Best of Clayburn

Blogger is having a lot of problems lately. They recently upgraded to "New Blogger" and now I can rarely publish. So, you're going to have to do without me for a while, not that I was writing much anyway.

Luckily for you, I've compiled some of my best crapola for you to read until Blogger is fixed.

People in Ice Houses Shouldn't Pee on the Floor

Clayburn's Lost It!

Vote for your Party

Romance is so Cheesy. I wish I had some cheese.

Finally, a Good Spanking

Murderers!

What's it going to be? Teeth or Death?

Clayburn's Murder Trial: Part One Part Two Part Three

After the Trial

Primatech Website

This is interesting! I was doing a Google search, as I always do, for all things paper. And I stumbled across a paper company called Primatech.

Why is this interesting you ask? Because it finally seems like a site is being devoloped to cater to my paper-loving needs! It's still under contruction, but according to Primatech representatives, the "Virtual Paper", as they call their website, will be completed January 22nd.

That's great for all us Paper-Enthusiasts! Primatech is simply a blessing from God! What more can I say?

I'll keep you posted on the advancement of the Primatech Paper Company's Virtual Paper.

Perished Provenance

I told you earlier the events of a few days ago...near the end of it all. However, now that I start to convince myself there will be a future, I should share with you the past.

July 06, 2012

Events have happened recently to prompt me into keeping a journal. "These are historic times." I've heard that throughout my life. I've seen the phrase uttered in movies of my past, movies of my parents' past. Yet today it can be said without hyperbole. We, humanity that is, have entered into a new world. This world, so different than yesterday's, cannot be described to a person from the past. As a person of the present I find it incomprehensible. But perhaps a person in the future, should there exist a future, could interpret and explain the recent happenings.

I write this just having witnessed the death of my best friend, so pardon me if my handwriting is a bit shaky. He and I grew up together, and until today we were colleagues. He possessed great skill. Ironically, I, a man of science, would refer to his gift as magic. He, a man of faith, described it as nothing more than routine surgery. The lives he saved are countless. Most should never have made it. But there was something to his touch. It was more than great skill with a scalpel. He had a gift. Had I died in his place, he'd be out saving lives, not writing a journal. Unfortunately for mankind, he drew the short straw.

It started with fire falling from the sky and water rising out of the ground. The unity of the two opposing forces would theoretically bring about an equilibrium in which the water would put out the fire and the fire would dry the water. My friend and I stood outside his house, expecting that to happen. In reality, it brought turmoil. The water quickly flooded buildings, blasting them with waves. People were thrown in every direction. The fire fell into the water without extinguishing. A slight touch with the fire and my friend burst into flames before my eyes. The water lifted him high above me and slammed him through a glass window. Then I felt myself being lifted up.

I found myself with five other people, thrown by the waters, onto a top of a building. It was a building I had never seen before. From that location I could see the waters lowering, until there was no more water. And in the sky I could see the dissipation of the fires, and they finally stopped. It brought little relief as the image they left behind was unbearably bleak. Burnt bodies soaking in debris and blood lined the horizon. The image that frightened me most was that of a white labrador impaled on a bent street sign post through his left eye. His teeth were visible and he looked angry, as though he was ready to rip the street sign apart.

Next came a noise. It was like nothing I had heard before. It started pleasantly with a melodious bellow and a high-pitched hum that echoed inside my body. The higher tone grew louder. A man nearby me started to scream, holding his hands to his ears. As the bellowing bass slowed its rhythm, the man started to run. He ran over the edge and fell to his death. I could see his body lying in the parking lot, his hands still held to his ears.

I began to feel pain resonating through me. The hum became even higher and louder. It seemed to split into several fragments, as though it was a frayed cloth. Each strand sounded with great intensity. Those on the building with me were all covering their ears. Some had fallen to their knees, while one was wallowing in a puddle of his own blood. Suddenly, I fell flat on my back, struck down by the sound. It was as though I was hit in the head by a whole note thrown by some dreadful instrument. Staring up into the purple sky I could smell roses as I closed my eyes.

I awoke to silence. My first thought, my first hope, was that it had all been a dream. But as I stood up I could see that my nightmare was reality.

"Over here!" a man yelled. I glanced behind me to see an extremely obese man waving me over. "We can go down the fire escape, into the building."

I staggered toward him. Following me were two women. It seemed the four of us were all that was left of our merry band of six. Perhaps we were all that was left of humanity. By the look of the scenery, it would be very likely. As I stepped off the side of the building onto the iron stairwell, I glanced down at the street corner below. There was the post that had held the labrador, but there was no sign of the dog.

We all used the fire escape to enter into the building. The interior looked good. There was no sign that anything had happened. I found this notebook in a desk drawer. It belonged to someone named Claire Coleman, an international account specialist. The notebook was empty, but the cover had "Journal" written in red marker. I don't know why she never got around to writing anything in it. Perhaps she was waiting for something to happen worth writing about. Wherever she is, I hope she finds another notebook, as I'm sure she has something to write about now.

Horn Rimmed Glasses

Who's that man
In the big sexy glasses?
Hide your children
Cover your asses!

Mr. Bennet's his name
AKA HRG
They're one and the same
A man of mystery

Some say he's a nerd
But he's got fly skills
It could be inferred
That sometimes he kills
One thing is certain
He's a freak-huntin' fool
And behind that curtain
Is a big Haitian tool

He'll hollow you out
And take everything
But try not to shout
It's just a mild sting

Who's that man
In the big sexy glasses?
Hide your children
Cover your asses!

His morals: questionable
You have been warned
Look out for large spectacles
With the rims horned
Primatech Paper Co
It's just a front
From where they undergo
His Hero hunt
Eden at his disposal
He's not afraid to use her
She'll make one proposal
And you won't refuse her

Try to understand him
He's not that bad
Behind the horned rims
There's a loving dad
Sylar wants to kill
His Miracle Grow girl
He can't sit still
And let that spit unfurl
He'll do what it takes
To protect his Claire Bear
He understands the stakes
Don't expect him to play fair

So let me proclaim
To the masses
Bennet's his name
Horn Rimmed Glasses!

Heroes Spin-Offs

Well, the success of Heroes is obviously going to be huge. And you know what that means, spin-offs!

So which would you want to see?

Jessica Sanders in How I Possessed Your Mother. Niki was just a lonely Kindergarden teacher when her evil sister decided to possess her. Watch and laugh along as Jessica works toward gaining Niki's soul.

Gabriel "Sylar" Grey in My Name is Sylar. The story of a once evil psychopath who decides to make up for all the bad he's done. "Number 64 on my list, Hit Brian on the head with a rock crystal (and stole his brain)". He's turning his life around one good deed at a time. "Number 720, Impaled Mrs. Walker onto a stairwell (and stole her husband's brain)".

Matt Parkman in People Whisperer. Detective Parkman dedicates himself to a life of helping the living by telling them what others are thinking about them. "That guy over there thinks you have a big butt." But sometimes, the voices can be confusing. "Did he just wish for a donkey in fishnet stockings?"

Mr. Bennet in Touched by a Creepy Man in Horn Rimmed Glasses. Who's he working for? Primatech Paper Company, the Government, God? Nobody knows, but he's on a quest to forcibly assist ordinary people with extrordinary abilities. "You're very special. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Now, turn your head and cough. We just need to run some tests." Tune in and see this heart-warming tale of a real world angel with questionable motives.

Hiro Nakamura in Hiro, Texas Ranger. Goodbye Japan. Hello, Texas, where nobody is above the law and the law is Hiro. There's no fancy legal system in this show, just good old-fashioned butt-kickin. With the power to bend time and space, no criminal stands a chance. "My name is Hiro Nakamura. I've come to kick your butt!" Watch as time stands still and the cutest Texas Ranger ever hunts down the bad guys and deals out the pain.

Micah Sanders in Micah's Laboratory
Adam "The Haitian" Soo Hoo in Daze of our Lives
Ando in *Cancelled*
Heidi Petrelli in None and a Half Women
Ted Sprague in The Recent Bachelor
Claire Bennet in Claire: Warrior Cheerleader & Curb your Protoplasm
D.L. Hawkins in Prison Escape
Mohinder Suresh in According to Him
Peter Petrelli in So You Think You Can Fly
Nathan Petrelli in The West Wings
Isaac Mendez in The Six Dollar Man
Eden McCain in Who's the Boss Now?
Charlie in Not Saved by the Bell

Radioactive Teddy Bear

Hey kids! Are you ready to have some fun?
What? I didn't hear you. Oh, you are?

Then don't despair. Bad guys beware!
It's the Radioactive Teddy Bear

He may be radioactive
And have too much hair
But he's a big friendly
Teddy Bear

Keep an eye on your indicator
And pray it stays green
Cuz this Teddy Bear is like a
Microwave diathermy machine

You may get cancer
And maybe lose your hair
But we'll all have fun hanging with
Radioactive Teddy Bear!

Unbind Thee, Lest Ye Be Bound

I think I should mention a little something about Atheists.

My hypotenuse is that everyone wants to feel accepted.

Religion creates a system of right and wrong, and of course being wrong is wrong, which leads to rejection of one's soul to Hades. For someone who dismisses the notion of said location they still feel to have their soul, the essence of their self, judged and rejected by the person(s) who believes them to be Hellbound. Atheists have probably become more preachy against religion recently because in order for one to be accepted the acceptor cannot have a religion which would direct him to reject the Atheist.

Religion is a difficult parasite to remove, for the believer feels that his life is in jeopardy without it. It's this way that Religion has complete control over its followers. It manipulates them into believing it is the ultimate, and as such must be true, must be right, cannot be questioned and cannot be denied. To an Atheist this causes a great deal of frustration.

The Atheist operates without the blinding effects of Religion. Though other concepts may blind him, they aren't perceived as ultimate and a life necessity. The Atheist can see his life for what it is and choose what is right and wrong, who is right and wrong, on the basis of the object's/person's particular essence. An Atheist sees a believer as a fellow human and values them as such. Yet in return, the believer sees the Atheist as subpar, a deviant, someone to be wary of, if not avoid altogether. Atheists then become vocal about their own beliefs, but not to save their listeners from eternal damnation as believers purport to do. Their motivation is purely selfish in nature, and thereby honest. Rather than claim to care for a soul that isn't their own, or attempt to control, or even demean it, they simply wish to unbound it from its chains so that it might accept them as a fellow human.

They seek to remove your conditions so that they may be loved unconditionally.

Hmm...Where have I been?

My only reader, Randy, has noticed that I have not been posting daily. He seems to see this as reason to dismiss his own hiatus. However, I hope to get back to my daily posts. You can consider this a post for today. And with that little poem thingy from yesterday I've already started posting daily again!

Keep reading, or start reading I should say, and comment.

Untitled

Look in the eyes of my soul
Past the skies of the deceased
With you my black heart of coal
Becomes the frightening beast
And tears through the entire Earth
Like bears do to gay campers
A spiritual rebirth
As my hardened heart shatters

Oops

I forgot to post today!

I've been busy with my websites. I'm making several. They will be great once they're finished. I'll let you see them then. As you probably saw, Misunderstood Me finished his website yesterday and posted about it.

Hopefully I'll post tomorrow.

Visit my Website

I have a website! It's finally finished.
Check it out here.


Clayburn's website and other personalities' websites are still in the works. Stay tuned to Clayburn's Official Web Log to find out more.

Thumbs up!

It's been a while since I've told you how to live your life, directly anyway. So I feel it's time I spout out some more advice to all you poor, unforunate souls.

When you're driving around, don't get angry. That's easier said than done. Getting angry or mad in any way doesn't do you any good. In fact, it hurts your health. It's healtheir to be happy and smile.

Of course, there are times when you won't be happy and smile. But there's no reason to be angry when you're driving.

First of all, the driver with which you are angry won't be aware of it. Even if you honk at him, he'll most likely think nothing of you. In most cases you'll be the only one feeling the anger. That means you're the only one feeling it's harmful effects.

Secondly, anger can cause you not to think. People do stupid things when they don't think, like doing a stupid dance when you're caught lip synching on SNL. But a stupid thing on the road can be far more fatal than Ashlee Simpson.

Something you could try to do is to notice the people driving well and safely. Give them a thumbs up and smile at them.

Or next time someone does something that you disapprove of on the road. Flip them the thumb, not the finger. Use a more important and valuable appendage.

Learn from George Bush. Only thirty percent of Americans like him and he still finds the positive energy to give them all a thumbs up. What's going on in his head, other than a ping pong match between a monkey and a Islamic Fundamentalist, is "Hee hee hee...I'm still on top!"

More drink?

I ate at Dragon Buffet the other day with my sister and a friend of hers. I had already eaten lunch, so I didn't get a buffet. My sister brought me a bowl of grapes.

The waitresses seemed to give me the stank-eye. Maybe it was the crook-eye. But it wasn't the evil-eye, I'm sure of that. It could have been just one of the waitresses. They all looked the same to me. But every Chinese (I suspect a few were Korean) female in a red shirt that I came in eye contact with had a disturbing look for me. I feared for the safety of my grapes.

As time went by I began to forget about the looks I had been receiving. They had not questioned me about my bowl of grapes. They brought the ticket, which correctly said two buffets and three drinks. But on the ticket sat only two fortune cookies! I ate two more grapes.

Luckily for me, my sister's friend didn't want one. I took her fortune cookie. I took it out of its little wrapper and cracked it in two. The paper slipped out easily. The words on it were so profound. They changed my life forever. And I really enjoyed the grapes.

My fortune cookie said: You are the mast of everything situation.

It's What They Say

The sad truth is that I have nothing on my mind that can be well-written into a meaningful web log post. Therefore, I have decided to post a picture, using the cliché that it is equivalent to one thousand words. Of course, these are the words it’s equal to. Basically, it’s just telling you what I’m telling you now. I’m sure you could have probably figured it out on your own. It’s somewhat obvious. I mean, I post every day, yet all of a sudden I have nothing more than a picture of some random whatever. Sure, it’s pretty. But what isn’t? I could have posted a picture of anything and said it speaks one thousand words. And it would. It would speak these words I’m writing now. I’ve barely passed one hundred at this point. This doesn’t compare at all to a picture. Right now we’re at twenty percent of the value of a picture. I do wonder though, if a picture is worth a thousand words, why do some people still find value in books? Most movies are around one hundred and twenty minutes. That’s seven thousand and two hundred seconds. That means there are one hundred seventy-two thousand and eight hundred frames in the movie. A thousand words for each of those frames is quite a handful of frames, to be sure. Yet books don’t have that many words. So, one could argue that movies have way more worth than books. I feel that it’s a lot easier to paint a picture with a brush than it is to paint a picture with words. As you can clearly tell by this post, words aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, and neither are some pictures. I’m approaching three hundred words right now and still have seven hundred to go. To be exact “go” was number three hundred and two. That’s a lot of words. But it’s nothing compared to a single picture. In fact, I’m thinking about giving up on this post right now. One thousand words? That’s way too many for me to type in a single day. Although, I am good at sacrificing quality in favor of quantity. Perhaps if I keep typing out things as if I had something to say I would quickly reach one thousand. No? You’re probably right. I could use something that is easy to write and has a ton of words in it. Unfortunately, I don’t know of anything. I could just go with some random sentences. Carrots once elected a potato as their President. Have you smoked a kidney and then realized it wasn’t yours? If monkeys are green, why aren’t they fuel efficient? Randomness leads to down-syndrome. That’s not random, it’s just true. Though random could be true, I suppose. You can’t actually separate the two, truthiness and randomness. But if I said something like, “Mark flaps his wings toward the east” you could say that’s false. Especially if you could show me Mark flapping his wings toward any other direction than the east, such as west, north, south, southwest, northwest, eastwest, northeast or southeast. Guess what? I’m a little over half way there. That’s crazy. I’m sure nobody has made it this far, yet I continue on with the post. It would have been easier to just look at a picture. You could have already closed the browser window and moved on to more important things, like your banking. You should check your credit card and checking accounts online often. At least once a day. It helps you to prevent fraudulent charges, or at least dispute them in time. And maybe when you see your balance approaching zero, it will encourage you to make something of your life. I know I’m a bum most of the day, but when I see my checking account statement, I say to myself, “Tomorrow I’m going to do something with my life and make a ton of money,” and tomorrow I forget about that, until I see my checking account balance and repeat it in my head. Sometimes I say it aloud. I think this is turning out to prove that one thousand words doesn’t mean much. Sort of like what Mr. Rall would always say, “Practice doesn’t make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect.” Consider all these words imperfect. They aren’t worth much, huh? Yet still, a picture is worth the same. I would say that my picture which I post today is worth more than a thousand words. It’s a much better picture than the one Randy posted, for example. So I’m going to say that it’s worth one thousand and two words. I know you’re thinking, “Why not say one thousand and three?” Well, it’s not worth THAT much. I mean, it’s just a picture. Have a look for yourself. Would you say it’s worth one thousand and three words? I doubt it. It’s worth one thousand and two. That’s still more than Randy’s picture is worth. But now I’m confused. Does that mean I should write one thousand and two words or only one thousand? If I write one thousand and two words, it would give you something to compare the value of it with. However, if I only type one thousand, then you can still compare values and realize that the picture is worth two words more. I think I’ll go with my original plan of one thousand words. I don’t have that far to go now. So, I guess I’ll go back to some randomness while we wait. Don’t fly too far from your computer speakers or you won’t hear when it’s time to come down. Homes are like skunks but sometimes not as smelly. Spit the fairy in the nose. Here’s one for Randy: we can awesome! Whatever I put here doesn’t matter because most people have already tuned out. But it’s the end! Yes, I’m here. This is worth the same as Randy’s picture. My picture is worth two more words. Cue picture!

Wishing for More

I have a home
With a roof and heat.
I have warm clothes
And shoes on my feet.
I have a TV and
A computer as well.
I have stuff to use
For a garage sale.
I have great things,
This is for sure,
But I lie here in bed
Wishing for more.
I have video games
And music CDs.
I have money for spending
And I do it with ease.
I have a car
That gets me from A to B.
Yet this stuff still
Doesn’t satisfy me.
There’s something missing.
What it is, I’m not sure.
But I lie here in bed,
Wishing for more.
I don’t have a lady.
I don’t have a wife.
Could that be what is
Missing from my life?
I know lots of girls
That are nice and fun.
But I have not found
THE girl….the one.
That’s the reason;
I am quite sure
That I lie here in bed
Wishing for more.

Look It

If you're like me, you have a lot of free time on your hands and are too lethargic to do anything productive. So you're probably wondering to yourself what you should be watching on TV this season. Luckily you don't have to wonder any longer. I'll tell you what to watch. And what not to watch.

What to watch:

The Office - This is probably the best comedy, still running, on TV. Oddly enough, it's way better than the original on British television. Those English pig-dogs used to be funny, but it seems their ideas need to be Americanized to have humor now. There are some strong emotional elements and even morals to some episodes. Despite this the comedy is still of amazing quality.

My Name is Earl - A very funny show. It's more about something than it is about comedy. Every episode wraps up a handful of mini-stories into a lovely bouquet of happiness. It's like Seinfeld with morals.

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart - Pure genius. Not only is this show incredibly funny, it is also very witty. There seems to be a general following among liberal, pseudo-intellectual college students. They seem to enjoy the feeling of being in the choir that they perceive the show as preaching to. I'd say that most of them are probably more "enlightened" than the viewers of regular news shows. But they are probably falling victim to the Counter-Culture Mechanism, which I think I made up, so I'll define later on in a post.

The Colbert Report - Purer Geniuser. This show is the best on the air.

Twenty Good Years - Delightfully funny. I watched this show because it was on after 30 Rock. But this turned out to be gold. The two characters are hilariously quirky and I feel I can relate to each.

Saturday Night Live - A classic. Entertaining, usually witty. And there's definately music.

Seinfeld Reruns - The new stuff doesn't compare to the Greatest TV Show Ever.

1 VS 100 - An interesting game show. However, the questions are way too easy. I'm going to tune in tonight and hope for some challenging ones. I think they'll probably get harder closer to the Million Dollar Prize.

Heroes - I haven't watched this. The commercials make me want to watch. I'm going to catch up on the series this Sunday. NBC will be re-airing three episodes.

The Amazing Race - This is probably the best reality show on the air. Survivor has taken a big dive in quality this year. The Amazing Race is always suspenseful, entertaining and emotional. Sometimes there are comical moments.


What not to watch:

Deal or No Deal - Oh, this is so stupid. Howie, please, make it stop!

Soap Operas - The Hidden Dangers

Happy Hour - This show is for stupid youth.

30 Rock - I don't know if this show is really terrible or if it's mostly due to my disappointment. It seemed like 30 Rock would be a great show. Yet it is boring, the jokes are stale and it's overly NBC.

Survivor - Like I said, Survivor has taken a big dive in quality. Maybe it was gradual, I just didnt' realize how far they sunk until now.

Friends Reruns - They weren't good when they first aired. So what are you expecting?

Stop Throwing Rocks at Me!

Hello, peoples of the internet. I am sorry for interrupting Clayburn's blog. There's been something troubling me. It's probably best that I post about it.

By the way, my name's Misunderstood Clayburn.

I have a little bit of a problem with society. Maybe it's not society in general, but at least the society with which I interact.

The other day I was at Wal-Mart buying grapes. I had my grapes in my basket and decided to browse the store before heading to the cash register. As I made my way to the electronic section, I realized that the women's underwear section was coming up on my right. My feeling is that section should be placed more discreetly at the center of the women's clothing section. Walking by it makes me very uncomfortable.

But the problem isn't the placement of the women's underwear. My problem is with some fellow shoppers. As I passed the bras and panties I deliberately tried to avoid eye contact with them, the bras and panties, not the shoppers. But then I felt that my avoidance was too obvious. I tried looking straight ahead. And that's when my eyes glanced over to my right. They had caught some motion among the underwear.

No sooner than my eyes arrived back at their appropriate viewing position, a shopper spoke out at me. "Hey," he said. "Were you just oogling the bras and panties?"

"Uh, no." I said.

"Ew, gross," a young lady announced. "He's a pervert!"

I tried to explain myself. Words came out but without order.

Then it hit me. No, not an idea, a rock. "Get out of here you nasty perv," another girl yelled. She had a handful of rocks, as though she had been waiting for a social pariah to come along for her target.

"Stop!" I screamed. I tried to leave the place, but they had me surrounded. The only opening was through the underwear section. I made a dash down the isle of bras.

"Oh, sick! He's smelling them."

"What a pervert!"

"He's probably getting off on this."

"Ew, he's disgusting."

"I can't believe he's checking out bras at Wal-Mart. That's probably the only ones he can ever see!"

Laughter and rocks flew at me as I ran for the exit, leaving my grapes behind. I made it safely to the parking lot and left Wal-Mart. On my way home I began to cry. Not so much for the mean things they said or the pain from the rocks. I cried because my grapes didn't make it out with me. I deserted them. They will be missed.

That was not the only time I've had rocks thrown at me. People often throw rocks at me and the reasons vary from my love of video games to the way I wear my mustache.

I have never understood what they hope to accomplish with the rock throwing. It seems as though they have a desire not to associate with weird freaks, such as myself. Perhaps that is a reasonable desire. I cannot say that I would have that desire, but then I'm one of the weird freaks. If I were normal, would I need to be so adimant about my stance against freakdom?

It's really something I don't understand. I suppose I can't understand. In the same way that normal people can't understand me. But I feel the difference is that I want to understand them, they don't wish to understand me. Sure, that's an assumption, but I feel the throwing of rocks can easily be interpreted as not caring to understand something.

Maybe you people can help me understand. Whether you're normal or weird, I feel you can lend something to the conversation. I'd like to hear your ideas and thoughts.

It feels a little better sharing this with the world. But I'm afraid the problem itself will never be solved. The threat of high impact stones will await me wherever I go.

Battle of Being

Moments ago I would have bravely ventured into the room slaying the demons that await me. However, now I know that among them waits Cornelda. She was my lover, long ago. Though that is not the reason for my cowardly hesitation. I know her too well. I know her capabilities and talents. She could kill me in a second with only a finger.

It's not difficult to fight something you once loved. The difficulty is in fighting all the qualities within it which caused that love. Strength, virtue, intelligence, charisma, intrigue and more. Everything which had made her so perfect in my mind is waiting with her on the other side of that door.

But it is too late to turn back. The path behind me had been set ablaze by the destruction I caused. I had fought a tough and dirty fight for these demons, with these demons, as a demon myself. And now they have turned on me. Their quarrel is no longer with the winged vixens. They are no more, thanks to me. I am now their enemy.

I can see the pain and suffering I brought about behind me. I realize that is what awaits me inside this room. Some would say that it's a befitting end. An eye for an eye, as the maxim goes. Though I believe it would be unfair. I haven't enough eyes to pay for the righteous wrong I've done.

Even when faced with only one choice I find it hard to make up my mind. Decisions should be left to the prophets. Yet they are all inside the room, with a prevision of my death at their hands.

"Forgive them," a voice whispers. I turn around to see only decaying death. "Forgive them," the voice repeats, "As we forgive you."

I see a small, bluish light amidst the redish black pyre and yell at it, "Liar!" While it's true that I regret my lethal actions, I do not respect those who fell. They had gotten what they had deserved. Their many lies and well-intentioned injustices had caught up to them. And now they claim to forgive me. Yet I can feel their dishonesty, their hidden hatred within their charred hearts. "You do not forgive me," I roar at the beacon of blue. "And neither will they!"

With my sword raised high I charge into the room.

Randy Remixed

You have to click here

Does Clayburn Have Depression?

Have you lost interest in your favourite hobbies and sports - or - are you spending increased amounts of time on them almost compulsively?
It's back and forth. I'll go a long time without doing anything that could be considered a hobby of mine, then one weekend it's all I do.

Do you feel sad often for no reason at all - or - very irritable?
No. I don't think I'm ever irritable. I'm usually really positive. But I do get sad, but with reason. I have dreams often were I am irritable and I often cuss someone out or beat them with a bat.

Have you lost enjoyment in spending time with family and friends?
No. I enjoy spending time with family and friends. I don't spend much time with them though. I don't have friends. I see my sister every once in a while. I eat lunch with my dad nearly everyday and I see my grandma usually once a week.

Have you lost your appetite - or - have been overeating almost compulsively?
No. I'm trying to watch my eating, but it's not helping. I want to eat less more often, but I still tend to have no more than three meals a day and at least one is huge. I also have a problem with eating before bedtime sometimes. Just FIY or something.

Is it hard to get to sleep and your sleep is restless and broken - or are you feeling so tired that you want to sleep all the time?
I fall asleep easy usually. I like to sleep. I don't think I'm ever feeling tired. I just have to go to sleep so I can maybe wake up earlier or easier.

Have you lost interest in sex - or - have become very preoccupied by it?
Hmm...I don't know. I guess neither.

Do you feel worthless, guilty, or that you are a burden to your family?
No.

Are you thinking about death or suicide or about harming yourself?
Oddly, it seems like it. But I could never do it. So it's more like I think I should consider killing myself, but I know I couldn't do it.

Do you have trouble concentrating making decisions?
No.

Do you feel extremely tired and have you lost all your energy?
Maybe. I'm not very energetic. But I don't feel tired. I think if need be I could summon up energy, but I don't have much to do.

So, it seems like I don't have Depression. I'm happy about that, I guess. Here's the test to see if I have Mania. Sounds more my style. Though I think whatever I have would start with psych.

Do you have persistent "highs" - or - persistent irritable moods?
I get some really awesome highs every once in a while. And I have some lows too. But usually I feel stuck in between.

Do you feel you have boundless energy but have little need or desire to sleep?
I'd love to stay up all night. But I love sleep, so eventually I'd sleep a lot. Since I have work in the morning, I go to sleep early.

Do your thoughts race?
I had one in Nascar, but it didn't do very well. It crashed and burned on the first lap.
I don't think my thoughts race. I don't know.

Does your speech feel "pressured" like you can't get the words out fast enough?
No.

Are you making decisions too fast often without realizing the dangerous or painful consequences involved?
No.

Has your interest in sex increased greatly?
No.

Well, this seems to imply that I'm not depressed or have mania. What are your thoughts on my ailment? Any disorders for which I should test myself?

Who Needs Dinosaurs?

If you have trouble reading the text, you can click the image to open it.

Passing

I hadn't planned on posting today. Robocop said he was going to post. But I found out he was referring to his own blog. So, here's another crappy poem. I'd just read Robocop's blog today if I were you. And probably every Saturday. I think I'll make it a habit to have my Saturday posts suck more than usual so I don't take away viewers from Robocop.

Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. The poem:

In a land quite distant
There is a young lad
who listens carefully
to the words of his dad.
He's told about life
and the birds and the bees.
He learns of honor and
about making cheese.

As the years pass
the lad grows old.
He then tells his son
the things he was told.
The time soon comes
when life is no more
and what was life?
What did he live it for?

I'm not a Good Lord

Sorry, Clayburn's out of the office today and I'm filling in. Nice to meet you, hope you guessed my name. But in case you haven't, I'm Evil Clayburn.

The other day I was in Hastings, looking through some philosophy books (Socrates, what a dumbass). There was an old couple near me and I over heard one say, "The Good Lord giveth and taketh away."


Hmm...am I a good lord?

I do think I'm doing an okay job of being a god in general. It is disheartening being a kind of "middle management god". Clayburn is the god, in fact, I think I'm supposed to capitalize that. I'm more like...Hermes, but not gay. My role is supportive. Without me, would Clayburn still function? Maybe. But it would be difficult. He only has three support gods currently. There's me, Misunderstood Clayburn and Egotistical Clayburn. I'm sure you'd agree that without me Clayburn would be pretty much useless.

But is Clayburn a good Lord? Now, as the god of Evil, you'd expect me to lie, right? Wrong! The truth is often evil. Without me, Clayburn would be a very dishonest person. But I'd have to say that Clayburn is not a good Lord, going soley by the quote above. You see, he's very giving. But he doesn't taketh away. The good lord does both, yet he only does one.

I've decided to help him with this. You see, I'm part of this organization and if its leader isn't up to par, that reflects on me. When I go out to the bar people will see me and say, "That's the guy working for that Lord that never taketh away."

In other areas of godliness, Clayburn seems to be doing okay. He could afford to pay us more, or at least install a coffee machine in the break room.

Another area that could use improvement is his range of influence. There aren't many worshipers of Clayburn. I blame society's recent decline in morality.

I for one would like to see more forceful means of gaining influence. However, Misunderstood Clayburn is the favorite around here. Clayburn seems to think that the best way to gain worshipers is to give, give and give then make people feel sorry for him because he was such a giver and people treat him badly. He always tasks Misunderstood Clayburn with inciting pity within his subjects. It makes him seem weak and weakness is not respected. Without respect more people misunderstand him. It's a destructive cycle.

But I have a plan to turn things around. It may require me putting in some overtime, but I will try to make more of an impact here. If I could get Clayburn to follow through with some of my ideas and policies, I think it would be better for the long run of the organization.

You can help! Tonight when you pray to Clayburn, specifically send your prayers to Evil Clayburn. It should empower me enough to get ahead of Misunderstood Clayburn and enact some changes for the good, the evil good.

The Feather

Here's a short little poem I was forced to write in school:


A feather fell from a flock
of flying fish in fairy land.
The feather fell somewhere in Chicago
landing on the head of a poor man.
He was startled
and rose to his feet.
He looked around
for someone to beat.
Then, like magic,
a fortune was found,
He had never noticed,
just sitting on the ground.
The man was rich
and had a great life,
until a golddigger
became his wife.

Losing my Mind

This post is gonna be fuckin' out there. I use the word "fuckin'" not as hyperbole. My feelings are that I'm losing my mind, but I'm not able to lose it and it's in that which causes the frustration leading to my going crazy. I'm too damn stable to go crazy, but too crazy to be stable.

I'm paranoid, but it's justified. Everybody is talking about me, but no one is talking to me. So how do I know they're talking to me? I find hints of it in my cereal! No, that's a joke, but seriously they are and I know it, and I feel like it's minute, but it's so continuous and seems to never end.

I'll forget about it for a while, but then something comes up. Another cereal hint showing me that despite my decades of solitude and non-interaction with society, I'm still the center of gossip.

I desire to be talked to. I don't have people to talk to, but I do like to talk to people. Some people are around me while I talk to them and they talk back. But it isn't enough. I need more.

My mind is stuck in the middle. I can forget about my paranoia and all that crap, but it comes back. I can't deal with it. And I can't completely do without it. It's there, and I want to be crazy, but I can't let myself. I don't want to be crazy, but it would make things much easier.

The other day I made a sandwich with mayonnaise, two eggs over easy and turkey deli meat. I called it a "turkey suicide". If a turkey committed suicide, what would it matter? People would probably just eat him for Thanksgiving without even thanking him. But the real question is how would a turkey kill itself? It hasn't the ability, in fact instinct would prevent it from being capable of killing itself.

To be a turkey is to live!

As I type my mind calms down, but only for a moment. Then it hits me that I'm not yet crazy and I go insane, but not a good insane. It's like an ejaculation that doesn't go anywhere. No boosters on the rocket. How can that even be called an ejaculation? Technically, it ejects, but not in the sense that a pilot ejects from his downed jet with tremendous thrust, sending him up into the sky to safety. But it's more like a turkey lays an egg. It's not much of an ejection, but rather just a fall. An analogy for my analogy. That's like a something.

So, anyway, I'm always out of stuff to write about and now I have something. It's my own psychosis, but still, it should have been yummy.

TO MAYBE BE CONTINUED DEPENDING ON MY STATE OF MIND IN THE NEAR FUTURE...

P.S. I'm not on drugs!

P.S.S. Cabbage is my random word.

P.S.S.S. Randomness...that is good. But is the world random? Is random real? No! It doesn't exist. But I shouldn't exist either. Nothing should exist. Everything is a paradox and therefor should have 'sploded by now. Forces are all opposing each other, making everything real and nothing matter. But the only thing that matters is that nothing is real. Like a ping pong match, but with people who never lose, never miss the damn ball, despite it's tiny size and extreme bounciness.

Going Forward in Reverse

So I'm sitting here not doing anything again. When I do stuff, I don't really do much.

I'm in a planning phase. Eventually I plan to do something. I don't know what that something is yet, but I'm sure it'll be awesome!

My planning phase isn't working out for me though. I need to be in the action phase. My soul is sitting around getting fat and lazy. It needs some fresh air and adventure. But it seems in the modern world adventure is tough to find.

I realize I need to set off into the world of adventure, but I'm not sure which direction to go. A herald would be a big help. There are many choices available to me and I can't decide. Where am I supposed to go?

Due to the indecision, I find myself complacent, here in my planning phase. Making money, getting in shape, straightening my teeth. Preparing for a day that might someday come.

That day could be today. Or next week even, if I choose it to be. I have an opportunity, in a way. I could sell my house. That would give me around $20,000. With that money I could do something.

But what am I supposed to do?

I could go to New York, Seattle, LA or Osaka. Maybe I could start a business of some sort here in Hobbs, or in Lovington. Or buy a new house.

Ultimately I feel I need change, but there are some things I don't want to change. I tell myself to wait until I'm finished with those things, then bring on the change. Maybe I should plan on that. I'll plan to follow my original plan of planning to do something sometime.

The Aftermath

I have found that once someone is accused of insecticide their reputation suffers greatly. Before my trial I could walk into McDonald's and order a double green chile cheeseburger without anyone spitting on it. Despite being found not guilty on the account of the DA having a weird name that the jury didn't much care for, I'm still being thought of as a grasshopper-killer, which I am.

How does one move on from that? How do I rebuild my reputation?

I thought long and hard about this while I looked up at the framed grasshopper leg above my mantle, the trophy of my conquest.

Hmmm...conquest.

Perhaps I could be seen as a town hero if I conquered something, or someone. But what?

Then it hit me like a bad idea hits an ignorant person. The homeless! Yes, that would me my ticket to hero status. Those without a house in which to live, to be more precise. They are becoming more and more a threat to the morals and integrity of Hobbs, America. I shall eradicate the homeless!

But how? Welfare to work programs? Apartments for the impoverished? Toxic waste traps in convenient store parking lots? No. None of those ideas were feasible or cost-effective. No, it was clear to me what needed to be done. There was no simple solution. No, no! I would need to think long and hard about this.

But right now I need to watch some TV.

Guest Poster: Robocop - Issue Warning

As you may have heard, I recently took it upon myself to regulate the internet. My first task coming out of retirement is to give Clayburn a warning for his so-called "web log".

I began reading your blog a few months ago. It had soon been obvious that this blog has been infecting the public with idiotic commentary, rebellious attempts at art and nonsensical nonsense (the most unlawful of unlawful internet crimes!).

My first objective was to search out Clayburn and destroy him. However, I quickly found that nobody is reading his blog, and so I decided I could let him off with a warning...this time.

I called the local police department and got Clayburn's home address. At around three in the afternoon, I showed up at his front door. He finally answered the door in his pajamas about five minutes after I had rang the doorbell.

"Hello, Mr. Griffin. I am Robocop," I said. "And I am here to issue you a warning for your extremely unlawful blog."

"Hi, Robocop," he replied. I had the impression that he was high, however none of my sensors picked up anything and they're infallible.

"Please sign here," I said handing him a clipboard with the warning citation attached.

"Did I win something?"

I wanted to snap his neck right then and there, as our Founding Fathers would have done, but I remained calm. "No, sir. You have been issued a warning. Should you continue with your peccant blog I will be forced to destroy you in accordance with the law."

"Oh, ok," he said and signed the paper. I tore off the yellow carbon copy and handed it to him. Suddenly, a black Eclipse drove down the street going nearly fourty-five miles per hour. The speed limit was only thirty-five.

"Say 'No' to drugs," I told Clayburn as I turned to chase after the speeding malefactor.

They stopped at the light, preparing to make a left turn. As I neared their back bumper they floored it. "Hault or be destroyed, punk!" I yelled after them. It was clear which option they chose.

As they drove down Grimes, getting further away, I began to assemble the rocket launcher which I always carry in my side compartment, for just these circumstances. They were at some distance when I had finished. I considered letting them go, but then I thought about the children. Yes, the children. They were the reason I was in this business. I couldn't let them down. I fired the rocket.

I accidently hit a school bus. Fortunately, I had a second rocket. I fired it. The rocket impacted the Eclipse just as they entered onto a busy intersection. Their car blew into pieces.

A mere 10 seconds later, I arrived at the scene. The explosion had caused a traffic disturbance. Thinking back to my early programming, I quickly began directing the vehicles as they approached the intersection. Finally, the local authorities arrived on scene. There was no trace of the driver of the Eclipse. I can only estimate he escaped, unscaved. He no doubt is wreaking havoc on the citizens of Hobbs, America. I vow to you, here today on this very blog, I will find him and bring him to justice.

Photo Caption Contest #4

John Williams was the winner of Photo Caption Contest #3.


"It's a good thing we don't have locking mechanisms on the vehicle doors."

Here is the new photo, so caption away!

10 Fun Ways to Poke Yourself in the Eye*

Randy made a claim that implied reading my web log was better than poking yourself in the eye. Well, it no longer has to be! That's right, I've assembled 10 different ways to poke your eye, the most exciting, fun and exhilirating possibilities of the modern era. The days of mundanely touching your eyeball with the tip of your index finger are over. Next time you're at a party, impress your friends with your knowledge of eye-poking. Or compete in Taiwan's annual Eye-Poking Competition with confidence and skill. The ten possibilities are endless**!

1. Use a fork. Try to get all the prongs into your eyeball.
   
2. Wear a contact with a banana image on it. Get a monkey to poke at it.
   
3. Watch Pulp Fiction. Everytime you hear the word "Fuck" or a variation, poke your eye with a heroine syringe.
   
4. Find two guys named Larry and Curly, then smack them in creative ways. Eventually you'll be poked in the eye with amazing synchronism.
   
5. Pretend you've just seen Syriana (the George Clooney movie), this will cause you to poke your eye with anything available in hopes of ridding yourself of the terrible image burned into your retina.
   
6. Use your pinkies!
   
7. Use somebody else's pinky toes.
   
8. Lay in bed. Throw a dart straight into the air and try to catch it on its return trip with your eyeball.
   
9. Use a spoon to pluck out your eyeball. Set it on a table, then poke it angrily several times saying, "What are you gonna do about it, huh, huh?"
   
10. Offer your eye a cigarette. When it refuses, force the cigarette into its pupil and say, "Everybody does it."
    

*Clayburn is not liable for any injuries or deaths that may result from these suggested eye-poking techniques. 
**The endlessness of the possibilities ends at option number ten.

Last Night

I never noticed the world in my backyard. Perhaps it was because of all the weeds which I'd see looking out my window. Unwilling to venture out beyond the concrete slab of my patio, I kept myself out of touch with it's divinity, until last night.

I received a text message on my cell phone, only moments before my bedtime. "Have you ever eaten a magic apple?" it read. Thinking back about the apples I have consumed over the course of my lifetime, I concluded none of the three had been magic. My reply was a simple "No".

Another message came instantly, "Come out and visit me. I'll take you to the apple." Two questions ran through my mind with regard to my imminent reply. Who and where. I made my choice of what to say, at the time not realizing the one would bring the answer to the other in time. I sent back my response, "Where?"

"In your backyard," came the message, "Three messages is my limit."

Of the three messages received, the last was the most unusual. I had seen out into my backyard several times and knew nobody was there. It was also curious that a limit was imposed on the number of messages. Perhaps they chose to only send me three or perhaps it was impossible, for some reason, for them to send me more.

I thought about it for a while before setting forth on my journey. I walked out onto the back porch and glanced around. Nobody was there. I walked out into my weeds, like an expedition through the Amazon. And there it was. A world unnoticed until now.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Be fertile and die,
Clayburn

My Last Dentist

As I wait in the chair
Quite nervous indeed.
Feeling comfort and care
I begin to read.
When the lady approaches
And calls out my name
Shiver runs down my spine;
I regret that I came.
Following the herald
My hands start to sweat.
She says, “Sit patiently;
Doctor’s not here yet.”
As I wait in fear
I think about how
I’ll breath safely and live,
But the Dentist comes now.
My head goes back
And it seems okay,
But worry still exists
In my mind as I lay.
My mouth wide open
And me close to death
I concentrate hard
To steady my breath.
Air entering my nose
And leaving it too;
Careful not to drown,
Careful not to lose.
“Open wide,” Doc says
And I ignorantly comply
Even though I know
I could possibly die.
My nose a bit stuffy,
Mouth too full;
Then all of a sudden a slip
Of the dentist tool.
Sharp pain in my gums,
Like a drill to a cavity,
It’s the stimulus
That will eradicate me
There is no air.
Breathing is no use.
Life being pulled
Like a bad tooth.
Lungs fill with water,
And plaque, and so this
Is my last visit,
My last dentist.

The Trial - Part Three

We entered into the courtroom with a renewed sense of....gusto or something. I walked up to the witness stand and took my seat. Tim sat down at the defense table. We looked at each other and nodded. I looked back over at Brick, ready to go. Tim dropped his head into his hands.

"I ask you again, Mr. Griffin. Did you kill Bob Hopper?" Brick questioned.

"Yes, he deserved to die and I hope he burns in Hell!" Wait, that was what I said in my head, in a perfect Samuel L. Jackson voice, but what came out in the courtroom was, "Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the Jury, yes, I stomped on Bob. I took my steel-toed, Wolverine work boot and dropped it right down on top of him. His guts spilled all over my driveway. But the real injustice is that I haven't had a place to park my car for over a week! The police have had the whole area taped off. I hear they even sent the body in for an autopsy. It seems to me that the law is going through way too much trouble for those people."

The crowd gasped.

"Those people, Mr. Griffin? I suppose you mean Latter Day Saints? Or are you referring to Bob's, may he rest in peace, homosexual son? Or perhaps you just hate Grasshoppers in general?"

I was wondering to myself why he capitalized 'grasshoppers'. But he was right up in my face now and the judge, jury and audience were all awaiting my response. I couldn't stay lost in syntax; no, I had to defend myself. "No, I don't hate Grasshoppers," I said, fully aware of my capitalization despite my beliefs against it, "Some of the best people I know are Grasshoppers....uh...Caine from Kung Fu...Jiminy Cricket."

The crowd gasped again.

Brick Johnson jumped on the opportunity, "I suppose Crickets and Grasshoppers are all the same to you, right Mr. Griffin?"

"Objection, your honor," Tim said. I wondered if he had been sleeping this whole time. "Counsel is being argumentative and is badgering my client."

"Objection sustained. Mr. Johnson, please refrain from attacking the defendant," said the judge.

Yes, do refrain from attacking me. This judge is a smart man.

"I'm sorry your honor," Brick said, "I have no further questions." He took a seat.

"We will now hear the closing arguements. Mr. Johnson." Judge Judge said.

Brick rose triumphantly. He took his place in front of the jury and delivered his speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen. The case you have heard today is one of great tragedy, a tragedy brought about my one man. An evil, vile man. A selfish and inconsiderate man. A man who can't even be called a man. But I ask you, don't let your emotions and personal hatred toward Mr. Griffin affect your judgment. Today's trial is about blame. Bob died, he was murdered. By whom? Who's to blame? We all know the answer to that. Mr. Griffin plead not guilty. He even lied on the stand about meeting Bob. However, only after having nowhere else to hide did he admit the truth. He killed Bob. He widowed the poor Mrs. Hopper. Now that you know who is to blame, bring back the emotion. Do you want a man like that out on the streets? Able to stomp at any moment? Supressing all our hops with his work boot of bigotry and evil. I'm a hoppy man today because I know what hoppened will not go unpunished. Our legal system will work. Justice will prevail!"

After a momentary gasp, the crowd broke out into thunderous applause. Brick took his seat, "Beat that, loser," he whispered to Tim.

"You have the floor, Mr. Pratt," said the judge.

Tim rose. He walked toward the jury as he began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm not going to fill my arguement with puns involving the word 'hop'. No, because to me, this case wasn't about the fact Bob Hopper was a Grasshopper. The prosecution won't let you forget it. They filled their case with propaganda, labeling my client a bigot who killed out of hatred of Grasshoppers. You see, my client admitted to stomping on Bob, but you have to keep in mind that my client is never serious about anything. He often times lies for the pure amusement of it. What he told you today was a lie. He did not stomp Bob. Even his foot lied to you when it fit in the boot. My client couldn't make a true statement if a life sentence depended on it. So it should be obvious to you that if my client, the liar that he is, said he killed Bob, then he couldn't have killed Bob and the true murderer is out there still. Only by aquitting Mr. Griffin can you begin to find who's really responsible. My client is confident you'll make the right decision because, as he put it, you're 'all a bunch of smart heads'. Prove to me and the world that you are the smart heads Mr. Griffin believes you to be and aquit my client of these preposterous and slanderous charges."

No gasping. Complete silence filled the room as Tim took his seat.

"Alright then," said the judge, "The jury can now go into deliberation. We will convene back here once a decision is..."

"Your honor," one of the jury said, "We've reached a verdict."

"Well, that was unusually quick. How do you find the defendant?"

"Um, I guess we'd use the phone book, but if he's not listed, then I have no idea."

"I mean what's your verdict?"

"Oh. We the jury find the defendant not guilty on all counts."

The courtroom burst into an uproarous fit. I gave Tim a high five.

Stunned, the judge asked, "Why?"

"Well, we didn't really like the DA's name. Brick? What kind of name is that?"

Ah, finally, justice prevails.

CONCLUDED

The Trial - Part Two

Finally, it was our turn. The moment for which Tim and I had prepared for so long.

"Is the defense ready to call its first witness?" asked Judge Judge.

"Yes, your honor," Tim said.

Time for our secret weapon!

"We would like to call our secret weapon, Clayburn Griffin, to the stand."

The secret weapon, which at this point has sort of lost its secret status, provoked a large gasp from the bewildered and stunned audience. They braced themselves for what the weapon, once secret, had to offer.

"Ladies and gentlemen. My client has large, manly feet. Not no little nine and a halves. The defense would like to enter into evidence a size nine and half steel-toed Wolverine work boot and have my client try it on here today. If the boot doesn't fit, you must aquit."

Here a gasp, there a gasp, everywhere a gasp gasp.

"Very well. You may proceed, Mr. Pratt."

Tim brought the boot up to the witness stand and handed it to me. I took off my right shoe and tossed it to the side. Then I tried on the boot. My foot slipped perfectly into it.

Damn! It fits.

"Damn! It fits," Tim said. "Your honor, I ask that that, and everything leading up to that, be stricken from the record."

"Request denied, Mr. Pratt. You may continue questioning your witness."

"Uh, no further questions, your honor."

"Your witness, Mr. Johnson."

Brick stood up with an evil smile on his face. It gave me the shivers. Or maybe it was the coldness of the courtroom. It's practically Fall and they're still running the air conditioners!

"I know you killed Bob. Marlene knows you killed Bob. The jury knows you killed Bob. Tell me, then, what do you think killed Bob?"

The crowd let out a poorly executed gasp.

"Uh, natural causes?" I said.

"Natural causes? Squished by old age, perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

"After harassing Mrs. Hopper, you ran into Bob, correct?"

"No, I've never met Bob."

"So what did happen after the talk with Mrs. Hopper?"

"I checked my mail and then, I uh, I..."

I ran into Bob. Then I stomped him! I can't say that though. So what do I say I did? I know, I was mowing my grass! But wait, my grass isn't mowed, they could check it. I know....I started to mow my grass, but my lawn mower died. That's it!

"I decided to mow my grass because Bob was making fun of..."

Ah, crap! Let's get the gasping over with.

Gasping, quite enthusiastic gasping I might add.

"So, indeed you did meet Bob!" Brick yelled at me.

"Uh, well, yeah, sort of."

Brick nodded pensively. He put his palms together, tapping his index fingers together. Slowly, his hands lowered. He glanced over at the jury, taking a moment to look each of the twelve in the eyes. Then, looking back at me he said, "Did you kill Bob Hopper?"

Stalling, I said, "Um." Then I started to scratch my right ear with my left hand and poke myself in the chest with my right thumb while rolling my eyes. Tim jumped to his feet, instantly recognizing our secret signal.

"Your honor, in light of recent evidence and quid pro quo and such, I ask for a short recess so that the defense may reexamine its case."

Judge Judge granted the request. Tim and I met in the courthouse restroom to discuss a change in our strategy and pee.

TO BE CONCLUDED...

The Trial - Part One

The courtroom was silent, except for the quiet sobbing of Marlene Hopper who sat in the front pew. I sat at the defendant table with my lawyer, Tim Pratt. We all awaited the arrival of the judge. "Please rise for the Honorable Judge Herbert Judge," said the bailiff. We stood.

Judge Judge came out of his little door and took his seat behind the bench. We all sat. "Would the defendant please rise?" the judge asked.

Gah, isn't this why I stopped going to church? I stood up, along with Tim.

"You have been charged with three counts of harassment and one count of intentional grasshopper slaughter. How do you plead?"

Tim leaned toward me and whispered, "Pretend I'm saying something relating to the case. Think about what I'm saying, then come to a conclusion to agree with it." It was a good thing I took an acting class before.

Tim leaned back away and I said, "Not guilty."

The audience gasped. Marlene shouted out, "Not guilty, my foot! You killed him, you killed Bob!" and burst into tears. The judge called for order and the courtroom quieted down.

After some rather routine opening statements, full of things like, "Bob hopped his last hop" and "I hop, for your sake, this man is put away for a long, long time," District Attorney Brick Johnson was asked to call his first witness.

Dr. Hal Levin took the stand. "First, Dr. Levin, would you mind telling the court your qualifications?"

"Why, certainly sir. I have long been a leading forensic expert in this country, as well as Mexico and Zimbabwe. In the last 20 years I had decided to devote myself to crimes concerning herbivorous insects of the suborder Caelifera in the order Orthoptera. I have two doctorates, one from Harvard, the other from the University of Kentucky. I have served as an expert witness in over 200 cases, half of those concerning hate crimes toward insects."

"And could you tell us your involvement with this case?"

"I was called in by the Hobbs Police Department. They said they had what looked to be a homocide disquised as a suicide. Apparently the crime scene was made to imply Mr. Hopper had jumped off the roof of Mr. Griffin's house, killing himself on impact. However, I found prints around the body, belonging to a size nine and a half steel-toed Wolverine workboot. Upon closer examination of the body I found that it was indeed a homicide."

Another gasp.

Brick looked over at the jury, comprised of five men, four women, two centipedes and a worm. He looked at them as if he were holding back a tear, shook his head and said, "Going by the autopsy, who killed Bob Hopper?"

"Clayburn Griffin," he stated.

Believe it or not, the audience gasped another time.

The doctor continued, "The prints matched those we also found throughout Mr. Griffin's house and, judging by the...well...the disfigurements of the body, it can be determined that Mr. Hopper's stomper was physically weak and relied predominantly on the force of gravity to land the fatal blow."

Dr. Levin talked for what seemed like hours about all the icky details of the murder. The jury seemed particularly disturbed by the fact one of Mr. Hopper's legs was never found. "No doubt taken as a trophy," as Dr. Levin put it.

Brick Johnson brought up several more so-called expert witnesses. Each provided more boring evidence than the one preceding him.

Finally, Brick called Marlene Hopper to the stand. She hippity-hopped her way up to the witness chair.

"When did you first meet the defendant?"

"It was September 26th, 2006. I'll never forget it. It was the day my husband was murdered!"

Gasping galore.

"Could you tell me about that encounter?"

"Mr. Griffin was mighty mean. He ridiculed and mocked my homosexual son and our religion. I'm a good Christian lady, and it's not like myself to get all up in a temper, but after talking to Mr. Griffin I couldn't help myself. I said a few mean things myself, which I have reptented a thousand times for since."

"What else do you know about him?"

"Well, I've never once seen him leave for church on a Sunday morning."

The spectators let out a gasp, or maybe a wheeze, I couldn't tell.

"No more questions, your honor," Brick announced.

"Mr. Pratt, do you wish to cross-examine?" the judge asked.

Tim stood and said, "Yes, your honor." He walked over to the witness stand. "Mrs. Hopper, did you see who killed your husband?"

"No, sir."

"What exactly was your husband out doing the day he was supposedly murdered?"

"I don't rightly know."

"He didn't tell you why he left?"

"No, sir."

"How long had he been gone?"

"I'm not sure, a few days I suppose."

"So your husband left for a few days without telling you anything about his trip?"

"That's right."

"Mrs. Hopper, isn't it true that Bob was having an affair and you found out, so you killed him and framed Mr. Griffin whom you had just recently met?"

"No."

"No it's not true or no it is true?"

"No, it's not true."

"So you admit you killed him then?"

"No. Mr. Griffin killed him."

"But why would my client care that he was having an affair?"

"He wasn't having an affair. Bob would never cheat on me."

"Because he knew you'd kill him if he did, right?"

"No, because he was a good husband."

"Are you aware that's an oxymoron?"

"You, sir, are an oxymoron."

Tim seemed hurt by the statement. He looked as though he would start to cry. Sniffing he said, "No more questions," and sat down.

"Mr. Johnson, next witness?" the judge said.

"The prosecution rests, your honor," Brick responded.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Goodnight

Yesterday, I stomped on Bob. Unfortunately, there's going to be a murder trial. I'll let you know how that goes.

But today, I'm not really thinking about Bob. I'm not sure what I'm thinking about. It's a difficult task to go to work in the morning, even though I know that once there, things will be easy. I find myself sleeping in, despite knowing I should go in on time once in a while. It's been a long while since I've been in at 7:30.

I like to sleep. Sleep is wonderful. When I first awake, it's the only thing I desire.

But I can't sleep forever. I have to do stuff. Stuff won't do itself, afterall. I'm not sure what, if any, stuff I do. It doesn't seem like I've accomplished much of anything. I've bought a house. I have a well-paying job. I write web log posts often. I take a couple of classes at the JC. I'm even maintaining a long-distance relationship.

Still, I don't feel satisfied. I'd rather be sleeping.

The only thing that satisfies me is entertainment. I feel fine when I'm watching a movie or playing a game or even writing a web log post, though the entertainment value is questionable. I like to be entertained, but the most entertaining thing to me is entertaining others. I need to find others to entertain.

When I sleep, I have great dreams. Good or bad, they're entertaining.

Today I'm stuck at work for a while. I'll most likely remain here late into the night. However, I have a goal: To Entertain People. Which people though? Any people, I suppose. People are here for my amusement. So, if you're wondering what your purpose in life is, that's it! To assist in my amusement. So, today I'll be amused, tonight I'll sleep.

Randy's Concrete Jungle

The sun was starting to peak over the horizon. I took a step out my front door, looked up into the sky and stretched. "Today I think I'll visit some crazy imaginary place, as if I were high...high on the stinky weed of life," I said and walked over to my driveway.

There she stood, or sat, I suppose. A little grasshopper, wearing a flat straw hat with a pink band.

"Hello there," I said.

"Oh, my!" the grasshopper replied, "You startled me."

"I'm sorry. I was just wondering what you were doing in my driveway, uh, ma'am."

"The name's Marlene Hopper. You can call me Mrs. Hopper."

She sure sounds pretentious. "Well, Mrs. Hopper, if you don't mind me asking, what brings you to my driveway?"

"I'm looking for my husband."

"Oh, what's he look like?"

"A grasshopper, you dern fool, what else?"

I wanted to stomp her after that, but I didn't. "But how can you tell him from other grasshoppers?"

"He'd be the one all hopped up on drugs."

"Oh, he's an addict?"

"No! He's on medication. His psychiatrist prescribed it to him."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing's wrong with him. He's just a tad obsessive and unfocused. He gets one thing on his mind and that's it, at least for a week or so, then it's something else. He doesn't accomplish much of anything. Why, the other day I found him trying to get into the Steinhouses' yard. He couldn't jump high enough though and kept smacking his head on the fence. Finally, I told him to stop with that nonsense and look after Charlie."

"Who's Charlie?"

"Charlie's my boy. He's not doing too well. He's got aids."

"Oh, he's gay?"

"As a matter of fact he is. But homosexuals aren't the only ones with aids, you know."

"Yeah, but if you see a man with 10 wives, you assume he's a Mormon."

"We prefer to be called Latter Day Saints."

"Isn't having a gay son a problem for you, with your Mormon beliefs?"

"The good Lord made my baby the way he is and there ain't nothing wrong with that. Maybe if you actually attended church you'd know what real Christianity is about."

"How do you know I don't attend church?"

"If you see a self-absorbed, superficial punk you assume he's not a church-goer."

"You know, you're very mean for a Christian grasshopper."

"I think it's best I leave now. You bring out the worst in me. Besides, I need to find Bob." She hopped off into the tall grass.

I really need to mow my yard. I walked over to my mailbox. No mail. I headed back for my door, then I saw another grasshopper. I couldn't tell if it was a male or female one, so I just assumed it's a male. He didn't notice me.

"Hey, grasshopper. Are you a dude or a lady?"

"What kind of question is that? I'm a guy, it's obvious! What are you?"

"I'm a guy, but my Anima is female."

"Um...are you on drugs?"

"No. Are you?"

"Actually, yeah. Medication from my psychiatrist."

"Oh, you're Bob!"

"Yeah, I am. How'd you know?"

"I just met Marlene."

"Oh, yeah?"

"She was looking for you."

"I haven't been home for a few days. You see, I got this raise at work..."

Like I care.

"...And I decided to go buy a nice ring for Marlene. But I couldn't find the jewelry store. I got lost in all this grass. Somebody needs to mow once in a while."

"I'm sure they have their reasons for not being able to."

"Like what? It's not tough to mow a yard."

"Maybe they work all week."

"Yeah, but there's the weekend."

"Maybe they go to church and volunteer in the community on the weekend."

"Yeah, maybe. My guess is they're just a lazy bum."

*STOMP*

Okay. I know you're thinking what I did was mean. It was. You're saying that I killed Bob because he and Marlene told me the truth about me and I couldn't handle it. Not true. I know I'm a self-absorbed, UnChristian, lazy bum. I'm also selfish and inconsiderate. But a grasshopper who hops around on other people's driveways giving them lawn care advice is just asking to be squished.

Why Believe?

Nobody seems to know how to live life themselves. I suppose it's natural to seek out mentors, to find people who have lived life and learn from them. However, today people seem to throw themselves blindly at anything that's been around for a while.

Growing up in America, the obvious way to live life is that of a good Christian. However, when one realizes that doesn't cut it for them, they seek out other ways. Sometimes they can't give up their Christian beliefs, not because of their faith, but because having faith is right, has been right for so long, and doing so would be wrong. We can never be wrong.

Some people seek out other religions, the most common for Americans is Buddhism. It seems right. We see Buddhist monks walking around without a care in the world. They are much more devoted than Christians. They must be right.

We spend a great deal of our time wondering what is right, where is right. However, instead of developing right on our own, creating it for ourselves, we use what others have found to be right. When you have faith in God, whom do you really have faith in? The authors of the Bible. The pastor at your church. Your own parents. You can't trust me to ask you about your day, but you trust them when they tell you how it is.

"How was your day?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"The Bible is God's word."

"Oh, ok. Can we commence with the killing of the Muslims?"

(Yes, that was hyperbole.)

Why? Such a terrible word. It has its uses, its purpose, but today it is way overplayed. When somebody tells me they want to be a writer, or that they enjoy writing, I don't ask them why. I trust them. I usually figure the reason is they need an outlet to spout their wisdom to the ignorant masses. But why doesn't matter. They like to write, they should write. They must follow their bliss.

Religion teaches us to follow God's bliss, yet we can't ask him why. We have to trust and have faith. The problem with living your life for God is it's not doing anything for you. If I offered you a candy bar to never write again, would you take it? Sure, you'd be giving up your life's bliss, but after it's over, you get a candy bar! Wait, a candy bar doesn't compare to an enternity of bliss? Alright then, when you die, I'll give you an enternity of bliss if you never write ever again. Deal? Great.

I think instead of wondering who's right and wrong, we should wonder whose life is ours. I believe that if people know which life they're in control of and who's in control of their life, they'll do a much better job of living.

Why do we write? To tell others how to live their lives. Why do we believe? To be told how to live our lives.

Fighting the Narrow Mind,
Clayburn

Change is for Vending Machines

I'm lucky enough to have a Gmail account, Blogger account and even an Orkut account. These are the best in their fields. I try to share them with everyone and offer to send invitations, but people aren't interested. They already have several emails and have signed up for dozens of those social networking sites, like MySpace.

I would think it would be a good time to organize things. I had a lot of email addresses before, but now I only use my Gmail account for email. It's great. I still have my Hotmail account, but I don't ever check it; I just use it for the Messenger. (And eventually Google Talk will be better than MSN Messenger).

MySpace, as I've said before, sucks. There's a ton of problems. People stick with it because they don't know any better and there's 60 million people using it. Orkut is way better, but not as many people are on it yet because it's by invitation only.

The main problem for Orkut and Gmail is that they would require people changing their ways.

People seem to resist change. The goal in life is to become right and stick with it. If you believe you're right, then any change would be wrong, evil, bad. Of course, being under the false impression you are right is far more destructive than possibly being wrong.

I think most everyone, being the good and humble people they are, would not claim to be perfect. This would imply some (be it miniscule) room for improvement. So it seems to me that the goal would be to improve. Yet to improve, you must change. Without change, you'll only be as good as you are now and with the rate of inflation, you'll be pretty much worthless in a few months.

Have your cake,
Clayburn

theConditionals

There's this guy, his name is Randy, but he's not important. What IS important is that he has a web log that I occasionally find worth reading. The problem is he does it all in html, so his web log is a single web page. This makes it difficult for me to refer you to a specific entry.

Randy has talked about some design changes, but I think he's somewhat of a procrastinator. If he was a troubled teen, he'd come to his 20th Class Reunion and shoot everyone. Hopefully I can convince him to get a little design implemented into his web log. I think that he enjoys the artistic quality of being nothing more than black text on a white page.

When I'm done with this blabber, I plan to give you the link to his website. (It can also be found on the right side of my web log, no, your other right, yeah, that's it. But pay attention to this post, don't click it yet!)

I first want to say that I think there might be some interesting interactivity between our web logs. While I can't promise you it'll be interesting, I can promise you it'll be something. So be sure to check out each of our web logs daily.

Here it is, the friggin' link: http://www.beingbrown.net/ (formerly theconditionals.com)

Clicking here opens it in a NEW (and improved) window!

Egotistically,
Clayburn

The Institute

When you read any of my posts, do comment on them. I'd like criticism of any sort. My goal is to revise much of my work in hopes of making it better, so let me know your thoughts.

---

I walked in the building and stared at the walls

Power was here in this place, within it all

With grains of knowledge and truth and majesty

Came the beautiful sirens' sweet calls

Doing their deeds brought me wealth and love

Especially from the great mystery above

The people all seemed to know and agree

With all of the thoughts I was thinking of

My ultimate task came with much anticipation

Yet it led ultimately to my moral dissipation

After feuding against the angst within me

I settled against the evil temptation

And yet when I returned to my beloved institute

I found the foundation quite resolute

They looked upon me as a common gypsy

I was said to be flawed and ill repute

My mind was estranged much to its remorse

And my heart was uncertain in its course

Realization came intuitively

That Evil is here, the system's its source

In Your Eyes

In your eyes
I'm reminded of our tragic lives. Sitting, rowing.
Fishing to survive.
Why did we leave?
I suppose we chose to be naive.

In your eyes
I see the remnants of our great fortune,
Like the diamonds I bought you, sparkling in the sun.
Hired help won't help us now.
And what was money anyhow?
It did not save us, now that's obvious.

In your eyes
I sense the glamorous social boon.
We had obtained it without knowing it would lead to doom.
Talking and joking; Laughing and smiling.
What ever did it mean?
Jokingly faking; Laughs beguiling.

In your eyes
I know the goodness of our so-called souls. Charitable deeds that greatly pleased those who sought to judge.
If we took, we gave. Properly we would behave.
But now who cares?
They still disdain us. My, how they hate us.

In your eyes
I enjoy the wonderful tragedy of our lives, the only life I want to live.
Floating atop the dark abyss, our love, our raft persists.
Is this good enough?
Enough to make small stuff vanish, like true love they all sought to banish.

In your eyes
I feel our epic descent's lovely pain.
Perhaps our passion was a poisoned potion, ensuring our deaths out on the ocean.
Would I make that mistake again?
Gladly again and endlessly,
for in your eyes
reflects me
looking in your eyes happily.

Photo Caption Contest #3

John was the winner of Photo Caption Contest #2. For your hard work and funny caption, you're awarded with some pointless recognition. Yay, John!

"A gun that is? Or happy to see me you are?"

Here's the new Photo! Take a look, think hard and post your captions.

Spiritual Bouquet

Through stained binoculars I could see
That perfection was waiting for me
Across the rugged terrain of my heart
Thought it was where I wanted to be

I traveled alone for miles and miles
Ignoring the guardians' poisoned smiles
Searching for something state of the art
Ignoring my blind Freudian styles

Great treasures came to me on the way
The most treasured of all I would say
To dig into
And construe,
To fall through
And outdo,
Was you
You became my spiritual bouquet

Through the breviloquent cold weather
With dedictation we went together
Then I realized you're the component part
Planted in me like a Princess Feather

Transcendant flowers along the way
The most beautiful one I could say
Is you
You became my spiritual bouquet

Closer to the perfect location
I made a crucial observation
I couldn't admit but knew from the start
The journey was the destination

Great treasures came to me on the way
The most treasured of all I would say
A transcendant flower I met one day
The beautiful girl with whom I stay
You became my spiritual bouquet
Yes you
You are and will be always
Eternally my spiritual bouquet

The Word of the Day

Some people like to sign up for those "Word of the Day" things. They get a new word in their email everyday, or it's displayed on their start page. I don't mind learning new ones from time to time, but I don't need a website to tell me what the word of the day is.

I'd much rather make up my own words. Coinage is fun! So, today I'm going to post a few words of the day. Use them in sentences and you can splendicate yourself to your friends!

Sophistocrat - A pretentious, and stereotypical, member of societies upper-class. Often seen wearing a top hat. Let's tar and feather that sophistocrat!

Pundicity - Capacity for using puns, humorously and appropriately. He's been reading the dictionary to improve his pundicity.

Splendicate - An act of instilling a feeling that something (or someone) is splendid. Often used to imply devious means, such as propaganda. I tell people my house is worth $195,000 to splendicate it, and myself.

Spit - Slang for shit. He be all crazy an' spit

Got some words of your own? Comment them.

Too Sad to Post

There was a tragedy on Labor Day. Steve Irwin was killed by a sting ray while filming a documentary. I realize of course that I didn't know him, yet I'm still very saddened by his death. I'm not a big fan of his show, but anytime I'd catch him on Conan or Leno or something he was always so much fun to watch. The Crocodile Hunter was probably one of the most enthusiastic, positive and happy people on Earth.

At first his death seemed too obvious. The idea of a guy who constantly places himself around dangerous animals being killed by one of those animals...it's as if God had writer's block. But as I type this, I realize that his death wasn't such a sad thing. We all die eventually and his death is definately a loss to all of us. But he did die doing what he loved. I feel like he got what he wanted out of life. He accomplished so much, with his TV show, his zoo, his character, his family.

Perhaps the death of a man who lived his life isn't a tragedy.

Bloody Pricks

There's this really crazy idea called "Unconditional Positive Regard". It means that you regard people positively, without conditions. It's basically the opposite of what our society is used to today. People don't like someone when they're bad, but they like them when they're good. Bad people are punished, good people are rewarded. Yet is a bad person not good? Is a good person bad?

The problem is in how we perceive duality. The Universe contains everything and its opposite. The idea of the Tao is a balance of the opposing energies. Instead of one destroying the other, they are integrated into the whole.

Imagine a circle with a line drawn across its diameter. The top of the diameter is white, the bottom is black. If the background is white, you have half a circle. If the background is black, you get the same results. Is one part more a circle than the other part? Of course not, neither side is a circle without the other.

People should be looked at in the same manner, of course, they're more complex than a circle with two halves. The idea is to look at the person as a complete entity and realize they are human. They are not bad. They are not good. They are human.

This doesn't mean that one shouldn't dislike anyone. Some people deserve to be punched in the nose.

Here's a quote from the Merchant of Venice, a play by Shakespeare:

Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs
dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with
the same food, hurt with the same weapons,
subject to the same diseases, heal'd by the same means,
warm'd and cool'd by the same winter and summer
as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed?
If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us,
do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

I Condemn Thee to Hades

We live in a society that values judgment. I think there are several factors. Perhaps the biggest is religion. All of the Abrahamic Religions have a distinct idea of Good versus Bad. In these religions you are taught to see things mostly black and white. You're encouraged to do good, and taught what is bad. These bad things, which are restricted of you, can easily become a part of your Shadow, or unconscious self. If you at some point desire to do something deemed Bad, you tell yourself not to do it. The desire is still within you, but you have repressed it. Then, when that element of your Shadow is seen within someone else, you attack it. Many people are familiar with the concept of Homophobia. This idea correlates to it in that people who tend to be Homophobes most likely had a homosexual experience or desire or thought which they considered to be wrong, thereby forgeting about it altogther and locking it away inside their unconscious. When they see homosexuals, they project the hatred for the "wrong" within themselves onto the homosexual person.

People who grow up in these kinds of societies have a strong need to be seen as Good and convince themselves they are Good. They do this by repressing everything wrong with them. They cannot accept wrong in others, which of course leads to intolerance and bigotry.

Here's a quote from my Crazy Christian Aunt:
"On the contrary, I do not view Islam as a myth. It is a very real lie, perpetuated by the god of this world.
It is the evil side of the war between good and evil that began in the Garden of Eden."

This war between good and evil is what seperates the western religions, and philosophies, from the eastern ones. In the west, duality means one side against the other. In the east, duality means balance and harmony.

Religion is typically the highest priority of ones life, at least when they must show a priority. The actual top priority isn't probably religion, but when asked, it is wrong to say so. Religion is primarily a tool to help portray an image. By being on God's side, one's character becomes untouchable and unquestionable. Whatever someone says about them, whatever they think about themselves, it can be washed away by the fact they're still right. It's the need to be on the Good and Right side of the war that brings people into fighting so hard for their side, especially in religion.

We're taught to fight for what we believe in, but what we believe in cannot be destroyed. It is within us and we carry it with us.

Our society goes further into dividing people with regard to race, financial status, political parties and so much more. The Western idea is that you find a side, and you embody that side. It causes hatred for the opposition and there is no harmony. In order to be a good Republican, one must despise Democratic ideals and tune out their "insane propaganda".

Christians, Muslims, Blacks and Whites are all humans. And they have value as such. It's for this reason that we should have Unconditional Positive Regard for each other.