Is this even a question worth asking? Last time I played chess with him, he pleaded with me, "just kill me now." I'm no chess expert either. I can beat Microsoft chess on level 2, maybe level 3, but I could also beat John Post at chess no problem. I'd stake the claim that a newborn child could beat John Post at chess, granted you'd have to help the child move the pieces since their motor skills are terribly underdeveloped.
Which leads me to wonder. Should John Post be doing ordinary everyday things which seem innocuous enough, but possess real dangers when taken into the hands of an adult whose learning and mobile capabilities are less than the average bear (or newborn child). Take driving a car for instance: seems safe enough. But John gets distracted very easily and he might take a look at himself in the rear view mirror and become confused as to how there is a double of him, causing a terrible traffic wreck killing hordes of innocent people, puppies, and roses along the way. Worst of all, he'd walk away from the crash unscathed looking for his double like a moron, probably getting in another car causing a tautology of pain and suffering.
Or, take eating in a restaurant. Now this truly seems like something he should be capable of. In fact, newborn children eat at restaurants and I'm sure a bear could if we stopped the damn bear segregation movement (this is the 21st Century people.) But John, man, if you get him in a restaurant, who knows what would go wrong! Whatever could go wrong, I'm sure it would end with the kitchen on fire, John telling some stupid joke about chicken soup, the waiter unconscious with his head up your date's skirt, and the Chef screaming, "Holy God! Sweet God! It burns all the way down!"
Anyway, let's just say, I beat John at chess.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
John's Winter Poem
It's snowing! It's snowing!
John Post is crying!
He weeps just like a little child
who truly needs some chiding.
John Post is crying!
He weeps just like a little child
who truly needs some chiding.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
The Saga of John the Cartographer
John is off being the world's most famous cartographer somewhere in the deep and mysterious hills of North Carolina. He's currently mapping out previously undiscovered, highly populated and industrialized cities and towns! Can you believe it?! Our John! I just hope he is careful amongst these strange and highly civilized people. Who knows what they will do to him.
Here is my worst case scenario of what could happen to John while he's off doing service to generations and beyond with his cartography:
As always, John approaches the city with extreme caution, eying the local inhabitants to ascertain their customs and potential for danger. He sees that several of the inhabitants of this particular village are going into a building with a green symbol on it. Strangely enough, John recognizes the symbol! It says, "Starbucks." With a deeply drawn breathe, John enters the village doing his best to imitate their upright walking technique and chatter. As John gets closer to these people, he realizes their chatter is actually language! Furthermore, it is the language that John speaks! English!
Amazed and overjoyed, John realizes his infiltration into this society will be easier. However, he also realizes that this highly civilized society, no matter how akin to his own, is still a major threat. He walks to the building that he sees so many people coming in and out of, hearing pieces of people's conversations: "So did you get her number?" "Let's hit that thing then go out on the trails man!" "Quarter rutabaga and sugar pie honey bunch." That last one John didn't entirely understand, but from the rest he knew he must be on his toes. These were vile, ugly, highly specialized and developed creatures, capable any atrocity known to mankind.
Shooting a furtive glance over his shoulder, John takes a deep breathe and plunges through the doors of the "Starbucks" and finds himself inside. He sees people sitting around drinking and talking; drinking goats blood no doubt and speaking of murder and conspiracy. "I must blend in," John thinks to himself and approaches a table of young adults. "'Bout time for some of that lambs blood, huh?" John asks with a painful grin, desecrating his poor soul to its very core. Oh the inhumanity of these monsters John's conscience decries! May they rot in hell!
"The best part of waking up is MURDER!" John yells in an attempt begin a conversation. The young adults just gaze dumbly on him. "Well.... well, it's nice to meet you," one of them meekly offers. "Nice to meet you too" John replies, "so where can I get some of that warm cherry juice?" A strong, young male offers to John, "Come with me, man, and I'll get you a cup of Joe."
"Cannibalism!" John thinks, his heart sinking to a chamber where even the most devout cannibal could not find it. "Poor, poor Joe," John thinks, but says, "Sure, let's do it." They approach the counter. John swears he can hear screaming in the backroom.
"Get this man a coffee," says the strong young male, obviously trying to impress his female counterparts in hopes of gross copulation and defilement in the near future. The attendant asks John, "Do you want any shots with that?" John's lips quiver: this might be more than he can handle. "No, no thanks, I have some dietary restrictions," he manages to mutter.
The barista says he understands and beings to work behind the counter. John can hear screaming and steam, he winces and attempts to shy away, but the strong young male is standing in his exit route. Raising his hand, the barista offers the sinister cup that could only be matched by the treachery of Mephistopheles. "I've got this one," says the strong young male, adding with a crooked grin, "Welcome to town."
John slowly puts his lips to the container; what other choice does he have now? He slowly takes in the liquid, attempting not to taste it, but it's flavors and scent are so pungent he cannot help but do so.
The cup, as if in slow motion, falls from John's hands, exploding on the floor. A white, viscous liquid spreads over the shins of John and the strong young male. John, losing strength, slowly lowers himself to the floor until he is laying on his side in the abominable liquid.
"ARE YOU ALRIGHT MAN?!" screams the strong young male. With his last gasp, John utters these words:
"...soy.....milk.....it was.... soy.... milk......."
Here is my worst case scenario of what could happen to John while he's off doing service to generations and beyond with his cartography:
As always, John approaches the city with extreme caution, eying the local inhabitants to ascertain their customs and potential for danger. He sees that several of the inhabitants of this particular village are going into a building with a green symbol on it. Strangely enough, John recognizes the symbol! It says, "Starbucks." With a deeply drawn breathe, John enters the village doing his best to imitate their upright walking technique and chatter. As John gets closer to these people, he realizes their chatter is actually language! Furthermore, it is the language that John speaks! English!
Amazed and overjoyed, John realizes his infiltration into this society will be easier. However, he also realizes that this highly civilized society, no matter how akin to his own, is still a major threat. He walks to the building that he sees so many people coming in and out of, hearing pieces of people's conversations: "So did you get her number?" "Let's hit that thing then go out on the trails man!" "Quarter rutabaga and sugar pie honey bunch." That last one John didn't entirely understand, but from the rest he knew he must be on his toes. These were vile, ugly, highly specialized and developed creatures, capable any atrocity known to mankind.
Shooting a furtive glance over his shoulder, John takes a deep breathe and plunges through the doors of the "Starbucks" and finds himself inside. He sees people sitting around drinking and talking; drinking goats blood no doubt and speaking of murder and conspiracy. "I must blend in," John thinks to himself and approaches a table of young adults. "'Bout time for some of that lambs blood, huh?" John asks with a painful grin, desecrating his poor soul to its very core. Oh the inhumanity of these monsters John's conscience decries! May they rot in hell!
"The best part of waking up is MURDER!" John yells in an attempt begin a conversation. The young adults just gaze dumbly on him. "Well.... well, it's nice to meet you," one of them meekly offers. "Nice to meet you too" John replies, "so where can I get some of that warm cherry juice?" A strong, young male offers to John, "Come with me, man, and I'll get you a cup of Joe."
"Cannibalism!" John thinks, his heart sinking to a chamber where even the most devout cannibal could not find it. "Poor, poor Joe," John thinks, but says, "Sure, let's do it." They approach the counter. John swears he can hear screaming in the backroom.
"Get this man a coffee," says the strong young male, obviously trying to impress his female counterparts in hopes of gross copulation and defilement in the near future. The attendant asks John, "Do you want any shots with that?" John's lips quiver: this might be more than he can handle. "No, no thanks, I have some dietary restrictions," he manages to mutter.
The barista says he understands and beings to work behind the counter. John can hear screaming and steam, he winces and attempts to shy away, but the strong young male is standing in his exit route. Raising his hand, the barista offers the sinister cup that could only be matched by the treachery of Mephistopheles. "I've got this one," says the strong young male, adding with a crooked grin, "Welcome to town."
John slowly puts his lips to the container; what other choice does he have now? He slowly takes in the liquid, attempting not to taste it, but it's flavors and scent are so pungent he cannot help but do so.
The cup, as if in slow motion, falls from John's hands, exploding on the floor. A white, viscous liquid spreads over the shins of John and the strong young male. John, losing strength, slowly lowers himself to the floor until he is laying on his side in the abominable liquid.
"ARE YOU ALRIGHT MAN?!" screams the strong young male. With his last gasp, John utters these words:
"...soy.....milk.....it was.... soy.... milk......."
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Ode to John
John, O John,
You plague my dreams
with churlish machinations
and devilish schemes
.
John, O John
You are such a fright
when the sun goes down
I light a nightlight
.
John, O John
when will you learn?
To torture brings peace
only in the urn
.
John, O John
You ugly mutt
I'll piss in your closet
and punch your gut
.-by The World
Thursday, September 3, 2009
John and jerk start with the same letter...
John wanted me to inform you that I know the difference between the word "subtly" and "subtlety," which I do. I apologize for my one spelling error in our conversation, which I did not alter to keep things truthful. The mistake was made out of indignation and rage. I apologize to you, dear readers, since you were the cause of neither of these emotions.
A Recent Conversation with the Academic: John Post aka "lunchpack" Post
"lunchpack": dont be stupid
me: went in dumb come out dumb too
"lunchpack": crumb bum
me: me?
"lunchpack": BLISSFUL!
me: I'll slap you generations back, so your granpappy in the civil war feels it
"lunchpack": my granpappy was not in the civil war
me: generations
"lunchpack": i was in the civil war
me: learn some subtly
"lunchpack": che guevara died in bolivia
me: I'll send you home on bloody stumps
"lunchpack": stumbles
me: Why don't I just get married and have a child already?
"lunchpack": i dont know, why not
me: Maybe I'll just have multiple kids and make my life goal skirting child support
"lunchpack": haha
me: haha okay fine
"lunchpack": he scored a 100 points
I'M with stupid!
me: went in dumb come out dumb too
"lunchpac
me: Hey, I'm John, I hate everything
Get outta my way old lady
you bitch
I'm walking here
I'm John
"lunchpack": Hey, I'm Owen, I'm willingly naive about everything
I sniff flowers for fun
Hurray what a romantic life we lead
Yay what a pretty day!
you bitch!
me: me?
"lunchpac
the blissful bluffer
blubber butt
barneby
me: I'll slap you generations back, so your granpappy in the civil war feels it
"lunchpac
you dolt
count!
learn how to count
me: generations
do I have to say
great great great great
or can't that be implied by generations
"lunchpac
me: learn some subtly
"lunchpac
he was in the angolan civil war
me: I'll send you home on bloody stumps
"lunchpac
me: Why don't I just get married and have a child already?
That would make things far more certain.
"lunchpac
the world is a nasty place
me: Maybe I'll just have multiple kids and make my life goal skirting child support
"lunchpac
thats what wilt chamberlain did
if its good enough for wilt the stilt, its good enough for me
BAHAHA
"lunchpack"'s new status message - 1,000 kids and skirting child support: if its good enough for Wilt the Stilt, its good enough for me! 1:27 PM
me: haha okay fine
"lunchpac
but he had more children than that!
Friday, July 24, 2009
Weep
John has left me to bask in laziness and the sun.
He's going to grad school and quit work.
Now he's bumming until August, and I am alone...
Eternally.
He's going to grad school and quit work.
Now he's bumming until August, and I am alone...
Eternally.
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