|\/|_||\/\|3E4$

(That's numbers to those that don't speak advamced 1337.)

I've always wondered why people put their birthday in their email address. Then again, I've always hated the idea of people knowing my birthday. Maybe, I don't know, they put this on display?

Once I hit ten years old and actually had a say in having a birthday party of not, well I chose not to. It's a pain really. Not that I didn't enjoy a good sleepover full of videogames of game mascots beating each other up, no that's good clean fun! (To the females out there, blame the testosterone, its evil.)

Did I care when I turned 18? Sorta, but that meant I could have a say in the political process. Although living in a liberal state, that pretty much means my vote means little to none. (Better odds to get struck by lightning, which would be really cool for the first few seconds, until it hurts.)

So I dunno, should I need to come up with an unoriginal screen name (OK fine guenthercorp, thyguenther, guentheriscool, guentherlynx, guentherpwnsj00nubs aren't exactly original.) I'll pick some random more meaningful numbers in my life. 92 and 128.

If anyone knows why either of those numbers is significant to me... win a prize! (Don't randomly guess you'll never get it.)

***Prizes are void in AL, AK, AR, AK, CA, CO, CI, CU, CC, CP, IL, IN, MI, WI (not a real state), MO, ME, MOE, PL, PH, WB, BMW, VP, WM, WHY, and nonAmerica. Must be legal citizen of Guenthertopia, Void where prohibited by law, for list of winners send 20 dollars to Guenthertopia, 12 8 Guenther Street Guenthersota, GU. 12892. Unauthorized use of this gibberish is prohibited unless given expressed written or implied spoken concent of Guenther League Baseball.

The Child Within

Hey all, I'm new to facebook but a veteran blogger. As such, I'll dual post this as well on my real blog, which needs a lot more readers.

Childhood is the most important years of your life when your character is being developed. Right then and there is when tyour adult self will be formed. I'm specifically referring to morality, but a few other things come into play as well.

Then puberty strikes. Testosterone drives the mind insane from the once peaceful child into the sex crazy monster. It takes considerable moral fiber to keep that monster in check. Unfortunately, many people just can't resist the temptations of the flesh and indulge their desires.

I'm not saying they're perfect, God knows I'm not. Sometimes they mess up, sometimes its a wonder how something as wonderous as human procreation can also serve as a bane to one's existance. Makes one think.

Ciao 'Corpsters

GNECU English 259- Advanced Poetry Writing

Hey class, I've seen you've all been playing hookey all semester, not that I blame you. Besides as long as your tuition checks go thorough I don't really care if you show up or not. No skin off my back that you all have a 0.0 GPA.

Well, since a couple of you showed up today I will teach you all what you missed. How to write poetry.

The easiest way is to come up with a rhyme scheme. Note that a simple ABAB works fine and doesn't need to be anymore complex than that. Personally I think its unnecessary, don't even worry about rhyming, that's what all the cool poets do.

Example:
There once was a girl from a place
Wasn't a pride of the human race
Ever night she came home late
Claimed to be on a hot date.

Just slap together a bunch of clichës (I know that's not the write accent mark but I'm not gonna try to find the right one since you don't bother to wake up until long past noon.) or buzz words.

Example:
Two for tea
There is no business like it
The condor flys into the sky
Then appears no more.

Another method is to just to feel some emotion and describe it. Of course to the males in this class, think of manly feelings like revenge, hate, and blowing stuff up (sure its an emotion!). To the females out there... hey wait no girls in the audience? Oh well if there is one out there in disguise make up some emotion. Just use wordsthat sound like the way you feel. It doesn't really matter if they mean that or not. Most people are too stupid or lazy to figure out the definitions of such words.

Example:
Blow up
Gas ignites
Smoke rises
Death dances
KABOOOM
My garbage can is now in pieces.

There's another method to poetry writing. Just take a bunch of acronyms and shape the poem to look like what its about. Don't worry if its advanced or not.

Example:
Trees
They have leaves
Sometimes they don't
They turn colors in fall.
Some trees don't
Some don't have leaves at all
Trees are cool
Treeeeeeeees
Treees
Trees.

There that looked like a tree. Don't worry you're not supposed to be art majors. If you are, you're in the wrong class.

Ciao 'Corpsters

Excercise Thirteen

If you regular this blog you'll know what these are by now... if not... check out the earlier versions by clicking on the label after this blog. Thank you.

Jacob was born beside a dumpster behind a 7-11 convenience mart, less than a few hours later he was left in a basket in front of a fire station. The orphanage begrudgingly raised him as per government mandate, but went little farther than that. Jake one day grew tired of the sanitized living, and escaped to live on the streets. He learned to survive by stealing whatever he could off anybody stupid enough to travel to the ghetto. The life he chose was full of fighting and regularly scheduled loss of blood and infection. He lived by the knife he found killing another boy not older than he was and was infatuated with the serrated edge and its glossy shine he used to blind his rivals, who in this world was everybody. Nobody could trust anyone else even if they were bonded together in the holy matrimony that constituted of the gang. Marking territories and peddling drugs constituted much of Jake’s life. Then one day his supplier provided him with some tainted coke, not that he would know the difference. A white suburban well-to-do man came looking for a quick fix and Jake provided the key to that sensation. He took one sniff of the substance and knew something was wrong. He drew his concealed weapon and shot him between the eyes. Lying in a pool of blood waiting for the demons to drag his soul to the fiery gates of Hades, he thought of how horrible the life he was dealt had been, but knew that being left in that orphanage wouldn’t guarantee anything better.

Ciao Corpsters

Featured Link: Drugs I Need

Drugs I Need - Original JibJab Animations - Classic JibJab Flash Movies

Great video talking about the perscription drug industry as a whole from the masters of parody and satire.
Ciao Corpsters

PS I am working on a update for Guenthercorp I swear!

What We Call The News - Funny Video Animation by JibJab

What We Call The News - Funny Video Animation by JibJab

Great animation. Great satire. That's what makes America great.

Oh, and get your taxes in. :D
Ciao 'Corpsters

Excercise Eleven

I just wrote a bit of fiction for... fiction class. Anyways I though I'd post em. Each is supposed to be an original first paragraph to a novel, and since I don't have any access to saving this and the fact they amuse me, I'll blog them. If you don't like that, tough.

1. Nobody seemed to notice me, I was probably better off dead anyways. Those looks I received all my life, those blank piercing evil eyes, never changed over the years as I grew up alone, unsupervised on the cold streets. They murmured under their breaths horrible unspeakable slurs, things that my innocent ears had not even the slightest clue as to their meaning. By the adult’s tone I knew they couldn’t be nice. Whenever I came up to another kid my age on the playground somebody would chase me away screaming something about corrupting their innocence. I wasn’t even allowed to know why I was so horrible. Maybe I could change if I got that chance.

2. Drip. The only sound I could hear as I stood with my arms chained to the ceiling. The searing numbness of staying in that exact position for what felt like days. The poor wiring electrified the ankle deep water I was now standing in. I couldn’t feel my legs anymore, but that was probably for the best. I had no idea why I deserved such a torture. All I did was come to this quiet little country and picked up a few souvenirs. When I went to board the plane to come back to my home, the customs agent went through my things and started screaming looking at the jade monkey I had found in an old cobblestone building. Instantly a gaggle of muscle bound grunts jumped me and I was thrown here.

3. Titus was never the one to kiss and tell. Despite all the pleading of his best friend Sarah, he stood firm and refused to tell her any detail from this night’s date with the beautiful vixen named Ami. Sarah tried to cite precedence to how she would share every detail about her so-called flings, but Titus stood firm masterfully stating he didn’t want to hear about those. Titus hadn’t even recalled ever telling his friend about the rendezvous in the first place and stated this fact to his nosey comrade. Sarah quickly blushed, turned her eyes away and made a quick attempt to change the subject. Unbeknownst to Titus, Sarah was trying to live vicariously through a girl that thought she was far too popular to even acknowledge her existence. She had always meant to tell him, but sadly she was the quiet wallflower and he was the pompous womanizer. She had accepted long ago they could never be. Still, she found some solace in her daydreams.

Ciao 'Corpsters

Thoughts

Why is it that one's old man is their father but their old lady is their wife?

What in the world does coloring eggs and rabbits giving away candy have anything to do with the resurrection of Jesus?

Ciao 'Corpsters

The Simpsons will steal your life

The Simpsons will steal your life - The Other Side - Twisted animations by Mata

Hmmm... how much of your life have you spent watching the opening sequence to the Simpsons? Think about it. Then go to today's link.

Ciao Corpsters

Featured Link: Ninjadvice

You Got Questions, Ninja Got Answers. | Ask A Ninja

Seriously, the site I've been looking for all theses yeaers... I finally found. All your ninja related questions solved.

Ciao 'Corpsters

Excercise Ten

I just wrote this for fiction class, I think you'll enjoy it.

There’s nothing I hate more than shopping. So logically that’s why I’m here. I hate shopping on the weekends it’s always too busy and the worse of it all is the fact everybody is in such a rush to get nowhere fast. The sullen face on the checker doesn’t help my experience either. My cart is filled with a cornucopia of vegetables, most of which the average American wouldn’t possibly know the identity of. They all sit in plastic bags with the obligatory green printed logo with fruits and vegetables running a race. There are at least five instances of the word fresh on the bag. Which I guess did apply, but it did so in an annoying fashion.
I carefully placed the items in such a way the bagger could easily group the items based on either their temperature or their crushability. The checker seems to be lost now and trying to call for help on the intercom. Just my luck I get a kid that has no idea what he’s doing.
I scan through the candy rack and the guy in front of me has a gaggle of children with him all screaming for some of the sugary and nutritionally deprived foodstuff. The balding and graying man of course is more interested in poking fun at the tabloids. “Alien Attack! Elvis saves us at the last minute!” Of course, everyone knows its junk, the only reason people buy those is to make fun of them. Of course that, in turn, only ensures that the false publication stays in print.
Trying to drown out the nagging of the little kids, I try to take in the sights. Hopefully something will help sooth my irritation. There’s the pile of the man’s food. Wow, all junk. Potato chips, cheese puffs, frozen pizza, and popsicles are what contents of his order. Then there’s the dividing stick. I wonder where they manufacture those things. It seems every grocery store I’ve ever been to in my whole life has the same exact rubber stick. Its black and its worn down edges ensure curious children don’t gouge their eyes out. Well, I’m thankful the man actually used them. Somehow most people assume the cashier is psychic and knows which items belong to whom.
It looks like the kid on the register is still calling out for help. The management behind the desk seems to be chatting among themselves and laughing, ignorant of the plight and the lifeblood of their whole business, the customer. I get more irritated. It’s not like I want to stand here in line all day. Far from it! I’m getting nowhere fast while the poor cashier is hitting buttons frantically hoping one will do what he wants it to do.
In front of the store are a bunch of machines. Populating this area of the store is the store-brand pop machine, a gumball machine, the scratch off lottery machine, and a DVD rental machine. All of which have the required child frantically pounding on the buttons hoping to hit some secret sequence for free stuff. Where are these parents?
Then it dawns on me. Of all the people in the store, it’s only the children that seem to be enjoying themselves. Even though it is annoying to the rest of the population, they are having the time of their lives. It just comes to show life is in the hands of the beholder. I guess a trip to the grocery store isn’t all that bad. Almost.

Ciao 'Corpsters