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| The following is a true story from when I visited Washington DC in the Summer of 2003. It all started at the Jefferson Memorial with my National Parks Passport. The National Parks Passport is a little book that looks kind of like an actual passport; you get ink stamps from each National Park or National Monument that you go to. Well, our group was touring the Washington DC monuments late at night (say about 12am). When we visited the Jefferson Memorial, the gift shop where the ink stamp is kept was closed and locked up. But I wanted a stamp for my passport. I was determined. It was then that I noticed that the lock on the door was loose, and after jiggling the lock a bit, I was able to pull the doors right open. I walked right into the dark, closed gift shop and promptly stamped my passport, before walking out and shutting the doors again. As I was walking out of the store, my friend Rob saw me. He freaked out, thinking that I had just broken into the store and stolen something. I explained it to him, so he reminded me that there were security cameras everywhere, and that I had probably been recorded. We went upstairs to find the rest of the group, and ended up walking into the guest center, where one guy was manning the desk. He was really nice and gave us each a book or two, postcards, bookmarks, and magazines to keep. When we were done talking with him, we left with our arms filled with stuff. Then we realized that it kinda looked like we had just robbed the gift shop with all the stuff we had in our hands. Rob started really freaking me out and I got all nervous that the FBI and Secret Service would come hunt me down to get back the stuff they thought we stole, and nail me on charges of breaking and entering. I continued to get even more freaked out as we toured the FDR memorial. After we had toured the monuments, we began the drive back to our hotel. But on the way back, we had to suddenly stop and pull over. Sirens were all around us and government agents had boarded the bus. I was thinking, "They've come for me!" They got out drug-sniffing dogs and began searching the bottom of the bus. Some government agents walked down the bus aisle. It wasn't until after all the government agents had left that we found out that there are no buses allowed on the highway right near the Pentagon, and that was why they had pulled us over and searched the bus. They weren't looking for me, they were just doing a routine check. *deep sigh of relief* Basically, to sum up the story, I escaped the clutches of the FBI and Secret Service, and my passport has a lovely stamp from the Jefferson Memorial. | | |
| I'm not sure which episode this is from, but the clip is hilarious! It's so true! I love it! | | |
| This is what's been interesting in my life lately... The Texas National Open was absolutely amazing. I had so much fun in TX! We went to Galveston and hung out on the beach! I'm not gonna tell you the best part about this trip, but suffice it to say it was awesome.  The Gold Standard Regional Tournament was pretty amazing. Jennie and I kept breaking and breaking all the way to semifinals! We ended up finishing 3rd Place in Team Policy debate and qualifying to Nationals. All three SALT Duo teams broke to Semifinals, and Green/Levy and Ashley and I made it to finals. Esther and Melissa finished 8th and Ashley and I finished 7th. We both qualified to Nationals! Melissa broke to finals with her OI and finished 6th, and also qualifying to Nationals! I broke to semifinals with my OO, and was very close to breaking to finals and qualifying (I had a 1st, a 3rd, and a 5th in Semis and 6 out of 12 of my OO ballots were 1sts). We went and saw Spider-Man 3 and it was really cool. There were some cheesy parts, but overall, I thought it was great. I think Venom is the coolest villain ever! They should have had more of Venom in the movie. Sandman was cool too though. My parents got all upset over who I was sitting with...but it was worth it. Anyway, I can't wait for Pirates 3 and the Bourne Ultimatum. Those should be great! I think that's all the interesting stuff going on here.... signing off now. | | |
| The Prisoner © Josh Craddock, 2007 “In the visions I saw while lying in my bed, there was a messenger, a holy one, coming down from heaven. He called in a loud voice: ‘Cut down the tree and trim off its branches; strip off its leaves and scatter its fruit. Let the animals flee from under it and the birds from its branches. But let the stump and its roots, bound with iron and bronze; remain in the ground, in the grass of the field. Let him be drenched with the dew of heaven, and let him live with the animals among the plants of the earth. Let his mind be changed from that of a man and let him be given the mind of an animal. The decision is announced by messengers, the holy ones declare the verdict, so that the living may know.’” – Daniel, Chapter 4 Four walls of cold stone surrounded the captive. A steady drip fell from a crack in the roof, giving the room a moldy and rotting feel. Lying crumpled in the corner was the prisoner; tired, beaten and without hope. His clothes hung as rags at his bony and malnourished sides. Behind the wispy grey threads of his hair were his eyes: a steel blue that held some glimmer that gave life to his creased and decaying face. Yes, his eyes shone with some hope, a hope not of escape from his cell, but a hope of vengeance. Hatred simmered inside of him, giving him a will power to destroy that which had led him into captivity. This destructive will was aimed at his captors, his betrayers, and the ultimate culprit of his incarceration: himself. The prisoner’s hand grasped at the ground; his chipped and yellow fingernails scratching at the water worn stone of the cell’s dank floor. He tried to push himself up from the ground, but even the burning hatred in his will could not give him the strength to lift himself. In his mind he cursed and fell back into a heap. He mind spun as thoughts whirled through his head. All hope of escape had long died within him, yet he still held to the irrational hatred that burned within him. He realized that there was no means to wreak his vengeance, and that it was all vain and futile, yet this drove his hatred on, until he could think of nothing else. His steel blue eyes clouded with the emotion and he opened his mouth in a terrible scream. Yet no sound came from his lips; no scream of futility and hatred from his throat. The only sound to be heard in the cell was the drips from the crack in the roof. The captive’s face eased back into its old, creased position. Madness had come at last to the captive. His mind no longer held the rational thoughts of a normal human man. Perhaps it was the memories; the phantoms; the demons of his past that drove him to his psychosis. Or perhaps it was the deafening silence, broken only by the monotonous drip from the stone ceiling. I believe that it was the revulsion pent up inside him, and his powerlessness to express it despite his efforts, that finally drove him off the cliff of sheer insanity. The prisoner was no more than a caged beast, held together by his irrational rage. As the captive laid in the corner of the cell his body’s functions began shutting down under the stress of his confinement. His lungs rasped as he gasped for breath. The prisoner’s tongue stuck to the dry roof of his mouth. His body shook in a shiver, tremors running through his body. The man’s thoughts were so clouded by rage he did not notice as he began to lose the feeling of his limbs. After a time, the old man’s steel blue eyes slowly became cold. The spark of life and emotion left them flat and dry. Madness of the man’s thoughts slowly left him as the cold drip of water from the cell continued to trickle softly. Surrounded by four walls of cold stone, the prisoner slept peacefully, without the fits of insanity he was accustomed. But this peaceful sleep was different. From this quiet slumber, the captive would not awaken. “That very hour the word was fulfilled; he was driven from men and ate grass like oxen; his body was wet with the dew of heaven till his hair had grown like eagles’ feathers and his nails like birds’ claws. All this came upon him.” – Daniel, Chapter 4 | | |
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