Last night I had dinner at one of my favorite local restaurants, Truffles. The fare at Truffles is not particularly exciting, though it rates highly in the company of its Bloomingtonian culinary companions. For several years I have been a regular at Truffles, though usually I go on Thursday nights for half priced martinis and a small bite. Last night, however, I opted to go all out and have a full meal (not off the less expensive bar menu) and a very pricey bottle of wine. My dining companions, too, ordered a very nice (albeit inferior) bottle of wine and two main courses and an appetizer. So, and not that how much we were spending should matter, our table should have received impeccable service. Our server was a young man, dishevelled in appearance, who knew nothing about fine dining table service. Let me count the ways:
1. Only once did he appear to fill the wine glasses. All other times we were left to serve ourselves.
2. The "tasting" portion of the wine was barely enough to wet my tongue, much less evaluate the quality of the wine I ordered.
3. Plates were not removed at the same time. Even worse, at one point all plates were removed except one belonging to a female in our party.
4. Knives used for appetizers were not replaced with clean ones, but were merely repositioned in the setting (this isn't denny's).
5. Bread was not brought at the beginning of the meal, but rather as what seemed to be a separate course between appetizers and main courses.
6. After telling the boy that we were *not* interested in dessert, he brought out dessert menus anyway.
7. Niether he nor the hostess offered to take our coats.
8. I was made to hand the boy my dirty plates when he could have cleared the table himself (and, in fact, that is his job).
This does not exhaust the ways in which we were given bad service last night, but it is all I care to list. I'll omit what was the worst infraction (committed by the hostess). Let's just say this: never become friends with the service at a fine dining establishment unless you want to witness egregious breaches of the implicit contract between diner and restaurant. Being my friend does not grant license to embarrass me in front of my friends by making me look like a niggard. Lest my reader consider me a snob for my complaints, let me remind you that this is a place that proclaims to be one of Bloomington's "fine dining" establishments. That means more than that the food is good or expensive; it means that service should be on a par with the image of the restaurant (so at Denny's I would never bitch about having to use the same spoon for my chili and my, I don't know, grits or something; nor would I balk one bit at helping out the server by handing him my plates). But when you are spending 30-40 dollars per person, a certain level of service and professionalism is reasonable to expect. Truffles is a disappointment in this respect, and, hence, Tallent remains my favorite restaurant in Bloomington (and in my nationwide Top 10).
Addendum: There is not so much as a sliver of truffle, black or white, to be found in any dish on the menu at "Truffles".
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Sunday, December 10, 2006
How Verizon Screwed Me
The wound is still fresh, so I'm going to try to make this a short post, long enough to convince you not use use Verizon's wireless service. I apologize in advance to casting aspersions on the company that helped to create my roommate, Matt Dunn.
First some terminology:
1. rerate: this refers to a counterfactual retroactive re-evaluation of charges. For example, you may rerate last month's bill *as if* you had a different plan, even though you did not. A rerate does not entail an extension of one's contractual obligations to Verizon, nor does it involve changing one's plan. You remain on the same plan, but a past bill is adjusted as though you had a different plan.
2. retroactive plan adjustment: I use this cumbersome terminology because I forget the jargon. Let's call it 'RPA'. RPA is like a rerate except that it does involve a plan change (albeit retroactively) and it typically accompanies a one-year extention of one's contract. So, if you opt for the RPA, you can, in effect, go back in time to change your monthly minute allocation, but it comes at the cost of an extension of contract.
Here's the story:
In August I had a $270 cell phone bill. I was shocked, so I called Verizon to see what I could do. They offered me an RPA, which I took (having not known about the rerate option (a special favor they do for some, but not others)). So, I retroactively signed up for 900 minutes per month and sold my soul for another year. I had assumed, commensurate with the RPA, that I remained on the 900 minute plan, and the customer rep. told me that I would need to call to be put back on my original 400 minute plan. I never called to change the plan back.
Fast forward to November. I get a cell phone bill for over 80 dollars. This makes me wonder how I could have possibly talked for more than 900 minutes. I call Verizon and the customer rep. tells me that I never had a 900 minute plan, that in fact what took place in August was a rerate. This frustrates me for the following reasons:
1. I had hoped, in August, to switch to a different carrier, but did not because I thought that I was bound by contract as a consequence of the RPA.
2. I now cannot switch companies since I do not want to enter into a contract in December, for I may not even be living in the country come September.
3. I was lied to in August about the action taken on my account.
The rep. talks to her boss and offers me two options:
1. Accept an RPA and, therefore, extend my contract by a year from that day.
2. Maintain my plan and pay the overcharges on a 400 minute plan.
I maintain my cool because, as mother says, you catch more bees (or flies) with honey than with vinegar. I tell her "I do not want the RPA because I may not be here in a year," (at which point she offers the second option). I respond to her offer thus, "So are you telling me that I will have to pay the overcharges because your company misinformed me about my plan, therefore leading me to believe not only that I had a 900 minute plan but that I also am bound to stay with Verizon?" She responds in the affirmative and apologizes. So here we have an odd case where the company admits that it is not my fault that I was charge overage fees, admits fault, and yet does nothing to rectify the mistake short of offering me a deal (RPA) that essentially screws me. I hate Verizon and will certainly find another service provider once I am in a position to sign my soul away to another company. Do not use Verizon. Cingular's phones are cooler anyway.
First some terminology:
1. rerate: this refers to a counterfactual retroactive re-evaluation of charges. For example, you may rerate last month's bill *as if* you had a different plan, even though you did not. A rerate does not entail an extension of one's contractual obligations to Verizon, nor does it involve changing one's plan. You remain on the same plan, but a past bill is adjusted as though you had a different plan.
2. retroactive plan adjustment: I use this cumbersome terminology because I forget the jargon. Let's call it 'RPA'. RPA is like a rerate except that it does involve a plan change (albeit retroactively) and it typically accompanies a one-year extention of one's contract. So, if you opt for the RPA, you can, in effect, go back in time to change your monthly minute allocation, but it comes at the cost of an extension of contract.
Here's the story:
In August I had a $270 cell phone bill. I was shocked, so I called Verizon to see what I could do. They offered me an RPA, which I took (having not known about the rerate option (a special favor they do for some, but not others)). So, I retroactively signed up for 900 minutes per month and sold my soul for another year. I had assumed, commensurate with the RPA, that I remained on the 900 minute plan, and the customer rep. told me that I would need to call to be put back on my original 400 minute plan. I never called to change the plan back.
Fast forward to November. I get a cell phone bill for over 80 dollars. This makes me wonder how I could have possibly talked for more than 900 minutes. I call Verizon and the customer rep. tells me that I never had a 900 minute plan, that in fact what took place in August was a rerate. This frustrates me for the following reasons:
1. I had hoped, in August, to switch to a different carrier, but did not because I thought that I was bound by contract as a consequence of the RPA.
2. I now cannot switch companies since I do not want to enter into a contract in December, for I may not even be living in the country come September.
3. I was lied to in August about the action taken on my account.
The rep. talks to her boss and offers me two options:
1. Accept an RPA and, therefore, extend my contract by a year from that day.
2. Maintain my plan and pay the overcharges on a 400 minute plan.
I maintain my cool because, as mother says, you catch more bees (or flies) with honey than with vinegar. I tell her "I do not want the RPA because I may not be here in a year," (at which point she offers the second option). I respond to her offer thus, "So are you telling me that I will have to pay the overcharges because your company misinformed me about my plan, therefore leading me to believe not only that I had a 900 minute plan but that I also am bound to stay with Verizon?" She responds in the affirmative and apologizes. So here we have an odd case where the company admits that it is not my fault that I was charge overage fees, admits fault, and yet does nothing to rectify the mistake short of offering me a deal (RPA) that essentially screws me. I hate Verizon and will certainly find another service provider once I am in a position to sign my soul away to another company. Do not use Verizon. Cingular's phones are cooler anyway.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Christmas Blog
I've been pretty good all year. Allow me to list some of the highlights:
1. I won the Samuel Westfall Graduate Student Travel Fellowship
2. I got all 'A's
3. My summer was productive: I maintained a garden and started learning a new language
4. I forfeited my spring break to dogsit for a friend
5. I volunteered my time to become Co-director of IU's Human Intelligence Website
6. I made several gestures of goodwill, though not all were appreciated
7. I did my roommate's dishes when he was too hung over to do them himself
8. I never missed a day of work
9. I more or less donated my bed to two young ladies who did not have one
10. I vowed not to download music or movies illegally (and I haven't since then)
11. I housed a homeless person for the better part of 3 weeks.
Anyway, I guess what I am saying is that the christmas season is upon us and it is a time not only for self-reflection, but it is a time to think about others. Therefore, I provide a link to my Amazon Wishlist.
My Amazon Wishlist
1. I won the Samuel Westfall Graduate Student Travel Fellowship
2. I got all 'A's
3. My summer was productive: I maintained a garden and started learning a new language
4. I forfeited my spring break to dogsit for a friend
5. I volunteered my time to become Co-director of IU's Human Intelligence Website
6. I made several gestures of goodwill, though not all were appreciated
7. I did my roommate's dishes when he was too hung over to do them himself
8. I never missed a day of work
9. I more or less donated my bed to two young ladies who did not have one
10. I vowed not to download music or movies illegally (and I haven't since then)
11. I housed a homeless person for the better part of 3 weeks.
Anyway, I guess what I am saying is that the christmas season is upon us and it is a time not only for self-reflection, but it is a time to think about others. Therefore, I provide a link to my Amazon Wishlist.
My Amazon Wishlist
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
4 Bloomington Bus Drivers
Bus Driver 1 (my nemesis): This bus driver usually runs the #4 bus in the evenings. His demeanor is fairly aggressive and dull. My cards, including my student ID card which serves as a bus-pass, are held together by a clip (the kind with the black clipping section and metallic grips (sorry for the crappy description)). I use the smallest variety. Bus Driver 1, no matter where I situate the clip on the cards, cannot seem to make out without considerable effort whether I am in fact showing him a student ID card. He has told me on several occasions that I have to remove the clip for him to see the card (even if the only part of the card that is obscured is the bar code at the bottom of the card). Is this man being difficult for its own sake? Is he really so dull that no object can be attached to the card lest he cannot recognize it? What does he do about people's thumbs that might cover the so important barcode at the bottom? Once I got into a fray with this man over this issue, but the outcome was at best a draw.
Bus Driver 2: This bus driver, also running the #4 (or #5) clearly hates me. Whether he drops me off near campus or at home, he does not provide ample time for me to exit the bus. He has on a number of occasions closed the door on me. Not only is this very uncomfortable (the doors pack quite a resistant wallop), but it is hard on garments. This bus driver also is prone not to stop at my bus stop even when I pull the wire to alert him that I would like to be dropped off at the next stop. This I cannot understand. When you pull the wire, you are to be dropped off at the next official bus stop, which brings me to the next driver.
Bus Driver 3: This bus driver, same route as bus driver two, today inquired if I wanted to be dropped off at the intersection of Mitchell and Maxwell, the next stop, or at Maxwell Terrace down the street. Now, I don't know bus driver logic, but I thought that the default position was this: when the wire is pulled, you stop at the next stop. You should not have to ask if the person actually meant the stop after the next one. Think of how chaotic it would be if pulling the wire meant that you wanted to be dropped off in two stops!
Bus Driver 4: Bus Driver 3 reminds me of a fourth bus driver who does not really merit a whole section since her primary deficiency is related to that of bus driver 3's. If I pull before the stop sign 100 or so feet before my bus stop, she gets angry and tells me, clearly irritated, that it is unclear whether I want to be dropped at the stop sign (i.e., the traffic sign) or the actual bus stop. The last time I checked, there was a reason why bus stops were not marked by octagonal red signs that say 'stop' and it was probably to control for this very confusion, but perhaps she sees the word 'stop' and gets confused. Perhaps her brain is wired to stop at the first sign that says 'stop' after the chime.
Bus Driver 2: This bus driver, also running the #4 (or #5) clearly hates me. Whether he drops me off near campus or at home, he does not provide ample time for me to exit the bus. He has on a number of occasions closed the door on me. Not only is this very uncomfortable (the doors pack quite a resistant wallop), but it is hard on garments. This bus driver also is prone not to stop at my bus stop even when I pull the wire to alert him that I would like to be dropped off at the next stop. This I cannot understand. When you pull the wire, you are to be dropped off at the next official bus stop, which brings me to the next driver.
Bus Driver 3: This bus driver, same route as bus driver two, today inquired if I wanted to be dropped off at the intersection of Mitchell and Maxwell, the next stop, or at Maxwell Terrace down the street. Now, I don't know bus driver logic, but I thought that the default position was this: when the wire is pulled, you stop at the next stop. You should not have to ask if the person actually meant the stop after the next one. Think of how chaotic it would be if pulling the wire meant that you wanted to be dropped off in two stops!
Bus Driver 4: Bus Driver 3 reminds me of a fourth bus driver who does not really merit a whole section since her primary deficiency is related to that of bus driver 3's. If I pull before the stop sign 100 or so feet before my bus stop, she gets angry and tells me, clearly irritated, that it is unclear whether I want to be dropped at the stop sign (i.e., the traffic sign) or the actual bus stop. The last time I checked, there was a reason why bus stops were not marked by octagonal red signs that say 'stop' and it was probably to control for this very confusion, but perhaps she sees the word 'stop' and gets confused. Perhaps her brain is wired to stop at the first sign that says 'stop' after the chime.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Checklist of Upcoming Extravaganzaaaaaas!
Extravaganzaaaaaa! #1: Nov. 17 at 1 pm will witness one of the most anticipated battles of that week. In one corner, the Centennial Scourge, the Devil of Selection, the Duke of Trout: Mad MattDanDunn. In the other corner, coming out of a 5-year hiatus from talks, defender of truth, justice and g, the Key to Validity, the Prince of Novelty: S.Brian Brain the Hooooooood. These two longtime foes (roommates, actually) will go head to head in an awesome battle over Brian's most recent dissertation section: Validity and Scientific Realism. Brian thinks he settled the question, Matt thinks Brian is uncharitable to his opposition and that either way, Brian's position is vaccuous. Life at the S. Mitchell house will never be the same. Heads will roll, dogs will stink, and crickets will invade.
Extravaganzaaaaaa! #2: APA Dec. 27 where Brian will NOT get a job on the basis of his paper "Validity and Scientific Realism".
Extravaganzaaaaaa! #3: Spring Break (March 12-17) in Amsterdam where I will present my paper to a group of methodologists, one of whom I attack, though ultimately defend, in my paper "Validity and Scientific Realism". While there, I intend to gorge myself on Japanese Pancakes.
Extravaganzaaaaaa! #4: May and June in Tbilisi where I will do nothing related to my paper "Validity and Scientific Realism". There I will show my skills as a premium dancer, eat khachapori, drink cha cha, and get stuck in a kwevri (shout out to my didi kartveli megobrebs).
Extravaganzaaaaaa! #2: APA Dec. 27 where Brian will NOT get a job on the basis of his paper "Validity and Scientific Realism".
Extravaganzaaaaaa! #3: Spring Break (March 12-17) in Amsterdam where I will present my paper to a group of methodologists, one of whom I attack, though ultimately defend, in my paper "Validity and Scientific Realism". While there, I intend to gorge myself on Japanese Pancakes.
Extravaganzaaaaaa! #4: May and June in Tbilisi where I will do nothing related to my paper "Validity and Scientific Realism". There I will show my skills as a premium dancer, eat khachapori, drink cha cha, and get stuck in a kwevri (shout out to my didi kartveli megobrebs).
Monday, September 11, 2006
Metaphysical Breakthrough: Death is a Perfection
This summer has seen many forms of perfection manifested in my backyard including the shimmer of the sun on Sebastian's obsidian coat, Matt's infinitely comfortable lawnchair, the sculpture known as "Capitalism", and last but foremost The Perfect Garden. But as summer wanes, so do the lifegiving rays of the sun and with them the health of The Perfect Garden. The stalks of my tomato plants grow weaker with each day, the leaves fade from their former viridescence, and fecundity has given way to sterility. Even the hearty banana pepper plants have begun to evidence their mortality. I anticipate that my empiricist detractors may consider this an objection to the professed perfection of my garden. But to my would-be opponents I respond in advance that what we witness is not a violation of the principle of perfection. There can be but one conclusion to be drawn on the eve of my garden's demise:
Death is a Perfection.
For how could a perfect being fail to be perfect? Necessarily, a perfect being is perfect and its attributes great-making qualities. Therefore, death, a quality exemplified by The Perfect Garden, too, is a great-making quality. Do not lament the fate of my garden. Perfection should not be the cause of grief, but something to be celebrated.
Death is a Perfection.
For how could a perfect being fail to be perfect? Necessarily, a perfect being is perfect and its attributes great-making qualities. Therefore, death, a quality exemplified by The Perfect Garden, too, is a great-making quality. Do not lament the fate of my garden. Perfection should not be the cause of grief, but something to be celebrated.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Garden
Below are a few photos of my garden. My "skills of a photographer" are not nearly up to par with my roommate's, but I thought I'd snap some shots to prove to Erika that indeed I do have a garden and that it is marvelous. Of course, as he is wont to do, Sebastian had to sneak into a shot and stretch it out, which probably shadows the wonderfulosity of the tomato plant in the foreground. There are 16 tomato plants (4 varieties), 1 thyme plant, 4 jalapeno plants, 4 habanero plants, and 2 banana pepper plants. The habaneros refuse to yield any fruit, but the other peppers are doing well and if you look closely, you can see that not only are the tomatoes doing well (with the exception of the romas), there are many little buddies sprouting: my garden's promise of plenty.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Samson Under Attack!
Samson and his comrades are under attack. A militant group of insects of unknown origin have established enclaves somewhere in the vicinity of my otherwise peaceful garden. They enter the garden with little regard for the local laws, respecting only their own barbaric customs, and endeavor to destroy the Perfect Garden. In an effort to purge my harmonious nation of tomatoes and peppers of these illegal invaders, I have dusted the crop with Sevin 5, an agro-chemical pesticide. There will be no amnesty for Japanese beetles, snails, slugs, or spider mites in this garden. Such a move would only cheapen the significance of citizenship granted to legitimate residents and would be unfair to the basil plants currently awaiting entrance to the garden (thank you basil plants for respecting the process of citizenship). My crop is a bountiful crop, no doubt a hospitable environment for any creature, but residence in my garden is limited to those to enter by legitimate means: first and foremost one must have my approval, which is established by demonstrating that one will uphold the principles of perfection established for the garden. There may be a waiting period before applicants can begin to set down roots in the garden, but this waiting period pays dividend in terms of harmony and rights to the resources of the garden. There is food in every pot and there is a excellent heathcare system. Maintaining harmony requires that there be a careful screening process to ensure that leaches (slugs, snails, weeds, etc.) do not fleece the garden of its resources. Second, citizens of the garden must be willing to pay taxes. You do nothing for the garden if you do not contribute to the general coffers with either fruit or aromatics. Free loaders will be deported to the compost heap. This also applies to those birds (you know who you are) who enter the garden illegally, steal from the coffers, and send the fruit back to their home-nests. We enjoy an isolationist existence in my garden. Maintaining the welfare of impoverished bird/bug-nations is not part of our foreign policy; expect borders around the garden to be strengthened in the coming days. A militia of scarecrows and other deterrents will be implemented. If need be, snipers will be deployed. Non-deleterious foreign influences are welcome. I say this to those of you who wish to visit and pollinate tomato and pepper flowers. You may enter and leave at your leisure provided you wear the mandatory yellow jacket or Blind Melon "Bee Girl" uniform. However, those of you without the uniforms will be considered in violation of Perfect Garden's Perfect Airspace. Airborne toxins will be scrambled to escort you away from Perfect Airspace and to your demise.
The War on Terrorism: Summon the Deathpod!
Recently my father asked me what I thought of the assassination of Al-Zarqawi. I will withold comment on that event, but what his question got me thinking about was the war on terror. Now, I don't really know what the war on terror is, but it "has something to do with young men killing each other" (Johnny Got His Gun) or something to do with keeping militant muslims from killing us on our own soil, or may be it has something to do with Iraqi democracy. Honestly, I don't really know. However, I trust politicians. They are old, educated men who clearly have my best interests in mind. After all, that is why I helped to elect (some of) them. If I thought I could do a better job, I wouldn't just sit around the Video Saloon or the Office Lounge and bitch about the how the gov't is screwing me, I'd get out there and try to make a difference by running for office, campaigning for state representatives and senators, and may be even run for office myself. As it is, I trust my representative, so I just bombard him with letters letting him know how I feel about certain issues, but he tends to agree with me.
Anyway, I digress. Many Americans don't like the war on terror and they are upset that civilian Iraqis and American soldiers are dying for a losing cause. However, they also don't want people blowing up subways, skyscrapers, and energy outlets (there are tons of relatively unguarded ones in Houston, TX, but no one seems to know about that except Houstonians). How do you prevent acts of terror and fight the evil terrorists, but not put the lives of soldiers and civilians at stake? Driving around several days ago I found the answer and it came on my iPod. You must contract out the war on terror to an elite, mercenary group of killing machines. Now, you may say that we have already done that by employing the US military and reserves in the war on terror, and look at all the human lives that have been lost. I have a solution to your worries. I have seen such a group of mercenaries in action and they are neither human nor destructible. I believe that right now they are residing in Antarctica. (Some of you are already feelin' me.) That's right, we need GWAR! You can read more about GWAR at their website htttp://gwar.net
But with lyrics like "however weak it's still appealing, a sight to send your senses reeling, to see your nipples stripped from you--tossed into my human stew" and "your flesh is insignificant, still you dragged yourself here on bloody stumps, recreated you, amputate you" and "the child has died, he must be fried, you humans are all the same inside" and "you shall achieve a maggot sponge-hold effect" and "we were born into space, slaughtering race after race," how can we go wrong? After all, they killed off the dinosaurs and built Stonehenge
There is a slight chance that there'd be considerable collateral damage, since GWAR does not discriminate, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Bring our troops home and summon the Sexicutioner, Salamanizer, Jizmak da Gusha, Flattus Maximus, Beefcake the Mighty, Oderus Urungus, and Balsac the Jaws of Death!
I recommend downloading "Death Pod," "Love Surgery," "The Horror of Yig," "The Sexicutioner," and "The Salamanizer" and you'll be conviced that my plan is pure genius. Just read this excerpt from their website:
"Billions and billions of years ago, darkness was all that existed. Then The Master, ruler of the universe, created the planets and everything in them. But soon The Master became bored of this and created death, destruction and war. He enjoyed watching the peons die but soon even that became boring, he himself wanted to kill. So he began slaughtering the humanoids that littered the planets face, but that too lost its fun. He needed more of a challenge, so he created God-like creatures with whom he could do battle. But soon there were too many of these creatures, and he had to be rid of them. He conjured up all his power and created the most powerful he could, GWAR was formed. This elite fighting force was called The Scumdogs of the Universe. The Master used them to destroy all of his enemies. Millions of years and millions of battles later, GWAR became more powerful and craved even more power. Thinking that they could take over The Master's throne, GWAR attacked him and the greatest of all battles began. The carnage lasted a billion years before The Master created the ultimate weapon - the Death Pod. The pod swallowed GWAR up and delivered them to The Master.
"Ahhhh, foolish Scumdogs", The Master laughed. After thinking about what their punishment should be, he finally decided: GWAR shall be banished to a miserable mudball planet called Earth...
The Earth rumbled when the mighty Death Pod crashed into its surface. Shaken and confused, GWAR crawled out and looked around. Thinking they could have a nice little planet once its cleared off, they destroyed the dinosaurs. Afterwards they created Stonehenge so they could play croquet, and weren't having that bad of a time. The Master looked down upon this and frowned, what kind of punishment is this? So to stop the nonsense he imprisoned GWAR in an iceberg on the frozen continent of Antarctica.
Millions of years later: 1980ish. Glam rock was at its peak, groups like Poison and Whitesnake were dominating the airwaves. They inspired a whole slew of new "hair spray" bands. But little did they know, all of that hair spray put a hole in the ozone - right above Antarctica! Soon the unfiltered gamma rays melted the iceberg and GWAR was free.
Meanwhile, Sleazy P. Martini was fleeing the country on drug charges, flying over the former tomb of GWAR. He picked them up and brought them back to America. He taught them how to use instruments and they learned the language from watching midget wrestling and MTV. Soon GWAR was known as the greatest band in the Universe...
Unsatisfied with being worshipped by humans, GWAR still wishes to take revenge on The Master. They discovered a way. If GWAR could summon the World Maggot, they could ride it back to the center of the universe and finally defeat The Master. The World Maggot is a large maggot that lives in the center of the Earth, the only way to wake it is to slaughter millions of innocent people. So, taking advantage of their newfound fame, GWAR puts on shows to which their fans flock. They murder and mutilate these fans, show after show, until enough blood is spilled to wake the maggot."
Anyway, I digress. Many Americans don't like the war on terror and they are upset that civilian Iraqis and American soldiers are dying for a losing cause. However, they also don't want people blowing up subways, skyscrapers, and energy outlets (there are tons of relatively unguarded ones in Houston, TX, but no one seems to know about that except Houstonians). How do you prevent acts of terror and fight the evil terrorists, but not put the lives of soldiers and civilians at stake? Driving around several days ago I found the answer and it came on my iPod. You must contract out the war on terror to an elite, mercenary group of killing machines. Now, you may say that we have already done that by employing the US military and reserves in the war on terror, and look at all the human lives that have been lost. I have a solution to your worries. I have seen such a group of mercenaries in action and they are neither human nor destructible. I believe that right now they are residing in Antarctica. (Some of you are already feelin' me.) That's right, we need GWAR! You can read more about GWAR at their website htttp://gwar.net
But with lyrics like "however weak it's still appealing, a sight to send your senses reeling, to see your nipples stripped from you--tossed into my human stew" and "your flesh is insignificant, still you dragged yourself here on bloody stumps, recreated you, amputate you" and "the child has died, he must be fried, you humans are all the same inside" and "you shall achieve a maggot sponge-hold effect" and "we were born into space, slaughtering race after race," how can we go wrong? After all, they killed off the dinosaurs and built Stonehenge
There is a slight chance that there'd be considerable collateral damage, since GWAR does not discriminate, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Bring our troops home and summon the Sexicutioner, Salamanizer, Jizmak da Gusha, Flattus Maximus, Beefcake the Mighty, Oderus Urungus, and Balsac the Jaws of Death!
I recommend downloading "Death Pod," "Love Surgery," "The Horror of Yig," "The Sexicutioner," and "The Salamanizer" and you'll be conviced that my plan is pure genius. Just read this excerpt from their website:
"Billions and billions of years ago, darkness was all that existed. Then The Master, ruler of the universe, created the planets and everything in them. But soon The Master became bored of this and created death, destruction and war. He enjoyed watching the peons die but soon even that became boring, he himself wanted to kill. So he began slaughtering the humanoids that littered the planets face, but that too lost its fun. He needed more of a challenge, so he created God-like creatures with whom he could do battle. But soon there were too many of these creatures, and he had to be rid of them. He conjured up all his power and created the most powerful he could, GWAR was formed. This elite fighting force was called The Scumdogs of the Universe. The Master used them to destroy all of his enemies. Millions of years and millions of battles later, GWAR became more powerful and craved even more power. Thinking that they could take over The Master's throne, GWAR attacked him and the greatest of all battles began. The carnage lasted a billion years before The Master created the ultimate weapon - the Death Pod. The pod swallowed GWAR up and delivered them to The Master.
"Ahhhh, foolish Scumdogs", The Master laughed. After thinking about what their punishment should be, he finally decided: GWAR shall be banished to a miserable mudball planet called Earth...
The Earth rumbled when the mighty Death Pod crashed into its surface. Shaken and confused, GWAR crawled out and looked around. Thinking they could have a nice little planet once its cleared off, they destroyed the dinosaurs. Afterwards they created Stonehenge so they could play croquet, and weren't having that bad of a time. The Master looked down upon this and frowned, what kind of punishment is this? So to stop the nonsense he imprisoned GWAR in an iceberg on the frozen continent of Antarctica.
Millions of years later: 1980ish. Glam rock was at its peak, groups like Poison and Whitesnake were dominating the airwaves. They inspired a whole slew of new "hair spray" bands. But little did they know, all of that hair spray put a hole in the ozone - right above Antarctica! Soon the unfiltered gamma rays melted the iceberg and GWAR was free.
Meanwhile, Sleazy P. Martini was fleeing the country on drug charges, flying over the former tomb of GWAR. He picked them up and brought them back to America. He taught them how to use instruments and they learned the language from watching midget wrestling and MTV. Soon GWAR was known as the greatest band in the Universe...
Unsatisfied with being worshipped by humans, GWAR still wishes to take revenge on The Master. They discovered a way. If GWAR could summon the World Maggot, they could ride it back to the center of the universe and finally defeat The Master. The World Maggot is a large maggot that lives in the center of the Earth, the only way to wake it is to slaughter millions of innocent people. So, taking advantage of their newfound fame, GWAR puts on shows to which their fans flock. They murder and mutilate these fans, show after show, until enough blood is spilled to wake the maggot."
The Perfect Garden Exists in my Backyard, Necessarily
Here is my a priori argument for the claim that I will have perfect tomatoes in my garden. I encourage you to scrutinize my argument since it is of utmost importance that my yield be bountiful:
1. I have an idea of a perfect tomato crop in my backyard.
2. A perfect being can lack no perfection
3. Existence is a perfection.
________________
Therefore, a perfect being cannot lack existence, the perfect tomato garden in my backyard must exist
or
1. I have an idea of a perfect tomato crop in my backyard.
2. It is manifest by the natural light of reason that there must be at least as much reality in the efficient and total cause as in the effect of that cause (third meditation).
3. I doubt, doubt is an imperfection, therefore I am imperfect (grant for the sake of argument. I know many of you will disagree with the conclusion of this premise out and out).
4. I cannot have created my idea of a perfect tomato crop in my backyard [2,3]
5. My idea of a perfect tomato crop in my backyard must have been created from a perfect tomato crop in my backyard [2].
________________________________________
Therefore, a perfect tomato crop in my backyard must exist.
Of course, both arguments are predicated on my existence, but I clearly and distinctly perceive that I exist. After all, I am a thinking thing, and no thinking thing can fail to exist anymore than an existing thing can fail to have extension.
1. I have an idea of a perfect tomato crop in my backyard.
2. A perfect being can lack no perfection
3. Existence is a perfection.
________________
Therefore, a perfect being cannot lack existence, the perfect tomato garden in my backyard must exist
or
1. I have an idea of a perfect tomato crop in my backyard.
2. It is manifest by the natural light of reason that there must be at least as much reality in the efficient and total cause as in the effect of that cause (third meditation).
3. I doubt, doubt is an imperfection, therefore I am imperfect (grant for the sake of argument. I know many of you will disagree with the conclusion of this premise out and out).
4. I cannot have created my idea of a perfect tomato crop in my backyard [2,3]
5. My idea of a perfect tomato crop in my backyard must have been created from a perfect tomato crop in my backyard [2].
________________________________________
Therefore, a perfect tomato crop in my backyard must exist.
Of course, both arguments are predicated on my existence, but I clearly and distinctly perceive that I exist. After all, I am a thinking thing, and no thinking thing can fail to exist anymore than an existing thing can fail to have extension.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
