Why? Well, why do you think? Lets look at the most obvious reason like the fact SET manages to pack hundreds of people all into one place, all wishing they were home or struck down by a bolt of lighting right on the spot, whichever comes first. Why? Because you've bored them out of their minds and the Yum Yums are just something, the only thing, that keeps them from falling into a nice, collective PowerPoint induced coma.
        What, did you think that just because you're using PowerPoint your lectures will suddenly spring to life in a happy burst of yellow on blue text? You've got a huge projector and a huge screen. Do something with them! Show a movie, play pong with the students, anything!! Did you think that badly rehashing what you just said will somehow be exciting and educational? What the hell are the handouts for then? They're just bad rehashes that we can take home! And yes we do. We take them home and keep them and treasure them and love them until we die. And remember, we've all put the handouts as beneficiaries in our wills so that they can be taken care of after the reaper swings. And no, we don't burn our SET books after the final. That was just an ugly rumor. And no, I don't have a charred cover of my SET book proudly hanging on my wall. Why would I? It was all so useful?
        And speaking of the handouts, can you do me a little personal favor? Stop printing them! Not because they're useless, not because they're boring but because you're wasting tons and tons of paper for absolutely no good reason. Society, Ethics and TECHNOLOGY! You've got a web page, so put the handouts on the web. Those who would have read them in the first place can always print them out and those who would have stuffed them into the darkest corners of their back packs never have to have paper wasted on them. I already feel bad about blowing several hundred pages on a single Yum Yum issue but I feel so much better about myself  when I see you printing out all those handouts when the web is right there. Now I know that if you stop printing the handouts I won't have any cover for Yum Yums, and I know that if you stop forcing student to pick out the dittos they won't pick up the Yum Yums either but dammit, do as you preach!
        What's the point is SET? Isn't it to educate us so that we understand the world better? So that we appreciate its complexity and subtlety? So that we can walk away a little more aware of what the world is really about? I can respect those goals. They don't teach us anything we'd get paid for, but I can live with that. We don't get paid for most of the really important stuff we know, like "fire is hot, don't touch it". I was hoping that at the very least at the end of the semester I would wind up wiser about the things that shape my life and world. Well, I did. I learned that the world is boring and pretty much screwed up beyond help. At least beyond my help because now I don't really give a crap anymore.
        This is much like Athens to New York. Now I've got no beef with the class itself because I lucked out. I got a good professor who could 1. teach and 2. had something interesting to say. The community service requirement, I must say, was pretty much just as educational. I learned that community service is boring and that I should never do it again. Sorry for the bitterness but you'd be bitter too if you had to sit on your ass for hours on end, way too early in the morning for any human being to be up, giving out feminine hygiene products. Why? I have no clue. I didn't see any of the people I was supposedly helping and I wasn't taught anything about taking care of those less fortunate than me. I just learned that community service was stupid, boring and pointless and that it was too damn cold. No wonder its considered only slightly better than going to prison.
        If SET and ATN were handled differently perhaps they would have made a difference in my life. Perhaps I might have been a different person now and not the twisted weirdo who distributes handouts at SET lectures that I am today. But that didn't happen. It was all just too damn boring and so God awful useless.
        And here’s something else I learned: People don’t need ping-pong ball shooters. They don’t need half-assed board games. They don’t need boxes that keep a golf ball for 12 seconds. They don’t need ANY of the projects we had to do when we took SET. Thank God you learned that lesson! At least now there’s a pretense that the SET projects will lead us to a Brave New World of ecologically responsible products. And of course they will. Out of our SET classes will come a river; no, a flood of daring new designs that will once and for all save the world! Our children will wonder with their jaws to the floor at the remote possibility that there used to be a world before SET. Alleluia, praise the SET! Just give it a few months.
        But honestly, can you try? I know that none of the projects we'll ever do for SET will amount to anything interesting or useful but it would be such a great morale boost if you could at least pretend. By that I mean pretend convincingly. At least make it a half-way plausible lie that what we're making is not destined for the garbage heap. Maybe you can let us save the world in a way which is reasonably possible and maybe then we'll be motivated enough to make something pseudo-useful that will leave us with a bit more knowledge than we started with. For you see, if you feel like crap, you learn like crap and I don't know anybody who was actually proud of their "invention". For us the project is just something you have to do to get the grade, nothing more. When something meant to be creative becomes a means to an end, it fails.
        Speaking of usefulness, lets talk about the fact that you're now forcing everyone to make an advertizing campaign for our recyclable "Wonder-Chair of the Future". Well, I’ll have to give you this: at least now non-engineers don’t automatically fail. Now everybody fails! Whoopee!! Lets look at this from both directions: here we have Billy the engineer who couldn’t draw to save his life and Lisa the painter who couldn’t tell a nail from a fingernail, thus leaving nasty marks whenever she uses a hammer.
        "Lisa, you have to make something very cool and recyclable."
        "But I don’t know how to build stuff."
        "Aw, come on Lisa, its just some very basic engineering!"
        "But I'm not an engineer."
        "Well then, little girl, you're worthless. Get out!"
        "But I'm a painter. A good painter."
        "Well, good for you but you're not an engineer and so you're screwed!"
Isn't that cute. If you wanted to make some sort of impression on anyone with this project you'd at least let them use the talents they have instead of the talents that they don't have. Yes, the English major may write pretty well and may someday become a great writer and get the Nobel Prize. SET, however, being the class that's supposed to expand our horizons and teach us how to stretch our skills to tackle new and improved situations, is of the opinion that poor Lisa the painter should get an F. It doesn't matter what your skills are, if you can't make a chair, you're apparently not good enough. Just because Johny the poet is not a mechanic and Lisa is not an engineer, SET says that they won't make it in the world. Apparently mechanics and engineers will someday rule the known universe and the rest of us will become hairy-palmed hunchbacks living in caves.
        But wait, how’s little Billy? Well, Billy is down the hall from Lisa trying to draw his little brains out. No Billy, I don’t think Stick Figure Theater will attract much business for "Wonder Chair". No, I don’t think sock puppets are supposed to have that many eyes. Put down the pen Billy, you’re embarrassing yourself. No, I said put it down, you’ll put your eye out. Billy, don’t even think about making a PowerPoint presentation!
 Sure, make us create something. That’s fine. Just let us use the skills we have to do it. This isn't high school where they forced us to do everything just in case we might possibly need it. This is college where the abilities and talents that we have should be challenged, improved and expanded. What the hell is the point of making a stupid chair if anyone who's doesn't know both the location of the nearest Home Depot AND how to draw will flunk? Is this an accurate portrayal of how well we can deal with the world? Well, apparently so because if that's what SET says, it must be true.
        Now when I say fail, I don't mean that you'll actually fail them. I imagine that both the artist and the engineer will limp away with a C and those lucky enough to wind up in mixed groups will get their A's. The failure is yours. You claim that the world is a mess. You claim that we need to fix it. Well, let us do it! But let us do it in our own ways. Having to build a recyclable product will not convert someone from Communications to Engineering, nor will it teach a person how to use a hammer. Nor is it the point of SET. The point of SET is to get us to act responsibly once we get out into the real world. Well, how do we act responsibly in the real world? SET never taught us that.
        Here's a stab in the dark: let us try to do something useful in whatever way we're capable of. If you're an artist you should be able to draw an anti-pollution poster. If you're a writer, you can write to a congressman. If you're an architect, you can draw up plans for a heat efficient house. No matter what you are you should be able to pursue your own conception of what would be good for the world using the talents you actually possess. THAT will teach us what we can actually do to make a difference, not a canned engineering project.
        And  now on to the canned ethics! Now don't get me wrong, I'm trying to be respectful and all, but what are you doing here? When you are in posession of such a gem of moral justice as the world famous "SET 12-Step Guide to Ethical living", why are you wasting your precious talents in backwoods Suburbia? Why not go out to the Serbs and give Them the SET book? I don't think that it will be a week before your revolutionary approach to ethical analysis will finally and permanently convince them of the evil of their ways. How about the Jews and the Arabs? You can have them both write up an Ethical Case Analysis paper.(don't forget to use the reflective and the philosophical levels of moral response and always keep in mind the holy "fundamental ethical principles") I'm sure you'll get those negotiations rolling right along! Those tired diplomats will sure be grateful to you for all your invaluable help. My God, by staying here simply for our benefit, you're depriving humanity of the greatest, best and only means to get people to finally agree on justice and liberty for all and live in peace and harmony forever. Are you forsaking the glory of the last Nobel Peace Prize (there won't be a need for one after you're done with the world) just for our sakes? Well, don't worry about us. We will make do without SET. Somehow... Just pack up as quickly as you can and go minister to the world. Humanity needs you!
        Who ever got the brilliant idea that you can package ethics and morality into 5 easy steps? Have they ever tried it out? Well, apparently not since at no time in history has a rational analysis of the ethical principles involved convinced any party in any dispute to do anything other than what they were already doing. The only exception to that rule were young, idealistic revolutionaries; however let me remind you that they usually killed as many people as they saved. We don't even have to go very far to show that ethical analysis is worthless as a tool to get anything definitive. In the SET "Ethics Manual" there are three different mutually exclusive approaches to ethics. Now, is this a sign of an exact science? I didn't think so. You see, ethics, like morality, like religion in general is very prone to disagreement because people differ on their basic conceptions of things. Whether you believe that God exists or not really changes how you see the world and what you see as right and wrong. No amount of step by step analysis will get past the point that if two people start in different places, even if they make sure to walk an identical walk, pace by pace, odds are they're never going to meet.
        This is very deep in the abortion debate. I don't like pro-lifers but I can't see that pro-choicers are right either. Why? Well, first of all, lets clear something up, like what is the issue that they're really arguing about. Its not a woman's choice to her own body. If you think that's the real question, please take the time out to think things through instead of reading either side's propaganda. The pro-choicer's have it wrong. Do they honestly think that the pro-lifers would be that adamant about denying a woman rights to anything? These people have lives. If they're bombing abortion clinics, they've got to believe that they have a damn good reason for doing so. The reason is that they believe that abortion is murder. Literally. No if's, and's or but's, murder. Strangulation, decapitation, execution murder. Pro-choicers on the other hand believe that it isn't murder. That's it. That's the whole debate right there. Pro-lifers think that abortion is the genocide of our children. Pro-choicers don't believe that they're children at all. Why?  Because pro-choicers think that humans are thinking animals and therefore should only be given the rights of a human once they show some sign of or potential for thought. Pro-lifers don't think of humans as purely physical beings but as beings with souls. So whenever moment a pro-lifer pins down as being the time a person receives their soul, that is the moment when the kid's really a human. So if a fetus or an embryo really are fully human, how can anybody claim that a woman's right to control her body supercedes somebody else's right to life? If the the fetus is human, then its no longer part of her body. What if it isn't a human? That is the problem. How do you resolve it using our illustrious "5 Steps 'O Ethics"? You can't. The two sides disagree on a single question: "When does the baby become human?" and because they view the world from completely different perspectives they will never agree.
        Here's a thought: Don't bother teaching us ethical analysis. Take it slow. Most people have problems figuring out their own beliefs. Most of us have grown up being told what to believe but we were never told why. So almost nobody knows why they believe what they do. If we can manage to help people understand what they believe in and why, it'll help them appreciate the complexity of the ethical dilemmas they're bound to encounter and exactly why they're so difficult. A person isn't stupid, they just don't like to think. They swallow what they're given and spit it out with no thought as to what they're saying. Help us understand why we believe what we believe and we may have a chance of understand the world and each other. Don't go on with this charade of ethical analysis. You make something highly subjective sound reasonable. It doesn't make sense and makes us doubt whether the whole subject has any meaning whatsoever. Ethics pops up everywhere in our lives. Do it well.
        Last time you had a question for me. You wanted to know why I use the highly interesting and useful medium of a SET lecture to distribute these silly stories. Well here's the answer: because its so easy. Because my silly little stories make more of an impact on your students than the whole semester-full of lectures. And that isn't because the stories are so good. Its because SET is just so horribly pointless that everyone that you've packed into Kendall would rather stick their head in a book and fall asleep than listen to you. Don't you think that it’s a little bit of a hint right there that you're doing something wrong?
        Don’t you worry over there, the irony of using SET as a medium to spread the message that SET is worthless for transmitting information hasn’t escaped me. But to be honest, SET is in fact a great way to transmit information. Hell, I’m doing it, so why can’t you? Who has the resources? Who has the PhD’s? Oh, wait, I’m sorry, you never had to take teaching classes to get those PhD’s! I believe that you know your material. I believe that you know it well. However, how many of you know your material better than the names of your students? Pick, either the material or the ability to deliver it. If you want both then you better do both well.
        Did you read the reviews your previous students gave you? Didn't just a few of them say anything like I'm saying right now? It either you don't care what the students say or they just didn't bother to tell you. Odds are by the time they got the questionnaire the primary thing on their minds was getting the hell out of there. Telling you what they thought was, to them, rather useless since they never had to put up with you again.
        Go then. Go now. Go out there and find a few of your old students and show them this little rant and ask them if they recognize any of this. Get the honest ones, the ones that never have to take you again and can tell you off as much as they'd like. Ask them what they think and then come back and tell us.

No, that isn't the whole thing, but it should be. Anyway. I don't refer to ALL honors students here, but I certainly do refer to the vast majority of them.

Let me explain.

        I hate most people. I regard them as insignificant worms beneath my notice. There is a reason for this. Most people avoid thinking at all costs. They blindly accept whatever they're told by their parents, their teachers, their priests, or (and this is a REALLY frequent offender) the television. They trust people who are people, just like them; usually just as stupid and prone to error, to tell them absolute truths and never be wrong. They do this because it's easier than thinking. Thinking critically about what you're told, comparing it to things you've already discovered and deciding whether or not it's logical is HARD. And people are lazy. They don't WANT to think. They want to work an easy job and make easy money and go home and eat a nice large dinner, drink beer and vegetate in front of the television with their 2.5 kids, and then go upstairs and screw their significant other and then roll over and go to sleep. They don't want to think; that's difficult.
        So, what does this all have to do with Honor Students? Simple. Honors Students are one of the MOST FREQUENT offenders in terms of not thinking. They memorize hundreds of dates and events for their history classes, memorize every rule of grammar and authors of great works, every formulae they can find for their math classes, but they don't THINK about any of it; they vomit the information sitting in their head back onto the paper on cue. And when Honors Students don't think, they don't even have most people's excuse of being stupid; Honors Students AREN'T stupid, but they STILL avoid thinking at all costs, and that really, really makes me angry.
        That's one of the problems I have with SET. SET professors try to tell you how you should live your life. The SET professors are teaching a bullshit gen-ed required course at a 10K-a-year suitcase college; what makes them any more qualified to decide how you should live your life than you? Think for yourself, shithead; if you let someone else think for you, you're following their orders as surely as if you locked yourself in shackles.

        Aleluia, thus spaketh the Lord, Jesus Christ on this most blessed day of November the 2nd, 1998, "Let there be a diary the likes of which are unknown to man and let it be the word and the deed of God Almighty, Jesus Christ as a testament to his Second Coming. Amen." And so it was, a diary unlike any mankind has ever witnessed, with words of gold and heart of fire, with a countenance that destroys the darkness and the wisdom of all the Heavens and the Earth.

        On the day of Monday, November the 2nd, 1998, I Lord Jesus Christ, God of all creation have entered into communion with the Earthly world so as to honor and to cherish it, to rule and to keep it in a thousand year reign of heavenly light and purity. In order to reclaim the world back for myself, the One True God, I must walk to all the kings and nations of the Earth, spreading my Gospel to the Unbelievers. Thus spaketh the Lord God, Lord and Creator of the Heavens and the Earth.

        On the day Wednesday, November the 4th, 1998, the third day, I endeavored to come into holy communion will my pious subjects by visiting a church devoted to me and my love. I went to the church early in the morning in order to catch the parishioners gathered for morning services before going to work. To my surprise the church was nearly empty and the few people who were present seemed to have no taste in clothing. I approached these people and identified myself to them in the language of the Bible as the God of Adam, God of Noah, God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, God of Moses, God of David, Lord of hosts who long ago walked upon the Earth as a man and walks now before them in order to extend to them his promise of unending love and purity. The looks on their faces told me that they had no idea what I was saying. Apparently they didn't know Hebrew. How could they read the Bible if they didn't even know Hebrew? Well, I figured that even if they don't know Hebrew, at least a little bit of the Bible was written in Greek, so I tried repeating my greeting in Greek. No response. "Well," I thought, "maybe Latin will work, they've got to know Latin". Nope. Although a few of them looked like they found it a little familiar, none of them responded. Finally, I tried the local dialect, which they had to know and to which they finally responded. At first they looked relieved but as I went on they grew very concerned. Before I was done, one grave old man came up to me and told me that he'd take me to the place where I belonged.
        He took me behind the church where I saw many of the poor, the feeble and the feeble minded being served soup. He must have brought me there for me to minister to those most in need. He placed me in line and wished me well. At once I began spreading my gospel among these unfortunates. I told them that the meek are indeed blessed and that a rich man is as likely to get into heaven as a camel is to pass through the head of a needle. Soon everybody was intently listening to my sermon. They even carried me to stand on a "fire escape", which is much like an ugly balcony, from which to better preach the Word of God. I had the crowd going, glowing with religious fervor for a long time until I finally came to the topic of the upcoming kingdom of God, which is to be pious and celibate. Here the ministry hit a hitch. Their faces turned sour and a few minutes later I was thrown into a large puddle on the street. I really don't understand what happened. Maybe they just didn't understand what I was trying to say. Must be one of those slang double meanings. Tomorrow is bound to be better.

        On the day of Thursday, November the 5th, 1998, the fourth day, I decided to venture out into the common world to preach to the masses on the street. For half the day I walked around the city, trying to talk to people, but always being either ignored or yelled at. Several people told me to "take a shower, hippie". I don't know what I hippie is, but I'll be sure to bathe when I next see a river. On many occasions I ran into near naked women, whose bodies are so scandalously exposed that the very little that they had left on their flesh made me wish that much more eagerly that they take it off. Deeply shamed for my lack of purity, I quickly learned to avoid these smooth, young temptresses by hiding my head inside my robe until they passed.
        Finally, towards mid-day a kindly gentleman stopped long enough to listen to my message of love and brotherhood. He even took me to a local food establishment and bought me a "bacon pizza". I asked him if it was kosher and he said that he was sure it was. I thought it was delicious, especially the brown bits. Then he told me that we should go buy me some clothing for as he said, "You can't change the world wearing a robe." I did as he suggested and we went to a clothing establishment where he picked out a garment and we retired to a small room for me to put it on. He told me that "The world is run by people in suits" and helped me take my robe off. What happened next is unmentionable even in the Lord's diary; no, especially in the Lord's diary. All that I'll say is that I ran out of that small room faster than the wind, covering whatever I could with my robe, which I was still holding in my trembling hands. I will never trust old gentlemen again.

        On the blessed day of Sunday, November the 8th, 1998, I once again ventured into the world. For the last several days I have refused to go outside for fear of being physically violated once again. I have never wished ill on anyone before, but between you and me, that man is going to hell; I'll make sure. Today I decided to take it easy for a change and go back to where it all began by preaching to the Jews. I walked up to several synagogues only to turn back when I saw suited individuals walking in or out of the synagogue. Finally I found a synagogue with no suited old gentlemen in sight and entered. Inside I was relieved to find that no suits had wormed their way into this place of worship. Everybody was wearing black robes, and looked very devoted as they were reading their prayers. I didn't have the heart to tell them that they were all going to hell right then and there so I waited until the mid-day prayers were over.
        Then I went upfront and asked the rabbi whether I could speak to the congregation. He was very nice and said that he'd be glad too. Encouraged by this I addressed everyone in Hebrew (hey, it was worth another shot), identifying myself as their God and Messiah. Although they looked skeptical at first, I could see that they started to turn around my way. Hope once again entered my heart and warmed my spirit. Once again it grew to harbor the hope that maybe I can still win the Jews over to the one true faith. After I was done, everyone gathered around me, asking me questions about the scriptures and what is to come. Everything was going so well until one of them asked me what my name was. When they heard that it was Jesus, they all had an immediate and very cranky fit. They accused me of making fun of two thousand years of pain and that they were going to sue me for defamation. I'm not sure what defamation means, but I don't understand how you can sue somebody for trying to save the world. Well, live and learn. One thing is for sure, I don't think I'll ever get the Jews on my side.

        On the day of Monday, November the 9th, 1998. I triumphed over my fears and went out once again to preach on the streets. On the one hand, I did not encounter that old man, but what I did enounter was once more apathy and anger. What is wrong with the world? I mean, they've had two thousand years to get it together. Am I being too strict here? Am I asking for too much? Is it so wrong to offer to everlasting life to any jerk on the street?! Just believe in me God dammit!
        Sorry. I'm sorry. I just got a little hot there. It won't happen again. In any case, towards the evening I did manage to find one good soul. Upon hearing that I've been sleeping on the street and eating the animals of the city, he offered to give me a meal and shelter. Despite my initial suspicions, this one proved to be a keeper as he never gave me a chance to doubt his intentions. He let me into his home and let me stay on the couch. Its not like in the old days when they would give you their own bed but its the best treatment that I've gotten in this place.

         On the day of Tuesday, November the 10th, 1998. I made my benefactor, whose name by the way is Vinnie, an Apostle of the Lord. Together we walked to the nearest river in order for me to properly baptise him. All was well until I saw that river. I wouldn't put the devil himself in that cauldron of filth! Since when have rivers begun looking like pink rainbow slime?! I know I didn't do it, so what the hell happened? In the end I had to baptize Vinnie in his own dwelling where he can obtain water on demand.
        After the baptism Vinnie said that he had to go to work but suggested that I should try to find an agent to help me improve my publicity. This I tried to do for most of the day. I walked upto people on the street, asking them if they knew any agents. After being offered life insurance several times I went back to Vinnie for help. Vinnie is employed by a seller of shoes and when I entered the store, I was accosted by several near naked women offering to sell me shoes. This was temptation beyond words and I turned red all over. I closed my eyes, and held my breath lest their sweet perfume waft into my ready nostrils. A minute later I was rescued by Vinnie who rushed me the back of the store. Shocked beyond words, I demanded an explanation of how could Vinnie work in such a pleasure house of Babylon. Vinnie retorted that I was just behind a prude and that such flagrant displays of flesh were common and nothing to be shocked about. I was aghast at his words. How could Vinnie, my first and only Apostle in this sick, sick world, side with these depraved exhibitionists?! I denounced Vinnie as having fallen to the heels of Satan and angrily left the premises. I don't know what I'll do now but I guess its back to the streets tonight.

         On the day of Wednesday, November the 11th, 1998. I don't remember where I spent last night. I woke up to a splitting headache and my robe was soaked with a yellow liquid. Next to me were several empty bottles with the word "Budweiser" on them. They better not be what I think they are. Fortunately I found a small metal object that looked like a midget and shot a whole lot of water out of one of its arms, so I was able to wash my robe and get on with the day's search for the elusive agent. Luck was with me today and it wasn't even noon before I was directed to an agent who didn't try to sell me anything. I explained to her that I was Jesus Christ, the Messiah foretold by prophesy and that I had a message of love and hope for all of humanity and that I needed her help in order to achieve this.
        After listening to my plea she said that she liked my angle. In fact, she said that there was another Jesus "movie" in the works and that although I don't look that much like Jesus I might be an interesting choice for the role. I'm not completely sure what that means as far as my ministry goes, but I figured that it couldn't hurt. We have a meeting with a person who will give us the money make the movie tomorrow. Its good to see that at least some people still practice charity.

        On Thursday, November 11, 1998. Today I met this person and he turned out to be a greedy money changer. What's worse, he was a suited individual. I don't know what it is about suits, but I just can't stand the sight of them. I stormed out of the agent's office. She caught me outside and explained to me that I have to be willing to reach the middle ground, that I had to be more flexible if I were to get what I wanted. In the end she convinced me to go back to the meeting where she made me apologize to this robber of graves and small children.
        At the meeting it became evident that he wanted me to have a girlfriend who would follow me around along with the apostles and that his girlfriend would be my girlfriend in the movie. At first this didn't seem like such a bad idea as Mary Magdalene was my friend and did follow me around during my ministry two thousand years ago, but when he explained what he meant by girlfriend, it made me sick! "Are you not married?! Have you no shame!?! Out of my sight, money changer! And you, agent woman! You have betrayed me in the most vile of ways! Repent now for your soul is laden with the heavy burden of sin." Sadly, I have to say that they both kicked me out of the office.
        Distraught due to this course of events I wept on the sidewalk. Indeed, it is on this same sidewalk that I am writing this diary entry. What shall I do? The world hates me. No, the world ignores me. It ridicules everything about me. And why? I have no idea what it is that they want that I can't provide. Why the hell did I ever make them?! Now what? Do I stay, do I go?
       Life sucks!
             ...
             ...
             ...
But no, I've gotta stay. Like I said, why did I even bother making them if I don't stay? If I leave them again when they need me this badly, then what will they turn into in another two thousand years?! Yes. There's no other way for me.

        Wednesday, June 19, 3967. No reason for a new introduction. I'll start where I left off the last time. Doesn't make a difference anybody. Nobody's gonna read this. It wasn't but a few hours after my last entry that I met a man who really seemed to care. I told him about my holy ministry on Earth and the pious kingdom of God that will bring Heaven and Earth together into a state of pure holiness and love. He said he believed me and was taking me to a place where other fellow believers met. I said that I didn't realize that my message had gotten out so far so quickly but he said that they were very devoted. The last thing I remember before leaving the Earth was a knife through my ribs. Just as bad an ending as the first time. Only more pointless. I tried to come back to life again but the people I encountered didn't seem to find that in any way unusual. They looked drunk but all they did was smoke. I don't think they'd be surprised if I split the sea again. Of their heads. I almost did it too but then I decided that I didn't care anymore and left.
        After that it took me quite a while before I was willing to come back to Earth. One thing is for certain, I've got to be more practical. Maybe I'll wear a suit this time.

        I'm a rule breaker. I'm a deal maker. I'm a soul shaker. I'm a heart breaker. I jet around the world. I'll fly from Paris, Texas to Berlin, Pennsylvania, from Egypt, New Jersey to St. Petersburg, Florida. There's nothing I can't do. Have you ever had breakfast in Tijuana, lunch in Topeka and dinner in Cleveland? I have and it feels great! Life is good and I'm good at life.
        Now you'd think that with all the riches, power and popularity that have come my way in the last few years, I'd be quite the happening guy but to be honest I'm quite lonesome. Well, not quite lonesome really, I mean; that is to say that what I mean is that I live by myself. I don't go out, I don't stay up late, I don't drink with my friends. In fact, I have no friends. Except for my cats that is. Oh, I love the little guys. If not for them my life wouldn't have any meaning. You know I'd forsake all the riches of the world before giving up any one of my twenty little darlings.
        You know, I still remember the first time I laid my eyes on them. My, were they precious! Still brings a tear to my eye. There I was, walking around the mall, looking to purchase a kicking pair of Christmas pajamas, when I passed by "The Pet Shop" (that was the actual name of the store as the owners were very boring people). I didn't even see them at first. What caused me to notice them was the piercing shrieks of meowing tearing out of the store. I had to go in. That's when I saw them. Twenty five little cuties that they were, they had managed to maneuver the lone dog, a large St. Bernard into a corner and had it pinned next to the snake cages. Oh how he trembled! It was then and there that I realized that I had to have them.
        I wasted no time. I marched right up to the cashier and demanded to purchase all of the kittens right on the spot.
        "Sir, do you have any cats?"
        "No, why do you ask?"
        "Well, have you ever had any pets whatsoever?"
        "No, not really but that's because never in my life have I seen anything so adorable!"
        Well, as you can guess he didn't let me buy all of them at once but made me purchase only one as a "test drive". I mustered up all of my strength for what came next. I had to choose my very own very first kitten. What a step! I must have spent an hour in that store rubbing them and picking them up and checking their teeth and sticking probes into every orifice on their little bodies. A few resisted but most went along willingly. In the end I picked the little blind, deaf kitten. I just figured he wouldn't resist as much. After making the cashier swear that we wouldn't sell any of the kittens until I came back, I packed my new kitten into a plastic bag and made my way to get those pajamas.
        By the time I got home the kitten was quite restless. He must've clawed his way out of the plastic bag because when I opened the trunk he was already wearing the pajamas. How gorgeous! ..... <sniffle> ..... Sorry, I just had a moment back there. The memories ... <tear>.... Don't worry, I'm fine now. Anyhow, I played with him for hours. Toss the ball, kitten circus, pool of yarn. The fun lasted well into the night. At the end of the festivities we went into the kitchen to get a snack. While I was reaching for the seasonings Herbert fell into a large pot of water. My, did he taste good!!!
        If you've never tried cat then you're really missing out because let me tell you, it is quite a treat. The Vietnamese really have it on the nose on this one. Cat is good and kitten is even better. Just take the taste of tender veal and mix it up with a spunky child. That is what I tasted on that momentous night. I've lived and I'm never going back.
        Next weekend I showed up at "The Pet Shop" armed with my credit card and a spendin' mood. I had to drive my car to the back of the store in order to load everybody up. Drop-off time was magical. Now don't think me stupid, I didn't eat them all at once. Waste not, want not and all that stuff. I mean, I spent that whole week turning my house into a home. I completely remodeled the basement into a huge playground. There were bridges and ladders and a fountain with fish. I even put a kitchen there. You never want to have hungry cats on your hands, so its always a good idea to have food nearby. If you listen closely you can hear them playing down there.
        I've had them for ages now. Three, four years it's been I think. I've never looked back. Cats are a renewable resource, you know. Its like if you're a Mongol raiding party and you a have a choice of either taking the beer or the maidens, would you take the beer or the maidens? Well, only a fool would take the beer. Why? Because maidens are a renewable resource. You can use them, put them into storage, take them out and they're as good as new. Of course they all have a shelf life but after a few decades you've got a new batch of maidens fresh and ready for use.
        We're like a family, the cats and eye. I rub 'em, I scrub 'em, we cuddle, we race, they eat, I eat. Its paradise, I tell you. Everybody pulls their weight. Its like the communists say, "From him according to ability to him according to need". I bring in the money and they're delicious. I can give you a few recipes if you'd like but to be honest its more of an art than a science. Sure there's been a few kitchen accidents and yes, visitors do occasionally find bloody cat fur between the couch cushions and I wouldn't be very honest if I said that the police have never shown up but you know what, after you taste your first "Fluffy Casserole" you'll know what I mean when I say that the end justifies the means.
        You're looking a little pale. It looks like somebody is in a need of a little pick-me-up! How about I go get you some orange juice while you go downstairs to play with The Family. I just hope that you're hungry 'cause we've got dinner in an hour and I'm like mom: I expect you to finish your whole plate, even the veggies. Well scoot! Go! I'll be down in a second.

Dear Taizong,
        Why do they call it snapping? I mean nothing really snaps. Well that's sort of a lie. The secret is hiding the evidence. They diagnosed me as mildly schizophrenic. How can someone be *mildly* schizo? If that were possible, like, how would you wank over the toaster when it's on high? I think they're lying. That reminds me, Jenie is coming over. I have to blow her up when she gets here of course which wouldn't be so much of a deal if she could remember to bring the damn stopper. I usually end up using a piece of the next door cat's tail. I hope they get another cat soon. I never figured out how she gets over the speedbumps though. Like that time when Long Dong Silver ejaculated over six feet and stole my Malibu Barbie. What I really mean to say is that Malibu Barbie is just the best doll. Ever. I'd never liked the Ken ones though and I still have nightmares about it but as I said before, I really hate politics. Some people are so lazy it's just ridiculous. If I'm going to step on the face of a homeless man I'd like him to at least roll over so I can say hello. You keep trying anyway. I think there must be a God somewhere because if you pull a scab off, hold it up to the sun and look through it, it's like looking through a kaleidoscope. There just are NOT that many colors in a scab with so many Iraqies pillaging pharaceutical plants. I mean if that were true, elephants would come from Spain, right?

 Sincerely,
                    Al