Write a short essay on the nature of human suffering as it relates to the outage of your favorite website. Seriously. Make it any length you like. WE'RE NOT MAKING THIS UP. Email your essay to firstname.lastname@example.org and we'll read them to each other and offer constructive criticism as we are able. If you choose this option, award yourself an extra 150,000 Quiz Points for purposes of the status list below. And nothing else. Seriously, nothing else.So of course, my head ringing with the blow I'd just received, I had share my 'Suffering', and because I 'love' you guys... I'll share it with you as well. ;P
To understand human suffering, we first have to understand what it is to be human. For without a baseline, there is no way to run home, and the ball will forever be in play. This is why you never pinch hit for someone you love, as the only force stronger than love is the wail of Wooters waiting for What. Though he has, and forever will be on second, Who doesn’t care and his wife has grown fat on his earnings and loose in her play. I Don’t Know, Because, I Don’t Care, it’s like a hit list and Who would strike them out were he to know that none of them needed to make it to third before reaching the scoring position.
Suffering is not the kind of subject one should write of lightly. Like a garden grown in place of the grass that is never greener regardless of the colour of your thumbs, the pain that embraces mankind cannot be kissed away. It’s like a growing addiction that cannot be denied, and no matter what you say, it cannot be healthy. Seeking a light for the dark side of man will inevitably lead to the prick of a rose on the gray. But if the thorns are removed, would it still be a rose? What would you call such beauty, such pleasure, no pain? Do you think… could it still smell so sweet?
But enough with the maunder, and let’s dispatch with the eaves of March. April has come, and with it a spring of fools too new to know to beware. Like the theatre of Pompey, in which grief closed the doors as often as glee, we must strive to remember the pillars of our passions, and though it’s Crap that we seek, it’s the diem we carpe instead. Let us chase father time with the might of our Carrots! Bandoliers loaded, there is little that stands before us, and with Attis suspended from our wood, we shall march upon the Magna Mater… no matter where she ‘ides…
When I first began this journey in the darkest pits of man’s eternal struggle, I was reminded of the toad. Was he alive when he chose to juggle the vase, or had his life already come to an end. Without toilet seats, or tube socks, it’s difficult to imagine a world where it could be so, but perhaps we should look deeper. Death waits on no man, and as any woman could tell you, there are no bones stopping you from reaching the heart… provided you know where to begin. It is a tribute to the endurance of the soul that even after hours of patient reflection, he is still comatose… and as I am not a doctor, I’ll keep holding this mirror in hopes that removing the punctuation from his feet was enough to wake him.
It is here that my journey with you ends. Through desert I wrote, and though I beat around the bush, it’s been a fun run. It’s gonna be hard for me to top tonight’s piece, and though you’re never sure down what rabbit hole the words will take you, let this be a warning, it’s gonna be a long time before never say never comes up in the hallowed halls of Woot again. You know… if I didn’t give myself this time to reflect, I’d likely have written something drab. I’m gonna learn from this, as they say, the adventure is always worth the write. And never would I have thought I could say so little with so many words… Why, reading back from here… It’s almost like I’m reading about the Love of a Stranger…
You know... reading back through this... and "Labeling It" (Tagging)... I wonder 'what' was in the water last night... ;P (And holy snap! I had to trim my Labels down to 200 Characters... and this thing goes too many places for that. O.o!)