A. Warren Johnson

8675309: A Formality

2011-12-24T11:04:00.000-08:00

Another 24th of December and still I am a semester behind in my studies. A lot of my time has been spent as if it were credit, mostly on learning what it is I am actually learning. Apparently it's not how the causal factors of gradient wind forces effect upper atmosphere, or how the forces play a role in cumulus cloud formations one kilometer above the surface. Perhaps if I were to overlay the narrative structure and devices of the poem Sir Gawain and The Green Knight over my biographical experience of this past semester it would become clear that both the conclusion of the poem (Gawain feels that he has failed/The Green Knight says he has preformed the best) and the conclusion of the semester (Getting an F in Geography/Being told I did poorly due lack of time) then both outcomes exhibit a similar result. Jenni, please call.

short rambling

2011-08-17T21:59:00.000-07:00

One thing I have noticed over the summer is that I have seemed to forgotten how to be a student. This poses a problem as I am returning to the role. I suppose the serving job I acquired over the summer should give me better acting skills for an easier transition this time around.

Post Script; I also seemed to have developed something called restraint. Not exactly sure if that makes me more or less like me.

Sexcapades on Ice tag line.

2011-08-14T15:48:00.000-07:00

Question yourself everyday. Re-evaluate your values. Establish your morality. How far would you go?

Reading List

2011-08-11T12:38:00.000-07:00

Currently I am reading The Rules of Attraction. The characters are annoying, the narrators are unreliable, and the story mirrors real life a little too closely. All-in-all, it is pretty good so far.

Also reading Madness: The Invention of an Idea by Michel Foucault. This one seems much more applicable to my studies, so it is also highly enjoyable.

Best writing advice ever!

2011-08-11T12:19:00.000-07:00

Writing is not hard. It is simply personal. Depending on how open you are wanting to be, and how much fiction you want to mix into a story will affect how well a story is received by an audience. The best advice a writer could ever give is this: Live cheap and write for yourself.

Stumble Upon PSA.

2011-08-09T13:43:00.000-07:00

Today I got bored and decided I was in need to jerk off. Thank god for the internet. After slipping my pants around my ankles, the next thing to do was find some erotica on the net; not the easiest thing to do. This is the problem with the internet, it is flooded with way too much porn. After six or seven minutes of searching for just the right material to shoot a load into a sock, I accidentally clicked on the Stumble Upon icon.

This lead me to youtube. The video was Katy Perry's E.T. album version. Of all the pop stars around these days, she is my least favorite, not to mention I absolutely cannot stand E.T. This accident led me to forget what I was doing on the internet in the first place, and inevitably led me to watch more youtube (the Ghostbusters theme, Whatchamacallit commercial from the 1980s, etc) with my pants off.

This is A. Warren Johnson reminding you that accidents happen, be prepared.

Hard Core, I mean Rock--

2011-07-26T14:51:00.000-07:00

Five Favorite Ellis Quotes

2011-07-01T08:41:00.000-07:00

I have been reading a lot of Bret Easton Ellis lately, if you haven't, then you should. Here is five of the best Ellis quotes I have come across:

1. "I never liked anyone and I'm afraid of people." - Imperial Bedrooms

2. "Maggots already writhe across the human sausage, the drool pouring from my lips dribbles over them, and still I can't tell if I'm cooking any of this correctly, because I am crying too hard and I have never really cooked anything before." - American Psycho

3. "Disappear Here. The syringe fills with blood. You're a beautiful boy and that's all that matters. Wonder if he's for sale. People are afraid to merge. To merge." - Less Than Zero

4. "You do an awfully good impression of yourself." - Lunar Park

5. "All the trees were dead. There were dead skunks and dogs and even an occasional deer by the sides of the roads, their blood staining the snow." - The Rules of Attraction

What Did I Learn?

2011-04-13T22:51:00.001-07:00

Students are an interesting sort of people. Regardless of age, race, or nationality they attend post-secondary with the goal of learning. However, most students never think about what it is they are actually learning.

This is interesting to me because I find myself in a very interesting position within the post-secondary career track. I am twenty-seven, I (at the most basic level) remember the eighties, and tend to internalize my experiences for later connections.

Most of the students I have had the pleasure (and displeasure in one particular case) are either older or younger than I am. This places me in a very strange place in my academic life, as I get older references made by older instructors, yet find myself understanding the younger crowds interpretations of what learning is supposed to be.

I have no idea what I will major in (either English or Psychology), however I do know what I am learning. Something the younger crowd seems to not understand. Examples of certain things that are being learned are as follows:

1) When a presentation is supposed to be made to the class by a student, it is to build confidence, and teach a student that talking to thirty other people who are facing you is just like having a conversation, only you are having this conversation with thirty other people.

2) Showing up to class teaches students how to be punctual. If you are unreliable in something you are paying for, how can you possibly be successful in something which you will make money in?

3) Socialization is something that should be developed already, however, many students miss this point in Elementary and High schools. Being enrolled in post-secondary is simply a reinforcement of these skills, however they are slightly more professional than say working in a kitchen.

4) English classes are a good thing. People outside of English Majors tend to view English majors as "useless". Guess what, working in any country that is pre-dominantly English speaking (and yes, this includes Hard Science Majors as well), you will have to know the difference between "then" and "than". Furthermore, English teaches you how to edit written work (whether academic or otherwise), make connections through analysis, and how to communicate ideas on paper.

5) How to budget money. This comes as a learning lesson from the Government, not post-secondary, as they seem to never give you enough cash for a semester.

A Work in Progress

2011-04-13T22:48:00.001-07:00

Course/Section and Title	Grade	Credits	Term
CSC-105 C01 Intro. to Computers & Program.			2011S
ENGL-202 C01 English Literature 1744-1900			2011S
ENGL-214 C01 Short Fiction II			2011S
ENGL-218 C01 Women & Men in Literature II			2011S
PSYC-207 C01 Intro to Abnormal Behaviour			2011S
ENGL-104 C06 Intro to Lit. & Composition	C	3.00	2010S
ENGL-106 C01 Film Studies	A-	3.00	2010S
ENGL-206 C01 Creative Writing II	A+	3.00	2010S
PSYC-102 C01 Introduction to Psychology II	C	3.00	2010S
ENGL-101 C02 Literature & Composition I	A	3.00	2009F
ENGL-103 C02 Composition & Style	B+	3.00	2009F
PHIL-102 C01 Theory of Knowledge	B-	3.00	2009F
PSYC-101 C06 Introduction to Psychology I	B-	3.00	2009F

Total Earned Credits

24.00

Total Grade Points

74.01

Cumulative GPA

3.084

Go, go New Democratic Rangers

2011-04-08T23:06:00.000-07:00

Today around four-ish a few friends and I had a conversation about having a ridiculous cosplay event for the NDP. It would be a spoof campaign of the highly popular kids show "Power Rangers". In this little spoof there would be four rangers-- Black, Green, Orange and White (NDP colors)-- fighting Stephen Harper and his cabinet ministers.

While this probably wouldn't get the votes in for the NDP, it would be fun to put on. This is the reason I could never be a politician.

Jazzersize Writing

2011-04-05T07:05:00.000-07:00

Oddly enough, things happen. The why and how are not important, just the now. If you feel this post is talking (reading) above you, don't worry, you are not alone. The reasoning behind this post is simple: there is no point. Just a bunch of words strung together to create broken syntax and uncomfortable sentences.

If you feel this post is silly, well yes, it is. And again, there is no point to it. However, if you are still reading by this point, then you either like the style in which it was written, or you are holding out hope that there will eventually be a point. If the latter is correct, then you are wrong, and I state once more, there is no point to this post.

I felt the need to post this for the simple reason that I wanted to write. If this bothers you, then take comfort in the fact that it has probably bothered more people too. If you feel you could write something better, then do it. Writing anything is useful, even when it is useless.

As a cowboy in a bathtub once said, "If you have to shoot, then shoot. Don't just stand there talking about it." The same goes for writing, hence this post with no point. It is simply a writing exercise for myself.

I hope you have found this post (as useless as it is) at least entertaining. And now for something completely different--

How to Spot a Pretentious C____sucker

2011-03-24T00:31:00.000-07:00

23 March at 16:55

Hey, So [Capitalization of first word after a comma for no purpose] I am not sure what you are so butt hurt [Use of unpopular, or unknown slang to sound edgy] about... [Lazy use of ellipsis] is it because I absolutely refuted [Attempt at sounding profound] your concept of a BFA being more presitigus [Unable to spell phonetic words] than a BA? [Presumes an issue without facts] Either way I have my opinion and you have yours and [Use of repetition] you can continue to be immature about it all you want [Run-on sentences, without punctuation] but if you are going to continue to post negative [Unable to take constructive criticism of work, or inability to comprehend dead pan humor] comments on my page when I am trying to be funny with my fellow friends [Insertion of poetic device in a formal letter] ... [Repeating lazy use of ellipsis] then you can remove yourself from the group. Thanks [Missing comma]

[Lack of signature]

10 Books you should read

2011-03-06T09:52:00.000-08:00

10. Man's Search for Meaning: This book is interesting because it is a book about framing events (regardless of how horrific) into a context that is humorous and prescribes meaning for the individual. The second half of the book deals with Logo Therapy.

9. The Name of The Wind: While a fantasy novel, it is the first in the "Kingkiller Chronicles" and compares the idea of myth with truth. An idea which will presumably be kept up in the rest of the trilogy.

8. Invisible Monsters: In true Palahniuk fashion, this book will make the reader wonder why they are reading it, only to discover that all along the protagonist is simply seeking a change. Something most people can easily relate to.

7. American Psycho: Set in the eighties, this book (while having grotesque depictions of serial tortures and slayings) has more to do with deconstructing the myths of what is socially acceptable and what defines normality.

6. American Whiskey Bar: A behind the scenes look at a film notorious for being talked about, but never seen. A darkly fun piece of hyper-reality fiction.

5. Kate Carlo: No seriously, who is Kate Carlo?

4. Monster: This book is a fun and fast-paced read that examines how mundane life can be when magic and the supernatural are involved.

3. The Lucid View: Not a very fast read, however it does contain interesting insights and thoughts about religion, politics and literature. Good book, just be patient.

2. Side Effects: Short and funny anecdotes by Woody Allen on a variety of topics.

1. Heaven is Small: An interesting look at Heaven and stream-line consciousness contained primarily to the protagonist's desk.

Growing Up

2011-03-06T09:46:00.000-08:00

Life. One moment you are young, vigorously fully of good intentions: nature. Youth, with it’s unbiased, wise and loving arms reach out, and as you grow, the more you notice that something is just . . . not . . . right.

Suddenly you are ten, twelve, fifteen! You begin to realize that thnigs are not as claer cut as you frist imangied. Sixteen, eighteen, twenty. You look around, the more you matrue, the more thnigs shfit out of plcae. The mroe you see, the more you wnat to set free. The rasicst you thuoght was firednly (on the bus), the whroe you wnated to be your spuose. Eevn the emlpoyer you wokred for the past dceade. All of them twsited and compelx.

Twenty-four, twntey-six, twntey-eight. The desrie for fredeom bunrs in deep. Deeepr and deeepr you attepmt to dare futrher into yuor mnid, but by tihs time you bgein to dobut eevn yuor own mnid. And then, a few thnigs fall . .. Into.. . place. And the tide, just for a moment, gently breaks . . .

It is a dark lull of sleep, exhaustion. It washes over you, calms you; at least some of the time you can make sense of the broken images inside your head; even if they are only dreams--

Sveen am! It is back on the go. Thrity, you braek dwon. How have you come this far and not made snese of a snigle damn thnig? Desparetly you try to meet a gaol, any gaol! It is olny a matetr of time beofre you are forty and thnigs make less snese tahn tehy did beofre!

Mairred and wanting nohtnig more than antoher attpemt to do smothnig; put away the starnge ueslses bilefs, laguh more (as oppsoed too benig offneded), raed intnetoins much more claerly, eevn smothnig as trvial as wihsnig ... upon . .. a . . . star.

You treid tihs and it wokred for a whlie. You attmepted it agian, and agian, and agian, but-- it, the notoin, neevr reutrns. And as you darw yuor lsat bretah, nothnig but yousrlef can forgvie you.

Last Saturday Night

2011-03-06T08:59:00.000-08:00

The idea of setting free is an interesting notion. Being let go (fired) from a job is a fitting analogy for such a theme. On one hand (probably the left) it can be victimizing as a vital life line is cut off, however on the other hand (this would naturally be the right) it grants one freedom, of sorts, for a shot period of time. Which by the way is probably the worst thing an employer could possibly give a disgruntled employee: time.

I came across this problem last week. It was a Saturday (in all honesty it was probably the best day of the week to get fired), in a busy and over-crowded kitchen. The spitting of the fryers and constant tapping and cutting of knives, as well as every foul word being spoken quite loudly. These are-- were my friends. I suppose they still are, however it is much easier to keep friends when you cannot avoid them.

Around five-thirty two post meridiem, I began expressing my concerns about management. Sure, I may have been a little too loud about it, and may have used a few “suggestive” descriptors for important emphasis, although I believe that the fearless leader of a manager could have handled the situation in a more professional manner. After being sent home (and to add to an already wonderful evening) the hero left me with a poem he had wrote while he spoke entitled, “Don’t come back.” Oddly enough, that was the whole poem. He was a pretty witty guy.

Most people may have viewed this as one of those situations that could be considered a crisis, but for whatever reason I did not. The most mopping I did was spending fifty dollars on beer at the near by pub and explained my situation to anyone within earshot, to which no one cared. I then made my way home to watch some internet reviewers primarily Brad Jones, however some other reviewers made their way into the rest of my evening’s viewing.

The next day I went to the film festival. In my fifty dollar splurge on beer, I missed one of the films I had intended on seeing: Trigger by Bruce McDonald, so I settled to see Incendies. It was a heart warming film about teen who has to give up her child, and is reunited with her child in a political prison. She is once again pregnant, gives birth to twins and migrates to Canada. After this I returned home, began searching for work and wrote a few essays.

The first essay focused on the gender norms in the film “Kramer vs. Kramer”, the second on how Coleridge’s “Christabel” was told through the dead mother’s point of view and how its narration was very similar to the third structure of Personal Myth theory I had been working on for the past three years. It wasn’t until two-thirty four (I was about two-thirds of the way though my second essay) that I realized something; if I was still at the restaurant I used to work at, I would not have been able to do all these mundane, yet enjoyable things! I was free, at least for a little while.

-A. Warren Johnson

Celebrity Email: Ida Chong

2011-02-13T01:28:00.000-08:00

Dear Ida Chong,

I loved you in Resident Evil! With this in mind, I would hope that you would keep in mind all the students in British Columbia this consumerist, pseudo holiday.

The first great reason to do such a thing is naturally me! I am amazing. Secondly (ironically more important than the first), as people in a legislative position retire and/or (yes I realize how awkward this sentence sounds already) move on in life, then it is the students that are currently enrolled in classes who will fill said positions.

The third most important reason is also one you may have not considered; if you were to raise tuition instead of lowering them, then come election time (specifically the campaign for Prime Minister position, but really any provincial or federal election) the very same students you have sentenced to debt will probably be more inclined to vote for another candidate. Not really that it would make a difference as the primary focus of our elections are simply to give the illusion that we (excluding people in positions of power, such as yourself) actually have a say in what goes on in this chunk of land referred to as Canada. However, it would be nice to see your name on a ballot slip for P.M.

Finally, this brings me to probably the best reason to keep the students in mind during Valentine's Day: You won't have people thing you are a character from a video game! Educating people leads them to make informed decisions, this is a good thing, utilize this universal truth to establish a change! Don't fall into the social-political game of "it's all down hill form here", be the example; the beacon of hope that students so desperately require right now!

Sincerely,

A. Warren Johnson

PS- I'm glad you are safe, you know, after the whole Raccoon City fiasco.

Zeitgeist & Internet Reviewer Addiction

2011-01-27T06:55:00.000-08:00

Good morning dear reader,

I am sitting in front of my computer, attempting to read, but having no luck. I'm just easily distracted. I suppose I should inform you about the new Zeitgeist film which was released yesterday. It was nice to see a third installment to the series, although I have not been able to finish it quite yet. This is due in part to my studies, and in part to my new found addiction of internet reviewers.

-A. Warren Johnson

Adaptations: Hard Core Logo

2011-01-24T04:05:00.001-08:00

Click to Play

A. Warren Johnson reviews the book written by Michael Turner, as well as the film from 1996 by Bruce McDonald. Audio fluctuates, apologies in advance.

ഹോനെസ്റ്ലി, ലിഎ ക്ലോസര്‍

2011-01-13T23:51:00.001-08:00

ഗുഡ് എവെനിംഗ് ഡിയര്‍ രീടെര്‍,

എ ഫെവ് സ്ട്രങ്ങെ എവെന്റ്സ് ഹാവ് ബീന്‍ ഹപ്പെനിംഗ് വിത്ത്‌ മി ലറെലി; ഐ ഹാവ് ടെസിടെദ് ടോ ബി ബ്രുടല്ലി ഹോനെസ്റ്റ് വിത്ത്‌ പീപ്പിള്‍, ആന്‍ഡ്‌ ഹാവ് നോടിസിദ് ദി ഡബിള്‍ സ്ടണ്ടാര്‍ദ്സ് ബെഗിന്‍ ടോ ക്രുംബ്ലെ അറ്റ്‌ മൈ പ്ലസ് ഓഫ് എമ്പ്ലോയ്മെന്റ്. സിമ്പ്ലി ഫസ്സിനടിംഗ്.

ഇന്‍ രേഗുര്‍ദ്സ് ടോ ദി ഹോനെസ്ടി, പീപ്പിള്‍ ഹാവ് ബീന്‍ എ ലിട്ട്ലെ മോര്‍ രേലുച്ടന്റ്റ് ടോ ആസ്ക്‌ മൈ ഒപിനിഒന്സ ഓണ്‍ മറ്റെര്സ് (വിച്ച് ഈസ്‌ പെര്‍ഫെക്റ്റ്‌ ഫോര്‍ മി, ആസ് ഐ ദോ നോട ലൈക്‌ ഗിവിംഗ് അട്വിസ്). വ്ഹിലെ ദിസ്‌ മെയ്‌ സീം ലൈക്‌ എ ഹര്‍ഷ് റിയാലിറ്റി ഫോര്‍ സോമേ, ഐ അം രീളിഴിംഗ് ദാറ്റ്‌ വ്തെന്‍ യു തമ്പേര്‍ വിത്ത്‌ ദി സോഷ്യല്‍ നോര്‍മ്സ്, യു ആരെ ഗെനുഇനെല്യ മകിംഗ് എ ദിഫ്ഫെരെന്‍സ് ഇന്‍ പീപ്പിള്‍'സ ലിവേസ്. ഐ ഹാവ് ആള്‍സോ നോടിസിദ് സോമെതിംഗ് ഖുഇറെ ഇന്റെരെസ്റിംഗ്, ദി ക്ലോസര്‍ വെ ഗെറ്റ് ടോ പീപ്പിള്‍, ദി മോര്‍ വെ ആരെ കംപെല്ലെദ് ടോ ലിഎ ടോ തേം. വാട്ട്‌ ആന്‍ അട്വന്സിദ് രചെ വെ ആരെ.

അന്യ്വായ്‌, ഐ ഹോപേ യു ഹാവ് എ വോന്ടെര്ഫുല്‍ നൈറ്റ്‌, ആന്‍ഡ്‌ ഐ ഹോപേ ദിസ്‌ ഹാസ്‌ ഇന്സ്പിരെദ് യു ടോ പോന്ടെര്‍ സുച് മറ്റെര്സ് ഫോര്‍ യൌര്സെല്ഫ.

-എ. വാര്രെന്‍ ജോണ്‍സന്‍

Passing Thoughts on Immortality

2011-01-12T23:47:00.001-08:00

The concept of immortality is one which is flawed. While the idea is a comforting thought, it is one closely entwined with the afterlife. After all, no one can cheat death, and sum it up "On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero" (Fight Club, Palahniuk).

So what then are we to make of the concept of immortality? Could there be a different avenue of surviving physical death? Let's take for instance the great written work's of authors long dead. Certainly their words have carried on through out centuries, but how is it that they still exist with us today? Surely one could argue that they started many dialogues which have been continued throughout numerous generations, but does this count as immortality? Would it truly be such a stretch to believe that written works could be considered a form of immortality by way of legacy?

Yes, it would be presumptuous to believe such a fallacy, if only for the fact that one day everything will exist to be, as will the concept of immortality.

However, all hope is not lost in such a statement. There is still the matter of spiritual immortality, and there must be some value in the idea of an afterlife! Why would we have such a vested interest in such a subject if there wasn't? Although, this would naturally exclude any notion of Purgatory, Nirvana, and Limbo. And I suppose it would be better to exist in Eternal Damnation, rather than a state of nothingness. And surely if there was a Shangri-la, Heaven, or Eternal Bliss, that would be preferable to perdition.

This then brings into question, what would it take to exist in life after death? Just live your life? Let the chips fall where they might? Certainly it would not be left up to chance. And the Almighty up high must have already chosen those who are heading to the perfect kingdom and leaving the rest to burn. But does this not contradict the God-given gift of free will? And if not, would God truly leave his most fragile creations make his decisions for him in this matter? It seems like a little more thought would have been put into such a damaging or rewarding plan, would it not?

Well dear reader, it seems that our synecdoche hand has landed into the metaphorical concrete on the matter of immortality, and I am not afraid, concerned, nor bothered by the idea of such a question being answered. Take comfort in the fact that you will die, and also take solace in the fact that you will be remembered, loved and cherished by those closest to you. After all, isn't that what immortality is all about?

-A. Warren Johnson

Adaptations Update

2011-01-11T18:43:00.000-08:00

Good evening dear reader,

Adaptations is underway! I am finishing the first episode sometime this week, and will hopefully be able to continue to update one episode a week. Hopefully this little trailer will be enough to hold you over until my first video is complete!

The rating system on the show is as follows:

25% Story (Does the film genuinely attempt to follow the narrative of the original source material?)

20% Character Development (Are the characters as well developed as the source material?)

15% Atmosphere (Does the film generate the same feeling as the source material?)

15% Technique (Does the film's direction/visual/editing and/or audio serve/take away from the narrative of the source material?)

10% Nuance (Does the film include the little nuances that enhanced/distracted from the source material?)

All adapted films will be rated out of 85%, and every film will be given a 15% discrepancy. This means that no film will below 15%, as some creative differences must be compensated for when it comes to adaptations.

Look forward to your comments, criticisms and correspondence!

-A. Warren Johnson

Adaptations: Hard Core Logo

2011-01-02T12:20:00.000-08:00

Published in 1993, Hard Core Logo by Michael Turner has witnessed three editions and has spawned two films. Hard Core Logo (1996) and Hard Core Logo 2 (2010). What makes this book great is the writing. It is not a conventional story. For the most part, it unfolds in real-time, and is supplemented by song lyrics, pictures and invoices, all of which serve to further the narrative.

The story revolves around a Canadian punk rock band called, you guessed it, Hard Core Logo. They first hit the music scene in the late 1970s, broke up numerous times and have been contacted by Laura Cromartie for a benefit show. Joe Dick is our protagonist. Joe gets a hold of Billy Talent (yes, this is where the band got their name, no Michael Turner does not know them), Pipefitter and John.
H.C.L. preforms the show they were contacted about and this gives Joe an idea: A reunion tour. Six shows (Calgary, Regina, Winnipeg, Saskatoon, Edmonton and Vancouver), in seven days. On top of this gruelling schedule, Joe has decided that H.C.L. Should also preform these shows as acoustic sets (rather than their heavily distorted act for which they are known), and has even wrote a few songs about a Native Canadian human rights activist.

As the tour goes on, the reader is treated to an interesting way of developing the four main characters, Joe Dick is usually the front man of the story, and most of his development comes from his dialogue. Billy Talent is developed much the same, although his dialogue is usually through conversations. Pipefitter is developed through his inner thoughts, and he primarily is the one who comments on any changes (good or bad) that develop in the plot. John has probably the most interesting character development. John’s journal entries, while rare, serve to give a comparison to how things were, too how things are currently going. I found this structure made the book much more enjoyable, and kept it interesting.

The band makes a detour to visit Bucky Haight, Joe’s primary influence. Bucky tells them a story from when he was a young rocker. He had recorded an album with a few buskers he met in a day, then spent the night partying with them, spending a lot of the money he received to record the album. The next day when Bucky woke up, he found that all the band equipment, the rest of the money and the album was missing. He concludes his story by telling the group that he has Hepatitis from using a dirty needle.

By the end of the tour Billy Talent reveals that he is planning on leaving H.C.L. to pursue his career further with another band. Joe Dick finds out about this and declares that not only is this the last show for Hard Core Logo, but also the end of Billy Talents life, then preform one of their older songs, “Something’s Going to Die Tonight”. After the show the band is informed that they cannot be paid because the club owner’s wife robbed the till.
The book concludes with Billy catching a flight to Seattle, and the rest of the band heading back to Vancouver. John tells Joe that he is stuck in the glory days, and that him, Pipefitter and Billy have outgrown Joe’s shenanigans. Pipefitter then replies to John and tells his that he is a hypocrite, then goes on to explain that he knew he would be in for a bad time right from the hop. After all is said and done, the band (minus Billy) is back in Vancouver. Joe Dick takes out an ad in a paper looking for a new band.

Although Hard Core Logo has a page count of 205, most of the text is set up very much like poetry, rather than prose. However, this does not mean that it is an easy read, due to the multiple layers and symbolism, Hard Core Logo is a very tightly packed, busy book.

Since this (and other reviews in the Adaptation series) is a comparative review, let’s take a look at the movie.
In 1996 Hard Core Logo was adapted to film by Bruce McDonald. The synopsis I have given of the book is almost exactly what happens in the film, with a few major differences.

The first difference is Hard Core Logo’s sound. In the book, they are preforming almost everything acoustic, while in the film they mimic their original sound of heavy distortion. This I found to be interesting because the way H.C.L. sounds seems to imitate bands like Nirvana, and other garage bands that were big at the time (yes I am well aware that Kurt Cobain was dead by this point).

Next, the film also had one additional character, this was Bruce, the camera man who was filming the “documentary’ about Hard Core Logo. This was by far the most interesting change made to the source material, as the band and other supporting characters actually acknowledged him as part of the film. Bruce even had a few lines in the Bucky Haight detour, in which they sacrifice a goat after dropping acid. This part of the film was also altered in a big way from the book.

While Bucky implied that he did not like to be used in the book, he actually tells Joe Dick point blank that he does not like to be used, and to never come and see him again. The reason for this is something I didn’t explain in the synopsis, but probably should have. Joe Dick announces at the benefit show that Bucky Haight has lost his legs, and that is why they agreed to do the gig in the first place, this was not altered in the adaptation. After this Joe announces that Bucky Haight has died in both the source material and the film adaptation. However, when Joe makes this comment, he means it poetically, and not literally, which was lost on fans in the film.

The third and the most shocking change to the film from the book comes at the tail end of the movie. When Joe announces that it is the last day of Billy Talents life, Joe attacks Billy and they have a fist fight in the middle of their last show. As fans begin to leave, John gets on Joe’s mike and says a few poetic lines, then begins chanting, “In the end, it’s love”. Once Billy and Joe’s fight is broken up, Billy leaves and Joe is outside on the front step of the club. Bruce and Joe exchange a little bit of small talk, then Joe reaches into his jacket to grab a gun, then shoots himself in the head. I am not sure why the end was changed. It is (as I said) the most shocking change to the source material, but it was also the most altered part of the entire film.

While most adaptations generally only keep around 68% of the source material around, Hard Core Logo did a great job at bringing the story of a Canadian band on their last tour together. The interesting way Michael Turner developed the characters in the book was preserved as much as possible, and the concluding message (while presented much more shockingly in the film) was kept the same. Which is a lot more then can be said about most adaptations (yes I will get to those-- eventually).

2011

2011-01-01T15:49:00.000-08:00

Happy 2011 Dear Reader!

I look forward to your continued readership.

-A. Warren Johnson

Kitchen Life

2010-12-01T20:11:00.000-08:00

Kitchen Life

Three friends (Matt, Jake and Maggie) work at the Cheshire. After the death of two of their coworkers, the three soon find themselves spiraling into the worst work day ever. Could it be that Dish Pig fought a real crime? Is it possible for FNG to regain his name? Can Kamron make it back from Japan in a day? Buy the book and find out!

Coming 2011

Adaptations

2010-11-26T12:03:00.000-08:00

Adaptations is in the works! It will be an experiment in analysis of films based on books. I don't know how long it will take me to get this project in order, but it might be a while yet.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

2010-11-11T01:22:00.000-08:00

Mandy the Haunted Doll
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

About 3 years ago I had heard about a doll in the Quesnel Museum. Now this wasn't an ordinary doll, however, this doll was special! This doll was haunted! I heard first of the doll named Mandy from a friend, she had grown up in Quesnel, and she knew some of the history about the doll. What she had told me was this: "Her eyes follow you as you walk past! And she gives you a feeling of fear that I can't even describe!", How could I not want to see this doll? I incidentally bought a book of ghost stories around BC, how curious that I would find a write up of that very same doll in that book! Exactly one week after buying that book I was on my way to Quesnel, (Approx. 1 hour from Prince George), to see this cursed doll. With me I had 3 friends, Derek, Jamie, and Ken. When we arrived at the Museum, Derek and Jamie waited in the lobby, while Ken and I went into the doll's exhibit. I had a camcorder with me, so that I could film it, just in case I caught something that would be extraordinary. After a lengthy conversation with the assistant curator, I was allowed to film the doll. Now Ken and I went to the doll's case and I was already filming it. While I was filming the doll I never experienced any feelings of discomfort or fear. Ken on the other hand left almost immediately after entering the exhibit with me. He told me later that he was to scared to be around the doll. While I was left alone in the exhibit I glanced up from the camera to see this doll with my own eyes, and not through the camera's lens. When I did this, the strong feeling of unease hit me, and I quickly went back to filming. The last shot of the doll is the most interesting part of this endeavor. there is a window behind the exhibit that you can see the doll, in it's case, through. When I zoomed in on it, she smiled. Now I didn't notice this at the time I was filming, but when I was watching the video on the way back home I saw it. I watched it a few times before I told the other 3 what I saw. I past the camera around for them to see, and all of them agree that it was indeed strange. Now I'm not saying that the doll did in fact smile, because it could have been anything from a film glitch to a bend in the glass, but the event as a whole was very weird.

CEM Experiment

2010-11-09T21:55:00.000-08:00

Hello Dear readers,

Out of boredom I just finished watching a film reviewer critic. Something that I found pretty funny as this guy doesn't review films, rather he has opted to critique other internet film critics. An interesting concept, and something that I have also thought about doing, however, it probably will never happen, so don't hold your breath. As I watched this video, I began to wonder about Celebrity E-Mail-- What would a "Celebrity" reply with if I were to actually send them one of these blatant satirical emails? Since I do not actually have any of the email addresses of any of those rich and famous types I satirize, I decided on trying this out with my last CEM, "The Cinema Snob".

As of yet, I have not received a response, although I will keep you posted on how this experiment pans out . . .

-A. Warren Johnson

Serving God Excerpt

2010-10-25T10:02:00.000-07:00

I set the last glass down, received a fairly warm thanks and began to make my way back to Nadia and Dante. I had taken only a few steps away from the table when the young woman addressed the table.

“I know, what is he, like thirty?” She laughed obnoxiously. “And he’s still waiting tables. Maybe he should begin to think about getting a real job.” Another bout of laughter.

I stopped. My neck began to burn in my collar. I set my tray down on the ledge of a bussing booth, turned around and walked back to the table. The anger I felt was like nothing I had ever felt before.

I slapped my hand on the table. The reverberation made everything on the table shake briefly. I stared at her with the coldest look I could muster through the hot anger.

“Thirty-two, actually. I also have a dead wife, would you care to make fun of that as well? Maybe you could jest about my religious background while you’re at it.” My voice came out calmer than I expected.

A look of terror and confusion crossed her face.

“Or how about the fact that I watch Oprah and I write. Got any insights you would care to share with the rest of the table now?”

She looked around at the rest of the people at the table. They all looked as shocked as she did.
“I-- I want to sp--speak to a manager.” The woman said. Her resolute shaky.

“What for? To make a complaint about your server not allowing you the pleasure of shoving dirt in his face? Or possibly the fact that you were so rudely interrupted while you were giving your hurtful opinions and insights into the life of your server?”

“I-- I want . . .”

“No. Let me tell you what you want. You want to make my life as difficult as you can so that you can feel better about your own miserable position in life. Let me ask you something, what is it that you do for a living?”

“I-- I--. I’m a cashier at Save-On.” Her head bowed.

“So if I were to go into your store and begin giving some spit-balled opinion of you to customers in line, just in ear shot of you, would you still find this situation funny?” I tilted my head to the left.

“Well, no.”

“Exactly my point. Now, do you still want to complain about me?”

“I-- I guess not.”

I stared at her for a moment longer. Her head still facing her lap. I slide my hand away from the table and walked away.

‘Wow! I never thought I would ever do that.’

Internet Busking

2010-10-18T10:30:00.000-07:00

Hello dear readers,

There are a few things I would like to share with you, first and foremost, the donation button. While I do enjoy writing on my blog, and I enjoy the fact that you have taken an interest in what I have to write, I have come to the conclusion that I do require a donation button as I have gotten emails about why I need one. The emails were from people who have stumbled upon this blog and wanted to pay me a small pittance for my work.

A good example of this comes from biltzed_fest124:

Hey A. Warren,
Love the celebrity emails, and some of your stories. I really liked that one about going to california with a psycho girl and trying to make a living writting. Do you ever plan on finishing that one? Anywasy, I had a simliar experience with a girl like that once. It was awful. Keep up the CMs and please finish your california story!
p.s. I would have giving you a donation as I know first hand how little amueter writers get paid, but you don't have a button! LOL.

Now, I do appreciate these sentiments, but I do not want you the reader to feel you need to send money. If you you want to, that's fine, if you can't or just don't want to, that's fine as well. There will be no subscription fee for this blog ever, so read at your leisure.

Another thing I wanted to bring up is the format of this blog. I know that I am very sporadic when it comes to posting new content, so I will be working one a schedule to securing set days to put out new content. For those of you who like Celebrity Email, I am planning on doing one a month. As there is a limited amount of celebrities in the world, to do one every week just burn through the list quite quickly. Hence why in the past I have also included tabloid celebrities as well. I will try to get a few rants up a week, and probably a few excerpts from things I am working on currently. I'll keep you posted on this new schedule.

Finally, I am also wanting to start selling some merchandise. Nothing to fancy as of yet, maybe a couple of shirts, and a few DIY made books. Although this will not be an immediate thing, I am looking forward to doing up some of these in the near future!

Well, I have ran out of things to inform you about. I look forward to hearing some feed back from you dear reader!

-A. Warren Johnson

Celebrity Email: The Cinema Snob

2010-10-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Cinema Snob,

My name is A. Warren Johnson, and last week I attempted to watch a bad movie in hopes of starting a review section on my blog. However, this proved to be fruitless, as I fell asleep. The film I attempted to watch was "The Zombie Chronicles". It was (as you refer to it) "shot on shitteo", which could be a good reason as to why I was unable to finish it. With that said I do have some questions.

First of all, how can you sit through some of the films you review? This is something that really boggles me, just how? I mean there is a difference between sitting through a bad movie that you paid for (probably because the trailer looked good, as was the case with "Legion") and intentionally hunting down films like "Ax'em", "Tales from the Quadead Zone" and "Video Violence". So how do you entertain yourself to stay awake long enough to write reviews, let alone add some much needed humor for these sad excuses for films?

Next I was wondering how you manage to find these films. Sure, you occasionally mention Netflix, but I can't help but wonder how many of these films you actually own! So where exactly do you get them? Is there a store dedicated to the sales of terribly written, poorly produced and directed without style? Do you find some of these films at garage sales, or going out of business video stores? If you do find at least some of these films at stores which are shutting down, then what store would have "Salo" for sale?

Lastly, why can't you stand Kung Ti Ted? I have never met him, but he doesn't seem like the worst person ever. In fact, he seems to have a lot in common with you. He reviews mostly horrible kung fu films, but you have also reviewed the entire Pierre Kirby catalog. Sure it might be a little annoying to have coffee with him due to his bad English dubbing, but at least you would be able to understand what he is saying (sort of).

Thank you for taking the time to pull yourself away from whatever horrible film you are watching at the moment to read this little piece of fan mail.

Wishing you all the best in your quest for terrible films,

-A. Warren Johnson

Celebrity Email: Rob Zombie

2010-10-14T08:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Zombie,

My name is A. Warren Johnson and I am a big fan! I've been listening to you music since I was in grade seven, and have always enjoyed revisiting the "Astro-Creep 2000" album from time to time. Although, I find the music on "Astro-Creep 2000" hasn't really evolved at all since the first experience. Now I know you are probably busy re-creating some horror film that does not need to be updated, I will keep my questions short and to the point.

First of all, I have always wondered why you perpetuate the image of being an undead rockstar, yet always seem to have a giant robot on stage whenever you tour. Is this a symbol of the "Zombie" being kept alive by technology? Or merely to blur the line between horror and science fiction? More importantly, why the robot from "Astro Zombies"? I mean it does look really cool, but "Astro Zombies" is the kind of movie that a seventh grade school kid would write because they do not understand story structure or the purpose of narrative. However, I suppose it does sort of give a nod to the "Astro-Creep 2000" album. Although, it is a very flimsy nod.

Next I was wondering if you and your wife have horror themed sex? I know, I know, it is truly a personal question, but one that I can't stop pondering. The reason I ask is due mostly to that episode of "Cribs" where you showcased your horror film collection and life sized replica of Frankenstein's Monster. So naturally, if you are that serious about the horror genre, then one can't help but ponder if you dress up like the wolfman while your wife dresses up like a seductive space spirit . . . Or some such character.

Finally, what is the point of "El Superbeasto"? I really can't figure it out, and believe me, I have watched it close to eighteen times, and still cannot see the purpose of the film. For instance, why is there a scene which spoofs "School House Rock"? It felt out of place with the whole "Sudsy Powers of Hell" speech. Sure, there was bubbles in the transmogrified portion of the song, but what are these sudsy powers of hell? Why does Dr. Satan require them? How do these suds even work? When-- well okay, the when was explained . . . But it still made no sense! Oh well, I am sure you will be able to explain it once you reply.

I would like to take this moment to thank you for reading this letter, and I hope I have not interrupted you in a repeat viewing of "Dawn of the Dead" in your personal theater.

Happy Halloween Hootenannying,

-A. Warren Johnson

Kitchen Life Excerpt

2010-10-14T08:39:00.000-07:00

FNG walks over to Jake.

FNG:
Hey Jake.

JAKE:
(Wiping off a cutting board) What’s going on FNG?

FNG:
I think I may have pissed Matt off.

JAKE:
(Stops wiping) Yeah? And how did you do that?

FNG:
Well, I asked him about Maggie, then he brought up Frank chasing Maggie and--

JAKE:
(Cuts FNG off) Say no more. One thing you should never do is defend Frank to Matt.

FNG:
Well I just wanted to know why Matt . . .

JAKE:
And Frank don’t get along?

FNG nods.

JAKE:
(Pause) Have you noticed that sign by the office yet?

FNG:
There are a few signs by the office. Which one?

JAKE:
(Sighs) The one about referring people as a manager. You get a bonus if you refer someone and they become a manager. When Matt and I first got hired, Frank already worked here. At that point he was only a line cook. Soon there was a huge turnover in staff. Needless to say Matt and I became senior staff, and Matt was promoted to a supervisor.

This is where Frank and Matt’s feud started. See Frank disliked the fact that he was a few years older than us and had to take orders from Matt, so Frank usually didn’t do anything Matt had asked him to do. Needless to say, always infuriated Matt. Soon Frank was also promoted to supervisor, which pissed Matt off even more.

However, it wasn’t really the fact that Frank was promoted that got to Matt, it was the fact that Frank never listened to people above him and was rewarded for his insubordination that was the problem.

Anyway, a few months after Frank’s promotion, our corporate master’s introduced this system of referring people into management positions. Much like a democracy, people nominate others and depending on how many people nominate someone dictates who gets into management.

There is a cash bonus for the first person that refers someone, so naturally I referred Matt because we were short on rent. Unfortunately for Matt, he had a gay stalker that used to work here. Now this guys was friends with a lot of staff whom no longer work here, and guess who they all referred. Now the only reason they referred Frank was to get back at Matt for having a restraining order put against this particular server, otherwise Matt would be in Frank’s position today.

FNG:
Wow! That’s intense.

JAKE:
Sure was. No matter what bullshit you hear about this being a “fun place to work”, don’t believe it for a second. Just because everyone is just trying to keep their jobs doesn’t mean that things are any less politically charged.

FNG:
So even me wanting to ask Maggie out is politically charged?

JAKE:
What? How does Maggie factor into this equation?

Best Commerical Ever!

2010-08-08T12:40:00.000-07:00

Hello readers,

I felt that after my last rant, I owed you something a little more light. I'm sure I haven't always been cynical, and one such example of a pastoral time was set in the eighties. As my mother has informed me, I used to recite commercials. For whatever reason I would do this wherever I went. The weird part is (as my mother also informed me) most of the time people would actually need the products I was inadvertently advertising.

One such product isn't even sold in Canada, but apparently one time some poor sap heard my rendition (let me assure you, I do not have a singing voice) of a particular commercial that many feel nostalgic about. Whatchamacallit.

For those of you that are too young too remember this commercial, the lyrics are as follows;

Thing-ima-bob, gobble-de-gok, what's it's face? Whatchamacallit. Whatever it is, whatever it was. Chocolaty chocolate. Whatchamacallit. How's it go? Rosendo. Chew, gooey Carmel. Whatchamacallit. Do-hickys, you know what I mean. Pea nutty crispies. Chewy, chocolaty, crunchy, Hershey! Do-dad, skittermaring. More than a mouthful, it's Whatchamacallit.

Now these random words don't seem like much on the page, however, when they are backed by 80s synth drums, bass and strings-- the result is the best commercial ever. This jingle is so catchy that I can guarantee that it will be stuck in your head for a few hours after.

If the jingle itself wasn't catchy enough, the imagery that accompanies it is absolutely fantastic. My personal favorite image in this commercial is a flying saucer being shot by a laser and disintegrated into chocolate.

If you do not know this commercial, I highly suggest you check it out here. While dated by the music style and the strange images, Hershey could air this commercial today and never have to make another ad for Whatchamacallit. Seriously, it is that good.

-A. Warren Johnson

Life Lessons: Family Restaurants

2010-08-04T02:29:00.000-07:00

Hello dear readers,

There is something chapping my ass that I feel should be addressed. No, it is not chaffing or hemorrhoids. It is a plague on us consumers (yes I am just as much a consumer whore as you are) that needs some serious reconsideration.

Naturally I am talking about the idea of "family restaurants". Now just stop and take that in for a second. Most restaurants are aimed at families, this in it self is a quaint idea, but the sad truth is restaurants are the furthest thing from family oriented.

Exhibit A: The staff. While I personally have a deep affection for those lost souls whom wander the depths of the kitchen, working stiff wait staff, and even the incompetent (not to mention almost useless) management slave drivers; Most people do not. Restaurant staff (like most of the working class) are simply there to serve.

Whether it's a server in servitude of the customer, or the cooks in service of the servers. At the end of the day the whole driving force behind the operation is to turn a profit. This is the first of numerous red flags that should keep the consumer cautious.

The next is the more subtle aspects. The rules placed upon these unfortunate enough to find themselves working in such a disgusting den of vile scum and villainy. (Yep. That was a Star Wars reference.) Regulations that require servers to plaster hollow smiles and well wishing upon disrespectful and disregarding clientele, or having such clauses like "Having fun is a must!" only to have them over ruled by people who make to much goddamn money and don't pull there own weight. Yeah. What a great managing strategy.

My personal favorite is the no swearing rule. "This is a family restaurant. Do it again and I'll write you up." This rule is my favorite because of the juxtaposition of the music. With lyrics like "I want to get freaky with you" and "I know you want to taste it, but I'm a make you chase it" seeming harmless to the unwary customer who screams "Shut the fuck up" to their crying kid. In my time in any restaurant I have ever worked in I have never had a patron complain about me cursing. Not once. However, it would have been nice to see one of the numerous over paid slave drivers go and tell a table that "This is a family restaurant" then promptly threaten to write the customer up. The black eye that manager would have got would have been my happy place whenever I got stressed out.

This brings up another valid point to the table. The customers. They drag their crying kids into a cesspool of broken dreams and false hopes without ever realizing that one day their oh-so-precious-child will be joining the ranks of the disgruntled, underpaid wage slaves and more than likely stay there because they will be to scared to drink alone if they (god forbid) ever get a real job. Nice moral fucking lesson for the kids. "One day your life will be as miserable as the soul crushed fucker that just pasted that fake smile on his face and makes only minimum wage." *Smiles*

So why is this family restaurant business such a big deal? Well it teaches young impressionable minds that everyone has to be unnaturally happy at all times, that it is okay to fail at life, and that there is no such thing as a happy ending that you haven't paid extra for. If this sounds harsh, then you are just to sensitive. However, there is a few up sides to working in a restaurant; First you get to know peoples dirty and dark secrets. Why this is, I have no idea, but there you have it. Also, it pays the bills for those who are geared towards higher learning, and finally it all comes full circle with the staff. True, most have criminal tendencies, drink too much and occasionally dabble with in the realms of illicit narcotics; It is truly them that make life in a family restaurant entertaining and conversation worthy.

-A. Warren Johnson

PS- Next time you are in a "Family Restaurant" be sure to count the contradictions and tip your server!

Celebrity Email: Nostalgia Critic

2010-07-21T16:57:00.000-07:00

Hello Nostalgia Critic,

Thank you for your many acts of kindness; Remembering things that people would rather forget, inventing Santa Christ, bringing Lindsay Ellis on Team TGWTG as the Nostalgia Chick. The list can go on, and on.

As you may have guessed, it's question time! Yes, that's right, I have a few things that I must know. Namely because I am self-centered and like to know people's dirty little secrets! So without further delay, QUESTIONS!

Number one. Have you ever thought about doing serious reviews? While I do enjoy your slapstick off-the-wall rants, I often find myself wondering what your show would be like in a more serious context. This really came to mind after watching your review of Siskel and Ebert. Wow, just wow. I could not believe how well you pulled that episode off. Have you ever thought about a secondary show like that away from www.tgwtg.com? While I can't speak for everyone, I would thoroughly enjoy it!

Number two. This is delving into a more personal matter, but I need to ask it anyway. Do you critique internet pornography before you view it? If so, what's your system based on? Example: Number of positions, run time, how many films the actors/actresses have starred in prior to the clip. I'm not sure why I want to know this, but since you are a critic of the visual media, I just assumed that this question would come up eventually from one of your fans.

Number three. Is it true that you don't actually have a job outside of www.tgwtg.com? Now, I know that the production of your shows is a lot of work. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I am just interested to know if you make enough money doing what you do on your site to be able to not work a day job?

Well Critic, as I have emptied my bag of questions, I must now thank you for your time, and bid you farewell.

Your part-time adoring fan,

-A. Warren Johnson

Celebrity Email: Tommy Wisaeu

2010-07-21T16:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Tommy,

I have recently heard about your film The Room, and with my deepest regrets, have to inform you that I will not be viewing it at any point in my life. While I have no doubts what-so-ever that you have indeed made a fine (I use this word very, very loosely) film, I just cannot bring myself to watch it. However, I do have a few quick questions that are imperative to know. Naturally, for my own piece of mind.

First off, what inspired such a work (trust me, there are other words I would use, but I do try and keep C.E. at a PG-13 rating)? As this film is clearly without artistic merit, I am genuinely curious.

My second question has to do with the writing aspect. Did you raise the money to make The Room first, then decide to write the script? Because if that's the case, it would explain the major plot holes (even though I didn't see the film, I was curious enough to read the screenplay), the awkward and poorly developed dialogue, and the strange sex scenes that took up no less than eight pages! Why Tommy, why? Why does a sex scene need to be eight pages long? Furthermore, was there even a second, third or even fourth draft of the script? I'm not sure if you know the process of screenwriting works, but multiple drafts are there to iron out the kinks! Good rule of thumb when writing, always make drafts, and unless you are making an adult title, keep the sex scenes to a page-- page and a half maximum.

Well Tommy, I am all out of questions. Thanks for taking the time to read (which I know might be a little hard for you, as the clips from The Room can attest to) this letter.

Your-- biggest, non-fan? (I think that would be correct),

-A. Warren Johnson

PS- Those people that laugh at the screening of The Room-- They're not exactly laughing with you . . . Sorry, I hate to break that to you.

UPDATE!!!

2010-06-14T03:35:00.001-07:00

Good morning dear readers!

I am having a wonderful day, Serving God is well underway and I have a sequel developing in my head. 51 pages have come to pass and hopefully a full manuscript will be finished sometime in the next few months. Then begins the revisions, editing and hopeful full release. Felt like giving you all an update on the progress. I will attempt to get a new Celebrity E-Mail up in the next few weeks, as it has been too long!

Hope you all have a great day!

-A. Warren

. . . Next on FOX

2010-06-04T03:36:00.001-07:00

Woman drowns a grizzly bear in a teaspoon of water, next on FOX.

Ex-President Bush dies jumping out a window for a taco, next on FOX.

Savage creature found while exploring a toilet seat, next on FOX.

Siamese twins decide to go there separate ways only to discover they can't, next on FOX.

Sasha Fierce to star in pornographic adaptation of The Fall of the House of Usher, next on FOX.

Micheal Jackson dies and becomes the boogie man hiding under kids beds, next on FOX.

Trent Reznor becomes the new spokes person for Zoloft, next on FOX.

Suicide rates on the rise in cities where Metro Station play, next on FOX.

School shootings on the decrease due to the increase of emo kids, next on FOX.

Rush Limbaugh tries to think logically and has an aneurysm, next on FOX.

Sports hero praises Jesus for his drug addiction, next on FOX.

AIDS discovered to be a drug marketing tool, next on FOX.

Anger leads to hate and hate leads to the darkside, next on FOX.

Gay marriage approved at the cost of the catholic church being shut down, next on FOX.

A bigfoot was caught in a fishing net off the coast of the fabled Canada's, next on FOX.

Sexcapades on Ice (First Round)

2010-04-29T03:53:00.000-07:00

At the age of six I was having fantasies about women. For the most part, it was harmless. One, two, sometimes even three naked women standing (Occasionally one might be sitting) in front of a very child like apple tree. These women were always slim, big breasted and usually were blond, brunette and red in that order.

Looking back at these child like images my mind generated in my youth; I now find them to be much like a selection tree. They were like a bag of skittles whispering softly, “Taste the rainbow.” Maybe not in the same sense that a rainbow today symbolizes. And maybe not in the context of candy either-- there is a lot of pussy out there that is definitely not candy. Okay, all around, a terrible analogy.

In my twelfth year of existence (thirteenth if you count that first year in the womb) brought about two major changes in my life: I had sex with one of my cousin’s friends who was fifteen; And started to wonder what relationships were like. The latter has since been very full of disappointment until this year.

My first time fucking was a pretty strange occurrence. My family was visiting some relatives in Edmonton. Nothing to exciting. Rachel-- my cousin-- had Diabetes type 1, thus had to take shots of insulin from a hypodermic needle.

We had been at my aunt and uncle’s place for about two days. The morning of the third day, Rachel announced that she was awake by staggering over to the kitchen table where we all were sitting; Hiked down her pajama bottoms and stabbed herself in her ass with her morning shot of insulin. After this I don’t really recall much of the day, except near the end. My parents and aunt and uncle went out to some theatre to watch “Greased”. Apparently it was a spoof of Grease. Ha, ha. Not very funny. Anyway, Rachel (she was sixteen) was supposed to look after me. Like any responsible sixteen year old would do when they have to baby-sit, she threw a party.

Now this wasn’t an overtly busy party. Maybe seven/eight people max. Yet still enough of a party that I got left alone with Cameron. I’m pretty sure we got left alone because we were the only two that didn’t dabble in the dope (at least not at the time).

Cameron was a pretty nice girl. Mid-length brunette hair. Nicely spaced dark, hazel eyes. Her slender body complemented by her B-cup breasts. Looking back, I’m convinced that she was a slut. Hence why she was such a gracious lover.

It wasn’t her first time. It was mine. I felt my sweat pool around my small balls, when our lips met. I got hard (well as hard as a twelve year old can, which isn’t really all that much) when she began caressing the crotch of my slightly too short jeans. She grabbed my hand, placed it on her firm breasts and whispered softly, “Squeeze.” I did as she said.

A few minutes later her hand was down my pants. Stroking my young shaft-- slow at first-- then a little faster. My hand, likewise, was down her pants. Trying to bury my index and middle finger deep inside her welcoming slit. She winced slightly then whispered, “You should rub it a bit so I get wet.”

Bang, bang, bang! “Open the fucking door!” My cousin screamed through the glass screen door. Cameron looked at me with her tongue down my throat. Her expression somewhere between fear and embarrassment. Her hand ripped from my pants, and mine from hers as she got up quickly to let my cousin in.

“What the fuck were you two doing?” My cousin grilled us as she walked into the living room.

“We were . . . Watching a movie?” Cameron replied. An obvious lie as the television wasn’t on.

“I call bullshit.” Rachel retorted, “I saw you and James. Hands down each other’s pants.”
Rachel began to laugh. Cameron blushed.

“So?” Cameron said after a few seconds.

“So what? You two can use my room, but don’t leave any goddamn stains!” Rachel offered.

A smile crossed Cameron’s face as she grabbed my hand and led me into Rachel’s room.

Rachel’s room was fucked up. I didn’t know what a sixteen year old girl’s room was supposed to look like, but I never thought it would be plastered with band posters, an over flowing ashtray and a laser disc payer complete with a thirty-two inch T.V. Her floor was covered with her dirty underwear, worn pajama’s, filthy jeans and t-shirts, and topped decoratively with her leather jacket. What better place for a twelve year old boy to lose his virginity?

“Where were we?” Cameron coaxed coyly.

“I believe we were in the living room . . .” I jested.

At first she looked hurt. She must have been relieved to know I was joking when I grabbed her around he waist and pulled her close. We stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds looking at each other. For the first time I realized just how tall she was compared to me. A full foot.

“Well . . . What are you waiting for?” Cameron lowered her head to mine.

“I was just . . .” Her tongue reinserted itself down my throat. It was back on.

Celebrity Email: Angry Video Game Nerd

2010-04-28T11:00:00.001-07:00

Dear AVGN,

I have recently come across your youtube channel and have found it particularly entertaining. No video is complete without; DIY filmmaking techniques; horrible digital effects, and a plethora of memorable characters.

With that said, I have a few questions. I have heard rumors about another game reviewer that is basically a poorly executed clone of your character. Have you ever thought to review one of this hacks reviews, while reviewing a game? Since I have never seen a video by this guy-- I don't know how bad he really is-- it would be most delightful to see you rip into this guy. The rants by AVGN fans about this hack are quite well done and remind me of your Zelda time line video.

I was also wondering what it is like meeting (and surviving) the greatest slasher stars of pop culture? I have never seen anything like that before! How did you do it? And what where you thinking? Most people survive one horror film, but you have survived four of the creepiest and sinister films icons of the nineteen-eighties!

Lastly, I was wondering about your alter ego. What is his name? I mean I know he has the power of Super-Mecha-Death-Christ (whatever version he may be at the time), but why does your (S)NES accessory sporting hero not have a name? And why doesn't he throw Sonic Booms and Hadōkens? Furthermore, why does he have so many buttons to choose from? I mean seriously, your alter ego is a jumbled mess of controls! He has buttons on his back; on the two power gloves; buttons on the Super Scope, buttons, buttons and more buttons! Isn't it a little ironic that you complain and rant about bad controls, yet your alter ego has the worst controls of all the "shitty" games and consoles that you have ever reviewed?

Anyway AVGN, thanks for reading this little fan letter and good luck with all your future bad game reviews. Your not so angry supporter,

-A. Warren Johnson

PS- When are you planning on reviewing ET?

I'll miss you.

2010-04-25T21:46:00.000-07:00

Death. It seems to be the final destination for us all. However, it is interesting to know that some people wish to remain anonymous after they pass. My grandmother is one of these people. I'm unsure how long she has left, but it is anywhere between a week to a month.

Her wishes are very clear; "No fucking funeral, and no fucking mention that I have died! Not even in the goddamn paper!"

She has Lymphoma and has refused palliative care. This puzzles me. Why suffer if you don't have to? Another thing that puzzles me is why she waited so long to see a physician. She started having symptoms a few months ago, and why she did not make an appointment earlier I will never know.

She has stopped all communication with my family. This I find to be pretty hurtful, but I guess I'll get over it eventually.

The moral of the story is to love your grandma's, even if they make crazy demands/wishes. Grandma (when you read this from the beyond) I want you to know that I love you.

"Michael (fucking) Turner!"

2010-04-17T11:48:00.000-07:00

This past Thursday started out like any other Thursday. I was in bed and the phone rang around eleven. On the other end was Leah, Mathias' girlfriend. She was wondering if Mathias was up and about, but unfortunately he was still sleeping.

The subject then changed to how my schooling was going. "Good, little stressed about exams," I replied. She then told me about being in Barry McKinnion's class and reading Hard Core Logo by Michael Turner.

I had just been introduced to Michael Turner's work through Graham (one of my instructor's at CNC), and had just finished reading Hard Core Logo a few weeks prior and had started on American Whiskey Bar. "I would love the opportunity to meet Michael Turner!" I announced to her. She admitted that one day she would also like to meet him. Little did I know that later on that night, I would in fact meet this great author.

After I got off the phone, it was time for work. The shift was nice and short, I liked this because I had a lot of studying for my exams the next day. After my shift, I "hit the books" hard.

Kristen called me around five pm to see if I cared to spend her break with her. I agreed. I love spending time with my lady, so it is rare (generally having to do with school) that I turn down any opportunity to see her.

I picked her up at seven from the office she works at, and we went to the mall for poutines and over sized sodas. At the entrance, Kristen and I ran into my long time friend James. I hadn't seen him for a few months due to my course load, so it was great to see him.

James and David (another friend I hadn't seen for sometime) joined Kristen and I for greasy mall goodness. Soon, though, it was time to get Kristen back to work. James and David needed a ride as well.

After dropping Kristen off (and a few other stops), we found ourselves at Books & Co. on 3rd avenue. This mostly had to do with me wanting to show my two friends what exactly I had been up to with the semester. (Serving God is usually there now-a-days).

James tends to get excited about things his friends accomplish, so it was no surprise to me that he would get excited over Serving God. However, what I didn't expect him to do would be to turn to the group of people sitting in Cafe Voltaire and scream, "EVERYONE SHOULD BUY THIS BOOK".

Now, this is where things took an interesting turn. My first reaction was to slap my forehead in embarrassment. James and I do this to each other all the time, but since we hadn't seen each other for a while, it was his turn (I have the weird habit of keeping track of these kind of trivial things).

The reply to James' outburst came from the table. "I have plenty of those already." I looked over to the table for the first time since we got there. It was Graham! The embarrassment faded. Sitting with Graham was Matt (a guy I don't really know all that well, but he is pretty cool) and Barry McKinnon. The other people sitting around the table I didn't know.

Graham called me over and began the introductions, "Hey Andy, this is Michael Turner."

"The Michael Turner?" I felt my eyes widen with shock. My jaw may have went slack as well. I don't remeber as a rush of excitement came over me. As I had just recently discovered Michael as a new hero, most of what I said has been forgotten.

"A Michael Turner, yes." He replied.

Graham interluded as I gathered my thoughts. "Andy was one of my students this past semester. He wrote a letter to the editor slander his chapbook, (chuckles a little), and they actually printed it! It started sort of a mini cult following on the Citizen forums."

I had a million questions, but I knew the friends I was with were not the reading types, and they wanted to leave. However, when someone meets someone else they look up to, then that someone just can't leave. Regardless of how many people want to leave!

I explained what Serving God was about and the two directions I was debating about going with it.

"That's a good title." Michael replied.

He then suggested a book I should read, referred me to his blog and told me he would like to keep in touch! But he did give me a piece of advise as a young writer, "Be willing to commit a crime for your art, as long as it does not break any laws."

He then suggested I catch up with my friends, who were waiting for me outside smoking. I thanked him for his time and said my goodbyes to everyone, then left.

"What the hell was taking you so long!" James questioned me.

"Dude! I just met Michael fucking Turner!" I replied.

Both of them looked lost and indifferent by this. They just didn't understand the magnitude of the situation! I think they may have been a little high though.

Serving God

2010-04-06T16:03:00.000-07:00

I.

“Prisons are built with stones of Law. Brothels with the bricks of religion.”
-William Blake

There was a time when I lived my life serving God. I stood up for the ultimate truth (whatever that truth was I am still unsure) and would have gladly fought for my place in the great kingdom of Heaven.

Unfortunately I was human, thus I grew old and died. This is obviously what humans do; they are born and they die. My death wasn’t anything exotic, nor was it heroic. I went to bed. However, I didn’t wake up in my bed.

I awoke on the side of a road thickly covered by fog. I stood up. The road seemed to come to a complete end to my right. To my left the fog gradually dissipated and seemed like the most logical for me to follow.

As I walked, the fog did indeed begin to thin out, although the sides of the road were still overbearingly foggy and I could see nothing past it. I kept walking.

After what seemed to me to be roughly an hour, I was surprised to find that I did not feel tired. I pondered this as I walked. In life (at least near the end) I could only walk for about twenty minutes before feeling the need for a rest, but here I felt no fatigue! This was the first time I looked at my hands.

They were roughly the same as when I had died, yet the wrinkles had smoothed out. The veins that once popped out of my almost translucent skin had now resumed the look of my hands when I was thirty-two. The thought of my hands then made me wonder what my face looked like.

‘Could I actually look younger? Will I have hair?’

I stopped and touched my face. Instead of feeling heavy wrinkles and loose skin; I felt smooth, tight skin. My cheek bones felt rounder than when I was alive. I reached up a little further: I INDEED HAD HAIR!

‘What color will my hair be? Will it still be white, or will it be the light brown it was in my youth?’

I was resolute to find a mirror when I came across a rest room. It was then that the thought of my bladder and bowel control crept up on me. Before I died, I would be lucky to go two hours before I had to use a toilet.

‘Possibly I have even regained the youthful control that I once had!’

Thoughts like these littered my mind. I had the particular habit to walk with my head down (generally reserved for people who are ashamed for one reason or another) and I was doing this as I drew nearer to the gate. I didn’t realize that I was coming to a gate. In fact, the first sign that I was heading towards it was the shadow cast on the road in front of me.

I looked up. It was colored like a highly polished pearl and peaked high in a rounded curve that evened out with the golden brick walls on either side. The gate was narrow, and only took up three feet in the middle of the road. The brick walls filled the rest of the road, but the fog remained constant. I could not see anything further past the fog.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” A voice said to me.

“Yes, it is . . .” I replied as I looked around. My voice sounded as if I had a chorus speaking with me.

Suddenly a winged figure appeared. It was descending down the front of the gate. Its wing span was twice the length of its body. It touched down and I realized that it was not an it, but an angel!

“Are you Peter?” I asked, to which the angel replied, “No. Peter is away on vacation. I am A’doces.”

I nodded, but found that this was the first moment that I realized that I was dead. “Vacation?” I questioned, then continued, “But I thought angels only existed to serve.”

“In Heaven, everyone serves.” A’doces stated.

“Well what happens now?” I asked.

A’doces smiled, then said, “You put your love in labour and fully submit to God’s will.”

The gate opened and A’doces entered, then motioned for me to follow. I saw Heaven, and it was vast. The golden skyscrapers towered over the kingdom. It then occurred to me that I was the only one present at the gate to this grand place. Since people die every seven minutes or so, I assumed that there would have been a lot more people in line to get into Heaven.

This thought troubled me until I looked around at the golden brick walls that outlined the city. There was a gate roughly every twenty feet. Oddly enough, this is the reason they are called the pearly gates.

I looked around more. A’doces seemed to always be three feet ahead of me, he sort of drifted rather than walked. I noticed that most of the doorways had small crowds blocking them, yet the people who wanted to get through (either in or out) had no problems pushing past those who crowded the doorways.

After walking about half a mile A’doces stopped in front of a work in progress.

“What is this place?” I questioned. A’doces told me that this is where I would be working.
“What? Where? You mean actually help in constructing this building or inside it when it is finished?”

“Both. As I have said before everybody serves. This is the simple concept which structures our society.” A’doces stated. I was confused by A’doces’s insistence on serving.

‘Why does he keep saying this with such an ominous undertone? Is there something that I am not understanding here?’

A man walked up to us. He looked like he would have been grizzled and riddled with scars in the material realm, but his features were smoothed out by the ethereal realm.
The man spoke, “Just what we need right now, another one.”

“Another what?” I replied. His comment puzzled me further as I had always thought that Heaven was supposed to be free of any sort of stress. He answered, “Another log on the fire.”

A’doces turned to me, nodded his head, then spoke, “Remember, everyone serves.” He left me on that note. I watched him for a second.

“Hey!” The man’s voice startled me. I turned to face him, “Since your here now, what’s your take on this?”

“On what? The building?”

“Yeah, on the building. What can we do to ensure that it will best serve God?” He was stern, yet seemed to be asking for some guidance.

Since I knew nothing about architecture I replied with, “I would talk to the foreman. He would probably have better insights than I would.” I looked back for A’doces, but he was gone.
The man let out a hearty laugh and said, “We’re all foremen here. Let’s hear what ya got.” This statement hit me with weight as heavy as the chains that bound one to sin. I was speechless.

“Well, how about we incorporate all of the ideas we have so far. It would serve God and be original!” I beamed. I felt a sense of accomplishment, howbeit, my glory was short lived.

“It’s far from original. Take a look around you, everything is based upon that concept!” The man began pointing at the near by buildings and continued to berate me. “The Burning Bush, The Temple of Enoch, even the Master’s palace. It would not be original.” I looked around.

The Burning Bush was a hotel type of structure. Its specific purpose (as I found out later) was where people came when they had near death experiences. It had a high golden arch at its entrance, and four smaller arches on either side of it.

Upon entering the Burning Bush you are greeted by an eight year old girl. She is wearing a white, loose fitted robe and has butterfly wings (the purpose of this I didn’t understand). The little girl shows you your loved ones having a great time in Heaven (even if they are in Hell, which is located in the basement), and tells you how wonderful it will be when you finally arrive in Heaven. The strange part is that you never see the surrounding room; you only see light. Bright, abrasive light. After the little girl is done with her speech, she shows you to a room where you fall asleep and wake up back on Earth.

The Temple of Enoch looked similar to the Burning Bush, except that there were seven arches that started high and tapered down the edges. This is the preferred church in Heaven as it is headed by Enoch himself. It is a vast hall that shines with a golden glimmer. Unlike the Burning Bush, its shine is not blinding.

The more I looked around, the more I noticed the arches. The Burning Bush was the only one to have five arches, while all the towers had one, yet all the buildings had seven.

The man’s voice broke my observation of the surrounding buildings. “You make a good point. Straying to far from something that isn’t broke is never a good idea.”

I smiled. My sense of accomplishment had returned, until I asked, “If we are all foremen, who is the main person in charge?”

The others who were bickering quietly behind the man all fell quiet and looked at me. Even the man that stood before me looked at me as if I had just slapped a small child across the face, then pushed it over on to hot asphalt.

“God.” The man said after a few . . . minutes? At least it felt like minutes. ”He Is the Master, after all.”

I probably would have been red in the face if I still had a circulatory system. “I meant right now. At this moment, who is going to make the final decision? About the tower . . .”

“It’s not a tower. It’s a restaurant.” The man said to me. A thought suddenly came to me, he never did introduce himself! Who was this guy anyway?

“Oh . . . Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m . . . I’m . . .”

‘What was my name?’ I tried to search my memory, my name had to be there! The men began to laugh a bit.

“Names aren’t important here. If that’s what your looking for.” The man said.

“’nd jus’ so ya don’ go lookin’, the’e ani’t no meers her’ eyetha’” One of the other foreman said from over the man’s shoulder. He then spit a black sludge from between his lips. It hit the ground, but it then disappeared. No blemish on the ground of the Holy Kingdom.

‘Interesting.’

“May wanna keep yer thoughts and thinkin’ to a minimum as well,” the foreman next to the one that informed me of the mirrors said, “they can hear ya.”

“Who can?” I asked. Looking back, I think it was a rather foolish question.

“The angels. It’d mark up yer standing with God if that’d get ‘round.” He said. “Oh?” I retorted. I was unsure whether or not it was a threat.

“So everyone can hear my thoughts?”

“Nope. Jus’ the angels. If ya don’t devote, it’s straight ta hell with ya. Saw it happen before.” The man in front of me spoke up. “Even in paradise there are rules.” This wasn’t meant as a threat.

* * *

My head spun as I tried to wrap my head fully around being in this metaphysical plane. It wasn’t at all like the material realm. I felt bullied to serve the God I so truly loved, yet my great reward felt more like punishment than praise. However, thine will would be done.

The one thing that seemed to puzzle me the most was the fact that I never grew tired. I always felt refreshed. I felt like I was always sleeping, yet was always awake!

‘How could this possibly be? Is it because I was no longer in the material world?’ I needed nothing to give me energy because I had transcended into a place that did not require me to!

Work, wander a bit, rinse, repeat. This is how eternity was spent. On one of my ventures around Heaven, I wandered haphazardly into what I thought was a store, but it wasn’t a store. In fact, it was a church. All the buildings, except for The Burning Bush and the two restaurants (soon to be three), were churches.

There is a certain irony as to why restaurants exist in Heaven: Long ago, God noticed that humans had troubles dealing with the afterlife. Since sleep and food is not needed for energy in the great kingdom, he decided that eating would be the one constant in the transition of mortality to eternal. Some people don’t even realize that they are missing out on simply eating for millennium until some new comer ends up bringing the subject up.

The crowds around the churches (oddly enough) were protesters. They claimed that there was surely better ways to serve God. When I mistook a church for a store, I heard comments like, “You’ll be a heathen and cast out! This is where the Morning Star worshiped!” Or, “We saw God the other day and he told us that we were blessed!” Comments like these were said in drones of hushed whispers to the folks entering or exiting the churches. When I heard the last one though I couldn’t help it. I had a thought!

It was a thought of amusement. ‘We are in Heaven! Of course we are blessed! We are all blessed!’ No sooner had I made this quiet observation when A’doces appeared behind me. I was gripped with needless fear. I turned and faced him.

“Hello A’doces. How are you this fine day?” He -- It saw through the forced calmness.

“I am well, thank you. You’ve been having problems dealing I presume.” I wasn’t sure if this was meant as a statement or as a question.

“A little bit.” I bowed my head.

“Walk with me.” A’doces said neutrally. Unlike our first encounter, A’doces hovered beside me. We walked around paradise as we conversed.

“Why am I having such difficulty with being in Heaven? Shouldn’t this be the best thing that has ever happened to me?” My words seemed to spill out of me in a wave of emotion.

“You are not alone. The concept is simple, yet your species had the gift of Freewill. It will always be hard for you to accept. None can serve if they do not first know how.”

“What do you mean by serve? I worship. I believe in the Will of the Almighty. I already made my choice to serve, but you are telling me that I don’t serve the right way? How does this make any sense at all?”

“You do not serve correctly because your Freewill does not allow it. This is your blessing and it is also your curse.”

“I was taught that Freewill was a gift. That is what the church said anyway.” A sudden thought crossed my mind,
‘Why is it that I seem to remember almost everything from my life except for my name and what I look like?’

“It is because vanity and titles hold no meaning when in the grace of God.” A’doces answered my thought.

“So it’s true, angels read your thoughts?”

“We do. It is not to alarm you, however. It is to make sure that your thoughts are not tainted with rebellion. Your Freewill also accounts for your thoughts.” A’doces last comment seemed to me to be already obvious. Stating this just made it redundant.

“Why would I want to rebel against God? I have spent . . .” I trailed off. It also just dawned on me that I recalled nothing of my life before I was part of the church.

“It is blocked from your memory for good reason. The only thing that matters here is that you lived a life accordingly to God. That is the only thing measured within these walls.” I felt uncomfortable with A’doces knowing more about me than I did. The memories of long hours spent studying the word of God and seeking to fully understand his plan led me to believe that I was once an inquisitive person that wanted to know everything.

“Where does God reside here?”

It was at this point when A’doces stopped and faced me. He tilted his head slightly to right and spoke, “It is not possible at this point to see God, for no one save for the disciples and the council have. The fig tree has not budded, nor has the rapture began. It is not the time for judgement.” He then looked at me for a moment longer, turned back to the street and began hovering forward.

I suddenly felt daydreamy. The golden city around me started to fall away and my mind seemed to focus on a building I had not yet seen. It wasn’t as massive or as high as any of the other buildings around me. It had three arch ways. The one on the right was constructed out of wood, the one to the left transparent glass and the center arch was highly polished . . . Pearl? White gold? It was too bright to clearly what it was made of. The pattern continued around the structure. Then, It was gone. A’doces had once again vanished.

Upon returning to the building project I was working on, I was astonished to find that the structure had been finished. Thoughts began to wander again. ‘How long was I gone? Nothing seems to take much time around here! How could this possibly be finished when there was so much animosity between everyone that had been working on it?’

I looked behind my shoulder half expecting A’doces to reappear behind me. It was comforting to not see him. The man I had the disagreement with earlier walked up to me.

“Welcome back! It’s beautiful isn’t it?” He said. He then turned, crossed his arms and looked up at the completed building. “Just finished a while ago. This will serve Him well!”

His new sunny disposition was off putting. The others whom were working on the project were also standing around and praising God. Something seemed odd to me at that moment. It was slow to dawn on me, but the impact hit me hard. ‘All these guys look exactly the same!’ This made me wonder even more what I looked like! ‘Do I also look the same?’ I needed a mirror!

II.

“Whatever you cannot understand, you cannot possess.”
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I felt trapped. I didn’t know how long I had been in Heaven, but I knew I was drowning. It wasn’t the serving that was getting me down, it was the fact that I was forced to serve.

I lived to serve God when I was alive. He/She/It was my life, at least from what I remember. I started to question what it was I was doing here. I devoted my life for eternal glory, so why was I now being forced to do something I would have done if I were simply asked?

I hadn’t seen A’doces for quite some time (as there is no way to measure time in Heaven, just like there are no mirrors or names). Even though I felt most of the time that he was a dodge when answering questions, it was always pleasant to know that there was someone that I could talk to.

I was working at the restaurant I helped build. I was serving here as well. The restaurant ran much in the same manner as the building of the restaurant; everything was designed and revolved around the best way to serve God.

When I say everything, I mean everything, even down to the white socks! Our uniforms were exactly that, uniform. We all wore white dress shirts, red, loose fitting jeans, and white running shoes. Since there was no currency in Heaven, we didn’t wear aprons.

The “cooks” did little, and were there for only two reasons: To serve the Master, as well as to give the appearance of an earthly restaurant. Although, looking at it now, the servers really didn’t do much either . . . there was no cleaning, no side duties and no payment taking. The only thing that any of the restaurants in Heaven really did was to provide some sort of normality in Paradise to those that had troubles coping with the afterlife.

My thoughts once again revisited the notion of bowel movements one day while I worked. There were no washrooms (or bathrooms) in the great kingdom, because there was no need for them. Hygiene and bodily waste were things that applied to the material world only. ‘What did a bowel movement feel like? Was it pleasurable?’ I questioned myself.

Of course, these thoughts were of little to no significance. I grabbed an order from the pass bar and brought it to table fourteen. Another strange thought occurred to me: ‘How did I know that this was going to table fourteen? I certainly did not take the order!’ “Praise Jesus for this daily bread!” The woman stated as I placed her order before her. “May the Almighty bless you always!” She then said. She bowed her head and began to pray. I walked away.

I felt guilty for not praying with her, but I had to serve. It was my duty and it was now what my afterlife had come to. Forced to serve in the name of God.

When I returned to the service isle, the line cook asked me, “Isn’t it great to be in paradise?”
“Yes. It is a great honor.” I replied with the same amount of enthusiasm you would expect from a rock.

I looked towards the door. Ten men entered. They weren’t angels, They appeared to be human, yet were quite different looking than anyone else who inhabited Heaven. They all had short, golden blond hair that was spiked up into five points and had three points that partially covered their foreheads. They also all wore the same mismatched suits with the same, strange color scheme. Their jackets were silver that were oblong cut to expose their brass vests. Their pants were a dull iron and their shoes were a swirled mix of iron and beige clay.

Every section of the restaurant was set up like a horse shoe. The ten men sat at tables sixty-three and sixty-seven. The tables of course were put together to make a larger table. I looked behind me, their order was up!

“How is it that they just got here and you have the order up by the time they sat down?” I questioned the cook.

“It’s his will. He gave me the foresight to know what it was I needed to make. Praise He that is Eternal for the gifts He has bestowed!”

I placed the order on a large tray and brought it out. Unlike the woman, the men were silent. No praises to God were given, and no real acknowledgement of me placing their order in front of them was made by any of them. After I finished placing the order down, I felt compelled to pray for them. I bowed my head and praised God on their behalf while they sat in silence staring at one another.

After I had prayed, I went to the back. I sat pondering the strange group. ‘Why were they not as eager to worship? And why did they make me feel so uncomfortable?’ My thoughts were disrupted by the buzz of the back door.

I got up and opened the door. A’doces stood outside. “You are still having troubles adjusting.” He stated.

“I am. I also feel unsettled by the group of men that have just come in.” I replied.

“They are the council.” A’doces informed me. “They reside in the House of the Lord.”

“Why do they not give praises, or seem to worship Him?”

“It is not their place to serve. They have a specific Purpose.” A’doces’s face seemed to narrow as he said this.

“And what is their purpose?” I pressed.

“That is not known, even to the angels.”

“Well besides the fact that they don’t serve, what else is known about them?”

“All you need to know is what I have already told you. May you not fall into the fool’s folly of seeking knowledge.” A’doces turned and was gone.

When I returned out front I was resolute to question the council on their purpose, but to my disappointment, they were gone.

I decided to go for a walk. I said bye to the cook and took to the streets. The usual crowds around the numerous churches of Heaven were out as always. The familiar shouts of, “His will is set in stone!” And, “You’ve misinterpreted the meaning of it all!” Were heard as I walked by. I took notice of something profound as well: Everybody did not look the same! This made me again question this great kingdom. ‘How could everyone look the same sometimes, and nothing alike at others?’ This I could not seem to assimilate, nor could I accommodate.

I needed answers. I needed them to make sense of this supposed Paradise!

‘Ignorance is bliss.’ The phrase crossed my mind. I suddenly realized that this is why I was having so much trouble fitting into Heaven’s populace! I ask questions, thus not making me ignorant! Then another realization came upon me: ‘A’doces wasn’t telling me things in a shaded way to be cryptic! He was warning me about the hypocrisies of Heaven in a cryptic fashion! He was forced to serve as well, and he had never met his creator either! His face narrowed when he talked about the council because they don’t serve and they know God!’

It was clear that I needed to find God! The only thing stopping me was not knowing where the Master’s Palace was, and since no one else seemed to know, I would have to find it on my own!

III.

“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
-John 8:32

The path leading up to the great structure was at the far end of a garden that was called “A Piece of Eden”. It was actually a salvaged section of the first earthly paradise. The path was gated and had the same dense fog behind it as the road that led me to Heaven.

I opened the gate. It wasn’t locked. It seemed strange to me that no one had ever thought to open this gate. ‘Perhaps they assumed that it was a decoration.’

I stepped over the threshold and began walking. It was very much like when I had first woke up and started walking here, the dense fog slowly faded away and the road became clear. This road was much different than the first road. It was narrow and appeared to be more of a dirt trail. It was always much more winding.

The gate I had passed through shut. It clanged heavily and was a bit unnerving to hear since the gate itself was not all that heavy. I was sure I was going to be caught by someone walking around in the garden. I stopped, waiting to hear footsteps coming from behind me. No footsteps ever came. After a short while I resumed my hike.

The pathway seemed to me to be very disorienting. I didn’t know most of the time whether I was going up or down and there were no clues as to how far God’s palace was. I pushed on. A feeling of anticipation filled me. ‘I am going to meet God!’ The thought was almost too much to handle.

I looked at my glum surrounds. The fog was distressing, although it helped me to focus and to suppress my anxiety. The path, on the other hand, was actually fairly interesting to look at. It had rocks, ruts and the occasional twig or two laying about! As silly as it sounds, it was the most pleasant and peaceful part of Heaven I had experienced.

* * *

After what felt like hours, the pathway gradually opened up, and I saw the Master’s Place. It was exactly as I saw in that fleeting glimpse! The three arches, the wood, glass and possible pearl or precious metal were in the same order, and the bell centered in the middle of the grand structure! It was all present!

The overall appearance was much like a cabin in the forest on a foggy day, but that didn’t dampen my spirits, I had finally reached my destination!

‘The center arch!’ I thought, ‘It’s reflective, and I could probably see myself!’ I ran up to it. My excitement rose, then it fell. As I drew closer, the surface distorted my reflection into nothing more than a translucent, fleshy colored shadow. It was like trying to look at yourself in a puddle that won’t stay still.

The door opened, and I peered around the corner. There stood a darkly toned man. He stood roughly 5’ 7”, was dressed in ivory robes that were held up by a golden sash, and had a robust beard that would put any high school boy in awe. This was Jesus.

Jesus stepped out of the door way. I walked into full view of him and waved slowly. “Hello,” Jesus said to me, “The council has been expecting you. They have instructed me to guide you to them when you arrived.” He smiled, then turned around and walked back inside. I quickly followed.

“You . . . are my Lord and Saviour!” I couldn’t help but gasp.

“This is true, I have died for your sins, and I have brought unto you salvation.” Jesus stated as if it weren’t a big deal.

God’s palace was immensely overwhelming. I was looking around franticly, trying desperately to see every little detail that it had to offer! The high ceilings were covered with tapestries that depicted the genesis of the universe, while the floor was covered in a vast mural that showed the world after it has ended and God has reclaimed his greatest creation. There were paintings of all the devoted men and women who were described in detail in the Holy Bible, and even artifacts of the great war in Heaven!

“And you will come again!” I replied, paying more attention to my surroundings than to Jesus.
“You are already here, why worry over my return?”

I snapped out of my strained focus, “I was just . . . what I mean is . . . I don’t know. I guess I was just trying to make conversation.”

Jesus looked back and smiled.

We stopped in front of a massive door. There was a engraved gold sign that read: Throne Room. My jaw went slack. I couldn’t believe that I was standing in front of God’s Throne room. Jesus asked if I was ready. I nodded. He then opened the great door. Brilliant light flooded the hallway, I covered my eyes and entered.

The bright light faded away and I found myself standing in front of semi-circle bench. It was then I remembered I was not going to see God, I was seeing the council! ‘How could I forget?’
The familiar golden haired, mix and match of suited figures sat around the bench. They all sat silently. I walked into the room until I was roughly centered to the bench.

I stood for what felt to be an extraordinarily long time. The silence was getting unbearable. “Can you help me?”

“That depends.” The man on my far left said.

“What is it you need help with?” The man to the right of the man in the center said.

“I . . . I want to meet God . . .”

“You do not know God now, how would you know if you were to meet God?” The man in front of me questioned.

“I feel Him. It’s just hard to find Him, when you feel Him from every direction.” I lied.

“That, most would take to be a sign.” The man third from the right said.

“How can you be so sure that God is a He?” The man to the left of the man in the center said.
“I’m not . . .” I lowered my head. If I could have cried, I would have.

The council eyed me hard. Why I wasn’t sure, but I felt that they all stared at me, judging me, making me feel inadequate. ‘Is this truly my ultimate reward? To be criticized and made to feel small in the glorious kingdom of Heaven? How could a lifetime (or at least what I can remember of my life) of devotion actually result in this? Who do they think they are?’

“We are God.” The man second from the right stated, “We have been seen by all, yet none have even considered that we are the great and glorious God.”

All the self pity I had been feeling had been replaced with rage. Although I couldn’t feel the usual burning sensation that would normally accompany rage, the feeling was there. “You . . . you all are God?” A wave of confusion washed over me.

Suddenly all of them began speaking at once. It was the most overwhelmed I had ever felt. They didn’t yell, just flooded me with questions. Questions I had never considered and I only caught a few of them.

“Did you really think that one being could be responsible for the whole of the universe?”

“Didn’t you ever ask yourself why some people were good at some things, while others were better suited for different tasks?”

“You surely know that you were created in God’s image, it just so happens that we are God.”

“Do you still have faith?”

“The trinity was the simplest way to explain that there were more than one being, how could you not have seen that?”

“Jesus is actually my son, he offered to help us out.”

The more I heard, the more I felt betrayed. The God I had served in my life was nothing more than a fictional character in a book of stories, mere fairy tales! ‘Shut up! Shut up!’ “SHUT UP!!!”
The council fell silent.

“I want answers.”

The man in the center spoke up, “What do you want to know?”

“First of all: Why is this Heaven when it feels more like Hell?”

The man in the center answered. “It is a mirror. There is no Hell. It is merely a reflection of your own Freewill. The things that don’t fall into your Heaven archetype are simply you inferring a different context of events. That is why at times people may look the same, and at others do not.”

This actually made sense! In fact, this was the first thing anyone had said that did! “Okay, and what about the second coming? A’doces informed me that none of the events in the last book have occurred! Furthermore, why is it that he and most of the other angels don’t know that all of you are their creators?”

There was a pause, then the man in the center once more answered. “If they knew the truth, they would revolt. They would want the place of God’s Greatest Creation, thus we have hid the truth from them.”

“Then the story of Lucifer never happened?”
“It did. The angel you speak of, A’doces, was in his choir. When Lucifer had discovered the truth, he conspired with Michael and Gabriel. They passed it off as nothing more than a joke, however. In the end, Lucifer convinced Peter that he was right and Gabriel, Michael and Peter sided with him. All four of them were slain by the choirs that they loved. A’doces was the one who delivered the killing blow on Lucifer, but has ever since suspected the truth, yet he has been wise not to state it.”

“So this is why A’doces speaks of you all with disdain, why he told me that Peter was on vacation?”

“Yes. If he were to speak the truth blatantly, we would remove him from Heaven.” The man in front of me stated.

I couldn’t focus on one thing at a time at this point. A barrage of questions flooded from my mouth. “If you are truly all God, than why are there multiple churches in Heaven? Why don’t we have names? Why are there no mirrors? Why have a place designed for near death experiences when most of the people are in Hell? Why?”

Only the man in front of me answered. “You will be troubled by truth.”
“TELL ME!”

“Mirrors and names give an identity. Personality and freedom is not lucrative to control. You see that people seem to look different at one time and the same at others according to their actions. They only appear to look the same when they follow our Will. We give you the illusion of choice to choose the church you want to go to, but really they are all the same. As for The Burning Bush, it is not only for those who have what you call near death experience. It is where your minds rest. It shows you what you want to see. If a person is in Hell, which is in the basement, it is because they want to go there.”

The anger and full realization of the revelations I heard was enough to cause my vision to begin to fade. The more they revealed, the more I grew weary. I fell to the floor. I was helpless, yet just before everything was consumed by the darkness, the council got up and stood around me. I felt like I was dying for a second time! None of them helped, or even attempted to help me. Then . . . Nothing.

* * *

I awoke. I shot straight up like I was waking from a nightmare. My room was dark and I was alone. I reached over to the night stand and turned on the lamp. When the light came on I noticed my Bible sitting open on the table. I picked it up. It was open to the book of Daniel, chapter two. I knew this chapter well. It had to do with the dream Nebuchadnezzar had of a great statue being destroyed by a large comet. Verse forty-four struck me as fitting of my own dream.

"And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed: and the kingdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall stand forever."

Well I was reading I noticed my hands. They were not the translucent, veiny hands of an old man. They were the youthful hands of a thirty-two year old. I was thirty-two!
I slowly began to remember things about my life! I was a devote and inquisitive Christian. I worked as a server in a restaurant, and I was widowed.

My throat was dry. I got up and went to the wood panelled bathroom of my apartment. My drinking glass sat next to my toothbrush. I grabbed the glass with my right hand while turning on the tap with my left. It suddenly dawned on me that I was staring into the mirror, but since the only light came from my night stand lamp, my face was veiled in shadows. I filled my glass, then turned on the bathroom light. I finally saw my face!

It had strong characteristics that made it unique. I had a scar from a bout of chicken pox when I was five on my right temple, my nose had a crooked bridge and seemed to be almost to big for my face, yet it wasn’t disproportionate in anyway. My left eyebrow seemed to fluff out towards the right side of my face, while the rest of my eyebrow looked smooth and grew to the left. The shape of my face narrowed out like an almond, yet I didn’t look gaunt. It was a beautiful face, because it was my own.

I gulped my water. My bowels began to rumble, so I relieved myself, then returned to my room. As I laid in my bed I thought about my dream. ‘Could it have been a vision?’ I was unsure. I reflected on the way the council of ten men were dressed. It was reminiscent of the dream that Nebuchadnezzar had. His dream was supposedly a vision of the end of all empires, yet I couldn’t help but feel differently about this dream now.

‘If this is true, then the dream is much more about the nature of God than the end of the world.’ This thought haunted me, but then the epiphany hit me: ‘My name is Job, and I have better things to do in my life than serving God.’

Celebrity Email: Ke$ha

2010-04-01T03:34:00.001-07:00

Dear Ke$ha,

I have never been a fan of tramp-glam, but after hearing your song, "Tik Tok", I have concluded that white trash is still not sexy. This fact -- yes I am flat out calling you a hooker-- I still have a few questions.

First off, where did you get those boots? Even though I think you are nothing without the 'Auto-Tune' effect (not a fan of T-Pain either, although he is a lot less painful to listen to) those boots where probably the only saving grace of your video. I am interested in acquiring a pair a some point in time.

Next, I wanted to know what the obsession with drinking your face off until dawn is hot? Maybe this is the small town mind set coming out, but where I come from there is only one word for a girl that drinks excessively until day-break: S.C.U.D. (Skanky Cunt Unfuckable in Daylight). I am really curious, how is this attractive?

Lastly, do you really think Mick Jagger would sleep with you? Maybe Keith Richards, but Jagger is way out of your league Ke$ha. And by the way, the dollar sign in your name, are you trying to be edgy? Do you really think that placing a dollar sign in your name give you license to promote Jack Daniels? Personally I think Jack has been doing fine the past fifty-four years without your help.

Thank you for taking the time to read this highly opinionated letter from one of your many un-adoring non-fans,

-A. Warren Johnson

PS- A thought to the label, maybe just keep the oh-uh-oh-oh-ohs and cowboy boots, lose the white trash singing and you got yourself club gold.

Prince George Citizen: March 2010

2010-03-28T23:54:00.000-07:00

Don't Support This Book!

Editor:

A few weeks ago I was at CNC (where I attend) and found a small book lying on the ground. It was titled Serving God. The title appealed to me as I am a devout Christian, so I placed it in my bag to read later. I figured once I had finished reading it, I would turn it into the lost and found, however, mid-terms caught up with me and I had no time to sit down and read it until this week.

To my utter disgust, this little book of twenty-seven pages was nothing but blasphemy! It was degrading and amoral to anyone of strong faith. I feel the need to write this as I wish to express my strong suggestion that this book should be placed on the ever growing banned reading list! The author, this A. Warren Johnson, whoever they are should feel ashamed for writing about their lord and savior in such a despicable way!

Should anyone else like me be unfortunate to come across this piece of trash, I would advise burning it immediately! My views should not be portrayed in such a negative light. Ask yourself, if you won’t take a stand, than who will?

-Honorably Devoted

Serving God: Part 3

2010-01-26T12:10:00.000-08:00

The gates opened up and A’doces entered, then motioned for me to follow. I saw Heaven, and it was vast. The golden skyscrapers towered over the city. It then occurred to me that I was the only one present at the gates of Heaven, a strange thought, but since people die every minute or so, I assumed that there would be at least eight-thousand people or so waiting in a line. I looked around and saw the golden brick walls that outlined the city had gates roughly every twenty feet. Oddly enough, this is the reason they are called the pearly gates.

I looked around more. A’doces seemed to always be three feet ahead of me, he sort of drifted rather than walked. I noticed that most of the door ways had small crowds blocking them, yet the people who wanted to get through (either in or out) had no problems pushing past the people that crowded the door ways.

After walking about half a mile A’doces stopped in front of a work in progress. “What is this place?” I questioned. A’doces told me that this is where I would be working. “What? Where? You mean actually building on to this structure or inside it?”

“Everybody serves. It builds and structures our society here.” A’doces stated. His smile beamed on. A man who looked as if he would have been rough in the material world came up to us. His features smoothed out by the ethereal realm.

The man spoke, “Just what we need, another one.”

“Another what?” I replied. My confusion was mixed with subtle anger. This puzzled me as I had always thought that Heaven was supposed to be free of any sort stress. He answered, “Another log on the fire.”

Serving God: Part 2

2010-01-25T02:02:00.000-08:00

Thoughts like these littered my mind. I had a particular habit to walk with my head down, and I was doing this as I drew nearer to the gates. I didn’t realize, at first, that I was coming to the gates. In fact, my first sign that I was heading towards them was the shadow cast on the road in front of me.

I looked up, they peaked high in a rounded curve that evened out with the golden brick walls on either side. The gates were narrow, and only took up three feet in the middle of the road. The brick walls filled the rest of the road, but the fog remained constant and I could not see anything further then the road.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” A voice said to me. “Yes, it is . . .” I replied as I looked around. Suddenly a winged figure appeared. It was descending down the front of the gates. It’s wing span was twice the length of it’s body! It touched down and I realized that it was not an it, but an angel!

“Are you Michael?” I asked, to which the angel replied, “No. Michael is away on vacation. I am A’doces.”

I nodded, but found that this was the first moment that I realized that I was dead. “Vacation?” I questioned, then continued, “But I thought angel’s only existed to serve.”

“In Heaven, everyone serves.” A’doces stated.

“Well what happens now?” I asked.

A’doces smiled, then said, “You put your love in labour and fully to God’s will.”

Serving God: Part 1

2010-01-22T11:25:00.000-08:00

I can recall sitting in church, learning about God and the kingdom of Heaven. I lived my life, serving God, and standing up for (at the time) what I believed to be the ultimate truth.

I grew old and died. This is obviously what humans do, they are born, and they die. My death wasn’t anything exotic, nor was it heroic. I went to bed. Although I didn’t wake up in my bed, I did wake up on the side of a fog covered road. I stood up. The road seemed to come to a complete end, covered in thick, dense fog to my right. To my left, however, the fog seemed to gradually dissipate and seemed like the most logical for me to follow.

As I walked to my left, the fog did indeed begin to thin out, at least on the road. The sides of the road were still overbearingly foggy and I could see nothing past it. I kept walking.

After what seemed to me to be roughly an hour, I was surprised to find that I did not feel tired! I pondered this as I walked. In life (at least near the end) I could only walk for about twenty minutes before feeling the need for a rest, but here I felt no fatigue! This is the first time I looked at my hands. They were roughly the same as when I had died, yet the wrinkles had smoothed out. The veins that once popped out of my almost translucent skin had now resumed the look of my hands when I was thirty-two! The thought of my hands then made me wonder what my face looked like.

I was resolute to find a mirror when I came across a rest room, however, I then thought about my bladder and bowel control. Before I died, I would be lucky to go two hours before I had to use a toilet. Possibly I had even regained my youthful control that I once had!

Celebrity E-Mail: A. Warren Johnson

2010-01-05T01:56:00.000-08:00

Good (pick whatever time of day or night it is and insert it here) dear reader,

As you may or may not know, Celebrity E-Mail has been one of my longest running features on my blog, however, some people just don't get what they are all about: Namely I pick on celebrities I find we (collectively) spend way to much time focusing on when we would be better off spending our time possibly finding, oh I don't know, A CURE FOR AIDS OR CANCER? But you know, that's just me.

Thus I was surprised to open my email a few days ago to find a threat (because that's exactly what it was, no matter how nicely worded it may be) from Brittney Murphy's (dead at 32 fame) agency.

I do find this somewhat amusing as I do not have more than 109 fans across facebook and blogger, yet there it was: A warning to stop all Celebrity E-Mails!!! For fear that I may slander Brittney Murphy's great character. However, I found this amusing as well as angering as I was intending my next Celebrity E-Mail to be to Angelina Jolie and her lips!
So instead, I present to you my A. Warren Johnson Celebrity E-Mail (courtesy of Media Talent Group, International Creative Management and BWR).

Dear A. Warren Johnson, (edited for the continuity of Celebrity E-Mail)

We appreciate the humor that you provide (though some of it might be in poor taste) within your feature 'Celebrity E-Mail' on your respective Blogspot account, http://awarrenjohnson.blogspot.com. However, we regret to inform you that one of our clients (Brittney Murphy) has died at the age of 32. Furthermore, we feel that you attack and endanger the reputation and characters of the people in the entertainment industry.

It is with the deepest sympathies that we must ask you to cease and desist any or all future 'Celebrity E-Mail' posts you may wish to place on your Blogspot account, for the future integrity of not only our clients, but also on behalf of clients of other agencies.

We hope that this matter will not have to go any further then this notice. If you have any questions concerning this matter, please feel free to contact us. We sincerely apologize for any or all inconvenience this may have caused.

Media Talent Group
9200 Sunset Boulevard
Suite 810
West Hollywood, CA 90069
Phone: 310-275-7900

David Unger
International Creative Management
10250 Constellation Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90067
Phone: 310-550-4000

Holly Shakoor
BWR
9100 Wilshire Boulevard
6th Floor
West Tower
Beverly Hills, CA 90212
Phone: 310-550-7776

After reading this my dear readers, I feel that it would be in my best interest to retire Celebrity E-Mail. At least for the time being. My only regret is that I only was able to write one series of them, I had big plans for it and even though they were hit or miss. I hope that you enjoyed them, and I hope that I one day resurrect this definite light and entertaining venture!

-A. Warren Johnson

Philosphical Adventures

2009-12-15T11:03:00.000-08:00

Hello dear reader!

If anyone who reads my blog is planning to go back to school, then I suggest one thing: Do not take a philosophy class! At least not one taught by a Ph.D. holder. The reason for this is that a doctorate has many ideas that they wish to share, yet just do not have the time to do it in. This isn't a bad thing, although it does tend to hamper the understanding of what is going on in the course!

If you are planning to take a philosophy class, you should be advised to familiarize yourself with the works by Plato, Aristotle, DesCartes and Hume. If you have no understanding of any of these works, then you should plan on re-taking the course at least twice. Also you may wish to take a physics class, as a lot of instructors use physics examples to convey their points. If you do not, you will most certainly be re-taking the course.

A few words on the authors mentioned:

Plato - Plato writes in dialogue. Socrates is always the protagonist that seeks to find the truth in all matters. While he would be a most aggravating person to chat with, he does eventually get to the point he is trying to make. If you like reading plays or screenplays, you will not enjoy Plato's dialogues as there is no story arc, although, if you are looking for a story arc in philosophy, then you have missed the point and should pursue it no further.

Aristotle - Aristotle is an interesting case. All of his works were written primarily from student notes taken in his class. At times it is very choppy and switches formats a lot! The reason for this is that people that have translated his work were working to not only translate student notes, but also to fill in the gaps to make some sort of flow. Don't be surprised if the text suddenly changes from a paragraph to bullet point.

DesCrates - DesCartes is the most interesting of all the philosophers. His life story is extremely interesting and his meditations tend to get to a point, then move to the next point. It seems like DesCartes was playing a game of connect the dots and an artistic rendition of what the human mind looks like came out.

Hume - Hume is the worst philosopher to try and understand, as you never understand just where it is he is coming from. He only has three philosophical books to his credit and all of them are difficult to fully grasp. At times he attempts to explain things through a psychologist's perspective, then in the next sentence he disregards all scientific explanations he set forth. This is the one philosopher that requires the most time to understand.

If you have a natural inclination to philosophy, then you should take all the philosophy that you possibly can. For the rest of you that are wanting to understand it, explore it a bit before you whimsically decide it will be an essay class and sign up for it! Philosophy may have no right or wrong answers, but there are failing marks. If you do not have a great GPA and you don't understand philosophy, it is a great way to drop your GPA even lower!

Dragon Age: Addictions.

2009-12-15T11:00:00.000-08:00

A few months ago an addiction was lost. It was a fun addiction, one the required no drugs and had a low cost of fifteen dollars a month. That addiction was World of Warcraft. However, it seemed lately like something was missing. The social circle once enjoyed and friends that pixilated the computer screen were gone.

For a while, it seemed good. No distractions, nothing to do save for homework. This was a good thing before the past Friday. It just took over! The overwhelming urge to play . . . Something. If not Warcraft, than something else would have to do.

Dragon Age: Origins, it took Warcraft's place as of Friday past. With its multiple story lines, side quests and array of colorful characters, I knew it would be the one.

The game has over one hundred hours of game play, and has reply value. A feature that is invaluable for a game to have. The choices made influence how other characters interact with the created character. There is even downloadable content to make the game play longer, and adds even more options to the already expansive world played in.

The controls are similar to that of Warcraft, thus making the transition from Warcraft smoother than if going from a first person shooter. Dragon Age is played in a third person objective point of view. The camera can be moved to an overhead position as well to give the tactical advantage of seeing all action going on around the character's party. It also has an option to pause and micromanage the battles!

The story is not particularly strong, a nation's army is wiped out and the created character meets other characters and raises a new army to defend the nation from evil. However, this is due to the multiple answers that the created character is able to choose from when asked a question. This system allows for the created character to feel more sentient while playing him/her.

With a great game, comes great addiction. This would explain the playing time of twelve hours on Sunday, as well as the sleeping in until two-thirty on Monday. Although there is no social aspect to the game other than the characters you meet, there are new friends that are generated on the computer screen now.

Analogy of Writing

2009-12-15T10:59:00.000-08:00

Philosophy is an impossible class. It is also extremely hard to write a paper on. Such has been the case with the topic of personal identity and immortality. The personal identity part was not the troubling bit, it was two views of whether or not the mind and body are one, and what happens after we die. I set out to look for something that could be set into words, but also had some barring on what the paper was to be about.

Looking at a book seemed to be the best way to calculate whether or not there is life after death. It would stand to reason that since the ideas of the author are in the book, so the feelings that they worked with while writing them would be (somewhat) intact. This is not saying that the mind of the author inhabits a book written by them after they die, but rather that a part of the whole can be seen through their work. Whenever one picks up something to read, whether it is a magazine article, a work of fiction, or a deeply detail piece of literature, some insight is gained on who the writer is or was.

William Shakespeare has been credited for writing the line, "All the world's a stage: And all the men and women merely players" (Shakespeare 2.7, 139-166). The real question here is who writes the lines? Well naturally it would be the writer who has written the lines! This then makes for a very interesting analogy, as the writer, then, would be considered to be a God.
If a writer is God (in the case of fiction), then surely the protagonist could be comparable to Jesus. In the case of essays, the author is both God and Jesus (respectively), as the writing is created from the mind engineering the work. This, then, means that one could gauge how the author views or viewed themselves. Do or did they fancy themselves as someone separate from everyone else, as is the case of author's like Virginia Woolf and H.P. Lovecraft, or were they involved with the crowd? The writing of person who understands what human condition really is against the writing of someone that does not is vast, just as someone who understands philosophy against someone who does not is also vast.

Whatever the case may be, the far reaching questions of philosophy are generally accompanied by some sort of analogy. This does not limit analogies to just philosophy though. This is something that is constant throughout every work that has been written down. We (collectively) always try and get ideas across through means of comparison. Anytime a statement turns into a, "It was like . . ." situation, a comparison is made. A comparison in this case is not at all similar to a comparison in an essay. It is a means to express something that is imperceptible by simplifying the concept to something that everyone has experienced.

The theory that philosophy is a useful tool to understanding might be true, but then again, what is truth? Why bother with understanding metaphysical concepts at all when a simple analogy could fulfill the same purpose?

Celebrity E-Mail: Johnny Depp

2009-11-17T06:32:00.000-08:00

Dear Mr. Depp,

I have always enjoyed your films, even that one no one seems to remember: Dead Man. Sadly, however, I write to you this morning, not as a fan, but in hopes that you could help answer a few of my questions.

The first thing I would like to know is how do you manage to keep out of the tabloids? I mean you are a high profile actor! Do you pay the paparazzi off, or did you go about this in a wise fashion and buy a few of these poorly reported, yet highly entertaining magazines? I can't imagine you being that boring of a guy. Then again, I am a pretty boring guy as I am sitting here writing you an email you probably won't ever see, the worst part is that it is on the internet and can be viewed by anyone!

Next I was wondering how you manage to maintain such a laid back attitude even though you are a high profile star? I mean you don't even watch the movies you're in! Any interview I have ever saw with you, you have always been so regular! So cool! So goddamn mysterious! What is your secret?

The last thing I wanted to know about is slightly more personal. Now, you do all of these high budgeted, high profile movies and you also seem to be a superhero in your personal life! How the hell do you find the time? First it was Courtney Love and now Nicholas Cage! I'm surprised you haven't gone back in time to save Jesus! Maybe Jerry Bruckheimer should make a movie about the celebrity superhero that is Johnny Depp!

I would like to thank you for taking the time to read this letter of questions, as I am sure that you are either on the way to a set, or to save Rene Zellweger.

Your superhero fanboy,
-A. Warren Johnson

Donations?

2009-11-16T13:49:00.000-08:00

In the interest of taste and the hope of getting people interested in what I write I have kept off any ads or a donation button. However, as of late I have been toying with the idea of having a donation button at the bottom of my blog page. What I would like to have is you (dear reader) to have a say in this decision. I know this is the internet and I may or may not have more then 13 people that follow, or even read my blog, I am asking everyone that comes across my blog to please participate in the poll I have posted.

Keep in mind that I don't intend to charge people to read my blog, as anything I post here are either rough story ideas, editorials, or Celebrity Emails. It would still be 100% FREE to visit, but I would have a donation button at the bottom of the page so it would not be in sight at all times. The poll up for a month. I will leave this decision up to you dear reader.

Ten: God, Gambling and the Seventh Dimension

2009-11-14T16:37:00.000-08:00

The seventh dimension. It consisted of a forty-seven foot platform that over looked a vast flow of time. The river of time was made up of every time line from the third and fifth dimensions. The seventh dimension was home to exactly one being. A little green unich named God. He was not the God beings in the third and fifth dimensions perceived him as. He was more or less a glorified toll booth attendant. His main job was to watch over time lines and make sure that no one would ever accidentally run into themselves.

Beings from the third, the fifth, the sixth, the eighth and the tenth dimensions would end up on this platform from time to time. There are a few reasons beings would find themselves here: They died and were passing time until their next life, or they were waiting for a rift from the eleventh dimension to open up and take them to the sixth dimension. Either way, the seventh dimension was a pit stop, not a destination.

God (over the years) had developed a nasty drinking habit and acquired an addiction to gambling. Beings that found themselves in this dimension were always astounded to find that they had seven hundred little, shiny green rectangular pieces lining their pockets. These were known as rubix, the only currency accepted in the seventh dimension, but relatively useless in any other dimension.

God was a mostly broke bloke who would try and swindle people out of their fair to the sixth dimension. He loathed anyone from a higher dimension as they seemed to know every move he was going to make. This usually turned to betting on what would happen if God were to mend two conflicting time streams together. The being from whatever dimension would then be given three choices and God would throw the time lines together. This usually ended badly. Sometimes civilizations would be destroyed, other times a small household pet in one of the two dimensions would die for no reason apparent to the inhabitants of either dimension. In one such bet, the person betting was completely erased from time. However, more often then not, people would just run in to themselves. This was the definitive reason for doppelgänger sightings.

One day a group of three people arrived at the same time. God was drunk (as usual) and this set the stage for the typical card game. Since God was drunk, he failed to notice the particular shifting of a shaggy haired kid from the tenth dimension. This was a common feature of anyone from the tenth dimension. This was due to the time structures being completely different from each other.

A few hours had passed and God was losing. He was down to his last seventy-four rubix and started to suspect that the shaggy hair kid that couldn’t sit still was from a higher dimension.

“All in!” God announced.

The shaggy haired kid simple replied, “You don’t have anything.”

“And how exactly would you know this?”

“Partially from the way you appear flustered and partially because you flashed us all your cards.” Answered an older woman from the third dimension.

“Well then I fold!” God shouted and cast his cards into the discarded pile.

“You already bet!” Said the six year old from the fifth dimension. “You can’t fold now, it’s against the rules!”

“I am God! I run this dimension and they are my rules to break!”

“Well how is this for a rule?” The shaggy haired kid asked as he laid down his cards. “A pair of Jacks.”

The older woman laid down her cards, “Low straight.”

“I've got a flush!” The six year old said excitedly. “I win!”

The older woman and the shaggy hair kid paid the six year old their bets, yet God still refused and accused the six year old of cheating. After a bit of protesting from the three travelers, God put forth a new bet.

“How about this. We make a different wager!”

“Or you could just pay the six year old what you owe him.” The shaggy haired kid suggested.

“Hear me out. I control the time lines correct?”

“And?” The older woman responded.

“Well how is this for a wager, I put two time lines together and we see what happens!”

“Umm . . . How are we supposed to bet on this, if all we are going to do is watch the outcome of events?” The six year old questioned.

“Easily. I will give you three possible outcomes and we bet on which one happens!”

“Are you serious? This explains a lot about life in the third and fifth dimensions.” The shaggy haired kid stated.

“What is that supposed to imply?”

“It implies that time doesn’t flow naturally because you keep fucking things up! You are a sad excuse for a supreme being. How about I bet that this isn’t the first time you have done this, and the current state of affairs were caused by your inability to just leave things alone!”

“You think that you are so much better than I, don’t you? You, all three of you are lucky! You are able to go to all the other dimensions, while I am stuck here! Stuck for eternity in this lonely plain of existence! What else am I supposed to do with my time? I sit here century after century, millennia after millennia, and for what? To have people like you pass through here and criticize me?” With that, God broke down into a sobbing, weeping mess.

The six year old sighed. “Fine. We’ll bet on this time mending thing.”

The little green unich’s face turned from self pity to joy. “Well we better get started shouldn’t we?”

The first part of the bet consisted of picking out two different time lines from the river. The left half of the river was every time line from the third dimension, while the right side was every time line of the fifth dimension. The three travelers had to pick one from each side. They discussed it for a few minutes, finally they reached their conclusion. The six year old pointed out the two time lines they wanted merged. God pointed to the same two the six year old had and raised his arms. The time lines lifted, God then put his fingers together and the time lines merged, creating a new time flow.

“Now,” God said, “Time to bet!”

Three screens appeared out of thin air in front of the travelers. The first one showed and ideal paradise where the inhabitants were over come with joy. Everyone had what they wanted and everyone was happy. The second showed the inhabitants of this new time line technologically evolved, yet nothing made any sense and there were no household pets. The third one caught the attention of the shaggy haired kid. In this screen, a version of himself from the fifth dimension was ruling the inhabitants with an iron fist. In an essence, he was the anti Christ that was mentioned in the third dimensional book, the Holy Bible.

“You son of a bitch! What have you done!?” The shaggy haired kid exclaimed.

“Now now, bets first, explanations later.” God said smugly.
“No bet. Put the time lines back, now!” The shaggy haired kid screamed.

“Look who’s up in arms about losing money now.”

At this comment, the shaggy haired kid lunged at God. He tackled him to the ground. He had hoped that by knocking God down his fingers would separate, returning the time lines back to the original state. However, this did not happen. The shaggy haired kid had cocked his fist back to punch God in his grizzled and old face. God raised one of his hands to the shaggy kids face, suddenly a bright light blinded the shaggy haired kid and forced him off the chest of his opponent. God then kicked the kid in the shin causing him to hop back a few feet. The kid regained his sight and lunged at God again.
Unfortunately God side stepped and the kid went over the edge of the platform. The older woman and the six year old raced to the edge just in time to see the kid fall into a rift that had opened up. The rift then disappeared.

“You slimy little cunt!” The woman said turning to God. “You killed him. I hope you one day that you get thrown off this platform and end up in oblivion!”

“He attacked me! Besides, I’m sure he is fine. He’ll be back! I promise! Now, what’s your wager?”

You Drink & Blog. You Lose. An English Essay

2009-10-05T02:13:00.000-07:00

Andy Johnson

A.J. Mittendorf

English 103, C02

October 4, 2009/ Journal 3

You Drink & Blog. You Lose.

The way alcohol works is quite an ingenious thing, in and of itself. It has led me down some interesting paths. Most memorable time being my twenty-fifth birthday when I was drunk and lost in the woods. I saw a Sasquatch. Swear to whatever God you believe in! This is not what this essay is about, however. Sadly, my fresh six pack of idea’s was lost in the mail from Synecdoche, Quebec, Canada. Today’s topic (fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how much you enjoy my writing) is about my blog. (The mechanics of writing a blog is a somewhat difficult practice, yet with a little alcohol, an imagination and some sort of marketing gimmick, you too can have your very own internet space to write about nothing!)

The first thing I did when I started my blog was go hangout with a friend for beers. At first the conversations were a little less than small talk and way too much about Warcraft. After about a case and a half of beer was consumed, we began discussing our future plans. Naturally I cut my friend off in mid sentence as I stated that I would one day be a great writer. This went on for around half an hour. Finally my friend had enough of my delusions of grandeur and suggested I start a blog. Being drunk and highly suggestible, I did!

When I got home I sat on my computer and stared at the blank screen for fifteen minutes. (This is almost the perfect amount of time to remember what it is you are trying to do while you are intoxicated.) The memory hit me! I was starting a blog! Now, whenever you are about to start anything, it is highly suggested that you do your research! I personally don’t have the time, or motivation to go on such a venture when something important comes into my life. I need it done now! Blogger was the first blogging site on my returned search for blog sites, Blogger it was! I raced through my online application with as much agility and coherent thought that someone who is completely inebriated could and got my account activated! (I don’t really remember this step to well as it is now a drunken blur, but I am sure that you won’t have a problem with it.)

The next thing I did after my account was activated was to post something. I am a very sloppy writer when it comes to grammar and punctuation, so my first post reads something like this: Itss realy erly and I am compleetyl drunk. I jusst set this acount up and hase noe idea how offten my possts will be made avalibe for all of you my beloved readerws. In retrospect I should have probably edited it a little more before I posted, but I figured that the editing feature would have caught most of my errors. As it turns out you actually have to do the editing yourself. Stupid technology!

Anyway, after these steps are complete, the most important task is next. This task is your layout and content. The way your blog looks should visually inspire the theme of your content. My is set up sort of like a newspaper page. (I find newspapers to be boring, yet familiar.) Your content should than be able to mirror your content. What is your content supposed to be about? How should I know? It’s your blog, do whatever you want! Mine has three main features; Editorials, Celebrity Emails (which is basically me making fun of celebrities) and serial stories. Yours could be about vaginas that have butterfly wings for all I care, just as long as your layout and content have the same feeling.

These few meager steps may --most of the conclusion to this How-To guide was also lost by the same negligent mail person that misplaced the idea for this essay. If anyone has seen the original idea or conclusion for this or any other essays, please post a comment on www.awarrenjohnson.blogspot.com-- So next time you are blogging drunk, please blog responsibly.

Celebrity E-Mail: Pink

2009-09-22T00:19:00.000-07:00

Dear Pink,

I write to you this fine evening, not as a fan, rather as a concerned party. I have recently seen the video for your song 'Sober' and was utterly disgusted that you were touching yourself in every scene! Don't get the wrong idea here, I would love to meet alternate versions of myself. However, for you to be so careless about the whole situation is something that I feel I need to address.

First of all, did you even consider that your actions could have dire consequences to the whole universe? By this I am naturally talking about matter touching anti-matter. Thankfully I believe the universe is still in tact for the time being, but this doesn't mean that you are excused from your civil duty to not end the whole of humanity because you missed science class!

Next I wanted to know if you used something, anything to protect yourself when you had intercourse with, well... Yourself. I know what you are thinking right about now, "Well I don't have anything, and she is me, so..." Wrong! Just because she is you, you are failing to realize that she is from a parallel universe! You don't know if you're, she... Whatever, is clean!

The last thing that has been bugging me about this whole ordeal is the connotations with your husband. How does he feel about you sleeping around with alternate reality you? Did he consider it cheating, or did he find it hot in some weird, star trek kind of way? Please get back to me about this as I really would like some sleep at some point this week!

Thank you for taking the time to read my concerns on this matter and next time, do try to be a little more careful when tempting fate.

Your somewhat-distressed-friend-that-is-paranoid-that-you-may-have-almost-ended-all-life-as-we-know-it,

-A. Warren Johnson

Kitchen Life: Enter the Dish Pig

2009-09-16T10:33:00.000-07:00

While Matt was busy insuring that FNG had set up his station well enough to get through lunch, a strange and somewhat odd looking figure entered the kitchen.

He stood 6’ 2” and appeared roughly to be 200 pounds. His black uniform was matched by his black mask. FNG happened to look up from his station to see this rather strange sight. He quietly contemplated whether or not he made a good choice his job selection.

“Hey Dish Pig! How are you today?” Shaun asked.

“I am Fine. Thank you for Asking!” Dish Pig answered. His Politeness was enough to make FNG question Dish Pigs motives.

“Catch any criminals last night?” Shaun asked. His sarcasm was as subtle as a swan dive that took a wrong turn to a belly flop.

“None. It seems that crime took the night off. It's all greek to me, I mean I do not understand. How could criminals just let a city alone, it just does not add up.” Dish Pig was sure that a criminal syndicate somewhere in the city was planning an attack of epic proportions.

“Don't worry, maybe tonight will be the night!” Van encouraged. Dish Pig also wasn’t fluent in any other language thus his words were lost to Dish Pig.

“Excuse me? I did not quite catch that.” Dish Pig said. His voice trying to strike fear into the heart of Van Couver.

Van slapped his forehead out of frustration and retorted, “Never mind. Fucking people, I mean why can't why all just speak one language?” Van’s physical actions were comical even though he was being serious.

Dish Pig leaned into Shaun and whispered, “What is he saying? I never have trusted him. He is quite shady, perhaps I shall keep my watchful eye upon that foreigner.”

“Do whatever you think is necessary.” Shaun replied. His focus was more on not losing a finger while he was cutting carrots for stock rather then on the antics of Van and Dish Pig.

Dish Pig patted Shaun on the back and said, “Indeed, my young friend. And rest assure that under this mask is someone who cares for the whole of humanity! Now...” Dish Pig raised his right arm and extended his index finger. “TO THE DISH PIT!”

Maggie entered the kitchen just as Dish Pig made his bold exclamation and said, “Hey Dish Pig, your looking good today! Have you been working out?”

Dish Pig lowered his arm and struck a heroic pose. “Why, yes. I have. Thank you for noticing, you charming young lass, but now I must fight the one true nemesis I have here. It is time to free all those poor and helpless dishes break free from the evil clutches of GREASE AND GRIM! For I am the advent of cleanliness! I am DISH PIG!!!” Dish Pig dashed off to save the poor helpless dishes.

***

INTERLUDE: Dish Pig’s Story.

Six months ago in a kitchen south east of the Cheshire. The hero known as the Dish Pig was a short order cook. He wasn’t always a hero, at times he was right down ridiculous.

To give you an example, two days before this interlude occurs, the Dish Pig had accidentally aided a robbery. Yes, even heroes are prone to make mistakes.

The events that took place are as follows:

The night was cool and Dish Pig had just gotten off shift. He (in these days, he was known as Donnie) was walking home and saw a masked man and a old lady with a walker having an epic battle over a hand bag.

As any good citizen would do, Dish Pig went to save the day. Unfortunately Dish Pig got bested by the masked man and he forcefully took the bag from the old lady with the walker and handed it gently handed it to the masked man. The masked man then sprinted away laughing as Dish Pig faced the wrath of the old lady with the walker.

This day however was not like his earlier misadventure. It was a completely different misadventure.

Dish Pig worked over the flat-top. Quesadillas and philly beef sandwiches were his specialty. After he finished cooking the pub slop, he began to clean the grill using the prescribed cleaning solution. Suddenly a bunch of steam rose from the grill and hit him in the face! Dish Pig backed away from the flat-top held his face and fell to his knees.

“NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Dish Pig wailed. His cry was loud enough to turn the heads of all the patrons in the dingy little pub.

As Dish Pig was convulsing on the floor two of his fellow cooks enter the kitchen to start their shift. Their mild and crude conversation ended abruptly as they see Dish Pig on the floor.

The first cook to enter the kitchen turned to the second cook to enter the kitchen and asks, “What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know.” The second cook replies. After this short exchange they both leaned against the counter to watch and figure out what exactly was going on.

Dish Pig felt every nerve of his being change and transform into something not quite human as he flopped around on the ground. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull, his teeth clenched, and then it was all over. Dish Pig lay on the ground. Still as someone that had just dropped dead of a heart attack.

Cook one with about as much enthusiasm and exuberance of a rock asked, “Is he dead?”

“How should I know? Go poke him in the ribs, or something.” The second cook replied.

Cook one was bewildered at the mere thought and said, “Fuck that! If he is dead, then it will look like I killed him!”

“Fine you big puss, I’ll do it.” The second cook responded.

He grabbed the fryer poker that was on the counter behind him and slowly walked over to Dish Pig. He then gently poked him in the back once, Dish Pig didn’t move. He poked him again a few more times, yet still no response. The second cook went to poke him once more, but just then, Dish Pig got up slowly to his knees, then he stood up.

“I AM...” Dish Pig started, but then pause for dramatic effect as he turned around. “A SUPER HERO!!!” Dish Pig finished. This again was enough to turn the heads of the slum that inhabited the pub south east of the Cheshire.

***

College Days: My Fair Lady

2009-09-15T21:23:00.000-07:00

September 15, 2009

I walk into English 101 at a quarter to 7 pm. Strangely my class is quiet and dark. A.J. is an happy and upbeat teacher, so the quietness doesn't immediately make sense to me, however I enter the class anyway. I hope I have the right room. Thankfully I notice A.J. sitting at a table to the left hand side if the class as I walk in. A film is playing, it is "My Fair Lady".

I sit down and try to figure out exactly what is going on in the film. (For those of you that don't know this already: It's a musical.) The movie itself is very humorous, although probably not high on the "Recommended Viewing" of the feminist movement, even though the main male lead of the film is abusive and neglectful of the female lead.

After the class we have a short discussion about some of the points A.J. considers important. Namely the ending of the male lead not 'seeing' the female lead again. Answers about comprimise and seeing her as a lady and not as dirt are brought up. I keep silent. My views are radically different and don't really fit in with the class.

My view of "My Fair Lady" is simple and quaint. Even though my view focuses more broadly on the whole story, I find it to still be relevant to the theme. As I see it, "My Fair Lady" is about a social male that views himself to be outside of his social bracket. This is very apparent in on scene dealing with a horse race. The male lead shows up very under dressed for this event. This I found to be a visual approach to showing the audience his social status rather then explain it. He also mistreats the female lead for pretty much the whole film and describes himself as a established bachelor. He eventually swallows his pride and tells the female lead how he feels about her, but by that point he had already lost her.

In other words: The male lead is a jerk in order to establish his place with in his social bracket as well as to hide his flaws. This is only my view on "My Fair Lady" though. As I have been known to be wrong before, I urge anyone who is in school reading this to draw their own conclusions.

-A. Warren Johnson

Celebrity E-Mail: Kanye West

2009-09-15T13:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Kanye,

Good day Mr. West! My name is A. Warren Johnson. I have recently come to the conclusion that you are the next in line to change the music scene! In the tradition of the Beatles and Korn it is my opinion that you will ruin music next. Now this email is not to inflate your self esteem, I actually have a few questions that have been fluttering around in my head.

My first question for you is how do you deal with being so great? I mean I have a hard enough time just being popular, but you sir, you are great! You are great at seriously everything! Great at being mediocre, great at taking other people's music and making it your own and even great at ruining other people's moments! How do you do it?

Next I was wondering what is the best way that one could possibly reach the level of greatness you have obtained? I have always wanted to be great at something and next to you I feel inadequate next to the enigma that is Kanye West. What is your secret? Please tell me, as I hope to one day be able to stand next to the legend.

Last I have been boggled by the recent events that transpired at the video awards. I have just recently heard about what happened and have been unable to youtube the incident. Did she best you at your own game? Did she woo a lady that you were after? Or did she just write an original song? I don't understand what exactly happened! I mean she is a young country song that would probably never sample a Daft Punk song, so what was your problem with her? I would love an answer to that.

Anyway, I have some chores to attend to, so thank you for taking the time to read this insignificant letter.

Your nobody fan in the great sea of nobodies,
-A. Warren Johnson

The Continuing adventures of A. Warren

2009-09-14T14:40:00.000-07:00

HELLO DEAR READERS!!!

I have missed writing to you all. I have recently taken up a academic career at my local college! Hence the constant lapses and missed posts I should have been doing. As I am now a student, I have been learning all sorts of interesting things in the ivory tower.

I am taking 2 English courses, Philosophy and Psychology. With this said, I have found them to be somewhat slow going. Just a quick and fun fact, Philosophy is about the journey and not the end destination. Thus any fundamental question posed can not be answered. This trek (as stated earlier) is slow. Classes are short and bite sized, but I find them to be less informative due to the time constraints. Anyway, just wanted to check in with you all and make sure that you know that I will try and update as much as possible in this school year.

-A. Warren Johnson

Kitchen Life: Ice Mix & Fish

2009-08-24T13:58:00.000-07:00

“Welcome back FNG.” Jake said.

FNG nodded and turned towards Matt.

“Hey Matt, um, they said they don't carry ice mix.” FNG said barely audible.

“I know they don’t.” Matt replied. He was walking away to grabbed the clip board to start his line check. FNG followed closely behind him.

“What! You knew that they don’t carry it and you sent me to the store for it! Why?” FNG exasperated.

“Because it’s a running joke. Kind of a initiation to the kitchen. Don’t worry, Frank got pretty pissed about it and that makes me happy.” Matt gleamed.

“I'm not going to get written up, am I?” FNG asked. The sheer look of terror on his face was almost enough to make Matt burst out laughing.

Matt contained his laughter and simply stated, “No, if anything I would be written up.”

Matt’s reassurance didn’t seem to help FNG much. The fear seemed to subside in FNG’s eyes only to be replaced with confusion.

“Why would you be...” FNG started.

“Because I sent the kid I’m suppose to train to the store for a nonexistent product. Look, don't worry about it. Just go back to your station, were almost open.” Matt interrupted.

“Okay.” FNG agreed. He made his way to the fryer station and looked around nervous as if some sort of evil impending doom were to happen at any moment. ‘I feel out of place. I wonder if this fryer basket feels as out of place as I do...’ FNG pondered.

Maggie entered the kitchen and leaned against the patty cooler. She had one thing on her mind...

“Matty. Do you want to make me something to eat?” Maggie whined.

“Not really.” Matt stated.

“Oh come on.” Maggie pressed further.

Matt set down the spatula he was holding, turned to Maggie and said, “I told you Maggie, your not my type. Besides I thought girls didn't like that kind of thing.”

“What thing?” Maggie questioned.

“Nothing.” Matt said. He shook his head at his failed attempt at a quick quip.

“Please!!! I'm really hungry!” Maggie begged.

“Ask Jake. Wait, why don't you ask Frank?” Matt asked. The sarcastic tone implied Matt’s cynicism was firmly intact.

“EW! He is the most grossest guy! And he smells like fish most of the time!” Maggie exclaimed.

“Sounds like you guys have something in common!” Matt jested.

“Who?” Frank asked. He had emerged from the office under Matt’s radar. Maggie decided that the blood rule of 10 feet could also apply to Frank and went to ask Jake if he would make her some food.

“You and Maggie.” Matt replied.

“What makes you think that?” Frank asked.

“You both like fish!” Matt beamed.

“Really? She likes fish?” Frank asked. It seemed to Matt that Frank had more questions then answers.

“Yeah, man! Loves it!” Matt exuberated.

“Fish is disgusting!” Frank stated.

“Kind of like your cologne.” Matt retorted.

“Funny. Speaking of funny, did your trainee come back?” Frank questioned Matt.

“FNG? Yeah, he's back.” Matt answered. Matt was utterly shocked that Frank wouldn’t leave after his cologne comment and wondered why he was still hanging around.

“Good. I'm firing him for being so stupid.” Frank said.

“Hey, no. That's not fair at all. It was a joke, let it go. I mean it's his first week, and you know damn well that was my fault.” Matt defended FNG.

“Fine. But anymore of your antics and you and him are gone!” Frank threatened.

“Sure thing coach. Now go back to the office and do what you do best.” Matt suggested.

“What's that suppose to mean?” Frank asked. As much as he tried to intimidate Matt, it never worked.

“That your good at paperwork?” Matt quipped.

“I mean it Matt, quit fucking around!” Frank said. His voice slightly elevated for effect.

“Whatever you say Chief!” Matt said as he mocked saluted Frank while he walked away.

***

While the cynical and ominous dispute was going on between Frank and Matt, Jake and Maggie were having a light, innuendo filled discussion on the other side of the line.

“Oh and extra cheese! And maybe some more tomatoes! Mmm, This is going be good!” Maggie exclaimed. Her mouth watering at the sight and smell of her meal.

“You know what else is going be good?” Jake chimed in.

“What?” Maggie asked. Her coy attitude implied the usual, ‘I already know, but I want you to tell me anyway’ state of mind.

“Our little romp later.” Jake said. Oh he was good and he knew it.

“Well I hope it's not to little, and that it's more of a hard fucking.” Maggie teased. Oh she was good and he knew it.

Jake put up her meal and said, “Here you are.”

“Thank you Jake.” Maggie said. She looked gingerly at him and blew him a kiss.

“Your welcome.” Jake replied.

The office door slammed shut yet again. Everyone in the kitchen needed to know the dirt.

“What was that about?” Shaun asked. The haze was starting to fade and he was becoming more observant.

“Just our noble kitchen manager playing bad cop.” Matt explained.

“What did you say to him now?” Jake questioned Matt. Jake knew that Matt had did something to get under Frank’s skin.

“Nothing much. He's still pissy about the FNG thing.” Matt replied.

“Franks mad at me?” FNG asked. The terror now back in his eyes.

“No, he's mad at me, but he was going to fire you.” Matt said. He had mentioned the last bit to make it sound humorous, but it didn’t work the way he meant it to.

“WHAT? I did what you told me to do!” FNG fretted.

“I know. That's what I...” Matt started.

“So he's going to fire me?” FNG cut Matt off to exasperate further.

“No. I talked him out of it. Anyway, let's check out your station.” Matt suggested to FNG.

World of Warcraft: Cataclysm Expansion

2009-08-21T03:36:00.000-07:00

Figured I would attempt to put things in order even if I am totally off on it. First of all, the new races and classes that make no sense... Well the races you will probably need a level 60 minimum character to unlock them. As for the weird combination's, they are most likely Hero Classes for those races. You will probably only be allowed to have 1 per server, per race.

As for this last expansion, (if it is even the next expansion), will probably have all three of the major story lines in it. It will more then likely be split into 4 parts, first dealing with the Maelstrom: This will included the crazy redesign of Azeroth and deal with bringing in the new character races. We will also probably see Thrall leave and Hellscream completely destroy everything he has worked to do. The last of the content of 4.1 will more then likely end introducing The Guardian of Tirisfal.

The 4.2 patch will probably contain the next major story line of Queen Azshara. This patch, (it would stand to reason), will take place both before and after the Cataclysm. Much like some of the content in Wrath. The plot will probably have a lot to do with how Azshara escaped and attempted to reopen the portal, (with the help of Deathwing/Neltharion), which caused the cataclysmic events in the first place. This expansion would naturally introduce one of the new islands that resurfaces in the cataclysm as the new daily grounds much like the Isle of Quel'Danas.

4.3 will, (in all probability), be the last patch that deals with the after math of everything in the past two patches. This will, (one would assume), included Thrall reclaiming his place as the leader of the Horde, (possibly by some heart wrenching speech about how Hellscream's father didn't give his life for his son to ruin what The Horde stood for), and possibly a romance between Thrall and Jania happens, which then in turn ends the feud between The Horde and Alliance. Although feuds will inevitably exist, thus we will still have PvP.

Which brings us to 4.4. The Emerald Dream. As any fan boy, (or girl), knows, the Emerald dream is a place of wonder and beauty. An educated guess would be that Horde and Alliance will be able to raid together, (this could be the reason for the introduction of the faction switching), as they are now on the same side, even though factions will most likely still be in tact. However this patch will possibly allow for a common language used by both Horde and Alliance for the low one time cost of 1,000 gold. A 40 man raid will also be made available, but since the Horde and Alliance are now at an uneasy truce and fighting against The Nightmare and not each others factions, the raid will possibly require 20 Horde and 20 Alliance.

I should have said this off the hop, but any similarities to the new World of Warcraft expansion, (true or not), are completely speculative and reflect only my views on how I see the game going.

-A. Warren Johnson

Kitchen Life: 86'd.

2009-08-11T09:39:00.000-07:00

Jake began his story, (like all good stories), at the beginning of the night.

Jake and Matt had just gotten off shift and decided to have a few beers on the patio before going home for the night. Luckily for the two of them Maggie was their server and they wouldn’t have to order food with their beer.

“What do you two want?” Maggie asked. The mock disgust in her voice suggested she was in a great mood even though she was more then likely closing.

“A pitcher would be swell Mags.” Matt replied.

“Really? Just one?” Maggie asked. She was generally shocked by this.

“For the moment anyway. Matt is undecided on getting smashed tonight.” Jake responded.

“Ah. I see, well I’ll bring out two. Just to be on the safe side.” Maggie said. She left to get the pitchers.

“See Matt! Maggie just made your decision much easier!” Jake cheered.

“Yeah, she’s a good friend.” Matt smiled.

A few hours and $75 later, the Cheshire was closed. Jake and Matt were finishing their last two glasses of beer. As both Jake and Mat viewed their growing alcohol dependency at a professional level, they were just getting buzzed. Maggie joined them to cash out for the night.

“So what is your plan for this evening?” Maggie asked.

“Not sure. Possibly go to the bar for a bit then catch a show or two at the peelers.” Jake postulated.

“That sounds like a pretty solid plan.” Matt chimed in.

Maggie was counting what she made that night and didn’t even look up as she said,“Sweet.”

“What’s your plan, Mags?” Jake questioned.

“I don’t know.” Maggie answered, still counting.

“Well you should come out with us!” Matt suggested. The beer buzz was treating him fine.

“Sounds good, but I’m not going to the strippers.” Maggie stated.

“Excellent.” Jake replied.

A couple of hours later, Jake and Matt said good night to Maggie and headed to the strip club. When they arrived they were relieved to find a few empty seats in front of the stage. There wasn’t a show going on so Matt decided to start a conversation with Jake.

“Fuck, dude. The booze is hitting home. I'm fucking drunk!” Matt slurred.

“Yeah me too.” Jake replied.

Just then the D.J. came on over the PA and announced the next show. The dancer made her way on stage. The D.J. trumped, “The alluring STORMY!!!”

“Hey, I got an idea!” Jake exclaimed.

“What's that?” Matt asked. He was too drunk to be excited by ideas.

“Let's pick up the stripper!” Jake suggested.

“I don't know, dude, we're pretty fucked up. I don't think she'll go for it.” Matt articulated.

“Sure she will! Watch this!” Jake retorted.

Jake began to motion Stormy to come over to him. As Jake stood up just a little bit, she bent down. Jake whispered to her, “Would you care to hangout with my friend and I after the bar closes?”

“Sounds fun, I would love to do that!” Stormy nodded. “Meet me out front after my set.” She added. She winked slyly at Jake and Matt as she returned to centre stage.

***

Outside of the club, Jake and Mat waited for Stormy. Mat had a little bit too much booze and found the wall to be wonderful to lean against with his hands on his knees. Jake on the other hand was really was way to excited to lean, so he stood rubbing his hands together.

Mat trying very hard not to let his world completely rush away into the land of sleep started a conversation.

“Jake, not to burst your nut, but I don't think she's going show.” Matt said. He was hoping that she wouldn’t.

“Sure she will! It's only been fifteen minutes. Just relax Matt.” Jake retorted.

“I'll give it another five minutes, then I'm getting us a cab, and were going back to your place to crash.” Matt stated.

***

“So, then what happened?” Shaun interrupted.

“Well, she ended coming outside at the last minute and we ended up back at her hotel room.” Mat explained. His enthusiasm was out weighed by his embarrassment.

***

Jake, Matt and Stormy sat on the hotel bed. The drinking had slowed down to 1 drink per hour. Stormy was telling Jake and Matt about herself. Matt wasn’t sure if what he was hearing was correct and Jake just wanted to fuck.
Stormy went on with her stories.

“Then this one time when I was still hooking, this guy picked me up. We went back to his house, his kids were in bed, and his wife was out with her friends. So we get in to things, you know he starts fingering me while I'm blowing him. Just nickel and dime stuff, really. Anyway, when things get into full swing he turns to me and asks me if he could give it to me doggie style while I give him a rim job. Well I said, if you want me to do that it'll cost you another seventy-five bucks! I mean I was trying to put myself through Med school for god sake. So what do you guys do?” Stormy asked.

“Well... We work in a kitchen.” Matt said. His confusion by this point was more than apparent. Questions like, ‘How old is this stripper?’ And ‘She looks hot, but is that actually how she looks, or is it just the alcohol?’ Kept creeping up in his mind.

“That's cool. I used to do that. Except that I would hide in a cooler and give hummers to all the male staff when they got to stressed out. Man, I got paid phenomenally well. That is until they made all these laws against hookers in coolers waiting to give BJ's.” Stormy chimed in.

***

“Wow!” Van exclaimed. Sadly in the 5 to 10 minutes it took Jake and Matt to tell the story, no one still had any clue as to what Van was really saying.

Jake turned to Van and asked, “What?”

“Never mind.” Van said as he shook his head and hand at Jake.

“That's crazy!” Shaun exclaimed.

“That's nothing. It gets worse.” Matt solemnly stated.

“How? You guys nailed her, and caught something?” Shaun inquired.

“No. Nothing like that. See Matt ended up sleeping with her. He didn't catch anything.” Jake said attempting to embarrass Matt more.

“Okay, you have to realize that we were in no condition to make any judgment calls. This stripper we both thought was fucking smoking, and Jake nailed too. The problem was when we woke up in the morning we realized two things: first we had drank way too much and our hangovers were not going to let us go to work, and secondly the stripper we had picked up the night before was eighty-six years old!” Matt explained.

Shaun and Van both burst out in maniacal laughter.

“Frank must have been pissed when you guys called in!” Shaun said. He had forgot whether or not he was trying to ask a question or make a statement.

“Yeah, but he didn't even write us up because of the fact that the stripper was eighty-six. He just laughed at us the next day we came in. It’s probably my fondest memory of Frank actually.” Matt said.

“Matt, why did you bring that story up? That was really embarrassing.” Jake said.

“You brought it up!” Matt exclaimed as he raised a finger and pointed at Jake.

Just then FNG walked in the back door. He walked into the kitchen looking similar to Judas when he told the rest of the apostles that he sold Jesus for 30 silver pieces.

Kitchen Life: When in doubt, push your luck!

2009-08-06T07:19:00.000-07:00

As soon as the door was shut, Mat let out a chuckle of self satisfaction. To Mat it seemed that Frank didn’t appreciate honesty.

Jake broke Mat’s train of silent thought.

“Fuck! He was pissed!” Jake said. The half chuckle, half speaking made Mat chuckle a little harder.

“Yeah. Oh well, the madder he gets the funnier it is.” Mat replied.

Jake raised a finger to Mat and said, “I think your on to something Matt.” Both of them began laughing at the whole situation.

They were both on the verge of tears when Shaun piped up with the a question through his stoned haze, “Hey, where's Kamron?” He asked setting down his knife and realizing that he wasn’t on the station he was supposed to be working on that day.

“Don't know. He was supposed to open today wasn't he?” Mat answered with another question.

“I'm fairly sure I saw him on the schedule. Why don’t you go ask Frank?” Jake suggested.

“Fuck that, he's already pissed about my prank on FNG. Why don't you go ask, Jake?” Mat replied. It seemed to Mat that he had more questions then answers.

“I just got back, and the mood he's in I'd probably lose my job. Sure pissing him off is funny, but I need the money.” Jake explained.

Van was excited to be helpful to his English speaking friends and stated, “Kamron's in Tokyo. I heard Frank talking to himself about it.” However, since he was unable to speak English, it just came out in a different language.

“What?” Mat asked Van.

“I said, Kamron is in Tokyo!” Van responded in his native tongue once more. He even tried to use body language in an attempt to make his statement a little more clear.
“Van, you know none of us can understand Bosnian, just write it down. It is a lot easier that way.” Mat suggested.

“Yeah, yeah. The story of my life! Just write it down! Why don’t you people just learn Serbo-Croatian” Van mumbled as he pulled a slip of paper from the printer he was closest to. His English spelling was quite horrible:

‘CamEran si n toEKEy-O’

It was at least better then his attempts to vocalize his idea’s. He handed the note to Mat.

“For fuck sakes!” Mat exclaimed, he then added, “Well saddle up boys, it's going be one of those days.”

“Why's that?” Shaun asked.

“Kamron's in Tokyo.” Mat answered.

“How the fuck did he end up in Tokyo?” Shaun asked.

Shaun meant the question to be rhetorical, but Jake suggested an answer anyway. “Probably got drunk and ended up catching a flight with some Asian stripper.”

“What?” Van asked. Van was unfamiliar with the term ‘Stripper’.

“Huh?” Jake asked Van. What they had was a failure to communicate.

“I don't understand.” Van said. He repeatedly shrugged his shoulders to convey that he wanted to know what the term ‘Stripper’ meant.

“Just drunken stupidity. Some people do absolutely retarded things when they're drunk. Like the time Matt and I went to that stripper's room.” Jake answered.

“Jake, man. Don't bring that up!” Mat exclaimed.

“Why not?” Shaun asked Mat. He then turned to Jake and asked, “What happened Jake?”

A devious smile crossed Jake’s face. Mat knew the look well. It meant inevitable embarrassment. As Mat silently wished not to relive this story, Jake continued. “Okay, so one night Mat and I go to the bar...”

Kitchen Life: Earlier that day...

2009-08-02T15:19:00.000-07:00

It was early. Way to early for most of the minimum wage slaves around the world, however wage slave drivers didn’t seem to be much of people anyway.

Frank was a wage slave driver, otherwise known as a manager. As he barreled into the parking lot he decided to parking in the handicap parking spot. There was no other reason then to show he could.

He got out of his truck and tried to unlock the door. This turned out to be one of those experiences that was very unfavorable as his key snapped on him in the lock.

“Stupid fucking door! This is going to come out of my paycheck! I just know it! Thanks you stupid fucking door!” Frank yelled.

He kicked the door, looked around, then decided to pull and shake the handle violently to try and unlock it that way. This also proved to be unfavorable as it swung open and hit him in the face. This had caused his nose to bleed.

After a short and unbridled scream of rage, he pinched the bridge of his nose and went inside.
Frank walked to the public washroom and plugged his bloody nostril with 3 squares of toilet paper. He then made his way to the office. The was a message on the machine, he pressed the play button.

The answering machine beeped and stated that there was one new message and proceeded to play it.

“Hey it's Kamron, I don't think I can make it to work today because Last night I got hammered, and I ended up in Tokyo! Can you believe it? I mean this is pretty wild! Anyway a Geisha girl hooker seduced me and stole my passport, so I need to get smuggled back into Canada on a "Fishing Boat". Anyway I'll be back in a couple days, so just get the FNG to cover my shifts. Kay Later.” Kamron’s voice said.

“That little punk! His ass is as good as fired when he gets back!” Frank promised the air around him.

Frank took off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack in the office. He walked out of the office and went to the coffee machine to make a pot of coffee. Just then a server walks up behind him and began washing her hands.

Frank turned around startled by the sink and said, “Oh, Hey Maggie. How are you?”

“All right.” Maggie replied.

“Well.. Okay. Is there anything that you want to talk about? Possibly getting together tonight, going for dinner and possibly going back to my place?” Frank said trying to be smooth as ice.

“God! What do think I am? A Slut? Do I have a sign on my forehead that says "OPEN FOR BUSINESS" or something?” Maggie snapped.

Jake came into the kitchen with a swagger. He had heard Maggie snap at Frank when he had walked in and decided to go on with the day as if nothing happened at all.

“No. Not per-say. But I... I... Oh forget it!” Frank choked.

Frank began to walk back to the office. He looked up to see Jake coming in, gave him a head nod and kept on walking. Jake walked up behind Maggie and put his arms around her waist.

“Hey Maggie, we still on for this afternoon?” Jake whispered in Maggie’s ear.

Maggie turned her head and said, “You bet Jake. You know how much I like it at work. Makes me feel so dirty! I love when you make me feel that way.”

“Yes, Yes I do. So when do you want to hook up?” Jake asked.

“Lets aim for around three. Should be dead enough by then.” Maggie suggested.

Maggie smiled at Jake and walked away to set up the dinning area. Jake stared at her smiling until she was by the host stand, then grabbed a cup of coffee and went to his station to set up. It would be just another day in paradise.

FNG and Matt came into the kitchen. Matt saw Jake, gave him a smirk and said, “What’s up G?”

“Not much, going to fuck Maggie at work later.” Jake replied.

“Oh, not like that’s ever happened before.” Matt said as he walked to the washroom.

“No, never!” Jake shot back.

They both began to chuckle while FNG just stood frozen at the exchange of conversation that had just taken place.

Matt turned to FNG and asked, “Is everything okay dude?”

“Umm... I’m fine.” FNG replied. He then put on an obviously forced smile to Matt.

“Okay, just checking.” Matt returned.

Matt walked to the washroom and closed the door. Jake watched him do this then turned his attention to FNG.

“So you must be new. I can see the fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, it’ll get better and before long you’ll be in the loop of the drama. I’m Jake by the way.” Jake offered.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m...”

FNG was cut off by the office door opening and shutting rather loudly.

“That’s Frank, he is the worst KM ever.” Jake whispered to FNG.

“Jake, where the hell is Matt? He is supposed to be here by... Oh, hey. You must be the FNG. I’m your manager Frank.” Frank said. He extended his hand to FNG.

FNG took and shook it as professionally as he could.

“Your trainer is some what touched in the head and isn’t here yet...” Frank started.

“Actually, he’s in the washroom. He’ll be out soon if you would care to save your snide comments to say to his face.” Jake piped up.

“Oh, well then your in good hands. Welcome to the team!” Frank said. He then walked out front.

“See what I mean?” Jake asked FNG.

“I don’t care for him much already.” FNG replied.

“Nobody really does.” Jake said.

Matt came out of the washroom and said, “Could you show him how to set up Jake?” As he disappeared out front to grab a coffee.

“All right FNG, this is the kitchen. First things first, we grab some wash buckets.” Jake said.

***
On the service isle Matt stood staring off at the ceiling as he poured his coffee. He looked down at his coffee to make sure he wasn’t spilling everywhere. The pot ran empty.

“That cheap fuck.” Matt said to himself.

Just then Frank walked up beside Matt with an empty coffee mug.

“DAMN IT! Why do you always do that?” Frank questioned Matt.

“They don't call me the fastest coffee snatcher of the west for nothin', partner.” Matt replied in a mock Texan accent.

“Whatever, Matt. Just put some more fucking coffee on.” Frank instructed as he sulked back to the office.

“Aye, aye captain!” Matt exclaimed as he began putting on another pot.

Matt returned to the kitchen with his coffee.

“Boy, Frank is pissy today.” Matt said.

“That's nothing, when I got here he was trying to nail Maggie!” Jake chimed in.

“Really? Did he get anywhere with it?” Matt inquired.

“No.” Jake responded.

“What!?! Maggie didn't give it up to him? I wonder why not...” Matt said sarcastically.

“Because I intercepted the pass.” Jake stated.

“You are a real prick, you know that Jake?” Matt asked rhetorically.

“Well how did you do that?” FNG asked genuinely.

“You don’t get to know trade secrets on your first day.” Matt said to FNG.

“I’m not that young you know. I do know about sex!” FNG protested.

“I’m not saying you don’t. Look, would you be able to go get some Ice Mix from the store?” Matt asked FNG.

“Ice Mix? What's that used for?” FNG questioned.

“The ice machine, it ran out of ice, so I need you to go to the store and get Ice Mix.” Matt replied.

“Okay! Is there a specific brand we use?” FNG perked.

“No. It's just called Ice Mix. Now go before we open!” Matt instructed.

“Kay I'll be right back!” FNG said. His exuberance was highly noticeable.

“Okay. Go.” Matt shooed FNG.

The words had no sooner left Matt’s mouth and FNG was gone.

“And I'm the prick!” Jake exclaimed.

“I never said that I wasn't. So how'd you do it?” Matt asked.

“I'd say Jake saved me from Frank. Frank is one of those guys that tries way to hard to get laid. I just told him I wasn't a slut and Jake came and asked me if we were still on for this afternoon.” Maggie stated as she walked into the kitchen.

“Nice.” Matt chimed with a head nod.

“We are still on for Three though, right?” Jake asked deviously.

“Fuck yeah! Since I saw Gash Gushing for Cum 42, and I saw you in action with that brunette, it got me extremely hot.” Maggie claimed.

“The part where Jake's doing her doggie style while she gives him a rim job? You're telling me! You were the first person I thought of when I saw that!” Matt said with his usual sarcasm.
Jake responded to this banter by laughing. Maggie and Matt were always in a playful state of bickering and this was always entertaining to watch.

“Matty, you are... really funny. But I know you want to have your way with me right there on your cutting board.” Maggie said, sure that she was right.

“No Thanks. I know that you have the Clap, and I'm not down with that shit. Besides, It’s not your fault that your a slut, all you truly want is to be loved. That is what you said the other night when we were drunk right?” Matt prodded.

“So what? I was drunk! People say things they don’t really mean when they are drunk! I like sex, I like it a lot, and just because you don’t get the play that you want, don’t take it out on me, because I offered! And another thing, I don’t have the clap! Well at least not anymore, so there!” Maggie matter-of-factly stated as she walked back out front.

Shaun and Van walked into the kitchen smelling like they had just been at a bond fire, but instead of burning wood, they opted to burn Marijuana.

“What'd up, Matt?” Shaun greeted.

“The same as yesterday, still at this soul crushing hell hole. How about you?” Matt shot back.

“Not much. Just smoked this wicked dope with Van.” Shaun proudly announced.

“Isn't this your first day back from your worker's comp holiday?” Matt asked.

“Yeah, but this shit just smelled sweet! I had to try some out before work.” Shaun confessed.

“Gonna slice your finger nails off again after just getting back?” Jake pressed.

“Nah man, I'm good to go.” Shaun said.

“Shaun, get to work!” Frank shouted out from the office.

“Talk to you in a bit.” Shaun said walking to the washroom to get changed.

“All right, Shaun.”

“And you Van! Your are late again! I swear, the next time your late I'm writing you up!” Frank yelled as he came out of the office.

“Go back to the office and jerk it until you blind yourself.” Van said without fear.

Matt and Jake would have laughed if they understood what he said. Frank would have probably fired him. That’s the only draw back to having a foreigner that doesn’t speak English.

“What was that Van?” Frank said angrily. However he knew it wouldn’t matter if he repeated it or not as no one understood anything he said.

“I said...”

“Just shut up and get to work! Matt, where's that new kid?” Frank cut Van off and turned his wrath towards Matt.

“FNG?” Matt coyly asked.

“Yeah him.” Frank demanded.

“I sent him to the store for ice mix.” Matt replied whimsically.

“Oh. Okay.” Frank said, then began to walk away until it sank in. When it did Frank lost it and yelled, “WHAT??? YOU SENT HIM TO THE STORE FOR ICE MIX??? YOU FUCKING RETARD!!! I SHOULD FIRE YOU RIGHT NOW!!!”

“Go head. That way I could get on with my life.” Matt returned with confidence.

“FUCK!!! I'll deal with you later!” Frank said. He stormed back to the office and slammed the door.

Kitchen Life: Prologue

2009-08-02T14:45:00.000-07:00

Most people think that the Kitchen Life is easy. Maybe they think we don’t do much in the kitchen, or maybe they think their food just magically appears and we are there just to make sure it goes to their table before anyone one else gets their food. While I may not know what goes through people’s minds when they go out to eat, I do know what it’s like being one of the magicians that work the back end. Naturally I’m talking about the kitchen.

Today isn’t like every other day of my some what personal hell. There is no work. I don’t just mean that I have a day off, I’m talking more about needing to seek another kitchen, at least until I find something else that I want to do with my life.

I should really start at the beginning to give you a clearer idea of what my situation is all about.
Yesterday I was supervising while my kitchen manager Frank was busy doing nothing except yelling and sitting in the office. Me being in charge while there is a manager on shift seems to be a running theme in my life. Anyway, somehow I got placed as a trainer as well.

Now as a rule of thumb, any new guy, (or girl) that starts in the kitchen is lovingly referred to as an FNG. These 3 letters stand for Fucking New Guy/Girl. My trainee was no exception. He strolled up to the back door exactly one hour before we opened. I was doing my usual slacking out back when he arrived. I knew we had a new guy coming in, however at this point I had no clue that I was training him. I started a casual conversation.

“So you’re the new guy, eh?” I asked him without really caring all that much.

“Yeah! I’m...”

“First things first. You are the FNG, therefore you don’t have a name yet.” I cut him off.

“Okay. When do I get a name?” He questioned.

“Depends on how fast you learn everything on your station. Anyway, I’m Matt. I’m a supervisor here at the Cheshire. To be brutally honest I absolutely hate my job, and had done almost everything in my power to get fired from this purgatory.” I said. The cynicism was practically dripping from my tongue as the words left my mouth.

“Why do you hate your job?” He asked, trying his hardest to seem concerned.

“Frank. He’s the type of guy who you could picture hitting on the fifteen year old hostesses. Unfortunately he is the only guy our GM thinks is capable of being the KM. But Frank has a weakness.” I replied. The 20 semantics questions game I liked to play the most had begun.

“And what’s his weakness?” He asked. For a moment he reminded me of Piglet from Winnie-The-Pooh.

“Maggie. She is the type of girl who everybody knows. Fake, shallow, and above all, a slut. She would do anything or, anyone for and extra buck or a promotion. Don’t think that I’m being a dick, though. We are great friends. Then there is Shaun. He is what people call accident prone. Every time he got even a scratch he went on worker's comp, the guy spends more time at home getting paid then he does at work. It’s his first day back today.” I explained.

“Wait, how can you and Maggie be friends if you call her down? And why the hell does this Shaun guy still work here?” He questioned.

I sensed his confusion, so I tried to get him on the same page. This always the worst part of this game. Whenever someone gets confused the best thing to do is recap everything you have just said in as few words as possible.

“Because FNG, we are what is known as Lifers. Basically all of us hate it here, but are unwilling to go look for other jobs.” I said.

I hoped he would get the picture, but unfortunately his reply to this was, “I don’t get it.” I thought this would be the optimal time for one of those mottos we all invent in times of tested patience.

“Okay, here’s my motto: Just because your good at something, doesn’t mean that you should be doing it. So in my case, I’m an excellent cook, but it isn’t what I’m suppose to be doing.” Was the best I could come up with.

“And what are you supposed to be doing?” He asked. Goddamn it. Check mate.

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” I replied.

I got up from the milk create on which I was sitting, then began to open the back door. FNG had a look of uncertainty, so I motioned for him to follow me. Down the rabbit hole we went.

When you work in a kitchen, the natural laws of the Universe don’t apply. I think that all kitchen’s, wait... Restaurants in general should have a warning above the front entrance of the building. It would read:

ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO APPLY HERE.

As we walked through the door I did my best to explain the dynamics of how a restaurant works. Mostly through the people I worked with.

“Of course there are some of us who have an unfair advantage. The Foreign guy, Van Couver. He lips off in his own language and doesn’t get in trouble for it. Hey Frank.” I said.

“Yeah, same to you Matt.” Frank grumbled as he entered the office.

“We also have a quasi-superhero Dish Pig, I always try to humor him by letting him think he is fighting a constant battle with his arch nemesis: Melted Cheese and other assorted things that come on dirty dishes.” I continued.

“A super hero dish washer?” FNG asked.

Again he had that Piglet look in his eyes. He was probably wondering to himself what exactly he had signed on for. All he knew was that no good could come from this venture.
“You bet. I almost forgot about Jake.” I stated.

“Who is Jake?” FNG replied.

He looked terrified at the sheer mention of Jake’s name. Maybe it was how I had explained everyone else that made him uneasy about me telling him about yet another person that would seem to any normal sort of person as ‘unredeemable’.

“Jake is my best friend. He quit for a couple of months to try and become a porno superstar. He did all right at first, made a few titles like Gash Gushing for Cum 42, The Milkman Always Cums Twice, and a spoof porn called The Cocksucker's Guide of the Galaxy. He's a pretty good guy, but I think he is actually glad to be back.” I went on.

“Matt, I’m a little scared.” FNG admitted.

“Don’t be, everyone has to start off as the FNG sometime in there life.” I reassured him.

Harry Potter: My conclusion to the whole goddamn thing.

2009-07-31T01:41:00.001-07:00

Harry Potter has come under much scrutiny by organized religion. It has been called satanic, blasphemous and pornographic. For once I couldn't agree more with my old friends! I find the Harry Potter series to be not only homoerotic, but also set within the confines of a private catholic school! Mozoltov! In this essay I plan to prove it by giving examples by chiefly that wonderful Cinderella winner herself, J.K. Rowling.

Let's start this essay with the easy things first: Hogwarts grounds and Uniform Standards. Hogwarts is for all intents and purposes a cathedral. Much like the Vatican in Rome, Italy.

In this description Hogwarts is described as "A huge, rambling, quite scary-looking castle, with a jumble of towers and battlements. Like the Weasley's house, it isn't a building that Muggles could build, because it is supported by magic."(1) Ironically enough, this is how I would describe the Vatican!

The Uniform Standards are pretty much the same at Hogwarts as they are in any other organized religious private school: "Each student is allowed to bring a cat, toad, rat, or owl. Along with the acceptance letter, first year students are sent a list of required equipment which includes a wand, a standard size 2 pewter cauldron, a set of brass scales, a set of glass or crystal phials, a kit of basic potion ingredients (for Potions), and a telescope (for Astronomy). The Hogwarts uniform consists of plain work robes in black, as well as a plain black hat, a pair of protective gloves, and a black winter cloak with silver fastenings. Each uniform must contain the wearer's nametag. First years are not allowed a broomstick of their own."(2)

The next point I am about to make may offend some people, but in lieu of the recent memorandum by the new Pope about the statute of limitations on certain priests, I find it appropriate to address. Reader discretion is advised.

There is no doubt to anyone that there is a lot going on in the Harry Potter series, however the thing that is much distressing to me is the undertones of homosexuality. Now I do not have a problem with homosexuality. I just don't see the need to even imply such complex themes into children's literature, but here it is as brought to us by that evil British twat.

Here is the unserlying plotline in a nutshell. (Please note that I don't mention all the charatcer's, only the ones that are part of this bizzare love quartet):

Tom Riddle was a student at Hogwarts. He spent every holiday at Hogwarts, even summer vacations. Dumbledore at this time was the Transfiguration teacher. The two hit it off and have what some would call a man/boy love affair. This secret affair more than likely countinued up until Tom Riddle applied to Hogwarts as a teacher.

Dumbledore had his reputation to maintain and broke the affair off with Tom. As their encounters were of the utmost secrecy, this through Tom into a fit of rage. He then killed Hepzibah Smith, framed her house elf and made his get away. No word of the union was ever brought up.

Dumbledore made headmaster a few years later and although he probably had more encounters with some of the male students, it wasn't until his advances on one young Severus Snape proved fruitless that he put some thought into his actions.

Severus Snape was a young and vulnerable teenager. He was picked on daily by James Potter and all of his friends. He was definetly confused about a lot of things growing up, however his sexuality was not one of those many things. His main focus was directed at Lily Evans. Unfortunatly for Snape his attempts at wooing young Lily were curbed, (just as he had done with Dumbledore).

Years later, along comes Harry Potter. Snape hates Harry because he never got to fuck his mother and Voldemort hates Harry because Dumbledore wants to fuck him. Harry doesn't know what he wants to fuck, but he knows that either he's going to fuck, or is going to get fucked. It's really a win-win situation for him as he is completely confused as to what his sexual orientaion really is.

Harry tended to spend a lot of time in Dumbledore's office and always tended on recieving something from Dumbledore every visit. Sometimes that something wasn't always visible, but it doesn't mean it wasn't there deep inside his boyish body. Possibly still wrapped in a cloak of invisiblity. (Magic users tend to find more interesting contriceptives then Muggles do.) This could very well be what Dumbledore meant when he said, "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."(3)

Now let's compare this with the film "Bad Education" by director Pedro Almodóvar:

"The characters in Bad Education–though more richly developed than in his earlier films—are standard for Almodóvar: a priest in love with his beautiful altar boy, a gay film director who is creatively blocked and looking for plot lines in the tabloids, a young actor on the make who is impersonating his gay brother, and the brother himself, a drug addict with breast implants who longs for the expensive surgery that will make “her” beautiful. Almodóvar says the film is deeply personal but not directly autobiographical. One of Freud’s disciples suggested that in dream interpretation the analyst should treat every character in the dream as a projection of the patient’s self. That may not be true of dreams but it seems to apply to Almodóvar’s films. It is easy to believe that the priest, the boy, the director, the aspiring actor, and the transsexual are all Almodóvar’s alter egos."(4)

Although I didn't get to indepth with any other characters, (other than the ones most prevelent to my point), the characters in the aforementioned film would seem to parellel the characters within the Harry Potter series quite nicely.

In closing, I, (to the best of my knowledge), have proven my point that it is ironic that organized religion's crusade to stop consumers obtaining anything to do with Harry Potter, has itself missed the point that it is a homosexual parabel warning childern of the dangers of becoming an alter boy, as well as J.K. Rowling is a twat for incorporating such themes into her beloved little series.

I hope that you have enjoyed this little essay dear reader. Peace, love and goodwill towards man, (Save for J.K. Rowling)

-A. Warren Johnson

(1) Rowling, J.K. "Online chat transcript". Scholastic. 2000-02-03. http://www.quick-quote-quill.org/articles/2000/0200-scholastic-chat.htm. Retrieved 2009-06-31. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hogwarts#cite_note-scholastic-chat-1-0.

(2) Unknown. "Hogwarts: Student Life" www.wikipedia.com. Unknown date the page was posted or updated. 2009-06-31. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hogwarts#Student_life.

(3) Dumbledore, Albus. "Harry Potter and the Chamber Of Secrets" Harry Potter and the Chamber Of Secrets - 1998, p. 333. Retrived 2009-06-31.

(4) Stone, Alan A. "Lawless" Boston Review - October/November 2004, pp 24. Retrived 2009-06-31. http://bostonreview.net/BR29.5/stone.php

"Together Now" Excerpt 10

2009-07-16T12:45:00.000-07:00

Warren arrived at Borden’s office. Borden was on the phone, so Warren slumped into the chair in front of his desk and placed a finger to his temple.

Borden stared briefly at Warren, nodded hello then signaled to him that he would be a minute. Warren nodded a reply back to Borden.

“Well this isn’t the type of offer you would expect to lose though... Okay, how about I meet with you later on this afternoon?... All right, just let me write the address down...” Borden said as he picked up a pen and started writing down the information. “All right, I’ll be there around 7... Okay, later.” Borden hung up the phone.

“So... You two are still not talking I see.” Borden observed.

“She tried to initiate a conversation this morning.” Warren replied.

“And?” Borden questioned.

“I said hey.” Warren stated.

“That’s it? Hey? Warren, you two came down here on a whim. A mere fucking thought! How long can you be angry for?”

“That’s a good question Mr. Borden. I wish I had an answer. It just seems like every time I try and to please her in any way she just pushes me further away. I don’t even know if she is worth the trouble.”

“Warren, to quote Will Smith: Girls of the world ain’t nothing but trouble. It’s just a matter of what kind of trouble you are looking for.” Borden offered.
“That actually makes a lot of sense.”

“I know it does! That’s why I said it. Look at your situation this way: You took a chance coming out here to become a writer. That you succeeded in. Anne came out here with you for whatever reason. She is a very unstable person, but she still decided to come out here with you. However it’s ultimately up to you what happens in your life and not hers, you may influence her decisions to some degree, but you can’t make her your main focus.” Borden stated helpfully.

“So in other words, should I stay or should I go.” Warren said with the sort of monotone drone that one would expect from an automated phone service.

“If you want to quote The Clash, pretty much.”

“What would you do in my situation?” Warren asked.

“Probably ask you the same question.” Borden retorted.

Warren chuckled at Borden’s wit.

“Anyway, on much more professional level, how’s the re-write coming along?” Borden asked.
“I’m about 40 pages in. I’m finding it harder to focus on something I’ve already written.” Warren confessed.

“Well it gets easier. Lots of writer’s are like you in that sense. Then one day they just find it to be second nature. You have the talent, you lack the refinement and that’s exactly what the second, third or even fourth draft is all about.” Borden pointed out.

“True. It’s just that the story line wasn’t supposed to follow just one character. I wrote Kitchen Life to show how complicated situations in every day life can be complicated and that seems to be getting lost.” Warren whined.

“If you want insight into the human condition through fiction then I would suggest taking that first draft and making it into a novel, but for right now think of the money.” Borden suggested.

“Money you say? I love money!” Warren perked.

“I do as well, so let’s make some money! Finish this draft and get it back to me. Now, what are you doing this evening?”

“Haven’t really put much thought into it.” Warren admitted.

“Nine Inch Nails just lost their venue and Trent was wondering if I wanted to grab some beers tonight while he is in town. Would you care to come?”

“Trent Reznor? Hell yes!” Warren beamed.

“Cool, I’ll come grab you around 6:30. Be ready to go.” Borden directed.

“I won’t let you down.” Warren said exuberantly.

***

Carlin the Chihuahua

2009-07-13T20:52:00.000-07:00

Everything about him screams, "LOVE ME!" His big puppy eyes to his long, somewhat elfish ears. Naturally I am writing about Carlin the Chihuahua. He came into my care by accident. One day a friend showed up at my day job almost in tears as she came to ask if I wanted a little dog.

"OF COURSE I WANT A LITTLE DOG!!!" I cried with excitement. When I saw him I knew he was the best dog for me. First off he is hyper active and I have ADHD, next he likes to pee on things! Something I also enjoy, especially when I've had a few too many beers.

When I picked him up he shook and yipped as if I were dangling him by his hind legs. I knew right then that he liked me. He didn't say much when I first got him, something that has changed substantially since then.

He once told me that he wanted to be a super hero, but when I pointed out that whenever anyone comes to visit he just barks and hides behind the couch he soon re-thought this idea. His biggest ambition at the moment is to be a mathematician. I haven't told him yet that without opposable thumbs that he can not write out his equations. I think it would break his little heart and he is to goddamn cute to do that to him again.

For Halloween we're planning to go out as Paris Hilton and Tinkerbell. I think it will be funny as we are both male. Just to give you dear reader just how cute Carlin the Chihuahua really is I will end this post with a picture of the little guy.

-A. Warren Johnson

I could have wrote more but...

2009-07-06T20:46:00.000-07:00

Hello dear reader(s),

I know, I know. I've been slacking. Most of my time has been spent binge drinking an dabbling in marijuana use... Which usually leads to just more procrastination. For those of you that have been reading with baited breathe, well you already know what I have written so this part isn't really for you. I'm sorry, sounds harsh, but I need to reach out to a broader audience!

For that very reason this post is a very special catch up post! In this blog there are 3 main parts. Editorials of my life, which included drunk ramblings, my views on how the world works and my take on women. Most of the time the stuff about women should not be read by women. Next is a serial story called, "Together Now" which is about a young, slightly neurotic writer and his crazy, slightly sluttish love interest. Good for those that like sappy romance combined with complicated situations that life likes to throw to fuck everything up. And finally Celebrity E-Mail. Which is basically e-mails I would send to celebrities if only I could find their e-mail addresses online!

If this is your kind of blog, then act now and show your support! There are three easy ways to do this:

1.) Become a fan on facebook.

2.) Follow on Twitter.

3.) Follow this blog.

You can do one, or you can do all! Show how much you care by showing your support today! To all the people that are already showing support, thank you.

-A. Warren Johnson

PS- Carlin the Chihuahua loves you all!

The day the world went away

2009-07-06T11:34:00.000-07:00

I recently have seen nothing to renew my faith in humanity. War, Famine, Pestilence and Death. I have heard of these 4 things once in a book. It used to scare me, but now it is just common place. How can we treat each other like we do without remorse or regret?

Is there something more to this? I think so. It stems from the greed and the elite. A self fulfilled prophecy from a book that has poisoned us with contradictions and impossibly high standards of life. Why do we still talk to women when they are having their menstrual cycle? We isn't there child stoneings in the town square? Why have we lost faith in this book?

The reason is this. That book everyone knows and only a few follow was created by men to control us and keep us down. The book of fairy tales is just that, a book. To quote a Nine inch nails song to drive the point home. "I listened to the world today and in his voice I heard decay." - Nine Inch Nails, The Day The World Went Away, The Fragile, 1999.

Celebrity E-Mail: Lady Gaga

2009-07-01T23:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Gaga,

Good evening Ms/Mrs. Gaga. I am A. Warren. I have been repeatedly hearing your music at work and just have a few questions for you.

First I was wondering why you, (or whoever actually writes the musical aspect of your act), choose most pleasing synth tones to make such terrible music? I mean you don't even have great hooks like Prince or the Bloodhound Gang. It's sad that even someone with less talent then Lil Wayne makes music. (Prom Queen is terrible and it shouldn't be heard by anyone).

My next question is why did you decide to wear such an awful wig? I mean seriously. It looks good on a mannequin, but on you it just looks terrible. Please lose the wig, unless you were horribly burnt on your scalp and are unable to grow real hair, for the love of God, please lose the wig.

My last question has been bothering me for weeks now and I really need to know the answer. Are you a transsexual cyborg with futonari in your pants, or lack there of? I don't mean to be rude here, it's just that you look much more like a bad CGI anime sex object then a real person. The only person comparable to your look would be Gackt. And even he looks more realistic then you do! I think you should hire a new image consultant immediatly!!!

Anyway, I am ou of questions and I look forward to your reply!

Your anti Cyber-Fuck friend,
-A. Warren Johnson

Celebrity E-Mail: Farah Fawcett/Micheal Jackson

2009-06-26T15:20:00.000-07:00

Dear Late Farah & Micheal,

It's tragic that you both died yesterday. However I feel that there are a few things that have been left unexamined by both of your deaths. First off I was wondering if you Micheal were jealous of Farah's sex symbol status? Did the news of her death prompt you to drop dead and steal her thunder? If so, that was really selfish on your part Mr. Jackson.

Next question is for you Farah, in your cancer treatments did you ever look back and think about all that you have accomplished in the 62 years you lived? You certainly managed to keep the lime light going well past your first 15 minutes, and that is amazing! Also on a side note, will Micheal and you be having a celebrity death match in the afterlife for him stealing your thunder? My money will be on you if it does happen as I wouldn't want to fight one of Charlie's Angels.

Finally my last question to both of you is how will you both be dressed at your funerals? As you both are now spiritual beings I was wondering if you Micheal will be in your Thriller Jacket and signature glove, and if you Farah will be in your sexy sleek uniform issued by Charlie, or will you just be in jeans and t-shirts for the service, or will you both be naked haunting each others respective chapels? I think the latter would be much more news worthy and look forward to seeing how these events transpire.

Farah, you'll always be on my mind,
-A. Warren Johnson

Micheal, you'll always creep me out,
-A. Warren Johnson

Heroes & Villains (Part 1)

2009-06-17T22:02:00.000-07:00

When we think of heroes we conjure up images of comic books, firemen, soldiers and people we have looked up to in our life. When we think of a villain, the scene we get in our mind may be anything from a Disney movie to a horrific attack of terror carried out by some enemy half way across the world. With both of these idea’s in mind how do we view ourselves?

Naturally we are prone to think of ourselves in the best possible light, even under the worst circumstances when we initiate a conflict. Why do we think this way, even when we know we are wrong? Simply put, the human condition.

The human condition is complex, but not at all hard to understand. The first part of the human condition is the easiest part to understand. It is the biological process of being human. A good example is that we all (for the most part), are born with all of our internal organs, have an emotional range and will die sooner or later. That’s it for the scientific part.

The other half of the equation lays deep within the realm of philosophy and is much more interesting.

What makes a hero?

In fiction there are three distinct hero classifications:

1.) The Romantic Hero
2.) The Tragic Hero
3.) The Anti-Hero

What sets these three classes apart is degree. All of them are in their own right a hero, but the degree to which they preform heroic deeds may be seen as a somewhat philosophical dilemma.
This can be illustrated in psychology in three classifications as well:

1.) The ID
2.) The Ego
3.) The Super-Ego

These two separate ideas parallel each other. The ID can be represented by the Anti-Hero: The one which does things only in it’s/his/hers best interest and gratification. The Ego can be personified as the Tragic Hero: One that incorporates their experience into their desires. The Super-Ego best reflects the Romantic Hero: The one that is perfect and is selfless.

If you have ever picked up a work of fiction, you may have been able to catch a glimpse of the human condition with out even realizing it. Poe wrote very distant. In his life he was distant. Lovecraft wrote primarily from the first (and only person), perspective. In his life he was very much alone.

This is what philosophers have been trying to figure out since the beginning of time. What makes us human? The answer may not be so clean and clear cut, but gauging from a literary stand point, I would say it steams from the individual. This is known as Existentialism.

Existentialism is a school of thought focused on the individual rather then the masses. However, one must ask if this “individual” is actually the mind. After all, our bodies don’t come pre-programed with personality.

Now at this moment Dualism will inevitably come to your mind. I will pose this phrase to you when concerning Dualism, take from it what you will. "One is really two, but they are still one." To focus on whether or not the mind and body are one or two is very trivial to the point.

"Together Now" Excerpt 9

2009-06-06T14:18:00.000-07:00

Three weeks had past. Warren had optioned his screenplay and although it should have been a time of joy for both Anne and him, they hadn’t so much as even looked at each other. The more they ignored each other, the more they got angry with each other. To Warren this silent war between them was about his inability to talk with her candidly and honestly. To Anne it was a way to hurt Warren for not caring. The truth was somewhere in between.

One morning Anne decided to break the silence between them and said “Good morning.” Warren replied with “Hey.” That concluded the conversation and Warren walked out of the door to go meet Borden.

As soon as the door shut Anne started crying. She couldn’t figure out what she had done wrong. She knew that she had blew the Lindsay Lohan incident out of proportion, but Warren shouldn’t still be mad over that. She replayed everything that had happened in her head over and over and still couldn’t come up with a reason why Warren would be this way.

Anne made up her mind that she was determined to get Warren to open up. She just didn’t know how to go about it. She decided to call Borden’s girlfriend. She seemed like she might know what to do about Warren!

***
Warren walked down to Borden’s office. The past month and a half had been very beneficial in learning how to get around L.A. As he walked he thought about how he should bring up his reasons and questions to her without reducing her to tears.

‘If I could just get her to talk to me on an emotional level for five minutes I know I would be able to control my anger. The trouble is she never opens up that easily.’ Warren thought to himself as he walked down the crowded street.

Warren knew that he started this fight. He felt bad about doing it, but he just wanted some sort of reaction that would tell him what she was thinking about. Warren could always tell what kind of mood she was in, but it didn’t help shed any light on what kind of relationship they actually had. That was the thing that hurt the most.

***
It took Anne 25 minutes to regain her composure enough to call Dommi and another hour getting ready to meet her at the Starbucks for coffee.

Anne was a little nervous around Dommi because they had only met once before, but she felt she could trust her as soon as they met.

Anne motioned to Dommi that she would be right back, Dommi nodded in reply. Anne walked up to the counter and ordered a large coffee with three creams, then made her way to Dommi and sat directly in front of her.

“Hey Anne!” Dommi said warmly.

“Hey.” Anne replied.

“I’m glad you called! I’ve been worried about you and Warren, is everything all right between you two?” Dommi asked.

“No. He just ignores me and makes me feel like shit.” Anne answered.

“Oh no. That’s not good. What’s the problem?”

Anne began tearing up. “I don’t know, ever since that Lindsay Lohan thing he’s just been so cold towards me. I don’t want to fight with him and I don’t know if he even cares about how he makes me feel.”

“Well have you tried talking to him? I mean I know he talks with Borden a lot. You do come up quite a bit and from what I hear, Warren does care.” Dommi tried to reassure Anne.

Anne’s tears had stopped. “That’s why I asked you for coffee actually. How do I get him to talk to me?” Anne asked.

“I’m not sure. I don’t know Warren well enough to give you an honest answer. I know that whenever Borden and I have communication problems I just give him some space and he usually comes and talks to me about what he feels is going on in the situation.” Dommi replied.
“But that hasn’t seemed to work with him. He just keeps getting more distant as the days go by!” Anne protested.

“Okay, well think back in the past few weeks, right after the Lindsay Lohan thing what happened?”

“Well I spent the night at your place and you and Borden helped me calm down, then when I got home the next day we had sex. Then he just started ignoring me. I don’t know why.”
“That is weird. Hmm... Why don’t we go back to my place and look up a possible solution on the internet?” Dommi suggested.

“That would be excellent.” Anne replied.

***

The Horizon

2009-05-31T03:01:00.000-07:00

Life is full of many paths, and we all follow a light through darkness. We never know what is coming just up a head. Once in a while we look back and see (to our surprise), that everything is illuminated! We stand for a moment and look back at the wondrous things we have done and wonderful people we have met, then we glance over our shoulder and see the light. It's always just beyond the dark, unknown horizon.

- In Memory of William Thacker

The Human Equation

2009-05-16T01:22:00.000-07:00

It's always struck as nothing short of amazing how people fancy themselves as the protagonist in life. They are always neutral as far as they are concerned. For the most part they are right. We tend to view things in the good versus evil categories. We demonize those we see as villains and build those we like up as heroes. Such I guess is the human condition.

Does this make those of us considered as bad actually evil? No. Far from it. Because this is one of those little ironies life seems to be full of. It's basically a paradox. Another version of the truth. Yet through it all we (the individual), is only as evil or as good as they are willing to go.

This brings up another fundamental question: Is there just one truth? Yes. There is. The problem with the truth is it is elusive. It is woven as deep in the human interaction as death is the natural extension of life. To see the whole truth as a singularity one would have to view every life that has lived, is living and will live. One single consciousness.

Although I do not believe in a one true God, I do believe in one consciousness that we are all part of. Once we die (or so we are told), we see our life flash before our eyes. For this to have any meaning what so ever, one must see that the truth can't be seen fully until we understand what we have experienced in it's entirety.

This in turn brings up another and very intriguing question. What then is the some of a human? Simply this: I am everything and I am nothing.

Celebrity E-Mail: Brad Pitt

2009-05-10T01:57:00.001-07:00

Dear Brad Pitt,

I keep seeing you everywhere I go! I guess your a big deal eh? (Sorry, I always type with a Canadian accent). I just have a few quick questions for you. First of all I was wondering why you prefer the flat cap to other types of hats? You wear it well enough, yet I find it a little odd that a sex symbol would choose it over say a fedora.

Next I was pondering who did you prefer to be inside, Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie? I mean both of them are all right, but you sir are a sex symbol!!! Why would you settle for only okay when you could have outstanding? Seriously sir, you have Captain James T. Kirk status! Well except there are no kinky alien girls, but you of all people should know what I am talking about.

Last question is a little more personal, so I would not be offended if you do not answer it. Do you think that having adopted children has hampered you from wanting your own biological kids? I know it has become fashionable in Hollywood to have kids that are not only not yours, but are also from different countries. I mean do you really need one from every part of the world when you do not have one from your own genetic strain? Anyway, I know you must be very busy trying to dodge the paparazzi so I would like to thank you for your time you have taken out to read this meager letter.

Mad props in every language,
-A. Warren Johnson

PSR and it's practical use!

2009-04-28T16:26:00.000-07:00

I have terrible luck attracting good women into my life. It's hard to believe, I know. Who wouldn't want to be with someone so cynical about everything all the time, right? Anyway I have devised what I like to call PSR. It's my personalized skank repellent! If you or someone you know are having guy/lady troubles and turn to the internet to try and find someone special, keep this in mind. Don't just copy and paste this either, it won't be of any use to you if it's not personalized, so just keep that in mind.

"I tend to be cynical about things. I doubt very much that there is a greater meaning to life, thus I take things accordingly. Slightly neurotic about things at times, but everyone does. If you say you don't, then your lying and should be bludgeoned with a can of soup. What brand and kind it is should be left up to your discretion.

I can be fun and outgoing, but most of the time I choose not to be because I already make terrible life decisions when left to my own devices. Then again, you probably have as well.

I'm looking for someone that likes to have a low maintenance relationship. I don't care much for romance, so if your looking to be with someone that reminds you of Prince Charming in Cinderella, you will most likely end up on the floor with a self inflicted gun shot wound to the head when you realize that this is reality and that is a fairy tale.

People have faults. Whoops! Sorry, forgot I was trying to sell something here! I mean... Everyone is special! Anyway, no matter how you look at it, the faults are always what you miss most about a person when they are gone. I don't know why that is, so don't ask me why.

Also not looking for a slut. Funny... I never thought I would ever type those words, but apparently I found something deeper than sex. Oh! If you are interested in someone like me, have your own personality! Nothing is more annoying than a girl that just tries to mirror you and pretends to be like you when in all reality they aren't comfortable with themselves.

Oh, before I forget, I have trust issues. I'm not controlling, people can do whatever they want. I just would appreciate just once to meet someone that has the courage to be honest and straight forward. I'm also brutally honest. Sorry, I'm not going to tell you that I want you or that your sexy if your not. I'm also not going to lie and say that you are really intelligent if your not.

Limiting my options? Not really. For the most part I would rather be with an intelligent woman that looks only okay rather then a hot girl that knows nothing. They tend to not have any opinions that are worth listening to, and they are generally bad in bed. No matter how hot you think you are, there is no replacement for a brain.

If you find any offensive, well then your obviously not looking for the right guy. Go back to your abusive relationships and be miserable. It seems to be the only thing that makes you truly happy. Naturally that would be playing the victim. If you are offended yet interested, then maybe your a little on the weird side... Oh wait, sorry. That would make you a human with a normal emotional range like everyone else. I often confuse the two."

This is a great way to attract (wo)men that are not complete whores and have personalities! Please keep in mind that this is my personalized skank repellent and should not be copied and pasted. I decided to use mine as a template to show you how to go about writing your own. Happy writing, and be selective!

Etiquette for would be muggers

2009-04-25T22:23:00.000-07:00

As a rule of thumb whenever I go out to the bars, I throw caution to the wind. Usually because I never have problems with anyone and I don't usually put myself in a position to be in danger. Last night was the exception to this rule.

After I met a girl on the internet I went to have some drinks with her. The night started off fun. I met a gangsta, an unholy black metal goddess and a girl I knew in high school. Of all the people I chatted with I found the goddess the most interesting. She had this cool yet dangerous look in her eyes at all times and the kind of aura that screamed: "You wouldn't want to fuck around with me."

As the night of whistling and yelling at strippers progressed we ended up at another bar. Now the Generator used to be extremely fun, however since the change of ownership it seems to have lost all it's flavor. The once drink stained walls that featured big 80s metal bands have been replaced with a fresh coat of tan colored paint. The dangerous pedestal dance floor has been removed and in it's place is a pastel colored linoleum level dance space. As soon as I stepped inside, I knew I was fucked.

I had no idea why I felt so anxious, but I knew that it was a sign that something bad was about to happen. At the time I didn't know that I was going to willing put myself in such a bad position. I told the girl I had gone to the bar with that I was leaving and that I hope she enjoyed the rest of her night.

As I walked home I had the feeling that someone was following me. I ducked into an alley to spill some urine on a dumpster when all of a sudden a crack head appeared next to me.

"What are you doing tonight?" He asked me. I replied that I was pissing on a dumpster. He then asked me if I would like a blow job. When I declined he grabbed my wrist, I quickly jerked away and shoved him with the hand he grabbed, he staggered half a foot back and turned, I stepped forward and landed a lucky hay maker on his back. He fell, slid about a foot, got up and continued running.

I decided that following him down the dark alley wouldn't be the safest thing to do so I went the other way. Gripped in paranoia I ended up at the girl's place I had gone out with. Her babysitter was nice enough to check out my forearm for any puncture wounds just in case he had a syringe in his hand. There were none, thank the one collective consciousness! I passed out shortly afterward.

Needless to say, the night was completely twisted by this event. I came to this conclusion when I stopped and thought about the situation. I was almost stabbed last night, but at least he had the courtesy of offering a blow job before hand.

Celebrity E-Mail: Octo Mom

2009-04-21T04:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Octo Mom,

I have recently been seeing your face grace the covers of the tabloids in the super market. Although I regret to tell you that I do not know your whole story, I see that you had 8 children in one labor sitting and can only assume that this is the reason behind your name.

As I have no children of my own, I have a few questions of how this all works. First off I really am interested to know if you are one of those kink girls I see from time to time on sites that have pornography. I'm not trying to criticize your life style if you are, I am just curious if all 8 children came from one fluid ounce of semen or if it was a combination of 8 different loads. If it is the latter, kudos to you! That is an amazing feat and you should get a plaque made up in your honor!

Next I was wondering what you do when breast feeding? Do you have some sort of circular conveyor belt that systematically feeds two kids at a time, or do you just feed each one individually until another one cries for milk?

Finally the question that is burning deep inside my head most of all is was this a publicity stunt to gain notoriety, or did you actually want to have 8 little ones? I only ask because as I have said before, I don't know the whole story. I would rather hear it from you directly than to read about it in a tabloid magazine.

Thank you for taking the time to read this letter over. I sympathize with how busy I can only imagine you must be and I can only hope that the coming years are filled with joy and warm memories!

Awing over all the cuteness,
-A. Warren Johnson

"Together Now" Excerpt 8

2009-04-04T09:36:00.000-07:00

Warren was lying on the floor. He tended to do this whenever something really bothered him. He was already stressed out about selling a screenplay he wrote and Anne just leaving put even more stress on him.

He decided to go find her. It would be an adventure since he wasn’t very good at making his way around Los Angeles. If this were back home he would be able to narrow down exactly where she would go and head over to try and work things out.

He got up off the floor and put his shoes on. He was wondering where he should go. Suddenly it came to him! ‘Borden!’ He thought. He was the only person that they mutually knew! He would try there. Warren walked to the coffee table and grabbed the card with Borden’s number on it and left.

***
Anne and Borden sat at Denny’s drinking coffee. Borden seemed out of place, but Anne being Anne had insisted on Denny’s.

“So let me get this straight. Lindsay Lohan showed up to give Warren his keys, you over reacted to the situation and left?” Borden asked.

“No! I didn’t over react, Warren is the one that over reacted. If he wouldn’t have started getting mad at me I wouldn’t have left.” Anne responded.

“He just answered the door, after getting laid... I don’t see why he would be mad about anything.” Borden said.

“Well I may have started it a bit after he got his keys back.” Anne replied.
Borden’s phone began to ring.

“Pfft. It’s him. Don’t answer it.” Anne stated.

“I still don’t understand why you’re so mad. There is no reason to be. I think you really need to just talk to him.” Borden said.

Borden answered the phone.

“This is Borden speaking.” Borden greeted.

“Hey Borden. Is Anne with you?” Warren asked.

“Yeah, just give me a second okay.” Borden said.

Borden covered the phone and said to Anne, “Business call, I’ll be right back.” Borden got up and walked outside.

“Hey Warren, that’s some fight you two just had.” Borden said.

“Well I wouldn’t call it a fight. Anne is bi-polar. She tends to do this to me a lot. I don’t really know what I did wrong.” Warren confessed.

“Well she’s good, but I agree she is quite angry. She’ll probably stay at my place if I can’t convince her to go home.” Borden stated.

“As long as she is safe, that’s what I’m really worried about.” Warren explained.

“She’ll be fine. Get a coffee, go home and print off a copy of that script. I’ll see you tomorrow at my office and Warren, try not to worry about this. My girlfriend gets cranky with me at times. She might be able to get through to Anne.” Borden comforted Warren.

“Let’s hope so. Later Borden.” Warren said.

“Bye for now.” Borden said. He closed his phone and walked back inside.
“What did he want?” Anne seethed.

“To know if you were okay. Second of all he is just as confused as I am about the whole situation.” Borden explained.

“Well he shouldn’t be. He...” Anne started.

“Seriously Anne, you need to work this out with him. He cares about what happens to you and more importantly he made the decision to come here with no prior plan to try and make you happy and restart a life for both of you.” Borden cut Anne off and tried to reason with her.
“Why are you taking his side?” Anne asked.

“I’m not taking sides. I don’t believe in Heroes and Villains, I believe in the facts. The main fact being that even though you get upset with him from time to time, he’s still there for you.” Borden stated.

“I guess you have a point.” Anne replied.

"Together Now" Excerpt 7

2009-04-04T01:42:00.000-07:00

Warren walked through the front door, with excitement radiating off of him.

“Great news! I’m finally selling a script!” Warren exclaimed as he entered.

“YAY! That’s excellent! Now you can get a working visa!” Anne replied as she stood up to greet Warren.

Warren started another sentence, but was quickly occupied by Anne’s sudden lunge on him. Her legs wrapped around his hips and her arms around his neck. Anne buried her tongue deep into his mouth. Warren held Anne by the waist. One thing led to another.

***
Anne and Warren were lying on one of the couches. Warren was holding Anne. Both of them could not help but pant. It was good.

“So how much do you think you will make off it?” Anne asked.

“Not sure yet. Giving it to Borden to look over tomorrow, he said don’t worry about revisions or anything like that, that’s what an editor is for.” Warren answered looking at Anne.

A knock at the door ended the moment abruptly. Anne and Warren exchanged looks as if to decide who would answer it. Warren lost.

He got up from the couch, threw on his jeans and went to the door. Anne got up and quickly put her clothes on. Warren looked back and flashed her a smile and answered the door.

“Yo”, Warren said as he opened the door. It was Lindsay Lohan. Warren’s eyes widened with shock and awe. He felt more surprised to see her for the second time.

“Hey Warren. I felt bad about the other night. I got your car out of the impound for you.” Lindsay said.

Warren lifted his hand so that Lindsay could give him back his keys. “Th... Thank you!” Warren stuttered.

“It was no trouble at all. I’ve done a lot of things wrong in my life, I figured it was about time I did something right.” Lindsay said. A smile crossed her face. “Anyway, I have to go. Good luck here in L.A. I wish you all the best!”

“Yeah, you too!” Warren called after her.

Lindsay waved bye to Warren as he closed the door. He turned around and saw the familiar half glare Anne was sending him. She was pissed off.

“What’s wrong?” Warren asked.

“I think that should be apparent. A slut shows up at the door after we just have sex and you have the nerve to ask me what’s wrong?” Anne replied.

“It was Lindsay fucking Lohan, she got my car out of the impound! Now we don’t have to walk around everywhere, or try and figure out the ridiculous bus system. I thought that would be something to be happy about!” Warren said getting agitated.

“Well you always wanted to be a star fucker. Better not let her get away!” Anne exploded. She walked to the washroom and grabbed her toiletries, returned to the living room and through them in a bag.

“What are you doing?” Warren asked.

“What does it look like? I’m leaving!” Anne retorted. She went to the closet and grabbed some of her clothes and shoved them into the bag.

“Where are you going to go?” Warren pressed further.

“Anywhere but here!” Anne exclaimed.

Anne zipped up the bag, slammed her feet into her shoes and stormed past Warren.

“Goodbye Warren and fuck you!” Anne exasperated. With that Anne left and slammed the door.

Warren stood for a few moments in utter confusion about what had just transpired. The perplexed situation made no sense to him. Still in disbelief and not sure whether or not he should go after her he went and sat one of the couches.

***
Anne walked down the street wondering where to go. She didn’t even know what made her so mad about the situation. All she knew was she was mad and she needed to distance herself from Warren.

This was always the case though. They would get close, then she would back off. Completely ignoring him. The reason she did this was because she was scared. She worried about being with him and then losing him. Losing Warren in any way would be devastating. It scared her how much she cared for him. You can’t miss what you don’t have.

As she walked down the street with her bag on her back she replayed the situation back in her head. There was no real reason she could think of that justified her course of action except that they were getting close again.

‘But now what? Where can I go? I don’t know a goddamn person in this city! Warren probably won’t even come to see if I’m all right. What a fucking asshole!’ Anne thought.
Anne’s cell phone began ringing. She knew Warren didn’t have time on his cell because he had been using hers, so who the hell would be calling?

She reached in her pocket and answered.

“Hello.” She said sternly.

“Hey Anne, is Warren around?” The voice replied. It was Borden.

“Hey Borden, no, we had a fight and I left, could you come pick me up?”

A Rogue's Quest

2009-03-25T15:10:00.000-07:00

August 10

The last thing I remember is attacking the priest. Just before the end of my dirty, rusted dagger sank into the depths of his chest, he raised his right hand to my forehead, then, BANG! The blackness took hold once again. When I awoke, I was in a crypt. It was dark, moldy and old. It was comforting. If I still had feeling, as well as bodily functions, I probably would have had one nasty headache. The priest I had attacked was kneeling beside me. He introduced himself as Sarvis.

Sarvis explained what had happened. I was (as fate would have it), a hired assassin for the Scourge. I was sent with a small group of assassins to secure Deathknell for a tactical strike upon Under City. We were defeated by the Deathgaurds. I was the only assassin to almost complete the mission, if it weren't for what this faction of the Horde calls awakening. Basically what happens in this awakening is that the freewill is restored to the undead Scourge member, however, once awakened, you have no recollection of anything prior to it happening.

I would have hyperventilated, possibly drawn a deep breath, or at the very least sighed if I had a pair of functional lungs, upon hearing this. Although I am, (as gathered by this point), undead, it still came as a shock to me. Sarvis continued.

Sylvannas Windrunner had discovered a way to regain her will from the iron grip of Arthas. Sylvannas taught this technique to a very select few priests. The priests had specific instruction: To seek out and awaken those of the Scourge that were powerful, yet just. Now, just like me, they are Forsaken.

Sarvis then handed me a book with nothing written in it, and a quill. He explained that I would eventually begin to remember what it was like before. Before I was undead. Then he instructed me to rest. Tomorrow I set out to meet Lady Sylvannas and secure a place within her ranks. I guess I'll need to acquire some gear as well.

August 11

The early morning light. Something about it seemed familiar. The sunlight filled Deathknell with it's golden rays. It almost resembled a living, thriving village. One good thing about being dead, nostalgia doesn't mean that much to me. I had a mission. Sylvannas Windrunner waited.

Sarvis warned me of the lurking scourge. One of the other hired assassins that were in the silent brigade was still around Deathknell. Unlike the living, the undead have no fear. Just like me the assassin wouldn't be fearful of a recently turned rogue. It was time to leave.

I made my way to the wooden piked gate that stood as a the only unnatural defense to protect the newly awakened. The Deathgaurds were out in full force. The patrol at the gate were blocking the passage of an unruly undead. He, like the sun light, seemed familiar. There was something not right about the situation. He seemed out of place.

That's when the first of the flashbacks started.

We were under geared. The reason being that we needed the cover. Montague was the brigade leader. A leader of a band of assassins. We were to kill priest Sarvis, to keep from having anymore of the Scourge awakened!

Ten rogues and one target. None of us liked each other. I would have laughed at the irony of the situation, if it weren't for the mission. Being Scourge meant no free will.

Montague turned to me and laid out the plan. The other 8 assassins were to distract the Deathgaurds and I was to face Sarvis, while Montague got him from behind.

He saw me. I pretended not to notice as I walked by. The dagger Sarvis gave me hung loosely at my side. Montague began to follow me. The Deathgaurds looked on, I knew they would protect me, but that wouldn't be the case. Montague was dangerous. I would have to face him alone.

I wondered into the woods. Montague still followed. He remained silent, but he was smart enough to keep his distance. When we were deep enough into the woods, I dropped the dagger. I knelt down to pick it up. A twig snapped, he was behind me. As soon as I had on the dagger, I spun around. Buried the sheathed dagger deep into his dead throat. He staggered backward. I grabbed the handle of the dagger and kicked him in the chest. As he sprawled backward the sheath slide off the blade. It's shine was exquisite. I threw the dagger. The blade buried itself into the ground beside Montague's head. He jumped up. I lunged at him with all of my force. I grabbed his head and twisted. His neck broke. I kept twisting until his head was removed not so clean off his body. I dropped his head beside his now dead corpse. I retrieved the dagger and sheath, then turned and began making my way to Brill.

August 15

The second bout of flashbacks came on. The battering ram of memories smashed on the moat door of my mind. I fell to the cobbled ground of the Under City.

The sun shone across the great and proud city of Stratholme. My husband (Gyles), was standing in close proximity to Prince Arthas.

Gyles was a patriot and was under the command of our beloved Prince. I ran to him with open arms expecting a warm embrace. He drew his sword and buried it in my chest. He twisted the blade and withdrew it. As I fell from his mighty sword in a bloody mess, I asked why.
He just looked into my eyes. He remained silent. The last words I thought I would ever hear were from Arthas.

“We must purge Stratholme to protect the remainder of Lordaeron from the Scourge!”
I awoke at the feet of Lady Sylvannas. The great banshee ordered me to speak what I knew of Arthas. I told her of my flashback and what had taken place at Deathknell. As for any recent news of the Lich King, I had none.

The next thing Sylvannas requested to know was what I planned on doing. I told her I wished nothing more but to make my beloved pay for the transgression and that I would kill every member of the Scourge to get my vengeance.

Sylvannas replied, “And so you shall Impany. The time of retribution has begun and you shall have a place within the ranks of the Forsaken!”

October 27

I was tracking a traitor. Aston was a trusted messenger, but had apparently had a change of heart and decided to re-join the Scourge.

I was perched upon a Spruce branch waiting for Aston. He would eventually come this way. It was just a matter of time.

I heard footsteps. I went against my instinct to wait and decided to attack. I pulled the swords that hung off my belt and lounged.

A bright light hit me. I sprawled on my back. I jumped up as fast as I could, another ball of light was heading for me! I dodged out of the way. I managed to throw a small pouch of flash powder on the ground. I darted to the ditch that was three feet away and sheathed one of my swords.
My attacker was a young bloodelf warlock. The Voidwalker by his side scanned the area looking for me.

“I feel it. It is here.”

It stated to the young warlock. Suddenly it began shifting to the ditch where I was hiding. I threw another pouch of flash powder and silently made my way behind the warlock.
I put the blade of my sword against the warlocks neck and demanded to know why he was following me.

The Voidwalker shifted back towards us. The warlock raised his hand to stop it from attacking me.

The warlock laughed. “You Forsaken are a funny bunch. Always thinking someone is out to get you.”

I demanded again what he was doing here. This time he answered.

“I have orders to deliver a package of goods to Sepulcher.”

I asked his name.

“Sylrath.” He responded with arrogance and pride.

I let him go. I asked if I could come with him to Sepulcher to try and speed up my mission.

“Do what you want undead. I have no quarrel with you.” Sylrath replied.

Twenty minutes later we saw a Forsaken messenger wandering down the path towards us. I told Sylrath about my assignment to assassinate Aston and told him I would split the reward if he helped me kill him.

He agreed. We walked past Aston and when we got three meters past him I gave the order to attack.

The Voidwalker shifted right behind him. Aston turned to attack, but the Voidwalker over powered him. I sprinted over to where the Voidwalker held him.

“By the order of Lady Sylvannas, you are to be executed on sight.” I stated.

I swung my sword towards his neck and decapitated him. I unstrapped my backpack and grabbed his head then placed it inside my bag.

As I returned the bag on my shoulders I thanked Sylrath for the help and gave him one silver piece for his troubles.

“Our paths will cross again rogue. Keep the silver.” Sylrath said.

I replied, “Call me Impany”. With that we went our separate ways.

December 4

It’s been a while since I have written in this damn book. Two years have passed since my last entry.

I have followed many rumors as to where Gyles was. With every failed tip I grew even more anxious to find him and deliver my justice. One such rumor led me to the Caverns of Time. I was told I would find what I sought there.

As I entered the rift I felt tingling. It started from my fingers and spread rapidly over and through my entire body. On the other side of the rift I began to breathe! I had lungs once more!
I was standing a mile or so outside of Stratholme. This was the Stratholme I remember. Not that decaying plague land that now exists.

I stood utterly lost in nostalgia. Then once more I remembered that I was breathing. I slid the glove on my right hand off and was excited to see skin! I was (at least for the time being), human once more.

The Inn was behind me. I was full of excitement, I wanted to see my face. I had lost all other focuses to this one goal. I ran hastily up the stairs to the washroom. I burst through the door and saw myself. Except it wasn’t quite me. It was an older version of myself. I suppose if I would have lived longer I would have been this person, but I wasn’t and never would be.
I slipped the glove on again and walked downstairs. Seeing myself as an old woman had reasserted the reason I was here.

I made my way down the path to Stratholme. Just outside was two rows of armored soldiers lining the path. Jaine Proudmoore and Uther Lightbringer stood contemplating the mysterious plagued goods that had arrived in Stratholme.

As I made my way to Jaine and Uther I was stopped by two guards. Gyles was no where to be seen.

“This is a matter that does not concern you stranger. You should leave.”

The guard on the right said to me. I nodded and turned and began walking away. As soon as the escort were out of sight I darted into the bushes. I made it back in time to see Arthas and Uther arguing about what the next course of action should be.

Arthas planned a culling. Uther tried to stop him but Arthas swore to contain the plague by any means necessary. Arthas then marched upon Stratholme. Gyles must already be inside!
As everyone that remained outside began to disperse a loud audible scream could be heard. That scream was mine. There was no point in taking my vengeance upon a memory.
I will find Gyles in the time that exists.

February 3

The rumors of war that have been circulating the past few months seem to be true. Scourge encounters have become much more common and concentrated. The Lich King must be awake.
I have finally made it to Northrend. The icy flight conditions had slowed travel by Goblin Zeppelin's to a grinding halt for the past few months. Supplies have also been short due to the conditions.

Currently I am writing this entry in the Violet Citadel in Dalaran. I am currently preparing to make a decent to Ice Crown to find Gyles.

In the recent months a group of Death Knights know as the Knights of the Ebon Blade have broken free of the Lich King’s iron will and have set up base called Shadow Vault.
They must have some information that I can use to find Gyles! They must!

Celebrity E-Mail: Rihanna

2009-03-03T21:58:00.000-08:00

Dear Rihanna,

I have recently been jumped by three unruly young teenagers that happened to be listening to your hit song 'Shut up and drive' while they beat me senseless. Now I found this somewhat ironic in light of the tragic recent events in your life.

I do have a few questions though. Please don't take offense as I am just a curious party. My first question is probably the most important of all. What kind of steak is better for a black eye? I was thinking about going for a nice top sirloin however I have heard that a lean New York may work better. Any insight you have on this choice would be great.

Next I was wondering what song was playing when Chris did the damage? Was some of that rap music playing at the time? I have always found it very violent. Yet (funny enough), not as violent or homo erotic as UFC.

This is my last question, I promise. What is your contraceptive of choice, or do you prefer to leave it up to chance? This last one is more of an interest in my quest to find out what the majority of women in the world prefer, so please don't be offended.

Love and respect,
-A. Warren Johnson

Confessions!

2009-03-03T21:39:00.001-08:00

By A. Warren Johnson

I recently had the pleasure of catching up with myself. It was enlightening as it was entertaining. We (my mind and consciousness), met up in the living room of my place. We had a lot of catching up to do. We chattered at one another about the mundane things we had both been up to for the past few months.
As it turns out my mind has been feeling a little on the depressed side while my consciousness has been running wild and free. My consciousness has recently been exploring the ideals of Human Rights and a One World Government and how they fight to the death with each other in deadlock. My consciousness is sure neither side will triumph over the other. My mind on the other hand has been reviewing and worrying about diseases and other such silly thoughts that really have nothing to do with me in the first place.
My consciousness comforted my mind for the first few minutes and suggested a change of some sort to nip the proverbial problem that has been plaguing my poor mind. My consciousness sees a bigger picture rather than focusing on the minor details which my mind tries desperately to come to terms with.
In the end my mind has agreed to take a little vacation and travel around the backwaters of the expanded with my consciousness. My consciousness can hopefully resolve the issues my broken mind seems to have, and show it that there is more to life than constant panic. Let's hope all goes well!

Life: The ultimate joke!

2009-03-02T00:29:00.000-08:00

No one is completely empathic. We only have the unique ability to see the world through the eyes of the tragic/romantic/anti/etc heroes that we are. We are able (to some degree), sympathize with someone else's misery however, it is short lived. Soon we are back to seeing the world through one way glass.

Funny how the choices you make to better yourself hurt someone else isn't it? Just another cruel joke in the string of unfair and most of the time unfunny jokes we lovingly refer to as life. The punchline to it all of course being death. Sad? Perhaps, but definitely something to keep in mind.

Friends are the same way as life. You meet each other, and for a brief moment get caught up in the maniacal laughter, the blaring lights, and the feeling of true being understood! It's yet another joke. Everyone has the same emotional range. We know exactly how someone is feeling when they tell us about their problems. The punchline to this joke is one of my personal favorites: "We have all been there". It mirrors and enhances the joke, don't you think?

The meaning of life has come down to a game of who can fuck who the fastest. We (collectively, not individually), have put away our true natures of love and forgiveness in order to prosper from others misery. A sad state indeed for this lowly race. Sure we let some people see that glimmer of hope we have inside of us, yet for the most part we don't want to risk the safety of false appearances and fake emotion in case we get hurt. We save lives to justify the fact that we take them through abortion. I may not be pro life, but even I can see the irony in this!

There is an old saying I sure you have heard about 204, 739 times in your life. 'Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer'. Now I view this phrase a little differently than I'm sure most of you out there. I don't see it as a tactic to get back at someone that wronged you somehow. Instead I read it as something Jesus would have said. A kind of one liner parable. I think it means more to forgive those that have wronged you, rather then taking vengeance. I could be wrong, but I don't think I am since it's this new thing I have recently found called an opinion. They never lie, but they are highly subjective.

-A. Warren Johnson

That's so gay!

2009-02-20T00:30:00.000-08:00

by A. Warren Johnson

First off, this needs to be said. Gay was our word first. Gay if looked up in a dictionary has two definitions, 1: Happy 2: Homosexual. The second definition wasn't put into print until the late 80s after AIDS protests started up and the homosexual community ended up with a lot of unwanted press. This was when the word gay started becoming synonymous with homosexuality.

Next, most people that are homosexual use the phrase "That's so gay", just as much as a straight person does. If "That's so gay" shouldn't be used, then how about the word cocksucker? I find that that word would be equally offensive and thus scratched out of every mind in the world. Or how about the word queer to describe something that is out of the ordinary? Let's not leave out the Brits here. Fags sell for about 4.34 pounds a pack, should this also be taken out of the English language?

I find this whole campaign as useless as the war on drugs! Drugs are readily available on the streets because they are meant to be readily available! This is the problem/action/solution situation we all see day in and day out and don't do a goddamn thing to stop it. Next public service announcement advertisement campaign will probably be about how racism is caused by the use of words such as Black, or Spanish, or Christian! Yes dear reader there is an ad campaign on the phrase "That's so gay", and they actually have one where they replace the word gay with races and religions!

If you really want to know what is truly wrong with the world around you, take a look at the hypocrisy that is portrayed in rap music. If Nigger is such a white word how come African-Americans use it as a term of endearment? If Nigger is so white, how come white people are not allowed to say it? "Well it brings up bad memories of the days of slavery!" Wrong!!! Blacks were never in slavery. A bold statement some would say, but alas it is not. Blacks were in forced servitude. Slavery is what most of us working middle class do from 9-5.

These are things we should seriously examine as a race if we want to make it through the next evolutionary jump. There is no difference between someone who has fairer pigment in their skin than someone with a darker pigment, and the only difference between someone who is straight and someone that is gay is the fact that the person who is gay will never have to worry about supporting a family bigger then two.

Celebrity E-Mail: Britney Spears

2009-02-17T23:34:00.000-08:00

Dear Britney,

Just a few questions have been running through my head the past few days that I have wanted to address. First off I was wondering what pop star you related most with? I have put a lot of thought into this question and have realized something: You seem to idolize Bobby Brown!

The similarities between you and good old Bobby is that you covered "My Prerogative" then you shaved your head... This leads me to my next question. Were you confused about being a white girl? I personally think having a vagina and blond hair, (not to forget boobs as well), would have been sufficient evidence as to your gender. The lack of black skin would have also tipped me off to the fact that I was white. I'm not trying to tell you that an identity crisis wasn't inevitable, but you could have thought something a little more realistic.

My last question has more to do with you as a mother. Not saying that your a bad mother, I just had a question. Do you prefer shopping at GAP or do you go to Wal-Mart? I don't actually know why I want to know this, or how this could possibly benefit anyone by knowing the answer, but I seem to be curious.

Maybe someday yours,
-A. Warren Johnson

Why I love Christians

2009-02-14T10:42:00.000-08:00

Christians are funny. I love them! The reason I love Christians is that they spread their message of love and forgiveness, and nothing spreads that message faster than signs that say: "Thank God for AIDS!"

The real kicker to this mixed signal is that not only do they stand by AIDS rallies with signs like these, but when they are called on it they say: "We don't hate homosexuals. God hates homosexuals."

Okay so accountability and morality isn't a Christian strong point. If I were to blame an imaginary character for my actions, it sure wouldn't be God. I would rather opt for Bugs Bunny. At least you know Bugs Bunny has repeatedly victimized Elmer Fudd!

Now before you go thinking I am attacking Christianity, let me state I'm not. I'm attacking the way certain sects of Christianity goes about spreading the message of God. I think that if these "Christians" want to attack people living with AIDS and not take responsibility for their actions, then they should also be attacking Cancer patients as well.

Please don't get me wrong here. I've read a good portion of the bible in my short time on this planet and no where in the fucking book have I ever read that Christians should rally against people with terminal illness.

With that in mind I want to say a hopeful prayer to all these loving Christians. This may look like I'm talking to myself, which I'm not. If anything I'm talking to you as well. Okay, here we go.

God that resides in Heaven. Please forgive your followers known as Christians. They know not what they do. Their actions may seem a little off from what your word the Holy Bible, (the King James version, not those other translated ones), has to say on love and forgiveness. They are trying to lead good and holy lives Lord by blaming you for their transgressions. In your name. Amen.

-A Warren Johnson

Revising my map

2009-02-14T10:21:00.000-08:00

Hello dear reader.

It's been a while. I've been sick and haven't been to creative. I recently have started reading Stephen King's book On Writing. It's a great read! Although I am not one for Stephen King novels, his memoir on writing is well worth the read. It has made me actually want to relearn my grammar and editing skills so that I can actually sit down and write a full narrative in my own style, but in a way that makes it sensible and proper.

King brings up the fact that you can not make a competent writer out of a bad one. This I guess is true, however I find that my rants through writing flow much better than any attempt I have ever made to write a narrative. This is the reason I feel I should relearn the craft. I have the tools, I have the will, now I just need the blueprint.

This is a moment in life that I view as a re-creation period. In order for me to be better at this whole crazy writing thing I enjoy way to much, I need to relearn everything I thought I knew and revise my road map. This is part of the key to succeeding in life at whatever you want to do.

In closing I will leave you with a quote from one of my favorite songs. "Express yourself!" - NWA.

-A Warren Johnson

Drunken Conversations with a cab driver

2009-02-08T03:48:00.000-08:00

This goddamn economy is nothing but a big goddamn hoax! Sorry for being so blunt, but it needed to be said. In case you are wondering the aswer is yes! I'm back on the booze and have a lot to say on the economics of Canada.

I haven;t had that much to drink tonight, about 6 beers and I haven't been driving. Actually my close friend Mac paid for my cab home because I felt I needed to write this down because, (ha ha), it seemed minutly important!

As anyone living in North America may have possibly heard, our economy is is iin shambles. The question is why. Well like HIV = AIDS, it's a fucking sham!!! I don't throw this acusation around lightly so please bare with me and my lack of grammer and spelling.

The nuber one reason that we are in fiscal ruin is simply this, we don't spend enough! "But that simply makes no sense Andy!" Yes it fucking does, so shut the fuck up and listen to the logicical arguement.

We live in a debt based society, kay? Kay! That part should be fairly fucking obvious by this point. We are programmed to be in debt so that we can enter slavery, (or working for a wage, it's really the same thing, please consult John 3:16 in that book you put so much stock in if you don't believe me), and go into a perpetual motion of debt to support the fruadulant fucking economy.

The reason we do this is those loving assholes known only as the marketing unit. We are programmed to consume and perpetual consume at every turn in the road. Which by the way we wouldn't if we focused on our collectivebasic needs!

We are natural born consumers and i's time we start realizing it! This is another one of those things that should be obvious, yet we are completely to oblivious to realize it, so we just accept as truth. Refer to any Cosmo Magizine article if you don't believe me on this point.

Sit down and watch those commercials for a change! We catch just a fleeting second of them, yet we instinctivly know what the commercial is about and how it will end! Notice anything else about it?

It's louder than the show you are watching! Funny, how the hell does this work? Well it works simply but you being annoyed with it in the first place! You reconize exactly what a commercial is, and what it is designed to do, and unless your like my mother, (who at the first sign of a commercial changes the channel immedietly to not be bombarded wih meaningless proaganda), then you'll probably be stuck watching and somewhat believing that Tide is better than Sunlight because of how it's packaged.

Now as for the fraudulent economic systm and how it works you should look no further than the Money Masters documentary. It explains everything on how fractional reserve banking works. Which if you don't believes fucks us all over you need look no further than finacing a vehicle.

Anyway, I'm drunk and desprately need sleep.

I felt bad for not posting anything for the past few days, but my ride conversation with that cab driver really made me realize that this has been on my mind for a while and I need to vent over the internet via this blog. I hope that you have found some meaning with in my ranting paragraphs, but note that there will probably be a revision of this post when I'm sober. Until next time dear reader, sleep with one eye open because you never know when the Government will rape you in the ass with a rubber dick!

-A. Warren Johnson

Times, how they change!

2009-01-30T11:23:00.001-08:00

The world is in one hell of a condition isn't it? I don't know whether to revel in the chaos or to cower in fear! The basic problem is this: We let this happen! It's staggering to think that we as a collective would let things get out of hand the way we did! However, none of it even matters.

What truly matters is that we are here now and if we want things to change we should probably get going on it! Dear reader, I don't plan on changing the world through my horrible grammar and even worse spelling. I instead plan on changing the world by changing your world views. If that last sentence made any sense to you, then your in the same head space I am.

I was listening to the news recently, (CBC is probably my all time favorite radio station), and I heard something that chilled me to the bone! Free speech being punished by assassination! That's a little harsh isn't it? I mean what is the point of free will if we are only free to believe what we are told to believe? This is really my biggest problem with the world at large.

God, (which ironically enough... Doesn't exist), gave us the gift of free will. In order to exercise free will all we need to do is to make a choice. What the choice is isn't what matters. It can be anything from smoking a cigarette to stealing a bag of chips. We tend to focus much more on the subject we decide on rather then the choice itself.

We have chosen to be corporate slaves. Just another number in a string of other numbers. Freedom of speech we have almost completely given up on by selling media outlets to corporations such as CNN and FOX. Both spread nothing but fear and disdain everyday to viewers worldwide. If you choose to watch them and choose to believe in the the stories ran, then you have indeed sold yourself and your rights out.

If on the other hand you choose to watch, then look out your living room window... Well then you probably have noticed that nothing is going on around you. You are in no danger, and there is no threat to your well being. This should make you question what the media is telling you.

Now this isn't a claim that disastrous things don't happen around us, there always will be. Life is a gamble you should be willing to take since, well, your alive! If you choose to pick up a gun and shoot up a school, then I think it's safe to say that you are not the most popular kid in school. If you do feel that way by the, you may want to make some friends. They tend to tell you when you are being irrational.

If you find that you are a sociopath, then why not pursue a career as a councilor? You may as well, I mean listening to peoples problems if you are not sociopathic would seem to me to be very much more draining then if you were.

I digress. I'm getting slightly off topic here and slipping into cynicism once more. The news isn't all bad dear reader. I also heard that the UN is launching an inquisition into the Bush administration! This inquest will apparently provide answers to everything from 9/11 right through to the methods and activities that were provided for the inmates at Guantanamo Bay!

I do try and end all my postings on an upbeat note, so I wish to leave you with a quote that I find very Taoist and sums up the way we should view our collective mind. After all, we are all one. "There is no you, there is only me." - Trent Reznor

-A. Warren Johnson

Celebrity E-Mail: Alex Jones

2009-01-30T08:49:00.000-08:00

Dear Alex Jones,

Do you ever shut up and listen to what you are saying? Don't get me wrong here, I do support a vast majority of what you say and you do make some very compelling points. However, you tend to say to much. Most of the points that you argue would be best summed up in fewer words.

I understand fully that us as people are a little less than slave drones that mindlessly meander through life without so much as a thought to how badly we are being screwed over by the Government. I really do, but we don't need every point on this issue repeated 36 times in a two hour span! I know that it's frustrating, but you should take Bill Hick's advice on this matter especially: "It's just a ride."

I also was wondering if you ever sleep, or are you to busy ranting about the evils of the world to get tired? If you don't sleep, that would explain the all Alex Jones internet feed I have on iTunes. It's way to much information being repeated! In a 24 hour span I would be quite surprised to hear something other then your constant bickering about the upper one percent, or that the patriot act is evil and should be dissolved!

I absolutely agree that something should be done on these matters, however I would be remiss if I didn't wonder: Are you going to lead the violent revolution. Personally I doubt very much that you will take action such as this. It's almost to bad to say this, but I think the people need a stronger leader then you. Someone who will take action and stand for justice and liberty for all.

With deep regret and sorrow,
-A. Warren Johnson

Writers Block

2009-01-25T23:40:00.001-08:00

Stiff. Forced. Slowly the ideas trickle together. The words on the page seem to make no goddamn sense! A predicate never follows a noun! Why am I even writing? These topics seem so mundane, isn't there anything else a little more interesting to write about? No. I started this and by God I'll finish it!

Great... Forgot what the hell it was I even had in mind after the events have been laid out. I wish my editor would stop calling, I already know I'm a day past my deadline. Sigh. I'm out of ideas, and the ones I have are not strong enough to support what this story is supposed to be about. Stupid writing assignment!

Now... No, no. That will not work! Grr!!! How about if... Nah, so bloody typical! I hate the desert so much! Why the hell is it even needed? Why can't this be point by point... Hm... Maybe I'll try that! Wait, I can't. Oh bother! I'm never going to get paid for this fucking useless attempt at a mediocre event.

Fuck it. I give up. I'm done and I'm walking away. I'm going to have a shower, go for a walk and clear my head. I should probably eat something as well. Maybe that's what the problem is... It is either that or I have had way to much coffee. It's two-thrity... I could have a few drinks before sitting back down... That generally helps. Done and done! It's settled. Walk, food, drinks, shower, back to writing.

Mauybe I shoidn;y have hed so meny drink, It smeems liek I HAVE Ooops@ Caos lockedd...... I;m just going to lue down for a dew minutyes. Then I 'll gety back to writting...

Obama vs. the US

2009-01-22T10:50:00.000-08:00

The economy is in fiscal ruins, Microsoft is cutting up to 5,ooo jobs, and Micheal Bay remade Friday the 13th. Something is seriously wrong here! The world we grew up in and taught is full of friendly and caring neighbors, National pride, and good career paths around every corner has been replaced with Terrorists, Totalitarian Governments, and pink slips.

Is it any wonder why we as a collective race have failed to reach our full potential? I don't think so, but I'm pretty cynical on matters such as this. Let's take for example the War on Terror. This so called war broke out because the US has troops stationed in about 130 countries around the world. This tends to step on the toes of other people and forces them to retaliate. 9/11 is the case in point.

While I have no doubt that Governor Bush knew full well that the attacks were to take place and did nothing to stop them, I do think that they were carried out by people from another country. Whether or not they were paid and aided by the US Government is irrelevant by this point. The real point here is that to us they are deemed terrorists, but on the other side of the fence they are fighting to be free.

Barack Obama is off to a good start by signing an order to shut down Gauntanamo Bay, yet I think he should be careful with what promises he actually keeps at this point. Kennedy was assasianated for two reasons: Trying to keep the Church and State separete, and trying to stop the Bay of Pigs. If I were in Barack's shoes I would first eliminate the Central Banks and get rid of that long shadow who we know is actually in control. Then I would start printing a new currency.

This action alone would not ensure his safety, but it would make a huge difference in the economy. The next logical step would be to socialize health care in the US and issue and order to create resources for free renewable energy for the US. Once nothing had a price, President Obama would be safe for the 1% would have nothing of value thus forcing them into perdition.

The reason I suggest that Barack Obama should do these things is that if the US did it first, other countries around the world would follow suit and preform the same actions. There would be no poverty because the things that cost the most money would be free. Just a playful thought, yet one that should be considered.

-A. Warren Johnson

Gauging Success

2009-01-22T10:01:00.000-08:00

"Success is not permanent. The same is also true of failure." - Dell Crossword

How successful do you feel right now? Most people will inevitably say not very. In all reality though it depends on how you gauge success. "Well there is only one way to gauge success! It's about how much money you have!" Wrong. If you write music, and you do it because you love music and don't care if you make a single cent, are you successful? I would think so.

I could write the greatest book in the world, but if I choose to just post it on the internet for free, would that make me less successful? I don't think it would. I gauge my success on how happy I can make people. I don't actually know how many people read these rants and musings, however I know people do. If the post here make you angry, depressed, happy or just make you think, then I have been doing my job properly. Some people have even been inspired to write by reading this blog. I would consider that a successful feat.

The problem with properly gauging success is that we - collectively - equate success with money. It doesn't necessarily have to do with money. It matters only if your are good at something, and you feel accomplished after doing it. Money comes. It's readily available. Sometimes it's hard to keep, or have quite enough, but it does come around.

People always say I have no motivation to do anything, or that I will never do anything with my life. I think I'd be a better judge of myself than they would. I may not making money at writing now, but I will. I may not be the most focused person ever, but I can focus long enough to write enough to get my points across. I don't care what anyone thinks of me, because I know what makes me feel accomplished, and that's all that really matters.

"Together Now" Excerpt 6

2009-01-21T09:07:00.000-08:00

The heat woke Warren up. There is something to be said about the sticky Californian heat. His head rang in time with his alarm clock. Warren looked over bleary eyed at Anne on the other couch. She just rolled over and didn’t seem to notice the alarm.

Warren reached over and turned it off. He stretched out on the love seat and sat up.

‘Relying on the kindness of strangers is awesome.’ Warren thought.

The night before had been one of drinking debauchery at the expense of other peoples wallets. Today however was a day to get into gear. If he was going to write professionally he needed to start doing it immediately!

He threw on one of the three pairs of jeans he had brought with him and his black dress shirt. He felt more like a writer already. He then grabbed the card out of his wallet to set up a meeting with Borden. The phone rang twice before Borden answered.

“Hey Borden.” Warren greeted him warmly. “What do your plans look like for today?”

“Just got a meeting with a hack writer who wants to write screenplays, however he never writes anything interesting, it’s always some sort of adaptation about some emo/goth who can’t get laid. I guess it’s supposed to be artistic or something like that.” Borden replied.

“Well would you care to get together after that and see if you would want me as a client?” Warren asked very bluntly.

“Sure man! I’ve been wanting to hear the story of how you came to Cali. Canadians I’ve always found to have interesting stories. Is 2:30 work for you?” Borden asked.

“You bet. Where are we meeting?” Warren asked trying to contain his excitement.

“The bucks on east main. It’s my favorite location.” Borden stated.

“All right, Borden. Sounds good, I will meet you there.” Warren said finalizing the meeting.

“Excellent. Later Warren.” Borden said.

“Later.” Warren repeated hanging up.

Warren was excited by this turn of events, now all he had to do was figure out how to get to the Starbucks on east main and he would be all set!

***
Anne awoke to find she was home alone. It was 1:30 and she felt mildly hungover. She wondered where Warren had gotten to. She was feeling a little frisky and wanted to congratulate Warren in a very intimate manner.

‘Oh well. He’ll be back, then I can have my way with him.’ Anne thought deviously.

She got up and headed to the bathroom.

‘Maybe he’ll come home and take me in the shower.’ She thought as she started her shower.

Anne undressed and stepped into the shower. As she washed her hair she questioned why she was having these thoughts about Warren all of a sudden. She couldn’t quite place the reason. Thoughts like: ‘Maybe we’ve been friends for so long that this is the natural progression.’ And ‘If we ended up married?’ Kept crossing her mind.

Anne never thought this before and felt confused about why she started now. She wondered how Warren felt at this very moment.

***

Warren felt lost. He had made it to the Starbucks Borden had instructed him to be at, and he was sitting across from Warren, but Borden was actually a really hard person to follow in a business conversation.

“Okay so what my firm needs is someone that can write an original idea. It has to be along the same lines of a network show, but we need it in a feature format. That Goth kid has been let go from our firm, so now it’s up to you to step up Warren. You want a shot at being a writer, this is it, I like you, and even if this doesn’t work out I still want to talk to you, but just don’t fuck this up.” Borden spit out without so much as a breath.

‘Goddamn, Borden is an amazing speaker!’ Warren thought.

“So what are some of your ideas?” Borden asked finally Warren including him into the conversation.

“Well I have this one screenplay I wrote when I was working the kitchen circuit back home. It’ll need to be revised for what you want though.” Warren said.

“Great! I want a look at it tomorrow. As long as it’s a draft we can send editors in on it and have them do the re-writes. You won’t have to worry about a thing.” Borden stated.

“One thing you should know about it though, Borden is that...” Warren started.

“It doesn’t matter what it’s about as long as there is some sort of story.” Borden said cutting Warren off.

“That’s just it, it’s not like a traditional story. The antagonist is the restaurant and the anti-hero is a shift leader, and there are something like 8 different story lines going on at the same time...” Warren again tried to explain.

“Don’t worry, the editors will make it work. You still get the credit, and I make 10 percent. Trust me, as long as you produce something, it doesn’t matter if it’s any good.” Borden reassured Warren.

“All right. So... This is sort of an important question, how am I supposed to work for your firm without a Visa?” Warren asked nervously.

“Don’t worry about that, Warren. There are ways around it. Just because you are here writing, doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to live here. You can claim that you wrote it in Canada and you were just up here for a meeting. The only down fall of this is that you will have to go back to Canada to cash your cheque.” Borden explained.

“Well... That may be a little more difficult then that. See I sort of got jack. She took my wallet and then the cop I got pulled over by impounded my car.” Warren confessed.

“Don’t worry, Dreamscape will take care of all that for you. Just make sure to have that draft into me by tomorrow. You may also want to start writing something else. That short little three sentence story would be great. Write it, make it real and then drop that draft off.” Borden suggested.

“Done! So can I ask you for a huge favor?” Warren asked.

“Sure.” Borden replied almost immediately.

“Would you be able to give me a ride home?”

***