The Federal Egg Answering Room

This is an assignment I did for my Journalism class.  It got an A, so if you don’t like it, there’s something wrong with you.

I live in a Wellness dorm.  I thought that “Wellness” just meant drug- and alcohol-free, which is good for me, because both of those things make me uncomfortable.  However, since living there, I have learned two things: a) “Wellness” entails more than a drug and alcohol ban, and b) everyone there is better at being well than me.

     Take food, for example.  As I used to understand it, the typical college do-it-yourself meal consists of some sort of microwaveable dinner, such as ramen noodles (a classic favorite), and Cheetos.  Not in Wellness.  In Wellness, you eat things that keep you well, like fresh salads and baked sweet potatoes and frittatas (whatever that is).  I, meanwhile, subsist on a steady diet of spaghetti, cheese bagels, and Easy-Mac.  You know – processed foods.  It’s a bit awkward, standing at the microwave, waiting for your macaroni to cook all the way through, while a few feet away there is a girl sautéing mushrooms.  At least I think it was sautéing.  What is sautéing anyway?  Do you just put things in a pan and push them around?  Or is that frying?  I should ask her next time.  Maybe she won’t judge me for my consumption of artificial food if I at least convey interest in her meal preparation.

     People do laundry differently here, too.  There are both washers and dryers available, but a lot of people choose to hang their clothes outside on a line rather than put them in the dryer.  I suppose it saves energy, but don’t they worry that it will rain?  Or that they’ll put their clothes out and then forget to take them back in for a while?  Those are high-level concerns that I would have.  Also, there’s a species of fly that lays its eggs in hanging laundry, and then when you take the clothes off the line and wear them, the eggs hatch and the maggots burrow into the skin and feed on you.  (Ok, so they live in Africa, but what if they migrate?)

     Another educational experience has been getting up in the mornings.  I am not a morning person, which I used to think was pretty par for the course for my age group.  I discovered that I was mistaken one morning when I stumbled into the kitchen, barely conscious, to make my coffee (my instant coffee).  As I fumbled around for my mug, I heard, in my half-coma state, a bright “Good morning!”

     I turned around and saw a very awake guy sitting at the counter with textbooks and notes out in front of him.  He was studying at 6:30 in the morning.

     Studying.

     At 6:30 in the morning.

     There’s a bit in the animated Hunchback of Notre Dame when Frollo, in reaction to a magic trick done by Esmeralda, recoils dramatically and hisses “Witchcraft!”  That was more or less how I felt at that moment.  Back in my room, I wondered if Very Awake Guy was a morning person or a dark wizard.  Maybe both.  Maybe all morning people are dark wizards.  These are the kinds of deep questions that this dorm makes me ask.

     The Wellness lifestyle is apparently a wholesome and healthy one.  Theoretically, it sounds like a good idea, and I am pretty impressed with people who can commit to it.  That being said, I like drying my clothes in a machine.  I like sleeping.  I like the cheesy goodness of Easy-Mac (even though I know it’s probably not real cheese).  These are reliable and consistent aspects of my life that I hang on to.  Maybe one day I’ll join the Wellness revolution, but right now I don’t have time – I have sleeping to do.

fightingforwhales:

I’ve been sitting here trying to understand why some people support captivity. I’ve really been trying to see their perspective and understand why they think what they do, but I just can’t.

Who really thinks it’s a good idea to imprison an apex predator that weighs thousands of pounds in a box just so they can perform tricks? Like why would anybody at all think that is a good idea?

Why on earth would someone claim to love orcas and then support they industry that bombed and killed the southern resident orcas?

It really doesn’t make much sense, sticking a massive animal like an orca in a box and expecting it to be healthy and be happy.

Humans can’t replicate an orca’s normal environment, so why would you expect it to act normal?

Literally, captivity is just illogical.

To me, what it all comes down to is this:

YOU ARE KEEPING A WHALE IN A SWIMMING POOL.

A SWIMMING POOL FOR SHIT’S SAKE.

IT’S LIKE THAT MOVIE WHERE SOME KIDS RESCUE A SEA LION FROM THE ZOO AND HAVE TO KEEP IN IT THEIR SCHOOL PRINCIPAL’S HOT TUB.  THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE DOING, EXCEPT YOU ARE DOING IT WITH A GODDAMN WHALE.

A WHALE, YOU SEE, IS A RATHER LARGE ANIMAL.  IT THEREFORE NEEDS A RATHER LARGE SPACE IN WHICH TO SWIM ABOUT.  THIS IS BASIC BIOLOGY.  YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE TO BE A BIOLOGIST TO KNOW THIS.  CAVEMEN PROBABLY NOTED THE SIZE OF MASTODONS AND REASONABLY CONCLUDED THAT THEY COULD NOT COMFORTABLY FIT A MASTODON IN A CAVE.

THESE REASONING SKILLS HAVE APPARENTLY NOT SURVIVED IN YOU.

IS IT HUMANLY POSSIBLE TO BUILD A SPACE BIG ENOUGH TO KEEP A WHALE IN?  NO.  NO IT IS NOT.  EVEN IF YOU DUG UP THE ENTIRETY OF FLORIDA, IT STILL WOULD NOT DO.

THE OCEAN, HOWEVER, IS QUITE BIG.  IT IS VERY BIG INDEED, AND A MORE THAN ADEQUATE SPACE FOR AN ANIMAL SUCH AS THE WHALE.  IN FACT, IT IS BIG ENOUGH TO COMFORTABLY HOUSE MANY WHALES.  THAT IS VERY LIKELY WHY THEY LIVE THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW, PRO-CAPS?  DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHY WHALE CAPTIVITY IS AN INHERENTLY SILLY IDEA?

IF NOT, PLEASE BEAT A BLUNT INSTRUMENT AGAINST YOUR ASS UNTIL YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY DISLODGED YOUR BRAIN FROM IT.

I MUST NOW GO AND GET A GLASS OF WATER, BECAUSE MY THROAT IS SORE FROM YELLING AT YOU.  THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT.

artistapiccolo:

lemon-curry:

The hippocampus is the part of your brain that controls memory and spatial navigation.  It’s also an ancient Greek mythical creature that looks like a horse with a fish tail.

This is a hippocampus.

This is also a hippocampus.

I gotta say, I’m not entirely sure what’s going on here.  All I know is that some scientist opened up a brain and thought to himself, “That’s an interesting little brain section there.  I’m going to name it after a sea monster.”

Science is weird.

It’s called a hippocampus because it was always referred to as looking like a seahorse. The word hippocampus means “sea horse” in Latin.

That mythical creature is a literal sea-horse. 

The hippocampus is the part of your brain that controls memory and spatial navigation.  It’s also an ancient Greek mythical creature that looks like a horse with a fish tail.

This is a hippocampus.

This is also a hippocampus.

I gotta say, I’m not entirely sure what’s going on here.  All I know is that some scientist opened up a brain and thought to himself, “That’s an interesting little brain section there.  I’m going to name it after a sea monster.”

Science is weird.

1. He is considerably fluffier than the last Pope.
2. He is very polite and always willing to share his tennis ball.
3. He once cured someone by the power of cuddles alone.
4. Much like Jesus, he will forgive anyone of their sins if you rub his belly.

Also

I rest my case.

STOP

STOP

STOP

STOP

STOP 

FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST

STOP

I really feel like I need to make you understand the wrath you invoke in me.  Here are some of the things that happen when you make me listen to half an hour of your best teakettle impression:

• Little puffs of sulfurous smoke start coming out of my ears.
• I see everything with a red tint, as if I am gazing through the world through a river of blood.
• A gaping well of darkness and sorrow opens up deep within my soul.
• I’m not absolutely positive about this, but I’m pretty sure that somewhere, somehow, a kitten dies.

Why do you do it, man?  Why?  Do you think you brighten our days by twittering away nonstop like a chickadee on PCP?  Because you do not.  That horrible sound coming out of your mouth every hour of the goddamn day and night makes me wonder if life is still worth living.  I swear by the heathen gods of old that if I hear you whistle one more fucking time, I will rip out your vocal cords, eat them messily in front of you, and then pee on everything you love.

I am the wind that breathes upon the sea

I am a wave of the ocean

I am the murmur of the billows

I am the ox of the seven combats

I am the vulture upon the rocks

I am a ray of the sun

I am the fairest of plants

I am a wild boar in valour

I am a salmon in the water

I am a lake in the plain

I am the craft of the artificer 

I am a word of science

I am the point of a spear in battle

I am the God who created the fire of thought.

Who is it that throws light onto the meeting of the mountains?

Who tells the ages of the Moon?

Who shows the place where the Sun goes to rest

If not I?

What you just read is an ancient Gaelic poem, an invocation meant to call upon the spirit of Ireland, spoken by the druid Amergin.  I feel that more people should be aware of its existence, because like most things that are Gaelic, The Song of Amergin is incredibly fucking badass.

This is not just a piece of poetry that you can recite at social gatherings to impress people with your worldliness.  This poem has practical application in anyone’s life as the ultimate comeback to any insult.  Reciting the whole poem has the greatest effect, but you can also just use a line or two.  For example, if someone calls you fat:

Jerk: You’re too fat.

You: I AM THE OX OF THE SEVEN COMBATS!

Is there any sufficient retort for that?  You bet your fearless ass there isn’t.  Or, as Amergin would say, Geall leat do taobh thiar nach bhfuil.

I could go on.

Jerk: You’re a bitch.

You: I AM THE POINT OF A SPEAR IN BATTLE!

Jerk: You’re ugly.

You: I AM THE WIND THAT BREATHES UPON THE SEA!

Jerk: You’re an idiot.

You: I AM THE GOD THAT CREATED THE FIRE OF THOUGHT!

Jerk: You’ll never accomplish anything.

You: I AM A WILD BOAR IN VALOUR!

Jerk: You’re inferior to me because you’re a girl/person of color/gay/transgender/etc

You: WHO IS IT THAT SHOWS THE PLACE WHERE THE SUN GOES TO REST?  HUH?  WHO IS IT, MOTHERFUCKER?

You get the idea.

Now go out and tell all those assholes the ages of the Moon.

About a month ago, I wrote a post about Kíli from The Hobbit.  It was the most successful text post I’ve ever done, and I am still very proud of it and gratified that so many people liked something I wrote.  But inevitably, when a piece you write on Tumblr starts really getting around, it will occasionally be reblogged and commented on by someone who doesn’t really seem to know how a joke works.  I would like to explore this phenomenon a bit with some examples of actual comments I got.  (I am not going to tag these people, because this is going to be kind of snarky and I don’t want to embarrass anybody.  If any of you knows who made these comments, I ask you to please not tag them either.)

- “HE’S NOT A DWARF HE’S A VAMPIRE NAMED JOHN MITCHELL”

First of all, are you ok?

Secondly, if you really want to needlessly deconstruct my post, he is in fact neither of those things.  He’s actually a regular human named Aidan.  He is an actor, a job which involves pretending to be different people, sometimes at once.

Thirdly, I’m not sure what you want from me here.  Would you rather I had written the post about Mitchell than Kíli?  I would be happy to oblige, were it not for the small problem that I’ve never actually watched Being Human.  (It’s actually in my Netflix queue, but I’m afraid to watch it because I think my vagina might explode.)

- “This is just awful.”  

When a writer hears this, their first reaction is to ask “Why?”  We genuinely want to know.  But if you are unable to provide an adequate and useful answer to that question, we’re just going to go

So don’t bother.  It’s a waste of your energy and a waste of my time.

- #make sure you ask him for consent first

I…I really don’t know how to react to this.  Because on the one hand, they’re exactly right - you should always ask for someone’s consent before you sit on his or her face.  But on the other hand, in this context, it’s annoying as shit.

I’ve had real-life experiences like this before.  I had this conversation one time:

Her: This person just told me my poem was bad and didn’t give me any real feedback on it, which sucks.

Me: That does suck.  I shall duel them for your honor.

Her: I would prefer that my problems not be solved with violence.

Me: ………

I mean, what do you do when that happens?  I don’t want to be one of those people who says something offensive and then goes “It’s just a joke!  God, get a sense of humor!” because as a purveyor of jokes, I really hate those people.  But then there’s another part of me that’s going “SHUT THE FUCK UP.  LEAVE MY PERFECTLY CRAFTED JOKE ALONE.  IT IS HILARIOUS, AND YOU ARE A POOP-HEAD.”  (This part of me is a five-year-old.)  There is literally no solution to this except to just sit there stupidly.  It is a mindfuck.

I would like to conclude this post by saying that I willing to believe that all of these commenters are very nice people who perhaps suffered a brief lapse in judgement.  That being said…just…please don’t do these things.  They make me sad.