No Work and No Play
I have a full schedule of crap. Two computing classes, two classes where I basically work for the school (peer tutoring and yearbook) and one academically gratifying class. Economics. Woo.
So I go a little nuts every day.
Case in point. What I do with shit assignments.
This is an evaluatory persuasive "essay" send to the state schoolboard. Basically it's an open ended assignment that probes the average highschooler's ability to be coherent.
This is what I decided to write.
In the course of one's existence, one's academic, professional, or personal life, a point will be reached in which only one question can be asked. "Do we really need more cowbell?" is an age-old question, one that sociologist and philosopher Will Ferrell took a firm stand on while playing with the rock outfit Blue Oyster Cult on national TV. Coincidentally, the members of BOC were fanatical devotees of the cowbell, and this tour de force, this coming together of great minds swept up the nation, and spread across the world, causing the masses to accept the Cowbell (as it seems to be an entity unto itself) in varying degrees.
Shamefully, as this writer regrets to admit it, a line has been crossed. There is too much Cowbell. The Cowbell has invaded our lives! One out of two (and also three out of six) drummers have played, will play or want to play cowbell. Even more frightening is the realm of auxiliary percussion, where the Cowbell is seen as the commanding force in such a player's repertoire. This overwhelming Cowbell influence has smothered other rather useless and usually tiny simple instruments, such as the triangle, biangle and washing board (which has been proven by a panel of Scientologists to have a use prior to its instrumentation, but is still forbidden from the maternity ward). Other victims of the cowbell craze include the steel drum, actual music, and jokes that aren't so dead they're zombies.
Not only does the Cowbell destroy these fragile nuances of life, it is also entirely inedible, contains no calcium, and destroyed Christopher Walkin's career. These terrible crimes have been perpetuated under such an innocent guise that many historians and librarians (and various other people who spend unhealthy amounts of time inside) are unaware of this current (…perhaps that's why historians don't know) crisis. Band together and reinforce your rhythm section with competent drummers and bassists! Make sure your guitarists can keep time! Perhaps one day, one day, we will be free from the Cowbell's menacing grasp.
Fuck yeah.
Aside from that, i'm going back to work tomorrow and I aim to have a new computer by the end of school, and enough funds to purchase a car sometime directly after that. Ironically for getting another job further away, and with steadier pay.
P.S. I fucking hate these live Elliott Smith tracks where that fucking chick whines over his voice and totally destroys the dynamics. The drummer also blows.
So I go a little nuts every day.
Case in point. What I do with shit assignments.
This is an evaluatory persuasive "essay" send to the state schoolboard. Basically it's an open ended assignment that probes the average highschooler's ability to be coherent.
This is what I decided to write.
In the course of one's existence, one's academic, professional, or personal life, a point will be reached in which only one question can be asked. "Do we really need more cowbell?" is an age-old question, one that sociologist and philosopher Will Ferrell took a firm stand on while playing with the rock outfit Blue Oyster Cult on national TV. Coincidentally, the members of BOC were fanatical devotees of the cowbell, and this tour de force, this coming together of great minds swept up the nation, and spread across the world, causing the masses to accept the Cowbell (as it seems to be an entity unto itself) in varying degrees.
Shamefully, as this writer regrets to admit it, a line has been crossed. There is too much Cowbell. The Cowbell has invaded our lives! One out of two (and also three out of six) drummers have played, will play or want to play cowbell. Even more frightening is the realm of auxiliary percussion, where the Cowbell is seen as the commanding force in such a player's repertoire. This overwhelming Cowbell influence has smothered other rather useless and usually tiny simple instruments, such as the triangle, biangle and washing board (which has been proven by a panel of Scientologists to have a use prior to its instrumentation, but is still forbidden from the maternity ward). Other victims of the cowbell craze include the steel drum, actual music, and jokes that aren't so dead they're zombies.
Not only does the Cowbell destroy these fragile nuances of life, it is also entirely inedible, contains no calcium, and destroyed Christopher Walkin's career. These terrible crimes have been perpetuated under such an innocent guise that many historians and librarians (and various other people who spend unhealthy amounts of time inside) are unaware of this current (…perhaps that's why historians don't know) crisis. Band together and reinforce your rhythm section with competent drummers and bassists! Make sure your guitarists can keep time! Perhaps one day, one day, we will be free from the Cowbell's menacing grasp.
Fuck yeah.
Aside from that, i'm going back to work tomorrow and I aim to have a new computer by the end of school, and enough funds to purchase a car sometime directly after that. Ironically for getting another job further away, and with steadier pay.
P.S. I fucking hate these live Elliott Smith tracks where that fucking chick whines over his voice and totally destroys the dynamics. The drummer also blows.