May 17th, 2004


I'm all right by the way

I guess it is time to address the subject that's been on the mind of every person who reads my journal. That is raw hot crazy monkey sex with Catherine Zeta-Jones. Wait, no, it's spelling. Right. Spelling. Not as in Aaron or Tori but as in bee or check.

My spelling is atrocious. I make no bones or denials about it. I can explain it fairly easily though. See, when I was a youngster my parents had the wonderful idea to put me into a super progressive private school in the neighborhood. It was one of those schools where the students call the teachers by the first name and nobody gets any grades or pledges alleigance any flags (I don't even know if we had an American flag in the whole building, although we certainly had flags of other nations.) It was liberal as hell and really poor at teaching academics.

One of the policies there was to teach creative spelling. That's right, spelling as a 'creative' activity. You may commence raging against the dying of the light.

You done yet? Okay, a couple more moments.

There we go. Now it's not that spelling as a creative activity doesn't have a long and illustrious history. Chaucer lived during a time of unregulated spelling. If it looked like it sounded you were good to go. This made writing easy, reading hard, and Scrabble damned near impossible. This age has passed, fortunately for Milton Bradley, and now people are expected to spell things in conformity to one of the various dictionaries floating around out there.

My school did not receive the memo.

So for the first, oh, 11, years of my life I was not asked to spell things correctly, in fact I was taught that trying to spell correctly was tantamount to being a worthless corporate drone, and possibly a conformist nazi, at the tender age of 8. Of course my last year there, they switched things up on us and started having spelling quizes (still ungraded, of course, although they were marked) and the like to try and prepare us for entry into the rough and tumble world of high school. We felt kind of betrayed like all our teachers had been Mr. Miyagis, implementing a secret agenda of what they REALLY wanted us to learn and holding back the good stuff until later.

They didn't really teach grammar either, but fortunately I picked that up from voracious reading and talking. My spelling was not so lucky, it has never recovered. Once you're past the critical period it's difficult, if not impossible, to fully repair whatever damage has been done. I'll never be a great speller. I can accept that. In my opinion spelling isn't even all that important. Bad grammar is dangerous because it can confuse and distort meaning. Bad spelling is annoying, but rarely distorts meaning unless it is truly terrible in a way that my spelling is not. Yes, if you spell "flour" as "floor" that can be as hard to read as "Steve and John is Coalworkers in 1955." I don't do that.

My spelling sucks. When I have formal or important documents I use spellcheck and a dictionary to try to correct for this. In my journal I don't tend to worry about that kind of thing. I am also an extraordinarily quick typist. I can reach 100 WPM or more on a regular basis, although usually I stick with around 80 WPM because there's no point in straining my fingers or brain trying to go at top speed. I do make the occasional typo and I don't bother to look over things before I post them. This is also acceptable to me. If I were charging for this journal or presenting it as an example of my best work then I would worry about matters of presentation. It's supposed to be a laboratory for my writing and thinking though. The equivalent of scrap paper or a physical journal. I am happy to have other people look at it if they like, that's absolutely fine, but I'm not going to bother to put the thing through spellcheck or proof read every sentence.

There were 5 spelling errors and 1 typo (or 4 spelling errors and 2 typos, I couldn't tell with one of them if I'd forgotten a letter or simply not typed it) out of 1200 words last time, and I got a comment about it. Come on.

I know I nit pick grammar, but to me grammar is meaning. It is the essence of verbal expression. Spelling is just arbitrary rules. "Okay, let's spell thought with a ugh instead of a aw. Let's turn ys into is when we pluralize. WHEE"

I'm not much of a fan of arbitrary rules and that's why it's difficult for me to get all worked up about spelling. If you can't see past a few misplaced vowels to what's being said, well then maybe you should be looking elsewhere for textual amusement.

After all, sudites hvae shwon taht poelpe can raed srcablmed txet lkie tihs petrty wlel so lnog as the frsit and lsat ltetres are crorcelty palced.
  • Current Music
    Vertical Horizon - Everything you want

They're too sexy to be stopped

There's nobody left to read this, but I'm going to write it anyway. I want to leave a record of what's happened for anyone who might find it in the future. Human, alien, something else, it doesn't really matter. Heed this warning and know the fate of the human race.

You see today started out like any other day. A little hotter than most, I'll admit, as it was a May day. But who knew that this May day would lead to the mayhem that has wracked our society?

You see today, in Massachusets, a recent judicial ruling that gays must be allowed to married took effect. There had been gay marriages before, sure, but those were quasi-legal things enabled by rogue politicians. This was the first time in the history of the United States that such unions were unquestionably sanctioned by law.

The predictable result has been armageddon.

It started out with only minor atrocities. A few people of the same sex exchanged vows and kisses, becoming legally bound to one another. Each such union was naturally an offense against God and Nature, and far far worse than the torture and sodomizing of prisoners in Iraq (Sodomy of prisoners for the purpose of torture is pretty bad, but sodomy for the pleasure of both partners? That's like crucifying Jesus all over again.)

At 6:00 AM this morning God abandoned America. He had been our protector lo these hundreds of years, had put up with our turning our back on him when we freed the negroes he had provided us as labor and even allowed our womenfolk to make decisions independent of the guidance of their masters. He stood fast when we waged a pointless war to rescue the Jews, who he long ago grew tired of, from extermination. He even put up with Depeche Mode. This latest atrocity was too much, however, and He is no longer guarding us.

At 6:03 the ground split open and an army of skeletal gays rose. Summoned back to life by ex Giants great and demonic hellspawn Gaylord Perry, they proceeded to make Night of the Living Dead look like a heartwarming tale of triumph and glory. They overwhelmed the defenses of most small towns in a matter of minutes, gaying to death sheriffs and police officers alike with no mercy.

At 6:07 the hordes of living gays started to join their dead compatriots. Hair salons and fashion design houses belched forth an army of the damned more powerful than any one could imagine. They flooded the streets dressed in war garb, mesh T-shirts and ripped jeans for the men and full body flannel for the women. Gay people have been denied access to the military in the United States for many years. I assumed it was because they were inferior warriors. This is certainly not the case. With acid spitting penises and vaginas that can rip through steel they easily overwhelmed the national guard. The human tonngue is the strongest muscle in the body, pound for pound. A lesbian's tongue is like a steel cable, crushing heads and armies like Gallagher on Watermellons.

By 11:00 they had taken most of the major metropolitan areas. The only place safe was inside the Whitehouse where the gays are afraid to venture because of what they call 'The Darkness.' Jerry Faldwell was ranting and raving about how he saw this coming but his life was ended when a rubber dildo was shoved through his eye into his brain. RIP reverend Faldwell, you had it right all along. 9/11 was just a warning.

At 12:15 the government announced that gays are not humans. They are some sort of hybrid creature. Part human but part, something else. That's why they want to have and raise children. They want to turn people into...them. It doesn't look like we're going to be able to stop them. Our weapons are useless against their homosexuality. The government captured a few and tried every reasonable method of negotation. It piled them into naked pyramids. It stuck chemical lights into them. It even hooded them and put electrodes all over their bodies (they liked that one.) It was to no avail.

It's 2:30 now. I am still alive, but only because there are so many in New York. So many to be killed. The streets run red now with heterosexual blood. Truly these are the last days. Soddom and Gomorrah were nothing like this. I can hear them outside, killing, maiming, rending society asunder. Oh why oh why didn't we listen? Why didn't we heed the warnings? Raping and abusing prisoners is fine. That's the mark of a strong society. So is hiding the fact that you did this. But allowing gay people to join in a wonderful union of spirits and love? That is the worst thing that America has ever done and it has been our undoing. Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!

The strains of Right Said Fred are rising. They are coming for me now. I hope that the internet still exists. I hope someone will see this someday and be warned. Do not let the gays destroy you as they have America. Do not fall victim to their lies.

Don't end up like us.
  • Current Music
    The screaming and Right Said Fred

I said I had a dirty mouth. Stop analyzing my behavior.

The fat boy is now a frat boy.

Yes I went and joined the illustrious ranks of Phi Beta Kappa in a ceremony today. It's one of the reasons my last entry, about gays destroying America, was sort of aborted and lame. It was intended to be a lengthy sculpted horror story with more social satire and imagery but I just didn't have time to do it and it had an expiration date on it. It wouldn't be worth posting in a week. So it sucks. Oh well.

The ceremony itself was reasonably small. There were about 80 names on the list and a short program. The PBK dignitaries were there along with the presidents of the college and University and Eric Foner, my professor and eminent historian. I found it kind of amusing that in a school that talks non-stop about diversity out of the 5 people on stage there were 4 white men and 1 white woman. The student body being inducted was much more diverse, and most of the white people were Jewish.

The room was nice. The Loew Library Rotunda, a small classical style auditorium with two levels, one of which is occupied by faux greek statuary and filing cabinets. There is some excellent stonework.

I was seated at the front right in front of the podium, my least favorite spot but where my name tag was. The speeches were...okay. Dean Austin Quigly always makes me laugh because his name is Austin Quigly and that's hilarious. He's British and not a wonderful speaker. But you can call him Dean Quigly.

Foner was the main speaker and he talked about American freedom. It was semi-historical and semi-political, decrying Bush for turning American Freedom into a lie and being regressive on civil liberties. It was okay but I heard so many speeches over the weekend that I zoned out. I just can't listen to MORE speeches right now. My chair felt creaky and like it might break because I'm fat. I worry about these things. That would have been very humiliating. Of course I was dressed shabbily compared to everyone else because I couldn't find any decent shoes and was wearing beaten up sneakers, so the humiliation ship had already sailed. My tie had threads sticking out of it too.

We all got to go up on stage and get our certificates and keys if we ordered them. I didn't order a key because it was like $60 and frankly I don't care enough. When I was shaking hands professor Eric Foner turned to President Lee Bollinger and said "In my lecture class I always ask these obscure questions and this guy knew the answers to most of them. I don't know how he did that." I looked at the two men, both prestigious and powerful. I stood there at what is probably going to be the crowning achievement of my pathetic little worthless life and said "Cheating." with a smile. They didn't find it amusing and I walked off the stage.

That sums me up pretty well. I have no sense of decorum and I speak without worrying about consequences. Of course it's utterly impossible to cheat on a question in class because there are no restrictions on HOW you answer it. If you have it in a book right in front of you then that's fine, it isn't a rule. It was an ironic statement, especially since I didn't know the answer to some of the most obscure questions (Rhode Island was the only state that added black voting between the revolution and the civil war) but that's not important.

Of course I did manage to remind the president of the university of the vast cheating problem that goes on in it and the fact that many of my fellow nominees probably bought papers from other students or cheated on tests. That's probably good.

After the ceremony we went to a reception. I didn't know anyone there except my mom and a family friend who came. Someone came up to us and said that we had a famous name from her hometown. Turns out that her synagogue is named after my great grandfather, who was a Rabbi in Baltimore. I come from prestigious stock. Too bad I'm such a miserable failure as a person.

Someone else knew me from before I was born. I had no idea who she was. More people notice me than I notice them. I think it's partially because I stand out by being fat and partially because I find most other people boring. A combination thing.

After the reception I came home, worked out, and had a massive knock down drag out fight with my mother where she tried to make me feel awful by crying. I don't care anymore, she makes such a deal about how this is my special deal yet she wants it her way or the highway and I don't get a say. I have to go to this MORONIC dinner now with family and family friends and I don't goddamned want to but if I say no she'll just be crazy for weeks. I need to get the fuck out of here.
  • Current Music
    Garbage 2.0