Yeah, time for some of that good old fashioned long rants on things I hate or love or don’t know anything about and feel compelled to say something smart-sounding.

“What do you think about time, and the reality of matter, what is our existence governed by?”

“Uh…Photosynthesis is the cosine to George Washington.”

“…”

Meh.

But music should be the subject, yeah. It’s an interesting thing. Sometimes it’s great, sometimes it’s bad.

OK, that wasn’t much of a rant. I need to talk about something else. There’s plenty of subjects to talk about, you know – I don’t have to confine it to BZP, I care about the entire world. Well, except for Antarctica. It’s filled with fake ‘birds’, lazy imposters who can actually fly, but decide not to because it’s wrinkle their tuxedos. Along with these “pongwins”, if I remember that name correctly, there’s a bunch of Canadians who were confused as to what part of the world they should be in. Oh, and then there’s researchers down there too. They could really give us anything and call it research though, we don’t care. Their research could consist of a guy bringing in a snowball, five other guys gathering around it, and looking at each other, nodding, and saying “Yep, this is definitely white.” And then they probably go drinking with pongwins or something, because they get lonely down there, and can hallucinate.

Speaking of hallucinations, I was talking to Hapori Tohu the other day, and he was telling me that his contract as BZP mascot only lasts until the end of March. I was brainstorming with some scientists who had just come back from Antarctica after five months (study topic: Is ice cold?), and we came up with a few ideas for Tohu’s replacement. Sure, we don’t want to see him go, but who could say no to Happy Tofu, the Lovable Block Of Nasty Stuff? I say “stuff”, because that’s really what it is. There’s nothing in it remotely related to food at all. I think “tofu” is an acronym for what is actually in it:

Tires

Ostriches

Fog

Underwear

Sure tastes like it to me, anyway.

But anyway, we did get other ideas, too. Hahli was one idea, but that one was nixed due to there only being fourteen and a half girls on BZP. (Don’t ask.)

Also threw around the thought that maybe Omi’s face would be a good idea. Of course, just the one face would be boring, though – this would have to come with the added feature of his facial expression changing every time you went to a different page. “The new sets!” topic? Omi surprise! “The new sets suck!” topic? Omi angry! Priceless.

Speaking of pricelessness, MasterCard’s commercials are bad advertising. If everything was priceless, we’d be more confused about our credit card statements than we are already, and then they’d make more money by tossing in weird things like five bucks for toothpaste, because they can.

Wait, I guess that’s good advertising for them. Well, I don’t know. I guess bad advertising is smooth peanut butter. Open one up, you aren’t going to see any peanuts or butter. And Q-Tips. They have all these things on the back of the box where it shows us the many uses of them, or as they like to call it, “The Wonderful World of Cotton Swabs”. Well, actually they don’t like to call it that. That’d be stupid. But they never do say that these are supposed to go in the ear. It’s just apparently common knowledge that gets imprinted into our minds at birth. Q-tips in ear = good. Q-tips for lunch = bad.

But what I really wanted to talk about here was my biology class, and I have no idea how I’m going to do a segue from Q-tips to the aorta. But anyway, we have this big mat on the floor that’s got the human heart and the blood vessels and the entire body drawn onto it (like, the size of a gym floor). And we’re supposed to walk through it like blood does, like, from the right atrium through the tricuspid valve into the right ventricle, etc. A couple of us decided we’d start going the wrong way and see if we could kill this enormous person, but the mat’s totally bogus – nothing happened. Then we started entering as blood from like, the toes, and still nothing bad happened to this guy. After stomping on his head, we arrived at our conclusion – the piece of cloth was not, indeed, a person.

It’s a shame.