Three Lessons Not to Learn in School

School is no place for children. The lessons taught eat away their innocence. The mean-spirited digestive juices remain, growling as they devour any Good that managed to escape the lessons of school. The products of our education system become the supportive tools of a larger system. The only intent of any of these systems is self-preservation without regard to Humans, their emotions or their needs. The lessons I learned from school influenced me greatly. The most influential of these are three lessons, the blatant wrongness of which allowed me to see the Evil in them and thereby escape from their control. I was able to unlearn the three main lessons I learned in school: that individuality isn't important, substance isn't necessary and what matters least matters most.

From the first time I was herded into a classroom with my fellow students, individuality began to lose its importance. All of us were given the same assignments. Some excelled, some failed. And those results brought about the first distinction from the group. Teachers did not use the results to adjust their methods to each student. Instead they placed those that did well into a new class, a privileged class. This class had a “harder curriculum”, as though difficulty is a purely objective quality. Though I had the privilege of being in the Gifted Class, I never had the privilege, and I don’t think anyone else did, of choice. Choice is an essential quality of individualism. However, we were not allowed to choose. What we learned, where we sat and even when we peed were only a few decisions made for us. And of course, single-file was the only way to travel. I grew up as part of a collective, and I was taught to value being in it. Standing out was bad. It was embarrassing. Being called out to answer a question in front of the entire class brought snickers from everyone that escaped such a cruel fate. Groups began to define me and my peers. The substance of a group is in the individuals of that group. But we had our individuality taken from us. We were just a group. That paved the way for simple labeling. Without individuality, we needed a way to define ourselves, and the only way to do that was with meaningless words that answer the question “What am I?” but not “Who am I?”

Now, substance began to erode away. It was no longer necessary. Grades helped take emphasis away from substance. An entire year’s worth of work and effort could easily be summed up in one letter. Cheating became commonplace. While officially illegal in school, cheating was encouraged by the teachers’ methods. Many would allow self-grading, or peer-grading. Half or more of a semester’s grade would be based on homework assignments, all of which were cheatable. My first semester as a sophomore in high school I obtained a D in Algebra II, though I never scored below 90 percent on any test or quiz. The cause for the low grade was my resistance to doing homework. I felt confident in my abilities, in my knowledge. I knew the material, and it was evident by my test scores. But I received a D despite this. The next semester I had to do something. Since we graded the homework assignments ourselves in class, I started to write down the answers onto a blank sheet of paper, as did several other students. This method got me an A every time. It didn’t rely on substantive knowledge, but simple labeling. The homework was worth an A because I said it was. Looking back, I can see how it was preparing me for the Real World. Today I often see the results of education in the value system of others. Nobody is thought of in terms of who they are, but only what they are. Many people are allowed to define what they are, and since who they are doesn’t matter, we can only judge them on their labels. President Bush is a prime example of this, and how it relates to school. His presidency has never been about substance. Instead, he has relied on labels to gain popularity. He labels the bad guys terrorists, enemy combatants, cut and runners, liberals, traitors, defectors, extremists and radicals. And when talking about himself or his policies, he uses words like honorable, patriotic (Patriot Act), Christian and freedom. And of course, people simply label him as stupid. Yet he was obviously smart enough to realize that the same substance-free value system we learn in school lives on afterwards, and he took advantage of that. He is no different from (and probably was) the popular guy in school that you look back on and wonder “Why was he so popular?” The answer is that school teaches everyone that substance isn’t necessary. Claims and labels give value to ideas and people. Claims and labels matter more than ideas and people.

And finally we arrive at the cruelest of school’s lessons: what matters most matter least. People matter. In school a person is defined by their grades, by their athletic involvement or even the clothes they wear. The goal becomes building up pseudo self-worth, devoid of substance and true individuality. Suddenly what a person is matters more than who they are. People no longer matter, a façade of arbitrary titles take their place. These surface qualities matter more in school, and even outside of it, than the person. There was a “bad student” I knew growing up. He skipped class often, and his grades were terrible. He chose not to care about school, probably because after trying hard to succeed, he found he just couldn’t make good grades. School defined him as a failure. This failure is one of the greatest people I know. He’s fun, he’s considerate, and despite his poor academic performance, he is very clever. His true greatness came from freeing himself from school’s manipulative conditioning. He freed himself from this particular lesson, learning what truly matters, and being a better person for it. School teaches that the group matters more than the individual, that words matter more than substance, that grades matter more than knowledge, that rules matter more than necessity and that who you are means nothing in the face of what you are.

Thanks to these lessons I became what I am today. I felt the lack of respect for people inherent in school and was able to break away from it. However, I don’t have an answer for this problem. My children will likely learn the same lessons I did. But I am prepared to guide them through it. School will be a tool for my children to learn important material and explore t heir social desires, but it will not control their lives.

What is Character Blogging?

Have you ever noticed that some of your favorite (or not so favorite) fictional characters have a blog? How could this be? They're not even real!

Well, character blogging is a new fad on the Internet wherein a person writes a typical web log from the point of view, and in the style of, a fictional character. It's as though the character itself is keeping a blog.

Obviously, this isn't the case. But play along; it's called imagination.

Many new TV shows, such as The Office and Heroes, have officially-produced blogs for some of their characters. TV producers are often utilizing character blogging now to promote their own show. Some companies also use character blogs, such as Captain Morgan's blog.

However, most character blogs you'll find on the Internet are the creation of average, everyday people all over the world. Most are fans of a particular fictional Universe, such as Star Wars or X-Men, and parody or pay homage to it (and their favorite character) by blogging. Master Yoda's blog is an ideal example of this, and had become very popular during its year-long run.

Character blogging is not limited to those known fictional characters already in existence, but rather people are free to create their own character to blog as, from their own imagination. Often, the character is a superhero version of themselves, and sometimes placed into one of the established Universes where it can interact with wellknown characters from works of fiction.

You can find many examples of character blogging at Heroes United, a community and team blog where many unofficial and fantasy characters join together.

The Slapping of a Foreign Dignitary

Moved to my new blog.
Today was going to be an exciting day. I could feel it. The mere fact that I was this finely dressed told me, and the world, that today was a life-altering day. I suppose for a person of my age, any trip to the state capitol would feel this grand. And any occasion calling for a suit and tie would also feel as though it has the promise of being exceptional.

Walking up the steps of the capitol building, everyone was attired in a professional fashion. However, I felt oddly out of place. It was as though they could tell that I didn't belong in this suit, that I wasn't one of them. They could tell that I was merely a humble visitor to their all-important political machine. I ignored my self-conscious fears and made my way up the cold, granite steps.

In truth, nobody in the large, round building cared, or even noticed, that I had entered into it. Yet even though I realized this, I couldn't help but feel as though all eyes were on me. It was, after all, my big day.

I made my way down the hallway in search of the one familiar person here. She would no doubt be happy to see me. Politicians love the youth. And why wouldn't they? We're the future.

"Can I help you?" the secretary asked as I entered the office of my state representative.

I introduced myself and said, "I'm here to see Mrs. Roberts."

"Representative Roberts is currently on the phone," she replied. "Is she expecting you?"

I was caught off guard by the question. Of course she was expecting me. This was my day! But I didn't expect to be stopped and questioned by an underling. "Um," I said as I tried to make sense of the mild disruption to the otherwise glorious flow of this critical day. Finally, I managed to explain, "She's, I'm going to be her Page. Today. She knows, so, yeah, I guess, probably."

Part of me thought I should have phrased it better. Fortunately, only the secretary was around to hear me stutter through my explanation for being here. It was a practice run. From then on, I would be articulate and well-spoken. My political elders would marvel at the wisdom in such a young man.

"Just have a seat," the secretary said.

Waiting was difficult. I had not planned to wait. I thought I would be discussing policy or making jokes with Governor Richardson. Here I was in the state capitol building and I was only sitting in a chair with nothing to do. I couldn't let this opportunity go to waste. My attempt to wait casually must have come off as indifference to the political system. I didn't want to be thought of as apathetic, or unappreciative by my mentor's secretary. So, I decided I could leave a message, to let Mrs. Roberts know I was here and would be back. In the meantime, I could explore. I could sit in the gallery above the house chamber and watch democracy in action!

"Can I leave her a message?" I asked.

The secretary said, "Sure," and handed me a notepad. "Just jot your message down here and I'll see that she gets it."

I hadn't expected to have to write. This was my day; I was supposed to be impressing powerful people with my knowledge and talents. Handwriting was definitely not one of my talents. With my terrible penmanship, I sketched out a short message for the Republican congresswoman.

As I sat in the gallery looking down on the political action below, I couldn't help but keep thinking about my poorly-written note. Assuming she would be able to read my handwriting, I wondered if what I wrote would be sufficient. I wondered if it would seem like a note written by a young up-and-comer, a protégé with wisdom beyond his years and dressed in a nice suit. I'm sure that had I not had my mind on the message I had left, the roll call vote would have been very exciting.

Even though nearly a third of the entire state congress was below me, voting "Yea" to signify their presence, and voting "Yea" on behalf of their absent colleagues, I felt as though I was missing out on the action. I was not in position yet to be noticed by the people who would be so taken by my charisma they would take me under their wings, giving me the future I've always wanted and deserved. Politics requires taking action. It was clear I'd need to make my move. Showing up wasn't enough, even if this was my day. I'd have to reach out and grab it.

So, I left the gallery and walked down the hallway. Every now and then I would pass by people rushing around carrying important file folders with important information. Clearly they were in the middle of things. It felt like I was getting closer to my goal as I continued seeing more and more people who seemed to have a purpose here, to be a cog in the political gears of this building. I continued walking down the hallway which circled all around the building. The more laps I made, the more exposure I'd have. Eventually, someone would take notice of me, someone would realize my natural potential and guide me to the next step.

However, I ended up getting tired. And it was getting late. Perhaps tomorrow was my day. "Is Mrs. Roberts in?" I asked the secretary as I stepped back into the office.

"She was asking about you," the secretary told me. "We paged you on the loudspeakers."

I didn't know how to reply to that statement. So, I didn't.

The secretary starred at me for a while and I starred back. Finally, she said, "Mrs. Roberts is gone now. The session's ended."

"Oh, okay. Can I leave her another message?" I asked.

"No," the secretary answered, somewhat rudely. "She's going back to Lovington. You'll have to call her there."

"Oh," I said. "Thanks." I exited the office. It was nearing five o'clock, which meant the political day was about to end. Not wanting to let this all be for nothing, I stopped at the cafeteria and ordered a sandwich.

I sat at a table alone to eat. Few people were there in the cafeteria. I didn't understand. There was nothing going on here. This entire trip was nothing but hype. I thought something would happen. I thought I'd find a purpose in life. Instead, I found a sandwich, and not a very good sandwich. There were no meetings with bigwigs, no schmoozing oil tycoons or chatting with journalists. I didn't get to offer my opinion on how best to win the upcoming elections for our party. It was just...unsatisfying.

My thoughts were soon interrupted by mustard. A tiny, plastic bowl of it hit me in the chest, spilling onto my suit, my tie and my shirt. The bowl rolled down into my lap, and then onto the floor as I stood up.

"I am so sorry," an elderly Indian man said to me. His accent was incredibly soothing, but I found myself very annoyed. "I accidentally hit his tray," he pointed over to a much younger and stout Indian man cleaning up food from the floor. "I am really, terribly sorry, sir."

Calmly, I said, "You ruined my suit," starring at the mustard streak running down my torso. Anger and sadness built up inside me as I gazed into the yellow condiment. I looked up at the man, growing more and more frustrated. I didn't know what to do, what to say. But finally I let out a loud yell, "This was supposed to be my day!" and then struck the man. My palm landed a blow to his left cheek, and then I was shot by the stout man he had pointed to before.

Cirus Rohatgi Remembered at Cosmology Convention

The New Mexico Society for Cosmology and Atmospheric Studies (NMSCAS) had its annual Cosmology Convention in Taos, NM this last Saturday. At the convention, they keynote presenter was Dr. Kenneth Holderman.

Dr. Holderman began his presentation by honoring the late German scientist, Cirus Rohatgi. He explained to the audience the Rohatgi Phenomenon, Dr. Rohatgi's legacy. This unique happening is characterized by orange marshmallow-shaped clouds. It was Dr. Rohatgi that discovered the link to this spectacular event and industrial pollution. He did prove that water vapor trapped within pollution above the skies of Berlin was the reason for the particular shape of the clouds and their circular order in the evening sky. Unfortunately, it was never explained why the orange coloration occurred, but Dr. Rohatgi went to his grave believing that his hypothesis of it being the result of a particular pollutant would be proven eventually.

More information on the Rohatgi Phenomenon can be found at Humboldt University of Berlin or on Dr. Holderman's website, www.kennyholderman.com.

The Rules of Breaking the Law

The government of the United States was put in place with the idea that governments can be and are flawed. The primary principle of the Declaration of Independence is that the government should exist to serve the people, and only has power if the people say it does. Therefore, it would be reasonable to say that breaking the law can sometimes be permissible, and even right. Our country’s founders broke laws when they rebelled against English rule; warranted law-breaking bears good results. Corruption in the government can create unjust laws; unjust laws should not be followed. Most importantly, how a person lives there life should be up to them, with reasonable regard for society; people make their own laws.

Many people would not hesitate to inform others that the United States is the best country in the world, perhaps even number one. While it certainly could have been true in the past, we are moving further and further away from the ideals that made it great. Having been born out of a revolution, our country was given the foresight to limit government’s control of its people. Early Americans did not see taxation as fair when they had no say in how the money was to be spent. It was clear by the Declaration of Independence that America felt its people deserved the right to their own lives, that they should not be forced to submit to a government without their best interests in mind. Their revolution not only broke laws, but overthrew the entire government. Thomas Jefferson credited the revolution with building a greater country, saying that for America to continue to prosper, it would need a revolution every 20 years. This would ensure people do not become complacent, as we are now. Questioning the government and disobeying laws that infringe on a person’s rights is far more patriotic than any sized flag would be. It is through this process that people think for themselves, about themselves and their fellow citizens. Good comes from this. People want to live their life, and laws are the agreement between the individual and society. The agreement is varying degrees of “I won’t kill you; you don’t kill me.” Laws that interfere with the individual, such as anti-sodomy laws, laws against voluntary euthanasia and laws against drug use, should not be obeyed on the basis that the government does not have the jurisdiction to control it. Anything citizens do to themselves is their choice. The government can only tell its people what they can’t do to others without consent. Obeying these laws gives the government authority it should never have.

Ultimately, it is fellow citizens who make the laws by which we are all obligated to live. This is a select few that, in theory, should have our best interests in mind. However, the political system has been horribly corrupted. Many politicians consider re-election hopes and financial contributions when writing laws. This can lead to serious problems. It can create laws designed to benefit certain industries. It can start wars for unspoken reasons. Corruption takes honesty out of the system, and that is the key to making it work right. Every politician elected to office is done so on the premise he or she should serve their constituents, that they should make laws and regulations that look after the wellbeing of all their citizens. When a politician has corporate backers, or its voter base and special interest groups, in mind as he or she passes a law, the law itself is unjust. The law was not created for the people, by the people. The politician is supposed to be the vessel by which the citizenry create government. If that politician is corrupt, then it is no longer a vessel of the citizenry, and therefore is not making laws for us, by us. The protest chant used in the days leading up to the Revolutionary War was “No taxation without representation.” Currently, many citizens of the United States are without representation. Their congressmen are working for political parties, special interest groups, corporations or their own ego. None of these represent us, and therefore the laws made in a manner of disregard for the populace should not be obeyed. Obeying these laws gives away our right to control our government.

No matter what country a person lives in, they should not obey any law for the sake of obeying the law. Each person is responsible for their own life. And each person only gets one, for a very short amount of time. The decision of what they make of it should be left to them. Now, of course, rampant disorder may be expected if there were no laws, and if people did not obey laws. Laws should exist, and they should be obeyed, but only if they fulfill the purpose of law itself. That purpose is to keep order and protect members of society from each other. There are laws against murder because people don’t want to be murdered. The same cannot be said for why we have laws against voluntary euthanasia. “There are laws against voluntary euthanasia because people don’t want to be voluntarily euthanized.” The sentence makes no sense because there is no basis for protecting someone from voluntary euthanasia. The government cannot make a law against voluntary rape, as that’s simply consensual sex, for the same reason. However, laws for order, such as traffic laws, should be followed to the best of one’s ability. They do, in fact, exist to protect the citizens. They protect from accidental harm and improve the efficiency of everyone. It is essentially the reverse principle that makes murder illegal. Order laws are based on the idea that we all give in to a few inconveniences to lessen the overall inconvenience to society, and potentially higher number of inconveniences to ourselves. When a law against robbery is made, it’s an agreement that a person won’t rob anyone because that same person would not want anyone to rob them. In areas such as traffic, the effect is that the person agrees to wait a while at a red light so others may go through quickly and safely, and in turn he or she will have that same privilege when the tables are turned. Obeying certain laws, those keeping order and protecting individuals, is a good thing, because the principle behind them is good. Obeying the law because it is a law says that the government is more important than the individual.

Ultimately, the decision about what laws to break, and which to follow, should be made by the individual. The basic principle of not harming or imposing anything onto anyone else without permission is the only principle that must be taken into consideration to live in a decent society. The laws should reflect this simplicity. Unjust laws, laws made for insidious reasons, and laws that exist only to exist are superfluous.

At Its Core: The Story of My Apple

Despite my initial thoughts regarding the fruitiness of this particular assignment, I found myself walking down a wet road with loose gravel in pursuit of an apple. Before I began my journey, I had many concerns and reservations about my future apple. How would I choose it? What do I want from it? How would I connect with my apple? What would we do? What would we talk about? We would have nothing in common, the apple and I. "I'm more of an orange guy," I thought to myself as I walked out of the night's darkness into the florescent light of my neighborhood Town & Country.

The bananas caught my eye, as are the nature of bananas. They, unlike apples, have a life energy about them. They bring to mind thoughts of tropic rituals full of delight and exotic beauty. Below the bananas was the basket of apples, only bringing to mind thoughts of the oddly textured mush served to me during my early school years. I glanced over the apples, feeling like a prison warden arbitrarily choosing an inmate for parole. But I decided to be more thoughtful, and I made an effort to size up each apple based on its appearance, as we have all done to each other many times in our lives. There was the older, veteran apple with the scars of a tough life in the fields. Next was the unfortunately deformed apple: the hump standing tall on its side as if calling out to be ridiculed. Then, of course, there was the star apple, shining with its youth, its perfectly symmetrical build obtainable only via surgical means. Finally, I saw my apple hiding behind its own mundanity. There was nothing that stood out about this apple. It had no story written on its skin. But surrounding it was an aura of potential like electricity around a Tesla Coil. With the right opportunities, the right tools, this apple could do anything. And so, I brought it home with me, occasionally playing catch with the sky on the way.

My apple may look empty at first glance. It could be just one of many, so it would have you believe. But it's biding its time. Growing. Learning. Every day it improves a little bit. And, if it wasn't for the short lifespan of an apple, it could one day be entirely unstoppable by man or earthworm. Its outer coloration is neither bright nor dull, but a mild blend of simplicity and red. It has as many faces as there would be degrees on a sphere, each one giving a sense of its many talents and personas. This is no stereotypical apple. In its apparent emptiness of features, it holds the presence of them all.

The Black Dress

He didn't need a reason to do what he did.

Dr. William Rowley, who worked thirty years as a vascular surgeon and now works at the Institute for Alternative Futures, left the house, driving away in his shiny red Prius.

She remained on the floor, just as he had left her. Minutes seemed to pass, minutes not spent crying, not feeling sorrow, but rather devoid of any emotional bias. Her hand latched onto the countertop and she pulled herself up to her feet. Her knees wobbled for a moment, but soon she managed to gracefully walk into the bathroom. She tossed her torn, black dress onto the tile. It was an elegant dress, unworthy of such indifferent treatment.

The shower head spat out three quick bursts of water before handling a steady stream. A quick glance into the mirror turned into an intense stare. Her glistening eyes caught her attention and held tightly to it. They wanted to tell her something, to reveal a great truth that would free her from the slow digestion of her soul by this world. But there was nothing to protect her. The barrage of acidic juices would continuously splash onto her spirit and she would gradually erode away. And so her eyes relinquished their grasp. She stepped into the shower, washing away the venomous filth to give life a fresh target for its virulent rape.

The New Season

The new TV season is approaching, and is bringing with it the feeling of artistic renewal for me. I had started writing blog posts regularly around August of last year, and especially in January when I started various Heroes blogs. And now the season 2 premiere of Heroes is only weeks away.

The new season of Heroes should bring with it inspiration; new plots, new characters and new ideas for me and others to play with online. So, it would seem, I am prepared to begin writing regularly once again on character web logs such as Mr. Bennet's. But what of my personal web log, the one you're reading right now?

Not long ago I posted a short tidbit expressing my desire to get back into the swing of writing blog posts on my MySpace blog (Which runs as a semi-syndicated version of this one). But days have passed without any new posts.

I have found myself with ideas, thoughts which I have scribbled onto paper. And even some thoughts that became a paragraph or two. But so far, no post-worthy works. Where is my inspiration?

When I had been posting regularly, it was during the height of goings-on in my life. I had a job to report to every weekday. Heroes was the new big thing on TV and the internet was buzzing about it. My own Heroes-themed websites brought constant activity. But that all changed.

I became unemployed and the first season of Heroes came to an end. Without those, there was nothing much happening in my life. I was passively letting time go by.

Most of my few months of unemployment was spent watching TV and movies. I DVRed everything; I had a constant flow of movies from Blockbuster online. I rarely had to involve myself in the world. Could this escape from worldly interaction have wasted away my inspiration?

Recently, my life has completely turned around. I had previously been contented financially with a job I only had to show up for and pass the time away. And now I am forced into doing something about my financial situation. Before, I had no friends, with the exception of online people and shallow work aquaintance, bringing about an absense of a realistic social life. Now, I regularly hang out with a friend and my sister, and occasionally a few others. I even have found myself going to Rodeos for an entire weekend, and activity my family does often in which I chose not to participate. And the biggest turn around is that I am back in college. I have signed up for 12 credit hours at the Junior College to be considered full time. This allows me to have health insurance via my mother's job, which I need for corrective jaw surgery and had planned on having when I had my own health insurance through employment with the City of Hobbs. So am I now inspired?

You could say that this post is perhaps proof that I am. But will this continue regularly? I can't say that I had felt truly inspired when I wrote this. I am however reading To Kill a Mockingbird and going to college, so intellectual stimulation exists. And at school I see people, on the weekends I see family and friends, and so I have social stimulation as well. Is that the combination that leads to inspiration, to the ability to change? Does it bring a sense of purpose and meaning that allows one to regain their place in the world and interact with it, rather than react? Perhaps I'll know soon. And when I know, you'll know.

Independence

On this day over 200 years ago, a group of men sent their ruler a letter saying that they have had enough. They said, "No, you're not doing it right," and declared their independence.

The importance of this wasn't that it gave way to the birth of America. It wasn't even that it brought about the formation of a Republic in the New World. It was a birth of awareness, and there lied the significance. People became aware that the government is subject to their rule, that the government is allowed to exist because the people allow it to.

We are not subjects of our government. It is our employee. We hired it do the job, and when it fails to meet our standards, it can be fired.

However, the citizens of the United States have increasingly given up their right to rule. We sit idly by as the government takes more power, makes decisions in total secrecy and advances its own agenda over that of the people.

So on this Independence Day what can we celebrate? We're no longer independent. We've given away our freedom and sovereignty. Those not apathetic merely bicker between two extremes, and while the populace is distracted by the illusion of choice presented to us, the government maintains its control.

There is no cause to celebrate America this year. Independence Day isn't about the birth of our nation, it's about the birth of the idea that the government is ruled by its people, and that idea has since faded away. Until we can demand accountability, fairness, disclosure and good service from our government, we will be its subjects.

Don't be distracted by the fireworks, by their sinister sense of patriotism. They should remind you of the idea over which we first fought. They should remind you of the Revolutionary War, where we battled for a government controlled by the people. Today fireworks should symbolize that we still battle for control, that we have not surrendered completely to those in power, that we will not be fooled by their rhetorical masquerade and that we are truly independent.

Miracle Grow

Hey, who's that girl?
Which girl?
She'll save the world.
But how?
We don't know
She's Miracle Grow!

Sticks and stones
won't break her bones.
And she's the key
To stopping everything.

A branch in the head?
Oh, no!
Wait, she's not dead!
Oh, yay!
Don't you know
She's Miracle Grow!

Sticks and stones
won't break her bones.
All the guys crave her
Sylar wants to shave her
Someone better save her

Hit by a car?
Oh, my!
Doesn't leave a scar
Alright!
Cuz we know
She's Miracle Grow!

Sticks and stones
won't break her bones.
She's the cheerleader
Not the mind-reader That's Matt!

Staple in the hand?
Poor thing
Don't you understand?
Don't know
It's her TV show,
She's Miracle Grow!
Whoa!