Just in Case I'm Not Back Before Then...

  No, not because the world is going to end. That's over and done with, and as far as I know we're still here. And if we're not, I don't think whether I post or not on my blog is top priority for anyone out there. No, I mean just in case I'm not back before Christmas is over I wanted to wish you all well (or Festivus, for those of you that celebrate it as I did for the first time this year).
  Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Go play in the snow, if you're lucky enough to have any. Watch Disney movies and the Harry Potter marathon on ABC Family. Eat lots of food you've been told to fear. Tell people exactly what you think of them. Give presents, because they say that's better than getting them. Celebrate the fact that all those crazy people were wrong and the world didn't end (or mourn, if that's the way you feel about it). Don't drink and drive. Make a child smile; don't be "that guy" and make them cry. Basically, be safe, have fun, and enjoy your various holiday festivities. 

--Love, NiteOwl 

How to Deconstruct a Snowman

  How many of you guys watch Frosty the Snowman every year at Christmastime? Here's another question: How many of you actually think it makes sense? Because the more I watch it, the less patience I have for it and the more I find myself wondering who the heck edited that pile of crap, and who told that editor he did a good enough job to get that thing put on TV? I mean, I know not everything has to make sense--it's a talking, dancing snowman, for God's sake. But couldn't it have been fact-checked just a little better? Because after all...

• Frosty doesn't know how to count, or what things like traffic lights are. Understandable, since he just came to life. But somehow he knows what a thermometer is and what its purpose is, when the red climbs high that it's bad for him, and, oh yeah, the higher the temperature is the worse it is for him. And yet, the snowman can't count. How does he know what high numbers are?
• And speaking of high numbers, why was the temperature like ninety degrees in December, and yet there was snow falling from the sky and on the ground?
• Why aren't those children dressed for winter weather? Some of the boys have on heavy sweaters...with shorts. Karen has a coat, boots, earmuffs and gloves on, but apparently, no pants. One girl is running around in a pink jumper. What the heck, man? I mean, half the problems in this movie could have been avoided if Karen had just been wearing pants.
• In some scenes, Frosty has four fingers; in others, he has five.
• How did the rabbit know the train was heading north? Sure, it was probably pointing in that direction, but trains can turn. What if it made a U-ey at some junction somewhere and traveled on down to Phoenix? Frosty would've really been screwed.
• The train Frosty, Hocus, and Karen were on stopped to apparently let a train full of Christmas travelers go by. The other train crossed behind them. Seriously.
• How did Frosty know of the office of President or what the Marines were?
• Professor Hinkle stalked them and then, as Karen was freezing to death, blew out her fire. He was apparently willing to commit child murder to get a dang hat back. I don't care if the hat was magic or not; that's pretty drastic.
• When Karen and Frosty went into the greenhouse, Frosty simply pulled the door open and walked inside. When Professor Hinkle slammed the door shut to "trap" them, he didn't lock it or anything. If Frosty or Karen had just pushed the door open again, they would have been able to get out and Frosty wouldn't have melted. Oh, yeah, Santa pulled the door open, too, without unlocking it or using Santa magic or anything.
• Santa left Karen on the roof, with no visible way of getting down.

  At least Frosty knew enough to stay away from the fire.

The Best Time to Wear an Ugly Sweater...

  ...is never. Unless it's Christmas.
  You wanna know something? I've always felt kind of like I was missing out on some sort of weird holiday thing because I never had an ugly sweater. I mean, the ugly Christmas sweater is a staple of sitcom episodes and bad holiday movies alike, not to mention some peoples' funny stories of bad Christmas gifts and amusing holiday gathering and several Harry Potter books. 
  So I did it. I had an Old Navy gift card lying around that I was never really gona use for anything, and it's Christmastime (well, at the mall it's been Christmastime since Halloween) so Old Navy is chock-full of sweaters of all kinds. I bought an ulgy sweater. I walked into the store, turned the corner, and there it was on a lower shelf, next to a much prettier sister-sweater (do you think there was any sibling rivalry there?). Fate. The very first sweater I saw was butt-ugly.   
  So I bought it. And I'm proud. It makes my friends' eyes burn, although my parents and relatives say it's "very nice" and seem to mean it, somehow. And you know what? I love my ugly sweater. It's ugly, but it's mine. It's ugly and I'm proud, to paraphrase that wise sage SpongeBob.
  So feast your eyes, and then watch your eyeballs become bulimic as they vomit it right back up!

  Sorry that the picture's sideways; my friend's phone said the regular-way file was too big to send. So I apologize for both the eye-vomit and neck-strain I'm probably putting you through. But I do love that dang crappy sweater.

  Merry Christmas. 

Wow, America.

  Just...wow. That's really all I can say about this.

Clearly, It's Once Again the End of the World

  Think about it, people. We've got Hurricane Sandy getting ready to pound us like we owe her money, Tropical Storm (or is it Hurricane? I'd like to be respectful) Tony making his way over the ocean, there's supposed to be some snow mixed in with the rain, there's a bacon shortage, and it's 2012. Clearly most of the population is about to be wiped out in some Day After Tomorrow-style disaster, so I decided to share some helpful tips I've pulled from various training films (a.k.a. disaster movies/TV shows that don't suck) to help those I can to survive--and yes, it probably helped that I watched the aforementioned movie this week in Meteorology class, I suppose. 

•  Stock up on supplies. Bacon, M&Ms, chips...you know, all the essentials. Oh, and don't forget Twinkies--you know they'll survive, even if half your family doesn't. More for you. Plus, you should probably have some nonperishables around, because that's always what the people in the movies (the ones who have smart screenwriters, anyway) do. Oh, yeah, and some medicines and stuff, just so you don't have to trek outside in Ice Age weather to salvage supplies from the cruise ship that just floated past your bedroom window.
• Get to high ground. Lava flows downwards. So do giant cascades of water, mudslides, rock slides, and other fun things like that. Unless, of course, the world chooses to be difficult and end in a giant sweep of F5 tornadoes like the one in the end of Twister, in which case, if you don't want to end up like that cow, you head downstairs, to a basement or bathroom without windows. 
• Don't get hurt. Unless you've followed step one and hoarded medicines already.
• You know that little light of yours? Let it shine. Hoard candles, I don't care if they make your man-cave smell like Yankee Candle or not. After all, in every disaster movie the disaster is heralded by a massive power outage of some sort, and I highly doubt the electric company is gonna be out there repairing power lines while aliens are shooting at them from all sides.  
• Get your crack team of survivors together. This group usually consists of: one smart person who foresaw the event but was ignored by the government (or the smart person's kid); two teenagers who like each other but who haven't shared their feelings yet (they're waiting for the right natural disaster/near-death situation to strike); one or more nerds/geeks; a pair of people (husband-wife, boyfriend/girlfriend, parent/child, friend/friend) who have been estranged for the past few years but are pushed together by whatever event is occurring; a silent man (or, rarely, woman) who will later reveal that he has all the skills you need to survive; a homeless man; the homeless man's dog. 
• Find the really smart guy. This is the guy who saw everything coming or at least knows how to survive it all, the one who can fight zombie soldiers and human looters with equal aplomb, the one who has a bone to pick with whoever ignored his dire warnings (usually the government). This man usually looks like Dennis Quaid, Liam Neeson, Harrison Ford twenty years ago, or Bruce Willis. Find this guy, and it's pretty much guaranteed you'll live to see the traditional end-of-the-movie "oh look the sky is clear now" shot that signifies the endurance of the human spirit and the hope of a brand-new day (or good box-office returns, whichever.). 
• Survive.   

Don't Be a Freaking Commie. Trick-or-Treat.

  Since Halloween will be here soon (all right, maybe like a month and a half, but I like the season. Shut up and sue me), I've decided to share with you an example I crafted last year for a friend of mine to explain to her the difference between Communism (which sucks) and capitalism (which is awesome). And yes, it involves trick-or-treating.
  Think about Halloween. Think about walking for hours and ringing hundreds of doorbells and, at houses where you're not chased away by angry dogs or extremely religious old people who call you an emissary of Satan and try to beat you with their cane, getting tons of candy. Not crappy hard candy, either, but the really good stuff. I'm talking full-size Hershey bars and king-sized Snickers and Reese's Cups and types of Skittles you never knew existed. Three bags full, all for you, because you went around and trick-or-treated to get it.
  All right, now that you have that lovely image in your head, think of somebody you don't like. I don't care who it is: your little brother, your ex (best friend or significant other), that creepy kid who stalked you freshman year. They didn't go trick-or-treating. They think that stuff is stupid. They didn't want to waste their time walking around and ringing strangers' doorbells. 
  But they want some of your awesome candy. And you have to give it to them.
  That's Communism for ya, kids. You work your butt off, tramping up and down your neighborhood and knocking on doors and occasionally getting chased by freaks or dogs or freaks with dogs all while wearing clothes that most likely are stranger than the ones you wear every day (unless you go to my high school or something), and then you have to give a nice big chunk of your sweet candy over to the annoying guy too lazy to go trick-or-treating for himself. And you can't pass off the few crappy hard candies or mints you got off onto him, no sir. He, like everybody else, wants the good stuff. 
  Now, picture this: YOU GET TO KEEP ALL THE CANDY YOU MAKE. Doesn't that sound awesome? And the lazy stalker kid from freshman year can sit there and whine all he wants; he's not getting any of your Reese's Pieces, no way. You get to sit there and shovel Milky Ways and Milk Duds and fun-sized Starburst down your gullet--right there in front of him if you want to, and most people typically do--and laugh, and drink soda and watch crappy horror movies on SyFy once you get back home. 
  That's capitalism. If you earned it, you get to keep it and eat it however and whenever you want. Isn't that much better than having to give it to Brian from history class who was too lazy to go out and trick-or-treat for himself and wants somebody else to trick-or-treat for him and subsidize his uselessness?
  Now, for everybody who didn't get that parable: Trick-or-treating is working. The annoying kid is both the government and the guy who wants the government to pay for everything, like healthcare and crap. The candy is your money, which you get to spend/eat however you want to in a glorious capitalistic society. You are you. And the crappy SyFy movies are just crappy SyFy movies. 
  Now, get out there and trick-or-treat!  

I am Officially Jinxed

  I know, a lot of people say that, but dudes, I seriously think I am, when it comes to TV shows, anyway. Every time I watch and like a TV show, it either gets canceled or moved to a time when I can't watch it (and no, I don't have TiVo or DVR, for all you smart-butts out there who want to offer that as a solution to my problem. Plus, even if I did, I'm so jinxed it would probably just blow up while it was recording or not record at all or something). So far, cartoons seem to be safe, so I guess I'm not completely fatal....
  Don't believe me? Happily (well, somewhat) I've compiled a list of all the TV shows I've inadvertently poisoned just by liking them. And if any show you like shows up, well, I'm sorry. I liked them, too. And that was the problem.

• Unnatural History--Cancelled after one season. Ironically enough, the final episode said "To be continued." And then it wasn't.
• Human Target--I think we all know what happened there.
• Chasing UFOs--If it comes back for a second season (and that's a Roswell-sized "if" here, people), it will need to be severely revamped because the first season basically sucked...according to two of the hosts of the show.
• S.W.A.T--Taken completely off Antenna TV's fall schedule right in the middle of a freaking season. 
• Mary Tyler Moore--Moved to later at night right when all of my family could chill out and watch it together. 
• Adam-12--I had to think before I put this on my list. After all, it's just been moved around in time...but that still presents a challenge, so it ended up here. 

  Yeah, I watch a lot of old TV. Come over here and say something to my face about it, punk. 
  There's maybe one show left that hasn't yet been affected by my jinx, and I'm not going to mention it just in case, because right now there is a risk that it could be shifted or something, and if that goes I really don't know what I do, considering that I really don't watch a lot of TV. I watch a few shows faithfully and cartoons usually, so when I lose those shows, dude, I ain't got nuthin' but Gumball (and I'm pretty sure that if my English teacher saw that last sentence she'd have a freaking heart attack and die).
  First-world problem? Yeah, it is, I know. But it's mine.
 

The Pen is Blue

  Come on, you've all seen it, that thing on the internet about symbolism and analyzing:

• The student's response: "The pen is blue."
• The English teacher's response: "The blue of the pen represents the man's loneliness, and the fact that it's not in the cup with the other pens represents how he's isolated from his fellow man. The way that it is a click-pen with the point inward represents how shy the man is."
• The author's meaning: "The pen is freaking blue."

  Yeah, I thought you might have seen that. I was thinking about it myself the other day because I write all the time, and I was wondering how much symbolism people might read into my work when there's really none there. In the eyes of English teachers, professors, and other intellectual stuffed-shirts everywhere (not that all English teachers are stuffed shirts, but you know what I mean), everything must contain symbolism, even if they have to assign it themselves. 
  I mean, sometimes I read stuff in class and I can easily see some symbolism in there, but other things the teacher might point out I'm like, huh? I mean, I just can't see it. And that made me wonder if half the time, the authors didn't realize that a specific symbol was being used, or that people could interpret their main character as being a Jesus figure or something like that. Maybe the author didn't mean half the stuff we have to find in English class or risk failing for the year. Maybe the author just didn't care.
   I mean, looking back through some of the stuff I've written I'm found symbolism that honestly wasn't there--or, at least, I wasn't thinking about it--when I wrote it. I wasn't thinking, Hm, let me make it snow here to represent the coldness of the human soul, and then let me make the sun come out to represent that changes a person can make to better themselves. No. I had it snow because my characters were climbing a mountain in the middle of winter, and I had the sun come up because that's what the sun does every morning. Although I suppose an English teacher could say the soul represented the hardships a person has to go through before their personal sun can come out....
  But you see? I didn't write it to mean that. Sure, sometimes I use weather to reflect moods or events, or I use symbolism of another kind to make my writing better; most writers do. But what I'm saying is, sometimes they don't, or they don't mean to, and people read stuff into it that's not really there. That's kind of why I don't want my writing to be school-reading, in the school I came from or any other (if, you know, a school suddenly got cool and added sci-fi/fantasy to the assigned reading list). I know, from going back over some of the stuff I'm written and am trying to get published, that they'll find some things in it that could be misconstrued as something else. 
  Sure, I made it storm once to represent my main character's internal conflict with dark magic. But once I also made it storm because it was summer and, in summer, storms happen. Once I made another character's boyfriend take an arrow to the throat, but it wasn't to show how hard love can be--it was because they were fighting bad guys. But you can guarantee that someone out there is gonna say it's because love has many obstacles to overcome, and the arrow represents those obstacles....
  Really, people, don't bust a brain vessel. Sometimes it's really not as hard as it seems, and just because something seems like it means something else doesn't mean it does. Don't assign meanings to something just because you think it should have one. Sometimes it really just is that simple. Sometimes a mountain is just a mountain. Sometimes a storm is just a storm. And sometimes the pen is just freaking blue.     
 

President Obama: Sith Lord

  Yes, I'm serious. President Barack Hussein Obama is, in a fact, a Sith Lord--and none other than the beloved Chancellor Palpatine. 
  I know, I know, I know what you're thinking. I know you think I've lost whatever little bit of my mind I have left. That I've completely cracked and gone 'round the bend and whatever other cliche you can think of--basically that I belong in Ward C on Shutter Island. And maybe I do and maybe I don't, but either way, you have the right to think it, especially because you have enough evidence to back you up--just as I have enough evidence to back my theory up, nutso or not.
  Parallel No. 1: After he began his political career, every record of Palpatine's life mysteriously disappeared: his upbringing, his education, his family history, where he lived, and so on. The man became a complete ghost, and nobody knew anything about his past, where he had come from, and what he had done. This sounds frighteningly familiar when you consider that basically everything in our dear leader's memoirs is a complete lie, and nobody from his past (ex-girlfriends, classmates, teachers, et cetera) has stepped forward at any point in his presidency to reveal anything about his life before he reached the Senate. Suspicious, considering how during Bush's presidency the media dug up everyone and everything they could on him, from grade-school teachers to childhood friends and drinking buddies, and as soon as Obama steps into office nothing can be found on him other than what he says--most of which is utterly and completely untrue or embellished. So let's see: No records can be had of either of them before they assumed political office. And speaking of political office, let's see how they got theirs, shall we?
  Parallel No. 2: As seen in The Phantom Menace (by those who can stand to watch it, and yes, I can), Palpatine begins as a Senator from his home planet of Naboo, and nearing the end of the movie becomes Supreme Chancellor because of a vote by the Senate. Earlier, he had convinced Queen Amidala to call for a vote of no confidence against the then-Chancellor, Valorum. He basically says that Valorum is not a strong leader who will be able to help the Republic through the crisis in which it finds itself, and that a new leader is needed to help guide them and set them right again. It's no surprise, then, that he is nominated, among several others, and wins the office of Supreme Chancellor. If you all remember, during Obama's campaign for presidency his main theme, besides the economy, was that McCain was just another Bush and that wasn't what our country needed to fix everything that sucked. I wonder where I've heard that kind of bent before...? Obama kept pressing the fact that he thought McCain was going to be just like Bush and continue us down the road Bush had put us on, and that he was the perfect leader to fix everything that was wrong (notwithstanding that he just made everything worse...but that's another post). A Senator saying that more of the same is what the nation doesn't need and that his leadership is? Hmmm...
  Parallel No. 3: Every good argument needs at least three strong reasons to back it up (thank you, eleven-honors English class), and here's my third. In Palpatine's office--where the walls were painted blood-red, by the way; you think somebody would've realize sooner exactly what he was--he has a mural all around the room depicting a Jedi-Sith battle. He chose to surround himself in office with something that reflected who and what he was. Obama did the same thing when he assumed office by surrounding himself with advisers and cabinet members who are Communist Marxist radicalists just like him. They may not be a wall mural, but they surround him just as the Jedi-Sith battle and red walls surrounded Palpatine. They share the same ideology he does even though he doesn't come out and say it outright but instead through his actions, much in the same way the Sith art expresses Palpatine's beliefs without him walking around with a red lightsaber hanging off his belt all the time. 
  So yeah, maybe I'm crazy. But maybe I'm not. Maybe this is more than simple, eerie coincidence. And maybe, just maybe, we're under the control of Supreme Chancellor Obamatine. 
  Put that on your Shutter Island and electro-shock it. 

Spring Has Sprung!!!!

  And not just because it's almost spring break and all the stores have bunnies and large bags of candy inside. And not just because the calender says so (the calender says all kinds of things that aren't true). No, it's spring because I watched The Bad News Bears yesterday, thus kicking off the spring season in true NiteOwl style. 
  I went back recently and looked at the first post I did on the Bears and then went and read the one I did about Breaking Training. And I realized I kinda glossed over plot details on the first, just giving you basics and stuff, and basically spilled out Bears Adventure No. 2 word-for-word. I felt pretty bad, so I'm here to rectify that. Aren't you lucky?
  The story goes, there was a class-action lawsuit that created a seventeenth team for the North Valley junior baseball league, and this team is of course made up all of all the rejects and losers who couldn't make it onto the other teams. Coaching this group of losers is a man who is a bit of a loser himself: Morris Buttermaker, played by Walter Matthau in the greatest impression of my dad ever, if my dad one day became an alcoholic and started coaching pee-wee baseball. But anyway. 
  The team gets shut out 26-nothing in their first game (before which AwesomeDude Kelly Leak (Jackie Earle Haley) rode across the field on his Harley) and Butter maker forfeits, leading Councilman Whitewood, who started the whole thing, to call it quits. However, the kids and Buttermaker, keep going, and unwilling to face another loss like that one they took to the Yankees (coached by the now-headless Vic Morrow), Buttermaker goes about trying to find a way to make them better. 
  That is found in a new pitcher--who just happens to be a girl. (She pitches better than Cole Hamels did in game four, all you Phillies fans. Wanna recruit her?) Her name's Amanda Whurlizter, and she's the daughter of one of his ex-girlfriends. Her best pitch? The spitter (technically, she uses Vaseline, but all right). With her help, they actually, you know, don't suck as much.

  But Amanda can't carry the whole team herself, so he decides to try and recruit--holy Skittles, it's Jackie Earle Haley. After chucking the ball back onto the field and riding away on his motorcycle, Buttermaker is significantly impressed with the kid's skizzles. However, some of the other players have some reservations about approaching him....

  "Of course he's got a great arm, Buttermaker; he's the best athlete in the area. But you don't understand. That's Kelly Leak." (Toby)

  "You talkin' 'bout Kelly Leak? That's dude's a bad mother. Talkin' 'bout a loan shark. I borrowed a nickel from him last Tuesday--said if I didn't give him a dime by Friday, he'd break my arm." (Ahmad)

  "Es un bandito." (Miguel)

  "I don't know what they're all talking about, but I like him. He's got balls." (Tanner)

  And then Amanda says:

  "If the guy can play then the guy can play. Let's get him on the team."

  And the coach looks at her. 

  Cut to an arcade, where Kelly Leak is busy kicking a grown man's butt at air hockey (which I feel I am beast at, by the way. Anybody, seriously. Take me on.). In walks Amanda, and she proceeds to sink a couple on Kelly (who was busy looking at some chick's butt before Amanda walked in) before offering him a bet. They aren't going to play for money. If Amanda wins, Kelly will play for the Bears. If she loses...Kelly can name whatever he wants. 

  Long story short, Amanda ends up having to go to the Rolling Stones concert with Kelly ("Friday night at eight"). However, Kelly Leak does end up joining the team (conveniently as Buttermaker is distributing cups and supporters to the kids, as per league rules, and they begin fighting over whether Amanda has to wear one too, opening the way for Kelly's classic line, "If she doesn't wear one, neither do I."). And with these two in place, the Bears do the unthinkable: They start winning.

  This leads to a confrontation with the Yankees in the championship, where nobody thought they would make it (yay, underdogs!!!). I'm not spoiling anything by saying they pull a Rocky, which was also released in 1976, but it takes a lot to get there: Amanda nearly throws her arm out, Timmy Lupus catches a crucial ball to keep them in the game, Coach Turner hits his kid to teach him a lesson about almost hitting Engleburg with the ball (all righty, then), and of course a bench-clearing brawl where Kelly Leak pulls a Yankee off fight-happy Tanner with the immortal line "All right, you mother, let's see if you can kick my ass." Which he can't.

  And then Kelly Leak, the run that would put them over the edge, the star, the home-run king who's batting 841 and tries to use that to pick up chicks (that and his Harley), gets out. So the Bears lose. 

  But they also win, because they go the distance (yeah, I said it), and in the end Tanner rights everything by telling the Yankees to take their "apology, and your trophy, and shove it straight up your ass!" And then little Timmy Lupus (or the Looper, as he comes to be known in the next film), tells the Yankees to "just wait till next year!"

  Ah, yes. The Bears. Not the mutilated version, either, that Satan in the form of Thorton/Linklater forced upon us in the guise of a remake that was really more of a stupid, unnecessary re-imagining, but the one, the only. The ones who have ushered in spring with brawls, crudeness, and extreme overuse of the word "crud" by a kid who picks a fight with the entire seventh grade and gets dumped in a trash can sticking up for a teammate (and bills the kid who dumped him in there for the burrito he smashed into the dumper's face to start the fight). The ones who showed a girl can play with the boys, that budding juvenile delinquints are good at baseball, that burritos were once only thirty cents.

  Ah, yes. Spring.      

 
  

How to Get the Girl, By Disney

  Hey, guys, because I feel ambivalent about Valentine's Day this year and don't really give a f--k one way or the other, and also because I am unhealthily obsessed with Disney and have been watching many Disney movies lately, I've compiled a great list for you so maybe you can get off the computer and get a girlfriend for once, 'kay? 

1. When you're out on your first date, be selfless. For example, give her the last meatball on the plate. (Lady and the Tramp)
2. If you do something wrong and she gets upset with you, do something sincere (and sincerely awesome) to regain her favor. For example, saving her, her father, and their kingdom from an evil, power-hungry dirtball. (Aladdin)
3. Be absolutely perfect in every way possible and prove to her that not everyone in the world is "petty and dishonest." (Hercules)
4. Find out what she likes and give her a gift relating to it, only so over-the-top her head will explode with happiness (not literally). For example, if she likes to read, give her an entire library. (Beauty and the Beast)
5. Give up your immortality for her. (Hercules)
6. Have legs. (The Little Mermaid)
7. If you come upon her lying dead in a glass coffin in the middle of the woods, surrounded by seven little men, kiss her and wake her up. (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves)
8. If you come upon her lying asleep in a tall tower, kiss her and wake her up. (Sleeping Beauty)
9. Wear a loincloth and surf on tree limbs, and live with a family of gorillas. (Tarzan)
10. Take your place as the true king of your pride (The Lion King)
11. If your mother wants you to use your girlfriend so you can kill her father, turn your back on your own family (bonus points: no annoying mother-in-law for her!). (The Lion King II: Simba's Pride)
12. Don't be such a grump about everything. If she wants a Christmas, give her the Christmas she's always wanted. (Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas) 
13.  Steal from the rich and give to the poor. Like a boss. (Robin Hood)
14. Even if you think she's betrayed you, don't lock her up for all eternity in your dungeon until you have the full story. (Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas)
15. Kick butt. (Mulan)

  Happy Valentine's Day! I can't believe you actually need Disney advice to get a girlfriend, but okay, I guess! 

                           XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO,

                                                                                          NiteOwl

Because I Care

  Because I care, I've decided to compile a list of facts that I think will help you decide who to vote for when the time comes. 
  Fact: Barack Obama shares a suspicious personal relationship as a Chicagoan with the notorious artery-clogging killer deep-dish pizza. 
  Fact: Rick Santorum employs hundreds of robo-slaves to keep him in a constant supply of sweater-vests.
  Fact: Mitt Romney has a name similar to Mr. Littman's on Seinfeld, and they sound vaguely the same, if you don't try too hard. 
  Fact: "Eye of Newt" is a favorite cooking ingredient for both the witches in Macbeth and Michelle Obama (eyeballs are organic).
  Fact: Newt Gingrich is an aquatic amphibian. 
  Fact: Donald Trump is not running for president.
  Fact: Herman Cain should still be running for president.
  Fact: As a Mormon, Mitt Romney can't ingest things like the"special plants" Michelle Obama is growing in her "all-organic" White House garden.
  Fact: If gun control legislation is passed, Michelle Obama's arms will have to be chopped off. 
  Fact: After Newt Gingrich won South Carolina, Mitt Romney screamed "Dag nab it!", "Oh fudge!", and several other Mormonized curses and then sat in a corner and twitched for several minutes.
  Fact: Over thirty national conservative leaders have endorsed Rick Santorum. One of these was Jason Jones, producer of the film Bella, if that means anything to you.  
  Fact: I'm not running for president. 
  Fact: The word "fundamentally" has been viciously abused and should be put out of its misery before more harm comes to it.
  Fact: Newt Gingrich winning South Carolina is like Rocky in the sense that nobody expected him to get this far. Running with this, his campaign bus now reads "The Former Republican Speaker of the House Stallion."
  Fact: Nobody explained the word "fact" to me before I posted this screed. 
  Fact: I would vote for a slice of pineapple before I voted for Obama. If I could vote.
 
 

Things That I Really Want to Do: Another List, By NiteOwl

  I think the post title says it all, so I'm just gonna get on with it.

• Get a freaking book published
• Go ice skating
• Climb one of those cool indoor rock-wall things
• GO INTO THE OCEAN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FIVE OR SIX YEARS
• Go on a Ferris wheel
• Laugh in the face of those who didn't believe in me
• Go tubing
• Get dogs and cats and hamsters and horses and...
• Be the best around
• Graduate and get the heck out of the school system forever
•  Go to Italy
• Go to Bloomington, Indiana
• Live

  P.S.--Happy Birthday to my friend Erin! I'm not late for once! It's actually today! Even though I didn't know until the last period of the day...but let's just focus on me being on time on here, all right? Because that's incredible enough. Happy Birthday!

It's the NiteOwl Centennial!

  Whoo-hoo! This is the Second Chance Blog's one-hundredth post exactly! This really has no meaning to it except to say that this is one hundred posts! One hundred shots of my insanity--and many hundreds more to come! 
  Please celebrate responsibly. I don't want anything on my conscience besides the crap that's already there.

If You Value Your Life, Do Not Go Here

  I was doing research recently for a story, because when I place a story or character in a specific place or time I don't want to go and just make crap up, and I was researching two areas of my beloved (um...) New Jersey, and I found a place called East Orange and rediscovered a place I already knew, called Camden. Perhaps you know these two areas. Perhaps you know them because you know to avoid them if you want to live. If you don't, here's NiteOwl to inform you. 
  I'm pretty scared, and I'm not even there. I mean, East Orange has a pretty high crime rate--sometimes higher than the national average--and Camden's not too clean, either. One area of NJ I found had a 213.5% crime rate, and I was planning on using that one for my book instead, but that was property crime only; turns out this place has a basically zero-percent physical crime rate, the kind that I'm looking for. 
  I mean, you can just Google it; those two are constantly ranked high on the "freaking dangerous" list, although maybe not in those exact terms. I found a website where people talk about different areas they are planning to move to and stuff and some people were discussing East Orange; all I saw was bad, dangerous, bad, and a recommendation on what kind of gun to bring (apparently, nothing less than a nine mm). 
  I think I found where my book is going to be set.

Eye of the Writer

  Never mind that my vision is utterly crappy (without my glasses, at least). What I'm trying to say is that up until recently, even though I want to get published very badly, I wasn't working at the speed that I needed to be to get something done and published before Dad made me get a job. I was writing a lot, yeah, but I was writing one paragraph a day in thirty different stories instead of thirty paragraphs in one story that I would try to send off. Things just weren't getting done at the pace that they needed to be getting done for me to actually, you know, do something. And it doesn't help that I'm just a slow writer, besides. I mean, I can know exactly what I want to say and have ten scenes planned and playing out in my mind but I can't get through 'em all because I write so dang slow. 
  What I needed was something to speed me up--something that wasn't illegal and, you know, potentially fatal (I bet Charlie Sheen could write a million books a day with all that extra speed  he has lying around). Just some motivation, I guess you could say, something besides my dad telling me that maybe his grandchildren could read my first published book to his gravestone or threatening to make me work at CVS or something like that. 
  And then, last Saturday, at the beginning of my three-day weekend, I got my swift kick in the pants. 
  Dad had seen this two-hour Rocky retrospective on the Biography channel a few weeks ago and I was checking the guide and it turned out it was on again, and I remembered Dad saying that he thought my brother would like it, so I told him and we recorded it. To shorten this a bit, we watched it Saturday night, and I discovered that Sylvester Stallone wrote the first draft of Rocky in an eighty-page notebook in three and a half days. Eighty pages in three and a half days. I couldn't write eighty pages in three and a half weeks.
  Consider pants officially kicked. 
  While the whole three-and-a-half day thing is a feat I will never be able to do by hand, at least (the only way I would be able to do that and count it as "amazing," because I could go a mile a minute on the computer any day and that's not that amazing), I have managed to focus a bit more than I normally would have, banging out seven pages four days in one story. 
  Yes, I think I've got my focus now.  

Holding Out for a Hero

  No, not me; I can save myself, thank you very much. I'm talking about the GOP. It seems to me that each candidate has some good quality but then some major insanity or flaw that completely cancels it out (see: RomneyCare, Huntsman's Chinese-speaking smugness, Santorum's sweater-vests). What I'm thinking is that we hire the guy who builds all those Kardashian robots and combine all the good parts of the each candidate into one super-awesome machine. Then nobody will not vote for it because it'll be the first robot to ever run for president and if they don't vote for it they will be denounced as rascist and cast out into the wilderness like they used to do to bad people in the good ol' days. 
  And yes, I'm completely aware that sales of sweater-vests have skyrocketed since one debate or another that Santorum was in, but who ever said we as a people have great decisive skills? I mean, look who we voted in four years ago. 
  I'll make a bet with you. If the chucklehead in office now wins reelection, by some sly maneuvering by Satan (a.k.a. The Left), I'll go to the Nerd Store and buy all the sweater vests there and wear them to school. 
  And I'll move to the moon.