http://www.cnn.com/2004/TECH/ptech/03/03/sonic.weapon.ap/index.html
This is an article on the CNN.com about new technology for our troops. That’s right; the Army’s getting new weapons. And they are…you guessed it, high school assistant principals!
No, seriously, they are apparently noisemakers. Now when you first hear this, you think of those little plastic thingies that they give out for party favors that entertain you and your parents for several days (and by entertain, I mean annoy to the point of a preference for court hearings over toothpaste tube size regulations over being in the same room as that dratted noisemaker) until the battery runs out.
Of course, our Army isn’t getting that. It would be far too effective. Instead, they get a little device called a Long Range Acoustic Device, or LRAD for short. Well, maybe not little. It weighs 45 pounds, which could lead to odd scenarios if the soldiers are outfitted with just an LRAD:
SOLDIER: Don’t move or I’ll shoot!
INSURGENT: With what?
SOLDIER (TRYING TO HEFT LRAD): With this! Just…give me a second here…
But I’m sure no one would be that stupid, except perhaps Michael Jackson, whose music can melt brain tissue anyways. Which brings me to my next point: why invest money in a device that, I quote, “blasts earsplitting noise in a directed beam”, when we’ve already got them? In fact, every teenager has them, along with ample ammunition.
CD players, loaded with modern music, can disable anyone over thirty in just a few minutes. If they were equipped with a Michael Jackson CD, of course, they could drop anyone unconscious in a matter of seconds. Thank God that Michael Jackson music is, by federal law, illegal to broadcast without proper ear protection.
A SIDE NOTE: Another system that the government is testing is the Active Denial system, which seems as if it should work like this:
A terrorist is trying to enter a maximum security U.S. Army building, perhaps a kitchen.
ACTIVE DENIAL SYSTEM: Access Denied. Please use other door.
TERRORIST: (no response)
ACTIVE DENIAL SYSTEM: I said, Access Denied, you moron. Please leave or I will be forced to pipe Michael Jackson music directly into your brain.
TERRORIST: NOOOOOO!!!!!!! (runs)
Instead, the Active Denial System is, I quote, “a painful energy beam”. I suppose it’ll zap anyone who attacks it. You’ve got to wonder, though, the usefulness of this in other walks of life. Picture a courtroom…
JUDGE: Any objections?
ATTOURNY: Your Honor, my client was brutally hurt because his nail scratched his palm on account of a smaller toothpaste tube size. This is obviously an example of faulty manufacturing on the part of the huge toothpaste tube conglomorates, which want nothing more than to corrupt our youth and rule the- ZAP *thud*
JUDGE (HOLDING SMOKING ACTIVE DENIAL SYSTEM) : Any other objections, you chatterboxes?
COURTROOM: (silence)
I just hope the government keeps a close watch on its new toys. What’s to say some rebel faction doesn’t get hold of these devices and use them to quash anyone who’s discovered their plans and are writing about them in, say, an online column. What if…hey, what’s that noise? Oh no! They’re on to me! Tell the people! They have a right to know the tr- ZAP *thud*
Mar 3, 2004
The First "10" List!
10 ways to know if you play too many computer RPGs:
1. When you buy clothes, you check the tag for the armor bonus.
2. When you pass a test, you think you’ve gained a level and feel a need to distribute those hard-earned stat points.
3. You talk to random people just to see how much interactivity your life was programmed with.
4. You always overburden yourself with stuff because you thought that your inventory was bigger than it actually is.
5. You get annoyed when people don't "join your party" just because you asked them to.
6. Instead of asking your teacher if you can retake a test, you ask them if you can retry the quest.
7. Every time you do anything for anyone, you expect money as a quest reward.
8. You sign your name as “[deathclan]sLAy3R_299”.
9. You use the word “emoted” frequently in place of “did”.
10. Instead of saying to people that you’re tired, you claim that you don’t have enough mana.
1. When you buy clothes, you check the tag for the armor bonus.
2. When you pass a test, you think you’ve gained a level and feel a need to distribute those hard-earned stat points.
3. You talk to random people just to see how much interactivity your life was programmed with.
4. You always overburden yourself with stuff because you thought that your inventory was bigger than it actually is.
5. You get annoyed when people don't "join your party" just because you asked them to.
6. Instead of asking your teacher if you can retake a test, you ask them if you can retry the quest.
7. Every time you do anything for anyone, you expect money as a quest reward.
8. You sign your name as “[deathclan]sLAy3R_299”.
9. You use the word “emoted” frequently in place of “did”.
10. Instead of saying to people that you’re tired, you claim that you don’t have enough mana.
Mar 1, 2004
A Night of Horror! (actually, I just didn't get much sleep)
NOTE: This was written sometime in January, after a particularly harrowing experience with someone’s science fair project. I added a note at the end about the aftermath.
It was around 11:00 p.m., and I'd finally finished all my homework. I climbed in bed, looking forward to a restful night, (followed by more hell the next day, of course, but that's a different story).
But it's a weird thing with me. The longer I just lie in bed, thinking, the more things I think of that I'm convinced can't wait until the morning. I have to completely wake myself up, turn on the lights and get my planner. Next is the usual frantic search for a pencil; I usually end up writing with a stunted piece of lead that's so short I can't even hold it.
Finally, having written whatever it was down, I get back in bed. Then I think of something else. In this case, the mandatory 2 liter Coke bottle for the Math & Science tournament that Saturday.
I resisted, I really did. I tried to tell myself that it could wait until the morning. Of course, it didn't work. Then the real trouble started. When I got out my planner again, I was looking at the dates and I knew that I had forgotten something.
Something about Friday…Grace’s Science Fair project! NOTE: Grace is not her real name, but I really don’t want Benita to hit me with her obscenely thick Stephen King book, so I’m changing her name for this column.
Muttering a steady stream of curses all the way, I stumbled down the dark hallway to the other room, where the CD player was. Actually, it's a boom box, and actually, it's quite heavy. I must have dented the walls three or four times on the return trip.
I fished out her science fair project packet from my backpack, ripped out the staples of the sealed packet, and dumped the contents out on the floor. The project involved having people (mostly those that Grace didn’t like) listen to vocabulary words every night for a few days in a row, and then when they woke up, take a test to find out how much they’ve learned.
Keep in mind that it was around 12:30 a.m. by this time.
I put the CD for the words into my CD player:
"This is a test to see if you can memorize vocabulary words in sleep…" and so on. Then it started with music. Loud music. Of course, in the middle of the night, everything is loud. But there was nothing else to do. I turned the volume down to the level where it was just barely audible, covered the green, glowing screen of the CD player with Grace’s tests, and went to sleep.
Or rather, I tried. When there's nothing going on but music, and you're trying to go to sleep: it's extremely hard. One thing was obvious. The music was still too loud. After about ten minutes it sounded like it was right in my ears, even though the CD player was across the room. I turned the volume down again, to the point that an extremely sensitive dog would have a hard time hearing it, and went back to bed.
The next thirty minutes (or so it seemed) had me wondering when the actual words were going to start. Maybe Grace had mixed up the CDs.
To make things worse, the music was not sleepy music. It was some sort of allegro, or something; it was fast. Scales going up and down tens of thousands of times, huge finales, dynamic contrast, it was all there. By now I was entertaining glorious visions of taking my bedside lamp and sending it flying in a perfect arc across the room to smash the CD player to bits.
I'm not sure how, but I finally managed to get to sleep. Or maybe it was more along the lines of losing consciousness.
Around 4 or 5, I think, I woke up again. It was still playing music. It had probably just gone around the CD a couple of times, but if listening to music had me lying awake, then listening to a person reading vocabulary words would be torture. I lurched out of bed, trailing sheets that were tangled around me, and lunged for the power button. The green screen faded, the red power light extinguished itself.
I went back to sleep. I had to catch up for all the rest I had missed. Of course, by then I only had about an hour before I had to wake up. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do about this. I came up with many solutions to my problem while listening to the melodies of Mozart at 1 in the morning, starting with claiming that I had lost the CDs going through simply pretending I had listened to the CDs and just taking the tests anyways, all the way to setting one of those plug timers on my CD player and having it turn on in a couple of hours when I would probably be asleep. (By the way, the last didn't work because the CD player doesn't turn on automatically when it is plugged in or receives power.)
Wish me luck and sound sleep. I’m going to need it.
ADDED: I eventually decided to not listen to the CDs, but instead to fake the entire test. On a few of the answers, just to make it seem authentic, I purposefully messed up. Just don’t tell Grace. It’ll be hard to explain the blood and brain particles on her book when she has to return it to the library.
It was around 11:00 p.m., and I'd finally finished all my homework. I climbed in bed, looking forward to a restful night, (followed by more hell the next day, of course, but that's a different story).
But it's a weird thing with me. The longer I just lie in bed, thinking, the more things I think of that I'm convinced can't wait until the morning. I have to completely wake myself up, turn on the lights and get my planner. Next is the usual frantic search for a pencil; I usually end up writing with a stunted piece of lead that's so short I can't even hold it.
Finally, having written whatever it was down, I get back in bed. Then I think of something else. In this case, the mandatory 2 liter Coke bottle for the Math & Science tournament that Saturday.
I resisted, I really did. I tried to tell myself that it could wait until the morning. Of course, it didn't work. Then the real trouble started. When I got out my planner again, I was looking at the dates and I knew that I had forgotten something.
Something about Friday…Grace’s Science Fair project! NOTE: Grace is not her real name, but I really don’t want Benita to hit me with her obscenely thick Stephen King book, so I’m changing her name for this column.
Muttering a steady stream of curses all the way, I stumbled down the dark hallway to the other room, where the CD player was. Actually, it's a boom box, and actually, it's quite heavy. I must have dented the walls three or four times on the return trip.
I fished out her science fair project packet from my backpack, ripped out the staples of the sealed packet, and dumped the contents out on the floor. The project involved having people (mostly those that Grace didn’t like) listen to vocabulary words every night for a few days in a row, and then when they woke up, take a test to find out how much they’ve learned.
Keep in mind that it was around 12:30 a.m. by this time.
I put the CD for the words into my CD player:
"This is a test to see if you can memorize vocabulary words in sleep…" and so on. Then it started with music. Loud music. Of course, in the middle of the night, everything is loud. But there was nothing else to do. I turned the volume down to the level where it was just barely audible, covered the green, glowing screen of the CD player with Grace’s tests, and went to sleep.
Or rather, I tried. When there's nothing going on but music, and you're trying to go to sleep: it's extremely hard. One thing was obvious. The music was still too loud. After about ten minutes it sounded like it was right in my ears, even though the CD player was across the room. I turned the volume down again, to the point that an extremely sensitive dog would have a hard time hearing it, and went back to bed.
The next thirty minutes (or so it seemed) had me wondering when the actual words were going to start. Maybe Grace had mixed up the CDs.
To make things worse, the music was not sleepy music. It was some sort of allegro, or something; it was fast. Scales going up and down tens of thousands of times, huge finales, dynamic contrast, it was all there. By now I was entertaining glorious visions of taking my bedside lamp and sending it flying in a perfect arc across the room to smash the CD player to bits.
I'm not sure how, but I finally managed to get to sleep. Or maybe it was more along the lines of losing consciousness.
Around 4 or 5, I think, I woke up again. It was still playing music. It had probably just gone around the CD a couple of times, but if listening to music had me lying awake, then listening to a person reading vocabulary words would be torture. I lurched out of bed, trailing sheets that were tangled around me, and lunged for the power button. The green screen faded, the red power light extinguished itself.
I went back to sleep. I had to catch up for all the rest I had missed. Of course, by then I only had about an hour before I had to wake up. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do about this. I came up with many solutions to my problem while listening to the melodies of Mozart at 1 in the morning, starting with claiming that I had lost the CDs going through simply pretending I had listened to the CDs and just taking the tests anyways, all the way to setting one of those plug timers on my CD player and having it turn on in a couple of hours when I would probably be asleep. (By the way, the last didn't work because the CD player doesn't turn on automatically when it is plugged in or receives power.)
Wish me luck and sound sleep. I’m going to need it.
ADDED: I eventually decided to not listen to the CDs, but instead to fake the entire test. On a few of the answers, just to make it seem authentic, I purposefully messed up. Just don’t tell Grace. It’ll be hard to explain the blood and brain particles on her book when she has to return it to the library.
Feb 29, 2004
It's Different Now
(sorry, this one's going to be serious, instead of funny)
I know. At least, now I do. One of the things I’ve seen over the past couple years is the odd infatuation that some freshmen have with juniors, seniors, and even sophmores. It’s like, if the upperclassman pays attention to them, they’re hooked. And that’s what I couldn’t figure out. Even if the senior was a complete idiot, and the freshman was a total ditz, at least around him, they still got together. Why? I couldn’t figure it out. But now I know. I know, because it happened to me.
It has to do, as most things do, with power. It’s addicting. It’s invigorating. And it comes in many ways, one of the purest being power over another person. That’s what it is. What happened between “Joe” and “May”, the senior and the freshman in that order, was last year, and I was essentially a spectator, because May is one of my better friends (you know who you are, May). She was thrilled, captivated even, about the fact that anyone would like her. Especially a senior like Joe. And you know what they say, love is blind. At least this kind of love. So the slightest bit of attention Joe paid to May, she loved it. And the thing is, she loved it so much she became his slave, almost. He could’ve asked her to do anything and she’d just be enthralled by his voice. In her eyes, his faults had disappeared and his merits were inflated. The way high school works, to freshmen, people of a higher grade level are elevated to almost a god-like status. Joe was invincible and perfect in May’s eyes.
Actually, that much I got last year. What I didn’t understand is why Joe liked May at all. But again, now I know. He got a near-complete power over her. It’s like she was hypnotized; she’d do anything for him. And let me tell you, that power is more addictive than drugs, than alcohol, than anything. It’s because with the other ones, it’s your body. Physically, you can’t do without it. But with this? It’s mental. You can live without it. But the biggest thing is, you don’t even notice it. It just kind of seeps into you and makes you feel good. It’s the reason that certain seniors that I know are basically playing the freshmen girls. Okay, take one of them, for example. After school? He’s surrounded by a cadre of girls, following him everywhere and hanging on to his every word. It’s really kind of disgusting. But then again, if it’s you, you don’t notice it.
Unless…you’re looking out for it. This is how you know. It’s probably someone younger than you, and they look like they just can’t get enough of you. That’s how I knew, when a couple months ago, I was waiting for my ride, and a bunch of freshmen girls that I knew were waiting there too. They can’t talk to you without giggling and acting like complete morons, really.
What happened that finally got me was probably because I wasn’t ready for it. Didn’t really see what I was doing until it was kind of late. And then I really couldn’t do anything about it; it’s complicated, but for privacy’s sake, no details.
And you know what happens if you get caught? It’s going to hurt yourself, whoever’s addicted to you, and in my case, someone else too. That last one’s the worst part. When you’re good enough friends that you’d do anything for her because she’s the nicest person you know, and then you hurt her like that…it makes you feel like crap. As you can probably tell, that happened to me too. You know who you are…I am so, so sorry. Truth be told, I’d rather have sat with you anyways.
But back to May and Joe. They broke up at the end of last year, when Joe graduated and went to college. And then something interesting happened: when we started school again in August, May had really matured. She got burned, and she knows why, too. I’ve got to commend her for that, even though I thought she was an incurable ditz a year ago.
I need to talk about something else, too. It’s high school dating in general. My friend Joy recently posted her (and others’) views on dating in high school; I pretty much agree. It really doesn’t work. You think you’re in love, everyone else’s doing it, and the biggest and stupidest reason of all, it’s a status symbol. Somehow, it’s “cool” to be dating; it automatically kicks you up a notch on that screwed up heirarchy that some people at school live by. Don’t get me wrong, if it’s “true love” or something, go for it. But…how do you know? Do you love the person, or just like them? I’d say that 99% of the time it’s the latter.
I’m sure many of you are thinking: But (insert name here) and (also here) are dating and they’re getting along fine! No, seriously. Getting along fine? Those words, used in conjunction with dating, just don’t work. At least in high school, everyone wants different things. Girls want romance and kisses, guys (usually) just want the girl.
As Joy said, it’s really kind of sad when people celebrate their one month anniversary.
The worst is when you start dating a close friend. Why ruin a perfectly good friendship by going out? Really, though, most relationships don’t work out, and even if they do, almost none make it though their first year in college, if not the first few months. Things change when you go to college; people change. What’s not going to change is the close friendships that you have, but your girlfriend or boyfriend? It’s going to be different, and chances are you’re not going to like it. You’re going to feel tied down in college if you’re dating someone hundreds of miles away. However, when you’ve got a close, close friend that you can tell anything to anywhere in the world, you feel secure, like you’ve got support with you.
Some people want “love” in high school. Me? I know now. I’d rather have friendship.
I know. At least, now I do. One of the things I’ve seen over the past couple years is the odd infatuation that some freshmen have with juniors, seniors, and even sophmores. It’s like, if the upperclassman pays attention to them, they’re hooked. And that’s what I couldn’t figure out. Even if the senior was a complete idiot, and the freshman was a total ditz, at least around him, they still got together. Why? I couldn’t figure it out. But now I know. I know, because it happened to me.
It has to do, as most things do, with power. It’s addicting. It’s invigorating. And it comes in many ways, one of the purest being power over another person. That’s what it is. What happened between “Joe” and “May”, the senior and the freshman in that order, was last year, and I was essentially a spectator, because May is one of my better friends (you know who you are, May). She was thrilled, captivated even, about the fact that anyone would like her. Especially a senior like Joe. And you know what they say, love is blind. At least this kind of love. So the slightest bit of attention Joe paid to May, she loved it. And the thing is, she loved it so much she became his slave, almost. He could’ve asked her to do anything and she’d just be enthralled by his voice. In her eyes, his faults had disappeared and his merits were inflated. The way high school works, to freshmen, people of a higher grade level are elevated to almost a god-like status. Joe was invincible and perfect in May’s eyes.
Actually, that much I got last year. What I didn’t understand is why Joe liked May at all. But again, now I know. He got a near-complete power over her. It’s like she was hypnotized; she’d do anything for him. And let me tell you, that power is more addictive than drugs, than alcohol, than anything. It’s because with the other ones, it’s your body. Physically, you can’t do without it. But with this? It’s mental. You can live without it. But the biggest thing is, you don’t even notice it. It just kind of seeps into you and makes you feel good. It’s the reason that certain seniors that I know are basically playing the freshmen girls. Okay, take one of them, for example. After school? He’s surrounded by a cadre of girls, following him everywhere and hanging on to his every word. It’s really kind of disgusting. But then again, if it’s you, you don’t notice it.
Unless…you’re looking out for it. This is how you know. It’s probably someone younger than you, and they look like they just can’t get enough of you. That’s how I knew, when a couple months ago, I was waiting for my ride, and a bunch of freshmen girls that I knew were waiting there too. They can’t talk to you without giggling and acting like complete morons, really.
What happened that finally got me was probably because I wasn’t ready for it. Didn’t really see what I was doing until it was kind of late. And then I really couldn’t do anything about it; it’s complicated, but for privacy’s sake, no details.
And you know what happens if you get caught? It’s going to hurt yourself, whoever’s addicted to you, and in my case, someone else too. That last one’s the worst part. When you’re good enough friends that you’d do anything for her because she’s the nicest person you know, and then you hurt her like that…it makes you feel like crap. As you can probably tell, that happened to me too. You know who you are…I am so, so sorry. Truth be told, I’d rather have sat with you anyways.
But back to May and Joe. They broke up at the end of last year, when Joe graduated and went to college. And then something interesting happened: when we started school again in August, May had really matured. She got burned, and she knows why, too. I’ve got to commend her for that, even though I thought she was an incurable ditz a year ago.
I need to talk about something else, too. It’s high school dating in general. My friend Joy recently posted her (and others’) views on dating in high school; I pretty much agree. It really doesn’t work. You think you’re in love, everyone else’s doing it, and the biggest and stupidest reason of all, it’s a status symbol. Somehow, it’s “cool” to be dating; it automatically kicks you up a notch on that screwed up heirarchy that some people at school live by. Don’t get me wrong, if it’s “true love” or something, go for it. But…how do you know? Do you love the person, or just like them? I’d say that 99% of the time it’s the latter.
I’m sure many of you are thinking: But (insert name here) and (also here) are dating and they’re getting along fine! No, seriously. Getting along fine? Those words, used in conjunction with dating, just don’t work. At least in high school, everyone wants different things. Girls want romance and kisses, guys (usually) just want the girl.
As Joy said, it’s really kind of sad when people celebrate their one month anniversary.
The worst is when you start dating a close friend. Why ruin a perfectly good friendship by going out? Really, though, most relationships don’t work out, and even if they do, almost none make it though their first year in college, if not the first few months. Things change when you go to college; people change. What’s not going to change is the close friendships that you have, but your girlfriend or boyfriend? It’s going to be different, and chances are you’re not going to like it. You’re going to feel tied down in college if you’re dating someone hundreds of miles away. However, when you’ve got a close, close friend that you can tell anything to anywhere in the world, you feel secure, like you’ve got support with you.
Some people want “love” in high school. Me? I know now. I’d rather have friendship.
Feb 26, 2004
The Clothing Issue
My mom is a high school math teacher. Now, quite aside from all the hilarity that that implies, there is a very serious issue that we should address. That is, the growing, and shrinking, of clothes.
So anyways, we were talking the other day about the steadily increasing amount of fabric that is the minimum for any guy to be “cool”. These days, many guys at my school and at my mom’s school wear anywhere from two to eighteen pairs of pants. And then on top of that they’ve got about three layers, topped by the inevitable jersey. Oddly enough, their underwear manages to make itself seen through all this; God only knows how that works.
When my mom has to separate people for talking or something, many times she has to stifle her laughter as these guys with four or five pairs of pants have to untangle themselves from their desks and kind of waddle across the room, taking huge, deliberate steps to avoid tripping themselves with their own pants.
This is a disturbing trend toward greater amounts of fabric for several reasons. Firstly, where is this extra cloth coming from? The answer, of course, is from the girls’ clothes. The newly discovered Law of Inversely Proportional Gender-Separated Clothing states that:
If some guy has a lot of clothes on, then somehow, somewhere, there is a girl with an equal and opposite amount of clothes on. The same thing works the other way around too.
The LoIPGSC, as it is popularly known among the intelligentsia, can be proved by taking a look at around twenty to thirty years ago, when it was “cool” for guys to wear near skin-tight clothing. What did girls wear then? Frilly stuff! More fabric!
Therein we have the increasing trend of girls toward skimpier and tighter clothing. This raises the interesting question of: is the “in” thing to be skinnier because clothes are tighter, or are clothes tighter because it’s “in” to be skinnier. However this works, it is a vicious cycle, which can only culminate in girls not being able to be seen altogether.
Of course, this will solve the world’s food crisis, because these new, ultra-thin girls would only consume about .5 mL of pureed, non-fat, low-carb, low-calorie cardboard.
The other reason that the implementation of the LoIPGSC is disturbing is, of course, new ways of cutting class. Because of guys wearing more and more clothing, eventually they will just look like huge piles of fabric (designer fabric, naturally). The time will come when someone can just sneak into class, deposit an immense pile of clothes on his desk, and sneak back out. No one will be the wiser!
Girls, of course, won’t be able to be seen anyways, so they can just plant a voice-activated tape recorder underneath their chair, to say “Here!” when the teacher calls roll.
Now, with no one in their classes at all, teachers won’t report to school, so there will just be huge empty schools with only the principal sitting at her desk, creating policy and making sure that her school looks good. It is this last one that makes it possible for no one to notice the lack of students at school, because the principal will make sure that her school stays at state-mandated levels, even if she has to take all 2500 or so standardized tests herself.
So anyways, we were talking the other day about the steadily increasing amount of fabric that is the minimum for any guy to be “cool”. These days, many guys at my school and at my mom’s school wear anywhere from two to eighteen pairs of pants. And then on top of that they’ve got about three layers, topped by the inevitable jersey. Oddly enough, their underwear manages to make itself seen through all this; God only knows how that works.
When my mom has to separate people for talking or something, many times she has to stifle her laughter as these guys with four or five pairs of pants have to untangle themselves from their desks and kind of waddle across the room, taking huge, deliberate steps to avoid tripping themselves with their own pants.
This is a disturbing trend toward greater amounts of fabric for several reasons. Firstly, where is this extra cloth coming from? The answer, of course, is from the girls’ clothes. The newly discovered Law of Inversely Proportional Gender-Separated Clothing states that:
If some guy has a lot of clothes on, then somehow, somewhere, there is a girl with an equal and opposite amount of clothes on. The same thing works the other way around too.
The LoIPGSC, as it is popularly known among the intelligentsia, can be proved by taking a look at around twenty to thirty years ago, when it was “cool” for guys to wear near skin-tight clothing. What did girls wear then? Frilly stuff! More fabric!
Therein we have the increasing trend of girls toward skimpier and tighter clothing. This raises the interesting question of: is the “in” thing to be skinnier because clothes are tighter, or are clothes tighter because it’s “in” to be skinnier. However this works, it is a vicious cycle, which can only culminate in girls not being able to be seen altogether.
Of course, this will solve the world’s food crisis, because these new, ultra-thin girls would only consume about .5 mL of pureed, non-fat, low-carb, low-calorie cardboard.
The other reason that the implementation of the LoIPGSC is disturbing is, of course, new ways of cutting class. Because of guys wearing more and more clothing, eventually they will just look like huge piles of fabric (designer fabric, naturally). The time will come when someone can just sneak into class, deposit an immense pile of clothes on his desk, and sneak back out. No one will be the wiser!
Girls, of course, won’t be able to be seen anyways, so they can just plant a voice-activated tape recorder underneath their chair, to say “Here!” when the teacher calls roll.
Now, with no one in their classes at all, teachers won’t report to school, so there will just be huge empty schools with only the principal sitting at her desk, creating policy and making sure that her school looks good. It is this last one that makes it possible for no one to notice the lack of students at school, because the principal will make sure that her school stays at state-mandated levels, even if she has to take all 2500 or so standardized tests herself.
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