Monday, November 17, 2008
POLITICS
Vent
Narritive
Blog #6
Blog #10
Descriptive
Blog #9
Blog #8
Logos/ Pathos/ Ethos
Blog #7
Thesis Topic
Blog #5
Blog #4
Blog #10
Vent
Blog #3
Blog # 7
logos,ethos,pathos
ethos- A place that you can call your own is alway's the best, because no the landlord doesn't own it YOU do.
Pathos- The best thing to do is try to buy a house because you will be paying towards the payoff of the house not a monthly payment you will never see again, you will be much happier knowing this will be comepletely yours one day.
Blog # 5
Monday, November 10, 2008
Blog #3
It's 5:30 A.M., too early to be up.
I rush to get to work, where I work with electricity (and get shocked every once in a while).
Lunch couldn't come soon enough,then it's back to work already.
The day is done and I rush to get to school, only tired.
Night falls quickly, the bed feels good.
Then I hear that annoying sound again.
sources
HTTP://WWW.CAR-ACCIDENTS-ADVICE.COM
HTTP://WWW.PCARCRASHES.COM
HTTP//WWW.ACCIDENTS.COM
narrative
but anyway the jiggsaw is the killer and he is basically dead
but it shows how he is still killing people and the help he
gets from a cop and the cop find out about it and to stop
them
VENT
descriptive
with reflex but to put him on it you fill the bag
and poor is milk in the bag and set to to a speed
and you have to make sure set the right speed
or it will a big problem
#8 narrative
Blog #5 Sources
politics
every one is saying that he will not be a good president because he is black.
i think that is dumb is the country base on racist but i they dont understand
its not about that its about saving the country and what we been going throught
free writing
I have this friend lets (just for giggles) call her Kay, now Kay has major drama I mean this chick Stalks her man EVERYDAY!!! She gets into everything and leaves messages for all of his "Girl friends" asking if they have done anything. What? So every girl a guy hangs out with he HAS to be doing something with them? They are Called "friends" for a Reason Kay, Because they are JUST FRIENDS!!!
Blog # 7 Descriptive
BLOG# 7
BLOG# 3
#6 Logos/Pathos/Ethos
Having insurance on your vehicle shouldn't be an afterthought. Aside from being required by law, it can in your best interest to be fully insured if an automobile accident occurs, with or without injury and considerable damage. Not having insurance can result in negative legal consequences, from both local authorities and the other parties involved in the wreck.
Pathos
Join the Reward Zone® program Gamers Club and you’ll get bonus points, special offers and insider access to the latest game news and information – all in one place
Ethos
Candidate X is running for public office, and has 30 years experience in solving the community's problems. Based on his job history, he is the most qualified for office.
blog #10
VENT
blog #10
poli-tics
I'll just live my life right now and let all the other people get overly worked up about the "poli-tics" in life.
:)
Vent
im tired of work
im tired of my dog ( anyone want a blue heeler??? )
im tired of my car making a squeeky noise everytime i turn the steering wheel
im tired of not seeing a dime out of my pay checks :(
and on top of it all winter is coming up, i hate the cold :(
my topic
techniques on how to relieve stress!
blog #9 "venting"
A Heretics Tell (narrative poem)
From ancient forest to the desert sand
All the land was consumed by fire
As the people lost all hope and desire
Why has the gods done this so?
As their tears ran like the rivers flow
All hope was dead and faded away
As a child was born on that unforgive day
A child was given life
Sadly raised under the warrior’s knife
The darkness and pain he saw it all
As he watch as people fall
Such pain and death he became cold
As he heard of legends the ancients told
A man would come and save the realm
As the blood of the fallen reaches from pad to helm
The child would try and be the hero at last
As the decreed from the past
Grown the warrior left his home
To travel aboard and always roam
To be a god he will try
Being mortal, he will die
Fighting the deities his path was set
Only in the end his goal wasn’t met
Death now is what he knew
From defeat to victory all but a few
Heretics fall and lay to waste
In the end victory he would taste
After his death all was well
The hero changed the laid from Hell
Only in death he was right
The defeat on him had won the fight
The land grew and became once again
From the martyr of on an, forgive was his sin.
politics
freewrite
politics
Politics
i got jokes :D
A: They can't find another blonde who knows the whole alphabet.
A flight attendant was stationed at the departure gate to check tickets. As a man approached, she extended her hand for the ticket and he opened his trench coat and flashed her. Without missing a beat she said, "Sir, I need to see your ticket not your stub."
Vent
Election
Descriptive
Descriptive
narrative
The election
#9 Vent
#7 Descriptive
#5 Sources
The Election
Didn't see anything different this time either. Both said how they would change things and both bashing each other on TV. Obama has a lot ahead of him. I would just hope he could make a difference. That is how I see it.
Polotics
Random Thought of The Day
When I drink a lot I tend to black out and forget everything so I've decided to go to this support group for people with the same problem. Our first meeting was last night. I wonder how it went.
election 2008
Vent
j.callaway's take on politics
Anyways. I have something else on my mind. Mcain won our state by a lot. It's was kind of disheartening. Everyone I asked said that they were voting for Obama. Who are all these people that voted for Mcain? I guess everyone I asked is a slacker and did not vote. This is sad because it means that they are still letting all the old people in the state make their polling decisions. Some of these people should't even be allowed to drive, let alone vote. Wake up and vote please.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Polotics Vampire style

Monday, November 3, 2008
Narrative By The Great One
My sister's chubby fist hit me in the face, right above my eye. I drew back, hurt but unfazed. She already had a handful of my hair in her fists. Her fingers looked hungry for more.
"You fat shit! You're a great big fatso! And mom hates you!" Then she kicked me in my stomach and I fell down, gasping for air. Her hands liberated a few more follicles from the back of my head.
I had neither said nor done anything to her. I knew why she had done it. She wanted to test my Grandfather. It was the first time he had ever watched us. She had wanted to know if he would stop it. She was pushing limits.
Looking my Grandfather in his cold, icy blue eyes, my sister spit on me, pushed me down with her foot, and then ran upstairs to her room laughing and insulting me all the way up. I began to cry. My Grandfather sat and watched me.
It wasn't the pain that made me cry. I had been hit many times before, and had since gotten used to it. It was that my Grandfather had sat there and done nothing. I had expected more from him. Scalp bleeding, my nose covered in snot, I eventually collected myself and stood up. I had long ago learned to stop complaining. Nobody ever gave a shit.
My Grandfather stood at the kitchen counter, a towel folded over his shoulder turning on a few burners. I walked by him with my head down. His hand on my chest stopped me.
"She does that to you a lot, doesn't she?" There was no sympathy in my Grandfather's voice. He had never been sympathetic to anybody in his entire life. I guess having a mother who is literally a witch will do that to you. I didn't say anything.
"Well, boy? Answer me. How often does she hit you?"
I rubbed the snot from underneath my nose with the cuff of my sleeve and mumbled. He nodded and patted me on the back.
"You're bigger than she is now. You know that, right?" I nodded. "Your parents won't let you fight back will they?" I nodded again.
My Grandfather was a very frightening man. On most days his face had a slight glower to it, but when enraged, his eyes looked like they had been chiseled out of the heart of a thundercloud. Standing even a few feet away from him, I could almost feel the force of his anger radiating away from his body. He turned back to the stove. The burner could never have hoped to be as hot as the blood in his veins. "I'm going to be making some omelets, kiddo. I'll be occupied for about fifteen minutes. Don't want to ruin them, you see. I suppose I might let anything go by unnoticed. Hell, I'm old Brandon. Who's to say I could hear someone yelling in this house?"
Even at that age I could understand what he was saying. "What about my parents?"
His voice as cold as the grave, and as hard as tombstone marble, my Grandfather replied: "Just you let me worry about your parents." I have never been so glad that I was not my parents.
As though in a dream, I made my way upstairs. I was floating. I was neither euphoric nor sad. I was simply too shocked to feel anything at all. I was going to beat the shit out of my sister.
I pushed her door open without knocking. I felt like a soldier in an invading army. I was not in my own territory. I was in the lair of the beast. It was kill or be killed.
"What the fuck do you want, Brandon?" Her mouth was surrounded by melted chocolate. She had stolen the chocolate bar my Grandfather had bought for me. She had already eaten her own.
I looked at her from the doorway, my shadow growing longer.
She snorted in disgust, and began to lick her fingers. Her fat stomach pressed against the prison of her clothes.
All at once I found myself screaming. It was an inarticulate howl of repressed rage. My sister turned to face me, one of her fingers trailing lazily at the corner of her mouth.
I rushed.
I pounced.
I flew on top of her and hit her in the face with all of my might. We were like two cats convulsing under the force of an electric current. Eventually I positioned myself on top of her with my hand held around her throat. She looked up at me full of fear, her nose bleeding for the first time ever by my hand. I hit her sharply, with all my weight, across her jaw.
She blacked out.
I got off of her and quietly straightened my hair. My knees were shaking.
As I walked downstairs I put my hand to my ear and it came back red with blood. My whole body felt tight and hot. I was going to be a mass of bruises in the days to come. Finally, I made my way into the kitchen. A stool found its way under my ass and I sat down.
Putting a plate in front of me, my Grandfather said nothing as he finished my omelet and slid it out of the pan.
"She still alive up there, kiddo?" Squirting a bottle of ketchup on my breakfast I nodded. My Grandfather patted me on the back so hard I winced. "I'm betting she leaves you alone for a long time after this."
He was right. She never touched me again.
Random Thought of The Day
I say if people can get plastic surgery so that they have Angelina Jolie's lips or Johnny Depp's cheek bones, then I can get Lassie's tail. I might run into a problem of people always wanting to follow me and i'd go crazy and be like "Listen fuck it's just Lassie's tail, there's no trouble down at the old mill, there is no old mill anymore it's a fucking walmart." Plus it'd be hard for me to fake it that i give a shit that some kid is stuck in a well and that i'm supposed to save his ass. I'd be like "Here kid catch here's a bag of chips and a blanket i'm off to the bar."
Vent
Random Thought of The Day
Sometimes when you get caught doing something bad you just have to smile and accept it. Not everyone has an appreciation for getting 3 bodies in a 55 gallon drum.
Vent
No public transportation
vent
Sunday, November 2, 2008
pothos, logos, and ethos
Logos
Let us begin with a simple proposition: What democracy requires is public debate, not information. Of course it needs information too, but the kind of information it needs can be generated only by vigorous popular debate. We do not know what we need to know until we ask the right questions, and we can identify the right questions only by subjecting our ideas about the world to the test of public controversy. Information, usually seen as the precondition of debate, is beter understood as its by product. When we get into arguments that focus and fully engage our attention, we become avid seekers of relevant information. Otherwise, we take in information passively--if we take it in at all.
Ethos
My Dear Fellow Clergymen:
While confined here in Birmingham city jail, I came across your recent statement calling my present activities "unwise and untimely."...Since I feel that you are men of genuine good will and that your criticisms are sincerely set forth, I want to try to answer your statement in what I hope will be patient and reasonable in terms.
I think I should indicate why I am here in Birmingham, since you have been influenced by the view which argues against "outsiders coming in."...I, along with several members of my staff, am here because I was invited here. I am here because I have organizational ties here.
But more basically, I am in Birmingham because injustice is here. Just as the prophets of the eighth century B.C. left their villages and carried their "thus saith the Lord" far beyond the boundaries of their home towns, and just as the Apostle Paul left his village of Tarsus and carried the gospel of Jesus Christ to the far corners of the Greco-Roman world, so am I compelled to carry the gospel of freedom beyond my own home town. Like Paul, I must constantly respond to the Macedonian call for aid.
Pathos
For me, commentary on war zones at home and abroad begins and ends with personal reflections. A few years ago, while watching the news in Chicago, a local news story made a personal connection with me. The report concerned a teenager who had been shot because he had angered a group of his male peers. This act of violence caused me to recapture a memory from my own adolescence because of an instructive parallel in my own life with this boy who had been shot. When I was a teenager some thirty-five years ago in the New York metropolitan area, I wrote a regular column for my high school newspaper. One week, I wrote a colunm in which I made fun of the fraternities in my high school. As a result, I elicited the anger of some of the most aggressive teenagers in my high school. A couple of nights later, a car pulled up in front of my house, and the angry teenagers in the car dumped garbage on the lawn of my house as an act of revenge and intimidation.
narrative
vent
Try really paying attention but nothing really sticks. Hopefully I can get this work done and at least pass the class. Hope everyone is doing better.
Vent
Ok here goes. we were told to vent soooo......First of all we need to know what audience we are venting to. Nest we need to know what tone to vent in. Next we must brainstorm on venting, and do that a few times. Then the research on the best resources for venting. Then to do an outline for the venting. Next the rough draft, then the peer review, then the 2nd draft and finally the Venting. You know I don't think I want to vent.
Enjoy the laugh people. we all need it.
practise
So as I was back sitting on the ground. He told a couple guys to go call that ambulance. As I was waiting for them to come. I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Finally I heard a few sirens going off and my coach told me. "Do you hear that?" There comin for ya kid. Matter of fact there was more than two ambulance that showed up, because he told two people to call and they decided to both call. Finally they came and got me and took me to the hospital to get everything fixed.