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AIM: Pancaek Beast | E-mail: shdwdde@gmail.com | Denny's House of Pancaeks



Pontius Pilate

What does one do when he has finished applying to colleges?

What does one do if he does not believe in God?

How many zombies must one kill to match the death of his applications? (Current number today: 252)

How many times in a row must one die at the hands of Terry Bogard before giving up? (Answer: 32)

For some reason the word "Headphones" comes to mind.

SD
Sunday, December 31, 2006

"Don't play what's there, play what's not there."—Miles Davis (1926–91)

Whilst en route to the hospital one day, I saw before me a curious spectacle. The automobile in which I resided traveled down the left lane of the highway. To the starboard, a slick, silver SUV cruised smoothly, passing me on its way. I gained a visual on the bumper sticker, which read "Mad River Glen," followed by commentary regarding skiing. On the roof of the athletic vehicle was a canoe of identical silver hue to the SUV, mounted so smoothly and flawlessly that I wondered if really it were part of the car's original design. "The Ford CANOSUV"!

At zero degrees ahead, a sedan of unremarkable, darkish color continued to eat up the road. A total of three rather haphazard, ugly stickers made their abode on the vessel's rear end. The visual effect upon me was chilling, compared to the suave, Spartan feel of the SUV-canoe beast. Further examination of the sedan yielded the legible contents of the sticker: One read "WORK FOR SOCIAL CHANGE." A more verbose sticker to the left of the first babbled about the change demanded on the right. I believe that the word "environment" appeared in the petite monologue. Last but not least, the most prominent and gripping sticker rode proudly below the second, just to the bottom-left of the license plate, with a lofty assertion - and I am not making this up - "ARMS ARE FOR HUGGING." The profundity, along with its evoked response on me, struck me physically to the ground. To the forefront of my mind leapt the expression "flaming liberal." I realized that this was liberal Massachusetts, that the existence of such people as the motorist before me was the living counter to the Republican Party. More insulting than "flaming liberal": "Massachusetts liberal." Finally I understood how "liberal" was an insult. The reason was not only a ridiculous amount of right-wing propaganda, but also the people who actually have this type of sticker...

Poetic moments do occur. As I sat in the passenger seat, as the sportsman's vehicle closed the gap between itself and the bearer of the liberal, such an epiphany occurred to me. Faith and fate have their moments. The droning of my father's book recording exited my consciousness, streaming unheard from the car's speakers, perhaps later to haunt my dreams. And then there was absolute intellectual silence, as the unlikely triumvirate - the liberal, the sportsman, and I - stopped at the red light. A sidelong glance to the right revealed a Caucasian male with a shaved head and shades over his eyes. I flicked my eyes to the rearview mirror of the modest four-door dead ahead and briefly - awkwardly - made eye contact with a long-haired human in his or her twenties. Gender is not my forte, especially when the people in question have long hair, and especially if this person in question happens to be driving a car with a sticker that says "ARMS ARE FOR HUGGING." But nonetheless, I committed the vision to memory: such radically different styles for two suburban, middle-class whites. Finding their styles, rebellious natures, means of expression. The scene was purely poetry.

SD
Saturday, December 30, 2006

Tasteful Humor



^_^

SD
Friday, December 29, 2006

Would you please tell us about a few of your favorite books, poems, authors, films, plays, pieces of music, musicians, performers, paintings, artists,

Feel free to touch on one, some, or all of the categories listed, or add a category of your own.


Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata in C minor is my favorite piece of classical music. Published in 1799, it represents to me the beginning of the Romantic movement in the arts. The Pathetique is one of Beethoven's earliest sonatas, so it obeys certain rules of form. The first movement consists of a jarring, deranged, recurring theme; an entirely unconventional and unique main theme; and traditional development and recapitulation. The second and third movements follow convention as well, relaxing melodies and agitated Rondo, respectively.


The innovation and the heart of the Pathetique lie in its melodic structure and raw depiction of emotion. Breaking all of the rules of the time, Beethoven's piece did not pay lip service to the physical constraints of the harpischord. Its massive chords and pointed accents demanded more than the thin strings of its contemporary instruments could offer. The "Grave" introduction to the piece indicates the dramatic, intense tone that continues throughout the first movement. The second movement is simplistic in tune and in notes, but its alternating texture is divinely beautiful. The third movement, possibly the most "conventional" of the piece, revisits the themes of the first movement with a satirical tone, making it an ironic, spirited, and thoroughly fresh conclusion.


Less divine but equally spirited is Scatman's World. Scatman John is my favorite artist. Of note in the album is the hit single, "Scatman (Ski-Ba-Bop-Ba-Dop-Bop)." Over an intoxicating beat, beautifully recognizable choruses, and prodigious scatting, the artist explains his vocation. Afflicted with a stutter, he has transformed this "problem" into his greatest asset: scatting ability. Though it was thoroughly a 1990s album, Scatman John preaches idealised peace, love, and happiness much in the style of the stereotypical hippy. "If a Scatman can do it, brotha," he asserts, "so can you." The optimism of his message bleeds into the songs, and the result is infectious musical excellence.


My favorite writer is Dave Barry. He clearly writes for an audience, yet he also exudes an aura of not caring about what his audience thinks of him. His sense of humor is unbridled and uncensored, unconcerned with such petty factors as others' feelings, political correctness, factual accuracy, and grammar. The confidence in Dave Barry's writing makes it hilarious. His techniques never fail to amaze me; there is an impeccable melange of wit, exaggeration, satire, and blatant lying. Though he has retired from his position as the Miami Herald's columnist, his legacy in my heart secure.


I am completely enamored with FOX television's critically acclaimed drama series, 24. It is the most consistently suspenseful, best-paced show I have ever seen. Federal agent Jack Bauer takes on terrorist threat after terrorist threat in the Los Angeles area. Much of 24's appeal is in its style. A clock reminds the viewers that "events occur in real time"; a dynamic camera and an insidious musical score create flawless atmosphere and a cutting-edge, technological feeling.

The protagonist of 24, Jack Bauer, is the single most incredible character in any form of media. Throughout the longest hundred and twenty hours of his life, he kills a hundred and thirty terrorists, is clinically dead twice, and loses his family and friends. On the job, Jack is incapable of being wrong or afraid. While Jack deals with a nuclear threat, terrorists torture him to clinical death without gaining a response from him. He never hesitates to break protocol when protocol does not match his plan. Though the viewer squirms with Jack's defiance, he executes his plans and terminates terrorist plots flawlessly. With each episode, the situation worsens, but Jack Bauer always finds a way.

SD
Saturday, December 16, 2006

How does the University of Chicago, as you know it now, satisfy your desire for a particular kind of learning, community, and future?

Please address with some specificity your own wishes and how they relate to Chicago.


Since my kindergarten days, my inclination in school has always been to absorb and mull over new information. While my peers often bemoaned the “uselessness” of the material that our teachers presented, I faithfully remembered and considered anything any teacher said. Though my memorization skills did not always produce stellar test grades, I understood and retained the big picture without fail.


High school courses, containing seemingly boundless new knowledge, more than satiated my penchant for learning and thinking. I have always had an affinity for math, but the readiness with which I took to French, history, and literature surprised even me. After four years and twenty courses, I have outgrown my high school and am already yearning for the wealth of information in college.


The University of Chicago has no divisions. Every student can take any course that the school offers. This freedom particularly appeals to me. It allows me to pursue, in depth, subjects in which I do not necessarily excel. As an economics major, I will be able to take literature and creative writing classes that I might be unable to take at another university.


Finally, I expect an excellent assortment of peers at the University of Chicago. When admissions counselor Jeffrey Hreben visited my high school, he described the university’s student population as slightly nerdy but very fun. Judging from his description, past attending students from my high school, and the people who are applying to the University of Chicago this year, I safely assume that if I am accepted into the University of Chicago, I will never be far from diverse, curious classmates. The students around me will be of the highest caliber, and I belong among them.

SD
Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Old Cartoon Movie

Hmm. Trying to remember that animated movie I watched with the Rooster, Chante Clear, and the Ginormous Evil Owl. It was about a whole bunch of barn animals, and frankly, it kicked a lot of ass.

Ah, figured it out. It's "Rock-A-Doodle." The name of the Rooster is actually "Chanticleer" in the movie. I also picked up a bit of culture, learning that the author of Rock-A-Doodle's source material also wrote Cyrano de Bergerac.

Truth be told, that's one of the lowest forms of culture imaginable, up there with the likes of American Idol. But Rock-A-Doodle is actually quite a legit movie... sorta.

SD
Sunday, December 10, 2006


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