Silent Night

As a fan of fake holidays, it is my job to remind you that today is Festivus. How could I forget?

Anyway, since I didn’t get the pole up (or my Christmas lights), we shall now commence with the airing of grievances. “You suck. And your dog, too.” Let’s see them in the comments.

I’ll save the feats of strength for later.

All things Christmas

Project Gutenberg provides a convenient place to get all the free Christmas stories you can handle. So click on over and get some.

If you’ve never visited Project Gutenberg, where have you been. It’s the internet’s repository of public domain works of art. You’ll find a lot of cool things, especially books. Here’s a sample from Charles Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol” to warm the cockles of your heart.

This lunatic, in letting Scrooge’s nephew out, had
let two other people in. They were portly gentlemen,
pleasant to behold, and now stood, with their hats off,
in Scrooge’s office. They had books and papers in
their hands, and bowed to him.

“Scrooge and Marley’s, I believe,” said one of the
gentlemen, referring to his list. “Have I the pleasure
of addressing Mr. Scrooge, or Mr. Marley?”

“Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years,”
Scrooge replied. “He died seven years ago, this very
night.”

“We have no doubt his liberality is well represented
by his surviving partner,” said the gentleman, presenting
his credentials.

It certainly was; for they had been two kindred
spirits. At the ominous word “liberality,” Scrooge
frowned, and shook his head, and handed the credentials
back.

“At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge,”
said the gentleman, taking up a pen, “it is more than
usually desirable that we should make some slight
provision for the Poor and destitute, who suffer
greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in
want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands
are in want of common comforts, sir.”

“Are there no prisons?” asked Scrooge.

“Plenty of prisons,” said the gentleman, laying down
the pen again.

“And the Union workhouses?” demanded Scrooge.
“Are they still in operation?”

“They are. Still,” returned the gentleman, “I wish
I could say they were not.”

“The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour,
then?” said Scrooge.

“Both very busy, sir.”

“Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first,
that something had occurred to stop them in their
useful course,” said Scrooge. “I’m very glad to
hear it.”

“Under the impression that they scarcely furnish
Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude,”
returned the gentleman, “a few of us are endeavouring
to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink,
and means of warmth. We choose this time, because
it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt,
and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down
for?”

“Nothing!” Scrooge replied.

“You wish to be anonymous?”

“I wish to be left alone,” said Scrooge. “Since you
ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer.
I don’t make merry myself at Christmas and I can’t
afford to make idle people merry. I help to support
the establishments I have mentioned–they cost
enough; and those who are badly off must go there.”

“Many can’t go there; and many would rather die.”

“If they would rather die,” said Scrooge, “they had
better do it, and decrease the surplus population.
Besides–excuse me–I don’t know that.”

“But you might know it,” observed the gentleman.

“It’s not my business,” Scrooge returned. “It’s
enough for a man to understand his own business, and
not to interfere with other people’s. Mine occupies
me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!”

Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue
their point, the gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumed
his labours with an improved opinion of himself,
and in a more facetious temper than was usual
with him.

Now doesn’t that put you in the Christmas spirit. Don’t be like Scrooge. Be happy and giving. Stop by Project Gutenberg for more free stuff.

Most Wonderful Time of The Year

Tomorrow the days start getting longer, but tonight it’s the longest night of the year.

Yet it doesn’t feel like winter.

Have a happy Winter Solstice!

90% with 10% always left to do

Almost done. Finished up with the Specs and Reqs class. I answered 2 of 4 questions even though it is take home. I don’t want to spend too much time thinking about it. I’m just going to fax it to him and hope for the best.

The paper is done and once again it is pure shite. I don’t want to proofread or else I may have to make changes. The presentation is finished as well. I don’t care. I just need to get 50% of the points on this part. I also have to get 100% on the exam to make it worth while. Luck be a lady tonight!

A break in the action

Taking a quick breather from writing my paper, I look back at this past weekend to see why I am still writing it as of 9:30 Tuesday. Well, It’s a Wonderful Life came on TV which I had to watch. Everytime Donna Reed was on screen, I had to say she’s hot.

I always imagine meeting a girl and exciting the same spark in her as Donna Reed’s Mary had when she spied George Bailey across the gym during the dance. Was that amazing? Can a guy get some of that please? What’s a great line to say to your girl than whispering in her ear about loving her “until the day I die?” I am a patsy on this thing, and that’s another reason why I love It’s a Wonderful Life.

Paper Update

Because the Seed asked for it, here’s a live blog update from your unworthy, procrastinating blogger.

I am at the crux of the paper. I’m stuck on what to write. It sucks. The past few days writing have been a whirlwind of shit put down. I don’t think it’s the best I could’ve done. I hope to recoup at least 50% of the points available. Hopefully.

Also, I have to convert it into a presentation as well. Fuck me!

So to sum up:
— at the crux
— may get 50% of points
— presentation due as well.

SHIT!

TIME’s Person of the Year

I finally made it! Time has so graciously named me the person of the year. Read the article to find out why.

It reminds me of the dude peering at himself in the mirror of the big Lebowski’s office underneath the Time magazine cover. Life imitates art.

Blank

Nothing written. Except this blog post. Shit!