O Fortuna

I got my mind on my money, and my money on my mind. But I don't have much, so I don't think that often. I was trying to make time with this girl at the grocery store the other day. But she wasn't having it. I thought I was a better alternative to mustard, but alas I am not. She was intent on finding the perfect mustard. I have to admire someone who spends 25 minutes looking at all the different varieties of mustard. Maybe the bitch is just a crank victim. I found out some pimp shit today. I was doing my closing shit before I get my start date, so I was hurriedly ranking my top ten choices of where I want to be stationed. When I got the option to request additional training, it turns out that in between OCS and OBS I can do what I want. So I picked Airborne. Fucking A. I'll be the only Intel guy who jumps out of planes. I could have picked nothing, but I figure what the hell, why not. I am sure that someone has the motto of never half-ass anything. So I decided to be like them. I hope it is Ike Turner, because that would be chic if we shared a motto, at least for a day.
I'm looking for a car to buy for when I get done with my shit. Lurch, my current ride, needs to go. Lurch is a great car, but a piece. So I want a 69-71 cutlass supreme convertible, or a 66 or 67 mustang fastback. Yeah. So if you got one, give it to me. If you're rich, buy it for me.
I need a bunch of shit. I realized the other day that I ain't got shit. Nothing. I ain't got any cookware, silverware, glasses, furniture, a bed, sheets, tables, a TV or a dresser. All I got is clothes, shoes, quilts and a couple rugs. Not wigs, but the Asian kind. And not Asian wigs neither. But to each their own, maybe they are wigs. So I need shit.
I finished that book and you can't have my copy. But you can go buy your own shit. You got a job.
I had this fucked up dream last night where an Asian dude was trying to break into my house to steal my briefcase. Well not my briefcase, but its contents, which was eight stacks of high society. I don't know why I had eight grand on my, but whatever. Anyway, he was trying to break in and there was a blizzard, so he kept getting buried in snow, but he shot his way out and broke in through my screen door, which I ain't got. I shot him with a shotgun, but it seems, only handgun bullets can hurt my man, so he got away. Well the detective interviewing me was some hot girl who wrote me a check for my losses. Then charged me eight grand to sleep with her. Only we never slept together. I woke up.

Echo Loved Narcissus

How's my hookers and hos doing? What about the bitches and sluts? Yeah that's the truth. You simply aren't my students but my bizznatches. I am your pimp, so go and bring me my money. It's called "tuition" whores. And it is high time I collect.
You want to learn something today? Before you skirts fork over the grip? What? Fine I'll teach your skanky asses something. Don't be an Olympic Athlete. Got it. Fucking forget about it. Why? What the fuck is with you cunts today? Sheesh. Fine I'll tell you why. No one cares. Wow you're fast, but can you catch? Wow you swim...no one cares fig nuts. Neat you can do some of the stupidest shit anyone has ever seen. No endorsements, no signing bonus, no trading cards and none of my hookers will be fucking you silly. That's why. Unless they make bukkake an Olympic event, then none of you broads are even in the running anyway. And while I am on subject, don't any of you slits think of playing any sports, unless they make catching STD's a sport.

Which one is making the deal with the devil?

In the quiet words of the Virgin Mary, "Free Tron." How is everyone? I'm having some family problems, nothing to keep me out of class though. It is just some old bullshit, a classic example of a date rape. Falseness. That is what is going down in Yossarian's world. But a lot of truth at the same time, with the dope rhymes that I kick. But whatever, here is what you need to do. It is a simple four-step process. 1, Look at what you're doing and knock it off. 2, Go to your local bookstore. 3, Buy that book I've been talking you about. 4, Read it, twice. There will be a test later. On the book and the four-step process. For extra-credit, check out that band, if you are so inclined for the extra-credit or rock and or roll. If you listen to the band and read the book in unison, then the ATF might come through and shut your shit down. So beware. So far I have made reference to Tribe, Snoop and Busta in that order. But you don't care.
What do you care about? That is the real question. Is it MTV, E! and all the other cotton candy your brain can handle? If it is, leave get out I don't want you here. You are what I call a waste of semen. Have fun in your black hole void of one iota of leftover fragments of anything meaningful and worthy to pass on, not only to the future, but also to next week.
That was mean; Ike is sorry Tina. Ike brought chocolates. You ever watch TV or a movie or read a book, and identify with one of the characters? Is it wrong that I always identify with some sub-plot 4th level guy who gets like four lines of dialogue? We can't all play the lead, but what if some people are perpetually trapped in a book about someone else? I'm not saying I am, I'm not saying I'm not, I'm just saying I wish my book had more dance numbers and choreographed stunts.
I'll be back later with some shit. I'm trying to work it our clearly and succinctly in my brain to put it down on screen. So word. I should get my leave date any day now. I am chomping at the bit. I want to go now. Oh and for those of those concerned, check this. You know Yossarian, he loves tests, the challenge, fuck the reward, give him the challenge. Well he will make his final choice of what he does in like week 10 of OCS. Meaning, if I feel I can handle it physically, I am going Ranger. Eat it. If not, the Intel job will suffice.

Pain is my Penance

So like yeah, in case you missed the juxtaposition yesterday. Fuck him, and everyone who looks like him. And straight to hell, Clash style, with all like him for that matter. The Yossarian is down to like five friends now. Maybe we should start a hockey team. Be anti-whoeverthehellyou want, as long as it isn't me. I've done nothing wrong, that's how I am where I am. I'm 26, earned three degrees and just trying to get to where I want to be. So whatever, I don't care anymore, I'm beyond it. The Yossarian lives, he is eternal. I am a reasonable guy; I've just seen some very unreasonable things. Anyone want to tell me why the powers that be don't make more films involving Jack Burton? I'll tell you why, because the world isn't ready. He is like the Jesus of films. Only instead of saving sons of bitches, he makes them pay. But they can both see things no one else can see.
But whatever, the truth is simply put this: You want lobster? Huh! I'm thinking Burger King. Speaking of that shit, didn't Janet Jackson say she had an alter ego named "Strawberry?" Well, Strawberry, Strawberry the neighborhood ho.

Back that Ass Up!

"Hey Yossarian. I have been meaning to tell you something, or rather have a talk with you. See, I know we have known each other since grade school. You've been a good friend, even as the strength of our friendship waxed and waned a bit. But you were always there. I appreciate that. But here is the thing. It's like this. Try to pick up what I'm about to put down. Feel it. Smell what I'm cooking. Dig this. On the real, I don't think I can be your friend anymore. Or rather, I think, that we cannot be friends anymore; whichever makes more grammatical sense. See because times have changed. The anti-Christ is in the White House. America unveiled its true colors. And the military is no longer the shield of the republic, but the sword of the empire. We have no right to be who we are. To do the things we do. You're going into the Army, and have you seen 'Fahrenheit 9-11?' So like, basically I cannot be a friend with someone who actively takes part in an oppressive regime. Sorry, no offense, it's not you, more what you stand for, or will stand for. I know Tyler Durden told us, 'We aren't our jobs,' but I don't think he was talking about soldiers. So if you don't mind. I would appreciate it if you didn't bring up the fact that I don't believe in God, therefore my assessing the President, as the anti-Christ is absurd. Don't mention that my brainpower cannot even comprehend basic philosophy without my 'Philosophy for Dummies' book, and therefore cannot even begin to realize the subtleness, intricacy and pure complications of politics. Please don't argue that every sole superpower has acted as the police of the world, and the cultural leader. The Hittites were a long time ago, the world is more civilized now. No one wants to hear that shit. No one wants logic or reason, on either side. I have my beliefs and I stand for them, even though they could change if better celebrities would publicly support the President. And please, even though Moore says he is an independent voter, don't mention that anyone with a library card can find out he is a registered Democrat. It might make sense that in sheer self-preservation, he will vote for the current president. If he isn't in office, Moore is out of a job. Sure, whatever you can say about human history and how we wouldn't be extant without a military believe it if you want, I know the truth. In summation, just leave. If it makes you feel better I won't hold this against you if your name ever comes up. But have fun you brainless, dupe and cog in the war machine. I have to go now; it was nice talking with you Yossarian. I'm really glad we got to clear the air. And no hard feelings, but you are the intransigent." The Yossarian left, having lost a friend.

Truer Words have never been spoken

"Hey Yossarian, when are you going to hit us off with some bomb shit? Some shit that hits me so hard that the alligator part of my brain eats the rest of my grey matter, subsequently morphing me into one giant walking ID. Completely indulging on self-indulgence. So much so that I throw the natural balance of things so far out of whack, that gravity reverses and send us flying out to the depths of the cosmos?" I hear this question all the time class. Let's be honest with one another. It is only day four. I have to establish the ground game. So when I stretch the field, everyone appreciates it. It is unexpected at that point. If I hit you with it now, I could only go down from there. That simply isn't good showmanship.
I have been thinking about the cats I went to school with. I went to college and some of the peeps I went to school with were extra nice. So big ups to WU. Grad school was different. I loved BU. But my BU peeps, well you don't like me, and I don't even give you the thought to be liked or disliked. Just wall hangings at someone's house. There, but immaterial to my life. But big ups nonetheless.
This book is really some of the best shit ever. But everything is the best shit ever when it confirms your preexisting beliefs. Trust on that.
But I wanted to mention. I had the distinct honor of listening live to the rock and roll savior of the planet. I do not mean they will save the planet, but they will save rock and roll. Picture in your ears a hybrid of The Clash, the Boss and Nirvana. Three white kids being nice with their instruments. I could tell you the name of the band, or I could leave you hanging in limbo. Well I hate suspense. So the band is called "Miles of Wire."

Answer the Window

How's class working out for everyone? The Yossarian hopes all is well. You know, no family emergencies and the like. So it looks like Marvel Smith is down for the season. That means that the Steelers may just suck again. At least they drafted big Ben he's good. Mark my words. Still need a running back though; I hate Staley and his pickle-juice drinking ass. I hope something happens to them to give them a running game. Like they draft that kid out of Syracuse next year. I'm saying Steelers Super Bowl champs 2008. I'm realistic. But you read it here first.
So if there is one thing Yossarian hates, it's missing the footballers play their football season, but he will miss this year on account of all his training. Sacrifice here people, that's what I am all about. I'm also going to miss GTA, Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy and Metal Gear. That shit really pisses me off.
So I got my new shit today. What shit is that Yossarian? Well I got "The Parthenon Code." I'm on chapter 3. I'd say it's superb, but you wouldn't believe me. So go and read it yourself, or not, whatever. I do not gain fiscally if the sales of this book skyrocket or plummet like that last space shuttle. So go do what you want. I finished "The Meditations" by Marcus Aurelius just in time to embark upon this shit. Somewhere deep inside the places I don't talk about, past the secret desires in my gullet to have gone to Seminary to become a priest, past my furtive love of "My So Called Life" and even past my veiled penchant of the Violent Fems. Somewhere past that shit, unbeknownst to the world, known but not recognized as valid by me, I know why I don't have a girlfriend. It's because of all of that shit, and none of it.
I remembered what I was going to seethe about yesterday. Say you know someone who lied to someone you care about. And then, for the sake of argument, let's say that the person you care about doesn't seem to mind that he or she was lied to. But say this wasn't a normal lie. This wasn't a, "Sorry, but they were out of that particular mustard, so I had to buy this, which I like more," lie. No this is more of a, "I swear I didn't molest your fathers dead body," lie. Only something much worse. Should you, as an innocent third party, work as a mediator in this to expose the lie? Or just let sleeping dogs sleep? The Yossarian wants to intervene, but is met by a great deal of resistance and protest from those he holds dear. Anyway fuck it, dat bitch ain't loose no baby at no Burger King.

Offending peeps everywhere

I thought they locked up the hurricane. You know, what was that whole Bobby Dylan song about then? But it seems he knocked out Florida in his old age. Bad joke. Maybe. But no one reads this anyway. So hurricane Chuck came through and busted shit up like herpes.
Whenever I think of tropical storms, I think of hurricane Andrew. I think it was the first hurricane not to have a girls name. But I could be wrong. Anyway, that shit happened when I was in 7th or 8th grade. Well my friend, Andrew, hung the Time magazine cover in his locker. It read, "Andrew's wrath. Did it have to be so bad?" I thought that shit was funny.
I feel bad for the people who had their shit destroyed. But not too bad, because they have insurance. If they didn't fork out the dough, then they deserve it. I mean hello, you live in a hurricane zone, this ain't new shit. Buy the insurance. It's a dead issue.
There was something I wanted to get off my chest, but I forget what was weighing so heavily on me. I am 60% positive it had nothing to do with heavy rain and wind gusts. But I got started on it, and you know how it goes.
I am watching this shit on the history channel, partly because PTI isn't on and partly because it's interesting. But none of that shit matter now, because what this show has taught me has me thinking of some serious shit. See there is a sniper rifle hybrid grenade launcher. This piece has a night vision scope too. Now I wonder, who is so bad ass that a sniper bullet won't do the trick? If I had to guess...Joe Pesci.

there can be only none.

First day of school kids. Your teacher has his can of Copenhagen, his abundance of practical yet abstract life advice, a bad haircut and all of your mom's phone numbers. It seems he forgot the Harvard Comma though. He also likes to start his lesson plan with sentence fragments, while we are handing out grammar lessons. While your teacher is permanent, he is only temporarily here, in the long and short-term.
The teacher will be here for some time, and then he will be gone. The Yossarian will give you your syllabus, handouts, lecture notes and all pertinent reading materials. But he must eventually leave for a period of 24 weeks. Please do not ask why as, the Yossarian does not like to explain that after graduate school he decided to go into the Army. He hates explaining that basic is nine weeks and OCS is 13 weeks. Then he is off to Intel training, where he is of the impression that he may have some free time. Thus, the 24 weeks. However, if free time isn't had during Intel school, then you'll have the sub for another 9 or so weeks.
So the introduction period is over, we met, exchanged pleasantries and have a nice strong foundation upon which we can build a trusting and mutually beneficial relationship. But just in case you were scheming ways to off me, say with a pillow sack, some doorknobs, a hooker, Windex, novelty Expo bobble heads and a length of rope. Allow me to debunk your plans, for I am your teacher, Yossarian, and the Yossarian lives.
I need to figure out this whole thing, how to set up links, pictures and the like. But once I do...I suggest you buy some cigarettes, because shit will be orgasmic. Or you know, buy whatever you like to do after running a batch.
But until then, and after, you are expected to attend class everyday. Even if I am not here, you just sit there and read the paper. The five-minute rule was stupid on Saved by the Bell, and is not acceptable in my classroom.
I run my classroom like a prison, and anything stupid you do, you get a night in the box. I say all this to start so we don't have a communication failure in the future. Have a good evening kids. I am going to try to figure this stuff out.