Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Tales of Jeweled Mountains & Flamebirds

WHAT FOLLOWS is quite possibly the most popular piece out of all my poetry, as well as the longest. It started as a class assignment to write a children's story that taught them a lesson and ended up like this. Please enjoy the tales of Jeweled Mountains and Flamebirds.



There once was a planet, at the tip of the stars,
With people who watched a red sun from afar
The sun was named Rao, what a giant display!
They prayed to great Rao both night and both day

The people were happy; they loved just to live
And always were pleasant to take or to give
This planet was beautiful, blistering green
This planet was full of most wonderful things

The Golden Volcano was a beautiful sight
Which poured lava of gold with the mightiest might
It poured gold so often and poured it so strong
That gold was as average as dusk or as dawn

The Three Sisters of Krypton were beautiful, too
And always would make for a beautiful view
They were holes in the ground from which popped up fire
And they’d all three erupt and go higher and higher

The great Rainbow Canyon was a strange little spot
With a strange little rainbow that no one has got
It doesn’t go soaring way up through the air
It’s an underground rainbow, which I’d say was quite rare

The Fire Falls whisper in sorted delight
A river of fire that lights up the night
And inside this fire there live many fish
Who live off the warmth of that fiery bliss

And if you looked west, just as far as you’d see
Would be Scarlet Jungle and great Hantha trees
It’s teeming and tottering; tiptop with leaves
And great scarlet beauty no one could perceive

The Hantha tree comes from that forest, I’ve heard,
And moves with the forest ‘cross the land like a bird
And every year when the tree starts to migrate
The people must move underground and just wait

There were flowers that sang pretty songs while you ate
And the Drang, which could eat through a whole armored plate,
The Rondor could cure almost any diseases
For its magical horn could stop sniffles and sneezes

And one of the most beautiful birds, it would seem,
Was the Flamebird, whose body would beam and would gleam
When it streaked through the air flames flew high from its chest
And there was smoke everywhere, as you well might have guessed

However, though all is so wonderfully splendid,
The Jeweled Mountains are something that should be commended
Long, long ago, when this planet was new,
A crystal-boned bird flew the air through and through

But once, when the birds were lined up in a row,
Ready to fly to a new special home
They all fell asleep, far too many for counting,
And their bones crystalized to form the Jeweled Mountains

Now for every one person, there were also three more,
Sleeping and waiting beneath all their floors
All three looked like their owners, or so it was told,
Just one was a child, one grown up, and one old.

If ever their owner needs an arm, heart, or leg,
They took them from those extras without a first beg
For their extras were mindless and really quite dumb
And rarely could argue with what they’d become.

But one day, when everything seemed so generic,
Along came a man who said, “I’m the Cleric!
I really don’t like this, but I’ll be polite,
And I think that these extras deserve extra rights!”

But a man named Kem-L didn’t think that was so,
And he thought that the Cleric was starting a show
And he said, “Dear old Cleric I’ll have to say no,
Because these extras have been since a long time ago!”

Soon many people liked the way the Cleric thought
But because of their hatred they fought and they fought
And Kem-L and Cleric hated so much, it seems,
That they blew up great Kandor, the city of dreams

This was far too much for the Cleric and friends,
So they left in a spaceship, but as they ascend
Kem-L had used magic so that if away they did creep
They all would get tired and soon fall asleep

And some people say, if you look, to this day
You can still see the ark of the Cleric’s dismay,
Where all of the lovers of equalities love
Are sleeping forever in the skies up above

So back on the planet many years passed on by
And the world was changed in the blink of an eye
No one would talk or look at each other
And after the wars no one was brothers

No one remembered the planet’s great sights
Like the Golden Volcano or Rainbow Canyon’s great lights
They couldn’t remember the songs of the flowers,
Or the Drang or the Rondor or the Flamebirds great powers

But one person didn’t like feeling alone
Never allowing his feelings to show
His name was Jor-El, and there must be a way
To show all the people Rao’s light on the day

He called to the sky, “There must be a way
To show all these people how to live for today!”
So he searched and he searched and all he could find
Was a woman name Lara, who was gentle and kind

She loved their great planet, just as Jor-El did
And they both prayed to Rao, which all now forbid
Her eyes were bright blue, like a blue little kiss
And Jor-El knew he loved her and with her would have bliss

They soon couldn’t help but to have a young child
And when they played with the baby they laughed and they smiled
And they named him Kal-El, their child of stars,
And they knew that their child would really go far

So together they studied the planet and found
That a bomb had gone off with a great massive sound
When the people who fought such a long time ago
Blew up great Kandor with a bomb’s golden glow

But it turned out this bomb that blew up the great city
Had filled the great planet with a great pretty pity
And it started something inside the heart of the planet
That made it get bigger and began to expand it

Soon the planet would start to tremble and shake
And the planet would crack and the planet would break
And the planet would split into hundreds of bits
And they would travel the universe, never to quit

So they took young Kal-El and they set him inside
Of a beautiful rocket that would glide and would ride
And when the moment came and the ground starts to quiver
They sent him away through the sky like a river

And as Kal-El floated far out of sight
Jor-El’s precious heart began to take flight
He looked to Lara and into her eyes
And he said, “How I love you, my darling, goodbye…”

And just then the planet broke apart in awe of
The people on the surface who learned how to love

Sunday, December 25, 2005

A Christmas Day Special

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Return of the SUBWAYS


Oh, the power $1M a day can have!

After losing so much money for so long a time, the members of the NY Transit Union finally said, "Eh, hey...I kinda need money. I mean, this whole 'strike' thing was fun and all, but...uh, I'd like to get back to work now." Well, that's what I thought.

And then, even when the workers are like, yeah, we'll work now, the Union Executive still spent a few hours thinking about whether or not he'd concede the strike. I wonder how that went...

Transit Worker: "Hey, sir. Uh, I know we said we'd stay on strike till we got a raise and all, but I'm running out of money and, frankly sir, I'm getting sorta hungry. I think we should stop and just go back to work."

The Union:
"Yeah, that's a good idea...ok. Hey, Mr. Bush, we'll go back to work now. Sorry about all of this. No hard feelings?"

Union Executive:
"Hey! No! Bush, they don't mean it. I control whether the union stays on STRIKE and therefore whether the workers continue to accrue the $1M fines per day, and I say we're not giving in to your 'Democratic' ways!"

The Union:
"WHAT?"

Transit Worker:
"I swear to freakin GOD if you make me pay one more CENT, I'll take this monorail here and shove it straight up your--!"

The Union:
"Wait, Bill...that doesn't scare him. But how's about this--we'll all boycott this pathetic excuse for a union faster than you can whistle dixie. In other words, we'll strike the strike. And that would leave you with what job again?"

Union Executive:
(with a frightened smile) "O-K, heh, break's over. Back to work!"


Yeah, I thought so. Now what United States President George W. Bush should have done was just hire business mongul Donald Trump to fire the entire union in one fail swoop for abusing the government's resources and endangering the lives of millions of New York citizens. Call everyone on the unemployment list and tell them we have some sudden job openings. Then let New Yorkers kill every single transit worker in the city...and you know they will.

At least, that's what I would have done...if only I ruled America.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

The UNION Strikes Back


FOR THE FIRST TIME in a quarter of a century, all workers for public transit systems in New York City have gone on strike, refusing to find their way onto those sleazy buses and subways that normal New Yorkers pay money to sit through every day. Now New York is charging them a million dollars for every day they don't show up.

See, this is just another piece of evidence that humans are the greatest beings on Earth…because, no matter what, they always find a way to make even the noblest of organizations corrupt. And I’m not talking about the presidency.

No, I’m talking about unions. And the real culprit behind this pitiable insurgency was that Industrial Revolution. Ever since men stopped farming their fields and started working in the factories for employers, they’ve been getting stiffed majorly. I’ve been stiffed by my bosses, and I know you have too. It’s just the way the world works now. Business owners keep their employees only as happy as they have to be to keep working there. Even the word is meaning of control and unhappiness…BOSS. I may as well call him MASTER or LORD.

And this leads me someplace else. I can’t stand when the general manager for a chain of restaurants or other organizations thinks that they own the company. I worked at OUTBACK STEAKHOUSE for several months, and all the while MIKE O’DOWD always referred to the restaurant as “his.” What a load of crap. When a person spends too much time without an immediate supervisor, they are soon to forget that they aren’t GOD ALMIGHTY.

I’ll give you a good example I happen to have memorized. It comes immediately after I explained to a customer his options for a side item, which included a baked potato, a mashed potato, a sweet potato, steamed broccoli, steamed veggies, sautéed mushrooms, grilled onions, or French fries. Only they’re not called French fries on the menu. On the menu they’re called “Auzzie Chips.” Yeah, I know how gay and utterly unnecessary it sounds, but it’s true. I’ve simply noticed that if I say we serve “Aussie Chips,” the customer tends to picture some sort of homemade potato chips. I don’t know what makes they think that, probably the word CHIPS, but they do anyway. God help them.

Anyway, LORD MIKEY heard my description – which the customer loved, I might add – and called me to the back of the restaurant:

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh…?”

“What did you tell that guy we serve French fries
for? We don’t serve French fries in my restaurant. We serve Aussie Chips. If you want to serve French fries, go work at
McDonalds!”

I explained my reasoning behind the sudden company name
change. That turned out to be pointless.

“If it confuses them, use the description.”

“What description is that?”

“Aussie Chips,” he said, “our homemade, seasoned French fries.”

“Well, heck. That’s just asinine.”

“You’re the one who applied to work in this miserable coalhole," he comforted me, "if you weren’t prepared for redundant titles and preposterous regulations, you shouldn’t have come to work here.”

“Good point, Master.”



So, in hindsight, I see I should have joined a union. Then we’d all just stop showing up and that’d teach him a thing or two about messing with C. Nicholas Walker! But you know what would have happened next?

“Hello, Unemployment Office.”

Saturday, December 17, 2005

The Faith of a


Part I

And as Superman lay cowering in pain, Protex stood over him in the light of Heaven and gave a wicked laugh as Superman rose to his knees, clutching his chest and grimacing from the pain this angel had dealt him.
"Why, Superman? Why fight for those humans? They fear you and they hate you and you don't even have the guts to admit you despise them in return! You know in your heart they're inferior!"
Protex stopped with this to watch a drop of blood fall from the man of steel's lips. He smiled again at this. And so Superman, still trembling from the pain, rose his head, and looking toward Protex from down on his knees forced out what could have been his last words.
"They believe in me," he groaned, "and in my heart, I believe in them."
And with that thought still in his head, Superman rose to his feet and stared into the eyes of the angel.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

KING KONG

Kong (performed by Andy Serkis) and Ann (Naomi
Watts) atop the Empire State Building.

This is not only the best movie of the year, but quite possibly the best movie of the past ten years. Director Peter Jackson outdoes himself with his adamptation of the 1933 film King Kong, and makes what is easily a much better movie than any of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy franchise.

A tragedy in its finest state, an action-adventure story in its most primitive, Jackson's King Kong is a true love story, and one told with more imagination and more verisimilitude than any live actor's love could portray.

HERE FOLLOWS SPOILERS!!!

The film portrays young movie director Carl Denham (Jack Black) in the Great Depression who can't make a good film for the life of him. In a last-ditch effort to earn his name--and with an almost non-existence budget--Denham takes his cast, Ann Darrow (Naomi Watts) and her boyfriend (Adrian Brody) to the mystical Skull Island to film his movie. After hearing large noises coming from the center of the island, Denham takes the crew to investigate, eventually being ambushed by island natives who take Ann to be sacrificed to "Kong," the gigantic ape we all know and love, only looking better than we've ever seen him.

However, instead of killing her, Kong saves Ann's life and takes her into the jungle where she evetually realizes he wants to protect her, while Kong falls in love with her. Slowly we see that Ann loves him as well.

Eventually, Denham captures the giant monster and takes him to New York City chained and shackled on a stage as the "8th Wonder of the World!" Of course, Kong breaks loose and begins searching for Ann throughout the city, tearing much of it apart in the process.

Suddenly, Kong sees Ann in the streets and stops his rampage. This is possibly one of the most important parts in the film, when we see straight through Kong's eyes how much emotional pain he is in...how much he loves her. Ann willingly goes with him to the top of the Empire State Building, where they stay until morning.


Of course, biplanes attempt to "save" Ann's life by shooting the monster from the top of the building, all while she screams for them to stop. But, alas, he is shot too many times and falls to his death.

This is the best movie I've seen in the longest time, and goes up as possibly my most favorite film of all time. In other words, you have no choice--go see King Kong!

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

The Mutants Are Back!

When a wookie, a smurf and Kelsey Grammer make love...

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

On the Relativistic Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies

The following is an appendage to the Special Theory of Relativity written by C. Nicholas Walker that deals with the relationship between matter and energy at speeds close to that of light, dubbed the Decay Theory.

FOR MOST PHYSICS MAJORS in colleges and universities around the world, Albert Einstein’s theories of relativity, most specifically his Special Theory of Relativity, are taught to them at some point or another, and are generally assumed by the mainstream American audience as very complex and difficult to understand; this is inherently untrue. In their very basics, Einstein’s theories are meant to be understood by a wide variety of people, as such is a result of the way his mind worked to create theories, using universal analogies and metaphors to explain the mysteries of the cosmos. And although his theories have been fought by some scientists since the day they were first introduced to the public in 1905, they are mainly considered “true and repetitively applicable.” However, there is one single aspect of the Special Theory of Relativity that betokens a looking into, and that is the relation of matter and energy during speeds in which Special Relativity is “true and repetitively applicable.”

In order to continue on, one must have a sort of prior knowledge of what Special Relativity is. Albert Einstein originally wrote his theory in 1905 in the form of a college thesis titled “On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies,” in which he purported, apart from popular belief at the time, that 1) light moved at a constant speed and followed the same laws of electrodynamics no matter the conditions or frame of reference, and 2) light moved at the same speed no matter the state of motion of the emitting body at speed c (approximately 186,300 miles per second) and that nothing could surpass that speed. What this means is that when light does something, it does it the same way every time, no matter in what fashion the observer or emitter is moving, and that nothing with mass can move at faster than the speed of light—this is because as matter increases its velocity it gains mass in the form of kinetic energy, and at the speed of light its mass would be infinite, therefore needing an unattainable infinite amount of energy to keep it going, which is obviously impossible. In a nutshell, light is the universal constant and you can’t beat it.

Having said that, I give the following two situations to illustrate Special Relativity in its finest. First, imagine standing on the side of the road watching a train go by. In it sits a man with a rubber ball. The train moves at 45 mph, and inside the man throws his ball forward at a speed of 10 mph, relative to himself. To you, however, the ball appears to leave his hand at 55 mph, using basic Newtonian physics to add the two velocities together. Now there is the second situation, which gives the point of it all. You see this same train go by with the same man onboard, only now the train is moving much faster, at one half the speed of light (approximately 93,150 mps). Now the man inside does something, only this time instead of throwing his ball he turns on a flashlight, whose beam moves at 186,300 mps relative to himself. But, alas, according to your predictions the speed of the light moving out the handle should have been over the speed of light (about 279,450 mps), which is impossible. Of course, the light you see and the light the train-rider sees are in fact moving at the exact same relative speed, whereas the ball was not. This problem causes Special Relativity to take place (and now we see what is so “special” about it). Because the light must be moving the same speed, Mother Nature—or, rather, Mother Physics in this case—compensates for the difference by manipulating time and distance so that the light never actually surpassed its own speed. It’s rather logical and obvious, when one thinks about it. If time divided by distance equals velocity, and we know the velocity in this case can’t change, then time and distance must be changed in its stead. When this warp occurs to time, it is termed “Time Dilation;” when it happens to distance it is termed “Lorentz Contraction.” The aspect that concerns us now is Time Dilation, which is considered by many, especially science-fiction writers, as a form of time travel.

Time Dilation is a very extreme occurrence that becomes exponentially more prevalent the closer one moves toward the speed of light, which is why moving at everyday speeds as we do on Earth shows such a little effect of Time Dilation—so little so that it is nearly impossible to notice at all. However, if one were moving much faster, at, say, 170,000 mps, they would certainly notice this aspect of Special Relativity. If you stepped onto a train moving at that speed and stayed onboard for only five seconds, when you stepped off the super-train, five minutes would have passed for those observers standing still, because time is moving at a different rate for you than for them, essentially slowing you down. Take a five minute ride and travel five years into the future. This actually happening is a matter of undeniable fact, for it is studied nearly everyday by particle accelerators, which can move singular particles at incredible speeds. However, this research, as such technology allows today, can only study this effect on single particles, and has never been seen on an assemblage of particles, like an object or a living organism. This simple fact causes great concerns in the mind of your adolescent narrator, so I must speak of them next.

Matter and energy are innately connected. They can be transformed into one another, become completely dependent on one another, and more so in the case of living organisms, such as human beings, than anything else—it can be widely agreed that a human being without matter is not a human being, as is a human being without energy not a human being. For the subject at hand, however, internal energy is the most important. The internal energy of a system (abbreviated E or U) is the total kinetic energy due to the motion of molecules—either translational, rotational or vibrational—and the total potential energy associated with the vibrational and electric energy of atoms within molecules or crystals. Internal energy is a quantifiable state function of a system, and therefore is more intricately dependent on matter to exist, or perform its necessary duties. We also know that matter, because of its physical property of mass, is the only material that can be affected by Time Dilation (remember that the mass would reach infinity at the speed of light, needing infinite energy for propulsion). Time Dilation would not, on the other hand, be able to affect the energy of any given system, because energy has no mass. It is unrestricted by the laws of Special Relativity, and therefore cannot undergo its effects. And it is this thought that leads us to the finale, the climax of invention.

To begin with, let us accumulate our thoughts as they are so far. Firstly, we understand the meaning of Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity and its implications on time and distance at speeds close to that of light. Next, we understand the reasoning behind Special Relativity’s effects on time itself, causing one to be “warped” into the future due to the slowing down of the time rate for fast moving bodies. And we also understand the necessary connection between matter and energy in all things of one or more particles, and how each of them is affected by Time Dilation in differing ways. Now, with all this building causality, there must be some momentous effect…and there is. We climb the mountain of facts and find at its summit the result: if, while moving at speeds close to that of light, matter is ruled by a slower time-rate than energy, then any object consisting of an assemblage of particles—and therefore containing internal energy—must experience an internal decay where the matter and energy separate, the internal energy continuing to move through a time-rate unaffected by Time Dilation, while the matter of the subject moves through an exponentially slower time-rate, separating the two and causing the subject to decay into nothingness; separate entities of matter and energy moving through two separate time frames. The implication of this in reality are unknown; the train, if moving at such speeds, would most likely puff into non-existence, all of its energy being essentially sucked away, leaving only a husk of pure matter. The internal energy itself could take many forms, from becoming pure heat to a wave of concussive energy that blasts away anything in its path. Of course, this is where science gives way to science fiction, and imagination becomes the most appropriate tool.

Before Albert Einstein published his theories in 1905, the entire world was filled with an entire selection of scientists who had encyclopedias filled with what they knew, positively beyond fact. One theory came around and it changed the face of science, and made every single person on Earth—forced them, really—to think differently. But the fact is, facts change everyday human beings are alive, and the only truth is that there is no truth. According to the preceding research, gathered in a new and interesting light, this “Decay Theory” based on the relativistic electrodynamics of moving bodies appears to be true and factual, if not actually commonsensical. The following is a matter of undeniable fact: when moving through two different time-rates, two things cannot possibly stay together, and therefore must separate. Whether this Decay Theory is “true and repetitively applicable,” however, has yet to be seen.

Bibliography
Leggett, Anthony. The Problems of Physics. Oxford University Press, 1988.

Geroch, Robert. General Relativity From A to B. Chicago University Press, 1981.

Tipler, Paul. Physics for Scientists and Engineers: Mechanics, Oscillations and Waves, Thermodynamics (5th edition). W.H. Freeman, 2004.

Kennedy, R.J. and E.M. Thorndike. “Experimental Establishment of the Relativity of Time.” Physical Review. Series 2, Volume 42. 1932.

Einstein, Albert. “On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies.” Annalen der Physik. June 30, 1905.

Wright, Matthew Early. “Riding the Plasma Wave of the Future.” Symmetry: Dimensions of Particle Physics. April 2005.

“Internal Energy.” Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia. December 7, 2005. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Internal_energy.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

I Ain't Dead Yet, #*%$#@!!

And now, a piece from God Himself for Mr. Pryor, as he would have wanted it...

Richard Franklin Lenox Thomas Pryor, the greatest motherfucker of them all, fuckin keeled over yesterday. God-damned heart fuckin pissed over on him again--son of a bitch couldn't handle it. God-Damn.

I mean, everybody knew it was gonna happen...the boy fucked up his life. Started on the drinks and the drugs--wasn't even good at it, blew his own god-damned ass up doing it. Fuck.

But he was funny. God-damn. That son of a bitch told jokes so good it'd make your dick hard.

Okay. Sure, he fucked up, got fucked up, and fuckin died fucked up, but god-damn could he make a sad motherfucker smile.

The point is, he was one funny motherfucker, and all these assholes left alive and breathin are gonna miss him. Fuck, they've already started. Hell, that's probably his childhood fuckin dream, to die and not be in a fuckin electric chair, you know what I mean?

And, you know, not to get all fuckin philosophical or anything, but that shit was so funny it'd make us all want to go spread that fuckin sunshine on our face, like he said. You know, cause that's the way he wanted the shit to go down. I fuckin love you, my man. Yeah.


December 1, 1940 - December 10, 2005...God-damn.

Friday, December 09, 2005

Good Pilots Are Hard To Find...

Tragedy stuck Midway Airport in Chicago Thursday night when a Boeing 747 from American Airlines slid off the end of a snowy runway and into civilian traffic, landing on several cars and killing a 6-year-old boy.

The officials at Chicago's Midway Airport claim the crash was a result of harsh weather conditions, with snow recorded falling at a 1 inch-per-hour rate. Slick conditions and bad visibility all added up to the tragedy of that night, ending in the death of a child.

Nonsense.

I talked with the wreakage officials myself and listened to the in-cockpit recordings which continued running all throughout the crash:

Pilot: "...and then Lex's dead mother tells him to let Johnathan win the senate election so he can be a good person."

Co-Pilot: "That's insane. What did Lex do?"

Pilot Trainee: "Uh, guys...the runway's coming up. Shouldn't we be setting the flaps down or something?"

Pilot: "Hey kid, don't worry. We've done this a thousand times."

Co-Pilot: "Yeah, and my friend said he even did it after spending three hours at the airport bar before take-off. It really isn't that hard, or they wouldn't let humans do it. Military pilots can even take off with just 300 feet of runway on a boat...we've got 6,500 in Chicago. Don't worry about it."

Pilot Trainee: "But the tower said we should--"

Pilot: "Tower, shmower. What do they get right anyway? They're not even real pilots like us, just telephone operators to help us do what we do best."

Pilot Trainee: "And what is that?"

Pilot: "Well, I'll tell you what we do..."

Pilot Trainee: "No, I mean what is that?"

Pilot: "Oh, that? That's just highway 70..."

Pilot and Co-Pilot: "Crap."

Pilot Trainee: "You guys are so fired."

And the point is, those airports aren't even that hard to land on. I used to be a pilot for the Carribean Islands, and I've seen alot worse.

For instance...

Then there's this other island...


The mountains are bad, too...


The point is that a little snow shouldn't be so much that it causes the plane to go off the edge and into a freaking freeway. What they need for training is runways like these...for the sake of insentive.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Fighting The War On Christmas

Recently, the news has been harkening into the mediawaves that there is a war on Christmas. Mostly, however, there seems to be only one channel I've currently noticed as noticing it: Fox News. And, even more specifically than that, I have noted that nearly every night the subject for the Talking Points Memo by Bill O'Reilly, from the popular "O'Reilly Factor," has been this very "war on Christmas."


I admit. I have a Christmas tree. However, neither my father nor I are Christians--he says that Christmas stopped being Christian a long time ago and started being simply American. When I heard about this war I immediately took notice, because I love Christmas...I love it very much. It is, quite possibly, the greatest day out of every year--it certainly has Thanksgiving beaten; even though both involve the coming together of the family, one involves several hours of presents, which overrides the former.

But I was sucked into this war, believe it or not, and had, from watching my father's favorite show, The O'Reilly Factor, formed opinions that whoever was calling Christmas trees Holiday trees and taking Christmas from public stores was a menace to society. Some stores even refuse to say Merry Christmas, and in it's place say such terrible things as, "Happy Holidays," or some other cull. Mr. O'Reilly even called a boycott to all stores that do not say bluntly "Merry Christmas" and even had a poll on his website on whether I would shop at those stores that didn't say it all with the like-Christmas Spirit.

Well today, Your Humble Narrator went to our local restaurant to each lunch with my parents, same as I do everyday. It's a very low budget sort of eatery, with enough sitting for maybe fifty people, where the refrigerator sits in the same place as the ash-trays. We love it there, and think the owners and staff are quite possibly the nicest people in the world.

But today I made an observation. As we walked into the store, I noticed sprayed neatly in red and green paint on the front window was:

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

And so I thought to myself, "How dare these little people do such a thing? If they don't give us, in writing, the happy old Merry Christmas, they must be participating in that little war I've been listening to all through the night-time."

And so it was. My other self walked right out and sprouted like-wings that soared into the sky screaming peace and freedom and all the sort. Me, on the other hand, had the sense and timely knowledge to know the truth. There's a war on Christmas just as much as there's a war between the clouds and the sky. If you get your tighty-whities in all of a bunch for the single reason of not seeing your favorite words posted in the air with big-old letters even God Himself could see, then you've been in the need of otherly help for some time now and have long forgotten the real-like meaning of Christmas.

The point of it all is--and this I've noticed with a listening ear--that Mr. O'Reilly and all the sorts of his likeness who need to fill their hours on the televisionary simply need to fill their hours on the televisionary! There is no othe reason for it than that...to fill those time slots in the order of making those dollars and pesos and Euros of the sort.

Think of it this way: the time he alone has spent ranting in the "name of the Christmas spirit" for a few minutes here and there for the past two months has equaled over an hour of your time.

An Hour?!

Mr. Irishman owns a business and uses it to make his money and earn his name...which is an honorable way of living, Mr. Bill. And so, here I watch again. He get's much right, and yet he makes much wrong for the sake of filling up his hourly showcase with a little twirl or a dance.

Well, Billy, the spinnnnn (insert dramatic pause and creepy smile) stops here.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Marketing 101

Good marketing is the key to any successful venture, business or otherwise. Knowing the right people, making the right connections, and doing this at the proper time is extremely important if one wishes to sell their product.

My father is the C.E.O. and founder of Walker Seats, a business he runs out of a two room workshop in our backyard. He employs, currently, one person...me. Had you'd of asked me last thursday I could have added a unit to that number, but Fred cut his finger off on a Stationary Saw friday, so he sort of quit. Right now, it's just me and him, my father, working together to meet his demands, which he accrued through good marketing. And if you ask him, he'll tell you he is an expert marketer, as well as one of the best in the world.

Here now I would like to market my product, easily accessible and completely free.

If you read this weblog, you know that I write...alot. My motivation tends to lack sometimes, but I write nevertheless. I have decided to put my books, only one at a time for now, on seperate weblogs here at blogger.com. I will post chapters or sections as they are written and post at least once a week, although if I have already written large portions I will post twice per week for the sake of entertainment.

My first is The Ladder in the Backyard, the story of a group of british children who escape the watchful eyes of their nanny and discover a portal into personal worlds of pure imagination in the form of a infinite ladder in the wood behind the courtyard of Pennyworth Estate. The children are seperated into their own sorts of dreamscapes where they battle their personal fears and discover themselves in the hopes of finding a way back home.

The second is The Mystery of Stillness, my first of two philosophical novels. I wrote most of this while in my early to middle teenage years, my childish but hopeful philosophical beliefs written in a very esoteric, eastern-influenced fashion. If you like the philosophies of Jiddu Krishnamurti, Bruce Lee, or even Mahatma Ghandi this will be an enjoyable read. I will write the sequel, The Mystery of Chaos, when I am older and my thoughts have changed, comparing the two philosophies of the young and the old.

You can find links to these books on the right-hand side of this page, under "My Other Publications," as well as by clicking on the hyperlinked titles in this very post. I very much desire comments and criticisms, so please respond.

That is my marketing, and for anyone whose eyes find this weblog, I pray your eyes find the others as well. Thank you, and may your days be long upon the earth.

Monday, December 05, 2005

The Overman

And now, the moment you have all been waiting for, a sight of the infamous C. Nicholas Walker, author of this and many other weblogs, and one-day Emeritus Professor of Physics at Columbia University. Ladies and gentlemen, here I am...

Sunday, December 04, 2005

The Secret of the Dragonballs

ONCE, A VERY LONG TIME AGO, there lived in the wilderness of Earth a lonely old man named Gohan. This elderly man had always spent his years training in the art of fighting, for acts of delight and justice, since he stepped his first steps. A wise old man who believed in goodness and love for all those whom he met, he felt it his responsibility to instill all with a sense of peace. Love…

One twilight night, when the final buds of the cherry tree had blossomed under the hypnotic light of the slow, spring sun, he had gone on his every day walk into the thickly forests near his timber home, which he had build from the very trees which he walked. As he ambled, his hands gripped behind his warped back, he saw from the treetops a spectacular sunset whose strange spectrum light smiled towards him.

As he walked towards the fading light of the day, his foot caught--ever so slightly--and slipped from under his feet, so that he fell towards the rocky ground and onto his face with a massive beat. When he came to his feet, embarrassed and wiping the dirt from his silken clothes, he noticed the strange object that had caused his awkward plummet with a glare.

“Hmm…what’s this?” he said, bewildered.

From under a few decrepit leaves left from the previous fall and beaten halfway into the ground, a shining glimmer captured his intriguing eyes in a noticeable river of wonder. He leaned down onto one knee, painfully, and dug his hands through the dirt and under the beautiful object, slowly lifting it from the ground. It was, from what he could see through the caked layer of brown dirt, a golden-yellow orb, only the size of his hand.

He wiped it clean with his precious jacket sleeve and discovered, from under the filth, a design of four stars, bright yellow, embedded onto a section of the globe. Ignoring the sunset, he walked homeward again and set the strange ball on his bed, staring wildly at it.

“What could it be, I wonder?” he said to himself, for he lived with or near no one. “It could not have been dropped. An odd form of ancient jewelry, perhaps? A magical ball? A genie awaiting return to the world, forever imprisoned in a small, cramped little ball…!”

Nothing seemed to make sense, especially the four, small stars engraved onto the sphere. What could they mean? he thought. He held it many different ways, examined it from many different angles, but nothing changed.

“How strange indeed…”

After many days, Gohan decided to lock it up in a small black box, trimmed with silver, and never think of it again. However, his honored safe would not remain locked for very long.

Friday, December 02, 2005

The Procrastinator

pro·cras·ti·nate (pro-kras'te-nat', pre-)
v. pro·cras·ti·nat·ed, pro·cras·ti·nat·ing, pro·cras·ti·nates

v. intr.
To put off doing something, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness.

v. tr.
To postpone or delay needlessly.

I am a procrastinator, like my father before me.
A postponer. A cunctator.

I take an assignment or a task which I know needs be done with haste, and I wait until the very last moment, which sometimes is far too late.
I delay. I deny.
And the reason for this is my pride and my egotism.
My narcissism and my arrogance...

My tragic flaw.

Enter exhibit "A": I have attended Johnston Community College for one semester. I registered for classes on literally the very last legal day to do so. I was not picky, so my lack of class choices were not evident to me at the time.

In signing up for the next semester of classes, I was given the privilege to sign up a full month before the new students could, giving me not only a wider variety of classes, but a wider window of opportunity for signing up in the first place.

The last day for signing up and paying for classes was two days ago. And have I even asked if I can still register? Of course not...and I probably never will.

My mother even asked me if I had registered, and what else could I tell her but, "Yes, of course I have." I have a problem, and it is about time that I, Cody Nicholas Walker, son of Raymond, admit it.

There is no doubting it. Something is seriously wrong with me. And it is a direct result of the recurring belief in my own mind that I am something special; that the rules do not apply to me, as they told Thomas A. Anderson.

But still, I do not wholly believe that my problem lies completely in the confines of my ego. There must be more, because in my heart and in my logical mind I knew that I had to register or I would have no classes. I knew that just as I know the grass is green and the sky is blue.

And this is where the definition of procrastination comes in. They define it not with vanity, but with carelessness and laziness, which I believe is 90% of the problem. My ego is only what I use to rationalize my own laziness in my head, to make myself feel better. And so I come to another movie realization: it's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care.

I don't care whether this world remains rolling upon its axis when the sun rises in the morning. I don't care why innocent people die and the guilty so often buy freedom. I just simply don't care, because I am losing grip of things to care about. I don't even care about my own life. So is it self-sacrificing of myself to jump in front of a bullet meant for another person if it is only because I care so little of my own death?

Now don't misinterpret these words. I am certainly not suicidal. I just simply need some tangible proof that there are things big enough in this world that are still worth caring for, and if there is ever a chance that by caring for them they become constants once more.

And that, my readers, is what I worry about. That, one day, I will not worry anymore.
That, one day, I truly and completely stop caring.
That, one day, I give up.

Too often one person tries to change the world. He tries and he tries and he tries, and it is a difficult path. But after so long, after so much pain and worriment, nothing has changed. Nothing is better. So he gives up, and when he does, everyone loses a little bit...

And that is all that keeps me going.