Hark! What is that over the horizon?! 'Tis Flint! And he brings with him more fun! What? More fun? I have enough fun on my plate for a week, you say? Well, lump it, you jerk! Here comes more!

Apples: A Beginner's Guide

How's it going, Mr. Walking Corpse.

Yeah, I'm talking to YOU, picture-of-non-health!

Don't look around like that! My stinging barb is pointed directly at you! You and the rest of your modern, eat-anything, forget-about-nutrients society! With all the garbage you and everyone else eats, the human race is bound for extinction in about thirty years! I tell ya, something needs to be done, and it needs to be done, like, nowish!

That's where your oldest, truest and healthiest friend, Flint, comes in! I have lives for over two decades now! That's much longer than most mammals live! In those decades, I have learned the secret art of perfect health. This one plan for success in healthy living has been heavily guarded by ancient old guys with nothing better to do than guard things like this using deadly martial arts. But now, thanks to the bravery and foolishness of one such as I, the world will know the secret to long life! What is it? Why, it's a new diet, silly!

Oh, come on! I can hear you groan through my speakers! "Sweet baby Jesus, a diet?! I ain't up for that! I'm perfectly content stuffing my face with funyuns and deadly cholesterol-packed pickled hog brains to ever consider changing the eating pattern that's slowly digging my own grave!" It's not that bad, joker! In fact, this diet contains one food that you always eat! At least, one food who's flavor your used to since you eat gallons of artificially created sludge packed in cardboard "cereal bars" which claim that's the flavor. What is this mystery substance? What superfood can lead us out of fatty Hell and into health-filled Valhalla?

Apples, my friend.

Yes, a diet consisting completely and solely of apples will repair the horrific damage you've done to your own body from years of binge-eating on things that aren't even food! Apples will do wonders to that tiny, shriveled, dead thing killed by too much manga and television you once called a brain! Apples will take us soaring above the terror that is our own custom-made, deep-fried doom, fly us out of artificially-sweetened Hades, and finally land in healthy Heaven!

Are you convinced? Splendid! Now you can begin your new life as an applevore, just as God intended! But wait! I foresee a problem! When visiting the produce section at your local grocer/farmer's market/swap meet, you discover there are many hundreds of apple types! Which one is the best?! Fear not, my fine apple-fueled friend! I, Flint, shall give you the rundown on the most important apples on the shelf! So put down that twinkie, pick up that cultivar, and prepare to enter a world you never knew existed! Here's...

APPLES: A BEGINNER'S GUIDE

RED DELICIOUS- This is probably the apple you think of when you think of the word "apple". Totally mainstream apple. Parents and kids love red delicious because it's so damn accessible! I hate red delicious, and you should too. Do you really want to be associated with something five-year-olds and balding men going through a mid-life crisis are loving? Of course not! Consider red delicious the "stand-by" in case there are NO OTHER apples. Even in the situation wherein there are no other apples besides red delicious, don't rule out eating your own flesh for sustenance.

GOLDEN DELICIOUS- Red delicious' older, cooler brother. Consider golden delicious the "Ken" to red delicious' "Ryu". The two taste practically the same, but you look cooler eating a golden rather than a red. Take a note of that, it's important. Golden delicious may also be the most ironic of apples; while it's called "golden", it's actually green.

PINK LADY- Not just the name of a Japanese singing duo/horrid American sitcom, pink lady apples are the most feminine of apples. If your a young lady wishing to look rather charming around town, consider chomping daintily on one of these suckers while you take your afternoon stroll. Don't forget to wear your cutest sundress and carry a frilly parasol.

GALA- The "Sam's Club" of apples. You can find these apples in more abundance in any produce vendor than even red delicious. Some apple enthusiasts, myself included, believe gala to be the scourge of the apple kingdom, the cultivar equivalent of the pigeon. To be quite honest, most people wouldn't mind if the gala variety died off tomorrow. The good thing about gala, however, is that nobody gives a crap if you eat it, so your social status will not be harmed if you are seen in public eating this. However, neither will it rise. Consider gala when you're REALLY hungry, and don't care what you eat.

FUJI- There are many legends behind the appearance of the Fuji apple. Some experts believe that the fuji variety grow at the peak of Japan's Mount Fuji, and are only available to humans through a considerable effort by a team of Japanese yeti monsters. Some say that the apples are grown in the world's biggest orchard by professional wrestling personality Mr. Fuji. Still others claim that the folks over at FujiFilm have somehow developed the technology to create apples from pictures. Whichever the case, the fuji is the preferred cultivar of the tech set. In short, eat this and look geeky.

BRAEBURN- The history of the braeburn apple is quite colorful. It begins in a plantation in pre-Civil War Georgia, where a slave named Tobias Braeburn toiled endlessly picking apples for his master. One night, Tobias snapped, grabbed a basketful of apples, marched into his masters' mansion, and proceeded to belt the sap with cultivars until he died of massive brain hemorrhage. That night, Tobias Braeburn freed his brethren, and from that point onward, he aided in the Underground Railroad, protecting those seeking freedom armed with nothing but his trusty apples.Braeburn apples are consumed by freedom fighters around the world still today.

GRANNY SMITH- The infamously sour granny smith apple gets its name from the first nintey-year-old woman to be put to death in the state of Texas, Bernice "Granny" Smith. Smith began her career as a train coach robber in post-Civil War Texas. She eventually moved from coach to bank robbery, sometimes killing every innocent soul in the establishment before making off with the ill-gotten money. Finally, she got so brazen that she'd simply burst into people's houses, shoot their dog, drink their liquor, stay and chat awhile, and finally shoot the first-born of the family in the leg before taking the second most expensive item the family owned (she did not take the most expensive item due to ethical reasons). When she was captured, she was sentenced to have a green sour apple shoved down her throat until she choked to death. Even now, bad men get a bite out of granny smith apples. It's even said that Al Capone requested granny smiths in his cell in Alcatraz.

SUMMERFREE- The most whimsical of apples. These apples are consumed to feel the sheer joy of a warm summer's day. The legend goes that summerfree apples originate from clouds in the sky, and are only available to humanity through the gusts of summer winds, which carry the apples to Earth. If your ever in a funk, feeling like the world is against you, like you don't have a friend in the world, just look to the sky, and bite into a summerfree apple.

PACIFIC ROSE- The end-all, be-all of apples. The king, the big boss, the messiah of the cultivars. Pacific rose apples are the most mythical of cultivars, said to be the ripest, crunchiest, must flavorful of apples. To describe the sensation of eating one of these fantastic fruits is beyond the capability of text, but I will attempt it:

Imagine you are in the produce section at your local supermarket. You are standing in front of a large crate of apples. You grab one, and lift it up to eye level. It is massive in your hand. It is bright pink in color, with red and yellow stripes. It is cool to the touch, and beacons you to take a bite. You cannot resist. Your teeth take a chunk. Instantly, your mouth is filled with a very distinct flavor. It is not an apple. It is not anything you have tasted before. It is Pacific Rose. And it will be the finest thing you will ever digest.

This has been but a short list of the different kinds of apples that exist just outside your door. Yes, hundreds upon hundreds of apples exist, each with its own story and unique flavor. So, what are you waiting for? There's a whole new world out there for you to explore! So put down that Hot Pocket, put on a coat, race down to your local market, and grab as many apples as you can! Your mouth will thank you, as well as your body!

Ludwig's Choice

A malnourished ninji jumps up and down continuously in front of the large door leading to my father's chamber. I look into his eyes and see nothing. No fatigue. No anger. No joy. Nothing. His small feet hit the ground softly, and without a sound, his knees propel him back skyward.

I can no longer stand it here. The endless armies of koopas patrolling the outside perimeter, wandering the hallways, looking for something to do. The suffering of my fellow siblings, seven of us locked in large damp gray rooms, each of us slowly being consumed by madness or our own devices, while the newest addition to our ranks is put on a pedestal, worshiped like the second coming by our deadbeat father, while we seven are forgotten. Most of all, though, I can no longer stand being associated with my father, the eternal failure. Endless attempts to capture a princess for no real reason besides the fact that she's of a different, more highly-looked-upon species, only to be defeated by a fat man in a mustache and his cowardly brother. Tired of seeing him defeated by that fat man at anything you care to name. Kart racing, tennis, baseball, eating, bomb dropping, fire-throwing. I cannot take life here any longer.

Today, I will leave this place. But before I do, I have to have one last word with my father.

Roy stands next to me in front of the large red metal door leading to my father's chamber. He is sweating. When is he not sweating? The boy has a self-image problem. He is constantly working out, always trying to compensate for his unfortunately-colored shell and head. He wears sunglasses where ever he goes, to hide his scared, shifting eyes. He's a nice boy, he really is. I just wish he'd get over himself. He adjusts his sunglasses nervously, then glances over to me.

"This is it, eh Luddy?" He says to me. I can smell what he had for breakfast. It annoys me.

"Yes. Father will not be pleased with our decision. Are you sure you are willing to go through? I will not hold it against you if you pull back," I answer him. I'm not sure were I picked up the European accent from. Comes with the name, I suppose.

"N-no way, man! I'm totally ready! Just go in there... go in an' tell 'im what's what! Then, we're out!" Roy says. I can hear he is very nervous.

I am nervous, as well. I have never thought of living outside this castle. Sure, I have spent my time in fortresses in different lands, but they were all modeled after my home. All of them, built of dark gray stone, all dark and damp, torches used sparingly to light the way for the fat man's inevitable break-in. I close my eyes tight, and try to remember why I am here.

I think of my current living conditions. A large room with an old cot, a feeding trough and a broken chemistry set from Koopa knows when. I think of the birthdays my father's missed, the successes I've accomplished while my father rooted for my failure. I think of Larry begging father for permission to attend community college, so he could make something of himself and not become a monster and failure. I remember my father's anger, throwing fireballs at Larry until he ran screaming from his chambers. I remember the wails of sorrow coming from his room for nights after.

I remember Wendy being kicked out of the castle by father for being insubordinate. The night before she left for Del Fino, she told me she'd send letters to me every other day. She was gone for a year and a half. I received exactly two letters. The first, a few days after she had left, was a rather cheery affair, describing her excitement and mild fear about a new life on the island, how she had gotten a job selling churros, and the odd-looking inhabitants of the island, and how they looked upon her with disdain. The second came about a year after the first. It was scrawled on dirty paper with what appeared to be lipstick. She begged me to tell father to let her back into the castle. The creatures on Del Fino hated her. She lost her job in weeks, and with no talents besides being a trained child terrorist, took to living on the streets, first panhandling for coins, then taking up petty robbery. Naturally, I asked father for permission for Wendy's return. He looked me in the eyes, and told me he would in a few months, after she suffered a little more. When she finally returned, she was a husk of the vibrant young girl I grew up with. She spends her days locked up in her room, living in a catatonic state of fear.

I remember Morton's coin troubles, and my father's refusal to intervene. To this day, he's in such massive debt, it seems like all he does is work in those caves. I remember the day Iggy finally succumbed to his psychosis, and my father's lack of emotion to his son's illness. I still visit him every day; he lays in bed all day, either convulsing violently or ranting about things that make no sense.

I remember the day Bowser Junior entered our lives.

I cannot STAND it here!

I clench my fists together. My maw scrunches up in anger. My fury is at it's peak. I will go tell my father what I think of him, then I will leave this hole on my own terms. I turn and glare at Roy. He jumps slightly at my visage.

He hesitates. "Dude... you ready or what?"

"Roy. Are you serious about this? Because when I leave, I will never return. I'm going to burn this bridge today, and NEVER look back. Can you make that choice?"

Roy stares in my angered eyes. He is terrified, I can see it. He takes a step back. He tries to say something, but nothing comes out. He again adjusts his sunglasses. For a moment, he is as still as a statue. Finally, he extends his hand to me. I take it. We shake firmly. Roy thrusts himself forward, and hugs me. I do not respond in kind. He turns his back on me, and walks down the gray corridor with his eyes cast downward.

I refocus my attention to my father's chamber. I summon my anger once again, and throw open the metal doors. They fly open, and hit the walls with a loud thud.

My father is sitting on that ridiculous metal throne of his. Bowser Jr. is jumping around, playing some silly game with which I care little about. Upon hearing the doors' thud, he quickly looks up from his favorite son and notices me for the first time in years.

"Ludwig?!", my father bellows. "What are you doing here?! Didn't I just buy you a new chemistry set to mess with?!"

"Chemistry sucks!" Bowser Jr. adds.

"Shut up, you stupid little runt! I'll rip your eyes from their sockets and cut open your belly until your entrails fall to ground!" I scream at the child. Obviously not used to such verbal abuse, Bowser Jr. retreats behind father's throne. Father stares at me with his jaw hanging. He takes a moment to gather his thought.

"How dare you speak to my son like that, Ludwig! If I wasn't such a nice guy, I'd-"

"I AM YOUR SON! You have six more sons and a daughter you care nothing about, and I am sick of it!" I yell. I begin matching toward my father. I feel my knees quake in fear and excitement. "I want you to know something, Bowser."

"What did you call me, boy?" father tells me. "You will adress me as "Father"."

"You are NOT my father! You are a horrible monster! I want you to know something! I am leaving this terrible place! And I am never coming back!" It gets hard to breathe. I am speaking so loud and so fast, it's hard to catch my breath. I must go on, however. "Before I go, I want you to know EXACTLY what I think of you, Bowser! You are nothing but a sick bastard and a horrible father! All I ever did was try to live up to your standards! I led the entire Koopa air force! I lived in that Godforsaken Dinosaur Land for MONTHS so you could fight that fat man you hate so much! All I wanted was your approval! And what do you do?! YOU ABANDON ME! You abandon all of us for that bastard you call 'Junior'!"

"Don't make fun o' my dad, jerk!" Bowser Jr. yells, poking his head behind father's throne.

"Stay out of this, you little shit!" I bark at him. He goes into hiding once again. Father tries to get a word in, but he appears speechless. I try to help him by adding some dialouge of my own. "I'm not living like this anymore! I know I can make it on my own, and not become a miserable, broken-down failure like you! I hate you! I will always hate you!" I say with all the anger I can muster.

I look into father's eyes as I glare with my fists clenched. I am prepared for the volley of fireballs or hammers he will surely throw my way. His eyes are filled with tears. His mouth quivers. His hands, clenched in fists as tight as mine, finally lay open, motionless on the arms of his thrown. He grunts. Then he turns his head away from me. I see Bowser Jr. poke his head from behind the throne once again. I bare my teeth and snarl, and he yelps and hides.

I turn my back on Bowser, the king of the Koopas, and the father who had abandoned me and six of his children. I walk silently to my room to get my things, already packed and ready to leave this place. My legs carry my swiftly. My head feels light. I feel like a great burden has been lifted. My time in this prison under my abusive father is over. Now, a future brighter than that of the sun of Desert Land shows itself to me. I smile for the first time in years.

Wish me luck, siblings. And... good luck to you as well.

Flint's Guide to Comedy!

Hey, y'all! It's me, your best friend and theO's resident bad mamma jamma, Flint! Through my many years here at theOtaku, I've strived to make every post I write as sophomoric and immature as possible. Why? To help you, the audience, through your tough day, in whatever it is that you do every day. Also, I like to snicker at my own genius because I'm incredibly vain.

I call my style of writing "comedy in the truest form", because true comedy is not high-brow, does not make you think, and does not in any way give you new ideas and perspectives on the world around you. C'mon, what do you honestly think is funnier: a dog talking to a banker about getting a second mortgage on his dog house, or that same dog biting said banker in the 'nads for no reason, while several bank patrons look on in horror? Your baser emotions tell you "man getting bit in 'nads by dog is funny", right? Whereas with the dog and his mortgage, you have to actually use your mind and think "Oh, I get it. He's taking out a second mortgage because the economy's gone to the dogs. That's funny, I suppose". It's natural for your mind to choose the simpler concept to grasp, thus receiving instant gratification, or in this case, a cheap laugh. That's what I provide.

Did you know that you too can write incredibly juvenile junk food posts purely meant for cheap laughs? It's true! You have a hidden talent that you do not yet realize! "But Flint, I've not a funny bone in my body! I've got a humerus, sure, but it ain't got a laugh in it! How can I write funny junk food for the mind?" you ask. That answer is simple. There are rules to follow when posting the textual equivalent of a twinkie. Luckily for an all-too-serious wretch like yourself, these rules are easy to follow! Just use your good judgment, put on a big smile, follow these rules, and you'll be on your way to Smilestown, U.S.A, population: lots and lots of fun!

RULE 1: ABSURDITY IS FUNNY TO A POINT

Yes, our old friend absurdity. How we love to laugh at him and his many manifestations, from a politician trying to weasel his way out of the latest scandal/gaffe, to a deluded "expert" calmly explaining to us how doomed we are from the newest health scare, to something as simple as a fanboy/girl going nuts on something that really doesn't matter in the end. We all enjoy a little absurdity every now and then. However, when writing a funk food post, absurdity is only funny to a certain point. Once you cross that point, you enter the realm of "stupidity", and the audience will no doubt view your writing with abject hatred.

For instance, one could write, "I just taught a gorilla how to use a chainsaw". The audience gets the mental image of a man spending several days, perhaps weeks, out of his life attempting to teach a gorilla how to use a power tool. At the end, when the gorilla has mastered the art, one then wonders "what possible use could that gorilla get out of using a chainsaw? And why did one man waste so much time out of his life trying to teach this creature how to use a tool he was never meant to possess?" See? You get at least a mild chuckle at the thought of the absurdity of the situation.

Contrast that to if one said "A gorilla used a chainsaw and a rocket pack to fight ninjas on the moon." This statement is too absurd to be funny. Really think about that sentence you just read. Try to get a mental image. You see a gorilla fighting ninjas with a chainsaw and a rocket pack on the surface of the moon. Now, think about a middle-aged man spending time and energy, wiping the sweat off his brow, attempting to teach a large gorilla in his care how to use a chainsaw for no reason. Which is funnier?

RULE 2: VIOLENCE CAN BE COMEDY FODDER

Violence in its very nature is not funny. When you hear about a shooting several blocks from your living space, a terrorist attack on the general populous, or a man convicted of murdering his family, your natural reaction to this news is not laughter. It's usually fear, anger, or outrage. And this is completely natural. It is in our biology to fear violence. Why? Because, just like any other animal, humans have a need for self-preservation. If you ever meet a totally brave Rambo-type who does not fear violence, chances are he's either residing in a mental institution or a lonesome grave. So, how can violence be used for a cheap laugh?

Well, violence can be made funny if it's placed in the proper situation. Let me throw out a scenario. You can write "two men are fighting outside, and one of them just pulled a knife!" Sounds like something you'd hear on the eleven o'clock news, right? That's not funny. Two human beings engaged in mortal combat can be scary, it can be exciting, and it can be dramatic, but it cannot be funny. So, let's make it funny.

Let's rewrite it like this: "A man and a bear are fighting outside, and the bear just pulled a knife!" Reflect on this sentence. You see a man probably in his mid-twenties trying to engage a bear, an animal that a size, weight, and strength advantage over him, in fisticuffs. Suddenly, that bear pulls a knife on our homo sapien friend! How did that bear get a knife? And, more importantly, how did the relationship between this man and this bear go so far south that it's come down to a fistfight between the two? Viola! Violence grants a chuckle!

RULE 3: ANIMALS ARE COMEDY GOLD

Animals are all around us. In every city on earth, you will find a plethora of fauna that share the land with us. These creatures go about their lives much like we do. They live simply to survive another day. This is pure Darwinism: survival of the fittest. Another thing about animals is that they're incredibly cute. How many times have you been driving along, seen a stray dog walking down the lonely concrete road, and thought "Oh, look at that dog! I'm gonna take him home right now!" Naturally, animals are comedy gold. When they're used incorrectly, however, they can become comedy poison.

Let us dwell on this. I'll start you off with this: "That bird just cooked the best vegetarian chili I've ever tasted!" Let's think about this sentence. We have a bird, let's say a pigeon since they're so common, cooking a pot of chili, a clearly human dish. And a human being ate said chili, knowing it was prepared by a pigeon. Furthermore, the human being enjoyed the dish! That's cute, but is it funny? Eh, kinda. How can we make this funnier? Let's try something else.

"A dog was arrested for voting in a local election". Think about that one. Here we have a golden retriever being escorted from an elementary school gymnasium turned into a make-shift voting spot by several policemen for trying to have his voice heard in a local city election. Why did they choose to call the police, and not animal control? Will the dog spend time in jail? How long? Furthermore, why did the dog choose to vote? What views could an entirely different species have on affairs that are purely human? See? A chortle comes forth!

On a quick note, the same rule of violence applies to animals. "Two dogs are fighting outside" is not funny, it's sad. The only reason the "Bear with knife" above was funny was because the bear had such an obvious advantage over his human combatant, and yet he chose still to pull out a weapon. Furthermore, the bear was engaging the human being in a human form of combat, something bears do not do. Thus, comedy.

RULE 4: LET'S TALK ABOUT LANGUAGE

The way we speak says volumes about who we are. Have you met a guy who uses a lot of fancy twenty-dollar words? You probably think he's pretty smart, or pretty pompous. Every met a guy who spoke in short, direct sentences? Maybe you thought he was very shy, or perhaps very wise. How about somebody who curses a lot? Chances are you thought they weren't very smart, or maybe you thought this was a character you'd rather not be associated with. Much like the language we use effects others' perception of us, so does the language we use in our junk food post reflect the mood of the post itself.

Let's talk about this for a while. Here's a sentence. "The septuagenarian at the counter could barely comprehend the details of the order with which I placed." Hmm... lots of big words. Is it funny? An old lady couldn't hear what I was trying to order. That's not very funny.

How about this one: "Some A****le just f****n' blindsided my g*****n car and ran the f**k off like a b***h!" Lots of curse words in this one. I feel more anger in it than comedy. Some guy gets blindsided, and the event quickly turns into a hit-and-run. This could potentially be comedy if put in the right situation, but as it is presented, it is not.

Let's try one with common language. "Some guy just slammed a lemon meringue on the side of my car!" The language is simple. It's easy to read and understand. The audience is not drawn away from it. Furthermore, they are able to visualize the situation. This is worth a chuckle!

RULE 5: PERSONAL EXPERIENCE IS GREAT STUFF

Did you know that you can actually draw on your own personal experiences to gain laughs? Really! Would I lie to you? Chances are, if you look back on it and laugh, others will look at it and laugh as well. So, if you got it, use it! Personal experience can give a goofy post a much-needed injection of depth, helping the audience connect with you, and making your writing even funnier. However, there are certain rules to this.

Let us see what we can do with this. First off, it's important to recognize what audience your writing to. Let me give you a good example of a piece of my own person experiences. "Rick Steiner once got into a verbal fight with Chucky from the "Child's Play" series. What's worse, he lost said fight to an inanimate object." I got a good grin just typing that! Most wrestling fans, remembering the absurdity of Rick Steiner having a hissy fit with Chucky for no real reason, would probably laugh as well. Will you laugh? Are you a wrestling fan? If you're a member of a site called "theOtaku", chances are you're probably not. This is an example of writing to the wrong audience.

Let's try another. "At the last convention I attended, I had the misfortune to meet a girl who had the worst Sakura costume I'd ever seen, and the face of a rat." If you're an anime fan who attends conventions, chances are you've seen some straight-up horrid cosplay. Telling you of my experience probably triggers memories of your experience with this. You probably laugh a bit, huh? In this sense, I have written to the right audience. Would a pro wrestling fan laugh? Probably not. Pro wrestling fans generally do not dress up as their favorite wrestlers, so they have no experience with this situation.

Let's try one more. "The stupidest thing I did in Las Vegas was sprint down the Strip in a tux and black tie. Men literally dove out of my way!" Think about this one. I am a man in a black suit, black tie, short hair, angry face. I'm sprinting down the Las Vegas Strip at full speed, and I'm coming right toward you. What's your first reaction? If you're in Las Vegas, it's probably "Holy God, the feds are after me!" Men ran the opposite direction, dove out of my way, and one man threw his drink to the ground and begged me not to arrest him. Everyone has heard the phrase "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas". It's the City of Sin. Naturally, seeing a federal agent coming at you in Las Vegas is probably a bad thing. Did you get a smile from this? This would be an example of personal experience for a large audience, not really pertaining to a select group.

RULE 6: CREATIVITY IS KEY

Hey, you! Who would win in a fight between a ninja and a pirate? Huh? You don't care? What if I threw in a zombie? All three of those are used all the time. What's funny about ninjas anymore? That's not creative. The essence of any goofball post is creativity. Any slouch can write "Gnomes just broke into my house, and they're drinking all my cough syrup", but really, is that funny? How many times have you read about gnomes? To maximize the joy taken from your post, think outside the box! Forget about things you've heard that are funny. There's a good law I like to use as pertains to jokes: "A joke is never funny the second time around". You can think of something great! Try it out!

Those are few simple rules for you to use when writing your very own junk food post, just like your old pal Flint! Now, with your newfound knowledge in the art of comedy posting, go forth and wreak fun on this land! Have fun now!

-Flint

Pandemic Pandemonuim! Your Inevitable Doom, and How to Cope with it

Hey, ain't you heard? Swine flu is sweeping the globe! Hundreds dead! Thousands diseased up! Even more thousands homeless! How does it spread? I heard swine flu waits behind dark corners, and attacks you as you walk past! I also hear that when it kills you, it goes into the future and kills your children, too!

What, you don't believe me? Then you, my friend, are insane. You go against the grain. We live in a society that has a love affair with horror. We love fear! From communism, to nuclear war, to nanomachines eating everything, to new and exotic diseases, our modern society absolutely loves the feeling of abject terror. This is no different. Or, perhaps it is. This time, my friends, it really is our doom! So, you have every right and permission to freak the freak out.

"But Flint!" you ask. What is it?! Can't you see I'm busy fearing?! "I don't know how to properly fear my doom! Why, I don't even have a figure with which to cast blame upon, therefore rallying my fear and hatred against!" Isn't that answer obvious? If you ask Disney, it's Piglet. Ask Orwell, and it's Snowball. Yes, pigs are our enemy in this pandemic. "Why would pigs turn on humanity now, Flint? They're so cute and lovable!" you foolishly ask. Well, we have mistreated the swine to the point of absurdity. We cut them to ribbons and eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, then laugh at them for being fat and wallowing in filth. It's only a natural reaction for pigs to develop a strategy for the elimination of the human race. That strategy just happens to be biological warfare.

Jeez, I always knew the age of humanity would be brought down by an another species, but pigs? I thought dinosaurs would come back or something.

Okay, you have a figure to hate. You're halfway to full panic mode. Now, you need the right tools for a freakout. In any global crisis, the proper gear can mean all the difference between being an insane rioter and a dead insane rioter. Fortunately for you, the right tools for this job are things you have around the house! Here's a few items that can and will be useful in the coming pandemic:

-Anti-Bacterial Soap (rub it ALL OVER yourself, to the point of excess.)

-Eye Drops (You never know when you'll need 'em, right?)

-World War I-Era Gas Mask (Provides the correct look for insane panic.)

-Full-Body Biohazard Suit (Feel free to paint skulls and/or demoralizing messages on this, for added effect.)

-Several Firearms of various sizes (When the pandemic comes, you'll need to establish dominance over the others.)

-Cyanide Pills (Just in case Swine Flu breaks into your house and kidnaps you while you sleep.)

-Coffin (Or at least a sturdy rubber box. Something to put your corpse in when you bite the big one.)

You've got the tools, so now your ready, right? Wrong! That's the kind of thinking that will get you totally wasted, both body and soul! What you need is the skills! The proper set of skills is needed in this panic to both survive (which you won't), and to show others that this is, indeed, a full-blown panic freak-out. Here's some helpful skills you should acquire as soon as possible:

-A good knowledge of several curse words, just in case any news cameras show up in front of you.

-Good cardiovascular health is essential to any panic. How else will you be able to run at full speed down the streets naked, breaking windows with rocks?

-Martial Arts is obvious. Not only will this help you establish a tribe during the panic times, but will also help immensely when Swine Flu sends it's strongest warriors against you and your rag-tag group of tribesmen.

-A good knowledge of bartering and appraisal will be great. When the full-blown pandemic is declared, all money will become instantly useless, so we will have to rely on bartering for trade.

-The histories of several different religions is key. That way, if praising/cursing one god doesn't work out for you, you have a host of other gods to try!

Well, I think you're ready for this pandemic, friend. You have all the tools of a survivalist nut, and all the skills of Dark-Ages Rambo. Now is the time to reveal just what exactly to expect from this pandemic. Swine flu is both incredibly crafty and unspeakably evil. It knows just the right points in society to strike to get maximum terror. Here's a list of things to expect.

-When the pandemic is declared, everyone will freeze for approximately three seconds, their minds processing the right reaction to this information. Then, everyone will become one of four things; Flesh-eating Zombies, Salty Raiders, Sheep waiting for their doom, or bloated Disease Bombs.

-When the pandemic is declared, all power will instantly fail. Furthermore, all technology will be destroyed. This is because Swine Flu hates what it cannot use, and will kill it if it cannot have it. We will live in a medieval-style society, harvesting crops and fighting off the Black Knight for our Lord, whomever holds the most guns in that particular area.

-When the pandemic is declared, all nuclear missiles will be launched simultaneously by Swine Flu. Fortunately for us, Earth will not be the target. Unfortunately for Uatu the Watcher, the Moon will be nuked to Hades and back.

-When the pandemic is declared, Australia will submerge itself under the sea for several months. The world will believe it has lost one of its continents. The world will find out that Australia was never a continent when it returns topside as a giant turtle monster. If it will align itself with humanity or Swine Flu is yet to be determined.

Now you know the facts, my friends. You are knowledged. You are fully prepared to head blindly into your inevitable destruction against an enemy you cannot hope to defeat. And now, I must take my leave of this place. Before I go, however, I will impart upon you a phrase I have taken to as my new catchphrase. Ready for it? Look around you. Is anyone there? Say this as loud as you can to everyone you see:

"Stay Smart, Stay Safe, Stay Swine Free!"
-Flint

Terror of the... *shudder*... OTHER Blog!

I usually check both my blogs when I wake up in the morning, partly because there's nothing else to do, and I need to remain occupied while I'm eating whatever it is I managed to grab for breakfast. I'll check my good ol' theO blog first, partly because at least one person I subscribe to has usually posted a well-written and interesting piece (and even though I'm kind of a jerk and don't comment sometimes, I DO read them!). I smile, stare at my monitor contently, and give the screen a nod of approval. Well-done, computer.

Then, I log on to another site. MySpace. My... *shudder*... OTHER blog.

Truly, the OTHER blog is the bastard spawn I never wanted, a pit of decaying intelligence and sickening decadence with which pollutes one's very soul. I have several friends who blog on MySpace. They convinced me to give it a try. "Hey, man, we're all on it! We want to see you online, too!" I thought "Hey, what the Hell? Might as well." So, I created a profile, and a name, "The Gentleman Tyrant". I figured that the others would have clever names as well. They didn't. Their screen names where crude bastardizations of their real-life names, or their names grafted with various adjectives, including "Pimpin" (note the lack of an apostrophe), "Sexie" (the misspelling makes it all the more cute), and various curse words and dollar signs where curse words and dollar signs shouldn't be.

It gets better. The actual BLOG portion is NEVER USED. Maybe this is because these people live such mundane lives, they feel the need no need to post any bits of info about them, for fear of the audience losing interest or falling asleep. Or maybe it's because these people CAN'T SPELL. Jesus, it's sad when you see shit like "HeLLz YeA!!1 GoNnA GO oUt To-NiTE LOL LuVYAByE!!!1" on a friend's profile when you know that friend took more time and energy just hitting the shift button repeatedly to achieve the "MiXeD CaPiTaLs" look, when simply typing "Yeah, I'm going out tonight!" would have taken much less work and made said person look more intelligent by comparison.

I guess what I really hate about the OTHER blog is it makes me look at my real-life friends in a totally different way, and not usually a good way. For example, you know a guy who's totally down to Earth, easy going, and just an all-around good joe. Then, you log on to his MySpace profile. Immediately, you are blasted with a wallpaper with nothing but Benjamins on a black screen, making all the text on screen unreadable unless you highlight it, a computer-generated image of a woman with said-friends name tattooed on her ass shaking what her mama gave her, and under "General Interests",text that reads "BITCHES, FUCKIN, MONEY, HEAD LOL", all the while some rapper you've never heard of blasts a shitty track so loud you instinctively turn the volume all the way down and hit "Back". You don't look at that guy the same after that.

If you're ever on MySpace, look up "The Gentleman Tyrant". I could use a friend who can read and write like a human being.
-Flint