It's All Newton's Fault

I'm not one to hold grudges but there are some things you can't forgive. First it was the constant stare-downs. I wanted to stab a spear clear through him, just to make him go away for even a second. I would close my eyes, but I knew he was still there, judging and taunting. He'd mock me daily according to some fucked-up schedule of his. I'd had enough.

That's why I started this war with the moon, a war that won't end until one of us has been ripped from his orbit and flung into the far reaches of space.

Election Day

Yesterday was election day. I went to the local high school to vote, but I was denied by one of the polling volunteers. I'd remembered to bring two forms of ID as well as a copy of my voter registration card, just in case the new voting laws made it necessary. When she still said no, I started to get slightly upset.

She claimed it had something to do with the string of severed ears I was wearing around my neck, but I'm pretty sure America stills allows for freedom of religion, so I don't know what her deal was.

Grand Targhee

The gods gathered on Mt. Olympus for an important meeting. Grand Targhee, the Titan responsible for holding up the Earth, was threatening to go on strike. Some of the more warlike gods favored a quick and violent response, but the others wanted to consider his reasons.

"You all can fly around the universe, have affairs, and fight in wars. Meanwhile, I'm stuck standing like a statue in perpetuity. I don't even have WiFi.

After hearing his complaints, the gods agreed to annihilate Grand Targhee. The task of holding up the earth passed on to Arthur Leibowitz of Albany, New York.

Anthropology 101

You hear the droning, a high-pitched whistle that keeps interrupting your sleep. It's your anthropology professor, bombinating about some god awful theory of ethnography that can't possibly be as interesting as the dream you're having.

You hate anthropology and its awkward mixture of science and philosophy. What does Dr. Dunham have to tell you about modern-day reality.

And then you understand that life was all an illusion, that the reality may be that you are spending your last living moments in the Arctic on a scientific expedition, and as you die of exposure, the 100-mile-per-hour winds whistle in your ear.

The Heterodoxy

In the tiny nation of Genesia, every three years a heterodixist is elected. This person is charged with rebelling against all that the Genesian culture stands for by opposing every public decision in the most obdurate manner possible. In this way, the citizens are comforted knowing that at least one person must always be calling their government to task.

The heterodoxist is considered one of the nation's leading dignitaries. No one runs for the office willingly, but once elected, she is afforded great honor. The one drawback is that once the three-year term is over, the heterodoxist is publicly executed.

The Anthropologist At Work

We'd been on the expedition for months when we encountered our first Frost Giant. He was massive, as large as twelve men put together and three stories tall. He set upon our horses first, breaking their backs and swallowing them whole while the men fled in panic. His hair was thick with rime and his clothes--let's call them rags--hung off him like cheap Christmas ornaments.

Once the creature was done with the horses, he began on the men. His laughter filled the valley with thunder, but all I could think about was how he needed a proper bath.

The Grasshopper And The Eagle

Every morning, the grasshopper hopped from one blade of grass to the next eating as much as he could. Winter was approaching. In order to survive, he would stuff himself so much that he'd have plenty of nourishment to last until spring. He didn't want to end up like his cousin, who paid the price for his laziness.

Unfortunately, the grasshopper ate until the grass was literally hanging out of his mouth. A sharp-eyed eagle spotted the excess of grass and swooped down and ate him.

The moral of the story is never bite off more than you can chew.

Jordan And Mandy

Jordan was a drunk who made sure everyone had fun at his own expense. He was a clown.

Mandy, on the other hand, was a goody-goody. She never drank alcohol and did her best to avoid late-night parties. In other words, she wasn't any fun.

Mandy and Jordan couldn't have been more different. The only reason they knew each other's names was because Mandy was a tutor for the English department and Jordan was trying desperately not to flunk out.

But thanks to Judge Smalls, they've been ordered to marry.

Watch Jordan and Mandy every Friday night at 8:30 on NBC.

The Road Of Temples

Basel stood in awe at the Road of Temples. There were spires and steeples and domes and banners of every color stretched across the horizon. Every religion and denomination was represented here, competing for the attention of passersby. A person couldn't take a step in any direction without being accosted by a virtual army of ministers and holy men wishing to preach the one, true faith.

When Basel stepped onto the boulevard, there was a near stampede in his direction. He was the first visitor any of the clergymen could remember having seen. Most people avoided the Road of Temples.

The Final Accounting

Last night, the sky broke asunder, as if someone had taken a knife and cleaved the horizon in two. The ruptured atmosphere peeled back to reveal a gateway into another realm.

I was driving to work when it happened. The immediate assumption was that the end times were at hand and everyone started clamoring to get home or escape the city as quickly as possible. Of course, if it was the apocalypse, I'm not sure why people were running. You can't run from your final judgement.

I kept driving to work. I figured the world needed accountants more than ever.