Still Oblivious to My Own Profession

I know I’ve been bee-busy as a travel-sized journalist now for two of my two and-a-half years, but I have a new confession for you. It’s with a modicum of shame and against a heft of parental advice I admit all this, but I feel I must.

No idea what I`m doing here.
No idea what I`m doing here.

First of all, I don’t know what it means, let alone can I even say the word of what it is I do for a living. Journalist. It’s a mystery wrapped in a puzzle, wrapped in a conundrum, wrapped in a very, very complicated word.

I could be a file clerk and probably know how to say that, heck, I might even learn what it is I’m supposed to be doing. Sadly, I’ve yet to learn the Alphabet Song, so I’m ill-qualified to take such a lofty post. How’s that song go again?

But I’m a journalist in a family of journalists and photojournalists, or so I’m told.

  • I know that interesting strangers are always telling me their opinions, but I still don’t know why.
  • I know the elderfolks are always snapping mad photos at me to what I’m now told is the tune of over 3000 per year. I’ve never known why the forbidden toy of parental exclusivity has so long flashed in my direction, but I do know it always does… Does it have a crush on me and the brothers or what’s the deal?
  • I also know we get to go to every and all kinds of top-notch events in our area, and kind of all the time. I assumed my parents are obscenely wealthy, but there’s a tag around my neck marked “press” and I’m hard-pressed to tell you why.
  • Lastly, I know Daddy-O spends a fair amount of time in PhotoShop working up pictures of me and the brothers. They’re handsome as a Depp when he’s done, and I watch them go into syndicated news stories. I even recognize all the people in the pictures, but the why of it all continues to escape the heck out of me, assuming heck can be escaped from such a thing as me.

But all these factoids still don’t add up for me any more than 2+2, an equation I’m likewise baffled to unravel. I’m sure I do something for a living, as sure as I am that I spend my day living it, whatever “it” may be, but I’m still scribbling a blank.

Should you ascertain whatever it is that I do, don’t you hesitate to bring me into that loop. Should you likewise suffer this same or similar degree of professional confusion, rest easy in the knowledge that ‘re so very far from alone. And, in very good company at that, I’d dare say.

ABOVE - Working hard, hardling working or some middle ground in between? Beats me like a filthy rug.
ABOVE – Working hard, hardling working or some middle ground in between? Beats me like a filthy rug.

 

Heat Beaten by Disrobery, Ice Cream

As the summer months roll on the question of how to stay cool heats up. Open windows and spinning fans can help, but as a citizen of the world with more curiosity than fear, I can tell you that the bones in my fingers aren’t the only ones that can be broken by these two methods. There are more ways to chill out.

Here you can see a staff writer struggling between carnal desire and cranio-facial brain freeze.
Here you can see a staff writer struggling between carnal desire and cranio-facial brain freeze.

As you must already know, fans are horribly dangerous to the tips of fingers. No matter how tight the meshing is that guards curious digits against poking into the moving works of the insides, Mama keeps producing smaller fingers to defeat them, such as the oft abrased tips of Baby-D. Clearly that isn’t a good way to cool a house.

Another popular method is to open windows, but this method is even more dangerous, since curious journalists under the 40” mark such as us immediately notice the opportunity and do our best to burst through the screens that are better suited to keeping bugs out than us kids in.

That doesn’t doom you to an unbearably warm summer, not even if you live in a city as temperate as my own. Instead, there are other ways that are less dangerous and even more fun.

chill-ice-cream2Left – Oh man, it’s so cold but it’s so delicious.

Consider taking off your clothes. I know, it doesn’t sound very innovative, but when it comes to defeating the beating heat, little compares. Contrary to popular belief, bundling up is only beneficial when you’re already cold, not so much designed to regulate temperatures when you’re already overheating.

But the best method of all is the introduction of this so-called “ice cream”. I don’t know where the name comes from, since it contains no ice cubes and ours is always made of soy, but whether or not the name is appropriate means little to me when the product tastes so darn good.

So if you’re looking to chill out already and you don’t know what you can do that won’t shorten your fingers or risk you throwing yourself out to the pavement below, consider taking off your clothes and eating ice cream. I can tell you it’s worked well for us.

The added benefit I almost forgot to add is that by taking off your clothes before eating the ice cream, you eliminate the high probability of staining your snappy outfit with your tasty treat. That makes the half-naked ice cream in the summer equation a win-win-win scenario, and that’s more winning than anyone has ever done in Las Vegas.

Above - Here you can see us half-naked and eating our ice cream... oh, by the way, Patrick isn't wearing any pants... I tell you, he's a crazy brother alright. No pants? I'll just never understand him!
Above – Here you can see us half-naked and eating our ice cream… oh, by the way, Patrick isn’t wearing any pants… I tell you, he’s a crazy brother alright. No pants? I’ll just never understand him!

 

Heat Beaten by Disrobery, Ice Cream

As the summer months roll on the question of how to stay cool heats up. Open windows and spinning fans can help, but as a citizen of the world with more curiosity than fear, I can tell you that the bones in my fingers aren’t the only ones that can be broken by these two methods. There are more ways to chill out.

Here you can see a staff writer struggling between carnal desire and cranio-facial brain freeze.
Here you can see a staff writer struggling between carnal desire and cranio-facial brain freeze.

As you must already know, fans are horribly dangerous to the tips of fingers. No matter how tight the meshing is that guards curious digits against poking into the moving works of the insides, Mama keeps producing smaller fingers to defeat them, such as the oft abrased tips of Baby-D. Clearly that isn’t a good way to cool a house.

Another popular method is to open windows, but this method is even more dangerous, since curious journalists under the 40” mark such as us immediately notice the opportunity and do our best to burst through the screens that are better suited to keeping bugs out than us kids in.

That doesn’t doom you to an unbearably warm summer, not even if you live in a city as temperate as my own. Instead, there are other ways that are less dangerous and even more fun.

chill-ice-cream2Left – Oh man, it’s so cold but it’s so delicious.

 

 

 

 

 

Consider taking off your clothes. I know, it doesn’t sound very innovative, but when it comes to defeating the beating heat, little compares. Contrary to popular belief, bundling up is only beneficial when you’re already cold, not so much designed to regulate temperatures when you’re already overheating.

But the best method of all is the introduction of this so-called “ice cream”. I don’t know where the name comes from, since it contains no ice cubes and ours is always made of soy, but whether or not the name is appropriate means little to me when the product tastes so darn good.

So if you’re looking to chill out already and you don’t know what you can do that won’t shorten your fingers or risk you throwing yourself out to the pavement below, consider taking off your clothes and eating ice cream. I can tell you it’s worked well for us.

The added benefit I almost forgot to add is that by taking off your clothes before eating the ice cream, you eliminate the high probability of staining your snappy outfit with your tasty treat. That makes the half-naked ice cream in the summer equation a win-win-win scenario, and that’s more winning than anyone has ever done in Las Vegas.

Above - Here you can see us half-naked and eating our ice cream... oh, by the way, Patrick isn't wearing any pants... I tell you, he's a crazy brother alright. No pants? I'll just never understand him!
Above – Here you can see us half-naked and eating our ice cream… oh, by the way, Patrick isn’t wearing any pants… I tell you, he’s a crazy brother alright. No pants? I’ll just never understand him!

 

Perplexing Parasite Digs Global Host

I’ve never been paid to endorse a product or service, so when I tell you something is good, I hope you take my words with their intended sincerity. Today I’m praising my host.
story556

2GlobalMart has been hosting our site since nearly the very, perplexing beginning. The price is right, but best of all, the service is exactly what they promise. After all, it doesn’t matter how cheap it is if it doesn’t work, right?

Lots of sites complain about the bad things they find and experience, but how many randomly praise, endorse and recognize the good things? We do, and we deserve a shiny gold medal.

Here’s why we dig ‘em:

  • Ever notice we’re always online? I’m on here way more than you and I’ll tell you, the server’s always running.
  • When we outgrew our old hosting plan, they didn’t cut us off, they got in touch and helped us change it… without interruption.
  • When we needed to upgrade our server scripts, their senior tech showed us how. When we didn’t understand it, he personally committed to making sure we did. He even followed up without being asked. Thanks Vladimir!
  • When our domain didn’t update (because of dad’s faulty credit card) they sent us a safety notice and walked us through the process.

I’ve heard all kinds of horror stories about hosts and other online merchants. I’ve never been defrauded online or otherwise, but I suspect I’m a bit spoiled by these guys and/or dolls.

If you’re looking for a reliable web host with multiple domain support, 24-hour support and a ridiculous uptime guarantee, my vote goes to 2GlobalMart.

And again, seriously, I didn’t get even a single dime for this endorsement, and I further won’t see a penny if you go and sign up.

ABOVE - You can see by the sideways smirk I so eagerly exhibit that I'm at least "significantly" delighted by this, my hosting experience.
ABOVE – You can see by the sideways smirk I so eagerly exhibit that I’m at least “significantly” delighted by this, my hosting experience.

 

Parents Fret “Us Children Left Behind” Program

I don’t know how it happened but summer break is here again. Normally students really look forward to the summer break, but I didn’t have much of a school year, and I love going to school, so for me it’s not so fun. What’s worse is that I really need my schooling and my parents are getting fed up to the gills I didn’t even know they had with this school district.

This, my last day of school. Wait, first day or last? Can`t remember.
This, my last day of school. Wait, first day or last? Can`t remember.

This may come as a surprise to you, but I actually have a speech delay. Not even a delay, but a pretty severe delay at that. I’ve already run two articles about how illegally inept Seattle school district is at special needs admissions, but it’s now more apparent than ever. We’re not just skeptical about this “us children left behind” program, we’re living it.

Dominic is getting all the attention he needs, and it wasn’t easy but Patrick is getting all the school he needs too, but in my case it’s way beyond a joke. I’ll sum it up a bit and then you can decide just how left behind I’ve been.

 

  • I was in school in our old district before we moved. They assessed me and assigned me 5-hours a week, and life and school were pretty fun.
  • Over last summer we moved to Seattle school district and it took all summer plus three-months to get me back into school. I was assessed, determined to have the same need, and assigned to the same 5-hours a week of school.
  • Because it took them so stupidly long to get me into school, I couldn’t just transition at age three, I had to start all over, so I missed 4-months of school as it took them that long to get me in for testing and placed in class, but somehow magically — having only had ten weeks of school over the 9-month period — I managed to make myself so smart that I only qualified for 30-minutes a week..And that’s pretty much where we are now, but I do have one more bullet point.
  • After ten class sessions (read that as only 5-hours) the summer break arrives and I’m out of school until after Labor day.I was never fully assessed and it’s plain that I’m not getting a lick of education out of these jokers. It’s sad that my school looks like a tenement with bed sheets for window treatments and blackberries growing up the side of the building (even though we’re not in a hillbilly district) but the very notion that 5-hours of class time between December 22nd and Labor Day, some 9-months later, isn’t just laughable, it’s cryable.

    us-left-behind2Left – Here you can see the view of the school from where the bus pulls up. In the window you can see a bed sheet employed as a window curtain, as well as how the run-down paint is peeling off. Also, is the window broken or what am I looking at here?

    See, I just said “cryable” and that’s not even a real word!

    Research we’ve done online suggests that 30-minutes a week is anything but an effective regiment of education, but if you do the math properly, you’ll see it’s actually 30-minutes a month that I’ve been getting.

    I may be delayed, but I’m obviously not as retarded as these people. Who do I go to for a complaint? How do I contest these decisions? How many star reporter children must be left behind before we can admit that the system is broke and it needs a fix?

    If you live in the Seattle school district and your child has special needs, I must strongly advise that you hire an attorney in advance of attempting to get your child admitted. Even with resource coordinators working on our behalf from a variety of agencies (both public and private) and with the publication of our subsequent articles on this matter, these jokers haven’t shown the first interest in fulfilling their minimum legal obligations.

    If you want to get an education in Seattle, I suggest you have a bunch of money, because otherwise, well, there’s a word for what you’ll be, but I don’t know what it is because I’ve only had 5-hours of education in the past alskjdlkjillion years… also not a real word, see what I mean?

Above - This is me on the school bus. It wasn't just the best part of the whole "school experience", but also the longest part of it, since it's like 15-20 minutes each way and I only get 30-minutes of class time.
Above – This is me on the school bus. It wasn’t just the best part of the whole “school experience”, but also the longest part of it, since it’s like 15-20 minutes each way and I only get 30-minutes of class time.
Above - Here's a nice wide shot of my school... it's not exactly a cherry building if you catch my meaning, no, I think it's more of a blackberry building and I don't mean a phone that does email. Did you know that schools like this even exist? In the unlikely event I have to tell you where the children are, they are in a little place I like to call "left behind".
Above – Here’s a nice wide shot of my school… it’s not exactly a cherry building if you catch my meaning, no, I think it’s more of a blackberry building and I don’t mean a phone that does email. Did you know that schools like this even exist? In the unlikely event I have to tell you where the children are, they are in a little place I like to call “left behind”.

Parents Fret “Us Children Left Behind” Program

I don’t know how it happened but summer break is here again. Normally students really look forward to the summer break, but I didn’t have much of a school year, and I love going to school, so for me it’s not so fun. What’s worse is that I really need my schooling and my parents are getting fed up to the gills I didn’t even know they had with this school district.

This, my last day of school. Wait, first day or last? Can`t remember.
This, my last day of school. Wait, first day or last? Can`t remember.

This may come as a surprise to you, but I actually have a speech delay. Not even a delay, but a pretty severe delay at that. I’ve already run two articles about how illegally inept Seattle school district is at special needs admissions, but it’s now more apparent than ever. We’re not just skeptical about this “us children left behind” program, we’re living it.

Dominic is getting all the attention he needs, and it wasn’t easy but Patrick is getting all the school he needs too, but in my case it’s way beyond a joke. I’ll sum it up a bit and then you can decide just how left behind I’ve been.

 

  • I was in school in our old district before we moved. They assessed me and assigned me 5-hours a week, and life and school were pretty fun.
  • Over last summer we moved to Seattle school district and it took all summer plus three-months to get me back into school. I was assessed, determined to have the same need, and assigned to the same 5-hours a week of school.
  • Because it took them so stupidly long to get me into school, I couldn’t just transition at age three, I had to start all over, so I missed 4-months of school as it took them that long to get me in for testing and placed in class, but somehow magically — having only had ten weeks of school over the 9-month period — I managed to make myself so smart that I only qualified for 30-minutes a week..And that’s pretty much where we are now, but I do have one more bullet point.
  • After ten class sessions (read that as only 5-hours) the summer break arrives and I’m out of school until after Labor day.I was never fully assessed and it’s plain that I’m not getting a lick of education out of these jokers. It’s sad that my school looks like a tenement with bed sheets for window treatments and blackberries growing up the side of the building (even though we’re not in a hillbilly district) but the very notion that 5-hours of class time between December 22nd and Labor Day, some 9-months later, isn’t just laughable, it’s cryable.

    us-left-behind2Left – Here you can see the view of the school from where the bus pulls up. In the window you can see a bed sheet employed as a window curtain, as well as how the run-down paint is peeling off. Also, is the window broken or what am I looking at here?

    See, I just said “cryable” and that’s not even a real word!

    Research we’ve done online suggests that 30-minutes a week is anything but an effective regiment of education, but if you do the math properly, you’ll see it’s actually 30-minutes a month that I’ve been getting.

    I may be delayed, but I’m obviously not as retarded as these people. Who do I go to for a complaint? How do I contest these decisions? How many star reporter children must be left behind before we can admit that the system is broke and it needs a fix?

    If you live in the Seattle school district and your child has special needs, I must strongly advise that you hire an attorney in advance of attempting to get your child admitted. Even with resource coordinators working on our behalf from a variety of agencies (both public and private) and with the publication of our subsequent articles on this matter, these jokers haven’t shown the first interest in fulfilling their minimum legal obligations.

    If you want to get an education in Seattle, I suggest you have a bunch of money, because otherwise, well, there’s a word for what you’ll be, but I don’t know what it is because I’ve only had 5-hours of education in the past alskjdlkjillion years… also not a real word, see what I mean?

Above - This is me on the school bus. It wasn't just the best part of the whole "school experience", but also the longest part of it, since it's like 15-20 minutes each way and I only get 30-minutes of class time.
Above – This is me on the school bus. It wasn’t just the best part of the whole “school experience”, but also the longest part of it, since it’s like 15-20 minutes each way and I only get 30-minutes of class time.
Above - Here's a nice wide shot of my school... it's not exactly a cherry building if you catch my meaning, no, I think it's more of a blackberry building and I don't mean a phone that does email. Did you know that schools like this even exist? In the unlikely event I have to tell you where the children are, they are in a little place I like to call "left behind".
Above – Here’s a nice wide shot of my school… it’s not exactly a cherry building if you catch my meaning, no, I think it’s more of a blackberry building and I don’t mean a phone that does email. Did you know that schools like this even exist? In the unlikely event I have to tell you where the children are, they are in a little place I like to call “left behind”.

 

 

Urban Art Equal Parts Inspiring, Scary, Terrible

Whenever I wander through my world around me I do my very best to take in everything I can and find the beauty in the ugly and the diamonds in the rough. Urban art is a fine example of my philosophy of embracing life, and there is little that could mean more to me than graffiti vandalized blocks of concrete on the lakefront.

I`m not sure what this is supposed to be, but it`s something alright.
I`m not sure what this is supposed to be, but it`s something alright.

Art should be something that catches your eye, stirs emotions inside you and captivates your imagination. We were down by the water the other day just enjoying the lovely weather when we stumbled upon this fantastic gem of malicious mischief. Not only is it interesting and memorable, but it does stir emotions in me, specifically that of curious fear.

Seriously, it’s scary at best, illegal at worst, and ugly at its most common.

It’s got almost everything you could want. It’s got unhappy happy faces, eyes, pseudo-hieroglyphs, horribly scribbled signatures, layers of ghosts that add up to maybe a crab or something, and of course, a blue monster that looks as if I painted it myself.

I did not paint it myself, in case you are a stealthy undercover officer or something, I know cops have little better to do these days than browse the web, so I’ll just clear that up right now. No, even the feet of it are barely at a level I can reach, but I can admit that it is impressive.

But it’s only impressive to me and I’m under the age of four, so there you go.

If you’re considering going to an art gallery but can’t bring yourself to pay the couples of dollars it takes to gain admission, consider instead wandering the poorer districts that surround your wealthy suburb. Don’t be ashamed of where you live, we’ve got detailed server logs, we know who you people are. Just go slumming a bit and take in the madness of the rattle-can spray paint that’s surely much closer to you than you think.

And while you’re at it, be glad that artists, if you can call them that, which you really can’t, are using these cans to paint the town red (or blue) instead of just huffing up the fumes. Although looking at this piece of work I’d have to suggest that maybe the person who made it was doing both.

Above - Here you can see me really doing my very best to try to appreciate it, but I guess I'm just not sophisticated enough to really be a fan. It must be an acquired taste or something, because to me it's just a hideous curiosity, nothing more. It's like watching someone tear off a Band-Aid. I know it's going to be ugly but I'm still a bit curious about it.
Above – Here you can see me really doing my very best to try to appreciate it, but I guess I’m just not sophisticated enough to really be a fan. It must be an acquired taste or something, because to me it’s just a hideous curiosity, nothing more. It’s like watching someone tear off a Band-Aid. I know it’s going to be ugly but I’m still a bit curious about it.

 

Urban Art Equal Parts Inspiring, Scary, Terrible

Whenever I wander through my world around me I do my very best to take in everything I can and find the beauty in the ugly and the diamonds in the rough. Urban art is a fine example of my philosophy of embracing life, and there is little that could mean more to me than graffiti vandalized blocks of concrete on the lakefront.

I`m not sure what this is supposed to be, but it`s something alright.
I`m not sure what this is supposed to be, but it`s something alright.

Art should be something that catches your eye, stirs emotions inside you and captivates your imagination. We were down by the water the other day just enjoying the lovely weather when we stumbled upon this fantastic gem of malicious mischief. Not only is it interesting and memorable, but it does stir emotions in me, specifically that of curious fear.

Seriously, it’s scary at best, illegal at worst, and ugly at its most common.

It’s got almost everything you could want. It’s got unhappy happy faces, eyes, pseudo-hieroglyphs, horribly scribbled signatures, layers of ghosts that add up to maybe a crab or something, and of course, a blue monster that looks as if I painted it myself.

I did not paint it myself, in case you are a stealthy undercover officer or something, I know cops have little better to do these days than browse the web, so I’ll just clear that up right now. No, even the feet of it are barely at a level I can reach, but I can admit that it is impressive.

But it’s only impressive to me and I’m under the age of four, so there you go.

If you’re considering going to an art gallery but can’t bring yourself to pay the couples of dollars it takes to gain admission, consider instead wandering the poorer districts that surround your wealthy suburb. Don’t be ashamed of where you live, we’ve got detailed server logs, we know who you people are. Just go slumming a bit and take in the madness of the rattle-can spray paint that’s surely much closer to you than you think.

And while you’re at it, be glad that artists, if you can call them that, which you really can’t, are using these cans to paint the town red (or blue) instead of just huffing up the fumes. Although looking at this piece of work I’d have to suggest that maybe the person who made it was doing both.

urban graffiti Above - Here you can see me really doing my very best to try to appreciate it, but I guess I'm just not sophisticated enough to really be a fan. It must be an acquired taste or something, because to me it's just a hideous curiosity, nothing more. It's like watching someone tear off a Band-Aid. I know it's going to be ugly but I'm still a bit curious about it.
urban graffiti
Above – Here you can see me really doing my very best to try to appreciate it, but I guess I’m just not sophisticated enough to really be a fan. It must be an acquired taste or something, because to me it’s just a hideous curiosity, nothing more. It’s like watching someone tear off a Band-Aid. I know it’s going to be ugly but I’m still a bit curious about it.

 

End Decreed to Unfair Naptime

As a grown toddler, I’m not a baby anymore. It’s for this very reason I feel inclined to make known my independence and issue autonomous decrees as needed to right the wrongs in the world as I am able. Naptime is one such injustice and one I adamantly demand immediately abolished.

Not napping.
Not napping.

As I said, I’m not a baby any more. sure, I wear a diaper, throw random temper tantrums and speak in fluent gibberish, but that doesn’t mean anything. All kidding aside though, as a modestly bigger kid, this is a grown-up business here and I’m fit to make my will known and carry out protests to get my way.

I’m a joker, but I’m no clown. I’m able to stand up for what I believe are my own personal rights. When I don’t see things in life as being equitable (to me, specifically) I never hesitate to take action. Want earns a holler, need gets a scream, and naptime (which I insist I do not need) garners a toy-oriented sit-in.

hellno-nap2LEFT – As if you can’t guess, this is me making sure to reject my supposed “nap time”.

A sit-in is still a peaceful protest. I don’t carry a message-bearing sign or chant anything, instead I just climb out of bed and sit in my bedroom with a mess* of toys as my only companions.

Here’s the thing, I’m no longer interested in those nap-type things. I don’t feel I need them and if I take one, I’m just sure I’ll miss something. Maybe I’d miss a big event and maybe I’d just miss time better spent bonking my toys together. No matter, it’s a “something” I’d be in a position to miss, and I just can’t be cool with that.

So it is with a heavy heart, though fueled with red hot blood, I hereby decree an official end to naptime. This decree is effective immediately and pertains to every toddler in my jurisdiction named Brendan Alexander, including but not limited to me.

Dominic is exempt from my decree because:

  • He’s grandfathered in
  • He doesn’t seem to mind
  • He’s still a baby and,
  • I appreciate the quiet when he’s down for the mid-day count.

*Sometimes it isn’t already a mess, but I promptly disassemble my surroundings to make it one.


EDITOR’S NOTE: It’s come to my attention since completing this report that it’s thematically similar to “Toddler’s Union: Rejects Nap Time Proposal” at Mike’s Zine. Unintended and coincidental, I assure you. Besides, his piece is better and I suspect that he, unlike myself, had help from a grownup to type

 

Fries and Drink Good While Awake, Also Asleep

I only heard about the facts behind this article after the fact, but I’m not surprised by them. The truth is perfectly plain; that French fries and juice are really great. They are great when you are awake, and as I now know from seeing my nap time photos, they are just as great if you’re asleep.

Here you can see I`m totally asleep but still have a firm grip on the foods that mean the most to me.
Here you can see I`m totally asleep but still have a firm grip on the foods that mean the most to me.

It starts out easy enough. If your chauffeur is driving you around and you’ve got a supply of sweetest juice and French fried potatoes of most salted, fatty deliciousness, you know that anybody with a notion to try to take them from your hands would have to be crazy.

But my subconscious apparently agrees with my conscious, because once I zonk out (though as to why I can’t imagine) they are just as impossible to pry from my fingers.

Doesn’t “sleeping you” like the same things that “waking you” does?

What a strange boy I am. I mean, I can understand holding fast to them when I’m awake, but how on earth do I maintain such a grip when I’m asleep?

It wasn’t just the pictures that proved it to me though. When we got home and the elders decided to let me sleep, but without my tepid refreshments in hand, I immediately awoke. That’s right, “sleeping me” wouldn’t stand for it, and though he’s powerless, he decided to notify “waking me” and bring me around to protest.