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