further efforts to pretend to be smart.
wow. just wow. i am officially MORE retarded than anyone ever thought.
"Twas the Night Before the AP Euro Test"
Twas the night before the AP Euro test, and all through the city,
Not a student was stirring, not even a kitty.
Their backpacks were set by the front door with care,
In hopes that an A-plus test would soon reside there.
The students were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of scientists danced in their heads.
After hours of studying and doing IDs,
They settled their brains for sleep with great ease.
When out from my phone there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to my cell phone I flew in a dash
And in my inbox there was a NEW MESSAGE flash.
A question from my friend about the heliocentric theory,
I began to type a response, tired and weary.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature scientist and nine of his peers!
With his ancient old toga down to his knee,
I knew in a moment it was Ptolemy.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Copernicus! now, Brahe! now, Kepler and Newton!
On, Galileo! On, Descartes! On, Hobbes, Locke, and Bacon!
To the bottom of this mystery! to answer science’s call!
Now think away! Think away! Think away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So to their studies and experiments the thinkers they flew,
With their minds full of knowledge, and new ideas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on my floor
The talking of the miniature men I could not ignore.
As I put away my phone, and was turning around,
Up, one by one, they grew from the ground!
First was Ptolemy! his ideas, how merry!
A geocentric universe, planets that angels would carry!
His system was believed for a long time to go,
But it was wrong and false, as we all now well know.
Then Nick Copernicus grew from his head to his foot,
And his ideas were thought useless, like ashes and soot.
Ridicule for heliocentricity was flung on his back,
But he was correct, though proof he did lack.
The great observer Tycho Brahe followed and grew,
He collected important data and many a critical clue.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
Next was Johannes Kepler, a right jolly old elf,
And I forgot all about him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye made me remember his toil,
His math geocentricity and circular orbits did spoil.
Newton spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And solved the great mystery that seemed always to lurk.
Gravity and mathematical laws he did expose,
And because of his genius discoveries, mechanism rose!
Then Galileo yelled to his friends, “Look here!”
And gave a telescope to improve how the heavens appear.
He finally gave concrete proof of a sun-centered condition,
But was then locked away by the mean Inquisition.
Who could it be next but Rene Descartes?
Because of him analytical geometry did start.
Rational deduction and logical reason was his theory,
But of this, his peer Newton was strongly wary.
Thomas Hobbes, he didn’t appear quite too jolly.
He thought absolute government was key, and democracy folly.
“Man’s state of nature is savage and violent,” said he,
“And tyranny is far more preferable than anarchy.”
Locke was quite the opposite indeed!
He believed that life and liberty we all dearly need.
Moderate freedom and religious toleration, believed John,
And his ideas the United States government was founded on.
Lastly came Francis Bacon, who taught a new way,
To look towards the future, not back to yesterday.
New experiments, research, and discoveries ensued,
And with empiricism scientists became a little more shrewd.
Then Ptolemy began to shrink down again, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew with the speed of a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as they shrunk out of sight,
"Good grades to all students, and to all a good-night!"
-----
It was Christmas Eve, and the knights and ladies of King Arthur’s court were preparing to feast. There was, however, a significant difference between that year and years past- Sir Arturo’s seat was empty. The other knights were deeply disturbed, as he was a brave and chivalrous knight whose spear, like his unwavering courage, never broke. One knight was distraught beyond the others, and this was Sir Bedivere, for he had known Arturo since their earliest jousting tournaments, when they were still in diapers, and was quite fond of him. Sir Bedivere, knowing that no visions of sugarplums could dance in his head while Arturo was in danger, said his goodbyes to the knights of the Round Table and set off on his trusty steed, Fritter-Lily, to find him.
After many days of rigorous travel, Bedivere came upon a small stone cottage, where sat a lovely lady knitting.
“Hark!” Bedivere called, dismounting from Fritter-Lily. “I am Sir Bedivere, come from faraway Camelot, searching for my brave companion, on whom some terrible fate has befallen. Know you Sir Arturo of the Round Table?” The lovely lady was named Hildegard, and she was a sorceress known for knitting beautiful mittens. As this mitten-making was her passion, she was appalled to behold the one-handed Sir Bedivere, whose second limb had been lost in a rather tragic mishap at Ye Old Barbershoppe.
“Could it truly be the great Sir Bedivere, famed far and wide? And come to the aid of Sir Arturo, also quite honorable?” said Hildegard. “Yes, he has come this way, but my news is grim. He is a prisoner of the insidious Periwinkle Knight.” Now, this report was completely false, worthy of the Camelot Enquirer, but it happened that the Periwinkle Knight was a particularly fearsome opponent, and she knew the name would strike fear in the hearts of all men.
“Alas!” cried Sir Bedivere. “These circumstances are, as I feared, most dire! But I shall right this wrong, as any proper knight would do!” Lady Hildegard leered with sharp little teeth, hideously delighted at the imminent success of her nefarious plan.
“Sir Bedivere, please take this mitten as a token of my well-wishing. Perhaps it will offer you some protection on your quest,” Hildegard said, handing him her newly-knitted mitten. It was an enchanted mitten, the most beautiful mitten in all the land, and one glance at it turned Bedivere’s noble mind to paralyzed mush. He stood with a gaze transfixed on the mesmerizing mitten, and with him struck feckless, the enchantress pushed him down the cellar stairs with a wicked cackle.
Sir Bedivere only came to his senses hours later when the mitten was devoured by other hungry prisoners and the spell broken. A short survey of the cellar dungeon showed other prisoners, all with hand deformities of their own.
“Where am I? What is this hellish place?” inquired the knight.
“This be the prison of the evil sorceress Hildegard, bane of the disfigured. She enchants even the most respectable men with her glorious knitting, then throws ‘em in the dungeon to forever lament and moan,” said a bald man missing four fingers.
“What! Not the beautiful lady, who so enraptured me with her charm?” cried Bedivere, who had been quite smitten with the knitter. Hildegard, hearing this from above ground, was softened by this flattery, and decided to test the knight’s worthiness. Thus, she established a quest with King Arthur’s knight: duel the Periwinkle Knight and bring back his hands as proof of victory. The truth was that the Periwinkle Knight was also a talented knitter, of whom Hildegard had always been bitterly jealous. Now was the perfect time to take him out, once and for all.
Bedivere rode off on Fritter-Lily towards the lone mountain where the castle of the Periwinkle Knight stood crookedly. He arrived in the dead of night, but as a praiseworthy knight, he knocked on the front door and waited as if he was any polite visitor. The Periwinkle Knight beckoned him inside, and it was quite a cozy little abode. On the wall was a portrait of the Periwinkles, and a delicious cookie scent lingered in the air. On the coffee table was a copy of the popular read The Unauthorized Biography of Sir Lancelot. Bedivere felt a pang of guilt, wondering how the Periwinkle Knight would flip the pages of the book once he chopped off his hands, but shook it off quickly, as he still believed that Arturo was a prisoner of this man.
“I must be honest in my intent. I have come here by the bidding of Lady Hildegard, and to avenge your wrong-doing of my dear friend, Sir Arturo! Defend yourself, man!”
“Hildegard! Ha! Any nitwit of hers must be a pathetic warrior! But, please, let’s go outside. Mother loathes when I slay knights on the carpet.” Bedivere obliged sympathetically, and the two prepared for combat on the mountain peak. It was a violent competition, but it ended in a two-limbed Periwinkle Knight, and a victorious Bedivere. He lifted the severed appendages into the night and did a swift jig before galloping away on Fritter-Lily back to Hildegard’s stone cottage.
“Such swift success? You truly are an honorable knight, Sir Bedivere. I shall bestow upon you this magical sword. You may use it on your quest to save your fellow knight of the Round Table. However, when you return, you must present it to King Arthur,” Hildegard instructed, very happy that her knitting adversary was vanquished.
So Bedivere ventured on, and finally discovered and saved Sir Arturo; but that is a story for another time. He and Arturo rode across the lands to return home to Camelot, just in time for the celebration of the new year. They were merrily welcomed, and in the midst of all this joyous carousing, Bedivere had a tad too much mead to drink, and found himself pulling out the magical sword for others to gawk at.
“This was given to me by a beauteous enchantress, as a token of her love!” Bedivere bragged, retelling and embellishing his adventures. One knight was not entertained.
“I don’t believe your shenanigans! Draw your so-called magic sword, and let us see if your story has any merit!” the newcomer knight scoffed, drawing his own sword. Bedivere, foolishly forgetting his promise to Hildegard, drew the sword to defend his reputation and honor. The two dueled, and though Bedivere was one-handed, he was a fierce opponent. He prepared to deliver the final fatal blow, when the knight cried out.
“Halt!” he called, and Bedivere did so, as was chivalrous. Then, before his eyes and those of all the other knights, the knight transformed into none other than Hildegard!
“You have failed to fulfill your promise, and instead used this ancient sword in a dim-witted act of boasting. You shall pay a heavy price!” cried the sorceress. She snatched the sword and plunged it deep into Sir Bedivere’s middle. The other knights gasped, their night of revelry ruined, as they watched the brave knight drop to his knees.
“No! This cannot be! I beg of you, fair lady, think of the worth of Sir Bedivere! He is a peerless knight, a truly excellent fighter, and one of King Arthur’s closest personal friends, not to mention he makes a most scrumptious pumpkin pie! He meant no harm in his act of pride, he simply needs to be reminded of his humble duties!” Sir Arturo exclaimed. Hildegard considered these words, for she was not completely evil, and had secretly always harbored dreams of becoming a Lady of the Round Table.
“I will spare him on one condition. Sir Bedivere shall take me as his wife, or die!” Hildegard proclaimed.
“Tis done!” Bedivere gasped, for he, too, was fond of the sorceress, and not so fond of death. And despite Bedivere’s deformities, he and Hildegard married the following day, all was well in Camelot, and from then on Bedivere always one nicely cozy knitted mitten.
yeah i'm gonna go ~pass out~ now.
"Twas the Night Before the AP Euro Test"
Twas the night before the AP Euro test, and all through the city,
Not a student was stirring, not even a kitty.
Their backpacks were set by the front door with care,
In hopes that an A-plus test would soon reside there.
The students were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of scientists danced in their heads.
After hours of studying and doing IDs,
They settled their brains for sleep with great ease.
When out from my phone there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to my cell phone I flew in a dash
And in my inbox there was a NEW MESSAGE flash.
A question from my friend about the heliocentric theory,
I began to type a response, tired and weary.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature scientist and nine of his peers!
With his ancient old toga down to his knee,
I knew in a moment it was Ptolemy.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Copernicus! now, Brahe! now, Kepler and Newton!
On, Galileo! On, Descartes! On, Hobbes, Locke, and Bacon!
To the bottom of this mystery! to answer science’s call!
Now think away! Think away! Think away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So to their studies and experiments the thinkers they flew,
With their minds full of knowledge, and new ideas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on my floor
The talking of the miniature men I could not ignore.
As I put away my phone, and was turning around,
Up, one by one, they grew from the ground!
First was Ptolemy! his ideas, how merry!
A geocentric universe, planets that angels would carry!
His system was believed for a long time to go,
But it was wrong and false, as we all now well know.
Then Nick Copernicus grew from his head to his foot,
And his ideas were thought useless, like ashes and soot.
Ridicule for heliocentricity was flung on his back,
But he was correct, though proof he did lack.
The great observer Tycho Brahe followed and grew,
He collected important data and many a critical clue.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
Next was Johannes Kepler, a right jolly old elf,
And I forgot all about him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye made me remember his toil,
His math geocentricity and circular orbits did spoil.
Newton spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And solved the great mystery that seemed always to lurk.
Gravity and mathematical laws he did expose,
And because of his genius discoveries, mechanism rose!
Then Galileo yelled to his friends, “Look here!”
And gave a telescope to improve how the heavens appear.
He finally gave concrete proof of a sun-centered condition,
But was then locked away by the mean Inquisition.
Who could it be next but Rene Descartes?
Because of him analytical geometry did start.
Rational deduction and logical reason was his theory,
But of this, his peer Newton was strongly wary.
Thomas Hobbes, he didn’t appear quite too jolly.
He thought absolute government was key, and democracy folly.
“Man’s state of nature is savage and violent,” said he,
“And tyranny is far more preferable than anarchy.”
Locke was quite the opposite indeed!
He believed that life and liberty we all dearly need.
Moderate freedom and religious toleration, believed John,
And his ideas the United States government was founded on.
Lastly came Francis Bacon, who taught a new way,
To look towards the future, not back to yesterday.
New experiments, research, and discoveries ensued,
And with empiricism scientists became a little more shrewd.
Then Ptolemy began to shrink down again, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew with the speed of a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as they shrunk out of sight,
"Good grades to all students, and to all a good-night!"
-----
It was Christmas Eve, and the knights and ladies of King Arthur’s court were preparing to feast. There was, however, a significant difference between that year and years past- Sir Arturo’s seat was empty. The other knights were deeply disturbed, as he was a brave and chivalrous knight whose spear, like his unwavering courage, never broke. One knight was distraught beyond the others, and this was Sir Bedivere, for he had known Arturo since their earliest jousting tournaments, when they were still in diapers, and was quite fond of him. Sir Bedivere, knowing that no visions of sugarplums could dance in his head while Arturo was in danger, said his goodbyes to the knights of the Round Table and set off on his trusty steed, Fritter-Lily, to find him.
After many days of rigorous travel, Bedivere came upon a small stone cottage, where sat a lovely lady knitting.
“Hark!” Bedivere called, dismounting from Fritter-Lily. “I am Sir Bedivere, come from faraway Camelot, searching for my brave companion, on whom some terrible fate has befallen. Know you Sir Arturo of the Round Table?” The lovely lady was named Hildegard, and she was a sorceress known for knitting beautiful mittens. As this mitten-making was her passion, she was appalled to behold the one-handed Sir Bedivere, whose second limb had been lost in a rather tragic mishap at Ye Old Barbershoppe.
“Could it truly be the great Sir Bedivere, famed far and wide? And come to the aid of Sir Arturo, also quite honorable?” said Hildegard. “Yes, he has come this way, but my news is grim. He is a prisoner of the insidious Periwinkle Knight.” Now, this report was completely false, worthy of the Camelot Enquirer, but it happened that the Periwinkle Knight was a particularly fearsome opponent, and she knew the name would strike fear in the hearts of all men.
“Alas!” cried Sir Bedivere. “These circumstances are, as I feared, most dire! But I shall right this wrong, as any proper knight would do!” Lady Hildegard leered with sharp little teeth, hideously delighted at the imminent success of her nefarious plan.
“Sir Bedivere, please take this mitten as a token of my well-wishing. Perhaps it will offer you some protection on your quest,” Hildegard said, handing him her newly-knitted mitten. It was an enchanted mitten, the most beautiful mitten in all the land, and one glance at it turned Bedivere’s noble mind to paralyzed mush. He stood with a gaze transfixed on the mesmerizing mitten, and with him struck feckless, the enchantress pushed him down the cellar stairs with a wicked cackle.
Sir Bedivere only came to his senses hours later when the mitten was devoured by other hungry prisoners and the spell broken. A short survey of the cellar dungeon showed other prisoners, all with hand deformities of their own.
“Where am I? What is this hellish place?” inquired the knight.
“This be the prison of the evil sorceress Hildegard, bane of the disfigured. She enchants even the most respectable men with her glorious knitting, then throws ‘em in the dungeon to forever lament and moan,” said a bald man missing four fingers.
“What! Not the beautiful lady, who so enraptured me with her charm?” cried Bedivere, who had been quite smitten with the knitter. Hildegard, hearing this from above ground, was softened by this flattery, and decided to test the knight’s worthiness. Thus, she established a quest with King Arthur’s knight: duel the Periwinkle Knight and bring back his hands as proof of victory. The truth was that the Periwinkle Knight was also a talented knitter, of whom Hildegard had always been bitterly jealous. Now was the perfect time to take him out, once and for all.
Bedivere rode off on Fritter-Lily towards the lone mountain where the castle of the Periwinkle Knight stood crookedly. He arrived in the dead of night, but as a praiseworthy knight, he knocked on the front door and waited as if he was any polite visitor. The Periwinkle Knight beckoned him inside, and it was quite a cozy little abode. On the wall was a portrait of the Periwinkles, and a delicious cookie scent lingered in the air. On the coffee table was a copy of the popular read The Unauthorized Biography of Sir Lancelot. Bedivere felt a pang of guilt, wondering how the Periwinkle Knight would flip the pages of the book once he chopped off his hands, but shook it off quickly, as he still believed that Arturo was a prisoner of this man.
“I must be honest in my intent. I have come here by the bidding of Lady Hildegard, and to avenge your wrong-doing of my dear friend, Sir Arturo! Defend yourself, man!”
“Hildegard! Ha! Any nitwit of hers must be a pathetic warrior! But, please, let’s go outside. Mother loathes when I slay knights on the carpet.” Bedivere obliged sympathetically, and the two prepared for combat on the mountain peak. It was a violent competition, but it ended in a two-limbed Periwinkle Knight, and a victorious Bedivere. He lifted the severed appendages into the night and did a swift jig before galloping away on Fritter-Lily back to Hildegard’s stone cottage.
“Such swift success? You truly are an honorable knight, Sir Bedivere. I shall bestow upon you this magical sword. You may use it on your quest to save your fellow knight of the Round Table. However, when you return, you must present it to King Arthur,” Hildegard instructed, very happy that her knitting adversary was vanquished.
So Bedivere ventured on, and finally discovered and saved Sir Arturo; but that is a story for another time. He and Arturo rode across the lands to return home to Camelot, just in time for the celebration of the new year. They were merrily welcomed, and in the midst of all this joyous carousing, Bedivere had a tad too much mead to drink, and found himself pulling out the magical sword for others to gawk at.
“This was given to me by a beauteous enchantress, as a token of her love!” Bedivere bragged, retelling and embellishing his adventures. One knight was not entertained.
“I don’t believe your shenanigans! Draw your so-called magic sword, and let us see if your story has any merit!” the newcomer knight scoffed, drawing his own sword. Bedivere, foolishly forgetting his promise to Hildegard, drew the sword to defend his reputation and honor. The two dueled, and though Bedivere was one-handed, he was a fierce opponent. He prepared to deliver the final fatal blow, when the knight cried out.
“Halt!” he called, and Bedivere did so, as was chivalrous. Then, before his eyes and those of all the other knights, the knight transformed into none other than Hildegard!
“You have failed to fulfill your promise, and instead used this ancient sword in a dim-witted act of boasting. You shall pay a heavy price!” cried the sorceress. She snatched the sword and plunged it deep into Sir Bedivere’s middle. The other knights gasped, their night of revelry ruined, as they watched the brave knight drop to his knees.
“No! This cannot be! I beg of you, fair lady, think of the worth of Sir Bedivere! He is a peerless knight, a truly excellent fighter, and one of King Arthur’s closest personal friends, not to mention he makes a most scrumptious pumpkin pie! He meant no harm in his act of pride, he simply needs to be reminded of his humble duties!” Sir Arturo exclaimed. Hildegard considered these words, for she was not completely evil, and had secretly always harbored dreams of becoming a Lady of the Round Table.
“I will spare him on one condition. Sir Bedivere shall take me as his wife, or die!” Hildegard proclaimed.
“Tis done!” Bedivere gasped, for he, too, was fond of the sorceress, and not so fond of death. And despite Bedivere’s deformities, he and Hildegard married the following day, all was well in Camelot, and from then on Bedivere always one nicely cozy knitted mitten.
yeah i'm gonna go ~pass out~ now.