(no subject)
You may ask yourself, "Joe, why don't you simply abandon this terrible archive of adolescent rambling?"
"I'm not sure," I reply. "I guess it has some kind of sentimental value or something."
You then say, "That's a horrible reason. 'Sentimental value' is nothing more than an excuse to dwell on material things unimportant to the purpose of your existence. Those material things pile up, and before you know it, you'll be neck-deep in them. In other words, your so-called emotions have no true connection to a collection of code wedged deep within the tubes of our World Wide Web, and by saying that, you expose a great deal of weakness and instability."
"GASP!" I say. "You may have a point there!"
"Why yes. Yes I do."
"True as that may be, though, it's near-impossible to find a better waste of time."
"Actually," you say, "I can think of plenty of others."
"Such as...?"
This carries on for several hours. It goes nowhere.
...
The Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication (deep breath) has recently invited me to witness its titular hero at a catered lunch. This is pretty awesome, given the fact that Walter Cronkite, besides being a patron saint of journalism, played the part of none other than Professor New Eyes (!) on We're Back: A Dinosaur's Story, arguably one of the finest pieces of cinema to grace my early childhood.
...
My grandmother, three thousand miles away in New Jersey and creator of perhaps the greatest eggplant parmesian mankind has ever known, warned me to exercise utmost caution when interacting with "college girls", [likely] for fear of the propagation of diseases and offspring and general societal decay. I myself am not so concerned.
...
Dr. Dog is tonight! I have thirty minutes to be productive before leaving! This is going to be difficult!
"I'm not sure," I reply. "I guess it has some kind of sentimental value or something."
You then say, "That's a horrible reason. 'Sentimental value' is nothing more than an excuse to dwell on material things unimportant to the purpose of your existence. Those material things pile up, and before you know it, you'll be neck-deep in them. In other words, your so-called emotions have no true connection to a collection of code wedged deep within the tubes of our World Wide Web, and by saying that, you expose a great deal of weakness and instability."
"GASP!" I say. "You may have a point there!"
"Why yes. Yes I do."
"True as that may be, though, it's near-impossible to find a better waste of time."
"Actually," you say, "I can think of plenty of others."
"Such as...?"
This carries on for several hours. It goes nowhere.
...
The Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication (deep breath) has recently invited me to witness its titular hero at a catered lunch. This is pretty awesome, given the fact that Walter Cronkite, besides being a patron saint of journalism, played the part of none other than Professor New Eyes (!) on We're Back: A Dinosaur's Story, arguably one of the finest pieces of cinema to grace my early childhood.
...
My grandmother, three thousand miles away in New Jersey and creator of perhaps the greatest eggplant parmesian mankind has ever known, warned me to exercise utmost caution when interacting with "college girls", [likely] for fear of the propagation of diseases and offspring and general societal decay. I myself am not so concerned.
...
Dr. Dog is tonight! I have thirty minutes to be productive before leaving! This is going to be difficult!