too funny:
Basic math—which the child has blissfully yet to learn—clearly demonstrates that the number of years before he will be released from the horrifying prison of formal schooling, is more than twice the length of time he has yet existed. According to a conservative estimate of six hours of school five days a week for nine months of the year, Bolduc faces an estimated 14,400 hours trapped in an endless succession of nearly identical, suffocating classrooms.
After learning that the first grade will continue for eight excruciating months beyond that date, it was only a matter of time before Bolduc inquired into what grade comes after first grade, and, when told, would probe further into how many grades he will have to complete before allowed to play with his friends.
The answer to that fatal question—12, a number too large for Bolduc to count on the fingers of both hands—will be enough to nearly shatter the boy’s still-forming psyche, said child psychology expert Eli Wasserbaum.
“When you consider that it doesn’t include another four years of secondary education, plus five more years of medical school, if he wants to follow his previously stated goal to grow up to be a doctor like his daddy, this will come as an interminably deep chasm of drudgery and imprisonment to [Connor],” said Wasserbaum. “It’s difficult to know the effect on his psychological well-being when he grasps the full truth: that his education will be followed by approximately four decades of work, bills, and taxes, during which he will also rear his own children to face the same fate, all of which will, of course, be followed by a brief, almost inconsequential retirement, and his inevitable death.”
“Even a 50-year-old adult would have trouble processing such a monstrous notion,” Wasserbaum added. “Oh my God, I’m 50 years old.”
The first of Bolduc’s remaining 2,299 days of school will resume at 8 a.m. tomorrow. On the next 624 Sundays, he will also be forced to attend church.
spent the past three mos. trying to walk a permit through the DOT, not battling, but not running either, when finally those above realize that the timeline to launch is approaching; the dam breaks and we’re on our way from foreplay to long time.
such is my life.
also, why I am not in charge: I would smash break things.
since we’re talking commuting/bike riding to save gas and expenses, this just dawned on me: I’ve determined that I am in fact carbon neutral; driving doesn’t really bother me.
going to work everyday bothers me. the driving to and from work? not so much. I always thought it was the commuting, but really, it’s the routine of work that bothers me.
a drone’s life can be had on a bike or in a car; it’s still a drone’s life. I can loathe showing up at the office on a bike or in a car, it doesn’t really matter either way.
as you were.
I’ll be glad when gas prices drop again.
I’ve been training:
Today Now!: How To Pretend You Give A Shit About The Election
for the upcoming election season.
as i’ve said, the insane jackup of rhetoric with regard to global warming, “the greatest crisis the species has ever faced,” the death of the planet, etc, is the secular humanist liberal apocalypse. it’s a sheer competition for who’s most dire, most obsessed, and who’s more unanimous than whom. it’s the flood, complete with the reasons: our moral culpability. i predict this: when obama is elected, liberals will feel better about themselves and the probable verdict of cosmic judgment, and they’ll tone down the eschatology, the ranting cant.
and more.
I want to see their ears bleed.
I’ve written here before about paving over sportsfields with rubber materials that “work better” year round. doping is the equivalent of paving over the turf with rubber mats to make the playing field “level.” recover better, ride stronger, enhance your bodies ability to transfer and carry oxygen. yes but what are YOU MADE OF? what can YOU actually DO?
sure, if everyone is doping, then we’ll still see the best and truest athlete. whatever. if you want to watch Superman, rent the goddamn movie. of course Ricco was doped, how else could he ride away without showing an ounce of pain, exertion, trepidation or fear on his face? what a pussy, he needed drugs. the slowest time in years up the Alp? awesome. this shit should defeat us. it should destroy us.
I want to see the ammonia from using their own muscles for fuel waft off their bodies afterwards. I want to see their eyes and ears bleed. I want to see their femurs break mid-stroke from being weakened over the years by the leaching of calcium from their bones used to keep their muscles firing. I want to see it all; all that happens and all that we are capable of. sure man, get massage, use compression pants, ice vests and SRA. that’s cool. just don’t hold anything back in the race, yo. empty your entire being out there.
there is nothing magical about this world or, for this matter, the sport of cycling.
I’m so over needing to prove things to other people.
Meg would be much more convincing if she hadn’t spent 66.67% of her post proving Marc fatuous and wrong. (or wrong-headed, whichever.)
lol.
gaw-lee I loves the internet.
insert dead baby joke [here].
‘No Values Voters’ Looking To Support Most Evil Candidate
finally, I’m being heard.
all those situps in elementary school or whatever paid off, I guess.