Wednesday, October 17, 2012

It's Fall! ... Autumn? ...

The leaves are changing, seedy temporary-Halloween stores are popping up, temperatures are dropping (sorry, Southern Hemisphere friends), pumpkins are finding their way into every species of sweet on the planet, and the Christmas decorations are showing up in stores (I'm not touching that one). It must be Fall! Or Autumn, if you're the kind of person who calls the color "violet" and pronounces the first "r" in "February."

"I drive a Prius, too."

Fall is one of my favorite times of year, as it contains both Halloween and Thanksgiving, and heralds the imminent arrival of Christmas soon after its passing. What's not to love?

Quite a bit, it seems. For every fan of something, there needs be a hater; even peaceful Fall is targeted. (And it's the Switzerland of seasons!) We're going to do our best to rebuke the naysayers of these wonderful few months! Who will join me?!


-"Fall is too cold. You can't do anything fun outside."

If you're more than a year old, you must be quite aware that Winter is, in fact, much colder. It's all about relativity. Heck, 110 degrees in the summer is cold, if you're from Venus. Enjoy what little free heat the sun's giving you now. It won't last.

Also, Google "hoodie." 

-"All the trees are dead or dying. It's depressing."

When humans die naturally, we take it nice and slow. We don't get much prettier. In fact, it's a wonderful compliment to be told that you're "aging gracefully." People spend billions of dollars a year trying to look younger, but eventually to no avail.

What do leaves do when they die? They make it nice and quick, so you don't have to rake the yard but a few times.They spend their last days changing the color of their entire being, and you get to enjoy the free show. Yeah, they may be dying, but they're being considerate while doing it. What will you be doing when you're in their position? Probably yelling at the darned Henderson kids to get off your lawn.

Pine needles don't get in on this aging and changing stuff, though. They're like the Dolly Parton of greenery.

1980? 2012? 2023?

-"I don't like the taste of pumpkin, and it's getting into everything."

Well, I'm sure glad the pioneers never had to put up with that! All their food tasted like leather and dirt. No pumpkin there! Lucky folk.

I don't like sour cream, so I guess I can relate to these people when I go to a Mexican restaurant. Still, it's only for a month. Let us have this.

-"Halloween is stupid. You're forced to give candy to kids that made their parents spend way too much on a shoddy costume. Plus, you're surrounded by a bunch of idiot adults that still dress up!"

I think there was a House episode about this... Some father and daughter posse couldn't feel happiness because of a genetic disorder... I'd look into that.

Costumes are fun. Everyone knows it, but because of all these pesky "social rules" we insist on keeping around, it's not considered appropriate to show up at the office dressed as the Green Lantern in March (unless you work at one of those offices). We get one shot each year to convince everyone that we can actually pull off a purple tailcoat, so don't ruin this for us. Just buy the cheap candy and wait it out.

Until then, you can go chill with this guy:

"So... many... feelings..."

To all my fellow Fall-appreciators, let us roll in the leaves! Let us enjoy every pumpkin empanada and shake we can get our mitts on! Buy that cheap plastic mask and practice your raspy Batman voice!

It wouldn't hurt to TP the houses of the people we were just talking about, too. Just sayin'.

Friday, September 21, 2012

"Digital Artist"

There's a pop singer in Japan that's taking the oriental islands by storm. She's been around for a few years, and her empire gets bigger and bigger every year. She's toured in her native Japan, the United States, and Singapore. Her fans number in the millions, she has her visage on a race car, and there's currently a petition to get a doll that looks like her into space. Her name is Hatsune Miku. All of this, and she's only sixteen.

Well... kind of.

That's the unique thing about Ms. Miku: She doesn't exist. Not in the corporeal sense, anyway. Her voice is made by using a sound program, and her appearance was created by an illustrator. From the ground up, she's completely digital, artificial.

Yet, she's a star-and-a-half. She's made her parent company gobs of money, and has fans all over the world.  It makes you think about the argument that one day, computers will make artists redundant. Granted, Hatsune's music and stage presence is all done by composers and animators, so you arts majors can breathe easy.

Justin Bieber of the future? 
Oh, wait, I said "artists."

Whoa, whoa, stage presence? Yep, she holds concerts; SOLD OUT concerts in Japan and the US, with thousands of fans, light shows, and a live band to boot.

Hit the pause button on the music player to
the right. You've got to hear/see this.

That's some mind-blowing stuff. You've got a crowd of people cheering to a voice that isn't (exactly) real, and to a "singer" that's not even there. Dungeons & Dragons, Renaissance Fairs, and Fantasy Football don't seem all that weird now, do they?

I bring this up because I have to ask: What does this kind of thing mean for the entertainment industry? We have amazing CGI capabilities, but that hasn't replaced our need for real-life actors. Will music follow the same path? Or are digital artists the way of the future?

I certainly hope not. R2-D2 singing "Ave Maria" would sound awful.

What do you think? Leave your thoughts in the comments, if you feel so inclined.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Hey, guys! What'd I miss?

Through the lens of popular culture, going on a mission is a lot like being dead for two years. Because of the internet, TV, radio, and the fact that everyone can use these on their phones means that the latest and greatest from America's artists and stars spreads like wildfire. And since missionaries don't frequent any of those, they're a lot like that one guy up in the mountains that douses his property with water. None of that cultural wildfire there.

That's the Elders. Right there.

That being so, when I left my green patch last December and walked out onto the charred, cultured world (so to speak), there were a few things that caught me off guard. Turns out, American culture waits for no man, and while I was a-proselytin' in South Carolina, the media world decided to roll along without me. I'd heard a few things here and there about what was going on in the "real world," but now that I was supposed to experience them? It was like walking out of a "do not open until December 2011" sealed can. 

Bless my stars, a hipster!

Some things blew me away more than most. In Star Trek: The Next Generation, the android Data is often confused by human behavior, and has to have it explained to him by the crew. Have you ever had to tell someone what a yawn is? (You probably just yawned. If not, then the previous sentence probably just did it.) Or why humans love music? That's probably what it was akin to when my poor friends and family were telling me what a hashtag was.

So, a few things I had to have explained to me:


Of course this was going to be a tough one. Even to those that were here 2009-2011, she's strange. I think that's her point, though... Still pondering that one. I remember someone telling me that she wore a "meat dress" to a red carpet event. I imagined a deep red evening gown maybe, with a few pieces of fried chicken hanging from the hem, or something like that.

50 wasted steaks, right there.

Good grief, the entire thing was 100% pure, real MEAT. After the Janet Jackson wardrobe planned stu... eh, malfunction, I thought we'd seen the weirdest clothing-TV spot in history (as well as stuff we wish we didn't see). But instead, we get ("get" being used liberally) to behold a pop star decked out in cow innards, who would later go on to sing "Born This Way." If you were born to wear meat in public, be glad you weren't around in the 1800's. They institutionalization folks like that.

This woman is world famous, selling more records than most of your favorite artists. That took some explaining.


I only missed James Cameron's "Avatar" by two days: I entered the MTC on December 16th, 2009, while the oversized Smurfs took to the theaters on the 18th. I spend a few months hearing about how amazing and visually stunning this film is, but never seeing it. 

I get home, and within a few days, my dad is telling me that I HAVE to see Avatar. He says that it's one of the coolest-looking movies since Star Wars. He was right: it was really, really fun to watch. I was blown away by what they could do with motion capture, CGI, sound, etc. I immediately started talking to my friends about how enjoyable this movie was.

My friends who had seen it two years ago.

It's exciting to be able to watch two years worth of good movies, all at once, if you wanted to. That makes it all the more disappointing when you realize that you can't really discuss many of them with your friends, and they've already moved onto bigger and better things. Like Justin Bieber.

Sorry. Moving on.

A sad example: A few days after getting home, I went to the Sprint store to snag a phone. When I left, it seemed that the only people with "real" smart phones were doctors, lawyers, and the pre-teen daughters of said doctors and lawyers. Now, they're like those floating spider webs: plentiful, scattered everywhere, and causing many an awkward social moment.

Anyway, I pick the phone I want, and the salesman goes on to point out some of its features. When he got to the part about apps?

How the... when did... how... I...

You can use Google Earth to see any spot on the planet from space. On your phone. You can video chat anywhere there's a WiFi or 4G signal. On your phone. You can translate French into Latin. On your phone. You can record a song and have the internet tell you what it is. On your phone. You can have a cat tap dance while singing the national anthem. On your PHONE.

As a tech-junkie, I was giddy. I need to share this with people! I need to spread this app-fueled elation with those around me! I downloaded an "air horn" app, which lets you use your phone as a train horn, a fog horn, or those annoying vuvuzelas you saw at the World Cup. I thought the comedic effect provided by this technological marvel would last for weeks on end.

You can imagine my despondency when I was told that the air horn was old hat, and by trying to use it for comedy was putting me into the same drawer as "hey, I'm still hip!" 40-year-old-parents. After a few more pathetic attempts at using the air horn to accentuate a point or two, I resigned myself to the fact that I'll just have to skip 2010 and 2011 DVR-style, and move on with everybody else. 

I still can't get over the BP oil spill, though. I mean, three months?!

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Why, back in my day...

Concerning today’s music scene, there’s no shortage of older folk who are all-too-quick to sneer at modern music, and complain about how the youth don’t appreciate “the classics” of “way back when.” Everyone gets attached to the music of their youth. If those past-jams are the sweet sounds of the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Louis Armstrong, or Scott Joplin (if they’re very old), that's their the musical “safe zone," I imagine. It’s the reason you get dirty looks from the more wizened generation whilst listening to dubstep, Imogen Heap, or Nicki Minaj. (Note: If you’re listening to Nicki Minaj, you probably deserved it. Just sayin’.)

I hope y’all are sitting down, because I have a secret to reveal: I’M one of those folks; the ones that shake their head at the unwillingness of whippersnappers to listen to the “classics.” I love the Beatles, Louis Armstrong, and heck, even Mr. Joplin. But the neglected classics I’m referring to are the most classic of classics:

Classical music.

Everyone who’s seen a Tom and Jerry cartoon has heard it, and most Zales Diamonds commercials piggyback on it, but fewer and fewer people seem to actually seek it out and enjoy it. Chill out, everyone, I’m not about to start a face-melting rant about how everyone is uncultured because they can’t tell the difference between an aria and an arpeggio. See, that’s just the problem: when others find out I’m a sucker for classical, they may assume that I’m also a prude. “Oh, he listens to Rachmaninoff. He thinks he’s smarter than me. Elitist jerk.” All that, and all they had to go off of was the fact that I liked a little Mozart now and then!

When you think of a classical music enthusiast, what comes to mind? Probably some egotistical self-proclaimed intellectual who listens just to display it on his “look how cultured I am” trophy case.

"A bow tie separates the cultured from the common-folk..."

Or a guy who likes to listen to Brahms while eating the poor sap he just killed, while enjoying a nice Chianti.

"The liver was a bit on the rare side."

Old people? Old people like Chopin, right?

"You kids can't appreciate the classics! You're all so distracted,
what with your cellular phones! And those... those Facebooks!"

Or maybe a hipster, who listens to Schoenberg because no one else does: all other music is too mainstream.

"I find his total lack of key and tonality invigorating. You probably
wouldn't understand..."

Have you actually ever listened to Schoenberg? There’s a reason it’s not mainstream… Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

The point is, we’re mighty fine at labeling others. There’s a positive purpose to this, I believe. If a person is crying hysterically, screaming at a wall, and wearing a high school football uniform while biting themself, the guys in the labeling department of my brain look that all up, and come up with, “Do not approach. Probably insane and dangerous. May bite. Recommend not making eye contact.” I'm making a judgement on that person, but it just may be saving me from a round of rabies shots in the near future.

Labeling seems to be especially prevalent right now, with the election coming up and all. Republicans are laughing at the herbal-tea-swigging, tree-hugging, Prius-driving, religion-bashing, work-hating Democrats, when the reality is much less extreme. Or when Democrats are scoffing at the closed-minded, gay-hating, wealthy-boot-licking, anti-intellectual, backwards-thinking Republicans, when, once again, that usually isn’t the case.

Couldn’t we label people with good things? “She stays in her room and reads a lot. I bet she’s a good writer!” Or, “That guy wears a suit every day. I imagine he’s very professional.”

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland put it well when he said:

“Think the best of each other, especially of those you say you love. Assume the good and doubt the bad.” ― Jeffrey R. Holland

Right on, Elder Holland.

But seriously, classical music. Look it up. Chopin is fantastic.


Thursday, March 8, 2012

First World Problems

I'm going to have to pull a move that's detested by blogs everywhere: the "I'm sorry for not posting in a while" post. School, life, it's all very busy, blah, blah, blah, etc.

Okay, we're back.

Essentially being away from the Internet for two years tends to make you fall behind on Web culture. (As well as any news concerning Lady Gaga. That wasn't so bad.) That being so, if I seem redundant in my interweb musings, let it slide. I still find myself reminiscing about the good old days of and the Hamster Dance. ("Look! They're spinning!")

The new/old meme I'm digging right now is what's called "first world problems." What's a first world problem, you ask? Examples:

Third world problem: My dictator has taken the tools that are necessary for my family's survival. Now I need to trek into the rainforest to find materials to craft new tools.
First world problem: My cell phone battery died, and now I won't know if anyone commented on my funny cat video until I get home.

Third world problem: The water supply outside the village has dried up, and the nearest well is five miles away.
First world problem: I can't hear the TV because my snacks are too crunchy.

Third world problem: It hasn't rained for a week. If my children want to have fruit this year, we're going to need some moisture soon.
First world problem: I want grapes, but they're all at the bottom of the crisper drawer.

You poor, poor thing...

Y'all get the idea. I've found these little tidbits to be immensely amusing, which is strange, as they sometimes make me feel like an awful human being.

For behold: a few days ago, I was waltzing through Smith's with my posse of late-night shoppers. We walked past the canned peaches, and they spoke to me: "take us home... take us home..." (*Note* Canned goods do not actually speak to Mr. Ferguson). I'm a big fan of peaches, but not a big fan of the heavy syrup that they're often stored in. That being so, I looked for the kind that's in it's own juice, but to no avail. I found myself complaining out loud about how "they should have those!" They didn't carry them, and I was going to have to be content with the light syrup variety. A great injustice was being done.

That's about the time that I noticed that the man next to me was a shelf-stocker, working late at night, probably for minimum wage, and most likely had a family to support. That was the cue of the "reality mirror" to show up: you know, the kind that you look in and realize that you're a horrible person for complaining about what kind of syrup these affordable, healthy, and virtually limitless peaches are packed in. I'd just experienced a first world problem.

Aww, maaaaan...

It opened my eyes for a short bit, there in Smith's. Almost any kind of food imaginable, screened so you won't barf up your spleen when you eat it, and at an affordable price (*Note* Mr. Ferguson does not receive any compensation from Smith's Food & Drug for his comments). The whole place is lit up and heated with a reliable power supply, and I don't have to worry about being stabbed in the parking lot (this isn't Ogden, after all).

(*Note* Mr. Ferguson harbors no hard feelings against the fine city of Ogden. Please do not send him anthrax in the mail.)

I really don't have much to complain about when it comes to comfort: we have it pretty sweet here in the US of A. That doesn't mean that life is easy for us living in the "first world": everyone has real stress and real problems, and they may not apply to "third world situations," but that doesn't make them any less tough. Life is supposed to be a challenge. But when one of your pillows is too soft, and the other is too firm, so you have to combine them to get a decent mega-pillow... Just smile knowing that you're not likely to be attacked by disease carrying mosquitoes while you sleep. Unless you're in Ogden.

Light syrup peaches are still wonderful, by the way.


Saturday, February 4, 2012

Temporary Pessimistic Suspicion

What is TPS (Temporary Pessimistic Suspicion)? It's a condition suffered by those who have a sudden influx of positive events, which results in a nagging inclination that things will only get worse. It's closely related to what scientists are now calling "Too Good to be True Delusion (TGtbTD)", and is highly contagious, very volatile, and can ruin a good moment.

I had a bad flare-up of TPS on Thursday. I took my first FCHD 2400 (Marriage and Family Relationships) exam that day, and got the results via email shortly thereafter. I was pleased.

A few hours later, I went to the Logan Regional Hospital to get a CT scan. I've been having sinus issues for about five/six months now, and the docs suggested that I get my head blasted with radiation so we can be sure that I'm not dying from an aggressive South Carolinian parasite (or something like that). If you haven't had a CT scan before, imagine having your noggin shoved into the core of the Millennium Falcon's hyperdrive.

Chewie picked out the color scheme.

A few minutes later, I was told that the results aren't actually all that bad, and antibiotics should do the trick. Once again, things were going swimmingly.

At Merrill Hall (the on-campus housing where yours truly chills), there isn't enough parking space in the main lot for everyone. That's why we have the Gray 4 lot: down the hill a bit, under a tunnel, and right next to a cliff. At first, I didn't like having to tromp the extra 400 yards to my car (college students are a lazy bunch). But the more I've made the expedition down yonder, the more I've realized just how amazing the view is from Gray 4. You can see the entire Southern half of Cache Valley, as well as the canyon below.


Anyway, after my head-nuking, I got out of my car in Gray 4, and was treated to the best view I've had in years. The sun was on his way out, but was hidden behind some clouds, shooting beams of light across the valley. I had my headphones on, with my Zune on random. Just as the scenery gave me the equivalent of a sucker punch, one of my favorite classical piano pieces, Erik Satie's Gymnopedie No. 1, started playing. I caught myself soaking this tender mercy for about two minutes, then thought, "it just couldn't get any better, huh?"

That's when the flock of white birds flew in front if me, in perfect formation.

Some people would would be astounded at that; some would cry. I laughed. It was all too perfect.

That's when the TPS flared up. Good grade on an exam, considerably decent health, and a scene that most photographers would give their left lung for. My first thought after all that? "Well, I'm probably going to die now. This is the prep."

WAH Wah wahhhhh....

You can mock and scorn if you wish, but TPS is a real condition. Don't believe me? Next time you escape a burning car, find some Aztec gold, win the Nobel Prize, and beat Johnny Depp at a staring contest all in the same day, see if you don't find yourself getting a little suspicious.

On that note, the weather has been dubiously good lately...

Monday, January 30, 2012

Don't Quote Me On This

I've always been a fan of quotes. I'm also an avid supporter of humor. The combination of the two creates a land of wonder and surprises, kind of like Willy Wonka's chocolate factory (without the creepy, child-deforming candy production processes). During my mission, I kept a list of my very favorite quotes, whether they were funny, inspiring, thought-provoking, or completely idiotic. I thought I'd use up some of cyberspace to show y'all a few of my favorites, both funny and otherwise. Feel free to copy them down, but if the FBI comes knocking at your door, you don't know me.


"Hope is not the conviction that something will work out well, but the certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out."
     -Vaclov Havel

"When you see a married couple coming down the street, the one who is two or three steps ahead is the one that's mad."
     -Helen Rowland

"Never judge another, for they are fighting a great battle."

"I'd like to be a procrastinator, but I never seem to get around to it."
     -Chris Dundee

"When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Live your life so that when you die, you're the one smiling and everyone around you is crying."
     -Laura Fletcher

"As I hurtled through space, one thought kept crossing my mind- every part of this capsule was supplied by the lowest bidder."
     -John Glenn

"I once sent a dozen of my friends a telegram saying FLEE AT ONCE- ALL IS DISCOVERED. They all left town immediately."
     -Mark Twain.

"It's hard to read someone's mind when the pages are blank."
     -Jimmy Peavy

"Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always to that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great."
     -Mark Twain
"Give a man a fire and he's warm for the day. But set a man on fire and he's warm for the rest of his life."
     -Terry Pratchett

"Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we might oft win by fearing to attempt."
     -William Shakespeare

"How people think about themselves is often defined by what language you use to describe them."

"I used to have an inferiority complex. Then I realized that I was inferior."
     -Elder Finklea

"Life is not a rigid business of being, but a lively process of becoming."
     -Ford Lewis

"The average pencil is seven inches long, with just a half-inch eraser - in case you thought optimism was dead."
     -Robert Brault

"All great ideas look like bad ideas to people who are losers. It's always good to test a new idea with known losers to make sure they don't like it."
     -Scott Adams

"As I grow older, I pay less attention to what men say. I just watch what they do."
     -Andrew Carnegie

"I don't like country music, but I don't mean to denigrate those who do. And for the people who like country music, 'denigrate' means to 'put down.'"
     -Bob Newhart

"An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it will also make a better soup."
     -H. L. Mencken

"Two things are infinite: the Universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the Universe."
     -Albert Einstein

"For every minute you are angry, you lose sixty seconds of happiness."
     -Ralph Waldo Emerson

"We spend the first twelve months of our children's lives teaching them to walk and talk, and the next twelve years telling them to sit down and shut up."
     -Phyllis Diller
"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."
    -Dr. Seuss

Thursday, January 26, 2012

"What If...?"

One day, physics and imagination got together to devise a prank on all of humanity. I call it the "What If...?" principle. You've heard of it before, but probably never like this.

However many times a day/week/month, each one of us finds ourselves in a situation that has a potentially fantastic (but very unlikely) ending. For example, you snag a Snickers bar, and the label lets you know that they're giving away a $500,000 cash prize to whoever is lucky enough to find the green-colored salmon hiding under the wrapper (or something like that). You then ask yourself, "What if I was the one with the salmon...?" You open the candy, and find instead a fuchsia-hued grizzly bear. Oh well...

You Lose.

 Or maybe you're walking around the mall, and you see the back of someone's head, and you're instantly reminded of that crush you had in 10th grade. "I wonder if, after so many years, I happen to bump into them? Wouldn't that be nuts?" Turns out, it's not that heart-throb from the hormone-laden years of high school, but rather a guy whose mullet looks just like your crush's curly locks from 50 yards. The only damage done: an awkward cringe.

But sometimes that salmon is hiding in that wrapper. That person is your old crush, who, turns out, had (and still has) a crush on you, too. It's those few times when the "What if...?" principle pulls through, and you're left dumbfounded at the intricate complexities of the Universe. Or at how pretty your ex (current?) crush's eyes are.

Why am I rambling on about all this? Because the "What If...?" complex has a nasty side, and y'all need to be warned. Story time:

Yesterday, I was making a Walmart run with my roommates, and I spotted one of the three sodas that I'll actually seek out: Sangria. I'm not really sure what it's flavored after (I'm not sure anyone is...), but it's fantastic nonetheless. I snagged two of them, and picked up a gallon of milk.

Beautiful, delicious Sangria.

While making my way to the check-out register, I had a random, from-out-in-left-field thought (most "What If...?" questions are). I mused to myself: "What if I dropped one of these? Would they break or survive the fall?"

About 2.58 seconds after that thought made its way through my brain, I felt one of the bottles slip between my fingers. I have to admit, it was kind of cool to see time slowing down while that thing fell to its doom. I'm 6'6", folks. When I drop glass, it's a goner.

After bashfully explaining what had happened to the Walmart lady, I checked out and we headed home. On the way up the stairs, I wondered what would happen if my bag gave out. I looked down, and noticed a gaping hole, through which one of my bottles was trying to escape. I snagged it in time, though. I thought, "Wouldn't it be ironic if I almost lost it again?" That's when I slipped on the ice, and nearly dropped my bag.

I'd caught on by then: don't tempt fate about your stupid drink! After getting inside, I set down my bags and started to unload them while telling some friends what had happened. Someone made the mistake of asking, "What if they broke?" That's when my other bottle slipped, and came down on the counter, barely surviving. Before I was jinxed again, I scurried to put into the fridge, after, of course, fixing the shelf that tried to fall off as soon as I put that bottle in there.

You see? Physics and your random thoughts can give you a few "Wow!" moments, but also a few other ones that I can't name, as this is a family-friendly site. The moral of the story? If a random "What If...?" thought invades your brain, don't discard it. Sure, 99% of them don't materialize, but when that 1% does... Stay on your toes. Nature herself just might be pranking you.

Oh, and the Sangria was delicious, by the way.


P.S. If y'all have any ideas of what needs to be voiced to the Universe on this blog, stick it in the comments section. Grazie!

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

The Beginning of Something Good-ish

Hello, people of Earth!

                                                    You are here

It seems as though you've found my blog, "Mark (My Words)." Some of you may be asking yourselves, "What's this blog all about?", "What's Mark going to write about?", or "Who's Mark?"

The answer to two of those questions: this blog is about the world. It's a fantastic place, really. But, in case you haven't noticed, there are some things about it that can be a little... screwy. Some may call them imperfections or mess-ups. I call them golden. They give life a little character, and sometimes, the weird/funny/ironic stuff on this planet is what makes it so great.

So, in a nutshell, that's what this blog is all about: finding those things that make our world unique, funny, frustrating, ironic, or plain 'ol messed up, and writing them down. Someday, these chronicles may be condensed, transmitted into space, picked up by an alien civilization millions of years from now, and provide a healthy, humorous snapshot of human civilization and thought.

Or, everyone will get bored of it, and it'll join the ranks of Friendster and MySpace. Only time will tell.

If y'all have any ideas of what to put under the microscope next, let me know.

And that's that. Buckle up, folks. We're going for a ride. A hilarious ride.