Oakland Nature Preserve

I'm listening to The Lonely Island right now. Something about being on a boat - and now there's an ad. Stupid Pandora. Killing my safe, pasty, white rap buzz. I should probably start writing, anyway. A friend of mine took notice that I enjoy nature trails, and made a suggestion: Oakland Nature Preserve. You had me at "nature." You'd think Florida would be nothing BUT scrub land and swamps, but you'd be wrong. Big Agriculture drained the swamps and the tourist industry hazed the scrub land. There are more outlet malls around my neighborhood than I'd care to admit. Florida is a MASSIVE suburb... the few bits of wild land remaining is met with scorn. "It's all wet and creepy and it smells funny and junk." THAT MAY BE TRUE. But it's OUR wild America. We gotta preserve it, yo. For the future. So, on a whim, I gathered up a few free friends and set out for Oakland Nature Preserve. Que the lightning. Heh... I just realized I said "we gotta preserve it," and we're going to a preserve.

Why do you have to be like that, nature? All I want to do is go out, take pictures of you... respect and admire your splendor. BUT NO. You want to rain me out. Is it because I didn't finish watching The Social Network last night (It's THREE flipping hours)? Come heck or high water, I'm going to walk this nature trail. First I had to make a detour to pick up John.

John, having the breakfast of champions. What kind of champions? It rhymes with "smack feds." Give up? It-it's crack heads.

John was having a breakfast of Nerds. Hopefully he doesn't get hyper later on the trail. I've never seen John hyper. I'd rather not. After getting some gas(John went inside to add Chex Mix and Arizona Iced Tea to his breakfast), we picked Keenan up. He was happy to see us.

Keenan, happy to see us.

Keenan, less happy. 

I'm not proud of that picture. If male childbirth was a reality, that would probably be the face of any man in labor... or a Steeler's fan after the Superbowl. Keenan is neither, as far as I know. Well, I've gathered my exploration party. Time to make peace with our respective gods and see what Oakland has in store for us.

YOU CAN'T STOP US, NATURE.

 The rain got pretty extreme. Florida has such finicky weather, though. It seemed unlikely that the storm would keep up too long. I equate our weather to that of a high school fling; it's sunny(honeymoon phase), followed by strong winds and rain(realization that love means more than lots of sex and a toleration of the Twilight series), shattered by rays of sunlight(disregard flaws, embrace denial). Anyhoo, the weather KIND of did that. It just sprinkled for the rest of the journey, which in high school relationship terms would be the "she's on her period, back off" phase. Unintended mental images of menstrual rainfall aside, we arrived.

Tell your funders that your sign could use some work.

No.

A smoker; one can assume they let us barbecue whatever we happen to catch, whether it be bird or beast... human? No... that would be ridiculous...

I'm already sketched out. I'm pretty sure this is how The Hills Have Eyes started. Granted, there were attractive women in that film, but the signs are clear: seemingly abandoned buildings, smokers left unattended, not a person in sight. I'd almost be disappointed if we weren't mugged or eaten.

"You guys go ahead! I'm just going to sprint back to the car and leave you here!"

Primordial soup

We started to walk the trail. A massive boardwalk led us through pristine, untouched - oh, there's a plastic bottle... uhh, forest and swamp. The air was crisp and clean, and a cacophony of bird calls filled the canopies above us, draped in Spanish Moss. It was picturesque. John was losing himself. He had long finished his Nerds, and his eyes screamed madness. I had seen this before. FOREST MADNESS. Well, and a sugar rush. I better keep my eyes on him.

Oh sweet bippy. Keenan is blissfully unaware of the danger.

A quaint gazebo, complete with swing and bench.

Keenan, it's just a gazebo! CALM YOURSELF! (Keenan's family was killed by a pack of wild gazebos)

Alien deer, as indicated by the unusual shade of green their eyes produced upon taking this photo. Coincidence? No.

This is BEAUTIFUL. Sprawling, ancient trees. Ferns as abundant as grass. It's like I've gone back in time. There was even a reserve with deer and a MASSIVE antelope. The rain had all but stopped. Things were looking up. Then John snapped. He  done snapped good.

"MY KINGDOM! AROOO?!?!?"

We discovered some kind of ceremony ground, anointed by the blood of a thousand martyrs...  or more likely(and less publishable), a picnic/discussion area. John made this his unholy church. I warned Keenan against his preaching. It fell on deaf ears. Keenan, long broken by past events, took comfort in John's promises of eternal glory. I was truly alone. Time to run. How come somebody always goes crazy on my nature excursions?

"I serve an angry and spiteful God."

While I ran towards the exit, I took pictures.

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD

AM I GETTING CLOSE? OH GOD PLEASE NO

Wait, this isn't the exit... IT'S A TRAP!

Oh sweet, merciful Jesus.

 They met me at another junction along the trail. They looked menacing. I wasn't going to make a break for it. I walked behind them, apprehensively taking photos.

Flowers to forget my captivity. 

Keenan, considering how best to kill me, a heretic. 

John, doing the same.

Keenan is convinced a swamp ape uprooted this tree. I remain skeptical. 

Lipkins, herons, and egrets rooted about in the water for snails, fish, and crustaceans. Hawks swooped overhead. Keenan and John looked at me from time to time. I feared for my life.

"It would be too easy to just kill you." OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD

As we left the nature preserve, it became clear they weren't going to ACTUALLY kill me. They were just bored. I think the swamp air got to them.

No Nazis. Not ever.

As we drove towards home, Keenan announced that he hungered for chili cheese fries. John nodded in agreement. "Make it so." And so we did. I had the "Quesadilla Explosion Salad." Needless to say, it was unpleasant.

He vomited later.

"CHICKEN."

"Excuse me, miss? You served my quesadilla's inside out."

Diary from Middle Earth

This is mineses

Day 1

My birthday is tomorrow! My cousin  couldn't wait till the festivities and gave me this swell diary. I intend to record all of my thoughts and inner most secrets into this book. I will cherish it for the remainder of what I can only assume will be a quiet, reasonably lengthy life.

PS: My favorite color is off-grey. :D

Day 2 (BIRTHDAY!!!)

So, my birthday was kind of lame. It started out nice enough. My cousin l and I went out on a fishing trip, and cousin snagged himself a big one! Unfortunately, it pulled him clear out of the boat. I was a little worried, but he came back up. I dragged him out of the water and, to my surprise, he had another birthday present for me: a beautiful ring! He was a bit apprehensive initially in giving it to me. Can you imagine? It's my present, silly! So I did the only thing I could: I strangled him. Strangled him good. Hopefully this doesn't damper spirits at the party later! 

PS: I think I'm going to show my family my precious, new ring! :D

PSS: Actually, no.

(Editor's note: pages may skip as a result of missing pages, page degradation, etc. )

Day 27

(Editor's note: this log appears to be written in excrement and tears)

I guess my family found the corpse. I was scolded pretty bad. They tossed rocks at me and called me cruel names. It doesn't matter; I still have my ri- OH FUCK! WHERE IS IT? I HAD IT IN MY POCKET! NO, YOU CAN'T LEAVE, YOU MUSTN'T, I - Oh, there it is. False alarm. Don't scare me like that... my precious. Uh, anyway. They ran me out of town, off into the caves. That's cool, I didn't trust any of them, anyway... on account of all the spying I've been doing lately. Well, this looks like the least damp corner. I'm going to go sit a while and stare at precious.

PS: Lots of fish in this cave. I HATE fish.

Day 49

Fishes taste good. The rawer, the better. The way they squirm and squish and crunch! Delicious. I offer precious food every once in a while, but I keep forgetting it's just a ring... nothing more... nothing. I'm bored and I miss my friends, my family. I mean, precious keeps me company. But I have needs. At least my eyes are getting acclimated to the low lighting. Oh well, better stay optimistic. Good times are just around the corner!

Day 79

Fuck people. 

Day 489

Most of my clothing has disintegrated off of me. I'm rocking this cool loincloth look. Precious said I look like a wild man - wait... no, precious can't talk. Stupid, stupid! Ow! Sorry... when I get worked up lately, I tend to strike myself violently in the head with a rock to calm myself.

Don't judge.

Day 100,378

I had my first visitor today! :D I HATE HIM, I HATE HIM SO MUCH!!! I'LL KILL AND EATS HIS FLESH, I WILL! HE WANTS THE PRECIOUS, HE'S GOING TO TAKES IT FROM ME! NO, NO, NO! I'll trick him, yes, yes. Maybe with a riddle?

Day 100,379

Fuck.

Day 100,380

PRECIOUS, WHY? WHY DID YOU LEAVE WITH THAT STUPID LITTLE MAN?!?!? I HATES YOU, I HATES YOU!

PS: I loves you, come backses.

Day 101,782

(Editor's note: this entry is covered in unspeakable bodily fluids)

I finally left the cave. Too many bad memories. It hurts us. NO, STOP BEING A PUSSY! Shut up! I... I found a nice, new cave. Met a new friend, too! She's a giant spider. She promises to love us and never abandon us. I'm going to go find her food now. 

Day 200,034

STUPID, STUPID, STUPID! I got caughtses! Meanies tortured me for days, and I think I gave some information to them. I don't care, I hope they find that fat bastard who took my precious.

PS: I felt like someone was watching me the WHOLE time. Eerie. 

Day 201,235

I escaped! Yay! I could go back to my spider friend, but I'm feeling restless. I want to see the world! I think I'm finally over that sick obsession and I'm ready to move on.

Day 201,246

THEY HAVES IT! THEY HAVES MY PRECIOUS!!!! I'LL KILLS THEM ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PS: They haven't noticed me yet. I'll bides my time and wait in the dark. The dark is my friend. Most of them are short, anyway. I could take them. There's also an old man and a sissy boy. Two tall, angry looking men walk besides them. I think I'll just... yeah. I'll wait.

Day 201,278

Well, they found me. Fortunately, it's just two little oneses. A fats one and a not as fats one. I hates both, although the less fat one is kind... he loosens my leash! :D

PS: KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL

Day 201,457

I like the skinnier one. He treats me with respect. No, wrong choice of wordses. Pity. Yes, pity. The fat one hates us. But at least skinny pities. I wants to help him on his quest, even though he has precious. Maybe he'll give it back to us if we do a good job! :D 

Day 201,458 

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!! I HATEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Day 202,664

I has to get my precious back. The fat one and less fat one wants to destroy her! I can't allow that, no. Even though precious abandoned me, I can't just let that happen. STUPID, STUPID FOR LETTING HER OUT OF MY SIGHT. Soon, fatties... soon.

Day 202,987

We near the place of precious' birth (and potential death). I'm working on turning the fatties against each other. I think I'll use that which they hold closest to their hearts: food.

Day 202,988

Well, the fatter one has been eliminated! :D I spread deceit, and now he left, eyes full of tears. Good. One step closer to my precious. I think we're near my spider friend... maybe she'll do me a favor. 

Day 202,990

Well, that backfired. Now less fat one knows of my treachery, and fat one has rejoined the cause. They get closer to the mountain of precious' birth by the day! I must stop them!

Day 202,999

(Editor's note: last entry, appears to be written in blood)

Well, this is it. Time to win back the precious! I won't hesitate to scratch, bite, and maul whoever stands in my way. We're near the mountain top... it's very hot. Oh, they're going in the center. Must stops them. WAIT FOR US, PRECIOUS!

Toast Mountain

(Sung to the tune of "Wildflowers" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers)

Here we are, just scaling old Toast Mountain,
Here we are, we're rising to the peak.
Climb away, watch for falling atoms
Let's just hope the butter is fat free.

Climb away, just maintain some leverage,
Escalate, I'm getting pretty hungry.
I done seen a whole lot of sausage,
Looking back, plenty of bacon, too.

Here we are, just scaling old Toast Mountain,
Here we are, we're rising to the peak.
We ate away some structural integrity,
This may have been a tremendous mistake.

Hold sway, for the love of Jesus,
Don't look down, lest your heart fail at once,
Who deserves to die on a mountain,
Made of toast? Someone kill me now.

Here we are, just dying on Toast Mountain
There we go, tumbling bodies to be seen.
Far away, I'd sooner, rather be!
Than on a mountain made entirely of toast.
Than on a mountain made entirely of toast.

Between a Rock and a Hardee's Place

Ever been to a Hardee's? Well, do you recall the scene in the Lion King when Mufasa told Simba that everything the light touches is his? Light doesn't touch Hardee's. There be dragons there. I was once idealistic like you. I had hopes, dreams. Judeo-Christian God had my back. Flowers blossomed where I had tread. If I farted, the sound was a child's laugh; the smell of cumin.  My hair was a slick auburn; my eyes, twinkling hazel. Ladies, if I looked at you the right way or exhaled too roughly, you'd have a tsunami like orgasm. Not really. But it brought me comfort to think such things. But I grew restless. I wanted to see the world. My parents kept me locked away, a young prince destined to see the world through the veil of high society. No. NO. I refuse. I escaped in the night. Lights flicked on behind me. "Don't go to Hardee's," they screamed. I paid no heed. I paid no heed.

I woke up to the sound of babbling brooks. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I realized a hapless hobo had just been pissing near my resting head. I dispatched of him quickly. He shan't be missed. My supplies spartan, I trekked onward, seeking glory. Alas, damnation and glory are but a fine line that is crossed with little fanfare. My stomach grumbled as the sun stalled directly above me. Thirst overcame me. I have come so far, just to die like an animal? No. I started to hallucinate, despite my steely resolve. A man wearing a star uniform grabbed my arm and pulled me enthusiastically towards a foreboding building. Had I strength in my body, I would have struck him down.

Florescent lights blind me. "What dark sorcery is this?!?" I shouted. "Welcome to Hardee's. May I take your order?" A meek and unattractive androgynous being stood behind a counter wearing a ridiculous hat. The star man was gone from my sight. "Are you a proprietor of food?" I queried. "Uhh..." Clearly he's mentally disabled. But this appears to be a restaurant. "I would like some nourishment, please."

"Uhh..." I interrupt him, slamming my fists upon a grimy counter. "I NEED FOOD AND DRINK, MAN... WOMAN... THING." "No problem, bro. Which meal?" It smiled the smile of a man who knew far too many defeats. "Umm," I stammered, looking at their menu, "I'll have the number 4." "Drink?" The thing clicked away at its register. "Mr. Pibb me." "That'll be $6.78," it smiled. I threw several gold coins his way. "We don't accept Euros, bro." "You will take the sum I have provided, creature." He didn't say another word. Good. My food was placed before me in a timely manner. There was only one other man in the establishment. I sat next to him for company.

"What's your name, brother?" I grasped his shoulder. "They call me Mantito." No life in his eyes. A dead man walking. "Ahh... well, let us eat." I unwrapped my sandwich and a stink struck me. It was as if all life in the oceans of the world had washed ashore, rotting in the midday sun. I gagged harshly. "You get used to it," he chuckled, devouring his burger quickly. "You have to if you wish to survive." "What do you mean?" I bit into the burger, spitting out one of my own bloodied teeth. Good God. "Don't you see, traveler? You're trapped here. The star man lured you, did he not?" "That he did. But I'm trapped?" I slowly lowered my meal. "Aye. Welcome to Hell!" Mantito cackled the cackle of a man who had long given up sanity for the fleeting comfort of madness. I did the only thing I could. I smacked him across the face. "Courage, man! There's hope yet. We will find a way out." I offered my arm. He pulled himself up, and I offered him a sword. That's right. I'm not just carrying one sword. I have an EXTRA.

The creature behind the counter was nowhere to be seen. "Must we fear the creature behind the counter?" I asked. "No, that's Tim. He's part time. Quickly, to the front." We walked with purpose before the star man forced himself between us and the door. "Stand aside, wretched celestial being. I must be on my way!" I shouted. He was unmoved. Mantito charged the beast. "STAY YOUR BLADE, MANTITO!" But it was to no avail. He drove his sword deep into the belly of star man, but star man bit and tore deep into his shoulder. The screams shook me to my core. Mantito lied in a pool of his blood, triumphant in his fleeting mortality. "I can still get you out of here, man. Come, we must hurry." I whispered hurriedly. "No... no, there... there always has to be one," he breathed heavily. "What do you mean? Let us leave this place!" Mantito grabbed me and hurled me through the glass doors. As I looked back, his face was contorted in pain. He shook uncontrollably, and took the form of the star man. He waved to me from that hellish place. I shed but one tear.

All men bear a spark. Life. You can see it in their eyes. Mine has long left since that day.

Lights, Cameras, Acti- wut

I was not born into royalty, nor am I the son of a pauper.  I enjoy this temporary existence comfortably in the guise of a lower middle class, vanilla wafer-esque man, who's childhood may accurately be defined as a lost soul seeking adventure and redemption through film, television, and more books read in a single, lazy afternoon than I care to admit. I was a shy boy growing up. I identified with few, and sought that niche of "just below the radar" social status, neither here nor there, that most kids were horrified of. I didn't come out of my shell until high school, when I ended up in a TV Production class. I thought, "Hey, I'm a fat, awkward, pale kid. I love TV. I'll take this class and breeze right through."

Wrong. My teacher had us purchase a fat, three ring binder. Wait, I can't just stuff all of these papers into my bag, or hide them in my text books? I have to organize? I grudgingly stuffed pages of television history, television vocabulary, and the mechanics of cameras/lighting into my binder... I was never good at that. The organizing aspect... or, quite frankly, the class. I barely passed. I was an awful cameraman, I couldn't figure out the lighting or audio if my life depended on it, and I was quiet and disinterested. But I liked my teacher. A lot of the students were engaging and nice. And from what I heard, the classes following Television 1 were fun. There were two options on the table: I could take a massive risk and join the studio team. They produced the morning news, sometimes live, sometimes a period or so before airing, or I could join the editing time. For those of you who know me, neither of these paths sounded too enticing. I have the technological skills of a chimp. I was 19 before I figured out what the Hell the Ctrl button did. And if I got a hold of the cameras... well, I would have established the art of Parkinson's Cam. That was in poor taste. But I can't think of any other way to describe it. And if someone sat me at a camera and told me to edit a project, I'd end up chewing on the computer. I'm like a teething puppy.

So naturally I ended up in the editing class. Woo! Okay, let's do this. They pair me off with a tall, nice enough guy. We'll call him Joe, because that was his name, and I'm sure you won't be able to figure out which Joe it is. In years past, the editing class just did commercials for the "live" show. But this year, teach had something else in mind. Something new. We were going to do a VARIETY SHOW. In a high school. Fridays only. It sounded pretty cool. Each group had to record and edit two to three minutes of entertaining, enlightening, or educational material... preferably a little bit of each category. But there was a caveat: we needed a news show. We couldn't just put on 15 minutes of kids dicking around. We needed it grounded... with three minutes of buzzkill. I raised my hand solemnly. I WILL BE THAT BUZZKILL. PASS THE TORCH. WHAT HAVE I TO LOSE?

And In the Know was born. That was my show, anyway. Well, the first few episodes were World News. But that was lame, and the teacher knew it. He suggested the brilliant new title. I remember my first episode like it was yesterday. They sat me in front of a map. The big story on August 28th, 2005 was Katrina. Sweet. Turning the buzzkill up to 11. I wrote(and continued to write) my own commentary on the story. People enjoyed my first newscast. It was informed, concise, and my delivery was superb. A few weeks passed, and Joe bailed on me. He wanted to work on the sports section. Fine, damn it. I'll make my own news! Uhh... what's this button do? OH SWEET MERCIFUL - WHERE DID ALL THIS SOFT CORE- OH, OH GOD! That didn't happen. But I struggled, that's for sure. I hit my stride before someone joined my single-manned news team: Ryan. We would alternate between reporting and editing, and got plenty of  great stories out there. During this time, I gained fame(or notoriety) for my attacks on the current president and otherwise stupid people in the news. I remember I did a story on the first Thanksgiving, and someone shouted in the halls "you killed Thanksgiving!" Charming. Yes, I did. And I resolved to kill Arbor Day for him next.

Things were uneventful until FCAT time. That's when all good 10th graders(and unfortunate souls that didn't pass it in 10th) take a standardized test to determine if the teachers were doing their jobs right. Everyone loved it. And by love, I mean FUCK EVERYONE IN TALLAHASSEE EVER. Ahem.  My mentor and hero, Courtney, needed to get some footage of 10th graders expounding on the basic principle of why it's important to pass the FCAT the first time around. I was feeling confident with my stage presence, and talked into the camera. "I think it's good to get the FCAT out of the way. It's just one less thing to stress about." That was what I said, more or less. The video was edited and presented before the ENTIRE 10th grade class at Freedom High, myself included. The video flashed various students, who all got cheers. Then there was my clip. A resounding "BOOOOOOOOO" filled the auditorium, and my heart sunk as low as humanly possible. It wasn't in my gut; my heart was in my lower intestines. I was devastated. I took it personally. Someone told me later everyone was booing at the white kids (DAMN YOU, REVERSE DISCRIMINATION), but it didn't matter. A room full of peers were revolted by me. My voice, my looks, whatever.

And I didn't go on again after that... for a while, anyway. Star did the news reporting and I edited. Teach kept  telling me not to take it personally, and that I should rise above such things and keep reporting... that there were people who loved me in the school. I didn't want to. I half heartedly did a few episodes after that, and then the school year ended. 11th grade came around. I was still in the editing class, now a grizzled veteran of deadlines and on-screen charisma, despite my thrashing a year before. This time around, I didn't have a fellow editor or news anchor. I produced my shows, and people continued to be indifferent, with a few hardcore fans and haters tossed in for good measure. I continued to crawl out of my shell. I did my best to start conversations with people... but all they ever wanted to talk about was current events or politics. I was a God damn encyclopedia. But I made the effort, and loved my fellow editors. I brought them knowledge; they, in turn, taught me basic social skills. Because I am a caricature if nothing else, damn it.

About halfway through the year, teach came up to me and a few others with another idea: online debate program akin to The View. Well, fuck The View and those screeching beasts(and any association with them), and you have a deal, sir. The Point was born. Alyssa was our moderator, and we discussed politics, current events, sports, and celebrities. Good times were had. Few people watched it, but it was fun. We had a small audience with every taping, for the most part. By the end of the year, the entire cast was graduating, except for me. I didn't think The Point would come back. But lo and behold, we had one last hoorah my graduating year. Brought on an entire new cast, and I served as moderator, still producing In the Know. By this time, I'd walk down the halls, people shouting "hey, it's In the Know guy!" People still recognize me from it. At malls. Picnics. It's weird. At least I'm not booed. I don't even know why I wrote this all down. It was cathartic. I guess I'm just saying that things do get better. And it's never too late to find your passion or overcome social awkwardness.

Another thought. Umm, here we go. It's just... just... my name is Jake. Or Jacob. I'm not In the Know guy. The next person to address me as such is asking for it.

Oedipus the King and the Jersey Shore

Oedipus Rex had done what no man could: he solved the riddle of the Sphinx, freeing the people of Thebes. To show their gratitude properly, the Thebans named this prince of Corinth their king, seeing as their previous one met an untimely death at the hands of his own son... Oedipus Rex. Oedipus did not know this, of course, but had been cursed from before he was even conceived, destined to murder his father and marry his mother. But for a time, all was well in his kingdom. He was a popular ruler, bore many children, and had by far the coolest name in all of the ancient world. But soon his world would come crashing down in a tumultuous sea of spray on tanning product breached by fist pumps. This is his downfall.

Messenger: Sire!

Oedipus: Yes, boy? What news do you bring?

Messenger: The blight upon our land has yet been lifted. Our livestock bear no calves, and now even the women are barren. Our crops lay wasted as if the very hand of Hades ascended from Hell itself to salt the very earth that  we have slaved over.

Oedipus: This is most unsettling. Have the gods forsaken us? What injustice have they suffered? Have I not served my people with honor and distinction? Am I not the rightful ruler of Thebes?

Jocasta: You have been a most wise and benevolent leader, my love. The people will stand behind you during these trying times, as we always have. You are my husband, and you did not bring this famine in the wake of your victory over the Sphinx. You freed us, Oedipus.

Oedipus: That I did. You raise my spirits when the gods themselves seek to dishearten me, Jocasta.

Messenger 2: Sire, Tiresias, the blind prophet, has come to bring advice.

Oedipus: Show him in.

Messenger 2: Must I, sire? He flails about the halls most gaily, and such humors might do your people good in such dark times.

Oedipus: Very well.

Narrator: And so Tiresias wandered the halls for roughly thirty minutes, stumbling and begging for help, only to have his pleas met with cruel laughter. For a fleeting moment, the people of Thebes forgot their many woes, and were complete douchebags.

Tiresias: Sire? SIRE?

Oedipus: I am here, prophet. You have come a long distance. Please, sit.

*A servant pulls forth a chair for the blinded old man, pulling it away at the last moment. Laughter ensues* 

Tiresias: I am glad to see that laughter has not yet left this kingdom, my lord!

Oedipus: I haven't much patience. My kingdom needs guidance, as do I. Let flow from your mouth wisdom, so that our rivers too might flow once more.

Tiresias: Of course, my lord. It seems that the heinous Sphinx you removed from outside the city walls was but a single aspect of the curse bedeviling these fair lands. It was once said that a prince born of Thebes would be destined to murder his father, then marry his mother. Patricide, Regicide, and incest. The foulest of crimes, crimes that neither man, beast, or god could tolerate. And it seems this foul miscreant still lives... perhaps in these very halls.

Oedipus: ...

Messengers: ...

Jocasta: ...

Oedipus: You speak in riddles, old man. Men, have him removed from my sight and tossed into the Pit of Eternal Sorrow.

Soldiers: Yes, my lord.

Tiresias: But-but I think that was fairly straightforward, my lord! I-I'd sooner not enter the Pit of Eternal Sorrow! I came bearing fruit baskets and scents, you son of a bitch! 

Oedipus: I cannot tolerate such flowery speech.

Jocasta: My love, might I be forward?

Oedipus: You are my equal.

Jocasta: He sounded a lot less ridiculous than us.

Messenger 2: Sire, men and women of great distinction from a distant land have come to assist us in our time of need.

Oedipus: Is that so? Bring them forth.

*Enter the cast of the Jersey Shore*

Oedipus: Where do you hail from, good people? My God! I have not seen such a hue in my entire life! 

Pauly D: It's a Jersey thing, my lord.

Oedipus: Ah, so you're from the Isle of Jersey?

The Situation: Ah, no. We live in a state beneath one that is arguably superior.

Oedipus: Sparta?

JWOWW: Ah, sure. Close enough.

Oedipus: Enough of formalities! Do you, good people of Jersey, know a cure for that which ails my kingdom?

Sammi: Uh, DUH. We didn't come all the way out here for nothing.

Oedipus: Speak, then!

The Situation: Simple, bro. GTL.

Oedipus: Speak plain, Jerseyian, lest you should join Tiresias in the Pit.

Ronnie: It's cool, king guy. It's a Jersey thing. It means Gym, Laundry, and Tan.

Oedipus: ... I know not what you speak of.

Pauly D: *To Jocasta* Damn girl, you are one fine MILF.

Jocasta: Oh my. Oedipus, perhaps they can stay for supper?

Oedipus: You will not speak to my queen with such a vulgar tongue, boy. Speak again, and I will have it removed by my own hand.

The Situation: Homo.

Oedipus: Never have I been spoken to like this. Guards, remove these foul, orange creatures from my hall!

Snooki: I think my crotch is sticking out.

Oedipu: BY THE GODS? WHAT UNSIGHTLY - No. NO. NOOOO!!! WHAT ARE YOU, HELLSPAWN?
Snooki: Snooki.
Oedipus: ARGHHH! THE GODS HAVE FORSAKEN ME!

Narrator: And with that, Oedipus did yank the broaches from Jocasta's gown, gouging his eyes so that he might not suffer to look upon such horror again, as long as his wretched life lasts. Let his life be a lesson to us all, that no man can evade the fates, no matter his intentions or fortune. 

Messenger 3: Sire! I bring news! Turns out you killed your dad and banged your mom. Whoa. What the fuck happened here?

Jon Stewart is My Hero and Other Thoughts

Yeah, I know! I have lots of reasons. I aspire to be half the man he is, for one. People claim he's liberal... independent... naive. Nay, says I. Nay to all of these schools of thought! Jon Stewart represents one thing, and that is humanity. The best and worst among us. He presents a story in such a way that it can contain humor, objectivity, and heart... which is no easy task. I drag my enemies (organized religion, Sarah Palin, etc.) through the muck shamelessly, and then see John Stewart making peace... lowering his voice... presenting a redeemable characteristic among the multitude of negatives, or very well making us consider WHY we disagree as opposed to who is right or wrong. He's the most trustworthy man of news and fake news out there, and I have the utmost respect for him.

I've been having trouble thinking of things to write. Since my Shingle Creek journey and my Unicorn jokes, I've been introspective... I'd say too much. It doesn't make for good writing, certainly not for a laugh, anyway. So I'll work on that. Fuck it, I'll try now. I had a dream the other night I was being taught about independently thinking, massive salmon. Sounds interesting enough, right? Well, on top of that, the course was being taught on a rain forest cliff, watching the school swim hurriedly through what I can only describe as a tropical fjord. It blew my mind. Halfway through the discussion a golden lion tamarin jumped onto the professor. And what did he do? He grabbed that poor monkey by the tail and swung him away. Then I woke up. But if I HAD remained in the dream, I probably would have questioned that move. I mean, clearly that class was ecological/biological/zoological in nature... pun. Why on Earth (pun) would a man of science throw a monkey? The monkey did no wrong! Sure, he jumped on the guy while he was writing some equation. But if that's the worst a monkey does to you, count yourself among the fortunate. I've read enough shit flinging and face eating tales that a monkey jumping on my chest to say hello would be rather quaint.

I took a break from writing to survey my room a bit. I just noticed the "Jewish Book of Why" is sitting right next to a two volume "Adolf Hitler" biography on my bookshelf. Heh. That was in poor taste, bookshelf.