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le_battement
Age. 30
Gender. Male
Ethnicity. White stuff
Location Sunnyside, NY
School. Rutgers Univ
» More info.
Ninjas vs. Pirates vs. Robots
Halloween, Night
Since ages long forgotten, there has been one question that has plagued all of humanity all-encompassingly. Who would win in an all-out battle? Ninjas, Pirates, or Robots? We will consider this question deductively.

Pirates
-Ruthless and brutal
-Wear eye patches
-Fight with swords, fists, and muskets
-Represented by wicked skull and bones
-Sing manly seaman songs
-Masters at operating ships
-Launch cannonballs
-Can rough it out on the sea
-Have no fear whatsoever
-Say "Arrrrrrrrrrgghh"
-Have sturdy peg legs
-Work together in unity with fellow pirates
-Reknown throughout history as badass
-Can be smelled before seen [adds to terror]
-Strong and hairy like real men
-Drink all day long and kick some sober ass
-Collectively self-sufficient
-Make traitors walk a wooden plank
-Don't bother hiding, ever
-Totally manly
Ninjas
-Lack any personality
-Wear headbands
-Fight skillfully with any object
-Can remove a spleen in one swift motion
-Live in your house secretly for days
-Can remove their shadow if needed
-Hurl shurikens
-Go anywhere they want instantly
-Catch bullets in their teeth
-Kill themselves if they make a noise
-Can run 100 miles on their hands
-Train 20 hours/day starting from age 2
-Have cool words like Sepulku
-Are masters of disguise
-Can hover for hours
-Flip out and kill everything
-Are completely self-sufficient
-Split planks vertically with their nose
-Can hide in incense smoke
-In touch with their feminine side
Robots
-Lack emotions/remorse
-Made of metal
-Capable of 2 million computations per second
-Make loads of beeping noises and buzzes
-Can't feel pain
-Use interchangeable parts
-Have laser eyes
-Immune to hypnosis
-Have super strength
-Mass produced on assembly lines
-Never fatigue
-Rechargeable
-Can say "I am Iron Man" and be taken seriously
-Never get hungry
-Can be programmed to do anything
-Have thermal sensors
-Can keep Cold Ones cold in their stomachs
-Have jetpacks
-Can play CDs in their D: drive
-Neither manly nor feminine


I'm too lazy to finish this tonight so I'll conclude this with a final result sometime this week.

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Picture Book Part II
Thursday, Evening
There seems to be some kind of odd glitch with the pictures. Just highlight them [or anything] and they will appear.

Firstly, I must apologize for the long delay. I wasn't really that busy and had many chances to update, but I just didn't feel like it. Finally, the day has come, and I will now be able to move on with my life, never to be stuck in this limbo state again.. unless I promise to make another sequel.

So, we did it the gun's way. We all decided to go to the game! It was the bottom of the quarter of the set of the period, and the Goose-Doers were up by Pi. Suddenly, without warning, the man sitting in front of us sprouted vast quantites of hair all over his body. It was the Jewish Werewolf! The Torah warned that the wrath of Yahweh would be carried out by such a creature. Luckily the concession guy was selling silver bullets of Jesus.

Before we got a chance to shoot the Jewolf, another character somersaulted onto the scene. This friggin' idiot cat, bro.. I'll tell you! He'd come to save the cat that was still on my leg, and was one serious customer. He lunged at me with his knife, and I was surely doomed. However, the Foul Knave dove in front of me, sacrificing himself for the good of ham-kind. Now that he was dead, the cat lunged at me with his other knife and stabbed me in the appendix.

Both cats disintegrated because of the Sumerian Appendix Stabbing Curse that was set upon me. Still, I had to find an appendix, and I had to find one quick. Luckily, I found a donor. She was made of ceramic, and wouldn't need her appendix until the Porcelain Epidemic of 2007. I signed that lease, baby! Unfortunately, the clumsy fool I am, I stumbled and knocked her off the desk. "You dim-sum and you lose gum," my Kendo teacher once iterated. Then a gypsy tried to sell me leaves off a tree, and when I denied her, she made it look like I was trying to injure her.

Luckily, a goat ran up and dislocated her leg before I did. But this goat was one tough cookie. He explained, "This cute little hobbit guy with big curly hair asked me if I majored in Linguistics, so I told him that I majored in Biochemistry. But then I felt bad that I lied, so I told him I was a goat." Then, he revealed that he was Siddhartha Goatama, and achieved nirvana all up in my grill. I cursed him and swore that the next time Buddha screwed up my Gypsy leaf purchase, I was converting to narcissism.

But for now, I just decided to convert to Foul Nudism. I went to a Foul Nude Beach, and you'll never guess what I saw! By the beard of the bearded quelque chose, I saw the most revealing chicken ever! It had a nice, baked complexion though. It realized I was giving it the eye, and said to me, "Would you like a thigh, big boy?" I said, obviously, "No, I would like a poncho made of chain mail, because if I don't copy the letter and send it to at least ten people, I will be cursed!" Then, the chicken turned into a red olive.

To Be Continued.. Possibly.

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Picture Request
Monday, Afternoon
Sorry for the delay, I assure you this new entry will be posted by the end of this week.

The reason I have called you here is quite simple. Please comment with URLs to images you think would be good for the second part of my story. They must be silly and random, and should ideally feature a single entity or character, much like the pictures on the last Picture Book entry.

I will be picking the top 5 pictures and writing based on them [as soon as I receive enough quality pictures].

Thank you from the bottom of my appendix.

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Ketchup Sucks
Sunday, Afternoon
What is the deal with ketchup? I don't really see what's so special about it. Everybody seems to love this tomato concoction and slather it on everything they stuff into their orifices. I'm sick of being prejudiced against because I consume french fries at a fast-food joint without this sickeningly-sweet substance. Don't even get me started on the different-colored ketchups. What the fuck could they have possibly been thinking? "Maybe some people just don't like the color red. This will boost sales tenfold!" Ketchup is just one of those things that you know has to be the center of some grand conspiracy just because it's so popular [see Chicken Noodle Soup].

Today, however, I draw askew from my conspiracy-busting exposés and will instead focus on a likely occurrence of events should tomatoes suddenly become stricken with a concealed, yet fatal, plague.

Ketchup Petey

It all starts one misty morning with a small boy named Petey. Petey awakes and sluggishly makes his way to the kitchen, where his mother has been preparing a tasty delight for him. Little Petey inhales the aroma of a cheese omelet, breakfast sausages, and home-fries [of the diced-up cube-shaped variety]. He sits at the table and immediately drenches the previously-scrumptious delights with about a liter of ketchup. After consuming this meal of ketchup-with-a-side-order-of-breakfast, he continues on with his day.

Now Petey is at school, and lunchtime has just begun. From the cafeteria, he selects the hotdog/french fries/milk combo and proceeds to the condiment buffet. He bathes the hotdog and fries in a pool of ketchup, and in a fit of spontaneity squirts some ketchup into his cool beverage as well. He joins his fellow classmates in the almost-ritualistic consumption of nearly a metric ton of ketchup.

Lil' Petey is finally at his residence, awaiting a hot, home-cooked supper. As it hits the table, he gazes in awe at the juicy steak, mashed potatoes, and creamed corn. Suddenly, as Petey is filling his plate with these delicacies, his father comes running with a bucket of ketchup and tosses it all over all the food and everybody in the family. As they all bathe in the glorious wonder of all that is ketchup, suddenly Lil' Petey notices a strange tingling feeling on his skin. He looks down at his arm and notices a strange smoke with a pungent odor permeating from his pores. Before he knows it, the ketchup has dried and withered off of his skin, which has turned a pale yellow color and begun to stretch and sag off of his body with excruciating pain. The ketchup had been laced with an invisible, odorless substance, unbeknownst to billions. All of his family and the human world has been extinguished in one swift blow to the ketchup-consuming constituency.


Now, I'm not implying that I would personally commit such a grievous act; I'm simply explaining the sheer possibility of such an occurrence. Hopefully you all understand the danger in consuming a food that the rest of the world also eats. This ideology is based off of the same principle as how Prince William and Prince Charles both fly in separate planes just in case one crashes. Therefore, masses of the world, I call upon you to cease from consuming ketchup of all varieties. Lest we shall be known as the Contomatons!

On a side note [to those of you who are eagerly awaiting it], the second installment of my picture book will be up soon. And by soon, I mean like tomorrow probably because this ketchup entry sucks and is totally not funny.

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Picture Book
Thursday, Evening
I know you're not going to believe this, but I'll tell the story under the assumption that you're mentally retarded and will believe anything.

So yesterday, I was mindng my own business walking down Edinburgh Boulevard, when suddenly, this guy came up to me. He asked me, "Mister, would you happen to be carrying the Scarab of the Seven Wisdoms?" I immediately retorted with, "Who sent you?!" I could hear the snake coming out of his nose hiss. His eyes lit up like two or three exploding peanut carcasses. Suddenly, he vanished into the sands of time, and his essence crept through the sidewalk like a lemur searching for his car keys.

Just then, a real lemur came up to me. She was short, stout, had pink skin, pointed ears, a big snout, and a squiggly tail. Before I could say a word, she swept me off my feet with this catchy phrase: "You're standing on my java." I peered down below me, and to my surprise, a crate of java was submerged into the dewy sidewalk like the ship of that pirate you can tell had a few too many. Then it happened. Rays of light as brilliant as Einstein's fingernail protruded from the cracks. It was judgement day.

So, I walked away from the crate and forgot about the whole incident. Yet, I felt something funny in the way I was walking. I took a glance down at my legs to realize some hobo cat was getting a free ride clinging onto my shoe. I politely stated, "Excuse me, but the fee to ride is $2 and a pack of licorice." The cat stared daggers at me. I knew that look oh so well, but couldn't determine where from. I thought I recognized his face, but the cat from my past had a smaller nose and didn't wear glasses.

At that point, a weeping man stumbled in my path. He was tossing three small balls about the air in a hypnotizing pattern. I suppose something brought up depressing memories at the sight of juggling. However, I was concerned about the black spades above his eyes. If one were to slip, it'd sever his cornea without a hitch. And by the nose of Gafaldi, if his skin weren't pale like the elbow of a Portuguese mongoose! Suddenly, a Portuguese sandwich was expunged from his nostrils at the speed of smell.

Everyone stood in awe of this rare occurence, while I proceeded to consume the tasty treat. Then, the foulest knave arose from a crest of the Sea of Monte Appendix. He was sitting there staring at my delicious sandwich, so I knocked him one right in the teeth. He replied, "Dost thou desire a voyage to the very depths of the River Styx?" As he stood there, showing off his little guns, I lifted my .226 caliber AR-15 semi-automatic gas-powered carbine rifle and said, "Mister, we can do this my way, or the gun's way."

To Be Continued

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Cops and Donuts
Tuesday, Morning
I've always wondered why people in general like donuts. I don't think I've ever met a single individual who would pass on a donut. There are so many different types of donuts, so I assume that the sheer customability inherent in the selection of donuts would attract anybody.

Still, there are those that cannot seem to function correctly without donuts. Police officers for years have been equivocated with the consumption of donuts. I did some research and gathered some opinions on the matter, and came up with a few simple explanations:

- Donuts contain carbohydrates and sugar. This energy may be needed in tight situations, so it's always good to be pumped up on sugar.
- Donuts cost very little. Their inexpensiveness allows them to be tossed aside if an important situation arises, like a criminal burgling the apple stand across the street. You can see cops throw down their donuts in many movies. Just look for it.
- Donut shops are oftentimes open all night. This, coupled with the fact that there are always donut shops in the middle of the city or town, makes the donut shop a prime location for a police rendézvous.
- Donuts are obviously delicious.


In fact, they are so delicious that it prompted Renee Perry to write a poem about their apparent qualities from the viewpoint of Vash the Stampede, a lover of donuts:

"Ode to a Donut"
O donut, donut, round and glazed,
your sweet brown form in sugar hazed,
your yummy taste leaves my mind amazed.
Hallucinating dozens, I think I'm dazed
by donuts. I heard shouting and gazed
upon boxes full of them. I was fazed.
Believe me, I have left bakeries razed.
I would let ladies leave me maced and tazed
for love of the donut, powdered or glazed.


As you can see, some people are insane.

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