The Lobotomist's Coma

Newsflash: The Lobotomist's Dream Shall Be Known as "The Lobotomist's Coma" for Now

2008-12-12T20:05:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I thought I would make it official. In case you haven't noticed, TLD hasn't been, as some would say...active lately. This has been partially due to laziness, but majorly due to lack of time.

However, I refuse to say that TLD is dead, because being dead is an unpleasantly permanent thing.

So, we'll just go with "in a coma". That sounds much better, doesn't it. And then, if and when I get the time to continue, there will be no "Oh, I thought he killed the blog" nonsense.

So, anyway, there you go. Keep on trucking, boys and girls, and always forget that the webcomic artist in me is more reliable, and so you will always find an update on Elderly Apple.

The Future Says...

2008-10-31T16:21:00.000-07:00

Hi there! Here's That Video I Promised Two Months Ago! >_>

2008-10-10T23:08:00.000-07:00

Question: Is TDL dead?

No!

Well, not really. It's just at this point, I'm having a hard time doing both this and Elderly Apple, and for the moment, that is taking priority. Also, my primary computer is, for all intents and purposes, dead.

However, it would be really jerkish of me to feed TDL to the dogs, especially before my 300th post (which is this). So, to celebrate, here's something I've promised for quite awhile now: my video tour of my apartment. Huzzah!

Sooo, if you're still reading after all of my truancy, here is your reward. Aren't you lucky?!

Stuff I Should Have Been Blogging About, But Haven't, Part 2

2008-09-23T00:36:00.000-07:00

Comic-Con (Again, This Time With Video)

There's a couple things I forgot to mention the last time with regards to Comic-Con, both of them relating to video.

The first is that I was interviewed by the video game publisher EA and was used in one of their online community videos. You can see that video here. There's a number of people speaking in the video; skip to 0:42 to see seven seconds of me discussing the magnitude of Comic-Con, as well as the economic impact of said magnitude on the availability of tickets.

Secondly, I wanted to share this little video that I made with the former MST3K/current Rifftrax members Kevin Murphy, Bill Corbett, and Mike Nelson. In case you don't get the reference, it's too the movie 300, which was one of their most popular riffs. Forgive the fumbling in the beginning; for some reason, I couldn't edit that out without losing the last 4 seconds of sound.

François

So, how has François been doing since his misfortune?

Pretty good, as it turns out. He has a new home outside my apartment. His center limb has begun growing strongly, he has developed a lovely shade of red...

And he's made some new friends...

On a weird side note, one of my professors' first name is François. A little awkward, but I was sure to tell him - on the first day, no less - that he had the same name as my houseplant.

Speaking of professors...

School, So Far

Not bad. A little busy (of course), but not bad. Between class, Security Coordinator work, and my work in the Undergraduate Marketing Association, I'm definitely not for lack of things to do. And the classes themselves?

UGBA 103 (Finance): While I'm still not into this side of business (and thank God, with the financial market like it is), I must say this is marginally more enjoyable than accounting. So that's good.
UGBA 105 (Organizational Behavior): This seems like it can be a good class, but it doesn't feel like I'm actually taking it, mainly because it's had the least number of sessions so far. However, I'm still getting a good idea of exactly why working with the University sucks so much.
UGBA 161 (Market Research): This is really the one I'm here for. Interesting, relevant, and the professor (François) is a very nice man. The gem of the semester.
History 127 (History of California): The professor is hilarious in a bitter-professor sort of way, and this is one of those classes I would love to just sit in on. I'm sure it would make a great podcast, but the professor won't go near the Internet. The real problem with the class, though, is that I've been trained in Business to read books and papers a certain way, a way which is the polar opposite of how you should read them for a history class.

But, all things considered, I'm doing fine.

My Eating Situation

Okay, well, I don't have a meal plan in my current position. Right now, I'm fighting to be able to purchase an employee plan. In the meanwhile, I've been reduced to making my own food.

But y'know, sometimes it turns out all right...

I'll be back with more...

Stuff I Should Have Been Blogging About, But Haven't, Part 1

2008-09-13T00:20:00.000-07:00

Because I'm bad.....:(

Well, I'll be making up with a multitude of posts that I can complete in the dead of the night! That way, I'm at least somewhat active!

Comic-Con

Comic-Con went great. Am I going to create a huuuuuge creation about it this year like I did last year? No. Will I create a smaller version? Possibly. In the meantime, here is a slideshow of the majority of my pictures, with mini-comments.

Also, I was able to apologize to Randy Gallagos. If you don't know why, read this post, after the first sketch of me. Then read the comments. You'll understand. I needed to let that off my chest, so I walked up to Randy and apologized for my words. He accepted it, and now we're square. :)

My New Apartment

I might actually be creating a video tour of the apartment this weekend. In the meanwhile, here is a single picture of my room to whet you appetite.

Though note, there is currently a wonderful poster of a polar bear family in that blank spot on the wall.

More to come...

Bleh...

2008-08-20T02:49:00.000-07:00

I don't like having things to do. Then you never have enough time to tell anyone else about those things.

Well, here's a couple things:
-I'm in my new apartment. Video tours will commence once everything is finalized. I'll give out an address soon. In the meantime, don't send me any mail.

-I've started my new job, and training is sooo inconvenient.

-School begins in a week. Huzzah?

Hell, at least I keep Elderly Apple updated, eh?

Catch up with you (for reals) later!

Tact and Diplomacy

2008-08-14T04:32:00.000-07:00

I think I've just found my way to deal with all the weirdos in Berkeley...

People's Park, here I come!

Random Scenes From a Horror Movie I Thought Of

2008-08-10T00:43:00.000-07:00

The crew is inside the haunted shack-mansion. Phillipe is dead on the ground. Tyler walks in.

Tyler: "Hey guys, I-" (Sees body) "Whoa! Aiech! Yeesh! Muahhh! Eewww! Yeeoo-"
James: "You know, those noises aren't going to exonerate you."
Tyler: "I guess not, but sheee..."
James: "Well, now we need to figure out which one of us killed Phillipe."
T.B.: "Could it have been the neighbor? The one that threatened to murder us all if we didn't leave before moonrise?"
James: "Now, now. Let's not jump to any conclusions."
Shawn: "Dammit, James, you never let us jump to conclusions!"
James: "I think we should establish our own alibis first. For example, at the time of the murder, I was in town shopping for food. Anyone in the store can vouch for me."
Kyla: "I was doing my video journal. The time stamp on the video should prove me innocent."
Lester: "Erica and I were debating about having premarital sexual relations. But after consulting with the Bible, we determined that going through with it would be morally wrong."
Erica: "So we can vouch for each other."
Tyler: "Well, I was having that same discussion with the local farmer's daughter. We came to a different conclusion."
Steve: "I'm twelve years old! If I could kill him, he deserved to die."
Shawn: "I was in the can. You can go in there if you don't believe me."
T.B.: "I was on the porch swing having a conversation."
James: "With who?"
T.B.: "The porch swing."
Everyone: "..."
T.B.: "Yeah, the porch swing was trying to convince me that I need to kill everyone in town - including you guys - before you all try to kill me."
Everyone: "..."
James: "And did you decide to acquiesce?"
T.B.: "Oh, Lord no. I was actually trying to convince the porch swing about the value of human life. In fact, I was just up in the library upstairs doing some research in one of those old grimoires about what the ancient philosophers believed was the worth of humanity. Here's a brief outline."
T.B. hands James several sheets of paper.
James: "Well, it's quality research, but still..."
T.B.: "...Oh, wait, you think I did it? I...I suppose that did all sound pretty suspicious."
Tyler: "You know, I think T.B. may have been right saying that it could have been a neighbor."
James: "Now, hold on there! I know these people may not be the smartest people in the world, or the most welcoming, but this town is their home! How would you like it if I came in to your home and starting calling you a murderer?"
Tyler: "If I murdered people, I wouldn't be terribly offended."
Lester: "But I've seen these people go to church. That means they worship God! And any God-worshiping folk wouldn't murder. It's against the 10 Commandments!"
Shawn: "Unless they're lying about being religious."
Erica: "But lying is also against the 10 Commandments!"
T.B.: "We could always ask them."
James: "No, no, I don't want to offend these simple folk. I say right now, we give Phillipe a decent burial. Tyler, T.B., Shawn: get on it."
Fade to scene of Tyler, T.B., and Shawn digging. The grave is barely a couple inches deep.
T.B.: "This digging job isn't as fun as I was hoping."
Tyler: "Yeah, but we need to bury Phillipe's body."
Shawn: "Do we really?"
Tyler: "River?"
Shawn: "River."
Tyler and Shawn throw Phillipe's body into the river.

***

The crew is eating dinner at the witch's house. What they don't know is that the witch (in the guise of a beautiful young woman) killed Tyler and is feeding his remains to them.

James: "Thanks for inviting us to dinner, Ms. Starlight.
Witch: "Oh, it's my pleasure."
James: "I've noticed Tyler has taken quite a liking to you. It's a shame he couldn't be around for this dinner."
Witch: (Looking deviously into her large pot.) "Oh, I'm sure he's around here somewhere..."
James: "...I'm...I'm not sure I follow."
Witch: "Oh, nevermind. Let me serve you your food."
The witch begins pouring soup into everyone's bowls.
Kyla: "I have to ask, how do you keep your boobs so perky."
Lester: "Kyla! That's not approriate dinnertime talk."
Witch: "Oh, it's alright. I guess you could say it takes a little...magic."
The witch pours T.B.'s bowl of soup. One of Tyler's sneakers sticks out of it prominently.
T.B.: "..."
Witch: "Well, dig in, everyone! Eat, and grow plump and tender and...succulent!"
Shawn: "Hell yeah!"
Everyone eats their soup, except for T.B., who contemplates the sneaker for several moments. He then turns to the witch.
T.B.: "Um, there's a shoe in my soup. I'm not sure if that's part of the recipe, but..."
Witch: "Oh, I'm sorry, my dear. How did that get in there. Let me get it for you."
The witch comes over and pulls the sneaker from T.B.'s soup. A big toe falls out into the soup, splashing some of it onto T.B.'s shirt before floating in the concoction.
T.B.: ".......I think I'll just have a roll." (He picks up a roll and takes a bite from it.) "Euagh."
T.B. lets the food fall from his mouth. An eyeball comes out and rolls around the table.
Witch: "Oh, how did that get in there."
James: "You have an unusually high amount of body parts in your cooking, Ms. Starlight. Is this a Welsh recipe?"
Witch: "You know, sometimes when you cook a feisty animal, a few unexpected things will end up inside. Think of them as hidden surprises."
Erica: "Like Cracker Jack prizes?"
Witch: "Uh, yeah."
T.B.: "May I have some water?"
Witch: "There's water right in front of you."
T.B.: "Yeah, but it looks like there's fingernail clippings in-" (The witch looks at T.B. harshly. A small pendant comes our from her blouse.) "Hey, isn't that Tyler's sacred pendant?"
Witch: "Um...yes. He gave it to me the night we fell in love. He said it's a symbol of our love."
James: "Actually, it's a symbol of mankind's wickedness. Tyler's grandmother was a Polish Jew, one of the lucky ones to survive through the entirety of the Auschwitz concentration camp, and through it all, she saw her family and friends all killed in various horrible fashions. That pendant originally belong to one of her best friends. She was able to sneak it in when they were first imprisoned. However, one day the friend tried to ask guard for medical attention. A dog had bit her. The guard beat her to death on the spot. Tyler's grandmother went to her aid, but she was too late. Her best friend was dead, her pendant hanging limply from her neck. Tyler's grandmother took a small lock of her friend's hair and put it inside the locket attached to the pendant, where it still remains."
Shawn: "Unless it's in the food."
James: "She did this because she knew that whenever she felt the lock of hair, she would remember how she felt when she was holding the lifeless head of her best friend. So she would never forget the kinds of horrible things one person could do to another. Now, about 10 years ago, Tyler's grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. Tyler was the last person she spoke to before her death. She wanted him to take the pendant to remember not only her, but all the millions who had died before her, not surrounded by family in a warm hospice bed, but surrounded by laughing, spitting guards, beating and kicking them until they stopped breathing. And Tyler took that to heart. He has never removed that pendant, and said he would never do so until he had to pass it on to his own grandchildren, because to do so would be to forsake the memory of his people, his faith, and his grandmother."
Witch: "..."
Erica: "But he gave it to you as a present? How romantic!"
T.B.: "Ow, this salad bit me."
Witch: "Alright, this dinner is over!"

Special Presentation: "The Day," A Novel From 12 Years Ago (Part 4)

2008-08-08T02:52:00.000-07:00

And now, the exciting non-conclusion to my first attempt at a novel! And it's a doozy of a cliffhanger!

(P.S. In case you haven't seen it already, today is my 200th Elderly Apple strip. Check it, yo!)

***

Washington D.C., home of the White House, the Pentagon, the Washington Monument, and other American landmarks. It is also a place where people would go to get money for specific reasons. Unfortunately, the person looking for money this time doesn't deserve a penny of it.

It all started with the ringing of the White House doorbell. A skinny, dark-haired woman with glasses opened the door. She looked at the man in amazement. She was looking at Mocknock. Or was she? This man was at least six feet tall, complete with fancy clothes, a washed face, a neat haircut, and even pennies in his dress shoes!

As he talked, she could see his pearl white teeth, "Hello, my name is Mocksona Nockooly. I would like to see the President. It is very important."

"I'm sorry," she said, “The President is extremely busy. I have to . . . how did you get past the guards?”

He had a smirk on his face “What guards?"

The lady became confused, but finally she said “Anyway, YOU couldn’t see him even if he had free time. You need to have an appointment scheduled-And if I look on the list here, "she looked on a clipboard with about ten pages full of names. She looked up again. “I don't see your name anywhere on this list, Mr. Nockooly. Now please get off this property before I call the National Security."

Mr. Nockooly’s face was getting red, “Well 1'11 make it get on the list you slowpoke, cheapskate, overweight, butt-ugly ignoramus."

The woman gasped, “That is the rudest thing I have heard from a man of your stature. I have never been so insulted in all my days. I think that someone should teach your big butt some manners."

Right then Mr. Nockooly lifted his hand and then, like a fancy ray gun, an energy beam shot out of his hand, hitting and evaporating the woman instantly. He never even got a chance to take her name.

He walked inside the White House, laughing. He said, “I disapprove of your theory."

Meanwhile, at the base in Los Angeles, the three were drinking coffee and having a conversation with the others. "So," the chief of the Los Angeles base said, "What brings you Washingtonians here to L.A. Did you come to see the sights or somethin' like that?"

"Actually we didn't mean to come here. It just sort of...happened." John said.

Zach finished what John was going to say, "To tell the truth, some freako named Mocknock or somethin' changed our course to go here. Now this guy, whoever he is said. . .wait one measly second. Now I know where I heard that name before. That freak of nature murdered my brother."

John and Cindy now remembered, too. Cindy remembered how sad she was when she heard her brother was dead. And John remembered how much he wanted revenge against the killer of his father. They now remembered, and they weren't happy.

Special Presentation: "The Day," A Novel From 12 Years Ago (Part 3)

2008-08-07T01:28:00.000-07:00

"This tran ... ission ... ot ver ... lear. I ca ... ly hear ... ou. Flu ... s no ... aething. If yo ... an hea ... e respo...ikly." The message from the other trailer on the two way radio came in with lots of static. Even the rest could barely be heard over the hum of the motor.

"What is wrong with this freakin' thing! I went through hell to get it to work and I still can't understand what they're saying!" John was flaming mad. He was pounding on the transmitter so hard that the table which the radio was on broke one of it's legs. It fell and the microphone was disconnected from the transmitter.

Zach was tilting his chair in the back corner. He was really calm. He talked to John smoothly. “Ugh, I keep telling you. The radiation from the explosion fried some of the circuits. And you probably just destroyed everything else in that puny, little box. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure that out. Sure, you may have to be one to understand it, but. . .Well, anyway, try to remember that."

"Grrrrrrrr. You bett-" Before he could finish his sentence John was flung into the air and hit the front wall of the trailer. Zach fell to the floor face first. Cindy's chair fell on her. The trailer stopped. John was pounding on the window that separated the drivers cockpit to the back of the trailer.” Hey, what the heck's going on here!”

A skinny teenager opened the window and stuck his head out. He had red hair and a face full of freckles, "Wow, I never knew how cool it was back here. Oh, um, we, urn, uhhh, had to stop because, um, mum, mum, oh, yeah, because we don't think that this is the way we came.”

John grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him through the window. He was so mad he was talking without moving his teeth. “What do you mean you don't know?! When I get hold of you I'm going to slap that smart little expression off your face."

Zach spoke up, "Hey John, don' t get too mad. That causes high blood pressure and high blood pressure will kill you. That's why hippies lived to be so old, cause they just wanted peace. No heart attacks for them, baby-"

"SHUT UP!!!" Right after he said that, John gasped and fell to the floor.

"JOHN!" Cindy yelled in horror

"Oh, dear," said the driver while rubbing his head from falling to the floor. “I wonder what happened to him."

When he opened his eyes, John found himself on a bed with a respirator hooked up to him. There was a man in a white robe getting a syringe ready to give someone a shot. He knew that he was in the backup trailer because that was the only trailer with a medical area. The white robed man must be a doctor. He saw Cindy next to the doctor.

"Look who' s awake. You're lucky you only had a slight heart attack. Your blood pressure was a smidge too high. Everything will be fine if you just stay calm,” The doctor talked softly, “Now we'll give you a special treatment right out of our science lab from back at the base. It will keep you from having a heart attack again. But it will take me about five minutes to get the serum ready." He started making some mixtures.

John pulled the respirator from his mouth. He pointed to the doctor, "You're the mutant on the team who lives in the magic fairy land, aren't you?"

“Don' t worry,” the doctor whispered to Cindy, "He' s just has some delirium in his head."

He faintly heard the middle-aged drivers voice. “We're out of cave finally.”

"Cave?" John asked.
“Yes,” Cindy replied, "When the driver said we didn't think we were going the way we came is because we got to the mouth of a cave we didn't see before but we took it anyway after you had that heart attack. And it took us about four hours to get out of it.''

"Hey, what does that sign say?" he heard one of the backup men ask.

He heard the drivers voice again, "Urn, Welcome to. . . San Francisco!"

"-GGGGHHHH!!!!!" John yelled so loud you could hear him miles away then he gasped and had another heart attack.

The doctor looked surprised, "And I never gave him the shot yet."

Again, John awoke. Yet this time he was on the floor of the trailer. But it looked different . It was darker, damper, and the only source of light was a dim bulb on the top of the trailer. It was smaller than he saw it before. He turned his head and saw a busted up radio transmitter next to a broken table. Then he saw two pairs of legs walk by. He knew where he was now. He started to stand up.

"Why am I down here?" He asked, "Why am I in this trailer, anyway?”
“Because,” Cindy answered, “the doctor already gave you the treatment while you were asleep. So because you didn't have a chance of another heart attack, we wouldn’t need you in the medical section of the other trailer, we put you here."

"Two heart attacks in one day," Zach added," You're making history, here, preppie." He turned to the front of the trailer, "Hey driver, what ' s wrong. I thought that San Francisco was a little less pure white. That's the only color I can see out the window. White. Are you sure we're not in the south pole or something. I mean, where are we?"

The dorky teenager stuck his head out, "Hey, just because I'm a driver doesn't mean I have to know anything about cars, anything about the land, or anything else that you learn after the third grade." He looked back to the windshield and continued his driving. Then he closed the window that separated the back of the trailer to the drivers cockpit.

Zach turned back to John and Cindy, who was holding John's hand firmly, "Where do they get these people. I think they made a wrong choice with this one even though he was a better driver than the others that volunteered.”

One hour later, the driver opened the window again “Uh, Mr. Terllingerian, I think you need to take a look at this. It is pretty interesting. But I would put on a jacket first."

“For one thing, my last name is not Terllingerian, it's Lecon. For another thing, call me Zack. And finally, this better be important." Zach turned toward John and Cindy. “Get your jackets."

"Oh, it’s very important, Mr. Terllingerian. We've come up to one of those thingies with trees and, uhhhh, rope." The driver replied.

"Your mind, perhaps?” suggested Zach while putting on his jacket.

"Yeah, I think that's what it's called." replied the driver, who was scratching his head.

"Yeah, it's a plank bridge. A pretty sorry looking plank bridge, at that ." was the first thing that John said when he saw the cheap looking bridge. It was just a bunch of wooden planks held together by a few ropes. Underneath it, there was an enormous gorge covered with icy-white snow.

Cindy looked confused, "Why the heck should we cross that bridge? Why didn't we turn back in the first place? Our main headquarters is in Washington State, and there are only three others in the country. I thought California was one of the most populated states in the U.S. So far there hasn’t been a single person for fifteen hours. How do you know that the bridge might not lead us to some magic pool that a dragon lives in. We don't know if that heads to a place with people in it. We don’t know where it heads at all. California doesn't ever have this much snow, ever. We don't know where the heck we are. We don’t know where we’re going. We’re lost,
for crying out loud."

"Duhhh, no we aren't. I saw a sign at the other end of the gorge." Buck-tooth Barry's words drove curiosity through all the guys there. He passed his binoculars to Cindy, who passed it to Zach, who passed it to John, who passed it to everyone else. They all looked at the ice covered sign at the other end. It read: Los Angeles-20 miles.

"Twenty miles to Los Angeles means twenty miles to the second headquarters- Finally, some good luck!" John’s words were fresh and excited.

"One problem," Zach saidIWTo even have a chance to get to Los Angeles and the other headquarters we have to have precise modem accuracy and speed to get to the other side of a dangerous-looking structure that could not sustain the extreme weight of our vehicles that obviously weighs more than the largest pachyderm ever times two.”

John was really confused, “Please explain that in English."

Zach sighed, “To get to Los Angeles we have to cross this gorge. And that bridge does not look too promising.”

After everyone huddled into the trailers, they started to the bridge. The backup trailer went across the bridge before the other one because if it went second it would fall because the other trailer loosened the boards. It (surprisingly) went across safely without even breaking one board. But the boards looked wobbly now. The teenage driver had to go across slowly and steadily (two things he couldn’t do well).

As they went across, one by one, the boards began to crack, break, and fall behind them. The bottom of the gorge seemed to take forever to get to. All around them there was a eery silence and nothing but the nothingness of white snow.

They were about half across the gorge they heard the driver's voice, “Uhhh, Mr. Terllingerian, I saw something in the air, and I think you might want to see this."

"Fine. Zach, bust the window." John said as he looked toward Zach. Zach nodded, cracked his knuckles, and made a fist. On both sides of the trailer, there was one foot by one foot windows that two pieces of glass with chicken wire in between. Zach got ready, flew his arm in the direction of one of the windows, and shattered the glass (both layers), leaving just the wire. He grabbed hold of the wire and tore it out. John stuck his head out to the icy chill.

Outside he saw a little robot flying with two pairs of mechanical wings flapping like crazy. One of its two hands had lots of sharp claws and the other one was like a built in laser gun. It was only about two feet tall. It's laser gun hand started shaking, and a bright red beam of light shot out of it, ready to slice through anything like a hot knife through hot butter.

"You guys should see this." John said to the other two. At the back of the trailer there were two steel doors. They were both stuck but if you could get the right door opened they would both open. So with all his strength, Zach kicked the right door. Not only did both doors open, but the right door was knocked out of it's sockets and fell to the ground way below. Zach and Cindy couldn't believe what they saw. The laser beam was almost touching the rope. The robot was going to slice the rope with them on it!

Immedietly Zach pulled out his PP7 gun and shot the robot. It's laser gun hand turned off and it spun wildly. "Gide that grappling hook and tie it somewhere.” Zach yelled. John threw him the hook and tied the other end to a bolted down bed. Zach twirled the hook over his head like a cowboy and threw it toward the front. It hooked on to a wooden plank about six boards away from where the others were. He just hoped to God that this would work.

"Okay, guys, hold on to something!” John yelled. Everyone grabbed something and held on tight.

"The door!" Zach yelled as he ran to close what was left of the two doors. But he was too late. The robot already sliced all the ropes and the whole bridge went falling in two pieces. Zach would have almost dropped to his death if he wasn't so big. He stretched his arms and legs so they were in all four comers, saving his life. His face was looking to the inside of the trailer, so he could see John and Cindy dangling. He also saw the transmitter almost about to hit him except for a small peg.

"John, the transmitter is about to hit me. Grab it!"

"I can't! It's too far away. Can you get it, Cindy?"

"No!”

The transmitter fell ... right toward Zach’s chest!

"Ohhhh. . .shoot!" That was the word Zach said right before the transmitter hit him and he fell toward the bottom of the gorge. . . if he hadn't grabbed on to the corner of the remaining door. He held on for deer life. The door broke from it's first hinge. He started climbing up with a strong grip. He was halfway up when the second hinge broke. He kept on climbing. He was almost at the top, ready to climb inside when the third and final hinge broke. He was falling to the bottom of the gorge with nothing to save him. He let go of the door, which flew to one side of the gorge. He was falling, falling until he reached his top velocity speed and hit the bottom of the gorge. Instead of hitting solid ground an dying, he hit the snow, and went down three feet from the top.

Back up at the trailer they all thought that Zach was dead. But they had problems of they're own. You see the weight of the trailer was pulling down the grappling hook, and the boards were just breaking. And it was just going down faster, until the last board holding them up broke. They fell down straight for Zach, who was still alive and could still feel pain. Zach tried to move but the walls of snow were so thick he couldn't move. The trailer came racing down strait for him. He said a quick prayer when the trailer hit the ground. Just to his luck, the open part of the tailer where the doors had been is exactly where Zach was. John and Cindy lost their grip and fell to the snow, but not as deep as Zach.

"Zach, you're alive!"

"Yes, now get me outta here!”

John and Cindy both pulled him out. Just then the trailer tipped back over. They got up and walked toward the driver's cockpit (which was tough because the snow was so deep) to see how the driver was doing. When they got there they were disgusted. Unfortunately, the teenage driver was not wearing his seatbelt.

When they turned away they saw the little robot that caused them to be down there. All of a sudden it's circuits seemed to go haywire. It s screws seemed to be coming looser. Then it just burst into flames. There was a big cloud of dust and when it settled, all three of them seemed to gasp in unison.

"No. How...how could it be? That's impossible!” John yelled in half surprise, half terror.

In the middle of the smoke they saw Irwin Pilo (a.k.a. Roboshmo) with a gleam on his face. Irwin was Zach’s arch enemy. They used to be comrades in mechanics until Irwin was kicked out because of his killer robots. He decided to get revenge so he killed Zach's girlfriend, the only woman Zach ever loved. Then Zach, out of anger, threw Irwin into a piece of his own machinery. He thought he got rid of him for good this seemed to discourage him.

"Hell, o you three, He turned to Zach and snarled, "Hello, Zach."

"You evil demon!" Zach jumped to Irwin, and went right through him! He landed face down in the snow.

"A hologram,” Cindy said, shocked.

"That's right. Can you do something for me? All you have to do is," he started to shrink into a bright, shining sphere about 1 foot in diameter, “look into the shiny ball.”

The sphere just hovered in the air. Then it cracked like an egg and out from it popped a big man. He had a black, tight-fitting costume and a red cape. His teeth seemed to be that of a sharks. His eye had a red glow. Half of his hair was in spikes and the other half was in a buzz cut. He had black and orange stripes on his face.

"Not you, again." John said.

Zach looked up at the man, "Who in bloody blue blazes are you?"

"I am Mocknock, lord of all Econick. And I'd like to congratulate you. No one has ever survived my hologram trap."

"What?

"Well, you see, you are in Los Angeles right now. It is not winter, either. It is summer. You're not only in the midst of Los Angeles, you're also in the midst of the freeway. Have a nice life.. .whatever is left of it.” Mocknock snapped his fingers and there was a bright light that flashed before there eyes. Then, like Mocknock said, they were in Los Angeles and on the freeway. Mocknock disappeared and in his place there was a big rig heading right for them. They jumped to the side of the road where the other trailer was.

"Are you all right? " One of the other guys said, "Do you know how we got here."

"I don't know," Cindy said, “but I think we should go to the headquarters.

Special Presentation: "The Day," A Novel From 12 Years Ago (Part 2)

2008-08-05T22:08:00.000-07:00

It's 1999, 20 years after the one museum got robbed of all it's diamonds. The strange thing was that no one, including the people and the police, had ever seen any person that looked like Mocknock. Some of the government thought that there was no such person, or thing as Mocknock. They thought that the police were making it up. But about 99% of the government believed them.

On one moonless night a 30 year old, a 29 year old, and a 36 year old going by the first names of John, Cindy, and Zack were on their way to a big warehouse according to there assignment. They were in a secret agency that fought very evil bad guys. But where ever they went, they weren't alone. They were almost at the warehouse and they were getting their "stuff ready in their special trailer. Their backup was in another trailer. Everyone was all ready to go. They have driven half across the state of Washington to get here and they wanted to have a good fight.

Each of the three had their own special abilities. John was the leader because he. . .well. . .was the best one to be the leader. He had good aiming skills and he never backed away from a good fight. Cindy was good at adapting. She could change from one weapon to one she never used in her life in a snap. Also, John and Cindy were boyfriend and girlfriend. But other than that we still need to find out what Zack is good at. What he is good at is mechanics. He could build a mini spy camera from scratch in about 15 minutes. He also is the team's bulky strong man. He could make a hole in five-inch,solid steel wall with tree blows.

The only thing that they weren't happy about was that they were assigned with Flud Memon. Flud thought that he was the best person on the force. He's always trying to impress Cindy. He even likes to call himself "Flud the Stud.” He did not like the fact that John was Cindy's boyfriend.

When they got to the warehouse they were all ready. John had two one handed machine guns. Cindy had a automatic shotgun. Zach was not exactly going to be in the heart of the battle, but he always had his trusty silenced PP7 handgun just in case. Flud, who was with John and Cindy, had a laser cannon that strapped onto his shoulder.

“All right, Zack said, "I've noticed that people have noticed that other people have noticed strange activity coming from this building. And just recently I have picked up these blueprints that show that there is like a missile that has a forcefield around it."

"You fool.” Flud said, “Can' t you see that it's a government conspiracy theory." He paused for a second. “Or have they gotten to you too." All of a sudden Flud leaped into the air, as if he was going to pounce on Zack. But before he even laid a finger on him, Zack held his arm out in the direction that flud was jumping from. And of course, Flud's chest hit Zack's fist.

"OOF! " Flud hit the ground right when he hit Zack’s fist. Flud was strong, but Zack was always stronger. Flud disliked that it was that way. He also did not like that George Washington was so famous, that schoolkids had to tuck in their shirts, that the Swiss wasted cheese by putting holes in it, and that you can't go swimming in a pool full of JELL-0.

"All right," Zack said, ''I need you guys to shoot down the four forcefield generators and 1'11 plant the bomb right under the missile. Go in through the roof. Be careful, who ever is doing this must be a evil genius of some sort. But remember, you go in and you get out in fifteen minutes. That's when the bomb will explode."\

John, Cindy, and Flud went to the top of the building. They cut out some glass panels from the skylight and put a rope down the hole. They climbed down onto a high-up, empty storage space instead of going to the ground. They thought it would be safer.

While they were doing that Zack was moving under the whole warehouse. He looked on the blueprints to see where he was going. It was completely dark except for the light of a dim lantern that he had. When he found the place that was right under the missile he strapped a bomb that he made himself onto the main electrical source. He set it for 15 minutes and when he set the bomb, the time before it explodes was on a special watch he gave to the others.

Once Cindy saw that they had 15 minutes she aimed at one of the forcefield generators. But before she shot it something appeared out of nowhere. John and Flud saw it, too. It was like nothing they ever seen before.

It sort of looked a big, red tube that looked as if it were made of cloth. What amazed them more was that it opened up, like a curtain at a theater, and a strange looking man that had a cape (the red tube was part of the cape) came out. He had a big leather bag in his hands. Can you guess who it was?

It was Mocknock, alright. And he looked weirder than ever. His eyes glowed brighter than before and his hair was more gelled. And in his hand there lay a huge diamond.

"After twenty years I have finally done it! I've melted the last of all the power diamonds I have stolen. Now there is nothing that can stop me and world destruction!" He said in a sort of yell. He put the huge diamond down on a little table.

"Nothing that can stop him, eh. Flud said in a voice low enough so that only John and Cindy could hear him,ttWellC,i ndy, I'11 show you how a real man gets into the fight." And then he started to go down to the floor.
"Flud, get back here! Flud, you idiot!" Cindy yelled in a loud whisper, "Ugh! Will he ever learn?! She got ready to shoot the first generator (again) .

"Hey you! Do you want to make trouble?! Well, if you do, you found it right here 'cause I'm the worst trouble you could get into." Flud yelled strait to Mocknock. His fists were high in the air. As he yelled he walked toward Mocknock. He had a mad-type expression on his face.

Mocknock seemed to move his lips in a smile until you could see his pointed, razor-sharp teeth," Very well. HAPPY HALLOWEEEEEEEEEEN!!!!!" he said in a chanting voice. His smile turned into a pure evil grin. His red eyes glowed brighter than ever.

Flud looked really confused, "But it ain’t . . . Flud couldn’t even finish his sentence before Mocknock’s fist flipped him over in a powerful uppercut. As he laid motionless on the floor something appeared in Mocknock’s hand. What was it? It was a joy buzzer.

Mocknock raised his hand high, and then slammed it down at an uncontrollable speed. Flud seemed to light up right as the joy buzzer hit him. Sparks seemed to circle him just like sharks will circle a boat. Mocknock raised his hand up a little, and Flud went up too! The electric force was so strong to pick up something with it!

Mocknock circled Flud around his head for a while and pounded him on the floor for a while. John and Cindy stared in amazement, but after a while Mocknock got bored and threw Flud against the leg of a storage rack. Unfortunately, it was the one that John was on. The storage rack leg broke, and John fell strait to the floor.
He got up to see Mocknockws glowing eyes and pointed teeth. He was scared to even move. He didnw t usually back out of a fight, but he'd just seen this freak twirl Flud around like a dog on a leash with some crazy owner. He backed up to the wall still laying down.

"Well, well, well, what have we hear?" Mocknock began. An electric ball seemed to form in his hand, "You’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. I think I'll pulverize you...right after I give you the biggest shock of your life. And not only that, I'11...what the?" He looked up to see that Cindy had shot one of the generators when she found out that they only had 8 minutes left until the bomb set off.

"Good job, Cindy. Keep up the great wor . . . oooof f f f f f ! " John held his chest after a powerful punch. Mocknock ran toward the ladder that would get him up to Cindy but before he did John took out his mini machine guns and shot at some chains that were holding alot of oil drums. After the chains broke all the drums went flying and one hit Mocknock in the head right when Cindy destroyed the second generator.

Mocknock let a lion's roar come out of his mouth. Then he performed an uppercut in Cindy's direction. A replica of his arm that was made of complete energy came - and hit Cindy through the wall!

"I got you, Cindy!" Zach yelled as he caught her in his arms, "That was a huge fall. Did you destroy all four generators?"

"Um, not quite. But I did destroy two of them." she said.

Zach looked at her with blank eyes, No...No...NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”

"Yes ...yes ... and, um ...yes."

Zach was getting serious, "Things couldn’t be worse. Half the generators to the missile are still running and the bomb is going to go off in four minutes and fifty-two seconds." Cindy looked at her special watch and, indeed, it pointed out 4.52, "And to make matters worse," he continued, "John and Flud are still in the warehouse!"

Cindy began, "I don't even know if Flud is alive." Zach didn't say anything for a few seconds. Then he hit a computer so hard it flew about ten feet and hit the trailer.

"I want complete backup,” Zack was now yelling at the people in the other trailer. “Half of you go through the front and the other half go around to the back door. Make sure John, Flud, and any hostages that are in there get safely out!" While he was yelling the backup team was getting their gear and other stuff ready.

Meanwhile, inside the warehouse, John was busy with Mocknock. He shot the third generator and aimed both guns at Mocknock, who was sprinting right at him. He closed his eyes, said a quick prayer, fired his guns, opened his eyes, and saw Mocknock with about 25 bulletholes in his chest and stomach area. With torture like that, he was surprised that there was not even a squeak of pain. In fact, he thought he saw a smile. Mocknock let the blood flow all over him. And flow it did! It covered his whole body from head to toe. It turned from red to silver, which ended up as liquid meatal (which is the meatal that can morph into different things).

John backed up slowly but tripped over Flud’s motionless carcass. While he was lying on the floor, the metallic Mocknock's hand turned into a huge mallet. John fired both of his guns, yet only two bullets came out of one of them and one came out of the other. He was out of ammo.

Just as the giant mallet reached the tip of John's nose, the meatal shattered off Mocknock like glass. Both John and Mocknock turned around to see the half of the backup group that went through the back with electric ball cannons. Then the front door busted open and in came the second half. John looked at his watch. 0.57. Time was running out.

Two guys picked up Flud. The half from the back were running toward the front. One guy pulled a grenade pin with his teeth and threw it at the last of the generators. The last generator disappeared in a small explosion and a puff of smoke. Then the guy ran out of the warehouse. John looked at Mocknock who grabbed the huge diamond and looked into John's eyes.

"You may have won the battle, but the war has just begun. He twirled his cape and turned into the red tube and disappeared. Just then Zach grabbed John’s arm and pulled him into the trailer with ten seconds left. All the trailers left and when they were about two hundred yards away the bomb (and the missile) exploded, leaving the group with alot of unanswered questions.

Special Presentation: "The Day," A Novel From 12 Years Ago (Part 1)

2008-08-03T01:09:00.000-07:00

So, while I was visiting my home, I was going through some old papers of mine, ranging from drawings to school report cards. Interestingly enough, I had no qualms getting rid of the report cards, certificates of achievement, and other things of that nature, but when it came to my crappy little drawings, I couldn't let go.

Well, one of the things I found in this pile of stuff was a printed manuscript of my very first attempt at a novel. Yes, well before I was actually publishing books, I was trying to make the great American novel. Truth be told, I actually remember (vaguely) writing this, sitting at my dad's computer, type-typing away at some blue-screened, DOS-based word editing program.

And I was nine at the time. I want to stress that before you read any more.

Well, I was so tickled by finding this that I decided to share it all with you. In the next four posts, I will be showing off my creation in its completion (which is to say, its nowhere-near-completion).
Marvel at my use of surnames like "Mrufoon"!
Laugh as I use jokes ripped, word-for-word, from The Simpsons!
Gasp at how minor characters literally throw themselves at certain death!
Cry at the fact that my main character's personalities are as fickle as a quark!

Now, I wanted to keep this as true to source material as possible. Meaning, it reads as though it were a terrible fan fiction. So, instead of transcribing the piece (which would have been painful in and of itself), I scanned it using Adobe's text-reading features. It's not perfect, but I tried to iron the mistakes. Unless, of course, the mistakes were supposed to be there. In which case, you can just imagine a giant "[sic]" at the end of each of these posts.

Remember, I was nine. Don't judge me.

And now, if you can keep from ripping out your eyes, enjoy!

The Day
By: Andrew D. Schnorr

On the rainy night of March 26,1979, a police officer had a strange feeling that something very bad was going to happen at the museum he was in. Something very bad did happen. And it happened without warning.

All of a sudden a red cloth the size of a human in the shape of a tube appeared out of nowhere. It turned into a man wearing a red cape, but he was not a superhero. He wore black, tight-fitting clothes (with the exception of his cape).He had razor sharp teeth. Half of his hair was shaped like spikes and the other half had a buzz cut. He had black and orange stripes painted across his face and his eyes glowed red. All the policemen stared at him in amazement, wonder, and horror. They all thought their heart had stopped beating, or skyrocketed to an extremely high beat. No earthy thing could have done that. And no earthly person could want that hairstyle.

"Time to grab the goodies,” he said in a regular human voice. Then he started breaking the glass cases, stealing small diamonds, and putting them into a large, leather bag. In not very long he had every diamond except for one and it was the biggest one. He looked very pleased that none of the policemen did not attack him but he did not look surprised. Just when he was about to break the glass case of the diamond the museum doors swung open and a bunch of policemen came running in. Two of them that were around 21 came in before the rest of them. When they almost got to him he threw two small leather bags on the floor. They quickly expanded into one big sand pile. Two huge hands made out of sand came out! It grabbed the two policemen, took them under the sand, and the sand shrunk and disappeared.

"I'm going to kill you!" A much older man yelled. He had a mad look on his face.

"Kill me? I...don’t...think...so. You don't know who you’re dealing with. I am Mocknock, lord of all Econick. And you cannot defeat me." so said the man with the wild hairdo.

"OK Mr .Mocknock, the man who thinks he is so hot, C 'mon. Try me. I dare ya." the man said.

"Very well." Mocknock said. Something appeared out of nowhere; It looked like a titanium tube that was one foot long and two feet in diameter. It had a handle on one end and an opening on the other end. Inside the opening it was pitch black-"You chose your fate."

"And I chose it well!" the man yelled. He reached for his gun and was about to fire, but before he could Mocknock pushed a button on the handle of the thing and it sucked the gun inside of it!

"I see you are interested in my Suck-0-Matic," Mocknock said over the rumble of the vacuum-type tube. Then the man felt his feet move, but he was not moving them. He was being sucked into the Suck-0-Matic!

The man ran to the bathroom and shut the door behind him when he got inside, He locked the door and thought that he was safe, but then the door started rumbling, and popped out of its sockets! It flew into the Suck-0-Matic, and even though it was too big to get inside of it, it still went in and disappeared! The man stood in amazement for after the door disappeared the Suck-0-Matic devoured a seven foot tall lamp! And might I remind you the Suck-0-Matic tube was only one foot long!

But the man was not standing still anymore-He was being sucked up the Suck-0-Matic again! He held onto the doorframe to keep from getting sucked up. He held on as tight as he could. His shoes got sucked right off his feet! Then his socks, and then his ...

"All right! All right ! I give up. You have proven me wrong,” Mocknock said. The man calmed down. He let go of the doorframe. He still could not believe that he had beat this thing.

"Well.. ." he started to say, but before he could finish his sentence he heard only one single word.

"NOT!!!" Mocknock said. He quickly pushed the button on the handle of the Suck-0-Matic before the man could do anything about it. He was sucked into the Suck-0-Matic! Inside, it was like a slide that went nowhere.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!" the man screamed as he slid down the long slide. That was why everything that went into it disappeared. But the man did not worry about that now. He had his own problems.

"Well that is taken care of. I might as well finish the job,” Mocknock said. He squeezed the Suck-0-Matic so hard it began to shrink & shrink & shrink. Before long it had vanished. Then Mocknock headed for the big diamond again. But one policeman tried to stop him.

"Oh, no you don’t!” the policeman said as he jumped on Mocknock's back holding on by putting his arms around Mocknock's neck.

"Oh, yes I do ! " Mocknock said. Then he started changing in a way that no one could imagine. It looked like there was fire inside of him and that it was coming out of him. In a short while of time he looked like one big statue of hot coal.

"YEEOW!!!” the policeman yelled as he jumped off Mocknock's back. Mocknock headed for the case. He put his hand on the glass, and it went right through! Wherever he put his hand it melted the glass! He cooled off his body before he grabbed the diamond so it would not melt.

After Mocknock took the diamond he walked toward the wall. He grabbed both sides of his cape. A policeman ran at him, ready to ram Mocknock into the wall.

"Sorry, but I'm in a hurry." Mocknock said. He took his cape, whirled it around him, turned into the red tube of cloth, and disappeared. Instead of the policeman ramming Mocknock into the wall, he slammed into it himself.

The only thing that Mocknock did not know was that the two 21 year old cops that were dragged under the magic sand both had younger siblings. But they were not brothers themselves. And the older policeman who was sucked into the Suck-0-Matic was a father. The one policeman who jumped on Mocknock's back while he was becoming very hot knew what he had to do. He told 10 year old John Mrufoon, the son of the policeman who got sucked into the Suck-0-Matic, about his father's fate. He also told a 9 year old girl, Cindy Flaco, a sister of one of the 21 year old cops, about her brother's fate. And last but not least, a fairly dark skinned boy, 16 year old Zack Lecon, the brother of the other 21 year old, was told about his brother's fate.

All three of the kids had something in common. They were all going to have the biggest adventure they ever had.

So, I'm Back...

2008-08-01T03:54:00.000-07:00

More to follow...

In the meantime, enjoy something totally different.

Some Q&A About My Tattoo

2008-07-22T00:46:00.000-07:00

Hey, Andrew!

Emboldened disembodied voice! Hello again!

Hi! I thought I needed to come around to make you talk about your tattoo.

You mean this old thing?

How old is it?

....A week.

Whatever. First question.

Shoot.

Why didn't you tell us beforehand? Why did you keep it a surprise?

Well, I didn't want to make it a complete surprise. That's why I made those little teaser posts. I didn't just want to come out and say "HAI GUYZ I GOTS TEH TATOOO LULZ!", but at the same time, I wanted to keep it fun and surprising.

Fair enough. But what about your parents? Were you doing this behind their backs, as an act of youthful aggression?

Actually, they were the first people I told, er asked for permission. I respect my parents more than you think, Voice. I wasn't trying to be rebellious, just expressive.

That brings me to my next point: why the Hell would you want a tattoo?

*Shrugs* I've wanted one for a while now.

What's a while?

Seven years, roughly.

You lie!

No, it's true. In fact, my early rendering of the design was drawn in my freshman year of high school.

Really?

Yes. In fact, I still have it.
Wow, so you really have had this in your mind for seven years?

Yep, and I've done multiple variations of the idea over the years. Such as...

(That one was done in crayon, if you can't tell.) Other variations had the Chinese/Japanese symbols for "Faith," "Hope," "Love," and "Will" in each of the four quadrants.

But you ended up going with angel wings...?

I like angels. And wings go well on the back.

So you were always planning on having this on your back.

From the very start. And I always meant for it to be big. Quite big. If you're going to go for it, I thought, go for it.

And the back?

Well, the back is a place that I can look at when I want to, and not look at when I don't want to. Should there ever be a day I totally regret it, I just need to make sure not to buy a three-way mirror. Plus, unless I have one of the most awkward interviews ever, it can't possibly hurt my ability to get a job.

Okay, back to the design. What's so special about this symbol? Does it mean something?

Indeed it does, and indeed it always did. Here's my description:
"It's basically a combination of symbols of unity and balance.
The Ankh: Itself a symbol of unity/balance between the male & female, masculine & feminine, this was a symbol used by the ancient Egyptians 5,000 years ago. Since then, it has been adopted into other belief systems, most prominently Christianity, which I see as a union between the Old and the New.
The Yin-Yang: Obviously, a symbol of the balance between light & dark, good & evil, passive & aggressive, and every other pair of opposites you can think of. The fact that it is at the crux of the ankh is to show a union between East & West.
The Wings: I am a big fan of angels. And I've always thought that this kind of perfect balance and unity is what separates the angels from humans."

Okay, truth be told, the very last line on there was a retrofitting of the description. The wings began mostly as a flourish, but in the end, they make it look better.

Well, you couldn't have made the final design yourself. No offense, but your early drawings aren't exactly...good.

Right you are!

So...?

Oh, yeah. So, I hired somebody online. There are plenty of resources out there for people to make custom tattoo design requests. I happened to come across an artist who was trying to build her rating on one such website (she was an established artist, just new to the site). So, I was offered a discount as an incentive. I then gave my description, and was later told I gave some of the best instruction of any client she's worked with. From this step one, I ended up with the following:Well, we played art tennis and volleyed ideas back and forth over the course of a week. Of these initial sketeches, I had the following thoughts:
-I did not like the first wings; or rather, they wouldn't work for my purposes. They look too much like faerie or even demon wings (which was the exact opposite of what I was going for). The second pair of wings was much more too my liking.
-I'm a symmetry whore. I looooove symmetry. That's why the first ankh stood out to me so much more than the second one. However, I wasn't much too fond of the head/hoop. Too busy; almost looks like a lion's mane. And when you combine it with the wings, it definitely doesn't work.

So time when on, and I got another version of the "final" sketch, but there was something I wasn't too hot-to-trot about: the wings were too enclosed, too relaxed. I felt they needed to be spread out a little more. The artist tried various ways (I didn't like the second one; looks too much like claws), but in the end, we finally settled for what was essentially a final design (minus some ever-so-slight adjustments). And that was that!

Okay, so you then got it done!

Not so fast, buster. This is a major thing; I wasn't going to do it immediately. I actually waited a month before even telling my parents, and then an additional month before I got the tattoo in henna.

Henna?

Yes, henna. It's really useful for getting a good idea of what the final product is. And when you live in Berkeley, there are several henna artists around campus. So, I went to one. And I ended up with this:Because it was made with a goop, it ended up kinda scabby. But you have to admit, this looks pretty good for being done by hand. And after a week with it (and after the scabby goop fell off and left me with a birthmark-like impression), I decided that I would get it.

And you did right then and there?

Nope, it took another two weeks before I even made the appointment.

Where did you go?

I went to a place called Zebra. It's a pretty famous, popular place. It had also been named "Best of the Bay" by the SF Guardian one year, so it's pretty legitamite. I ended up choosing a tattoo artist named Sonju, who had over 11 years of experience. So I was in good hands.

So, how long did it take to get it done?

Three and a half hours.

Ouch. Did it hurt?

Yes. I'll be honest; it hurt quite a bit. It felt like someone was pinching me with their sharp fingernails, and then dragging it along the skin. But the thing was, it was a very ephemeral pain. When they took the needle off my back, no problem. But when it was on (especially for the fill-in), hoo-boy!

What did you do to cope with the pain?

Most effective: breathing. Focusing on my breathing, and nothing else.

Did you bleed?

A little.

Do you have any pictures?

I do. Here's me with the outline but not the fill-in. If you look closely, you can see some blood in the arm on the left.
Here's me with the bandage on afterward. I'm not exactly sure if that red stuff near the bottom is blood or just the goop they put on afterward.
Here's the first picture with the bandage off.
And here's the picture of the bandage itself.

Ew.

Yeah.

Soo, how are you feeling about it now, a week later?

Good. It's healing pretty nicely so far, and I've been taking good care of it. And I still like the look of it. So that's good. And the majority of reaction I've gotten has been positive. So that's good.

Okay. How much did this good tatoo cost?

It was hourly, so it ended up being around $350. But when you're dealing with your body, you should be willing to pay the monetary price now to avoid the non-monetary price later.

Good point. Now last question: you've gotten one; are you going to get any more?

If I ever did, it won't be for a while.

I see. Well, that's all I have.

A pleasure to see you again, emboldened disembodied voice! Bye bye!

2 Minutes of Giddiness

2008-07-21T04:00:00.000-07:00

I saw The Dark Knight the other day. (Great movie, by the way.) Between trailers for such drivel like Death Race and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 (2!), I managed to see one of the most exciting trailers I've seen in a long time.

Don't fully understand? Well, the book is some of the best $11 you'll ever spend.

Hey, Andrew, this has nothing to do with your tattoo.

Uhhhh.........

$$$? >:(

2008-07-18T12:37:00.000-07:00

You know, I was hoping on my Community Coordinator stipend to help me with some out-of-pocket expenses at Comic-Con.

...However, absolutely nobody knows how to pay me this stipend. They just keep bouncing the responsibility around from division to division.

Well, it's better than it was before, when absolutely nobody (except me), even knew I was supposed to be paid a stipend.

Remember, kids: read your contracts! And make sure everyone else does!

Well Now...

2008-07-17T00:59:00.000-07:00

Okay, I've been giving you little teasers, little oddities, but I suppose I should just show you the final product...

(Note: This picture is completely unrelated. I just thought it would spoil things.)

I'll be explaining later, but you can just digest this picture for now.

François! NOOOO!!!!

2008-07-16T05:03:00.000-07:00

He grew too much for his own good...

He couldn't support his own weight...

Not even my pencil-turned-brace solutions could help...

Until...

The other arm didn't last much longer. And he was this close to blooming beautifully!!!

I...I...

I'm sorry, François. I tried to take good care of you, to keep you watered, to keep you growing. In the end, I may have killed you.

R.I.P. François Schnorr
June 13, 2008 - July 16, 2008

A Button-less Shame

2008-07-13T23:05:00.000-07:00

Oh, I forgot to mention this.

Remember how I was going to have buttons and postcards for Elderly Apple at Comic-Con?

Well, long story short, it ain't going to happen.

Short story long (or maybe medium length), I sent in my finalized designs several weeks back to be approved as family-friendly, and to receive the address to which I would send the materials to be put on the freebie table. I had no doubt that I would pass the family-friendly test, as I don't use profanity, don't have graphic violence, and would be completely lost on kids, save for the pictures. So it was just a matter of them looking at my pieces so I could get some confirmation.

As such, I waited.

And waited.

...And waited.

And heard nothing. Not one word. Neither one way or the other. Days, a full week passed. I was becoming concerned. So, I decided to call their Press Relations department (who were in charge of the approval).

Him: "Hello?"
Me: "Hello, I was hoping I could speak with Christopher Jansen, please."
Him: "May I ask what you're calling in regards to?"
Me: "I had sent an application out a while ago to put some promotional materials on the Comic-Con freebie table, but I hadn't heard back."
Him: "Okay. Your name."
Me: "Andrew Schnorr"
Him: "And your company?"
Me: "Elderly Apple Comics."
Him: "Ebony Apple?"
Me: "Elderly Apple."
Him: "Okay, so you have a question about the freebie table?"
Me: "Yes."
Him: "Okay, you're going to want to speak with our press relations department."
Me: "Yes, I know. I was hoping to be patched through to them."
Him: "And you're going to want to speak with Christopher Jansen."
Me: "Um...yes. That's who I asked to speak with."
Him: "Okay, give me a second."
[Three minutes later.]
Him: "Sir, I'm sorry, but Chris is currently busy. Would you like to wait, or would you rather me take a message."
Me: "I'll wait."
Him: "It may be a while."
Me: "I'm willing to wait as long as necessary."
[Ten minutes later.]
Him: "Sir, I'm afraid Chris is in a conference meeting."
Me: "I can wait."
Him: "Sir, a more expedient method of contacting Chris would be through email. He answers immediately."
Me: "I sent Mr. Jansen an email regarding this situation well over a week ago. He has not responded in any way."
Him: "Oh. Well, you see, Chris is currently backed up with email. It may be some time before he responds."
Me: "My promotional materials publisher has a strict turnaround period, and I need an answer soon."
Him: "You may want to call again later."
Me: "Will he actually be available?"
Him: "He should be."

And so I called back later that day. Another conference meeting. I called again the next day. Twice. Two more conference meetings. And again and again for seven days! I'm pretty sure Christopher Jansen is a Patrick Bateman-like slacker in the office, always making excuses to get out of phone calls and meetings.

So, after a full week of calling, I finally get hold of one of Christopher Jansen's underlings. After a lengthy conversation, I was basically told that it was pretty much too late at this point, and if I didn't get an email in the next couple days, there was no chance (needless to say, I didn't get an email within a couple days). My favorite part of the conversation was the end:

Him: "Sir, you really can't blame us. You should have sent in your materials at least a week ago."
Me: "I sent my materials in two-and-a-half weeks ago."
Him: "Oh. Sorry."
Me: "...Thank you." [Click.]

So...yeah. You're not going to see people walking around the Con wearing buttons of a bar of soap slipping on his own residue. It just wasn't meant to be. On the bright side, I don't have to pay the hundreds of dollars to get it all printed, right?

...Am I right, folks?

My Back...

2008-07-13T04:42:00.000-07:00

You know, I have a pretty okay back.

Perhaps a bit too freckled for my taste, but for the most part, it's nice, clean, and untainted.

...Just, um, just throwing that out there.

Well, It Took 5 Months...

2008-07-10T04:18:00.001-07:00

But it's finally over! I have an apartment! A nice one! And as of today, I can walk into it! It's all done.

(Yes, my roommates and I still have to get utilities set up.
Electricity, cable, internet, etc.
And I have to buy/borrow/steal furniture.
And move it all in.)

...But still! I've got the room! Drinks are on me!*

*No drinks will be provided.

I Need to Make Sure No Agents Knock on My Door

2008-07-08T01:50:00.000-07:00

On July 5, 2008, at 2:03:52am, I received a message on my cell phone. Sender? No name. Sender's phone number? "3729". The message? As follows:

jmagok@jillfeinbaker.com / / just take a look at this smallcap
Symbol-chgy, China Energy Corp
Hand off

After some searching...

JillFeinBaker.com - Jill FeinBaker is a licensed clinical social worker in Skokie, Illonois.

jmagok@jillfeinbaker.com - No hits, recomends "jmagick@jillfeinbaker.com" instead. Still, no hits. Why don't I ask Jill herself, you say? Well, Mr. Smartypants, I actually did that. Her response: "I am sorry, that address is not affiliated with me." However, I don't believe it's a completely bogus email, because I actually sent a message to it, and though I received no response, I also didn't receive a Mailer Daemon response.

jmagok - By itself, the only hit seems to be a misprint in some book written in God-knows-what.

smallcap - Either referring to a typography type or a company which has less than $2 billion of market capitalization. My guess is it's the latter.

chgy - A legitimate stock symbol.

China Energy Corp - The name is pretty self-explanantory. I looked up CEC to see if there were any recent news articles relating to it, and found one. The article is an investment one which suggests that oil prices will continue to rise, and any speculators calling their stocks now are mistaken.

Hand off - This one really gets me. We all know what "hand off" means, but in what context? Perhaps it has to with cellular communications...(I'll admit, most of that article went over my head)...or perhaps it has to do with a stock handoff...though I don't entirely know what that entails...

Now, I was thinking back to the number that sent the message to me...3729. Could it mean something more? So, I downloaded this numbers-to-words program. In the end, I ended up with 81 different jumbles of letters, the only two words being "draw" and "fray". But the rest, they looked so much like...stock symbols?

Hence, I took all those 4-letter messes and pasted them into Google Finance. I found that some were indeed ticker symbols.
DRAX - "Drax Group plc is a United Kingdom-based company that is principally engaged in the power generation business operating in the commodity markets of power, coal, biomass and carbon." (!!!)
DRAY - "DrayTek Corporation is a provider of network security, remote access and voice over Internet protocol (VoIP) solutions for residentials and small and medium-sized enterprises."
DSCY - Discovery Oil Ltd. (!!!)
EPAX - "Ambassadors Group, Inc. (Ambassadors) is an educational travel company that organizes and promotes international and domestic programs for students, athletes and professionals."
EPAY - "Bottomline Technologies (de), Inc. is engaged in providing electronic payment and invoice solutions to corporations, financial institutions and banks around the world."
ERCX - E.R.C. Energy (!!!)
FRBW - "Frederick Brewing Co. is a specialty brewer that brews, kegs and bottles at its brewery in Frederick, Maryland, for wholesale to its 140 independent distributors, more than 20 styles of flavored beers under the brand names of Blue Ridge, Wild Goose and Brimstone."

Three energy-related companies! Now we're getting somewhere. The latter two are small potatoes (in fact, Discovery Oil Ltd.'s company profile on BusinessWeek says "Discovery Oil, Ltd. does not have significant operations."), but Drax seems to be on its feet, with a stock price of over $760 (or are they pounds?).

In fact, according to some news articles, it looks like Drax is growing, and is even thinking of expanding.

!!!

I think I may have figured it out. Now, bear with me...

In order to extend Drax Group's growth, China Energy Corp will "hand off" much of its stock to the British company. Being a smallcap company, they can more easily do this, and by doing this, their stock price will increase dramatically! This J. Magok, even if they're not associated with Jill FeinBaker, is one of the few people who are willing to go and put this information out there.

What does this mean for me?

It means...it means...it means I sure know how to waste an afternoon.

Worst. Fireworks. Ever.

2008-07-05T00:39:00.000-07:00

Damn you, mother nature!

You and your clouds have ruined America!

30-Minute Therapy

2008-07-01T02:45:00.000-07:00

All related videos have been taken off of YouTube. All that's left are parodies.

Any attempts to find episodes is either prohibitively expensive or questionably legal.

It airs on TV, but only once a week (and, inconveniently, in the middle of the day).

Still, one way or another, I will watch my Bob Ross/Joy of Painting relaxation session!

...Even if I have to watch this one episode every time!

(Ed. Note: Here's a bonus clip, for the hell of it!)

My Final Paper - "Behold, the Magnificent Phonograph"

2008-06-29T04:25:00.000-07:00

So, we have a final paper in my summer class on technology and interactivity. I wasn't terribly worried. It's only a "final" paper in that it occurs after all others. In truth, it's only worth about 4% of our grades, and I get 2% just for turning it in. Still, I somehow managed to make mine twice the required length. There's two reasons for this. First is simply because the required length is only 1000 words (remember, this is a discussion-based class). Second, I actually had a lot of fun writing it. You see, we had a choice of three different questions to respond to, and the one I chose was, basically, to write a "scientific/logical explanation for the layman that outlines the particular interactivity with a technology we have not discussed. You can be creative, humorous, and a little absurd but must also be intelligent, articulate, and well-informed." We had to also show that we did the readings in the class, but instead of needing to cite them, we could be allusive or imitative.

Anyway, I chose to write something like this for the phonograph, mainly because I felt we didn't spend nearly enough time talking about audio technology, focusing heavily on visual technology (also, I really like this recording). I decided to write as though I were from ye olden days, and I feel I'm more than a bit imitative of Oliver Wendell Holmes, who wrote our first reading.

Anyway, I kind of let loose when creating this, but I actually enjoy the results. I hope you will, as well. And I hope you'll come to the realization, as I did when halfway through, that this must have actually seemed like a frickin' big deal at the time.

(P.S. While I kind of muddle with timelines in this piece, this is an excuse to use my "1890s" tag for a second time. Score!)

***

Like a fine perfume, spoken words, carried by the talented voice of Len Spencer, seeped out the glass panes of the appliance shop to my ears as I was taking a stroll downtown. People casually walking by turned, to perhaps glimpse the man that the sound must have come from. One person even looked at me, as though I were some sort of ventriloquist.

But no; the voice may have been projected, but it was not by my lungs. Instead, it was by a small box, no taller than my chest. This box was the phonograph, a most wondrous invention. Created by Thomas Edison, it may prove even more influential than his electric lantern. With this mechanical device, you can do what one would think is impossible: you can capture sound. What’s more, you can then repeat this captured sound whenever you please. With such an apparatus, we have the opportunity to interact with family, with ourselves, and with the world in an entirely new – and beneficial – way. If you don’t believe me now, or if you’ve never heard of one of these phonographs before, then give me a few moments of your time to explain myself.

I think it prudent to discuss the technical aspects of one of these contraptions. After all, without a proper understanding of the mechanics of today’s technology, it is no better than some possessed trinket. You can just imagine good old Aunt Mabel claiming it to be a work of the devil, can you not? But no, it is not some infernal handicraft, but rather a precisely-tuned instrument. Yes, I said “instrument”. Because, you see, the phonograph works in exactly the same way as any flute or drum.

Let us consider the humble mandolin. When a musician plucks at one of the strings, that piece of catgut would move back and forth. These vibrations disturb the air, much like a well-thrown stone will cause ripples in a pond. However, once these disturbances reach your ear, they then vibrate the inner recesses of your ear, acting as a tiny drum. This, then, causes you to hear the sound in your head. The same holds true with a piano (the vibrations being on the strings inside), the drum (here coming from the skin you beat) and the flute (the very body of the instrument being the tool of the vibrations). And so it is true with the phonograph.

Of course, the phonograph does not use strings. Instead, it uses wax cylinders no larger than a jar of peanut butter. This cylinder is placed on what can best be likened to a spit over a cooking fire. In this way, a crank allows the user to turn the cylinder like a suckling pig. A needle then rests on the cylinder, and attached to this needle is a large cone, similar to a horn or trumpet.

What makes this apparatus so extraordinary is that it can perform dual functions; recording sound and playing it back. When one fastens a small attachment onto the needle, it allows you to speak into the machine. You can input whatever you want, from a friendly greeting to a song to a dramatic reading of Melville. When the large cone catches the vibrations of your voice (themselves created by the movement of the muscles in your throat) it will itself vibrate slightly, enough to move the recording needle up and down. Like a master sculptor of miniscule stature, the needle digs into the wax cylinder, forming small grooves. Within these grooves is magic. Not real magic, mind you; otherwise Aunt Mabel would get her torch ready. No, it is a modern magic, one which captures the sound, exactly how it is, and stores it, as though frozen in time, ready to be played back. And to do this, you simply remove the recording attachment and turn the crank as normal. Now, it simply works in the opposite way; the grooves bump the needle up and down, causing the cone to vibrate in a way which will replicate whatever sound was frozen on the cylinder.

What are amazing about these cylinders are their authenticity and their longevity. A parrot, for example, can “record” a speech, but when you ask it to speak the speech back to you, it will do so in its own voice. The speech may be accurate in its contents, but it is not authentic in voice. A phonograph cylinder, on the other hand, will remember and present you with the speech exactly how was first said. Were you in another room, you’d think speechmaker himself was the one doing the talking. Additionally, while one’s memory of a speech can fade with time, a cylinder will reproduce it with as much accuracy one year from now as it does today. Think of it as an entertainer who will perform unlimited shows after only one payment.

But the use of the phonograph goes far beyond that.

People speak of photography as though it were the second coming of the Lord. I can’t go anywhere without seeing a picture print or stereoscopic image. People flock to these devices, saying that they will revolutionize the way we perceive the world. They will make travel unnecessary, and they will allow family on different sides of the country to know each other as though they were next-door neighbors. All through the “power” of images.

Well, of course people are attracted to this concept. Of all the senses, sight is our primary one. Before all other information is gleaned from a new object or situation, we evaluate it based on what we see. Unfortunately, this also makes sight our most superficial sense. Even though we are told never to judge a book by its cover, that is exactly what we are forced to do with photography: judge something solely by its appearance, rather than its merit.

I hear tell of people putting together moving pictures. They take a number of photographs, all taken in close sequence, and display them as quickly as possible. The effect is to create movement. Currently, the closest we can get to something like this is the zoetrope, but the thought it that we will eventually reach a point where a single pane will be able to display the moving pictures, without any spinning. Personally, I’m not waiting with very much excitement. I’ve seen chronophotographs; I know how systematic human beings work. But what good is it to know that humans move? Animals move. Machines move. And that’s what these moving pictures show us: that we are mechanical as a steam engine.

Sound, on the other hand, is what separates us from the machines, and places us closer to the pantheon of the angels. For it is in sound that the soul comes through, be it through the heavenly voices of a church choir or through an inspirational speech by the president. We may not use sound as our primary sense, but it allows us to pierce deeper into the very core of one’s being. Hence, once the phonograph is ubiquitous, we shall engage in a new culture, one in which we judge others not on the trifling appearances of their clothes and face, but on the very sound of their soul.

But these philosophical ramblings mean nothing if the phonograph ends up serving no palpable purposes. Which indeed, it does. In fact, I dare say that the phonograph shall be the creation which, more than any other man-made machine, shall serve to change the way people around the world interact with each other.

Consider the opera. While an opera can be an uplifting experience, the practice of attending one can be less than pleasant. The modestly-paid enthusiast must attend a show by himself - or at best with his wife - as he cannot afford to purchase tickets for his family and friends. When he reaches the theatre, he must find an uncomfortable chair in a sea of strangers. Later, when his hunger arises, he must get up and leave the performance to purchase refreshment. What a needless hassle! With the phonograph, he can purchase an opera cylinder for half the price of an individual ticket. He can then invite his dear ones into his living room, where he can sit in his favorite recliner. The opera can begin and end whenever he desires. If he takes a break, so does the performance. He may repeat a particular concerto if he desires. He has access to limitless encores. His house, not the big house, becomes the local center of attraction. What a marvelous situation, when a man need not leave his house and still has the choice between “Carmen” and “Madame Butterfly”.

This also presents new opportunities for musical artists. Because one phonograph may record off of another, a musician need only complete his piece once, and it can be replicated as many times as his heart desires. No longer need he perform on every street corner and evening café. He may simply sell cylinders for 50 cents apiece to the general store. In this way, we may need to add a course in our music lessons about proper salesmanship!

And yet, it does not end there. This technology will eventually make written letters obsolete. After all, why should one wish to waste their time writing – or reading – page after page of correspondence, when they may simply place a cylinder in their phonograph and communicate the way it was meant to be done: with voice. Say I wish to send a romantic note to my sweetheart traveling across Europe. I could simply write down a poem, put in the post, and hope she understands its meaning. Or – and I sincerely prefer this – I could actually recite the poem to her, to inflect the important points, to punctuate what needs be punctuated. And in hearing my tender tone, she will feel as though my arms are enfolding her. A slip of paper cannot do that. Should she reciprocate, sending me back a cylinder with her delicate voice, I could close my eyes and imagine her very presence. Indeed, communicating with the phonograph is just like having a conversation with your eyes closed. It is the closest two people on opposite sides of the world will ever come to be.

In fact, once one thinks about it, the phonograph becomes the perfect tool for people to interact with each other. But is it only a means to this end? Certainly not! Should you choose it to be, the phonograph can be a character in and of itself. As Len Spencer’s advertising recording states, “When your wife is worried after the cares of the day, and the children are boisterous, I can rest the one and quiet the other. I never get tired and you will never tire of me, for I will always have something new to offer.” If only every houseguest could offer as much! You’ll notice how it speaks, though, referring to itself in the first person, as though it were a living, breathing person. I have yet to see a camera do that! And it couldn’t, because nobody would believe it. But the phonograph, with its ability to use sound, the foundation of the soul, actually has the ability to pass as a contributing member of the household – one which never needs to be fed.

But was Aunt Mabel correct this whole time? Is the phonograph actually insidious? Shall we lose ourselves in this machine? Not at all; in fact, we shall discover ourselves! We shall go past the superficial details of photography and understand what it is to know the world with our eyes closed.

I think that within a few years, when the phonograph becomes as omnipresent as a bedspread, you will not have to read this piece again. By that time, I will have recorded it on a cylinder and distributed it to all of my readers (who, ironically, wouldn’t be reading anymore). In doing so, all the tones, the inflections, and the passion that I’ve lost in transcribing my thoughts to paper will be regained. Your experience would improve tenfold. This discourse could continue for an infinite number of pages, but I believe you should have a decent understanding of the workings - and the merits - of the phonograph. If not, then I urge you to go to your local appliance store and experience the phonograph for yourself; I think you will be hard-pressed to hold onto that stoicism. Steam power may make travel across the world easy, but it is the phonograph which will actually bring us all together.

Lessons as a Lush

2008-06-27T02:08:00.000-07:00

So, I finally went out to my "birthday dinner" with a couple friends. They tried to get me drunk.

I didn't get drunk, but I definitely got a little tipsy...I think.

I had (or should say, was forced to have) a large strawberry margarita, and then about half of a small watermelon margarita. I was trying to drink them as slowly as possible, mainly because I was concerned about the huge caloric cost of the drinks.

Eventually, I noticed that it became harder to think. For lack of a better explanation, my thoughts were on one side of my head, and when I tried to get to them, they moved to the other side of my head, and so on and so forth. So, to think of a sentence, I would have to move from one side of my brain to the other, like on a see-saw.

But the thing is, what they say about how you become more open and laugh more when you're a little tipsy, it was the opposite for me.

Maybe it had to do with the see-saw feeling. Say I wanted to say "Oh, yeah, I was just thinking about that." I would have to chase my thoughts in the middle of words, so that it came out like "Oh, yeah, I was j...ust thinking ab...out that." And I stared into space a lot. In effect, I became less garrulous, less smily-laughy, less outgoing, less fun, less social, less all-those-things-you're-supposed to be more of.

If I were to make a hypothesis as to the reason for this, what would I say? I would say that I like being in control of my mind and my thoughts, and having to chase them around is a demoralizing experience for me; hence, I become a lot more drab.

I would also say I'm somewhat of a lightweight. I don't know what the normal number of margaritas is to get someone inebriated, but I've definitely seen people drink more than that with no noticeable effects.

So let's recap:
-I can't drink much before I start to notice adverse effects.
-I become less fun and social and more insular when the effects occur.
-(Alcohol has a lot of calories.)
-I don't enjoy the experience of not being at total mental capacity.
-Alcohol and my bloodline doesn't mix well. (I didn't go over this, but rest assured, it's true.)

...Looks like I'll be the designated driver from now on.

(To be fair, I may not be inebriated at all. I'm writing this about 4 hours after the fact, and I don't think most tipsy people write an analysis of their being tipsy. But, then, I guess most people aren't me. Still, maybe the feelings I experienced were, in fact, self-induced, based on what I felt should have been my reactions. Oh, well. I most likely shan't be studying this anymore!)

Huh...

2008-06-26T00:13:00.000-07:00

This weird symbol...

What could it be?

A Quick Note on That Balloon Thingy

2008-06-24T02:59:00.000-07:00

Lifted from Elderly Apple:

Also, in case you don't look much to the right [ed. here it would be to the left], I've joined this game called Balloonacy, in which I lead a balloon (I call mine Carmine the Camel) across the Intertubes! Because I'm not from the UK, I can't win the prize (a trip to Ibiza, but I can at least keep some British bloke from getting it! So! Once the race starts, support me!

Though I don't know how it works. So dang!

And you should support Carmine the Camel! He lost his entire family in a freak accident while visiting the pin factory. Now he's a vagabond! Support him so that he can find a true home during his travels.

Anyway, maybe you just have to click something to support me. Whatever. The race should have started by now, so click there and see what you have to do! It should last a week or so. Let's keep those blimey blokes out of Ibiza!

"Racist!"

Just to Prove I'm Still Alive

2008-06-22T13:54:00.000-07:00

Not one Photoshop, but two (both utilizing the awesome power of Diffuse Glow)!

This next one I'm actually using as my current desktop.

Actual content coming, I swear.

An Aside on Fred Thompson

2008-06-16T05:46:00.000-07:00

Now, I know next to nothing about this former Presidential candidate and prospective Republican running mate...

But God damn, this picture makes him look evil:
Put some flames and thrones stitched together of human bone behind him, and you got yourself a Grade-A candidate there!

And my Plant's Name Shall Be...

2008-06-15T14:19:00.000-07:00

François!

Yes, it may seem to come out of left field, but I think it works. My plant looks like a François.

Actually, I thought of the name while listening to this song.

(NOTE: Your likelihood of understanding that reference are about 1 in 800.)

So now, François and Ichabod can live together in peace and happiness. Huzzah!

Name a Plant, Save a Child!

2008-06-13T01:21:00.000-07:00

Well, if you can't do both, at least try the first!

Part of me wants a pet. Nothing really extravagant, just a little companion that I can have whimsical adventures with. Unfortunately, there's a policy against that (pets, not whimsical adventures).

Now, I know some fellow RAs had had snuck in little gerbils/hamsters/mice (okay, it was only one of those, but I forget which), but I'm not going to hassle with that.

So!

Because I can't have a living, breathing, moving creature inside my room, I decided to do the next best thing: buy a living, reverse-breathing, and very much not-moving plant.

Take a look!
(As an interesting aside, these are some of the first pictures I've taken with my brand new camera.)

Anyway, this is an Echeveria, which is a flowering succulent plant. It cost me $12 from some nice lady in the BART station, and I chose it because a) it's big enough to feel significant; b) it doesn't seem like it would be a leafy mess when it wilts; and c) it's a low-maintenance, drought-resistant plant, which is good for someone like me, who has a thumb blacker than the midnight sky.

So far, this plant has been good to me. However, I've been a father to it.

You see, my plant does not have a name. Oh, I've been meaning to give it a name, but I just can't think of one that I'm satisfied with. I have a particular taste in names, and so far, nothing has tickled my fancy.

What's that, you say? Why don't I name the plant "Ichabod"? As a matter of fact, this was my first idea, and I was this close to naming it that. However, I soon remembered that Ichabod is the name of my companion rock. If you don't believe me, you can just ask him.

See? I suppose I could also name the plant Ichabod, but then I would be the George Foreman of inanimate objects.

So, here's the deal: my plant needs a name, and I'm going to open the comment section up for you all to add your two cents. I am very lenient about the name (it can either be male or female), but it must adhere to these two criteria:
1. It must fit the plant (obviously).
2. It would be best to be an anachronistic name (this is just a quirk of mine).

So then, have at it! My plant's future is in your hands!

My Weight Loss 101: A Q&A Session (I Hope You Like Reading)

2008-06-08T21:26:00.000-07:00

Hey, Andrew.

Yes, disembodied bold voice?

When are you going to post that piece on your weight loss?

What the hell are you talking about?

Didn't you say over a month ago that you would be writing a full-on post about how you lost sixty pounds?

Hmmm....so I did. What do you want me to do about it now?

Well, you could make good on your promise and write about it.

...Fine. But how should I go about it? There's lots of areas to cover.

How about I ask you questions, and you answer?

Eh...fine. Where do you want to begin?

Hey, I'm asking the questions here!

Sorry.

So, how did you do it?

Heh. This is the most common question I received, and understandably so. After all, people don't just lose a lot of weight by doing nothing. But, anyway, my answer is simple: diet and exercise.

That's all?

Heh. That's a common response to my answer. Most people seem surprised - and even a little disappointed - at the fact that I didn't do some sort of wonder program.

That's probably because this is pretty much The Biggest Loser

Um, I've only really only seen about two episodes of that show, so I wouldn't really know. But I guess I'll give you some more specifics:
Exercise: 30 minutes (plus 5 minutes cool-down) of elliptical trainer every day.

Let's stop there. Why an elliptical trainer?

Several reasons, really. First (and probably most important) it was available. Where I live (in a dorm), we have a small exercise room in the downstairs central building. How small, you ask?

Actually, I didn't.

Well, it has four ellipticals, two stationary bikes, two treadmills, and a rowing machine. That may seem large if you're comparing it to a home gym, but for a dorm serving 1000+ people, it's not very big. Anyway, as such, I'm limited to one of the machines featured there. Technically, I could go to the Recreational Sports Facility, which is built like a palace of fitness. They have nearly 40 treadmills alone! However, it's on campus, which is really inconvenient. So, I make do with what I have.

Now, amongst the four options I had (elliptical, treadmill, bike, and rower), why choose what I did? Mainly because, from what I can see, the elliptical is the closest ~~you~~ I can come to the perfect exercise machine. It provides a low-impact, high-intensity workout for both your arms and legs, and easily keeps track of what you do. Overall, I think you get the most caloric bang for your buck (this is a concept I'll refer to several times from here on out).

The stationary bikes are obviously good for your legs, but they do nothing, absolutely nothing, for your arms. Also, you can do a lot on them and not burn many calories. The rower, I'm sure, is better for muscle building, and for my weight loss period, I was mainly focused on cardio. Plus, the electronics were missing their plugs, so I couldn't track anything. :(

Well, what about the treadmill? That's the classic exercise machine, is it not?

Here's where it gets tricky. I actually think you can do more on an elliptical than a treadmill. When you're on a treadmill (or rather, when I am), every time your foot hits the ground, a shock goes through your system. This makes you exhausted faster, and so you end up stopping/slowing down earlier, netting you fewer calories lost overall. On an elliptical, though, your feet are always connected to the "ground" and so there is low- to no-impact when you're moving. This keeps your body that much more energized, enough to go further/faster and burn more.

There are also some other reasons I like the elliptical more. For example, if you wanted to watch a movie (either on a laptop or on the nonexistent TV in the workout room), the elliptical keeps you more steady than running on a treadmill would. Also, when your resistance is high enough, the elliptical can provide quite a workout for your arms, as well. And I had my resistance notched up to...almost...the highest amount. People often joked about slow I would be moving (relative to them). I'd retort about how their 10 mph efforts were going to waste when they were on level 1/25.

Okay, so you did some cardio, but-

Some cardio?! Mister, in a scant 30 minutes, I would lose anywhere from 550 calories (nowadays) to 750 calories (when I started)!

Okay, okay, but I was going to ask if you did anything else. Weights? Pushups? Situps?

Uh, no. That wasn't really my focus at the time, but I'm doing those latter two things nowadays (I'll talk about that later).

Alright, enough about exercise. Exercise can only get you so far anyway. What was this diet you speak of?

It's pretty basic: eat less, and eat better.

Didn't you do any sort of program? Jenny Craig? Weight Watchers? Slim Fast?

I did do Slim Fast, mainly toward the beginning. I've since kind of stopped using them, but I still have plenty of their products. Considering one of their meal bars has fewer calories than a standard candy bar, they're pretty useful. But I generally eat pretty normal food, just less of it. Mainly in the early meals. I just eat enough that I'm satiated. In dinner, though, I kind of kick back and indulge myself a bit. I never leave any meal hungry, but I always leave dinner full.

Ooo, now we're talkin'! What kinds of things did you have for dinner?

Here, I'll just show you a picture:
Aargh! Too much green! Get it away!!!

Okay.

You would eat all that?

Sure would! This is a pretty typical example of what my dinner would look like. I'll explain each part of it. First of all, I mostly always got my food to-go, because 1)I had nobody to eat with (*tear*) and 2) it made portioning a lot easier. So, a to-go box had two small compartments and one large one. In a big one will go any of the following:
Spinach (Always)
Lots and lots of cherry tomatoes (Always)
Broccoli (Always)
Celery (When available)
Lima beans (Usually only when there is no celery)
Hummus (The magic formula: I use it to dip the veggies into)

All raw and organic, if you're into that (I'm not).

Dear God, and I thought you hated vegetables.

Well, I've come to...appreciate them. Sometimes I'll just snack on a leaf of spinach or a celery stalk. But cherry tomatoes! I loooooove cherry tomatoes. I could just eat them forever!

Oh. Well, what else is in there? It looks like you have burger.

A Garden Burger.

*Facepalm*

I'll get to the meat issue in a minute. But yes, that's a garden burger with tomatoes and mustard, wrapped in lettuce. I've officially given up buns on burgers, as you may remember from a while ago.

And there's also some crisscut fries. I still like my french fries (particularly if they're baked). They are, I would say, one of my two Achilles Heels.

One of two? What's the other?

Take a look.
Consarnit! That looks almost exactly the same as the last one, except the spinach is covering something. What is that...?Ah, nachos!

That's right. I simply cannot say "no" to nachos. They could have ambrosia being served in one corner of the dining common, but if nachos were being served, I'd choose the nachos. They're just sooo good. And while I know that my somewhat-healthier choices of soy meat, black beans, and jalapeños are completely overshadowed by that molten trans-fat that is the cheese-like sauce, I DON'T CARE! Nachos make a shortened lifespan worthwhile!

Okay, okay. Nachos. But what were you saying earlier about meat? Have you become vegetarian or *gasp* vegan?!

Hell no! I would never give those nuts the satisfaction of my joining their ranks. No, I definitely still eat meat (and enjoy it), but I have a...method, you may say, which may be summed up in my "Things to Avoid/Limit" Mantra:
"Wheats, sweets, and mammal meats."

A rhyme. Cute.

Thanks! Keep in mind, this is not a hard-and-fast rule. I did not give up every instance of any of these. For example, on St. Patrick's Day, I was more than happy to eat Corned Beef. It's just a general guideline, as these three categories tend to have a greater caloric cost than other, similar things.

So, for meat, fish was still in my normal repertoire, as was chicken and turkey (I still eat chicken quite frequently). I guess you could say I was just giving up red meats. But I never had any intention of becoming vegetarian. I'm just a lacto-ovo-pollo-pescatarian.

What about desserts? It says you "gave up sweets", but how can anyone give up dessert?

Well, I haven't had ice cream in the longest time, if that's what you're asking. One thing not pictured above is fruit. I always pilfer lots of fruit, especially apples. But all kinds of fruit work great. For a period, I was enjoying bowlfuls of frozen grapes (one of the greatest fruit innovations ever). Right now is watermelon season, and half of my meals' weights are made up of the stuff.

But, as far as more traditional desserts, there are a couple things I would do. First, I would get myself a mixture of one-part chocolate milk and two-parts nonfat milk. Yes, that would be my dessert. Other times, I would have one of my Slim-Fast snack bars. One recent idea I've come up with is getting a "Freddo" from the Peet's Coffee next to the DC (essentially, it's a Frappachino). I'd get it no-sugar, no-whipped cream, and with nonfat milk. Essentially, as bare-bones as it gets. I would then stick this in the freezer, and then take it back out hours later, scraping off shavings so as to eat it slowly.

Oh, and I know this isn't a desert, but one of the best caloric-value snacks out there is actually Trader Joe's Salsa Verde. If you live by a Trader Joe's, you owe it to yourself to pick up a jar (or six). It is so good that I literally will take a spoon and eat the salsa by itself. I wouldn't do that with any other salsa! (Mainly because it's kinda gross.) The best part is, an entire jar is only 110 calories, so it's completely guiltless.

Also, mints make a good dessert, as they make you not want to eat anymore.

Okay, cool. So that's how you lost the weight. But exactly how much did you lose? And over what time period?

As it turns out, I kept a log of my progress. On December 28th (I guess that's my official start date), I weighed 232 lbs. On May 2nd (my official "end" date) I was 174 lbs. That's 58 lbs in 127 days, or about 1 pound every 2 days (and some change). That seems almost excessively dramatic, and were I a thinner man at the start, it definitely would have been. Of course, it was nowhere near constant. Over the course of the weeks, the weight lost would fluctuate wildly. I tried to keep my weighings as consistent as possible to mitigate this, but there's always lots of variables.

One interesting note is that the scale I bought when I returned to school was actually a body fat scale, which measures your body fat % (it's supposed to be more relevant than BMI) by sending electrical signals through and seeing how fast they move, as electricity moves at different speeds in fat than it does in water. So, on January 20, by body fat percentage was 26.8%. On May 9 (a week after the official "end") it was 13.4%. So, as you can see, I've effectively cut my body fat percentage in half. So I've got that going for me. I've also increased my body water percentage by ten percentage points, but I don't know what that really entails.

Isn't this too much? Couldn't it be unhealthy? Have you seen a doctor?

Yes, I did, and he gave me a (figurative) thumbs-up.

Okay then. Well, I know that you posted that one comparison Before/After picture. Does that mean you had taken a picture last year for the sole purpose of being a "Before"?

Yes. That picture was actually taken in November, so it's not completely representative of the exact change, but it's pretty close, if not even more dramatic. It's one of three "Before" pictures.

Ah! So there are more?

...Yes.

Are you going to show them?

Okay, you've twisted my arm. Sure, I'll show them. Just be warned that pretty much from here on out, I'm not wearing a shirt, so you may want to just stop here. (Especially if you're at work. These pictures may not have anything unsafe in them, but your boss doesn't know that!)

Duly noted.

Okay, here we go.

So, the main premise behind the comparison pictures was to do a somewhat tongue-in-cheek parody of those "Before/After" shots that you see on commercials. Y'know, where the before picture is all bleak and frowny, while the after picture looks like the person just won the lottery. Well, the latter two before pictures were like that. I let my stomach stick out as much as possible, and I had a utterly depressing face. However, I wanted one picture with me holding my stomach in, because really, that's how I (and I think most people) present myself. The face is also decidedly less frowntastic, and I thought it worked well to give a better picture of the actual me.

So, you may remember this picture from a while back. This was the halfway point, 30 pounds. The main things of note (besides the hair) are the slight indentations my armpits, the vertical stretching of my belly button, the less of an overhang of my stomach. One interesting note, too, is the fact that my pants hang just a bit looser on my hips.

And, for a change of pace, here's the thirty-pound mark compared with the sixty-pound mark. Note that the armpits are now full-on crevaces, my belly button has almost disappeared, and there is almost no overhang at all. Also notice that my pants now needed to have the cord tied. In fact, that barely helped, and they fall off at a moments notice; I've since had to retire them. :(

And this is the picture everyone is familiar with, which shows the weight loss quite clearly.

Okay, but this is nothing I haven't seen before. What about those other pictures?

I was just getting to them. Here's my front gut-sticking-out/sad-face picture.

Ew. Anyway, this was again the thirty-pound mark. Not much to say.

You're doing it wrong! You're supposed to be smiling in the "After" picture!

Oh, right. Well, I didn't. Unfortunately, I don't feel these pictures did a good job in portraying the extent of the weight loss. Yes, there are some indications around the neck area, but it's not dramatic.

If you want dramatic, you need to see the side pictures!

Good God, that's hideous. But it's the way I was...when sticking my stomach out as far as it would go. At the thirty-pound mark, it's really not as noticeable as I would like.

At the sixty-pound mark, though, it is. I mean, look at it. The second picture is still me forcing my stomach outwards. And yet, it's smaller than when I would suck in my gut at my old weight. I would say that's pretty dramatic.

I guess. But what about muscle pictures? Don't you have any of those?

Well, like I said earlier, I wasn't really focused on building muscles. So I don't really have anything special. However, as I also said earlier, one of the benefits of the elliptical is that it also works well for your arms. So I did build a little bit, plus I lost the fat covering them. I took some pictures that show that, but I actually think better showcase my new armpits, which are among my proudest points, because they are actually pits now, as opposed to just being under-arm areas.

It's fun to note that I call these my "Fierce" pictures because I can't seem to flex without making a truly psychotic face. Hence, I find them quite entertaining, which is the only reason I'm putting in more than one. Enjoy!

Army Man! Hut-hut and ten-four!

Like I said. Completely and utterly psychotic.

This one I just found hilarious for some reason. So much so, in fact, that I decided to turn it into this:

As you can see, the resemblance is uncanny.

Y'see the pose here is excellent. It would actually be a good picture, if I actually had what I'm supposedly showing off.

Okay, that's enough of that! Please!

You asked.

Regretfully so! So, new question: what are some things you've learned about your body?

What is this, a 5th Grade sex ed class? Anyway, I've learned a few things.

1. I have big ears. Yes, I've actually always known this, but my face has slimmed down just enough that they stick out quite prominently...to me, at least. While it seems nobody else notices, it's one of the first things I see when I look in the mirror. That will take some time, I guess.

2. I have a ginormous chest! Look at this thing.

Yes, I'm sucking in my stomach, and yes, there are some light-and-shadow things going on, but still! My chest is now about twice the size of my waist at this point. I think I finally understand what it means to be "big boned."

3. My lower left rib sticks out significantly more than my right one. Apparently, this is a common thing, and as long as it doesn't cause any pain, I'll be fine.

4. My feet are really veiny. I won't put in a picture, as I've tortured you enough with that already. But still, the veins in my feet can stick out quite a bit, especially after I work out. I think I know which side of my family this comes from.

5. My back is bony. It makes sit-ups hurt quite a bit.

6. Stretch marks suck. They're one of the side effects of being quite overweight, and apparently, won't ever fully disappear on their own. (Note: the reason you can't see them on the picture immediately above is because I edited them out. They're no fun to look at.)

Okay, so let's talk clothes.

What about them?

How's the clothes situation been?

Well...mixed.

How so?

Well, to introduce it, take a look at this picture:

What's that? A paperclip on your belt?

Yes. This is a picture of the side of my pants. My belt, which used to only extend a few notches past center, now went all the way through that second loop near my back pocket. The paperclip was to make sure it wouldn't come out and flop around. I've since had to buy a new belt.

Here's some other examples:
-My high school ring is now too big. And since there's no jewelry size adjusters around here (that I can find, at least), I've had to simply put tape on it.

-Similarly, my watch and my gloves are experiencing a similar feeling of looseness.

-When we had a job fair a couple weeks back, I wanted to use the opportunity to wear my brand new suit. So, I put on the shirt, pants, and jacket, and...my pants fell off. Literally, off. It's not that they were sagging; they were at my ankles. I felt like I was in some kind of slapstick comedy. I couldn't use my new belt to hold them up, since my new belt was too big, too. And my jacket...let's just say it made me look like a early 20th century hobo. I'm going to have to get it re-tailored sometime this summer.

-On the other hand, I was able to wear my old sport coat to the job fair, as well as to every other job-related thing this past semester. I also wore it in my "new-age millionaire" style, which is a plain white t-shirt, jeans, and an open jacket. Why I bring this up is because in the past fall semester, I always wore that jacket open because I had to. I couldn't actually close the jacket. Now when I wear it, it's actually quite loose. Looser, in fact, than when I wore it in high school.

-All my old jeans: gone. Sag-o-rama. In their place, new jeans, most of which I picked up from the Goodwill piles at the end of the school year. The system works!

So, overall, it's a mix of current stuff no longer fitting, and really old stuff fitting again.

Moving along, do you have any advice for someone who wants to lose weight?

Nothing particularly inspirational, but I guess if I can do it, anyone can. You just need to be committed.

...Oh, and there's a very good book out there that I really enjoy! It's called Eat This, Not That. It's a book filled with simple hints, tips, and facts about food in general, but the majority of the book focuses on what to get at a number of fast food restaurants to cut the calories and the fat. It's extremely interesting, and you'll learn some general rules of thumb, such as:
-Mayonnaise is the enemy. Always. Avoid mayo.
-Cheese also ain't so hot.
-"Healthy" foods aren't always that. Example: a bagel with cream cheese can be 700 calories with 40g of fat.

It's very eye-opening, but it's done in a way that doesn't accuse you of being bad (rather, it accuses the other guys). Like I said, I recommend the book, but if you're too cheap for that, you can always go to the website for a good percentage of the info.

More than anything, I would say just find whatever works for you. I really doubt my system would work for many people, as it was something I designed for myself. See what works for you, and go with that.

And it's always best to have a goal and a reason for doing things.

Oh, what was your reason?

I won't go into that.

C'mon...

I dunno. Several reasons, I guess. Becoming healthier is definitely the main one. Also, what if I wanted to make myself look more presentable to the fairer sex? Before, the ladies could easily reject me because of my weight. Now, they can only reject me due to my personality! There's other, smaller reasons, but there's really no reason to go into them (mainly because I can't think of most of them :\).

So, I guess the only question left to ask is, where do you go from here?

Interesting question, and one I've thought a bit about myself. Honestly, I put myself in a weird situation. I can't continue the way I was going; while I may not have been risking anorexia (as you may be able to tell from my dinner samples above), I would definitely risk wasting away. At the same time, my mindset is totally different right now regarding food. When I'm purchasing something (anything), I instinctively twist the package until I see the nutrition facts. If it's a snack in one small container (or, like a bar or something), I am extremely hesitant to get it if it's over 100-120 calories. Candy bars are effectively out of my mindset. I do everything possible to limit my overall intake, and that's going to be tricky to change to any great extent.

Considering that, I've reduced my exercise caloric loss a bit, and I've begun to focus more on muscle building. I've begun doing sit-ups and push-ups. For the latter exercise, I actually purchased the Perfect Pushup, which delivers a more intense, effective movement. It's tough, but I think its working.

Since officially ending my diet and exercise regimen, I've still lost some weight, though at a slower rate than before. I anticipate that it will continue for some time until I find my equilibrium point. Overall, though, I anticipate keeping the weight I lost off, and having a much healthier, slimmer life overall.

That's nice.

Thanks. Well, thanks for joining me. My fingers are now calloused from all this typing, so I think I'll call it a day.

Hey, Andrew! I just thought of something! You aren't smiling in any of these pictures! You've lost a lot of weight! More than post people can think of! Can't we have at least one smile?

Fine...just one before we're finished.

Aww...

More Pictures! More! Mwahahaha!

2008-06-07T00:24:00.000-07:00

Okay, I've been in a picture-posting mood lately, so I'm going to keep posting some! Why? I dunno, I've been in a visual mood lately. Maybe it's because I've visited two art museums in the past week. Or maybe it's because I've finally broken down and purchased a new digital camera. It's a Norcent DCS-1050, which was only 85 bucks and got decent (enough) reviews. It's not that my current camera is bad, per se, but it certainly has its limitations, namely the fact that is uses a CompactFlash card and is really bulky...restrictingly so, in fact, for someone who doesn't carry a purse. I give it credit for working well for many years (having served my sister before me), but I figured I should experiment with something new; see how that works. I should be receiving this new camera fairly soon (in fact, it's already a few days late). Anyhoo, in the meantime, here are some other shots that were taken when I was showing off my crow shirts.

Look at my face! Look at it! There's murder in them eyes! Or...something! (Just a quick aside, I've been told by several people that I have big/wide eyes. I'll let you be the judge.) I found this picture so hi-larious that I'm actually using a close-up as my desktop picture.

I find the vertical nature of this one quite charming and perhaps even a little artistic. I just wish that I could have shown off more of my shorts (which are ~~brand new~~ some of the ones I took from the big piles of clothes on move-out day).

And this is me making a really cheesy face (there are some that are even cheesier; so cheesy, in fact, that they shouldn't be shown!). Almost like a sendoff to my old camera. "It's been good, kid. We'll always have Comic-Con."

Now, some other pictures! Not of me!

First, you know how I said that my addiction du jour is the game Mass Effect? Well, I thought I'd show off my character. In the game, you can choose your character (Commander Shepard)'s first name (I chose Solomon, since I obviously think it's a cool name), personal history (I made it so he grew up on a colony that was attacked by alien slave traders; everyone he knew and loved was slaughtered), and military history (he was on a mission when his squad was attacked by horrible aliens. All of his friends and allies were slaughtered. [Wow, tough life]). You can also choose what their face looks like.

I decided to make the character look like a more badass version of me, with a shorter goatee (I would have made it longer if possible) and a scar (hell yeah!). This is a result:
Ironically, despite the ever-angry look on his face, my character is actually considered a moral and military paragon. So that's good. When I do my second play, through, I'll be a woman and follow the path of evil. Since, as we all know, women are proven evil.

Finally, sometimes RAs will put on stress-relief programs where people are encouraged to "act like 5-year-olds". At these programs, they almost always have coloring books. Now, I take a decidedly...different approach to these, as you can see in the following:

G'night, folks!

As My Birthday Gift to All of You

2008-06-05T08:37:00.000-07:00

I give you the most awesome picture ever:

You can thank me later.

On Loyalty, Shirts, and Murders

2008-06-03T01:50:00.000-07:00

In consumer behavior, I learned that there are four types of loyalty. You basically have a two-by-two matrix, where one axis is something akin to "relative attitude" (so, how much you like it) and the other axis is "repeated patronage" (how often you buy the product). The four types are:

No Loyalty (Non-Favorable View & Low Patronage): I have no loyalty to the MTV or BET stations.
Latent Loyalty (Favorable View & Low Patronage): I like nVidia video cards, but I don't buy them a lot, mainly because I don't need to.
Spurious Loyalty (Non-Favorable View & High Patronage): I dislike Apple, the iPod, and iTunes, but the time and effort it would take me to convert thousands of AAC files to MP3s makes me keep buying them. (Also applicable to monopolies, like old school Ma Bell.)
Loyalty: (Favorable View & High Patronage): I would say I'm pretty loyal to Nintendo products.

Really, the sweet spot for any company is pure loyalty, because not only will consumers purchase your products often, but when people are truly loyal, they will actually go out of their way to recommend you to their friends. It is a good day when a company achieves loyalty.

And I think a company has earned mine.

The company is called "Stranded." I've mentioned them before; I think they may be a branch of Target (to whom I also have high loyalty), because that seems to be the only place that carries them.

Why do I like them? A few reasons.

1. The shirts are soooo comfortable. I don't know what they do to the cotton, but they're so soft and nice, it's like you're wearing nothing at all. Yes, they're a bit on the thin side as far as shirts go, but that's the price you pay for comfort. (And it's not like they're transluscent or anything.)

2. The designs are badass yet classy. One of the main problem I see with a lot of graphic tees nowadays is that they are either funny and immature, or badass yet gang-member-making-you-look-like-one. Stranded tees are definitely, while definitely having a fierce side to them, still have an old-world style to them, which makes them seem quite classy. Just look at some of their shirts. They can make a koi fish look cool. That's pretty good.

3. They make crow shirts. I loves me some crow shirts. In fact, I just purchased my newest crow shirt when I was at Target this past weekend, prompting me to realize that I had become loyal. So, let's take a look at my crow shirts, shall we?

Oh, you'll notice I'm wearing my hat in all of these. No real reason. I just think the hat goes well with crow shirts.

If I'm not mistaken, this was my first crow shirt. Unfortuantely, it's dark-on-dark style make it had to see any crows on said crow shirt.

Here's a close-up of that las crow shirt, so you can better see the crows (and don't try to tell me that they're ravens. Even if they were, ravens are just a subspecies of crow).

Here's me with a brown crow shirt and a surprised look. Grandmother, what big eyes I have!

I really like this one. It has such a sense of transcendence about it. Plus, save for droppings and/or other apocalypse harbingers, you have to admit that it would be pretty cool to see a murder of crows descend from the clouds.

This is the crow shirt that I just purchased. Three interesting notes. First, it's a collared shirt, which I haven't worn (barring formal shirts) since high school. Second, this is actually a size small. A relatively big small, but a small nonetheless, so that felt cool. Third, you have no idea how I literally stopped the cart I was pushing around when I saw this in Target and said aloud "Crow shirt!" It was love at first sight.

Here's a closeup.

You may notice that three out of four of these crow shirts also feature trees (two of which are dead, one of which has a few scant leaves). Maybe this means I don't enjoy crow shirts, but rather dead tree shirts. Or perhaps this love of crow shirts is a throwback to my childhood, during which I would always since about three chartreuse buzzards sitting in a dead tree...except with crows...y'know, instead of buzzards...*cough*

Takeaway: I am now loyal to Stranded tees (go to Target and buy them!) and I've used "crow shirt" in this post 15 times.

Yeah, so...

2008-06-01T03:20:00.001-07:00

Hey, there!

Remember the game Mass Effect? The one I wrote that long diatribe defending?

Well, it was released for the PC this past week.

And it took me a day and a half to update the driver on my video card, but I got the thing to work, and I started playing the game.

And right now, I'm addicted.

Not to the "virtual orgasmic rape" simulations that the game offers (according to conservatives), but rather to dialogue trees. I'm addicted to freakin' dialogue!

Oh, and all the voice acting in this game makes me want to pursue some odd jobs as a voice actor.

But mostly, it's addicting. The hours just melt away. Which would be fine, were it not for school and sleep. But we'll get past at least one of those obstacles eventually.

*Sigh*...It's KotoR all over again.

(.....That's a good thing.)

The Last Week: Good and Bad

2008-05-28T23:24:00.000-07:00

Good: School finished! I'm done with all my finals and all my classes! It's summer!

Bad: School started! I have summer school (at least for the first six weeks of the summer), thrice a week at 9am.

Good: I'm all moved in to my new room!

(Address for care packages, checks, money orders, etc:
2650 Haste St.
EH 707
Berkeley, CA 94720)

Bad: My setup does not like to be moved. It especially doesn't like to be moved twice. So imagine my thoughts when, after spending 15 hours moving my stuff from one building to another, putting everything in its proper place, hooking up my computer, and putting my celebratory bottle of sparkling cider in my fridge, I then go to my meeting (oh, did I mention I finished at 8:20am?), where I'm told, "Yeah, you and the other CC (Community Coordinator) are in the wrong rooms. You'll have to switch. By tonight." Imagine a wave destroying your newly-finished sandcastle, and the wind then blowing the sand into your eyes. It was kinda like that.

Good: Luckily, I moved to this new building in less than half the time (only 7 hours!).

Bad: Not only had I not slept in 46 hours, but my fingers were cut, crushed, and bleeding (the rest of my body fared slightly better.

Good: Going back to classes, I got an A+ in my Consumer Behavior class (like I said, telling), and, somehow, a B+ in my Accounting class.

Bad: I also got a B+ in my personal finance class. Which sucks, as I was taking the class Pass/No Pass, and so I should have gotten a P. I know for a fact that I signed up for the class as P/NP, because this sort of thing has happened to me before! And yet, here I am, with a Goddamn letter grade in a class I stopped doing any real work on by the halfway point. Am I going to request that they change it? No, because they need some kind of proof, then they need a letter from the professor, then they need about ten pages of paperwork, and then they'll never, ever get back to you, pigeonholing your request in some Godforsaken desk. ...Like I said, I've been through this before, and it sucks.

Good: I've gotten through what is probably the busiest part of my summer job: the training and setup to make sure things go smoothly. And they have (thus far).

Bad: I'm not in the clear yet (though things should die down a bit from here on out).

Good: My staff is definitely enthusiastic.

Bad: My staff is definitely inexperienced (and yes, there is a strong correlation between those two.) They'll pick it up, though.

Good: A couple of my old residents came back.

Bad: They're not living anywhere near my room. (Hopefully, we'll still be able to get together for some poker.)

Good: There are more Finnish people!!! I always made fun of my mom for telling me that almost everyone she worked with was one of the best people in the world. But now I know she was just flat out mistaken: the best people in the world are in FINLAND!

Bad: Nothing bad can possibly be said about Finnish people! And don't let me catch you badmouthing Finland!

Good: We had a large, successful ice cream social this last Tuesday which will set the precedent for our upcoming Tuesday Night Socials.

Bad: The social was so successful (and loud, apparently) that the cops were called to break it up.

Good: My summer class so far seems interesting.

Bad: We had a reading on our first day, which had a reading response due that day by 9pm. Since I had work, I needed to turn mine in by 7pm. Which would be fine, except that the reading was 110 pages (literally, half the reader). Also, I'm not sure if the teacher is too keen on me, and I don't know why. :(

Good: Before moving out, I had the most fun going through piles of clothes, books, and other crap that people had thrown in the lobbies to be taken to Goodwill. I was like the Grinch, going in with my empty bag and filling it with goodies. I was able to pick out new pairs of jeans that actually fit my slimmer waist, shorts, notebooks, stuffed animals, and about seven pillows (including two full body pillows). It was great! It was like going to a thrift store, but you didn't have to pay! I probably got about $250 worth of stuff, a good number of which I was actually in need of.

Bad: The stares of the people as I was climbing on top of the mountain of clothing, excavating it. Their stares. Their judging stares!

Good: My room, which is basically one floor down and one room over from last year's summer room, looks pretty much the same, just a little nicer (and with a lot more pillows).

Bad: That tree is still in the way...

Good: It's summer which is my favorite season for the following reasons: longer days, balmy nights, dragonflies, the fact that the reduced number of students makes you feel like you actually own the school, and watermelon!!!

Bad: We need some actual summer weather around here!

Now, for this last one, I'm switching it around.

Bad: Ever since I mentioned at our first hall meeting that I worked in the Unit, people have been asking me questions as though I were just some RA.

Good: I can tell them: "I'm not an RA. Don't ask me." HAHA!!!

Internet Disconnection Cop-Out: A Story (Kinda!)

2008-05-22T11:54:00.000-07:00

Hey there everybody! Well, finals are over, and I couldn't be happier! This semester did no favors for my GPA, and the sooner I can forget about a couple of the classes (literally, two of them), the better.

But there's no time for rest! Summer's here! Huzzah! I start my one summer class next Tuesday. Pretty quick, but I'm thinking it'll be a fairly fun class, so we're all good. I also get to "start" summer staff work. I use quotation marks because I've actually been doing summer staff work for three weeks now. The beginning of summer is actually when my summer staff work slows down, paradoxically.

One side effect of this is that I'll have no internet for a while. They disconnect us tonight, and I honestly have no idea when I'll be back online.

"But Andrew! What about updates to The Lobotomist's Dream and Elderly Apple?"

Now don't you worry! Thanks to a knew "scheduling" feature on Blogger, the next four days of Elderly Apple are scheduled to update at 12:34am sharp (ironically, I'm more on time when I'm not around), so no problems there.

As for TLD, I thought I'd pull out yet another trick from my bag of cop-outs. And this one should last you a couple of days!

A few years back, I was involved (along with a few others) in an online Role-Playing forum based on the online game Nationstates. We were all in a region (of my own making) called "The Sanctum of Insanity." The region had it's own forum, which garnered up 90 separate threads and an absolutely ridiculous 15,700 posts within the course of about 20 months. And this was with less than 8 active members! Sadly, the Sanctum eventually died, due to simple activity. But the forums are still there, and I go back just to take a look every now and then.

I'll have more to say about this all some other time. For now, I'd like to focus on one small part. Very intermittently, from February to June 2006, several members participated in a mini-Role Playing story. We all created new characters, only existing within the realm of this little story. And we each wrote parts. It had the potential to be something great, but like the rest of the Sanctum, it died with a whimper.

I thought I'd give it another chance at life.

So, here's the story in its entirety. NOTE: This is not all my work. In fact, four separate people contributed to this; hence all the different writing styles, tenses, etc. A little disjointed and containing many grammatical errors, yes, but I think you may enjoy it. I won't tell you which segments were mine. I honestly don't think it will be difficult for you to tell, but try to guess anyway. Also, somewhere in the story is one of my favorite lines ever. Try to guess what that is, too.

Okay, enough preamble! Enjoy the story, and I'll see you later, 100 feet west and 30 feet higher than I am now!

***

She sat on her bed with her legs held in front of her, listening as the skys cryied. Everyone was crying lately. She hated it!

Leaping between the curtians of her bed she burst in to her dark room, only to stop cold. She could feel it's presence. Was it that time again? She could only hope it wasn't. That it was just the shock of the cold lifeless floor beneath her feet, something else she couldn't stand. Why did folks have to live in this horrible dead things she would never understand.

She tried the door as she did ever night.

Damn!

Laughter is hear from the otherside, you think they'd give up. Then she feels the presence again and knows they'll be sorry if they get what they want. It's stronger this time, she starts to shake.

***

Her arms cross her cheast as the shaking starts to stop and she begins to breath again. In and out, in and out. Slowly she can see out her eyes again and looking behind the bars on her window she smiles and watches the sun start to peek among the clouds that just won't leave.

Throwing her hands up in the air she shrugs off their lastest lucky break and moves to start her day.

In the wardrobe they provided her she finds as always one outfit that would make her look ordinary, but unlucky for them her nails are ever sharp. After a few special slices and cuts it's perfect. Looking in the mirror she inspects her appearance.

Her long hair is dark and has adopted green highlights to match the forest green velvet creation she now wears. A quick stroke of her paws and her ears smooth out. She could really use a batange but her captors wouldn't know where to get one much less what it is. Shaking her head she smiles at least her eyes are still green, she can still control it. Flicking her tail out from the new slit she'd but in the skirt she opens her mouth to inspect her fangs. Yep their still there. That's good sometimes she wonders if this captivity will make her become like them, such boring beings they be. With a nod of her head she turns and knocks on her door, it opens and the same boring people are there.

Will you ever just let me go, you'll never get what you want?

But like every day before since she'd been put in this room, they say nothing. She didn't even bother to give them nicknames, but she looked longingly out the door as the three "watchers" entered and started to try and probe her mind.

*Yawn*You know you can't read our minds, why do you keep trying.

Rolling her eyes, she decides that today is one of THOSE days, and so she locks her eyes with the one infront of her. Once inside his mind, it's getting easier, she slowly starts to rip different things apart...

OUCH!

She rubs her head, where she was just bonked by the heathen on her right. Although silently she enjoys the fact that the mental one is on the floor. Ha! Teach them, though it's a losing battle for in a few minutes they will just bring a lesser trained one. You'd think after she did that to the first one and then their "master" they'd try something new.

As they open the door to leave, she sees a stranger pass and when its black eyes meet hers.... She knows that she is in trouble. Too stunned to do anything she just stands their staring at the door and praying it wasn't what she thought it was.

***

They came from across the ocean, well more specifically they came from the ocean. Atleast that is what the council said. All who were captured by them never came back. Those who we captured only escaped leaving behind them many who were mad and unconsolable. She was the only one in her tribe who had not followed these two norms, but that didn't mean she didn't still fear the yatagani.

They were why she was now plagued with episodes where the presence would get free. Ones like her were only born every three hundred years. She was a sign of change, but before no other minds were able to attack us. The yatagani changed that. They spoke no heard language. Their skin was scaled and they made the tallest of her kind look short. Translated into her captors tounge they were "snake people".

All she knew though was if he was put to her mind...again she would be held in the darkness while it roamed free.

***

Hundreds of miles away, Karakaj waited in the shadows. He watched official after official leave the large granetine building. So much profit in those alone, he thought, but decided to let the thought go. He had an meeting that he couldn't afford to miss. Finally, he saw his cue: a tall, bald man carrying a small chest stepped outside and bolted the door shut. When he walked away into the mist, Karakaj leapt over a dozen feet onto the ledge of the building. As he was told, there was an opened windows. His lean body slinked in, and inside, he saw a portly gentleman sitting nervously at a desk. Upon noticing him, the gentleman stood up.

"You're the memory thief?"

Karakaj let out a yellowed smile as a lock of his greasy hair fell upon his face. "Of course," he said in a rusty voice, "And I assume your Enn Sylvanis?"

"Yes, I...we must be careful; I'm not supposed to be here this late at night. If they find out, it'll be-"

"None of my concern. I'm here because a...mutual friend said you had work for me."

"Yes, Balatin, yes. He said you were the best. He said I could trust you."

"He should have also told you that I despise flattery. I'm here for one purpose only. Now, whose memories do you need?" Karakaj asked as he allowed the moonlight shining in through the window to reflect off of his stilletto.

"Yes, of course. His name is Ambassador Sarquatus. Do you know of him?"

"Vaguely."

The stocky man became increasingly agitated. "He's fairly active around town. He should be easy to spot. He says he is trying to promote peace. However, I am almost completely certain he knows something about a recent abduction."

"Lose someone, did you?" Karakaj asked wryly.

"It's more than that. She...I've said too much already. Simply trust me - it's important. Now, answer me this: will you be able to get his memories?"

Karakaj's smile faded as he said, "Don't try my patience. Now, about my payment. You already know the labor costs. I want you to add an additional 10% to that, to cover for the poisons."

Sylvanis's face grew ghastly and pale. "Poisons?" he choked out, "You're going to kill him? You won't be able to get the information that way!"

Karakaj's discolored smile returned as he headed for the window. "You'd be surprised," he said confidently, "Good night, Senator Sylvanis." And with that, he slipped out the window and ran into the fog and out of sight.

***

All day and night she waited and rocked on her heels. No one came, they didn't even give her what they though was food. Yuck ! Proper food should never have so many vegetables. When ever thoughts of food came about pictures of those who held her on the fire all ways made her smile and her tummy ache more. How she missed her tribe.

I hate being by myself all the time, no one to play with and I can only destroy this room so much. These walking meals with their funny magic, what good is destroying that which only turns around and is righted again once I leave it alone.

She moves around the room, hoping on top of the wardrobe, balancing on top the mirror, and trying futilly to shake the bars that hold her there. Howling in frustation she falls to the floor.

At least they couldn't hear my ranting to myself.

hmmmm, I can my dear. Did you miss us? We've been looking for you, and it seems you got your self caught again.

***

Meanwhile, Karakaj sat in a tree outside the local pub. His always-reliable source told him that the ambassador frequented the pub on a nightly basis. He whistled a small tune to himself as he swung his leg beneath the branch he was sitting on. He wished he could have bought himself a pint, but invisibility was his greatest asset. Besides, he had spent the last of his money on that dancer in Tasocia...

Suddenly, the pub's door swung open, and a large, well-built man stepped out. He was wearing green and blue garb - the official ambassadorial colors - and Karakaj looked for the insignia on his chest. The man turned into the moonlight, and there it was, clear as daylight. Karakaj suddenly stood up on his branch. Despite being an ambassador of peace, the man was built like a fighter. Karakaj despised hand-to-hand combat with anyone, much less a man twice his bulk. He took a long needle from one pouch, and a vial of poison from another. He stuck the needle through the stopper, allowing it to become saturated with the deadly stuff. Then leaned forward and whispered aloud, "Ambassador Sarquatus?"

The large man looked around, obviously surprised. "Yes?" He hurriedly asked to no one in particular.

"That's all I needed to hear." With that, Karakaj leapt from the tree into the open air. He flung a poisoned needle at the ambassador. He was aiming for the neck, but the large man was remarkably fast. He was able to move so that it only hit him in the thigh. Save for a small blow to his ego, this miss did not trouble Karakaj. After all, poison is poison. Within moments, the ambassador began clutching at his throat as he fell to the floor. A purple, bubbling liquid began flowing from his mouth. Karakaj walked up to the man with impunity. "Nothing personal, ambassador," he said, "It's just business."

After a few last twitches, the ambassador was dead. It was time to get to work. Karakaj took out a small crystal egg and held it firmly in his left hand. Then, using his right, he dug his sharpened nails into the ambassador's skull. He began muttering the incantation. As he did, a glow emanated from the deepest part of the egg. The process was working. All of the ambassador's memories were being transferred into the crystal. As he spoke the arcane words, he glanced around, hoping that nobody would see him. When the transfer finished about a minute later, Karakaj removed his nails and wiped the blood off on his coat. It was only then that he saw two town guards staring at him from the entrance to the pub.

"What is going on here?" one of the men demanded loudly. The two guards took out their iron batons. This was not a winnable battle. Karakaj placed the crystal egg into one of his belt's compartments, simultaneously taking out another egg, a previously used one. The memories belonged to a boy who had a particularly traumatic, yet unimportant life. It would do perfectly.

"You're going to burn for this, you bastard," a guard said.

"That may be, gentlemen," Karakaj said diplomatically as he flashed a yellowed smile, "but that will not happen today." With that, he flung the egg to the ground. It shattered into thousands of pieces, releasing all the unsettling, violent memories at once for all those in the vicinity to experience. To one with a trained mind like Karakaj's, these memories were just drops in the ocean, no different than any others. However, to normal minds, like the guards', this flood of memories was paralyzing. They dropped their batons and screamed as they clutched their heads.

Knowing never to stay in any one place too long, Karakaj jumped back into the tree and, from their, onto the pub's roof. He then leapt into darkness and out of sight.

***

It was easy to locate the senator's manor. In fact, it was difficult not to see its alabaster walls shining in the moonlight. Karakaj snuck by the granetine gargoyles standing ever-vigilant at the entrance and climbed up one of the pillars. When he reached the top, though, he was dismayed to find that the window he was supposed to slip into was closed. He jumped from the pillar to the roof and scanned the area for some sort of entrance.

While he was standing on the roof, he reflected on the ambassador's memories. Necrosages, more affectionately known as memory thieves, could see every memory that they gathered into their crystal eggs. It was a useful ability. Apparently, the ambassador did know something about a kidnapping, but not much. He only knew that there was one, and a name - Yargelth Trie. Probably not worth all the money that the senator was paying, but hey, that's why payment always came before the customer could recieve a single memory.

Finally, he saw the reflection of an open window in the senator's wading pool. Making a quick caluculation in his mind, Karakaj ran toward the edge of the roof. Before reaching the edge, he turned and jumped. As he fell, his nimble hands grasped the rain gutter. His momentum swung his legs into the window, and he let the rest of his body follow. Not a bad improvisation, he thought to himself. Taking a step, he tripped over...something, and fell to the floor. It was only then that he realized that there was not a single light on in the house. He was in complete darkness.

"Senator?" He called in his ragged voice. Never one to be caught unprepared, he took a small cube. Squeezing it quickly and forcefully, he felt the cube become intesely hot. He opened his hand to illuminate the room with the cube's light. As soon as he saw a lantern, he tossed the cube into it. With a burst, the lantern came to life. Karakaj spit into his palm to try to cool it down. He glanced to see that it was a small ottoman that he'd tripped over. Taking the now-lit lantern, he called again, "Senator?"

Walking through the darkened house, he saw boxes of jewels and gilded statuetes. Most of them looked fairly gaudy and unappealing, but he was sure they'd fetch a fair price in the black market.

"Senator, I have what you're looking for. I was supposed to meet you tonight, wasn't I? Are you even here?" Eventually, he came to the senator's bedroom door, slightly ajar. Calling once more, he slowly opened the door. Inside he saw Senator Sarquatus, quite dead. A conspicuous gash in his throat showed that it was not a subtle murder. Karakaj knelt down and felt how much the blood had dried. Based on the viscosity, he guessed that the murder had happened a few hours earlier. Karakaj looked around. All the expensive trinkets were still there. Whoever killed the senator was not a thief. Could have it been retaliation for the ambassador's murder?

Reminding himself to be on his way shortly, Karakaj decided to make some profit out of this. The senator was in no position to pay him now; however, he was also in no position to enjoy all those jewels. Karakaj took out the knapsack he always kept with him and began filling it with as many valuables as he could. His haul was likely worth 30 times what this job's pricetag was, so he was satisfied. He was about to leave when he realized that he couldn't just let the senator's memories go to waste. After all, the three biggest cash cows in the memory business were mages, generals, and politicians.

Karakaj took out a crystal egg and dug his fingernails into the senator's skull. If only these were useful during battle he thought to himself. He began the incantation, and before long, all of the senator's remaining memories were in the egg. Karakaj had also seen the memories themselves, and they were...interesting, to say the least.

Karakaj picked up the knapsack filled with valuables and headed for the bedroom door. Suddenly, Karakaj heard a small comotion outside the door. Within a few seconds, a woman and some guards entered into the room. One of the four guards was one that Karakaj had seen at the ambassador's death. That would not play in his favor, but he had no intention of staying. With a smile, Karakaj ran in the opposite direction and jumped out through the window, shattering it. He decided to get out of the town for a while. Being seen at two different murder spots was not a good business practice.

...Besides, with what he learned from the senator, he had a new plan.

***

In a back alley nearby, Denthos was slowly drifting towards conciousness. At first all he was aware of was a splitting headache, but soon after, too soon in his opinion, he became aware of numerous bruises and aches all over his body. Slowly he opened his eyes a crack, slightly afraid of what he would see. At first he wasn’t sure whether he had opened his eyes at all so total was the darkness that he found himself. Had he been struck down with some malady? Leprosy? Fever perhaps? No, that wasn’t right, he had been healthy yesterday…. Or at least he thought it was yesterday.

But the confused thoughts of a man just awakened where banished from his mind as he slowly began to make out shapes, cobbled stone before his eyes, he was lying down in the gutter. Groaning, he slowly stood up, and stood there swaying for a moment. He looked at his hands and saw blood on them, from the looks of it, it had only been there a few hours, it hadn’t yet had time properly dry. So it had happened again… More blood… Another night he had no recollection of. He had been hoping this town would be the last, he hadn’t had any problems for a while… But no, it was not to be. He had to keep moving, another town, no one would recognise him he could start afresh, until…. Well, he’d think about that if it happened. It was still early, that was lucky, no one around to notice a sunken eyed vagrant wandering around with blood all over his hands, at least not for another hour or so.

He walked as briskly as he could towards one of the towns many fountains, his headache not yet releasing it’s pincer like grip on his mind. The fountain was beautiful, with statues of what could have been cherubs rendered in marble, and inlaid with gold. It was obviously built in the nations golden age, but dark times had fallen over the land since, humans no longer it’s sole masters, and the fountains beauty was marred by the presence of crude graffiti, and the work of sculptors long past had all but been destroyed by vandals. But all this was lost on Denthos as he hurriedly scrubbed at has hands and arms, trying to get rid of the blood that so haunted him. There was little he could do about the bloodstains on his clothing, but he could always buy new ones, or judging by the lightness of his purse, steal them off a clothesline. As he walked towards the city’s main gates, less hurried now that evidence of last nights … incident was less conspicuous, he began to feel the first pangs of hunger in his stomach. But never mind that, he could forage in the woods nearby if need be, gods knew he’d had enough practice.

He finally came up to the towns impressive gates, also built back in the golden age, but unlike the fountain, this gate, and the walls around it where kept in perfect condition by the towns pervasive military. But it wasn’t until he was at the checkpoint itself that he noticed something amiss. Where there was usually only three or four guards manning the gate, there was now at least fifteen, and unlike the usual lot, these wore the red armbands which marked them as part of the elite guard, but what where they doing here? They regarded him with suspicion as he walked up to them, but he was careful to keep his outward appearance calm, even though he was terrified that they where somehow here because of him. One of them stepped in front of him, looking carefully at a scroll and then back to Denthos.

“Name?”

Jord Kelfin Denthos said immediately, he’d adopted many false names in his travels.

“And where are you heading at this hour?”

Therrinsford, I’m going home, I was here to sell my family’s goat at market, but I got mugged before the day was over. He spat on the ground to emphasise his point.

“Another country boy who couldn’t handle the big city eh? Well go on, on your way” he said, waving Denthos on.

Maybe he would go to Therrinsford, maybe not, after all, it was just another city, just another night ahead, and maybe if he just kept walking, he’d leave these… incidents behind.

***

The oil lanterns in the seedy Tasocia restaraunt were burning dimly, but their warmth was a welcome relief from the sudden cold snap. The dancers were on the stage, gyrating to the music of the fiddles and horns and pipes. One dancer, who also worked as a waitress, saw an old customer seated at a booth in the corner of the room. The small, skinny man used to pay her all the time for her...services, but he didn't seem to notice her today. She stepped off the stage and walked over to him. He was absorbed in a book, his long tendrils of greasy hair extending downward and brushing the pages. She tapped him on the shoulder. When he looked up, he flashed her his irresistable yellowed smile.

"Sosia!" he said quietly yet excitedly. He stood up and gave her a hug. She could feel his sharp nails scratch against her skin.

"You haven't been here in a while, Karakaj," she said blankly. She tried to look at his book, but he kept his hand strategically placed, so as to block her view.

"Times've been hard, funds scarce, employers dead; you know how it goes." Karakaj examined her from head to toe with a jaundiced eye, but she didn't mind. When they stopped looking, that was the time to worry (or so her boss told her). "I'm just meeting with my brother here tonight," he continued, "You remember him, don't you?"

"No."

"Well, anyway, we're going to discuss some business, and then you and I can get reacquainted. My last payment was a bit more than usual, so I have money to burn, and all I need is some kindling." He looked at her midriff. "Sapphire necklace sound good?"

Her eyes opened wide. "You'd really give me a sapphire necklace?"

He flashed the smile again. "Of course, Sosia. I wouldn't let my favorite little field mouse go to the poor house, now would I?" Something suddenly caught Karakaj's eye. "Ah, he's here. Bergadrian! Over here!"

Suddenly, a second man came over. He was taller and bulkier than Karakaj, and more presentable overall. Still, the facial features made it obvious that the two were related. Bergradian sat down without even greeting the two of them. He turned his head away from the crowd.

Karakaj turned to Socia. "Now, my little partrige egg, you're going to have to leave the two of us in privacy for a while, and I promise I'll meet up with you afterward."

"Just don't skip town like last time," Sosia replied as she tiptoed back to the stage. Karakaj continued to smile and wave until she was consumed in her dancing. He then sat down and faced his brother.

"Best damned body on this whole continent." He said, trying to make small talk, "Good dancer, too."

"You know I don't like to be seen, Karakaj. Why did you bring me to a restaraunt of all things?"

"Have you tried the duck? The duck is very good."

"You didn't bring me here for a damned duck, Karakaj! This is the first time we've talked in years, so please give me the respect of a few straight answers."

"Has it been years? I could of sworn we saw each other last-" Karakaj was stopped in midsentance when Bergradian stood up.

"If you're not going to talk straight with me," Bergradian growled, "I'm leaving. I have plenty of jobs to do."

"Oh, impatient one," Karakaj muttered. Bergradian began walking away. Karakaj spoke a bit louder this time, "Have you ever heard of a Ferinite?"

Bergradian turned around. "A what?"

Karakaj pushed the book towards the edge of the table. Inside was a sketch of a creature that looked akin to a humanoid cat. Some notes were written under it, headed by "FERINITE" in large lettering. Karakaj dipped his finger in his mug of ale and said, "Amazing creatures, really. Telepathically linked with one another. Don't you remember the stories?"

"The cat people? I kind of remember those stories. What's so important about them?"

"One of the traits of this race is that they pass on their collective history and knowledge to each new member via their telepathy. In a sense, each one has the accumulated knowledge of an entire species! And not just any species, but the legendary cat warriors of the deep forest. A memory thief could make quite a killing with just one of those, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah," Bergradian replied, "Not to mention the knowledge the thief would gain for themselves. I still don't see what you're getting at. Are you planning on capturing one of those things?"

Karakaj smiled deviously. "The capturing has already been done. Not by me, of course. One of my previous employers was a senator, and he happened to be dead when I came to recieve payments."

"I'll bet you were disappointed," Bergradian said sarcastically.

"Well, I decided to take a look at what was left of his mind, and I saw that one of these ferinites is being held hostage by the Yatagani."

"The snake people?"

"Yes, the telepathic snake people. Barring some interspecial brain comparison, I'm guessing there's something underhanded going on here, though I don't know what. Just a few leads. The senator, of course, but also an ambassador from Trenk."

"Trenk. That's where the snake people reside, isn't it?"

Karakaj smiled as he drew lines on the table with the ale on his fingernail. "You're learning. The ambassador didn't know anything first-hand, but he does know about someone who may. My plan is simple: follow the leads, get to Trenk, infiltrate the Yatagani's colony, kill the Ferinite, take her memories, and get back here, complete with a fully-stocked brain of my own and a memory globe worth half a kingdom in gold."

Bergradian glared at Karakaj for a moment before speaking. "I don't know what makes you more of a damned fool, Karakaj: that plan, or the fact that you're obviously going to ask me to help you carry out that plan."

"Poor old Bergradian. Your conservative thieving methods are the reason why all you take are the odd jobs that barely buy you a new shirt. However, I knew that you wouldn't be too keen on my idea right away. You never are. So, I'll give you the night to think it over. Here, you can sleep in my room upstairs."

With that, Karakaj tossed a key onto the table. Bergradian slowly picked it up. "Where're you gonna sleep," he asked suspiciously.

Karakaj stood up and showed off the key he stole from Sosia when he hugged her. "Why, tonight I'm in the dancer's room." He then briskly walked away.

***

As the sun peeked over the horizon, the morningdove rose from its nest. It perched upon a branch which overlooked the countryside and took in a deep breath. Then, as was its usual routine, the morningdove began to sing a melodic song for all the world to hear.

The song was cut short, however, as a long needle slid through the morningdove’s throat. Its eyes rolled back as it fell silently from the tree branch.

“Damn birds,” Karakaj said drowsily as he put the extra needles back into the pouch that was sitting next to his bed. There was no way he’d be able to fall back asleep, so he decided to get up.

“What’d you say, sweetie?” A familiar asked behind him. He turned around and saw Sosia lying in the same bed he had just stepped out of. He suddenly remembered where he was again. He also remembered that, apparently, Sosia had a second key to her room. She came in after her performance was over, where she found him lying in her bed, and...

“Oh, right...” Karakaj said, barely aloud. He must have drunken too much ale that night; everything was still a bit fuzzy in his mind’s eye. He looked Sosia straight in the eye. “Well, I’m off!”

“What? You just got here!”

“What do you mean, ‘just got here’? I’ve been here...” he looked at the position of the shadows outside, “...a full eight hours!”

He could see a whimper form on her face. “You said you’d stay this time. You said you’d keep me company.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d say,” Karakaj retorted. Suddenly, her face twisted into a frown. “I’ll be back in a minute. I’m just going to check in with my brother.” He began to walk out the door.

“You should probably put on some clothes first,” Sosia said with a newfound wryness. Karakaj looked down and saw that she was indeed telling the truth, however. He really drank too much ale that night.

“That’s why I love you, my little morningdove,” he said, immediately regretting his choice of words. Giving her the pet name of a bird he just killed wouldn’t help her suddenly sour mood. He decided it would be best to leave the room as soon as possible. He put on a simple robe and stepped out the door. When he arrived at the room where his brother was staying, he knocked. “Bergradian!” he said in an almost-singsong tone, “Have you come to a decision yet?”

No reply.

Karakaj knocked again, louder this time. “I’m heading out within the hour, Bergradian. It’s now or never. Get your lazy backside out of bed!”

Still no reply.

Dismayed, Karakaj walked down to the front desk, where the old innkeeper was sleeping on his desk. Karakaj flicked a finger at him. A sharpened nail grazed the old man’s forehead, drawing just a single drop of blood. It was Karakaj’s favorite trick, though it only worked for intimidation, as well as waking up lazy old innkeepers. As the man came to grips with his surroundings, Karakaj asked, “Where’s the occupant of Room 207?”

“What? Oh. Yes, he left before midnight.”

“Bastard!” Karakaj exclaimed with genuine annoyance. Bergradian didn’t even give his offer two hours of thought before leaving. The two never saw eye-to-eye, but he thought that the elder sibling would at least grant him somerespect.

“Yes, he also said that his brother Karasmaj would pay the bill.”

“What bill? He didn’t even stay the night!”

“I’ll take it you’re Karasmaj?”

“It’s Karakaj,” he memory thief said sternly as he placed a silver coin on the desk. The innkeeper greedily pocketed it as Karakaj walked back up the stairs and into Sosia’s room. To his surprise, she was fully dressed; not for dancing, but for traveling.

“I’m going with you,” she said with certainty.

“No, you’re not, Sosia,” Karakaj replied with equal certainty.

“You promised we’d be together. If you’re traveling to the ends of the world, I want to be with you.”

Well, she’s loyal, thought Karakaj, I might just have something to look forward to for retirement. His outer demeanor was less promising for the dancer. “Sosia, my little dragon’s eye, I would let you come with me if we were traveling to the ends of the world. That’s no problem. However, I’m going into Trenk.”

“Where?”

“Trenk. I’m going to meet up with the Yatagani. You know about the Yatagani, don’t you?” She shook her head. He continued as he dressed himself in his travel outfit. “They’re a snake people. Nasty things, really. Savage. Will tear you limb from limb and drink the juices of your marrow. What’s more, they’re telepathic. They can read your mind. They know where you are at all times, and will follow you, spy on you...hunt you.”

Sosia became suddenly flustered. “Why are you going? I don’t want you in danger.”

As he slipped on his gloves, Karakaj flashed the yellowed smile she found oh-so-irresistible. “Oh, we wouldn’t be in danger,” he lied, “But that’s not why you can’t come. You see, the Yatagani have never seen a memory thief before, much less one like me. I have plans, my shining apple. And I don’t want you see what I do to them.” With that, he grabbed her face and kissed her hard enough to stun her for a second. In that second, he jumped out the window, narrowly missing a morningdove with a needle sticking from its throat.

***

Somewhere in Trenk, many miles away, there is a knock on an office door. Hissskk <Yes Deekin, what is it?> Slowly the door opens, and a smallish Yatagani timidly steps in. <We…we have received a message my Lord.>

And what does it say Deekin? I haven’t got all day.

I don’t quite understand the language my Lord, but I believe it is a warning of some kind. Something about a thought stealer…

*sigh* Bring it here if you aren’t capable of reading it.; Quickly Deekin hands over the dingy scrap of paper.Well, you almost got it right, Deekin, you are improving. Leave me now.

Thank you my Lord.

The message on the paper reads “Beware the Memory Thief; he is more dangerous than you know…” Hiissk; Hmm, interesting…J'NAH!

You called my Lord? A slim female Yatagani enters the office. She is much taller than Deekin; certainly more powerful. Her forked tongue flicks across her lips almost greedily.

Yes, J’nah my dear, it appears that things have just gotten a bit more…complicated. Here, read this. She takes the note, her slanted yellow eyes scanning the page. A faint smile plays across her lips.

This is going to be fun. Mind if I keep this? She tucks it down her top without waiting for a reply.

Of course not my dear, now leave me, you know what needs to be done.

Yes my Lord. Again her tongue flickers across her lightly scaled lips, her scaled feet barely making a sound as she makes her way down the stone corridor.

***

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo

The force of the shaking brought her to the ground. Her once Forest green eyes went dark like a sharks. Her fur turned the purple black of a panthers and the clouds outside gathered above her room. The tiny room darkens and the shadow rises from the floor, lightning cracks out the window and the bars fall.

lanetashi She hears all the bird call out as they flee her presence.

hehehe, little things. mmmmm, but aren't i hungry

Growling softly and then jumping to the window she easily clicks it open. Around an alarms sounds and she smiles at all the "ants" moving below on the green grass. Finally she spots what she was looking for, and she salivates, licks her lips, and leaps out and on to a near by roof top.

It hides under a near by tree and crouches all alone, she can feel the shivers it has from the cold wind on it back. The smell of it’s fear is intoxicating and heighten the joy she feels as she creeps closer. When she gets to the end of the house she falls to the earth landing on her hands, feet and knees. Just then a flash of lighting crashes and reflects off her eyes and teeth. The scent increases and her ears are flooded with the increase in heart beat. It’s smaller then she though just a mid-aged cub, but oh well it will have to do. She sinks to the ground and stills her heart testing that all her muscles are ready, her eyes never leave her prey. Every one has gone inside, but this unfortunate soul was to scared to move further then the tree out of the storm.

Pouncing she tackles her prey clamping her jaws down on it’s neck fast, it’s half cut scream is heard by none, as the storm opens up and starts to pour. It’s life blood washes away as water falls and meets the gentle pond before her.

She relishes the feel of its heart beat in her mouth then, with a quick turn of her head it’s feels no more, and she digs in. Tearing flesh, drinking blood, sucking on bones. The remains wash away and after a few quick detail licks she is just a drenched kitty and with the hunger gone, the rain stops and the air around her starts to tingle with the static electricity she calls. Calmly turning she climbs the near by tree and starts to rest.

The clouds over head start to part and the setting sun can be seen calmly following it’s normal pattern.

***

J’nah walked down the silent corridor, thinking about the memory thief and the banteki. She really wanted to investigate the message, but she knew her first duty was to check on the savage. They couldn’t afford to let her get away again.

The futsutsuka will suffer for the inconvenience they have caused the Yatagani. Our mission would be complete if it wasn’t for their stupidity She thought savagely. Of course that is why they called the humans futsutsuka, it means stupid or incompetent in the Yatagani tongue.

The futsutsuka land was many days away for one of them, but J’nah knew she could make it by morning. Pausing near one of the many archways leading outside, she gazed up at the moon as it started to rise over the mountains. The soft light shone off her bald head, the black scales shifting iridescently. Far in the distance, she could see the storm clouds forming over the futsutsuka lands.

Hmmm…seems she couldn’t control herself after all. Do you see that Lord Akuma?

Yes, J’nah, we don’t have much time. We need her before she fully turns.

Worry not my Lord, I will be there by morning. We will soon have her back.

J’nah spent most of the morning watching the futsutsukas, studying their guard patterns. She had watched them before, when they had first discovered that the banteki was their prisoner. Nothing much had changed.

They are such a primitive race, getting past them should be no problem. But the banteki could pose a slight problem, if the darkness inside has fully taken control. She thought to herself. The sky had rapidly cleared, which had to be caused by the banteki. Further evidence that they were running out of time.

It had rained recently, the ground was still wet and the smell hung in the air. J’nah jumped down from her hiding place in an ancient tree and silently made her way toward where she knew they were holding the bantenki. Her scaled skin shimmered in the dim light of the forest, her bare feet scarcely leaving a mark on the ground.

She had already decided to do this the ‘hard’ way. No futsutsuka would be left alive this time. It had been too long since she had felt their blood on her hands and tasted it on her lips.

***

(Here Ends the Tales)

Logging the End of a Life (er, Job)

2008-05-21T02:36:00.000-07:00

Whenever an RA is on duty, they need to submit a duty report by the following morning. I recently had my last night of duty ever (after 22 consecutive months of it). I'd like to share the report with you. I almost - almost - got choked up when writing it.

Andrew Schnorr
5/14/2008 Short Duty
Building: Towle

SM Breaks:
-TO 10pm-3am: Alvaro: None.

1^st Rounds: 9:12pm – 9:41pm
-Keyed into the 6^th Floor Suites.
-Lots of the doors on the 6^th floor were open; it was nice.
-Every lounge was jam-packed with avid studiers.
-Due to our late sunsets, there was still some red illumination in the clouds to the west. Every time I was by a window, I looked out, past the Underhill lights encircled by bugs, past all the buildings, and to the clouds, watching the colors slowly fade from the sky into nothing more than my memory.

2^nd Rounds: 12:32am – 12:55am
-There was a bittersweet feeling I had about these rounds; they were my last. Ever. So, I was almost…pensive about them. In fact, for the first 5 or 7 minutes, I was actually sitting at the top of the stairs, right next to the entrance to the roof. Sitting, sitting and staring at the Campanile. No real reason, no real purpose. Still, it was nice.
-The halls were quiet, and yet there was so much energy buzzing around. People frantically flipping through their books and notes, draining away at their youth…
-Probably one of my longest second rounds to not have an incident, but well worth it, I feel.

Lockouts:
-None. :)

Incidents/Issues:
-None. :)

Maintenance/Custodial Tags:
-None. :)

Misc:
-My duty log for…just about a full year now has been a classic black-and-white marbled composition book. As I look at it right now, it definitely looks used. The cover ink has faded away where my hands have handled it time and time again. The corners are bent, the pages are curled; the spine actually had to be reinforced with blue tape. Truth be told, though, it’s held up better than my duty log from last year (which practically fell apart after a resident threw it into the street).

Still, the important part of the log is not how the cover looks, but what’s written on the inside. At first glance, it seems so…sterile. Names, times, numbers, shorthand sentences. It looks more like a census booklet than anything. And yet, what they represent is so much more.

Each of those names is an interaction. Each time is an event. Every single three-word sentence was *something* in my experience that I felt was worthwhile to note. And there are PAGES and PAGES of them. Some good, some bad, but more than you think are memorable. One note from 6/10/07 was “res run .5-nude on 1” (Translation: “Some resident was running around half naked on the 1^st Floor of Ehrman”). From 11/8/07: “talk res my room watch orcas” (Translation: “Spoke with some of my 4^th Floor residents and then brought them to my room to watch a video about killer whales”). Both good and bad are there, and I remember them so *vividly* after reading these nonsensical sentences. So much in one little composition book.

Still, I would say the single best part of the log is the very last page. It was doodled on by a wonderful resident from Japan named Mariko whilst I was drinking boba with her and another resident in the Ehrman 8^th Floor laundry room over the summer. On it, there is a simple, inaccurate drawing of (I’m assuming) Bart Simpson, along with my name in Japanese. There is also a message which I think best sums up my strengths, my weaknesses, my experiences, my *life* as a UC Berkeley Resident Assistant:

“Hi! Andrew!! Let’s go to TARGET!!”

Signing off one last time,
Andrew Schnorr

Continuing Progress on Elderly Apple Comic-Con Butttons

2008-05-19T05:11:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I've been working with designs that I think would make good buttons. I tried out the schizo watch (due to his round nature, of course, and the fact that he was recommended by multiple people), but that, ironically enough, didn't work out the way I wanted. It was too round; there was not enough rood space for text.

Of what I've gone through, I've found four designs which I think work pretty well. While I don't know if they'll fly with the powers-that-be at Comic-Con, I am kind of guessing they will.

I was also considering, maybe, using two designs (to mix things up) and split my buttons up that way (a bit more expensive, but more variety). I'm not sure.

The only other decision I'd need to make would be between using a 1.5" button and a 2.25" button. Any thoughts there?

(Oh, we'll be working on business/postcards later. Now is the time for buttons!)

Put It on Account...ing

2008-05-17T02:31:00.000-07:00

I am finished with Accounting! Forever (in academic terms, at least)!

Huzzah!

My final was yesterday from 5pm-8pm. My sleep pattern prior to that had become...erratic, at best. Like, there was no rhyme or reason to it. Sometimes I would sleep from 9pm-1am, sometimes from 3pm-7pm, or any other off-kilter times. And I became quite hermetic. My door was always closed, mainly because I was an unsightly mess, eating a mix of Trader Joe's Salsa Verde (the best salsa in the world) and breath mints. Needless to say, I wasn't at my finest.

But who cares?! I'm finished with Accounting! The final itself, which I needed to do well on so as not to b0rk up my GPA, wasn't as bad as I was fearing. Still, I'm going to be no more than cautiously optimistic. But it's finished! FINISHED!

(As you may be able to tell, I didn't like Accounting. I think it's quite telling that I was no better than average in that class, while I was in the top 5% of both my marketing and consumer behavior classes.)

Oh, two more things!

I think I may have figured out what that insanity-inducing noise is. It's not coming from the walls themselves, but rather from the stairwell. I notice it has started only after someone has closed the door leading to the stairwell (which my room is directly next to), or when someone in the stairwell hit one of the metal handrails. Then it started. So, I think it has something to do with that.

Doesn't really make things better; the sound still drives me crazy, but at least I have some solace in knowing the source.

Second, I was watching the movie Amadeus the other day (I watch pieces of movies as I eat dinner, since I can't really do anything else during those 25 or so minutes). Thing was, though, I didn't realize that the thing was a two-disc movie. I only had one disc, and I thought that this scene was the ending:

Me: "........Huh."

And I thought No Country for Old Men had no closure in the ending. This didn't even have credits! Oh well, I thought, it's their movie, they can end it however they like. It took me a full day to realize that I still had an hour of movie left.

I immediately put it on my Netflix queue. Don't tell me how it ends!

Jerk: "Psst! Mozart dies!"

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

A Call to Action!

2008-05-14T03:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, finals time. Don't expect anything great from me during this period. I need to do well, mainly in certain classes *cough*accounting*cough*.

Anyhoo, I had posted this on a webcomic community forum I'm a part of, but since I watned your feedback as well (and because you should be reading Elderly Apple [*shakes fist*]) I feel you're all qualified to help.

Okay, so I've been thinking that I'd like to give some freeeeebies away at Comic-Con. It might get me some interested viewers, and I think it'd be neat to see people with my swag at the con.

Anyhoo, I'm considering the following items (not all of them, but maybe one or two).
-Buttons
-Postcards
-Magnets
-Business Cards (To be carried on my person)

Now, for each of these, I would want to have one of my comics on it.

So!

I have an assignment for you all. An assignment of friendship!

I'd like to hear which comics you think would work well in any of these formats. Meaning:
1. They have to be representative of what Elderly Apple is; it's style, humor, whatever.
2. They should try not to make it seem like there are any stable characters (this is one of the main reasons I am hesitant to just resort to Pliny, the Elderly Apple.
3. It must be (and I quote the Comic-Con people) "be approved by Comic-Con to be all ages appropriate." I don't think this will be too much of an issue.
4. (I could probably "clean up" any of them if necessary, erasing stray lines and such, so that shouldn't be an issue).

Additionally, it we're looking at a business card, we'd need a space where my name/URL could go. (I actually thought after making this one that "that would make a good business card.")

Oh, and for a button, you'd need something that would work well in a circle.

Alternatively for the button, we could instead do something like this, using TWO buttons:

All subject to variation.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Wait, Elderly Apple Guy [ed. note: this is how people refer to me], why aren't you trying to figure this stuff out yourself? Shouldn't you be doing your own dirty work?"

Answer: I kinda am. I have certain ideas of what I'd like to use, but I want to open up the discussion to see if there's any kind of consensus. Plus, it's hard to trust my own judgment when it comes to my creations.

So take a look at my archives and see what you think will work! I thank you in advance for any help!

So there you go! Put your ideas in the comments, along with any explanations of why I should use it.

I Think I'm Going Insane...

2008-05-12T03:26:00.000-07:00

There's this little noise that I hear sometimes...

It comes randomly, but only seems to really be at night...

It sounds like a spoon rapidly tapping on a piece of paper, like twice a second...

It's piercing; you can hear it through your music...

And the worst part - the part that makes me look crazy - it's in the wall!

It's not in the air vents, it's coming from the very concrete wall itself.

And when I try to focus on it, it moves to a different part of the wall.

I have no idea what it is, save one thing: maddening!

Coming Into the Home Stretch

2008-05-09T01:48:00.000-07:00

Two classes done with, three finals to go. I just had a final yesterday (despite not being in finals week). It was for my consumer behavior class, which I loved, and I think I got either a 95% or a 100% on the test.

Oh, here's an interesting tidbit: for my Star Wars DeCal final project, I ended up writing a Choose Your Own Adventure story. 80 pages, 27 endings, and many, many hours of work.

However, I think it was all worth it, as the course facilitator told me that he liked it so much (having actually laughed-out-loud several times), he's going to put it into next year's course reader. So, I asked what any Berkeley student would ask: "Does that mean I pass the class?"

His response: "B-."

(NOTE: I'm not going to put it up for download here. Not so much because I'm worried about copyright issues, but rather because it's a bit racier that the things I usually put on my blog. Case in point, I incorporated a lot of Pulp Fiction/Snakes on a Plane lines into Mace Windu's scenes, similar to this. [NSFW!])

A Preview of Things to Come

2008-05-05T04:40:00.000-07:00

Believe me when I say I'll talk more (much more) about this later, when I'm not juggling 18 hojillion kabillion things.

But for now...
...that'll have to do.

Cop-Out: A Smug Looking Cartoon Version of Me

2008-05-04T03:11:00.000-07:00

Ugh. I'm very sorry for not updating much. But what can I say? Life is busy for the moment. Lots of productivity. Good for me, bad for you (or, at least, your ability to read TLD). I will try (honestly try) to get some more regular updates in, but no promises; just hopes. Don't worry, all the craziness will all settle down within...I dunno, a month. O_o

In the meanwhile, enjoy my best attempt at making myself a Simpsons character using the "Simpsons Avatar Generator" at the movie's website. Pretend the bad mustache isn't there.

Note: While I don't actually own a ducky shirt, I can easily see myself wearing one.

Note 2: I'm, like, reverse moonwalking.

Hey, Got 25 Minutes to Spare?

2008-04-30T01:19:00.000-07:00

I wanted to do something a little different today. So I decided I'd let you watch me play a bad video game.

Seriously.

...Hey, come back!

This is actually something I've wanted to do for a while. On my primary video game-related website, Kotaku (who've I've referenced before) there is this one writer named Mike Fahey who has an occasional feature called "Fahey Talks at the Game" in which he plays a game (usually a bad one) and...talks at it. As though you're in the room with him. Aww... If you want a sample, I think the best of the bunch are the ones for Ninjabread Man and especially Nancy Drew - The White Wolf of Icicle Creek.

As I said, I'd like to do something similar. Hence, I am debuting my own occasional feature entitled "Andrew Talks to the Game" (notice my creative lawsuit avoidance?). Unfortunately, I don't have a full on camcorder like Fahey does, and my digital camera can't focus on words worth a hoot, so I'm reduced to using my cell phone camera. It does an admirable job, for what it's worth. Still, as it's my first time doing this, I'm still a little rusty.

So, if you have a good 20 minutes and enjoy the sound of my voice, give it a go. If, on the other hand, you got sick while watching Cloverfield...best pass this one up.

(Let me know what you think in the comments. I have a few ideas for future games, but I'm also willing to take requests.)

A Tale of a Curious Egg

2008-04-28T16:29:00.000-07:00

The Curious Egg - A Tale by Andrew Schnorr

Once upon a time, there was a hardboiled egg (without shell, of course). However, this egg was quite curious. Indeed, it wasn't normal at all. Instead of being milky white in color, it bore a splotchy design of blues, greens, and light purples.

One day, a most worthy and handsome man came across the egg.

"What a curious egg," he said, "Is it of an odd color because there is something wrong with it, or has this egg simply decided that it wishes to be different from the rank and file eggs of this world. If I were to eat this egg, would the taste be as off as the coloring?"

So the dashing man, risking life and limb, bravely took up the egg and placed it within mouth (which had tasted the lips of many maidens throughout the land).

And, eyes closed in anticipation, he bit down, not knowing whether he would live through the night. His pearly-white teeth pierced through the soft flesh of the egg, cutting down straight to its core. There was no turning back now.

Once the top of the curious egg was in his mouth...

"HRYURK!!!"

The virile man recoiled in horror. "Oh, horror of horror!" screamed the ~~horrible~~ man, "This curious egg has become the odd color because it has become a vessel of poison. Woe is me, for now I die!"

But then the valiant man stopped. He was not dead. And he realized that the curious egg did not, indeed, taste like poison. Indeed, it tasted just like a normal egg.

"You know, despite the odd color, the taste of this curious egg is quite good. Indeed, it is a good egg! But there are still unanswered questions. If, for all intents and purposes, this is a normal egg, why would it have a coloring so nonconforming to the standard of eggs?"

...Looking somewhat to the left, the brilliant man saw his answer.

Blueberries! Dozens and dozens of blueberries, sitting within a lunch tray. Sitting within a pool of their own colorful juice.

"Of course! The egg was not oddly-colored under its own free will. It was been placed on top of these juicy, juicy blueberries, and the flesh of the egg absorbed some of that color! What a splendid solution!"

And so, the universally-loved man accepted the curious egg for what it was. He finished eating the egg. It was delicious. And he lived happily ever after!

THEND!

So, Andrew, What's Going On With You?

2008-04-26T00:05:00.000-07:00

That's a fair question, title bar. While I'm still on a tight schedule, I thought I'd give a few updates as to what's going on in my real life:

School:
This has been a little bit of a rough-and-tumble semester for me. I'm having a somewhat rockier-than-normal time in my Accounting class. It's not like I'm failing; I'm just...average. Which is fine in the long run, because I have no interest in ever pursuing accounting at this point. Still, it's definitely not going to help my GPA any. So that's no good.

My economics class is a strange creature. I did very well (well above the median) on our only midterm, but I've struggled with about half the homework assignments (the other half were no issue). The main problem with the homework, I think, is that we're never taught the material. It's not in the book, it's not in the lectures; hell, it's not even online! Hence, you need to be either exceptional at lateral thinking, or spend at least 6 hours on a single homework assignment. Blech.

I love my consumer behavior class. Looooove it! It's just fascinating stuff. And I'm good with class participation. I'm known by some people as "the guy that can divine [yes, they actually said 'divine'] all the right answers." No problems, save that we have to do group projects, and I'm in a group with a bunch of people who don't care about the class (and don't know how to write, apparently).

And the rest: I only need 4 out of a possible 40 points in my final module of personal finance. And my Star Wars DeCal is going...I...uh...I'm sorry, I must have something in my eye.

Internships:
Ain't gonna happen at this point. Even if I found a summer job, working it will be difficult, for reasons I'll explain later.

Now, I'll be honest. While nobody may have been able to tell (because nobody can ever tell), I've actually been in a very irritable, bitter mood for the last couple weeks. It's gotten better, but hasn't completely passed. I am going to hazard a guess and say that part of me is still shaken up about the whole internship thing. For a few reasons. First, I've been thinking that I was no longer needed by the time I was interviewed. Thinking back on my interviews, they were pleasant...perhaps too pleasant. There was never any challenge questions to them. No case questions, no nothing. Just pleasantries. So whose to say that it wasn't a foregone conclusion as I walked in the door.

The second issue is just a feeling of...I don't know, failure, I suppose. Maybe this is just a version of me going into a hissy fit when things don't go my way. A quiet, brooding hissy fit. Definitely something to work on. I guess it may just be the achiever in me. I like to have things to show for long periods of effort.

But anyway, I think I may be turning over a new leaf in that regard. While I nominally said in the beginning, "I have accepted the fact that I don't have an internship," I think I may actually have accepted it at this point. And this is due, in part, to...

Summer Sessions:
...My insurance plan. Basically, I decided to apply as a Community Coordinator for the Summer Sessions. It's somewhat like an RA's superior, but also is in charge of Security Monitors. So it will be useful for my job next year. I will be...oh, what? I didn't explain that yet?

My Job Next Year:
So, I got accepted as a Security Coordinator for the 2008-2009 academic year. This is a live-out position, so I don't get free room and board, but I do get paid an hourly wage of $14.50, so that's something. Basically, I'm in charge of all the Security Monitors, who are the people who sit at the front desks of all the buildings and swipe people in.

...Except where I was assigned.

So, it's back to good ol' Clark Kerr Campus for me! I'm not living there of course, and my interaction there will be somewhat limited, but still! Now, at CKC, the SM job is a bit different. Instead of having one in each building (and me being in charge of three buildings), there is one for the entire unit. That means they don't have to swipe people in or be trained for anything like that. They just need to sit there until someone needs something from the front desk. Oh, and the shifts are an hour shorter, so the second shift for the night ends at 1am, not 3am. Oh, and since there's only one booth, there are a total of 14 shifts to have covered each week, not 42.

So, for both the SMs and the SC (me), it's a much easier job.

So I got that going for me. However, it's pretty hectic right now, as we need to hire people. In fact, my weekend is swamped with interviews. Then we have training next weekend. It's definitely filling up my schedule. Good thing I get paid for everything I do relating to it!

So, that brings us back to...

Summer Sessions:
So I, along with someone else, was chosen to be a Community Coordinator for the summer. This is kind of like an SC with added responsibilities, though when there are two people, you can divvy them up somewhat.

I had a pretty good feeling I was going to get the position during the interview, as I was told that there were 2 open slots and 4 applicants, and later that I knew more about "the system" than did the RD I would be working with. (I'm kind of known around the upper management in the Office of Student Development for being an old hand by now.)

So, I'll be in Berkeley over the summer (I never leave)!

To better utilize my time here, I decided to enroll in classes for the first six weeks of summer. One class, specifically. It's in a major I've never heard of: New Media. It's on Interactivity. More specifically, it's on how technology has change interactions with each other, with the world, and with ourselves. Here's a flyer, and the syllabus, so you can get a general idea. I figured that the topic would actually be quite relevant to marketing, so it would be a good idea to take it.

Doing so, though, puts me in an especially interesting situation. I'll talk more about it later, but the general overview is this: if I wanted to, I can graduate in December.

I'll be learning more about exactly how everything's going to work out, so stay tuned!

Losing Weight:
So, I measure myself yesterday, and I weigh 176.6 pounds, that's a scant 1.6 pounds aways from my main target of 175. To put this into perspective, I'm pretty sure I haven't weighed this much since junior high or earlier, when I was a bit shorter. Essentially, I'm in the best shape of my life. Haven't been working on muscles; that's stage two (even so, I still have more than I used to). I think I'm going to take my official "After" pictures once I pass th 175 mark (who knows; it may even be next week).

Oh, and I have an enormous ribcage. That, and other observations, at a later time.

RA Life:
I'm a genius in some respects. Under normal circumstances, I would have anywhere from 14-18 days of duty in a timespan of two months, which can take its toll on you. Through wise negotiation and being the guy that helps out the needy when nobody else does (and nobody ever does), I've managed to make it so that for the months of April and May, I have a combined total of 6 days of duty. :D

Still, I've hit my RA wall a while back. It's time to pass the mantle onto one of my residents, who's going to be an RA next year at Unit 2 (and during the summer, to boot). Actually, I'll let him make his own mantle; mine's a bit faded at this point.

Extracurricular:
I'm being interviewed today for a position as Creative Committee Director in the Undergraduate Marketing Association. (Yes, this is the same day I am also interviewing others.) I'm a good fit for the position, particularly if I'm one of two co-directors, but if I don't get it, oh well. The way I participate in the organization and the way I hobnob with the current officers, you'd think I was already one.

...And that's all I can think of now. Which is good, because I have to go to bed. Goodnight!

You Know The Internet Has Corrupted You...

2008-04-25T00:30:00.000-07:00

When you can see this...

...and turn it into THIS!!!

(Note: No, I didn't just make that today; I've had it for a while. Had I the time to actually make something like that, I would use it to write a real post instead of just filler. Hi-larious filler, but filler nonetheless.)

Why RA's Shouldn't Be Allowed to Take Surveys

2008-04-22T15:53:00.000-07:00

A Slightly-Dramatized Conversation In the Dining Common

2008-04-21T15:29:00.000-07:00

My Brain: "Let's see, that's one part chocolate milk and two parts nonfat milk. This is going to be a delicious desert!"
Girl: "Excuse me."
Me: "Yes."
Girl: "Can I ask you a quick question?"
My Brain: "Ah, she's probably going to ask about my curious milk-drinking habits."
Girl: "Do you know where I can buy some marijuana around here?"
My Brain: "..."
Me: "..."
Girl: "Do you have any on you?"
Me: "...N, no."
Girl: "Oh, okay." *Walks away.*
Me: "..."
My Brain: "You idiot! You should have asked for her ID!"
Me: "It's not a hall policy to ask where pot can be bought."
My Brain: "Well, you should have at least played along until you got her information!"
Me: "Why?"
My Brain: "So you can set up a sting operation with whoever her RA is!"
Me: "What if she doesn't smoke it in the hall?"
My Brain: "Don't be dense!"
Guy at the Pasta Station: "....."
Me: "......Okay, one part chocolate, two parts nonfat."

Big Girls Don't Fry...

2008-04-19T01:26:00.000-07:00

Hey! Remember me? I'm still alive, and it looks like my death schedule may be easing up. So, more than likely, by the time you're reading this, I'll still be sleeping (regardless of what time/day it is).

To make up for it, I'm going to give you a fun topic:

Fried foods!

Now, as I mentioned a while back, I get Late Night about once a week. I'm still figuring out what the prime meal - that is, best food with fewest regrets - is.

I'll tell you one thing that's not the prime meal: chicken strips and fries. And I'll extrapolate a bit further and just say it's the chicken strips. I've had chicken strips and fries about twice this semester, and both times I felt a simultaneous desire to throw up and do jumping jacks. Seriously, I can't eat them any more without feeling really sick.

And this is no small task. I'll be honest: this time last year, I'd literally eat chicken strips and fries (with ranch dip) every single day (or at the least, every other day) for lunch. So, this is a pretty sizable turnaround.

So, at this point, I may be past my fried phase (with the ironic exception of fries, though I do eat fewer of them than before).

However!

That does not mean that I don't get a kick out of seeing the world of all things fried. Yes, should you ever go to a county - perhaps even a state - fair, you'll be able to see, amongst the mullets and empty cans of Bud Light, plenty of booths touting vats of gallons and gallons of bubbling oil. And Lord knows, people are willing to try, er, fry anything.

Perchance, have you heard of any of the following?
Fried Snickers
Fried Mars Bar
Fried Ice Cream
Fried Twinkies
Fried Coca-Cola

But why stop there? There's an entire world of edibles just waiting to be covered in batter and boiled in liquid fat!

Take, for example, Frank Sodolak of Snook, Texas. Sir Sodolak is a man's man. He knows the score, and he's not afraid to go the distance to achieve greatness. For him, why settle with just pan-frying your bacon? That will never do! Instead, Sir Sodolak does what any good American does and takes it to the next level...with cream gravy!

(I'm not sure which part I enjoyed more: the fact that the menu has a cigarette ad, the woman who says it needs more salt, or the fact that a troop of boy scouts could fashion tents out of the shirts of any of the people in that video.)

So, that's chicken fried bacon. Now, while we've all cut two years off our life just by watching that video, at least we can rest assured that it doesn't get any worse than that.

.......Right?

Guys?

Oh...

Oh, no!

Oh, GOD!

DEAR GOD, NO!!!

Dear School...

2008-04-16T03:53:00.000-07:00

Can I PLEASE go to bed before 4am one of these days?

PLEASE?!

Getting more than 4 hours a sleep once in two weeks would be nice.

One Instance of When I Wish Colleges Didn't Have College Students

2008-04-13T03:50:00.000-07:00

I have two midterms on Monday, one that I don't really care about; the other that I really need to do well on. I need to be studying this weekend. At the same time, though, I felt it was unfair to you that the top post on here is depressing, so I thought I'd write a quick something to push down all the negative happenings.

Now, here's a pro-tip: if you ever go to Berkeley, or visit Berkeley, or hell, so much as read about Berkeley, never go to Late Night. Okay, I'll be more fair: never go to Late Night on a weekend night. I'm not saying this because about 90% of the food they have is bad for you (though that will be brought up again probably some time later this week).

No, you shouldn't go to Late Night on a weekend night because you will be transported to the inner regions of Hell!

Consider this typical example. As I said, I am studying, but I took a nap and woke up - wet spot next to my mouth on the pillow - a little past 1am. (Actually, I had a very interesting dream, in that it was actually pretty mundane; none of my usual crazy antics. The most unusual part of the dream is that I think there was a chick who liked me in it.) I decide to get something to eat. So, like anyone in my shoes would, I walked over to Crossroads for some Late Night. Keep in mind, this is 1am on a Saturday night in a college town. Up and down the sidewalks, there were people coming from parties, trying to walk straight. Females dressed up like 80s hoochies. Guys sneaking into the halls through emergency exits (which I ran to catch, but they slammed the door in my face; it would have been near-impossible for me to find them).

But truth be told, these failures of the world are relatively scattered on the street. In Late Night, though, they're gathered together like a herd of inebriated cattle.

It's always amazing to see how many people eat at Late Night. You'd think that shortly before 2am, when it closes, there'd be few people, but no! When I left at around 1:55 (more on that in a minute), there were probably 60-some-odd people in the line for the register alone. So there's a boatload of people, and the vast majority are drunk off their asses.

Now, a quick aside. People always tell me, "Oh, you need to learn to drink; it will make you more socially acceptable." Bull. First of all, I am perfectly comfortable with my normal social acceptability. Second, the people I see just rub me the wrong way. When I see a tipsy girl - not even drunk, just tipsy - I am actually revolted. And the guys are even worse, because they get louder and more annoying than before.

So, there I am, waiting for my food. And I'm waiting a long time. Half an hour, in fact. I guess when someone orders a garden burger, they have to go out and cultivate, harvest, and process the vegetables before serving it to me. On the other side, all the people who ordered chicken strips and three double cheeseburgers got their orders in no time flat. So, for half an hour, I was just watching these...people. Some guy shouting "San Diego!" every 20 seconds. Another guy demonstrating his lack of dexterity by dropping every piece of food he tried holding (hmm...). A chick being held up by (I assume) her boyfriend, and trying to make out with him, except only making out with open air. A drunk guy on crutches - use your imagination. The list goes on and on.

I almost pity them. Almost. Then I realize that, for the most part, they brought it upon themselves. As such, I give them no quarter. When they try to cut past people in line, I'm always the one who they can't get past. I know I piss off a lot of drunkards when I do that, but I don't give a damn. They should try cutting me when they have some dignity.

So, after I got my food, I left quickly (well, after I threw out my bun and about 2/3 of my fries [which was actually a liberating experience]). I was happy to leave, and I didn't envy the dining hall workers who had to deal with that mess of people every single week (and, in some cases, every day).

"Every time I come to Late Night, I am reminded why I should never come to Late Night."
~Andrew Schnorr

So, I Got My Answer From Lucasfilm...

2008-04-10T22:17:00.000-07:00

I got a phone call around 5:20 or so in the afternoon. I was walking back home from picking up some dinner, but I knew it was them (from the number) so I answered then and there.

....

What's that, you ask? What did they say?

I think a video can best summarize it.

...........

...Sooooo, yeah. No dice.

There are two points of consolation, though. First of all, I was not rejected because I was unfit, or even because I was not the best candidate. I was rejected because the marketing team decided they did not have the right amount/kind of work to hire an intern. So there was nothing that could be done. The second is that they passed my information onto LucasArts (the video game division) in the off (off) chance that they decide they could use a marketing intern. Still, even with these consolations, this seems like the job search equivalent of your girlfriend breaking up with you and saying, "Oh, it's not you, it's me."

Okay, let me be fair. The good folks at Lucasfilm went out of their way to try to open a position in the marketing team. I am eternally grateful for that, make no mistake. The fact that they couldn't find a place for me is not their fault; it's just business. And business is my business, so I need to live with it.

...Still, it makes me wish I had taken more pictures...

Quick Thoughts on Covers

2008-04-10T02:38:00.000-07:00

You know, I was just thinking back to my book.

Namely, I wonder what it would have looked like had I access to a fully-fledged Photoshop program, as opposed to the absolutely primitive Adobe PhotoDeluxe 98 or whatever we had at the time.

One thing I know for sure would have changed would have been the font. The font that's used on my book's cover isn't what I wanted, or what I asked to be used. I guess when typesetting the thing, they weren't able to download the font I asked for, and so they stuck me with some not-exactly-Times-New-Roman font. Granted, it was italicized, but it was still much more plain than the font I had asked them to use (and I don't remember what that font was, so don't ask).

I also think that I might have messed with the picture a bit. If I were to remake it now, I think I would take the picture and make it starker yet more minimalist. It would be abstract, as opposed to showing you exactly what it was showing you; it would make you think.

'Course, I really have no idea if I this is because I have access to greater photo-editing software or because I've changed my own style in the...God, three to four years since I've worked to get the book published. I know I've matured, perhaps gotten a little darker and grittier (or, at other times, more wacky and light-hearted), so perhaps I'm trying to superimpose my current personality onto my older (er, younger) one.

Anyway, to give you an idea of what I mean, I decided to give the cover a little push through Photoshop. Here's how the cover looks to the purchasing public:

And here's what the cover would look like if I had published the book today:

Is it better? Well, I can't really give an unbiased answer. All I know is that I would be more likely to pick up the latter cover at a bookstore...much more likely. Who knows, maybe in another 5 years, I'll be totally turned around on the subject, or maybe I'll think there should be yet another version.

But anyway, it was just a passing thought...

Lucasfilm and the Presidio: Pictures!

2008-04-08T17:54:00.001-07:00

So, I had my interview with Lucasfilm yesterday. I'll refrain from saying anything about it for the moment (aside from the fact that I overdressed), but I should find out by the end of the week whether or not I have the position, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed in a cautiously optimistic way.

In the meanwhile, I'll show you some pictures I took while at the place where I could potentially work! While this may not sound exciting, Lucasfilm is located at the San Francisco Presidio, which is, in a word, gorgeous. I had arrived early, so I walked around. I also walked around after the interview. I walked around quite a bit, taking in the scenery. These cell-phone pictures really don't do it justice. However, justice was never one of my strong points, so I'll show them anyway. Let's take a look.

The Presidio is a very green place. There are lots of trees. This tree was particularly large and interesting. And I also believe this is the first time I've gotten an honest-to-goodness lens flare in a photo.

More trees. The place was quite wide-open, as you can see. And although I'm completely ignorant about botany (by choice), I think those might be fairly robust Eucalyptus trees. Prove me wrong, science, prove me wrong!

So, this is one of the several buildings which encompass the Letterman Digital Arts Center, which houses the various branches of the Lucas Empire. While definitely modern on the inside, the outsides have a definite 1920s retro feel to them. This isn't the building that I would be working in, should I get the position, but it is the most red building, so that's worth something.

Okay, look at this picture and tell me with a straight face that your mind did not wander here.

Now, that is the building I would be working in, complete with an outdoor stream that seems to spring from nowhere. I wonder if there is something therapeutic about creeks and streams, because they always seem to make me feel better.

A pond mean to ~~imitate~~ celebrate the wetlands that used to exist in the Bay Area before it was all built up and industrialized.

I don't know, I just thought this was funny.

And this is the entrance to the main lobby. As you may be able to tell, there's a fountain there. And no, that's no munchkin on top, that's Yoda, whose not munckin nor elf, but an unknown tridactyl species. The Lucasfilm headquarters is actually pretty nice, because it allows people to come in and look, at least into the lobby. While that may not sound like much, the lobby is pretty decked out.

This, for example, was in the lobby. I'm not exactly sure who the guy is, but I'll hazard a guess and say he has something to do with King Kong.

Also in the lobby. A very nice statue of Boba Fett.

And this blurry fellow is, of course, Darth Vader. Compared with the Boba Fett costume, this one is actually somewhat disappointingly plain. And that heavily-padded codpiece has to go, Vader.

Betwixt the two villains is a cabinet filled with all sorts of knick-knacks, trophies, etc.

Shelves filled with the severed, shrunken heads of a number of characters. Somewhat disturbing.

And cute little figurines stand alongside books and Han Solo's blaster, which I never realized had a silencer before. Why a laser gun needs a silencer, I don't know.

Now, those shelves seem to house some classy books. For the most part, they seem to be dictionary's and hardcover books without the slipcovers. Honestly, I think this looks so much nicer than the modern personal library. Were I to become rich and have my own large house, I would decree that no book should be publicly viewable unless it had an "old-world" look to it.

This actually wasn't in the lobby, but in the belly of the building. It's one of the world's oldest film editing machines. There was plenty of stuff that seemed more interesting to take pictures of, but I took a picture of this because the recruiter I was speaking with told me I could. So, I did.

And finally, we have this blurry mess, in which I'm standing next to (and showing off my folder, for some reason) an actual suit of Stormtrooper armor from the original Star Wars movie. And here you can see how overdressed I was.

I blame Haas. I was told to dress in business casual. At Haas, that essentially means "Skip the tie; keep everything else." So, I arrive, snazzily dressed, and find that nobody else is wearing so much as a collared shirt. Hell, one of my interviewers was wearing a hoodie. Hopefully, they'll see me as some misguided youth rather than some business school prick.

Anyway, there you go. Pictures. I'll keep you updated as the week goes on!

Today, I Think, Will Be a Good Day

2008-04-08T02:35:00.000-07:00

So...today is - finally - my in-person interview with Lucasfilm for the marketing position.

Cue the music, boys.

...Let's do this thing!

Some Comic Relief...

2008-04-06T16:55:00.000-07:00

Garfield is a strange creature.

And no, I am not talking about the cat himself, although it would be a little strange to see a bright orange cat (particularly one that's supposed to be overweight) walking around while speaking with you telepathically.

I'm talking about the comic itself, or at least it's popularity and tremendous money-making ability.

I'll admit, when I was but a lad, I was an Garfield reader. You could even describe me as avid. Every single day, I would eat breakfast, reading my comics, starting with Garfield.

I look back on those days, and I am ashamed.

Now, it's not just Garfield. If you take a good, hard look at it, about 95% of traditional comics are just plain awful, using tired gags and puns (God, puns!) instead of taking us further. Really, there's only a few print comics that I consider - at a mature age - to be good. The first is Calvin & Hobbes, which just goes beyond the realm of humor and into that of imagination and even social issues. The second would be Pearls Before Swine, which mixes simplistic drawings with occasionally dark humor (somewhat like a certain comic we all know and love). The third would be The Far Side for, well, obvious reasons.

With those - and a few more - exceptions, the rest is just drivel. (And in case you think I'm warming up to the webcomic crowd, keep this in mind: there are less than 10 different webcomics that I pay attention to on a regular basis. There are 3568 webcomics registered on the TopWebcomics database [where you can vote on comics daily]. That's about 0.28%. And that's just considering the number of comics registered. There are a sickeningly large amount more out there, and they're all horrid.)

...Where was I?

Right - Garfield! So, yeah, if you look at the collection of comics on the official website, you can see what I mean. The jokes are really lame, and often repetitive. Yes, you could say that a comic that's been around for 30 years is bound to repeat jokes. However, it almost seems repetitive on a monthly (or, to be fair, yearly) basis. Not a good sign. And apparently, the drawings aren't even done by Jim Davis himself. It's just a bunch of people that were hired to create the strip, so that Davis can take care of the merchandising. Sweet deal.

You: "So, Andrew, you're just going to sit here complaining about Garfield?"

Oh, of course not; that's just the introduction. I am actually here to give you some Garfield-based humor!

You: "Zuh?"

You see, there is humor to be found in the humorless. This was the whole idea behind the cult-hit TV show Mystery Science Theater 3000 and it's spiritual successor (of which I am a loyal follower) Rifftrax. (I may talk about them later.) In the comic world, this kind of heckling can be found in things like the Comics Curmudgeon. While not exclusively about Garfield, the Curmudgeon looks at exactly what is wrong with a number of American newspaper comics, and does so in a way that somehow makes them tolerably funny.

But there's even more when it comes to Garfield. By manipulating certain things about it, you can create something new and perhaps even great. It's almost like a Garfield-based culture, primarily made up of people who follow Garfield mainly because they dislike it. There are three examples I'll present.

The first is the Garfield Comic Randomizer. It was created by someone who noted that you can create a comic just as coherent and funny as a normal Garfield strip just by taking three completely random panels and slapping them together. Sometimes (and particularly because you can lock panels to keep them from randomizing) you can create some comics that are genuinely funny for some sick reason. Here's an example of one I made.In this, you can see that Garfield's wonderfully-planned day has just fallen apart because of his inability to keep his guilt at bay, caused primarily by an abusive relationship with his owner (my interpretation). This had me silent laughing for a minute or so. It just worked so perfectly (if you can make any good ones, be sure to post it in the comments).

The second thing I'll show is Garfield Minus Garfield. This was based on an observation that when you remove Garfield from the strip completely, leaving only Jon, it takes on an entirely new level, appearing to be a strip about, and I quote, "a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb."

Here's a few samples, which makes you wonder why we don't have a comic devoted to a schizophrenic main character.

Similar to this idea is that of Realfield, in which the cartoon Garfield is replaced by a realistic-looking (and silent) cat. Unfortunately, there's only a few of those.

Finally, we have Lasagna Cat, which features videos. (In fact, it might be easiest just to go straight to their Youtube page.) Each video is comprised of three parts. The first part is a live-action reenactment of some Garfield strip (reinforcing the point of how lame they are, despite the canned-in laughter). The second part simply shows said strip. Finally, the third part is a music video (or, rather, a "tribute" to Jim Davis) which will usually feature parts of the previous clip shown to some real song. The production values are surprisingly good. And while there is a scant 27 episodes, there are definitely some gems amongst them. Here are a couple of my favorites:

The rest are definitely worth checking out, as well.

And that's about that. Really, I hope you'll forgive me for enjoying Garfield when I was but a lad (because you know you did too, people under 40!). Perhaps by the time my children are reading comics, they will be reading those which use intelligent humor, and which have lofty themes and ideas...

...or that are about schizophrenia. S'all good.

Have You Ever Wondered What I Would Look Like if I Were a Pretentious Snob???

2008-04-06T03:32:00.000-07:00

Well, wonder no more!

I'll see you at the next art gallery opening!

April Fools Day Damage Report (UPDATED!!!)

2008-04-02T02:38:00.000-07:00

So, April Fools Day has been over for a couple days now. I think it's safe to come out from your hiding places. I thought it'd be good to go over what I experienced on that most crazy of days.

But first, some background!

I used to hate April Fool's Day until 2002.

HATE it!

The reason for this is pretty straightforward. I've always been the fool. The April fool, as it were. I have memories of my father waking me up when I was a child, telling me in subsequent years that my bird, dog, grandmother, and mother had died during the night!

(Now, I'll be fair; I'm not sure if these memories are accurate - I don't remember very much about my childhood - but they're the only memories I have regarding the topic, so you better sort things out, Dad!)

And yet, despite all my efforts, I could never be the fooler. Imagine, if you will, a 10-year-old Andrew Schnorr walking up to you, saying in his choir boy voice (and this is verbatim):
"Say, how old are you?"
You: "Um, 25."
10-Year-Old Andrew Schnorr: "25? I thought you were 26......April Fools!"

...Had I a time machine, my first order of business would be to go back and slap myself.

Anyway, as I said, I didn't start tolerating April Fool's Day until 2002. The reason for that was because a website that I worked on at the time called UberNintendo.com (later changed to UberGaming.net, which doesn't look like it's been updated in nearly a year) had an April Fool's Day prank in which the entire site was replaced by a background repeating image of Dark Helmet (from Spaceballs) and the entire text (in size-72 font) of a short story called "Repent, Harlequin," Said the Ticktockman, which I consider quite influential to me. The story brought about my creation of the "Temporal Master," which in turn got me started on my Chronicles of Fate storyline, which is (er, will be) seven books plus a prequel. Pretty damn influential, I'd say.

So, yeah, I became okay with April Fool's Day.

However, I would say it's only after I came to college and became more entrenched not just in internet usage, but in internet culture, that I actually came to enjoy the mock-holiday. April Fool's Day is basically the day when all bets are off on the Internet. It allows for much easier and more creative ways of pranking people.

That's not to say pranks should be relegated to the net, though. There's plenty of fun to be had in the real world, especially after I've become better at fooling people. I've also become more aware (that is, paranoid) of any potential pranks that could be pulled on me. And that's key: staying one step ahead of the game.

...Now, let's take a look at some of the things I was involved with this year.

Joke #1 - In the Halls:
So, the first April Fool's Day prank I was involved in actually began one-and-a-half before the day began. It was actually a collaboration betwixt some residents and I. ...Okay, it was their idea; I have to claim limited liability for, y'know, the job's sake. The last thing I want is an angry resident telling the powers-that-be that I'm ruining their life. So, my involvement, although limited, was strategic.

Here's the premise: We chose a resident of mine who is a really nice guy, and also extremely involved (he's actually going to be an RA next year, and he's also campaigning for the ASUC). So, he's not around terribly much. Basically, we wanted him to think something bad had happened. Namely, he got robbed.

So, at least half the floor was in on it. While the resident was out at campaigning rally with one of his roommates, his other roommate was messing up their room, opening drawers, moving stuff around, and - most importantly - removing all three laptops from the room and putting them in someone else's room.

Now, where did I come in? I was the one who set-up the last domino in the rally. After giving my advice on how the "crime scene" should look (based on typical thief habits), I sent a text message out at 10:30pm. It was sent to the resident and his roommate, but I made it seem like a mass text message. Here's what it said:

"Hey everybody! Sorry about the mass text message, but we've gotten reports that there are trespassers in the halls. We haven't caught anybody yet, but we're working on it. In the meantime, remember to lock your doors when you're not in your rooms, and to not let strangers into the halls. Stay safe!"

See? It's mostly just nebulous information coupled with some advice. Pretty believable (especially more believable than the original idea that I should call the resident personally to warn him). And it's good advice to follow anyway, with or without trespassers in the halls.

As fate would have it, the resident arrived at 12:15am (making a legitimate April Fool's Day joke) and found his room messed up. Unfortunately, he thought nothing of it; he's a college student after all. But after his roommate (who I was worried wouldn't be able to keep a straight face) asked where all the laptops were, he became...I guess you could say desperate. But before he could go report it, everyone appeared and showed him how he got prank'd!

He may have had a minute heart attack, but he'll be fine. ;)

Joke #2 - On The Lobotomist's Dream:
So, as some of you may remember, last year my April Fool's Day activity on TLD was my coming out of the closet. Of course, it was promptly changed the next day, adding a single - yet vital - word to it, so as to avoid any confusion.

I wanted to be a bit more all-encompassing this time, something a little less in-jokey. And, truth be told, I had thought this idea up last November. So it wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment thing. Basically, I thought to myself, "What if this blog was actually about Lobotomy?" And the rest fleshed itself out quite well.

You can read the post a little below this one (or just click here). However, you're still reading that with about 20 of my faces staring at you. Hence, I recommend you read it the way it was meant to be read, and that means going to the Alternate Lobotomist's Dream. (I apologize for the funky formatting; even though the Google Page Creator is cool, they don't allow you to control the base HTML of the pages.)

The most tedious part of this was making it so you couldn't see any of my other posts. On Blogger, you can do this by saving them, one by one, as drafts. Do that 230+ times (and again to publish them again) and you have yourself some grade-A frustration. The rest was relatively straightforward, and quite fun.

Some fun facts:
-The picture of "Dr. Frank Corlin" is actually some random doctor that got arrested for buying sex with pain medication (or, um, selling pain medication for sex; whatever, it's all bartering). I found it on, like, page 26 of an image search of "old doctor".
-I actually learned quite a bit about Lobotomy when researching for the joke.
-I don't know if you can tell, but there are several places that I would have used italics that Doc C used bold. I don't know, using bold for emphasis just seems like an old-person thing to do.
-I'm not sure, but someone may have actually thought it was legit. Look at this one comment I got:

It's an interesting argument..."why alter all of the brain when you can create an effect with a localized solution." I think that actually has merit.
I suggest you pursue this argument in your defense and compare the two with brutal honesty.
Bravo

Now, this could have been someone I know continuing the joke (how could I tell; it's anonymous). However, if it was someone who did think I was for real, then that made my week! :D And perhaps I (or Doc C) will end up writing an argument to this extent.

THE JOKE'S ON ME 1: Okay, this is a little aside for things that happened that, while pulled by nobody in particular, came back to bite me in the butt. I kept my Alternate TLD up for two days. Why? Because I thought that nearly nobody had seen it on April Fool's Day. Why would I think something like that? Well, look at my Analytics report on visitors.
That's, like, a 98% drop in readership. I was livid! Why would people abandon me on Fun Day? It wasn't until I got the site back in normal working order that I realized the truth: when I switched the format of the site, I inadvertently deleted the Analytics measuring tool.

...*Facepalm*

Joke #3 - On Elderly Apple:
Oftentimes, comics (both the traditional and web- variety) will do something crazy for April Fool's Day. However, Elderly Apple's a tough nut to crack. How exactly does one do a "crazy" comic when the whole goddamn series is just one big non-sequitur?

So, I decided I should change my medium. Instead of my normal marker/colored pencil combo, I went with Photoshop painting and a picture (a real picture!) of an apple (you have to stay true to your roots, dawg).

But, even as whimsical as EA usually is, there is some logic to the madness. I decided to throw that out the window, though, when I created WAAAAAAAHHH!!!

There's three instances of the word "WAAAAAAAHHH!!!" that I put in the comic; one in the picture itself, one in the picture's title (which you see by holding your cursor over the image on the main page; if you never knew about that, you're missing out on some of the better jokes), and of course, in my comment.

(P.S. If you have a good memory, you may remember me using a similar phrase before...)

Interestingly enough, an enlarged version of this comic is my current desktop background.

Not My Joke #1 - Youtube:
I probably got Rickrolled a dozen times on April Fool's Day.

What's that, you've never been Rickrolled? Here, let me assist you. Enjoy.

In case you didn't know, that was Rick Astley singing his hit 1987 song "Never Gonna Give You Up." As far as internet "trap" pranks, this is probably safest, cleanest, most wholesome of them all (and trust me, you don't want to know about the others). Basically, you set up an unrelated link that tricks people into watching Astley's soulful performance.

So, Youtube decided to pick up on this. On April 1st, every single one of the videos on their front page went to a video of "Never Gonna Give You Up." They even had created an entire profile for it.

Good fun. Except now I have a cheesy 80s song stuck in my head. The horror.

Not My Joke #2 - Google + Virgin = Virgle:
Google is always decent with their jokes, but I really have to hand it to them for their work this year in creating a much broader, more interactive prank. As always, it was simple; when you went onto Google, you saw a little link for something called Virgle, which is a cooperative effort between them and fellow giant company, Virgin. To do what, exactly? Well, to colonize Mars!

You know what, it's too involved for me to explain. Here, just go read it yourself. Go on. I can wait.

Finished reading? Good. Now, if you went through the whole thing, you'll be able to see that there were introduction videos by the co-founders of Google and Richard Branson. Now, I really like Richard Branson; always have. However, the Google boys (especially the gray-haired one) desperately need to work on their public speaking abilitities.

Now, you'll also see that you could send in a 30-second video response as a sort of "application" to become a Virgle pioneer. Now, there were 300+ videos responding to this. Half of them were well over 30 seconds, and about 85% of them were either totally crappy or the people didn't seem to understand that the whole thing was a joke. I decided to join along. Here's my entry.

(Oh, and here's a copy of that flag.) The hope was that I would get a "At least he's honest" acceptance into the program.

THE JOKE'S ON ME 2: Unfortunately, things didn't go as smoothly as planned. For some reason (and I still cannot figure out why), there was some technical problem preventing my video from being used as a reply to theirs. So I went through all that work, blood, sweat, toil, and heartache for nothing except a 3-star rating from some random jerk (I would have given it a 4, personally).

Okay, that's all. This is by no means the full extent of all that occurred on April Fool's Day, but it is a healthy sampling. And to think that I used to hate this holiday, an opportunity to have so much fun...shameful. In any event, I hope you enjoyed your April Fool's Day shenanigans. From Doc C and all of us here, take care and God Bless.

Welcome to the Lobotomist's Dream!

2008-04-01T01:12:00.000-07:00

A hearty hello and welcome to my colleagues and colleagues soon to be!

My name is Dr. Frank Corlin. I am a licensed lobotomist, and I have been practicing it for 36 years without ever taking a vacation from my beautiful Maryland home. In fact, I've lived in Maryland for my whole life, sharing the last 40 of them with my beautiful wife, Barbara. We've had 2 children, and are just now watching our 2 grandchildren growing up. (Little Chester calls me Doc C; I love it!)

But I'm not here to talk to you about my personal life (though I will mention it from time to time). No, I'm here to talk about my profession.

Lobotomy has been, I think, unfairly singled out in the medical world as a dangerous operation at best, and a crock at worst. This seems to stem from people's ideas that no science relating to a brain's physical state has any merit. Oh, yes, psychology and psychiatry are well-respected, because they tackle the mental issues, but lobotomy has been lumped in with phrenology just because we have to touch the brain.

I once had a patient who came to me (or rather, I was referred to her by my colleague, Dr. Phillip Kohl) and asked me, without a moment's hesitation, "Doctor, isn't lobotomy just a pseudoscience created by the Aztecs?"

I must have scared her, I was laughing so heartily.

"No," I replied, "You're thinking of trepanation, a process created by the Incan people in which they removed a piece of the skull in order to relieve pressure from the brain."

"Oh, then what is lobotomy?" she asked with genuine interest.

I smiled back at her as I said, "We remove a piece of the brain."

Of course, the concept scared the living daylights out of her. But after the procedure was done, she was calm and quiet as a clam. I'm sure she was pleased by the procedure, and by the fact that she didn't let her preconceptions get in the way.

Now, lobotomy first came into general use in 1890, by Dr. Gottlieb Burckhardt. Here is a picture of him. A brilliant Swiss man, Burckhardt removed pieces of the frontal lobes of six different patients who were suffering from psychosis. As with all brand new procedures, the results were somewhat mixed. One of the patients died after the operation, and another was from in a river 10 days later. The rest exhibited some form of altered behavior, mostly for the better. While this may sound like poor odds, a 2/3 success rate is actually quite high, particularly for 19th-century European medical practices. In his work, Dr. Burckhardt showed what miracles could be achieved simply by eliminating some uneeded gray matter.

In more recent times, lobotomies have reduced in frequency, mainly due to a lack of proper information, and because of mind-altering drugs. Now, you'll forgive me if I'm a little biased, but why are people so opposed to removing a small part of their brain, but are completely keen on doping up the entire organ? There's a bit of irrationality there, mainly brought on by the crafty advertising (or some would say propaganda) of the pharmaceutical companies.

Because the practice has diminished, so have the practitioners. I am one of only a handful of certified lobotomists in the United States . And remember, you should never let an unlicensed lobotomist operate on you - that's called homicide. (Sorry, that's a little bit of lobotomy humor for you.)

Unfortunately, I can only reach and teach so many people in Somerset and it's surrounding cities. That's when my daughter suggested that I create a "weblog," which is a kind of online journal. I thought that it was a brilliant idea. And so, here I am, spreading my knowledge and passion for this science...and art!

Now, I think this is a good start, but I definitely want to hear what you are interested in. In these weblogs, visitors are allowed to write comments. There is a button that says "comment" below. If you click on it, you can write a response to what I say. It's somewhat like a bulletin board! So, if you are interested, leave a comment. Give any suggestions and hard-hitting questions you have about lobotomy, or about Doc C. I'm here for you, so let's make this weblog a powerful tool for lobotomy enthusiasts everywhere!

On an Unrelated Note...

2008-03-30T23:16:00.000-07:00

It doesn't seem like anyone has donated to my Dance Marathon charity fund.

C'mon, you miserly old codgers, I'm not asking for a pint of blood! (That can be donated elsewhere.)

Just give what you can here.

And hurry! There's less than a week left! Think of the children!

Reflections on Spring Break

2008-03-29T01:34:00.000-07:00

And so, even though there be a few days left before classes start, I would say these indeed be the twilight hours of Spring Break. The carefree attitude has worn off, replaced by cold, bitter reality that there is no significant break period betwixt now and when finals begin. People are coming back to the residence halls like salmon to spawn (sans actual spawning). And all those memories of saying “I can’t wait until Spring Break,” are but an echo, followed ever so closely by the new student mantra, “I can’t wait until Summer.”

I find myself actually somewhat...resentful when I see people come back in. It's almost like they're invaders to my space. During the break, it was not uncommon to have as few as 10 people occupying an entire building. For those that were there (by which I mean me, as I can't really speak for anyone else), we felt privileged. As if, it was no longer this room which belongs to me, but this entire hallway. You could leave your door open when changing, you could have your music up a bit louder than normal, you're basically free to do as you please.

In a way, I really see Spring Break differently than most people. When I said I was staying the whole time, they would respond with, "Man, you're so unlucky," or "That sucks," or "You're going to get sooo bored around here."

But really, it was the opposite. I enjoyed this Spring Break quite a bit. It was like living in a huge clubhouse, with a very exclusive clientèle. You see, for about 80% of there break, there were - for all intents and purposes - three RAs still in the halls, including myself. There would be another coming and going for duty's sake, but they wouldn't really be considered a mainstay.

Well, we three RAs, we were our own little super-secret-handshake club (except, with no super-secret-handshake). We went shopping together, we went to lunch together, we went to dinner together, we went on rounds together, and we just hung out together. A lot.

You see, at any point in time, one or two of us was on duty, and so we had to carry pagers and be ready to respond to anything at a moments notice. Which normally means we cannot leave the Unit. However, we decided pretty early on that nothing happens. Ever! Proof? Look at the actual text of my day duty report for one of my days (on day duty, your only responsibility is responding to pages):

There once was a man from Nantucket.
Absolutely nothing happened today. Ucket.

And it's true! Nothing did happen. It's like I always say: "When there are no people, there are no problems." So, we were admittedly quite generous with the one-hour time gaps provided for meals. It's somewhat of a tree-falling-in-the-woods argument; if nobody's here, do they care if we took an extra hour or so?

Of course, had anything happened, we would have had to get back within a reasonable time. That's why, when we met up with an associate who had a car, we were home-free! We first had lunch (my first time eating dim sum), and then drove to a (2.3 miles away) to do some shopping, and then to Fenton's Creamery (an additional 0.3 miles) a place with exorbitant ice cream prices (I didn't eat any). And had we ever gotten a page for a lockout, we could have driven back within 10 minutes, easily within our 30-minute window of response.

And so we kept on doing these kinds of trips. We ate dinner at new places (I introduced the other two to La Cascada, my favorite taqueria in Berkeley) and just had a good time overall.

I even went one step further. I wanted to have a get-together for all the people who were staying (I didn't know it would be so few), and so I bought a big fruit platter and a couple bottles of sparkling cider, and swiped a box of unused cookies from our staff office (which we didn't use), and we just met up for a mini-party on Wednesday. We toasted to our good fortune, health, wealth, etc, as well as my personal toast,
"To us, who show that fun is not about where you spend your Spring Break, but who you spend it with."
Since the party was in my room, I showed off all my secrets (more on this at a later time). I lent them both a copy of my book, and we asked the security monitors if we could delay their breaks a half-hour so that we could have more time to enjoy ourselves before having to work.

Even after that was done, the night still wasn't over. I spoke with one of my two companions for near-on 4 hours, from 1am to 5am. It's kinda funny; before this week, I had almost never spoken with him (and he admitted that he used to actually be scared of me). And yet, here we were, spilling out our souls like some sort of mutual hara-kiri. And we were basically drunk. We hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, but I think the slight drowsiness that comes with staying up that late makes one a bit less inhibited, as well as a bit more slurred. Whatever the case, it was a long, good talk.

It actually made me almost miss having a roommate, if only for our "lights-out conversations."

Unfortunately, our little triage had to disband the next day, as they were both heading out for the weekend. And though other people came in to replace them for their RA duties, they couldn't replace them as members of the clubhouse.

So that's Spring Break from the human perspective (a definite twist for me, I know). Here's some other niceties about the time:
-The weather was, for the most part, gorgeous!
-Because of said gorgeous weather, I actually went tanning for the first time in years. (Admittedly, it was only one day for less than an hour, but still!!!)
-I was able to complete a story for my Star Wars class (though, you already knew that).
-I was also able to finish an essay that's due in two weeks. I much prefer this to pulling all-nighters for essays.
-I was able to be here to witness the beauty of the dozen cherry blossom-like trees of Unit 2. As far as I know, no other residence hall at Berkeley has trees like this, and compared to the usual fare we see most of the year, it's quite breathtaking. Here are some camera phone pictures:
Because of their petal-falling penchant, I enjoyed calling them "snow trees."

But alas, it's all over. The clubhouse is closed. In it's place, the residence halls are opening again. C'est la vie. But at least when somebody says, "Wow, it sucks that you had to stay here over Spring Break," I can just smile, knowing what they missed.

Cop-Out: A Star Wars Short Story (Story 1)

2008-03-24T23:53:00.000-07:00

So, I've decided that for my final project in my Star Wars class, I'm going to write a few short stories revolving around the life and times of my created character, Akker. (I'm also planning on asking my friend Alex to perhaps do a couple illustrations for it). Since I realize it will be quite the process, I wanted to get some of it done ahead of time. So, I'm working on it during Spring Break.

(Quick aside: While there are only a few [literally, like, three] RAs here right now [and nearly no residents], we're actually having a fun time.)

So, I just completed one of the short stories, and then I thought to myself, "Hey, why don't I show this on my blog rather than write something new?" So that's exactly what I decided to do. It may not make much sense by itself, as it's part of a larger thing, but whatever. I've included links for explanations to any Star Wars information.

Also, I apologize for any misspellings. I didn't even bother with a spell check. When you're writing a Star Wars story, it seems as though half the page is underlined in red.

............

The coliseum was abuzz with life. The first half of the events had been completed, and there was another hour before the second half began. The smells of roasting womp rat filled the halls. It was a salty smell, drenched in some unknown sauce. Just letting the aroma reach your nostrils made one’s mouth water.

“Beautiful…” Uthor muttered under his breath. Salivation was his friend, as those liquids would need to be replaced. And what better way to hydrate a mouth than with a pitcher of Uthor’s special blend Fizzbrew. The stout man mentally counted the customers standing in the line for his stand while pouring glass after glass. At this rate, he’d be able to get transit fare before the second half.

Suddenly, Uthor saw a somewhat short figure running up from the side. Normally, he wouldn’t pay any mind, but the figure, wearing nothing but a battle shirt and a few leg wrappings, was instantly recognizable. In fact, it was the reason he was able to get the gig here at the Arcopola Coliseum.

“U-THOR!” The figure shouted with a exuberant smile and index fingers pointing to the merchant.

“Akk-ER!” Uthor responded in kind before placing the One Moment, Please sign on the stand. He stepped away from his post and turned to his friend, “What’s going on?”

Akker quickly blew a few locks of hair from in front of his eyes. He then smiled at Uthor. “You’re betting on my match, right.”

Uthor was dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?” he said, “I never bet on the matches. You know that.”

“Nonononono. That wasn’t a question. You are betting on my match.”

“Why? I have Fizzbrew to sell.”

“Pah! You keep selling at gigs like this, you’ll never get anywhere. By the looks of it, the most you’re going to get by the second half will barely cover transit fare.”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Uthor, have you seen my odds for this match?” Akker asked as he pulled a small slip from who-knows-where in his battle skirt. He handed it to Uthor, who instantly recognized it as the event program. It listed all the matches of the day, as well as the betting odds for each. His eyes scrolled down the pamphlet until he reached an entry reading Akker the Fallen Jedi.

“…Twelve-thousand to one!” Uthor shouted in disbelief.

Akker’s sharp-toothed smile widened. “I know, it’s great.”

“What in Gret’s name are you facing?”

“I don’t know! I don’t care! Think about it, Uthor. Wager your stand, and if-”

“Wager my stand?!” Uthor tried to protest, but a claw-like finger was placed over his mouth. Akker cocked his head, which was his body’s way of saying “Shut up.”

After Uthor decided he wasn’t going to argue, Akker continued. “Your stand is worth, what, 5,000 Credits? You wager that, I win, and suddenly, you’re able that full-blown pub you wanted on Telos. Understand where I’m going with this?”

“Well…that’s quite an opportunity.”

“It may be your only opportunity, buddy. The only other time my odds have been above 200-to-1 was when they had that typo on the program for the Tatooine Slaughter.”

Uthor remembered that time, but didn’t laugh like he usually would. This cart was his only means of income. It was his livelihood. How could he just wager it, even if it was on one of the greatest fighter’s he’d ever known. He was never much of a risk-taker. He looked into Akker’s slate gray eyes, so full of confidence and excitement. Well, Uthor thought, what’s one more risk. “Okay,” he said aloud, “I’m in.”

Akker lit up like a supernova. “Great!” He rushed to the Fizzbrew stand, tore off the One Moment, Please sign and replaced it with the one that said, quite simply, Closed. There was some commotion amongst the customers.

“What are you doing?” grunted the Gamorrean standing in the front of the line, “I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes.”

“Judging by your looks, I’ll say it was a ten minutes not wasted.”

“What?! I’ll crush you, you little punk!” The Gamorrean grabbed Akker by the throat and began to squeeze.

And that’s when Akker’s eyes shot open.

They didn’t bulge like a man suffocating, but rather a man possessed. His mouth curled upward from ear to pointed ear, brandishing a multitude of demon-like teeth in a psychotic smile. Akker’s arms shot out and grabbed the Gamorrean by his garments. Akker quickly pulled in, smashing the Gamorrean’s face against his own. The Gamorrean yelped in pain. Akker briefly gave his arms some slack before pulling their faces together again. And again. And again. Before long, the Gamorrean’s face was smashed and silent, while Akker’s was covered in a yellowish blood. His bulging, bloodshot eyes closed, and a moment passed before they reopened, perfectly normal. He looked at the rest of the customers.

“We’re closed. Have a nice day.”

The crowd scattered without a word. Akker looked back at Uthor. “Okay, so remember, wager it all on me.”

“Gotcha,” Uthor responded. As his friend walked away, though, he called out, “Ak-KER! …What if you lose?”

Akker responded as he always did: with a smile. “I don’t want to sound mean, but it doesn’t matter whether or not you have the stand. If I die, your enterprise is essentially over. See you later!”

***

Uthor felt uncomfortable sitting here in the stands. There were drinks to be sold. Not that he could sell any, what with the betting office holding his stand in storage. Still, a merchant’s instincts are hard to quell.

However, now was the moment he was waiting for. His life was on the line in this upcoming match, and so he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and other,” a voice boomed over the speakers surrounding the coliseum, “We have a special treat for you today. We’re sure you’ve heard of Akker, the Fallen Jedi, as he’s made his rounds on the Blood Circuit. He especially made his name with his antics during the Tatooine Slaughter. Well, let’s welcome him to the Arcopola Coliseum!”

The was a uncontrollable din within the coliseum as people cheered and jeered. Entering from a small door, Akker sauntered with his customary swagger. He blew kisses to one side of the audience while thrusting his hips at the other side. Uthor, unsure of how to act, simply clapped his hands a few times.

“Now, while on Tatooine, Akker’s betting odds were misprinted at 3,000-to-1. Now, you may have thought that our odds were also misprinted. We can assure you, they were not. However, if you think that you can make a quick fortune by betting on this fallen Jedi, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“What?” Uthor said, filled with a sudden sense of worry.

“That’s because Akker’s opponent is no mere fighter. We got something…special for him. And let’s see what it is!”

Suddenly, a large section of the coliseum floor began to open up, and an underground platform began to raise. Sitting atop that platform was the largest beast that Uthor had ever seen. While not an expert at animals, he recognized it as a drexl, the apex predator of Onderon. Its wings were lashed behind its back, presumably to keep it from flying away. The beast itself seemed to be dressed in armor, which struck Uthor as odd, seeing as a 25-meter beast shouldn’t even need such protection. And it was facing his best friend.

“Oh, no…”

***

“Oh, yes!” Akker said to himself. He could smell weeks’ worth or rotting flesh coming from the drexl’s teeth, but nothing fresher. This baby was hungry.

But it was also big. Too big to fight with his normal methods. No, simple bloodlust was ineffective here. He would, more than likely, have to go to his backup plan: the lightsaber.

“Say, Akker!” He heard the announcer say. He was a little surprised at first; announcers didn’t usually converse with fighters.

“Um…yeah?”

“This beast is too big to fight with your normal methods. Perhaps, as a fallen Jedi, you should use your lightsaber.”

“Ha! Great minds think alike, and all that,” Akker said, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm. He didn’t like how much they were playing up the whole “Fallen Jedi” angle. Made him seem like some sort of chump.

Suddenly, the drexl’s head came racing down. Akker jumped away just in time, so that the beast’s face slammed onto the sandy floor of the coliseum. Akker then took out his lightsaber and turned it on. It’s black blade hummed like a good Twi’lek masseuse. It would make short work of the drexl. With a deft movement, Akker swung the lightsaber upon the beast’s forehead. It should have split its skull in two.

…Should have.

And yet, here the drexl stood, its skull quite intact.

“…Huh.”

“It’s not going to be that easy Akker. You see, that armor is forged from Mandalorian Iron. Impenetrable, even by a lightsaber.”

“Hey now!” Akker yelled back, not sure where the announcer was located, “Thanks for letting me know after I got into the fight.”

“We don’t give 12,000-to-1 odds for nothing, Akker.”

“Well-” Akker began, but was cut off by a huge backhand slap by the drexl, which sent him flying. He slammed into the wall, sending dust and chips of cement into the air. This snapped him back into the present. Akker fell to his feet and stared at the drexl. He then closed his eyes for a moment before opening them as wide as possible.

And then he could see the beast behind the armor. Or rather, the Force which made up the beast. Appearing as though swirls of crude paint, he could see its every movement, its every tendency. As far as he knew, no other Jedi, fallen or straight, could see the Force like this, save for his dead master. Unfortunately, all he could ascertain was that he wouldn’t be able to get through the armor with any physical force.

Mental forces were a different matter.

For the past month or so, Akker had been experimenting with a new technique. Any Jedi worth their salt knew how to manipulate and move things with their mind. But what if you could do that on a molecular level. In theory, it’s simple: move two molecules away from each other. Do that enough and whatever you’re focusing on loses its molecular structure. Yes, in theory it’s simple, but it takes some work in practice. Akker, whose unique way of perceiving the force allowed him a better sense of the location of even individual molecules, had tested the technique on rocks and small lizards, turning them into nothing more than piles of goop.

A drexl…that would take a bit more work.

However, Akker was always up for a challenge. He ran around the coliseum, avoiding the claws and teeth of the enormous beast. Careful not to waste too much energy, he bided his time until the drexl’s head came straight toward him. Akker jumped into the air and landed on the faceplate of the drexl. He then focused. Hard. He visualized as many of the countless molecules comprising the drexl’s body as he possibly could. One by one in rapid succession, he pulled them from their place, sending them flying.

Akker heard the drexl shriek. He could feel it bucking its head to and fro. Barely. He was too focused on his current work to care about anything else. He couldn’t tell how much time was passing in his current state. It could have been second, it could have been a half-hour. All Akker knew was that, sure enough, the drexl was sinking to the ground.

After the last molecule was torn from place, Akker closed his eyes. He allowed his vision to go back to its normal capacity, and reopened his eyes. When he looked, he saw that the drexl’s indestructible armor was still intact, even if it was in a heap. Underneath it, he could see a sticky lake of purplish gel which was the drexl’s new form.

“Force…dissolution. That’s a good name for the technique,” Akker said to himself, smiling. He could barely even hear that, though, amongst the deafening chaos that had overtaken the stadium from his victory.

***

Argen Vise, the owner of the Arcopola Coliseum, was pacing back and forth. “I hope you’re happy, Akker. Do you know how many people placed a bet on you?”

“I don’t fight so people bet on me. I fight to fight.”

“People put novelty bets on you. They figured it would be good for a laugh. Instead, it’s like a lottery that everyone wins! There’s even some merchant I have to pay some sixty million credits to!”

Akker smiled when hearing that. He sat down in the most comfortable-looking chair and said, “Hey, I didn’t set the odds at 12,000-to-1. Whoever thought of that idea needs to be fired.”

“We’re all fired because of you, you know that! We’re bankrupt! We won’t have any money after paying off these bets. And it’s all because of you.”

“So? A man doesn’t just sit down and let himself die so you can make a profit. At least, I don’t. Like I said, I fight to fight,” he said, staring Vise square in the eyes. “Besides, your demise makes possible the opening of my friend’s new pub. I’m sure he’ll be opening on Telos fairly soon.”

“What do I care about your friend?”

Akker stood up and stepped gingerly toward the door. “Because,” he said with a toothy smile, “If you want to find me, that’s where I’ll be. And Uthor’s a nice guy. I’m sure when he sees you’re down on your luck, he’ll let you have a Fizzbrew on the house.”

And with that, Akker stepped out.