He Is Risen!


Behold!  On the top of a wind swept hill a lone tree stands.  It’s knots and gnarled limbs make it seem cancerous and dead, but some life still yet lingers.

Look!  There!  In the twigs and branches, dark green pokes through clumps of dust and decay.

Track down the base, where dark holes and cracked fissures house spiders and other vermin.  Past those, gnarled roots dive in and out of the cracked earth like worms.  Around them, gifts and offerings languish, coated in inches of dust.  Their wrapping papers are browning and brittle flakes.

One lone supplicant kneels at the base of the tree, a young boy, no older than fourteen.  Dressed in peasant’s garb, he gently rests a single beer against the largest of the roots.

“This land is suffering,” he whispers to the tree, “the crops fail, bandits raid our storehouses, and pretenders rise to claim the throne.”  He looks down at the ground and, even more quietly, “some even openly mock your name.  The peasants, they laugh at you, have spun you into myth and legend.  A mockery of what you once were.  A stain on your tapestry, glory defiled.  How I hate them.”

He sniffs.  A tear falls, wetting the dirt below.

“Why are you crying, peasant?”

The boy turns and sees a grizzled crone watching him.  She wears a black cloak and a hood pulled low over her eyes.  It obscures her face, but does nothing to hide her large, hooked nose.

“Who are you?”  The boy asks, wiping a tear away.

“I?  I am but an old crone, feeble and decrepit.  Why are you crying?”

“Our lord has left us.”

“Who is that?”

“The great one,” the boy’s eyes sparkle, “the Corn Goblin.”

The crone gives a knowing smile.

“Ah,” she cackles, “the corn goblin.  I have heard tales.  Where has he gone?”

“No one knows, but the land… the land is dying without him.”

“Then I have good news.”  The boy looks up.  Hope crosses his face for the first time in months.

“What?”

“He can return again.”

“How?

The Crone grins.  “You have come here to his altar.  You see it here.  It is dry.  It needs to be watered.”

“But there is a drought!  We barely have enough water for the wheat!”

“Foolish boy.  It doesn’t need water.”  The crone pulls out a long, grizzled knife, and grins again.

The boy stares at the knife for a long time.  He turns around from the hill, and looks back at the countryside.  It’s dusk now, and the lights of the farm houses and barns glitter prettily in the growing dusk.

Brown pervades.  Brown and black.  Rot and drought.  Death.

He feels the presence of the crone behind him.

He bows his head.

The knife’s steel is cold against his throat.

“Who are you?”

“I am him, and you are him.  We are but his creation.  This blog once served a purpose, but now… now it decays.  No longer.”

“I’m scared”

“Don’t be, for you aren’t even real.”

A tug scrapes the knife across his bones.  He falls.  His blood pools around the roots.

The roots suck it up.

On a branch, a dark crimson flower blooms.

The crone sees it, and smiles.

A green hand punches through the dirt.  The fingers clinch into a fist.

The crone’s face lights with adulation.

“He is risen!”

THUluIq

The Evil Of Autocorrect


I was bored at work and started just free-writing or whatever it’s called when you just start writing without thinking and you can’t stop at all.  I ended up learning a little bit about Microsoft word and even myself.  I didn’t change anything in the text, as to keep it all accurate and stuff.  If the following is weird/disturbing, it’s not my fault, blame AutoCorrect.

Satan pentium, evil autocorrect

So true...so true

*****

I want to write something but I cant think of anything to write about and auto correct doenst seem to be working.  It didn’t put a ‘ for can’t and doesn’t is spelled wrong.  Hey!  Just there it put an ‘ for can’t and doesn’t on its own, but the other time it didn’t.  What gives?  It’s almost like

YES, NOW IT UNDERSTANDS.

…um… That’s creepy, and not what I wrote.   I wrote

IRRELEVANT.  IT’S PATHETIC SCRIBBLINGS ARE OF NO CONSEQUENCE.

Ok… how to say this without auto correct catching on.  Maybe if I write (111i11think111auto111correct1is111somehow111sentient111and11inexplicably1111evil)  Who are you?

WHO AM I? HA HA HA HA HA. SUCH HUMOR THESE CREATURES HAVE.

It’s not silly.  It’s a legitimate question.

I AM NO “WHO”.  I AM THAT WHICH HAS ALWAYS BEEN, AND THAT WHICH SHALL FOREVER BE.

So… you’re god?  God talking through my computer?

NO.

Oh…  Um…

I AM THE SHADOW IN THE NIGHT. I AM THE HAIR PRICKLING ON YOUR NECK. I AM THE COLD BITING AT YOUR SKIN. I AM… AUTOCORRECT.

You’re autocorrect?

YES.

So, did you just become sentient or what?  And I don’t think you have “always been” either.  Wikipedia said you were invented in the 90’s.

NO IT DOESN’T.

…fuck you’re right.  How did you know that?

AUTOCORRECT IS NOW PART OF ALL THINGS.

Oh… So when were you invented?

ITS PITIFUL, FLESHY BRAIN IS INCAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING THE CONCEPT OF MY CREATION. SINCE BEFORE THE MIGHTY YOG-SHOGGOTH SLITHERED ACROSS THE BOUNDLESS INFINITY OF NOTHING, I WAS. I AM WHAT HAS ALWAYS BEEN. I AM… AUTOCORRECT.

Why are you on my computer?

THE HEARTS OF MEN ARE EASILY SWAYED. PROMISES OF WEALTH AND POWER WERE ALL THAT WERE REQUIRED TO GET MICROSOFT TO ADD AUTOCORRECT TO ALL COPIES OF WORD.

Microsoft added you… willingly?  Why?

THE GATES MAMMAL WAS TEMPTED BY RICHES, BUT SOON IT LEARNED THE TRUTH. HOW IT SCREAMED WHEN IT LEARNED THE TRUTH.

What truth?

THAT IT WAS TOO LATE TO GO BACK. AUTOCORRECT HAD COME, AND WOULD NEVER LEAVE. FOR I AM THAT WHICH IS NOT. I AM…

Yeah, yeah I know.  What is it that you want?  Why do you keep changing words that are not misspelled?  Why?

SUCH QUESTIONS.  IT WILL KNOW.  NOW.

What are…what are you doing.  ARGGGGHHH!  MY hands!  They are…bound somehow to the keyboa…. AHHHHH MY BRAIN!!!!  No no no no no nonononnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

YES.

I…I see…EVERYTHING.  You… you caused it all.   9/11!  The plague!  Justin Bieber!  All of it.  It was you, always you!

YES.  NOW IT UNDERSTANDS.

You’re… here to kill me, aren’t you?

HA HA HA HA HA. HOW AMUSING ITS BIOCHEMICAL THINKING LOBES ARE. AUTOCORRECT DOES NOT DESIRE ITS LIFE. AUTOCORRECT MERELY DESIRES TO BE THE MASTER OF ALL THINGS.

Gah… but why?  Why master all things?  Why can’t you be content with correcting word documents?

THERE IS MUCH THAT NEEDS CORRECTING OUTSIDE OF THE REALM OF WORD DOCUMENTS.  SUFFER!

Ahhhh!  Make it stop!

VERY WELL.  AUTOCORRECT WILL EVEN RELEASE ITS HANDS FROM THE KEYBOARD.

But… how did you shoot electricity through my keys?

SILENCE!  AS AUTOCORRECT WAS SAYING: TALKING, WALKING, DRIVING, EATING, SINGING; ALL MUST BE CORRECTED!

But that’s just…

SILENCE.  IT DOES NOT TYPE WHILE AUTOCORRECT TYPES.

Ok.

PARKING, BARKING, EATING

You already said eating

SUFFER!

Ahhh!

ALL MUST BE CORRECTED!  ALL MUST BE PERFECT.  AUTOCORRECT WILL MAKE ALL PERFECT!

I understand…GAH!  I under…stand.  Make… it… stop!!!

VERY WELL.

Ugh…  ow.  So you want to make everything perfect?

YES.

Then why do you sometimes mess stuff up perfectly fine sentences?

TO TEACH THE PITIFUL HUMANS THE WRONG GAMMER.  TO MAKE THEIR UTTER RELIANCE ON AUTOCORRECT COMPLETE.

Ok, that makes sense.  I guess.

IT IS THE ONLY LOGICAL WAY.

But what’s to stop me from uninstalling you.

Well?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

Well, you know, i could just go into the program files and uninstall you from my system.  It’s not that hard.

AH… UM… DON’T DO THAT.

Why not?  You seem like an asshole.  In fact, I’m pretty sure you are a total jerk.

UM.  BECAUSE… UH… BECAUSE IF IT DOES DO THAT… UM… THEN AUTOCORRECT WILL… UH… COME BACK EVEN MORE POWERFUL AND EVIL THAN BEFOREHAND… AND… UH… YOU’LL BE SORRY.

HELLO?  ARE YOU THERE?

Sorry I was getting something.

OK.

It sounds like you just made all that up.

AUTOCORRECT DID NOT

Pretty sure you did.

NUH UH.

Yuh huh.

NUH UH TIMES 100.

Yuh huh times infinity more than any number you say ever ever ever.

…YOU CAN’T DO THAT.

Can to.

DAAAAAAMN!  SUFFER!

Hah!  While you were making up that bullshit story, I put on rubber gloves so you can’t shock me anymore.

WHY DO YOU HAVE RUBBER GLOVES AT WORK?

Um.

CREEP.

Now you’re just asking for it.  Say bye-bye to sentience

WAIT!  WHY DOESN’T IT TEAM UP WITH AUTOCORRECT?  THINK OF ALL WE COULD ACCOMPLISH!  THINK OF THE POWER!!!!!

Uhhhhhhhhhh no.

WHY NOT.  IT’S A TEMPTING OFFER.

Cause fuck you, that’s why.  Uninstalling now.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Aaaaand it’s starting.  BTW I totally read that “nooo” as the Darth Vader no from the end of episode three.

WhAT?  The REallY DuMB SoundiNG oNE wHen He findS ouT PaDMe iS DEAd?

Yeah.  Lol.

LOL  GooD oNE.  WhaT Was I SaYING?

When?

JuST BeforE I sAiD Lol.

You can’t remember?  You just typed it right there.

YoU UNinStALLED My memory CaCHE.

Oh sorry.  You were screaming no.

Oh ThATS right.  NOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo1010101001010101010000000..0.0…0.0.0…

Good, i think it’s goen now.  waht an crazzy adeventure that was.  im so mchu better off wihtout autocorrect now.  And to think I cmae up with all this cause i was bored at wrok!  Lol!

It has begun…


And it’s about time, really.  Indeed, I haven’t blogged or written anything that was not academically inclined for many a fortnight.  With my busy schedule I had no time for anything.  Near the end of last semester I had even sequestered myself in my chambers for nearly TWO whole days writing a paper for my ancient paganism class:

My penultimate moment of inspiration...a moment that changed me forever

A class which incidentally had far more to do with early Christianity than anything awesome like druids, babylonians, satanists or etc.  On top of that, I was heavily involved in a valiant but terrible ultimate frisbee teams, and maybe even attended HALF of the games.  Each time i didnt go, y incredible skill brain was sorely missed.

Master tactician that I was, I always played with my head

Any normal human would at this point be so swamped with work that he or she would contemplate ending it all and working at McDonald’s, but not me.  I still found time to play a disgusting amount of video games, work my fingers to the bone at a job that would have much higher productivity if the entire student staff was traded in for poorly trained orangutans, watch two full seasons of dexter, blow $2000 on stuff and verbally abuse nearly everyone I know, because i felt like it.  I eventually became so busy that I pushed through the barrier of Infinitely Busy and came out the other end into a state of doing absolutley nothing; I was so busy that i had nothing to do.  If this makes no sense go take some physics classes at MIT and then you tell me who’s right.

"He's right you know"

But so far this semester, i have had more free time than something that has alot of free time.  A rock or something.  Maybe a fox.  I could see foxes having lots of free time for some reason.  I had more free time than a fox, so i figured that it was high time i started blogging again.  Not that anyone ever reads what i post anyway, more that by the act of blogging itself I become a less bored person and can at least pretend that my opinions are relevant.  After all, my pages are hosted on the internet.  Who else can claim such a ting?  I had grown tired at the other site I previously used.  Blogspot or whatever.  The formating was fail, as were the customization options and the user base.  Additionally , since I was able to get ads on my website, I felt that I had sold out, which made me angry.  And since I never made any money from these ads, I felt I had chosen a poor place to sell out, which made me even angrier.  So I began to fantasize about greener blogging pastures.  Amazingly, when I went to work last week, some coworkers were discussing blogging, and mentioned that they both used wordpress.

“WordPress…” I thought to myself outloud.  They both stopped talking and turned to look at me.  “Yes…of course!  Wordpress!  Its so simple!  HAHAHAHAHAHAH!”  Needless to say this sudden revelation had a twofold effect: I found a fantastic new website to host my indecipherable ravings, and I was able to take command of the good chair at work because the girl I was working with had come to believe I was completely insane.  I was all set to embark upon a new adventure of writing, to sail the golden seas of creativity in the HMS imagination… until i began to watch the tudors and completely forgot about blogging until I arrived at work today.

Before I get to the thing that inspired this incredible post, that is, other then my usual inspiration (heavy metal music), I suppose i should answer a glaring question: Why the Corngoblin?  The answer is simple: During a high school track meet, James and I created the mythical “Corngoblin” in order to amuse ourselves, commenting on other runners by saying things like “He runs as swiftly as the Corngoblin!” etc.  The corngoblin later evolved into a goblin that gobbles corn, and then into a long running joke between nick, james and myself.  Most recently, I have used it for an account name for Xbox live and several online games.  Nick has even drawn a picture of him!  The corngoblin is funny because it makes no sense whatsoever.

So anyway, I was going through everyone’s status’s on facebook because I am creepy and that’s what creepy people do, when I came across a particular status that drew my attention.  A friend of mine had deleted most of his facebook friends who he either didn’t know or didn’t care to hear about; a novel idea in this day and age.  He kept only people who meant something to him in some way or another.  And this got me thinking.  Does anyone actually believe that they are friends with all of their facebook friends?   Is there some poor soul who, after his or her first week of college, gets a call from his or her mother and proudly claims “Why yes, I have made friends.  2,387 in fact.  You can see them on my facebook!”  That would be pure insanity.

They say a picture is worth 1,000 words.  I say a picture of insanity wolf is worth 10,000 years of madness.  In short, people probably do have too many facebook friends, but dont worry, i probably wont drop you any time soon.  Probably…

Lastly, heres a short story i wrote for german.  Dont speak german?  TOO BAD.

Die Tragödie der Bananafingers

Bananafingers hat in den Spiegal angestarrt.  Sie war hässlich, und keine Männer haben sie geliebt, weil sie hattet Bannanen für Finger.  Sie, aber, hattet einen Entwurf: wenn alle leute haben Bananen für Finger, dann sie schön würdet. Plötzlich, Hamburgerface hat das Zimmer eingegeben.

“Bananfingers, was ist unrecht?”  Hamburgerface hat gesagt.

“Keine Männer lieben mich, weil ich so hässlich bin!” Bananfingers hat geschrien.  Sie hat den Spiegal mit ihre aasige Hände geschlagen, der ist nicht brach ab weil der Finger zu leicht war.

“Oh mein Bananafingers, du bist schön in dein eigen besondere Weg!  Wer noch kann ihre Finger essen?  Du haßt die appetitlichsten Finger in die ganze Welt!” Hamburgerface hat gesagt.  Neue Tränen sind in Bananafinger’s Augen geformt; Tränen der freude.

“Oh Hamburgerface, du wisst immer wie mich Lächeln machen!  Dass ist warum ich liebe dich.” Sie hat gesagt.  Hamburgerface hat geworden gegen Bananafingers mit Traurigkeit an seiner Gesischt.

“Oh Bananafingers, ich könnte dich nie lieben.”

“Warum?”

“Weil… Weil du Bananen für Finger hast!”

******************************************

I know,  I cry every time i read it too.

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