(Loooonnnnngggg Post) Harrison Bergeron Commentary

This is a piece I'm working on for Youth Radio. It is about the story Harrison Bergeron By Kurt Vonnegut and it includes the short story (unabridged) so it's pretty long.


THE YEAR WAS 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren’t only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else. All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and to the unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General.

Some things about living still weren’t quite right, though. April, for instance, still drove people crazy by not being springtime. And it was in that clammy month that the H-G men took George and Hazel Bergeron’s fourteen-year-old son, Harrison, away.

It was tragic, all right, but George and Hazel couldn’t think about it very hard. Hazel had a perfectly average intelligence, which meant she couldn’t think about anything except in short bursts. And George, while his intelligence was way above normal, had a little mental handicap radio in his ear. He was required by law to wear it at all times. It was tuned to a government transmitter. Every twenty seconds or so, the transmitter would send out some sharp noise to keep people like George from taking unfair advantage of their brains.

George and Hazel were watching television. There were tears on Hazel’s cheeks, but she’d forgotten for the moment what they were about.

On the television screen were ballerinas.

A buzzer sounded in George’s head. His thoughts fled in panic, like bandits from a burglar alarm.

“That was a real pretty dance, that dance they just did,” said Hazel.

“Huh?” said George.

“That dance – it was nice,” said Hazel.

“Yup,” said George. He tried to think a little about the ballerinas. They weren’t really very good – no better than anybody else would have been, anyway. They were burdened with sashweights and bags of birdshot, and their faces were masked, so that no one, seeing a free and graceful gesture or a pretty face, would feel like something the cat drug in. George was toying with the vague notion that maybe dancers shouldn’t be handicapped. But he didn’t get very far with it before another noise in his ear radio scattered his thoughts.

George winced. So did two out of the eight ballerinas.

Hazel saw him wince. Having no mental handicap herself she had to ask George what the latest sound had been.

“Sounded like somebody hitting a milk bottle with a ball peen hammer,” said George.

“I’d think it would be real interesting, hearing all the different sounds,” said Hazel, a little envious. “All the things they think up.”

“Um,” said George.

“Only, if I was Handicapper General, you know what I would do?” said Hazel. Hazel, as a matter of fact, bore a strong resemblance to the Handicapper General, a woman named Diana Moon Glampers. “If I was Diana Moon Glampers,” said Hazel, “I’d have chimes on Sunday – just chimes. Kind of in honor of religion.”

“I could think, if it was just chimes,” said George.

“Well – maybe make ‘em real loud,” said Hazel. “I think I’d make a good Handicapper General.”

“Good as anybody else,” said George.

“Who knows better’n I do what normal is?” said Hazel.

“Right,” said George. He began to think glimmeringly about his abnormal son who was now in jail, about Harrison, but a twenty-one-gun salute in his head stopped that.

“Boy!” said Hazel, “that was a doozy, wasn’t it?”

It was such a doozy that George was white and trembling and tears stood on the rims of his red eyes. Two of the eight ballerinas had collapsed to the studio floor, were holding their temples.

“All of a sudden you look so tired,” said Hazel. “Why don’t you stretch out on the sofa, so’s you can rest your handicap bag on the pillows, honeybunch.” She was referring to the forty-seven pounds of birdshot in canvas bag, which was padlocked around George’s neck. “Go on and rest the bag for a little while,” she said. “I don’t care if you’re not equal to me for a while.”

George weighed the bag with his hands. “I don’t mind it,” he said. “I don’t notice it any more. It’s just a part of me.

“You been so tired lately – kind of wore out,” said Hazel. “If there was just some way we could make a little hole in the bottom of the bag, and just take out a few of them lead balls. Just a few.”

“Two years in prison and two thousand dollars fine for every ball I took out,” said George. “I don’t call that a bargain.”

“If you could just take a few out when you came home from work,” said Hazel. “I mean – you don’t compete with anybody around here. You just set around.”

“If I tried to get away with it,” said George, “then other people’d get away with it and pretty soon we’d be right back to the dark ages again, with everybody competing against everybody else. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

“I’d hate it,” said Hazel.

“There you are,” said George. “The minute people start cheating on laws, what do you think happens to society?”

If Hazel hadn’t been able to come up with an answer to this question, George couldn’t have supplied one. A siren was going off in his head.

“Reckon it’d fall all apart,” said Hazel.

“What would?” said George blankly.

“Society,” said Hazel uncertainly. “Wasn’t that what you just said?”

“Who knows?” said George.

The television program was suddenly interrupted for a news bulletin. It wasn’t clear at first as to what the bulletin was about, since the announcer, like all announcers, had a serious speech impediment. For about half a minute, and in a state of high excitement, the announcer tried to say, “Ladies and gentlemen – ”

He finally gave up, handed the bulletin to a ballerina to read.

“That’s all right –” Hazel said of the announcer, “he tried. That’s the big thing. He tried to do the best he could with what God gave him. He should get a nice raise for trying so hard.”

“Ladies and gentlemen” said the ballerina, reading the bulletin. She must have been extraordinarily beautiful, because the mask she wore was hideous. And it was easy to see that she was the strongest and most graceful of all the dancers, for her handicap bags were as big as those worn by two-hundred-pound men.

And she had to apologize at once for her voice, which was a very unfair voice for a woman to use. Her voice was a warm, luminous, timeless melody. “Excuse me – ” she said, and she began again, making her voice absolutely uncompetitive.

“Harrison Bergeron, age fourteen,” she said in a grackle squawk, “has just escaped from jail, where he was held on suspicion of plotting to overthrow the government. He is a genius and an athlete, is under–handicapped, and should be regarded as extremely dangerous.”

A police photograph of Harrison Bergeron was flashed on the screen – upside down, then sideways, upside down again, then right side up. The picture showed the full length of Harrison against a background calibrated in feet and inches. He was exactly seven feet tall.

The rest of Harrison’s appearance was Halloween and hardware. Nobody had ever worn heavier handicaps. He had outgrown hindrances faster than the H–G men could think them up. Instead of a little ear radio for a mental handicap, he wore a tremendous pair of earphones, and spectacles with thick wavy lenses. The spectacles were intended to make him not only half blind, but to give him whanging headaches besides.

Scrap metal was hung all over him. Ordinarily, there was a certain symmetry, a military neatness to the handicaps issued to strong people, but Harrison looked like a walking junkyard. In the race of life, Harrison carried three hundred pounds.

And to offset his good looks, the H–G men required that he wear at all times a red rubber ball for a nose, keep his eyebrows shaved off, and cover his even white teeth with black caps at snaggle–tooth random.

“If you see this boy,” said the ballerina, “do not – I repeat, do not – try to reason with him.”

There was the shriek of a door being torn from its hinges.

Screams and barking cries of consternation came from the television set. The photograph of Harrison Bergeron on the screen jumped again and again, as though dancing to the tune of an earthquake.

George Bergeron correctly identified the earthquake, and well he might have – for many was the time his own home had danced to the same crashing tune. “My God –” said George, “that must be Harrison!”

The realization was blasted from his mind instantly by the sound of an automobile collision in his head.

When George could open his eyes again, the photograph of Harrison was gone. A living, breathing Harrison filled the screen.

Clanking, clownish, and huge, Harrison stood in the center of the studio. The knob of the uprooted studio door was still in his hand. Ballerinas, technicians, musicians, and announcers cowered on their knees before him, expecting to die.

“I am the Emperor!” cried Harrison. “Do you hear? I am the Emperor! Everybody must do what I say at once!” He stamped his foot and the studio shook.

“Even as I stand here –” he bellowed, “crippled, hobbled, sickened – I am a greater ruler than any man who ever lived! Now watch me become what I can become!”

Harrison tore the straps of his handicap harness like wet tissue paper, tore straps guaranteed to support five thousand pounds.

Harrison’s scrap–iron handicaps crashed to the floor.

Harrison thrust his thumbs under the bar of the padlock that secured his head harness. The bar snapped like celery. Harrison smashed his headphones and spectacles against the wall.

He flung away his rubber–ball nose, revealed a man that would have awed Thor, the god of thunder.

“I shall now select my Empress!” he said, looking down on the cowering people. “Let the first woman who dares rise to her feet claim her mate and her throne!”

A moment passed, and then a ballerina arose, swaying like a willow.

Harrison plucked the mental handicap from her ear, snapped off her physical handicaps with marvelous delicacy. Last of all, he removed her mask.

She was blindingly beautiful.

“Now” said Harrison, taking her hand, “shall we show the people the meaning of the word dance? Music!” he commanded.

The musicians scrambled back into their chairs, and Harrison stripped them of their handicaps, too. “Play your best,” he told them, “and I’ll make you barons and dukes and earls.”

The music began. It was normal at first – cheap, silly, false. But Harrison snatched two musicians from their chairs, waved them like batons as he sang the music as he wanted it played. He slammed them back into their chairs.

The music began again and was much improved.

Harrison and his Empress merely listened to the music for a while – listened gravely, as though synchronizing their heartbeats with it.

They shifted their weights to their toes.

Harrison placed his big hands on the girl’s tiny waist, letting her sense the weightlessness that would soon be hers.

And then, in an explosion of joy and grace, into the air they sprang!

Not only were the laws of the land abandoned, but the law of gravity and the laws of motion as well.

They reeled, whirled, swiveled, flounced, capered, gamboled, and spun.

They leaped like deer on the moon.

The studio ceiling was thirty feet high, but each leap brought the dancers nearer to it. It became their obvious intention to kiss the ceiling.

They kissed it.

And then, neutralizing gravity with love and pure will, they remained suspended in air inches below the ceiling, and they kissed each other for a long, long time.

It was then that Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General, came into the studio with a double-barreled ten-gauge shotgun. She fired twice, and the Emperor and the Empress were dead before they hit the floor.

Diana Moon Glampers loaded the gun again. She aimed it at the musicians and told them they had ten seconds to get their handicaps back on.

It was then that the Bergerons’ television tube burned out.

Hazel turned to comment about the blackout to George.

But George had gone out into the kitchen for a can of beer.

George came back in with the beer, paused while a handicap signal shook him up. And then he sat down again. “You been crying?” he said to Hazel.

“Yup,” she said,

“What about?” he said.

“I forget,” she said. “Something real sad on television.”

“What was it?” he said.

“It’s all kind of mixed up in my mind,” said Hazel.

“Forget sad things,” said George.

“I always do,” said Hazel.

“That’s my girl,” said George. He winced. There was the sound of a riveting gun in his head.

“Gee – I could tell that one was a doozy,” said Hazel.

“You can say that again,” said George.

“Gee –” said Hazel, “I could tell that one was a doozy.”





(END STORY)
That was the story Harrison Bergeron by Kurt Vonnegut. Harrison Bergeron brings up the tough question, can we be too equal? Can seemingly good intentions destroy all of human individuality? People are by nature unique and taking this away will create a forced equality. And who will control this? A democracy is a government run by the people, but the government of 2081 described in Harrison Bergeron seems more like a fascist dictatorship. Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General, obviously has more power than George and Hazel Bergeron. Is that equal? You might think, “Oh, this’ll never happen in America, the land of the free!” but recent scientific discoveries are creating the possibility of supplementing human senses, strength, and endurance. These same technologies could be used to handicap those who rise above the rest.

In our modern world, the story of Harrison Bergeron is becoming a scary glimpse of the future. Being equal is a touchy subject. Take this scenario for example: the cast of a popular television news show pick hosts for that day. They have a rule that the hosts must be a male and a female, because that is what is considered quote, politically correct. But that’s unfair to the two genders because real equality is defined, I didn’t make this up, this is from The American Heritage Dictionary, as having the same privileges, status, or rights. If we restrict the gender of the hosts to one male and one female, the rights of the two genders are being stamped on. Some may argue that this is necessary because of the sexism that has become institutionalized in our society, and I would agree that sexism is an institutional prejudice in American society, but if mandating a gender balance in our media is what we think of as equal, we have a skewed definition of the word. Our media needs to find ways to create true equality without a creatively restrictive need for gender balance. It’s also rather hypocritical of modern industrialized society as a whole that it calls for inclusion of all people and all genders and all races, and then turns about and institutes a gender restriction. Not only is this stifling the creative potential of society, it is riddled with hypocrisy.

Are we so insecure with our society that we need the people constantly reminding us what is P.C. and what is not? Are our consciences that unreliable?

The equality in Harrison Bergeron is a false equality, a logical end to the thing that we call equality today. True equality is what we should be striving for, or else we will end up fulfilling the story of Kurt Vonnegut’s Harrison Bergeron.

I’m Evan Moulson for Youth Radio at KUNM.

I seem to be drawn to this issue, the issue of equality, because, as Amy Goodman says, that is where the silence is. Nobody talks about it. Nobody questions authority and questions the notion of politicly correct. I was taught to always question authority and to always question what I feel is wrong. And I feel that this is wrong.

WTO Protests Turn Violent

People protesting against the World Trade Organization (WTO) in Hong Kong. 

Global Warming, American Style

American Style? It doesn't exist. The United States has been so idiotic in it's "negotiations" with the world at large in Montreal that the planet may not survive another 1000 years. But the way the US "negotiators" were "negotiating" gives the impression that this is a war! This is for the future of all of man-kind, the poor and the rich, blacks and whites, the liberals and the conservatives. The sad thing is, if humans create something that could save a select few from global warming, then the spaces would probably go to the highest bidder (even though money would mean nothing in the face of imminent desrtuction of civivization). This seems to be the way society works: money runs everything. I think that the only way to get the US to cooperate is to force them. International sanctions would force Wal-Mart to buy domestic goods rather than Chinese, the US would go almost computer-free, at least until they can start making their own, and the American society as we know it would do a 360. Within a week, I think that we would have complete US participation in all present and future climate talks. Simple, eh? Not really. Actually enforcing sanctions would be a nightmare. But other than that, and a few other things, a good plan, no?

You Know...

You know how I was babbling about the petroglyphs a while back? Well, while browsing the KUNM site, I found an mp3 of the story I did with Lucia Martinez. Listen to it, I command thee!

Late Thanks-Giving

This post is about what I'm thankful for. But before I start the tested, tried, and proven formulaic "I'm thankful for etc. etc.", I must say, Thanksgiving, along with Christmas (which had it's roots in Paganism) has become WAY TOO COMERCIALIZED to be called a religious celebration anymore. If you go to a monestary and pray, well you're just crazy. But if you go out and buy stuff, as most of you do, then you can't claim that these are religious anymore!

Anyway. I'm thankful for my friends; without them, I would have jumped off a cliff long ago. I feel as if I can tell them anything and they won't judge me. I am really glad I have Lucas and Tom and Claire to add some humor to my life and I'm glad that I have everyone else that I trust. Thanks.

I am also thankful for my school and my teachers. They have (it may not seem so for some of you) provided me with my future. Without them, I would never have developed my skills, I would never have had the resources to do anything that I've done. I'm thankful for all of you who've taught me anything. (that excludes Mr. Curran because I learned everything that we learned about in the first quarter by reading a chapter of a book I have at home.)

I am thankful for a family that accepts me for who I am: a pain in the neck. I can be REALLY annoying, and yet, the seem to still love me!

And last but DEFINITELY not least: I am thankful for my dogs and my lizards. The love me unconditionaly and the are always in a good mood. I can go to them when everyone else shuts me out.

Au Revoir

All Hope is Not Lost! Oh Wait, Yes It Is....

Yesterday I went to the "Save the Petroglyphs" March on the West Side of Albuquerque. "Officialy" I went as part of Youth Radio (I did have a flash recorder and stuff...) but I really believe in this cause and I think it's sad that through our own greed and aparent lust for huge things we are about to destry one of the greatest, coolest places in New Mexico! I realize that many of you don't know what the heck I'm talking about. I'll give you some background, or rather, these links will:
Petroglyph Nat'l Monument
Even more info

Now that you have read (you did read them right?) all that information I just provided to you, we can continue.

The march probably had about 300-600 people attend and march. I was right in the middle and I would have chanted but for the darn flash recorder and law suit. We walked about 4 miles and stopped three times to hear speeches about how we need to keep these Petroglyphs. I live near Paseo Del Norte, the road that Mayor Marty and his chums want to extend into this work of art. As we walked, I saw several Wal-Marts (your source for cheap plastic crap), a Smiths, and a Walgreens. All these companies are trying to cut themselves a piece of the pumpkin pie; pumpkin pie made with colored rocks! The city has alledgedly ignored certain rules that it must follow, including the rule about government-to-government talks that are supposed to take place between the city and the many Native American nations that have their symbols engraved on the stones and boulders here. Tribes from as far as Alaska and Hawaii have recognized their characteristic markings here. I don't think that any of this is fair for anyone: the West-Siders will have to endure more traffic, the rest of us will have to endure more West-Siders, and the Indian nations will lose an historic site hundreds of years old! Take up action and call Mayor Marty or a city counselor to voice your displeasure if you feel so moved by my post (which is doubtful).

Updates to follow, hopefully.....

Picture-Mania!!!

These two goodlooking chaps are the techies from the show MI-5 (Spooks). Malcom (right) and Colin (left) are easily the coolest guys on the grid. 

Yummy....

Tasty looking, huh? 

I am not dead.

I feel guilty about not blogging for a while...I'm sure no one missed my commentaries, but if it makes me feel better.....

I am really sleepy right now, after staying up 'till midnight watching Harry Potter 4 on opening day. I went to the movie with Josh LB, Matt, Claire, Tracy, Emma, and Billy. It was a good movie but the ending was a major dissapointment. The movie also strayed from the book in several places and the beginning was way too rushed. The only way I followed it was going through the book in my mind. Rupert Grindt (Ron Weasly) is a good actor but Emma Watson (Hermione Granger) and....that guy who plays harry....forgot his name....were not so good. The man who plays lord voldemort is a really good actor, though. There was also more "British Humor" in this one, as opposed to the other 3 Harry Potter movies. Maybe this has something to do with the British Director who's new to the series.

I went to KUNM today to do the children's hour and we played a cut by Weird Al called Ebay. It was really funny to listen to. We also listed the top ten most dangerous toys of 2005. You'd be surprised at some of them.

Anyway. That's all the news that I Want To Tell You About On The Freaking Internet. All's Quiet on the Southwestern front. Goodnight, Baghdad.

I'm Back!!!

Texas was fun, I guess. The Lubbock Country Club is a very nice establishment, and all, and I really got some good reading in. Oh, and I saw a Monty Python's Flying Circus marathon (Pythonathon) on BBC America. That was quite funny. And now, I am so bored, waiting for an email from Blake, the tech guy here at JMS, about a Strata 3D installation. Computers are really quite nice but they often screw up and that's annoying. I missed checking my email less than I actually thought I would, those four days without my computer. I suppose reading about Mormons and watching Monty Python sedated my brain enough to not notice. Oh well. I'm back.

I Am Dead To The World.

I am going on vacation tomorrow, so I will not be blogging for a wile because I am going to Texas! *Flash!* *Bang!* *Boom!* And I will not have access to the internet. So I suppose I am going "accross the road". (Inside Joke) But anyhow. Amuse yourselves while I am gone by going to kinkyfriedman.com and watching his flash animation ad for governor of Texas over and over and over again. The find Eric Griego's and watch THAT. That should keep you. And if it doesn't, fly to Texas and I will blog orally to you. Should that not work, jump off a bridge, there is no life ahead for you. And if you survive, you are the devil and should be worshiped. But anyway. Bye.

More Radio!!!

So, as you *might* have heard (but probably not) I was music director for our latest Youth Radio production. I played some cool music, like Jonathon Richman and the Modern Lovers playing "Double Chocolate Malted" and Flogging Molly playing "Selfish Man". The production itself went very well, but it was what happened before that annoys me.

So, Luis, Meena, and I were producing a promo, a cart, an ad, for Youth Radio because we were bored and we were done with our tasks. Luis had a really cool idea and so Meena and I said we would help him make it. There was this part on a song that said, "This is the absolutely bestest, coolest production I have evvvvvveeeeeerrrrr seen." and stuff like that. Then we all said "Youth Radio, Youth Radio, Youth Radio!" but not in unison. It sounded really cool over music. Then we put me in the background asking "Aren't you going to say Sundays at 7?" and then Luis says "Oh, yeah. Suuuuunnnnnnddddaaaayyyyys (then me) aaaaaattttt (then Luis) ssssseeeeevvvvvveeeeennnn (then me) ooooonnnnnn (then Meena) KUNM. Then we used this thing with Luis saying "I've got a cup on my head..." in a really weird voice. It turned out to be a REALLY cool promo and I had to edit it right down to the milisecond because it was really packed full of stuff. then we showed it to Roberta and Tracy and a bunch of other people and they said "Wow! Cool promo you guys!" and everything was cool.

But no, not in Youth Radio, it could not be cool. NOTHING CAN BE COOL WITH EVERYONE!!! So we did the run through, and we did well, then Roberta started talking about our promo. She said that we needed to have EVERYONE in it saying "Youth Radio!" and that we needed to be more "collective-minded". We said that in order for a collective to work, individuals need to contribute, not just the entire collective voting on voting on something and then voting on whether or not we should accept that vote and so on and so forth...We need some INDIVIDUAL contributions. Roberta seems to think that a collective is ONE person, not many people working together. Then I, being the person who engineered this promo, told her that it would take a while to record all the people and then reedit it

It has been a long time.....Yes....a long time.

The title of this post comes from an assignment given by Mrs. Kircher in which we had to take a picture that she had and write a narrative about it. Mine was about three birds talking about taking over the world and then one of them starts singing, the other screams at him, the former dies of exaustion, and the other one breaks his neck. The third bird was just a conversation starter.

But it remains true, I haven't posted in a long while. I suppose it's like a vacation that I didn't intend to take. Oh well. I am begining to wonder if anyone actually reads this...Also, I was talking to a certain anonomous friend of mine about blogs and he said that they are too popular and everyone has one and what the heck is the point?! I think he has some good points, but I also think that blogging is good. I mean, the 99.7% of blogs that have one post and are never posted to again, are like old Windows copies, you love it at first, then find out it's too darn unconvienient and buggy, and eventuall move on. But those of us who are too stubborn to give into the temptation of letting it slip blog. Wow, that was a long explaination. Oh well.

School is going well, I am bored, but what can one expect? In the case of Computer Graphics, I know more than the teacher. But that's because I got private lesson-like-things from Andrew Stone, the guy who coded the software we use. First period, Social Studies is.....erm....entertaining. I don't learn anything, we spent and entire period today watching people (our classmates) prance around in funny costumes to crazy, Curranized music. Yeah. But right now, I'm teaching myself about the history of Mormonism by reading "Under the Banner of Heaven" by Jon Krakauer. It is a scary subject, to be sure, but it's more interesting than what we're "learning" in school. Language Arts is a good subject this year, I am challenged, I am enlightened and I have fun doing the assignments! (This comming from the guy who says "Throw grammer out the window!" and stuff like that). Literature is fun, as always, but the latest Seminar (Seminar is a kind of thing where all three grades converge on one room for a week and disscus issues of importance, such as Iraq, food, icecream, and the tricentenial.) on Albuquerque's 300th birthday has turned out to be a drag. We COULD do a bunch of fun activities, instead, it's "sit down, watch a movie, and copy some stuff off a paper." BORING!!! But no, we don't get a cool Seminar like that.....oh well.

Halloween was a big success, candy-wise. I got a LOT of candy, I'm loving it. Hahaha. McDonald's sucks.

Bye. I'm going to go read about crazy, crack-pot polygamists now.

Radio

I like radio. Most of the time...

Youth Radio is becoming a corporation. Or something like it. We sit in meetings all day long and get NOTHING resolved! We should be out there prepping for the next show, not sitting in meetings! Granted, there have been less meetings, but I think we should take them down to the minimum that we need them, say, everyone comes in, gets their assignment for that week, from the PRODUCER, not Roberta, and then go do it! And those reflection sheets! Ha! I don't think we need those, either! If you've got something to say about the show, say it afterward, while we're decompressing. Don't say it in those reflection sheets! The week should go like this:

Monday: Meet, find something on the sticky board (where all our ideas are) or think up something new, check it with the producer, and go start on it.

Friday: Come to the station, work on your piece, if you need something from someone, like music, go tell them.

Sunday: Finnish piece, run through the show in Studio C, eat, then go on air. Repeat.

I think that's how the week should go, to avoid those pointless meetings, and to appease Roberta, Paul, and Marcos, it makes us use our inter-personal skills more. If we interact with individuals more, then we build up our own relationship skills. I know that the meetings supposedly create a group mentality (or a collective, as the terminology at KUNM goes.) but there must be a better way to achieve this!!! Merely working together creates a group mentality more than meetings where everyone falls asleep. I've noticed that people form friendships and help each other out much more when we're working on something than when we're in a meeting. New ideas could also be fed to the Producer for that week if we ran out of things from the sticky board.

We could do "Freeform" shows where we get maybe some poets, a Radio Theatre piece, etc. and then just put some nice music in between. The show also doesn't have to be so serious. Lighten it up a bit! That's what I was trying for with that Charlie and the Chocolate Factory bit and the Wacky Adventures of Youth Radio. I think that we are acting too much like NPR. Don't get me wrong, I like NPR, but I don't think that's what we're going for. We ARE the Youth of the Nation, and we should act like it! No more stuff you would hear on the Evening Report or ATC! We need youth issues and not things like Hurricane Katrina. Focus on the youth, not on the adults; we need to reexamine who our listening audience is.

There are many more seeds of problems right now that will grow into full-fledged ones, so, expect more entries like this periodically.

Indictment!!!!

YES!!! I have started two of my last two posts like that....but anywho...Lewis Libby got indicted!!! Hahahahaha!!!! My brother is whining "Get off the computer, Evan..." Yada, yada. Bye. Just ckeck Google News, you'll see. Yay! Happy Indictment Day!

Halloween's a comin'!

YES!!! YES!!! YES!!! Halloween!!! I love Halloween! Woo-Hoo! I'm going to be a block head (picture to follow, hopefully.) And I hope I get LOTS of candy! I will keep trick-or-treating until I can get that much out of the jar as I pass it out to those ungrateful little brats who come to my door...(note to self, try not to be soooo hypocritical...) Yum. Candy.

Y'know, if you're reading this, and you pass out candy, or, more importantly, if you buy it to pass out, then just don't bother with anything other than chocolate. no. Just don't get those Twizzlers, those Skittles, those Starbursts, and especialy no apples, health food or money (unless it's a $100 bill for every kid). No. Just get chocolate, that's what kids want, and if they don't, they're dentists in disguise (actually, with all the chemicals....who knows?) Also, chocolate creates....um.....endo-fisheis? Anyway, you feel like you're in love. You should let them because that's the closest they'll get to love. (for most of us anyway....). And chocolate feels so good on the tongue. (I SPELLED IT RIGHT!!!) It has that smooth, warm, creamy texture that we all love. I'm making myself hungry for chocolate....yum.

And then threre's the fact that you get to dress up REALLY freakily, hoboes, Republicans, you name it. Something you would never dress up as normally. Unless you were in Mrs. Dupre's class....gar. I'm going to be a block-head this year. T'will be fun. Yes, yes, my precious. WOAH!!! what was that?! I'm not gollum! Or am I, precious? I was a skunk one year, you know. It was fun. I went up to random people and "sprayed" them. Lovely. I was about six at the time. I had no sense of public image....In fact, I'm unsure I have one now....I wore that costume to preschool, too. I loved it; my mumzi made it for me. It was fuzzy. And comfy, and warm, and—I'll stop now. About the skunk at least. Last year I was a stem-cell scientist that got mauled by Republicans. I am a politicly active little devil. Fun! Josh and Matt, two of my friends, are going to be T-Birds from the movie Grease. Josh is Danny and Matt is Kinicky. I just recently saw that movie, it's really funny. I liked it. If Scot reads this he'll just say "Well WHY did you like it?" and then that will mean Josh, Matt, Lucas, and I will just have to dress up in sweater-vests and get scraggly beards next year. That will scare the begiezers out of everyone!!!

My, my, I've written a lot, more than usual, in fact, and I think that that's enough on this particular topic. Or is it, my precious?

Satan loves you, this I know, for the Right-Wing Bible Nuts told me so.

What a nice title! But the reason behind the glaringly odd title is that Kinky Friedman is running for Governer of Texas. A Jewish cowboy as a REAL Texan governor. wouldn't that be nice? I think so, I also liked his ad. It is very funny. You should watch it or Domino's will be knocking at your door...

The pizza delivery guy is watching you....

A very scary look at the future of pizza delivery.


But the scariest thing: this COULD HAPPEN!!! The US State Department recently approved RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) Passports that would be able to broacast your personal info to a handheld scanner at customs. (Engadget) The pizza companies already keep track of your orders; when my mom calls out for pizza, they ask "Mrs. Moulson, would you like what youi had last time?" Even SHE doesn't know what we had last time!!! And it's not such a stretch to extend a humourous episode of Arrested Development,in which a picture of A pair of balls circulates throught the government via the PATRIOT Act, to the point where, if they pay for it, companies can have your entire life story. I don't think this is a farfetched idea, no, no, I think that the government will know everything about everyone (like the Mormon Church) by the end of the century. I should suggest this to Kyle...

Good Day, Ladies And Gents.

I am happy because today was a good day. I finnished my animation (which I hope to post sometime), I made another (oooo) and I got to smash pennies. Fun. Buh Bye.

Did you ever wonder....

Did you ever wonder WHY people are so stubborn? I just did, and no my head hurts. Ouch. But I did get some actual thoughts in there before I got this huge headache (which is probably being compounded by the screen), namely:
1. I noticed that people will keep thinking what they want to think (which they tell you is NOT what they want to think) even in the face of overwhelming evidence.
2. There is no #2. Sorry.
I also wondered if school will get any better. Right now, it has it's ups and downs but it seems to be on a drooping trend. Oh well. I won't plot anything like Andrea. Wow. That's funny watching her make up stuff. Bye. I have to go watch Expedited Deconstuction now.

Oh, Look! A picture!

I think this is a Basenji's nose....

I like pictures....

Pictures are fun....woo-hoo!!! Like some that I will post IF blogger lets me....*twiddles thumbs*...dum-dee-doo.

Oh. My. God. My first post.

First, let me clairify, Oh. My. [insert diety here]. there. Done. My, my, that was fun. But anywho, I am Evan. I go to school at a local middle school, normal in every way, ok, maybe I'm lying, but still, I'd like to think that everyone I know is normal. The lovebrds, the psychos, the nerds, the geeks (two VERY differant things, my friend.), the....um....the people. Yes, I know quite a few people. And ALL of them are crazy.
I also work (volunteer, if you must) at a community radio station here and I do the Children's Hour and I contribute to Youth Radio, "A Brand New Show on KUNM, Youth Radio..." that stuff. I also did Freeform once with Katie Stone. That was fun. Speaking of KUNM, Scot ( a blogger here and also my Humanities and Film teacher) posted something about the Radio Wars of the late eighties on his blog, http://frannyzoo.blogspot.com. I found it quite interesting as I, being "blessed" with youth as I am, was not around at the time. My mom was actually Music Director during the years leading up to the Radio Wars. She told me a lot about it. Fun. Well, I must now leave you. buh bye now.