Animate
What makes a good book good? I contemplated this as I sat down to write the childrens' book that I'm about to write. I didn't come up with much, so maybe yous guys can tell me.
So, without any perception of the properties of a good book- except goodness- and a relative disregard for grammatical and logical sensibility, I endeavor to bring you literary gold.
Good authors probably plan out their books before they write them, too. Hm. Anyway, here it comes, straight from my brain to your terminal.
So there I was, implementing a control system for my broom balancing trick, when low and behold, David Copperfield showed up. His entrance was proclaimed by trumpets which I had implemented with a feedback system designed for the class. Once we had established the broom trick, it was on to bigger and better venues: tackling the statue of liberty. I, of course, developed a control systems implementation of the duck beheading module that was originally invented by ancient Incas in the ruins of Teotiuhacan high in the Andes. This mechanism led to millions of dollars in grant money, and I decided to imbezzle it all and head for the source. I needed to head to Peru.
Once I made up my mind, there was no turning back. I sold my carrot peeler, Timex alarm clock, and styrofoam water bottle and started walking. I put all of my money in the form of a 257 thousand dollar bill. Finally, when acceptable values for q1 and q2 were found, they were tested on the servo via Simulink and WinCon. The design process was repeated until physical tests resulted in the exploding wombat phenomenon.
Along the way west, I met a young kid on the side of the road. I hired him to lay down some heavy riffs with his bass guitar. Boy, he was really jammin'.
I reached Lance City, Oregon on May 9 of that year and jumped the first ship I saw, assuming it would bring me straight to South America. My assumptions we correct, of course. The ship was called the Mayan Flag, and the captain's name was Wraith McArty. However, I was more interested in making friends with the cook. He was a monkey named Perico, and his assistant was a crazy old man whose name I never learned in the 42 month journey south. I just called him Zeeb.
One day Zeeb and I were playing cards on the poop deck and enjoying a fine bottle of saltwater brandy when a shout went up- down actually- from the crow's nest. "Pirates," Sill shouted, but it was too late because the pirates were ghost pirates and had already scuttled the ship by the time I laid down my 3 of clubs.
It turns out the first mate had sold us out to the pirates for 3 pieces of 8. I think he got ripped off, personally. That monkey would fetch at least 12 pieces of 8 alone, not to mention the 59 barrels of golden dubloons that the old Maya was transporting to the mills in Vera Cruz. After the pirate incident, I found myself floating aimlessly, hanging on a piece of driftwood. I made a loom out of pixy stix, and shaved my head with an old corn cob pipe that I had in my back poket. The tremendous amount of hair from my 4 foot afro proved to be more than enough to weave a sail, which I attached to the driftwood. I also used my trusty pocket knife to carve a flute out of a piece of coral that I retrieved off the bottom of the ocean. How I got the coral is an altogether different story.
One day I was practicing my skills of floating on a piece of driftwood when a giant fish-beast charged to the surface and dinged me right in the kidney. "Ouch," I said, "that smarts." The fish-beast looked mean, but he had a heart of gold. He could obviously see my perilious situation, and offered to tell me the secret location of a great treasure that lay hidden on the bottom of the sea. Although I could hold my breath for about 2 and a half hours at this point, I still didn't have the lungs to make it down to this secret locale. So, I made a deal with that crazy fishamonse. In exchange for his gills, I gave him a picture of some guy named Frederick and a pitcher of Kool Aid. Oh yeah! What a great deal, he thought. He said I could keep the gills since he had an extra pair in his bureau back home.
After donning my new gills, I swam down to the deepest depths of the sea. It's a pretty happening place, actually. When I got there, I saw the location of the treasure marked by a shadowy 'X' that was produced by the angle of the sun on an underwater cave outcropping. I swam inside and found the great treasure that the fish beast had hinted of. I was very disappointed, however, to learn that the great treasure turned out to be peace under the sea or some jazz like that. In frustration, I went to old fishy's house and stole the finest piece of coral out of his underwater garden. He sent some grassfish after me, but by this point I could swim about 1001 rods per millisecond and easily escaped.
As I floated for days and days, I practiced on the flute and invented new trinkets in my spare time. Finally, I got good enough to play a wind song which could change the direction of the winds. I used my new talent to direct my ship south. Once again I was on my way to the land of the Peruana.
By this time I was getting pretty hungry, since I hadn't eaten anything besides the dried breadfruits that Perico had given me and the can of dried flour I had won in the poker game on that fateful day so long ago. I bartered with a pellican who taught me how to fish. He always told me how you could teach a drifter to fish with a few beads and some cross-country skis. In fact, that's how I learned to fish.
I floated along, always south, and one day a beautiful sight caught my eye. It was the land of my destiny, the land of Peru. . .
So, without any perception of the properties of a good book- except goodness- and a relative disregard for grammatical and logical sensibility, I endeavor to bring you literary gold.
Good authors probably plan out their books before they write them, too. Hm. Anyway, here it comes, straight from my brain to your terminal.
So there I was, implementing a control system for my broom balancing trick, when low and behold, David Copperfield showed up. His entrance was proclaimed by trumpets which I had implemented with a feedback system designed for the class. Once we had established the broom trick, it was on to bigger and better venues: tackling the statue of liberty. I, of course, developed a control systems implementation of the duck beheading module that was originally invented by ancient Incas in the ruins of Teotiuhacan high in the Andes. This mechanism led to millions of dollars in grant money, and I decided to imbezzle it all and head for the source. I needed to head to Peru.
Once I made up my mind, there was no turning back. I sold my carrot peeler, Timex alarm clock, and styrofoam water bottle and started walking. I put all of my money in the form of a 257 thousand dollar bill. Finally, when acceptable values for q1 and q2 were found, they were tested on the servo via Simulink and WinCon. The design process was repeated until physical tests resulted in the exploding wombat phenomenon.
Along the way west, I met a young kid on the side of the road. I hired him to lay down some heavy riffs with his bass guitar. Boy, he was really jammin'.
I reached Lance City, Oregon on May 9 of that year and jumped the first ship I saw, assuming it would bring me straight to South America. My assumptions we correct, of course. The ship was called the Mayan Flag, and the captain's name was Wraith McArty. However, I was more interested in making friends with the cook. He was a monkey named Perico, and his assistant was a crazy old man whose name I never learned in the 42 month journey south. I just called him Zeeb.
One day Zeeb and I were playing cards on the poop deck and enjoying a fine bottle of saltwater brandy when a shout went up- down actually- from the crow's nest. "Pirates," Sill shouted, but it was too late because the pirates were ghost pirates and had already scuttled the ship by the time I laid down my 3 of clubs.
It turns out the first mate had sold us out to the pirates for 3 pieces of 8. I think he got ripped off, personally. That monkey would fetch at least 12 pieces of 8 alone, not to mention the 59 barrels of golden dubloons that the old Maya was transporting to the mills in Vera Cruz. After the pirate incident, I found myself floating aimlessly, hanging on a piece of driftwood. I made a loom out of pixy stix, and shaved my head with an old corn cob pipe that I had in my back poket. The tremendous amount of hair from my 4 foot afro proved to be more than enough to weave a sail, which I attached to the driftwood. I also used my trusty pocket knife to carve a flute out of a piece of coral that I retrieved off the bottom of the ocean. How I got the coral is an altogether different story.
One day I was practicing my skills of floating on a piece of driftwood when a giant fish-beast charged to the surface and dinged me right in the kidney. "Ouch," I said, "that smarts." The fish-beast looked mean, but he had a heart of gold. He could obviously see my perilious situation, and offered to tell me the secret location of a great treasure that lay hidden on the bottom of the sea. Although I could hold my breath for about 2 and a half hours at this point, I still didn't have the lungs to make it down to this secret locale. So, I made a deal with that crazy fishamonse. In exchange for his gills, I gave him a picture of some guy named Frederick and a pitcher of Kool Aid. Oh yeah! What a great deal, he thought. He said I could keep the gills since he had an extra pair in his bureau back home.
After donning my new gills, I swam down to the deepest depths of the sea. It's a pretty happening place, actually. When I got there, I saw the location of the treasure marked by a shadowy 'X' that was produced by the angle of the sun on an underwater cave outcropping. I swam inside and found the great treasure that the fish beast had hinted of. I was very disappointed, however, to learn that the great treasure turned out to be peace under the sea or some jazz like that. In frustration, I went to old fishy's house and stole the finest piece of coral out of his underwater garden. He sent some grassfish after me, but by this point I could swim about 1001 rods per millisecond and easily escaped.
As I floated for days and days, I practiced on the flute and invented new trinkets in my spare time. Finally, I got good enough to play a wind song which could change the direction of the winds. I used my new talent to direct my ship south. Once again I was on my way to the land of the Peruana.
By this time I was getting pretty hungry, since I hadn't eaten anything besides the dried breadfruits that Perico had given me and the can of dried flour I had won in the poker game on that fateful day so long ago. I bartered with a pellican who taught me how to fish. He always told me how you could teach a drifter to fish with a few beads and some cross-country skis. In fact, that's how I learned to fish.
I floated along, always south, and one day a beautiful sight caught my eye. It was the land of my destiny, the land of Peru. . .
posted by JMS at 5:32 PM
6 Comments:
I thought this was an un-posting blog . . . I was misguided.
Misguided Mervin
Haha, great story!
But don't you have, like, finals and stuff you should be studying for?
I can't believe I just wrote that. What am I, freakin' Nerdy McStudy Nerdson over here? You just keep on trangalin' man.
And remember, "A shark on whiskey is mighty risky. But a shark on beer is a beer-engineer."
I always wondered what those crazy physics people do with themselves... now I know.
I'm somewhat disappointed. I thought this would remain a blog where I could come and see a glorious lack of posts. You've crushed my dreams. Congratulations.
That's a great story. Waiting for more. » »
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