The Worst Blog In The World

Attention all my blog-reading faithful! I have changed my blog's name to "The Worst Blog In The World." The reason for this should be apparent, considering that if I ever had any faithful, they ceased to be such after realizing I hadn't posted for a time period longer than the recent election campaigns (needless to say, a REALLY long time). Obviously I am wanting in time, and am not worthy to be associated with such a noble blog title as "Sonic Intoxication." That name speaks to many aspects of human life, but not at all to extreme laziness AND busy-ness together. Thusly, I must resign my previously-held title. In other news, I finally received my $4,000 euphonium in the mail on Thursday. Cheers to DHL and Baltimore Brass Company! If you're ever in town, stop by Baltimore Brass and say hi to David T. Fedderly. He's a darn nice guy. Until next time, Peace and Free Love (but not free fornication).

iMac

Today I (or is it "i"?) will be discussing the finer points of why the Apple Computer Company decided to name their most famous line of computers the "iMac." In case you're wondering, yes I do have an iMac. Now I know this may result in harsh reactions from my reading crowd, because some people out there are so fiercely anti-apple that they hardly even know why anymore. It's that darn mouse! Only one button confuses me so much! And how can a computer not have a tower? And why the fruity colors? And why black keys on the keyboard? I think all this P.C. propaganda stems from a deep hatred of change. The neophytes out there want you to believe that just because it's slightly different, it must be stupid and impossible to use. Due to this, I even am preparing for the worst -- yes, I am contemplating what I will do should you haters decide to boycott my blog! What, you ask, is my plan for action should such a shocking circumstance arise? Simple. I'll do what I did before my sister told you all to read my blog, and just post for no reason. "Sonic Intoxication" will serve once again for only my interests, as an outlet for writing, for storytelling, for anything and everything I need. Honestly, here's my take on computers. Sure a mac and a pc are different. But I can use either one. And I don't really hate one or the other. Put a PC in front of me, I'll use it. I'm not exclusively mac oriented. But that's what my mom bought, and I'm too poor to buy something else that I don't really care to spend money on. So that's where I stand. Now that I'm done with that pathetic rant, I'll move onto my actual proposed topic of the day. In case you forgot, it's why this thing I'm typing on is called an "iMac."

First off, we all know the origins of the "Mac" part of the equation. Macintosh is a kind of Apple, and the name of the company is/was "Macintosh Apple." Great. You know what, I just realized that absolutely no one would ever care to read more than like...two sentences on my proposed topic. So now that I've thoroughly lost your focus, I'm dumping this topic in favor of one that might hold your miniscule attention span. New topic: Maybe I'll just go with random musings. Why isn't sticky tack sharp? Why is abbreviation such a long word? Why do "overlooking" and "looking over" have opposite meanings?
Check out this guy. He looks intense. These ping pong guys remind me of a frisbee my sister had once that said "Death or Glory" on it. Now, as a big fan of ultimate frisbee, I think that's freaking awesome. But lets take this in perspective shall we? It's a plastic disc. Maybe if they inscribed that saying on like...a bullet. But not a frisbee. I think everyone's original memory of playing frisbee is in the back yard tossing it around and having some fun. Maybe your memory is slightly different, but I don't think many people recall images of "death and glory" when thinking of a frisbee. If I'm wrong, and you're different, by all means please leave a comment. I wanna talk to you. Like if your first memory regarding frisbees is something similar to sandlot, where you try to get the frisbee from some mean dog, that's awesome. Especially if this mean dog hasn't happened to see sandlot and doesn't know that in the end everyone turns out okay. So if one of your friends had his arm chewed off by a dog while trying to get a frisbee, I'm sorry for the traumatic experience, but tell me the story! please. That's how you get glory, risking all to steal a piece of plastic from a ridiculously large dog. The End.

AHH!

My goodness, has it ever been a while since I've posted in my blog! I would apologize, but it's not that big a deal and no one cares anyway. The story behind the blog: my dad stapled our phone line to the wall, and in the process sent about 3 staples through the line itself. I wasn't entirely aware that this could cause connection problems, and since our DSL wasn't working, i called tech support. After about 2 weeks we finally figured out the real problem, and fixed it. What a ridiculous 2 weeks! For the past 2 weeks, which overlaps the 2 weeks without internet that I was just talking about, I've been doing my A.P. Sr. English summer assignment. Stupid teachers, I wonder whose idea it was to assign homework over the summer!??!? That was a massive assignment on Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, which, despite my negative comments regarding the assignment, is a wonderful book. Dostoyevsky has a real understanding for human nature that is unparalleled by any other writer I know of.

Now that my excuse-making is out of the way, I can get down to business. Today I started my senior year of high school in what is undisputedly the finest school in the SPSL, Rogers High School. Just ask former graduates, like Heather Ehli. Actually, she hated high school, so don't ask her. While this is of little importance to my readers, the event that happened today at school is of the utmost importance to all of mankind. Well, quite honestly, nothing happened today of any importance. I lied. But at least I didn't mislead you down a path into the woods of Mt. Rainier where I magically found a talking bear. Sheesh. Where do people come up with this crap? Anyway, some writing is better than....well..."none" writing. So here you are. Poke fun at me if you wish, but this is all I have to offer after school. Good night. You stay classy, San Diego! I love scotch. Scotchy scotch scotch. Goulet!

In other news: I talked to Bill Clinton again, and asked him who he was voting for. Surprisingly, he seemed to have changed his mind since our last encounter (possibly due to my persuasion) and said his ballot would be cast for George W. Bush, our capable incumbent. Cheers to Billy Jo Bob!

S.O.S!

This is my big sister. Looks like she has some issues. She made the mistake of going out in Elliot Bay with much less than a sea-worthy craft. Her original intent was to mosey over to Alki Beach and eat a picnic lunch there, but she soon realized she had forgotten a paddle. As a result, she floated around for hours. It kinda sucked. But at least she didn't have a bear on board with her! Anyway, she ended up all the way north of Ballard. Holy cow. Well, as darkness fell, she realized she had to do something to get home safely, so this is a picture taken by a tanker coming to rescue her as she waves her bandana. Let this be a lesson to anyone who might think about making a boat and sailing it to Alki Beach! I'm sure there's hundreds of you in a similar situation, so I'm just trying to save you from the embarrassment my sister went through.

Bill Clinton

Once again I bring you news of my fully exciting and very eventful life. On Tuesday I attended a dinner party with my girlfriend, at which the guests of honor were none other than her aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Bill Clinton (For those of you who have read my sister's blog and the article in which she claimed to meet Willy, I assure you this is an entirely separate issue). The fare at our disposal was none other than the finest culinary delight known to mankind: freshly baked Papa Murphy's Pizza. As I feasted upon a piece of garlic chicken pizza, Bill asked me what grade I was going into next year at school. I informed him that, like his niece, I too would be a senior. We chatted about various objects of conversation, among those my passion for euphonium and his passion for saxophone. After discussing the finer points of Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue," we engaged in a friendly debate in politics. As he argued the side of John Kerry, I could not help but point out that Kerry has not asserted his opinions in many matters of importance to the American public. I also pointed out his sudden change in philosophy regarding the military and intelligence groups, citing his more than 70% absence rate in the Senate Intelligence Committee and his radical anti-military past. Clinton, as the skilled orator and debater he has always been, swiftly and quite effectively dodged my implications of Kerry's dereliction of duty and immediately began talk of tax breaks and the economy. As he began a speech about liberal fiscal policy and the benefits upon society, I grinned to myself and reminded myself that, in the words of Pink Floyd, sometimes "you just can't win."

Deuce me up!

While on a family vacation in Moses Lake, my great, wonderful, wise older sister Heather and I created a card game called "Deuce Me Up." Being the cunning linguist I am, I characterized "Deuce" as being "like a tootsie roll. You can't explain it. Like trying to tell someone it's a chewy candy, but its chocolate, but then again, not really." My exquisite abilities as an orator shine through with every syllable of that quote.... Incredible, is it not? Anyway, for a write-up of rules, go here.

I'm Next!

I recently was surfing the web and found a comment--"All the great J's die young: Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, and Jimi Hendrix." Naturally, my name being Justin, this got me thinking. Am I of high enough caliber to be considered a "great J?" Perhaps, and obviously this would be considered a monumental accomplishment. My name would forever be etched in the history books beside the likes of Morrison, Joplin, and Hendrix, three of the greatest musicians of recent history. Maybe our quartet would receive such an honor as that bestowed upon Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln, the four faces on Mount Rushmore. They could name our monument "Stone Hen-J." But that is beside the point, and merely a petty dream. The real issue now shifts from determining my worthiness to be dubbed a "great J" to that of what to do with my designation. Should I fight my impending doom and attempt to live my life to its fullest potential, or should I resign myself to the will of fate and allow destiny to take its course? If I fight death and succeed, my valiant efforts could be rewarded two ways: either I am highly and undoubtedly successful, living up to my predecessors, or I am merely a lukewarm success with limited prospects and unaccomplished dreams. In one case, I am widely revered, yet I break a standard previously established, that of dying young, which could possibly subtract my name from the ranks of the great J's. In the other case, I am merely a bug splat on the windshield of life, my existence amounting to nothing. My other option, to accept death's early sting, would leave only one option. People worldwide would see my accomplishments up to this date and think to themselves, "What a tragic ending! If only this young lad was not robbed of his precious life, he could have made countless contributions to society!" This will clearly give me respect and love on a global scale, which is much better than the chances I will partake in if I choose to fight a tragic death. It is now clear to me that I am destined to die young and there is nothing I can do about it. Due to this realization, I now resign myself to the icy hand of death, which may grip me anytime it wishes. Anytime, so long as it's after I change my name to Zeppelin.

Friend shout out

At the current moment I have no wonderful writing up my sleeve, no techniques to show off, no parallel structure to make use of, and no bright ideas to elaborate on, so I figure I might as well do a shout out to my friends.
Zach-Thanks for providing entertainment that's out of the norm and making me do different stuff. Sorry about Moses Lake!
Tim-Get off your butt and have some fun! Just kidding, way to play trumpet! You're gonna stun Leo when we come back to school.
Steve-The most inventive, crazy, wacky, and fun-loving friend ever. Thanks for teaching me all your guitar stuff, someday we'll be famous together. We gotta hang out and play croquet again!
Jordan-It's plain and simple. All I can say about you is that you're a sexy beast. Keep up the bass, we need you in youth band!
Monica-You're a good friend! I appreciate your wisdom and sometimes obscure sense of humor. You're a lot more fun than you originally appeared to be!
Michelle-Where'd you go?? I lost you! I thought we were gonna hang out this summer! Oh well, we'll just catch up at school next year.
Jeff M-Posse hangout for sure. Get a new car, you bum! And sometime soon we have to play Ultimate frisbee.
Kyle-YOU TOO! We have to play ultimate this summer, too. Don't forget! And lose some weight, you're fat.

Okay, that about wraps it up. If I forgot you, sorry, just ask me what I think of you and I'll tell you. Just don't expect any sympathy. If I'm a jerk, however, take refuge in the fact that Jesus loves you.

My Guitar

Zeppelin

A great opportunity has presented itself before me, one which could alter the ways of my life forever and change the way my peers view me. This opportunity, if taken, would be the most ground-breaking decision I've ever made in my 17 years of life. This opportunity would liken my name, my identity, and even my very soul to a musical group loved, revered, and booked for countless concerts around the world. This opportunity is to change my middle name to "Zeppelin" as a tribute to the band that put the blues on steroids. Seeing as this decision is of such great consequence in my life, let us weigh both the positive and the negative effects it could have upon my existence. Changing my middle name would make me "cool" among my peers, but what does that matter? Even teenager drinkers, stoners, and fornicators earn such a title with their friends, and what do I want in common with those of my age? So being cool to my friends is not a paramount issue. Altering my designation would most likely anger my mother, who, with my father, chose the name "James" from the Bible to fit between "Justin" and my surname. My father's reaction may be a different matter, however, since he himself is also a fan of Led Zeppelin. Another issue is whether the novelty of a new name will be long-lived, or if my pleasure with a new identity will wear off in short time. This conclusion cannot be reached at the present time, however. The only way to discover the true answer is to change my name. A last issue which is of vital importance to my life is this: What is my own appreciation for Led Zeppelin and the music they created worth? And what pleasure would it give me to create a lasting tribute to them? None of the previous issues can overshadow this great abungerism, one which is easily answered: due to the influence Led Zeppelin has had upon both my guitar and bass playing, I find taking this opportunity the only fitting way I can show my gratitude for their musical genius and creativity. Therefore, effective immediately upon reaching adulthood, I shall undertake the process neccessary to legally change my middle name from "James" to "Zeppelin."

Why Blog?

Blog. What a fun word to say! Say it with me. BLOG! Ha ha wasn't that great? Well, now that we've had our bonding time, it's blogging time. Why did he start this blog, you may wonder. Does he have hilarity-ensuing adventures on a daily basis to share with me? No, I'm sorry to say, I don't. Does he have a great truth or otherwise unimagined concept which must be revealed to an unknowing world? I'm afraid not. Does he possess some incredible talent which will laugh at the face of mediocrity, defy all benchmarks of the past, and shatter the fragile glass of man's window of understanding? It doesn't appear that way. So why did he create a blog? Why will he expend invaluable time and energy to fabricate a mere intangible mass of memory on my monitor? To extricate this ponderous conclusion from a slough of half-truths and worldly falsities, one must truly, deeply, and completely examine his innerself. Only once this thorough process of exploration has completed it's cycle can one surely know why I blog: Cuz I have nothin better to do.