Wow, it feels good to be back. Well, not necessarily back; I’m not supposed to be posting now, seeing as how I’m still failing three classes and there are two weeks left in the term, but I won’t tell if you don’t. I’m planning on posting once a week, hoping that a post over the span of seven days will not only be funnier—Cward usually helps me because he’s a self proclaimed editor—but won’t affect my school work either. But as for now, this is completely a secret post.
In ancient Greece, prisoners would carve letters into sandstone and throw them out windows in an attempt to communicate with the outside world. Because this act was highly illegal and could be punishable by the Greek’s fierce and cruel form of discipline—watching The Notebook—the prisoners gave it the secret name Eenternitus; eenter meaning “to distribute,” and nitus meaning “pornographic material to everyone on your email list.”
Today, the international word “internet” is derived from this Greek term, and in a sense, I am reenacting the dangerous tasks the Greek prisoners once tried. The only differences being that instead of tossing a rock out a window and hoping someone finds it, I’m posting something across the world wide web for millions to view; and if I am ever caught, my punishment would be much, much worse that the Greek’s. Probably Chinese Water Torture, or worse: heavy metal music.
It truly has been too long since my last post, and in that time much has changed in my family. For one, my brother has taken up guitar lessons, which means I am forever being haunted by the first three chords of Smoke On The Water over and over and over. I will offer a large sum of money to any band that can make a song that starts with better, more enlightening notes than the crappy ones Deep Purple blessed up with. And if you’re already a wealthy band like AC/DC, Aerosmith, The Wiggles, etc. and money is useless to you, I will offer you something no one could ever turn down: a mint condition, holographic, never-been-touched, still-in-the-package, priceless Charizard Pokemon Card. Of course, I am warning you that if you do manage to make a song more annoying than Deep Purple’s, this Pokemon card will be a small token compared to the horrid fate you will meet; mainly being hated my the majority of the Rock&Roll community as well as being banned from performing concerts in—at minimum—the northern hemisphere.
From what I understand, Smoke On The Water is actually forbidden from being played in many music stores. This is because the song is so repetitive and annoying that it has accounted for many deaths in which store managers have stabbed themselves with drumsticks in an attempt to escape the wretched chords. Recently, TIME Magazine deemed Smoke On The Water the third most annoying song of all time, finishing after Cotton Eyed Joe and of course, Fergalicious. TIME Magazine also titled Stairway To Heaven the most beloved song of all time, even though we all know that it’s actually More Than A Feeling by Boston.
On a slightly irrelevant note (no pun intended), I have taken my brother’s guitar and started writing my own song entitled Clock In My Shower. I’m not going to give you guys the lyrics or the notes—what, with illegal downloading and all—but I will drop a hint in stating that it is the best song ever written (especially since the only guitar experience I have is hearing the first three notes of Smoke On The Water forty thousand times, and 19 months of Guitar Hero).
Another change that time has brought into my family is that my sister is now engaged in her first obsessive toy fad. It’s called “My Littlest Pet Shop,” and it is going to bring the majority of America into bankruptcy. “My Littlest Pet Shop” is basically a compilation of tiny plastic animals with a crappy bobble head feature that are too big to be held in your front pocket—forcing the owners to lug around a large suitcase that is roughly the size of Montreal—but are small enough to be conveniently swallowed by infants. The main objective of this craze is to try and collect all of them before you die. Unfortunately, there are an estimated 5,276,509,001,388,317 circling throughout New England alone, each one costing roughly $162.48. My sister currently has 46 different little animals, each one rarer than the next. And in an attempt to gather all of them, she trades them with her friends at her after school program.
Now, if there’s anyone that knows about trading, it’s me. I’ve lived through the Pokemon phase, the Digimon phase, and the MLB Showdown phase, all of which involved intense amounts of trading—as well as an intense amount of cocaine. The only difference between trading Pokemon cards and trading Littlest Pet Shops is that when you swap Pokemon cards, you’d actually physically receive a completely different card. Whereas when you exchange Littlest Pet Shops, you run the high risk of actually receiving the exact same toy you originally gave away! For example, my sister—who I have trained well in the area of bargaining—came home the other day extremely thrilled. Not sure of what to think, I asked her why she was so excited. “Why are you so excited?” I questioned as she galloped through the door. “I traded with Susanna at ACC today, and got the rarest Littlest Pet Shop ever!” Expecting her to present to me an iguana or unicorn type of animal, I asked her to show me the toy she had worked so hard to obtain. And, to my utter surprise, she proudly presented a flawlessly mint, unbelievably rare . . . cat.
I turns out that my sister had been able to “trick” one of her friends into trading her this cat by giving away one of her own cats. When I asked the difference between the cat she had traded and the one she had received, she looked at me as if I had the IQ of a fruit salad and matter-of-factly stated, “Uhh, because this one has a tail. Duh.”
Oh right, how silly of me. In all my years of trading Pokemon cards it never occurred to me that the more tails you drew on your creature, the rarer it became. To think how cool I could have been if I had only saved that one card.
So whether you’re trading Pokemon Cards, Littlest Pet Shops (by the way, is “littlest” even a word?) or African-American slaves, there is always one thing you should remember: Smoke On The Water is the worst song ever.