Motivational Equity
The time has been passed through playing the A-Team board game (brought to you by Milton Bradley). It's incrementalized my thinking moreso than it already was, which is to say, it's made me smarter, but more inefficient. The basic premise is that the secret code must be rescued from the secret fortress with the help of B.A. B.A. is not a gamepiece, because obviously any "battle" would be easily won by him. Again, he only assists. Each turn is accompanied (and hampered) by battling guards and the other A-Team members. Somehow, the creators, in the shuffle of creation, forgot that the A-Team is in fact a team, and would traditionally look for the secret plans as such. They certainly wouldn't battle with dice everytime they encountered one another. Nonetheless, a better waste of time than any other distraction might provide. Also, I'm really good, so my bias is quite apparent.
Raging Bull, Superman, ride them all. Come one come all. I championed each and every one, and I suggest you attempt the same. Amusement parks are funny; they're much like airports. People go there to work everyday and you wonder if they're real. The environment is certainly not. It's a created kingdom of magic and wonder, but the people are robots there. The trip consisted of a detour through an even stranger land, the outer subdivisions of the big town, I will say. Even there, you don't know where you're at, but the people appreciate that feeling more than I'll ever understand. That place isn't real either; simply a confusing realm of an area where nobody belongs. They like it that way. One man was viewed making a collect call from a pay phone with loafers and athletic shorts on. "Dad... ummm... I don't know where I'm at and I've found myself in the usual get-up. Can you pick me up?" NO.
The Nazis came to Madison on Sunday. Mike Quieto, whom I will sit with at a TAA booth tomorrow, was seen in a pink bunny suit. "Where else can you jump around in a bunny suit and not be the most ridiculous?" He asked in a newspaper interview. Read it at the Capital Times website. Nazis usually have an empty feeling of belonging and only long for good times and a chant.
A huge spider lived in my house until tonight. It appeared beside me on my vinyl pile. I said, "Jesus Christ!" Loudly... to myself. My dog played it cool while I dropped B.O.R.T.'s Calculus book on it. That fucker finally was put to good use. As a matter of fact, only Jesus himself knows how many times that book's been put to good use. He can count on one hand. He is the savior. The spider would have been my demise, but my motivation to kill flattened it. I looked at it in close inspection. It most certainly had the required poison amount to send me to the promised land. Good luck Mark, with your spider problem.
So, in conclusion, don't forget to finish reading via internet, the story regarding that Troy guy and his roommate Aydin. I have a passport that I found, as a sidenote. I should get rid of that thing before I get arrested.
"It only fit, as Troy perceived it, so nicely into the rut that his life was. The new way bridged the rut and would crash down and shut-out the rest once Troy crossed under it. The rut explained Troy's life into his mid-30s - a general channel, maybe of banality, that he was awkwardly comfortable in. On occasion, the heavy rains washed silty mud onto Troy's shirt."
Raging Bull, Superman, ride them all. Come one come all. I championed each and every one, and I suggest you attempt the same. Amusement parks are funny; they're much like airports. People go there to work everyday and you wonder if they're real. The environment is certainly not. It's a created kingdom of magic and wonder, but the people are robots there. The trip consisted of a detour through an even stranger land, the outer subdivisions of the big town, I will say. Even there, you don't know where you're at, but the people appreciate that feeling more than I'll ever understand. That place isn't real either; simply a confusing realm of an area where nobody belongs. They like it that way. One man was viewed making a collect call from a pay phone with loafers and athletic shorts on. "Dad... ummm... I don't know where I'm at and I've found myself in the usual get-up. Can you pick me up?" NO.
The Nazis came to Madison on Sunday. Mike Quieto, whom I will sit with at a TAA booth tomorrow, was seen in a pink bunny suit. "Where else can you jump around in a bunny suit and not be the most ridiculous?" He asked in a newspaper interview. Read it at the Capital Times website. Nazis usually have an empty feeling of belonging and only long for good times and a chant.
A huge spider lived in my house until tonight. It appeared beside me on my vinyl pile. I said, "Jesus Christ!" Loudly... to myself. My dog played it cool while I dropped B.O.R.T.'s Calculus book on it. That fucker finally was put to good use. As a matter of fact, only Jesus himself knows how many times that book's been put to good use. He can count on one hand. He is the savior. The spider would have been my demise, but my motivation to kill flattened it. I looked at it in close inspection. It most certainly had the required poison amount to send me to the promised land. Good luck Mark, with your spider problem.
So, in conclusion, don't forget to finish reading via internet, the story regarding that Troy guy and his roommate Aydin. I have a passport that I found, as a sidenote. I should get rid of that thing before I get arrested.
"It only fit, as Troy perceived it, so nicely into the rut that his life was. The new way bridged the rut and would crash down and shut-out the rest once Troy crossed under it. The rut explained Troy's life into his mid-30s - a general channel, maybe of banality, that he was awkwardly comfortable in. On occasion, the heavy rains washed silty mud onto Troy's shirt."
posted by fiestawizard at 11:38 PM
2 Comments:
Yes, but Jesus's hand has an infinity of fingers. And my calculus book has x^5 number of pages. Just try running L'Hopital's rule on THAT, young man. Zelda Instruction Manual-style Hint: a graphic calculator of unprecendented magnitude MIGHT help; then again, it MIGHT hinder.
Are you implying that you have my passport? Cuz it's missing.
BTW, I finished reading the story YOU wrote about these T and A fellows, but like I noted previously, there is not further recourse to finding its origins. I hereby declare it as "entirely made up." That's okay.
I did the math, got hindered by the giant calculation machine, tore up your worthless passport, and made up that story. I'll finish it later I guess. Thanks a lot for nothing GENE!
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