Oh, hello there. Upon this plague-infested...
...oh, bother, why bother with the description. HAPPY NEW YEAR"S EVE, ALL YOU CRAZY READERS!
...seriously, why my readership's been going up is way beyond me...
!Noah!
December 31, 2008
December 29, 2008
Oh, Just go Jump off a Cliff
I finished Shadow Puppets recently.
It's good.
Really good.
One aspect of why it was good?
Quite simply, the protagonist killed the antagonist. Not in much of a fair fight, either. Er. In the protagonist's favor, by the way.
What's the big deal? How many heroes from other books have done this? Oh, bother, I already had about three examples set up from movies, instead...
Anyway, I think the number is pretty little. People don't seem to care enough to take preemptive action against pathelogical killers. Examples? Spider Man. Ok, the enemies in these three almost all either came to their deaths by their own hands, or heroically died carrying a certain large mass of energy into a highly undisclosed river. Why is it undisclosed? Look, I'm not the one witholding information. It's Marvel or something. Blame them.
Sorry, but, yes, the other two of mine are examples from superhero movies.
Batman. He's never killed anybody intentionally, to stop future acts of murder and other evil. He didn't kill the Scarecrow, he didn't kill the Joker, and I don't think he's going to kill any of the other fine gentlemen who will, at one time or another, cross his path. Two-Face? One, I'm personally not sure he's dead, and, two, that was an act to prevent murder just split seconds after Batman found out the certain person would be killed. Hardly preemtive.
Superman? Urgh. I forgot. I don't know him too well. Anyway, he's usually (in the cartoons) had to fight robots, clones, or strangely strong men who have really, really lame nicknames. He gets shot a bunch, all the bullets bounce all over the place, he bashes the guys up a bit, flies off with LL, and...
Anyway. That last example was really not a good one...
So...go jump off a cliff. No, I'm not addressing you, my readers.
Anyhow, thanks, OSC, for authoritatively creating a Bean who'd just kill a guy like that.
Emotions are dangerous. That may sound off-topic or something, but I had to say it.
Your confused, sinful, and all-around depressed writer,
!Noah!
It's good.
Really good.
One aspect of why it was good?
Quite simply, the protagonist killed the antagonist. Not in much of a fair fight, either. Er. In the protagonist's favor, by the way.
What's the big deal? How many heroes from other books have done this? Oh, bother, I already had about three examples set up from movies, instead...
Anyway, I think the number is pretty little. People don't seem to care enough to take preemptive action against pathelogical killers. Examples? Spider Man. Ok, the enemies in these three almost all either came to their deaths by their own hands, or heroically died carrying a certain large mass of energy into a highly undisclosed river. Why is it undisclosed? Look, I'm not the one witholding information. It's Marvel or something. Blame them.
Sorry, but, yes, the other two of mine are examples from superhero movies.
Batman. He's never killed anybody intentionally, to stop future acts of murder and other evil. He didn't kill the Scarecrow, he didn't kill the Joker, and I don't think he's going to kill any of the other fine gentlemen who will, at one time or another, cross his path. Two-Face? One, I'm personally not sure he's dead, and, two, that was an act to prevent murder just split seconds after Batman found out the certain person would be killed. Hardly preemtive.
Superman? Urgh. I forgot. I don't know him too well. Anyway, he's usually (in the cartoons) had to fight robots, clones, or strangely strong men who have really, really lame nicknames. He gets shot a bunch, all the bullets bounce all over the place, he bashes the guys up a bit, flies off with LL, and...
Anyway. That last example was really not a good one...
So...go jump off a cliff. No, I'm not addressing you, my readers.
Anyhow, thanks, OSC, for authoritatively creating a Bean who'd just kill a guy like that.
Emotions are dangerous. That may sound off-topic or something, but I had to say it.
Your confused, sinful, and all-around depressed writer,
!Noah!
December 26, 2008
Tower Defense. Times Five.
Some of you may have noticed, in recent days, that us Bertilsons, or some of us, anyway, have been playing games, the names of which probably only lead you into confusion. Anyway, I've decided to compile a small list of the ones we most play.
I'm not sure which we came across first, but it was probably either...
Desktop Tower Defense 1.5 (handdrawngames.com)
This game has been fun for a long time, but I've found some others that I like more now than this. Also, there's the more recent version of DTD, v.1.9.
DTD 1.9 (http://www.casualcollective.com/games/DesktopTD)
Another fine game we came across was Flash Element Tower Defense, AKA FETD. I think it was originally based off Warcraft or something. The graphics are, on the large part, unscalable, which means that, when downloaded and played full-screen in Firefox or something, it looks fairly deplorable. Still, we do it quite often.
Flash Element Tower Defense 1.0 (http://www.novelconcepts.co.uk/FlashElementTD1/ )
The sequel to that, FETD 2.0, is much better, but both Kongregate and The Casual Collective have started the really, really annoying habit of making their .SWFs only playable online. (this applies to DTD 1.5 and 1.9, also) Much better graphics. I think they're scalable, but that doesn't matter any more, does it?
FETD 2.0 (http://www.novelconcepts.co.uk/FlashElementTD2/)
Last, but not least, as everyone seems to like to say, Onslaught 2.2. This game has a capability which I haven't found in any other game, and it's just, well, for lack of a better word, cool. In Onslaught, you can modify the damage a tower inflicts, the range it can inflict it at, and the rate at which it inflicts it...all this, individually. Yes, I mean that, if I want, I can have a tower that can reach basically across the map and does fairly little damage, or a tower that can inflict a huge amount of damage at low range, and a tower that can inflict many iterations of damage...
Anyway. I hope you get it, because, aside from fairly worthless graphics, it's one of the coolest flash games I've ever played.
Onslaught 2.2 (http://onslaught.playr.co.uk/)
This one, too, cannot be played offline, but, if you find the .swf in the page source like I did in the picture, you'll be able to play it full-screen...while you're online.
Flash games are amazing. There are others I've enjoyed more than these ones, but these are probably the ones that require the most thought. *coughs*
Your ever brain and eyeball-rotting reporter,
!Noah!
I'm not sure which we came across first, but it was probably either...
Desktop Tower Defense 1.5 (handdrawngames.com)
This game has been fun for a long time, but I've found some others that I like more now than this. Also, there's the more recent version of DTD, v.1.9.
DTD 1.9 (http://www.casualcollective.com/games/DesktopTD)
Flash Element Tower Defense 1.0 (http://www.novelconcepts.co.uk/FlashElementTD1/ )
The sequel to that, FETD 2.0, is much better, but both Kongregate and The Casual Collective have started the really, really annoying habit of making their .SWFs only playable online. (this applies to DTD 1.5 and 1.9, also) Much better graphics. I think they're scalable, but that doesn't matter any more, does it?
FETD 2.0 (http://www.novelconcepts.co.uk/FlashElementTD2/)
Last, but not least, as everyone seems to like to say, Onslaught 2.2. This game has a capability which I haven't found in any other game, and it's just, well, for lack of a better word, cool. In Onslaught, you can modify the damage a tower inflicts, the range it can inflict it at, and the rate at which it inflicts it...all this, individually. Yes, I mean that, if I want, I can have a tower that can reach basically across the map and does fairly little damage, or a tower that can inflict a huge amount of damage at low range, and a tower that can inflict many iterations of damage...
Anyway. I hope you get it, because, aside from fairly worthless graphics, it's one of the coolest flash games I've ever played.
Onslaught 2.2 (http://onslaught.playr.co.uk/)
This one, too, cannot be played offline, but, if you find the .swf in the page source like I did in the picture, you'll be able to play it full-screen...while you're online.
Flash games are amazing. There are others I've enjoyed more than these ones, but these are probably the ones that require the most thought. *coughs*
Your ever brain and eyeball-rotting reporter,
!Noah!
December 25, 2008
Hit the Sack?!
Ok, so I've left you alone for nearly ten days. I feel ashamed. Nonetheless, I have more than an adjective-beriddled apology.
Yes, it's true. I only wake up to alarms on Christmas Day. For months recent, my talent in this admirable ability has decreased to near nil, so that, in recent days, you wouldn't find me out of bed until after ten, at least.
My solution? I have none.
But I do sort of have some advice when it comes to waking up to your alarms. I think it might actually work without your alarms. Actually, all that should be in the first person, as I've only had one friendly confirmation which wasn't overly clear. Anyhow.
How I usually go about it is to anticipate the next day. If I don't, as would happen on a school day, I'm only up once the Sun's almost half ready to hit the sack. Then, when I wake up, the clock looks nice and kind to you (me). Er, excuse me. It looks like you just hit a brick wall. Meaning a clock pointing sort of down instead of sort of to the right makes people want to hit the sack even harder, with diminished hope of actually doing the sack any harm.
...
This is the one reason why I really hate starting to watch movies in the late afternoon to early evening.
Oh. Some other news. I finished Ender's Game a while ago, then Ender's Shadow more recently, and I'm hacking away at Shadow Puppets. I think this order is reasonable and good, so far as I've gone. I actually like Ender's Shadow more than Ender's Game...but I think this is mainly because Ender's Game had an ending which was sort of blearily depressing. (refer to The Light at the End of the Tunnel for a totally worthless analogy)
Now that I think a little more, I like Ender's Shadow more than, so far, Shadow Puppets.
Oh, yes. There is a fairly large dose of bad language scattered throughout the series, but I think Ender's Shadow had the most.
The writing is really good, the plot is really good, but I sort of don't get why he's writing more after the, hem, guys are defeated. It's sort of like they mopped the floor of the little dirt, but there are some big boulders every here and there, and they don't have the dynamite yet.
I had some id...Oh. Yeah. I think I'll be posting sooner after this than before...
Oh, well. Merry Christmas! And Happy New Year, soon enough!
!Noah!
December 16, 2008
Some Random Software Recommendations
If I'm correct, everything in this list is entirely free, and a good portion of them are open source.
(if you don't already know what open source means, Wikipedia is your friend)
1. Inkscape. (inkscape.org) This is a free, open source program for scalable vector graphics (.svg) creation and editing. It holds one of the highest ranks among all the software I have. I use it frequently, and the amount you can do with it is, to say the least, satisfying.
2. Blender. (blender.org) This is a free, open source program in which you can create 3D objects. There's tons more it can do, including movie sequencing, but I haven't got into such stuff much.
3. The GIMP. (GNU Image Manipulation Program, gimp.org) This is basically an advanced image editing program. There are so many things you can do in the GIMP that numbering them is not unlike numbering the stars. Frequently cited as an alternative to Photoshop. Free, open source, again.
4. VLC. (videolan.org (not videoland, videolan)) This is a multimedia player. The number of file types this single program can play is astounding. I'm pretty sure no other media player comes close. I haven't found out how to make a permanent media library in it, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was possible. You can also play DVDs right out of the box. (oh, yes. Out of the box with all the other file types, too)
5. Google Chrome. (google.com/chrome) A fine web browser. Not a whole lot to be excited about, in my opinion, but I've gotten so that I dislike Firefox by comparison. If that says anything, happy day. I've been told that it's open source, but I'm not sure. It's free for sure, though.
6. Audacity. (audacity.org?) An audio editor with a lot of capabilities. Free, open source, again.
7. Picasa. (picasa.com?) The best photo organizer I've ever used. This doens't say a whole lot, considering I've only used two or three, though. Not open source, I think, but free.
8. LDraw. (ldraw.org) Free program for Lego CAD. Parts aren't all there, and, as I recall, LDraw's part development slowed down dangerously around 2005.
9. Openoffice.org. (openoffice.org) Free, open source word processor. New version 3.0 released
very recently. I've been annoyed with its install size, but it's got to be big, I think.
10. Yo Frankie. (yofrankie.org) Free, open source game. Made in Blender. With Blender, you can make your own levels fairly easily and, with some difficultly, new characters. Works better with higher-end graphics card, but can run fairly well on low settings on, in my case, a GeForce 5600 XT.
11. Google Earth. (earth.google.com) Free globe explorer type thing. I find it enjoyable to look for uninhabited islands which I might decide to go off and live on.
12. Glest. (glest.org) Goodness, I wonder why I didn't put this higher. Anyhow, it's free, open source. It's a low-poly RTS game, basically, with constant development. There's also the Glest Advanced Engine, which adds a good bunch of helpful additions which aid half-dead AoE I/II nerds.
I hope some of these will end up in talented hands and do some good in the world of insanely useful software.
Your endlessly procrastinating, totally depraved, and in all other ways, sinful reporter,
!Noah!
December 05, 2008
The Light at the End of the Tunnel
This phrase has ended up, in my brain, to be quite useful, if not liked. It's quite useful if you meddle with it a bit, so that...
Christianity. Millions believe there's a light at the end of the tunnel. We believe it, yet we can't see it, touch it, hear it, smell it, or taste it. It's sort of like someone placed an infared or ultraviolet light at the end, so we can't see it. Yet we believe it's there. We have hope, yet, (excluding logical reasoning and such), no reason for it.
A Series of Unfortunate Events. Today, I thought of the main characters of ASoUE (I don't care to spell out their name, thank you very much) running down a tunnel, to a light which they could see, but the author had a switch to and decided to turn off just seconds before the trio got to it. Then, they, with eternal hope and optimism, found a (the) switch and switched it back. Then they repeated the thing over and over.
Ender's Game. This book was very, very good. It was gripping, though, for some reason, I put it down more, I think, for that very reason. The end, though, was much like this. They lived. Ever after. But leave out the happily bit. For reasons mainly leaving information undisclosed from the reader, that's all I'll say. In my mind, it's like the main character found that there was no light at the end of the tunnel, and decided to start looking for it.
Books these days are so strange. I hope mine isn't anything like them. I want you to laugh. I want you to cry. But I don't want you to get depressed. I don't want to leave you thinking there's any chance that there isn't a light at the end of the tunnel.
But, then, when I look at it from the outside, that seems to mean I've got to give up plans of killing off Jack...
Your confused, sinful, and non-generically blockheaded reporter and writer,
!Noah!
Best Friends
It has bothered me for a while how some people refer to the best and the brightest of their friends, for lack of a more illustrious and exciting word. More than frequently, a certain friend will be referred to as "best". I find this, first, degrading to all other friends the person has, whether or not they hear the statement...two, er...two...naw. Never thought of a two.
Anyway.
I also find it profusely annoying when husbands and wives call each other best friends. Shouldn't marriage be so much farther above mere friendship?
If your wife should be your best friend, why shouldn't it be Jesus, or God instead? Just taking Jesus, he's done a billion times (and many more) what any of your other friends (aye, even spouses) will manage to in their entire life!
But, then, now that I think about it, how many friendships are formed merely because one or both parties have given up their lives for each other?
Not many, I guess.
I, personally, refrain from using the superlative when it comes to humans. Actually, I've been somewhat well set against grading movies too. In a comparative scale, that is. Judge movies alone, with no intent to judge them against others, and I think I'm happy. But, then, since when has anybody's goal in life to make me happy? *grabs Uzi and glares around*
Anywho, thanks, all ye good friends of mine. You've obviously made my past greater than I could alone, and ensured my future to be something to anticipate with either bated breath or fearing whatever. Thanks to you, I've a greater chance of being killed in a car accident, walking under ladders, seeing black cats over my left shoulder, and so much more.
Oh, yes. I perfer to refer to friends as "very good" or, "good friend(s)".
!Noah!
December 02, 2008
Ketchup (Completed Ch. 2 and beginning of Ch. 3)
And once again...I give you the finished...er...second chapter and the first suspenseful paragraphs of the third chapter.
2. No Control Freak
At the fourth floor, Jack entered the elevator. At the lobby, a short UPS delivery man came out.
Alright, alright. You got me. He's Jack. But so what? It makes for a sleek story. Anyway.
Jack easily exited the building without any trouble whatsoever. His tongue even decided to project itself in the direction of a security camera. Everyone knows such behavior is entirely normal and ordinary.
The sad thing is that he forgot to cover up the signature he had traced on the back of his backpack with a glow-in-the-dark, neon-green Sharpie. In a blindingly bright shade of green, it stated clearly,
Jack Walker Rabbit (this is meant to be in a handwriting-like font, but Blogger has none such)
Several thousand miles away, on a deserted desert island, a large array of high-resolution LCDs, the video played back in slow motion. A man sat in a large chair adorned with many different animal skins. On the front, there seemed to be zebra, tiger, jaguar, as well as a small skin on the top, who, considering the twin, long ears pointing from its head, would be well judged to be a rabbit, or, more precisely, and, I'm afraid, intrusively, on your happy readership, I enlighten you with the intriguing truth that it is, in fact, a jackrabbit skin. Oh, yes. The man. Well, he looked very sinister, mainly because the light of twelve LCDs has an all-around zombifying effect on anyone who sits in front of them, excepting those so adorned with blood so as to make them look like zombies anyway. These cases have proved to be rather rare, as the amount of zombies in the world has decreased so drastically over the last several decades.
Outside of the elevator, Jack walked unhindered out of the hospital. He frowned. Things were so boring these days. You used to have well-trained thugs jump on you from the top of two-story buildings. This was a rather odd technique, but it worked. The sad thing was that few people had large squads of tough men willing to jump off of two-story buildings. For this reason, Jack's life had been a bit of a bore for several months. Considering he was only fourteen, he had a lot left to see, but he was fairly well prepared. He sighed and continued walking away from the hospital.
He was also thinking about being shot. And where the bullet was. But that's about all I, as author, am willing to tell you, the reader, about what he was, or what he was not thinking about at that time.
For now.
Anyway, he was thinking about how on earth he could have not cleared a dumpster so small that, by comparison to some of the ones he'd cleared, was merely a bump in the road. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit here, but I'm the author here, okay?
Now. As Jack grabbed his bike, which, for some reason, was sitting right outside the hospital, when, actually, he had left it about eight miles north of there in a place quite ruined by poverty. He had “lended” it to a man who claimed quite convincingly that he needed a bike to drive to the liquor store. Jack had, at that time, found this extremely interesting, and set the GPS in his bike to track the man. As it turned out, the man biked to a liquor store. Once there, however, he attempted to rob the place. Being an avid redneck, the store owner scared the man so badly that he didn't even bother to gather the bike. Thankfully, as always happens in such idiotic spy TV shows before now, the bike could “ride” itself. The one problem is that it terrified the northern population of the city, which, by and large, was poor. Word soon circulated that there, “was a witch in town”. I, the author, don't in the least deny that adding a witch at this time would “spice” things up a bit, but this is meant to center on Jack. This means, of course, that Jack actually being self-centered seems rational. I, as author, deny it, and leave it at that.
Ah, yes. Jack was on his bike, riding down a street. He was quite calm, despite the fact that his computer, back in his backpack, was going haywire because police cars were converging on his current location at speeds varying from sixty to one-hundred miles per hour. His computer knew things like this because he made it to. Sadly, he was already going at more than fourty miles per hour, so getting out his laptop and stopping it from sending crazy signals to his brain which were hardly understandable anyway was entirely out of the question.
Upon crossing an intersection at speeds which would make Lance Armstrong faint, Jack finally did turn on his rockets. And then he started to move really fast. Now, today, people seem to relate the word "fast" to their car, or some other means of transportation. Not to bikes. I think the average person doesn't know how fast Lance Armstrong has gone. No matter. I can assure you, though, that, if he wanted to, Jack could have outstripped the Concorde. Only here, he merely had to outstrip several police cars which were converging now, at a point several blocks ahead of him. His computer had calculated the trajectories of all the cars at one-hundred and ten percent of their actual speeds, assuring no police would come to harm. Jack firmly believed that brining people to harm was wrong. Taking this belief into account, he calculated the probability to damage of all things of the city to be wonderfully decreased if he merely increased his altitude by at least twenty feet. This he did without so much as a "click", though, honestly, "click" doesn't even describe what people usually use "click" to describe, i.e. It's as easy as CLICK, and you're hooked up to the biggest financial difficulty the nation has to be in distress over! Anyway, he, being the all-around technological genius that he is, had already integrated mind-computer control so all he had to do was think something which would tell the computer to tell the bike to increase the altitude of the bike to X. X is a variable, for your information. Not to be trifled with.
Anyway.
Jack totally missed the police cars and vaporized a good portion of a dense oak tree. Dense here means that it was “having the component parts closely compacted together”, not “stupid; slow-witted, dull”. Because of this, Jack's flight pattern, if it must be called that, was quite changed. He was, by resisting the gravity of Earth, going up. In going up, people feel a strange feeling. They start barfing, in extreme situations. I, the author, assure you that Jack has a stomach which seldom decided to eject it's contents. However, Jack really did have to try hard not to eject it this time. This time, he not only kept his stomachfull, but also regained his balance and some of his common, everyday composure. However, a common, everyday composure is quickly decomposed when one is decidedly rocketed through clouds, and, consequently, drenched. I, the author, acknowledge that the scientific accuracy of this entire story is based in as much fact as it takes to validate the existence of mosquitoes when near water on a good, Minnesotan summer day. As such, I maintain the fact that Jack was, in fact, drenched, when he came out of the top of that cloud.
Thankfully enough, his entire electronic system was perfectly waterproof and was unharmed, as such. However, he was further knocked off course because his vision. By the time he could see where he was going, the gravitational pull on him had decreased noticeably. Jack blinked several times, muttered, "I didn't know it could do that," and continued downward. Now, when people go down, they gain velocity. Velocity is speed over distance. I think. And gaining speed over distance is acceleration. Therefore, I, the author, can say, with some certainty, that Jack was accelerating.
Now, under some circumstances, acceleration is good. For instance, when you're pointing away from gravity's pull and have a good force propelling you away from the said. However, when you're accelerating in a direction not opposed to gravity, you eventually either gain such velocity that you don't hit our dear planet, or you do. I haven't had the opportunity to investigate this thoroughly, but I think it's true. You either hit something, or don't hit something, in instances when you're accelerating directly at it. In this rare case, Jack just managed not to hit that which he was originally pointed at. Instead, he found himself flying straight at a battered American flag. As you can see, Jack doesn't have a lot of luck. This might have to do with the fact that he accidentally burned his rabbit's foot, upturned and melted his horseshoe, walked under few more ladders than there are people in the United States, and, to top it all of, saw so many black cats over his left shoulder that, if proportion maintains sway in this situation, he ought to have suffered for the two years of his life which he had, so far, had to himself. As it was, he was fairly happy, and hadn't encountered much suffering of any consequence.
This being said, he did happen to be flying at an American flag. For the twentieth time. For this reason, jack said, "Probability rockets. Blast," after which he managed, as always, to miss the flag. By this time, he had managed to decrease his velocity to a speed entirely manageable. With direction under control, Jack returned to his home.
3. Home
Jack's home was extraordinary, and yet plain. It was a small, abandoned apartment building outside of the main city. To him, it was valuable, not only because such things were rare in his town, but because he did, in fact, call it home. He lived alone, yet he had several pets which were quite good for him.
The apartment that he primarily lived in was fairly large, and, over the years, had become as well-furnished as any five-star hotel would be. In the manner of such, there was, at a certain place, a large screen TV. However, Jack had, with his own hands, made it. It was a few feet across and seemed to have a very large block of wood behind it. For your woefully uniformed readership, I'll reveal it's purpose quite simply. It was a computer.
Around this time, I ran out of time describing his house because Jack decided to go find something to eat.
The apartment that he primarily lived in was fairly large, and, over the years, had become as well-furnished as any five-star hotel would be. In the manner of such, there was, at a certain place, a large screen TV. However, Jack had, with his own hands, made it. It was a few feet across and seemed to have a very large block of wood behind it. For your woefully uniformed readership, I'll reveal it's purpose quite simply. It was a computer.
Around this time, I ran out of time describing his house because Jack decided to go find something to eat.
He made scrambled eggs with more minced bacon than any pig could live through seeing. He also had more oil in the pan than would be healthy for just about anyone. However, he'd done this multiple times and wasn't dead yet. That was, in a good bunch of areas, his philosophy for defining what to do. In a good dose of others, though, he put sense and morals into a decision.
In a few minutes, he had some steaming yellowish matter stuffed into a tortilla which could only be home-made. Jack was incredibly industrious.
"Hands up!" a voice said in a voice which couldn't exactly be identified as anything in particular.
"Hands up!" a voice said in a voice which couldn't exactly be identified as anything in particular.
"Not with breakfast, Xink. I could use some orange juice, though, thank you," Jack said.
Xink was a computer. Yes, you probably guessed by the time that you read this, that she was the large block behind the screen.
"I don't have any more orange juice, sir," Xink replied in a tone which suggested with almost painful obviousness that it wasn't true.
"Oh, quit your bawling, you great brown blockhead," Jack said mercilessly.
"Oh, quit your bawling, you great brown blockhead," Jack said mercilessly.
"Yes, mastah," Xink said, sniffling a bit. A clear glass glass full of fresh, cold orange juice popped out of almost nowhere and landed on his table. Sadly, orange juice is fairly transparent, so, me saying his table was splattered with orange liquid would be just plain evil. However, it was true that there was orange juice all over the table. Jack licked the juice off of some of his more reachable areas. Xink sighed, the table was wiped up in a second, and Jack drank his orange juice. He might have drunk it, but I haven't tested the Hangoverer's Guide to Hanging Over with orange juice.
Anyway.
He was drinking his juice when a bullet made a uncannily clean hole through his glass. It also made a bit of noise, but it's most important that it made a clean hole, and that it was remarkably uncanny. Though his expression would convince anyone who didn't know him well that he was totally unbothered by this occurrence, he was rather surprised and slightly worried. He was aware that his bones wouldn't have set perfectly yet, and, for this reason, he didn't enjoy the idea of another bullet in him. Especially outside the main city, where the nearest doctor professed ardently that he was a reincarnated gorilla king. On most occasions this wasn't a problem, thankfully.
TO BE CONTINUED
OH, THE SUSPENSE!
Your dear honkin' writer of the third class,
!Noah!
November 26, 2008
Walk bold...WHAT?!
...
Excuse me. Here's the PROPER QUOTE.
“Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far,” a West African proverb. (shamelessly copied from my friend Wikipedia.)
Also, be sure to watch the Looney Tunes show where Bugs runs for something or other. That was quite loverly.
I find it vaguely appealing to go into a nice, biased explanation of how this perfectly proves all my political beliefs to be true, but, I've got other things to do.
!Noah!
November 25, 2008
Bertilson's First Law of Numeric Inaccuracy
Ok. I've wondered about this for a long time, and I decided to figure it out. Now I'm publishing it so I can get into some legal battle with some loony lab scientist who believes he figured it out first.
The problem came to me several times with the last few weeks during Geometry. In my home schooled way, I'm supposed to do a set number of problems from a certain unnamed Geometry book. The notations are much like this:
1-16, 19-24
The problem I saw was that, in some situations, the last number did, in fact, equal the total number of pages...oh, never mind, I'll just confuse you with the formula thingy I made up.
Let X equal smaller number
Let Y equal larger number
Let R equal the real number (of pages, counted objects or things)
X - Y (pp.)
(Y-X) + 1 = R iff X = 1
(iff being a notation meaning "if and only if")
By these means, I mean to make it harder to explain once I put the thing in words.
1-8 is eight pages.
7-15 is eight pages. (for the sake of simplicity, I've changed this from the original thing...)
See? When you subtract one from eight, you get seven. In that case, the real number of counted things is eight. Fifteen minus seven equals eight. This is correct, somehow assisted or brought about by the fact that the smaller number is not one.
You thought zero was weird?
Now I can regret this for the rest of my life, as I already deplore the amount geometry people have confused me over the last few weeks. Have a nice day!
!Noah!
The problem came to me several times with the last few weeks during Geometry. In my home schooled way, I'm supposed to do a set number of problems from a certain unnamed Geometry book. The notations are much like this:
1-16, 19-24
The problem I saw was that, in some situations, the last number did, in fact, equal the total number of pages...oh, never mind, I'll just confuse you with the formula thingy I made up.
Let X equal smaller number
Let Y equal larger number
Let R equal the real number (of pages, counted objects or things)
X - Y (pp.)
(Y-X) + 1 = R iff X = 1
(iff being a notation meaning "if and only if")
By these means, I mean to make it harder to explain once I put the thing in words.
1-8 is eight pages.
7-15 is eight pages. (for the sake of simplicity, I've changed this from the original thing...)
See? When you subtract one from eight, you get seven. In that case, the real number of counted things is eight. Fifteen minus seven equals eight. This is correct, somehow assisted or brought about by the fact that the smaller number is not one.
You thought zero was weird?
Now I can regret this for the rest of my life, as I already deplore the amount geometry people have confused me over the last few weeks. Have a nice day!
!Noah!
November 19, 2008
Al-Qaeda takes hits at Obama, your totally unbiased reporter can't wait to hear what he has to say
Al Qaeda, November 19th, 2009...
In the Name of Allah, and all Praise is due to Allah, and Prayers and Peace on the Messenger of Allah and on his family, Companions and allies.
Muslim brothers everywhere: Peace be upon you and the Mercy of Allah and His blessings. As for what comes after:
Barack Obama has won the presidency of the United States of America, and on this occasion, I would like to send several messages.
First, a message of congratulations to the Muslim Ummah on the American people's admission of defeat in Iraq. Although the evidence of America's defeat in Iraq appeared years ago, Bush and his administration continued to be stubborn and deny the brilliant midday sun. If Bush has achieved anything, it is in his transfer of America's disaster and predicament to his successor. But the American people, by electing Obama, declared its anxiety and apprehension about the future towards which the policy of the likes of Bush is leading it, and so it decided to support someone calling for withdrawal from Iraq.
The second of these messages is to the new president of the United States. I tell him: you have reached the position of president, and a heavy legacy of failure and crimes awaits you. A failure in Iraq to which you have admitted, and a failure in Afghanistan to which the commanders of your army have admitted. The other thing to which I want to bring your attention is that what you've announced about how you're going to reach an understanding with Iran and pull your troops out of Iraq to send them to Afghanistan is a policy which was destined for failure before it was born. It appears that you don't know anything about the Muslim Ummah and its history, and the fate of the traitors who cooperated with the invaders against it, and don't know anything about the history of Afghanistan and its free and defiant Muslim people. And if you still want to be stubborn about America's failure in Afghanistan, then remember the fate of Bush and Pervez Musharraf, and the fate of the Soviets and British before them. And be aware that the dogs of Afghanistan have found the flesh of your soldiers to be delicious, so send thousands after thousands to them.
As for the crimes of America which await you, it appears that you continue to be captive to the same criminal American mentality towards the world and towards the Muslims. The Muslim Ummah received with extreme bitterness your hypocritical statements to and stances towards Israel, which confirmed to the Ummah that you have chosen a stance of hostility to Islam and Muslims.
You represent the direct opposite of honorable black Americans like Malik al-Shabazz, or Malcolm X (may Allah have mercy on him). You were born to a Muslim father, but you chose to stand in the ranks of the enemies of the Muslims, and pray the prayer of the Jews, although you claim to be Christian, in order to climb the rungs of leadership in America. And so you promised to back Israel, and you threatened to strike the tribal regions in Pakistan, and to send thousands more troops to Afghanistan, in order for the crimes of the American Crusade in it to continue. And last Monday, your aircraft killed 40 Afghan Muslims at a wedding party in Kandahar. As for Malik al-Shabazz (may Allah have mercy on him), he was born to a black pastor killed by white bigots, but Allah favored him with guidance to Islam, and so he prided himself on his fraternity with the Muslims, and he condemned the crimes of the Crusader West against the weak and oppressed, and he declared his support for peoples resisting American occupation, and he spoke about the worldwide revolution against the Western power structure.
That's why it wasn't strange that Malik al-Shabazz (may Allah have mercy on him) was killed, while you have climbed the rungs of the presidency to take over the leadership of the greatest criminal force in the history of mankind and the leadership of the most violent Crusade ever against the Muslims.
And in you and in Colin Powell, Rice and your likes, the words of Malcolm X (may Allah have mercy on him) concerning "House Negroes" are confirmed.
You also must appreciate, as you take over the presidency of America during its Crusade against Islam and Muslims, that you are neither facing individuals nor organizations, but are facing a Jihadi awakening and renaissance which is shaking the pillars of the entire Islamic world; and this is the fact which you and your government and country refuse to recognize and pretend not to see.
As for the third message, it is to the Muslim Ummah. I tell it: America, the criminal, trespassing Crusader, continues to be the same as ever, so we must continue to harm it, in order for it to come to its senses, because its criminal, expansionist Crusader project in your lands has only been neutralized by the sacrifices of your sons, the Mujahideen. This, then, is the path, so stick to it.
As for the fourth message, it is to the lions of Islam, the Mujahideen. I tell them: may Allah reward you in the best way for your historic heroics, which have ruined America's plans and rendered its projects ineffective. So be firm and resolute. Your enemy's stagger has begun, so don't stop hitting him.
And I say to my brothers the Mujahideen in Iraq in general and the Islamic State of Iraq in particular, and to its Amir, the towering mountain Abu 'Umar al-Baghdadi: your enemy has admitted defeat, and the forthcoming stage is expected to be dominated by conspiracies and betrayals in order to cover the American withdrawal, so you must persevere, for victory is in an hour of perseverance.
And I tell my brothers, the lions of Islam in Somalia: rejoice in victory and conquest. America is gathering its wounds in Iraq, and Ethiopia is looking for a way out, and for this reason, the stage of conspiracies and machinations has begun. So hold tightly to the truth for which you have given your lives, and don't put down your weapons before the Mujahid state of Islam and Tawheed has been set up in Somalia.
And I tell all Mujahideen everywhere: the Hubal of the age has begun to falter and recede, and Allah has granted you success and honored you by making you the most important cause of that, so be resolute on the path of Jihad until you meet your Lord while He is pleased with you.
And my fifth message is to all the world's weak and oppressed. I tell them: America has put on a new face, but its heart full of hate, mind drowning in greed, and spirit which spreads evil, murder, repression and despotism continue to be the same as always. And the Mujahideen of Islam, by the grace of Allah, continue to be the spearhead of the resistance against it to restrain it from injustice, aggression and arrogance.
As for my final message, it is to the American people. I tell it: you incurred defeat and losses from the foolish actions of Bush and his gang, and at the same time, Shaykh Usama bin Ladin (may Allah preserve him) sent you a message to withdraw from the lands of the Muslims and refrain from stealing their treasures and interfering in their affairs. So choose for yourself whatever you like, and bear the consequences of your choice, and as you judge, you will be judged.
And our final prayer is that all praise is due to Allah, Lord of the Worlds, and may Allah send prayers and peace on our Master Muhammad and his family and Companions.
(END OF TRANSCRIPT)
Ok. Suppose we do leave Iraq within, say, six months. Al Qaeda already believes they've won! The very idea is preposterous, leaving. Without us leaving, they already think they've won. This is so unbelievably inaccurate that saying it's a lie is an understatement. It's merely building on our dear media's vision of America. I don't believe that Obama will say what Al Qaeda said about America, but it's a lot closer to what he believes than what I do. They intend to kill us! They hate us! Leaving Iraq will be throwing up the towle, glove, or what have you. Giving up in Iraq right now is little different than giving up a war in which the odds of you winning are a hundred to one, when it comes to quantity. These extremists can't keep fighting if they're dead. They can't threaten our hard-won freedom and happiness if we exterminate them before they manage to exterminate us.
Obama? I can't wait for what he says in response. I'd love him to say something intelligent and reasonable, but even hearing him spew nonsense can make me happy.
(sorry for those awful live link thingies...)
Ever yours unbiasedly,
!Noah!
In the Name of Allah, and all Praise is due to Allah, and Prayers and Peace on the Messenger of Allah and on his family, Companions and allies.
Muslim brothers everywhere: Peace be upon you and the Mercy of Allah and His blessings. As for what comes after:
Barack Obama has won the presidency of the United States of America, and on this occasion, I would like to send several messages.
First, a message of congratulations to the Muslim Ummah on the American people's admission of defeat in Iraq. Although the evidence of America's defeat in Iraq appeared years ago, Bush and his administration continued to be stubborn and deny the brilliant midday sun. If Bush has achieved anything, it is in his transfer of America's disaster and predicament to his successor. But the American people, by electing Obama, declared its anxiety and apprehension about the future towards which the policy of the likes of Bush is leading it, and so it decided to support someone calling for withdrawal from Iraq.
The second of these messages is to the new president of the United States. I tell him: you have reached the position of president, and a heavy legacy of failure and crimes awaits you. A failure in Iraq to which you have admitted, and a failure in Afghanistan to which the commanders of your army have admitted. The other thing to which I want to bring your attention is that what you've announced about how you're going to reach an understanding with Iran and pull your troops out of Iraq to send them to Afghanistan is a policy which was destined for failure before it was born. It appears that you don't know anything about the Muslim Ummah and its history, and the fate of the traitors who cooperated with the invaders against it, and don't know anything about the history of Afghanistan and its free and defiant Muslim people. And if you still want to be stubborn about America's failure in Afghanistan, then remember the fate of Bush and Pervez Musharraf, and the fate of the Soviets and British before them. And be aware that the dogs of Afghanistan have found the flesh of your soldiers to be delicious, so send thousands after thousands to them.
As for the crimes of America which await you, it appears that you continue to be captive to the same criminal American mentality towards the world and towards the Muslims. The Muslim Ummah received with extreme bitterness your hypocritical statements to and stances towards Israel, which confirmed to the Ummah that you have chosen a stance of hostility to Islam and Muslims.
You represent the direct opposite of honorable black Americans like Malik al-Shabazz, or Malcolm X (may Allah have mercy on him). You were born to a Muslim father, but you chose to stand in the ranks of the enemies of the Muslims, and pray the prayer of the Jews, although you claim to be Christian, in order to climb the rungs of leadership in America. And so you promised to back Israel, and you threatened to strike the tribal regions in Pakistan, and to send thousands more troops to Afghanistan, in order for the crimes of the American Crusade in it to continue. And last Monday, your aircraft killed 40 Afghan Muslims at a wedding party in Kandahar. As for Malik al-Shabazz (may Allah have mercy on him), he was born to a black pastor killed by white bigots, but Allah favored him with guidance to Islam, and so he prided himself on his fraternity with the Muslims, and he condemned the crimes of the Crusader West against the weak and oppressed, and he declared his support for peoples resisting American occupation, and he spoke about the worldwide revolution against the Western power structure.
That's why it wasn't strange that Malik al-Shabazz (may Allah have mercy on him) was killed, while you have climbed the rungs of the presidency to take over the leadership of the greatest criminal force in the history of mankind and the leadership of the most violent Crusade ever against the Muslims.
And in you and in Colin Powell, Rice and your likes, the words of Malcolm X (may Allah have mercy on him) concerning "House Negroes" are confirmed.
You also must appreciate, as you take over the presidency of America during its Crusade against Islam and Muslims, that you are neither facing individuals nor organizations, but are facing a Jihadi awakening and renaissance which is shaking the pillars of the entire Islamic world; and this is the fact which you and your government and country refuse to recognize and pretend not to see.
As for the third message, it is to the Muslim Ummah. I tell it: America, the criminal, trespassing Crusader, continues to be the same as ever, so we must continue to harm it, in order for it to come to its senses, because its criminal, expansionist Crusader project in your lands has only been neutralized by the sacrifices of your sons, the Mujahideen. This, then, is the path, so stick to it.
As for the fourth message, it is to the lions of Islam, the Mujahideen. I tell them: may Allah reward you in the best way for your historic heroics, which have ruined America's plans and rendered its projects ineffective. So be firm and resolute. Your enemy's stagger has begun, so don't stop hitting him.
And I say to my brothers the Mujahideen in Iraq in general and the Islamic State of Iraq in particular, and to its Amir, the towering mountain Abu 'Umar al-Baghdadi: your enemy has admitted defeat, and the forthcoming stage is expected to be dominated by conspiracies and betrayals in order to cover the American withdrawal, so you must persevere, for victory is in an hour of perseverance.
And I tell my brothers, the lions of Islam in Somalia: rejoice in victory and conquest. America is gathering its wounds in Iraq, and Ethiopia is looking for a way out, and for this reason, the stage of conspiracies and machinations has begun. So hold tightly to the truth for which you have given your lives, and don't put down your weapons before the Mujahid state of Islam and Tawheed has been set up in Somalia.
And I tell all Mujahideen everywhere: the Hubal of the age has begun to falter and recede, and Allah has granted you success and honored you by making you the most important cause of that, so be resolute on the path of Jihad until you meet your Lord while He is pleased with you.
And my fifth message is to all the world's weak and oppressed. I tell them: America has put on a new face, but its heart full of hate, mind drowning in greed, and spirit which spreads evil, murder, repression and despotism continue to be the same as always. And the Mujahideen of Islam, by the grace of Allah, continue to be the spearhead of the resistance against it to restrain it from injustice, aggression and arrogance.
As for my final message, it is to the American people. I tell it: you incurred defeat and losses from the foolish actions of Bush and his gang, and at the same time, Shaykh Usama bin Ladin (may Allah preserve him) sent you a message to withdraw from the lands of the Muslims and refrain from stealing their treasures and interfering in their affairs. So choose for yourself whatever you like, and bear the consequences of your choice, and as you judge, you will be judged.
And our final prayer is that all praise is due to Allah, Lord of the Worlds, and may Allah send prayers and peace on our Master Muhammad and his family and Companions.
(END OF TRANSCRIPT)
Ok. Suppose we do leave Iraq within, say, six months. Al Qaeda already believes they've won! The very idea is preposterous, leaving. Without us leaving, they already think they've won. This is so unbelievably inaccurate that saying it's a lie is an understatement. It's merely building on our dear media's vision of America. I don't believe that Obama will say what Al Qaeda said about America, but it's a lot closer to what he believes than what I do. They intend to kill us! They hate us! Leaving Iraq will be throwing up the towle, glove, or what have you. Giving up in Iraq right now is little different than giving up a war in which the odds of you winning are a hundred to one, when it comes to quantity. These extremists can't keep fighting if they're dead. They can't threaten our hard-won freedom and happiness if we exterminate them before they manage to exterminate us.
Obama? I can't wait for what he says in response. I'd love him to say something intelligent and reasonable, but even hearing him spew nonsense can make me happy.
(sorry for those awful live link thingies...)
(Also, thanks to Fox News for the transcript. I hope I'm not infringing on Al Qaeda's copyright.)
(minor change to main text color. I consider it a bit more readable, but I feel like I'm frying my eyes out merely by changing the brightness of a couple thousand pixels...that's why I'm almost positive I'm not changing to a white-based theme. My eyes are frying out now with this crazy Blogger post editor.)
Ever yours unbiasedly,
!Noah!
November 18, 2008
Ketchup -- A Story of Romance, Action, and a stupid girl
For those of you who can't cope with the idea of a boy creating a girl character who is stupid, buzz off. For those of you who can cope with it and have, read on. As Blogger just died on me in the most annoying fashion, I just lost a great work of writing, and am in a much too tired state to attempt to resurrect it. However, I'll try to introduce this story as humorously as possible, so you won't be sitting, looking at trillions of light particles/waves zinging at your eyes at speeds hereunto unreached by mankind. Anyway, as I was saying, I will definitely not make any jokes in introducing such a serious and thought-provoking story. As such...
Ketchup (a story of romance, action, and a stupid girl)
By Noah Bertilson
Introduction
As is necessary when making books, some people decide they need introductions, forwards, and prologues. I find the very idea entirely preposterous. Merely for the sake of the sanity of publishers, this is included, supposing this crazed semblance of words ever does come from the cursed pixels of this computer to the blessed pages of a well-printed book. As this is entirely unlikely and probably opposing to what most people would have me call "fate", this introduction is almost entirely useless. As I intend to leave some reason to it, I'll add a bit of an introduction to Jack in specific and some other very important people. Here yah go, crazy publishers:
The Real Introduction
It was a long time ago when Jack was a boy. Er. No. He is a boy, but he was a younger boy before he was an older boy. He had parents. Two of them. Fine, kind, good, honorable people. Um. And there was one man and one woman. Definitely. (publishers, if you can't deal with that, you can go ride an ICBM. Nuclear, yah hear?)
Anyway. He had a father and a mother. They taught him so much in his first ten years of life that he was easily wiser than a good half of the average college student. Though this necessarily degrades the average college student, it doesn't mean, in any way, that college students are universally stupid. It just means that certain ones are so accomplished in the art of stupidity that their renown should have, before now, become much greater.
As I was saying, he had parents at that time. On his twelfth birthday, his parents went on a date after his birthday party, while he was babysat by one of their better friends. As this tragic story unfolded, he was doomed to have his parents killed for reasons not yet revealed. Sorry I got so nondramatic and humorous there, but, ahem, it's hard to make a death funny when you're 1. not playing a video game, 2. an intelligent, fairly un-morbid boy like me.
Satisfied, pubs?
Ah, on to the story. Jack is now fourteen years old. He's been wandering through the United States for the last two parent-free years of his life. He's in better shape than anybody in a ten-mile radius of himself about 94.56% of the time, and he carries a useful backpack full of all sorts of useful stuff. However, at this moment, his life is in danger. Why, I don't even know yet. We join Jack jumping over a dumpster. A dumpster which is rather big.
A Jackrabbit Down
Jack's brain only registered shock for a tenth of a second. After that, his brain was unconscious, but the immensity of the shock seemed to have kept his brain in an odd in-between state, so that it still attempted to find out why he had failed to clear the dumpster correctly. It was a fairly complicated jump, but he'd completed it flawlessly from the day he learned it.
Jack woke up two days later, a gunshot wound in his shoulder, in a hospital.
“Where's the bullet?” he asked the second he'd rounded up his senses and made sure he hadn't lost any of them.
“What?” said a nearby doctor, looking unnerved, “Hey! You're supposed to be asleep, doctor's orders!”
“What, did the doctor's union start a dictatorship?” Jack threw back, looking profoundly annoyed, “Now tell me, where is the bullet, you great albino Batman?”
The doctor looked slightly stunned for a few seconds, and then said, “The police have it. They're going to find the man that shot you, and you're going back to sleep,” he added firmly.
Jack immediately sat bolt upright. “No, they're not, and it's a she,” he said, flexing his legs and arms. The doctor looked blank, then arranged his features into a look invented before time by enslaved lab scientists. It conveyed the firm belief that the recipient of the look was believed not to be in full possession of either his senses or his sense. It only goes to prove how bad institutions slavery as well as whatever crazy institution lab scientists belong in are.
“Oh, come on, how would you know that?” he asked, seemingly too astonished to stop Jack from doing experimental push-ups.
Jack snorted. “Like I'm going to tell you,” he said, getting out of bed and picking some very thin clothes from his backpack, which had been placed by his bed.
“Well, you can't leave now,” the doctor said, realizing too late that he was pleading, “You've got to stay in for another two days,” he said. “Doctor's orders,” he added helplessly.
Jack rolled his eyes.
The doctor suddenly looked up, looking triumphant. “And the police chief wants to see you, too!”
Jack jumped. “The...the police chief,” he repeated lamely, not looking around.
“Yeah,” the doctor said, seeming to think Jack's surprise and fear was actually resignation.
Jack bolted to the door in three long strides, opened it, and went out. The doctor came running to the door, at which point Jack took off his backpack and slammed him over the head when he came through the door. The doctor slumped down against the wall. Jack suddenly had an idea. Moving as fast as he could manage, he carried the doctor's body and moved it into his bed, pulling the covers over him.
“Sleep well,” Jack told the unconscious doctor, “I hope you didn't break my laptop.” He patted the bald head almost thoughtfully, and bolted out the door once again.
A Bullet Gathered
At the fourth floor, Jack entered the elevator. At the lobby, a short UPS delivery man came out.
Alright, alright. You got me. He's Jack. But so what? It makes for a sleek story. Anyway.
Jack easily exited the building without any trouble whatsoever. His tongue even decided to project itself in the direction of a security camera. Everyone knows such behavior is entirely normal and ordinary.
The sad thing is that he forgot to cover up the signature he had traced on the back of his backpack with a glow-in-the-dark, neon-green Sharpie. In a blindingly bright shade of green, it stated clearly,
Jack Walker Rabbit (this is meant to be in a handwriting-like font, but Blogger has none such)
Several thousand miles away, on a deserted desert island, a large array of high-resolution LCDs, the video played back in slow motion. A man sat in a large chair adorned with many different animal skins. On the front, there seemed to be zebra, tiger, jaguar, as well as a small skin on the top, who, considering the twin, long ears pointing from its head, would be well judged to be a rabbit, or, more precisely, and, I'm afraid, intrusively, on your happy readership, I enlighten you with the intriguing truth that it is, in fact, a jackrabbit skin. Oh, yes. The man. Well, he looked very sinister, mainly because the light of twelve LCDs has an all-around zombifying effect on anyone who sits in front of them, excepting those so adorned with blood so as to make them look like zombies anyway. These cases have proved to be rather rare, as the amount of zombies in the world has decreased so drastically over the last several decades.
Outside of the elevator, Jack walked unhindered out of the hospital. He frowned. Things were so boring these days. You used to have well-trained thugs jump on you from the top of two-story buildings. This was a rather odd technique, but it worked. The sad thing was that few people had large squads of tough men willing to jump off of two-story buildings. For this reason, Jack's life had been a bit of a bore for several months. Considering he was only fourteen, he had a lot left to see, but he was fairly well prepared. He sighed and continued walking away from the hospital.
He was also thinking about being shot. And where the bullet was. But that's about all I, as author, am willing to tell you, the reader, about what he was, or what he was not thinking about at that time.
For now.
Anyway, he was thinking about how on earth he could have not cleared a dumpster so small that, by comparison to some of the ones he'd cleared, was merely a bump in the road. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit here, but I'm the author here, okay?
Now. As Jack grabbed his bike, which, for some reason, was sitting right outside the hospital, when, actually, he had left it about eight miles north of there in a place quite ruined by poverty. He had “lended” it to a man who claimed quite convincingly that he needed a bike to drive to the liquor store. Jack had, at that time, found this extremely interesting, and set the GPS in his bike to track the man. As it turned out, the man biked to a liquor store. Once there, however, he attempted to rob the place. Being an avid redneck, the store owner scared the man so badly that he didn't even bother to gather the bike. Thankfully, as always happens in such idiotic spy TV shows before now, the bike could “ride” itself. The one problem is that it terrified the northern population of the city, which, by and large, was poor. Word soon circulated that there, “was a witch in town”. I, the author, don't in the least deny that adding a witch at this time would “spice” things up a bit, but this is meant to center on Jack. This means, of course, that Jack actually being self-centered seems rational. I, as author, deny it, and leave it at that.
TO BE CONTINUED
I feel it a heinous crime for my readers not to comment profusely and...well. Have a nice day.
!Noah!
Ketchup (a story of romance, action, and a stupid girl)
By Noah Bertilson
Introduction
As is necessary when making books, some people decide they need introductions, forwards, and prologues. I find the very idea entirely preposterous. Merely for the sake of the sanity of publishers, this is included, supposing this crazed semblance of words ever does come from the cursed pixels of this computer to the blessed pages of a well-printed book. As this is entirely unlikely and probably opposing to what most people would have me call "fate", this introduction is almost entirely useless. As I intend to leave some reason to it, I'll add a bit of an introduction to Jack in specific and some other very important people. Here yah go, crazy publishers:
The Real Introduction
It was a long time ago when Jack was a boy. Er. No. He is a boy, but he was a younger boy before he was an older boy. He had parents. Two of them. Fine, kind, good, honorable people. Um. And there was one man and one woman. Definitely. (publishers, if you can't deal with that, you can go ride an ICBM. Nuclear, yah hear?)
Anyway. He had a father and a mother. They taught him so much in his first ten years of life that he was easily wiser than a good half of the average college student. Though this necessarily degrades the average college student, it doesn't mean, in any way, that college students are universally stupid. It just means that certain ones are so accomplished in the art of stupidity that their renown should have, before now, become much greater.
As I was saying, he had parents at that time. On his twelfth birthday, his parents went on a date after his birthday party, while he was babysat by one of their better friends. As this tragic story unfolded, he was doomed to have his parents killed for reasons not yet revealed. Sorry I got so nondramatic and humorous there, but, ahem, it's hard to make a death funny when you're 1. not playing a video game, 2. an intelligent, fairly un-morbid boy like me.
Satisfied, pubs?
Ah, on to the story. Jack is now fourteen years old. He's been wandering through the United States for the last two parent-free years of his life. He's in better shape than anybody in a ten-mile radius of himself about 94.56% of the time, and he carries a useful backpack full of all sorts of useful stuff. However, at this moment, his life is in danger. Why, I don't even know yet. We join Jack jumping over a dumpster. A dumpster which is rather big.
A Jackrabbit Down
Jack's brain only registered shock for a tenth of a second. After that, his brain was unconscious, but the immensity of the shock seemed to have kept his brain in an odd in-between state, so that it still attempted to find out why he had failed to clear the dumpster correctly. It was a fairly complicated jump, but he'd completed it flawlessly from the day he learned it.
Jack woke up two days later, a gunshot wound in his shoulder, in a hospital.
“Where's the bullet?” he asked the second he'd rounded up his senses and made sure he hadn't lost any of them.
“What?” said a nearby doctor, looking unnerved, “Hey! You're supposed to be asleep, doctor's orders!”
“What, did the doctor's union start a dictatorship?” Jack threw back, looking profoundly annoyed, “Now tell me, where is the bullet, you great albino Batman?”
The doctor looked slightly stunned for a few seconds, and then said, “The police have it. They're going to find the man that shot you, and you're going back to sleep,” he added firmly.
Jack immediately sat bolt upright. “No, they're not, and it's a she,” he said, flexing his legs and arms. The doctor looked blank, then arranged his features into a look invented before time by enslaved lab scientists. It conveyed the firm belief that the recipient of the look was believed not to be in full possession of either his senses or his sense. It only goes to prove how bad institutions slavery as well as whatever crazy institution lab scientists belong in are.
“Oh, come on, how would you know that?” he asked, seemingly too astonished to stop Jack from doing experimental push-ups.
Jack snorted. “Like I'm going to tell you,” he said, getting out of bed and picking some very thin clothes from his backpack, which had been placed by his bed.
“Well, you can't leave now,” the doctor said, realizing too late that he was pleading, “You've got to stay in for another two days,” he said. “Doctor's orders,” he added helplessly.
Jack rolled his eyes.
The doctor suddenly looked up, looking triumphant. “And the police chief wants to see you, too!”
Jack jumped. “The...the police chief,” he repeated lamely, not looking around.
“Yeah,” the doctor said, seeming to think Jack's surprise and fear was actually resignation.
Jack bolted to the door in three long strides, opened it, and went out. The doctor came running to the door, at which point Jack took off his backpack and slammed him over the head when he came through the door. The doctor slumped down against the wall. Jack suddenly had an idea. Moving as fast as he could manage, he carried the doctor's body and moved it into his bed, pulling the covers over him.
“Sleep well,” Jack told the unconscious doctor, “I hope you didn't break my laptop.” He patted the bald head almost thoughtfully, and bolted out the door once again.
A Bullet Gathered
At the fourth floor, Jack entered the elevator. At the lobby, a short UPS delivery man came out.
Alright, alright. You got me. He's Jack. But so what? It makes for a sleek story. Anyway.
Jack easily exited the building without any trouble whatsoever. His tongue even decided to project itself in the direction of a security camera. Everyone knows such behavior is entirely normal and ordinary.
The sad thing is that he forgot to cover up the signature he had traced on the back of his backpack with a glow-in-the-dark, neon-green Sharpie. In a blindingly bright shade of green, it stated clearly,
Jack Walker Rabbit (this is meant to be in a handwriting-like font, but Blogger has none such)
Several thousand miles away, on a deserted desert island, a large array of high-resolution LCDs, the video played back in slow motion. A man sat in a large chair adorned with many different animal skins. On the front, there seemed to be zebra, tiger, jaguar, as well as a small skin on the top, who, considering the twin, long ears pointing from its head, would be well judged to be a rabbit, or, more precisely, and, I'm afraid, intrusively, on your happy readership, I enlighten you with the intriguing truth that it is, in fact, a jackrabbit skin. Oh, yes. The man. Well, he looked very sinister, mainly because the light of twelve LCDs has an all-around zombifying effect on anyone who sits in front of them, excepting those so adorned with blood so as to make them look like zombies anyway. These cases have proved to be rather rare, as the amount of zombies in the world has decreased so drastically over the last several decades.
Outside of the elevator, Jack walked unhindered out of the hospital. He frowned. Things were so boring these days. You used to have well-trained thugs jump on you from the top of two-story buildings. This was a rather odd technique, but it worked. The sad thing was that few people had large squads of tough men willing to jump off of two-story buildings. For this reason, Jack's life had been a bit of a bore for several months. Considering he was only fourteen, he had a lot left to see, but he was fairly well prepared. He sighed and continued walking away from the hospital.
He was also thinking about being shot. And where the bullet was. But that's about all I, as author, am willing to tell you, the reader, about what he was, or what he was not thinking about at that time.
For now.
Anyway, he was thinking about how on earth he could have not cleared a dumpster so small that, by comparison to some of the ones he'd cleared, was merely a bump in the road. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit here, but I'm the author here, okay?
Now. As Jack grabbed his bike, which, for some reason, was sitting right outside the hospital, when, actually, he had left it about eight miles north of there in a place quite ruined by poverty. He had “lended” it to a man who claimed quite convincingly that he needed a bike to drive to the liquor store. Jack had, at that time, found this extremely interesting, and set the GPS in his bike to track the man. As it turned out, the man biked to a liquor store. Once there, however, he attempted to rob the place. Being an avid redneck, the store owner scared the man so badly that he didn't even bother to gather the bike. Thankfully, as always happens in such idiotic spy TV shows before now, the bike could “ride” itself. The one problem is that it terrified the northern population of the city, which, by and large, was poor. Word soon circulated that there, “was a witch in town”. I, the author, don't in the least deny that adding a witch at this time would “spice” things up a bit, but this is meant to center on Jack. This means, of course, that Jack actually being self-centered seems rational. I, as author, deny it, and leave it at that.
Ah, yes. Jack was on his bike, riding down a street. He was quite calm, despite the fact that his computer, back in his backpack, was going haywire because police cars were converging on his current location at speeds varying from sixty to one-hundred miles per hour. His computer knew things like this because he made it to. Sadly, he was already going at more than fourty miles per hour, so getting out his laptop and stopping it from sending crazy signals to his brain which were hardly understandable anyway was entirely out of the question.
Upon crossing an intersection at speeds which would make Lance Armstrong faint, Jack finally did turn on his rockets. And then he started to move really fast. Now, today, people seem to relate the word "fast" to their car, or some other means of transportation. Not to bikes. I think the average person doesn't know how fast Lance Armstrong has gone. No matter. I can assure you, though, that, if he wanted to, Jack could have outstripped the Concorde. Only here, he merely had to outstrip several police cars which were converging now, at a point several blocks ahead of him. His computer had calculated the trajectories of all the cars at one-hundred and ten percent of their actual speeds, assuring no police would come to harm. Jack firmly believed that brining people to harm was wrong. Taking this belief into account, he calculated the probability to damage of all things of the city to be wonderfully decreased if he merely increased his altitude by at least twenty feet. This he did without so much as a "click", though, honestly, "click" doesn't even describe what people usually use "click" to describe, i.e. It's as easy as CLICK, and you're hooked up to the biggest financial difficulty the nation has to be in distress over! Anyway, he, being the all-around technological genius that he is, had already integrated mind-computer control so all he had to do was think something which would tell the computer to tell the bike to increase the altitude of the bike to X. X is a variable, for your information. Not to be trifled with.
Anyway.
Jack totally missed the police cars and vaporized a good portion of a dense oak tree. Dense here means that it was “having the component parts closely compacted together”, not “stupid; slow-witted, dull”. Because of this, Jack's flight pattern, if it must be called that, was quite changed. He was, by resisting the gravity of Earth, going up. In going up, people feel a strange feeling. They start barfing, in extreme situations.TO BE CONTINUED
I feel it a heinous crime for my readers not to comment profusely and...well. Have a nice day.
!Noah!
November 09, 2008
Notes on Obama, pt. 2
Once again, for the purpose of clean and reasonable writing, I must introduce my post with the words, "Obama has won." Obama has won. There is no doubt about this, it is now unchangable, and we have to accept it.
Think back to 2000. Bush won the electoral collage, but not the popular vote. My memory of that time isn't perfect, but I believe many threatened to leave the country. I've heard that no such migration has happened. For this, I can congratulate some liberals for, if not honesty, perseverance. They said they'd leave, yet they did not give up on their country. I'd suggest few conservatives are near this level of disgust or objection to Obama's election. For that, we should congratulate our fellow conservatives, or, in the case of the few Democrats reading, your fellow Americans.
Have we, as Republicans, given up on our country merely because a man we opposed has come into a position in which he deserves not only our respect, but our support where we can give it, and our opposition where we believe it is deserved? Have we given up on our party for merely losing an election? I hope not. Our two-party system is part of what makes America be America. Our division is part of what makes us one and indivisible. Because two parties are capable of putting an officer in the highest office in the country, our party is less capable of corrupting itself than if there were only a Republican Party.
This, however, does not mean we cannot come together to do things we agree on. Think of Bush. Democrats have attacked him to a degree which is so disgusting and revealing, that the one best response is to act in mercy and just judgment when a Democrat (or, if you wish, a leftist) is in the Oval Office. Democrats have, largely, acted despicable toward Bush. I don't know what others' views of Bush are as he prepares to leave office, but, merely for the fact that he did not attack back, I honor him.
What image will our country have of the Grand Old Party if we attack Obama as if he were the Antichrist? With a simple view of preserving our party, should we do so? If Democrats are largely incapable of being decent, should we follow their example? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth?
...as for me, I will support him where I can, and oppose him where I must. My support or opposition may not seem important, but I would have my readers know that I accept that Obama will be my president, and I will support him where I can. God Bless Barack Obama, and God Bless America.
!Noah!
Think back to 2000. Bush won the electoral collage, but not the popular vote. My memory of that time isn't perfect, but I believe many threatened to leave the country. I've heard that no such migration has happened. For this, I can congratulate some liberals for, if not honesty, perseverance. They said they'd leave, yet they did not give up on their country. I'd suggest few conservatives are near this level of disgust or objection to Obama's election. For that, we should congratulate our fellow conservatives, or, in the case of the few Democrats reading, your fellow Americans.
Have we, as Republicans, given up on our country merely because a man we opposed has come into a position in which he deserves not only our respect, but our support where we can give it, and our opposition where we believe it is deserved? Have we given up on our party for merely losing an election? I hope not. Our two-party system is part of what makes America be America. Our division is part of what makes us one and indivisible. Because two parties are capable of putting an officer in the highest office in the country, our party is less capable of corrupting itself than if there were only a Republican Party.
This, however, does not mean we cannot come together to do things we agree on. Think of Bush. Democrats have attacked him to a degree which is so disgusting and revealing, that the one best response is to act in mercy and just judgment when a Democrat (or, if you wish, a leftist) is in the Oval Office. Democrats have, largely, acted despicable toward Bush. I don't know what others' views of Bush are as he prepares to leave office, but, merely for the fact that he did not attack back, I honor him.
What image will our country have of the Grand Old Party if we attack Obama as if he were the Antichrist? With a simple view of preserving our party, should we do so? If Democrats are largely incapable of being decent, should we follow their example? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth?
...as for me, I will support him where I can, and oppose him where I must. My support or opposition may not seem important, but I would have my readers know that I accept that Obama will be my president, and I will support him where I can. God Bless Barack Obama, and God Bless America.
!Noah!
November 08, 2008
2012, comin' up
Ok. How on earth are politicians going to manage this one? The next general election is November 4th, 2012, and, hence, the most obvious options seem to be to say "Sarah (in) twenty-twelve". The other way might be to start using the second decimal in the campaign slogan, so it would be "Sarah in oh-twelve". It's sort of a strange thing to do, but, oh well.
Congratulations to Barack Obama on a rather spectacular campaign, winning the presidency, and God Bless him.
!Noah!
Congratulations to Barack Obama on a rather spectacular campaign, winning the presidency, and God Bless him.
!Noah!
November 05, 2008
What I regret most...
What I regret most not having done in this election season...
1. Making a HUGE McWhatshisname Palin sign...
2. Making a spoof of Matt Damon's Palin bashing...
3. Having not prayed for our election the Sunday before it happened. (at Church. Good grief. We need to pray about these things in church. We don't have to say who we want to win. We just have to say we are behind God one hundred percent.)
4. NOT crying my eyes out when Obama won...
5. The sad fact that McCain Palin will be much less well known than Obama Biden. It really annoys me that we all know who the first president of the United States was, yet we don't know, merely for instance, Quincy Adams' opponent. The losers seldom make history. Of all the vice presidential candidates I've heard of, I can't think of many others who more deserved to be remembered than Mrs. Sarah Palin.
!Noah!
1. Making a HUGE McWhatshisname Palin sign...
2. Making a spoof of Matt Damon's Palin bashing...
3. Having not prayed for our election the Sunday before it happened. (at Church. Good grief. We need to pray about these things in church. We don't have to say who we want to win. We just have to say we are behind God one hundred percent.)
4. NOT crying my eyes out when Obama won...
5. The sad fact that McCain Palin will be much less well known than Obama Biden. It really annoys me that we all know who the first president of the United States was, yet we don't know, merely for instance, Quincy Adams' opponent. The losers seldom make history. Of all the vice presidential candidates I've heard of, I can't think of many others who more deserved to be remembered than Mrs. Sarah Palin.
!Noah!
Welcome to the Oval Office, President-Elect Barack Obama
Yes. He's gonna be president. I'm not even going to bother writing down what I hope will happen, knowing God is in control.
Ok. Recently I chatted to a certain friend of mine about God being in control and that whole bag of chips. For some odd reason, he/she couldn't comprehend the idea of God actually willing and making come to pass...the presidency of Barack Obama. I believe that God wanted it to happen, and, BANGKAPOW, it did. From the narrow, foolish view of a human, it may seem like he's...1. Trying to bring about the Apochalypse...2. Totally lost his marbles...3. Wanting us dead. Honestly, I can't imagine why this would be. I don't claim to know the mind of the Lord, but, please, peoples. God is in control. He wanted Obama to win, and, as long as we preserve the faith, we'll end up in heaven some day, praising God for all eternity. (Honestly, I'm really tempted to gloat over where the rest of the World's going to be then, but...oh, well.)
Also, on Islas recently, humorously or not, a certain Mr. Hilton has decided to wonder who the Antichrist is. I, through very little study or thought, have believed for awhile that there will be more than one. I merely present this as a theory whose author isn't even willing to find out whether it's true...but...anyway. Back to Mr. Obamassiah.
I do not believe that Barack Obama is the Antichrist, a Muslim, a spy, or any other than a elegible presidential candidate, and, as of late, president-elect. (That meaning citizen of the US from birth, along with being over 35 years of age.)
While I believe Obama is NOT the Antichrist, I believe his views on just about anything mean our beloved, America, is being prepared for assassination by poison dagger...or something else really iconic in romantic history. If he gets his way, more babies will be murdered...our economy will be damaged quite a bit, and our foreign policy will, in my opinion, go down the drains. Never look to be loved. Look to be honest, rightious, and, above all, Godly. (vaguely paraphrased from Dennis Prager.)
Now that I managed to run out of things to say, I'll stop saying them, for fear of flying on some world-class tangent.
!Noah!
November 04, 2008
VOTE!
OHH! HULLO! I"M ALIVE! IT"S THE FOURTH OF NOVEMBER!
VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! EVERYONE VOTE! VOTE!
VOTE TIL YOUR HANDS FALL OFF!
VOTE TIL HOLLYWOOD BURNS!
VOTE TILL NY IS HIT BY A NUKE!
VOTE TIL THE ROAD OUT FRONT IS REPAIRED!
VOTE TIL YOUR HAIR TURNS WHITE!
VOTE TIL JOHN MCCAIN AND SARAH PALIN ARE IN THE WHITE HOUSE!
...seriously, people, I think it should be a requirement for being an American citizen, voting. People who don't care where their country goes are foolish. America is only American because people were willing to vote, fight, learn, think, and believe in the one God who created the universe and everything else.
!Noah!
VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! EVERYONE VOTE! VOTE!
VOTE TIL YOUR HANDS FALL OFF!
VOTE TIL HOLLYWOOD BURNS!
VOTE TILL NY IS HIT BY A NUKE!
VOTE TIL THE ROAD OUT FRONT IS REPAIRED!
VOTE TIL YOUR HAIR TURNS WHITE!
VOTE TIL JOHN MCCAIN AND SARAH PALIN ARE IN THE WHITE HOUSE!
...seriously, people, I think it should be a requirement for being an American citizen, voting. People who don't care where their country goes are foolish. America is only American because people were willing to vote, fight, learn, think, and believe in the one God who created the universe and everything else.
!Noah!
October 28, 2008
Miserably Wretched Blockheads, we
Isn't it interesting how words change? The Latin for "to be ignorant" has (according to Wheelock's) been brought through the ages in the form of the word "nice".
In earlier times, when a certain Daniel Defoe was still around scribbling, the word "miserable" was not only used in the passive sense. It had more of the "wretched" idea to it. If someone was miserable, there was at least some possibility that he was also wretched. This, of course, is natural. Everyone is sinful.
Today, the American people can be deceived by the simple idea of change. I think it's reasonable to conclude that they decide so because of President Bush. People want change from what they call "the failed policies of the last eight years". I think this is mainly because they've swallowed, hook, line, and sinker, the media's image of the Bush America as worse than almost ever before. They see Obama as the light at the end of an eight-year tunnel of torture which they've created, with their own imaginations, to blind themselves from the truth of the Bush Administration.
Throughout the eight last years, Bush has been ridiculed and slandered by the media and the left as if they cared for nothing else. Has Bush even made fleeting, degrading comments about the dinosaur media? No. He has done his job. He has protected at least some of the ideals Christians hold most dearly. Imagine where we would be with Kerry or even Gore.
...no. Don't bother. It's unimaginable.
*EDIT* I just noticed how crazily I tangented there. Sorry.
!Noah!
In earlier times, when a certain Daniel Defoe was still around scribbling, the word "miserable" was not only used in the passive sense. It had more of the "wretched" idea to it. If someone was miserable, there was at least some possibility that he was also wretched. This, of course, is natural. Everyone is sinful.
Today, the American people can be deceived by the simple idea of change. I think it's reasonable to conclude that they decide so because of President Bush. People want change from what they call "the failed policies of the last eight years". I think this is mainly because they've swallowed, hook, line, and sinker, the media's image of the Bush America as worse than almost ever before. They see Obama as the light at the end of an eight-year tunnel of torture which they've created, with their own imaginations, to blind themselves from the truth of the Bush Administration.
Throughout the eight last years, Bush has been ridiculed and slandered by the media and the left as if they cared for nothing else. Has Bush even made fleeting, degrading comments about the dinosaur media? No. He has done his job. He has protected at least some of the ideals Christians hold most dearly. Imagine where we would be with Kerry or even Gore.
...no. Don't bother. It's unimaginable.
*EDIT* I just noticed how crazily I tangented there. Sorry.
!Noah!
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