Half my life, in a third of its insanity

West Civ meets my Crazy Life

2006-12-01T12:03:00.000-08:00

So, basically, I left my cell phone in my pants yesterday while doing laundry. I’m an idiot. BUT, it awakened my creative muse, as this incident, combined with the four hours of West Civ readings that I had done, inspired me to write. So, without further adieu, I present: West Civ’s most famous authors retelling how I ruined my phone.

Ezekiel

1 The word of the LORD came to me. 2 Speak unto the people of C105, that they may hearken to my words of caution. 3 And He said: Mortal, there was once two roommates, one who played World of Warcraft all day, and the other who played bass guitar all day. 4 And the name of the former was Markus, and the name of the latter was Michael. 5 Markus was content to wallow in his own filth, emerging from his room only to eat and occasionally eliminate waste. 6 His lover was his girlfriend, and so I delivered her into his arms, and made things generally awkward for his roommate. 7 His roommate Michael saw this, and decided to purify his garments in the basement of his household. 8 But woe unto him, for in his haste to rid himself of the image of his brethren, he forgot his sacred vow to Rogers Wireless. 9 For Michael had neglected to remove the cell phone from the jeans he threw into the washer. 10 And lo, when his pants emerged from the washing machine, his phone was ruined. 11 And Michael checked the warranty to see if water damage was covered 12 But alas, it was not, and Michael was ruined.

13 When I heard this, I was seized with trembling at the idiocy of the action, and stared into the great beyond for seven days. 14 And at the end of the seventh day, I toppled, and thought to myself, “Surely this Michael be the greatest tool in the world”. 15 And the LORD God concluded, saying: Take heed mortal; 16 lest the rest of my people, the ArtSci’s, fall unto such folly and turn from my grace, and I forsake them by expanding the program to 200 people.

Herodotus

The Canadians have many strange customs, including playing a sport called “Hockey”, which is our Lacrosse, but on frozen water. In addition, their prostitutes have a questionable method of operating. Every Thursday, they dress themselves up in their finest wares, and after consuming a strong, watery looking beverage distilled from potatoes known as Vodka, they proceed to Quarterus, the local brothel. There, they are intimate with the many warriors who venture far and endure long waits for the privileges of their company. They allow the warriors to fawn upon them and purchase them libations. Should they approve of the warrior, they retreat back to his domicile to engage in activities I am loath to discuss. Should they not approve, however, they will escape with the other unclaimed maidens, claiming that they have “a thing” to attend the following morning. This custom puzzles me, but it is the way of the land, and I do not attempt to justify it, for each civilization believes their customs to be superior.
They related a tale to me, about one of their people, called Michael Herman. The general consent is that he is a needy attention seeker, although some Canadians, specifically from the tribe around the area of C105, maintain that he is simply misunderstood. However, I think this is unlikely to be true, as it is preposterous to believe that someone who is simply “misunderstood” can irritate that many people.
The story they relate involves the ritual of cleansing their garments. Rather than wash them by the river, as the Greeks do, the practice there is to take them to a “laundry room” as they call it, and from there receive the aid of monstrous steel machines to clean the garments for them. Now, Michael, as they claim, had a troubling dream the night before. He dreamt he saw numbers floating all about, when suddenly a large mechanical device began urinating, drowning out all the letters. Michael awoke in a fearful state. He went to his advisor, Majik Etball, who told him to inquire again at a later date. Taking matters into his own hands, he interpreted this dream to signify his impending failure on the calculus quiz. Calculus was a form of education of the Canadians, where they take a series of numbers and letters, and arrange them in an arbitrary fashion. This process originated from the Emperor Valeriote, who reigned for 17 years prior to this time. He had hoped to emulate the Roman empire in their successes, and as such decreed that all males between the ages of 17 and 22 should educate themselves in this fashion. It was chiefly because of these actions, as I believe, that the revolt led by Miro (or The Silver Fox, as the Amazons knew him) occurred, which I will detail later.
Hoping to avoid his failure, Michael retreated to the basement of his domicile, in order to facilitate the use of this “laundry room”. To be fair, some other accounts claim that he first tried to seduce the girl, Pszvddrivdder, who lived down the hall from him, but only after the third slapping did he relent and proceed down to the basement.
Once in the basement, in his haste to get his clothes into the machine, he neglected to remove his phone from his pocket. Upon his removal of the pants, which were unlike our Greek pants, as they were comprised of a stitched blue canvas, with the name “Levi” written all over it, he realized the true meaning of the dream. He fell to the floor, crying in anguish over the loss of his beloved cell phone.
This is the tale that the Canadians relate to me; I did not see it first hand. However, in one of my travels to Brandon City, in order to discuss with a female patron of Quarterus the large sores that were appearing on my personage, I did come across a man who fit the description of this Michael, wandering the corridors, inquiring if anyone had a blow-dryer for him to borrow.

Plato

Socrates: When we last convened, were we not discussing the shortcomings of man?
Timaeus: Yes, you are so right! Why must you be so perfect at everything?

Socrates: And were we not discussing how often it is the hubris of the individual that leads to his ultimate downfall?

Critias: Yes, oh gods yes! Please Socrates, may I please fellate you, you are so good at philosophy?!

Socrates: Let us wait until the class is dismissed. Now, did not the fourth member of your party promise that they were to attend this class?

Hermocrates: His head exploded when he found out that you knew his name.

Socrates: Alas, this is tragic. Nevertheless let us proceed to debate the nature of human failings. Now Timaeus, you said that you wished to discuss this subject, and had prepared an eighty page dissertation on the matter.

Timaeus: Yes, this is true. Now, if we postulate that humans can have failings, and that these failings manifest themselves in actions, then either these actions are stupid or they are idiotic or they are unknown to be smart. Now clearly since we cannot fathom that which is unknown to be smart, seeing as how it is unknown, we can then see that all human action can be perceived as either stupid or idiotic. Now, what is the proper shape of idiocy or stupidity that manifests itself in our perception? It is foolish to assume that it would be larger than five sides, for as we know, five is the days of the schooling week, and where else is a human to commit follies than at school? We can then subdivide this pentagram into seven equal sections, each consisting of area 1, 2/3, 3, 16/3, 6, 27/4, and 7. From the largest subdivision of this area, we see a pants-like shape of the pentagram. This pants-like shape is surely the shape of the “fool” particles of human nature. Furthermore, the shape of area 27/4 takes on the appearance of a cell phone. Supposing that this shape is also of some significance, one can clearly see a trend towards some sort of catastrophe, involving the two aforementioned shapes. Now, these shapes are constantly interacting, such that the shape of the pants is also the shape of the phone, while the shape of the phone is also the shape of the pants, and the two can simultaneously be the shape of the other while still being a distinct shape of their own, and maintain their shapeliness of their shape and form, that is, pants and phones, except when they crash causing liver failure, should the aforementioned pants to phone collision and interaction occur in the human body. However, there is the consideration of freewill to take into account, and as such, we should disregard the entire paragraph above, and instead view the conundrum from this perspective.
The human shape is concerned with hygiene, specifically when pertaining to the garments. Thus, the Living Being who created us also fastened steel plates, hoses, and spinners together, to create devices to aid in our cleaning. Now, if we postulate on the existence of the phone, and the convenience that the Living Being placed on man when pockets were created to store the phone, it becomes apparent that the Being wished for us to have the maximal enjoyment from these pockets. However, because of the nature of humanity, the bile sometimes clouds the judgment, and instead of removing the phone from the pockets, the human instead neglects to take it from its place in the pocket, and in doing so ruins the device that he so sought to preserve. Now, if that is not an example of human folly, then I know not what is. And therefore, human failings can be seen perfectly in this example, which is so clear and simple, even a simply layman could comprehend it.

This is how I study for Tanach

2006-06-09T14:04:00.000-07:00

So this past Wendesday was my Tanach exam. Tuesday night at around 11 PM, I had just wrapped up studying, when it hit me: These stories are exceptionally stupid. So, in order to point this out, I went down to my room, and began typing. Three days later, while other's were studying for chem, I had produced the following:

“Are you sure we should do this?” Jacob said, in his typical nasally voice.
“Yes, for the love of God, yes,” Rivka snapped, irritation clearly present in her voice.
“Not so loud! You know He could hear you!” he retorted, taking up the matter of fact tone that made you think he was lecturing a Canaanite. “He IS omnipotent! Duh!”
“Jacob Nimrod Ben-Yitzchak, do NOT take that tone with your mother.”
Rivka rubbed her temples. Of course she should have anticipated this, she thought to herself. Nothing was easy with this child. Turning to the heavens, she wondered what she had done to deserve a son like this. Well, except maybe for that one time when she and Laban went down to Sodom for that weekend, and after a few barrels of that Manishevitz…and those goats…but no, even then she’d done penance for that.
Glancing skyward, she wondered how she even got roped into this whole crazy family. One minute she’s standing by the well, shooting the shit with Batshel about that scandalous new episode of ‘Desperate Midwives’, when this raggedy looking man pulls up with this caravan of camels. She could still remember that day. He was just sitting there, muttering to himself about ‘a sign’ and ‘what a crackpot job this is’. He looked tired, windswept, and exceptionally thirsty.
“Excuse me sir,” she had said, “you look very tired and thirsty. Would you mind not collapsing around the well? We need to get at it to survive.” “Please,” the stranger had responded, “could I get some water?”
“Uch, fine, come over here and drink out of the sheep’s trough”
She remembered the wide-eyed stare that he had given her. She felt a chill going down her spine. She suddenly had a premonition that this man would be trouble. She was right.
“Umm…,” he started, timidly, “are you sure you don’t also want to give my camels a drink?”
“No,” she had responded curtly, “we need every drop for ourselves.”
“Are you sure? They’re awful thirsty…”
“No, quite sure. Water’s precious around here, in case you didn’t notice.”
“Positive? Because it would be veryyyyyy nice”.
“No, look, I told you – we’re in the desert! Hello? Miles of sand?
“Pleaseeeeeeee? I’ll be your friend”.
“NO! Now leave me alone!”
“COME ON JUST GIVE THEM A DRINK!”
Her gaze had drifted to the bundles on the camel’s backs. Only then did she first notice that they were carrying enough jewels to fill an ark.
“Hmm…well, I suppose I could be inclined to give them some water…if you were to part with that silver nose-stud and those two gold bracelets. I need something to wear to go clubbing down at The Be’er Naked this weekend.”
His gaze drifted a moment to the camels. He shook his head, and responded.
“Ok, fine. Now would you give them a drink?”
Rivka bent over, and picked up a bucket out of the well. She threw in down in front of the camels, where they immediately began drinking. The second their lips touched the bucket, the stranger sprung up, a wild look in his eyes.
“AHA! It’s just like the sign I told God to give me! You are the one!”
“Huh? I didn’t want to I just-,”
“No, you did it! I saw. They all saw!”
“But-,”
“Lalalalalalala. Can’t hear you. Divine sign.”
After a few minutes more of this, Rivka had relented, and admitted that it was probably a sign from God, just for the sake of shutting the guy up.
“You must take me to your family,” the stranger commanded, “it’s urgent”
“Don’t you even want to know my name?” Rivka said, puzzled.
“Not important. I only need you to marry some guy”.
“What?!”
“Look, my name’s Eliezer. I work for Abraham. He needs a wife for his son.”
Rivka nodded. She knew about Abraham. He was her eccentric great uncle. Famous in the family for two things: upping his whole family and moving to some Godforsaken strip of land in the middle of the desert on a whim, and his impression of Noah using a pitcher of water and a few dessert rolls. She had been told to steer clear of him at all costs.
“Umm…well, I’m Rivka, daughter of Bethuel, but I don’t think-“
“Daughter of Bethuel?” he interjected, “do you know Elisha ben Zona”
“Ya! He goes to school with my brother! How do you know him?”
“Oh, I took camel riding classes with him”.
“Then you must know Machriel ben Shachtar”, and ummm…Pichol the Egyptian”
“Oh yeah, oh yeah, great guys. Really funny.”
After a pause, Eliezer piped, “That aside, I have to see your family right away,” and immediately grabbed her, and started to drag her to the city.
Well, one thing led to another, and before she could say anything, Rivka was whisked off to her home. After placating Laban her brother and her father with some jewels, he said that he had an urgent message for them but that some people (and at this he made sure to gesture at Rivka who was standing at the door) couldn’t hear it. They kicked her out, but she managed to stay at the keyhole, catching snatches of the conversation.
Turned out that things between good-ol’ Uncle Abe and his son weren’t going so well. Ever since an unfortunate incident where Abraham tried to sacrifice Isaac in the middle of Eliezer’s bachelor party (Abraham maintained that this was commanded by God, although one wondered how clear God’s word was at the bottom of three goat’s bladders of wine), the two had drifted apart. Isaac spend all day alone in the field, drawing in his papyrus notebook, writing in his journal, and listening to bands like Something Bedouin and Panic! At the Kotel. To top things off, Abraham’s wife had just died, and he was ruing sending away his Egyptian mistress just because Sarah ‘heard from Michal who spoke to Sheba that Hagar was saying how that new dress she sewed made her hips look huge’. Abraham was lonely, Eliezer said, very lonely... (at this he trailed off, and Rivka could only hear something about a ‘hand under his thigh’ and ‘an oath not to tell anyone’). So, in order to reconcile things with his son, Abraham sent Eliezer to find a wife for his son.
“So you see,” concluded Eliezer, “I need to take your daughter to be his wife”.
“Why my daughter?” roared Bethuel, “and why should I give her to a dweeb who doesn’t have the cajones to pick up a chick himself?”
“Well, your daughter fills all the stipulations: She’s a member of his family, she’s female, and she’s not a sheep.”
“What about looks?”
“That won’t be a problem. Isaac is…how shall we say…ass-ugly, and is in no position to choose”
“Ok, what’s in it for me?”
“Umm…hello?! Did you not see that giant caravan of jewels? All yours for the simple price of your daughter”
At this Rivka had barged into the room, and snapped, “Daddy! You cannot be serious! There is no way that I will-“
“Ah, you hear that?” Laban stepped in, “she said she will. Let’s send her off on her way.” Without another word, the transaction was complete, and without so much as a kiss goodbye, Rivka was whisked off to her new life with Issac.
Rivka remembered how enraged she was, and how she covered her face the first time they met, so that maybe he wouldn’t recognize her, and she could slip off with the next Ishmalite caravan to freedom. But, little by little, his nerdy endearing nature had worn off on her, and she eventually consented to marry him.
It wasn’t all sweetness and light, Rivka reflected, but it was fine enough. She wasn’t sold on the whole “matriarch” thing, thinking this was just a phase of his, like the well digging, and he had a tendency to fold like a cheap tent whenever someone tried to take his property, although he continued to insist that he was just ‘being the bigger man’. But overall, it was a good life, but for the kids.
The kids. Rivka had to surpress a groan whenever she even thought about those two, starting even from their birth. When she went into labour, it felt like someone was exploding themselves in her belly. For almost 36 hours, she sat there and struggled, racked with pain, and of course, Isaac had forbidden any form of epidural herb, saying “These are the next generation of Jews you’re giving birth to. I don’t want them being druggies!”. Well, if those two were the future of the Jews, then she wanted to cash in her stake in that particular following now.
Esau, the firstborn, was a nutcase. Completely hairy, even from birth, he was tormented by the other kids, who called him ‘The Hairy Hebrew’, ‘Wolfyid’, and ‘Sheepfucker’. As a result, he grew up as an angry kid. As soon as he could walk upright, he had his hands on a bow and arrow, and whenever he was angry, he would go out into the wilderness and “let out his emotions” on a few dozen wild stags or hares. But for some reason, Isaac took a shine to him. Rivka thought it was because he saw in Esau all the characteristics that he didn’t have: strength, passion, and vitality. Lord knew Rivka didn’t get enough of those from Jacob. The two of them could always been seen out in the field together, trying to hunt, even though the closest thing Isaac had ever come to hunting was pinning his own hand to a tree while trying to fire a bow.
It could have been worse for Esau though; he could have been Jacob. Rivka knew Jacob would be a handful right from the get-go. When she had given birth to him, he was clinging onto his brother’s heel so pitifully, and he first opened his squinty eyes that rested just above the biggest schnoz she had ever seen, he had a look that said, “Oy, it’s cold in here. Couldn’t I stay just a little longer in that womb?” Jacob was the antithesis of Esau. While Esau was out hunting, Jacob was inside counting Isaac’s livestock, and making sure that the amount of sheep correlated to last year’s Hamurabi Tax Form. While Esau skinned and cleaned the animals with his bare hands, Jacob wore gloves to brush his own teeth. Esau would play ‘Hunter’ with his little gang of friends, Jacob would play Druze’s and Dragons with the three neighborhood 20-year olds who still lived in the basement of their parent’s tents. He would be the kid who went outside in two robes, even in the middle of the desert, just because he was afraid of catching the plague.
Still, he was loveable, in his own ‘sad-puppy-that-no-one-wants’ way. And besides, he was a bright kid. He had studied the Torah so much, that he had memorized it verbatim. Of course, it was only 27 Chapters at the time, 12 of which was just his family tree, but still, you had to give him credit. And sure enough, when he wasn’t bugging her about whether she had gotten full value for the five shekels she had just paid for her goat cheese, Rivka grew to love him more than Esau. At least with Jacob, you knew what you were getting, not like Esau, one minute laughing and joking, and the next threatening to kill you because you asked if there was a hair in your lentil soup.
Of course, lentil soup was one of his sore spots. Contrary to popular belief, Esau hadn’t originally wanted to sell his birthright for just a bowl of lentil soup. At first, Esau had wandered into Jacob’s tent, about to mess around with him by slinging his freshly killed gazelle carcass on his study table (an action which Esau knew would make the finicky Jacob blanche and run for his disinfectant) and jokingly asking him how much the carcass would fetch for. Upon hearing a reasonable price cited by Jacob, though, he decided to pursue this transaction further.
“Okay, so you’ll give me ten shekels for the hide?”
“Well, ok, for you, and this is only because I like you, I will take your birthright off your hands also”.
“My birthright?! Why that?”
“Are you kidding? Do you know what you’d have to pay in Damescus? At least twice this! And I’m letting you give me all of this for only 5 shekels”.
“Five? Wasn’t it just 10?”
“Okay. For you, seven. But you have to give me your firstborn child too”.
“Umm…”
“Ok, if you don’t want to make this trade, I know this lovely couple up the Jordan who would just love to get their hands on…”
“No, wait! Okay, seven shekels”.
“Six”.
Their negotiating eventually progressed to the point where Esau was giving Jacob his carcass, birthright, first and second born son and the reins to his new camel, while receiving in return Jacob’s thermos of lentil soup (lentils being the only thing that Jacob’s sensitive stomach could stand). Esau walked out of the time thinking that he was getting a shrewd deal, but upon talking to his mother, he realized how ripped off he got. Esau stumbled off, swearing revenge.
Which brought them back to today. Isaac, who was getting on in years, had decided to confer upon Esau his blessing. Esau had gone to great lengths to remind Jacob that it was he, not Jacob who would receive the blessing of his father, engaging him in such conversations as “Hands up if you’re getting divine rewards” and “Hey, remember that time you got blessed with the dew of the heaven and the fat of the earth? Oh wait, that was me”. Rivka had seen all of this, and had seen enough. Maybe it was her intuition that no good would come out of Esau, maybe it was because she had just had a fight that night with Isaac about him doing nothing but sitting on his ass (he had been riding around all day on his donkey), maybe it was just because she was having ‘her special messiah’ come visit her that month, but she knew that Isaac couldn’t be allowed to bless Esau. And so, when Esau left to go hunt the blind Isaac some food, she dragged Jacob out of his tent, and told him the plan. Needless to say, the timid Jacob was far from convinced.
“Jacob Nimrod ben-Yitzchak,” she repeated, “you are going to go along with this plan, whether you like it or not.
Jacob blinked his eyes in the bright sunlight, and whined, “Ema, I look like a bloated ram with this stuff on”. Jacob was wearing Esau’s best clothing, that Rivka had picked up off the floor of his tent next to his hamper. However, Esau being more ‘festively plump’ then Jacob, the clothing hung limply over his scrawny figure, about four sizes too big.
“Nonsense, you’ll grow into it,” dismissed Rivka, “and the sheepskin brings out your complexion”. To emulate Esau’s hairiness, Rivka had also covered his arms with sheepskin. “But I have allergi-ACHOO,” sneezed Jacob, “wool makes my eyes water, and gives my skin a very nasty rash”.
“The back of my hand is going to give your head a nasty rash if you don’t get going! Now, do you know the plan?”
“Sigh, yes mom. I go in there, give him the meat and tell him its venison, even though it’s in fact sheep”
“Tofu sheep substitute, actually, we were all out of regular sheep. But honestly, you can’t taste the difference.”
“Fine, I go in there, get the blessing, and then hightail it out of the tent before he catches on”
“Perfect. Don’t let me down”
“You know, I still don’t think this is smar-,”
“GET GOING!”
Jacob slinked off, meal in hand, into his father’s tent, while Rivka waited by the entrance, to savor in her triumph.
When Jacob entered the tent, Isaac yelled out loudly to him, “Rivky? Is that you?”
“No father, it’s-,”
“Hey Honey! Remember that time when Abimelech walked in on us when we were being intimate? What a square!”
Rivka rolled her eyes. She remembered that night well. Everyone in the city had thought that they were brother and sister, and for the rest of her stay, she had gotten condescending smiles and comments of how close she and her brother were.
“No dad,” Jacob insisted, “it’s me. Esau. Your eldest.” He immediately turned heavenward and muttered, “you see! You see! I never admitted to anything. I wasn’t trying to trick him, it’s a misinterpretation is all”.
“Esau! Back so soon?”
“Umm…yes, the hunt went well.”
“You were gone for two minutes”
“I said it went really well”
“Well, what have you got for me?”
“Umm…it is…er-ah, fine…umm…dish…of v-v-v-v-…”
“Never mind, just give it here”
Jacob grabbed the bowl in Jacob’s trembling hands and began devouring the contents immediately. After thirty seconds, he belched loudly and threw the plate on the ground.
“That was delicious son! Much better then that drek your mother cooks”
An audible sigh emitted from the front of the tent.
“What was that?” exclaimed an alarmed Isaac.
“Umm…that was me…emitting….gas”
Isaac let out a boisterous laugh. “Hahaha! That’s my boy!”
Jacob laughed nervously. Already he had begun to break out in a hot sweat, and a large rash was developing on his back, which he knew wouldn’t go away, even with his special cream, if he didn’t get out of the sheepskin soon. How did Esau do this for his whole life?
“I suppose you want your blessing now?” Isaac remarked, cutting off Jacob’s thoughts. “Fine, fine, come over here.”
“Oh, dad, tha-a-a-ACHO!” sneezed Jacob.
Isaac snapped up, and said, “Esau never sneezes like that. Esau isn’t a weakling
like my other son, Jacob”.
“I am not a…”
“What’d you say?”
“I…said…I’m not a weakling…like Jacob. I’m all man.”
Isaac paused for a moment, inhaled deeply, and said, “Well, you certainly smell like Esau. Like a man, you know, blood, sweat, B.O. Not like Jacob. He smells like fish and hand cream.
From the mouth of the tent, Rivka muffled a chuckle. Well, it was true. Jacob was a soft one. If only he’d been like his middle-namesake, Nimrod. Now there was a man, Rivka reminisced. Nimrod had been Rivka’s great-great-great-great-step uncle, who had lived out in Babel. He had had a dream to construct a large, high-rise condo in the middle of the town, and charge top dollar for rent. Well, construction had gotten a little out of hand. Nimrod kept saying, “well, just one more floor, and I could be pulling in 3 more G’s”. Of course, after a while, the Moabite and Hittite workers started fighting about who cooked the better shwarma, one of the Amorites insulted the mother of one of the Girgashites, and before you could say ‘Jihad’, the whole darn thing had come falling down. Ah well. Rivka was sure one of her kids would have a better time in real estate than him.
Jacob blew by Rivka, interrupting her thoughts. He stormed out of the tent, and hurried over wordlessly to his tent. Rivka could tell he was upset. She entered the tent hesitantly, to see Jacob throwing off the sheepskin in a huff.
“How’d it go honey?”
Jacob looked up indignantly.
“How’d it go? How’d it go?! I stand, melting in that sheepskin, while he devours the meal I brought, and calls me a weak-willed pansy. Then he has to smell me, which was NOT an experience I want to repeat. Then I had to kiss him for gosh-sakes! KISS HIM?! You married a sick man, let me tell you. Then he inhales, and says that I remind him of the fields. The only thing I could smell was the manure, which was also how I was feeling at this point thanks to the sheepskin!”
“But you got the blessing?” asked Rivka
“Oh yes. The blessing. Let’s see, where to begin listing my endless blessings? The grain of the field, and the fruit of the vine. Great to know I’ll never be sober or carb-free again. Or the dew. Great to have, if we HAD ANY GRASS IN THE DESERT! Or to have people serve me. How would I ever get by otherwise? Oh, right, with the HUNDREDS of slaves that we already have! The old man was so loopy that he even said the same thing twice!”
“Well come on Jakey,” said Rivka, trying to soothe him, “you had fun, didn’t you?”
“Fun? FUN?! That was the worst experience of my life! And now Esau’s gonna kill me when he gets home.” Rivka tried to interject, but Jacob continued. “I’m running away from home. I’m going to live with Laban in Haran.” At these words, Jacob began packing a travel bundle.
Rivka did nothing to stop him. She was used to these threats. When he was 10, Jacob had run away, claiming that he was never coming back. He showed up two days later, haggard and shaken, having had to sleep outside with, “not even a bed of straw or something sanitary to sleep on”.
In a few minutes, Jacob had walked out of his tent, and was soon nothing but a speck in the distance. Rivka watched his figure disappear. She knew he would be back in four days, a week max. Like a kid of Jacob’s mettle could stay away from home for 20 years?
But Rivka was satisfied. She knew that Jacob was secure as the heir to the Jewish people. Even if he didn’t appreciate it now, he would be grateful to her in the future, when schoolchildren become obliged to learn his name and every one of his children
Her last thought, however, was of doubt. Could this be how things were meant to be? Were the Jewish people meant to spring from this anemic, nebbish, finicky, cheap, skinny boy with a big nose who still couldn’t eat fish because it upset his stomach?
“Na,” she thought, “I’m sure God will intervene somewhere along the line and change that.” After all, what kind of Chosen People were accountants?

This is Michael Herman saying, "When someone says that something is long, hard and a pain in the ass, they're not typically referring to chemistry."

PS - "Hehe"

2006-04-20T16:28:00.000-07:00

Yes, my hiatus is over, at least for now. Turns out that contrary to my belief, public nudity IS an arrestible offence. But no worry, one rock hammer and three posters of 1960's models later, I'm a free man (thank you Shawshank Redemption).

In my absence, I've noticed one thing in this work-a-day world of ours: Mace really stings when you get hit in the face with it. But another thing of note is how little one knows about the other religions that are not one's own. So, to that extent, I have provided a small but insightful guide to every world religion.

*DISCLAMER* No, I do not in fact know every religion in the world. But if I dont know about it, it's not important. Deal with it.

Religions!!!

Judiasm

Pros: Arguably the first major religion, this religion was the first to create the concept of charity, unbiased judgement, and guilt. This belief system believes in a singular God, who created the world, can do whatever he wants, and stirs the pot whenever he feels things are getting too dull around here. These people have a proud history of surviving all opperssors, having a strong bond to the State of Israel, and of never paying retail, no matter what. Thess people are surprisingly resiliant, outlasting the Persians, Babylonians, Syrians, Greeks, Romans, Ottomans and Palestinians (assuming the Messiah comes sometime really soon). By being a member of this sect, you can also make lots of jokes about having big noses, being cheap, and about controlling the world. Hell, you COULD feasably control the world.

Cons: Persecuted is kind of an understatement. EVERYONE hates you: The Arabs, the French, hell, even the Swiss probably dont like you. You guys have been history's whipping boys. Oh, and unlike many of these other religions, you don't have one or two rules; you've got 613 of them. From what you can and can't eat, to what you can and can't sodomize, this religion makes sure that no matter what you do, it's probably wrong. Oh, and remember that Israel thing? You're the one's being blown up.

Roman Catholic

Pros: One of the world's biggest religion's, and arguably the most influential. This group of followers believe that Jesus Christ, the most successful Jew to go into his father's business, died for our sins, and after coming back to life, packs it in after three days, and tells us he'll come back in a while, when we're ready. Kinda like the gopher in Groundhog Day. Two thousand years later, they're still holding out. Being a part of this religion allows you to be saved during the rapture (always a plus). Plus, taking a bath saves your soul, and a little bread and wine is like eating Jesus.

Cons: EATING JESUS?! What the hell is wrong with you?! Isn't he like your God? Plus, you have to take shit from an 85 year old man, who is horribly out of touch with the world, has lived in the same place for years, and has never touched a woman in his life. If you wouldn't take advice from that Star Wars nerd from down the street, why would you take it from him? Plus, your doctorine changes on a daily basis. "Ok, we dont eat meat. Ok, fine, but not on Fridays. Fine, Friday's too. And women aren't people. Fine, they are, but not really. And we really dont like the Jews. Fine we do- JOKES, we don't. Ok, this time we do. But that doesn't mean you can have protected sex. Yes, even you Africa."

Prodestant

Pretty much the same as Roman Catholic, but you don't listen to the Pope, eat Jesus, or get born evil.

Mormon

Pros: Polygamy's your thing? Well, this is about the only sect that still allows it. Double to septuple your pleasure with as many wives as you see fit. This ultra-religous group of Christians believes in the evils of modernity, from pornography, to beer, and even evil, evil electricity. They live in their own communities, living a simple life of farming, praying, and fighting the devil (it's kind of like Batman, but substituting pitchforks for the bat-belt and a horse and buggy for the Batmobile). Living in the thriving metropolises of Waterloo and Salt Lake City, you will never have to worry about pissing off God, because you never do anything to piss him off. It's a lot like being Canadian. Plus, can you go wrong with anything that Jon "Napoleon Dynamyte" Heder is a part of?

Cons: In response to the last question posed, yes, you can go very wrong. Do you like drinking? Can't do that. Promiscuity? Nope. Driving? Get used to a horse and buggy. Lights? Use a lamp, electricity is a sin. Hours and hours of mind-crushing prayer and servitude? Well then, you're in luck. And let's face it, how exciting IS Jon Heder's life? All he does is stay at home, and fend off calls from people who either say what a hack he is, or ask him to say "IDIOTS! Gosh!".

Islam

Pros: Hate women? Like oil? Enjoy being insurgents? Then this is the faith for you. Founded by Mohommed, who was spoken to by God, this distinguishes itself from every OTHER religion that was started by God talking to one guy, by having one of the most violent histories in the world. From their auspicious start (Hey, wanna join us? Ok, now that we've killed everyone you hold dear?), to the modern day Arab world, this is definatly the most aggressive religion. By joining this faith, you not only inherit 22 of the most oil-rich states in the world (and thus control the world even better than the Jews), you also are granted Allah's divine protection. That means that if you die killing an infidel, you are granted 72 virgins. Because anything less would be inacceptable (although no one really knows what happens on the 73rd day). Plus, you can stick it to those heathens in America.

Cons: America, specifically George W. Bush, is out to kill you. So...ya...watch out for that. If you're a woman, you have little rights other than "bear my children" and "cover every part of your body". Plus, you can be sold for a goat (two, if the market value's good). As well, some of your countries are run by dictators. Really it's just Iran. And Syria. And Lebanon. And Saudi Arabia. And Jordan. And Egypt. And the UAE. And of course, there has to be a REASON that those 72 women were virgins in the first place.

Buddism

Pros: Like being confused? This religion is perfect for you. Founded by an obese Asian man, this religion mostly focuses on asking questions. Such questions include "What is the sound of one hand clapping?", "What is Zen?" and "Where is truth?" (Although later historians now believe that most of these questions originated when Buddah dropped his "Zen-truth" brand sugarcane on the floor, and his stubby fingers were unable to reach it). This path of life is focused on solitary meditation, weaning off the dependence of mateiral goods, and of living a life of reflection. It's no wonder that some of the most dedicated followers are monks and homeless people. This religion also makes you sound really cool. It's like the exotic sports car of world beliefs. All the women will be all up on's when you tell them at a party that you practice Buddhism.

Cons: You will never be allowed to touch these women. Also, depending on how observant you are, you might not be able to dance, listen to music, drink, or sleep in a big bed. Kind of makes going to a party pointless. As well, the questions you focus on? They're called 'Unanswerable' for a reason. And Buddah? He died after eating a pork meal. Do you really wanna trust your future to a guy who couldn't overcome an ulcer? Finally, the Chinese are killing you in Tibet, and it isnt looking so peachy for you guys there in general

Hindu

Pros: Tired of worshipping one diety? Well, Hindu has a bunch to choose from. From the elephant headed guy, to the six armed chick, there's something for everyone who has a thing for men/animals or polylimbed gods. Another plus is that you become reincarnated. That means that you get to relive all of life's good experiences - having sex, graduating, being aquitted for second-degree murder. As well, arranged marriges are all the rage! Too ugly to get a bride? As long as you have enough wheat and livestock to pay the dowry, it doesnt matter! Plus, these guys invented yoga!

Cons: Being reincarnated also means reliving all of life's bad experiences too - puberty, rejection, sickness, rejection, humiliation, bullies, horrible horrible rejection. Oh, and like the washing machine, you're stuck in an infinate spin-cycle of reincarnation. UNLIKE the washing machine, you cant open the top and stop it. Plus, you could come back as something horrible, like a dog, a bird, or a Russian. And to top it off, there's something called the "Ultimate Reality". I didn't bother to research it, but I assume it's like Virtual Reality. Virtual Reality makes me dizzy and disoriented. When I'm dizzy, I hit things. When I hit people, they stop liking me. So following Hinduism will make you lose friends

Scientology

Pros: Tom Cruise does it. That should be enough for you people. But if you need more convincing, consider this - what sounds more rational: we were created after a fight between good and bad aliens, and that our innate evil comes from the vaporized bad aliens we inhale in the air, and that trauma experienced in childhood causes depression, and so birth should be done in silence -OR- we were created by an invisible, all powerful thing, a creation which is in opposition to every known scientific evidence, and this guy cares about us, but not enough to intervene in our lives when we need it (but still needs our servitude), and as part of our covenant, we either cut off our foreskins or dunk our babies in water to save thier souls? Thought so. Plus, if you're sick of paying through the nose for medical care, you dont have to worry about 'psychiatrists' or 'medicine' as both are unnatural and Godless. And of course, you have a network of brothers to lean on, provided you pay your 2 grand a month to the brotherhood.

Cons: Telling women to be quite while something falls out of their orifices is all good and well in theory, but it's a whole different story in practice. And once that flesh cut becomes infected with tetnus, penecillin doesn't seem go bad after all. Oh, and the whole "People will never take you seriosuly again in your life" thing. That's a concern too.

So there you go. I think this has made it abundantly clear which path is the best: Atheism.

This is Michael Herman saying - "Write a book: It's the fifth best thing you can do with your hands"

PS - " Writing poetry is the ninth"

Committed

2005-12-18T14:48:00.000-08:00

I'm not good with commitment.

That's a phrase I've heard so often over the past little while, it's starting to drive me mad. Friends, family, classmates, all seem to have some fear of commiting. It's not as if they are bad people. Most of them are fine people, other than that one fault. Men afraid to commit to a job. Women afraid to commit to a man. Boys afraid to commit to being on time. Girls afraid to commit to a fashion or style. All of them afraid to commit to the truth.

What is commitment, that makes it so scary, so fearsome? By committing, are we selling a part of our souls? No. Are we making life changing decisions? No. Are we giving up something precious of ours in order to gain it? Again, No. So why is there such an aversion to it in this day and age?

Nowadays, when everything has to be measured in immeiate gratification, the idea of commitment is fearful. People don't want to wait for things; they want the most possible, and as soon as possible. The idea of commitment, of perhaps delaying your pleaure for a brief period, to do something for someone other than yourself, is foregin to us. We are all too wrapped up in our immature thoughts to commit to anything else.

But I'm young, I have often heard, and I just want to have fun now. Experiment, and I'll settle down later, and commit then. But when is later? The flirts and playboy's of adolescence wind up the bachelors and spinsters of old age. The drifters, who can never stick with something, never find anything to stick to. We claim that we can stop when we feel right. But again, when is right? Like an addiction, without knowing how to stop, we can never turn off the desire to keep moving. If you constantly train yourself to drift, you'll never know how to settle down.

The idea of non-commitment says that there is always better. That we should not chain ourselves to one thing, because there will always be something better out there, something more enticing, more thrilling, that we should strive for. But of course there will be. There will always be, and there's naught any of us can do about it. If you keep playing ''Keep up with the Jones's'' you'll wind up not only missing the Jones's, but also your own happiness. Is it so hard to say "Yes, what I have isn't the best, but I'm happy with it"? We often find ouselves pining after hopeless dreams, because we cant accept, can't commit, to the hand that fate has dealt us.

By saying we're afraid of commitment, we're saying we can't be trusted. That we can't even summon the basic human decency to say that you can be counted on. That, although someone else may count on us, depend on us, need us, we can't recpriocate. This idea of fear of commtiment, essentially says a fear of maturity. A fear that you should own up to what you do. That you should stand by something, through thick and thin. By distancing yourself from any form of commitment, you show that you don't want to grow up, and deal with the hard facts of life, that sometimes you need to stop leading a wishy-washy life, trying to aviod responsibility and make a stand. A stand on some idea, some person, some THING.

So the next time you say you're afraid of commitment, stop and think of what you're actually afraid of, about why you're saying this, and whether or not it's commitment that really scares you.

Otherwise, you could be commiting yourself to more than you barganned for.

-MJ Herman

Secrets

2005-11-22T20:52:00.000-08:00

I have a secret.

I can't tell you when I heard about it. I can't say who it's about. I can't say what its about. I can't say how important it is. I can't say why it's important. All of that would serve, in some way, to betray the secret. All I can say is that it is my secret.

No one here will know what it is. Some people will think they know what it is. Some people may be mad, because they think I'm betraying their secret. Others will assume I am simply showboating. Still others will havent a clue what I'm actually talking about. I can guarantee them all that the secret I am thinking of is not theirs, nor do they know about it, or likely care.

When I first heard this secret, I was surprised. I immediatly wanted to tell someone, even though I had been sworn to secrecy. But I didn't. At the time, I'm not sure why. It may have been beacuse I didn't think it was that important. Or because I was just tired. But then, the next day, I thought about it again. And again, I thought about telling it. But this time, I was sure I wasn't going to say it. Out of respect for the secret itself, not the person/people involved.

Another period of time goes by, and still no one knows. I don't talk about it. I dont want to talk about it. And it still stays inside me. People may hint at it, or ask questions, not to me, about it. It sometimes strains and burst to leap out my mouth into the world, but I keep it in. It becomes a part of me. I wake up, and it's with me. Wherever I go, it comes with me, nagging, pressing to expose itself, if only but for a fleeting moment. But still he stays within, never to break his bonds.

It's gotten to the point why I don't even remember why I'm still keeping the secret, nor why it's so important. All I know is that I have to keep it inside, at all costs. As long as it stays inside, I keep some little hope, some little essence alive within me, giving me purpose, giving me a reason to keep fighting something, even something so insignificant.

I still haven't told a soul, and I will continue to tell no one. I will take this secret with me to the grave, perhaps out of a sense of duty, or perhaps out of a sense of obligation, to myself and the secret. The party or parties involved may have revelaed it long ago; this makes no difference. This was not their secret. It was mine. I heard it. I have carried it with me, keeping it safe for all this time, and so it remains my own. I will continue to keep it here with me, nurturing it, keeping it just inside me, always trying to escape, but I always keeping it back.

I think the world is built on secrets like this. Secrets, that may not even really be secrets. Secrets that people keep, from everyone. We all have them. Some of them are personal. Some are irrelevent, some are amusing, some are serious, some are heartbreaking, but all are important. Even if it is in fact public domain, that doesnt matter. What matters is that you BELIEVE that you have that knowledge. That you everyday, undergo the personal struggle to keep that secret trapped. This struggle, in the end, makes us better. They keep us up. They remind us that there is one little thing that we have, that sets us above the rabble. One small piece of knowledge that you have, that makes you superior to every single other person in this world.

Because, after all, for some people, that's all they have.

-MJ Herman

Why Laissez-Faire Capitilism Doesn't Work (Ayn Rand Essay, Part 1)

2005-10-25T17:24:00.000-07:00

Allright, instead of one long, boring, bigass essay, I have decided to break it down into several small writings. Much more esthetically pleasing, I believe. Alrighty....onward!

Ayn Rand, throughout her novel, The Fountainhead, promotes the idea of the 'leissez-faire' capitilist system. This system promotes a free-market economy, with almost no government intervention, short of preventing violation of one's physical rights (ie, the right not to be physically intimidated, hurt, etc.). On the surface, and as a blue-blooded capitlist myself, this appears to be a very favorable system, as it directly rewards pluck, hard-work, and dedication. As well, it appears to wean people off welfare dependance and other 'social buoys'. However, on closer inspection, one can see a number of flaws in her reasoning.

First off, as an egoist, one must believe that man (and here I use the broad term 'man' to mean human, dont get all sexist on me) will always act in his own interest. His own interest, however, often comes at the expence of others. For example, lets look back at the last time such a system was prevolant, the early 20th century. At this time, men, women and children worked in sweatshops, often more deplorable than the ones found in Third World countries today. They had to work long, hard hours, and for pennies a day. This, under this system, would be completly accpetable, as no one gets 'hurt' in a literall sense, and the owners are simply acting in their own interest. Not so grand, huh?

This system also allows for a great deal of exploitation, due to lack of government intervention. A small number of factory owners, or businessmen, in collusion, could drastically drive down the wages of the people in their employ. No one would be able to stop them, and again, it is well within the parameters of the system in place.

Another issue that arrises is one of 'collective action problems' (Note: This idea is not mine, it was published in a book, The Rebel Sell, by Joseph Heath and Andrew Potter). These are problems where everyone ought to help out, but no one person has any individual motivation for doing so. A great example in this day and age is greenhouse gasses, or the Kyoto Accord. Ultimatly, it is in every country's best interest to join the accord, to eliminate global warming, a long term problem. However, until EVERY country agrees to participate, no individual country has any motivation for spending the money to do so, because its taxes (or other expendatures) will rise as a result, while other countrys' will not. One can then clearly see how that in a Laissez-Faire Capitilistic system this would NEVER occur. There would be no environmental legislation, no minimum wage, nor any check or balance to ensure that those with the wealth do not skew the system to their favour, nor harm the planet.

This system also puts the poor at an enormous disadvantage. If, as discussed earlier, owners/those in charge collude to ensure very small wages for those in the working class, while simultaniously driving up the cost of living/education (through their increased spending as a result of the wealth aquired from giving these people small wages), soon a system will be in place that simply perpetuates the cycle of poor. Eventually, the poor will have nowhere to go, and no oppertunities, because of a system that allows cut-throat competition.

Rand attemps to argue her case through the character of Howard Roark, her arrogant, irritiating protagonist (more on him in another entry). He says, with regards to building a low income housing project, "I think it's a worthy undertaking...but not at the expense of other men. Not if it raises taxes, raises all the other rents and makes the man who earns forty [dollars a week, as opposed to 15 a week that live in the low income housing] live in a rat hole". At first, his sentiments seem appropriate: Why should the middle class suffer, because of the low income. However, again, upon careful scrutiny, one can see how this logic is flawed. We have already established how, under this system, it is very possible that neither the man who earns 15 OR the man who earns 40 could be screwed out of a decent house. But, that non-withstanding, let us speculate on what would happen if there was NO subsidized, or low income housing. In a completly free market system, there would be no housing available for the poor. Again, using the egoistic arguement, this is very simple: Why build houses that yield minimal income (say, for 10 bucks a month) when there is also a market for houses that will yield a maximum income (for 40 bucks a month). Acting in your best interest, one will always choose the latter. One could argue that with the perpetuaing cycle of 'poor' described, there would soon be a market for low-income housing. My counter-arguement is that although there is a market for it, the home-owners/landlords, by colluding again, would be able to all charge the maximum possible for these houses, meaning the the bottom group in any inflation rate would be cut out (that is, every year, the lowest earners wouldn't be able to afford a house, and would go homeless, but enough people in the working class would be able to afford the houses, to make it viable to build...until inflation sets in). [Note: This is not an full out endorsement of low-income housing. There are still problems with the system, such as how they perpetuate a MENTALITY of poor, and other things. However, eliminating them completly is not the answer.]

All these things show why government intervention is needed. By providing a welfare system, one can help the disadvantaged get on their feet, and allow them to better themselves, by not having to worry about a source of income. Govenrment intervention also prevents collective action problems, and from authority figures collaborating to hurt the masses. All of these things, of course, should be carefully monitored, so that welfare dependance, and over-regulation does not occur (ok, that may have been slightly contradictory, but you get my gist). Thus, I have clearly demonstrated why the Laissez-Faire Capitilist system cannot work, and why government intervention and regulation is needed in a successful economic system.

Whew...that was hard. Allright, let me know what you think. If you have read the book (The Fountainhead), or disagree with me, leave a comment, I'd love to discuss this. And so ends part 1

This is Michael Herman saying - " I wish I had something better to do with my time"

PS - *Sobs*

Ethics: A primer

2005-10-21T20:56:00.000-07:00

Well, faithful reader (yes, reader), I have returned to write some more. Surprised? So am I. Let me explain.

I am currently reading "The Fountainhead", a piece of tripe written by Ayn Rand. It has infuriated me so much, that once I have finished, I plan to publish an entry completly proving her, and that book, wrong.

In order to grease the wheels a little, and speed things up, I wanted to put a primer on some of the ethical terms that I will be discussing. Just makes things easier. Plus, I need to stroke my ego, by pretending that I am smart.

ETHICS

Egoism: Not to be confused with Egotism. Egoism is a school of thought that says that all human actions are motivated by the desire to help ones-self. This was originally invented by Thomas Hobbes. Now, just to clarify, this does not mean that people will then NEVER do a 'selfless' act, but that it will ALWAYS (and this is important) be motivated by selfish means. For example, one might give to charity (a selfless act), but do it to aleviate guilt, or to fullfill some deep-seeted need to help others. This leaves no possibility for Altruism. Which leads me to...

Altruism: An ethical doctrine that holds that individuals have a moral obligation to help others, if necessary to the exclusion of one's own interest or benefit. This doctorine believes that people can, and should, perform actions that help others, and not (nessicarily) themselves. However, usually, this is the case. The essential idea is that the action should benefit OTHERS foremost, and not ourselves. If the actions benefits ourselves more that the other person, it is not altruistic.

Utilitarianism: A variation of Altruism. This principle, started by Jeremy Bentham and John Stewart Mill, believes that one should always strive to do what delivers 'The Greatest Good for the Greatest Amount of People'. There are other parts to this philosophy, but this is the most important one. Naturally, one can see a visible flaw in it: The Greatest Good is often directly opposed to your best (and normal) interests. For example, if you were to walk in to a hospital, and three people needed different organs, it would be alright for the hospital to kill you, as it would deliver good to three people, as opposed to one (and one can infer, through logic, that the good provided to one of these people is equal to the good of you being alive).
A few more intro points:

1) I personally, am an egoist. If you really want, I can explain my position, but the only relevant thing is that it is what I believed.

2) If all humans are motivated by self-motivation, how does any morality get started? According to Hobbes (and me extrapolating on his thoughts), because humans will benefit in the long run from social order, we voluntaritly subject ourselves to a 'Social Contract', whereby we give up some of our liberties, in exchange for overall security. Thus, morality.

I think that's it, for now. I might need to update further, but I'll let you know that in my final publishing.

This is Michael Herman saying - "I'm not cynical, its just no one has proved me wrong yet"

PS - "Its true"

Day One of the New Year, and I'm off to a smashing start...

2005-10-04T18:57:00.000-07:00

Yes, the Jewish New Year has rolled around, and I have gotten off to an auspicious start.

I was volunteering at my shul, and playing chess. I don't really know what happened, but the point is, I got angry. It may have been because of my opponent cheated. Or, because of my bad mood. In any event, I got furious, and lost control. I slammed my hand down on the board, knocking the pieces over. However, I underestimated the power of small chess pieces. I cut my hand in two places, and bruised the muscle. It hurt like a bitch. It was pretty bad.

I still think my opponent made out worse. That eight year old girl won't ever be the same.

I wish I was making that up. I really do.

This is why I need these ten days of forgiveness.

This is Michael Herman saying- "What with the ACLU, Gay Pride Parade, Indian Settlements, Women's Lib, where is the organization that gives voice for the middle-class, undereducated, slightly bigoted, yound adult?"

PS - "Aside from me"

PS - "

This is the last time I'm complaining, I swear

2005-10-03T17:32:00.000-07:00

Nothing very humourous to write about today. I still have to worry about more shit, in addition to my already growing pile of things to do. I still have to get references/call NLS to figure out if I have my Bronze Cross or not, for my applicatoin to summer camps.
Plus, even getting through to NLS is a pain in the ass. Stupid lifeguards, think they can just lounge around all day, stealing my women. And by my women, I mean women who haven't maced me in the last three weeks.
AND, I have an ever growing list of expenses, meaning I can't quit my job, meaning I have less nights to do stuff:
Bass Guitar - 350
BNL Tickets - 55
John Stewart - 62 (and I might not be able to go)

Finally, I also went to the University Fair this weekend. For those of you not from Ontario, its a weekend where we go to mock certain schools (Brock, Trent, Ryerson, York, Lakehead, OUIC) and be perplexed by the rest (Western, U of O, Queens, Waterloo, U of T, McMaster). My main concern now is getting a scholarship for something. I dont know what. I'm seriously starting to panic, as I have no idea where to start, and the guidance dept is no help. Their best advice: Go to such-and-such site, they have every thing you need (They dont). PANIC!

Um....other than that, I'm doing well. Things, as always, never make sence, but that;s the fun of it. And, thanks to the Jewish Holidays, I get two days off. Sweet

So ya, Have a good year for all you Jewish readers, and for you non-Jewish readers, umm.....have fun....umm....batpizing shit...or whatever non jews do. I must return to studying chemistry (stupid organic compounds)

This is Michael Herman saying - "No YOU rip-off other people's ending lines when you are struck with a lack of creativity"

PS - "Asshole"

Im back

2005-09-28T18:35:00.000-07:00

Yes, I have returned from my mini-hiatus. Or lazyness, I'm not sure which. I've had a lot of shit to do, and I haven't the time to post here.

Plus I had nothing interesting to say.

In sadder news today, a friend of mine's father died. It was very sad. It just goes to show how fleeting our oppertunities to be with our loved ones are. For my sake, and his, give your parents/spouse/kids/significant other/pets/lawn ornament a big hug today, because I dont think we take advantage of the oppertunity to do so when we have the chance.

Now that I've stepped off my soapbox, I can get bacto compaining about my life. I don't particularily like the part I've been given in the school play (the circumstances that parts were handed out in), but I'll suffer through. Beh

Umm...currently jugging cross country (running 4 times either in the morining or after school a week), Play rehersals (Up to three times a week, after school Monday/Tuesday and Sunday afternoon's) VTO (my charity) meetings (Tuesday 7-9pm), Work at the ACC (various nights throughout the week) and school work. Plus, Improv starts tomorrow, and every Thursday afterschool, and hockey starts late october (sunday nights). No wonder I don't ahve a gf.

So ya. Posts here will be far and between. Amuse yourself's at http://filthylies.net. Hillarious comic.

OH, ps, if anyone has a good idea for an article (preferably funny topic) that would be school paper appropriate, leave a note here.

This is Michael Herman saying - "I'm just saying, if everyone thought the way I did, the world would have virtually no hookers"

PS - "Or Rainforests"

More Pictures

2005-09-03T01:46:00.000-07:00

Allright, here's my first installment of pictures from my trip. Hope this works:
(Note, I've tried to not include sappy, touristy, sight-seeing pictures, and stick to the pictures with funny stories)

So, in Poland, some stranger named Mario decided to interrupt our outdoor program, by staggeing in, and doing one handed pushups. This rather amused the males, but scared the crap out of the females.

This is taken somewhere outside Tel-Aviv, at a Bedouin tent. There were me a collection of stray dogs, and one of them took a liking to me. However, at two AM, when I was spooning with two girls, this dog decides to pay me a visit. One of the girls, being allergic to dogs, tries to get hin to leave. When I pick him up, he bites me. Eventually we manage to pacify him, and make him leave. Weird, eh?

So one day, we go hiking in the City of David, a small but ancient community in Jerusalem (but outside the Old City). We were schedueled to go to walking through the old water tunnels, and we were reassured that the water level wouldn't be high, and so there was no reason to change. But that day they're doing construction, so the water is up to my waist. So, naturally when I get out, I take off my pants to dry. The result: I walk uphill for 15 blocks, in my skivvies, until I reach the old city. Hence, this picture.

These were four Scandanavian tourists that me and my friend Gabe had a Tuborg with. Funny guys. No real story here, but they we're cool. Plus, how many Scandanavian tourists do you see in Israel?

We were sitting on a rooftop in Jerusalem, when these two Arab kids came around, and started haggiling us. The one on the left had the one on the right tied with a least at the belt, and was leading him around while the other one yipped like a dog. With a little persuasion, and by persuasion, I mean yelling, our guide managed to get them to leave. They also tried to take our stuff when we left the water tunnels.

For our week long Sea-to-Sea hike, we decided to purchase groceries for our trip. We walked in to a grocery store, and proceded to spend 600 shekels (about 200 dollars) on crackers, peanut butter, nuts, chocolate, and cereal. You can see the reciept, in the hands of the guy, third from the right.

Finally, two hillarious signs, that I loved

Thus ends Part One of my Israel escapades. More to come, when I feel like it. Oh, the post before this has the picture of me in the hospital. The story is a few posts before.

This is Michael Herman saying " When you're too tired to make up something witty, just insult minorities and ugly people"

PS "Or just Michael Jackson"

A Picture

2005-09-02T17:33:00.000-07:00

I'll update this later, but here's the picture of me in the hospital. It's great, eh?

Israeli Pimping Aint Easy

2005-09-01T01:32:00.000-07:00

Well, Fateful Readers (misspelling intentional), it's time for another one of my Israel stories. This one isn't as long or eventful as my last one, but for me, it was a lot funnier. And weirder.

After our trip through the desert, we stayed for a few days at a youth hostel in Eilat. A bunch of tired, windswept and generally weary kids get up to the floor with our rooms on it. What could be a better greeting for us then obnoxious Israeli teens?!

Upon our arrival on our floor, we immediatly were met, nay acouseted, by three Israeli teens, complete in tight t-shirts, no English, and wild libidos. They immediatly began approching girls, and trying to flirt. However, whereas our definition of flirt is 'act coy, make cute comments, and flatter', their definition of flirt is 'act rude, make direct sexual comments, and fondle'. We managed to get the girls away from them, for a little while. Me, and one or two other guys who speak Hebrew went over to them to try and dissuade them. Our conversation went as follows (bear in mind that Im translating this from Hebrew):

Me: Hey
Them: Hey
Me: Where are you guys from?
Them: Around town, and you?
Me: We're all from Canada
Them: Oh, you speak Hebrew very well
Me: I went to Herbew school
Them: Oh, so then, could you do us a favour?
Me: Um...sure
Them: Well, here, if we give you this (hands over handful of coins)-
Me: (interrupting) Wha?
Them: If we give you ten shekels (currency, relative value of a dollar), you get us...pussy
Me: Well, first off (peering into hand) this is 40 Agurot (think 40 cents). Second off, NO
Them: Why not?
Me: Because it's illegal and wrong
Them: It's not wrong! What are you, gay?
Me: Excuse me?
Them: Fine, we'll do it ourselves

At this point, they go over to a girl, who, as it turns out IS very attractive, and start harrassing her. I march over and tell them no, and when they ask why, I lie and say that she has a boyfriend, all the while telling her to run, in French. Good times.

Unfortunatly, this story has a sad footnote. These guys, later on in the week, would manage to abuse some girls. It was sad, but I have to say that the girls knew what they were getting into. If you play with matches, you're bound to get burned.

So thats my interlude for today. Until next time

This is Michael Herman saying "Who says death is bad? God? If you look in the bible, God is the leading cause of death"

PS "And vision-induced halucenations"

My Stint in an Israeli Hopsital

2005-08-31T01:46:00.000-07:00

Ok, I just got back home from my OTHER trip, to Vancouver and Regina. They're two different cities. The main diff:

Van: "We buy salmon from Haida, to support the Native Fishery"
Reg: " Indians are theifs, and I hate fags"

(both of these are actual quotes...which is scary)

Anyhow, my many readers...ok, A reader, wanted to know about my trip to the hospital. So, without further adieu...

The year, was 2005. The place was Eilat, the part of the Holy Land that God gave to the tribe that he really didnt like. You know, the one with all the blaspheming, and sin. This place is so hot, that I'm pretty sure the reason people first started living there was a dare:

Iqmal: Hey Machmad! I bet you three camels and two wives that you cannot live in the desert for more than a week!

Machmad: Well...it IS hot

Iqmal: What are you, an infidel?

Machmad: Fine, I'll do it!

Anyhoo, that racist tangent aside, our group was staying on some Kibbutz, in the desert. Already, I had been warned about the threat of dehydration, so I was drinking lots of water. However, I had a medical condition commonly referred to as 'The Runs' or 'Horrible Diahreah'. So, in essence, all the water I was drinking was coming out the other end. The result? I got dehydrated. Bad.

So, at the end of one day, after three hikes, and a beach day, I decided to take some Imodium for my bowels. Big Mistake. About three seconds later, the Imoduim makes a comeback, along with most of my diet of the previous day (which was pretty bad in and of itself).

The medic comes over and takes my temperature, which is 40 Celcuis (101 Farenheight, for those of you who are idiots). So they tell me to clean myself, and get to bed. Shortly after that, they decide that the best thing for a heat-striken, dehydrated kid is to drag him out of bed at midnight, take him in a cramped compact wiht no AC, to a hospital half an hour away.

So they take me to the hospital in Eilat. We get in, and I am placed between a sick boy, and a dying mother with her daughters. Lovely. They diagnose me with dehydration and gastro-intestinite infections....ya, I understood too. So they stick a needle in my wrist and tell me they'll hook me up to an IV. 15 minutes later, they bring the bag. 15 min later, they hook it up. Israeli effeciency at its best.

I fall asleep, and wake up with the bag half empty, and a horrid cramp in the intestines. I realised that my meds hadnt kicked in yet, and so I hightailed it (IV in tow) to the bathroom, accompanied by a fellow camper. Emerging from the room, I realised that I still had my camera in my pocket from the day's touring. Figuring this to be a once in a lifetime oppertunity, I got my pal to take a photo of me, in a hospital bathroom, giving the thunbs up, hooked up to an IV. If I ever figure out how to master this technology, I will post this picture here.

So, finally at 2 am we left, with me ironically leaving my water bottle on the ER floor. Brilliant, no? I slept the whole next day, and all was well in the Universe.

So that's jsut one of my Israel Stories. I'll post more, assuming it doesn't incriminate me too badly

This is Michael Herman saying "They say money cant buy happiness, but these people have obviously never expreienced hobo's playing tennis in a water tank"

PS "With sharks"

Yes, I have returned

2005-08-10T12:26:00.000-07:00

Much to the chagrin of the Toronto Police, The FCC, and Jewish Mother's everywhere, I managed to survive the Holy Land.

How was it, you may ask? Awesome! I had sooooooooooo much fun, and I loved every minute of it (well, aside from my stint in the hospital).

There were just too many things to describe, so I'll give you the shortlist of the most memorable moments

1) Being asked to be a pimp for two horny Israeli teens
2) Having my clothes stolen while skinny dipping, and having to run back to the rooms naked with Ben, wearing only a guitar (Ben) and a small pair of pants as a loincloth (me)
3) BUTTONS?! (Ask me about this story, its gold)
4) Fyling in what I believe was the first 767 ever built
5) Fighting with an American tourist over how I was translating Polish words using a magazine.
6) Hiking from The Medeterannian to the Galilee
7) Almost being hit by three cars
8) Being hospitalized, and taking a picture of me in a hospital room, hooked up to an IV
9) Buying 500 Shekels worth of groceries, half of which were peanut butter and crackers
10) Visitors weekend, sneaking out of our resort, buying 2 bottles of 20 shekel vodka (1 shekel = .3 CAD, .4 USD), and going to a disco that was really a bomb shelter
10) Being delayed on our flight for 6 hours, and almost getting stopped at customs, becuase, while my friends were smuggling nargila and abstence (sp?) into Canada, I had three apples in my bag.

Well, that list wasnt so short, but I get bored easily, so that's all for now. I will write later, with more detalied stories of my trip.

This is Michael Herman saying: "In the words of Aviva Rosenberg - Taking cigarettes from a smoker is like taking cake from a fat kid"

PS- Especially if the cake is made of cyanide

I could really go for a burrito right now

2005-06-30T18:22:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been almost a week since I last posted. You know what that means?

Yes, I've had to flee the country again.

But enough about my various legal and non-legal exploits. I dont really have a theme for this week's blog, so prepare to hear me ramble for a while.

All my friend's have left for camp this week, so now I'm all alone. But that's ok. I still have my loyal audience. You won't tie me in a sack and send me down a river with shackles around my ankles in an effort to get rid of me becuase I'm a bad influence on my brothers and a disgrace to the family, leaving me to free myself from the bonds by gnawing through them, pulling myself coughing and sputtering from the river, and live in the woods for three weeks on berries and streamwater, ruining my life, mom and dad? Will you?

Wait, no come back. I have other redeming qualities....I'm rich! That's gotta count for something.

In other news, I have just found out that I will be missing the Ben Folds concert, as I get back to town the same night as the concert, but an hour late. For those of you who don't know, Ben Folds, a pianist and composer of wimpy songs, is one of my guilty pleasures. The other being mailing sugar to White House executives, addressing it to "Those Infidel Pigs, c/o The White House". But what always irritated me was that it took a manner of days for those packages to arrive, but yet, when I want X-Ray specs, or my shipment of old Asian pron, I have to wait 4-6 weeks. And the glasses didn't even work. Worst $150 I ever spent. I had to go back to the old fashioned model (see, 'A Night at Porky's', or 'Any Teen Movie' for examples of the old model).

Umm....having writer's block right now. That's my problem. I can only write something good when inspiration or a blunt object hits me. I still like my idea for my story. Admit it, Deus Ex Machina is the best robot ever. For those of you unfamilliar with my idea, see the post entitled "My Brilliant Story". However, unless you are an English Lit. Professor, or just a genius, you probably wont get it.

In related news, I haven't written anything good since '9 Hours', my angsty tale of self-pity. Still looking to get that bugger published, but I haven't a damn clue how. If I haven't subjected you to it yet, ask, and I'll be sure to punish you by letting you read it. I feel like that German guy, who published that book that caused kids to kill themselves. What was his name....Boll.....Weisman.....Clinton.....something like that.

Using the wonderful tool that is the internet, I have found the author is actually Goethe. Ya, I'm sure you've heard of him too.

Well, I started writing this three days ago, and I just picked it up today. Man, I was really tired. Anyhow, my plane leaves in a few hours. So this will be it, till I can find an internet cafe that will accept human hair as payment. Have a good summer all.

I haven't heard the result of the blog war, but I'll be by after to collect my trophy.

This is Michael Herman saying: If music be the food of love, then surely Avril Lavigne is the contraceptive of love.

PS - PINK FLOYD!!!!!! AHHHH!!!!! THEY ROCK! (Except David Gilmour looks like he would bite your neck and say "You are now von of ze undead!"

This coming summer (or Why I need $10 000 in bail money)

2005-06-26T21:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, that's right, the summer is here. No more cowering indoors from the fear of the cold, or your own shadow (come on, he's fucking scary...always one step ahead of me....or parallel to me). Now we can all go outside and frolic in the enchanted meadows. Or, failing a meadow, some sort of astro-turf substitute.

But for most of us who dont spend ten months of the year cowering in the basement, chained to the wall, fighting the rats for scraps, we need something to occupy ourselves. Thus, I present a handy, dandy, portable (assuming you have a laptop or an albino and a pencil nearby):

GUIDE TO SUMMER ACTIVITIES

Summer Camp: Easily the most fun, but also the most expensive. Learn how to get along with your peers, in a questionably structured environment, with minimal supervision and chaotic organizing. Enjoy all the social malajustment fun of school without any of the educational content. On the plus side, the minimal supervision can come in handy, if you need some 'private time', either to have some fun, or to construct a life-size replica of the Abe Lincoln. And sometimes, both. Hey, they didn't call him the eMANcipator for nothing.

Summer School: If the ten months weren't enough school for you, then have we got the program for you. Learn in some of the most nurturing environments: Foregin Countries. Becuase nothing's more logical than taking English in Italy, or learning Calculus where they still use the Goat as their main currency. While it seems like an easy ticket to a good mark, ten years later, when you're filling in ditches on the 401 with Bubba-Ray as he describes his sister's problems in the bedroom because you flunked out of college, you may feel upset that you took an easy way out of your education. Or, alternatly, stay in the city, and learn from teachers who were either too inept to get jobs at real schools, or who are being punished for BEING horrible teachers by teaching other kids.

Summer Job: When you're a teen, the summer job oppertunities aren't exactally abundant or appealing. You could choose to work for an amusement park, and get trained how to push up on a bar for three hours. Or, you could get a job at a sleepaway camp that's falling apart. Or, work at a day camp for Ritalin chomping, idiotic, spoiled rich Jewish kids (a camp I went to for 7 years :D). Or, stay on the street corners, whoring yourself out to single and lonely businessmen. And sell them lemonade while you're at it. All winning jobs!

ISRAEL TRIP: Now, I'm not saying this because I'm going on one, or because it's clearly the best choice, but, lets face it, look at the alternatives. What could be better than flying on an anti-semetic airline to the armpit of Europe, going from death camp to death camp, then flying to a stretch of sand dumped in between the Meditaranian and the Jordan that people have been blowing themselves up over for years (those bastards) to hike in the blistering sun, around people whose language we dont understand, and to stop in an army base where your food, in all likelyhood, has been urinated in? ...Come to think of it, the whoring is sounding better every minute...

In related news, BILLY ISRAEL IN ONE WEEK! w00t!

So there you have, the ways in which to waste your summer away, until the next round of school comes to crush what little free spirit you had.

This is Michael Herman saying: Remember- childhood is fleeting, maturity is for adulthood, but insanity lasts as long as you stop taking the medication.

PS- Or at least the voices in my head tell me that

Reprecussions

2005-06-21T19:57:00.000-07:00

Unfortunatly, this one is not a very funny blog. It deals with a question that has bothered me throughout my blogging history, starting from the crappy MSN blog I had briefly, to this one now. My question is: Is it only me who seems to suffer the reprecussions of whatever I write on my blog.

I'll give the contrast to what I say, and then explain.

Bailey wrote about her secret crushes on her blog, changing the names around, and talking all about them, and her relation to them. No consequences. I write (in my MSN blog) about Jax, using a psuedonym as well, and I catch shit for it
Petunia McWhatevery writes about her secret crush, POSTES A PICTURE, and doesn't seem to care about the consequences. Same complaint as above.
Fromstein writes things that would get him arrested in most civilized countries, and he's seen as a 'funny guy'. I write one satirical article, and I enrage some of my closest friends.
Ben and Aviv. Get my point?

As you see, it seems to be me that suffers the consequecnes of what I write. There are a few more examples, but they aren't significant. So I'm asking: Is it just me? Cause I really dont want to feel like the only one this is happening to, and play the victim, but thusfar, I havent seen any evidnece to the contrary.

Any enlightenment would be appreciated.

This is Michael Herman saying: Help save trees, write on an albino

PS- I'm not gonna say what to write with....

The Not Associated but Sharing Similar Ideals With Va'ad Meat-Eaters Draft

2005-06-20T20:12:00.000-07:00

This was inspired by me and Fromstein. But mostly me this time. This was inspired by a conversation we had last nite, and with another conversation a had today with Ben Harris (which also compared masterbating to watching the CFL - they're both cheap substitutes for the real thing, but people seem to flock to it anyway... but that's a story for another day).

Far too often at camp, friendships are ruined over women. People get into fights, people betray one another, people obsess for too long. At one time or another, I have been subjected to all of those. But what benefit do we get for quarreling amongst ourselves? None, whatsoever. And especially in a camp environment, where we are isolated from the general population (along with many of their morals and ethics), we should not waste our time quarreling amongst ourselves. This is why I propose, for every camp to adopt:

THE DRAFT

This draft would be for all the guys. Depending on how your camp is set up, there would be two drafts: One during the first days of camp, and one half way through/second month.

The Draft Itself: The draft of women would occur within the first few days, as specified above. All the available (and by available, we mean not having girlfriends in the city, or are shomer negiah....bastards) males assemble in the room. The first overall pick would go to the most soically maldeprived, annoying, idiotic, loser. Then, after I draft, the sequence works backwards, so the coolest/pimpiest people pick last.

"But wait!" I can hear you exclaim, "Come back with my wallet!". Shortly after a trip downtown for me, you may also ask "But won't the socially challenged abuse this privilege and pick the most popular women, thus depriving the more popular, and obviously more deserving men at a shot for the glory"

"Not so fast" I would procalim. I would then draw an elaborate diagram detailing exactally how my plan would work, complete with 3D styrofoam models. But I'm feeling lazy, so I'll just tell you. The catch of this draft, is that if you pick a woman, and she turns out to hate your guts, you're stuck with her. That's right, you make a bad call, you're stuck with it. The result will be a sifting of the appropriate women to the appropriate men, while maintaining a fair playing field, and eliminating senseless competiton.

There are a few other regulations that are involved too:

The Second Draft: Because, aso the old saying goes, "Familiarity breeds contempt" no one man should be chained to one woman the entire camp experience. Midway through the camp experience, the women will be thrown back into the collective pot, and drafted up again. This is perfect because this is right around the time where people dump each otehr anyway. If you like the woman you're with, you can risk losing her in the draft to someone else, or another method, listed below. If you want a change, you can just go on ahead and pick someone new. Same rules for the women still apply.

The Franchise Tag: Lets say our Jonny B. Lucky has picked up a wonderful woman that he enjoys sharing feelings with, and buying expensive presents, or whatever other lies he has to do to get her in the sack. At the end of the first draft term (the first three weeks), he can opt to place the "Franchise Tag" on this woman. He retains the rights to her....intimacy...and she is not thrown back into the draft. The trade off is that he's stuck with her. No trading, dropping, or buyouts. He's stuck with her for the rest of camp. No way out of it. Only meant for serious commitment.

Trades: Also, because people make mistakes, like picking the wrong woman, or proposing to two seperate hookers at once, trades will be allowed. These can be one on one, or three way (hehe) trades. You can trade for other people's women, future draft choices (either the second half of the summer, or for following summers), cash, if you're really feeling like a pimp, or future considerations, if you just want to break the girl's heart. All transactions are final.

Buyouts: Sometimes, even with the best scouting, people make mistakes. Lets say our example in this story has picked a loser in the woman race. She's bitchy, she's evil, and most importantly she doesn't put out. No one will take her off her hands either. His final option: A buyout. For a trifiling sum of money (the yardstick being whatever you stuff into a stripper's waistband the first time), you can 'buy out' this girl. She will then be free to 'sign' with another male. Likewise, this now-available stud will be able to sign any free agent women, or just wait till the second draft. This buyout will affect his standing in the draft, though I haven't decided whether this will raise his status, because he's gone for a while without a woman, or lower it, cause he picked a loser, and can obviously not judge quality. If the buyout occurs in the second month, all the others will chip in and buy him a jar of lube.

Pre-Draft: The pre-camp time, or the first few days of camp. This is a perfect oppertunity to hold workouts for the soon to be drafted sweethearts and to scout them. Make them run in a combine, hot oil wressle, or whatever you deem nessicary to evaluate their 'talent'. You can sign girls to temporary contracts, with no obligation to hold onto her (namely, you can cut her at any time), simply to 'test it out'. At the date of the draft, all of these contracts are voided, unless an accord is reached by ALL the males (it has to be unanamous) as to an indivdiual's claim on a woman.

I believe that this would eliminate all woman-competition problems between men at camp. If my system is adopted, I think everyone will have a much enjoyable summer.

I now brace myself for the bevvy of "Herman you sexist pig" comments. *Scrunches into a ball*

This is Michael Herman saying: "The only true way to know that everyone loves you is to become an Oscar Meyer Weiner"

PS- Well, time to go jump in a meat grinder

Well, now that that unpleasantness is out of the way...

2005-06-18T15:35:00.000-07:00

A few techincal points before I contintue amusing you.

1) Yes, I changed the format of the blog. Much more asthetically (sp?) pleasing, don't you think. Well?! Don't you! Damnit, someone answer me....I'm so alone....

2) To clear up some misconseptions (and by some, I mean just one big one), my blog is NOT a forum for Chaz-bashery. My only post that has been dedicated to that fact is the last one. AND, while I did use the word evil several times in reference to Chaz, I didn't mean that YOU were evil, but namely that your comment-whoring was evil (and Ben abd your's ads on blogs). However, as has been pointed out to me, everyone except Fromstein is against me, and if 1984 has taught me one thing, is that whatever most people believe is right. And rats suck. So rather than continuing my fight overtly against you, I will simply withdraw into the corner, and seethe quietly.

3) My MSN name does not mean that I have a GF, its just a funny quote from Home Movies (a great show). You all should know me well enough to know that that wont happen anytime while the Earth still revolves around the Sun. But just you wait till Operation Sun-day comes into effect. What? Yes, I have been getting lazy with my names.

With these formalities aside, time to diverge into everyone's favorite sport:

Historical Revisionism!

This one is dedicated to David Fromstein: Because right now I have a sharp pain in my hand, mouth AND thigh, and I'm scared. But intrigued.

....Actually scratch that. This WAS going to be a post on something that was probably very unfunny. Instead, I get to vent about stupid Americans.

http://www.satteliteseattleite.blogspot.com/

Read this, and if you care about me at all, please let me and her know that she's wrong. Cause I really dont like Chruch and Jarvis that much. And as 'Drawn Together' has told us, it doesn't count if it was in Bizarro World.

Remember, this is Michael Herman saying: 'Closet Fag' is just another way of saying 'I love you'

PS- ....I hope....

Where are the Snowdens of yesteryear?

2005-06-15T21:05:00.000-07:00

Yes, this line is a ripoff of a famous line from Catch-22 (one of the greatest all time books, by the by). This line, spoken by Yossarian, mourns the loss of innocnece in the war. Much like Yossarian, I too have come today to mourn the loss of innocnece. Also like him, I have a love of hookers and a dead roommate, but that's a story for another day.

The innocence of which I speak is the innocence of bloggery.

In the beginning, all that existed was chaos. Not much has changed. However, in this time period, a man came forth and started writing his personal thoughts and feelings on the internet. This man was Benjaman D. Singer. He started the trail that so many other rich Jewish kids with too much time on their hands would follow. With a combination of wit, insight and slightly homo....wait, I've done this before. Point is he started the bloggery, that so many of us chose to partake in. A "Garder of Eden of Blogging" if you will. You wont? Ah well.

However, Ben grew lonely. He wanted others to share in his joy. So, following the lead of this 'God' fellow that he loved so dear, he broke off one of his ribs. After a short trip to the hospital, he decided that a better approach would be simply to tell his friends about the joys of blogging. And sex. But mostly blogging. Soon many of us were revelling in the garden of blogging, from myself, to Fromstein, to Kyle Giddens, to Bailey Spagat, and yes, even Laruen Silver, once she learned how to read. For the most part, we left each other be, pausing occasionally to comment on another's blog, or to leave death threats and burinig effigys in someone's bedroom. Harmless fun.

But our fun was short lived. A serpant soon entered in our midst, by the name of Chaz, a name we would all soon associate with "That bastard". His sinister name should have tipped us off as to his evil, from the arrogant abreviation of his two names, to the exceptionally sinister 'Z' at the end. But we were blind fools. He started off innocent enough, commenting in amusing ways on the mundane aspects of life, in a fashion that brought a tear to even the most hardened soul that I beat with a sack of doorknobs. He soon started to tempt those around him. It started (as every event in world history inevitably does) with a woman.

Lauren Silver started commenting on his blogs. It was innocent enough, I suppose. But then, she turned to her soulmate, Lee, and made him partake of the forbidden commenting. Soon many others were lured in by this madman's curse. It became a game, to see who's comments could do the most damage, much like Beat the Homeless. But this wasn't enough for the Satan known as Chaz. He was insanely drunk, much like me on Shavuot, but on power. And he wasn't going to vomit his evil in the bathroom of a synagogue, but rather, on the world wide web.

He soon reached out to other blogs of people he didnt even know. Assuming an innocent approach of "I agree with whatever you said in your most recent post", he lured in outsiders to see his blog. He would post a link to his blog in his comments, and invite others, often not even from the same continent, to view the travesty he was masquerading as his blog. This bolstered his 'popularity' further, and made it seem like he was the coolest blogger ever. Like me through a screen door, his evil knows no restraint or logic. When I tried to alert the world of this situation, he silenced with his mighty ERASE COMMENTS button.

BUT NO MORE I SAY! The time has come to rise up and defeat this meance that stands amoung us. I say to the readers of my blog, all 8 of you, boycott chazinc.blogspot.com. It is because of this man, that a great blogger has retired. It is because of this man, that the web is that much slower. It is because of this man that I can't get a girlfriend! (....I assume).

Individually, we may be weak. Together, we're a LOT of weak people. That's gotta be worth something. Please, help me in my quest to restore the level playing field we once enjoyed.

...And that is why you will support The Powerful Leader, for he is all knowing and....wait...no, wrong speech. Just give me a few months, then we'll see.

To reiterate: Chaz's Blog = EVIL.

This is Michael Herman saying: If God hadn't wanted me to eat meat, he wouldn't have made animals so killable.

PS - Or fun to watch run in fear

Review of Blogs

2005-06-14T20:11:00.000-07:00

Yes, don't worry, one of these days I'm going to come up with something original. In the interim, I have decided to review everyone's blog that I know.

Ben's Blog

Site: bensinger.blogspot.com

Review: The one that started it all. This blog, like the pioneers of days gone by, blazed the trail for all us other bloggers to follow. However, like the pioneers, he too will contract smallpox and scurvy. At least, if all goes according to plan. In the meanwhile, he continues to amaze us with his combination of insight, wit, and slightly homo-erotic poetry. Throught this blog, he shares with us his day to day activities, his highs and lows, and the girls he loves. Who's name may or may not start with an 'A' and rhyme with "Shaviv". Hehe. But I could always count on him to remind myself why I shouldn't abuse Kids Help Phone, or to amuse me with his anecdotes about life that somehow made me smile. Or it could have been the morphine.

Chaz's Blog

Site: chazinc.blogspot.com

Review: The one that makes me want to end it all. This boy saw the World Wide Web and thought "Hey, not enought people have a cultish leader to follow. And this Jesus guy needs some competition." He amassed an absurd cult following including Fonzie, who keep smoking crack and talking about Batman, Ms. Kimel, who reminds me why I'm not taking Jewish History next year, and Lauren Silver (I know, I was a little scared too). His long and rambling posts about subtle nuamces of life amuse most. But not me. The main appeal of this blog is not so much the rants, but rather, what his minions will say to him after. Often, it has nothing to do with the post, but with whatever Lauren, or Lee, or Becca, or others have to say about whatever they want. Plus, it (the comments) use the gross misspelling of Gigaly.

Fromstein's Blog

Site: fromstein.blogspot.com

Review: If Ben's Blog is the Ford of blogs (the originator), and Chaz the Volkswagen (crappy car, but really popluar....espeically with Germans), then Fromstein's is the Pink Yugo your brother-in-law keeps in his backyard: It serves little purpose other than to infect your younger cousins with tetnus, but its so damn funny [looking], you have to keep it around. He alternates between hillarious jokes on life and even more hillarious tirades against the world he so eagerly seeks to destroy. If he doesn't offend you, either your name is Billy-Bob-Jimmy-Sal, and you're married to your daughter, or you dont have a pulse. If you need to remind yourself why you don't vote Republican, stop by here. In addition, he has a drunk Australian chick hitting on him (I of course, am making assumptions about her nationality and gender).

Jared Lindzon's Blog

Site: jlindzon....ah fuck you all know its blogspot.com

Review: Feeling too vengence-less? This'll clear that right up.

Lauren Silver's Blog

Site: I have no fucking clue, cause she wont tell me....that bastard

Review: Against popular demand, she has started a blog for herself. It is sure to be horrific, just like her taste in men. That's right, I disguised a thinly veiled jibe at Lee through my review. What are you gonna do about it?! Although if last time I made a joke like this, if memory serves, I wound up being maced. Rather, it wasn't so much mace as it was a lance. Like Lance Armstrong. He won a lot of bike races. I attribute this to the fact that he had no testicles. He had no testicles because he had cancer. Cnacer is a very horrible disease that kills far too many. I ran for cancer last year. It acutally may have been AGAINST cancer, I'm not sure. To reiterate, Laurn's Blog = Cancer.

If I havent't included you on my list, it's because I dont know about your blog, you haven't updated it in three months, you changed the URL on me, or I just don't like you.

Just a personal reminder for everyone before I go: Just because it's see-through doesn't mean you can walk through it.

This is Michael Herman saying: Yes, we've all heard that laughter is the best medicine, but have we tried laughter as the best contraceptive?

PS- Cause if it aint, I owe a lot more money next month that usual

The many faces of Judiasm

2005-06-10T21:40:00.000-07:00

DISCLAIMER!
In this aritcle, I am horribly offensice to every sect of Judiasm. Those who know me well, know that I dont really mean this, but that I need some outlet so that the body count doesn't go too high. If you are easily offended, or hate me, please don't read on.

I'm serious

Fine

You had your warning

Yes, once again, I have come up with nothing original, so I have resorted to classafying the advantages and risks of all the sects of Judiasm....that I know.

JUDIASM!

Reform

Pros: Really lazy? This is the sect for you. Ya ya, they're really just as religous as us, they have a seperate doctorine...yada, yada. Whatever you have to tell yourself to get to sleep at night. With this sect, you can still make all the 'big nosed, money lender, owning the media' jokes you want, while still sleeping in Satrudays, eating suckling pig, and defiling whatever you want. WHATEVER you want. Plus, your odds of ACTUALLY owning a media are exponentialy higher.
Cons: Lets face it, you guys know that you are the retarded grandkids of Judaism. This isn't mean, its a statement of fact. And you are also the fastest shrinking sect, so...umm...ya, might want to look into that. And really, it's a synagogue, it's not a fucking Temple! We haven't had one since 70 BCE. Deal with it!

Conservative

Pros: Like the transvestite I have locked in my closet, you are confused about your basis in this religous world. You might also need some medical attention, but that's more for the transvestite. Anyhow, this group is perfect if you actually want to feel like you're doing something but dont want to follow ALL 613 Mitzvot. (or 612 if you count Abarbanel....that bastard.) Like a conisouer of cheese or prostitutes, you can pick and choose which Mitzvot you wish to follow, while still maintaing an illusion of religousness. Plus, you can drive to shul.
Cons: Also like the transvestite, you will feel pressure from other sides of Judiasm to stop stradeling the fence. The Reform-er's will try and get you to follow your inner idiot, while the Orthodox will make you feel guilty about eating that lasagna that was baked in the same plate that your chicken was. Although heavy-duty earplugs help, they still don't drown them out completly. And for God's sake, its a kippah. Yamalka is for goyim trying to be Jews

(Modern) Orthodox

Pros: Want to feel close to God? This is the most practical way how. While you still (mostly) interact in the modern world, you still maintain an almost arrogant spirituality. Those black kippas are defiatly shnazzy. Plus, you get to get drunk on Purim. And Lag Ba'Omer. And Shabbat. And Wednesdays. And any other time you please. And, remember those scary guys on the radio who keep talking about those topics that make you horrendously offended? You now agree with him. We love disengagement! Wait, no now we hate it!
Cons: (This is all actually my opinion, and not satire...mostly) You guys are without a doubt the most hypociritcal sect of Judaism. You say that you should follow all the commandments, but yet there are numerous ones that you dont give a rats ass about. Respect your friend? Out the shitcan. Pre-marital relations? Nope, doesn't apply there. Not drinking to excess? Oh no, that's not a big thing. Two men kissing? Striaight to hell! I mean honestly, how is conciously doing one of these things any different from conciously doing any of the other things that you claim are forbidden? (Wow, that turned into more of a rant than I intended. I know I'm gonna catch shit from this after Shabbat, especially from someone else who has a blog)

Chassidic

Pros: Like ZZ-Top? Now you can look like them everyday. This sect, once thought of as a renegade breakaway form of Judiasm, is now ironically one of the most observant sects. With less of an emphasis on 'traditional Judaism', there is more room for cool chants and songs. AND, you practice mysticism, and not sound like a complete wanker. Unlike some celebrities we know *cough* Madonna *cough*.
Cons: Hate the modern state of Israel? You do now (except for Rav Surkis, cause he rocks). If you have any objections to believing that a dead Rabbi is the Messiah, you might want to leave. On that note, you should be prepared to have SOME form of tangable leader in your life, who's every word you will follow. "We do whatever the Rebbe says". Plus, beards have an annoying habit of getting caught in blenders and open corpses.

Charedi

Pros: Feel like Orthodox Judiasm sold out? Umm...ok, feel like you're not doing enough for Judiasm? Er....like throwing stuff at heathens? Ya, thought so. Then Chardei is the life for you. Become part of God's rock-throwing army, and goose-step your way to a better future, one stone at a time. Plus, you got a good shot at being on God's side when the rapture happens. Also, ruin Israeli politics with you crappy political party that ruins the chance of anyone getting a majority government. Who said that a minority government cant get anythign done?
Cons: Stop. Whatever it is you're doing right now is sinful. Yes, even that. Get up immedatly, and repent, sinner. No, don't do it that way, that's also wrong. No, that's bad too. Don't even try that. Listen, just book your one way ticket to hell right now, cause you're a lost cause.

Igaliatarian

Pros: Are you one of those womens-rights acitvists, who believes that women should have a fair share in everyhting? Ya, me neither. But this is a great way to meet women, especially woman Rabbi's. If you've got a talis or kippa fetish, this style of Judiasm will keep you very excited. Plus, the progression to more equal religous worship, yadda yadda yadda. Bring on the babes! Also, bris's are much more interesting when they're done by a woman who's afraid of blood.
Cons: Do you ever want anyone to take you seriously ever again? Then Run. Far Away.

Well there you have it. If I've made one person swear to dance over my grave by now, then I've accomplished my mission.

This is Michael Herman saying: I'm not oppsoed to women's rights, as long as they dont impend on my God-given Chuvanist rights.

PS- Or my right to party.

PPS- Or my innocnece....but no, they could never take that away from me....for you see, I lost that many years ago...in 'Nam....

When you can't say something nice...

2005-06-06T16:50:00.000-07:00

..rip off other people's blogs.

Yes, thats right, I am liberally borrowing from Chaz and Fromstein's blogs. I bring you:

JEWISH STUDIES COURSES FOR GRADE 12!

Jewish Ethics:
Ever wondered why we have to follow these 613 rules that we have? Why God demands so much of us? Why homosexuals are horrid deviants who should be put to death? Well then, sign up for Jewish Ethics. Become enlightened as to what makes you human: Worship of God (if thats wrong, then I just failed my English Exam...). Learn with some of the schools finest exactly what you're doing that is damning you to hell for all etenrnity. Plus, flow charts!

Jewish Philosophy:
Want to know about what Judiasm thinks of everything?

ITS THE WILL OF GOD!

But if you think there's more than that, enroll in Jewish Philosophy, and be proven horribly wrong. All the great Jewish philosophers are here: Rashi, Rambam, Ritva, Sforno, Abarbanell, Tosfot, Ramsfot, Ritbam...and such'n. Learn their many varying attitudes towards God, from "God is Great, and we should serve him with no question!" to "Why we should degrade ourselves more in his service!"

Jewish History:
Even I'm not tactless enough to mock such a horrific event in our history, namely the Holocaust. Instead, I will caution that it is taught by an obsessive-compulsive chiwawa on anti-depressants, who will single you out for being named Lee. Anythign that happens offends her as a woman and as a historian. Especially my dramatic reinactment of a Roman Whore-house. What?! I thought it was relevent to the destruction of the Temple....

Woman in Jewish History
Ever hear the expression "I cant take blood from a stone"? Well this class will teach you all about it, and several other expressions such as "Mindless Waste of Time", "Chick-Course" and "Class Action Sexual Harassment Suit". Learn about such Jewish Heriones as Ester, Deborah, umm....and....that transvestite chick....and, er, that woman that David saw showering on a roof....and the Virgin Mary. Heroines All! Plus, create a Passover Seder that spits in the face of 3000 years of tradition becuase some girl wants an orange on a seder plate.

Talmud
Wonder what happens if you leave your cow out in the road between Succot and Passover in Tel-Aviv when its raining, in the seventh year of the Shmeta cycle, and you have a ditch next to it that was dug by day workers, while someone else was entrusted to watch your cow, but bankrupted himself so he could claim another fields pe'ah as his own, and instead of placing your cow in a straw hut leaves it exposed to theives and bandits?

Well, this course wont help at all.

But, if you have a desire to hear why children these days should be hit, why buckets of ink have been spilled about a punctuation mark, or why Gemara must be eaten with Spices (or so I assume, I dont really focus all that much), this is the class for you! And, for an extra 10$, Bierstone will tell you why you're completly wrong in whatever you do!

Rabbinics
Well, I've never actually taken this class, but I'm going on by what I assume happens.

If you enjoy sitting around, hitting each other over the heads with sticks, and swinging cats around, saying "I'm the biggest idiot ever", then we have a class for you! Perfect if you want to learn about Judiasm, but have no motivation to do so!

Tanach
The story of Genesis. One of beauty, significance, and contradicting every known shred of scientific evidence. See the commandment for having sex. There is one, right? Damn right! Also, if Rav Surkis's hands get caught in his beard, you get a day off!

Hebrew Newspaper
This class was cancelled due to lack of interest. No Joke.

Ivrit
This class is without a doubt the most useless class in school. You can learn about a Hebrew Language that even native Israelis don't understand. Plus, you can learn political stories about outdated situations in Israel. And, see why everyone in the world is out to get us. Even the Jews.

But Especially the Arabs.

But Especially the French.

But Especially the Brazilians (those bastards!)

Well, I hope this guide has served to educate you what to do next year: Take Summer Classes.
Wish me luck in Biology on Thursday.

This is Michael Herman saying: Contrary to popular belief, when you pop, the fun stops shortly thereafter.

PS- Especially if you forgot to use a rubber

my Brilliant Story

2005-06-05T22:52:00.000-07:00

Hello All,

Yes, Rob was right, i DO have a blog. I just havent posted on it in a while, due to a combination of lazyness, ugliness and Robert DeNiro.

That Bastard

Neho, I dont have much time, so I'm just going to cut to the chase. I had a brililant Idea for a story, although not all the components are filled in. It goes like so:

It takes place in ancient Japan. The Heroic Lead, Prot Aganist, is in a never-ending fight against evil. Evil, in this case is a sexy, but satanic female, Anna Tagonist. Prot, together with his bumbling sidekick, Ko-Mac relif, stage a surge against Anne. Stuff happened, yadda yadda yadda, and they wind up weaponless. Stubling around Anne's compound, they fall into some Plot Holes, and come out with all new weapons and armour.

I haevnt figgured out the rest, but it ends up with them being cornered by Anne, without any chance of rescue, when all of a sudden, a giant robot called Deus Ex Machina comes in and rescues them.

If you got that story, you should be proud of yourself. This is how I study for my english Exam.

Speaking of which, I have to head to bed.

This is Michael Herman saying: When you're writing an essay, and you use the 'he/she' pronoun, does it ever occur to you, only transvestites can read your essay?

PS- And some of my friends, on bad days

EDIT- Oh ya, I officially am DTF's Best Fan. Take that Micayla....o, ya sorry bout the whole 'sketchy groupie thing'. I thought it was a compliment

May 2-4: Celebrating a Queen We Dont Recognize

2005-05-23T09:57:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's that glorious time of the year, when everyone gets a random day off in May to celebrate Queen Victoria doing something...exactally what, I'm not sure, but it exists I tells you. Mostly it's an excuse to get drunk, barbeque and light shit on fire. However, this day has little difference from most of my normal days, so it doesn't really affect me.
I went to the DTF concert last nite. Good show, except for the crappy band that opened for them. Unfortunatly, my friend had to be a jerk, and turn down the friend I was trying to set him up with, simply based on physical appearance. Ah well, could be worse. Wait, no no it couldnt be. Bastard.

My life is still confusing as ever.

Not much else to be said. I have to start coming up with funnier shit.

Now I rembmmer why I didnt like having a blog. I can't be spontaniously funny, it comes and goes. Also I hate typing.

Ill be back later with funnier crap.

This is Micahel Herman saying: "Whoever said 'What's the worst that could happen?' has obviously never been stabbed in the eye".

PS- With a rusty fork

PPS- Ya, I'm in a bad mood, why'd ya ask?

The only thing stiffen than my neck tonite is...

2005-05-18T19:11:00.000-07:00

My back. Yes, I know, how clever, a sexual innuendo. I'm not planning on being too funny tonite, because I is too tired.

Chatstock is coming tomorrow, and I am growing less and less excited. First off, our set list sucks. Big time. Like, more than your mother does. While I'm on the subject of your mother jokes, I'd like to publicly apologize to my friend, who I had been making these jokes to for the past 8 months. Then I found out his mother died. I'm a bastard.

Back to Crapstock, our setlist is all punk rock songs that basically involve a lot of screaming. If I had wanted to do that, I would have just kicked Lee in teh nuts when he's playing guitar.

Right now I'm very confused, and at a crossroads. I know, I know, you dont want to hear about my sappy life, but this mostly accounts for my meloncholy this eve. Lets just say it involves a train, and lots of sugar. Irrelevent, yes, irreverent, no.

In other news, DTF is playing this Sunday. I will be able to keep my streak alive, along with Mark and the sketchy groupies, of being the only ppl to see all their shows. Kudos to Carrie, who IS coming. *Tear* to Taryn, who isn't.

Too tired to continue. I'll have a funnier post later on.

This is Michael Herman saying: Oprah may empower and inspire hundreds of downtrodden women, so does Miss Cleo.

PS- And she's slightly cheaper

Friday Evening, 11 PM

2005-05-13T23:57:00.000-07:00

As you may or may not have gleaned, today's post is a crude takeoff of a Paul Simon song. I know, I know, its really Simon and Garfunkel, but lets face it, if your name was Garfunkel, would anyone take YOU seriously? That's what I thought, loser.
Anyhoo, back to my life...well, I'm alive, which is more than I can say for the fetal pig I'm disecting on Tuesday. My biggest concern is not whether or not I'm going to seriously maim it, because lets face it, its a FETUS! And if Pro-choice has taught us one thing, its that fetuses have no rights. Whatsoever. Fetus murder for all! (I'm aware some of my "Hey, rubbing these two things together makes fire?!" audience may not have gotten that, but fuck it, I don't have to pander to you. Wait...crap, still do. I swear, once my play sells, I am SO out of here).
My biggest concern is that I dont have a good name for my pig. All of the cool names have been taken, like 'The Notorious P.I.G." or "Magnum P.I.G.". If I don't think fast, I'm going to be stuck with a stupid name like Hartley, or Percy, or Garfunkel. Fucking bastard.
But the disecting looks cool. We get to tie it down, cut it open, and remove its heart. Just like weekends at Aunt Gertrude's. So much S+M...and M+M's...man I'm hungry.
Aside from that, next week looks pretty crappy, what with the double periods, and the crunch time to exams and the contracting of various STD's...I mean, Math homework. But actually, on second thought, they both are annoying, long and arduous, and cause a lot of pain. And make me flacid.
CHATstock (I know, how clever. They take a famous music event and add the name of the school in front of it. Although no one listened to my idea to make it Chatapalooza, or Chatstock '99) is coming next week, and due to a substantial gambling debt, I have been recruited to play bass for my friend in Grade 12. However, his choice in songs is suspect. His genre of music consists, from what I can hear, of mainly beating a cat with a guitar and feeding it through a synthesizer. Ah well, work's work. Especially Math work. Don't worry little guy, you'll be on your feet soon...
Well, I should be off. If any of the clan reads this, give me a call, at anytime, and leave a mesage if I'm not there. Carrie wants to meet you all Saturday night, and you all know how good I am at planning stuff.
This is Michael Herman saying "Remember: It's only ILLICIT pornography if four or more holes are being used"
PS- Or two 'out' holes
PPS- Keep the comments coming. The price of cocaine just went up 5$/ a hit, and my ego pays the difference in his blood. And other bodily fluids.

First Post

2005-05-12T21:17:00.000-07:00

Well, as Fromstein asked so....nicely, I have decided to create a blog for myself. It will alternate between serious and funny, because, lets face it, that's how I am.
I guess a good place to start would be at my profile, which will be a mix of both.
My name is Michael Jonathan Herman, though I have been known as "Herman", "Mikey John" "Student Number 0000159" and "My precious" by an creepy 80 year old postal worker who has been stalking me for the past three months.
I have two exceptionally annoying brothers, a dad who could double as a flagpole, and a mother who could double as Martha Stewart. Minus the insider trading arrest and multi-million dollar empire. Actually, just minus the empire. And of course, rounding out the family is the smartest and most hygenic one of us all, Tucker the dog.
I have many interests, none of which will interest you, so I wont list them. Get it? Interest- its a pun? Well fuck it, I dont have to pander to you people. Wait, I do? Crap. In that case, I like playing the bass poorly, reading, ignoring my friends and loved ones to read, reading and walking, and getting hit by oncoming traffic.
My friends are best described with the famous Richard Nixon phrase, "Fucking idiots". But in all seriousness, I love them, and I don't know what I'd do without them. Seriously, I based my life around you guys. Like the presents I got you, for example? That was my child support money. Lil' Timmy wasn't too happy that Christmas, let me tell you.
Not much is new in my life. I recentaly got over a horrible obsession with a good friend of mine, which I can tell you was slightly easier than overcoming my addiction to pancake syrup. Sweet, sweet syrup. So rich, and flavourful. Must...have....it. O, and much easier than my cocaine addiction. Man, you'd be surprised how fast you get over it once you find out that the secret ingredient is an illegal plant. And people. Rich, succulent people.
Anyhoo, that's about all the humour I've got in me for now, which really paints a sad picture for the rest of this blog.
If you've read this far, congradulations, you are now in the Guiness Book of Records. What for, I'm not sure. Check with that bee guy. Stupid bee-eating bastard. You'd thing that gumballs would be a suitable replacement to bees, but NOOO, not to the Guiness judges.

This is Michael Herman saying "Remember: It could be worse: You could have syphillys."

PS - Although that would mean you're getting laid.....
PPS- If you read this, please post a comment. My ego needs the stroking. He's just sitting there in the corner, cowering. He hasn't eaten for days, he has one pair of semi-clean pants left, and his step-mom constantly beats him for drug money. So, to reiterate, comment. Please