F2: Top Three Movies

My favorite movies are Winnie the Pooh’s Grand Adventure, Megamind, and Wreck-It Ralph.  In Winnie the Pooh’s Grand Adventure, Christopher Robin goes to school for the first time.  He leaves a note behind to Pooh that says, “Gone to school.”  Pooh can’t read, so he takes the note to Rabbit, who is also illiterate, who then takes it to Owl, who is extremely dyslexic.  Owl reads the note and interprets it as, “Gone to skull, Worry.”  Owl sends Rabbit, Pooh, Tigger, Piglet, and Eeyore on a mission to save Christopher Robin from the Skull.  They must journey past the Hundred Acre Wood, over an abyss, through a thorny forest, and through a network of caves.  Throughout their journey, Tigger realizes that he is stronger than he seems when he jumps out of the abyss, Piglet realizes he is braver than he feels when he climbs the vine, and Rabbit realizes he is smarter than he thinks when he finds his way through the fog.  The climax of this movie is when Eeyore sacrifices himself to hold up the door.

Wreck-It Ralph is a cool movie as well, but its plot is really complicated.  First, Ralph is part of an arcade game called Fix-It Felix, but nobody likes him because he wrecks stuff, but it’s just his job!  So all the people in his game say that they’ll respect him if he gets a medal, so Ralph goes to a game called Hero’s Duty and steals a medal, and then he takes an escape pod to another game called Sugar Rush, which is a candy racing game, and a little girl steals his medal because she wants to race, but she, can’t because she has a glitch and she flickers all the time.  Anyway, meanwhile a scybug from the other game hitched a ride on Ralph’s escape pod and is repopulating underground.  Ralph makes a deal with the girl, and they become friends, and then King Candy, who is actually some guy who you THOUGHT was dead, tries killing the girl and preventing her from crossing the finish line, and then the scybugs hatch, and bite King Candy, who then turns into a scybug boss.  Ralph tries fighting him, and is about to be killed but then he falls and punches open the Mentos ceiling and they fall into the diet cola volcano and then make a huge explosion, and Ralph is about to die but then the girl saves him using her glitch that is actually a teleporting power and everyone lives happily ever after. 

Megamind was cool too.

F1: The Giving Tree

My favorite book is The Giving Tree, by Shel Silversteen.  Shel is a man, in case you were wondering, and even though he writes these delicate children’s books, he has a scruffy beard and looks like a lumberjack that is also a part time murderer.  One of the reasons I like this book is because I like to imagine Shel Silversteen running in and chopping down the tree.  And then shooting a dude.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  The Giving Tree is about a little boy whose best friend is a tree.  He plays with the tree, and the tree can talk, and the tree loves the boy, and everything is happy (and it says “and the tree was happy”).  Oh, I’m underlining this whole thing, aren’t I?  Whoops.  Well, I guess I’m too lazy to ununderline it, so I’ll just leave it if that’s okay with you.  It is?  Okay, good. 

Where was I?  Oh yeah, so this boy grows up to be a teenager, and he gets too old for playing with a tree, so the tree doesn’t see him for a while.  Then one day, the boy shows up to the tree and the tree invites him to play like he used to.  The boy refuses.  “I am too old to play,” he says.  “I need money.  Do you have money.”  “No, I’m sorry Boy, I don’t have any money.  But you take my apples, Boy, and sell them.  Then you will have money and you will be happy.”  The boy, like a selfish jerk, takes all the apples and leaves.  And the tree was happy.

The tree doesn’t see the Boy for another year, but eventually he shows up and he is a young man.  The same drill happens, only the boy takes the trees branches, and then her trunk, and I’m running out of time, and then finally she’s just a stump, and she’s not as happy anymore.  But the Boy comes back as an old man looking for a place to sit, and he sits on the stump and the tree is happy.

F3: Favorite Genre

Music genres.  Yes.  My favorite music genres.  That is what I will be writing about today.  Actually typing, or if you want to get technical, blogging. 

My favorite music genre is very hard to choose, just because there are so many different genres.  There are genres here, there are genres there.  There are genres everywhere.  The question is which genre is my favorite?  To decide that, we must first think about what music genre actually means.

Music.  Music is a series of sounds and notes and vibrations that stimulate the brain.  Music can be made by people’s voices or by an instrument.  Sometimes music is made by a combination of both voices AND instruments.  People who make music with voices and instruments are called bands, and some have cool names like Steak Baby, Sapphire Unicorn, and Silver Goldfish.  Music can be very calming, or very not calming at all. 

Genre.  Yes.  A genre is a thing in music that is put after music, that symbolizes the type of thing that the music generally is, musically speaking.  Genres are very important to music indeed. 

It’s pronounced genre. 

Now that we have definitions out of the way, let’s move to what my favorite music genre is.  Like I said, this is a very hard decision.  So many genres, so little time.  Yes… genres…

Alright, I admit I don’t know what a genre is.  I’ll go look it up on Dictionary.com.

Okay, so apparently a genre is the TYPE of music that one listens to, like rock, or rap, or disco, or Klezmer.  Man, this will be hard.  So many genres, so little time. 

My favorite type of music is probably Klezmer Rap.  It’s awesome, and it involves accordions, stomping, and a LOT of Hebrew swear words.

By the way, I’m not actually Jewish.

F4: The Santa-Space Conspiracy

Ten years ago, when we were all adorable little kids with ponytails and bowl cuts, we all believed in Santa (with the exception of me and my brothers).  He was the nicest, most magical guy in the world, and him breaking and entering into your house was commonly the most exciting, looked forward to time of the year.  Everyone made Christmas lists, was on their best behavior, and left out milk and cookies for Santa to eat.  Back then, magic was real, because your parents, and every other parent for that matter (with the exception of my parents), said it was. 

                Unfortunately, there came a time, at around the age of eleven or ten, when we (with the exception of me) had to come to the crushing realization that Santa Claus is a lie.  Some kids cry, others get mad at their parents for lying to them.  In third grade, I witnessed this first hand with my friend Jon Herman.  We were sitting on the bus together, and an older kid revealed the secret to him.  Jon sat there in shock, crushed.  It made me realize how big of an influence the adults in our lives had.  I came back to this revelation a couple of weeks ago, and realized something: if the middle aged generation can keep this big of a secret from their children, then why can’t the old people generation keep a secret from the middle aged generation?  The answer is: they can.  So I thought of something huge that all adults believe, and I have come to a conclusion.

                Outer space does not exist.

Think about it.  Everybody believes it, but is there any REAL evidence?  Neil Armstrong walking on the moon could have easily been fabricated in a studio, just as we watched movies with Santa Claus in them as kids.  Maybe everyone under sixty is being lied to, and when they find out, they will be disappointed, but continue the lie, just like most of you will probably do to your children.  If there’s anything I’ve learned from Jon Herman, it’s that the only way you can know things for sure is if you find out for yourself.  It’s the Santa-Space Conspiracy.

E3: Mini Stories

Typing is a really fun thing to do, especially when it’s at 11:22 at night on a Friday.  If I get this blog done, I will officially get half credit on it.  YEEEEESSSSS.

Thirty three words.  Six hundred and ninety seven to go.  You can do this, Ben.  You can do this.

I’m pretty sure writing a blog is like taking a road trip; if you find something to do, like sleep, it’ll go by faster.  Unfortunately, I cannot sleep.  I can only type.  It is my destiny.  It has been ever since I was a baby.  So what do I type about?  I can honestly say I’m completely out of three hundred word stories to tell.  AHA!  I’ll just tell a bunch of mini stories!

Um… okay, let’s see.  Yesterday I went to the play, so that was cool. Except I sat in the front row and the confetti cannon was right in front of me.  This wouldn’t have been a problem, except they fired it off at the wrong time right into my face.  It was the scariest thing that ever happened to me, and I screamed really loud, followed by a minor profane word.  The end.  Now I will write a new short story.

Did I ever tell you about the time I entered the box race and won twenty dollars at the Alden winter fest?  Well, I was at the Alden winter fest, and I won a box race and was given twenty dollars.

Vietnam.  1962.  Danger, hanging like a leaf in November.  I was with the fifth platoon on the flank dog tag of the snake maneuver.  Serpentine motions, and that’s just it.  Otherwise you’re just a Nazi sandwich with a little extra RPG.  And by that, I mean radical pig growth.  Those Nazis like a lot of ham on their sandwiches.  What?

E1: Rosh Hashanah, My Favorite Gathering

My favorite holiday/ gathering of all time is Rosh Hashanah.  One thing most people don’t know about me is that I am Jewish.  Every year, my grandparents come over with their yamakas they bought on Judaica.com and dance to accordion music. Then my three rabbis and my uncle, who is also a minister and the prophet of Consocratacy, comes over for our dinner of not steak.  We then journey to Mecca, which is called the Hajj in my native language.  Once we make it to Mecca, we build a holy fire of the Earth Mother and dance about it while beating drums and singing to the moon.  Then we make crosses and strap them to our backs, and walk all the way to Vatican City, where we kiss the Pope’s hand and cannonball in holy water.  That is the first day of Rosh Hashanah.

                On the second day of Rosh Hashanah, we spend the whole day trying to achieve nirvana.  We listen to all their songs, and praise Vishnu and Shiva, the gods of telemarketing.  My uncle sits cross legged for hours straight under a peach tree.  Even though this day is really fun, I personally don’t enjoy it as much as day three.

                On the third day, we dig a huge pit and make a ceremonial fire.  We select the youngest person in our neighbors’ family and sacrifice them to Quetzalcoatl.  Then we open presents.  Depending on the zodiac symbols in the stars the night before, we either receive a card, a car, a cart, a carp, or Carl.  If we receive Carl, we usually burn him as a sacrifice.

                Rosh Hashanah is a great way to get together with your family.  When it’s over, it’s usually very disappointing.  The only thing to do then is plan our neighbor’s funeral, make next year’s Gift List, and reminisce on the great times we had.

                 

E2: Smashmashman's Creed

Every Thanksgiving, my family does the exact same thing every other family does on Thanksgiving.  If I read any of the other Thanksgiving blogs, they would probably have written down the same exact same things that I do on Thanksgiving.  And I can’t write that.  Oh, no.  So that leaves us with the question, what will this blog be about?  I would absolutely LOVE to write about how I sit and eat, but like I said, I can’t.  Like, I physically can’t.  Do you know why?  No!  You don’t!  So that is the story I will tell.  And you’re in luck, because this story also has a little to do with Thanksgiving.

You see, my neighbors aren’t what you’d call normal.  On one side, you have Big Jim.  He lives in a trailer full of garbage and is basically a huge jerk.  He always threatens to “smash” people.  On the other side is Mr. Mashman.  Every Thanksgiving, he comes over to my family’s house.  He makes delicious yams.  Big Jim on the other hand likes to celebrate Thanksgiving by reading little children’s’ blogs all day.  He is what some people might call a loser.  Anyway, one Thanksgiving, I was with Mr. Mashman, and I looked over and saw Big Jim scrolling through blogs like a beached whale.  I almost ignored him, but then I saw he was reading my blog!  I walked up to his window and yelled, “You’re such a loser!  Stop reading my blog like a beached whale!”  Big Jim looked up at me with hatred, and walked up to his window.  Mr. Mashman hid behind my kilt nervously.

“Do you want to know WHY I celebrate my Thanksgiving by reading blogs?” he screamed.  I was genuinely scared.  “It’s because that’s how I celebrate my ******* Thanksgiving!”  He took out a knife.  Now I was really scared.  “By the way, this blog sucks!  Why would you just type numbers?”

“Well, actually, there are 83 words.  Plus, I think I deserve full credit, because I ran out of time only because I was making my other blogs awesome, and--”

“NEVER, ever write a poor quality blog again, shrimp.  Got it!?”

“You can’t make me,” I said.

“If you make another blog like this again, so help me I will smash Mr. Mashman!” yelled Big Jim.  Poor Mr. Mashman.  I had to protect him, so after that fateful Thanksgiving I never wrote another number blog again.  It is known as the Smashmashman’s Creed.

E4: Yummy Flower Song

If you look into a glass, you will see a yummy flower.

But is it really red?  It all depends on the hour.

Just look at your wrist.  What’s that time on your watch?

Is it a little bit mysteriously staring at your crotch?

Does it grow in a tree?  Does it sleep in a bed?

I don’t know.  Just use your head.

I was walking down the street just the other day

When a man came up and he said “You’re gay”

So I punched him in the face, then I took a shower,

Then I looked through the glass at the yummy flower.

I looked into the glass at the yummy flower.

Yeah, I looked into the glass at the yummy flower.

Yuuuummmmyyy.  Flloooower.  Does it really exist.  Does it REALLY EXIST?

Yuuuummmmyyy Flloooower.  All you’ve gotta do is look at your wrist.

I was pimping in my car, driving through the mall,

When I drove up a tree that was ten feet tall!

What if this life is just a swan?

What if Jamaicans really don’t say mon?

Swinging on vines like I’m some monkey,

Peanut butter sandwich?  Girl, you know I like it chunky.

Turtles climbing up the Eiffel Tower,

Now they’re looking through the glass at the yummy flower.

They’re looking through the glass at the yummy flower.

Yeah, they’re looking through the glass at the yummy flower.

Yuuuummmmyyy.  Flloooower.  Does it really exist.  Does it REALLY EXIST?

Yuuuummmmyyy.  Flloooower.  All you’ve gotta do is look at your wrist.  (Look at your wrist, just look at your wrist)

Yeah, all you’ve gotta do is look at your wrist.

Minus signal means subtract, but when there’s ketchup involved,

Just look at that burger, and see the monkey evolve.

Nobody wants to draw when they have dat power

Especially if they’re looking through the glass at the yummy flower!

(Chorus)