The Hobo

College.  A bastion of higher education.  A place where students gather from around the world to better themselves academically.  With these thoughts in mind, I entered my first college class at the University of Richmond, a creative writing class.  The day prior, I had asked my host student, Will, what classes he had the next day.  He listed them off: "Organic Chemistry, Integrated Physiology... oh, and Creative Writing" he shakes his head vigorously with this final addition, suggesting that Creative Writing comes far from recommended.  As a visiting student, though, I want to experience the full range of college classes.

So despite the warning, I awake early that morning to attend Creative Writing.  I'm barely in my seat when the professor announces that we will be having a special class today - each student will be assigned a person (a faculty member, university employee, etc.) to interview and write a short biography for.  I, personally, fail to see the "Creative" aspect of this Creative Writing assignment, but I go along.  As the professor doles out our interviewees, I take a quick peek at the slip of paper that Will gets - Dr. Vaughn, Pre-Health Advisor.  That seems reasonable.  I glance down at my own slip - The Hobo.  That's all it says.  I lean over to Will: "There must be some mistake.  I... uhhh... I got a hobo.  Well, not even a hobo. The Hobo."  Will assures me that this is, in fact, a real, specific person: "He's a famous hobo that always walks around on campus.  The employees have tried to force him to leave, but he always comes back, so they've just given up by now."  Come on.  I have to interview a hobo.  The professor then hands us a list of questions to ask and sends us on our respective journeys.

As soon as leave, however, I realize I have no idea where I am going.  Where am I supposed to find a hobo? I need to think like a hobo.  My hobo self theorizes that perhaps I will find my man outside of the dining hall, looking for food that students don't want as they walk out.  Bingo.  I spot my hobo as I draw near to the dining hall exit.  He certainly looks the part - there would be no confusing him with your average student, with his long, dirty-looking hair.  Gathering my courage, I approach The Hobo and ask if I can interview him.  He accepts, swelling with pride when I dub him a "campus celebrity."  Only then do I open my piece of paper and examine the questions.  Upon seeing them, I realize that this will be an incredibly awkward interview.  Here is an approximate transcript:

Me: "So what is your name?"
Hobo: "Jermaine."
Me: "So what do you do for a living, Jermaine?"
Jermaine: "Nothing.  I wander around looking for money or food."
Me: "Yeah, sorry, I totally knew that.  I just have these questions I have to ask... So, where do you live?"
Jermaine: "The streets."
Me: "Yeah, again, I sort of knew that.  Sorry I have to ask these.  This is weird.  So, what do you think is your most important contribution to the university?"
Jermaine: "Well, sometimes when kids throw a half eaten candy bar on the ground, I'll pick it up and eat the rest.  So I sorta clean stuff up, I guess."
My thoughts: "Quick, Alex, pretend that that's not repulsive.  Say something encouraging."
Me: "That's great, a regular environmentalist.  You should get paid to do that.  One last question: where do you see yourself in ten years?"
Jermaine: "Dead."
My thoughts: "Dammit, the man's suicidal.  He'll probably kill me first.  Pretend it's a joke.  A really funny one...  Oh, sweet mercy, he's smiling.  It was a joke.  Laugh with him."
Jermain: "I'm just messin' with you man - I think in ten years I'll have a nice job at this school, cleaning the gardens or something."
Me: "Well, Jermaine, I certainly hope you do.  Thanks for your time."

Of course, I didn't even have to write the biography, because I left the next day.  I certainly experienced a college class at its most quirky and terrifying, though.  This assignment, whether it intended to or not, really captured a lot of what college is all about - it forced me to step outside of my comfort zone, meet new people, and experience the reality of the outside world.  I hated it.  But I want more.

Spongebob: The Rise and Demise

As a kid, I grew up on Spongebob Squarepants.  As an adolescent, Spongebob remains a timeless classic to me.  Others, including adults, would casually dismiss Spongebob as an immature show for children.  I beg to differ.  The humor is, believe it or not, surprisingly high brow.  Here are a few quotes as examples:

"The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNZSXnrbs_k&feature=related

-  "Is mayonnaise an instrument?" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKB-wWK_K_Y&feature=related

- "Now you must acquire a taste for... free form jazz" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4sEcIHG0Yc&feature=related 

"Squidward, you're steaming. You're like a steamed vegetable, only smarter" - Spongebob Squarepants


"You can't fool me. I listen to public radio!" - Squidward Tentacles

"But don't a genius live in lamps?" - Patrick Star

"Dumb people are always blissfully unaware of how dumb they really are" - Patrick Star

Here is a longer excerpt:
Flying Dutchman: "Listen! We're heading down to Bikini Bottom tonight for a little haunting spree, so I want this ship to look good and scary!"
SpongeBob: "You mean you want it to look good...and scary. Well, I think we can probably..."
Patrick: "No, no, I think he means he wants it to look so good that it's scary"
SpongeBob: "Or maybe that by looking so scary you forget that it doesn't look good!"
Patrick: "I don't get it"
SpongeBob: "Look, it's easy, it simply means that..."
Flying Dutchman: "Never mind what it means! I just want it to look scary! That's it! You know, mold growing on the ceilings and bugs in the sink"
SpongeBob: "So, you don't want it to look good?"

As good as Spongebob once was, though, it has fallen upon dark times.  After the third season, most of the writers and the producer left the show, and it has suffered ever since.  All I ask is that everyone give it a chance (at least seasons one through three).

Academic Challenge

Academic Challenge, or Ac. Chal., as the kids are calling it these days, is one of the best kept secrets of Chagrin Falls High School.  This selective club is the high school equivalent of the Skull and Bones, the secret society at Yale University whose members have included George H.W. Bush, George W. Bush, and William Howard Taft.  Or, rather, it was - Ac. Chal. was unfortunately disbanded this year by Coach Josh "D.J. Mixmaster" Maas.  Mr. Maas, the faculty adviser for the club, told me last year that we would not have Academic Challenge this year.  When I asked why, he responded, "Because I don't like to lose."  As bad as this sounds, Mr. Maas is right - we never stand a chance against most other schools.  It's not that we lack intelligent students.  The problem is that our Academic Challenge team members are all involved in sports or other extracurricular activities.  However, at Solon, for example, kids on the team do Ac. Chal. and Ac. Chal. only. 

I have discovered the secret that will ensure our future success, though.  For years I have heard legends of a time bygone when our team achieved great things.  But these seemed to be just mythical tales of better times, twisted by time and proud students.  Recently, though, I heard something that forced me to reconsider my opinion of past Academic Challenge teams - rumor has it that a certain Ms. Serensky was once an integral part of the squad.  A coach.  Coach Serensky.  It has a nice ring to it.  Imagine the possibilities with Mr. Maas and Ms. Serensky together at the helm of our team.

The most intriguing aspect of this is the idea of Ms. Serensky in a social setting (sort of).  Take last year, for example - we had a chow down after one of our competitions for Ac. Chal., and we invited Mr. Maas.  And he actually showed up.  He spent a few minutes talking to parents upstairs, but then came downstairs to hang out with the kids - that was where he felt more comfortable, playing ping pong and watching t.v. with us.  Just imagine playing ping pong with Ms. Serensky.  Brought to you by the one and only Academic Challenge.

Jokes That Have Never Produced Laughter

If you are hosting a dinner party or looking to spice up a speech given to your coworkers, these jokes will not help you at all:

1. "A man goes into a bar.  He has a dog with him.  The dog is wearing an eyepatch.  The man says to the bartender, "Ask me about my dog."  Unfortunately, the bartender does not hear him, because he went deaf in one ear as a child.  He serves a woman at the other end of the bar.  When the bartender comes back to the man with the dog, the man forgets what he was going to say about the dog.  He orders an imported beer and enjoys the rest of his evening."

2.  A priest, a rabbi, and a nonreligious man are all on a plane flying across the Atlantic Ocean for different reasons.  The plane experiences some engine trouble, and one of the wings catches on fire.  The plane starts to go down.  Luckily, there are enough parachutes for everyone, and evacuation is orderly.

3.  A duck walks into a pharmacy.  He says to the pharmacist, "I need some soothing ointment for my beak.  It is very chapped."  The pharmacist replies, "We have nothing here for ducks."

4.  A dog goes into a bar.  He is wearing an eye patch.  The dog says to the bartender, "Have you heard the one about the one-eyed dog?"  The bartender, who is deaf in one ear, thinks the dog is making fun of him.  He asks him to leave.  The dog says, "Don't you have a sense of humor, deafie?"  At the end of his shift, the bartender is tired of all the jokes.  Today it's the one-eyed dog.  Yesterday it was the horse with rickets.  The day before: ants.  He lives in a small room above the bar.  He spends the night alone there, as he does every night, listening to his battery-operated radio, which picks up only a bad jazz station.  He listens to bad jazz with his bad ear.

A Child Is Born

Papers are data sheets's twisted children.

Omegle

With the popularization of the internet, so many things have been made easier: shopping, staying in touch with friends... child predation.  Yes, it's no secret that the internet is a veritable playground for child predators - just watch Dateline NBC.  So the other day when I stumbled upon a curious website called "Omegle," I was intrigued.  This is a website on which two users are matched up randomly and can chat in real time.  To me, this screamed child predation.  So I decided that, being an intelligent 17-year-old young adult, I would confront these child predators head on - I was going to beat them on their home court (meaning Omegle, of course). 

I sat down at my computer and began my first conversation.  Here's the transcript:

You: Hello.
Stranger: age
You: You want me to give you my age?
Stranger: yeah
You: Well this got creepy in a hurry.
Stranger: no i just dont wanna be talking to some 35 year old pervert or some 10 year old
(against my better judgment) You: Well I can assure you I'm neither - I'm 17.
Stranger: me 2 - 18 soon
You: That's quite the coincidence.  Or are you just saying that you're 17 to establish a connection between us which, as a 35-year-old pervert, you will later use to obtain my personal information and "become friends" with me?
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Mission accomplished.  One (assumed) pervert down,  many more to go.  As I progressed, though, I realized that my first conversation might very well end up my most successful.  Here are a few of my other conversations:

Stranger: Are you a hot 18 year old girl with a video camera?
You: No.

Stranger: hey asl

You: Ask Something Lengthier.

Stranger: AGE SEX LOCATION

You: Shouting doesn’t help.

You: Also, may I suggest a question mark?

Stranger: soory

Stranger: age, sex, location?

You: Better, but a capital letter to start would be just peachy.

Stranger: Age, sex, location/

Stranger: ?

You: Now, if you would be ever so kind as to phrase the questions as a full sentence, I would be much obliged.

Stranger: Hey, may i have your age, sex, location?

You: That’s much better

You: No. 

 

Stranger: talk dirty to me

You: Okay.

Stranger: do it

You: So I haven’t showered in 8 days, and I get some really oily peanut butter and…

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

 

Stranger: check out this omegle thats only hot girls www(dot)BabesOfOmegle(dot)com, works on iphones too

You: That sounds plausible.

 

Stranger: I'm looking for that guy I talked to from canada earlier.  is that you?

You: No, but thanks for appreciating me for who I am.

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

 

Clearly, Omegle is a strange but powerful tool - you get a certain rush from talking to a total stranger.  However, the people you meet are not always the most intelligent, open-minded, or, quite frankly, normal.  It certainly was not a hotbed for child molesters (though that first person was pretty shady), but rather a hotbed for eccentric people.  I can't tell you how many weird conversations I had in just an hour of using Omegle - I'm not sure if I'll ever use it again.  I'm afraid. 

Ron Swanson's Pyramid of Greatness

Although I like the new requirement of a picture for every blog post, to be honest it hasn't really contributed that much to the posts.  Pictures are thrown in at the end of a post, a quick afterthought added to fulfill a obligation.  I'll admit to doing this a few times.  With that in mind, I decided for this post to use a picture as the focus of my blog.  First, some background - I was watching t.v. last week, flipping through the channels when I stopped on a show I had never seen before, called Parks and Recreation (on NBC, I believe).  What I saw, and what you are about to see, blew my mind:

 

This, my friends, is the Ron Swanson Pyramid of Greatness.  Ron Swanson, a character in the show, used this diagram to coach young children in basketball.  Because I found it amusing, I'll go over some of the more humorous elements of this pyramid.  I'm aware that it's difficult to read some of the smaller writing (this is as large as I could get it), so just click on the picture to see a larger version of it.

I'll examine the implications of a few squares here and there: 

Level One: Poise: "Sting like a bee.  Do not float like a butterfly.  That's ridiculous."
Analysis: Swanson brings up an excellent point here.  Although stinging like a bee is helpful in nearly any situation, floating like a butterfly has never helped anyone.  No one is afraid of butterflies.  Bees kill people.

Level Two: Masonry: "Building walls makes you strong.  Defending them makes you even stronger."
Analysis: Examples - The Great Wall of China, defended against the Mongols.  The wall in my backyard, defended against bears, neighbors, and hobos.

Level Two: Crying: "Acceptable at funerals and the Grand Canyon."
Analysis: Swanson ensures that his basketball players will be true men by banning crying in nearly any emotional setting.  All their unexpressed, pent-up emotions will make them play harder, albeit at the expense of their long-term emotional well-being.  He's not their therapist, though, he's their coach.

Level Three: Intensity: "Give 100%.  110% is impossible.  Only idiots recommend that."
Analysis: Thank you, Ron Swanson, for solving one of the great mysteries of modern science.  Why do people say you should give 110% when that would clearly be ridiculous?  If we could give more of something than we have then all of the problems in the world would be solved.

Level Five: Attire: "Shorts over 6" are capri pants.  Shorts under 6" are European."
Analysis:  Shorts. Must. Be. Six. Inches.

Level Five: Skim Milk: "That's right.  It's on here twice.  Avoid it."
Analysis:  Skim milk is clearly the drink of the devil.  It looks like milk, feels like milk, smells like milk, but tastes like water.  The skim milk industry must be brought down.

Level Seven: Weapons, Wood Working, and Welfare Avoidance.
Analysis: Collectively, level seven contains the three pillars of a great man.  Weapons: for protection from enemies, wild animals.  Wood Working:  Allows you to live off the land, make chairs or tables as gifts.  Welfare Avoidance: A true man needs no assistance, particularly from the government.

Level Eight: America: "The only country that matters.  If you want to experience other "cultures," use an atlas or a ham radio."
Analysis: There is a reason people in other countries speak English better than we speak their languages.  It's because America is the greatest country on Earth.  I could learn Chinese if I wanted to.  How would that benefit me?

Level Eight: Buffets: "Whenever available.  Choose quantity over quality."
Analysis:  Another hallmark of American society - anyone in their right mind would choose an unlimited amount of terrible pizza over a few slices of "good" pizza.  There's a reason Cici's Pizza is still in business - fat, intelligent Americans that recognize a good deal when they see it.

Level Nine: Honor: "If you need it defined, you don't have it."
Analysis:  Honor is greatness.  'Nuff said.