Friday, October 11, 2002

At my school today there was a tech faire (code for a schoolwide corporate backdoor deal) where all the cute little tools who design technology for the marines to use to kill people more effectively bribe us with free shiny things. One of the handouts was a pair of purple latex gloves that were actually pretty nifty. When I got tired of wearing the one glove Michael-Jackson style, I snapped it off. Somehow in the removal process all of the glove's fingers got mashed into the index finger. The result was something that looked just like a purple condom with the ability to be worn on one's finger.

So I assumed the alter ego "Captain Condom" and poked people in the ear with it to be chased around the gym with disgusted screams. My history teacher was quite amused when I made it dance at her. She actually stopped in mid-sentence and gaped. After she corrected her "hell" remark with a gentler "heck" I told her, "Y'know, you probably don't need to use euphamisms when you're talking to someone with a condom on their finger."

This is so precious.

Thursday, October 10, 2002

Ah, finally, a web test worthy of my time. Tell your friends.

My results:


You have been awarded the TPM medal of distinction! This is our second highest award for outstanding service on the intellectual battleground.
The fact that you progressed through this activity without being hit and biting very few bullets suggests that your beliefs about God are internally consistent and well thought out.

A direct hit would have occurred had you answered in a way that implied a logical contradiction. The bitten bullets occurred because you responded in ways that required that you held views that most people would have found strange, incredible or unpalatable. However, because you bit only two bullets and avoided direct hits completely you still qualify for our second highest award. A good achievement!

Tuesday, October 08, 2002

I'm surprised there isn't more of a competitive spirit between the local 'blogs, at least the ones I know of. Seems like, although most of our views coincide, Valentin, Bryan and I should be sparring for readers. More the merrier though, seeing as Bryan now has six staff writers (

As for myself it's still a solo thing, as I doubt anyone else could tell you about the workings of my inner psyche. The little prick keeps popping things into my head at the least opportune times. Why is it that I always think about philosophy when I'm running the mile and in the dentist's chair, not while interacting with intelligent people?