Plant life (and by extention, Numerous mentions of ObScure)

As the Germans say: Eine Welt ohne Betriebe ist nur so gut wie Hochschule ohne gefährliche schwarze Betriebe, die als gefährliche halluzinogenische Substanz dienen, die Veränderungen mit dem Ergebnis eines Gruppe Bestehens später verursachen kann: Ein Hacker, ein akrobatischer Skater mit einem kühlen Auto und Schrotflinte, ein Norweger, ein goth, ein PizzaLieferbote, der erlernte, wie man Verriegelungen auswählt, als er Zeit im Gefängnis, in einem Fußballspieler verbrachte, in einem videospiel gewesenen asiatischen Mädchen mit einem komischen Namen und einem blondem mit einem IQ von über 150 zusammen ausgießend, um die veränderten Gleichen zu kämpfen und später in einem Professor, der ihnen anfangs heraus hilft, indem es sie mit Spritzen und Batterien liefert, aber verrät sie später um des Bildens des Plots willen sogar weniger Binde- aber neueres Fallopfer zum Bruder des Goth Mädchens (der Fußballspieler) der unter Stadiumlichtern zerquetscht wird.

Or, for those of you who can’t read German: A world without plants is only as good as college without dangerous black plants that serve as a dangerous hallucinogenic substance that can later cause mutations resulting in a group consisting of: A hacker, an acrobatic skater with a fast car and shotgun, a Norwegian, a Goth, a pizza delivery man who learned how to pick locks when he spent time in jail, a football player, a video game obsessed Asian girl with a comical name and a blond girl with an IQ of over 150 teaming together to fight the mutated peers and later a professor who at first helps them out by supplying them with syringes and batteries but later betrays them for the sake of making the plot even less cohesive but later falls victim to the Goth girl's brother (the football player) who is crushed beneath stadium lights. (Really)

Or, for those of you who really don’t feel like hearing a poorly abbreviated survival-horror plotline: A peaceful world without plants is like a rich white child without media preference lest anything goes wrong (like a door jamming).
Or, for those of you who ignored the last paragraph because it began with the word “or” (in which case you should stop reading this, even though it is directed at you), the world needs plants to survive. Now, some of you may wonder what plants have to do with the road to making progress (or perhaps, in some extreme cases, actual success in life). My answer: Shut up.
But seriously, while attempting to live your hopefully progressing life, it is important to remember just what plants do for us. In fact, without plants, we wouldn’t have any of the following:

• Oxygen
• Cannabis addictions
• Date Rape
• About half the poisons we have today
• Some form of tourist control (In the form of people who believe that reading a brief page found on Yahoo makes them botanists and accidentally ingest Belladonna, believing it to be some form of medicinal herb)
• 2,000 people dying per day thanks to tobacco usage
• Opium addictions
• Botany
• Strange black leaves that grow on college campuses causing hallucinations and eventual mutations
• Tea
• Herbal Essence Shampoo and Conditioner (Actually, this is strictly theoretical. We would probably still have it even with a lack of any actual Herbal Essence)
• People comically slipping on banana peels (They would have to slip on something else, like say, for example: beef)
• Faust



As you might have hopefully recognized, without plants, we would lack not only something impossible to live without, but a means of breathing as well (in the form of Oxygen and Faust, in that order.) Unfortunately, most of the other things that plants give us are not so beneficial (Now before anybody says anything, only some parts of this blog are meant to be taken seriously, and this is not one of them). To make a point, I have decided to prepare a small chart, useful for identifying most of the important plants.



Now that we have all that out of the way, I bid thee adeiu until next time, as quite frankly, I'm getting sick of talking about plants

A giant ball of fire, A.K.A. The sun

Now, for those of you who don’t know (or else attend public school), the sun is a very important part of all life. It keeps us warm (Often to a rather uncomfortable extent), makes our plants grow (forcing us to mow the lawn on a frequent basis), and gives us daylight to see by (Ensuring that we never get enough sleep). However, while the sun is necessary, it is not entirely enjoyable. Remember those days where the Yuppies would run outdoors yelling things like “Take me, mister sun, make me pretty”.
As it turns out those Yuppies were wrong. The sun, as enjoyable as it is, can cause burning or worse (charring, in some unlucky cases, such as people who wear heavy metallic necklaces into the sun, or else fall asleep while lying on charcoal grills). As it would turn out, the sun does quite the opposite, (unless you consider beauty to be the “grilled lobster look”. More on this later), often making skin fry and pores to clog up, along with causing eye damage and general discomfort. Yet, avoiding the problems of the sun by no way means blacking out your house and living life like a secluded blond albino, you can go perfectly happy without having to make your hair blond. The rest of the stuff unfortunately is perfectly necessary. To help the process out, see the below checklist

□ Step one: Express your anger to the sun. This is the simple step. All you need to do is run outdoors, hold up your fist and yell “CURSE YOU SUN!” at the top of your lungs. For safety reasons, it is advised to make sure that you are alone when you do this

□ Step two: Identify how the sun’s light is entering your home. The simplest way to do this is to turn the lights off and walk around the house. Try to figure where the light is coming from. If you can’t see any then you can skip the next three steps (Or else retry this during the daytime)

□ Step three: Pour butter on top of a stack of pancakes. This way, you can enjoy a nice hearty pancake meal after you finish sun-proofing your house

□ Step four: Sun proof your house. This comes into a simple one-two punch method. First, you want to re-find the places where the sun is entering your house. Second, you want to fill these areas with roofing concrete, until the sun no longer bothers you.

□ Step five: Enjoy a pancake meal. Make sure to use plenty of maple syrup.

□ Step six: Eliminate threats to your safety. Sadly, not everybody employs the idealism conveyed in this blog. So, when accepting visitors, make sure to look out for several tell-tale signs that they might be a threat to your security

o A deep tan. This means the person has spent a lot of time in the sun. If the tan is orange, they’ve just been baking under a tanning bed. In which case, you still shouldn’t be around them.

o A long coat, a large hat, and a wooden stake. If you have people like this at your door, it means you’ve been mistaken for a vampire. It is advised to move.

o Someone with a large box. Actually, the box could contain almost anything. Still, don’t take any chances. Show them the door (But don’t actually go through it).

o An unnatural glow. Even if this glow isn’t solar, it still isn’t a good idea to have these people in your house

□ Step seven: Dress for success. Since you’ve taken effort to block the sun from your life, it helps to dress in such a way that incorporates the changes. Ideally, men would be dressed in a long black formal coat, complete with coattails, top hat and black, shaggy hair, with women garnering a long gothic dress (preferably red) with plenty of frill. Also, add formal driving gloves

□ Step eight: Always have an escape route. You may think “My defenses are perfect”, but odds are, if you actually followed any of the advice in this book, many things will be far from perfect. We recommend digging beneath your basement until you hit an aquifer, then putting an escape boat-house onto it.

A few easy steps and Viola! You now live a perfectly safe life, hiding from one of the world’s most natural things! But such is the cost of a happy, fulfilling existence. Just remember, if you are forced to go outside, for whatever reason, you should always 日本語で話しなさい.

My great idea for the television industry

As of late, it strikes me that television shows are beginning to become more and more inane. Naturally, I would respond to this problem the same way I respond to political unrest and teen pregnant people; mainly: ignore it. However, during one of my 2:30 AM brainstorming sessions, it has indeed occurred to me that I could indeed perhaps contribute somehow to noted industry. That and the fact I am finally in an inspired mood, and would hate to waste the perfectly good chance to practically vomit out sarcasm and wit onto the internet.

Without any further verbal ado, I give you my best idea of the day.

America's Next Top Jesus

The "reality" purpose of this faith-driven reality TV show would be entirely to find the next best candidate for Jesus. Naturally, this show would be divided into five month seasons with a new episode airing every Sunday, as to give the religious families something to do during the nights after they finish a long day of throwing virgins into volcanoes at church, or whatever it is they do.

The season would begin with about fifty bearded men being rounded up from suburban homes, church, rehab centers and jails. The bearded men would then be given numbers and thrown into the ocean from a fishing barge. At the end of the day, the survivors (as defined by the people who didn't drown; quite possibly because they might be able to walk on water. Or else make a raft out of the other contestants) would then be rounded up with a modified aquatic combine mower and herded into an upbeat Vegas hotel with room service and daily organ concerts, which would serve as the "home base" for the show.

Following such beginning trials, the noted men (and perhaps a women on testosterone to mix up the show a bit and provide for a really awkward public relationship) would be forced to run away from heavily armed Italians while giving rousing public speeches on top of natural inclines.

Each of the rousing religious speech would be judged by a panel of four judges, consisting of Tyra Banks, Tarja Turunen, Fidel Castro and Gregory Rasputin. At the end of each week, the judges would determine a "weakest link" who would then be dragged out into a Middle Eastern territory, stripped by a pair of comicly dressed GIMPS and stoned to death, both drug wise and rock wise.

At the end of the season, the remaining men would be put on trial in front of a court consisting of kidnapped senior citizens for a combination of high treason and parking fines which would be juried by The Ted Bundy Fan Club. Those who are not convicted get to continue on to the next part of the show, where they would be publicly beaten by any spectator willing to pay $50 for an authentic Passion of The Chirst Beatin' Stick.

Any of the contestants who did indeed survive noted event would first be closely examined to confirm that the identity of such is not Tuomas Holopainen before getting drugged and crucified during the halftime of an NFL game. Any player following halftime that knocks the cross down scores a touchdown for his team. If one of the members of the previous round was Tuomas Holopainen, he is indeed allowed to stand at the foot of the crosses and throw potatoes at the other contestants while crying.

Following crucifixion, the bodies of the contestants would be dumped into a mineshaft in New Hampshire, which would then be sealed with dynamite, and casting for the next season would then begin.

In the event that one of the contestants does indeed crawl out of the mineshaft, said person would indeed by crowned the New Messiah, before being handed over to Shagrath, who would throw Skittles at him.

My View On Attitude

It is impossible to overstate the importance of a healthy attitude. Actually, this is a lie; one could easily say "Without a healthy attitude, Brit-pop would be the only thing on MTV" or "Unhealthy attitude is the leading cause of cancer, leukemia, autism, OCD and Uwe Boll movies". Of course though, a healthy attitude is indeed important.

To save you the trouble of having to come up with your own perspectives and views on attitudes on Attitude, I've taken the liberty of writing the three major attitude varieties below. They are as follows: Optimism, Pessimism and MacGyver.

Scenario one: A glass, which only contains half capacity of water
Optimistic Response: The glass is half full
Pessimistic Response: The glass is half empty
MacGyver Response: The glass is twice as big as it needs to be

Scenario two: The loss of a left hand
Optimistic Response: At least I’m right handed!
Pessimistic Response: I’m only half as useful now!
MacGyver Response: All you need to make a new hand is some glue and toothpicks!

Scenario three: Breaking up with a loved one
Optimistic Response: It was for the best
Pessimistic Response: I’m nothing up without him/her/it
MacGyver Response: One new lover, coming right up…

Scenario four: A locked door with no key
Optimistic Response: We probably don’t need to know what’s behind it anyway
Pessimistic Response: Now another piece of the world shall remain a painful mystery
MacGyver Response: Lock picking!

Scenario five: The lights go out
Optimistic Response: I like the dark
Pessimistic Response: I hate the dark
MacGyver Response: It’s easy to make a new light bulb…

My life, or something similar

I must confess, I was born at a very early age. So early, I can't remember it too well. I do know, however that I was born in a Hell's Angel's roadside clinic, under a Colombian birth operation (My father was deported, my mother was given drugs, and the nurse did all the screaming). When I was five, my Uncle Ricardo got out of jail, and figured he would teach me how to hunt caribou. He did alright, although I suspect it was a rather unconventional way of doing so. Uncle Ricardo would stalk the caribou for a few minutes, then jump out and scream at it. While it was recoiling, he would tackle it and immediately start slamming its head in the car door and frame he carried around, while continuously asking it "Did I stutter? DID I STUTTER?".

I come to suspect that my parents were rather unorthodox as well. My bath toys were a toaster, a bug lamp and a middle aged Vietnamese man. When I went to preschool, the teacher seemed transfixed with teaching us various religious slang, and before I knew it, I was kicked out of three churches, two temples, and a rock used for meditating.

When I was 12, I entered middle school like all the other children. My parents got a divorce, as my mother claimed that "If daddy leaves the toilet seat up one more time, I gonna' pull the trigger". To this day, I don't understand what she meant. The school I attended had a man nailed to two pieces of wood in the lobby. No, it was not a Christian school. I think the man was the principal, and I'm pretty sure that having 5 pound wooden blocks for ear piercings is anything but enjoyable. Those were dark years.

High school was a little different. I had to walk 18 miles to school every day, and it was uphill both ways. Yes, the school was only a mile away, but I had to walk back and forth nine times, because times were rough then. You see, in the neighborhood I lived in, there was graffiti everywhere. On the sidewalks, the stores, the cars, even on the cops. And for those wondering how the trip was uphill both ways? The school was on the top of a rather large hill, which the house I lived in at the time was built on (It was later turned into a church, which was condemned by the city on Good Friday, and knocked down after the neighborhood kids were killed by a rapist who worked at K-Mart, who was upset that the Wal-Mart exploded, killing 19.5 people)

I didn't hit puberty until 13, where in an attempt to grow me up, my Uncle Blitzen brought me beef jerky and hot sauce. Thanks to the manliness of the foods, I aged 4 years in one night, grew a mustache, a goatee, and Afro and a uni brow. After that, the kids started looking at me in a strange way.

I joined theater in my sophomore year, where I got the lead part in the school play: Coffee And Milf. The theater teacher wrote the script himself. During the play, I was required to do a make out scene, which went relatively well on the night of the play, until it came to light that the lead actress was instead a man (Who was later arrested for unrelated reasons).

I decided to take advantage of the economic boom that was happening at the time (August 4th, 5:00 - 6:30 PM), and started my own business. I would ride around on a pink girls' bike and smash kneecaps for a nominal fee. I later had to shut down thanks to some "red tape" created when I claimed gunshot wounds as tax-deductible.

It was during this time, as I was lying in the ICU in the same Hell's Angel's roadside clinic I was born in. It was during this time that I saw an image of Hell, a religious experience that, to me, was more frightening then Tarja Turunen's solo career.

Hell for me was a simple, tile coated hallway, saturated with dentists' chairs. I was strapped to one of these chairs to the point I was immobile, with bright florescent lights shining down on my face. At first, things seemed rather not unpleasant, until I was approached by a senile lady. Said lady began wailing at me in Spanish, which quickly transitioned to French, which in turn became Kilgon. This continued all through the night until I finally woke up screaming with such intensity, the driver of the mobile clinic confused the sounds for sirens, drove into the forest, crashed the clinic, fatally mauling a bear in a Park Ranger Hat.

While I can honestly say that I cannot complete this story, as my life is not over, I can honestly say that you might expect to see an ending sometime soon, as unless somebody manages to intercept a package accidentally mailed to NBC, the Copper's won't purposefully miss for much longer.

Halloween, or whatever it's called now

I’d like to take a moment to address the topic of ever increasing dependency on Chinese imports.

That was it.

Now, I would like to take a look at our modern perceptions of Halloween. In the good old days, during the fall, you couldn’t through a communist down a singe neighborhood street without hitting mountains of Halloween gore, scary décor or children dressed up in a disturbingly macabre manner. Actually, in my old neighborhood, there was plenty of gore even during the spring and summer. At least until the local dealers got mauled by a bear nailed to Jesus.

However, in modern day, the holiday has fallen to a state of decadence. No longer do we see children walking around in homemade costumes with enough homemade (and increasingly authentic) blood and gore to place them as honorary members of the Ted Bundy Fan Club. What we do see, unfortunately, is an entire army of little children (who are apparently asexual, as they seem to multiply when given large amounts of sugar) in the generic “princess” outfit for the girls, and the “ninja” outfit for the boys, and for the hermaphrodites, the “ninja princess”, which is just as entertaining as it is disturbing.

Of course, this is understandable, as the holiday is now clearly about candy, as opposed to the good old “values” of Halloween, namely scaring Farmer Leroy to the point he’s suffering two or three heart attacks at once while he shoots at little Timmy with this .22 Winchester while attempting to run the rest of the beastly children over with a combine mower.

No, ladies and gentlemen, the holiday has degraded to a complete obsession with collecting candy. Now assuming this was done in the normal macabre manner, perhaps through a conventional creative mean of pulling the gas plugs on Farmer Leroy’s combine mower, filling his rifle with shock powder, and running into his house and consuming his sweets as he dies a horrible and painful death at the hands of children, the the Halloween might retain some of its former grace. Alas, no longer.

But no, instead the only real means of collecting candy is door to door begging, very much leading me to wonder if the holiday has any Mormon origins. Course; when all the children ask “Trick or treat?” to the obviously emotionally shot parents (Who were up to 1:00 in the morning ensuring their son/daughter has one of the only THREE Hannah Montana costumes in THE ENTIRE DAMN COUNTRY), they know they’ll get candy. It’s much easier then actually entertaining the children with some “trick”, such as giving them an increasingly hands on demonstration on how to make a condom out the stomach of a goat, complete with “ribs”.

What I would really like to see is a bunch of cheap prostitutes living in a suburban home during Halloween. Maybe the “tricks” and “treats” the children get might be a little different then what they had in mind. And maybe a bit illegal.

My take on big words

Retrospectively, possession of a substantial vocabulary entitled intellectual superiority dominating scholastically inferior individuals. Presently, superfluous terminology consequentially degrades individual eminence on the contemporary caste classification.

While demonstrations of assertiveness retain magnitude, the edifying decadence of aforementioned partaking is geometrically incremental, prompting investigation as to the relevance of demonstrated aptitude derived from said undertakings.

Conclusively, prevailing generations clearly do not hearten advancements of underrepresented intellectual minorities constituting for noted enlightened intelligence quota margins. Inhabitants in present continuum prioritize standardized and media influenced novelties.

How poignant.