There are many evils in this world. Used car dealerships, pastrami, the Fox network, giant robots with brains in the middle of their waists that control a group of robot ninjas that are in turn evil, but in a rob stores for cash kind of way. Now, as much as I'd like to let the masses kill themselves off in an orgy of greed induced murder, there is an evil too powerful to be allowed to exist. It is more powerful than Bill Gates is based on the Dungeons and Dragons rule book where your skills are determined by the amount of gold you have. It is more powerful than Ghandi, more deadly than a ninja, more ruthless than a pirate. It even can destroy Febreeze, or a hybrid pirate-ninja that wields Febreeze. And that is why I am telling you about this presence, for it may destroy the world. This evil must be destroyed. Yes, the bane of all existence, the Rubik's Cube.

Everyone knows what a Rubik's Cube is: the cube that has different colors per face, and you twist pieces of it to try to make all the colors match at once. But why is it evil? It doesn't open a portal to the hells, it doesn't force you to use Windows XP, or watch Friends. But it does frustrate one to the point of berserk rage, and it was made by the communists terrorists, as well as the whole turning into an alien weapon of mass destruction thing. And is has a reptilian consciousness that seeks to dominate all forms of life on this planet. And then move on to the next inhabited one and repeat the cycle.

At first glance, this puzzle may seem easy, you just keep turning the pieces until the colors line up. Then, you realize that you have six sides to worry about, all at once, and that there is simply no way to solve the thing. No pattern, no real way of getting the colors the way you want them, nothing. Soon, you are frantically turning it in a vain attempt to even get two of the nine squares per face of the cube for a while. Yes, that is nine, six times. Fifty four little colored squares you have to line up. You then turn the Cube casually in a random manner, thinking that if it thinks you don't care, it will work. Then you suddenly pounce and desperately turn it for another moment before it breaks you. As you lie on the floor weeping for your lost sanity, possibly drooling and screeching "Walter Mathaw, why?" its consciousness leaves the dark recesses of the plastic and possesses you. Your own consciousness is completely annihilated, and the Cube attempts to rob the nearest military base of its nuclear weapons arms stockpiles using your body.

"But Slade, how can I, a single person of low to average intelligence, defeat this menace?" You may ask. Or you may just curl up in a corner and cry like a frightened little child. But assuming you have the bravery to fight back against the puzzle-beast, I will say this: "You must solve the puzzle, and the spirit within will be vanquished forever. Until you mess the colors up again." Ah, but before you ask, I will tell you how to solve it.

1. Calmly turn the sides, picking either the white or orange side, in an attempt to match the colors up.

2. Frown, and begin turning sides randomly, ignoring the Cube completely. You must not have any thoughts toward the Cube, simply let your mind wander.

3. Throw Cube to the ground in disgust.

4. Come back ten minutes later, feeling invigorated, and attempt to solve Cube again.

5. Slam Cube to the ground, go to the nearest tool shed.

6. Retrieve a hammer from the tool shed, and go back inside to where the Cube was left.

7. Bash Cube with the hammer until all pieces are separated.

8. Pick up all of the pieces and put the Cube back together, making sure all of the sides are each one color.

9. Smile smugly at the Cube.

10. Bury Cube in cemetery / put in chest in old attic, with a warning label / headstone that reads: "Warning, ancient evil inside. He or she who opens this will doom mankind."

11. Read this humor site.

What? You don't know how to put it back together? Don't look at me, you're the one who broke it. And also, you may be thinking what's wrong with me? Two updates in two days? That aren't completely craptacular? Am I insane?

To answer those questions, in order: I lack ethics and abide only by a loose moral code, had Club Foot in my right foot when I was born (but surgery mostly fixed it), and suffer from occasional low self-esteem or lack of purpose in life. Yes. Yes. That's a trick question. The answer is meat. I'm going to try not to just write junk from now on. I don't know if I'll be successful or not, but I can try.
posted by Slade at 10:04 PM

So, I was walking my dog earlier last night, and I noticed it was dark. I got to thinking about how it would be sorta cool to be undead. Then I thought maybe I could get an article thingus out of it. But nooooooo. Yahtzee already did a Why it Would Kick Arse to be Undead article. You bastard. I hope you rot in hell. No, not really, but now I'd feel like I was stealing material, so I'm going to hold off on it until the three people who view my site regularly forget about it. Forget what? I don't know what you're talking about.

Anywho, a few weeks ago, we got the choice of either playing basketball or crosscountry skiing. Now, I hate basketball, and skiing, both with a passion, so it boiled down to a lesser of two evils. I chose skiing. Except, we haven't been able to go. Because they said it was too cold. Now, sure, -10 degrees sounds cold, but then the rest of the world remembers we're all in Fairenheit, so they realize its colder. However, as all the people who wanted to ski brought along their warm clothing, this is no problem. But we still cant go, and were forced to play african round ball. Yes, that game where really huge black guys jump around throwing a ball into a hoop from fifty feet away. Hey, white men can't jump, especially white men who are of just below average height, out of shape, and have one messed up foot. Thats me, in case you can't tell. My foot is OK for the most part, but thats not even the issue.

The issue is that I just plain suck. I can hit the rim every time, but the ball almost never goes in. Yesterday I was playing against a regular Harlem Globe-Trotter. Seriously. He'd dribble, then jump over the ball on a dribble and keep going. He'd jump backwards while facind sideways under the hoop, and then make a basket after he made it to the other side. We weren't playing competatively, except for him. Also, one of his team mates was on the wrestling team, and apprently sucks at african round ball more than I do, so he spent the whole time running around the court pretending tobe doing something when he wasn't. It was pretty funny. So: Why I Hate Basketball:

1. No contact. So, theres this scrawny guy dribbling the ball down the court, and he's about to make a basket, but the only thing you can do is try to swat the ball away from him. You can't body check him, tackle him, or throw a haymaker. What the hell is up with that? If you accidently touch him while trying to get the ball, you get bitched at. It's absurd.

2. It was invented by the YMCA. Regardless that the organization mentions organized religion in its title, I have other reasons to shie away. YMCA the song. Yes, the Village People have completely scarred my opinion of the Young Men's Christian Assosiation for life. Need I say more on the subject? Ok, a West Indian, a policeman, a doctor, a construction worker, and a biker.

3. You don't get points from hitting the backboard. I can do that quite easily. But do you know how long it took just to achieve the strength to throw the ball that high? It took me the first two years of my life just to walk, for cripes' sake. I should be congradulated on the highly developed motor control it required just to lift my arm. Not to mention the instintaneous calculations on force and trajectory, which in turn require my arm to function exactly the way I wan't it to. I shouldn't be ridiculed because it doesn't go into the unyielding plastic that is just big enough for the ball every single time.

4. Running around. There's not as much as in soccer (football, to the rest of the world), but its still enough to make me tired. And pointless, when I should be pushing the opposing team out of my way, or bodyslamming them.

Well, I worked on my story yesterday, and today I'm going to my friend and web masters crib for his birfday, you know what I'm sayin'? We'll party all night, and I'll be home in the afternoon tomorrow, in time to maybe write another update worth reading. Woo! I hope he could find UHF... this is your friendly neightborhood cynic, signing off.

Oh, I ripped a sock and one of my pens ran out too.
posted by Slade at 12:43 PM

Yet another productive day it's turning out to be. I've been home alone, and partying, running around naked, blasting music and smoking and dancing with my dog. Well, most of that is a lie. I worked on my story some, then played some StarCraft, then got bored and went on the computer, which I am doing now. My crappy ISP kicked me off again a few seconds ago, and I'm downloading some Nirvana, as fast as a 56K will allow. I can go skiing in gym class instead of playing basketball tomorrow. Woo! But this is the last day of vacation. Lets see how Yahtzee's doing...
posted by Slade at 2:50 PM

Well, this site has been sucking lately, so I should probably get working on the big projects I'm doing for it. But I probably won't. In the mean time, I was a bard for Polymorph and did a Knight's Tale: The Tale of Sir Ivan. If you haven't done so already, check it out.
posted by Slade at 10:38 AM

You know, life is really boring. Nothing exciting or out of the ordinary ever happens around here. That's why I have the goals of gaining psychic powers, and checking out haunted houses. Except I'm lazy, and have no way to get to any haunted houses. I'm not in the mafia, although we do have some loose connections. I'm not going to join the po-po or the US Military. However, there is something out of the ordinary that happens to me: I am cursed.

Yes, it's true. I don't know how it happened, or why, or how to cure it, but I am definatlly cursed. For one, every ballpoint pen I own blows up soon after I use it. It may be completely full of ink, but will still run out. Or I'll borrow someone's pen, and it will decide to not work. As I happen to use ballpoint pens quite frequently, being a junior in highschool, I'm often driven to extremes. Like stealing every pen left unattended, for when my current one gets hit by my curse. Yes, my highly trained eyes spot the very instant a pen is open for stealing, and I lurk but don't seem to be lurking, and then WHAM, my lightning quick wrists dart out, retrieving my bounty. I'm protected from exploding pens for another day.

But thats not all. I have another curse, and that involves socks. No, they don't get sucked into the wormhole that exists inside the washing machine, like most do. Mine get holes at the balls of my feet. I don't know, how, as I just walk on them, and I don't walk over sand paper, but the bottoms of my socked get ripped to shreds.

Still, these may be out of the ordinary, but they aren't exciting, just annoying. I have to find something interesting.
posted by Slade at 11:31 PM

Today is Sunday, but tomorrow are the dreaded New York State Regents. Normally, I'd be in bed by now, already thinking about how much I hate going to bed at ten and getting up at six. But I don't have to take any Regents tomorrow, and you are only allowed to come to school if you have any. Regents, in case you're wondering, are state administered standardized final tests for a course. New York and some other state are the only two that actually have them, because they suck. The English, easily the worst, is horrible. One must write four different slightly different essays. One gets three hours per two essays. That's six freakin' hours of writing essays, as a final. The Chemistry test is two to three hours (you can get out after two if you're done), and isn't too bad. Except its graded on a curve that is biased towards the morons. While a person who was graded on the x out of 100% scale might get a 52, with the curve, they'd get a 60. Except someone with a raw score of 97 only gets a 91 after the curve. Good ole government, helping out us people who are going to make something of ourselves. Assuming help out means try to ruin our lives. Anywho, the gist of it is, I don't have school tomorrow, Tuesday, or Wednsday.

Today wasn't a creative outlet day. Today was a practice creative puzzle solving, reflexes and timing, and not giving into frustration day. AKA playing Zelda: Link to the Past and Super Smash Bros. Melee. Translation : I didn't work on my story. E-Mail me with feedback! (On my real updates, preferably.) Puh-leeeeze?
posted by Slade at 11:05 PM