Saturday, April 30, 2011

Supersize me vs. Fat Head

Oh my gosh, man.

Note: => This poster lies to you. Not even remotely funny. The guy's a deusch.

I just watched both "Fat Head" And "Supersize me".
For those who weren't aware, Fat Head is an intelligent and fact filled rebuttal of Supersize Me. It isn't trying to defend corporate CEO's or say that eating habits don't matter. Rather the opposite. But it just gives real data.

I decided to give both of them a fair trial, since I didn't want to only see half the story. But halfway through Supersize Me I got REALLY sick of the crap, and started writing down my random reactions. Here they are.

- 13.39$ ? For real? McDonald's is not an expensive place. What did you get, like 2 Big Mac combos and a shake? I wouldn't eat that much, and trust me, I can eat.- Uh, you puked because you ate a buttload of food, not because of what it was. Irrelevant to the experiment.
- Holy Crap, rude much? "What's the matter with you, Fat pig?" You can't be rude like that in a serious documentary.
- I know we all joke about that stuff, but a joke about punching your kid in the face for wanting fast food is not funny when it's in a supposedly very serious documentary.
- I like the fat-bottom girls song. I am sad that it was abused.
- No real info. Show me the numbers. I don't care about "my dad sold ice cream, and he died of heart attack". What's that gotta do with anything?
- 1 out of 4 is not the same number as 60%. Just FYI.
- I don't buy products from guys who act like deuschebags. The same rule applies to documentaries. Stop being a butt.
- You wanna be healthy? Get offa yo butt. Stop laying on the couch all day with your 44 oz coke.
- The son of the guy who invented Baskin Robbins is not a credible witness. What happened to doctors and nutritionists?
- One of your interviewees sounds like Adam West. Maybe he's really like that. I dunno. But it looks like a plant with bad acting skills.
- Random interviewed dude on the street when asked about the dangers of fast food "That's baloney. What he need to do is like hit 45 minutes on the treadmill, work out a little somethin', do some pushups" Amen brother. You just debunked half of this show, and for some reason he still put the clip in.
- "Artistic Genius" is not a valid title either. Not even if this was an art documentary, because art genius is subjective, but it ain't. It's a freakin heath and diet documentary. I don't care what Ron English, artistic genius says about anything.
- Your advertisement guru makes it sound like the watching of the commercials is what makes the kids fat. The parents have no control over their kid eating fast food, because the kid is so inundated. "It's not a fair fight". Uh... word to the wise. There's a little word all good parents know. "No".
- His health advisor kept saying, Dude! You're eating 5k calories a day. You don't need that much. Smaller meals, idiot. He kept not listening. And he's sitting there complaining about not feeling good, and gaining 10 pounds a week. Moron.
-I am not an idiot, and I don't need to be pandered to as such.
- The fact that the company who does the school lunches is the same that feeds a lot of prisons is completely irrelevant.
- Saying something in a derogatory voice doesn't make it any more factual.
- Texas has more "fat" cities in America than any other state because Texas is a freaking bigger state, genius. Only Alaska is bigger, and there aren't so many cities in Alaska.
- "Only one state requires mandatory Phys ed classes in k through 12, Illinois." That is not even close to a valid statement. Virginia requires k-10. It's like he's saying that anything less than k - 12 is the same as not requiring it at all. WTC?
- The entire conversation between him and his girlfriend about why he isn't vegan when she wants him to be is so irrelevant. I'm really getting sick of irrelevant crap in this movie.
-Also, the specifics of your bedroom life - Please NO! What the crap? Why? I DON'T wanna know. Jeez. No really, stop now! Ugh.
- We've just hit the third random montage of Ronald McDonald pics to anti-fat people songs. Irrelevant AND offensive. We've hit a new low.
- Wanting food that our bodies have naturally wanted for thousands of years (meat) is now an addiction?
- His certified health associates just "suddenly closed our doors" halfway through his experiment. Fishy?
-4th montage, but this one was of a dude getting stomach stapled. AGAIN! Not RELEVANT!
- 3 am, feeling way sick and short of breath, what do you do? Call a doctor? Nah. I think I'll get my tripod out and do a film segment.
- Montage #5. I am so done with these.
-The dude just shot footage of himself finishing off his meal, and there are still 2 apple pies and a sundae for his dessert. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was trying really hard to gain weight just to prove his point.
- Showing 12 failed phone calls to get a hold of a certain person from McDonald's corporate, and finally having her tell him that she doesn't have an answer... well, it's unfortunate and all, but what was the question?
- We don't need shots of you in your American flag speedo.
- It's over! Hallelujah. What a giant waste of my life.

There are many, many, many extremely valid points that Fat Head talks about which debunk the somewhat shoddy propaganda that Supersize Me is enforcing. There are too many to add here, but I'll give you an example or two.

Trying to say that people would actually eat healthy foods if they were offered at McDonalds. Um, yeah right. People go there for the fries. Even if Micky D's carried every veggie ever discovered, people would still go there.... for the fries.

Obesity itself didn't just "suddenly double". The scientific scale with which obesity is measured was suddenly changed, therefore moving a huge number of people into the obese range, that weren't there before.

There are loads of other examples, but he says them better than I do. Basically, go watch Fat Head. Seriously, I feel like it's a really good way to not only understand the myths that are flying around, but to legitimately make you aware of good eating. Do it.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Game Day #2

Random query for the day: Pick a classic rock band that I never properly appreciated before.

There are also a lot of these. I've never been very up to date with pop culture. For example, I knew who Michael Jackson was (obviously) but I never really listened to any of his songs until about a year and a half ago.

The same goes for many other bands. I sort of knew who they were, but that was the extent. And there are many that I now very much enjoy. But one I have chosen for my picture of the day is one that I'm legitimately sad that I missed out on all those years. I have a very, very difficult time picking favorites of things, but I think I do have a favorite rock song. I've never yet skipped it on the shuffle, and I never fail to enjoy it. I could listen to it on repeat.

It is by this classic rock band.

Conveniently, this is also playing on my pod right now. The Show Must Go On.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Game Day #1

I've decided to play a game. A game in which there aren't really any rules. Basically, I pick a random question and answer it with a picture. Today's utterly random question is this: If I was making a movie, and I could pick any debonair famous man to be the star, who would I pick?

It was a somewhat difficult choice, because there are many good options. Richard Armitage. Ewan McGregor. Hugh Jackman. James McAvoy. (yeah, most of the candidates have lovely accents, which helps significantly).

Some days it might be swayed by my weakness for singing voices. In which case either Ewan or James Marsden might win.

Some days in might have something to do with biceps, in which case Hugh Jackman is a dead cert.

In terms of adorable smiles, Richard has very little competition.

Like I said, it depends on the day, and what we're looking for. But today, if I was making a movie, I would cast: *drumroll* Gerard.

Friday, April 22, 2011

On me

This is only a very short example, but I wanted to share it. I have the randomest conversations with people over IM. And if you ever need to know about my personality, these conversations will tell you.

SRA: howdy

Geri: hello

SRA: sup

Geri: not much

Geri: how are you

SRA: bueno

SRA: just sailing my pirate ship around the caribbean smuggling goods into ports

SRA: you know

SRA: the usual

Geri: you get wifi there?

SRA: oh yeah

SRA: pirates have special plans

SRA: you cant get service like that from any old company though

Geri: internet arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr us

Like I said, an extremely short example. But it gets the job done.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Platypus Gardens

There's a lot of stuff that people think I'm kidding about. And I understand why. Most people who say these things are kidding, even if they don't know it. For example:

"I don't care about what people think."

If that was honestly and really true, they wouldn't care about whether they are wearing fall colors in December. Or whether I wore my Dr. Seuss hat whilst walking down the sidewalk. Or be too embarrassed to wear Harry Potter robes to the midnight premiere.

The honest truth is that 90% of people who say those words are total hypocrites. Because theydo care. Not to the same extent as vacant, shallow supermodels, perhaps. But they care enough to be embarrassed at talking in weird accents during work. They care enough to be up to date with the latest music, fashion, and hollywood gossip. They care enough to eyeball me with *that* look when I pull out my lightsaber.

Another example:

"I don't need the ring or the one-knee approach. It only matters whether he loves me."

Lots of girls say this. Lots of girls are lying.

Whether they realize it or not, most girls do care. They might not care whether it's a cracker-jack ring or a 10,000 dollar rock, but they still want a ring. They don't need a grandiose proposal escapade, but they still want a proposal.

The fact is that a large majority of the human population has deluded itself into thinking that they are extraordinary, out of the norm, so unique that it's never been seen before... blah-de-blah-de-blah. When in reality, every single one of them is so mainstream that it blows the mind.

This isn't necessarily bad. After all, mainstream wouldn't be mainstream if most people didn't follow it. I do find it random that such a high percentage of humans can like the same things, so much so that a mainstream exists at all. But such is life.

And everyone IS unique in different ways. Everyone is special. But the fact concretely remains that most of them still fall into general trends.

And that is why people don't believe a lot of what I say. And as I mentioned, I totally understand.

Before I continue with my point, I would like to add that:

1) Yes, I, too, have things in which I care about the opinions of others. I wish I didn't. It would be incredible to be totally free of that. But even I am not. I don't wear my Dr. Seuss hats down the sidewalk, because I just can't handle the attention. But someday I will overcome the odds.

However, I legitimately don't care what you think about my lightsabers, plastic swords, or wands. I will be in costume at the HP premiere, come wind or rain, or black of night. I think being a nerd is way more fun than being popular, and that's the honest truth.

2) Yes, I do want a ring. And I absolutely require an official proposal. It doesn't have to be a production. But it must be official. Somewhere in the conversation the words (or their close synonyms) "will you" and "marry me" must be present.

However, I am not picky on the rest of the proposal, other than if the proposal happens on the big screen at a football game, he's earned himself a guaranteed "not on your life". It doesn't even have to be on one knee. It doesn't have to involve months of planning. It just has to be. Also, I really don't like most engagement rings. They are just so... boring. People frequently show me their ring and ask how I like it. I never know what to say. They are all the same level of boring to me. I honestly, and non-delusionally don't want diamonds. Or a fancy schmancy style.

I suppose that actually makes me more demanding than other girls. But it's cheaper, and at least I'm fully aware of my real opinions.


Absolutely not:


No way, Jose:

Heck yes!:

In the name of all that is holy, please no:

Immediate proposal acceptance:

Well, all that was fun. But it wasn't the point of this post. The point was that, because of all this pretense, people don't believe me either, when it comes to things I say.

As I freely admitted, I am not an exception to some of the mainstream desires. But I know where I stand, and don't pretend otherwise. Now, on with the show.

There was a specific thing about which I started this post. And now I can't remember it. So instead, I compile a list of things that are real. I don't say them to pretend like I'm all good, or all unique. I say them because they actually are true about me, whether or not you think I'm lying.

  • I still play with legos.
  • Lightsabers too. No joke.
  • I really will be in costume at the HP premiere.
  • I wear a pirate hat sometimes as my thinking cap.
  • I have a machete at the foot of my bed.
  • I'm not blackmailable. Bad pictures of me are unfortunate, but such is life. Goofy pictures of me are funny. I'll post them myself. No need to do it for me.
  • I sleep with efalump.
  • Sometimes there are goblins with long arms and pointy fingers that lurk under my bed.
  • I see the world in the same way that Mr. Barrie does in Finding Neverland. The other day there was a dragon perched on my roof, ready with his saddle to take me to Wendy's.
  • I am a bad dancer. And it is one of the things that I get embarrassed about far too easily.
  • I need a jedi robe. My closet is barren without one.
  • I had a pedicure. And it wasn't a big deal. I probably won't get one again unless someone else buys it.
  • I don't know how to properly apply mascara.
  • I own a keychain size nerf gun. With darts.
  • I have sock puppets. And they are awesome.
  • Salads make me feel hungrier. Bring on the meat.
  • Razor scooters are fun.
  • Book characters are real.
  • As a child, my biggest supernatural fear was vampires. Why? Opposable thumbs.
  • I have sailboat sheets.
  • I really wish I could remember the original thing I planned to talk about.
  • One of my secret ambitions is to be as smart as Sherlock Holmes.
  • I like sculpture.
  • I plan to watch Sound of Music on VHS in the near future.
  • I don't see the point of not liking certain music anymore for the sole reason that it's no longer popular.
  • This is sounding a lot like my "things people think I should be embarrassed about" post.
  • I have 2 blogs.
  • I like white chocolate.
  • I have a real longbow and arrows.
  • I strongly desire for my future husband to be able to sing beautifully. And thus to serenade me.
  • I still don't remember what the original thing was, so I'm gonna stop now. Good bye.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Contest. Sort of.

I was bored. And the writing of random stories specifically for a blog post was actually rather fun. Also, they get more comments.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I wrote a post already today. But seriously, what else is there to do with my time? I write. And I make wands. That’s literally it. Well, okay, I watch a LOT of netflix too. A LOT. And it’s sad.

I guess the point is that you should be proud of me for spending my time in a creative manner, rather than melting my brain.

But here’s the thing. The stories are always better when I get elements of them from other people or places. Like the spider one I wrote. It stemmed from randomly reading wikipedia articles and coming across the picture of a jumping spider. Or the space one I just did. That was based on Simkins’s idea.

I can write stories on my own, but it makes me feel like less of a hermit when we come up with things together. So let’s make this interactive.

The first person to comment gets to pick a name and a few attributes for the main character.

The second person to comment gets to pick the genre.

The third person gets to choose a plot element which must be included somehow. (Such as a car crash, or a flying DeLorean, though obviously much more interesting and original.)
Any commenter after that can add whatever random details they so desire. Within reason. And they will be included at my discretion. Meaning that if the 4th comment happens three weeks later, obviously it’s not going to work out so well.

Ready. Set. CREATE.

Library people in my dream

Once again it was one of those situations where I forgot that I had an interesting dream the instant I woke up, and then an hour later suddenly remembered parts of it. It would be nice if I could remember the whole thing sometimes. It makes the dreams make more sense, and also better illustrates their weirdity.

Yes, I said weirdity.

Anyway, my dream last night had a bunch of people from the library in it. Some of them in kind of an unusual way. Don't get after me for it. It was my subconscious, alright?

Like I said, I don't remember very much. The first thing I recall is driving down the road and seeing a sign for a building for rent. It was in a shopping center that was almost entirely shut down except for a Smith's where a Macey's used to be. Oddly enough the shutting down of this Macey's was in a dream several months ago. Same shopping center.

For some reason, I was suddenly struck with a desire to turn my etsy shop into a real shop. You know, a wand and HP paraphernalia shop to be called 9 3/4.
I didn't think I'd be able to afford the rent, since I work min. wage and everything, but I decided to check it anyway. It turned out that the building was more like a house than a strip mall shop. I could live in most of it and sell the goods from the front. It was really super nice inside, with new soft carpet and everything, and it was only 94$ a month.

94$ a month! Only in my dreams, unfortunately.

I was so excited about the cheapness of the price that my random desire to create an HP store blossomed in front of my eyes, and I immediately started filling out the forms. I wrote down all my info, what I wanted to turn the store into, and started planning out exactly what it would look like.

Then the owner took me into a separate room and made me drill some random claw shaped tube into the wall. That was a little creepy. The part here becomes vague, but the next thing I remember is that I discovered what the tube was for. For drinking my blood. That's why the rent was so cheap. Because it was a cover for this guy to come and slurp up some of my blood when he got the rent check every month. He was apparently a very famous wanted man, but I don't remember what he told me his name was.

I didn't let him find out that I had discovered him, but I ripped out the page where I had written all my contact info, and stuffed it in my shirt before saying that I would think about the offer, and let him know. Then I sprinted outside. While I was putting my stuff in the back seat of the car, the other side door randomly opened and shut. I looked to make sure there was no person there, but it still creeped me out.

I locked the doors and started rolling away before I even started the car, because I was so freaked out. To my horror, though, as soon as I tried starting the car, it wouldn't. So I'm rolling down the highway with no power to go, and no power to stop. (It seems that my brakes could slow me down a little, but not very much, as they got their power from the engine as well. *shrug*)

So I'm slamming the brakes hard, trying to make them work faster, but it isn't fast enough. I barrel through a fence, around some hydrants, and through another parking lot.

Here is another vague part. * transitional visual effects*

Now it is night. I'm driving to this large house in a big truck. I don't remember what the truck was for, but my sister was following in one that was just like it, but pink. There was a special truck entrance in the side yard. A patch of the grass descended into the basement, where we could park underground.

We kept knocking on the door to get the goods we were to deliver, and I kept playing with the switch that raised and lowered the grass section. Eventually, somehow that I don't remember, we discovered the reason that no one was letting us in is because there was a murder going on.

We broke in and searched around the house, and found a Bones style murder victim in the basement. We chased the bad guy around, but he got away. So we went upstairs, and there was Julie Andrews sitting there. Only it was like in a movie, so her name wasn't Julie. She was playing the grandma of one of the girls who got killed.

As if I were the narrator, I saw Julie head for the fridge to get us a snack. I saw the light on in the fridge before she got there, and I knew what she would see before she opened it. There she was, her mostly decomposed granddaughter sitting in the fridge with a wad of money in her back pocket that I was tempted to snatch, but didn't, since it was soaked in body fluid. Julie fainted. And I looked out the window and realized that Ezra (from the library) was the next intended victim.

He and Mandy were married and living in the next house over. (Like I said, my subconscious, okay? *shrug*) We were in the upper window and we saw him come out of the house and go into the barn. We knew the killer was in there, and we sprinted down to save him, but knew we'd be too late.

Luckily for Ezra, David was already in the barn. And the killer had him hostage. (I'm almost certain he was the same one from before who tried to rent me the house, because of the claw on his finger that he was holding to David.)We ran in, whacked the bad guy on the head just as he was about to rip out David's throat, and saved him just in the nick of time. We were shocked to find David instead of Ezra, and we had to make sure Ezra and Mandy were safe, so we ran out to look for them in the house.

We looked up at the house, and it was all sorts of creepy and stuff. We asked a neighbor if he had seen Ezra, but no one had.

That's where I woke up. We never did find out if Ezra or Mandy were safe, and David had to recover from a near decapitation. But at least one of the bad guys was unconscious in the barn.

Like I said, quite random, and would have been a LOT awesomer if I actually remembered all the details. Also creepier, and weirder. So yeah, that's my dream from last night. Or most of it anyway.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Outfit a day #3: Gangsta

I have so much amazing fashion sense that I can pull off anything. This installment is on how to be totally gangsta. There's no one who can teach this one better than me.

The first thing you have to know about the gangsta look is this: Baggy is everything.

When choosing your outfit, you want a pant with plenty of room. If you're not sure if it's roomy enough, a good test is the "Run for your life" trial. Sprint down the sidewalk as though a gang member is chasing you. If you and your pants make it to the corner at the same time, they're too small.

Strike a pose. You've got to move in your clothes. You have to look bad and fashionable at the same time. Somehow. Make sure that, no matter what awkward sign you make, your shirt will hang off of you, disguising any body shape or concealed weaponry.

Thirdly, and probably most importantly, sport your colors. As I'm sure you've noticed, this ensemble is a yellow and dark blue theme, with highlights of red and green.

You can see here both the bagginess of the pant leg and the dark blue with yellow highlighting it. You can also see the footwear, or lack thereof. As mentioned in the first Outfit post, barefoot is the height of in. Just because you're gangsta doesn't mean that you shouldn't make a dramatic statement.

The shirt is also important. Quidditch, people. Nothing, and I really mean nothing, says gangsta like sporting your quidditch pride. In this particular case, the colors of blue and yellow were chosen specifically in support of Ravenclaw house.

Any fashion discussion would be incomplete without a segment on accessories. There are two particular accessories that no gangsta can be without.

First, the hat. Not forward, and not backward. Not even sideways. 67 degrees. This is halfway between backwards and sideways. The angle is crucial. Any true gangsta can spot a wannabe from the hat angle.

Second, the gun. learn to sport it just right. I really don't think I can say more.

Once again we come to the end of another fashion lesson. Just follow the tips and you can't go wrong.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Mutant Space People: Finale


Recently promoted Lieutenant Commander Richard Simkins stood at attention in front of the members of Chief Command. He had never been so nervous. Well, except for the time when the lives of an entire space cruiser depended on his random visions. But aside from that, this was one of the most terrifying experiences of his life.

Chief Command was comprised entirely of men who had risen to the rank of Fleet Admiral. Most of them were fairly old, and all of them intimidating. Simkins briefly thought that this place would perfectly suit Fleet Admiral Carson when the time came.

He turned his attention back to the council as they read, for the dozenth time, a list of his qualifications before decorating him. He was grateful that his vision had saved everyone, but the parade was a little much, and the medals were just plain overkill. But, he supposed, it was better than ‘dead end map boy’.

“Now, Lieutenant Commander, I should like to see you privately for a moment, if you don’t mind.” The Head Councilman on Chief Command stood and beckoned toward an empty room.

Simkins took a moment to regain control of his feet, and then followed the old Admiral. They entered a small room with a few chairs and a hologram projector. Simkins stayed at attention as the councilman closed the door behind them.

“Oh, for crying out loud, sit boy. You’ve had enough parading around for one day, I’d wager.”

“Thank you, sir.” Simkins replied, taking the nearest chair. Though he sat, he wasn’t very relaxed. What in the universe could the head councilman need from him?

“Now, we’ll get to the point. We’ve been making a lot of noise about your great rescue, but I don’t imagine that anyone has bothered to explain anything to you.”

“No, sir.” Simkins answered, now somewhat curious.

“It hasn’t happened in a hundred years, at least, but I think I can explain these visions of yours.”

“Really, sir?”

“Oh, I think so. You have the empathy talent, I understand.”


“Good, good. Well, according to military record, there was once a young man, not unlike yourself, who had this same talent. Many do, in fact. It’s not so uncommon. But this particular young man had it to an exceptionally high level. So high that some thought of categorizing it in a completely separate area. An area known as “scrying”. Are you familiar with this term?”

“No, sir.”

“I thought not. Most aren’t. The scrying ability is exceedingly rare. As I said, more than a hundred years have passed since it was seen last. With empathy you can get to the truth of things. Feel intentions, sense lines of influence, etc. Scrying is merely another level. A level in which your sense of sight becomes involved. When you saw the scythe ship, you saw what the scanners could not. This also explains your uncanny knack for mapping. Am I making sense?”

“I think so, sir. So I can reach out with my mind and see things?”


“Just anything, or do I have to be looking for it?”

“That is what we have yet to determine. Our last subject of study was a century ago. And I should be grateful if you would consent to a few tests every so often, simply for scientific advancement and record.”

“Of course, sir. I have one question, though. Why did it take this long to show up? The scrying, I mean. I’ve been in the service for almost seven years now, since I was a cadet.”

“Potential, boy. Most people have a lot more of it than they ever reach. Dead end jobs are the most common killer of potential. Sometimes you just need a catalyst. You reach a critical moment. You have a great deal of potential. A great deal. I think you reached that point where you just couldn’t contain it any longer. It was a case of blooming or dying. And fortunately for all of us, you bloomed.”

“But, sir, I wasn’t much without my new talent. No one takes empathy seriously. I was pretty well stuck where I was. Without this scrying thing, I don’t have any potential at all. Not like you and the other council members.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment.” The old Admiral muttered as he stood to leave the room.

“Sir?” Simkins asked, just before the councilman left. “What’s your talent?”

“Empathy.” He said with a smirk.

Mutant Space People: Part 3

This isn't my own picture. I wish. But I really liked it, so I added it anyway.

Part 3:

“Battle stations! There’s only one thing that can stop that ship! Charge the reactors! We’ve only got one shot at this!”

Simkins swallowed hard and turned toward his mapping station. He’d never even been assigned a real battle station. He was almost glad, though. When facing a scythe ship, he was just as helpless as any of them.

“Simkins! Where do you think you’re going?” The Fleet Admiral had arrived on the bridge. Just the sound of his voice made Simkins cringe.

“To my station, sir?”

“Get over here! Captain Flauke has informed me that you knew about this scythe ship. That you charted it even when the scanners read nothing. Tell me everything you know, Lieutenant, and I warn you that if your explanation isn’t satisfactory, you’ll be an excellent candidate for court martial!”

In a wavering voice, Simkins recalled the events of the last several hours, starting with the vision of Ensign Baxter on the robot command ship. He tried to include every detail, whether it seemed to matter or not, in the hopes that Fleet Admiral Carson would believe that he was telling the truth.

“You charted a ship based on a vision? A hallucination?”


“Speak up, Simkins! We haven’t got all day!”

“Yes sir. I don’t understand what these visions are, or where they come from, but I thought it better to chart it and be wrong, than to ignore it and be right." he paused to take a breath, and then hastily added, "Sir.”

“I suppose that is sound logic.” Carson growled, and Simkins was surprised to hear anything so agreeable come from the Fleet Admiral. “But I just don’t understand these visions. What are they? Could they be related to your talent?”

“I’m not sure, sir. Until now, the only thing I’ve ever been able to do is sort of assess the aura of something. The truthfulness of a story or the warning I get in a potentially dangerous situation. Just like how I mentioned that the robot army is being controlled by a human influence, and not android intelligence.”

“And you’re getting these warnings now, I presume.”

“Off the scale sir.” Simkins confirmed, and he wiped some sweat from his face. In fact, the warnings he was getting were so strong that he was quickly losing the ability to keep his knees from buckling.

“Well, you were right about the scythe ship. Somehow they were hiding it from us. A new technology, perhaps. And if you were right about that, it’s possible that you were right about... where is he? Where is Ensign Baxter?!”

They looked around, but there was no sign of the teleporting officer. As if in answer to the question, the screen suddenly transformed into Baxter’s face. He was smiling an evil grin that perfectly matched the danger warning Simkins felt from him earlier.

“It’s coming from the scythe ship, sir.” The communications officer announced.

“The back stabbing... Baxter! I’ll see you court martialed!”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Even his voice had slipped into an evil sounding sneer. “After all, you’ll be disintegrated. Only I shall escape, thanks to my special powers. I’ll bring back the tragic news, be hailed as a hero, and do it all over again, until I rule the galaxy. Good bye.”

His face disappeared from the screen, and once again they saw the scythe ship with its cannons aimed right for the bridge.

“Reactors are primed sir!” Shouted the melded tech officer.

“Excellent. Fire! We don’t have a second to lose!”

“WAIT!” Simkins shouted, silencing the entire bridge. He didn’t know what made him do it.

“This had BETTER be GOOD Lieutenant!” Carson screamed, face turning purple.

In a moment, Simkins was looking down at the fleet, just as he had before. He looked for the scythe ship, but it wasn’t where it should have been. The reactor cannon was aimed at a completely empty patch of space. Frantically Simkins searched the area and noticed a shimmer to the far left. There it was.

He was back on the bridge, with Carson about to explode.

“They’re sending a false message to the scanners, sir!” He explained as he dashed to his mapping station. “We couldn’t pick up the ship before, and we still can’t. If we fire, we’ll hit nothing, and then we’ll be helpless. But I know where it is.”

“If you’re wrong, Lieutenant...” Carson threatened.

“I know, sir. But you’ll just have to trust me. I know where it is.” He finished adjusting the coordinates. “Fire now!”

“I give the orders around here!” Carson growled. “FIRE! NOW, YOU MORONS!”

The reactor cannon fired, causing everyone on the ship to stumble with the vibrations. Simkins watched the screen closely. To everyone on board, it looked as though their one weapon had just sailed right past the threatening ship. Simkins’ stomach turned over, and he crossed his fingers.

Three seconds later, there was a blinding flash. The screen lost sight of the original scythe ship and suddenly picked up a second one, far to the left, which was now spouting orange and green flame. With an explosion that rocked the entire ship, the threat was gone. Completely disintegrated except for the pitiful form of Baxter, who had appeared on the bridge.

“Please, sir! They made me! They made me! Don’t hurt me, sir! I can explain everything!”

“Save it for the trial, Baxter! Mandy-and-Paul, get this scum to the brig! And you, Simkins..,” Simkins gulped, expecting a reprimand. “As for you, congratulations, Lieutenant. Or should I say Lieutenant Commander. Job well done!”

A cheer erupted from the crew, and Simkins stood there, awestruck. For the first time in his life, he had done something truly great. For the first time, things were just how he had always hoped. He allowed himself a small smile, and said weakly. “Thank you sir.”

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Mutant Space People: Part 2

Evil Ninja Robot with Space Cannon

Part 2:

“Red Alert! All Hands on deck!”

For the second time that night, Lieutenant Simkins was startled awake. Blearily he groped for his uniform jacket and gun belt. Moments later he was sprinting down the corridors to the bridge, stumbling over his untied shoes. Red alerts didn’t allow time to dress properly.

Unsurprisingly, Ensign Baxter was there ahead of him, looking ready for parade. Even his boots were polished. Baxter looked smug. Simkins wanted to smack the grin off of his face, but allowed his sense of rank and decorum to stifle the urge.
“Gee, Ricky. As my senior officer, shouldn’t you be showing me a better example? Unbuttoned jacket, crooked gun belt... what would the admiral say?”

“Peace, Georgey. Don’t want to end up on astropod duty.”

Baxter was momentarily taken aback, and Simkins walked away before the ensign recovered his wits. He was about to approach the captain when he became dizzy. He grabbed the nearest chair to support himself, and was suddenly looking down on the bridge, as though he were on the ceiling. He saw Baxter making a rude gesture, and then he was just as suddenly back in his own body.
He spun around to look at Baxter, who was standing there completely innocently. Simkins shook his head and continued on his way. What was wrong with him? Why did he keep having these strange visions, and why did they keep involving George Baxter?

“Simkins! I need you at your station. We’ve just received a warning shot from the robot armada. You’ve got to check the positions of their ships before we engage.”

“Aye sir.”

Of course he wouldn’t be part of the battle. He was the map boy. Sure he was the best they had at charting, but it’s not like it was a crucial job. Especially when they were about to face the full force of the robot fleet. There were so many other things he could do. Things, he noted, that would be much more likely to earn him a promotion.

He looked around the bridge. Several officers had shifted into sturdier forms, in preparation for battle. One junior lieutenant had the unusual talent of electrical empathy. He had already melded to the central computer system, ready to read power levels and give damage reports with accuracy and speed that the computers would never match.

Baxter was standing near the captain with his usual smirk. Although there was outwardly nothing amiss, Simkins suddenly felt a surge of warning and danger. He had no idea what it meant. His empathy powers, until now, had been all but useless on humans. Even if he understood the warning, though, none of the commanding officers would listen. “I just have a feeling” never worked before, and it certainly wouldn’t work now, when it involved their pet crew member.

Shaking it off, he turned away and sat himself at his mapping station. One by one he scanned the area, made some calculations, and plotted each enemy ship on the star chart. None of them had moved at all in the last month, and he was unsurprised to find that they still had not.

As he charted, he noticed an odd empty space in the robot formation. He scanned several times, just to make sure, but nothing showed. It was an unusual move, and his empathy power kicked in again, warning him that something was going on. But what? What good was a talent that didn’t even explain itself?

In frustration, he let his head fall to the desk with a thud. He was tired of everything. Of map duty. Of having a useless talent. Of being passed over time and again for promotions. He wished that the battle would just start. At least it would be something different in his routine.

The lieutenant tried to get back to his work, but it was so mindless that he ended up just staring at the half-formed chart. He focused his eyes on the empty space and wished for some sort of destructive power. Laser vision, maybe, or spontaneous combustion. Anything that would destroy that stupid unexplained hole.

For the third time in a few hours, Simkins was jerked into a strange vision. He wouldn’t mind so much if he just knew what was going on, but he didn’t have the faintest clue. This time the vision was not of a person or a place that he could recognize. In fact, it just looked like a blank patch of outer space. He squinted at the area, trying to see better, and suddenly it zoomed in.

He now knew exactly what he was looking at: The robot armada. The formation looked exactly like it had for the past month. Or almost exactly. There was something vaguely different about it. Something that lurked in the back of his mind.

The blank space! It wasn’t blank. And that wasn’t the worst part. It was filled in the worst possible way. There, in the midst of an already powerful fleet, was a scythe ship. Simkins gulped, and the vision was gone. He was back at his station, staring at the fleet maps. He checked the scanners again, adjusting them to specifically search for hidden ships, but nothing appeared.

What in the universe was going on? Was he seeing the future? Was he just day dreaming in his boredom? Was he hallucinating as the result of an odd sickness? None of the explanations seemed to be right, and no matter what he told himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all in big trouble. He knew enough about his own talent to recognize that much as fact and not imagination.

“Simkins! The charts!” The captain shouted, sounding remarkably like Fleet Admiral Carson.

Quickly he penciled in the scythe ship, knowing that it would be better to be prepared and be wrong, than to brush it off and be right. He ran the chart over to the captain, trying to decide how to explain his newest addition.
“Scythe ship, sir!” He blurted.


“This gap in the formation, sir. It’s hiding, or will hide, or something, anyway, they have a scythe ship.”

“Make sense, Lieutenant. Are you telling me that the scanners picked up a new ship?”

“Well, no. But–”

“The scanners didn’t find it, and the ship detected no movement?”

“Right, sir, but– ”

“Do you take me for a moron?! I want facts, Lieutenant, not hunches.”

“But Sir–”

“Mandy-and-Paul! Get over here.”

“Aye, sir.” Rang the stereo voice.

“Take Simkins to the war room. He needs a time out. Watch him and don’t let him interfere with battle preparations.”

Simkins slouched and followed the double crewman to the door.

“Maybe you should “peace” Ricky. Don’t want astropod duty.” Baxter mocked.

Simkins ignored him. Something very odd was going on here, and he was the only one who knew about it. He, who the rest of the crew deemed useless and full of fairy tales. He trudged after Mandy-and-Paul, wondering if he really was sick. Or crazy.

At least the captain had summoned Mandy-and-Paul for the job of effectively imprisoning him. Most of the crew was slightly wary of the two-headed oddity. Some were even afraid. Whether it was his natural ability to sense intention, or because he, too, was something of an outcast, Simkins felt completely comfortable around the melded twins, though he never did ask how it had happened. At any rate, they usually gave great advice.

“Mandy-and-Paul, I just don’t know what the trouble is.” He complained after explaining the situation to the double crewman. “I know for sure it isn’t just a dream. There’s something real about it. Am I seeing the future or something?”

“You know that is impossible.” Rang the double voice. “The future is too changing, too fluid to catch glimpses of it, no matter the talent of the one.”

“Yeah, I know. But what else could it be? I mean, it isn’t my talent, I don’t think. All I can do with that is just “feel things”. And the first vision couldn’t have really happened anyway, right? Baxter couldn’t have been on a robot ship.”

“Baxter does have the ability to teleport.” Mandy-and-Paul remarked.

“Do you guys think he really was there?”

“We can hope not, as that would mean terrible things for our fleet. But it is not impossible.”

“If he was, that would mean he was a traitor. Maybe even one of the leaders behind this whole war. I don’t like him at all, but why would he do that? As if he isn’t progressing fast enough where he is.”

“Greed knows no limits, Richard. For such a person, even the rank of fleet admiral would never be enough.”

Simkins was about to reply when the loudspeaker blared out, “You two... or three... or whatever... All of you, get to the bridge ASAP!”

They ran down the corridors at full sprint. Mandy-and-Paul was faster, courtesy of three legs, and burst through the doors first. Simkins crashed through after, and ran right into the suddenly still back of the twins. Straightening his jacket, he looked around to see what had made them stop short.

There, on the view screen, was an enormous scythe ship, with its cannons pointed directly at the bridge.

"Oh, we are in such major trouble."

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Mutant Space People: Part 1

In the following story, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely deliberate.

As several of the characters in the following story are based on real people, I feel the need to point out that, as well as I might know them, I can't be inside their heads as in depthly as a character of my own creation. Therefore some decisions, actions, or traits have been left up to creative licence, and may or may not reflect what said people would do in real life.

Second Disclaimer: I was planning this as a short story. Meaning like a page long, maybe. But it kind of mutated on its own, and will now be taking up at least two or three posts before it is done. That is all.

Now for the feature presentation.

“Simkins! Get your butt in here now!” The gravelly voice blared through the loudspeaker, startling everyone in the room.

“Yes, Sir!”

“Baxter! You too!”

“Aye, Sir!”

Lieutenant Simkins watched in disgust as Baxter immediately disappeared from his chair. Of course he was the favorite. Being able to respond so immediately gave him major brownie points with Chief Command. So he could teleport. Big deal.

But it was a big deal. Having a teleporting crewman was a huge advantage on any ship. Ensign Baxter had traveled through the ranks faster than anyone had ever done before, and was likely to continue doing so. Simkins sighed and hurriedly gathered up his charts.
Five minutes later, he entered the onboard war room, dropping a rolled star chart as he did so. Fleet Admiral Carson groaned, and smacked his palm to his face in exasperation.
“What part of ‘now’ do you not understand, Lieutenant? What took you so long?”

“I had to walk, sir.” He replied, having great difficulty in controlling his tone. Baxter chuckled.

“When I give you an order, I expect it to be followed without delay. Remember that, Simkins!”

“Aye, Sir.”

“Now, if I may have your attention, let’s look at map number twelve. SIMKINS!”

The lieutenant fumbled through his maps and dropped several before selecting the correct one and inserting it in the hologram projector. Immediately the stars and ships labeled on the paper became three dimensional, filling the middle of the room.

“I’m sure you’ve already noticed that the enemy fleet hasn’t moved for over a month. This is extremely worrying and suspicious. We find ourselves with two options. A) That the virus we planted in the robots’ central system has finally broken the chain of command, or B) That some underhanded plot is afoot. Chief Command is of the opinion that the virus is finally taking effect, and that this war may soon be over.”

Simkins rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He had been telling his superiors for the past year that the robot fleets were not controlled by a robot general. Sure, the robots were sentient. It would be possible to have an android general, but it just wasn’t like that. There was a definite human influence. And what that meant was that, no matter what viruses were spread, the leadership would never be affected.

“But how do you know? You have no evidence.” That’s what they always said in reply. And that was just the problem. If he had mind reading skills, or the ability to teleport, people might take him seriously. Some talent that was quantifiable. Even shape shifting would be better, and that was the most common skill around.

He suffered through the rest of the briefing, during which nothing of importance was said. The truth was that Chief Command didn’t know a thing. They kept spinning the line that the virus would soon disable the fleets, but even those who weren’t computer savvy knew by now that the virus had been useless.

Finally the council ended, and the officers filed out, leaving Simkins alone with the projector. Carefully he removed the charts from the machine and rolled them up systematically. He was good with maps. Better than most. That one thing kept him useful to the fleet commander, so he was determined to do his job well, even if it was a dead end position.

“Clean up duty again?”

Simkins jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to see his roommate standing there with a sly grin on his face.

“Come on, Alex. Can’t you give me a break?”

“Nah, Rick-man. It’s too funny to watch you freak out.”

Simkins groaned. He liked Alex well enough, but he was the closest thing a person got to being a hippy in the 22nd century. Simkins was a sensible, grounded type. The complete opposite of Alex Jersey. He couldn’t complain too much, though. Alex had a way of making people feel better around him, though Simkins suspected some sort of special talent was involved.

When the two arrived back in their quarters, Simkins headed straight for his bed and crashed into it face down. For a few seconds the cool softness of the pillows lifted his mood, but it didn’t last long. Without an activity to take his mind from it, his thoughts turned to the sad state of his career.

“What’s the hype, Rickster? Gimme the download.”

“Like you can’t figure it out on your own. My career is a shambles. My life is a ship in orbit around nothing. Just circling and circling and getting nowhere.”

“You’ve got your talent.”

“Empathy? HA! That’s the lamest part. Being able to feel things? What good is that?”

“Well, you didn’t get to be a Lieutenant for nothing.”

“Maps. That’s all I’m useful for.”

“Nah, Rick my buddy, it’s all silver, man. I mean, maybe you just need to peace, ya know? Just orbit for a while and soon you’ll be angled to blast off again.”

“Um... I have no idea what you just said to me.”

“You need to get with the times Rick-man. That’s the lingo.”

“Mind translating the lingo for me?”

“Ever heard that way old phrase about clouds having silver linings? It’s silver, man. Just means sooner or later you’ll find your silver. Need to peace means relax. You’re trying too hard. I guess all I was trying to say is, maybe you haven’t found your niche yet, but everyone does at different times. You just gotta wait it out.”

“Well, maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. Thanks though. I’m gonna “peace” now, and get some sleep.”

“Spilacious, man. Rocket Dreams.”

Simkins decided not to ask. He just focused on his pillow and fell asleep almost immediately.

Ensign Baxter was making his way along a silent corridor. He was close to the wall with his gun drawn. The wall looked strange. Simkins realized that it belonged to an enemy ship. What was Baxter doing on a robot ship? No missions had been authorized. Especially not during rest hours.

In a flurry of motion, two robotic officers appeared, pointing their weapons at Baxter. His gun was aimed at them in return, but no one fired. Baxter’s mouth moved, but Simkins couldn’t hear any words. The robots lowered their guns, and Baxter lowered his.

Simkins sat up with a start. He had absolutely no idea what he had just witnessed. Baxter on a Robot ship, not getting fired on, of course. But it was extremely odd. He only knew one thing for sure.

“That was definitely not a dream.” He muttered to himself. It was far too real. But, then, what was it?

Monday, April 4, 2011

Things that people seem to think I should be embarrassed about

This is my 100th post! Yay! Well, it is according to my dashboard, though my past posts listing is only at 97. Weird. *shrug*

So, before we get to the actual post, I would like to offer an exciting prize in commemoration. And by exciting I mean fun, but there will be no million dollar sweepstakes involved. I am sorry if this disappoints you.
The prize is as follows:

The first person to comment will be featured in my next post. You will have the option of choosing either

A) The topic of discussion, on which I must reveal my deep, dark secrets and opinions


B) A story featuring the commentee, in which they get to choose the genre and several elements that I must some how form into a coherent plot.

Either choice will be accompanied by original illustrations by me.

  • Comment on the blog, not on the facebook link
  • It must be a real comment. None of this "First comment!" or "Pick me!" nonsense.
  • Your topic of choice cannot involve anything overtly inappropriate.
  • No, I will not divulge my social security number

Here follows today's post: A list of things that, for whatever reason, people seem to think that I should be embarrassed about.

  • Legitimately listening to Abba, Backstreet Boys, and some Disco
  • Making money off of Harry Potter wands
  • Lightsaber fighting with roommates
  • Sleeping on sailboat sheets
  • Owning several Dr. Seuss hats
  • Baby pictures - I was cute! Why should I hate them?
  • Dressing up for the HP premieres
  • Sock puppets
  • Veggie Tales
  • Old songs in general - Just because they aren't popular anymore doesn't mean that I have to stop liking what I like.
  • Videos of me doing weird things - Blackmail doesn't work on me. Sorry.
  • Legos
  • Owning a cloak
  • My lack of fashion sense
  • Getting really into books when I'm reading
  • Finding most makeup and all pedicures to be extraneous and unnecessary
  • Efalump - He's comfy to sleep with. Deal with it.
  • Girls camp pictures
  • Army men
  • Hot wheels
  • Toys in general
  • The label "nerd"
  • My interest in dangerous animals
  • The largeness of my fantasy-esque movie soundtrack list
  • Fraggle rock

Man, there are so many things that I've gotten the standard "I wouldn't tell people that" response to. And I just can't remember them right now. The sadness. But really, if I'm telling you, does it look like I'm embarrassed about it?