Uncle Sam Wants You! ..To Read This. (He Also Wants Sexual Favors, But That's a Story for Another Time)

Long ass titles are obnoxious..and hilarious.

You should know, I always write titles last.

I think I forgot to mention something about JournalismGirl. We are pretty good friends now.

Also, she's a heckling ginger.

I'm nonchalantly rubbing my eyes and scanning the room for FratDouche.

"He must have partied too hard last night and is currently perched on bathroom linoleum, head slumped in his porcelain throne" runs through my head because he's nowhere to be found.

Micah isn't here either!

"Maybe Micah and FratDouche got slizzard together. NO, NO NO NO..no." My inner-dialogue is challenged.

I hope it doesn't seem like I'm trying to hard on this post.

But if it does, it's because I am.

My mother informed me she thought my last post was my worst yet.

She said it was shit-garbage and then she banished me from the state.

Not really, but she DID call me a pussy. Love ya too mom.

I'm contemplating ways to punish Micah for not coming to class.

Maybe every time he leaves me stranded, I'll write something slanderous about him in my post.

Then everyone who reads this will go to Starbucks (his place of employment) and proceed to point and laugh at him!

MUHAHAHA!

I only know of maybe 4 people who read this. Ergo, don't point and laugh..you'll just look like 4 freaks who won't be allowed in a Starbucks again. Bad idea, bad.

I suppose I could always just flagellate the kid. Look that shit up.

BUT NOT ON YOUTUBE OR ANYTHING! THAT MIGHT BE SCARY! Just go to Dictionary.com

Guess who just walked in, 22 minutes late..

FratDouche.

It's sick how excited I became when I saw him.

I can't wait to write extremely bitchy things about the guy.

Last night I had a terrorizing dream about being surrounded by giant, freaky eels (à la Flotsam and Jetsam) whilst I sat in the fetal position on a rickety dock. Yikes on bikes. I need a dream catcher.

FratDouche is sitting about 4 rows behind me on the opposite side of the room.

I can't crane my neck to see what he's doing without making myself look like a creep who watches people to write about them in a blog they're unaware of. I wouldn't want to look like that kind of person.

I just laughed out loud because some girl was just barking her opinion to Prof. X and without even listening to what she was saying my inner-dialogue said "if you write about her in your blog, call her MouthyHo."

I'm a serious dick.

THERE'S A VISINE FOR THAT!

Okay, I think I've written enough.

You're probably getting sick of it.

(If you ARE getting sick of it, don't tell me, or I'll kidnap your dog and he will develop Stockholm Syndrome and never want to go back to you)

I love you f*cks.

Bye.

Meh

"Life is tough. Its tougher if your stupid."

My papi taught me to live by these words. Life is tough.

But it could always be worse, as we're learning in Journalism class. Professor X has a variety of demonstrations, thumbscrews, stretching racks, water boarding all in the name of Journalism! Lets face it, the Journalism program is loaded here. The bathrooms of the Journalism building a freaking glorious shrines to urinary satisfaction and relaxation. The tiles were imported (in the name of Journalism) from an Incan temple which nobody really cared about. I didn't believe the rumors I heard, so I went to the bathroom and saw with my own eyes- it was magnificent! Especially in contrast to the Media Arts department bathrooms. I saw a few meth addicts and cocaine deals in a single bowel movement. Yes- I did see them, because the stalls have no doors.

Normally I don't mind relaxing on a toilet in plain sight. But its really hard to do that when the man from under the bridge flashes his gun as he opens the paper bag. It just tenses everything up- which is the opposite of a relaxing bowel movement. Its downright constricting.

We need change.

Did You Miss Me? Of Course Not..

Everyone in class today has a cold, I swear.

*sniffle*

*sniffle*

*cough* *sneeze* *cough*

*sniffle*

Ewww.

Just so you know, I am in class, but I'm not posting this from my computer. This, my friends, is from my iPhone.

So I just turned around to tell Micah how cool this is..and naturally he bashed it and proceeded to hack from his throat. Thanks.

My friend JournalismGirl sits to my right..looking at wedding dressed online. FratDouche is directly in front of me, wearing some beautiful man sweater and chit-chatting with the guy next to him.

Oh, and our professor is lecturing on reporting. It isn't very interesting today, hence the phone blogging.

Everyone needs an Instagram account.
Everyone needs a Twitter account.
Everyone needs a Tumblr account.
Everyone needs a YouTube account.
Everyone needs an OA account.
Everyone has a Facebook account.

Reporters get kidnapped and killed. Maybe I chose the wrong major..

Since we're learning about how journalists sometimes aren't safe because of the things they show or tell..I've decided to go the extra mile with this post.
Here is a quick paparazzi-esque photo of FratDouche:

The Internet Probably Knows You Better Than Your Mother

Our professor just discussed how he "Facebook-stalks" his ex-girlfriend. Nice, bro. We've all been there.

Sorry there were no posts last time. Micah was not here, ergo I was too lonely to post. Now, however, Micah sits at my side like the Lassie to my Timmy. Oh, let's be honest here, he doesn't care about me. He's two seats away playing RuneScape.

I'm starting to not appreciate how much we are watched. Think about it, we use social networking sites to be social, while the second we are in a questionable situation, the government or the law can use your Facebook to track your every move. Privacy is nowhere. It's something we have come to accept, but mostly because we are (in my mind) ignorant to THE POSSIBILITY of having our lives tracked, watched, STUDIED, KNOWN. Everyone has the mentality of "oh, nobody is watching ME," or "I'M not going to ever be in a situation where my internet use sits in front of a judge or jury." Well, guess what? All of us are watched. All of us have too much of our lives, PERSONAL lives, on the internet.

Oh well, at least it's everyone ;)

That was a bitchy paragraph I just wrote. Let me make it up to you.

Hope you enjoyed that.

If you didn't, you're not my friend.

Is everyone loving this autumn? Beautiful, right?

You better love the f*ck out of it because next month it will be frigid, snowy, and dead. Until May.

With that, I do bid thee farewell.

Adieu.

"Penetration is a legit technical term"- Professor X

Doctor X is tackling gaming, online poker, and porn this class period. A.K.A. the internet. Every second $3,075.64 is being spent on porn. There's an industry for you.

"Adam and Eve makes me uncomfortable, and its not even porn! Its just a store that tells dirty stuff" poor professor X... to combat his weakness he's making us watch documentaries on porn- how Journalistic.

The internet was driven by porn, as Yahoo CEO states... "My customers wanna see sex, I'll give it to 'em" this documentary is kinky... Wow the internet is freakin' me out. Dani says "I'm a geek with big breasts", this is awkward. Worse than the time I accidentally let slip the words "yeast infection" to my female substitute teacher- which was bad.

Wow, it seems like this porn thing is driving the world. This is scary. Why do we have to LEARN this?! I'm pretty sure we all suspected it, but to create scientific studies documenting it... now the aliens will know whats up!

Apparently porn is now a teenage rebellion- according to the old people.

Back to professor X- "Penetration is a legit technical term", oh innuendo, how you entertain! However, I must disagree with this viewpoint. When you use the word "penetration" I can no longer take you technically serious- at least not until the giggling subsides.

In 2002 there were over 200,000 pornography businesses online. This number has skyrocketed from there- how would anybody watch that much porn and still be part of society? Yeah I don't know.

Ooh yeah! Society backlashed towards porn, heaven forbid we let the children see this stuff! Lets make internet filters and software blockers! Hell! Why not also make chats for children, they can't see porn, but they can be cyber bullied in a safe environment!

Why is it that our stuck up frat boy is taking copious notes suddenly? He never takes notes! But today his eyes are dialed in, he doesn't want to miss a single bit of sensuous clip art from the powerpoint. Sleazy bastard... I should copy his notes, I haven't been taking them today- the powerpoint is way too riveting.

"We're gonna stop talking about porn" says Professor X; "awww" says the frat boy and every other guy in the class. The women don't say anything- ominous. Hmm, Professor X is talking about blogging now. I hate blogging. Bloggers are so lame. They just spout stupid opinions and assume everybody else should listen. I also hate happiness. People who're happy are douches. Happy people should be sent searching for landmines- with hammers.

Hammers are fun though. I like hammers.

But any who- this lecture is penetrating into my soul, deep stuff, gotta love it.

Do You Know How to Get Single Girls to Post Photos on Facebook?

PORNPORNPORN.

This is today's major topic in Journalism.

PORN.

Ultimately what I am learning from this lecture is technology is helping porn tremendously. Almost every other medium (like newspapers, magazines, movies, radio, television) are hindered by the internet, while porn thrives on it. Pretty much, people in the porn industry are filthy rich and always pleasured.

CAREER CHANGE.

Wow, Micah finished his post and I have barely started.

Have you ever meant to say "barely" and accidentally put "barley?" That's embarrassing.

So, where did Myspace go? I'LL TELL YOU.

Myspace was raped by Facebook. But Facebook wore a tie and said "thank you" so it's okay.

Friendster is still back there scratching its head and LinkedIn is like "I'm Facebook for geezers."

So much personality on the internet, I'm telling ya.

Our professor loves to mention the fact he has a Twitter account and pretty much hates blog. I think it's cool to have a college professor who not only knows what Twitter is, but he USES it. And Facebook. And LinkedIn. But it does somewhat bother me how much he detests blogs. Considering...

I really hate lecture classes. Even if I like the professor, lecture classes just suck like a Hoover. I mean a Dyson, they suck harder.

Since I brought up vacuums, let's remind everyone of the Roomba. Do you remember those? I always wanted one.

(If you remember the Roomba, AND the parody skit on SNL called Woomba then you are amazing. It cleans your lady business.)

Woomba - Cleans your lady business (Roomba... by Eurobotiks

Okay, enough.

I'm off to learn.

I Cannot Handle Statistics About Google and Facebook

Micah was 10 minutes late.

He had me so worried. I was literally thinking "if that goon doesn't show up I will probably spiral into a deep depression and not be able to write a new blog post."

Then he walked in and I went straight to micahcryder.blogspot.com

How has everyone been? Yeah, I do not care. It's not like you would comment on this post and tell me anyway.

F*cks.

Did you know Netscape still had a web browser? Me neither.

GOOGLE CHROME WINS.

Do you want to have an info-gasm?

I'll give you one: look at the picture to the left.

695,000 Facebook status updates EVERY MINUTE.

In case you were wondering, this is beautiful and ridiculous graphic was shown to us by Prof. X. I'm glad he is "in the know."

Today is all about internet again, but basically focused on ONLY web browsers and how crazy popular and filthy rich they are.

Statistics about Google are much too intense for me. They hire 8 new people a day...can you even believe that? Google pwns nOObs.

Our professor just put up the topic list for next class. It goes like this:

-blogging

-porn

-social networks

-security

Excited? I am.

I realize this has probably been the most boring post you've ever read of mine, but hey, I threw in a graphic this time!

So cry your mascara to your chin then wipe it the f*ck up 'cause that looks gross..and get over it.

I'll do something better on Thursday, promise.

Until then, go hug your mother.

Things the Internet Teaches Me: Jesus is a Pelican

Today's lecture consists of Television: Part III and the introduction of INTERNET.

Today's blog post does not.

Sadly, Micah is not with me today. Nor is he texting me back, so his reason for leaving me alone is simply left to my imagination. I assume his espresso machine sprayed hot, caffeinated liquid in his now scalded eyes. Hopefully he purchases an eye patch and comes to class next Tuesday.

This post will probably not be as entertaining as the previous, due to the fact I am really trying to pay attention in class now so I can have an "A" and not a "B."

Did you know every early video clip about the rise and significance of internet was made by "nerds" and "dweebs" who did not just wear giant glasses or flaunt gapped teeth, they did BOTH simultaneously.

I am a wee bit distraught for I cannot find Scarface or Cheats or BedHead anymore. I only ever find FratDouche, and he seems to have dunked himself into a vat of douchery.

So, I recently finalized my list of top 5 favorite animals. I thought I had the top 6 in order, but I'm still confused about flamingos and weasels. Anyway, one of the top 5 is a pelican. Yes, the bird with the throat pouch. Do not ever ask why any of my favorite animals are my favorite, they just are. So just a minute ago I decided to look up pelicans on the internet and find out what the heck makes them better than every other large water bird. I found a shockingly interesting bit of information. Pelicans were/are sometimes considered religious symbols because when the baby pelicans are hungry and there is no food, the mommy pelican might sometimes stab her own bird-boob and allow her young to drink her breast-blood. Gross, but so intriguing. People made connections from this self-mutilating-for-the-good-of-another bird to our lord and savior Jesus Christ. Weird, huh?

I wish I had a brain which could retain a lot of intelligent stuff. I would want to be a hacker. Then I could become the next Gates or Zuckerberg. The whole idea behind "Internet" and the way it works is just fascinating. I can hardly wrap my mind around http and html, but it is so amazing to hear about the evolution and innovation of Internet and the WWW.

Have you had enough of my rambling?

If you can't say anything nice then don't say anything at all.

You have bad parents.

Let's explore one more topic: Autumn

Okay, let's face it...your opinion doesn't matter. Unless you agree with this statement: Autumn (or "Fall" for you imbeciles) is the best season of the year. The reasons include things such as wearing sweaters, drinking warm and delicious drinks, holidays, wearing striped sweaters, parties, amazing scents at Bath & Body Works, wearing soft and beautiful sweaters, pie, and so much more!

Thank you for participating.

You're all gorgeous.

Ugh

Sometimes I wonder. On a rainy day I'll sit by a window, basking in the subtly filtered dingy horrible rainy light, and I'll wonder. I wonder about a lot of things. Sometimes I wonder how the grass grows. Sometimes I wonder why paint dries. Sometimes I wonder why my dog humps little children. Sometimes I find myself wonder about why there is a picture of an angry looking black woman is staring at me from professor X's powerpoint.

Right at this moment I'm wondering why Austin is always looking at Taylor Swift's Facebook page. Its really freaking me out.

Frankly I haven't felt remotely funny in the past few weeks. But thats probably just my personality, not my ability. I've been working at Starbucks all week and the angry customers have sapped my humor. Lets face it, I've been suckled dry.

Up front Prof. X is lecturing about Nazi's and cigarrettes (their both evil). I wonder if this class might make more sense should I pay full attention the whole time.

Before I get all enthralled with the lesson, I should point out the gal two rows up is knitting. This is impressive, she's got a pretty damn nice scarf goin' on. I cant help but admire her focus and... the communists have retreated?! Suck it Russia!

Now we're talking about McCarthy? Wow, this class keeps a fast pace.

I'm bored though.

Why Check the Facts?

Frat douche likes to tap people really hard on the shoulder. You know, God forbid people give their attention to something else for a few minutes. No, he wants their eyes on him, at ALL TIMES. Otherwise he probably shrinks and eventually melts then vaporizes into the air. (Yes, I did just use the phase transition term for liquid to gas).

Today's Journalism lecture topic: Television Part II

Unfortunately I missed Part I, but I heard television is just another medium which is starting to decline. Very slowly, but declining nonetheless. Basically the internet will be the only thing we have in 20 years. I don't think it would be that bad though, we all watch TV, read newspapers, read books, view movies, listen to music, and listen to radio on the internet anyway. We just need someone to create a computer which can transform into smaller and larger computers, then we'd all be fine. I have two more points on this topic: 1) we will never have the transforming computer because Steve Jobs died and 2) we really do not need it considering the world ends in 14 months.

I need to start watching The Daily Show.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I raised my hand and asked riveting but irrelevant questions in class. Like, if I raised my hand right now and asked Prof. X about how many journalists associate themselves with the Democratic Party and how many are elephants, I'm sure most of the brain-and-spine-free people in my class would suddenly have strong interest in the question and they would wish to know his answer, but ultimately he would be like "what the f---?"

Let's talk about my future for a second.

So, I'm undeclared when it comes to my major but I've been telling people I'm thinking about Journalism. Well, in less than 2 weeks we can begin registering for next semester's classes and I could potentially declare a major. I am fearful of declaring. Making a declaration is a serious event in a person's life, and I am not sure if I am invested enough to throw my life in the Journalism fish tank and how I don't sink. Then again, I have 10 tabs open right now and 9 of them are very related to the entertainment journalism world. I can see myself listening to the soon-to-be-released Kelly Clarkson record and giving it a C+ on the first page of Entertainment Weekly's Music review section. I can vividly picture myself taking extensive notes and judging every sharp cheddar cheese-line spouted from the 9 protagonists of the Avengers movie due out in May of 2012. I can imagine taking pictures and submitting them to magazines around the world until finally landing a full-time job taking pictures for a newspaper's online corporation. What I'm getting at is, while I'm not 100% sure of what I want to do, everything I keep as an option seems to fall under Journalism. Maybe I will declare. Maybe I will take that step. Or maybe I'll cower into the fetal position and wait until fall 2012 to declare, both options are very plausible.

Now, before I leave you I must ask you to do me the mightiest of favors: If you read this blog, at all, ever, even if it is just this one time or if you have read them all, please please PLEASE please give us some freaking feedback. Just say SOMETHING. Or, better yet, say what you like, don't like, want to hear about, want to know. Tell me what you want and I'll probably give it to you. Unless it's of a sexual manner. You don't ask for that over the internet, you send that in the mail or in a text ;)

ZING.

Okay, so what have we learned today?

"Leave some feedback and go forth with our lives."

Yes, very good class. See you Thursday.

Rain is a bitch. No, its not condensed water falling from clouds. Its a bitch. Yesterday was a nice day. It started full of the joys of a hot shower after waking up. Warming my aching cold body. Dad still hasn't turned the heat on and its pretty cold in the basement. After a bright refreshing shower (I ran out of hot water half way through) I happily bounded up the stairs into the bright sunlight. Oh wait, never mind. It wasn't bright and sunny after all, it was overcast and rainy. I kindly asked my parents for a ride to campus, and was denied. So I biked. Three miles in the pouring rain. Guess what, I sure did have a waterproof jacket, and blue jeans, and water up the sleeve of my waterproof jacket. Then some jackass hid a massive railroad tie in the high grasses of the roadside, right next to the lake which was originally the road. I of course- swerved to avoid the lake, not seeing the tribal snare residing in the lakeside grasses.

I got soaked. I was flung bodily off my bike seat and into the lake. My day couldn't have gotten any worse. Honestly.

Of Shaman and propagating cape buffalo

Without reason or rhyme class makes a half assed start. Slowly like an air ride siren, increasing in volume professor X begins to talk. Silence falls, as usual. Silence tinged with slight vestiges of fear. The only person who seems unaffected is the frat boy sitting one row back seven seats over. This guy is an imbecile. All he does is sit there pontificating about all the cool shit he and his fraternity do. Its people like him whom even Ghandi couldn't stand. You sit around him and its like *inner peace*... *inner peace* "yeah then we totally were the coolest thing on planet Earth because we hiked mount Sentinel in the dark! *inner... what the fuck I think propagating cape buffalo would be cooler than that!*

Ever day I seem to have this habit of zoning out and happily writing. Then (like today) I look up and professor X is talking about old films. Apparently Edison created a Kinetoscope. Its some sort of cabinet where you look down into it and can watch the movie. I feel as if that'd make my back hurt.

Sorry, I can't let myself get distracted like that... where was I? Oh yeah! So I haven't written anything for two class period (my bad). But hell- its not like any of you actually read this blog, so why should it matter? Anyhow, I was gone for two days. Hence the no writing. Not only was I gone though, I had a reason. The night before class, as I was quite contentedly reading my assigned journalism chapter, drinking hot cocoa whilst listening to something mentally stimulating; Mozart in fact. But alas, as I sat snuggling with my journalism book, the doorbell  rang. I heard my dad open the door, he then called my name. Abandoning my hopes of completing the homework (I'm sorry professor X) I quickly left my basement bedroom, ascending the staircase into society. In the entryway my dad stood deep in conversation with a Tibetan shaman. He quickly explained the plight, they needed somebody more awesome than the propagating cape buffalo, they needed... me. The ancient Shaman explained it was my destiny. If destiny was calling, who was I to resist? So I left with him. Through the course of the next few days, I found my greatest weaknesses. Within 48 hours I defeated them, coming out the other side of the adventure stronger, more confident, and more wildly dashing than even the mighty cape buffalo.  What exactly did the Shaman require of me?

Ooh, apparently the movie which launched the film industry was incredibly racist. Nothing like the KKK to create a best seller.

Looking out the window I see a depressingly drab sky. Its been raining all night, both metaphorically and literally. The ground is soaking from rain, making biking to and from campus a muddy affair to say the least. Possibly more muddy than a pair of propagating cape buffalo. These old movies are almost as funny as the depressing rainy weather outside. The window is only letting in a small amount of light. The pine tree outside looks depressed and gloomy in the weather. Professor X relentlessly presses on with his suppressive powerpoint. Next to me Austin is looking at Rihanna's Facebook page. I need to have a talk with that kid.

"Film with sound will be about as successful as color photography" boy the guy who said THAT was stupid. Not only did film with sound triumph, so did color photography. Poor bastard.

Thankfully this class is almost over. When I get home I'm gonna spend some time with my propagating cape buffalo.

First In-Class Essay

You'll never believe this. The douche bag/lady's man who seats himself and his harem near my seat, yeah, he's a frat douche. I know, I know, you're probably thinking "WHAT!?!?! NO WAY!?!?!" I'm just upset with the fact I didn't guess this right off the bat. He's EVERYTHING a frat needs!

No more of that.

It seems like it has been an eternity since the last blog post, and, if you're a true Journalism Window fanatic (there's no such person), you'd know this is due to the fact Micah and I had our first Media History midterm on Thursday. It went...sort of well. But do you even care? No. Okay, more stream of consciousness...

I do not feel very well today. In case you're wondering, that is my excuse for writing a shit post today.

Today's topic is: FILM.

It is not as interesting as it should be. But, one thing I did find encouraging, one of the first examples of motion pictures was a four second clip of a man sneezing.

Today's real life tidbit: It's my brother's birthday. He's 9.

For some reason, Frat Douche and his clan full of bros and hos are not talking. They're actually paying attention. I hate it when there are really f*cky people who act like asses but they're uberpopular and get good grades. It goes against nature.

Feeling enlightened? I hoped so.

My favorite thing about all of the outdated clips from interviews and television specials Prof. X shows us is how all of the stodgy, pompous old men have really really awesome glasses. I want every pair.

WHOA. Prof. X just used the phrase "it's like a bad episode of Glee...or a good episode." I've always ragged on his humor, but I'll give him props for that one. (Wtf are props in this context? Like real props? "Here, here are your random stage items for doing something I deem cool." Really, props?)

*QUICK RANT ALERT*

Obviously I'm in class right now, so naturally I'm trying to watch some of last Saturday's SNL with Melissa McCarthy but guess the hell what...DAMN SPONSORED ADS TAKE LIKE 2 MINUTES NOW! It sounds like an awful personal problem, like I'm the most impatient person on this earth, but seriously. SERIOUSLY?! It used to be like, everything had one 15 second advertisements online. Now, watching television online is pretty much just like watching it on the television! You turn it on and it has to buffer then as soon as it's done it's a freakin' ad which finally leads to the episode buffering and finally the real episode, which is interrupted about 6 (I refuse to say 9, although that's ACTUALLY how many there are in an episode of SNL) times for 1 minute advertisements. IF I WANTED TO SIT THERE AND WAIT FOR THE ADS TO END THEN I WOULD WATCH IT WHEN IT'S ON THE TELEVISION. I WATCH SH*T ONLINE TO AVOID THIS BUUUUULL.

Okay, all done. With everything.

BYYEE.

Orson Welles Likes to F*ck with People

Well, today's topic is RADIO. Not the mentally challenged Cuba Gooding Jr. movie, but that thing you listen to in your car if you haven't heard of that new Apple invention..what is it? Oh, the iPod. Right.

Unfortunately, I am not going to talk about my classmates today. If you follow, you know Cheats and Scarface are bromancing while Bedhead slumps nearby and Douche shouts/stares at his female friends. Today, I can only find Douche and I really don't feel like exploiting his rare, extreme douche-ity. Besides, I'm doing this thing called multitasking so I don't really want to people watch my entire class.

(just fyi, when I say "multitasking" I mean "I have 10 tabs and 2 Word documents open.")

I should probably pay more attention to Prof. X than this blog, though, considering Thursday is our first midterm exam. We have a study guide. It's 16 pages.

Yeah, I just took a break from the last paragraph and instead of paying attention, I was on Wikipedia looking at sitcoms. Wow, work ethic.

Now I have 13 tabs.

Mostly, this blog happens to land with Micah and I implementing some sarcasm and dry humor in our judgments on humanity, specifically in our Journalism class. The key word in the last sentence is "mostly" because now I'm going to stray from what I normally talk about.

Alright, I'll be quick. (that's what she said?) Have you heard of MuchMusic.com? If not, just go there. It's basically the Canadian MTV, but so much (ha, much) better. If you like music, tv, entertainment knowledge/gossip, then this site might tickle your fancy. My fancy was pretty much experiencing a tremor. Okay, I'm done. That wasn't so bad right?

The Journalism class we're in is Media History & Literacy. So, fittingly so, we are constantly discussing media and how people use it, respond to it, work within it. I'm always so shocked at how daft mankind is, has been, and will forever be. In my mind (that's a scary image already, huh) the entire human population is made up of 98% who just do not understand. They have problems with clear direction, comprehension, common sense, and just overall regular brain function. The other 2% have a clue. Ultimately I've concluded there are approx. 6.7 billion hopeless buffoons and approx. 137 million geniuses. I think I have probably met a dozen people who fall in the brainy minority. Sad.

15 tabs (and counting).

Bye now. You suck if you're not reading this. Which means that last statement is pointless.

Little girl sued for illegally downloading Finding Nemo

Mr. Lee Banv- Professor X turns down the lights. The crowd quiets. Never mind the crowd is still blabbering like sheep in a Scottish pasteur. Not a normal pasteur, a very Scottish one.To further state his supremacy, Professor X takes a stoic drink of Doctor Pepper, or Knob Creek Burbon, or Jack Daniels, I can't really tell which. As he himself says, his voice is back as strong as ever, like an aged blend of thunder and honey, with a dash of chili powder (given to him in return for saving the life and marriage of an Incan Shaman).

Today is about the recording industry, again we have a powerpoint. This time with a documentary clip o Wilco. Interesting shit. I can see Professor X brooding in the shadows, stroking his moustache. Fixing the class with a steely gaze, stealthily pacing a small circuit, impatient for the video clip to be over so he can resume his regime of intimidation and "education". 

As I can deduce from this powerpoint, Reprise Records are a bunch of dicks. Yeah, it turns out they totally hung Wilco out to dry when the band wouldn't make changes to their album for marketability purposes. Of course, Nonesuch picked up the band, took their album, released it in 2001. Go figure, both Nonesuch and Reprise Records are both owned by Warner Brothers. Sure enough, Wilco's next two albums won Grammies.

So the man with a longboard just walked in late. I have no clue what his name is, so we'll call him Humphrey. Humphrey comes in late every day, he seems nice enough, he's just stoned. He walks in on tiptoes, tripping over my backpack, and apologizing profusely. Then he begins gazing with glazed eyes at Professor X. His notes are comprised of assorted doodles of penises and random words which he comprehends. Their not even good drawings of penises. They aren't even proportional. 

Some people look pretty damn funny when their taking notes. I mean sure some people just look from the teacher to their notes, idly transcribing facts of Journalistic significance. But theres another caliber of note taker. These students bring note taking to a whole new level. Never before have I seen such looks of concentration, cognition and quite frankly, constipation. I feel like I should bring a few emergency enemas to class.

Now Professor X is trying to identify with us. Talking about going down to the Malt shop and listening to the Jukebox. Poor man is lost in time. I guess we can expect nothing more. Like many great caesars before him, he drinks from a lead coffee cup. Or shot glass, depending on the time of day. I understand a good character should develop throughout the story. I also understand Professor X isn't developing. I suppose there is a chance he just has no character, or he isn't mortal, or maybe he's just some sort of Shaman himself. Perhaps the Incan Shaman he saved passed his wife and his powers on to Professor X. I'm not sure. But I should probably be taking notes right now.

Lacking Humor Today (Oh Well, Go Play With Yourself)

In case you couldn't tell by the title of this blog post, I'm not very funny today. If that turns you off, maybe you should find something better to do and stop the damn whining.

I cannot seem to locate my faithful characters today in class. Instead, I'm going to do a feature of someone new. He really deserves it. There is a guy diagonal from me in a poser sweatshirt..he thinks he is God's gift to earth. Let's just call him Sgt. Douche. Douche for short. He likes to turn around and talk to the girl behind him, about every 4 and a half minutes. He likes to stare at the person he's talking to. He likes to wear his lanyard that says "hot stuff." As far as I can tell there is not a single thing about himself which he doesn't love to bits. Oh god, I just heard him chortle to a terribly obvious Prof. X punchline. I can't talk about Douche anymore. He's too douche-y.

Do you happen to remember the full-length feature film Easy A? From last year? Well, I do. I also remember a line from that movie when Olive is talking to her audience about the irony of the book you're reading in English class paralleling the mental or social aspect of your current life. I'm having a day like that. Today's class topic is all about music and the recording industry as a whole. I find this actually compelling because today was the morning I woke up early to check my tweets and find out if the new Rihanna single was "unlocked" on her Facebook page yet. Lucky for me, I woke up, read the latest @rihanna tweet and it just happened to be the one I was waiting for. Link to the song and all! Waking up to listen to something you're so excited for it kept you from sleeping the night before..now that is PRIME. (In case you're wondering, "why did Austin just say 'prime?'" the answer is because my roommate and his friend say it a lot and, although I made fun of it, it's growing on me).

So far in this blog I've: judged another human being, referenced a snarky chick-flick, revealed my Rihanna/pop music obsession AND used the word "prime" like it was cool. I hope you're not going to stop reading because you just realized I have issues.

If you do stop reading though, let me know so I can give you the Indian burn of a lifetime. Ass.

(Is it just me or was this post total weak-sauce?)

Anyway, here's a link if you care. YOU SHOULD.

http://www.facebook.com/rihanna?sk=app_246539032049610

Contrast

First off, it turns out Austin wasn't dead last class, nor was he off battling pirates and saving indigenous cultures. No, Austin was just being a lazy ass American, he slept through his alarm. Yup, he abandoned me to the powers of Professor X, all on my own, a beacon of solitude in a sea of oppressive learning.

Professor X has the ability to talk quite happily for hours on end. Thankfully this class is only an hour and twenty minutes on end, I don't know what I would do otherwise. As I sit back here, I see so many studious children. All of them so desperate to please, so ready to prove their journalistic savvy if only given that one chance. Its all they'd need. I don't get how they do it. Especially the front row students. They've got these attentive knowledge seeking- slightly worshiping faces on, just beaming at the professor X's bold figure. I feel like they had a few cosmetic surgeries so they could make that putridly happy face all class period.
I can see the skin graft marks, too bad they took it from their buttocks, it sucks to have a hairy lip.

I'm beginning to understand professor X's love of the powerpoint. I first assumed it was about educating us. Maybe he wanted to use power-points to help convey his message, through pictures and big bold letters. But after a few class periods it dawned on me. Professor X doesn't use power-points for education, he uses them for intimidation. Yep, he uses them to induce cold hard fear in our weak minds. Why do I say this? Because Professor X understands the power of contrast. The bright projector screen dominates our eyes, we can hardly see Professor X. His voice simply lurks in the shadows. When he does come out to stand center stage, all we can see is a hulking silhouette. A massive hairy silhouette with a deep booming voice tends to intimidate most students. Me included. I'm scared.

Helen Gurley Brown Sells Sex

Sorry I was out last time, unfortunately I turned my alarm off and proceeded to turn myself over, back towards the coddling arms of my bed. It actually isn't very coddling. Dorm beds have this casing around them which I assume is to prevent vomit soakage. Oh well, I was too tired, 'kay?

So now I'm really in class, as I should be. Scarface is (thankfully) again in the row ahead of me, this time a handful of seats over. Cheats is close to him. Too close. I can't find Bed-head, now taking his place is a strange guy with a hat who is undeniably younger than 22 but looks to be about 46. It's weird. Scar is wearing this very...striped yellow sweater thing. I bet Cheats enjoys it.

Today's topic: Magazines.

Holy buckets, there was a magazine in the 1800s about me.

MCCLURE'S MAGAZINE.

Apparently it was the Cosmo of it's day. I'm awesome, and lecherous.

Micah is writing his blog right now, I hope it isn't better than mine. If it is, though, I'll just have to chop his legs off at the knees. Either way...

Poor Prof. X has chlamydia. Not really, it's actually a common cold which went straight to his lecturing voice. Or a touch of emphysema. Nonetheless he's doing a grand 'ol job. What a muthaf***ing trooper.

Now, I've decided to give you a tiny peek into my personal life. Since this is The Journalism Window after all, I figured it would only be fitting to show you the many windows of my Journalism experience. This one I will share with you is about a girl. Oh, now you're ready aren'tcha? Okay, it all began long long ago (and by that I mean yesterday at approx. 8:20 am) in my Drawing class. The girl who sat next to me is one I had noticed in my Anthropology class, but I didn't say anything about it because usually I'm not noticed. Not to be self-deprecating, I'm just not the most popular guy. Anyway..she sits there, looking like she could be a natural bitch but also looking quite superb, and says "hey, aren't you in my Anthro class?" I'm hooked. Love, it must be. Long story short, she's a Journalism major and she's super fine and we have not one, not two, but THREE classes together! Don't get too excited just yet though. I decided to be a super freak (like Rick James, bitch) and find this hot Journalism girl on Facebook. It took me about 10 minutes (which, if you're an internet creep is actually a long time to spend just finding someone) but eventually I hit the jackpot! Unfortunately, I also hit

a brick wall, face first. She's "in a relationship" with some kid (he's probably older than me, but he's a senior in high school so I'm still going to make him sound like a child) with a stupid name. I know I can't use his name against him because it really wasn't his choice, but it's dumb so he is too. That's what I deduced alright? So now, here I sit in my Journalism class, taking notes, writing a blog, and every so often glancing about 6 rows ahead of me where HotJournalismGirl sits. Urgh.

Wow, I just spent 16 lines telling you a story that basically ends with a FAIL and I've hardly talked about the real romance in the room.

Cheats just dropped his phone. Luckily Scarface was there to pick it up form him. What a pair, what a pair.

That's all for now because I'm sick of you. BYE.


Edit: Micah would like to offer his condolences to Mr. McClure and extend the arm of compassion. Just the arm mind you, not the whole shindig

The Power of Pictures

The happy morning Journalism session has begun. I arrived to class with mere moments to spare, having biked my personal best, 13 minutes from my house across town, to campus. unsurprisingly I'm not the latest student. Assorted dip-shits come in one... no, three, nay, thirty minutes late. Alas, my colleague Austin is not present. Where is he? No clue. Perhaps he is off combating pirate rades upon an indigenous Filipino village, untouched by time and technology. Maybe he's summiting the Meru Shark's tooth in the Himalayas, I have no clue.

All these thoughts pass quickly through my minuscule mind, which is then distracted by Professor X's presentation. Photojournalism is the topic. An intro video fascinates me. A Pulitzer prize winning photographer talking about his prize winning photo, cool shit. Photojournalism is something I have a deep interest in. Apparently not the case with the goober in front of me. He slouches dejectedly in his seat, bowing his disheveled head on his desk. His notes are an assortment of random words, doodles of Professor X, and a drool stain approaching the size of Lake Superior. His white t-shirt has an assortment of ketchup and beer stains. Poor guy, he was hoping for a Neanderthal degree, but he's stuck in the Journalism class.

Photojournalists die? What a gripping lesson! Professor X's timely showing of death toll stats sobers me up. Maybe I should go to school for philosophy instead. 135 photojournalists died in Vietnam, 35 died in Iraq. Oh boy! "If your pictures aren't good enough, you're not close enough" -Robert Capa. Sure enough, he stepped on a landmine in Vietnam. But hey- he had some great pictures, and lets face it- he had a blast.

As I glance around the classroom I see the rest of those budding photojournalists emailing advisors and rescheduling classes. Hell- I don't blame them. But I also forgot who my advisor was, shoulda written their name down- damnit. I guess I'm stuck here. Well- sorta, class is over now.

Austin

My colleague Austin is a medium tall baby faced guy. We’ve known each other since our junior year of high school. We met in a situation of apathetic depravity, under the regime of Mr.- err, I’ll call him Fidel for the sake of my safety. Fidel was an older dictator, who walked with a slight hunch, which emphasized his vast age, his head was slightly bald, with a gray ring of hair still desperately clinging on for the ride. Like all good dictators Mr. Fidel controlled us. We didn’t pee without asking, we didn’t breathe without asking, we didn’t speak without asking. So mostly we silently asphyxiated. Within ten minutes of class you could hear the clunk of heads on desks as one by one we dropped like flies.

Miraculously we survived to live another day. Now we sit together under the nurturing passion of Professor X. This time we are better prepared. Now we are combating the dictatorial vices of our “teachers” by writing about it. Yes, you heard me right, writing about it. Gone are the days of undocumented brutality at the hands of education, today we strike back!

“News is what I say it is.” –Ben Bradlee or David Brinkley, we just don’t know.

A scar on his left cheek and an Under Armor jacket, a guy’s guy. We’ll call him “Scarface,” just for entertainment purposes. His neighbor copies his notes, why should he have to spend his time watching a video clip about the changing, somewhat struggling times for newspapers when he can look at the contents between the lines of his buddy’s college ruled notebook? Now they’re talking. The one that copies, we’ll call him “Cheats,” seems to have a bit of a twinkle in his eye. Am I witnessing a budding bromance? We’ll see. Oh yeah, 36 minutes late for class and typical Montana boy with bed-head wanders into the aisle in front of me where Scarface and Cheats reside. Before sitting next to ‘ol Scarface, Bed-Head decides to half whisper/ half shout “Happy birthday!” Apparently our friend Scar is celebrating the day he was forced from his mother’s uterus. Cute.

We’ll let our three new characters marinate for a bit. Now, let’s talk about the Professor. Professor X makes most of my mushy-brained classmates laugh, but not me. His humor style is typical and about 4 years behind. He’s the kind of guy that, as he lectures, he’ll end a point with a quick, mumbled, sarcastic sentence, either to make us listen or (please God, no) he actually thinks he’s funny. Well, according to the first 5 rows, he is. They chortle every time. I REFUSE to laugh because, at the end of each of those comic relief sentences, he stops abruptly and says “uhhh” or “umm” to quickly change the subject from his joke back to the lecture. It’s one of those things people do when they think they’re funny and want the listeners to believe they’re SO unaware of their (self-proclaimed) awe-inducing sense of humor.

“Since the recession hit this is such a bigger deal.” Seriously? Blonde girl in grey shirt just said this to our professor. I just pray to Lucifer she is not a Journalism major, ‘cause if she is THEN SHE SHOULD HAVE SAID “THIS IS A MUCH BIGGER DEAL!” Learn grammar you 6^th row blonde.

Professor X just received a low rumble of laughter for simply using the words “retro” and “legit.”

Back to the real fun. Scarface is chomping gum and appears to be taking a furlong of notes. Cheats is still living up to his name, whilst biting his pen. Bed-Head looks confused. I can only see the back of his head, but I assure you, he’s confused.

Just in case you fancied learning a bit about my blog partner, Micah, here’s a quick glimpse. Currently, Micah is working on his blog post for today and making sure he keeps his hat hair up to snuff. That’s not much, but what the hell did you expect? We’re not giving full-length bios in our first posts. Freak.

Both Scarface and Cheats are chewing on their pens as we watch a third video clip. They’re leaning into each other. Yep, I’ve deduced: Bromance. Poor Bed-Head, he’s still confused and now very alone. Oh, what’s this?! I’ve stumbled upon a new character in the row directly behind me. He’s slipping off of his chair, sleeping with his iPod in his ear and his tattered white t-shirt on his napping carcass. Hold the phone! Cheats just asked Professor X a question! Man, this is getting good. My characters are already developing. Emotions are running deep. This is some nice shit.

Okay, it seems there are only 18 minutes of class left and Micah is hounding me about our deadline. I didn’t know we had one, but I guess I’ll go with the flow of that schmo. I hope you enjoyed this little peephole into the Journalism Window. Come back for more. Or don’t, I won’t cry about it.