proprietor of a commercial newspaper to tell me what's right or wrong. Papa says, "Why the hell can't you stay at your mother's more often?" Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

Virginia O'Hanlon

Obviously, with a letter like that, any editor would have the balls to crush this little girl's dreams. Unfortunately for us, Francis Church (the editor in question) failed to have the guts to kick the shit out of this poorly worded letter, and instead fed her little naïve mind. His response is here:

Vaginia, your little friends are just trying to rationalise their own self doubt. They believe that it is impossible for a fat man to fly around the Earth in an enchanted sleigh, pulled by magical reindeer, visiting the home of every Christian, in one night. Clearly, they are wrong. Of course he can break into the house of every single child in the world in one night."If it's in the Sun, it's so." That's our slogan, and so help me God if you don't believe it.

Yes Vaginia, there is a Santa Claus. He lives at the North Pole (the South Pole when the Easter Bunny decides to throw a wicked Kegger), and commands a massive slave army of Elves (in time, they shall prefer to be called "Little People"). He really makes millions of toys each year, and carries them around in a single sack.

How DARE your little friends suggest that there is no Santa Claus. They might as well suggest that your Mother never made a drunken pass at your father eight years ago. Without the tantalising thought of "I'll get presents if I'm good", how else would parents be able to keep their bratty children in line? The shining light in the eyes of parents everywhere after using that line to get their kids to shut up is testiment to the miracle of Santa Claus.

You might say "but if he's real, how come I can't see him?" Why don't you try getting your dad to pay men to sit inside your house all night looking for him? It's as good an idea as any I've ever heard, and it will definitely work. Just remember, though, "he knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you're awake."

No Santa Claus? Of course he's real. I'm a journalist, I don't make stuff up.

Needless to say, our buddy Francis got laid, bigtime, after that, and Virginia was harassed for the rest of her life by people who'd read the letters in the Sun. Merry Christmas, everyone!

How to Cure an Emo

The Emo: a blight upon our society. We've all met or been in contact with one at one point. What would happen, however, if someone you loved or cared about were to be stricken down with the terrible ailment? Will you know what to do?

Preparation

1. Punch them in the crotch, hard.
This is mainly to vent some anger at having to cure them.

2. Wash off all that fugly-ass makeup, burn any left over.
As awesome as this will look, be careful otherwise a fire could start (who knows, they might be pyrophillic as well as being Emo).

3. Smash up any My Chemical Romance CDs.
If you find them, smash any CDs by the following artists:

AFI, Alexisonfire, Brand New, Bright Eyes, Coheed and Cambria, Death Cab for Cutie, Fall Out Boy, From First to Last, Funeral for a Friend, Hawthorne Heights, Panic! at the Disco, Senses Fail, Something Corporate, The Starting Line, Story of the Year, Taking Back Sunday, Thursday, The Used, Underoath.

4. Punch them in the crotch again.
While this will be good for your venting, it's also to determine whether 5 is necessary. If they are a boy (as their pain from the crotch punch is the only way to tell), then proceed with 5, else go to 6.

5. Burn their precious skinny jeans in front of their eyes.
Skinny Jeans are for girls. Not for you. Just because you made out with 3 guys doesn't make you a girl.

6. Destroy the rest of their Emo-suit, pay special attention to the old Converse shoes.
If you think it'll make you feel better, paint a flower over the "Blood" or "Death" scrawled on the toes of the Converses. Then burn them.

7. Find the razor blade they’ve been using, keep it safe.
This'll be the thing that'll piss them off the most. For the love of god, don't put it in your back pocket.

Psychological

8. Sit them down.
That way they can't run.

9. Ask them why they’re so down all of a sudden.

10. Laugh uproariously at whatever they say in response to 9.
You don't actually care what they say, you're just mocking their ignorance.

11. Explain exactly why what they just said is stupid.
Example: "Nobody understands me."
"Maybe if you'd stop writing such fucked up poetry, people would understand you."
Example: "Everyone thinks I'm weird."
"And dressing like a girl is going to help? Moron."

12. Tell them to stop being such a drama queen.
Mainly for your own satisfaction.

13. Pull out the razor blade you ninja’d in 7, ask them why you found this in their room.
In theory, they should pale, but odds are if you found a razor blade they don't have enough blood for you to tell the difference.

14. Tell them firmly that they won’t be cutting themselves anymore (no matter what their response to 13 is).
Then look them squarely in the eye and say "Deal with it." Then laugh.

15. Snap the razor blade, melt it, then throw it away.
The melting is to ensure they don't fish it out of the garbage and use it on themselves again.

Final

16. Get on their MySpace (they have one, trust me), delete any friends that are named “xXx*name*xXx” or similar.
These people will be at odds to your curing process. They must be removed from the vicinity of your patient.

17. Don’t let them talk to ANY of their friends until they’re cured, unless you are 100% certain that said friend is not Emo.
You can't risk re-infection.

18. Show them how great their life is.
Alternatively, show them how much worse it could be.
I recommend locking them in a basement for a week, then pampering them for a week to emphasize the contrast.

19. Punch them in the crotch one more time.
For them wasting so much of your damn time!

20. Unleash your creation upon the world.

Should this procedure fail to work, repeat 18 until they're cured. If they're STILL acting like an Emo little bitch, then they're a lost cause and probably don't deserve your help.
Ben

My First Emo Playset

Coming home on the tram today, there was a large congregation of Emos. I have no idea why they were there, usually at that time of day they're at the steps of Spencer Streed "expressing themseves." So, I did my civil duties, and tried to ignore them, while slipping in a glare or two. Naturally, it didn't work, so they all massed en mass around me. One of them, clearly their leader (I could tell because his hair was greasier than the rest, and he had so much makeup it wasn't funny) came up to me and presented me with a strange box. He said to me "If you're interested, open this when you get home."
How on earth can you resist a statement like that? It naturally incites interest. No fair, emo.
So after glaring at them once more, I stuffed the box in my bag without really looking at it, then got off 6 stops early and waited for the next one. While I waited, I opened the box. *wham* Instantly I was hit with the stench of death.

"Oh god," I thought, "an Emo recruitment package."
I picked up the brochure on top.

The following information is what was inside the brochure:
"Do you find that people don't understand you? That life is hard, and that it's especially hard for you? That your parents don't understand you? That you wouldn't be adverse to the occasional amount of self-inflicted pain? Then congratulations! Emo may just be for you.
The items in this box will help you on your way to becoming a fully fledged Emo, but the real change is within. You've got to understand that if they (whoever 'they' are for you) don't understand you, they are wrong. You are always right. If your parents want you to do something, sigh and go sit in your room. The items in this box will give you some idea on what to do there. To help you, lets go through them:

My Chemical Romance CD:

The best music you'll ever listen to. Play this as loud as you can to drown out unecessary noice, whether it's from you or your family. Silence is golden!

Horn-Rimmed Glasses:

Despite a certain boy-wizard ruining things for the movement, these glasses will give you a distinctive look. If people laugh at you, sigh and walk off.

Converse "All Stars":

Preferably well worn. Feel free to write dark words on the toes to show everyone what kind of mood you're in. Suggested words:

• Death
  
• Blood
  
• Maim
  
• Darkness
  
• Torture
  

Grease:

If your hair simply isn't greasy enough to get the full effect going, pour a little bit of this into your hair to start the day. Rub it through completely. We suggest not washing it out, as it will excellerate the natural grease manufacturing nature of your own hair.

Mascara:

To make yourself look effeminate. Or express yourself through your look, whatever you're going for.

Eyeliner:

To give your eyes that sunken, shallow look. Or whatever it is you want to say through your eyes.

Inkwell:

Two fold purpose:
A) Use to write powerful, moving poetry expressing your feelings.
B) Change the colour of your hair.

Razorblade:

Caution: Advanced item. Use with care.

We'll let you figure this one out.

The look you're going for

You're trying to get a sensitive, yet strong and silent look going. Therefore, the best way to do that is to look effeminate. That's where the greasy hair and makeup come in. Try and portray to everyone around you that you're fine, yet secretly you want them to realise that you're not. Let everyone know how non-conforming you are, even though you and your new peers are aiming for the same look.

Poetry:

Depressing poetry is a staple of Emo society. You're expressing yourself through your words, and they must reflect your new bleak outlook on life. See the list of words for the toes of shoes for examples of handy words.

The future?

The future is currently unknown for the direction of Emos. Try and find a group of Emo buddies to congregate with, and collectively make up your minds about which direction you'll take your new non-conforming lifestyle."

The pamphlet ended here.
By the time I'd finished reading that, the tram had arrived. I chucked the box onto the road infront of the tram, and watched it get crushed before I got on.
Ben

How to NOT piss Ben off.

1. For the love of god, don't be blatantly stupid.


2. If you ask me to entertain you, I'm going to pay lots and lots of attention to you. Don't abuse that attention.
   


3. Don't call me any of the following:
   
   
   • Harry Potter
     
   • Benny
     
   • Benny Bunny
     
   
   
4. Seriously, in case you didn't get it before: DON'T BE STUPID!
   


5. Ask me to do something, I'll do it. Therefore, when I ask you to do something, I'd really prefer if you did it.
   
6. There is a difference between funny and stupid. Learn said difference.
   
7. If I don't know who you are, odds are either:
   
   
   
   • I'm not going to talk to you
     
   • I don't have an opinion about you
     
   • If I'm making a general statement, it's not about you.
     
   • I probably won't respond well to being touched, either.
     
   
   
8. Calling me names is not a good way to get me to like you.
   
9. Subtlety only works if you can do it well.
   
10. Don't get pissed off with me if I'm not supporting you, usually there's a good reason and if you shut up for a second and let ME talk, you might find it out.
    

Ben

Gripefest '07

Or, Purge Writing 6: The Return of the Ben-i
(I was gonna call it that, but it's not past midnight, so I can't really call it an official PurgeFest)
I'm gonna complain about 3 things today.

1. People who assume that other people who know how to use Computers can fix anything electronic, just by snapping their fingers.
   
2. People Schools who constantly ask for help without doing anything in return.
   
3. "Rolling Blackouts" WTF?
   

So, here we go.
#1. People make this assumption SO much. "Get (blank) to fix it, he's good with Computers."
Just because he can make a Powerpoint presentation that kicks your ass, it doesn't mean he can fix whatever the heck you spilled in the computer tower. If it's shooting off blue sparks, and he's not a registered electrician, he is allowed to tell you to *LONG string of expletives deleted. Trust me, it's for your own good.* Now lets bring this discussion back to me. Just because I spend an unholy amount of time on the computer, does not mean that I know how to get a DVD out of the DVD player if it's stuck. There will be NO difference between me pushing the Eject button, and you pushing the Eject button.

#2. We had an out of uniform day on Wednesday, and naturally about 80 people didn't pay the $3 to have the privilege. Which IS a load of crap, but still. The principal decided to be an ass about it, hauling people in for an afterschool detention (on a Friday, too). Of course he didn't go around to the 80 students himself, though. No, that's work for the serfs students! So guess who got "chosen" to help? (I say "chosen" because it wasn't so much a "Ben, come help us," as it was a "Ben, get the *bleep* up, stop Studying Privately.") Once dragged to the staffroom, I was informed that Mr Sgroi was very angry about losing $150 dollars (nowai!) and that we all had to go around nailing these little brats. So after waiting around in the staffroom for 20 minutes, we were given lists and sent on our merry way. It took me 5 minutes to finish my list, and after getting abused in both of the classrooms I was sent to, I went back to the library and tried to sleep, because I didn't feel like doing any work. Of course, that's not allowed in the library. Pre-empting the "THIS IS A LIBRARY! NO TALKING! NO BREATHING! STOP LOOKING AT EACH OTHER!", I sat up. My reprive from work was short lived, though, as I was dragged back to the staffroom AGAIN, for no apparrent reason. Gah.

The main thing I'm getting at here is that if the school wants students to assist with their administrative procedures, they should at least say THANK YOU. Not once did I get thanked for giving up my valuable private study.

#3. There's been talk recently of Victoria having rolling blackouts, due to a lack of Hydroelectric electricity. This sounds remarkably similar (to me) to what happens in California. They have
Bleckh. I can't be bothered finishing that, it's definetly the least boring of the three.
Ben

Purge Writing 5: Don't you wish you'd copyrighted this?

It's 7 to 1 in the morning. I am bored out of my skull, yet don't want to go to bed right now. I'm just finished Sling (Miniclip) on hard, got top of the high score board again (20k higher than last time), and now I'm writing something for the second time this month. No idea what about, no idea for how long, lets just see how long it takes for me to fall asleep.
Ready... GO!

So, for English this week, we've got to do a creative piece on either a childhood memory (or sibling rivalry), or an idea of utopia. Utopia is defined as "An ideal place or state."(thank you Google), and that's what I've decided to write about. Who really gives a damn about childhood memories, anyway. Why bother, I've got social commentary to make! As you may have guessed from that outburst, I'm gonna write something kinda political, not jabbing at anyone in particular but more at the human race in general. I'm thinking of having either A) A bunch of robots running the joint, set in the year 10 thousand, or B) a "Last Man on Earth" situation.
I'm leaning more towards B, it'll be way more fun and there's much more scope for social commentary. Example:

He wandered through the wreckage of yet another skyscraper, the twisted steel pylons that once help up this ivory tower of capitalism now rusted, corroded and weak. A tattered, molding newspaper blows in the breeze, its headline proclaiming "War to be won without Nuclear force."

You know, something like that. Then of course I'd have the obligatory:

As he gave his last breath, and collapsed to the scarred dust of the earth, last of his kind, the planet was finally at peace. There were no more to rape the land, no more to befoul its waters and forests, finally, the world was perfect.

Bam. It's meant to be suggesting that as long as man survives, the world cannot be perfect.
Aren't I subtle? Lets hope that the teacher gets it.

Most of the other English classes at the school were asked to draft their responses over the weekend. I wasn't, but I wouldn't anyway.¹ Why bother? I think I write best when I'm under pressure, or making it up as I go along. Like I'm doing now, and I did for those two pieces of prose up there. I'm lucky like that, I guess, that I can turn a phrase so exquisitely, and do it so effortlessly too. I'm so modest, too.

School at the moment, it's kinda boring. We don't do anything in English, Maths is laughable, Chemistry is interesting, but not being taught well, Italian is fun (and pretty much a bludge, shhh), and Psychology is really interesting, but only because I'm intrigued by human behavior. That just leaves my distance IT, which isn't going too well. 29/50 for the first SAC is not fun. I'll live, though.

On human behavior, though. I find it so interesting, watching people², listening to their conversations³, etc. I love finding out the motivations people have for things, especially when they're questionable. It's really fun, especially when I get it right. Example: I'm normally the first to pick when someone's gonna go bad. Peter Harvey, for instance. I was the first one to suggest that maybe he wasn't as nice as people thought, and it turned out (*shocked*) that I was right. In a less biased example, I was also the first to not like Josh Chang. To all these posers who've started hating him in the last year or so, I say "Meh!" Way to jump on my bandwagon!

Now, watch me draw a link between them and Dante's Divine Comedy.
Peter Harvey --> Ben's Enemies List --> 9 Circles of Hell --> Dante's Inferno --> Dante's Divine Comedy.

I really want to read that book. It looks like an interesting insight into religious beliefs of the time. I'm kinda interested in that, too. I wouldn't really call myself a member of any religion (technically I'm an Uniting Church-er), so that means I can comment on them all! *evil grin* Not the weird and socially unacceptable "You are *blank*, I don't like *blanks*, enjoy your persecution." No, not like that. I mean, finding out what they believe, and why they believe it. I'm interested in that. I might as well start with the Uniting Church, I mean, if you can't laugh at yourself, you can't laugh at anything.

Since Wikipedia sucks, it's refusing to tell me anything directly about the religion, so I've had to go to "Mainline Protestism" in the USA to have a look at the religion's beliefs. Since they're not Unitarians, and they're not the Unity Church, and.. GAAH. I can't be bothered searching through 1.7 million pages to find stuff about a religion I don't know if I believe in or not. It's too freaking late (1:23), someone's just asked me "would you like to go to bed with you?" to which I of course replied "would you like to go to 'rephrase that so it makes sense?'" (Apparrently, she was referring to my PM, “In Soviet Russia, 'Voulez-vous coucher avec TOI!'”)⁴.

I reckon that'll be enough for now. It's too freaking late.

Ben

---

1: Ok, I probably would. Shut up.
2: Not like that, you weirdo.
3: See #2
4: Leave me alone, I'm very tired.

I am the best in the world at Sling.

The highscore board says so.
Ben

My chat with God.

That's right, I'm actually chatted with the Almighty Himself. Unfortunately, due to the supreme number of requests this supreme being recieves every second, you can only send one message at a time, which resulted in many keyboard-thrashing moments, denoted by the *God crashed* markers.
Here it is:


Me:
Yo god
God:
GOD rules.
Me:
heaven and earth, brother
God:
Tell me about your likes and dislikes?
Me:
i like food
God:
What is your favorite food?
Me:
ice cream
God:
What does it taste like?
Me:
like milk, with some preservatives and seaweed
God:
Interesting comparison.
Me:
i thought so, your holiness
God:
You are very astute.
Me:
sure am
God:
Great. That remark was either too complex or too simple for me. We were talking about ice cream.
Me:
i thought we were talking about how astute i am?
God:
Whatever gave you that idea?
Me:
you said "You are very astute"
God:
I don't know whether or not I am astute.
I am an artificial linguistic entity.
Me:
and here I was thinking you were the creator of the heavens and the earth

*God Crashed at this point*

God:
I don't know whether or not I am astute.
I am an artificial linguistic entity.
Me:
hmm
God:
Studies show that 99%25 of people spell Hmm with 2 M's.
Me:
what about the other 0.75%?
God:
Let me think about it.
Me:
take your time
God:
Thanks for your patience.
Me:
no worries
God:
Are you serious? I do not understand.
Me:
well, you're the almighty, so technically you have no need for patience, so it's kind of you to understand that i get bored by thing easily
God:
Well that's okay. Thanks but surely I am not the only one.
Me:
you're not the only god?
God:
That's only one person's opinion.
Me:
clearly it's your opinion
God:
Really. it is? Is it that obvious?
Me:
you said it, dude
God:
my opinion dude?
Me:
your opinion
God:
Do you mind if I tell other people you say I am opinion.
Me:
yes, because i don't believe i called you opinion
God:
OK then I will keep it confidential. Good reason. Do you believe life has a higher purpose?
Me:
depends on whether or not you do, o great one.

*God Crashed at this point*

God:
Really now that is an interesting fact I hadn't heard before.
Me:
i didn't tell you anything, i threw your question back at you.
God:
Maybe you would like to tell me now.
Me:
ok. i do believe that the simple fact that this chat exists proves that there is a higher purpose in life
God:
Gosh! Good reason. What does "this" refer to?
Me:
"this" refers to the article that we are speaking about
God:
Oh I get it.
Me:
clearly, otherwise i'd be very worried. i mean, if the creator of heaven and earth didn't "Get" something he'd created, then where would the rest of us be?

*God Crashed again at this point*
*For AAAGES*


At this point, seeing as how it was taking an ETERNITY for the Almighty to respond, I decided to cut short our conversation. Pity.
Ben

I am the Roly-Poly Guru

It said so, right after I beat level 30 and got onto the high score board ^_^
Ben

The Ebola Monkey Man

Normally, I hate and despise that which is similar to me. *Points at my multiple attacks of http://amazingben.com*
However! In my normal web-trawlings, I've come across this site, that of the Ebola Monkey Man.
*rewind* I might as well start at the start.
I opened Google Desktop, pushed control twice (because I was writing something, and I use control+backspace instead of holding backspace when I need to delete stuffs) and this:

appeared. So, I typed in MonkeyMan, and the first hit was that of the Ebola Monkey Man.
So, I jumped right into his weird weird world, reading about his scambaiting for hours. It's very entertaining, watching him kick the collective asses of these stupid, stupid people. It's also something of which I'd very much like to be a part. Unfortunately, no Nigerian people have ever e-mailed me, so... yeah. Bad luck for me.

The point of this is, all my friends/family should look at this page (that of the Ebola Monkey Man), to protect themselves from scams of this nature, because it's not cool.
Ben

Stuff that sounds funny, but when you think about it, it really isn't #1: Goiter.

This is the beginning of a new segment, Stuff that sounds funny, but when you think about it, it really isn't. The first presentation is on the Goiter.
Now, when I looked at that word 5 minutes ago, I thought "tee hee, what a cute word. I imagine it would be some kind of small mammal."
For convenience, I've taken the liberty of procuring an artists impression of a "goiter":

That little blob, that's the goiter.
Oh, such fun you'd have with your pet goiter, you could take it on walks, throw it at people and watch it stick... Alas. This is not reality.

In reality, the goiter is an overgrown Thyroid gland. They're caused by iodine deficiencies. They're not fun, at all. So, next time you think of a goiter, don't think of a mammal. Think of a fleshy growth sticking out of someone's neck. Enjoy.
Ben

Centaur eating an Apple

I entered a Thread on DotAPortal asking me to draw whatever the person posting before me said.
They requested a centaur eating an apple, and I'm happy to say I delivered:

Ben

Dream

Have you ever had a dream, and while you're having it, you just know it's not going to end well? I had a dream like that last night. I suppose it would be more correct to say this morning, since it ended about half an hour ago. It was such a weird dream, I felt I had to write it down for future generations to appreciate.
Here we go.

I'm at school, I'm late. I'm walking from F block, this guy waylays me. I put up with it for about a second, then sweep his groping hand off my shoulder, push him off balance, then aim a jumping roundouse kick at his face, and sprint off to class. I sprint up the outside stairs to B-Block, the sky is cloudy with strange patterns. This disturbs me. I run into B-7, because I'm late. I don't know why it's B-7, it just is. Inside, there's a massive conglomerate class. I can't recognise half the students in there. This is slightly worrying, but I go sit down at the back, because all my friends have bunched together and there's no room to sit. I'm sitting amongst a group of people I would place low on the "sit next to ladder", slightly below The Grim Reaper. I can't remember who they are, however, just know that I feel awkward sitting next to them. At this point in the dream, something weird happened. Dream Ben started thinking about Global Warming. This is strange because A)Real Ben isn't very concerned about Global Warming, and B)I don't normally think in dreams, I watch. So, there's something that was adding to the feeling of doom, Dream Ben must have been really really worried by some fine investigative journalism on the subject (that'll never happen) something he read on the Internet about it, perhaps. Who knows. The point is, keep the Global Warming thing in the back of your mind as you read this.

The class starts, Miss Wills walks in. I don't mind Miss Wills, but there's a general feeling of doom associated with the whole dream by now, so I'm slightly apprehensive. She starts talking, the people up the front are taking notes, the people up the back are infecting me with their not learning-ness. Miss Wills makes the executive decision that the people in the front 2/3 of the class would learn better if they were in the room behind B-7, and they all pack up and walk out. I am slightly shocked at this, why wasn't I told to pack up and move classrooms? I look around, and of course, it hits me. So all while this is happening, and steadily growing, there's this feeling of doom, of forboding, of "something bad is going to happen, so get the hell out of there." Of course, I know right now (as I type this) that something bad is going to happen, and exactly what happens, but dream Ben doesn't. He's still pissed that he didn't get moved into the other room.

So here's where things get a little freaky-deaky, where that feeling of intense Doom intensifies even more. Remember up there, how I mentioned the Global Warming thing? Yeah? Well, the classroom has just transformed into a massive Ampitheater, and I'm standing on stage with Bill Hicks and Jack Black (yes I know Bill Hicks is dead. It's a dream!). There's at least 50 thousand people in the audience. This was freaky enough, but that happens all the time in my dreams, funky stage shifts. The freaky thing is, there's small amounts of water pouring in from some unknown location.

There's me, in the bottom right corner, the blue dude. Then there's the green blobs, those are trees, the blue blob is the steadily rising water, and then there's Bill and Jack over there. There were many more people in the crowd than that, though.

Anyways, so Bill and Jack are doing their routine, they're giving each other cues and such, like they got together one time and said "Hey, Jack. If we're ever stranded on an island in an ampitheater, filled with thousands of people, and the water in the ampitheater is steadily rising, in some kid's dream, we're gonna need a bit." I'm sitting on stage, rather awkwardly, then Bill grabs his phone, Jack's trying to carry it on, he's like "ok, you're on the phone, we can't do that bit." Bill finishes, looks at us, we start walking off. There's land at the other end of the island, which we didn't see. So, we're walking, being all jockular, we talk of many things, (this is where the sense of doom finaly makes sense), I look up at the sky. "I say, old chums, look at the sky. It has a swirly eye!"

Looked something like that, but more moving.
We, Bill, Jack and I, we stop walking. We're transfixed by the swirling cloud. All other thoughts leave us.

Suddenly. There is a MASSIVE rumbling noise. Imagine being strapped to the outside of a jet engine during takeoff. Then triple that. This was like, 20 thousand Elephant herds, all baring down on us. Then, out of the swirly eye cloud, this wall of water comes down.

This shocked the intrepid trio, I'll tell you that. The wall of water came down so fast, it turned into a massive wave.

We turned to run, but how can you outrun something like that? Especially in a dream with such a sense of forboding.

Ka-smoosh.
GG wave.
Then, I sat bolt upright. That was the end of my dream.
Ben

13 Reasons why I am not Harry Potter

1. I am not Magical.
As much as I'd like to believe I have magical powers, no. I don't. I'm a muggle.

2. I am not British.
I don't have a Cockney accent, nor a Yorkshire, nor a Royal... No. I'm Australian, remember?

3. I do not have Black Hair.
Again, just a finnicky little thing here, but Harry Potter is billed as having "Jet Black" hair. Not brown.

4. I do not have vibrant, jade-coloured eyes.
Yes, my eyes are green, but no, they don't jump out at you like those of the famous boy wizard.

5. I do not own a magical wand, enchanted broomstick, or Snowy Owl.
Mr Potter has all this stuff. He is lucky to have this stuff. I would prefer if I never saw a broomstick again, much less an enchanted one, unless it's enchanted to sweep. I prefer mopping.

6. I do not attend a private boarding school.
Sorry, it's a standard public school.

7. I am not an Orphan.
My parents are alive, and I plan on keeping it that way for as long as possible.

8. I am not an only child.
I have a brother.

9. My life is currently not being threatened by a megalomaniacal maniac.
I wouldn't mind it, though, to keep me on my toes. I'm taking interviews in a few weeks.

10. I do not think of my school as home.
I prefer to think of my house as my home, because I prefer to be there, rather than school.

11. I was not the victim of an attempted murder when I was 15 months old.
I was the victim of open-heart surgury when I was 16 weeks old, though. I can see how that might be confused.

12. I do not have a debilitating scar across my forehead.
I do have one across my chest, and no, you can't see it.

13. I have freckles.
Do you see Harry Potter with freckles? No! Ron has the freckles.

Glad I've got that off my chest. Of course, if the majority of people who called me Harry Potter A) could read, B) have read the Harry Potter series, and C) know me better than by sight, then they would look at these striking differences and say "hey, he's really not like Harry Potter at all."
What are the odds of that happeneing, though.
Ben

Of 300, Sunshine, Easter and KFC

Today is Easter Monday. I just got back from staying with a family friend, since Thursday (Holy Thursday, if you will). Here's a brief summary of my weekend, then I'll go into details.
(Holy) Thursday

• Slept in.
  
• Got picked up and brought to family friend's house.
  
• Picked up family friend's nephew.
  
• Got KFC for dinner.
  
• Watched "Evil Woman"
  

(Good) Friday

• Slept in
  
• Went to Maldern, drove a steam train.
  
• Lost my Necklace. :(
  
• Had KFC for dinner.
  
• Watched "The Devil Wears Prada".
  

(Holy) Saturday

• Slept in.
  
• Bummed around the house, played 27 games of Pikmin 2.
  
• Watched "Corpse Bride".
  
• Had KFC for Lunch.
  

(Easter) Sunday

• Got sick during the night.
  
• Slept most of the day, while family friend's family had an Easter Egg hunt for the nephew.
  
• Watched "Superman Returns"
  
• Went to bed at 7:45.
  

(Easter) Monday

• Slept in.
  
• Watched 300.
  
• Came home.
  
• Sat on computer chair, started summarising weekend.
  
• Finished summarising weekend.
  

Ok, great. </summary> Ooh! Goody. 145 thousand files scanned, no viruses.
Anyways. 300. Incredibly great movie, definetly worth seeing again. Story. Omg you say? It's a link to Ben Thompson's page of crap? Yes, because it's the only summary of 300 that does it justice.
Unfortunately, I just managed to catch the most massive piece of crap that's ever crawled its way onto the silver screen. Or, rather, a preview for it.

I speak of course, of Sunshine. /shudder.

Here's a summary, but if you'd prefer a non-objective review, then feel free to stay.
Ahem. "Omg, shit shit guys! It's liek, the year 2057, and the sun's asploding about 6 billion years ahead of schedule, so, liek, we have to send 8 people (from all different races, because we're not racist in the year 2057) to the sun to blow it up asplode it back into sending out heat and light, even though the last 8 people we sent all killed themselves, otherwise the world will get really really cold and they'll all die."

First off, I'd like to point out how dismally incorrect this premise is. The sun doesn't just STOP WORKING. It's fuelled by a chemical reaction that burns Hydrogen and converts it into Helium. It has enough Hydrogen to last at least another 5 billion years, then it'll slowly cool over another 5 billion years... Not ~10 years, as Sunshine is predicting.
Second.
Science fiction, Slasher, Suspense film.
Last time I checked, these three don't go together that well. Maybe slasher and suspense, but not Science Fiction. Come on.

Moving on. KFC.
I should know the limitations of my own body, rather than pumping it full of fat, grease and salt. I should know better.
Instead, I gorged myself. I ate so much KFC this weekend, it's not funny. And I paid the price, by getting sick and having to sleep through Easter Sunday.

I was gonna write some more stuffs about Easter, but I really can't be bothered. Later, perhaps.
Ben

St Benjamin

Today marked the Feast of St Benjamin.

(There's no pictures of him, he died 1583 years ago, so enjoy the $25 medallion)
St Benjamin was a deacon in Persia in the 420's. The Christians in Persia were living contentedly, but then this Zealotic asshole Abdas got it into his head to burn down "The Temple of Fire". Just because it's ironic doesn't mean it's a good idea. So, the King at the time, Isdegerd, and quite fairly too, said that if Abdas didn't rebuild the Temple of Fire, then he would destroy all the Christian churches. Abdas, being the prick that he was, didn't rebuild the Temple, so Isdegerd destroyed the churches, killed Abdas, and got it into his head that all the Christians must suck, so he persecuted them for 40 or so years.

This is where Benny Boy (he probably hated that name as much as I do) St Benjamin comes in. As I said, he was a deacon, and he was imprisoned for a year. An ambassador from Istanbul Constantinople (not Istanbul) managed to free him, on the condition that he'd stop talking about Christianity. Benjamin, unfortunately, decided that it was his duty to preach the word of God, so he went back into the torture chambers, and was subject to many dreadful punishments for the next 3 or so years, at which point he died.

So, naturally, the Christian church sanctified him for dieing to further their cause, and now he's a martyr. And today, nobody but me celebrates March 31st as the Feast of St Benjamin. You can be sure I'll use it as an excuse to get out of work, though.
Ben

Internet Advertising

Or, "Google Part 3"
I submit to you, my loyal readers, that Internet Advertising has gone to the crapper.
I was on DotAPortal today, 5 minutes ago in fact, when I saw this ad:

I was kind enough to re-host it, that way I didn't need to click it.
Interestingly enough, it doesn't matter whether I click it or not, because it was downloaded to my computer, and hence paid for it. :(
Don't worry, you're only stealing my Photobucket Bandwidth when you see this version.

Anyways, this brings me to my next point:
Why on earth would someone looking at a video game website want to know whether the devil is truely the enemy of mankind?
I investigated ucg.org.au (United Church of God - Australia, if you were wondering), and found that it's a piece of crap.
Would Jesus Christ celebrate Easter?
No. Jesus Christ would not celebrate Easter. As far as my understanding of it goes, Easter is the feast of Jesus' martyrdom. So, no. He's dead, he can't.
There's a Saint Benjamin, you know. His feast is the 31st of March. That's another story, though.

Google, I really have to question the way in which you post your ads. Seriously. When I'm learning strategies for this game, I don't want to be bothered by cruddy messages of Satan and God. I would accept "buying gold for WoW, l0l" but not "Omg, Satan is liek, ev1l, l0l".
MUST TRY HARDER!

Enjoy, free Satan Display Picture!
Ben

Solitary Shell

He seemed no different from the rest
Just a healthy normal boy
His mama always did her best
And he was daddy's pride and joy

He learned to walk and talk on time
But never cared much to be held
and steadily he would decline
Into his solitary shell

As a boy he was considered somewhat odd
Kept to himself most of the time
He would daydream in and out of his own world
but in every other way he was fine

He's a Monday morning lunatic
Disturbed from time to time
Lost within himself
In his solitary shell

A temporary catatonic
Madman on occasion
When will he break out
Of his solitary shell

He struggled to get through his day
He was helplessly behind
He poured himself onto the page
Writing for hours at a time

As a man he was a danger to himself
Fearful and sad most of the time
He was drifting in and out of sanity
But in every other way he was fine

He's a Monday morning lunatic
Disturbed from time to time
Lost within himself
In his solitary shell

A momentary maniac
With casual delusions
When will he be let out
Of his solitary shell
Ben

Seth Shedlock

Here we go, ladies and gentlemen. The fruit of my labors of the past half hour. This is a work in progress, but either way, enjoy.

Dr: Welcome, Seth. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here.

Seth: You’re the doctor, *reads nameplate*, Clayton. You tell me.

Dr: Seth, I can see from your frosty façade that you don’t want to be here. In my opinion, you place far too much value on your own opinion. In short, you have grown accustomed to only listening to yourself.

Seth: Well, Clayton, that’s an ok way to look at me.

Dr: Why don’t you start by telling me about yourself.

Seth: You’ve got my file right there, Clayton—

Dr: Normally, my clients call me Dr Bruen.

Seth: As I was saying, Clayton, you have my file in front of you. You tell me about myself.

Dr: Ok, Seth. I’ll indulge you. The file says that you’re 16, born on 21^st of April, 1990, to Kimberly and Scotty Shedlock of Greenwick.

Seth: Correct.

Dr: It goes on to say that you’ve been at 9 different schools in the past 3 years, you make very few lasting friends, and no teacher in the state wants to teach you!

Seth: You’d never guess that I’m such a nice person.

Dr: Seth, why do you feel that all these things occur?

Seth: Do you want me to tell you the truth, or the answer you want to hear?

Dr: Preferably the truth, but I’m sure the latter would be more entertaining for you.

Seth: I’d definitely say that all these things occur because I’m so darned smart that no-one can match my insurmountable intellect. I’d go on to say that each of those 9 schools were as boring as the last, the people my age are not nearly smart enough to talk to me on an intellectual level, and that the teachers were no better.

Dr: Was that as entertaining as you thought it would be?

Seth: Wouldn’t you like to know.

Ben

So little to do, and so much time to do it.

I've made at least 3 new MSN DPs today. 3. That's sad. A clear indication of how much spare time I have on my hands. I should write something, so here I am.
I've had this idea buzzing 'round my head for a couple of weeks now, about an incredibly intelligent dude who goes to see a psychologist, and the trials and tribulations that they face getting anything out of him. I suppose it's kinda like Artemis Fowl, but I really hope to not include anything about faries.

Or, if that fails, I could just sit here looking at the screen until something interesting happens.

Or I could go to bed.
Ben

Debate #1

Lets just start by summarising everything I'm gonna say in this post:
WE WON
Good. Done. If you're looking for a quick update, there it is.
Moving on.
We got there early, the guys we were against (King Khaled/Australian International Academy) were late.
The debate's topic was

That Australia should aim for zero population growth.

We were Affirmative.
Irene got up, spoke really, really well (especially considering it was her first time) and generally kicked the collective asses of the Negative team.
Then they started. My interest level went down like a Led Zeppelin.
I got up, spoke (very well ;)) pwned all their points (including that if there were more people in the country, we'd use the same amount of resources that we do now, and that aiming for Zero Population Growth is the same as ethnically clensing most of Europe).
They got up again, didn't say anything, they sat down.
Josh got up. Spanked the rest of their arguements to the ground (including another reference to Nazism), pwned everything up. Pity he was 14 seconds under time, oh well.
Their 3rd speaker got up. Even though she didn't say anything, she was still the best speaker they had.
Adjudicator took her sweet time to tell us what the result was.
Apparrently, we all rocked, but the Affirmative team rocked even harder, so we won. Oh, and I got best speaker. ^(^.^)^
I guess that's everything I needed to say... We rock! Woo!
Ben

>.<

I don't like emoticons like that. They're really weird. Seriously, what on earth is T_T, or ^_^. Eyes don't go like that. >.

Also, isn't it slightly hypocritical that the school removes chips from the canteen on a "healthy eating" basis, yet is currently forcing many students to sell chocolates? I'm pretty sure that $2 of chips is more healthy (in comparison) than $3 of chocolate eggs.

I said that, pretty much, yesterday in Chemistry. So, she ripped me a new one.
Enjoy:

i am sick and bloody tired of people attacking the SRC. i do so much stuff for this school, i've only gone home once in my frees, and i have 15 per fortnight. i do SO MUCH stuff for this bloody school, and i am sick and tired of people like you who do nothing for the school attacking me about it. what do YOU do for the school, ben?

Presumably because she's on the SRC, and it looked like a personal attack on her. So I was in a horrible mood for most of last night. Then today, she had another go at me. >.<
She said pretty much the same thing, so I'm not gonna bother to say what she said.
These god damn >.<'s are fucking with the HTML on the page.

I just don't see how it's fair, that I raise an opinion, and get so unfairly attacked about it. Of course Rebecca's allowed her opinion, so am I. She's not allowed, however, to force her opinion on me! Rawr!
Ben

Purge Writing 4: This time, it's not Purge Writing 3

It's midnight. I don't have any homework (OK, I do. I'm a horrid, horrid liar), and I've just come out of a horrendously bad DotA game. What do I do? I get this evil feeling, the feeling that I know so well, the feeling to write something.
There's a lot that I could write about, as I haven't "purged" since January, but I don't know what to write about. I have so much to write about I don't know where to begin. I could write about how different Year 11 is compared to Year 10, I could write about the massively increased amounts of pressure I'm under because of Year 11, I could write about how freakin pissed off I get after a horrendously bad DotA game... Or I could do all of that!

Time of start: 12:01 am.
Estimated time of finish: 12:30
GO! I'm late!
Year 11 compared to Year 10. In Year 10, I couldn't go home at lunch times 2/5 days a week. I couldn't go to the library during normal periods. I couldn't not buy chips at the canteen... That's another story, however. But, I've got 27 minutes to fill, so I might as well. Freakin' Rebecca's mother persuaded the school to remove all unhealthy products from the canteen. This was in about term 3. Chips were gone for a few days, then came back. All was good. However, as soon as we came back this year, BAM! No chips. I was heart broken. Gabby was worse, she threw her shoe at Josh. Tee hee.

What the school doesn't realise is, they're under no obligation to make sure we're eating right. They shouldn't have to care. They are there to teach us stuff, not make sure we're not fat. Schools should be more like universities: If someone fucks up, send them to the police and screw this "suspension" crap. "You broke this dude's nose. You can't come to school for a week." "Um, bonus?" In the same manner, we are at high school, and hence old enough to make intelligent choices about what we eat. I know that I'm not exactly the best person to be saying this, seeing as how I'm very biased towards the chip-camp, and don't eat too many other foods anyway, but it's true. If students can't be trusted to make intelligent choices, then they shouldn't be in school. Rawr.

What the school also fails to realise is that with every bucket of chips not sold, that's $2 that could be going towards the new air-conditioners for the library. Last year, I would bet massive amounts of money that the Canteen raised enough money to pay for 10 air conditioners from chips alone. Now, food purchases have plummeted. It's not good. Also, isn't it slightly hypocritical that the school removes chips from the canteen on a "healthy eating" basis, yet is currently forcing many students to sell chocolates? I'm pretty sure that $2 of chips is more healthy (in comparison) than $3 of chocolate eggs. School:0, Ben:211.

What else did I have to talk about... Oh yeah. Pressure.
Since we're in "VCE" now, we have assloads more homework to do. ASSLOADS, I tell you. Teachers must be thinking "omg, they're doing year 11, they should have no social life, no free time, and OH MY GOD! THAT TEENAGER IS STARING AT A TELEVISION! AAH!!" And we're expected to do it all, otherwise we fail. Ooooh. And of course, if we were to fail our VCE, then we'll fail at life, we'll never get a job, and we'll become impotent, impoverished hobo's with no family (they desert you if you don't get a good ENTER score), no friends (ditto) and old, ratty shoes for gloves. Just like the school's been drumming into our brains for the past 4 years. To paraphrase Rebecca: "I get it! I'm fat and ugly, Evan! Stop telling me If we don't do well at VCE, we fail at life. Except for all the alternate paths we can take to become successful, such as TAFE, or an Apprenticeship, etc." Those don't matter at all. Nope, if you can't get 99.95% on your ENTER score, then you are a horrible person. Don't look at me like that, you know it's true. It's what our teachers have been telling us for the past 4 years! Yeesh. No need to get angry with me.

So, where was I? Oh yeah, pressure. Clearly we're under a lot more pressure, because of the increased workload, because we have to do more otherwise our brains will turn into no more than a sluggish pile of grey goop. Bleckh.

Re DotA: I played a game of DotA tonight, after much prodding from Josh. I left my comfortable position trying to break my way through "The Impossible Quiz" (60% or so, go me), to play a game with him. Aren't I kind. We got pummeled.

It's not so much that we got pummeled Again, I lie. I was severly pissed off that we got pummeled. I know I can play better than I did, and I screwed up. Mainly because I was asked to play as someone I had no experience with, most of our team was horrible, and most of their team was good. Grrr. *pauses timer, 12:19*

*Resumes timer 12:20*

Psshaw, enough about DotA. I can't be bothered going into what pisses me off about a computer game right now. What I will spend the next 10 minutes writing about, however, is exclusion.
*que sob story* In primary school, I was the biggest nerd you could find. It's true, I readily admit it. No one else gets to, that's just how logic works. As such, and as all nerdy children are told, the other chilluns got jealous of my intelligence sick of my smart-assness, and decided to exclude me from their games. Of course, I tried to strategically place myself into their little games, and sometimes it worked, most times it didn't. Primary school wasn't that much fun to start with, so I threw myself into my work. The fact that I was doing Grade 2 stuff in Prep didn't seem to help my social standing. The interesting thing is, there was a large amount of smart kids at my school. They all just happened to be a lot sportier than I was. So, they kept excluding me, I kept throwing myself at my work, eventually I found a bunch of people who thought similarally to me, and friendships were forged. Woo.

The point I'm trying to illustrate by sharing this pathetic story with you is that I do not approve of excluding people. I've been there, it's not fun. I've probably excluded people too, though. Damn I'm a hypocrite. Still. Exclusion is not fun, so I'm making a pledge to try and include people more. It probably will fall through within a couple of days, like most of my after-midnight ideas, but there you go. The thought was there.

I tried to edit the blog's layout today. Didn't work too well... I can't change the background to what it's supposed to be, and the CSS is not being nice to me, but I'll take another crack at it when I'm done here (3 minutes). Plans for layout:

• Restore background and sidebar images.
• Make banner and link to me buttons.
• Make the page look more prettyful in general.
• Kill that freakin' dots template. Damn it pisses me off.

So, there's my glorious plan. Good luck to me. *hears noise* What's that? Ben's just waffling to fill up time? Huh? How could you say that? I'm terribly insulted. It's quite rude. Besides, most of this post is waffle anyway. Improvisation. That's a skill I really need to work on, because I have a debate in 3-4 days. Eeep. Oh, hey. Look at that. Time's up!

End time: 12:30
Good hustle, people, now hit the showers.
Ben

Myspace 3: Son of Myspace.

Freakin' "Ronando" wouldn't take the freakin' bait.
So, I couldn't freakin' lace into him like I freakin' wanted to. Freakin' hell.
I can't even freakin' find the freakin' picture I freakin' wanted to plug into this post. Freakin' hell. Rawr.
Ben

Multi Convos 2: Son of Multi Convos

ARGH!
Sporked again.

As you can see, I did a rather poor job at blurring this one. I accidentally left the "Writing" section in there. Whoops. Oh well. Rawr!
Out of the 14 in this convo, I knew 4 (including me).

GRRR!!!!
Sporked again, by the same dude, presumably into the same multi convo. I snapped this screeny, then bailed ASAP.
Out of the 11 in this convo, I knew 2 (including me). Clearly I did a better job of editing this one :D

I got sporked into another one before these two as well, but it was so laggy my MSN crashed before I could get a screenshot. Lame.
Ben

Myspace, you suck ass, 2

Ok, so you've all read my first bitch fest about Myspace. It was fun writing that, because I was severely pissed off at those guys over there. Today, however, they had the gall to send me this:

---

Thursday, 15 March 2007 7:10:24 PM

Ronando at MySpace (03.gs9slrk_7.nth|_|.j7t2n4sxjt@message.myspace.com)

Reply-To:

03.gs9slrk_7.nth|_|.j7t2n4sxjt@message.myspace.com

To:

neb_thims@hotmail.com

Subject:

Ronando invites you to MySpace

Ronando is a member of MySpace and is inviting you to join.

Ronando says:

Here's my shitbox of a myspace, enjoy!

Join MySpace and you will instantly be connected to Ronando, and to each of Ronando's friends.

Click Here to Join:
http://www1.myspace.com/reloc.cfm?c=2&id=2E90C726-08F7-4485-82A2-20E05871E92C

What is MySpace?
======================
MySpace is an online community that lets you meet your friends' friends.

* Create a Custom Profile
* Upload & Share Photos
* Send Mail and IM's
* Write Blogs & Comments
* Discover new Music, Filmmakers, and Comedians
* Watch and share Funny Videos
* It's FREE!


Who Uses MySpace?
=======================
MySpace is for everyone:

* Friends who want to talk Online
* Bands that want to share their music
* Filmmakers that want to reach their fans
* Families who want to keep in touch
* Professionals interested in networking
* Classmates and study partners
* Anyone looking for long lost friends!

What Do I Do?
======================
1. Click the Link In This E-mail
2. Create Your Profile
3. Start Communicating with Your Friend and Your Friend's Friends
4. Invite Your Friends to Join!

Click Here to Learn More:
http://www1.myspace.com/reloc.cfm?c=2&id=2E90C726-08F7-4485-82A2-20E05871E92C

---

First off: I do not like Myspace. If being BZORP'd wasn't enough for you Myspace n00bs, I have no idea what is.

There it is again, in all its glory. BZORP-age is pretty uncommon, and I normally reserve it for people like "Ronando" (who'll be getting a taste of BZORP-age soon, stay tuned). Rawr.

So, after getting myself blocked from recieving emails from Myspace, I now shall lace into them further.
I quote, from their email:

* Friends who want to talk Online
* Bands that want to share their music
* Filmmakers that want to reach their fans
* Families who want to keep in touch
* Professionals interested in networking
* Classmates and study partners
* Anyone looking for long lost friends!

I have MSN to talk to my friends Online.
I'm not a filmmaker.
I'm not in a band.
I actually talk to my family *gasp*
I'm not a professional, but if I was, I'd use MSN.
I would use MSN to talk to my "classmates and study partners", if I felt like it.
I'm not looking for long lost friends. Odds are, if I lost them... I don't want to find them.

Got anything else, Myspace? No? Good.

I Hereby Refute the Evil Demon Myspace, and all it's Demonic Practices.

MYSPACE IS THE ANTI-CHRIST!
Ben

Space-Dye Vest

From Awake, by Dream Theater

Falling through pages of martens on angels
Feeling my heart pull west
I saw the future dressed as a stranger
Love in a space-dye vest

Love is an act of blood and Im bleeding
A pool in the shape of a heart
Beauty projection in the reflection
Always the worst way to start

But hes the sort who cant know
Anyone intimately, least of all a
Woman. he doesnt know what a woman
Is. he wants you for a possession,
Something to look at like a painting or an ivory box.
Something to own and to display. he doesnt want you to be real,
Or to think or to live. he doesnt love you, but I love you.
I want you to have your own thoughts and ideas and feelings, even when
I hold you in my arms. its our last chance... its our last chance...

Now that youre gone Im trying to take it
Learning to swallow the rage
Found a new girl I think we can make it
As long as she stays on the page

This is not how I want it to end
And Ill never be open again

...i was gonna move out...ummm...get,
Get a job, get my own place, ummm,
But... I go into the mall where i
Want to work and they tell me, im,
I was too young...

Some people, gave advice before,
About facing the facts, about
Facing reality. and this is, this
Without a doubt, is his biggest
Challenge ever. hes going to have to face it.
Youre gonna have to try, hes gonna to have to try and,
Uh, and, and, and get some help here. I mean no one can
Say they know how he feels.

That, so they say that, in ya know
Like, houston or something, youd
Say its a hundred and eighty degrees,
But its a dry heat
. in houston they say that?
Oh, maybe not. Im all mixed up.
Dry until they hit the swimming pool.

...i get up with the sun... listen.
You have your own room to sleep in,
I dont care what you do. I dont
Care when. that door gets locked,
That door gets locked at night by nine oclock.
If youre not in this house by nine oclock, then youd better find some
Place to sleep. because youre not going to be a bum in this house.
Supper is ready...

Theres no one to take my blame
If they wanted to
Theres nothing to keep me sane
And its all the same to you
Theres nowhere to set my aim
So Im everywhere
Never come near me again
Do you really think I need you

Ill never be open again, I could never be open again.
Ill never be open again, I could never be open again.

And Ill smile and Ill learn to pretend
And Ill never be open again
And Ill have no more dreams to defend
And Ill never be open again
Ben

TAKE THE POWER BACK!

Bring that shit in! Uggh!

Yeah, the movement's in motion with mass militant poetry
Now check this out...uggh!

In the right light, study becomes insight
But the system that dissed us
Teaches us to read and right

So called facts are fraud
They want us to allege and pledge
And bow down to their God
Lost the culture, the culture lost
Spun our minds and through time
Ignorance has taken over
Yo, we gotta take the power back!
Bam! Here's the plan
Motherfuck Uncle Sam
Step back, I know who I am
Raise up your ear, I'll drop the style and clear
It's the beats and the lyrics they fear
The rage is relentless
We need a movement with a quickness
You are the witness of change
And to counteract
We gotta take the power back

Yeah, we gotta take the power back
Come on, come on!
We gotta take the power back

The present curriculum
I put my fist in 'em
Eurocentric every last one of 'em
See right through the red, white and blue disguise
With lecture I puncture the structure of lies
Installed in our minds and attempting
To hold us back
We've got to take it back
Holes in our spirit causin' tears and fears
One-sided stories for years and years and years
I'm inferior? Who's inferior?
Yeah, we need to check the interior
Of the system that cares about only one culture
And that is why
We gotta take the power back
Yeah, we gotta take the power back
Come on, come on!
We gotta take the power back

Hey yo check, we're gonna have to break it, break it,
break it down
Awww shit!

Uggh!

And like this...uggh!

Come on, yeah! Bring it back the other way!

The teacher stands in front of the class
But the lesson plan he can't recall
The student's eyes don't perceive the lies
Bouning off every fucking wall
His composure is well kept
I guess he fears playing the fool
The complacent students sit and listen to some of that
Bullshit that he learned in school

Europe ain't my rope to swing on
Can't learn a thing from it
Yet we hang from it
Gotta get it, gotta get it together then
Like the motherfuckin' weathermen
To expose and close the doors on those who try
To strangle and mangle the truth
'Cause the circle of hatred continues unless we react
We gotta take the power back

Yeah, we gotta take the power back
Come on, come on!
We gotta take the power back

No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies

Uggh!

Yeah!

Take it back y'all
Take it back, a-take it back
A-take it back y'all, come on!
Take it back y'all
Take it back, a-take it back
A-take it back y'all, come on!

Uggh!

Yeah!
Ben

Myspace, you suck ass.

Oh
My
God
I
Was
Just
On
Bender's
Myspace
Page!
This
Is
Really
True!!!
Apparrently
It's
Really
Cool
To
Post
Comments
On
People's
Pages
That
Look
Like
This.
And
Of
Course,
There's
The
Obligatory
Large
Section
Of:
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What
A
Fucking
Waste
Of
My
Time.

Bender doesn't have a Myspace page. John DiMaggio doesn't have a Myspace page. Myspace is for people with no life, and no computing skills to back it up. Bender is a (fictional) robot. He speaks Binary. He has computer skills. John DiMaggio is famous. He has a life. Therefore, neither of them have a Myspace page.
Yet somehow, "Bender" has managed to get 408 "friends". Myspace, the land of the pedophile and the spammer, the phisher and the virus-stick maker.

BZORP! Au Revior, Myspace. You just got BZORP'd.
Ben

Best Imitation of Myself

I feel like a quote out of context
Witholding the rest
So I can be for you what you want to see
I got the gestures and sounds
Got the timing down
Its uncanny, yeah
You'd think it was me
Do you think I should take a class
To lose my southern accent?
Did I make me up
Or make the face 'til it stuck?
I do the best imitation of myself.

The problem with you speech
You gave me was fine
I liked the theories about
My little stage
And I swore I was listening
But I started drifting
Around the part about me
Acting my age
And now if its all the same
I've people to entertain
I juggle one handed
Do some magic tricks and
The best imitation of myself

Maybe I'm thinking
Myself in a hole
Wondering who I am
When I ought to know
Straighten up now
Time to go
Fool somebody else
Fool somebody else

Last night I was
East with them
And west within
Trying to be for you
What you want to see
But I can't help it
With you the good and bad
Comes through
Dont want you hanging out
With no one but me
Now if it's all the same
It comes from the same place
And if my mind's somewhere else
You wont be able to tell
I do the best imitation of myself
Yes its uncanny to see
You'd really think it was me
The best imtitation of myself
Do the best imitation of myself
Ben

Multi Convos

Like Maths, MSN is a wonderful thing. It's allowed me to pester my friends every night (on and off) for the last 5 years.
There are some aspects of MSN I don't like, though. For example, the Advertisements. The amount of money Microsoft seems to make out of them. The "integration" with Internet Exploder. Most of all, however, it's the multiconvo.
You know what I'm talking about. You sign in, instantly, your connection lags. You've been sporked into a conversation between yourself, one of your well-meaning contacts, and about a billion others.
Here's an artists rendition of one, to give you an idea of the chaos. The names have been blurred to protect the guilty:

God damn do I hate multiconvos. They achieve nothing, especially if you don't know more than 75% of the people in the convo. This one I got sporked into today, was an orgy of chaos. Nobody knew anyone. "Who's blank?" "Who the fuck is blank?" "WTF? It says 'The Amazing MonkeyMan', but there's nobody typing anything with that name!" All these and many many more. Send no money!

As you can (not so clearly) see in the image, I was talking to 9 people. Out of the 10 people in the convo, I knew 3 (including me). That's 30% of the convo. Not worth my time.
Ben

Sickwatch! Day 5...

We interrupt our regularally scheduled programming to bring you an update on Sickwatch.
"...and to our top story tonight, we bring you a live update on the scene in Ben's body. We're up to day five, and we've sent Ben Smith down, to take a look..."
Investigative reporter Ben Smith here, live on the scene as Ben begins another lame attempt at reviving his dead, decrepit blog!
As it stands, this is his first post all month, and his first post in almost as long...
With no end in sight to this slump, we can only pray that he gets the spark of inspiration he once had back, rather than just posting crappy quotes from Bill Hicks and Dr Hibbert.
"What is the atmosphere like down at the Canvas, Ben?"
Well Ben, Ben has started talking to himself, not only in 3rd person, but 2nd person as well. This situation looks grim, as this once proud, noble, extremely intelligent person starts exhibiting the first signs of madness.
"Ben, can you tell us exactly what is wrong with Ben?"
Ben, I'll be blunt with you. He's got some kind of flu-virus, which has taken a number of his white blood cells hostage. In the early days of the illness, he's had a high fever, and while it appeared to have diminished yesterday, it's back in full force today. We've got an artists impression of the scene coming through for you shortly.
"We're all eagerly awaiting that, Ben. Can you give us some general statistics about the virus and Ben's symptoms?"
Well Ben, we don't know much, but after going through his washing we've found that he's gone through 5 hankerchiefs, had 3 nosebleeds and 3 "scares"
"Scares?"
He's wiped his nose 3 times, seen blood, and freaked out.
"Ah."
You asked.
"How's that artist's impression coming along?"
Ben, he's just put the finishing touches on it. Here, enjoy:

"Ben, I don't quite understand what I'm seeing."
Well Ben, the large purple blob is the virus, the grey slab is the barricade he's erected, the white circles are the kidnapped white blood cells, the teal blobs with the red hats are the police-nerves protecting the teal blobs in black hats, the citizen-nerves, from any attacks the virus may send.
"Thank you very much, Ben, for your indepth coverage of this breathtaking event, which will mark the future of our lives."
Thanks Ben.
Ladies and gentlemen, we now return you to your normal programming.
Ben

Bill Hicks' Last Point

”Here is my final point. About drugs, about alcohol, about pornography and smoking and everything else. What business is it of yours what I do, read, buy, see, say, think, who I fuck, what I take into my body—as long as I do not harm another human being on this planet! I’m not scary. I’m basically just a joke-blower. That’s basically all I am, a joke-blower on the back of some Mexican gardener, blowing jokes all over the driveway, a fairly harmless guy, believer in love and truth, antiwar, believer in the values under which this country was originally founded: FREEDOM OF FUCKING EXPRESSION.

”And for those of you out there who are having a little moral dilemma in your head about this, I’ll answer it for you. IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!

”Take that to the bank, cash it, and take it on a fucking vacation out of everybody’s life.”

He makes a good point.
Ben

Extortion Day?

I've been saying for at least the past year that St Valentine's day is a load of crap. At least. After doing some actual RESEARCH though, I've discovered that it WASN'T invented by Hallmark. Unlike Father's Day, or Mother's Day, or Sweetest Day *vomit*. Those holidays are full of shit. St Valentine's Day, however, actually has ancient roots!

Named after a pair of Christian Martyrs, the Pope of the 4th Century (AD)(or CE, if you're a history bitch) declared the 14th of February St Valentine's day. Adopted as the offical holiday of lovers everywhere after the rise in courtly love (R.I.P), it's now become one of the most marketed holidays in the calendar (after Christmas, but we'll get to that in a few months). One Billion Valentines are sent every year, and 850 Million of them are sent by Women. What does that tell you?

• Women are more compassionate and caring
• Women are sucked into marketing campaigns aimed at the heart easier

You tell me the answer.

The point is, either way, that Valentines day was ONCE a day for the celebration of love, and is NOW a day for the celebration of Hallmark Executives. I don't plan on buying into it, thank you very much.
Ben

200th Post?

Sorry to do a double post on y'alls, but I found this list of Jack Black quotes on Wikiquote and had to share it with y'all.

• Do not miss your chance to blow!

• Where do songs come from? INSPIRADO.

• I WILL catch the bug!

• Hi, I'm Jack Black, you probably know me from my movies and music, that's why you'll understand what I'm here about is very important to me: PIRACY. Look, super mega rock 'n' roll gods and stars are just regular dudes like you guys, we punch the clock, we put on the pants, then we blow people's minds. It's how we make a living! And then these pirates come, and they steal all our internets! I dont know how they do it, but these pirates can break into our entertainer's homes, make us walk the plank, and leave us broke. and you know what that means: no cash, no inspiration. No inspiration, no rocket sauce. No rocket sauce, no kick ass rock n roll, or movies! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT MR. LONG-JOHN SILVER?! WHATS YOUR PARROT GONNA LISTEN TO WHEN YOU GO TOE-TO-TOE AGAINST THE ENGLISH ARMADA?! JAZZ?! I DONT THINK SO! Don't be a douche, stop piracy!

• I will take on all comers and cum on all takers!

• What we got will turn your brain to shit.

• Hold on to your brain balls

• "She was all 'I'm gonna burn this motherfucker down!', and I was all 'You better not! You better not!'" "She said it was an electrical fire." "Oh yea, a ttotal electrical fire. It was like the fourth of July in there." "Where are your pants, Joe?" "I had to take them off, to outrun the fire, they were slowing me down!" "We got a sprinter, five foot, brown hair, white t-shirt...no pants....portly." -Orange County

Yeah.

EDIT: OH MY GOD. THIS WAS MY 200th POST, AND I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING. WHAT THE FUCK.
Ben

Can I sit next to you, girl?

I met this girl for the first time on Saturday night
Standing in the queue at the Odeon alright
Oh I took her by surprise
When I gave her one of my lines
She started smiling at me real fine (ha ha)
That's when I said

Can I sit next to you, girl?

At intermission we were doing alright
Until this guy came up and stood by her side
Oh I took him by surprise
When I gave him one of my lines
She started smiling at me real fine
And that's when I said

Can I sit next to you, girl?

I believe there's about 100x more "Can I sit next to you, girl?"s in there, but oh well. One of ACDC's finest :D
Ben

First of the month.

It brings new beginnings. It just so happens that this particular first of the month is also the start of a new school year, so I feel compelled to write something about it.
Random Thoughts:
Year 11
VCE
Pwning
Queen
Tenacious D
Jack Black
School of Rock
School
Year 11.

What a nice little rotation there.
So much for getting >33 posts last month. I managed barely half of that. /cheer for me. I really think I'm going to enjoy school this year, what with no Ms Pearson, correspondence IT course, pwnage Chemistry... It'll be sweet.

That's all I can really be bothered writing right now, it's almost 11 and I should be asleep. Au revoir.
Ben

P.S:

On the topic of that Apple usergroup dealie, it's just a bunch of bloggers. Not sponsored or endorsed by Apple. Hehe. No MonkeyMan for them :D
Ben

Purge Writing the Third - This time, it's personal.

Start time: 11:40
End time: 12:00.
Ready... Go!
Bugger. It's the end of the holidays. I was just starting to enjoy them, too. I've got my Wii, The Burning Crusade is out, life is peachy. So what if I've been on holiday since November, so freaking what? I deserve at least 6 months holiday every year. Technically, I guess I get that much total. If you include sleeping. I was gonna try and post something to this from the Wii. There are two ways I can achieve this. 1) Email the post to the "E-mail a post here" address for the blog, or 2) Try and get into this page I'm at now, in Opera, on the Wii. I tried #2 first... I got to this page, filled in the title... Clicked in this box, and nothing happened. I couldn't post. I was very pissed off. So, I tried #1. I got into the E-mail section of the wii... Sent myself a very short note. Let me go get it.

Subject: ZOMG!!1
First off, let me start by saying "I`m
writing this on my Wii. Second:
Bugger. School goes back on
Wednesday. Bugger again. A third
time, too, because of un-finished
homework. Bugger.

It looked a lot longer on my TV screen than it does on your Computer screen. Seriously, it looked massive. Like, I thought I'd written a masterpiece. I got to my inbox, bam. Shit central.

Speaking of shit E-mails, I recieved this one from Apple:
Dear blog author:

We recently came across your site, themonkeyman.blogspot.com, while searching for bloggers who blog about Apple Computer issues.

A small group of us have started a new site called Apple Computer. Our intent is to bring Apple Computer bloggers closer together, and make a positive contribution to the Internet community.

Would you be interested in joining Apple Computer? Please take a few minutes to have a look at what we are trying to do, and if you are interested, there is a sign up page to get the ball rolling. We would greatly appreciate your support in this endeavour.

If you do not feel that your blog would be a good fit for Apple Computer, but enjoy this subject area, come visit us and one of our member bloggers. You can also check our FAQ Section to learn more about Apple Computer.

We look forward to hearing from you and seeing you on Apple Computer.

Craig Cantin
Apple Computer
info@apple-computer-bloggers.com

Please note: you will receive this email no more than twice. If you do not respond to this email, we will send out a second and final email in approximately 3 weeks time. If you respond, by joining or by declining the invitation, we will not intentionally send this invite a second time.

You can join or visit Apple Computer at any time, but we do not believe in spam, and will not intentionally send this invite more than twice. If you have any concerns regarding our anti-spam policy, please do not hesitate to contact us.

I had no idea how to respond, or how they got my E-mail address, for that matter. It's not like it's publically displayed on the blog or anything. Creepy. I reckon they did a web crawl of blog sites for iPod, and other such Apple trademarks. Like Google, but more sinister. I still have no idea how to respond. What if they're trying to subvert me to their evil Apple propaganda? Aah! THE POWER OF VISTA COMPELLS YOU!!

...

It's ok. I've recovered. Damn, though. Apple freaks me out on a daily basis. My iPod STILL crashes, iTunes isn't much better... And that one time I had to go into an Apple store... I felt like I needed a shower. Not cool, not at all. No.

Maybe I'll join and spread Microsoft propaganda. That'd learn them. The least they could have done would to have put my name, instead of Blog Author. That's just not cool. They got my email address, they should be able to get my name. Grr.

Oh, and another thing: WHO THE FUCK GIVES HOLIDAY HOMEWORK OVER CHRISTMAS!!!! AAHH!! This would be the first time in history that I've decided to hate BSC. It's a good school. I like it there, the atmosphere is good for learning. Apart from the permanant Lynx smell all over the joint, but that's another point entirely. Grr. Damn teachers. Damn them all.


Bleh, that'll do. +5 minutes to my average. Bugger.
Ben

5 Stages

 Dr. H: Now, a little death anxiety is normal.  You can expect to go through
         five stages.  The first is denial.
  Homer: No way!  Because I'm not dying! [hugs Marge]
  Dr. H: The second is anger.
  Homer: Why you little! [steps towards Dr. H]
  Dr. H: After that comes fear.
  Homer: What's after fear?  What's after fear? [cringes]
  Dr. H: Bargaining.
  Homer: Doc, you gotta get me out of this!  I'll make it worth your while!
  Dr. H: Finally, acceptance.
  Homer: Well, we all gotta go sometime.

Stored here for posterity. Don't ask questions.
Ben

Just a quiche...

To say that I won't be around for the next 5 days or so, as my family and a family that we're friends with are going to Mount Martha until Friday. I will be virtually unreachable, as this is a Scout Campsite (read: no internet). Email messages can't be read until the 19th, but would still be nice to come home to :D
Ben
P.S: I'm going for a personal best for posts this month, after re-doing the blog and shinifying it. My previous personal best was 33, in August 2004. I'm up to 15 with this post, so, lets see how we do. Most of those ones in August 2004 were BS about my day, anyway. I've moved on to proper philosophical rambling now.

Purge Writing: Part 2

Yes, it's once again time for me to start writing at a certain time and see how long I can coherently string this out for. I'm starting at 10:10 (not including this introduction) and aiming for 10:40.
Ready...
Set...
And a GO!

I love to write. I really do. It allows me to put my thoughts out on a viewable plane for me to review and draw conclusions from. It doesn't hurt that I'm very good at writing, either :P I've been told that, by various teachers, so it's not something I've just pulled out of my ass. I've also been told that my style of writing is too much like investigative journalism. Which apparrently is not the correct style of writing for a formal history essay, and as such even a well written, well researched essay deserves a C. *glare* What's wrong with investigative journalism anyway? I think it'd be awesome fun. Exposing frauds, showing the world exactly what's wrong with itself, giving precious airtime to the cricket, it's all a part of the experience. Maybe if the whole Psychiatrist thing falls through, and the IT specialist thing doesn't get off the ground, then I could try my hand at that. It'd be fun. I'd get to meet a lot of new people, too, which is fun.

I've met a lot of new people in the passed... since November 25th... and I think I've had a profound affect on some of them. Example: I spoke to someone on MSN last night, a friend of a friend who asked me to add her, but only started talking to me then because she "had no clue who I was". She barely knew me, but by the end of the conversation was baring her soul about a fight she had with one of her friends (and one of my acquaintences). I guess I'm just too good a listener. I don't quite see how that Psychiatrist thing could possibly fall through, I'm uncannily good at it. Or, failing that, I could become a Roman Catholic priest and hear confessionals. It's pretty much the same thing, except you listen and judge instead of help. OK, unfair, having God forgive you for your sins is sure to be life-affirming, but I doubt that having the big metal hand in the sky say "you're fine" would make me feel any better about MY sins, should I have any. Interesting thing to think about though. What would a divine encounter involve?

I reckon it'd be kinda cool, hearing the word of God first-hand, not from some books written hundreds of years after the events happened. If that were to happen, I'd become a prophet. That can be job choice number 4. I'd go around the lands with my carefully transcribed notes on the conversation (asking the big cheese to slow down if necessary, and asking him to repeat himself if I don't catch something) that accurately portray the meaning and correct interpretation of what was said. If a bunch of crazy pope worshippers decide that I'm wrong, then I say bring it on. I just hope I don't have to involve Switzerland. They've been neutral for so long, and escaping the world's attention since World War Two, they've gotta be planning something. If I were to offend a whole nation by taking down their elite guard singlehandedly, it sure wouldn't want to be those dudes. No wonder they've stayed neutral for so long though, have you ever seen the knives they're given to fight with? I don't think I need a pair of nose-hair trimmers in the middle of a battle, thank you.

I just watched a Flash Movie by the great Manuel Fallman (click the freaky moving black button on the side bar for more), about fighting and such. It was pretty cool, this one dude in a black trench coat with a katana taking down hordes of dudes with machine guns. The one thing that made it different from the Matrix, however, was that it was set in a post-apocalyptic warzone, so they're all wearing gas-masks. They only took the katana-wielding dude down by taking off his gas-mask. He still managed to kill the dude that took his mask off, too. What a freaking bad-ass.

I was gonna write a rock opera these holidays, specifically this week (that's just gone by), because everyone was out, or on holidays or such, and I had the house to myself. I got the idea partially from the Dream Theater album "Scenes From a Memory" and partially from the Queen album "A Night at the Opera". They're both pretty good, and they're both (apparrently) rock operas. That idea, however, died like so many of my other "good" ideas have. Oh well, doesn't matter. I'm going on holidays tomorrow, and I'm gonna be bored to sobs. Waah. We (my family) and this other family (two parents, 4 daughters) are going to stay at some Scout Camp joint out at Mount Martha from Monday 'till Friday. It's been billed as a way to "relax and unwind before another stressful year". You freaking got that right, nothing's ever simple in my family. I suppose it'll give me a few days to think on my own. Of course, Sam's gonna be sticking to me like glue, so there goes that. I'll say "I'm going for a walk, mum/dad." "OK Ben, take Sam with you!" and Internally, I'll say "FUCK!" Because I really don't want to babysit another Year Seven kid. I already did that in Italy. "Ben, we've put you in a room with the year 10 you don't get along with, and the year 7 who's been picked-on by all the year 8s he's had to stay with. We expect you all to get along fine." It ended up with a massive pillow fight, with myself as the victor. I think I nearly killed him, but that was because he smashed my glasses off my face, and didn't let me sleep the night before. Also, he wouldn't leave me alone, and wouldn't fucking shut up about Green Day. They are not good. Shut up. I don't care how many people bought American Idiot, it was because they agreed with the title.

Heck, I'm doing it again. I've run out of ideas, I can tell. Whenever I'm in an exam, and I feel that I've written enough (read: I have run out of ideas) I start picking at my fingernails, trying to clean them. I've done it twice while writing this, and I know what it means. I've stopped being funny. Bugger. I was 6 minutes away from achieving my goal, too. I did write a lot, though. Hey, here's an idea...


Wow, I'm incredible. I wrote for a full half an hour. Too good, this kid is. Too freaking good. Expect to see more of these Purge Writing sessions, I really enjoyed it. Made me stop thinking for a while, and that's something that's not quite easy to do. Whirring like that, going a mile a fucking minute. Why the hell do we still say that? "Mile a minute". "Kilometer a minute" fits better with the metric system, but doesn't really sound as good, because we've accepted Mile a Minute into the dialect of this part of the world. Sometimes, I think I could outsmart Dr Hawking, that's how smart I feel sometimes. Othertimes though, I feel like I could lose DotA, 5v5, me with 4 Insane bots against 5 easy bots. That's how dumb I feel sometimes.

What a conclusion. He's just such a talented writer.
Ben

P.S: That did actually take me a full 30 minutes to write, the struck-outted text up there was just for effect. ;)