Sunday, January 29, 2012
Title ''A Tale of Two Cities'' -Charles Dickens
Right of the bat, I would hazard a guess that this story is about two cities. Hang on, let me see if I'm right......I WAS!!! The novel compares London, England and Paris, France. He compares the two during the French Revolution. Highlighting the ways that London is both similar and different to Paris
Sunday, January 22, 2012
A Nauseous Nocturne by Bill Waterson
Another night deprived of slumber,
Hours passing without number,
My eye trace 'round the room. I lay
Dripping sweat and now quite certain
That tonight the final curtain
Drops upon my life's short precious play.
From the darkness, by the closet
Comes a noise, much like a faucet
Makes: a madd'ning drip-drip-dripping sound.
It seems some ill-proportioned beast,
Anticipating me deceased,
Is drooling poison puddles on the ground..
A can of mace, a forty-five,
Is all I'd need to stay alive,
But no weapon lies within my sight.
Oh my gosh! A shadow's creeping,
Ominous ans black, it's seeping
Slowly 'cross a moonlit square of light!
Suddenly a floorboard creak
Anounces the bloodsucking freak
Is here to steal my future years away!
A sulf'rous smell now fills the room
Heralding my imm'nent doom!
A fang gleams in the dark and murky gray!
Oh, blood-red eyes a tentacles!
Throbbing, pulsing ventricles!
Mucus-oozing porses and frightful claws!
Worse, in terms of outright scariness,
Are the suckers multifarious
That grab and force you in its mighty jaws!
This disgusting aberration
Of nature needs no motivation
To devour helpless children in their beds.
Relishing despairing moans,
It chews kids up and sucks their bones,
And disolves inside its mouth their li'l heads!
I know this 'cause I read it not
Two hours ago and then I got
The heebie-jeebies and these awful shakes.
My parents swore upon their honor
That I was safe, and not a goner.
I guess tomorrow they'll see their sad mistakes.
In the morning, they'll come in
And say, "What was that awful din
We heard last night? You kept us both from sleep!"
Only then will they surmise
The gruesomeness of my demise
And see that my remains are in a heap.
Dad will look at Mom and say,
"Too bad he had to go that way."
And Mom will look at Dad and nod assent.
Mom will add, "Still, it's fitting,
That as he was this world quiting,
He should leave another mess before he went."
They may not miss me first, I know.
They will miss me later, though,
And perhaps admit that they were wrong.
As memories of me grow dim,
They'll say, "We were too strict with him.
We should have listened to him all along."
As speedily my end approaches,
I bid a final "buenas noches"
To my best friend in the world.
Gently snoring, whiskers seeming
To sniff at smells (he must be dreaming),
He lies snuggled in the blackets curled.
HEY! WAKE UP, YOU STUPID CRETIN!
YOU GONNA SLEEP WHILE I GET EATEN?!
Suddenly the monster knows I'm not alone!
There's an animal in bed with me!
an awful beast he did not see!
The monster never would've come if he had know!
The monster, in his confernation,
Demonstrates defenestration,
And runs and runs and runs and runs away.
Rid of the pest,
I now can rest,
Thanks to my best friend, who saved the day.
(Not part of the poem at this point) I grew up on Calvin and Hobbes so its somethings that has always remained dear to my heart. Bill Waterson wrote the two of them to have a deep philosophical look on the world. Which translated over into my life more often then not. But to this day he is the only one who (in my mind) could so seamlessly blend the antics of a boy and his friend with long, deep universal questions about life. I always found his poems to be witty and well written. So this is my homage to someone I feel is a great writer.
Hours passing without number,
My eye trace 'round the room. I lay
Dripping sweat and now quite certain
That tonight the final curtain
Drops upon my life's short precious play.
From the darkness, by the closet
Comes a noise, much like a faucet
Makes: a madd'ning drip-drip-dripping sound.
It seems some ill-proportioned beast,
Anticipating me deceased,
Is drooling poison puddles on the ground..
A can of mace, a forty-five,
Is all I'd need to stay alive,
But no weapon lies within my sight.
Oh my gosh! A shadow's creeping,
Ominous ans black, it's seeping
Slowly 'cross a moonlit square of light!
Suddenly a floorboard creak
Anounces the bloodsucking freak
Is here to steal my future years away!
A sulf'rous smell now fills the room
Heralding my imm'nent doom!
A fang gleams in the dark and murky gray!
Oh, blood-red eyes a tentacles!
Throbbing, pulsing ventricles!
Mucus-oozing porses and frightful claws!
Worse, in terms of outright scariness,
Are the suckers multifarious
That grab and force you in its mighty jaws!
This disgusting aberration
Of nature needs no motivation
To devour helpless children in their beds.
Relishing despairing moans,
It chews kids up and sucks their bones,
And disolves inside its mouth their li'l heads!
I know this 'cause I read it not
Two hours ago and then I got
The heebie-jeebies and these awful shakes.
My parents swore upon their honor
That I was safe, and not a goner.
I guess tomorrow they'll see their sad mistakes.
In the morning, they'll come in
And say, "What was that awful din
We heard last night? You kept us both from sleep!"
Only then will they surmise
The gruesomeness of my demise
And see that my remains are in a heap.
Dad will look at Mom and say,
"Too bad he had to go that way."
And Mom will look at Dad and nod assent.
Mom will add, "Still, it's fitting,
That as he was this world quiting,
He should leave another mess before he went."
They may not miss me first, I know.
They will miss me later, though,
And perhaps admit that they were wrong.
As memories of me grow dim,
They'll say, "We were too strict with him.
We should have listened to him all along."
As speedily my end approaches,
I bid a final "buenas noches"
To my best friend in the world.
Gently snoring, whiskers seeming
To sniff at smells (he must be dreaming),
He lies snuggled in the blackets curled.
HEY! WAKE UP, YOU STUPID CRETIN!
YOU GONNA SLEEP WHILE I GET EATEN?!
Suddenly the monster knows I'm not alone!
There's an animal in bed with me!
an awful beast he did not see!
The monster never would've come if he had know!
The monster, in his confernation,
Demonstrates defenestration,
And runs and runs and runs and runs away.
Rid of the pest,
I now can rest,
Thanks to my best friend, who saved the day.
(Not part of the poem at this point) I grew up on Calvin and Hobbes so its somethings that has always remained dear to my heart. Bill Waterson wrote the two of them to have a deep philosophical look on the world. Which translated over into my life more often then not. But to this day he is the only one who (in my mind) could so seamlessly blend the antics of a boy and his friend with long, deep universal questions about life. I always found his poems to be witty and well written. So this is my homage to someone I feel is a great writer.
Monday, January 16, 2012
La Pregunta Grande!!! (Abstract)
My question is basically to what extent is disease prevention political, and to what extent is it scientific. In that, if a specific disease that requires months or even years of follow-up exams and medication and procedures were cured, would it have such an impact on the economy that perhaps the government wouldn't mass produce it? Take cancer for example. If magically scientists found the cure tomorrow, would it be on the shelves within the following months? There are entire sections of hospitals devoted to chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Even specific fields of medicine for some of these ailments. Would the elimination of that disease cause such an impact on the economy that it would be easier for the nation to NOT cure it?
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