It's cold out. Someone told me "Make sure you don't freeze out there." Luckily I have the power to alter the laws of thermodynamics as I see fit. My superhero name was Long Underwear Man, cause it's like having really good long underwear. Then me and my superhero friends thought it might make more sense if I were called No Underwear Man, cause thanks to my powers I don't need underwear. But when I introduced myself that way to women at parties, it didn't go over as well I would have liked.
You know how they say a watched pot never boils? Well, I wanted to see how accurate that really was. You gotta have empirical data, or else it's not real! It's the scientific method people! So, we took a timer, put on a pot of water, watched and waited. Time passed. The water remained still and calm. Objectively, perfectly, the timer recorded the minutes, as the laws of thermodynamics refused to operate (without any interference from my aforementioned superpowers). History was being made, scientific revolution was at hand. But then we found that we'd forgotten to turn on the stove. Stupid lab assistant. I thought trained monkeys could do anything.
If you're trying to save your change, I'll give you a tip. Don't give me a penny for my thoughts, at least not more than once. The answer is always fish.
I've completed my first weekend of the Basic Military Qualification course. You know, it's just like Candyland. Except without the candy. And more push-ups. And they can arrest you if you leave.
We can't forget the sargeants. They like to yell. They actually circle around a person like vultures, yelling and screaming, "That's how you tie your boots? You must not be much of a person! I can clearly see your inner-self and personal worth and you're dirt! Dirt, I say!" But I gotta wonder, where do sargeants learn this stuff? Do they go to Sargeant Basic Training? I can imagine what that's like. A sargeant yells at a private, makes his most noble attempts at destroying his spirits and driving him to suicide, and an officer circles them both, yelling things like "You call that breaking his spirit? You're about as threatening as a large pigeon! You worthless scum, if you were running things, Basic Training would be like the Boy Scouts!" Poor guy. Now when I get yelled at, a tear shall come to my eye, for his poor battered soul. I feel for you man.
Sometimes I wonder, why must there be so much pain in the world? Why is each day so full of discomfort, and a bit of a stiffness in the upper back? Why can't things be better for everyone? And then I realize I forgot to take the hanger out of my shirt again.
I have a great idea for a movie. One of those animals playing on sports teams things. I would have a tick playing baseball. There'd be the usual "There's nothing in the rules about a tick not being able to play baseball," and the heart wrenching feeling of defeat our hero feels when he realizes he can't hold a glove, or catch the ball, or do pretty much anything, even if his proportional strength is much greater than a person's. And then he realizes that he can do his part to help the team, by biting their rivals and giving them all rabies or something. Truly, it's an inspirational film for anyone that ever failed at athletics only to discover a talent, and even a joy in killing people. Gosh, I'm getting all misty eyed here.
So I'm thinking. An organized body of text is broken up into paragraphs. Does that mean the whole thing is a graph? And if so, a graph of what? Is there a hidden message? Top secret information embedded in this very page? Scientific raw data from a new energy weapon, including all the prototype's specs? Maybe something more philosophical. The meaning of life? It's actually probably more like a magic eye type thing. Just keep staring at the screen until you see something. Keep staring.. staring... don't stop staring. I'm gonna leave now. Keep it up.
I'd like to say I recommend the archives, but they're even worse.