I love sports, I have ever since I was a teenager. There is something about friendly competition that speaks to a man’s primal instincts, serves as an outlet for testosterone-fueled aggression. And as a young male, watching athletes dominate gave me something to emulate, something to appreciate. I played everything growing up. Soccer, tee ball, basketball, football, hockey, etc. And when I was in high school, I watched an episode-and-a-half of SportsCenter every morning before school, and stayed up at night to watch games before bed. On Sundays I pored over the USA Today’s stat-filled sports section from the paper. Back in those days, ESPN cared about athletes and humor, before they were gilded into stirring up drama and fan journalism. One of my favorite things was their “This is SportsCenter” campaign ad. Since athletes become almost like heroes to sports fans, this campaign ad creates a surreal world. Professional athletes, celebrities, they visit the SportsCenter studio (portrayed as a regular workplace), and that is where the humor kicks in. The ad campaign is surrealist humor, focused around athletes visiting the studio, and the antics that ensue. The whole reason I’m writing this is to share one of those moments: Gheorghe Muresan, a 7′ 7″ professional basketball player, is visiting the studio one day when he hears a song and gets the urge to dance.


It's my life

This Soviet war poster conveys the message: &q...

This is my life. The world’s all about me.

In between soap operas and gossiping.

Think me not unworldly. I know I am.

I watch the local news and see evils.

Did you know every man is a rapist?

And those who aren’t are serial killers?

And any remaining = suspicious wife.

So believe me when I say I do care.

About the important issues at hand.

Save the rainforests! Protect all the trees!

Drink bottled water and don’t catch disease!

Sustainability, what does that mean?

We’ve got to focus on saving the birds!

And all the wildlife, on land or the sea!

I know why not, but I can feel it here.

Feelings I feel, emotions in my heart.

Peace and love! War never leads to progress.

Just think how it would be if we don’t fight.

If things just stayed the way they’ve always been.

But enough about politics. I’m bored.

Let’s talk about my kids. That’s what you want.

I want to make you smile, cry, and say “aw.”

Isn’t my life so important to yours?

Look at the times I’ve had, now and the past.

Here’s a picture of me: don’t blink too fast!

Now I’ll type some words so you can read it:

Slight obstacles easily overcome.

Isn’t my life like a Lifetime movie?

Like my post, comment that I’m wonderful.

I’ll be gushy and say the same to you.

Ten million views makes me an activist. 😉

New post. Let’s talk about issues at hand.

They affect me and my community.

Local insignificance, just like yours.

But I know you’ll care. The minority.

“Excuse me, I’m a man. Talk politics?”

Sure, just make it quick. Then I’ll come back soon.

“I’ll just repeat what I’ve heard on the news.”

“I think there’s a conspiracy. Who knows?”

“Activism through words, but not action.”

“That is all. Please don’t comment. I don’t care.”

Okay, that’s enough of dry politics.

Stay here. It’s time for gossip politics.

Who’s pregnant, and who’s cheating on their spouse?

Make your decision based on those issues.

The popular vote. It’s just like gossip!

What ‘juicy’ issues will decide our fates?

Who cares when it only affects four years?

Handsome politicians can make me swoon.

Legitimacy earned. I’ll get a shirt.

“Can we talk about sports? I’ve found something.”

“Let me copy and paste the article…”

“…There. Now you know what the news has just said.”

“That’s all from me. You can have your site back.”

“Oh wait. Sorry. Can my son get on quick?”

New Pokemon! I read an article.”

“Can’t wait for mindless fun! Dad, can you buy?”

Okay, now us. Things that are important.

Let’s gossip and stalk a celebrity!

Have you seen him with his hair done just right?

He’s so dreamy. The true value of man.

Metrosexual, that’s so hot! Not gay.

I’m sure he looks like that because of girls.

Not because he likes something different…

Anyways, the perfect man. What’s his worth?

Surely more than men who aren’t on TV.

Let’s scream and obsess! Fifteen once again.

Incompetent in bed, but: fantasy!

My knight in armor. Does he have a brain?

Have you seen his hair? What truly matters.

“Speaking of brains, now it’s time for the nerds.”

“Science, interesting but too in-depth.”

“Fun tidbits mired in details abstract.”

Who cares about the world? Let’s just have fun!

A dictionary for the Internet Generation

aquaintance – a friend who has an old-fashioned attractiveness or charm

aquire – a set of paper recently obtained

aquit – termination of employment following dropped charges; usually preceded by “I’m”

acerage – an exact quantity of land

allmost – very nearly getting everything or the majority

amature – a person who has minimal experience being old

aparent – kin who is obviously a member of the family

calender – the machine that produces time-keeping devices

capital – a city that produces above average wealth

consciencious – a scrupulous person who has trouble determining right from wrong

concensus – a population figure that is agreed upon

critisize – to find fault with a person’s weight or height

defiantly – unequivocally opposed

desparate – fundamentally distinct state of need

flourescent – the emission of light from grain

greatful – appreciative of good things

heirarchy – a ranking system to determine inheritance rights

imitashun – deliberate avoidance of impressions

A picture of a dictionary viewed with a lens o...

iland – a place where some of the internet generation lives, surrounded by water

its – it is

it’s – the possessive form of ‘it’

jellous – anger that a substance contains fruit preserves

kindergarden – a place where children play with flowers

loose – to come to be without resulting from lack of knot-tying skill

loosing – loss suffered because of untied shoelaces

lieing – determining whether or to lay down or tell the truth

masterbation – the expertise of pleasuring oneself

medevil – a period of history when bad things were done

momento – a keepsake that only lasts for a finite amount of time

oficial – cuando alguien esta actualmente un jefe en el ejercito

preform – to try on an outfit before acting in a play

pitcher – a visual representation of a baseball player

planing – outlining tasks and schedules on board an aircraft

playright – a copywrited performance

principal – the primary leader of an academic institution

priviledge – the right to be on a horizontal projection

promiss – a commitment to longing for another person

pronounciation – the ability to speak about persons, places, things or ideas

questionnair – a research instrument consisting of a series of questions about hair removal

quite – completely tranquil

reckonize – to calculate whether a person was previously seen

relevent – an air duct that is related to the matter at hand

restaraunt – a place to eat that is owned by the sister of one’s father or mother

rythem – the regular recurrence of other people dancing

rediculous – the absurdity of colors consisting predominantly of the longest wavelengths

sacrefice – holiness offered to a higher purpose

speach – words spoken about an edible juicy fruit

succede – to formally surrender ambitions or goals

their – the description of another place; the act of other people in a state of being

there – a thing that belongs to other people; the act of other people in a state of being

they’re – a thing that belongs to other people; the description of another place

too – a preposition used to express motion

to – in excess; also

underate – having not eaten enough

welfair – the justification for the provision of a minimal state of wellbeing

withold – to refrain from giving intellectual humor

writting – a formal document in progress

your – description to a person about they’re state of being

you’re – possessive case used as an attributive adjective

The Age of Reason

Veronica was on her way home to her family when she first met Vincent. She had a ring on her finger and a husband at home. He was now a businessman, having snatched up his young wife a number of years ago. He was now well off and able to provide stable financial support for his wife and their two daughters. The first to ravage his beautiful young wife, he was a number of years older than his teenage bride at the time. Had her husband been a man who insisted, he could’ve produced sons, but as a man who acquiesced, he filled his teenage bride with two daughters instead. Such is the case when beauty causes men to falter.


But now is later, and their lovely daughters are now lovely young women with daughters of their own. His once astonishing young wife is now merely amazing for her age. Her face is still beautiful, but proximity reveals wrinkles around the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her smile still lights her face. Her skin is soft, and her shape is smooth. When she takes off her clothes, in lingerie she could warm any man’s loins. But maybe her breasts sag a little, or may they don’t but her skin shows the colored patterns of age. Maybe her buttocks aren’t as firm as they once were, but remember that she’s had two children. Age wears on all of God’s creatures, no matter how blessed they once were. Of course, a man could still enjoy her body, even though a moist crotch would still give way to her now eternally dry passageway. Those gates are closed forever from youth.

But this story is not about Veronica. Our protagonist is Vincent, the one she met not long ago. Fate makes those things happen. Vincent was a war veteran, but not of the retired variety. Vincent was a child soldier during the War, and his enlistment records show he had been stationed on both fronts. War taught Vincent emotions. Some of these most men never experience, and some others experienced to depths unknown. He learned loss, of course, when his best friend didn’t make it through, and then nights of crying, wondering why, just why? The emptiness, the numbness, not being able to feel anything despite the knowledge that there are things to be felt, good or bad, they just wouldn’t register. And joy, much more the same than many think, the adrenaline rushes, accomplishment, survival of the most fit. Then the anger, the rage, “Hulk SMASH!” in not so many words. And the love, the feeling of euphoric orgasm of the soul. And he felt whatever residuals remained, the bitterness, the loneliness of experiences no longer shared, changed excitements, and everything that War does to man, without actually changing who he is.

Vincent wearing the ...

But remember, Vincent is a war veteran. He’s been normalized for what he can, and is a child soldier no more. At the age of fourteen, the War is now behind him, at least chronologically speaking. For all effects, Vincent leads a normal 14-year-old life, with friends and joys and cares. He even met a beautiful girl just recently, named Ashley. She must be 13 or 14 as well, a friend through acquaintances. Ashley caught Vincent the first time they met with eyes like Venus fly traps. Such kind, welcoming eyes, poisoning their prey with a smile. Ashley had a beautifully structured face, with each part carefully calculated to entice. But something else was wrong with Ashley. Something Vincent couldn’t ever hope to overcome. Ashley was mute. It was on learning this that he left. “That’s life,” he said, and walked away, perhaps forever.

Now is when Vincent and Veronica resurface together, but don’t go thinking that was all a setup to create a love story for them. Because remember, Veronica is married. Had someone like Vincent arrived before, then maybe it could have set up another love story. But it is not to be. Fate was not so kind, at least not to ours. So let’s just forget it was even mentioned. What’s passed is past, and what’s past is passed. In fact, just to show it’s not their love story, when Veronica and Vincent met, there were no ‘sparks’ to describe, or ‘connections’ made. He simply looked at her, and she looked at him. Maybe one of them lowered their eyes, but surely nothing more. They were going to the same place, but alas to different destinations. Oh how fate punishes those who don’t deserve it. But this is how their relationship began.

Childhood Home

Time passed, as it often does, and Veronica and Vincent started hanging out. He would go to her house, or less often she to his apartment. There they would sit and just talk about life, each nervous at first, hearts pounding to escape their chests and reveal themselves, at least until they adjusted into being friends. Two people sharing with each other, laughing at the same things, or feeling the same angers and frustrations. They began to hate each others’ enemies, and admire their friends. Moments of silence would allow for the return of heart-pounding nervousness, assuaged by broken silence and a return to laughter, sharing, hoping and dreaming. Until one day when it all stopped.

We all know that conversations with close companions can segue into shared interests, hobbies, and the like. So of course it was only natural for Vincent to progress their relationship to the next stage. And Veronica felt the sane. But this is where the rift began. It started small, with Vincent wanting to watch cartoons at her house. He was excited to share the characters and the stories that resonated with his own life and experiences. But Veronica didn’t understand. So she attempted to bridge the gap, sharing with Vincent all the gossip of the neighborhood, the husbands, wives and families nearby. But Vincent didn’t understand. Now here they had come all this way developing a comforting relationship, and they were already losing commonalities. Soon after, Veronica stopped calling. And Vincent lost his desire to do the same. Time had created irresolvable differences, and therein lies the parable.