Tuesday, September 30, 2003
Awesome cat picture:
http://www.screensavershot.com/animals/cats.jpg
Or, click here if you're too lazy to copy and paste.
http://www.screensavershot.com/animals/cats.jpg
Or, click here if you're too lazy to copy and paste.
Saturday, September 27, 2003
Scurvy:
Long time, no C
Not a lot happening of late. I did my clinicals at St. Marys and it was better than I expected. In fact, I may end up working there as a student. I recently had my clinicals at Mercy, which were also better than expected. I got to talk to UNE D.O. and P.A. students, so that was cool too.
Christy and Nick and Zacq and I all got together tonight. It was fun. We watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail and just hung out, too. It was good. And tomorrow we have Guster! Yippee!
I'll be writing a rant whenever I get the time or energy around here. Which may end up being...well...never, really. But I'll try for it sometime soon.
I'm off to read the Far Side and go to bed.
Long time, no C
Not a lot happening of late. I did my clinicals at St. Marys and it was better than I expected. In fact, I may end up working there as a student. I recently had my clinicals at Mercy, which were also better than expected. I got to talk to UNE D.O. and P.A. students, so that was cool too.
Christy and Nick and Zacq and I all got together tonight. It was fun. We watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail and just hung out, too. It was good. And tomorrow we have Guster! Yippee!
I'll be writing a rant whenever I get the time or energy around here. Which may end up being...well...never, really. But I'll try for it sometime soon.
I'm off to read the Far Side and go to bed.
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
School school school.
Visit a possible future school of Ben. Click over to the PA (physician assistant) program.
Off to study.
Visit a possible future school of Ben. Click over to the PA (physician assistant) program.
Off to study.
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
Updates:
I forgot what I was going to put here.
Clinicals at Saint "Not much happ'nin" Mary's tomorrow. Woo. Yay. Hooray.
On the other hand, there's lots of Leah on schedule tomorrow after Clinical. It'll be a good end to a boring day. I'm looking forward to it. Leah, that is, not clinical.
Tired. So little sleep.
I forgot what I was going to put here.
Clinicals at Saint "Not much happ'nin" Mary's tomorrow. Woo. Yay. Hooray.
On the other hand, there's lots of Leah on schedule tomorrow after Clinical. It'll be a good end to a boring day. I'm looking forward to it. Leah, that is, not clinical.
Tired. So little sleep.
Sunday, September 14, 2003
Radiohead sez:
Are you such a dreamer?
To put the world to rights?
I'll stay home forever
Where two & two always
makes up five
I'll lay down the tracks
Sandbag & hide
January has April's showers
And two & two always
makes up five
IT'S THE DEVIL'S WAY NOW
THERE IS NO WAY OUT
YOU CAN SCREAM
& YOU CAN SHOUT
IT IS TOO LATE NOW
BECAUSE
YOU HAVE NOT BEEN
PAYING ATTENTION
I try to sing along
I get it all wrong
Eezeepeezeeeezeepeeezee
NOT
I swat em like flies but
Like flies the buggers
Keep coming back
NOT
Maybe not
All hail to the thief
But I'm not!
Don't question my
Authority or put me
In the dock
Cozimnot!
Go & tell the king that
The sky is falling in
When it's not
Maybe not.
(ahh diddums.)
Also:
Are you hungry?
Are you sick?
Are you begging for a break?
Are you sweet?
Are you fresh?
Are you strung up by the wrists?
(Fois-gras style)
We want the young blood.
Are you fracturing?
Are you torn at the seams?
Would you do anything?
Flea-bitten? Motheaten?
We suck young blood.
Won't let the creeping ivy
Won't let the nervous bury me
Our veins are thin
Our rivers poisoned
We want the sweet meats.
We want the young blood.
We suck young blood.
We want the young blood.
Not that I'm dangerously obsessed or anything.
Are you such a dreamer?
To put the world to rights?
I'll stay home forever
Where two & two always
makes up five
I'll lay down the tracks
Sandbag & hide
January has April's showers
And two & two always
makes up five
IT'S THE DEVIL'S WAY NOW
THERE IS NO WAY OUT
YOU CAN SCREAM
& YOU CAN SHOUT
IT IS TOO LATE NOW
BECAUSE
YOU HAVE NOT BEEN
PAYING ATTENTION
I try to sing along
I get it all wrong
Eezeepeezeeeezeepeeezee
NOT
I swat em like flies but
Like flies the buggers
Keep coming back
NOT
Maybe not
All hail to the thief
But I'm not!
Don't question my
Authority or put me
In the dock
Cozimnot!
Go & tell the king that
The sky is falling in
When it's not
Maybe not.
(ahh diddums.)
Also:
Are you hungry?
Are you sick?
Are you begging for a break?
Are you sweet?
Are you fresh?
Are you strung up by the wrists?
(Fois-gras style)
We want the young blood.
Are you fracturing?
Are you torn at the seams?
Would you do anything?
Flea-bitten? Motheaten?
We suck young blood.
Won't let the creeping ivy
Won't let the nervous bury me
Our veins are thin
Our rivers poisoned
We want the sweet meats.
We want the young blood.
We suck young blood.
We want the young blood.
Not that I'm dangerously obsessed or anything.
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Today, we have a guest writer: Mister Casey Labrack. Because of these writings, Casey has been elevated to hero status.
Wisdom Teeth
As much as I hope I won't need it, I can be pretty sure of having my wisdom teeth removed. Almost everyone is given the operation automatically at my age, as we're assured by dentists that these furthest-back teeth will cause problems later. Most mouths, we're told, are too small to handle these teeth. Like there's something fundamentally wrong with the way mouths work all of a sudden. Like dentists hadn't invented the wisdom teeth problem.
When there was something fundamentally wrong with the way a prehistoric man's mouth worked, he died. He didn't pass on his genes, ensuring that others with misfunctioning mouths didn't propagate. This was the case until civilization begot dentistry. Since, if one had something fundamentally wrong with the way their mouth worked, it could be fixed with a long, tortuous operation. Thus the genes for these mouths were passed on, ensuring the future of the dentist's long, tortuous operations.
This is the story of any number of common physical defects, and the industries with which they coexist. It is the reason you need an inhaler to breath and you need glasses to see. It's why you can have these needs and still reproduce. It's viagra, the ultimate paradigm of 100 million years of civilization.
It's typical of our stupidity and arrogance to assume that we've beaten natural selection with civilization. But it's not that natural selection is breaking down because of society, it's just that society has it working in reverse. On this planet of six billion people, where 40,000 babies die everyday, the smartest of us are starting to realize that it's time to stop reproducing. Those with the intelligence and compassion not to subject another human being to the war, tyranny, and ecological collapse that looms over the next generation will choose not to have children--and those without it will continue replicating themselves. This marks the de-evolution of the human race. We haven't ganged up on nature and changed the rules, it's the stupidest of us that's calling the shots. The name of the game is now survival of the thoughtless.
Tale of Princess Joann
Once upon a time there was a beautified American princess named Joann. She knew that the royalty of her kingdom, the College Board, looked for diversity to continue its lines. Her problem, she knew, was that her skin was as white as snow. Thus Princess Joann was forced into a dark, primitive land. Her plan was for life in this exotic and mystical land of Africa to transform her into a queen in her own land and junior year she ventured out of her kingdom and into the dark beyond.
One day in her small village in Mauritania she was using the community�s huge, dank, foul outhouse and thinking about her squalid life among the poor, third-world Mauritanians. Damn, this�ll make a great application essay, she thought.
Then, as she reached across the small enclosure to grab a few pages of the missionary literature she and the natives had been using for toilet paper, she heard a small sound. She turned to see her cell phone fall out of her pocket and down the gaping hole in the wooden seat, to the cesspit below.
�Shit,� she rasped to herself.
The cell phone was new, a gift from her father, and she had just watched the small blue light of the screen shrink and disappear into the absolute darkness and filth. She almost resigned herself to its loss, but her resourcefulness was what would make her royalty in her kingdom. She took inventory. In her purse was a half empty bottle of no caffeine, low-aspertaine Pepsi; the extracts of a weed that one native had promised her would pass the days here faster; and 37 cents American of pocket change--a small fortune to these people, she thought. And thought.
Word spread quickly in the small town without walls when a reward was offered for the cell phone. A number of heroic natives came to the distress of the damsel. A few didn�t even hesitate when told where it actually was. The first man to step up was a tall, slight man, nameless to Princess Joann, followed by his friend.
As he began to climb into the hole in the ground the man was overcome with the stench. He grit his teeth and growled something in his native tongue.
�What was that?� Joann asked the friend, her hands on her hips.
The friend, who spoke little English, said, �He says, eh, �Be right back.� �
With a sickening splut the man was in the pit. As he sloshed around searching, he continued making outbursts in his language, as foul and ugly as his predicament. None of the other natives were quite at ease above, looking awkwardly to each other and then down into the dark muck but only sensing the man below through his steady cursing. Joann simply stood looking down intently where she judged her cell phone had landed.
Suddenly the swearing stopped and a subsequent silence fell upon the crowd gathered around the outhouse. A moment passed and the man�s friend volunteered to go after him. The leader of the small tribe was now openly worried about the situation as it seemed an entire man was now lost in the waste. Still, he lowered the man�s friend down himself, hoping to get them both back quickly and safely.
In a collective cringe the townsfolk heard a splosh that marked a second man�s decent into the muck, continuing the search. For about a minute all the people above could judge of the search was the sound of shifting shit. Finally, the man called to everyone above that he had found his friend, and that he would probably be ok if they got him out immediately.
Just then they heard a terrible wail from the man. The leader, concerned that the man was losing his sanity in the pit, and Joann, who was beginning to wonder if she was ever getting her cell phone back, edged closer to the outhouse. The leader extended a hand down the hole, saying that the man had spent too long in the cesspool and that he needed to get some fresh air before bringing anything up with him. The man consented immediately, and they locked hands somewhere in between the consuming muck and more comfortable world just above.
Pulling the native up was more difficult than either of them had anticipated and he lost his footing against the slick, scummy walls repeatedly. He began ranting even as he was being pulled up about a demon that chanted to him down in the shit. As Joann listened to the man yell about the demon in the pit, she thought she could hear it, too. And thinking about it, it sounded familiar to her.
�My cell phone! That�s my cell phone ringing!� she shouted still louder, recognizing the Godsmack theme as her preset ring tone.
The man, dazed and still only half of the way out of the pit, didn�t understand. Joann, knowing whoever it was would give up calling soon, kneeled in front of the man and desperately yelled at him that the demon�s voice was her cell phone, and that this was his only chance to recover it.
Though seemingly weakened and confused by the fumes, he mumbled something about coming right back and dropped into the muck again. In a short time he found the phone and, to the amazement of everyone above, answered it. As he was being hauled again back up to the surface, he extended the phone forward with his free hand, saying, �It�s for you.�
Joann giggled and reached out to take it. The gathered townsfolk all exhaled together, and for what seemed for each like the first time since it all began. A few thought about being heroic and volunteering themselves to be the one to help get the first native.
Then the man�s eyes rolled upwards and he succumbed suddenly to the fumes. Still gripping the cell phone, he dropped backwards into the darkness as the leader of the village and Joann cried out and reached after him.
The man hit the shit with splosh. And the most terrible silence yet fell on everyone around the town outhouse in a village in Mauritania. One by one everyone backed away from the scene, never making eye contact with another.
An hour later, Joann was the only one standing by the outhouse. Princess Joann, smeared with dark shit, stared into the muck and thought once more about her college application essay. It was clear, she decided, that no piece of writing should ever come of the black day.
_____________________
Let's all give props to Casey.
Wisdom Teeth
As much as I hope I won't need it, I can be pretty sure of having my wisdom teeth removed. Almost everyone is given the operation automatically at my age, as we're assured by dentists that these furthest-back teeth will cause problems later. Most mouths, we're told, are too small to handle these teeth. Like there's something fundamentally wrong with the way mouths work all of a sudden. Like dentists hadn't invented the wisdom teeth problem.
When there was something fundamentally wrong with the way a prehistoric man's mouth worked, he died. He didn't pass on his genes, ensuring that others with misfunctioning mouths didn't propagate. This was the case until civilization begot dentistry. Since, if one had something fundamentally wrong with the way their mouth worked, it could be fixed with a long, tortuous operation. Thus the genes for these mouths were passed on, ensuring the future of the dentist's long, tortuous operations.
This is the story of any number of common physical defects, and the industries with which they coexist. It is the reason you need an inhaler to breath and you need glasses to see. It's why you can have these needs and still reproduce. It's viagra, the ultimate paradigm of 100 million years of civilization.
It's typical of our stupidity and arrogance to assume that we've beaten natural selection with civilization. But it's not that natural selection is breaking down because of society, it's just that society has it working in reverse. On this planet of six billion people, where 40,000 babies die everyday, the smartest of us are starting to realize that it's time to stop reproducing. Those with the intelligence and compassion not to subject another human being to the war, tyranny, and ecological collapse that looms over the next generation will choose not to have children--and those without it will continue replicating themselves. This marks the de-evolution of the human race. We haven't ganged up on nature and changed the rules, it's the stupidest of us that's calling the shots. The name of the game is now survival of the thoughtless.
Tale of Princess Joann
Once upon a time there was a beautified American princess named Joann. She knew that the royalty of her kingdom, the College Board, looked for diversity to continue its lines. Her problem, she knew, was that her skin was as white as snow. Thus Princess Joann was forced into a dark, primitive land. Her plan was for life in this exotic and mystical land of Africa to transform her into a queen in her own land and junior year she ventured out of her kingdom and into the dark beyond.
One day in her small village in Mauritania she was using the community�s huge, dank, foul outhouse and thinking about her squalid life among the poor, third-world Mauritanians. Damn, this�ll make a great application essay, she thought.
Then, as she reached across the small enclosure to grab a few pages of the missionary literature she and the natives had been using for toilet paper, she heard a small sound. She turned to see her cell phone fall out of her pocket and down the gaping hole in the wooden seat, to the cesspit below.
�Shit,� she rasped to herself.
The cell phone was new, a gift from her father, and she had just watched the small blue light of the screen shrink and disappear into the absolute darkness and filth. She almost resigned herself to its loss, but her resourcefulness was what would make her royalty in her kingdom. She took inventory. In her purse was a half empty bottle of no caffeine, low-aspertaine Pepsi; the extracts of a weed that one native had promised her would pass the days here faster; and 37 cents American of pocket change--a small fortune to these people, she thought. And thought.
Word spread quickly in the small town without walls when a reward was offered for the cell phone. A number of heroic natives came to the distress of the damsel. A few didn�t even hesitate when told where it actually was. The first man to step up was a tall, slight man, nameless to Princess Joann, followed by his friend.
As he began to climb into the hole in the ground the man was overcome with the stench. He grit his teeth and growled something in his native tongue.
�What was that?� Joann asked the friend, her hands on her hips.
The friend, who spoke little English, said, �He says, eh, �Be right back.� �
With a sickening splut the man was in the pit. As he sloshed around searching, he continued making outbursts in his language, as foul and ugly as his predicament. None of the other natives were quite at ease above, looking awkwardly to each other and then down into the dark muck but only sensing the man below through his steady cursing. Joann simply stood looking down intently where she judged her cell phone had landed.
Suddenly the swearing stopped and a subsequent silence fell upon the crowd gathered around the outhouse. A moment passed and the man�s friend volunteered to go after him. The leader of the small tribe was now openly worried about the situation as it seemed an entire man was now lost in the waste. Still, he lowered the man�s friend down himself, hoping to get them both back quickly and safely.
In a collective cringe the townsfolk heard a splosh that marked a second man�s decent into the muck, continuing the search. For about a minute all the people above could judge of the search was the sound of shifting shit. Finally, the man called to everyone above that he had found his friend, and that he would probably be ok if they got him out immediately.
Just then they heard a terrible wail from the man. The leader, concerned that the man was losing his sanity in the pit, and Joann, who was beginning to wonder if she was ever getting her cell phone back, edged closer to the outhouse. The leader extended a hand down the hole, saying that the man had spent too long in the cesspool and that he needed to get some fresh air before bringing anything up with him. The man consented immediately, and they locked hands somewhere in between the consuming muck and more comfortable world just above.
Pulling the native up was more difficult than either of them had anticipated and he lost his footing against the slick, scummy walls repeatedly. He began ranting even as he was being pulled up about a demon that chanted to him down in the shit. As Joann listened to the man yell about the demon in the pit, she thought she could hear it, too. And thinking about it, it sounded familiar to her.
�My cell phone! That�s my cell phone ringing!� she shouted still louder, recognizing the Godsmack theme as her preset ring tone.
The man, dazed and still only half of the way out of the pit, didn�t understand. Joann, knowing whoever it was would give up calling soon, kneeled in front of the man and desperately yelled at him that the demon�s voice was her cell phone, and that this was his only chance to recover it.
Though seemingly weakened and confused by the fumes, he mumbled something about coming right back and dropped into the muck again. In a short time he found the phone and, to the amazement of everyone above, answered it. As he was being hauled again back up to the surface, he extended the phone forward with his free hand, saying, �It�s for you.�
Joann giggled and reached out to take it. The gathered townsfolk all exhaled together, and for what seemed for each like the first time since it all began. A few thought about being heroic and volunteering themselves to be the one to help get the first native.
Then the man�s eyes rolled upwards and he succumbed suddenly to the fumes. Still gripping the cell phone, he dropped backwards into the darkness as the leader of the village and Joann cried out and reached after him.
The man hit the shit with splosh. And the most terrible silence yet fell on everyone around the town outhouse in a village in Mauritania. One by one everyone backed away from the scene, never making eye contact with another.
An hour later, Joann was the only one standing by the outhouse. Princess Joann, smeared with dark shit, stared into the muck and thought once more about her college application essay. It was clear, she decided, that no piece of writing should ever come of the black day.
_____________________
Let's all give props to Casey.
Tuesday, September 09, 2003
I need a new job. My current one expires at the end of the month, and my attempts at St. Marys have been futile. CMMC seems to be possibly promising, but the beaureacracy moves so....slooooooow....
I might wind up calling Maine Med and seeing if they'll hire on a student. I don't like MMC as much as CMMC, but it'd be better than flipping burgers or making subs or something.
Studying. Bluuurgh. Not as much being done as should be...but I'll work on it later. For real. I'm much better at studying now than I ever have been, which is good if I want to continue education.
I might wind up calling Maine Med and seeing if they'll hire on a student. I don't like MMC as much as CMMC, but it'd be better than flipping burgers or making subs or something.
Studying. Bluuurgh. Not as much being done as should be...but I'll work on it later. For real. I'm much better at studying now than I ever have been, which is good if I want to continue education.
Monday, September 08, 2003
Conclusive Proof of the Stupidity of Mankind:Part One!
So today I checked my e-mail. This is a fairly normal activity for me, something I do maybe three or four times a week. However, today was different. I thought I might have a real e-mail from someone I know, but instead...it was a chain letter.
Yes, I recieved one of the most stupid, inane things in the universe. A mysterious, magical e-mail that will kill me if I don't send it on. Gasp! Shock and Horror! If I don't perpetuate the sending of useless e-mails, I might get hit by a truck or something!
Here's the actual, unretouched text. If you don't want brain damage, simply scroll downwards until the italics end.
Whether you believe in the cases or not, that is up to you.
READ ALONE.....ESPECIALLY THE POEM
CASE 1:
Kelly Sedey had one wish, for her boyfriend of three years, David
Marsden, to propose to her.
Then one day when she was out to lunch David proposed! She
accepted, but then had to leave because she had a meeting in 20
minutes. When she got to her office, she noticed on her
computer she had some e-mail's. She checked it, the usual stuff
from her friends, but then she saw one that she had never gotten
before. It was this poem. She simply deleted it without even
reading all of it. BIG MISTAKE! Later that evening, she received a
phone call from the police. It was about DAVID! He had been in an
accident with an 18 wheeler. He didn't survive.
CASE 2:
Take Katie Robinson . .
She received this poem and being the believer that she was, she
sent it to a few of her friends but didn't have enough e-mail
addresses to send out the full 10 that you must. Three days later,
Katie went to a masquerade ball. Later that night when she left to
get into her car to go home, she was killed on the spot by a
hit-and-run drunk driver.
CASE 3:
Richard S. Willis sent this poem out within 45 minutes of reading
it. Not even 4 hours later walking along the street to his new job
interview with a really big company, when he ran into Cynthia Bell, his secret love for 5 years. Cynthia came up to him and told him of her passionate crush on him that she had had on him for 2 years. Three days later, he proposed to her and they got married. Cynthia and Richard are still married with three children, happy as ever!
This is the poem:
Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.
And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.
And he rang mine but we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.
"Tomorrow" I say! "I will call on Jim
Just to show that I'm thinking of him."
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.
Around the corner, yet miles away,
"Here's a telegram sir," "Jim died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.
Remember to always say what you mean.
If you love someone, tell them.
Don't be afraid to express yourself. Reach
out and tell someone what they mean
to you. Because when you decide that it is
the right time it might be too late.
Seize the day. Never have regrets. And most importantly, stay close
to your friends and family, for they have helped make
you the person that you are today.
You must (??) send this on in 3 hours after reading the letter to 10
different people. If you do this, you will receive unbelievably good
luck in love. The person that you are most attracted to will soon
return your feelings. If you do not, bad luck will rear it's ugly
head at you. THIS IS NOT A JOKE!
So. Apparently, if I don't send this to a bunch of people, Leah or I will die in a hideous accident. Possibly involving a drunk hit-and-run trucker, a rabid duck, and a bunch of grapes. Actually, with the amount of these things that I have simply deleted over the years, I should die in a plane that crashes into a highway and hits a big truck carrying napalm and radioactive waste, which then rolls into a rapidly rolling river and explodes in a ball of flames.
My favorite part here is how the "cases" are all obviously made up. How did the author of this letter hear about these cases? Were they a friend of these cases? Why would you send a friend something that you knew might kill them?
"Gee, I sure love my friends. I'll write them a letter, but if they don't send it to their other friends, then THEY MUST PAY! But parcel post is so pricey. I'll send an e-mail instead."
If you boil it down, there's two things about these that really get me.
One: People send them on. How does this work? "Hey! An e-mail from Gerald!" *reading* "My GOD! He says he loves me as a friend and we're always going to be pals, but if I don't continue to waste bandwidth and time all over the nation, I will die a horrific death! I must send it on!"
Is anyone that gullible? I suspect that on some level, people are.
"Hmm. Chain letter. Probably just a bunch of...wait...actual cases! People died! I better send it on just to be safe." *scrolling through address book* "Hmmm....who don't I like that much?"
Two: When they send them on, people NEVER delete all the previous addresses. So, if I don't immediately delete this pathetic waste of ones and zeros, and read through it, I have to scroll down....and down...and down...and finally, there's a fragment of the message that someone forgot to delete between the names...and then...the cream of the crap! The real thing! A genuine Chain Mail E-Mail that must be continuated!
It's funny to read all the stupid fucking e-mail addys in the list, though. "SeXXXeStarR345763@gurl.com", "SpyycEGurl445374@hotmail.com"...it's pathetic, really. Sure, my e-mail address is stupid, but at least it's original. When you have to have a number as high as some of these people do after their addy, it's stupid. Pick an original fucking name, you stupid pants-in-a-can wearing g-funk-fucking makeup-abusing butt-ugly hoes.
So seriously, what the fuck is up with that? Chain letters are bad enough...but chain e-mails are undoubtedly one of the most annoying forms of human stupidity.
Hey, thanks for listening, everyone, and if I offended you, then I extend an official invitation to write your own article. Thank you.
So today I checked my e-mail. This is a fairly normal activity for me, something I do maybe three or four times a week. However, today was different. I thought I might have a real e-mail from someone I know, but instead...it was a chain letter.
Yes, I recieved one of the most stupid, inane things in the universe. A mysterious, magical e-mail that will kill me if I don't send it on. Gasp! Shock and Horror! If I don't perpetuate the sending of useless e-mails, I might get hit by a truck or something!
Here's the actual, unretouched text. If you don't want brain damage, simply scroll downwards until the italics end.
Whether you believe in the cases or not, that is up to you.
READ ALONE.....ESPECIALLY THE POEM
CASE 1:
Kelly Sedey had one wish, for her boyfriend of three years, David
Marsden, to propose to her.
Then one day when she was out to lunch David proposed! She
accepted, but then had to leave because she had a meeting in 20
minutes. When she got to her office, she noticed on her
computer she had some e-mail's. She checked it, the usual stuff
from her friends, but then she saw one that she had never gotten
before. It was this poem. She simply deleted it without even
reading all of it. BIG MISTAKE! Later that evening, she received a
phone call from the police. It was about DAVID! He had been in an
accident with an 18 wheeler. He didn't survive.
CASE 2:
Take Katie Robinson . .
She received this poem and being the believer that she was, she
sent it to a few of her friends but didn't have enough e-mail
addresses to send out the full 10 that you must. Three days later,
Katie went to a masquerade ball. Later that night when she left to
get into her car to go home, she was killed on the spot by a
hit-and-run drunk driver.
CASE 3:
Richard S. Willis sent this poem out within 45 minutes of reading
it. Not even 4 hours later walking along the street to his new job
interview with a really big company, when he ran into Cynthia Bell, his secret love for 5 years. Cynthia came up to him and told him of her passionate crush on him that she had had on him for 2 years. Three days later, he proposed to her and they got married. Cynthia and Richard are still married with three children, happy as ever!
This is the poem:
Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.
And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.
And he rang mine but we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.
"Tomorrow" I say! "I will call on Jim
Just to show that I'm thinking of him."
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.
Around the corner, yet miles away,
"Here's a telegram sir," "Jim died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.
Remember to always say what you mean.
If you love someone, tell them.
Don't be afraid to express yourself. Reach
out and tell someone what they mean
to you. Because when you decide that it is
the right time it might be too late.
Seize the day. Never have regrets. And most importantly, stay close
to your friends and family, for they have helped make
you the person that you are today.
You must (??) send this on in 3 hours after reading the letter to 10
different people. If you do this, you will receive unbelievably good
luck in love. The person that you are most attracted to will soon
return your feelings. If you do not, bad luck will rear it's ugly
head at you. THIS IS NOT A JOKE!
So. Apparently, if I don't send this to a bunch of people, Leah or I will die in a hideous accident. Possibly involving a drunk hit-and-run trucker, a rabid duck, and a bunch of grapes. Actually, with the amount of these things that I have simply deleted over the years, I should die in a plane that crashes into a highway and hits a big truck carrying napalm and radioactive waste, which then rolls into a rapidly rolling river and explodes in a ball of flames.
My favorite part here is how the "cases" are all obviously made up. How did the author of this letter hear about these cases? Were they a friend of these cases? Why would you send a friend something that you knew might kill them?
"Gee, I sure love my friends. I'll write them a letter, but if they don't send it to their other friends, then THEY MUST PAY! But parcel post is so pricey. I'll send an e-mail instead."
If you boil it down, there's two things about these that really get me.
One: People send them on. How does this work? "Hey! An e-mail from Gerald!" *reading* "My GOD! He says he loves me as a friend and we're always going to be pals, but if I don't continue to waste bandwidth and time all over the nation, I will die a horrific death! I must send it on!"
Is anyone that gullible? I suspect that on some level, people are.
"Hmm. Chain letter. Probably just a bunch of...wait...actual cases! People died! I better send it on just to be safe." *scrolling through address book* "Hmmm....who don't I like that much?"
Two: When they send them on, people NEVER delete all the previous addresses. So, if I don't immediately delete this pathetic waste of ones and zeros, and read through it, I have to scroll down....and down...and down...and finally, there's a fragment of the message that someone forgot to delete between the names...and then...the cream of the crap! The real thing! A genuine Chain Mail E-Mail that must be continuated!
It's funny to read all the stupid fucking e-mail addys in the list, though. "SeXXXeStarR345763@gurl.com", "SpyycEGurl445374@hotmail.com"...it's pathetic, really. Sure, my e-mail address is stupid, but at least it's original. When you have to have a number as high as some of these people do after their addy, it's stupid. Pick an original fucking name, you stupid pants-in-a-can wearing g-funk-fucking makeup-abusing butt-ugly hoes.
So seriously, what the fuck is up with that? Chain letters are bad enough...but chain e-mails are undoubtedly one of the most annoying forms of human stupidity.
Hey, thanks for listening, everyone, and if I offended you, then I extend an official invitation to write your own article. Thank you.
Saturday, September 06, 2003
Tonight, Leah came over. It was much fun-ness.
Linda asked me to write something for her site. Expect misanthropy. I'll post a copy here, whenever I get around to actually writing something.
Linda asked me to write something for her site. Expect misanthropy. I'll post a copy here, whenever I get around to actually writing something.
Friday, September 05, 2003
Mouse! Mouse!
This is not a test.
Tuesday, September 02, 2003
After a lengthy struggle, I have finally been able to access my blog. I say "finally" as though it's been years instead of hours since I was here, but hey.
Leah said she might be interested in joining up. Mayhaps there'll be some new postage soon from her perspective. I don't know how active she'll be, as she doesn't like the internet or computers, but we'll see. It'll be a new experience.
From The Scary Monkey Show:
The scary monkey show.
I'm making...TOAST!
Walking GIR as a dog.
Leah said she might be interested in joining up. Mayhaps there'll be some new postage soon from her perspective. I don't know how active she'll be, as she doesn't like the internet or computers, but we'll see. It'll be a new experience.
From The Scary Monkey Show:
The scary monkey show.
I'm making...TOAST!
Walking GIR as a dog.
SMCC: Day One, Semester Three of Five
Well, today was an interesting day. SMCC, formerly SMTC, which is linked to on the left side of the page, has grown immensely. Apparently, according to Gary, our Mechanical Vent and Cardiovascualr assessment teacher and our clinical coordinator, the school has seen a 25% increase in enrollments. There are new parking lots, and every one is filled to the brim. Also, the incoming Respiratory Therapy class seems to have 20 students in it. Wow.
Normally, today would have been my day for Mechanical Ventilation lab. But since we haven't had any lectures and we're all oriented to the lab, we did a clinical report today, working out bugs in the schedules, giving report on our summer experiences, and having some of our new rotations explained to us. For example, I got to watch heart surgery at Maine Med, and I also get to spend a day with the Transport1 team, which is Maine Med's critical care ambulance. I might get to go to Boston or anywhere in the state. It promises to be exciting. My first rotation, which is next week, is going to be with LinCare in Falmouth, a home health company. I'm all excited. I also get to do a sleep lab rotation. Sleep Studies are rapidly becoming the domain of Respiratory Therapists, and being a polysomnography tech might be interesting. We shall see.
My books all cost me 280 dollars. For 4 books, a 30-page EKG manual, and a day planner. Dayum.
For those of you who care, my classes are Neonatology and Pediatrics, Cardiovascular Assessment, Mechanical Ventilation with lab, and Pathophysiology. All that plus two days a week of clinical.
Well, folks, that's all I can think of for now. Ta!
Well, today was an interesting day. SMCC, formerly SMTC, which is linked to on the left side of the page, has grown immensely. Apparently, according to Gary, our Mechanical Vent and Cardiovascualr assessment teacher and our clinical coordinator, the school has seen a 25% increase in enrollments. There are new parking lots, and every one is filled to the brim. Also, the incoming Respiratory Therapy class seems to have 20 students in it. Wow.
Normally, today would have been my day for Mechanical Ventilation lab. But since we haven't had any lectures and we're all oriented to the lab, we did a clinical report today, working out bugs in the schedules, giving report on our summer experiences, and having some of our new rotations explained to us. For example, I got to watch heart surgery at Maine Med, and I also get to spend a day with the Transport1 team, which is Maine Med's critical care ambulance. I might get to go to Boston or anywhere in the state. It promises to be exciting. My first rotation, which is next week, is going to be with LinCare in Falmouth, a home health company. I'm all excited. I also get to do a sleep lab rotation. Sleep Studies are rapidly becoming the domain of Respiratory Therapists, and being a polysomnography tech might be interesting. We shall see.
My books all cost me 280 dollars. For 4 books, a 30-page EKG manual, and a day planner. Dayum.
For those of you who care, my classes are Neonatology and Pediatrics, Cardiovascular Assessment, Mechanical Ventilation with lab, and Pathophysiology. All that plus two days a week of clinical.
Well, folks, that's all I can think of for now. Ta!
Monday, September 01, 2003
Well, the HTML tweaks seem to have gone rather well. If anyone notices any errors or bugs or whatnot, e-mail me and I'll try to fix it.
New Template
I have a brand new template for this blog, as my older one..well..sucked. I was planning on learning HTML and creating my own template, but then I kind of forgot about it. Just as well, really. My computer upgrade projects tend to end really badly, like when my 20-gig hard disk playfully formatted into a 7.5 gig hard disk. Whoopsie.
The downside to this is that I went about things in my usual "The Ben Way" manner and wound up deleting all my mods, my archives, my recent posts, my comments bar and hit counter, and everything else. I'll be tweaking my HTML for a while, though, and hopefully things will get back to normal pretty soon. Normal for me, anyway.
I have a brand new template for this blog, as my older one..well..sucked. I was planning on learning HTML and creating my own template, but then I kind of forgot about it. Just as well, really. My computer upgrade projects tend to end really badly, like when my 20-gig hard disk playfully formatted into a 7.5 gig hard disk. Whoopsie.
The downside to this is that I went about things in my usual "The Ben Way" manner and wound up deleting all my mods, my archives, my recent posts, my comments bar and hit counter, and everything else. I'll be tweaking my HTML for a while, though, and hopefully things will get back to normal pretty soon. Normal for me, anyway.
