John Locke Was A Pretty Smart Dude

The title says it all.

I am the very Model of the Modern Major General - BY GILBERT AND SULLIVAN

I am the very model of the modern major general. 

I've information vegetable animal and mineral. 

I know the king of England and I quote the fights historical

From Marathon to Waterloo in order categorical. 

I'm very well acquainted too with matters mathematical

I understand equations both the simple and quadratical. 

About binomial theorem I am teeming with a lot of news,

With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse. 

I'm very good at integral and differential calculus,

I know the scientific names of beings animalculous.

In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,

I am the very model of the modern major general. 

I liked this poem because it is unique, and it brings back memories of my childhood (I learned this poem as a child). 

My First Day At School II - Lost In New York

1) My first day at school, I was trembling with fear throughout the day. I wore a turquoise sweater because I didn't have another one, and it was really cold. 

2) His first day at school, he was shaking with excitement. He was so confident, so happy to be there. He wore a turquoise sweater because he wanted to stand out from the crowd.

3) I don't really remember my first day at school, because I am an adult, and I have forgetful tendencies.

It Ain't Easy Bein' A Skunk

I am not black, I am not white, but I am black and white. And no, this is not the riddle that J.R.R. Tolkien decided to leave out of "The Hobbit". I am, simply, a skunk. 

It's actually kind of annoying to be a skunk. The black animals don't accept me. The white animals don't either. Actually, while we're at it, none of the other animals accept me. I could pull the color card and blame it on not being completely black or completely white, but we all know that's false. The zebra is living proof of that. No, the real reason no one likes me is because I smell like feces.

It's really not my fault. Jesus' dad gave me the terrible smell as a defense mechanism. I'm not getting angry with Papa Christ, but I just feel so excluded from all the other animals. I mean, no one even wants to eat me. My life is incredibly boring. Whenever I approach another animal, or a human being, they always run away as if I'm gonna kill them. Really, I just wanted some companionship. I just wanted to have a conversation. But before I can get in one word, they're completely gone. My kind is barely better. They are all so self-conscious about smelling bad that they overcompensate by loudly calling out all the other skunks for how bad they smell. At the end of the day, I am all alone. I am stuck in the middle, but without you. I am the hamburger without the buns, I am the pepperoni, just chilling in the corner, without any pizza it can lie on top of. I just wish I was gray. I just wish I didn't have to be black and white at the same time. If I was gray they would except me. If I was gray... My life would be so much better. Maybe I'll just start using Old Spice. 

[NO TITLE]

Tina Fey,

Has no shades of gray. 

The Fiddler Fell Off The Roof, and Died.

As Demetri Martin once said, "A musical is like a burlap sack. I would not want to be in either." Since I have fortunately not been in a burlap sack, I will only be able to offer my reflections on the former.

The year was 2004. Or 2005. I don't remember. I do remember that I was in 8th grade. Our class had chosen Fiddler On The Roof as our class play that year. I'm not gonna lie, I liked the play alot. It was a touching, heartfelt, humorous, sad and inspiring tale of love and tradition, of struggle and hardship, and of many other things that can be learned through googling "Fiddler On The Roof - Plot summary". Oh, and the music for the play was great. 

I got a singing part that year. I was so proud of myself, and so motivated to do well. But then I realized something. I was in 8th grade. My voice had not changed. I spent many a night crying myself to sleep (figuratively of course) just re-enacting the manly baritones of my male classmates in my head. I ended up making our pianist - an eccentric fellow named Alan Dynan who played brilliantly but mumbled while he played - play my song in an obscure key that should not exist on the piano. I would have felt bad, but I didn't. I did what I had to do. I had to make my song as low as I could possibly sing it. I had to salvage what was left of my 8th grade manhood. 

Apart from some uncoordinated dance steps and several extremely ill-timed sneezes, the play went very well. As Borat might say, it was a "GREAT SUCCESS!" But what I will always remember about that experience is my high voice ringing out alone, as I myself  dreamt about being trapped in a burlap sack. 

Once Upon a Time in A Land Far Far Away... But not THE land Far Far Away... This isn't Shrek. It's something else...

Once upon a time in a land far far away there lived two hobbits with large hairy toes. But these hobbits were far away from there home. Dirt sprayed in all directions as they trudged through the deserted forest. The hobbits, named Frito and Spam, were on a mission to find Kanye West's lost bling. 

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Frito flung his giant cloak in front of the both of them. "There. Now no one can see us!"

"You idiot!" Spam hissed. "That's only in Harry Potter!" 

Frito cursed loudly. "Over there! Quick!"

They leapt quickly and dashed behind a fat tree trunk. All of a sudden, an obese pine cone hit Spam on the top of his head. Along strand of golden hair dangled from its spikes. 

"Oh my GOD!" Cried Spam. 

"Nothing, nevermind." Said Spam.

"Oh. Ok." Said God dejectedly, and he went back to answering all his prayers. 

"Are you guys trying to hide from me?" Said the damsel from up high in the tree. She looked young and orphan-like, almost as if she was lost in the forest.

Frito and Spam leapt up like Willy, in Free Willy. 

"Um... No. Not at all. We were just... um... scared." Frito stuttered. 

"Nice cover-up!" whispered Spam in his ear. 

"Hey are we animals?" Frito asked.

"Um, yeah... Why?"

"I was just wondering if we counted as talking animals. Cause we're supposed to include talking animals in this story."

"Oh. I think so. I guess Ms. Cassell will have to decide."

"Yeah I guess -"

"Jesus Christ shut UP!" Said the beaver from behind them.

"Excuse me? What did you just say to me?" Said Jesus.

"No, I was talking to them." The beaver hurriedly replied. 

"It definitely sounded like you were talking directly to me!" Said Jesus. 

"Ok. Ok. I'm sorry." The beaver muttered. "I should really look into that buddhism thing." And he skulked away. 

"Are either of you hunters?" The damsel asked. As she and her long golden hair descended from the tree.

"No." Said Spam. "But I think she is." He pointed to a  witch-like, elderly woman with a dead deer slung over her shoulder, and a broomstick in her other hand. 

"Nice to meet you." Said the damsel. 

"Do you happen to heave red-ruby slippers?" The witch/hunter/old woman asked. 

"No." Said the damsel. The witch raised her bow. "But I do have water!" And the damsel raised her SuperSoaker5kg3000SniperPlatinumEdition squirtgun, with a dual suspension water hose, available for only 2 payments of $9.95, plus shipping and handling, which reminded her that those lucky bamboos she had ordered yesterday as a last resort christmas present for her mother-in-law had still not arrived yet, even though she had ordered it in rush delivery, and fired. 

"I'm MELTING!" Screamed the witch/hunter/old woman,, as she sank to the ground and died. 

"Wow." Said Spam.

"I know." Said Frito, "We didn't help her out at ALL. That distressed damsel did it all by herself!"

"Mom? Dad? I thought you guys were dead!" The damsel said incredulously.

"Honey, we're so proud of you, but we can only stay a few minutes, kind of like Lilly and James in Harry Potter. We're still dead as a doornail." 

"Oh." Said the damsel. She disappeared into the woods. 

And Frito and Spam lived happily ever after.

The moral of this story is: When you don't have enough time to write a story, the ending is rushed and anti-climactic, and Kanye West's bling will never ever be found.