Written: 1-28/16

     To preface this, I have nothing against the nerds. After a boring week (two weeks) for news, I have things to talk about. I understand there have been some questions about my identity and that of the one using the moniker “The Sarcastic Penguin.” To assist in clarifying the question of whether or not we are the same person, I give you this: I exist on an ethereal plane of existence, caught between the real world and a terrible repeating coma dream of tears and sadness that all reveals the grand use of my life to be sitting in a dark room chained to a metal bed frame typing articles complaining about things that happen in my life and generally misrepresenting groups of people (while those groups tell me I got it all right) while I cry at the futility of it all. That is all.

     There is a new afterschool activity. While the so-called “Cubing Club” still seems to be absent, there is a new player in the town. This “Quiz Bowl” is―to describe it simply―an event where a bunch of nerds gather around in a room, organize themselves into teams and yell at each other until one side wins. Kind of like what sports fans do in stadiums, except there is no team of burly men and/or women running around and hitting/kicking things and the screamers take their place. And of course the nerds are competitive, which leads to debates on the rules in an attempt to make the opposing team’s recent gain in points not count. The topics these nerds yell about range from history to literature, mathematics to the sciences, popular culture to the “classics.”

     Evidently the title of “Newspaper” isn’t sufficient for the benevolent lords. They also want the title of “Newsvideo.” As such, there is a video in your inbox every Wednesday. Watch it, don’t watch it, do what you want because you’re the master of your world. You can do anything you set your mind to. Anything. I bet you could even survive a 300 meter drop! You should try it, just to see. (Don’t try it.)

     Have you had an ache that you couldn’t satisfy? Was it freedom in your nights away from the countless amounts of homework you have put off to get this exact free time that you crave so much? No it wasn’t, don’t lie to yourself. It was the ache of not having a project to have to work on. This is, as you should know, a project-based-learning school. So here I am to inform you of something you already know about: The Rollercoaster Project! Here you will do stuff and things involving rollercoasters, if you couldn’t see that from the name or the description of the project you were given in class and canvas. What’s that? Is my enthusiastic punctuation and questioning tone a disconcerting juxtaposition giving you mixed signals? I have a solution: Stop reading.

     Did you ignore my solution and are still reading? Don’t worry, I’ve still got things to talk about. (wonderful, right?)

     Evidently the music club that gathers after school is doing stuff. An outrageous thought, I know. But can you stop them? Their dulcet tones and mellifluous notes are too charming. They’ll play you like a fiddle, a flute, a harmonica, a banjo, a guitar, a trumpet or any of the things they’re skilled with. You can’t beat them, I can’t beat them. Resistance is futile.

     There was a “snowstorm.” I hear it was a big deal on other parts of the east coast, but don’t you know what they say about this region? “It’s not montreal, say goodbye to the snow and hello to the rain.”

     It’s been a long walk. Several people have fallen and couldn’t get up. Presentations were made and presented. Feet hit dirt, gravel, brick, chairs, floors and any other material you can think of. People listened to presentations. People were fired. Some may think it’s over. I myself am skeptical. But whether you believe it or not, the walking tour project is over. It’s over. You can now do all of the other homework you have. Or you can put that off too, just like everything else you’re supposed to do.

     I ranted, I confused, I communed (with Cthulhu), I cringed, I broke my spine by cringing, I fixed my spine by cringing. But now I can finally say it: My less-than-stellar piece of Organized Madness has to conclude.