I've Got the Blues

This blog post is incredibly personal. It's not something I share with just anyone, so count yourselves among the blessed to deserve such a glimpse into my private life. Anyone who doesn't want to delve into the darkest places of my mind, leave now and forever hold your peace.

This post is about my favorite article of clothing ever. It is not a Ralph Lauren shirt or my sky blue Vineyard Vines shorts. It is not even my Croakies or my very fetching Sperry Authentic Originals.

This post is dedicated to my true favorite article of clothing-a 16-year old pair of blue Adidas sweatpants, also known as "My Blues."

I cut quite a dashing figure in my Blues.

Somebody in my family had the bright idea of giving this pair of sweatpants to 3-year old Max. Not several things about these pants:

1. They are now a dull purple do to over-washing.

2. They fit me almost perfectly NOW. Imagine these pants on three-year-old Max. I rolled up the cuffs five or six times and tightened the elastic all the way and still I couldn't wear them out of the house.

3. "Blues" is always capitalized.


My Blues are not just an absurdly comfortable, unbelievably fashionable, and ludicrously attractive piece of clothing. They have been worn on many a special occasion.

I wore them to Wal-Mart when I was 4, (and just a tad bigger, so they didn't fall off my waist completely.) and bought (with 13 dollars that I had saved and a generous donation from my parents.) my first Gameboy Color. Since it was the mid-90's and I was 4, I also bought Pokemon Blue version. (Though Charizard is superior to Blastoise in every way, the Blue version is easier to play as the red tone of the Red version is harsh on a young boy's eyes.)

I wore them to sleep for many years. I wore them when I woke up and lounged around in the summer. (Most of my summer activities in grade school start with an "S" and rhyme with BarCraft.)

I have, all joking aside, worn them every Christmas morning since I was 3.

I wore them under my jeans when Mizzou beat the Jayhawks in Arrowhead Stadium in 2007 to take the #1 place in the BCS.

I wore my Blues to every day of lacrosse conditioning I attended. (All six, I think.)

There are many more instances, but on to more important things.

Rules of the Blues:

1. Do not EVER leave the house with the Blues on unless it is a special event.

2. The Blues must never be worn twice in one washing cycle.

3. The Blues can only be worn to bed when I have clean sheets. (As in, never slept in.)

4. If the Blues are worn post-shower (they always are) then they are never donned while wet. 5-10 minutes of air-drying is vital.

5. The Blues cannot go with me to Mizzou. (They will next year, but I wouldn't dare to subject something so close to my heart to the washers and dryers of Mark Twain.)

6. The Blues can never travel outside of Kansas City. (Soon this area will include Columbia. They may never go on vacation for fear a jealous bottomfeeder may steal them.)

7. Anyone who attempts to touch the Blues with anything besides a freshly washed hand will draw back a bloody stump.

8. The Blues will never be used as shacker pajamas for any reason. When I am eventually married, my wife is not allowed to wear my Blues. (If she is lucky she may look at me while I wear them.) When my body returns to the loam and the cities are but dust, my Blues shall survive, unworn by any other person.

/rules.

I am quite serious about all of this. (No I'm actually not. But a little I am. Nah....but I am a little.)

Anyone who is privy to the glory of my Blues next year should consider themselves lucky. I believe it is time to paraphrase the poet Shelley:

"Look upon my Blues, ye mighty, and despair!" (I said paraphrase which means, in journalism, I can change whatever I want.)

Thank you all for sticking through to the end of this extremely personal confession. If you're thinking about commenting, please do. (And if you read that sentence, you automatically are thinking about it.)

-Max

P.S. Next on A Study in Max: I defend frattiness.

Finally being positive?-Part 3: Starcraft and Mark Twain Memz

Each time I have finished an article in this continued series, I tell myself: "Well, you've about exhausted that line of reasoning."

Not true, apparently. Beneath my layers of sardonic mannerisms and general cynicism, I am actually a positive person. Lots of things make me happy; beaches and quality seafood are two things that quickly come to mind, and who knows how many more exist! I even enjoy writing about them, most of the time. (Unless the plebians at work kindle my considerable ire.)

I am slow to anger but furious when it happens. Now that I've substituted punching and kicking for writing angry blog posts, everything seems to be a little brighter. (Bright enough for Croakies, even.)

But that's enough about me. Let's get on to more me. Don't read a blog titled "A Study in Max" unless you want to hear about Max.

1. The Demon Inside of Me

I refer, of course, to my insatiable love for Starcraft. This all started when I was a young lad of 6. During the summer, my cousin Sam (who lived in Wichita and is two years older) would wake up at 9 a.m. and rush to our respective computers. We'd get on the phone and then start a heavy day of Starcraft. Pausing at midday to eat a Lunchable (I was quite fond of the Taco or Cracker sandwich varieties) we would resume our intergalactic domination until the early afternoon. Then I would start reading. I was quite the party animal back then.

Starcraft, like all things, lost my attention after a year or two. I moved on to bigger and better things--namely Halo, The Lord of the Rings, and why my voice started to crack uncontrollably. (Unbelievable as it may seem, I was not always the perfect specimen of the male form that I am today.)

That all changed, however, when Starcraft II, a sequel long in the making, was released in early August of last year.

I, being the social butterfly I was, had eagerly followed the development of my favorite series throughout the decade-long debacle before it was sprung fully formed from Blizzard's loins. (I am ashamed to admit that I support the company responsible for World of Warcraft.) When the game emerged, I was in Mexico. I returned and barely allowed myself time to carry in my bags before the Manbrid and I shot off into the night to the nearest Wal-Mart (at about midnight) to fulfill my life's dream.

I eagerly sat down to play in my room. Chris Camarata, one of my good friends from home, played a game with me online. Installation included, it was about 2 a.m.

At 2:45 I was admitted to the hospital. Amazingly, the incident in question was not excitement-related. It was actually E. Coli. Turns out Mexico is not only filthy economically, but also hygienically.

You bet your ass I brought my laptop with me. The hospital's meager WiFi could not support the ever-hungry bandwith monster that is my addiction, but I played single player to my heart's content. (That is, when I wasn't passing into pain-medication induced comas and wishing for death in my unclean hospital bed.)

It may not be fratty, or even cool in the slightest sense of the word, but nobody can take Starcraft away from me. There is a certain satisfaction you hold when vast armies respond to your very click and you see your forces hold against wave after wave....

You know what? Next section!

2. Shitty Residence Hall Filled with Awesome People

Despite the unforgiving linoleum floors (The interior designer of Mark Twain specialized in industrial bathrooms before his first big [And, God willing, his final] project) the crumbling, pockmarked, and scuffed cinderblock walls, the random pipes that ran across the ceiling, and the eternal filthiness of the floor (dirt was actually ingrained chemically into the aforementioned linoleum), Twain had a certain quaintness about it, much like a Dark Ages British mud harvester.

Besides the room quality itself, which, if I were an English nanny, would dub "simply dreadful," Mark Twain contained a large proportion of pretty amazing people. Shout-outs will be given individually, if you aren't included then please submit your concerns here: they will be taken by my receptionist.

In no particular order:

Natalie "Natty" Cheng: AKA Ping: What can I say? She's completely crazy. Whether she's wearing puffy sweaters or artsy hats or cleaning her eternally messy room, she's a delight. She also balances out our group ethnically, as we appear to be almost exclusively white.

Steven "STEEEEVEEE" Scheller: AKA The Mechanic: He fixes stuff. He drives a cool car. He's always chill. He's always there to get things off a high shelf. What else needs to be said?

Dylan "Catty" Chapman: Always there to provide us with cutting humor and stereotypical love of America's Next Top Model--two crucial things.

Laura "Ice Queen" Willenbring: If Laura didn't exist, I would seem like the biggest douchebag in the world. (I don't already....right guys?) She balances out my cold exterior with her even colder exterior. There's a reason Minnesota is the way it is.

Bethany "Methany" Christo: She is clinically insane and also a hobbit. Hobbies include sleeping on floors and doing homework in the perfect times to make me feel like a worthless turd.

Theresa "Bro" Beno: What can I even say? She knows how to eat a chicken wing properly. She will, on occasion, punch things without warning. She will never take any of my shit and I love her for that.

Katarina "What are you, like Russian or something?" Sostaric: I wonder if clinical insanity is a trend in our group, because we have another example. Couldn't pick a better roommate and shares my love of Jersey Shore, chill music, and Asian Zing Buffalo Wild Wings.

Jessica "Artsy as Shit" Smith: Though she may appear to be insane as well, she is actually more stable than I can imagine. She kept our entire group fed and alive during Spring Break and is the most sensible person out of a group of people who, on occasion, make poor decisions.


Garrett "Garolly" Richie: The true King of the Jeeds. Always helpful, always kind, always cargo-short clad. Outdoorsy enough to make me jealous. Unfortunately he is already married, ladies. (Wait, he isn't yet? What are they waiting for?)

Jimmy "Homos should be Homeless" Hibsch: One of the most talented writers I've ever met. Obsessed with powerful minority women. Also, this one movie was totally filmed at his high school.

Winn "This isn't even a thing" Duvall: If I elaborate on this, she'll wring my throat with her tiny hands or crush me to death with her gigantic...force of will, but, suffice to say, I'm a fan. Charming, delightfully weird, and perfectly Southern. Her body is powered exclusively by McNuggets and Sweet Tea and she has a tendency to slap things I enjoy out of my hands to fall on the pavement and then laugh in my face. Maniacal? Perhaps. However, if we don't interact viciously in public, we may fall into a pit of public affection that will wrench the sanity from either of us. She's also my girlfriend, I guess.


That's all for now. I hope everybody enjoys this. More to come. My cleverness knows no bounds!

-Max

P.S. I am legitimately sorry if I forgot anyone from the list. It is approaching 1 a.m. and I have to dedicate 9 hours of my time tomorrow to giving boat rides to the serfs of Kansas City. We must act quickly, before they discover movable printed type, circulate fliers, and rise up against the landed gentry.

100 Things to Do Before I Die

Considering the unlikely event of my death (with recent scientific advances and my upper class income, it could be possible that I will become immortal) I have made a list of 100 things I should do before I die. A few things about this list:

It is not universal. Though everyone should want to do these things, they are not feasible for absolutely every person. (Some of them are quite unfeasible for me, even. Hard as it is to believe, I cannot do everything as perfectly as I do some things.)

It is not complete. There are, of course, things that don't appear on this list that I would also want to do before I die. For example, "eat chocolate cake" is not on this list, but I would sure like to repeat those experiences.

It is not entirely serious. I know some of these things are not possible for humans. I know that some of these things are mutually exclusive. That doesn't matter. In a perfect world, I could do all these things.

Carats that point up indicate related items.
Here we go:

1. Pistol whip someone
2. Menace someone with a broken bottle in a bar fight.
3. Be in a bar fight.
4. Be in a bar fight and beat multiple opponents singe-handedly.
5. See the great wall of China
6. Go into space
7. Fly a jumbo jet
8. Visit Syria (land of my grandfather!)
9. Go to Oktoberfest
10. Skydive
11. Be hit on by a supermodel
11. Hit on a supermodel
12. Be hit on by a midget, but reject him/her.
13. Play basketball and not embarrass myself.
14. Dance onstage and not embarrass myself.
15. Dribble between my legs and not look like a foo'.
16. Survive my 21st birthday.
17. Never take another shot of cinnamon.
18. Punch a random stranger with no provocation.
19. Get a puppy, raise to maturity.
20. Climb Mt. Everest.
21. Run with a pack of wolves.
22. Run with the bulls.
23. Go to the Superbowl.
24. Get elected to exec board.
25. Meet Ben Roethilsberger.
26. Do a power 2-hours.
27. Make my own jerky.
28. See the Hobbit movies at midnight.
29. Get tapped for an MU secret society.
30. Shoot a dangerous animal while it is charging me.
Say the following phrases to someone (in complete seriousness):
31. "I wish I knew how to quit you!"
32. "I am not the father."
33. "Are you kidding? This is an eight thousand dollar suit."
34. "What seems to be the officer, problem?"
35. "I've made a huge mistake."
36: "Of course I'm being serious. This is my serious face."
37. Go to Duke University School of Law.
38. Move to the south. (Like the nice south, not like Mississippi)
39. Tame a predatory animal. (Wolf, killer whale, etc.)
40. Wear colors so pastel-bright that it is actually painful to look at me.
41. Be charged with a felony, but be found not guilty in a dramatic case.
42. Get the words "Not all those who wander are lost" tattooed on my back.
43. Get this painting tattooed on my opposite shoulder blade: http://www.imagekind.com/Ryu-sho-ten-Dragon-Rising-to-the-Heavens_art?IMID=0afb0cc6-90d6-4769-84fe-b603a8c4275a
44. Bench 285.
45. Squat 250.
46. Learn to throw a football correctly.
47. Learn to throw a baseball correctly.
48. Play a game of strip poker.
49. Join a co-ed recreational softball league and take it way too seriously.
50. Visit Dubai.
51. Ski in the indoor mountain in Dubai.
52. Work in a corner office with some sort of huge window and a city scape view.
53. Be able to drink single-malt scotch or fine whiskey and enjoy it, not just pretend to. (Not shots)
54. Call another professor out on being racist in a huge lecture class.
55. Use the integrated toilet that comes in a space suit.
56. Prosecute a major, dramatic case where the defendant is found guilty.
57. Be held in contempt of court for a dramatic yet justified outbreak of rage while at trial.
58. Read the Lord of the rings books 50 times in my life.
59. See the last Harry Potter movie at midnight, in costume.
60. Cry at the ending of a movie. Like for real.
61. Make a professor cry in class. This can happen in any way.
62. Be able to pay for a BMW in full, in cash. (and not something lame like a 1 series. Like an M3)
63. Investigate a crime scene.
64. Investigate a crime scene when I'm not a cop and there aren't cops present.
65. ^^^ enact some vigilante justice.
66. Survive some kind of apocalypse. (Disease, nuclear, whatever happens.)
67. ^^Rebuild society, declare myself King of something not usually ruled by Monarchy. (ex: "King of Oregon")
68. Ride a horse across the plains, at full gallop.
69. Hunt with a bow and arrow from horseback. Not like a rabbit either, like a buffalo.
70. See Florence and the Machine in concert.
71. See Kanye in concert.
72. See Eminem in concert.
73. Shoot a flamethrower.
74. Be offered crack cocaine but politely decline.
75. Learn to speak 4 languages. (Not including Elvish)
76. Visit the south coast of Spain. It's supposed to be nice in summer.
77. Visit Moscow but not enjoy it.
78. Use the phrase "irony" correctly.
79. Never use quotation fingers again.
80. Drive through Detroit and survive.
81. Draw a picture of people without stick figures being involved.
82. Drop a bomb on something from a plane.
83. Get married.
84. Have some kids of an indeterminate number.
85. Be told that "I am the worst person (another person) has ever met."
86. Throw out the first pitch of the K.C. Royals' season.
87. Meet Angelina Jolie, get her phone number, but never call her because she's crazy.
88. Swim with a dolphin.
89. Delicately clean oil spill residue off an endangered species.
90. Drive a car 200 mph.
91. Be in a drag race.
92. Act in an action movie, even has an extra who just gets blown up.
93. Punch through a wall.
94. Have my wife bear me a male heir.
95. Live to see my great-grandchildren.
96. Stab somebody in the sternum with an epinephrine pen in order to save their life.
97. Free some prisoners from wrongful incarceration. (POW's or a jail. Doesn't matter.)
98. Start a riot.
99.^^ Light a car on fire.
100. ^^^Fight some looters for the last TV in a Best Buy or something.

Bonus round:

101. Kill a vampire with a stake.
102. Own a motorcycle.
103. Jump my motorcycle over a river.
104. Draw some blueprints.
105. Never play World of Warcraft.
106: Be applauded with great vigor.
107. Pound my fist on a table to make a point. (During a speech.)
108. Disrespect a stranger (female) so much that she slaps me in the face.
109. Disrespect a stranger (male) so much that he tries to punch me. I of course block the punch and disable him however I see fit.
110: Throw a knife and have it hit my intended target.
111: Throw an Axe Bomb at someone. (Where you duct tape a can of Axe body spray to the "spray" position and throw it into someone's room.)
112: Shoot a big sniper rifle.
113: Kick someone in the chest and have them fall through a giant pane of glass behind them. (Not necessarily a window. It can be any kind of large glass.)
114: See every episode of The Office to its completion, no matter how much it may suck.
115: Make someone leave me alone with just an angry glare.
116: Captain an aircraft carrier.
117: ^^^Be referred to as "Admiral."
118: Never shave any part of my body besides my face.
119: Resist the urge to clothesline children as they run about.
120: Burn down a building. (Not with anybody inside. That's awful)
121: ^^^Be a successful arsonist.
122: Videotape something that gets on the news.
123: Start a company.
124: Run without an odd loping stride.
125: Punch a Disney executive in the face. They deserve it for so many things, but primarily The Cheetah Girls, parts 1 and 2.

/list.

I hope everyone enjoyed it. If you did, comment below. If you didn't also comment below. I love feedback more than I love most people.

-Max

P.S. Everybody read the blogs belonging to Brandon Foster, Dylan Chapman, Garrett Richie, Katarina Sostaric, Rob Langellier and his cult, Jimmy Hibsch, and Allison Pohle. They are superior to mine in so many ways.

The Eternal Question-Why do People Suck?

I'm on a blogging rampage lately. The added time in the summer really opens up my creativity by making me so bored during the day that writing words that nobody reads seems like a productive use of my time.

The topic for today is one that has hounded my thoughts like Gollum hounded Frodo and Sam through the lands of Mordor and eventually led them into the caves near Cirith Ungol to be hunted by the spider Shelob.

Oh dammit I've done it again.

Anyway, the topic for today is "why people suck." In my work during the summer, I come into contact with literal thousands of creatures spawned from the seedy underbelly of Kansas City. (Mainly the middle bit. We don't care for the middle bit.) These come in the form of small hoodlums (I am not a racist. These are multicultural hoodlums.) terrible parents ("Get down off that gorilla statue Danny before I whoop your ass in front'a all of these people.") and people who come from miles away (like Montana) to demand services like "Why can't you just air condition the outside?"

Note: Every quote in this blog post is 100% factual.

Now the Kansas City Zoo is a fine organization, but it just seems to attract people that suck. And not EVERYBODY who comes to the Zoo sucks. Just the ones I encounter, it seems. I see perfectly happy families trundling their wheeled coolers filled with Sunny D and tuna salad through the exhibits all the time. Unfortunately, those people don't cause problems, and therefore I don't notice them.

1. Those little backpack things for kids that are actually leashes.

Who do parents think they are fooling with this? It may look like a monkey is giving your toddler a big friendly hug, but one look at the fabric looped around your wrist (can't have them kids running off. They could use their tiny fists to break into the gorilla exhibit) and the little child-safe locks on their tiny sternums reveals what you have put on your child--the equivalent of a softer and more cartoonish dog collar.

2. The little Sacagawea child holders

I don't know who invented these (the phrase I have dubbed them with leads me to believe American Indians) but I'm sure they were useful at the time, when mothers were busy with their hands picking grains or sewing together pieces of buffalo hide for houses or digging birthing trenches and couldn't leave their child in the teepee or he may die of the rickets or be carried off by wolves. (Sidenote, if a wolf carried him off he may be alright, as he may be raised as one of their kind. I can't imagine a greater life for any teenager than running with a wolf pack. No Hangover references, please.)

However, they are not as useful now. They now free mother's hands to text or phone their friends, hold their purse(s), hold a 62 oz. Diet Coke, (another bone I have with society, but that is neither here nor there) or use their credit card for minor food purchases.

It's a child, not a fanny pack. Touch that varmint once in awhile; it may be the difference between him growing up into a sociopath or a normal human.

3. People who don't say please or thank you.

This is self explanatory. Every time I'm performing a service for people, I say please and thank you. (Thank you for the money you owe me for this service. Please enter the ride at this time) and am rarely shown the same courtesy. Was anyone not taught this?

4. Parents who let their kids run wild! This may turn them into little multicultural hoodlums.

When I see young Cody or William running pell-mell around my work station, I start to get a little tense, as in: "If I hit him with a vehicle I'm operating there's likely to be some sort of liability."

Keep your kids near you. They should know how to do this on their own. Toddler's minds rarely think "FAST MOVING VEHICLE! ESCAPE FROM GUARDIANS AND RUN TO IT!" without some prior conditioning. (or lack thereof.)

I mean, if it just comes down to it, buy them a backpack leash disguised as a hugging monkey.

5. People who ask dumb questions.

"There are no stupid questions, just stupid people."

I am asked a variety of questions each week that give me pause. (Not at the time, or else the customer in question would look at me blankly, and then who would be the stupid one?)

"Why don't you air condition the outside?" Cause if we could do that, there would be no more exposure deaths. Also I'm pretty sure it would kill all the animals.

"Do the sea otters get to find their own food and eat it?" The sea otter exhibit is almost exclusively populated by sea otters, who are not known specifically for their cannibalistic traits.

"Has anyone ever fallen in the lion pit?" If this had happened, A) you probably would not be next to the lion pit, which is actually not a pit, and B) would probably have heard about it.

"Which way to the pandas?" What makes you think we would have pandas? You're referring to the deceptively named red pandas, which we do have, but are more like tiny raccoons.

"Okay, if we only have one hour to walk through the Zoo, where should we go?" Home. It's like 6 miles if you do the whole thing.

"Isn't this zoo free?" No it's not free! It's never been free. We don't have Anheuser-Busch to fund the entire operation (STL, number one in murders and beer).

"How much is the Zoo normally?" First of all, phrasing. Second of all, I'm working in the stroller rental stand, so you already have paid for a ticket.

(Not said to me) "Man, I can't decide if I wanna go visit my kids after school, or go get a new tattoo!" I don't know what this woman eventually did, but one option leaves me no faith with humanity.

(Not said to me) "I swear to God grandma, if you embarrass us like that one more time, we're driving you straight back to the nursing home." Well at least she's having fun in the 90 degree weather in the meantime. Wonder if those walker handles get hot?



That's all for now.

I hope you enjoyed reading this more than I enjoyed writing it! Because I enjoyed it a lot.

Please comment if you feel the need!

-Max

P.S. Look for my famous list of "100 things I'd like to do before I die", coming soon to this very blog.


For legal purposes: The opinions offered in this writing do not reflect the opinions of the Kansas City Zoo, FOTZ, or any city employee besides the writer. This is not an official statement by any KC Zoo staff member, director, or docent and cannot be seen as associated with the organization. If offense is taken at the content of the article, it must be directed at the writer. FOTZ and the Kansas City Zoo disavow any association with this article or the opinions contained herein.

Finally being positive?-Part 2: Mizzou, Plans for the Future, and Dixie

In keeping with the more positive feedback I received from my last post, which focused less on sardonic cruelty and more on things I don't hate, I present Part 2 of my continued series of happy things:

1. Mizzou

"Every true son..."

How can I describe my devotion to this school? I'm the fourth member in two generations of Congers to go through the J-School program. I was at my first Mizzou football game when I was two years old. I remember gaining reproachful looks from my mother when I shouted "Colorado ain't shit!" at the tender age of 5. (I heard a person in the bathroom say it.) I've been in a half dozen states for Missouri football, following my team fearlessly to Dallas, San Antonio, Tempe, Kansas City, and...Lawrence. (May it burn once again.)

I remember Brad Smith. (Remember Blaine Gabbert? Well before him we had Chase Daniel. [now 2nd string for the Saints.]) Before both of them we had Brad Smith, a man who led our football team from seasons where I and my father glumly accepted a 7-6 season as "not too bad" to consistent bowl game appearances. One of my most vivid memories from my childhood was October 11, 2003 on Faurot Field vs Nebraska. Our first victory over the Cornhuskers (may their heads be stricken from their shoulders) since 1979, the game took place in the pouring rain. We were behind until the third quarter, when a fake-field-goal turned into a huge touchdown run by our former quarterback, who now plays special teams and WR for the Jets.

God I love this school. Besides sports, besides always knowing, in some place of me, that I would someday graduate from Mizzou, the people that I've met in my first year only have convinced me of the school's worth. Special thanks to the Delta Chi Fraternity, the men and women of Mark Twain, and the instant-constipation food of Mark Twain Market for those experiences.


2. Plans for the Future

I imagine a group....harem...concubine of women following me in a dozen identical silver Mercedes roadsters. Leading the pack in a black Lamborghini (The car I generally drive on alternate Tuesdays, when I can fit it in with my other sports cars' schedules.) I rocket down the Autobahn at speeds exceeding 180 mph. (I refuse to use kilometers, even in Europe.) The police won't dare stop me in the restricted parts of the highway-I pay most of their salaries. Also, my night-time hobby of vigilante justice as a masked crime fighter makes their lives easier. (I don't have any super powers, but I do have a black belt in almost everything except Taekwondo, the Dane Cook of martial arts. My costume is actually sponsored by Underarmour and Vineyard Vines. Everybody knows my identity, but my mercenaries (hired through a company that I own) will protect me.

Where am I going? Oh, just to my fifth home. (this one is technically a castle. The German government was trying to dissuade me from buying it, but I won them over with my perfect teeth and 60 million dollars in a dramatic briefcase.) I'm just driving from Paris, where my third home is. Thankfully, I've had all the French people exported and replaced by Americans. (I know French, it is my 10th language, but I refuse to speak it.) I usually take a jet fighter over the Ardennes to lessen travel time.

I'll probably just go to my castle to do a bit of charity work. Set up a soup kitchen for underprivileged and disabled youth, who I have to have shipped in because I've set up so many wonderful schools in the area. It will be outside the castle gates, because it would be a shame if their tiny crutches were to damage my careful landscaping.

This is the life I can imagine in my wildest dreams. (I know this will not happen to anyone.) Instead, I'm in a Midwestern city. My family is in a high enough tax bracket (Look at that whale on my shirt. That speaks volumes, considering I paid a 300% upmark for it.) but none of us are driving Lamborghinis and we don't have enough cars to have weekly rotation schedules.

Question is-What do I do with my life? How do I attain my major goal, which will be revealed in just a moment? (This is where I will reveal a terrible thing about me; actually it's wonderful, but that's another discussion.)

I love money and wealth. Say what you want about it not being able to buy happiness (those people who say that just don't know where to shop.) or it being the root of all evil (which in fact is Socialism) but I see it as a sign of success and a measurable value of productivity.

I am willing to do anything for the right price. You know those appalling "truth.com" commercials where they ask: "Would you accept 60 million a year to be a tobacco lobbyist, knowing you are helping companies kill thousands each year?"

Yes. I would. I would probably accept a mere 15 million for that position. Likewise, I could be an illegal arms merchant. (As long as I only sell guns to American people. I consider my countrymen trustworthy. My private army, at least, ensures that no personal harm will come to me.) I could also be a lawyer who worked his damndest to defend white collar corporate embezzlers. As long as that paycheck has 7 digits, I'll do just about anything for it. If it has six, the odds go down a lot, but I'll still be more than happy with that. I'm looking for more than 5. No offense to any income bracket of my readers, but I've grown accustomed to a certain level of comfort and ease in my childhood. I want to replicate what I consider a fantastic experience for my children one day. I'm not saying my children will be better than yours (though genetically the odds are on my side, I mean....) but they will not want for anything. (Except nice cars when they turn 16, that's bullshit.)

I'm not saying give children whatever they want. My true goal in life is never to have to say no to my children because I am unable to provide. "Dad, can I have Jay-Z perform for my 18th birthday?" "Hell no you can't. I could get you him, by god, but I won't on principle."

I can sum up this section in a TFM I saw today:

"If I were to be killed, they would call it an assassination. TFM."

3.

Cue banjos:

Oh, I wish I were in the land of cotton,
Old times there were not forgotten,
Look away! Look away! Look away,
Dixieland!

I have only visited the South a few times in my life. The first was to Texas. I will say right now that I wasn't impressed. Come on guys, you aren't a separate country, as much as we might prefer it. We only keep you because you balance out our flag.

The second was a road trip through Kentucky, West Virginia, South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. Since I was in a car for about 6 days total in 2 weeks and I was maybe 12 years old, I couldn't have given a care less about what was outside the window.

My REAL visit was to Mobile, Alabama. First off, this city is straight underrated. Even if their skyline is three buildings, (two of which are the exact same, but one is smaller.) or they cut down trees to find leprechaun gold underneath, it's a beautiful place. There are trees everywhere, the grass is green, it's always at least a bit warm, and everybody drives trucks.

Sure, there are a lot of cut offs, dip cans, and giant boosted suspension trucks with American eagle (not the brand, don't get your hopes up GDIS) decals on the back windows, but I still love it. Everybody I met was more polite. Overall, people were better dressers. Croakies were looked on with acceptance instead of scorn. (Side note about those-they are both comfortable, convenient, and show people you have money by placing a nice brand on the back of your neck like a tattoo. If anybody says, "but I don't care about people knowing I have money" then shame on you. If that were true, everybody would drive Kias and wear clothes from the Gap. (Sorry Gap. It had to come out eventually. You and I had a good run, but I'd like you to quit calling late in the night and begging me to take you back. I have a new significant other now, and he has a tiny horse and a mallet. You can't offer me that.)

Since my frat-aside is now complete, let me get back to things that make me happy.

I love the South now. Even Mississippi (Or Missippi for Winn) was fun to drive through. (More fun than Arkansas. But so is catheter insertion.) I loved being around Southern people, who had courtesy and friendliness you don't find in the North, and, though the Midwest is better, it's just not as good. I loved the food, which was generally fried and served in larger portions than the ones to which I am accustomed. I liked that people can hang out on the beach all day, any day. I liked that people would just say "Roll Tide" to each other when they were clearly strangers. I even love the smell. It smells like greasy food, the ocean, and secession. (THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN!)

/rant

In Dixieland, I'll make my stand,
To live and die,
IN DIXIE!

I can only hope. Thank you for reading this far, if you did. If you skipped to the last line, shame on you, but like the link anyway. It'll make me feel miles better, and we all know I have a problem with self esteem.

-Max

P.S. This series is likely ended. On the next "Study in Max:"

Max finds himself in a predicament! Nothing good is on TV and my workout schedule is moving from dedicated to self-abusive.

Finally being positive? My Bed, LOTR, and Freshman year.

In an effort to make this blog not a black-background-ed pissing contest where I list things that make me angry, I'm going to try a different approach that will be less of me writing for the purpose of it and now writing to entertain and enlighten my readers. (All four of you.)

So, here's the first part of a series of positive things, where I will attempt to be less of a catty, depressing, and uninteresting little turdburglar. (Oxford comma usage will continue as I believe it should.)

1. Striving for a clean bed.

Anybody who has spent time in my room or company knows of my famous (perhaps infamous?) bed tic. Rules are as follows:

1. Anyone who enters the bed shall shower first. This includes me and also includes pre-naps.

2. Homework shall never be done in bed. Similarly avoid facebooking, movie watching, or Starcrafting. (A verb I have made up and determined is valid.)

3. Anyone who eats in my bed or attempts to is banished from my life. (This is a serious punishment.)

4. If you spill anything more serious than water on my bed, you must buy me new sheets. (This includes all bodily fluids and 99% of beverages.) Crumbs are okay, but that assumes you are eating in my bed. See rule number 3.

5. If you are freshly showered, great. Don't change into dirty clothes or the clothes you were in pre-shower. This invalidates your shower. Likewise, do not allow your post-shower clothing to touch the floor before donning it.

6. Wear slippers to and from the bed. (This one is the only rule not set in stone. I am guilty of breaking it a few times.)

7. Don't shower, then go do stuff, then get in bed. If you shower and have a snack, that is maybe alright if you don't get dirty.

Those are all the rules. I will explain my rationale for them:

I don't like sleeping in filth.

Think about this! Sleeping is 1/3rd of your life (Or 1/100th of your time in college, it seems.) Why would you spend that 1/3rd of your life, (which is more time than you will spend doing any other single activity!) dirty? Now only dirty, but...simmering in the dirt of the day you have just left? Isn't it nicer to get home, shower, and get into a nice, clean, warm bed that is free of your woes and sweat from the day? Yes, it is. I find that the only appropriate verbs for sleeping in a dirty bed are "Simmer" and "Wallow."

Now, you're asking me "Hey Max, what about naps, it's inconvenient to shower before each one!" I shall first chastise you for improper comma usage. Then I shall respond:

"Yes it is. That's why you should have a couch, futon, or comfortable chair to nap on."

That's all on my bed tic. It makes sense. If my future wife doesn't accept that, then I guess I'll be buying 2 twins. (Or a king for me and a twin for her. That'll show her.)



2. Why the Lord of the Rings is the best thing ever.

I mean that with no exaggeration. It is my favorite series, favorite book, and favorite movie(s). It is the greatest story ever told ever in my opinion.

Why? Many reasons! It is a classic story of good versus evil. Evil outnumbers, outmatches, and outeverythings good, but good prevails. A monumental, almost impossible task falls to a small, unassuming, and unheroic member of a community. He is aided along by his former employee (gardener Sam Gamgee in this case) who becomes his most trusted friend and ally. It has magic, which is kinda cool. It has swords and trolls and horses and catapults and giant dragon things ridden by cloaked ghosts with swords, which are all really cool. (By the way, all of these things have proper names that I won't use here to embarrass myself.)

Nevermind that. For nerds, it has Swords (Glamdring, Narsil, Anduril, Orcrist, Sting, etc.), trolls (Mountain, Forest, and Frost) horses (Shadowfax, Snowmane, Asfaloth, Hasufel) catapults (exactly like they sound) and giant dragon things ridden by cloaked ghosts with swords. (Fellbeasts, ridden on by Nazgul. In Tolkein's words "it was a winged creature: if bird, then greater than all other birds, and it was naked, and neither quill nor feather did it bear, and its vast pinions were as webs of hide between horned fingers;")

The story itself is long, but not long enough to be boring or annoying. It is filled with beautiful, meaningful writing. (Meaningful enough for me to strongly consider getting some tattooed on my body.) Consider this:

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

Fantastic rhythm, perfect meter, and incredible word choice. The second line will be inked, eventually, onto my right shoulder blade. (I hope.)

I could go on forever. In the interest of you continuing to read to the best part, I'll move on.

3. Freshman year-A Wrap-up

I won't go on about particular events, especially potentially incriminating ones. I will sum up my experience of freshman year with a few quotes.

"Well she'll be doing it alone, and that's called alcoholism."

"You can't facetime in a coverup."

"Look at this guy, Mr. Big Headphones."

"Who paid for that floor? I ain't never paid for a floor in my life. Not once, not NEVA."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!? GET OUT OF OUR LINE?!"

And so many more. By the numbers:

I was single for 1 month and 1 week.
I painted up for 3 football games.
I was present for one Homecoming victory and one record-breaking College Gameday.
I drove over a full day in the car to Gulf Shores, AL and back. I only wish it could have lasted longer.
I spent a week in Mobile, AL. I hope to go back as soon as I can, as I found it amazing.

The other numbers are perhaps incriminating, and so that section is shorter.

To end on a good note, thank you to all of my friends who made my first year at Mizzou so great. There are far too many to list, but a few deserve special recognition:

The 15 people who went on Spring Break to Gulf Shores. It was an amazing time.
Laura Willenbring and Katarina Sostaric. Couldn't be happier with any future roommates.
Garrett Richie, who at times disgusted me with his facebook statuses, blew me away with his frankness about his girlfriend, and impressed me (even inspired me?) with his writing.
My second-semester roommate Steven Scheller. I ain't even mad.
Winn Duvall. She will kill me if I elaborate further.


Until next time, I hope I stay as positive,

-Max

P.S. Ron Paul/Donald Trump 2012. This is our time.