Dr. Hoenikker’s Nobel Prize acceptance speech (in its entirety)
- “Cat’s Cradle” by Kurt Vonnegut
When you make me hate my food, fuck you!
I had heard about The Counter, mostly through their front door; they advertise the Bison burger, with the addition of “building your own” burger.
The bartender was super friendly and very good at his job, but he was also very busy, and there was no room for having the friendly bartender experience for lunch and stuff. Not only that, he was so busy, he took forever just to get his cash for the bill. And he might as well be an advertising droid.
Food was bad, and greasy, boring. Felt like a job, not an experience.
Place was clean, but almost too clean, it’s like they were trying to hide something….
Restroom needed a spot check, or someone failed their roll (game joke).
Parmesan fries, expensive. Avocado, expensive.
Additions were bland or boring.
This place is a tourist trap. An overpriced Subway.
I would advise you leave this place off your list. Go to Umami Burger (never been, but I only hear amazing things) or to the Crepe X-press Cafe, down the street, for a better experience at half the price.
The gun went off as he stood there, eyes wide. Dropping his pistol, he crumpled to the floor of the bedroom, his wife in the opposite corner, a stoic look on her face.
“Somehow, I knew it would come to this, although, you took your time getting here. I figured you might actually learn to properly handle that thing before you used it. That way, we wouldn’t have to have this fucking conversation!”
She looked at her husband with contempt, slowly realizing the circumstances.
Suffering from depression is all too common for American women. Add to that, her incredibly intelligent daughter was off to a prestigious university for four years. The nest was empty, and she had no comfort.
He grew distant after their son died three years ago. The family was never the same. Grief combined with Depression and their daughter leaving for college exacerbated her self loathing. He wasn’t an outlet, that useless shit head.
Her co-worker was there for her. As the son of a sex therapist, he knew what she needed, and he gave it to her…nightly.
* * * * *
His thoughts plagued him as he lie in the fetal position, the pistol a few inches from his hand.
“She betrayed me. She betrayed this FAMILY!” he cried inwardly.
“We were all suffering, helpless, aching for a glimpse of light in the enveloping dark. She was selfish! Couldn’t she see my pain? What kind of monster does this to an already fragile family?”
“How come you missed? What a pathetic excuse for a man, can’t even use a gun and kill your loving wife…” She stood over him, hands on her hips, pity in her eyes.
“You were ten feet away. You could easily have killed me. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Her anger flared, “you disgust me.”
She picked up the pistol and eyeballed it, feeling its weight. She pointed the barrel at her lump of a husband and pulled the trigger three times.
As he lie dead in the same heap, retaining a look of disgust in her eyes, she opened her mouth, inserted the pistol…
…and pulled the trigger.
Journalists are repeatedly using the aforementioned term with severe frequency. But what they are doing is using a rather ubiquitous term as a form of sensationalism, and it’s stupid.
The majority of firearms that are used, purchased, and possessed in America today are semi-automatic, which is to say, after a bullet is fired, the weapon relaods itself and permits the re-firing of the weapon with no necessary manual reloading.
Rules actually help people. They define what does and does not work within a closed system. This allows people to know, beforehand, whether something is doable or permissible based on prior knowledge or understanding. They will either attempt it or not, depending on the rules, and their personal drive.
But when something is important, and the rules are there, but said rules are vague and generally only under subjective scrutiny, it tears down the player.
Resumes, for instance.
In the US, it is understood that most professions require a resume. But past that, there are no rules, this is the only rule.
Obviously, my personal experiences are what are driving this specific blog; my resume has looked like utter shit for years, because I have had a weird life that is pretty atypical for a 31 year old white male. I won’t go into it now.
A resume may appear to be amazing, and, from many viewpoints, may follow specific rules. But you may still be passed up. And not necessarily for someone better. The reason? Maybe the person on the other end simply liked the other resume for another reason.
I actually live by rules, despite whether this sounds like horse shit from those who know me. I actually like rules, because, once they are understood and I can sufficiently perform necessary tasks based on those rules, I can then creatively spend my time doing other things.
When I was younger, I would make up rules for games like chess or checkers: variant rules. When I played other people with these variant rules (which I would always provide them, prior to play), they would at times accuse me of cheating. I knew what the rules were because I made them up, and I remembered them. They usually rescinded their accusations once I assured them that we had agreed to them prior to the game.
I would even create my own scenarios with dominoes, using them as walls for floor plans, and deploy my Muscle Men figures against my Army Men figures. I created my own rules, but still maintained other rules that made sense: you can’t see/shoot through walls, fists needed to be up close and personal, whereas guns could be used at a distance.
I’ve yet to employ such a concept in real life, I think because the rules that are set in place are not often passed along. Competition, as healthy as it is, can ruin the entire process. When someone else feels threatened by others, or knows that few options are available, they’ll want to get a leg up, so they either lie about, skew, or omit rules for their own favor.
I’m not trying to be paranoid, I know there are plenty of people out there who want to help. But, in the world of trying to succeed and do your best, other people should stay the fuck out of your way.
Let’s allow the rules to be known by everyone, so that we can all play, and we can all determine which set of rules actually helps us to know where we stand. If you feel threatened by someone due to superior knowledge, intellect or skill, get the fuck out of their way so that they can use their mighty brain power to make this world a better place.
Maybe that won’t happen. Maybe I’ll just have to follow the rules I understand, and then create my own variant rules as I go along. Some might call me a cheater, and it might be hard to argue, since they wouldn’t fucking agree with me in the first place.
Ponder its existence. Sitting. Waiting. Wondering.
Sudden intense rush of air. Rocked about in its locale.
The clattering of metal. Plastic wheels scurry about.
A boisterous din, comforting. Disturbances were afoot.
Bedlam in the distance. An electronic alert!
“Ladies and gentlemen, please! Vacate the facility.
The fire is out of control!” Hurried pedestrians flee.
Distant shouts becoming bashful. Emptiness fills the building.
A cavernous corridor. It resides there, peacefully.
Friends and family, unaware. Their resting place, toppling.
*CRASH* The neighbors, on the floor! Stoic faces all around.
An orange glow emerges. A mighty branch crushing scores.
Interlopers, singed sable. Collecting comrades with care.
Grey sky gives way, collapsing. An eruption of debris.
Bizarre blue appears above. Intense frantic warmth, spreading.
It falls, eyes unblinking, *THUD*. Encapsulated, croaking.