Category: Writings

When I turned 18 I had no clue what I was in for. I knew I would get addicted to something but had no clue it would be gambling. Actually, I wouldn’t say I’m completely addicted I just have to gamble all the time and if I don’t I kick
ducklings until I feel better. Not that I don’t like ducklings, but we all have to relieve stress somehow, right?

I am writing about gambling because lots and lots of college students are willing to sacrifice their $3 tip from delivering a Papa John’s pizza in a blizzard to drunk
college kids on a single hand of black jack at the $3 minimum tables.

Easy come, easy go right?

Right!

I will be the voice for college students against their parents who say, “You have wasted away $20,000 this semester on Texas Hold ‘Em, but we’re still proud.” Well,at least you didn’t buy crack or a wife with that 20 grand, right?

As the Fresh Prince said, “parent’s just don’t understand.” Sing it, Willie.

When we’re standing behind a stack of chips taller than the stack of our unfinished homework we really have no choice but to double down or at least split them aces.

College students live in a place with few things to do besides go to the bar and earn a degree, so unless we want to do our homework or get destroyed we have no other option but to leave town and go to a place where we can help earn our tuition money a thousand times faster than a job. So thank you casinos of our area for so warmly welcoming us to your establishments. Thank you for taking my money so graciously. At least your pop is free.

I was in psych class last week. I attend sometimes, but not as often as I should. I know pretty much everything we go over, so class is fairly boring.

If I do attend, I sit and write or draw. It seems like I’ve been drawing forever. It really is a passion of mine, to sit and pour my soul out through ink onto paper. I always start with a clear mind. I just let my hand go and then refine what develops out of my rambling sketches. It’s refreshing to see something come out of nothingness.

So, I was sketching in psych class last week when the professor holds up a sketch. “This,” he says, “is a drawing my darling son did of two trees when he was 5. Notice that only the greatest details are shown. He drew the family in. Look at how the heads are larger and the hands and feet don’t even seem to have ends to them. This is an unconscious statement of the idea that he and his family and the trees are all that his world represents. There is nothing else out there.”

He held up another sheet of paper. “This,” he went on, “is a drawing my same son did when he was 10, twice as old. It is, again, of the same two trees and it has him and his dog instead of the whole family. The features are more defined. There are leaves and bark lines, and the dog wears a collar. This represents all that makes him happy. He is happiest out of doors with his favorite canine companion.”

He held up a third sheet. “This,” he stated, “is a drawing my son did when he was 15. Same two trees, but this time there is only himself. There is clear, adult detailing in this one. He used different shading techniques to give it a real look. Perspective is cleaner, as are the proportions. In this one, though, there is only himself. This represents his feelings of alienation at that age. His dog has died, his family ‘hates’ him, and all he has left are the trees.”

All throughout his lecture, I felt my hands moving, but I didn’t see what they were doing. They raced across the paper. When I looked down, I had drawn two trees. There was no person, but there was a cemetery. It represented my discovery of death, mortality, and finality. Even when we all die, there will still be the trees, waiting for the next little boy to draw them.

I signed my drawing and placed it carefully in my bag. I felt the professor looking at me as I left. “Did you enjoy the lecture?” he asked me. I smiled and nodded but said nothing. I had learned a lot today. Who knew that my dad’s psych class could be so educational?

Download it at deviantART.

I have a good post waiting, guys. I just need to get my scanner humming, and then the laughter can begin. It’s a waiting game from here – that’s all. So, while I was thinking of what I could write to hold you over, Megan informed me that I could tell you, my readers, a little story about this weekend.

This weekend was none too big. We tried to go to the Zoo on Saturday only to find it had closed four hours previously. We ate at an Arby’s (where I didn’t realize that all their meals are kid’s meals), and then went home.

Sunday, however, was a different story. We met at China Moon, me with Cribbage in hand, to eat lunch. There is always a good selection of food at the Moon on Sundays, and, despite the slightly more inflated prices on that day, is well worth the trip.

After enjoying the first bites of our meal, we get the board out and start shuffling. Playing Cribbage at China Moon has become a tradition of ours. As a result, Megan has gotten quite good at the game. After I refresh her on what numbers together make 15 (“It’s 9 and 8, right? No. 9 and 6. What goes with 8? 7?”), we deal and the game begins.

Several good hands later, she is about 30 points ahead of me. She does her best to sound supporting but not overly condescending. It doesn’t work. “You’ll get some good hands, sweetie. Don’t worry.”

Then I get a decent hand. I count up, whoa, six points. Then, as I go to put my hand down, I realize that I didn’t use the 4 that was cut. I tell her that, explaining that my hand was perfect for a four – I would probably double my points. She says, “Too bad. It’s against the rules.”

What?

“You wouldn’t let me do this, and you know it.”

That is not true. Of course I would. You always get a chance to recount your cards.

“No way. You lost your chance. You put your cards down.”

No, this isn’t the same thing. YOU wanted to take back the cards you put in the crib because you saw what was dealt. That’s not the same thing.

“Sorry. Don’t cry about it.”

How many times did I recount your cards, or let you count them again? How many times?

“Fine, move. How many points would you have had?”

I don’t know. You took my cards.

“Just move.”

No. You said it was against the rules. I wouldn’t want to break any rules of the game that I taught you.

“Ugh! Move 4 or I will move back 4.”

No.

She goes to move.

Fine.

I move my page four points forward.

“Is that the number you would have had?”

Sure.

“No it’s not. How many? Just move some.”

No. That is cheating.

“I will start crying right here, I am serious.”

So, with that drama behind us, and 6 points added to my side, the game continues, and Lady Luck does not smile in my favor. In fact, the point spread gets worse. She continues to give me words of encouragement while my best hands are about 10 points short of her average hands.

I despondently eat my chicken teriyaki. I just play the hands and pay little attention to what may happen during them. That is why it snuck up on me. She easily pushes her peg into the finish spot and looks at me triumphantly.

Good job, baby. You won.

I try to sound cheery for her. Then I hear her say, so softly I can barely hear it, and so gently that it hardly befalls my ears, something I never thought I’d hear.

“What does that ‘s’ mean?”

It means skunk. If the other player isn’t past that mark, then they are skunked.

“Oh. So that means I skunked you.”

The realization was slow in setting in, but once it hit, it hit hard. She had skunked me. I have to tell her before every game that eight and seven make fifteen, and she skunked me. They say that all teachers hope that their students will outsmart them, but I never wanted this.

I never wanted this.

Hey folks. I’ve been experimenting with stylesheets lately. This is a nostalgic look back at “comedown”, the version before this vistan.

I’m working on making each stylesheet totally compatible with the others. This way, I can change the entire look of the site (within certain limits) without changing the code.

Look forward to stylesheets for different holidays and special days of my choosing.

What do you think? I will probably only do main, comment, archive, and individual entry pages. Wallpaper, poetry, prose, images will not be ‘skinned’ like this.

And now, the quizzes!!

Lonliness dominates you. You can hide it well, but its there, and your friends can see it. You constantly feel alone, and need to do things to fill your time. Your afraid to tell people this, but sooner or later it gets out in a bad way, and you think you screwed up everything. And when you are in love is when you are sad the most.

What Emotion Dominates you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Ghost or spirit: You are a lost soul. Very calm and sweet, you are often the one who asks: What if? With a clever mind, you want to explore the world on a different level. Without the answers, you aren’t ready to move on. You are most likely very creative and find yourself thinking things through on a different level.

**Where will you go when you die?**(now with pics)
brought to you by Quizilla

You are Form 0, Phoenix: The Eternal.

“And The Phoenix’s cycle had reached zenith, so he consumed himself in fire. He emerged from his own ashes, to be forever immortal.”

Some examples of the Phoenix Form are Quetzalcoatl (Aztec), Shiva (Indian), and Ra-Atum (Egyptian). The Phoenix is associated with the concept of life, the number 0, and the element of fire. His sign is the eclipsed sun.

As a member of Form 0, you are a determined individual. You tend to keep your sense of optomism, even through tough times and have a positive outlook on most situations. You have a way of looking at going through life as a journey that you can constantly learn from. Phoenixes are the best friends to have because they cheer people up easily.

Which Mythological Form Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

What Finding Nemo Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

You’re a natural born trouble-maker. You hate authority and do everything you can to get around the law, or in some cases, break it. Naturally stubborn, you hardly ever sway once a decision is made. Your nature is fiery and courageous, and always out-going. You love attention and usually have kinky fetishes you’re not afraid to explore. People either love you or hate you.

What Type of Soul Do You Have ?
brought to you by Quizilla

Aphrodite/Eros

?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

you are the “you suck, and that’s sad” happy bunny. your truthful, but can be a bit brutal.

which happy bunny are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Aryan Bear

Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

A SILVER Dragon Lies Beneath!

My inner dragon is to dragons what the Ranger is to humans. I possess considerable intelligence and self-confidence. I live by my own code of ethics and I stick to it at all times. Click the image to try the Inner Dragon Online Quiz for yourself.

You’re The Guns of August by Barbara Tuchman.

Though you’re interested in war, what you really want to know is what causes war. You’re out to expose imperialism, militarism, and nationalism for what they really are. Nevertheless, you’re always living in the past and have a hard time dealing with what’s going on today. You’re also far more focused on Europe than anywhere else in the world. A fitting motto for you might be "Guns do kill, but so can diplomats."

Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.

You’re Italy.

You pretty much feel like you are the most long-standing bastion of civilized humanity on the face of the earth. While this is probably not true, you do have a noted history of living the good life and spreading culture to those around you. More recently, however, things have started to slide and you’re having a hard time staying together and not getting beaten up. People still like to ask you how it was to be the center of high culture, but your days at the top are long past you. Avoid volcanoes, flooding, and unstable buildings wherever possible.

Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid

I have just added four works by Bryce in the poetry section.

It’s well worth your time to read. Check out his other poetry. Check out any else’s poetry for that matter.

Happy Valentine’s Day to you all.

Seven different colors:

Blue
Gold
Green
Pink
Purple
Silver
White

Each has a version with text or without text.

Download it at deviantART.

This weekend was my little sister’s Birthday. Brenna, who is now 11, turned 11 this weekend. Brenna tends to annoy me, at the least. I hope and pray everyday the she doesn’t always act this way, but I’m sure my heavenly clutching will have an answer some day. If they don’t, then I may have to do something drastic.

There was ice cream cake, family, and a meal. There were presents and misspeakings (check out and family and Tony. The problem with this is that it was all over by Saturday night. Soon we were marooned on the boredom train.

Saturday night, Bryce, Tony, and my father start playing cribbage. Megan and I wanted to play, but they said “no, you’re stupid”, so we didn’t. Instead I went to the game closet. I perused the gaming items we had. There wasn’t much. Golf, puzzles, balderdash, and then I saw it.

RISK.

What is Risk? Risk is the classic game of global domination. I say “classic” because that means “old” and I say game because it sucks life out of you. This is what we decided to do while they played their game.

Within minutes, Bryce and Tony were begging us to let them play. They were also begging us to teach them how to play. I found it shocking that we knew how to play but they didn’t, but I soon got over that. I would have to explain the game to them.

Saying that RISK is an easy game to explain is like saying Kurt Cobain was “down in the dumps.” The main strategy is to have more armies in one territory than your opponent. There are little formulas that you use to decide how many armies you can add in one turn. After you add, you can attack. This is where the action happens. You roll dice. The attacker has red dice and can roll a max of the number of armies on that spot minus one. The defender gets white dice and he can roll a max of the number of armies he has defending his territory. There are three red dice and two white dice.

We finally get all the rules explained and we start. A good idea, when placing armies, is to group them together. A tight, compact army is a healthy army. Megan began by taking Europe, and I began taking Asia. Bryce started taking Australia, and Tony started randomly placing armies. He soon noticed a pattern in how the rest of us placed our men.

“Are we supposed to put our guys together?”

“No, Tony. It’s a good idea to space them out like that. That way you can gather more land. You can use some of your armies as spies to infiltrate other enemy territories.”

“Ok, if you say so…”

We told him the truth immediately after we were done placing armies at which time he chose some choice expletives to launch in our direction. Too bad, Tony. I enjoy every little bit of power that I have. Army placed, the game then begins. You basically just try to take over the world, hence the subtitle.

The battles began. It all began civil enough. We began our conquests of our respective continents. None of us had all of one continent except for Bryce, who had Australia. Tony had little guys all over the place. The majority of them seemed to be in America, but there was one guy in South Africa. Don’t ask me why, but he was a quick meal for Bryce’s ebony soldiers in the surrounding areas.

As the dice rolled a mysterious thing began to happen; Bryce and Tony began winning. Bryce was making his Aussie soldiers come up to the Thai territory. At first I was able to thwart him, but I couldn’t hold him for long. A random role of the die can make your one remaining army look and feel strong and powerful. On the other hand, it can make you feel like your 5 armies are trying on women’s clothing instead of field training. The beautiful Thai empire fell to backwoods wankers from Australia.

Meanwhile, Megan was coming under fire in her South America strong hold. Tony got power hungry after America fell so fast, and decided to head south of the border. His strategy was to put all his armies on the border. This was usually a number like 20 or so against 3 or 4. With each victory, he would build up forces again, and he would go after another nation. Eventually, Megan was marooned in Europe. Tony now had two continents. Bryce was beginning a big move in Africa. Things didn’t look good.

Then Bryce and Tony fought. They both had about 15 armies. Tony was striking out from South America for Africa (yes – you can do that in RISK) and the dice rolling began. You don’t know how exciting it is to watch Bryce and Tony roll dice back and forth for 15 minutes at 1:30 in the morning. You really really don’t. This is when each player begins another battle. This is the battle for interest in the game. The thing is, if you’re not winning, then the game isn’t nearly as fun. Go figure.

I could see where this was going. I came up with a plan. I whispered my plan to Megan, and she thought that it was a good idea. I didn’t tell either of the superpowers what I was doing. Instead, next turn, I made a deal with Tony. I would give him one of my Asian properties if he would just leave the Middle East alone. He was wary. I told him that I would even take my men off the map. This way he doesn’t have to lose guys in a fight, but I need the Middle East. He reluctantly agreed.

My plan was going well.

Megan and I began making more appeasements than actual battles. Bit by bit I established a line to Australia. Then I started moving my men in. Part one of plan complete. Next phase began. Megan battles me for the Middle East place. She won, quite easily I might add, and Bryce and Tony exchanged glances.

“Here you go, hunny. I’m sorry you’re losing,” Bryce mocked in a high falsetto voice.

“Thank you sweetie-pops. You make me so happy,” mimicked Tony in a higher falsetto voice.

Then they started making out. It was horrible.

In the next move Bryce wanted to take another territory I had. One along that line. We freaked out and tried to make a deal with him. Bryce, being wary, wouldn’t take it. “I’m going to see what you guys are up to.” We battled and, fortunately, I won. He took in the board for a second. “Tony. Kitchen.” With that they got up and left.

What if they align against us? What if they try to thwart us? To deal with our grief, Megan and I placed extra armies where we already had some. Thankfully, neither Bryce nor Tony had any idea that we did that (until now). The superpowers came back. They had their own ideas.

“Alright; we’ll tell you.”

“No, don’t!”

“Megan, they must know. [dramatic pause] Our intentions were not ill in nature. It’s pretty obvious that one of you two is going to win. So, we decided that we would run away to Australia, share the island, and live out our days on the beach until the winner of you two came to kill us. All we wanted was to be comfortable before the end of the world.”

They considered it. “But then you’ll just build up your armies and come back and defeat us.”

“There is no way we can have enough armies built up by then. You know that – I know that – we know that – dogs know that. Let our love live!!” He conceded. Megan and I made our way to Australia and camped out there. We were happy, for a bit. After a couple rounds of adding three armies, I was tired. Megan and I retired to the couch, to wait out the impending doom. Suddenly, Bryce stood up.

“F*** this game! I quit!”

And, thus ceremonially, Tony became the ruler of the world. Too bad he had no more citizens; we all went to bed.

skin like stone
            not hard and cold
                        but smooth and perfect
                                    and mildly shown
                                                what are you looking at
                                    as you stare into space ?
                        i would say nothing but
            i�m not sure of that
i would ask you but
            the expression on your face
                        has me smitten
            has me brutalized and beaten and cut
you destroy my facade
            like you can only do
                        and only do to me
                                    this love so beautiful and odd
                                                and i see all your cares
                                    i see all of you me you
                        when i see your eyes
and look into your stares

Download it at deviantART.

Many people, like employers, nag about how when you go to college you need a major to get a “job” or to earn “respect.” I am what the person on the street, who knows what decisive means, calls indecisive. When I go to rent a movie, it takes at least an hour and when nature calls I can’t decide which bathroom to use. Decisions are not my thing.

I know everyone (including my parents) is saying: how do you live? How can you even eat a bowl of cereal happily without a major? My parents’ rule is you can only eat a bowl of cereal if you are happy, hence the question. Well, I eat my Fruit Loops humming a happy song and skip down the hallway quite merrily, thank you. (By the way, I do not suggest humming while eating anything. Two words: President Bush.)

So what are the benefits to not having a major? Well, random student, there are a plethora of benefits. There’s no pressure for grades. Though I have no direction in life, it doesn’t matter because I can sleep, write a new hit song called “Alone in my Principles” or pay attention and take advantage of the knowledge I am acquiring which may and/or will never come in handy, depending on what I choose for a career. I doubt while bagging groceries at some corporate Hy-Vee chain store a customer will scratch his head and ask, “Hey bagger, two questions, what’s the date and how the heck do you cite a magazine source in a Works Cited page?”

Other benefits include, but are not limited to the following: not being restricted to certain classes because you have no goal to reach, being able to go to both Chemistry and Accounting Club meetings without a shred of guilt and applying for jobs and being able to say you are “considering” whatever major they request. And, best of all, you can make plans to be in college for five years rather than it being a surprise when you fail calculus for the second time.

South Dakota is a curse. To bring up a young child in this state, with no means of self-entertainment, is to sentence them to substance abuse. What is the number one reason kids drink in the lower Dakota? There is nothing else to do. What is the solution to this problem?

Movies. That’s right; movies rock! There are few ways for a deliciously sober couple to pass the time together. Sure, there’s public nudity, vandalism, using grade-school kids and puppies for target practice, teaching old ladies to drive incorrectly, and (the worst) loitering, but these don’t do it for us anymore.

To keep us out of jail, we watch movies. That’s what we did this weekend. After a rousing and interesting time spent in Sioux Falls (sarcasm – don’t ask), we attended “Our Lady of Guadalupe” parish for Mass. This was interesting since the mass was Bilingual. That means, Tony, that it was in two different languages. In this case, it was Spanish and English. After the mass, the priest and deacon stood at the back, greeting us, calling us gringos, and pushing us out the front door. What a refreshing mass.

Then we made for the movie. The theatre of choice in Sioux Falls is the Century. There are other theatres in the area. There are almost other theatres on that street (for gosh’s sake). You are guaranteed quite the selection of movie goings if you love pop-driven, crap-filled, suck-flicks. I am more of a discerning movie goer, hence my choice.

Once inside, I stroll with confidence up to the teller. The prepubescent crowds part as I make my way forward. I walk up to a slightly large, slightly sweaty, squeaky-voiced man named “Justin.”

“Two for ‘The Butterfly Effect‘, please.”

“Alright, cash only and I’ll need to see some i.d.”

Do I look 17 or something? I know the movie is ‘R’ rated, but I have three days of stubble on my face and a bottle of gin in my hand and this guys says, “i.d., please.” Well, ok. I can do that, I guess. I’ve never had to deal with i.d. before at the movies, but I can do this. I pull out my wallet.

“Is credit card okay?”

“Cash only, sir.”

It takes a minute for it to click. I stop short of asking if he takes check book. Oh. He doesn’t take anything but cash. I have no cash on me. He needs cash, and I don’t have it. If only there was some sort of machine that would just give me money, maybe from my account, and put it into my hand. If only someone would give me the name of such a machine, and its location within the movie theatre, then I would be able to buy my ticket. If only someone with a squeaky voice would tell me over and over where to find my answer.

“ATM is across the room, sir.”

After a lot of swearing and knocking over some preteen boys who were trying to find “sk8r” in the dictionary, I got my money and, making sure to use a different teller, bought the two tickets. The total was $14.30. That is not TOO bad, but lord knows I’m cheap enough to complain all the way to the candy counter.

Since neither Megan nor I had eaten, we thought it was a good idea to get some food. Bad idea. They charge for looking at the candy. Then they charge you for how long it takes to fill your bag up. Then they charge you by how much you got. The charge is per atom. After getting a large soda and some candy, the total for the food was $14.30. My jaw dropped. I could not believe it. The candy was just as expensive as the movie. Either that, or all the registers are broken and all they do is output “$14.30”. I hope, for their sake, that that is not true.

Movies today are not like movies of yesterday. I mean, sure, a lot of things are similar. It still takes a small city of greedy, art-school dropouts to produce a fine motion picture. One thing that is different is the pYou used to go to a movie and enjoy one or two movie trailors. Now you can enjoy a movie’s worth of movie trailors. It’s like going to be entertained for 2 1/2 hours and getting entertained for 5 instead.

Trailors themselves are different. They all follow the same formula. There must be a repository (not suppository) somewhere that has a folder for each genre/sub-genre: the horror / based-on-a-true-story / period movie, the cop-being-chased-by-a-mysterious-killer / whodunit / supernatural movie, the time-travel / science-gone-wrong / super-killing-virus / monster movie, etc. Each folder has a sheet of paper with cut-and-paste dialogue, ideas for shots to include, and the number of times that clich�d old formula has been used.

What I hate more than that is when a movie has a priview that features an actor or actress from that movie in it. We didn’t have that happen with Butterfly but we did in Return of the King. It really messes with your when you go to a movie, knowing that Aragorn will become the new king of Gondor, and then you see him with a southern accent in a movie called Hidalgo. What is Hidalgo? Some stupid flick about racing a horse across the desert. *yawn* Thank you for ruining my movie experience, Viggo.

Typically, after showing these two categories of trailors, they go on to service announcements. These are not the same as those service announcements they put on before the movie. No no no, these aren’t as interesting as “Please turn off your cellphone” or “Please chain dogs up outside of the theater”. These are tolerable service announcements. Usually they put something up on screen that looks like a PowerPoint slide with a cellphone clip art, or a doggy, and the text in big letters.

The trend for major movie producers is to put in “Don’t Pirate Movies” ads after all the cool, fun trailors. If you haven’t heard of this, then you are missing out.

They always start with a person. This person starts to wax intellectually about movies. Then that person tells you that they are involved in the movie business. The first one I saw featured a stunt man. The second one I saw featured a set painter. After this person tells you about the greatness of what they have to do, etc., they go to black. Upon the black background are written white letters that say, “Don’t Pirate Movies.”

This is the dumbest ad campaign ever. Do you think movie pirates give a damn about a stunt guy who thinks “pirating movies hurts” him? I’m not the only one to rant about this horrible, waste-of-eyesight movie pre-addendum.

If I could make one, I would be standing in front of a TV holding some choice (I’ve never used that adjective) DVDs in my hand. I would maybe be wearing a t-shirt that says Sith vs. Jedi or Hogwarts Quidditch. Then, my eyes welling up in tears, I would say:

I am Miles Rausch. I am a movie watcher. When a movie is really good, and all the stuff is happening on the screen, then I feel good. I like when there is action or drama or comedy or artististry or movism in a film. When a person pirates movies, they don’t hurt the producers. I think the producers don’t care, but you hurt me. I don’t like to get hurt.

Then I would let you watch The Butterfly Effect as I cry myself to black.

Did you ever notice how weird that word is? It’s so packed of odd, soft sounds. I think about this as I write my post. I like to start with titles. Well, actually, I start with an idea. Then I make a title. Then I actually write the post.

I really love those old cartoons where they had puns for titles. The jokes were all lame, the kind of pun that makes you groan, but I relish in that kind of rudimentary linguistic slapstick.

I, however, am not so good at puns for titles. I agonize for sometimes minutes over what to title my next work of genius. I languish in throws of literate torture. I lament the ease with which some people have come up with titles that were catchy. Even, on my own site, my cousin Brenna upstaged me in the pun department with her guest post, I Can Post for Miles. Not to say I haven’t tried my best:

• A Minor Problem
• Oh Deer
• My So-Called Wife
• Spictacular
• Pizza What ?

Today’s title is just as bad as any of these. I knew I was writing about thrift, but I don’t know anything that rhymes with “thrift”, so I decided to use the word “store” next to “thrift”. So, you are supposed to think “Thrift Store”. Ok, with that, I decided to rhyme “store” instead. An easy task? No.

I jogged my little browser legs on over to RhymeZone, hippest rhyme place on the internet. I put in “store” and patiently waited for the MC behind the site to figure out his list. I could just picture this little half-Chinese, half-black, sunglasses-wearing, hair-braided, techno-rap-hip-hop Coolio-Neo wannabe saying “store, sore, floor, more, roar…” In any case, they gave me this list.

There are 318 ways to rhyme “store” according to this site. There are only 42 ways to rhyme “thrift”. My choice was clear – take on “store.” The misleading thing about the number they give you is that most of the words are grayed. This means that they are archaic, obsolete, or last names. Like I’d want some random last name in my post title, hit song, or poem.

They arrange them in groups of syllables. The largest syllable word that they have listed is 8 syllables. I considered it. A large rhyme is a good score. It makes people respect you, in a way. I thought that “Thrift Reserve Officers Training Corps” was too long to be considered witty. Also, I don’t know what that is, so I ran the risk of being asked to explain my title, in which case I really would have to be witty.

“War” seemed to be a good rhyme, but with times as they are, it seemed iffy. There is so much war in the world right now, and using that word to make a light, airy post might not have the desired effect that I want. What if people think I’m making fun of war? Then I have the gun-wavers against me. What if people think that I’m making a statement about war? Then I have the pot-head hippies trying to hug me.

No pot-head hippy gets hugs from me.

No large syllable word, no war. I scrolled to the top of the list. There were too many choices. The title sets a tone for the piece. It also creates expectations of what I’m going to write about. If I were to use “Thrift Sore”, the reader would assume that I got my thrift groove on bit too much, and that they would expect hot hand-me-down on hand-me-down action. The same idea are brought to mind if I were to use “Thrift Whore”, but this term also conjures lucid images of late-night drug use, crazy schemes, and scoring less than well on school tests. For some, it also conjures up images that would get my site blocked at private schools.

I was planning on talking about my awesome finds at the St. Thomas church in Madison. In the basement of the church, they have a “Free to Take” thrift clothing section. I mean, come on. I know that girls love sales, but I love free.
They had quite the selection, actually. I almost felt guilty in taking so much relish in what I was taking in. I got a “look at me I’m a lawyer or banker” trench coat and a “look at me I’m actually colour blind” suit coat, much like the one I got at Savers to long ago (that I thought I wrote about but can’t find in my archives right now).

What words described this post? How can I set the tone of getting horrible crap for free at the church? There was so much that that one word had to say, and to have said to it. I needed the right diplomat de plume.

I was relentless. I searched and searched for the word, until it hit me.

The word?

No, a bird; it hit my windshield. And when that happened I got depressed.

Not you, Miles!

Yes, but as soon as I got depressed, I got undepressed. You know why?

Why?

Because I thought of a word for the post.

Was it “bore”? Was it “chore”? Was it “door” or “lore” or “pour”? Do I start it with a consonant, or with a ‘y’ like “yore”? I’ve explored the list for some I’ve missed but nothing was ignored. And it looks as though you, too, must know, it’s “gore” that I adore.

Remember the moon? That scary planet that’s both made of cheese and has a man’s face in it? Well, as I recall, some people are still shocked that we ever decided to send people there in the first place. They could’ve been eaten. But as long as we beat them Russians, who cares! Well, we’re all lucky to have President Bush in the white house; he’s bringing us back and oh so much more.

Here’s President Sparky’s plan: he wants to send people to the moon no later than 2020, and then once we research just how humans react to such strenuous space travel we’ll shoot people to Mars. Yes folks, we are going to send people to “The Red Planet.” Why would people willingly want to go there? Just the sound of it seems painful. Mars seems like the universe’s “Time-Out Chair.”

Among the plethora of reasons people should be saying, “Whoa, George, you’re having a whack attack,” a great one is that one of the purposes of putting humans on Mars is to check for life. This reeks of disaster; can we say “Alien”, “Independence Day”, “Alf” or “Alien: Part Gazillion?”

Aliens are vicious creatures that have no sense of right or wrong or the Geneva Convention. Why would we want to risk the lives of astronauts just to see if we can get a leash around them and bring them to Earth?

I realize many people believe this announcement by Bush to be an attempt to win a few more votes. It may convince a few voters that the president is interested with enhancing our nation’s knowledge of one of the greatest mysteries of all time. Others believe he is finishing his father’s space campaign that was halted once Congress found out how much it would cost. Either way, I think Bush could be spending the money on something a little more important then going to a planet named after a candy bar.

Apparently, Hepatitis B is bad. From what the CDC says about it, it “can cause lifelong infection, cirrhosis (scarring) of the liver, liver cancer, liver failure, and death.”

Basically, it’s the viral equivalent of drinking way too much. This virus, coupled with drinking way too much, is why nurses around the country are urging college students to get vaccinated against this tiny, itsy-bitsy fiend. So, what exactly are the nurses of America doing to protect the collegiate fold they are sworn to protect?

Making comic books. Nothing speaks to knowledge-hungry college students like an over-dramatic, poorly drawn, comic book. I feel it is the obligation of Awayken.com to help the proliferation of this literature. That is what follows below.

Click the thumbnails to see the full version.

Cover:

Pages 1 & 2:

Pages 3 & 4:

Pages 5 & 6:

Frosted in golden
    auras and left,
        eternally to fade
        reluctant to go,
    in dying halos
ebb your trails.
Ta’en so slightly
    remaining so softly
        apparitions to praise,
        in such sweetness.
    Light in dark
suddenly wonderfully fails.

Download it at deviantART.