Thursday, November 25, 2010

What a Babe! - Theo Colborn

Dr. Theo Colborn is the founder of the Endocrine Disruption Exchange, a non-profit that is dedicated to getting chemicals, specifically endocrine disruptors out of our homes, our bodies and our environment. She is the author of "Our Stolen Future: Are We Threatening Our Fertility, Intelligence, and Survival?--A Scientific Detective Story" and has done a ton of work on figuring out what the mystery chemicals in fracking fluid are and how they might affect our health. What makes her a babe, you ask? Well, besides the boyish hair cut, glasses and that sparkly smile, she has a bachelors in pharmacy, her masters in science and her pH.D in Zoology and works against those pesky natural gas drillers! What a hotty.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Kittens For A Cause

Please allow me to introduce Neville.
Neville is a young advocate for the Anti-String Sniffers. He has been a dedicated activist since his mom pooped him out. He has picketed in front of numerous String Sniffing conventions and spoken out against string politics. A warrior and also, a softy. He has recently developed a conflict of interest and has fallen in love with his arch nemesis; the string. This shows hope that Big Oil and Gas CEO's could learn how to knit clean energy policies into their work. Neville and his string thing are an inspiration to us all.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Vocab Paragraph #3: I know someone who will soon be under attack...

“I know someone who will soon be under attack,” Secret Agent Man said into the phone.

5 miles away, atop Town Hall, sat Heroic Endeavor Dude, with perfect equanimity, listening to tonight’s first mission. Someone in Mockton was in danger. Secret Agent Man said there was a strange black figure scaling the side of the Mockton Nuclear Research Lab. The Lab had been doing some groundbreaking work on a new weapon. It was said to be the most ultimate weapon in the whole world and Secret Agent Man had been keeping his eye on the Lab for awhile now, knowing that it was only a matter of time before some evil-doer decided to pull some sort of chicanery. And tonight was the night. “I’ll be over in a jiffy,” responded Heroic Endeavor Dude.

Little did they know that lurking in the shadows of the night, only a block away from the Lab, was Good Effort Man. Good Effort Man was an officious character who was erudite with computers and had tapped all the phone and radio lines in the city so he could listen to what was going on. He intercepted every call between Secret Agent Man and Heroic Endeavor Dude. Good Effort Man had no super powers and was a bit clumsy, but he tried really hard. He was the sore in Heroic Endeavor Dude’s side, but had no idea he was being meddlesome, in fact, he thought they had a lot of fun fighting crime together. Good Effort Man had had a penchant for Heroic Endeavor Dude ever since he was a kid and now he just wanted to be part of the action. So every night, around 8 pm, he would top into Secret Agent Man’s phone line and get in on the night’s action. He shut the receiver off, turned on his jet-powered rollerblades and sputtered on over to the Lab.

Meanwhile, Heroic Endeavor Dude was peering into the third story window of the Research Lab where the strange black figure had taken off his mask and revealed himself to be Dr. Destructoid! Destructoid was a vicious enormity who wanted to take over the world and was also Heroic Endeavor Man’s arch enemy. Heroic Endeavor Dude had recently busted him when he had tried to steal the Hubble Telescope. Dr. Destructoid was going to try and use the reflective mirrors of the Telescope and laser technology to make the biggest laser in the entire world. Heroic Endeavor Dude was sure that Dr. Destructoid was here for the weapon and nothing else. From their episodic meetings, Heroic Endeavor Dude had noticed a pattern in Dr. Destructoid’s ways. As soon as Destructoid found what he came for, he liked to reveal his plan and bask in it’s greatness. This is the moment when Heroic Endeavor Dude would attack! He waited patiently in the shadows for his moment of glory.

Good Effort Man was experienceng severe ennui waiting for Heroic Endeavor Dude to make his first move. “What was he waiting for?” he thought, “Maybe Heroic Endeavor Dude was waiting for him to make the first move.” He assumed this to be true, turned his jet-powered rollerblades to the vertical setting and prematurely ejaculated into the third story window with the weapon and Destructoid.

“How nice to see you again.” equivocated Heroic Endeavor Dude as he watched Good Effort Man foil his plans once again. He went inside and saw Good Effort Man and Destructoid sprawled on the floor; Good Effort Man had taken himself and Destructoid out when he zoomed through the window. There was an odd ticking sound too. The source of the eerie ticking was the weapon. There was only five seconds left on the timer; Heroic Endeavor Dude looked at the weapon in defeat, knowing it was all over. A tear rolled down his cheek and he uttered a final epithet, “Shit Weazle.” And BAZOW! The weapon opened up a black hole and the world was swallowed whole, sucked into another dimension, never to be seen again.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Babe Alert! Nathan Hall

I'm reading a book called Something's Rising. It's an oral history of various people affected by mountain top removal. Today I read Nathan's story. Reading his clearly reasoned thoughts about how he thinks MTR is going to be changed made me want more than anything to intern in his bedroom. Rar-wer. He is rational and realistic, yet is still incredibly optimistic about changing the coal based economy in eastern Kentucky. He graduated last year with a degree in Sustainable Agriculture from Berea College and received a grant to help him with the business he started East Kentucky Biodiesel. So, if anyone knows how to apply for that internship, let me know!

Vocab Paragraph 3: I know someone who will soon be under attack...

I know someone who is about to be under attack. His name is John Crichton, AN ASTRONAUT! He has a penchant for Aeryn, a prudish, bad ass, geek's wet dream type. Little does he know that she is about to perform an enormity on their friendship.
Aeryn is about to prove herself a master of chicanery. She has already washed her hands and applied saliva to her finger, AN INDEX FINGER! Her hand is behind her back and she is now engaging in equivocate conversation with her target. "Crichton, you aren't terribly ugly and stupid, and I may not hate you." A bat of the eyelashes and John Crichton is entirely unsuspecting.
Aeryn clicked her super serious leather boots as she walked with confidence and leisure behind the dull man and swiftly made her attack. She really swirled it around in there. John Crichton's eyes popped wide open as he quickly lost his equanimity.
"What the hell are you doing you ding dong? Hello!! That's my freaking EAR!" He cried in outrage of Aeryn's officious act.
"Oh, you'll live you big baby. Pilot needs to speak with you. He asked me to alert you," she paused to chuckle. "I assume you are free to come?"
"Huh? Yeah, sure. Let's get it over with." John started walking through Moya's corridors to see what pilot needed. He was nearly there when D'Argo tackled him to the ground, knocking him out, and began yelling Luxan epithets at his unconscious victim. Chiana and Aeryn soon joined D'Argo in the corridor.
"This is for every arrogant and idiotic thing you have ever said in my presence," said D'Argo.
The erudite Zhaan walked in on the scene as Chiana and Aeryn were tying Crichton up. "Oh Good! I was suffering from ennui in my meditating room. Finally! Something to do!" said Zhaan in her usual regal tone.
Crichton began to regain consciousness and episodic irrelevant colloquial human phrases began to stumble off his lips.
"Quick! Destroy him! I can hear no more of it!" shouted D'Argo.
Aeryn responded with her warrior instincts and smashed his skull in with her right booted foot.
"Oh thank the goddess!" ejaculated Zhaan as they all exhaled a long awaited sigh of relief.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Babelicious Part Two: Director Josh Fox

Allow me to introduce to you Josh Fox, a film director and founder of the International WOW company. Besides being incredibly handsome, he has also recently directed a very influential film called "Gasland." "Gasland" is about the booming Natural Gas industry and how it is killing thousands of people around the country through a dangerous extraction process called hydraulic fracturing. He has been traveling the country letting people know about the terrible consequences of fracking. He turned down $100,000 from the a natural gas company to drill on his land in Northern PA; I don't know that there is anything more attractive than turning down cash from Big Oil &Gas, except maybe those glasses...

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Vocab Paragraph#2: He had finally captured it...

He had finally captured it, the very essence of the character. Giorgio was cast as a 1950’s dilettante named Norm. It was his best friend’s first play and he would have felt bad to turn down the part, even if Norm was an egotistical goober. The play was called “Owlton: An Opus to Obdurateness;” it was about a town, fully populated with dogmatic denizens who only stayed in the town because they were afraid of the diverse thinking of the outside world. Let’s just say, it was full of rowdy arguments, asinine asides, and long-winded doggerel. While there was some witty dialogue and a few heart-wrenching ballads, the script was sloppily put together, much like most of the cast. Giorgio was a professional community theatre actor (he had played Scrooge the last 5 years in the Christmas Special) and the cast was full of know-it-all amateurs straight out of college. The advice he gave them, didactic in nature, was often misconstrued to be nit-picking, nagging, or negligent. The children, as he liked to call them, will realize, once they had seen Giorgio in action, that they were stupid to demur his most helpful advice. His stress seemed to follow an exponential curve as the play progressed and rehearsals began to get longer. His friend knew he was a talented actor and had allowed Giorgio a lot of freedom in the interpretation of all that was Norm. Giorgio had been struggling with being Norm for the entire production and he had finally captured it, the essence of the character. It had come to him as he was practicing Norm’s soliloquy in the final scene. Norm had just realized that he could leave the partisan ways of Owlton and live with other people and had finally come to terms with who he was and exculpated all conflicts; then he bursts into a yowl of pure realization, Norm is Norm! The play closes on his final sound ejaculation. And as Giorgio screamed, his body distended and he found Norm, too. On opening night, Giorgio was giddy for the last scene; he knew it was his best. He had felt like an outcast throughout the entire production, and in that final wily dirge, as if to gainsay all the children’s contempt for him, Giorgio howled into the night, into the audience, into himself. He left Owlton to explore the world; he would be more than a professional community theatre actor, he would be a star.

The cat, the myth, the legend: Marzo

      Marzo is the shy hero type. He is often seen helping the ladies out of their trees and only wanting to hold hands and play in a meadow in return. He catches field mice for his parents and leaves them conveniently on pillows, like the mints at fancy hotels. His meaning for living? Making life easier for the cats around him. Marzo is a model catizen and is a member of his neighborhood watch. 

Vocab Paragraph 2: He had finally captured it...

    He had finally captured it. He was no longer the dilettante fool with dreams but no real traction. He had found his weapon of love, his pleasure wand, his manhood. It took plenty of reaching, rearranging, and grunting but his hand was now making real contact, confirming the existence, disproving years of him demurring it. His long determination was punctuated with victory.
    He was quite busy for a good hour, almost afraid to let it go for fear it would cease to be, but then the sweat build up from the full hour of unadjusted skin to skin contact of his arm and his gut became too much. He had to quit the position of discovery and bliss and make a visit to the bathroom for the gold bond powder. Upon finding himself in the mirror, he saw a very smiley face quickly pushed aside to obtain the powder in the medicine cabinet. After the areas of issue were sufficiently dusted, he exited to his closet to dress himself for the first time in a week. All the while he was giddy and singing shitty doggerel of pop culture twenty years past.
    The denizen of the apartment left that afternoon around 4:30, wearing a tuxedo T-Shirt and some very tatty black jeans embraced by a navy canvas belt. He entered The Pink Drink at around 5:00 and made his way to the bar. He sat next to a gruff looking man of similar age. They opened their conversation with an interest in what the other was drinking. The gruff man quickly proved dogmatic, telling him that a nice glass of wine was “pussy shit” and that real men drink whiskey. However, the more the gruff man drank his “manly” whiskey, the more obvious the distention of his personality became. Our protagonist soon realized that the drunk man was hardly conversing anymore, but he was feeding his own pity in some sort of whimpering dirge.
    Our protagonist carried himself and his fourth glass of shiraz and slipped away unnoticed to find new company in The Pink Drink. He bumped a sultry brunette in passing and stopped to buy her a drink and apologize. His slight intoxication fogged his ability to notice that she was hardly receptive to his companionship. She delivered a didactic comment: My boyfriend is going to be here any minute, please go away. He was unfazed by this because he was ordering a bottle of very expensive wine from the bar waitress. Her uninterested quickly unfolded into contempt. He gainsaid her knitted eyebrows and pursed lips and insisted that he owed her one. He poured her a glass of the freshly opened bottle of wine and whispered to her that he had found something that day that might make her feel better. He grabbed her hand and placed it on the giant mass that was his thigh, The woman screamed and removed her hand to slap him in the face. He was swiftly escorted out of The Pink Drink and asked never to come back.
    He, ashamed and disoriented, found his way home. He shed all of his clothes and lay on his bed. He would never be able to bring himself to exculpate that thing he found, that talisman of trouble.