World Visions y Bosques~December 15

World Visions


Don Quixote, "The Generous Lover", Miguel de Cervantes


Focusing mainly on Don Quixote, I came to the conclusion that a major universal application of this book is the principle of allowing imagination to grow and harboring creative thoughts VS that of conforming to society and doing everything with the sole purpose of practicality.  These two visions of life are personified by Sancho Panza and Don Quixote; Panza being practical and Quixote being imaginative.  This book was written by Miguel de Cervantes in the late 1500s to early 1600s, shortly after the Renaissance, when art, literature, and architecture were king, showing the peoples' creativity.  The  Industrial Revolution followed the publication of Don Quixote (by quite awhile, but nonetheless followed).  The Renaissance outdid its previous era, the Middle Ages.  This creative era was followed by the much more practical, rational time period: the Industrial Revolution.  This era displayed the decreasing amounts of importance placed upon individuals and feelings.  The two characters can also personify these eras; Don Quixote the Renaissance and Sancho Panza the Industrial Revolution.  In the final chapter of Don Quixote, the two main characters switch points of view.  Don Quixote says how poorly he lived the past few weeks and admits to his foolishness and that his books about knight errantry should have been removed to avoid tempting him.  Sancho says to Don Quixote he should not give up hope, instead continue believing in his foolishness.  Sancho states how they should go be shepherds as Don Quixote previously suggested.  This switch in the end can show either the volatility of ideals and life decisions or the permanent switch from foolishness/creativity to redundant/practical.  The Renaissance has ended; that is a given.  The Industrial Revolution began.  What comes next?  Is it a pattern?  The pendulum swinging and in some years we will enter another creative period of humanity?  Is it a permanent change?  The formation of a human into a zombie, with no further very creative period throughout humanity?  Or does it not matter, because before we have the opportunity to find out, the Greeks will create a biological warfare weapon to infect a country; it will spread, causing a global zombie apocalypse?  I am certainly under the impression the latter is the reality.  Regardless, I think Cervantes wants to leave us with the question of whether or not the behavior of humanity is a pattern; we need to incorporate both creativity and practicality in our lives and make humanity the interesting mix of people it is.

¡Señora, tu novio está llegando a nuestra clase de español en lunes!  ¿Estás emocianada?

The Diary of Don Quixote's Neice~December 1

Dear Diary,
Today is the day my Uncle, Mr. Quixada, returned for the second time.  Mr. Quixada is at least what he used to be called.  Now he and those travelling with him, call him Señor Don Quixote.  He was not born with this title, but a few weeks ago decided he was a knight errant and left without telling any of us his intentions.  He left with his horse and some needed supplies.  I am absolutely sure that he has been fooled and lost his better judgment due to the fact that he was constantly reading books, fictional may I add, concerning knights errant and chivalry.  Back to the present.  Don Quixote, as I will refer to him as now, is in his study with his "squire" Sancho Panza.  The two are most likely plotting a third venture will end worse than these last two.  At the end of my uncle's first venture, he was bruised and battered, sprawled across his horse.  The second, the knight was brought back locked in a cage on an oxcart, swearing he was enchanted.  I do hope he takes this ordeal no farther.

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANc7SBD9xQMq_Cv7QYnO_qkWdQqeFj2dEsVp57r8Srx-_A-HLlsehkAzWOebc4BfUtzO-9gYYP2MMxnD0SOCDQi2VdNdPBwWGrU3Ae1oPPcqzQhdbJIBPtMg5fO7_o6mBZQK7socVMgk/s1600/Only-fools-and-horses_2069782.jpg
I must soon slip barricade the door before the two have a chance to escape and roam the countrysides of Spain again.  I will then slip food to them under the door at nights so they do not starve and become more foolish.  My uncle has believed windmills are giants; some sheep, armies; what else I do not know.  How he must truly be enchanted or something of the like.  I have lost all respect for this man.  He used to be a quiet man; he worked the land and tended to his family.  He has since left them and for what?  To pillage and plunder?  But my uncle I still love because he is family but I cannot wait for the foolishness to wear off.  There is a third fool, a man from another city, who has already published a book and promises a sequel and tossed fame into the hooligan salad my uncle made.  It certainly seems my uncle has been as changed as a human turning into a zombie.  Something so simple as a reading has completely sent him into another world.  He attacks random citizens, and despite this, cannot be killed.  He has been tossed off his horse from such a great height I cannot comprehend how he survives.  There was even a play put on in the town last week titled something like Tierra de los Zombis that mentioned my uncle's squire.  Along with my uncle, Sancho has become completely numbed of all reality.  All the two must desire now is brains.  To think that is, not eat.  The two truly must be stopped before they cause a global apocalypse of reason.  I  now must leave to attend church to help my family repent for the ills caused.
Goodbye my journal.
~the niece of Mr. Quixada

Uno más cosa.....No puedo hablar inglés porqué vivo en España y este diario fue traducido de un jefe de Los Estados Unidos.  Su nombre es Joseph.

Sudane Famine~November 27

No graded blog for my class this week, so I decided to talk about the Pulitzer Prize winning pictures displayed in Billings this weekend, where they will remain for a couple weeks.  Copies of every picture that won this prize from the 40's to 2011 were there.  Most in black and white and a maximum of 2 per year won this prestigious prize.

The collection of pictures showed a rather morbid theme.  It is a pity that so many of our defining pictures show the deceased, torture, or the suffering.  Some were certainly uplifting, but much too small of a percentage.  The photo with the most weight for me is the one below, from 1994.  A South African man took this photo of a young, starving girl.  She was on her way to a food or water line, but didn't make it.  The photographer was criticized for taking her picture instead of carrying her to the line and helping her.  Who was right?  Feel free to comment.  He took a photo to capture the incomprehensible amount of starvation and suffering endured by others in third world countries.  He was advised by the head journalists to avoid contact with natives, due to the possibility of disease spread.  The girl, due to never reaching the line, died.  He committed suicide three months later.  The photographer was in his thirties.  Do you see the vulture?  Where are the parents? 
And what did you do on your Thanksgiving?  Grateful for anything?


http://pulitzerprize.org/files/2009/07/kevin-carter-1994.jpg

Don Quixote by Cervates~November 18

Why did I choose to read Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes?
Last semester, in World Literature I, we read and discussed a few chapters of Don Quixote.  What I read I liked and it sure seems like a classic, with some humor put in, with this feminine guy that lives in a functional society randomly becoming a knight.  We did not touch on Sancho Panza very much, but followed Don Quixote through some fun adventures.  My teacher said that she had the book at her house, so I could avoid filling out one of those nasty ILL forms.  I had no idea how massive this book is (940 pages of small print)!  It's too late now, so I will just try to get through it.  I am sure I will like it, with knights and chivalry and such.  Cervantes is also a Spaniard, which I have a huge interest in.  Many phrases in the book are in Spanish with a note of what it means.  Hopefully I can learn some Spanish words throughout this book.  Don Quixote travelling through life, being a knight, fighting dragons, and seeing castles that nobody else has the imagination for certainly reminds me of my life and my very realistic zombie hunting.  I have asked multiple people if they believe in zombies, with most answers being no, except my aunt, cousin, and the few people that humor me.  This book will hopefully be like an autobiography.  I guarantee you señora (as well as Shane, yes you know it's true), I saw a zombie at the Co-Op in Bozeman.  Few people believe me, probably about as many as believed Don Quixote attacked those great dragons who discredited him in belief that they were windmills.  My last and probably most important reason in the entire world to read Don Quixote by Cervantes is as follows:  in a scene in Zombieland, Columbus and Tallahassee meet Little Rock and Wichita in a store.  Tallahassee goes to talk with the two girls while Columbus puts a box in the door to prop it open.  After Tallahassee and the girls talk for a bit, Columbus walks in and is asked by Little Rock, "So you did all this for a Twinkie?" Columbus replies, "Oh no no no no no. He did [referring to Tallahassee].  I'm just sort of a Sancho Panza type of character".  Clearly any reference to a book in Zombieland demands that book be immediately read.  Now I have the opportunity.

What have I learned about Cervantes?
The coolest thing I have learned about Miguel is that he was abducted by barbary pirates for five years and held captive in Algeria.  He tried to escape four times, and after five years, his family paid his ransom for freedom.  Don Quixote was published in two parts, the first of which was published in 1605 and the second in 1615, one year before Cervantes died.  Cervantes died the exact same day as William Shakespeare, on the 23rd of April, 1616.  Miguel published twelve "short stories" in 1613, titled the Exemplary Novels.  Miguel was a Spaniard, born in Alcala de Henares, Spain and died in Madrid.  All of his works were originally published in Spanish.  At a young age, Cervantes fled Spain after a duel where he wounded a man.  He went to Italy and enlisted in Naples as a soldier.  Cervantes married Catalina de Palacios in 1584.

A timeline of Miguel de Cervantes' life:
September 29, 1547-born in Alcala de Henares, Spain
1569-ran away to Italy after wounding a man in a duel
1570-enlisted as a soldier in Naples
1571-lost use of his left hand by a musket shot
1575-taken to Algeria by barbary pirates
1580-his family paid ransom for him to leave Algeria
1584-married Catalina de Palacios
1585-publishes La Galatea
1593-his father, Don Rodrigo de Cervates, died
1605-completes the first part of Don Quixote
1613-publishes the Exemplary Novels
1615-completes Don Quixote
April 23rd, 1616-dies in Madrid, the same day as Shakespeare

Below is my timeline, in black and white, of Miguel de Cervantes!

Los Jefes del Calle~November 9

Joseph

A.P. English

November 10, 2011

Los Jefes del Calle

           

In The Road by Cormac Mccarthy, some type of unknown apocalypse happens.  The book takes place after the apocalypse, with some flashbacks to before.  Through his minimalism, we can imagine many aspects of the book, while seeing larger concepts and truths of humanity from what he has written.  An apocalypse, by Greek definition, means the removal of the veil.  This means after or during an apocalypse, some previous falsehood will be corrected to the survivors.  McCarthy exhibits many paradoxes in the book, one of the most notable being the intertwined relationship of two opposites, good and evil.  In the apocalypse, the veil of the line between good and evil will be lifted.

The line that separates today’s evils from goods becomes lifted and evils of our world can be considered good in McCarthy’s The Road.  Killing, plundering, and lying are evils in our world.  Through irony, McCarthy depicts the pure evilness of these actions making them become saviors to the man and boy.  Given the change of circumstances after the apocalypse, evils can be changed to goods.  The boy and man encountered a hillbilly man who was held at gunpoint by the boy’s father.  “He dove and grabbed the boy and rolled and came up holding him against his chest with the knife at his throat.  The man had already dropped to the ground and he swung with him and leveled the pistol and fired from a two-handed position balanced on both knees at a distance of six feet” (66).  Later, in giving rationale about killing the man holding a knife to his son’s throat, the man says, “My job is to take care of you.  I was appointed to do that by God.  I will kill anyone who touches you.  Do you understand?” (77).  The man killed from necessity.  This vile human’s death is a good in the post-apocalyptic world.  If this action was not completed, the man would have killed his son, the most innocent, kind individual encountered in the novel.  The man and his group of men would most likely find and eat the child.  A murder saved all this horror, becoming a good.

Plundering has become a good for the man and boy.  Without plundering residences and taking what is not theirs, survival would not exist.  The boy and man plunder homes, stores, and a ship throughout the story.  In saying a gratitude prayer to people who stashed the numerous supplies in an underground room beneath their lawn, which the boy and man took advantage of, the boy says, “Dear people, thank you for all this food and stuff.  We know that you saved it for yourself and if you were here we wouldnt eat it no matter how hungry we were and we’re sorry that you didnt get to eat it and we hope that you’re safe in Heaven with God” (146).  Only plundering from places where people cannot be found has become a good.  It saves them and appears not to harm anyone.

            Lying has become a savior for the boy.  Lies told by the man help the boy rationalize their actions and establish their status as good or bad guys.  In a conversation when the man says that the “bad guys” will not find them, the following conversation occurs, 

“Do you think they’ll find us? 

No. They wont find us. 

They might find us. 

No they wont.  They wont find us” (148).  The man cannot say with certainty that they won’t find them, but saying this helps the boy’s mind be at ease.  In another instance, the man must have promised the boy that they will equally share all food and beverage items.  The man broke this promise by giving the boy some hot cocoa, while retaining merely all water for himself.

“You promised not to do that, the boy said.

What?

You know what, Papa.

He poured the hot water back into the pan and took the boy’s cup and poured some of the cocoa into his own and then handed it back” (34).  The boy did notice this unequal distribution of supplies.  Had he not, the man lying about it would have resulted in better tasting cocoa for the boy with extra vitamins and calories. The man says to the boy, “We’re not going to die” (100).  Obviously this is not true.  Everybody dies.  The man said this to the boy to raise his spirits.

The line that separates today’s goods from evils becomes lifted and goods of our world can be considered evil in McCarthy’s The Road.  Trust, sharing, and society are goods in our world.  When these seemingly good actions become evil in the post-apocalyptic world, paranoia develops in many, especially the boy’s father.  He is wary of all others except his son, not knowing what their motivations are.  When the man gave the slightest trust and didn’t just kill the hillbilly, all he got was a knife held to his son’s throat.  The hillbilly dropped his belt with a knife sheath.  “When he looked up the roadrat was holding the knife in his hand.  He’d only taken two steps but he was almost between him and the child” (66).  This is what trusting strangers gets you in the post-apocalyptic world.

Sharing does nothing but make you weaker and diminish your supplies.  Sharing in this world can lead to your demise.  The following conversation ensues between the boy and man in making a decision to help the total stranger, Ely,

“What do you want to give him?

What do you think he should have?

I don’t think he should have anything.  What do you want to give him?

We could cook something on the stove.  He could eat with us.

You’re talking about stopping.  For the night (164-5).”  The man knows a lot about survival and so wants to give Ely nothing.  This would be the best for both the boy and man.  They would have more food to last an extra day or two.  They would not run the risk of being attacked by other people with this possible decoy.  The boy is only surviving thanks to the man’s hardiness, skill in locating food, and carefulness.

The man and boy saw a phalanx of people trekking on the road.  The men were equipped with pipe with leather wrappings, lanyards, spears, or lances.  “Behind them came wagons drawn by slaves in harness and piled with goods of war and after that women, perhaps a dozen in number, some of them pregnant, and lastly a supplementary consort of catamites illclothed against the cold and fitted in dogcollars and yoked each to each” (92).  This contraband of people functioned as a mini society.  The adult men enslaved everyone else.  They raped the children and women, evident from many of them being pregnant.  They chained them all to one another.  This is what society ends up becoming in this world.  Nothing good will come of it.  Terribly unfair class separations arise.  The entire group will also need more supplies to feed and cloth the increased number of people.  The men in the group solve this problem by killing anyone they come upon.

People often will only see beneath the veil after the world ends.  When we lose the decorations and luxuries of life, the decorative line between good and evil will be lost as well.  As Ely says, “There is no God and we are his prophets” (170).  In this time, as things and people are being lost, so is the luxury of religion.  As these disappear, so will the line between good and evil.  People are the prophets to no God.  God is viewed as the ultimate judge, and without him, no other deity will place a line between good and evil.

When no enforcement exists to punish the “evil”, no fear of punishment or want of reward exists.  Many evils in our world and the post-apocalyptic world serve the individual.  For example, killing eliminates competition and provides food and stealing provides you with more supplies.  With nothing to check evils and apply punishments, everyone starts to do what serves them best combined with personal morals.  These will vary greatly from person to person.

This line between good and evil represents a functional society, with evils punished to make the group good; when society is gone, so is the line.  Growth, prosperity, innovativeness, adaptability, and laws help to define a functional society.  Laws provide guidelines of right from wrong and provide consequences for wrongs.  As societies fall and order becomes lost, nobody cares about laws and the differentiation between evil and good actions.

In McCarthy’s The Road, there was an apocalypse.  The exact cause of the apocalypse is unknown.  This apocalypse removed the veil from the falsehood of a line between good and evil for all survivors.  No longer was there confusion between right and wrong as the line was lifted, to pastiche the two together into one.  Good and evil become one another and their own opposite from our world to this new, post-apocalyptic world.  It takes an end of the world for people to understand the truth behind this falsehood.

La Via~November 3

A continuation of The Road by Cormac McCarthy:

They keep going south along the coast.  Nobody else.  Another derelict.  This one wasnt stuck in the beach.  They checked it out and set up camp.  The papers in Spanish and Mandarin.  Man searched it.  Found only five cans of fruit.  He held the wheel, his hands the perfect size.

Can you drive it?
Yup.
Will we take it anywhere?
I dont know.
Okay.

That night everyone camped just off the beach in the dead forest.  There were six of them.  The three kids talked.  Before falling asleep, the boy talked to his father.  Praying.  Kneeling to the starlight.  He spoke.  Nothing.  Again Hello?  Tried to imagine what his father would say.

Hello?
Son.
Papa.
Silence.
Where are you?
I dont know, but your mother is beautiful.
Did you find good guys?
Yes. In a whole community of them.  And you?
I dont know.  I think so.  Theres two other kids.
Good.
When can I be with you?
The later the better for you; the sooner the better for me.
When?
Never.
Okay night.
Night.

Everyone swam out to the derelict.  Man built a fire on the deck.  Clothes were hung and dried.  The man went to the wheel and they began moving.  Water hitting the sides.  Two days and nights eating scantily.  Then land.  They disembarked.  Rocky beach.  The trash floating around in another alphabet.  The noise.  Fifty freaks sprinting towards them.  Time to go.  Back to the ship.  Barely in time.  The freaks couldnt board.  The man brought the ship into the bay.  More freaks.  All bloody.  Maybe 175 now.  Gaping mouths.  300.  Moaning.  Cant count.

What are they?
The boy's father:  you dont want to know.
I do.
Part of the reason for this horrific world.
How?
Remember what states are from what ive told you?
Yes.
Well.  States north of here were messing with what got you sick but worse.  A weapon.  To attack other states.  Something happened.
The freaks?
Yes the freaks.
Will I get sick like that?
No.
Why?
Youve made it long enough that you cant be affected.
Okay.
Okay.
Can I talk to mom?
Not now.

A gunshot.  Back to reality.  A biomass of humans snarling on the beach.  The man shot one.  What are they?  Where are we?  An island.  Where?  Man turned the ship around and away from the land.  Food is low.

Where are we going?
Back to the mainland away from here.
Will there be food?
Yes.
Good.
What are those things?
Homo sapiens.
Really?
Yes. But sick. Very sick.
How?
There was a mistake.

The man turned away, his left eye sparkling green, the right blue as nothing from this world.  He kept sailing, his short stature looking at home at the wheel.

What mistake?
We screwed up.
You did this?
No.
Well then who?
Our superiors.  We had the best weapon.  We needed our land back.  A side effect.

Land in sight.  The mainland?  He dropped the anchor and they swam to shore through the freezing sludge.  We cant go back.  No hope.  Best go south again.  No roads.  Cross-country.  They headed south.  It began.  The sky got even darker.  Still darker.  Dark.  Grey.  Brown. Black.  Nothing.  Get down everyone.  Huddled under a huge tree.  Specks of liquid on the face and hands.  Heavier.  Harder.  More.  Now a solid falling.  Frozen golf balls smashing into the ground.  Nothing to do but wait out the tempest.  The boy fell asleep, head on the man.  Morning.  The man rose to assess damage.  A couple cans were smashed and the woman's backpack had a whole in it.  Where is the boy?  Not here.  Panic.  They ran up and down the beach.  No tracks.  Something floated in with the tide.  The boy has surely lost his innocence.  What innocence?  He never had any.

Papa why did you leave me?
I couldnt stay.  I would have died to, but it ended taking me away anyways.
I want to be with you.
No.
But I want to.
You cant.  You need to stay and survive.  Who else will carry the fire?
This group.
No its you.  You need to.
Can I give this man the fire?
No the fire is in you,
Okay.

The boy went to sleep.  A dream.  Not a nightmare.  His father.  A bright light.  The sky light.  White.  Something about a plane?  He was going somewhere?  His father in the seat next to him asleep.  A person in the aisle offering a him a liquor.  No.  Where is he?  intertwined grey lines below.  Moving dots, like ants.
He awoke.  What a nightmare.  He jumped out of bed and sprinted down the hallway to his parent's room. 

Mom.
What? Its three AM.  What do you need?
Where is he?
Who?
My uncle.
Which one?
Yorma.
I dont know son I think at his lab taking a night shift, working on some reverse vaccine or bacteria.  Do you think its bad for his heterochromia to be up this late?

The Ultimate Blog of Death Personification~October 27

If you personify death as a grim reaper or a Texan wielding a chainsaw, this story may come as a surprise to you.  On the other hand, if you view life as maybe a little man, similar to a leprechaun, running around with a pirate hat, then you may have had similar experiences as mine listed below.


As a ship captain, I, Captain Morgan, would seem to have an only love for the sea.  Not true!  I have a second lover, death.  We got married three and a half years ago.  Before our marriage came the following proposal and description of her.

I was mutinied upon by my crew, and forced to walk the plank of my own ship, a quarter of a mile from a 35 acre island.  Standing on the edge of a long, thick board, out of nowhere I saw her floating towards me.  Time just stopped when I looked deep into her big, brown eyes.  She wore a a plaid black and pink skirt over black tights that went halfway down her shins.  Below that, a pair of small ballerina shoes.  She had a red tank top on, beneath her Adidas sweatshirt.  On her left wrist were two hairbands:  one pink and the other blue.  Her brown hair with sparse blond highlights was put back in a ponytail, with a few strands falling into her face.  Her skin was a darker color, looking like possibly a Spaniard.  Her face had moderately low cheek bones, which came forward to make her tiny, pudgy nose.  Surrounding her eyes were thick eyelashes.  Her eyebrows were very thin, but if any color different from her hair, they were a slightly dirty blond color.  All other features were just nondescript:  no glasses, no abnormalities, symmetrical.  {To my teacher, I'm sure you can guess one last identifying characteristic of her.}  I  just fell short of any words to express my love.  She floated towards me, seeming so much like a dream.  I couldn't help but to meander towards her.  On my way over, I fell down into a puddle or something.  When I reached her, it just slipped out:  "Will you marry me?"  That was the best day of my life.  I spent and am spending the rest of my life with her.  The only thing I miss is I have never been able to see anyone from before that day.  Curious thing, isn't it? 

I only missed one thing:  apparently some kind of contract is involved with marriage that ship captains aren't aware of.  When it is said will you take your wife until death and you marry death, you obviously aren't going to get out of the marriage too easily.

What's in Captain Morgan's Knapsack?~October 18

Captain Morgan being interviewed after the global zombie apocalypse.  Captain Morgan has the most zombie kills and lives in the most style in the post-apocalyptic world.  To help understand his success, we are conducting an interview to find the contents of his knapsack, where he stores everything.

Captain Morgan, thanks for surviving the zombie apocalypse.
My pleasure.
So you are a survivor, is that fair to say?
For sure, and I have a knapsack.
Okay, so take us through the contents of your knapsack.
Well.  The first thing in my knapsack is

water purifier
     in my knapsack
edible plant seeds
     in my knapsack
beef jerky
     in my knapsack
all clothing
     in my knapsack
blankets
     in my knapsack
matches
     in my knapsack
wind-up flashlight
     in my knapsack
canned goods
     in my knapsack
daggers
     in my knapsack
first-aid kit
     in my knapsack
penicillin
     in my knapsack
cleaver
     in my knapsack
automatic pistol
     in my knapsack
silencer
     in my knapsack
lighter
     in my knapsack
lighter fluid
     in my knapsack
rabies vaccine
     in my knapsack
face mask
     in my knapsack
hand warmers
     in my knapsack
zip-lock bags
     in my knapsack
small mirror
     in my knapsack
chap stick
     in my knapsack
nail clippers
     in my knapsack
defibrillators
     in my knapsack
fishing pole
     in my knapsack
flies for fishing
     in my knapsack
solar translator
     in my knapsack
contact lenses
     in my knapsack
glasses
     in my knapsack
oxygen tank
     in my knapsack
taipan venom
     in my knapsack
flares
     in my knapsack
shock collar
     in my knapsack
toothbrush
     in my knapsack
toothpaste
     in my knapsack
freeze-dried ice cream
     in my knapsack
continental master key
     in my knapsack
battle axe
     in my knapsack
King Arthur's sword
     in my knapsack
soccer ball
     in my knapsack
air pump
     in my knapsack
Cadillac Escalade
     in my knapsack
400 gallons fuel
     in my knapsack
spare tires
     in my knapsack
sheriff badge
     in my knapsack
the Black Pearl
     in my knapsack
blowgun
     in my knapsack
canoe
     in my knapsack
solar X-box
     in my knapsack
Call of Duty
     in my knapsack
bullet proof vest
     in my knapsack
fighter jet
     in my knapsack
heat seeking missiles
     in my knapsack
my Holocaust ring
      in my knapsack

Okay.  And these are the average contents of your knapsack?
Yes sir.
You have a pirate ship from the Caribbean and the biggest SUV in America in your knapsack?
No doubt.
And in your list you mentioned your Holocaust ring?
Nope.
Really you just did.
Nope, that wasn't me.
Alright, this has been quite the list.
And guess what I have in my knapsack.
Yeah no, I understand what you have in there.
In my knapsack.
No I heard you the first fifty-three times.
In my knapsack.
No, nope, I got it. Bye.
IN MY KNAPSACK!

Captain Morgan remix of Like a Boss by the Lonely Island.
URL for image:  http://bigpondmusic.com/images/AlbumCoverArt/89/XXL/Incredibad.jpg

Advertisement for Art~October 13

A want ad for the world after the global nuclear winter and zombie apocalypse located in Southern Somalia, inscribed on dried human flesh, written in blood:

Wanted:
A form of art.
A reward of five cans of beans, a water purifier, and fishing pole will be offered to any person offering a true form of self-expression. 
Acceptable forms:  visual, auditory, or a felt object.  The more imagination used the more likely the work will be accepted.  Justification for how the work is art and why it is appreciated to humans is a requirement.

This response to this ad was later nailed next to the message, accompanied with a canvas:

As your fellow survivor, I believe all save a few, unique people have completely forgotten art.  In this new, dead world, survival is nearly everything to any survivor.  Many resources, especially time, are beyond our grasp to create art.  Art sure has seemed to play an exponentially decreasing role in our new world.  In the beginning, many people tried to save art or ceremonial items.  As the global situation worsened, people began to leave all behind, save the necessities.  As I was hiking along a major road, I came across a small wallet size picture of a woman, most likely the love of a survivor.  It must have finally been to much to hold on to for that unfortunate man.  Our small pockets of survivors must find or create more reliable sources of food and water than scavenging to make time for creating and appreciating art.  I came across a man with his boy scavenging around the countryside.  I did not see much art in their lives, despite them being the most appreciative of art I have seen in this post-apocalyptic world.  The father gave his son a carved flute to play music on.  Music is certainly an art once one allows their soul to flow through the wooden device and out through the uncovered keys.  The father has also shown an intense respect for morals and values, an art in our world.  The father seems to worship God, but I am not so sure.  If he does, he can help keep the meaning of the possibly most influential literature alive from the old world to the new.  My uncle passed away due to health complications early in the years after the disaster, but if he were still alive now, he would certainly be keeping art alive through soccer.  He played with anything remotely circular and smaller than a basketball.  He sure was developing a unique style of moves and tricks.  He could never sit still for a mere hour without kicking some object.  What a pity he passed away.  I am absolutely sure that he would have kept the arts alive in this post-apocalyptic world, whether it be through his soccer tricks or merely pointing out isolated beauties amongst this ashen world.  In conclusion, I would call art any form of self-expression allowed to be enjoyed by anyone, including the artist.  This new world may develop a new style or sense of the art world, but I suppose we will find out.  I will certainly be able to make more successful searches of art in nature with your lovely reward.  Consider this piece found in a French warehouse, illustrating the great color from our previous world.
~Captain Morgan











URL for picture:  http://www.theemerson.org/coa/05.jpg

My Sunday Remix~October 6

My typical Sunday.

My Sunday - coolest day of the week
Yo Sunday - last year's antique

My Sunday - drive to church at 8
Yo Sunday - an hour late

My Sunday - recite some prayers
Yo Sunday - a game of musical chairs

My Sunday - grab some snacks
Yo Sunday - a weekly tax

My Sunday - go downstairs to watch Zombieland
Yo Sunday - on the other hand

My Sunday - all my classes' homework
Yo Sunday - meet a repulsive desk clerk

It's time that we let you know,
Dude TGIS.
Day of the week, Sunday is the best,
Rest of the days, sausage fest.

My Sunday - drive the car to Columbus
Yo Sunday - nothing to discuss

My Sunday- play some soccer
Yo Sunday - spend a day in Davy's locker

My Sunday - catch a plane to LA
Yo Sunday - at noon dies away

My Sunday - commandeer a ship
Yo Sunday - needs to get a grip

My Sunday - sail the seven seas
Yo Sunday - buy some Chinese

My Sunday - biggest Pacific ship party
Yo Sunday - escaped to Africa like Marty

It's time that we let you know,
Dude TGIS.
Day of the week, Sunday is the best,
Rest of the days, sausage fest.

My Sunday - best man in a wedding
Yo Sunday - deadening

My Sunday - walk the plank
Yo Sunday - kind of like a skunk : rank

My Sunday - swim to an island
Yo Sunday - size of a hobo's stipend

My Sunday - watch the red sunset
Yo Sunday - year's biggest regret

My Sunday - is longer than yours
Yo Sunday - spent on all fours

It's time that we let you know,
Dude TGIS.
Day of the week, Sunday is the best,
Rest of the days, sausage fest.




Remix of a song by Mickey Avalon

Avocadometer Movie Review~September 29

The Great Gatsby
1974

Avocadometer: 65%
Reviews Counted: 100
Ripe for Tacos: 82 | Ready for the Compost: 18

     The plot of the movie was rather true to the book.  Events mirrored the book so well, I believe to a fault.  The movie tried to have quotes and exact scenes from the book at every change of the scene.  They did every given scene well, but sometimes the quotes Fitzgerald gives us don't totally fit the scene of a movie, and that awkwardness was evident.  Major plot elements such as Gatsby's extravagant parties, Tom and Myrtle's relationship, Jordan being an item with Nick, and Gatsby pursuing and making love to Daisy, Myrtle getting hit by the car driven by Daisy, Wilson shooting Gatsby and himself, and Nick heading up the funeral were all mirrored by the movie.
     The main actors were Daisy Buchanan, Tom Buchanan, Jordan Baker, Nick Carraway, and Jay Gatsby.  I believe Jordan was the only character represented in the correct fashion as described in Fitzgerald's book.  Daisy seemed so much more ditsy and air headed than I expected her from the book.  I expected her to be prettier, less interested in money, and certainly a brunette, as Fitzgerald made her.  I was under the impression from the book that Tom would be your massive, hulking NFL football player that is large, as well as tall.  I certainly did not expect him to look like a creeper.  Anyone with only a bottom half of a mustache sends up my creeper red flag!  He seemed somewhat awkward with his large height, in contrast to the book.  Jordan was played very well.  She seemed to like and be with Nick just as much as in the book and just as attractive, yet just as deceptive.  Nick was just too awkward in the movie!  I thought he was going to be this fun, hard-working younger guy who gets caught up in all the riches, but he turned out to be out-of-place and never genuine in his words or actions.  For example, in the movie, when he makes his final comment to Gatsby, there was just not the genuineness behind it.  Gatsby seemed too young.  I know he was about the same age as Nick, but regardless seemed out of place to have all his money at that age.  I also expected him more mysterious and secretive than he was in the movie.  In the movie, he seemed so much more forward and made calculated moves.  His suits definitely stayed true from book to movie.
     The cinematography is my main factor for dropping the Avocadometer from a high eighties score.  There are so many dang awkward scenes.  The camera is held for too long on some scenes and not long enough in others.  Many instances put the camera on a scene that conveys little to no interest, except maybe some scenery.  More songs need to be incorporated into the movie to acquire different moods.  One song was repeatedly played as a theme song for everything.
     The importance of geography, a recurring motif of the book, was barely noticeable in the movie.  East Egg and West Egg had few noticeable differences, even to someone who knows the book well.  The Valley of Ashes was portrayed a little better.  It was easier to recognize that it is an intermediary point between the two eggs.  This valley was depicted full of ashes very well.  The two eggs: nothing.  I couldn't tell a difference in coastlines, dress of people, anything!
     The most correlating item to the perception the book creates is the great replication of materials from the "Roaring Twenties" era.  The cars, gas pumps, cigarette holders, prominence of smoking, and clothing illustrated a great representation of the era!  The 20's Flapper Style...classic.
All the women in the movie followed this crazy style, as illustrated on the left.  The men wore suits nearly all the time.  I personally am not finding this Flapper style attractive, but hey I'm in 2011!  At that time, it sure must have been pretty!

Captain Morgan
Top Critic

In Theatres: a long time ago.
Genre: drama, romantic comedy, yes comedy.
Directed By: someone okay with awkward silences.
Rated: G, totally Great for anyone to watch.
                                            Written By: Scott F. Fitzgerald.

URL for the picture:  http://aubreylondonpinup.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/flappermmmmmm.jpg

La Vida de Jay Gatsby y F. Scott Fitzgerald~September 22

Joseph

A.P. English

September 22, 2011

La Vida de Jay Gatsby y F. Scott Fitzgerald

            The Great Gatsby has many people and events that show characteristics of its author, F. Scott Fitzgerald.  The book was written once Fitzgerald was married, as his money was dwindling.  As a writer, some of his ideals, values, and experiences were placed in the book, possibly on purpose, possibly not.  The Great Gatsby is an autobiography of Fitzgerald, represented mostly by the character Jay Gatsby.

            As a youth, Fitzgerald lived on the outskirts of wealthy neighborhoods, but was never accepted by the other rich kids.  As an adult in The Great Gatsby, Jay Gatsby certainly lived surrounded by the “new money” wealth of West Egg, New York.  He was not truly accepted by the other rich folk on the island as a true friend or acquaintance.  The other “new money” people only went to his parties to have a good time, but not because they respected or were good friends with Gatsby.  “As soon as I arrived I made an attempt to find my host, but the two or three people of whom I asked his whereabouts stared at me in such an amazed way, and denied so vehemently any knowledge of his movements…” (42).  After attending St. Paul Academy, Fitzgerald joined the Navy and was stationed at Camp Sheridan.  Gatsby joined a branch of the United States military and was stationed in Germany.  Gatsby, in saying how he recognized Nick from the war, says, “‘I was in the Seventh Infantry until June nineteen-eighteen.  I knew I’d seen you somewhere before’” (47).

            At age 22, Fitzgerald met Zelda Sayre and the two had a relationship, until Fitzgerald’s proposal was denied because of his lack of money.  After writing the book This Side of Paradise, Fitzgerald came into a great deal of money, and Zelda married him one week later.  Gatsby met Daisy and they had a relationship when Gatsby was in his early twenties.  When Gatsby is gone because of military duties, Daisy decided to marry another suitable man with money.  Five years later, when Gatsby had a fancy mansion and tons of money, Daisy gave him another chance and appeared to love him once again.  “Gatsby’s eyes floated toward her.  ‘Ah,’ she cried, ‘you look so cool.’  Their eyes met, and they stared together at each other, alone in space” (119).  Fitzgerald and Zelda had an unstable and turbulent lifestyle, largely due to their alcoholism.  The world of Jay Gatsby revolved around alcohol.  Bootlegging is the implied main source of income for Gatsby to host all his extravagant parties, which were always brimming with all sorts of alcohol.  “‘I found out what your ‘drug-stores’ were.’  He turned to us and spoke rapidly.  ‘He and this Wolfsheim bought up a lot of side-street drug-stores here and in Chicago and sold grain alcohol over the counter.  That’s one of his little stunts.  I picked him for a bootlegger the first time I saw him, and I wasn’t far wrong’” (133).

            The love of Fitzgerald’s life, Zelda, had only one child, whom she gave birth to one year after their marriage.  The love of Gatsby’s life, Daisy, also had an only child, a daughter.  Her daughter was mostly taken care of by a nurse.  “I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl.  She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept.  ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl” (17). 

Both Fitzgerald and Gatsby died a rather premature death.  Fitzgerald died at the age of 44 in 1940.  Gatsby also suffered an early death in his early thirties.  Nick narrating about Gatsby at their meeting early in the summer, said “…an elegant young roughneck, a year or two over thirty…” (48).  Fitzgerald died in “literary oblivion” and had no friends in the end.  His obituaries were gloomy and focused on hardships.  The funeral after Gatsby’s death showed few friends and moral supporters.  Nick, Gatsby’s father, and Owl Eyes were the only people to go to the funeral out of respect for Gatsby.  “The minister glanced several times at his watch, so I took him aside and asked him to wait for half an hour.  But it wasn’t any use.  Nobody came” (174). The love of both Fitzgerald and Gatsby were not supportive in the end.  Zelda had three breakdowns related to alcohol and was in very poor condition.  Daisy realized when Gatsby died, so did her opportunities for obtaining his money.  “…I could only remember, without resentment, that Daisy hadn’t sent a message or a flower” (174).

            F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote The Great Gatsby in 1925.  This book illustrates many parallels between the choices and lives of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Jay Gatsby.  The two men had many similarities in the choices they made, such as resorting to alcohol in one way or another to solve a problem and joining a branch of the military.  Gatsby and Fitzgerald shared multiple experiences, such as rejection from the girl of their dreams because of being too poor and also having few friends in the end of their lives for support.  This book is realistic fiction and serves as F. Scott Fitzgerald’s autobiography.

Therapy for Mr. Jay Gatsby~September 16

Date of Appointment: September 15, 2011
Subject: J. Gatsby
Therapist: Joseph
Behavior in Need of Correcting: making and distributing alcohol illegally, arrogant personality, Byronic hero traits, etc.

In my little office space I find a middle aged man, clearly rich from the clothing worn.  I guess it is time for me to begin another one of these dang appointments with dysfunctional people.  ^sigh^ here goes.

Mr. Gatsby!  How are you?
  Some small talk
So what is it you enjoy in life most, your large mansion or perhaps all the people you see?

Well truly neither.  What I want more than anything is the bright-eyed, flowery girl, Daisy Buchanan.  My life since I met her a few years back has revolved around her.  You see, old sport, I was her vehicle driver back in the day and decided I loved her more than anything and she wanted me, but I was too poor.  So she went off and got married to some rich jock, Tom.  What kind of dang plain name is that?

I would not name my boy that.  Now I have been to a few of your parties and seen much dancing and drinking, but never you.  What about that?

To be truthful, and, old sport, you recall all of these therapies are confidential of course?

Of course sir.

OK.  Well I throw all my parties based on finding Daisy.  I have spent all my days asking around my own parties to see if anyone knows her.  No luck.  I check the newspapers daily for any word of her.  None.  What can I do to find her?

Mr. Gatsby, you seem like a shy man.  Why don't you have the courage to just call her up one of these days?  If she remembers you, great and you have nothing to lose, if not there's plenty of other fish in the sea.

I suppose you're right.  Although, a way I could meet her is formulating: my neighbor, Nick, has mentioned her a few times.  Right there can be my tricky knight to recapture my lovely queen.

Well sir, it looks like you have the beginnings of a plan for getting your girl.  I am going to have to let you go because I see the makings of a plot I could be legally required to tell the authorities.  So until next time, keep working on your daily sit-ups and I will send home with you a list of prescriptions to take.

Thanks, old sport.
Gatsby exits.  Whew!  About time.  I really need to get a new job where I talk to functional members of society. This job just doesn't cut it anymore, despite the good pay.

Prescriptions for J. Gatsby:
2 shots of whiskey or vodka at each of your parties for an enjoyment of life, 2 grams of love to be taken 4 times a week, and 3 grams of self-confidence to be taken twice per week.  $1.29 enclosed ITunes gift card for purchase of Gold Digger by Kanye West, 1919 remix; in time you'll understand the song.

Top Ten List of My Labor Day Weekend Activities~September 8

10 thousand feet in elevation is the approximate height of Livingston Peak.  Monday I accomplished the feat of climbing this mountain.  The relief of the mountain is about five thousand feet.  I had such a fun time!  I got to spend the day with my dad and get some good exercise.
9 bars were on the cattle guard I helped fix.  Sunday morning I got up at seven o'clock to help Riley McKenney.  The cattle guard has a little bump before it and fell into the pit beneath it, pulled by Riley's heavy equipment the day before.  Riley used a "skid steer" to chain up the cattle guard and lift it up and out of the pit.  The number of bars on it proved difficult to balance, being it was an odd number.  We ended up chaining it up between bar four and five.  We succeeded in getting it back into place!
8  seats are located in a black Cadillac Escalade.  Sunday morning I had some tasty waffles and relaxing in my bathrobe, watched Zombieland.  In Zombieland, Tallahassee makes his first appearance driving up in the glorified vehicle.  He hits multiple zombies with this vehicle's door, but later loses his car to some clever girls.  I was twice lucky enough to drive the spacious Escalade.  Andrew's aunt allowed me to drive her green Cadillac on dirt roads and around Billings, my two favorite times driving.
7 goals scored in our soccer game by kids from Big Timber.  I play on a team for Columbus, comprised exclusively of Columbus kids, except for Andrew, Shane, and myself.  Andrew scored one goal, Shane scored two, and I scored four.  We won the game with a final score of seven to four on a hot, sunny Saturday afternoon.
6 beings went on the hike to Livingston Peak.  My Monday consisted of going to my dad's studio, where we met his friend Steve.  When we loaded up into the car, my dad's golden retriever, Jade, obviously hopped in for the ride.  We drove to the house of another one of my dad's friends, Sheila.  She loaded up with her dog, Wiggles.  With all six of us piled into the car, we headed to the base of Livingston Peak.  We all made it to the saddle before the peak, but due to the beautiful scenery there, Sheila remained to paint postcards.  The six of us all made it home safely in the afternoon.
5 recognizable names in the "name can" at the top of Livingston Peak.  When we finally reached the top of Livingston Peak, I looked around to find the name can, full of names and comments of many people who had previously been to the top of the peak.  The can, in this case, was filled with some food, pens, empty gun shells, and the many signed scraps of paper.  Of course I just had to read every scrap of paper down to the letter of who had been to the peak before.  I knew five of these people.  I knew three of them due to my club team and the remaining two were brothers of a friend's ex-girlfriend.  When I finished reading all the names, I added mine to the list and wrote and dated a small note in Spanish.  When you climb to the peak, look for Joseph in there.
4 goals were scored by me in Saturday's game.  I scored a right-foot goal in the first quarter, a header in the second quarter, and two goals in the final quarter.  My final two goals were with my left and right foot, respectively.  I scored no goals in the third quarter, due to coach wanting me to play keeper.  The header I scored is the first I have scored since I can remember, possibly forever.
3 goals comprised my American hat trick and nearly would have accomplished my first "true" hat trick.  A hat trick in the United States is merely scoring three goals, but in Europe a "true" hat trick must be scored by left foot, right foot, and the head.  They must also be uninterrupted and cannot be scored from a penalty kick.  I accomplished the American version with flying colors, but my first three goals were interrupted by at least three other goals.  None of my goals were penalties and I got a left, right, and header for goals.
2 girls that moved to Billings went to the After School Program, where I work.  I was so disappointed to learn that I would no longer have them at my tutoring job.  The two spotted me at the Reedpoint Sheep Drive.  The younger one was in my kindergarten class last year at my work.  The sheep drive was quite fun.  It was the first one I had been to, with great food and many people I knew.
1 game of "rock soccer" was played on Sunday.  In the late afternoon, my mom and I took a slow walk down to the river with some snacks.  We found a sandy patch along the Yellowstone to sit down.  My mother showed me a small rock she found that was nearly perfectly spherical.  I sure knew what to do with that rock!  I set up rocks on each end of the sand patch for goals for a great game of rock soccer.  After removing shoes, we dribbled, shot, kicked, and missed the small "ball".  This was such a fun time, but guess who won!
0 things I wish I did this weekend that I missed.

The autopsy of reading chapter one of The Great Gatsby~September 1

Subject:  The Great Gatsby
Part of Inspection:  Chapter 1
Date Inspected:  September 1, 2011
Approximate Date of Grave Occurrence:  August 30, 2011
Coroner: Joseph
Physical Observations:  At cutting of the chest, a broken heart was found.  Blood alcohol levels were found extremely high.

General Observations:  More facts of seeing the subject are coming back to me.  Background investigations of the family have renewed forgotten characteristics of seeing my subject two years ago for a yearly check-up.  The subject's acquaintances have been renewed to me as Daisy, Tom, and Jordan.  Tom  gave me some limited information on what motives our subject had and activities on the night of August 30, 2011.  Neither Jordan nor Daisy revealed much to me, but I had the feeling that they were withholding some information from the interview.  When I began to inspect my subject, there was some confusion as to who it was.  In the first few minutes, I was under the impression I was looking at a certain F. S. Fitzgerald.  I later learned that the subject was more or less known as Nick and I had received the wrong coroner's report.  The incorrect file seemed to have something to do with the subject.  I believe possibly F. S. Fitzgerald was the father of the subject.  It so happens that both the wrong report and the subject had  insufficient funds for marriage during their early years.  Having previous knowledge of my subject from biographical slideshows viewed in the hospital were beneficial to this autopsy.  I cannot now say what could have caused the grave occurrence, but possible illegal activities could have resulted in tensions.

Suggested Cause of Grave Occurrence:  Not sufficient evidence.  Must read ensuing chapters.