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M-O-O-N, that spells a great book, laws yes! Everybody knows that!

Today I wrapped up reading what might be one of the best books I’ve ever read. It all started with ABC’s new show Lost, which I absolutely love, but that post’s for later this week. As I was browsing the message boards over at TV Without Pity, I found that Lost had finally received enough acclaim to warrant it’s own section. While slowly crawling through all the pages of posts, I stumbled across a discussion over an interview one of the show’s creators had given, where he divulged that the basis for the whole show was loosely pulled from a Stephen King novel titled The Stand. I read a few pages of the interview and of the discussion on the message board and twenty minutes later I had ordered a copy off E-Bay.

It finally arrived about a week later, all 1136 pages of, with its coverless front and its dog-eared corners. I tore into it that very night and it seems like I’ve yet to put it down. Until today, that is. The first chapter fires off like a rocket and you quickly learn what the book is about. A military germ warfare facility has a little mishap, the computer safety system has a little lapse, and a sentry is caught a little off guard. Before you know it, a nasty strain of the flu is released into the world that has a mortality rate hovering around 99.6%. Whoops.

The survivors soon find themselves scattered across the country and searching for each other, among other things. As they slowly begin to migrate together, a weird and unexplainable force begins to show them their paths. On the one hand, they could draw towards Her, in Nebraska, where the smell of corn is sickly sweet and where God has given Her the strength to live on. Or, they could go to Him, the Walkin’ Man, the Dude, the Dark Imp. With his red, cold eye and his dark, astounding powers. With his control over nature and his warm, bountiful, electrified Las Vegas. With his promises and his electricity and his stability and his…

The rest of the novel plays out the scenario. Good versus Evil, Light versus Darkness. Her versus Him. But honestly, the book wouldn’t be considered spectacular without something else, like say some memorable characters. And by the end of the novel, you find yourself calling everybody your friend. I’m not joking. I punched and dented the wall when one of the characters died in an assassination. I launched the book across the room when another character was sent out on a suicide mission. When another character passed on, I simply laid the book across my chest, grabbed the pillow lying beside me, and screamed into it. And when I finished the book, I realized that I wanted another one. I didn’t care anymore about the surrounding situations in the book, I cared about the characters. I cared about my friends. I wanted reassurance that they would survive, that they wouldn’t meet the same fate that some of my other friends had met. I wanted to see how the rest of their lives turned out, after the apocalyptic battle had finally resolved itself. I wanted to make sure they were alright, that they were happy. I just wanted to see them again.

I wanted to see the ever silent Nick Andros, who always seemed to hear what needed to be heard.
Good ‘ole East Texas himself, Stu Redmond, who was there from the start at the TEXACO.
Larry Underwood, who ain’t no nice guy, right?
Baldy Glen Bateman, who proved Sociology had its uses.
Sweet mother Abigail Freemantle, who still made her own bread to this day.
Amazing wild Joe, or whatever his name might actually be, and his “gift.”
Giggly Fran Goldsmith and her undying love for…well, I won’t spoil that.
Pimply, misunderstood Harold Lauder and his knack for never quite understanding them back.
Quiet Nadine Cross and her stark white hair, who knew what she had to do, but not how to do it.
Country boy Ralph Brentner, who reminded Larry to Fear No Evil.
The Judge. Dayna. Lucy. Doc. Lloyd. Trashcan Man.
Even burley Kojax himself, who always knew deep down he was a good dog.

And then there was Tom. Tom Cullen, who loved his matchbox car garage and who loved Nicky even more. Tom Cullen, who knew how to spell illegal, and Boulder, and DeeDee Packalotte. Tom Cullen, who just wanted to go back home where people loved him, laws yes. I honestly don’t think there has ever been a more likeable character in the history of novels. He may have been playing with a few cards short of a deck, but he more then made up for it in other ways.

The copy I ended up buying was the 1990 version, the Uncut and Unabridged version. King had originally released the book back in the late 70s and had been forced to cut out quite a bit. In his later version, he added some 300 pages and after I finished reading the book, I wanted to see if I could find a site that listed all the changes he had made. I never did find such a list anywhere on the Internet, but I did stumble upon a message board where somebody commented that chapter 38 hadn’t been in the original. As my eyes flickered across the computer screen and onto the chapter number, my heart instantly froze over and my chest suddenly felt as if somebody had knocked the wind out of me. It might seem silly that out of a book with 70 some odd chapters, I would remember chapter 38, but I did. Out of all the chapters, 38 was the only one I knew by its number. 38 was the only one where I found tears streaming down my face, where I found myself ripped from the story and sent spiraling into my mind only to fall right back into the tale. 38 told the story of Sam Tauber.

  As the superflu epidemic wound down, there was a second epidemic that lasted roughly two weeks. This epidemic was most common in technological societies such as the United States, least common in underdeveloped countries such as Peru or Senegal. In the United States the second epidemic took about 16 percent of the superflu survivors. In places like Peru and Senegal, no more than 3 percent. The second epidemic had no name because the symptoms differed wildly from case to case. A sociologist like Glen Bateman might have called this second epidemic “natural death” or “those ole emergency room blues.” In a strictly Darwinian sense, it was the final cut - the unkindest cut of all, some might have said.

  Sam Tauber was five and a half years old. His mother had died on June the twenty-fourth in the Murfreesboro, Georgia, General Hospital. On the twenty-fifth, his father and younger sister, two-year-old April, had died. On June the twenty-seventh, his older brother Mike had died, leaving Sam to shift for himself.

  Sam had been in shock ever since the death of his mother. He wandered carelessly up and down the streets of Murfreesboro, eating when he was hungry, sometimes crying. After a while he stopped crying, because crying did no good. It didn’t bring the people back. At night his sleep was broken by horrible nightmares in which Papa and April and Mike died over and over, their faces swollen black, a terrible rattling sound in their chests as they strangled on their own snot.

  At quarter of ten on the morning of July 2, Sam wandered into a field of wild blackberries behind Hattie Reynolds’s house. Bemused and vacant-eyed, he zigzagged among blackberry bushes that were almost twice as tall as he was, picking the berries and eating them until his lips and chin were smeared black. The thorns ripped at his clothes and sometimes at his bare flesh, but he barely noticed. Bees hummed drowsily around him. He never saw the old and rotted well-cover half buried in tall grass and blackberry creepers. It gave under his weight with a grinding, splintering crash and Sam plunged twenty feet down the rock-lined shaft to the dry bottom, where he broke both his legs. He died twenty hours later, as much from fear and misery as from shock and hunger and dehydration.

I must have read that intro to chapter 38 ten, probably twenty times. Each and every time I finished, my mind would race to Colton. Each and every time, I thought to myself, “if something like this really happened, that could happen to Colty. He could be all alone, looking for Pikachu, simply wanting to see a familiar face.” I then would try and shift my focus away from those thoughts and I would always find myself wondering had I been in the book, would I have maybe saved Sam? Would I have somehow been in Georgia and stumbled across him before he tumbled down to his grisly death? Probably not. It’s a fair bet that if something like that ever happened, I would instinctively head north. Away from Georgia. Leaving Sam…

I finally jumped on the computer and punched in mapquest. I asked it to locate for me Murfreesboro, Georgia. I wanted to see how far away it was from here, because I wanted to know how far I’d be traveling on my first day if such a plague were to strike this planet during my lifetime. But to my surprise, it told me no such place existed. As I sat staring at the screen where mapquest patiently waited for me to choose between Murfreesboro, TN, AK, or NC, I realized that Sam wasn’t real. It was the first time I finally let such a thought seep into my mind and take root, but it didn’t seem to warm me over much. I suddenly wanted to hold Colty in my arms, see for myself that he was alive, and promise that I would never let such a thing happen to him. As I finally began to regain my composure, I clicked the option for Murfreesboro, North Carolina. Mapquest immediately pulled up a nice map of a small, rural town and it took me a few zoom-outs to see where it rested. North-east of Raleigh, on some random, secondary highway that was far off the path of any destination I’ve ever embarked upon. But seeing the map was still comforting in a sort of queer way and I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t until later that I finally understood. It was because if there ever is a large scale tragedy and I ever do decide to head north, it will be to Virginia to pick up my siblings. To pick up Colty. And Clay. And Jules…

But not before making a short pit stop on the way. Just north-east of Raleigh. Just down a little secondary highway. Just in case.

Only a good book can do this to a man. Laws yes.

The Creation Education Science Fair Part II

As promised, I bring you the conclusion of goodies found from the Objective Christian Ministries website. For those of you who missed my first installment, I highly recommend that you go check it out. It’s only two entries below this one and it will help introduce you to the craziness of this extremist group. So sit back, grab a cold one, and prepare to laugh…

Overall, the Objective Christians seem to be a generally pissed off group. Somewhere along the line they got the words “science” and “society” associated with “Satan.” A reader’s first realization of this is while reading the section they call Mall Mission. The Objective Christians view Secular Consumerism as the new false religion. A place where anti-Christian activities are promoted, like buying a new DVD or eating a slice of pizza, and they think that the first wave of attacks that Christians are forced to endure are store names.

• J.C. Penny - The J.C. makes us think of Jesus Christ, thus associating our Lord with the lowest monetary value, the penny (even Judas valued Him at 30 pieces of silver!).
• Sears - What the flesh of the damned does in Hell. It also sounds like “seers”, Pagan mystics who engaged in occult premonitions.
• Cinnabon - Sounds like “Sin Upon”.
• Orange Julius - Named for the Pagan Emperor of Rome. This company’s mascot was once a devil, until they changed it to hide their true intentions.
• Hot Topic - A recent store aimed at children that openly sells devil paraphernalia. Any guess as to why “hot” is in their name?
• Hallmark Gold Crown Stores - Purveyors of Santamas tree ornaments depicting anthropomorphized woodland creatures (reference to Evolutionism) and Harry Potter merchandise. What notable person will have a mark and wear crowns?

I don’t know how I’ve managed to go this long without being sucked in by Lucifer himself. Thankfully, to better prepare myself for when I have to go into that hotbed of immoral activity to buy a pair of jeans next week, I can become a Mall Missionary. That’s right. Gone are the days of traveling to Ecuador and Honduras to build homes for the poor and needy. I can now sit back and cruise around my local shopping mall helping save all the lost souls. But Goob, you find yourself asking, how am I to identify those who need saving? Luckily, the Objective Christians break down the consumers into 5 easy and fun to learn categories and give you pointers in how to approach them and annoy them save them. You’ve got your Normal Shoppers, your Holiday Shoppers (AKA Secular brainwashing), Last Minute Shoppers, Teens, and one more group, which they call…

Mall Walkers: Perhaps the saddest of the bunch, senior citizens who have been abandoned by their Secularized family and youth-orientated Secular jobs and who spend all their time circling malls under the deluded pretense of getting exercise. While they tend to not purchase things, they have still been indoctrinated to think that there is no other place for them to go in their twilight years except the Temple of Secular Consumerism. Let them know that instead of being Mall Walkers, they can be Church Walkers! Your Church can offer these pathetic and lonely people much more comfort than the cold, heartless mall can.

Heaven forbid there be old senior citizens who can’t afford the pricey gyms and who wish to get exercise in the mall for its security! Those bastards! I think when they see you calling them pathetic and lonely, they might not listen to you though. Try something more uplifting, like wretched and abandoned. You’d be amazed at the power of word choice. The Objective Christians also remind you that while on your Mall Mission, you will be approached by Mall Security, which are compared to modern day centurions patrolling their own little bit of the Secular Roman Empire. I could have sworn they were just ROTC kids from the local high school and overweight rent-a-cops, but maybe I’m mistaken. Anyways, the Objective Christians remind you that God compels all of us to spread His Word to the unsaved and that if you are asked to leave, you are not compelled to do so. Personally, I think a judge might differ, but I’d like to see you fight it anyway. It sure would help spice up my 11:00 Evening News.

Now the next category presented to the readers to show that the entire world is going to eternal damnation is a section they like to call Santa Claus and Satan’s Cause. Here, they point out vague similarities between Santa and Jesus Christ, such as:

Santa has white hair, Jesus Christ has white hair….Santa is coming soon, Jesus Christ is coming soon…Santa lives in the north, Jesus Christ lives in the north

Now, tell me if I am wrong, but couldn’t you substitute Santa for Uncle Fred. He lives up in Canada, has white hair, and never announces when he is going to drop by, so to me, he is always coming soon. And I’ll be honest, I’m no Pope John II, but I would be willing to bet that just because he had those vague similarities, he wouldn’t be considered Jesus. The final reference that the Objective Christians try to make between the two is that:

Santa has spirit helpers called elves, Jesus has spirit helpers called angels.

Oh come on. I think those over at the Objective Christian Ministries got a little lazy in coming up with more ideas. And furthermore, I think they overlooked a few clear and obvious similarities between Jolly Ole St. Nick and Jebus himself.

1. They both have penises - I mean, come on now. Is it coincidence that the fourth century Roman Catholic bishop who spread gifts across Europe was born as a male and Jesus was the SON of God? Hmmm?
2. They both like fire - I’m just assuming here. I mean, who doesn’t like fire?
3. SANTA, JESUS CHRIST - Were you aware that when you combine their names, it forms the anagram U C Janet’s Ass Shirt? I don’t know what it means, but don’t you find that a little disturbing?

But don’t think that the Objective Christians discriminate other Holidays. On the contrary my friends. Their next target of ridiculous ideas and insults is actually pretty predictable. Halloween. While we all know that during Halloween, Satan is out in force trying to corrupt our society, what we don’t know is that the Objective Christians are trying to counter Satan’s evil deeds by doing the worst thing possible. Instead of giving out candy, they propose that you HalloWitness and give out Bible tracts.

Consider this: At what other time of the year do throngs of unsaved children come to your door, begging for you to give them a treat? Why not use this unique opportunity to give these deprived children the best treat of all - the treat of Christ’s Love and eternal Salvation? Those unsaved trick-or-treaters - innocent children tricked by secular society and their non-Christian parents into participating in occult rituals - are exactly the ones in need of the Good News of Christ. Hand out Bible tracts instead of candy. We must take the fright and set it aright!!

A Bible tract? That’s worse then the fucking circus peanuts. I guarantee you, if somebody had given me a Bible tract instead of a Reese’s Cup, I would have come back to your house later on, rang your doorbell until it drove you crazy, pissed in your mailbox, and slashed your tires. Well, either that or just kicked over the pumpkin as I walked away. Either way, all you are going to do is piss children off. You think they like dressing up as ghosts and hobos and walking for miles and miles during the dark? What the hell else are they doing it for besides the candy?! But as if that wasn’t enough, the Objective Christians suggest you take this one step further and try to educate the youth through costumes!

The unsaved youths today with their Power Rangers and Peekachoos and other secular heroes they see on TV are very enamored with “make believe” and “role playing”. This is one of the reasons that Halloween keeps getting more popular every year since it allows them to dress up as their heros. Satan uses these seemingly innocent secular costumes as gate-way costumes for the more blatantly occult garb: witches, monsters, demons, Darth Mauls, and the like. One option is to appropriate costumes. For instance, a white sheet with eye-holes worn over one’s head isn’t an occult spirit, it’s the Holy Ghost. Write “HG” on the front and explain to kids the mystery of the Trinity

First off, you spelled Pikachu wrong, assholes. I’m sorry, but if you are going to ridicule and mock something, at least go as far as learning the correct spelling of it. And with the whole sheet costume, well, you might want to be careful there. I think kids might mistake the white sheet and your “HG” logo for the legendary character Hank Gary, the Grand Wizard of the KKK. I’m not sure if he was an Objective Christian, but I am sure he didn’t like black people and -wait, that’s right be up your alley, so why am I even bothering? I’ll move on.

You might have noticed that there aren’t many sections so far that are dedicated straight to children. Fear not noble citizens, for the Objective Christians are one step ahead of you. They created a few characters (Consumer Secularism Alert! Consumer Secularism Alert!) who are meant to be used for educational purposes with children. Here are my two favorites.

The best line out of those is “If you find an Atheist in your neighborhood, TELL A PARENT OR PASTOR RIGHT AWAY!” as if the Atheists are right up there with rapist, murderers, and child sex offenders. And what a way to teach children about tolerance of other religions. Telling them that all the Buddhist Gods don’t love Habu is an excellent way to lay the foundation for a peaceful and accepting life. But the saddest thing about the entire Objective Christian site? I have yet to even scratch the surface of all the material they have.

I would like for everybody to keep the Objective Christians in their thoughts and prayers. Maybe whatever God it is that you all believe in can one day help them? =) And with that being said folks, I rest my case with the Objective Christians.

(I just couldn’t resist guys…. =)

Anybody who owns a TV or reads a newspaper already knows about all the controversy surrounding Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ and with its release last night, the controversy has done nothing but heat up. Some Christian leaders have come out and said that the movie is far too violent while others have come out and said that the movie is nothing but a 2 hour long Anti-Semitic propaganda film. Yet I feel that the media is failing to focus on the real issue that has arisen due to The Passion of the Christ. And while they (well, excluding FOX) may be held be such restrictions as “integrity” and “truthfulness,” we here at Shyzer are not. So that is why I must shed some light on the one issue that affect’s me and countless others just like me the most.

Does anybody realize what kind of pressure this now puts on Jesus Impersonators like myself? I don’t think you fully understand the repercussions of this movie. But maybe you’d like a little info as to what in the hell - whoops, Hades I’m talking about. You see, I am a Jesus H. C. impersonator. It all started one day on the golf course with my good buddies Dave, Jeremy, Ronak, and Nhan. We were walking around…well, driving the golf carts around half drunkenly and freezing our asses off. That’s when I pulled out my sweatshirt in a futile attempt to regain feeling in any portion of my body above the waist. As I teed up and got lost in thoughts of how I could cheat, David mentioned something about me looking like Jesus. I wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about until I realized that with my hood on, I must have looked like Jesus. You know, like this:

Granted I’m white and Jesus was brown, there still are striking similarities. For instance, I’m sure Jesus was an avid Seattle Mariners fan…just like me…and I’m sure he went months at a time without getting a proper trim on his beard - just like me! So you can see why I accepted my fate as a Jesus impersonator and began to run with it. I soon decided that I would try an experiment. Instead of cheating to change my score, I would demand that Jesus commanded Jeremy to give me a 3. And what’dya know, he gave me a 3! I was hooked. Like Homer and his dueling glove, I realized that this was my ticket to a life of laziness and easy money. I soon began renting myself out to birthday parties, Christmas parties (which doubled as a birthday party for me!), graduations, building dedications, bar mitzvahs, yard sales - in essence, whoever would pay me to show up and pretend to bless some people for a few minutes. I even accepted cake and beer in substitute of monetary payments. Life was good. Until yesterday…

Now all of a sudden, my Jesus impersonation isn’t good enough for some people. One mother had the audacity to ask me today if I had replica spike holes in my hands?! Can you believe her?! And THEN, I had some man ask me if I knew how to speak proper Aramaic. Look bud, I have enough trouble with English, as you might be able to tell from reading this site. But I’ll tell ya what. Throw in an extra $1000 bucks and I’ll speak whatever flippin language you want. Like you would be able to tell if I was making it up or not…

When I went to little Jimmy’s Birthday party earlier today, I was hounded by little kids who had seen the movie last night with their families. They demanded to see some scars on my hands and frankly, my homemade concoction of ketchup, spaghetti sauce, and red crayon just wasn’t cutting it. After one of the kids licked my hands clean in the blink of an eye, I was speechless. I looked like a deer caught in the headlights and apparently this scared the little children. They all began screaming loudly for their mothers and I was afraid that I would lose my money, so I had to growl at the children to shut up or else I would show my true form, which would make any human who gazed upon me instantly burst to death. Fortunately this worked and I was able to escape without further damage. But hopefully you see what I am talking about when I say that Mr. Gibson has made life hard on me…

So thanks a lot Mr. Gibson for raising the bar so high that the rest of us can’t reach it. Us common folk don’t have access to all your Hollywood smokes and mirrors. We are just regular folk trying to make a few extra bucks off of Jesus’ suffering. Sorta like this guy and nobody seems to be making his life any harder, so why must you do so for us Mr. Gibson? And don’t think this is the first time you’ve ever done this to me. You single-handedly destroyed my William Wallace and Animated British Chicken careers, both of which I have yet to heal from. Nevertheless, here you are stripping me of yet another career without so much as a simple apology.

Well you know what? I’m gonna ruin your movie for everybody and there’s not a thing you can do to stop me. Jesus dies at the end.

The Creation Education Science Fair Part I

Here’s the deal with me and posting. Whenever I go away for a weekend, I leave on Friday mornings and return on Monday nights. During that time I tend to go places that don’t have all my files on their computers, so all my text files with all my posts sit idle for a weekend. So that’s how you can tell if I left Columbia for the weekend. If I go 4 or 5 days without posting, I skipped out on ya. So, without further a due, I give you this…..

Actually, I lied. First I’ve got to attach a disclaimer. I’m only doing this because I seem to have a new group of people who are coming to my site and they may not know me as well as my other, long-time readers do. Most people know I’m not much for organized religions, but some who read this may think that I am Anti-Christian or something along those lines. If at the end of this post you still agree with that statement, well, then all I can recommend is that you go ahead and leave to never return. If you can’t see the irony in any of this, then you’re not going to like me very much. I would think that Christians alike should be appalled by this site I found for giving Christianity a bad name. It’s the far, far, FAR extremists to the right, like this, who help fuel hatred towards religions. And if by the end of this post you have found nothing funny in my sarcasm and feel that I have offended you, well then, for the safety of us both, never return to my site and go seek some counseling. Now, without further a due…….

I honestly don’t know how to start this post. I’ve sat here for a few days trying to think of an appropriate intro, but I’m at a loss. So let me just introduce you to the Creation Education Science Fair of 2001. Before I get into my full post here, take a few minutes to look around there and read a few of the paragraphs.

Seriously. Give it a few minutes to just let it all sink in.

Okay, now that you’ve had some time to familiarize yourself with it, I can now begin to mock it mercifully. As we look at the top of the page while it loads, we are introduced to this site’s motto: “Turn to OBJECTIVE for an objective Christian perspective.” Aight, sounds good. I do have a few questions about Christianity and maybe this site will ultimately be able to answer all my questions and turn me into a Christian. Websters defines Objective as Based on observable phenomena; presented factually, so am I wrong to fall under the assumption that this site will give me nothing but the facts and cut out all the bullshit? Well, let’s take a look at some of the material and find out for ourselves. Okay, so I see that Dr. Richard Paley started and hosts the Fellowship Baptist Creation Science Fair for all kids in grades 1 through 12. Hmmm, sounds interesting. I’m sure we’ll find some fair and objective discoveries amongst all these science projects. I mean, the name does have SCIENCE in it, so obviously we will get nothing less then complete, concrete findings, right? Right?

This is the first year that Muslim students from the Al-Jannah Islamic school have been invited to participate; two of their students presented a project on human anatomy entitled “Allah (SWT) Created Me” which, while it was found ineligible for a prize due to a number of Biblical inconsistencies, did win a special Interfaith Outreach ribbon.

Oh. Ok. Well, I mean, I’m sure “Biblical inconsistencies” is meant to be interpreted as they smelled funny or something. I mean, this is a science fair. You can’t just give out the pity ribbons because you don’t believe religiously with somebody, can you? Well, let’s see who did manage to win a first place ribbon. Ah, here we go, the Elementary School Level 1st place winner. And her experiment??

1st Place: “My Uncle Is A Man Named Steve (Not A Monkey)”

Cassidy Turnbull (grade 5) presented her uncle, Steve. She also showed photographs of monkeys and invited fairgoers to note the differences between her uncle and the monkeys. She tried to feed her uncle bananas, but he declined to eat them. Cassidy has conclusively shown that her uncle is no monkey.

Oooooh. It’s one of theeeese science fairs. Okay. Maybe not as objective as I would have liked, but this is quickly turning into an entertaining site. So, because Uncle Steve hates bananas, that means Evolutionism is totally false? I like your reasoning! Well thought out and even more so proved! But how do you explain me? While Uncle Steve might not look like a monkey, I have slowly grown my hair out, covering almost all facial skin, and replaced it with a thick, shaggy fur of hair - JUST LIKE A MONKY! Dun Dun DUN! Furthermore, I’ve been known to eat bananas without even peeling them open and my living quarters tend to look like those of a monkey’s. So how do you explain that little Cassidy? Huh? HUH?

What intrigued me even more was one of the Honorable Mentions; the Pokemon Proves Evolutionism False one. I’ve sent them an e-mail asking for more information about it (and I’m probably going to hell too because I had to completely bullshit it, but who cares).

Now, let’s move on to the Middle School Level.

1st Place: “Life Doesn’t Come From Non-Life”

Patricia Lewis (grade did an experiment to see if life can evolve from non-life. Patricia placed all the non-living ingredients of life - carbon (a charcoal briquette), purified water, and assorted minerals (a multi-vitamin) - into a sealed glass jar. The jar was left undisturbed, being exposed only to sunlight, for three weeks. (Patricia also prayed to God not to do anything miraculous during the course of the experiment, so as not to disqualify the findings.) No life evolved. This shows that life cannot come from non-life through natural processes.

I’m speechless. I have no speech. So basically, this chick threw a bunch of crap into a jar, prayed that nothing would grow, and this somehow proves that we were placed here on Earth by God without a doubt? This is, in any way, scientific?! You can’t make up comedy like this. Yes, all life comes from sunlight, charcoal, water, and a vitamin pill. And yes, three weeks does accurately reflect billions of years of evolution. So I applaud you Ms. Lewis! In a little over three weeks, you have single-handedly disproved all of Darwin’s Theories and all of the years of work that followed him. And all you got was a lousy ribbon for first place…

Now, you might have figured that was the best to come out of the Middle School category. However, I personally don’t see how Mr. Goode didn’t win 1st place. You see, Jonathan managed to win 2nd place by proving that women are designed for homemaking!

2nd Place: “Women Were Designed For Homemaking”
Jonathan Goode (grade 7) applied findings from many fields of science to support his conclusion that God designed women for homemaking: physics shows that women have a lower center of gravity than men, making them more suited to carrying groceries and laundry baskets; biology shows that women were designed to carry un-born babies in their wombs and to feed born babies milk, making them the natural choice for child rearing; social sciences show that the wages for women workers are lower than for normal workers, meaning that they are unable to work as well and thus earn equal pay; and exegetics shows that God created Eve as a companion for Adam, not as a co-worker.

Would you find it surprising to learn that Mr. Goode was single?! I personally am very envious of Mr. Goode’s future wife. What woman wouldn’t want to marry a man who thinks that she is unable to work as well as men and shouldn’t make equal pay? I like the sentence about lower center of gravity the best. Anytime a girl in a class of mine starts to ask too many questions or act bitchy, I feel it is my duty to remind her that she has a lower center of gravity, so she should be off carrying groceries and laundry instead of wasting my time. Ladies, did I mention that I was single?! *wink wink* Now, let’s move onto the High School Level.

2nd Place: “Maximal Packing Of Rodentia Kinds: A Feasibility Study”
Jason Spinter’s (grade 12) project was to show the feasibility of Noah’s Ark using a Rodentia research model (made of a mixture of hamsters and gerbils) as a representative of diluvian life forms. The Rodentia were placed in a cage with dimensions proportional to a section of the Ark. The number of Rodentia used (58) was calculated using available Creation Science research and was based on the median animal size and their volumetric distribution in the Ark. The cage was also fitted with wooden dowels inserted at regular intervals through the cage walls, forming platforms, which provided support for the Rodentia. Although there was little room left in the cage, all Rodentia were able to move just enough to ward off muscle atrophy. Food pellets and water were delivered to sub-surface Rodentia via plastic drinking straws inserted into the Rodentia-mass, which also served to allow internal airflow. Once a day, the cage was sprayed with water to cleanse any built-up waste. Additionally, the cage was suspended on bungee cords to simulate the rocking motion of a ship. The study lasted 30 days and 30 nights, with all Rodentia surviving at least long enough afterwards to allow for reproduction. These findings strongly suggest that Noah’s Ark could hold and support representatives of all antediluvian animal kinds for the duration of the Flood and subsequent repopulation of the Earth.

I felt the group that won 1st place was a little weak, so I’ve decided to focus on Mr. Spinter’s 2nd place winnings. So, what we have here, is a kid throwing 58 hamsters in a box and saying since they survived for 30 days, the story of Noah and his Ark is undoubtedly true. Assuming that we look past the fact that some animals, such as giraffes, rhinoceroses, and hippopotamuses are a tad bigger then hamsters, Mr. Spinter’s experiment seems to be scientifically sound. Oh yeah, I like how Noah has access to a garden hose and plastic straws now. I guess the inventions of those were a little earlier then I would have guessed. That’d be a good trivia question.

Now, for those of you out there who fear your dream you one day entering the Creation Science Fair and winning a first place ribbon will come crashing down since you can’t think of a good project, fear not!! That’s where I come in. So, sit back, pull out your Bibles, and take notes.

For those of you who fall in the Elementary Level, I have the perfect experiment for you. I call it…

Crayons Prove God Made The Sky Blue!
We Christians understand that God made the sky blue. But those evil Atheists out there will try and trick you into believing otherwise. They try to trick you by using such phrases as “blue light gets scattered around much more than all the other colors from the sun” and “The Tyndall effect” and “Rayleigh scattering.” But don’t be fooled by them. There’s a much more simple explanation and it can be found in a box of crayons! God obviously made the sky blue because he also made a crayon called - SKY BLUE!!! You won’t find any crayons called Sky Green or Sky Plum, so clearly God made the sky blue. Still not satisfied? Then try this little experiment. Go get a box of 120 crayons and find the ones marked Forest Green, Shocking Pink, and Brass. Now, pick up each crayon and look up towards the sky. Begin trying to “color” the sky with your crayon and see if it changes color. You’ll notice that the sky will fail to change to any of the three colors you try to paint it. Now, pick up your Sky Blue crayon and try to color the sky. You’ll notice that the sky stays the same color! SKY BLUE!

Some of you might say that my experiment wasn’t too scientific. But trust me, if Monkey Uncle Steve can win first place, my crayons will kick his banana hating ass. But what about all you middle school kids out there? Don’t think I forgot about you!!

God Loves All People - Even Jews and Muslims!
It’s a well known fact amongst the Christian community that God loves all of his creatures infinitely. But there are those infidels and barbarians who still believe in those pagan ideas from centuries before. The poor unenlightened Jews and Muslims are still chasing around their fake Gods to eternal damnation, but thankfully, the Real God is saving them! That’s right, he’s doing his very best to save as many of them as he can be sending them to die early through suicide bombings! That way, they get to go to Heaven instead of staying on Earth longer and ending up going to Hell. What a wonderful God we have!

That is almost guaranteed to win first place! Not only does it prove that Jews are stupid, but it proves that God loves everybody! YEA!!!! But I understand that not everybody out there is in Elementary and Middle School. So that’s why I’ve created a science experiment for all you High Schoolers!

Shooting Your Classmates Is Fun! And God Encourages It!
That’s right kids! You see, when you go borrow Granddad’s ole Howitzer and AK-47 and proceed to reenact the storming of Iwo Jima in your school lobby, God becomes happy! Sure, by doing so you condemn yourself to spending the rest of your mortal life in prison, but once you die, God has a ticket to Heaven with your name on it! The reason is because of all the people you shoot that fateful morning in school, God will only kill all the Gays and Lesbians! We all know that Leviticus 18:22 says that homosexuality is an abomination, so thankfully, God helps keep this wonderful planet of ours clean by killing them all off! Praise Thy Lord!!

Again, a foolproof experiment that I promise will net you a nice, big, first place ribbon! Now, some of you might think that this would have ended here. Oh no my friends. Stick around for Part II later on this week where we tackle the evils of Halloween, Mall Walking, and Children!! All through the view of the Objective Christians!!!

Week 1

Well I left off at Christmas, so I’ll start from there. My mom asked if I would babysit the kids while she went to work and of course I said yes. It was pretty fun watching and playing with them all day, but for the love of god does Colton wake up way too early. Clay was awesome by waking up with him and watching him in the morning and letting me sleep in, but still, Colton needs to learn how to sleep in =) Monday was a pretty shitty day for me since I awoke to the news of Tan’s death and had to break the news to some of my other friend’s and try to make plans on how to get back to my hometown for the funeral, which was on Wednesday. My mom wasn’t getting home until Wednesday and so there was no way I was going to be able to make the funeral unfortunately, but his family was having his cremation ceremony on Thursday and so I realized that if I drove through the night on New Year’s Eve, I would be home by early that morning and be

The minute my mom walked into the house, I packed up my truck and headed out on the road. I didn’t leave until around 8:30, so my parents were kinda worried about me driving with a bunch of drunks. And trust me, there were quite a few drunks out on the road. I was tempted to call the police on one guy because he was going 40 MPH and swerving all over the damn road, but I watched him pull off the highway right as I was pulling out my cell phone, so I let it be. At about 11:40, every car on the highway pretty much vanished, leaving just me and the truckers, so I was making some damn good time. In fact, I made it into North Carolina by midnight and I was flying outside of Charlotte by 2 AM, so I was happy about the time I was making…

And that was until the moving truck in front of me exploded. That’s right folks, here I was making great time, singing along to whatever CD I had in at the time to keep me awake, starting to climb up a hill when all of a sudden this giant fireball erupted from the other side of the hill. I had no idea what the hell had just exploded, but I soon found out when I came up over the hill. A tracker trailer full of furniture was at the bottom of the hill just blazing from front to back. There were a few cars between the burning inferno and me and I was both amazed and sickened to see a few of them just fly by the truck. I pulled over onto the shoulder and called 911 and as I was explaining what the hell had happened and where exactly we were on the highway, an SUV pulled up and the driver sprinted up to the truck to see if the driver was alright. Apparently the driver had bailed out right after the truck caught fire and the man who had jumped out to help him brought him back to his SUV. Just as I got off the phone and the two men were arriving at the SUV, the trailer exploded again. This time I was able to actually see the explosion and it was pretty cool. The left side of the truck shot burning wreckage all over the highway. Right about then a highway patrolman pulled up and blocked off the road so that cars couldn’t keep trying to get by. Within a few minutes fire trucks finally pulled up, but since it was New Year’s Eve, they were a little short on firefighters and those that were there were just volunteers who had been out celebrating.

So there I sat, with a front row seat, watching 15 or so firefighters try to put out this ungodly huge fire with just two fire trucks and no fire hydrants around for extra water, so all they were able to do was spray the fire for a few seconds and then watch it and wait for it to just burn itself out. And while this was cool and all, it was 2 in the fucking morning and I had been on the road for hours. I figured that they would have the fire out enough to get traffic moving within an hour or so and god was I wrong. It took them 4 hours to put the damn thing out and I was going crazy. I was so damn tired and Tan’s cremation ceremony was only hours away, so when I saw them finally moving the fire engine in the left lane and walking out with light sticks to wave us through, I screamed in jubilation and went to crank my truck up. And that’s when my battery decided to fucking die and leave me sitting there stranded. It took me a few minutes to get the fire fighter to notice that I was stranded, but when I did, he came over and asked what was wrong. I told him that I needed a jump and he went and got a self-jumper from his truck and got me going within a few minutes. I thanked him and jumped in my truck and he went to close my hood. He slammed it down and it just shot back up. He looked at it weird and pushed it down again and again it wouldn’t latch. 10 minutes and 5 fire fighters later, we came to the conclusion that when I pulled the latch to unhook my hood the first time, the cord snapped and therefore wouldn’t latch back. So here I am, standing on the highway, having left my house 10 hours ago trying to get my truck’s hood to close. That’s when one of the fire fighters just grabbed a bungee cord, roped my hood shut, and said to get it fixed when I got to wherever I was going. I thanked them all and finally got moving. I watched the sunrise as I continued to drive home and finally made it home at like 7:30 AM. I was so fucking exhausted and knew that I shouldn’t even sit down, much less lay down, but you know me. I sat down to take a break and passed out on the couch.

Somehow I awoke at 9:30 on my own, but that meant that I wouldn’t have enough time to take a shower or anything. I had been planning on finding something to wear during that time I slept, so I hastily grabbed some pants and one of my brother’s shirts and ran out the door…only to see that the damn bungee cord was loose. So I had to attempt and rope the thing back shut without getting grease and soot all over my clothes. I managed to get it done in good time and jumped in the car and flew downtown.

I arrived just a few minutes late, but when I got there people were already coming out of the mortuary. I wasn’t sure why they were leaving, but once I got out of my truck, I ran into Jess and Nick and learned that everybody was going over to the cremation house. I got a ride from Nick and the ride over there was pretty sobering. Eric pretty much summed up the mood when he asked Nick if Michael, Tan’s little 5-year old brother, had come up to him yet and said:

“We’re burning my brother’s body today.”

We finally got there and I found Jess and walked in with her. It turns out that we had all been ushered into a small room, in which located at the front was a giant furnace. And standing there were 6 men loading up Tan’s casket into the furnace while a Monk stood around it, singing and praying in Vietnamese while the rest of us just stood there in shock, at least that’s how it was for me. The whole thing lasted maybe 10 minutes, but we witnessed them loading the casket and then turning on the furnace and the whole time, there were only three sounds coming from the room. The first of which was from the Monk, the second of which was from the furnace, slowly humming, and the third of which came from Tan’s mother as she stood there bawling and screaming out. I’ll never forget that scene for as long as I live and I really would like to elaborate on it more, but it’s not as elaborate as one might think it should be. The emotions I can remember feeling would be served no justice if I tried to translate them into words and the images burned into my mind could never be accurately reproduced, even if I had pictures. Just standing there listening to one of your good friend’s body being burned while his mother cried out in a language that you could not understand is something I had wish I never had to experience, yet am thankful that I did.

Once we got back to the mortuary, Eric told me that him and some other friends of Tan’s were taking the flowers from the funeral over to his crash site and so I followed them over. I gave Chong a call on my way there and let him know where it was and he agreed to meet us over there. When we got there, we set the flowers out and then just stood there staring at them for a few minutes. Nobody really knew of anything to say and so Eric asked if Jess and I wanted to go down into the brush and see where his car landed. It was about 200 feet from the road and once we got down there, you could clearly see which trees his car had hit and all the bits and pieces of his car that were strewn all over the place. Eric and Kelly made their way back up to the main road while Jess and I just stood there, quietly staring at the tree. With the only sound coming from the chirping birds and being surrounding by nothing more then trees and brush, it felt peaceful and surreal it felt, yet only days before in this same exact spot, one of my best friends laid there dead. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I went back up to the road and we all stood around and made small talk for a few minutes while people started to one by one make their exits. It was down to just Nick and me when Chong pulled up and came over to talk with us. He went down to the trees and came back up a few minutes later amazed by how far Tan had managed to jump his car. Nick and I were still just mulling around like zombies, not really feeling like thinking about Tan being dead when Chong said something along the lines of:

“Jesus guys, I still can’t get over how fucking far he flew. I can tell you this, he would have been damn proud of that jump and going out like that.”

That’s when Nick and I just burst out in smiles and realized that Chong had a point. Had Tan lived, no matter how horrible his injuries might have been, the only spin he’d have been able to put on it was how far he’d been able to jump his car and how none of us would ever come close to that. That’s the kinda of man Tan was. I know people overuse the phrase that their friends can always find the good in things, but when I think about it, I can’t think of a single time when Tan spoke negatively, whenever he did speak that is. If he couldn’t say something positive, he’d say something funny and let that be that while the rest of us tried to remind ourselves that we should think more like he does.

For the nest two hours we stood around the flowers and told story after story about Tan. I told every single one I could think of and it was funny how hours later I was thinking of tons that I had forgotten about. We probably would have stood around there longer reminiscing, but around that time swarms of bees had begun to flock to the flowers, so we left and went to get some lunch and talk some more. After that, I headed home to take a much needed nap and catch up on my rest…

So that’s what happened during the first week I took off from posting. I’ll post the second week tomorrow afternoon and I promise that it will be more cheerful then this one. Take it easy y’all.

Sometimes I’m never really sure when Ronak is kidding or not. Anybody who understands the relationship we have knows that we like to screw around with each other whenever we get the chance. We’ve never had to break any serious news to one another before, besides the obligatory relationship breakup or our families moving, so I can’t really blame myself for thinking that he was joking these past few days. Besides, I used to IM him all the time if it had been more than a few days since I had talked to him and joke around that I was going to call the police since he was obviously missing and that I would personally head up the search and rescue team to go find him.

So when he IMed me telling me that he thought Tan was missing and that something might have happened to him, you can understand how I could think he was just joking. Besides, it had been at least a few weeks since I talked to either one of them last. This would be the perfect icebreaker to make us both start laughing again and catch up on the holidays. But even as I sit here telling myself this, I know even I don’t believe it. I didn’t laugh when he IMed me that. I didn’t believe him either, but it just felt erie. It had an aura to it, as if he might be telling the truth.

When I awoke this morning to an IM from Jess asking for me to call her, I knew something was wrong. The message seemed too automatic, too emotionless, as if it had come from somebody who just a little too stunned to be happy and perky. Her away message didn’t help calm my fears either and when I saw Ronak’s message that Tan had been found, I knew it was no longer a joke. The voice messages on my phone confirmed my worst fears and I was left scrambling to play catch up, to find out what the hell had happened, how it had happened, when it had happened.

But I don’t think I’ll ever understand why it happened. My friends aren’t supposed to be dieing this early.

I sit here and look at that rambling I made yesterday about football and Christmas presents and feel ashamed to have been thinking about all this while Ronak was seriously worrying about a friend of ours. I feel ashamed to have been spending time with my family while Tan was dieing in a ditch just yards away from the road for days. I feel ashamed that I managed to make it through this day babysitting my siblings while my mom went to work and knowing that I might not make it back to town in time to be with my friends and go to the funeral. I love my family, but right now I want to be with my friends and I can’t.

Tan was your “streotypical Asian-American” if you will. I hate saying that, but he really was. He was one of those strong silent types that really didn’t talk unless he had something to say and was always so quiet, you’d forget he was in the room. But he was there, listening and thinking and waiting for the right time to speak. And while most people thought he was lazy - okay, he was lazy, but that’s what made him fit in with the group we hung out with - he was still smart as hell. Sorry Ronak, but I always trusted him just a little more when it came to opening up electronics and taking them apart or taking apart my car to fix it =) If there was something that he wanted to know how to do, he’d sit down, study the hell out of it, and have it mastered while the rest of us were still getting past the introduction in the manual. And while most people might find it juvinile for me to say, I have to say it because it is so truthful - Tan was the one and only person whom I always shyed away from in any head-to-head video game match, for I knew that he could utterly and totally decimate me in anything.

I can’t even remember the last time I saw him or the last time I talked to him. I’ll never have that chance to rematch him in Bond or talk to SuperCar on AIM again. I’ll never play another football or kickball game with him again or be able to ask him for his advice on how to fix my car. I’ll never be able to play him again in Stratego or team up with him to make fun of Ronak and Eric.

I’ve sat here and read over and over the caption I have under Ronak and Tan’s names over on my supporting cast page and it just numbs me more and more every time I read it. I can’t bring myself to go change it and I think the day I finally do will be the day I finally surrender to my emotions and let them have their way with me. But until then, I’ll just keep reading “I don’t see these two nearly enough since they both live back home, but it’s always nice to know that when I go back home, I can see them.” over and over and dream about how much I wish it was all still true.

Well folks, the Shyzer’s season is officially over. Last night was our first (and only) playoff game, as we were squared up against the team Alpha Tau Omega (very original name) and….well let’s just say it was damn fun.

I honestly had no idea how we were gonna get enough people to play. The rules were that you had to have at least 8 people and 3 of them had to be girls. After calling all the girls I knew here at school and asking around in all my classes, I was only able to come up with 2, which was pissing me off. I heard “It’s gonna be too cold” far too many times and I wanted to strangle somebody, but I knew that if I didn’t find this elusive third girl, we’d be going home early. I had swore I’d get a third girl, so I did what any person in my situation would be forced to do. Grab the phone directory and start calling. On my fifth call, I talked to a girl named Courtney who said she’d come play for us. I had expected to make at least 50 calls before I found somebody, so go figure. Excited wouldn’t even come close to how I felt when I heard her say she’d come play. I was on a whole new level, cloud 9 if you will. After making somewhere around 30 total phone calls and IMs, I finally had the count up to 8 people. We were gonna live on for at least one more game…

The game was at 9, so I was at the field around 8:30. Now, before I headed out, I stepped outside to find that it was what we down here in the South like to call “un-fucking-believably” cold. I knew I couldn’t play in my regular Mariners shirt and shorts, so I went into my closet and pulled out two priceless gems. The first being a pair of knee-high socks that I didn’t even know I owned and the second being a long sleeve, turtleneck Mariners undershirt that the pros wear when it’s cold. Retro and Mariners: it doesn’t get much better then that. I took some pictures, both on Fellner’s camera and my own, so expect some of me in my softball uniform and of the team once I develop the film.

When I got to the field around 8:30, I met Courtney and started tossing with her. Fellner and Phil were right behind me, but that was it…Game time rolled around and we still only had 4 people out there and I was pissed. As Fellner put it “Dude, I thought you were gonna blow a fuse out there.” I mean, I had JUST TALKED to everybody and I had a confirmed 8 people showing up. And now I only had 4 people on the field? What’s up with that?! Three minutes before I was forced to sign the sheet saying we forfeited, the other 4 people came strolling up and we took to the field. Now, let me just say this. Our team was composed of 6 people who had never played baseball before. (I refuse to say softball…it’s NOT the same thing, but whatever). This was a rag-tag team from the start that had been thrown together all season and even though everybody on the field had been practicing with me since late September, 2 months of practicing twice a week for an hour and a half just isn’t enough time to teach everybody everything. Our catcher had “never played ball sports” in his entire life, our right fielder had never been able to catch fly balls, and our short stop was non-existent. We never knew who the hell was going to be playing there.

But I honestly didn’t care at all. All I cared about was that feeling you get as you run into center field. It’s one of the best natural highs you’ll ever experience. I love sprinting out there. I love commanding the outfield. I love that feeling of wanting the ball hit to you. I love making catches that you shouldn’t make and I love watching the hitter walk back to the dugout shaking his head. To top it off, this field was actually a pretty good sized patch of grass. It wasn’t your average namby-pamby little league field. So knowing that we only had enough for 3 outfielders and that I would be roaming even more territory, knowing that I had more and more area to patrol…well, it just felt awesome.

The first inning was…rough. Yeah, rough would be a good way to describe it. I don’t quite remember how, but we quickly went down 11-0 without making an out and I had yet to have the ball hit in my direction. I know we committed somewhere around 8 errors, but hey, whose counting? I just wanted to get the inning over with and get the team off the field so that we could try and get a few runs back and then start over fresh the next inning. You could see most of the team getting kind of down, realizing that it was going to be a long night and I didn’t want them having that feeling, because when you start to wish you weren’t out there, all hope is lost.

I was playing pretty deep. These guys had been burning us with line drives and I wanted to be able and cut one off and try to gun him out going to second. So naturally, since I was playing deep into center, a soft popup was hit into no-mans land somewhere between left field and the infield. Now, on any ball hit, I always break for it in a sprint. I don’t care where the ball is hit. Hell, it could be a grounder to the first baseman; I always break into a sprint. Usually after about 4 steps is when I adjust my running and either back off completely or keep going since it’s hit to me. Well on this popup, I took off sprinting straight towards it. In any other situation, I would have backed off and let the ball drop and just held the guy to a single. Hell, I remember even thinking that I should do that with this ball. But we were down 11-0 with no outs, so despite the thoughts that had just raced through my mind, I kept going. And time just seemed to stop. My mind went to that place where I’ve tried to force it to go for so long now. I couldn’t hear a thing, not a sound. Not Fellner charging the ball from the opposite direction. Not the other team yelling at the batter to try and stretch out a triple. Nothing. It was an amazing feeling. I can understand how pro ballplayers say that for the most part they don’t hear the fans because they are concentrating so hard. And I can also understand when they say that they aren’t really thinking about the play they are about to make, because for that moment, I stopped thinking. Thinking only seems to cloud your judgment in a split-second situation. You just have to go with your instincts and trust that your body knows what to do.

I swear to God the ball just held in the air a few seconds longer so that I could get under it. There is no way I should have even had a shot to catch that ball. As I got closer, I realized it was going to be unbelievably close and I was going to have to lay out for it. With my legs churning as fast as humanly possible, I dropped to the ground and slid exactly underneath where I thought the ball would land. The combination of my momentum with that of my sudden slide jerked my body into a contortion of twisted and mingled limbs. I didn’t see where the ball went, but I knew I had judged it correctly and that my glove should have been perfectly in place. I ended up seated on my ass and I finally glanced down into my calling glove. The outside fingers were covered in flecks of grass and spots of dirt, but right there in my palm pocket was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes upon; a bright and gleaming white softball. I sat there stunned and just stared into my glove for what seemed like hours. In reality, half a second after I caught the thing, Fellner was right there behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. It was at that moment his hand touched me that time sped back up. As sound flooded my ears, I shot to my knees and rocketed the ball back into the infield. I swear the whole thing took at least 60 seconds. An outside observer would truthfully say it was over from start to finish within 6 or 7. As I jogged back into centerfield, I just couldn’t shake that feeling I’d just had. No thinking whatsoever. Not even being aware of the world around me. Just being. Somebody could have shot me and I swear I would have kept running and not realized my wound until Fellner touched my shoulder. It’s what I’ve been trying to feel for so long and I finally achieved it. Through baseball…

I had a few more balls hit to me, but none of those catches even compared to the first one. We ended up losing 23-3, but when you think about it, 3 runs is the most we have ever scored in a game, so I was impressed. I uploaded my stats if anybody even gives a rat’s ass.

God I miss baseball……….

And one last thing on an entirely different subject? What the hell is up with everybody changing their messages boards over to XMB? I hate XMB. It reminds me of this:

Simpsons Quote:
Bart: I didn’t think it was physically possible, but this both sucks and blows.