The Fate of Oedipus Rex

     Hello all, this is Angry Tofu speaking. In my English class we just finished reading the play "Oedipus Rex" (yes, that class does seem to be a never-ending stream of works all mentioning Theseus, ruler of Athens. Has anyone else noticed that?). In case you're not familiar with the play, it was written by Sophocles in Ancient Greece in something-something B.C. The basic plot is that a king and a queen received an oracle that their son would be fated to kill the king and then marry his mother, the queen. When they had a son, the king and queen left him on a hillside to die. At the start of the play we meet the full-grown Oedipus, who has obviously survived, and is married to Queen Jocasta and together they rule the city of Thebes. As the play progresses we find out that Oedipus has indeed fulfilled the prophecy. Jocasta turns out to be his mother, and her first husband, now dead, was Oedipus' father.
     Weird, right? Well, despite the creepiness of the whole plot, that isn't the point. The point is that a person cannot outrun their fate, even if they think they already have. However, I think that Sophocles was wrong. People can outrun their fate! Here's how: don't marry people who are twice your age while also not knowing a single thing about their past. There. Done. Fate avoided.
     See, halfway through the play we realize that Jocasta doesn't even know a thing about Oedipus' life before he came to Thebes. If she had just asked she would have put together, or at least had a suspicion that the marriage was a bad idea. I think a mentor relationship between Jocasta and Oedipus would have been a better idea. Much less drama that way.

Look, here are some danger-zone celebrity couples:

1. Harrison Ford and Calista Flockhart: 22 year difference

Prognosis: Possibly her dad

2.  Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michael Douglas: 25 year difference

Prognosis: Probably her dad

3. Woody Allen and Soon-Yi Previn: 35 year difference

Prognosis: He is her dad

The Blind Man on the Road

     Hello world, this is Angry Tofu speaking. Today my dad and I were driving down a busy road when suddenly my dad saw something that made him pull an illegal turn across two lanes and come back around to where we had just been. I asked him what was going on. He said, "It's a blind guy. He's in orange, and he's just walking down the road!" At first I thought he was saying that the blind man was driving, and I was ready to jump out of the car and run for my life. However, as we turned the corner I saw that the man was indeed walking down the road. And when I say walking down the road, I mean down the road. Not on the sidewalk, but over to the side of the rightmost lane, on a street where the speed limit is between 30 and 40 miles per hour.
     My dad parked the car and ran across the street to talk to the man. I could hear his southern accent through the open window, as he explained that this was the only way he knew to get to his destination. That's completely understandable, seeing as if you were blind you wouldn't be able to orient yourself from just anywhere, and would have to memorize very specific routes to get to places. I couldn't help but wonder why he didn't get a better route. Why didn't someone give him an option that wasn't a death trap? Crazy people!
     Anyway, as my dad stood there in the middle of the road trying to help the man out, another woman pulled up and parked her car in the turn lane. She got out and said she had phoned for help. By that point there were cars backed up all the way up the street. Within about three minutes there were two police cars that pulled up and parked in the middle of the road, and the man was surrounded by my dad, the woman, and two police officers. They finally got him over to the side of the street with a sidewalk, and tried to figure out what was going on. The man didn't seem to understand exactly how close to death he had just been. He was still trying to get them to let him go back to his original route.
     Dayum. 

Its vs. It's

Its  vs.  It's

The Final Battle  

     Hello world, this is Angry Tofu speaking. Today, I bring a message to all English speakers: a message of peace. As all of you know, or maybe don't know, for many years the two words "its" and "it's" have been waging war against each other. They are always trying to replace each other in sentences, when what they don't seem to realize is that they have different meanings entirely. There is no need to quarrel! These two words can coexist, and here I will show you how. 

ITS:

     This word is the possessive form of the pronoun "it". It is used when something belongs to "it".

For example:

     Henry stole the raccoon's garbage.

If we want to replace "the raccoon" with "it", we say:

     Henry stole its* garbage. 

*Note the lack of an apostrophe

This is a confusing grammar point for most people. This is because most possessive nouns are formed by adding an apostrophe + s onto the end of a noun, like this:

     That book belongs to Martha.

     That is Martha's book. 

However, when you are making a possessive pronoun out of "it", then you just don't follow that rule. Memorize it.

IT'S:

Now for contractions! "It's" is a contraction (or combination) of the two words "it" and "is". Here is how to use it:

     The Chrysler Building is quite tall.

Now, replace "The Chrysler Building is" with

     It's quite tall. 

See? It's quite simple (tee hee, see what I did there?).

     So now you have absolutely no excuse for ever mixing up these two words. Actually, I can think of one reason that you would be allowed to, which is if you had to pen a peace treaty between two nations in five minutes before they aimed nuclear bombs at each other. That is the only reason.

Now have a good day.

If I were a rabbit

     Hello world, this is Angry Tofu speaking. I was just listening to and watching the music video for "Rabbit Heart" by Florence + The Machine, and it got me thinking. What would I do if I were a rabbit for a day? Is there a way I could use those adorable ears and sharp little teeth to aid in my quest for world domination? I think the answer is yes. So here is a quick brainstorm of my agenda in my "Day of
Rabbit Transformation".

1. 3 AM: Wake up and eat some grass. See if I could digest it (they always say humans don't have the right digestive system for grass, so I'll eat some now that the opportunity has arisen).
2. 3:15 AM: Go back to sleep.
3. 3:30: Wake up again. Rabbits are too hyper for sleeping. 
4. 4:00 AM: Consort with my beaver friends in an attempt to gnaw a tree in half.
5. 6:00 AM (the tree gnawing took longer than we thought): Find a stressed out rabbit-mom who wants to lend me a few hundred of her 2,167 children.
6. 6:30-8:00 AM: Train rabbit children in martial arts.
7. 9:00 AM: Head to nearest bank.
8. 9:15 AM: Lead rabbit army in surprise ambush of bank, steal money.
9. 9:21 AM: Take off with rabbit army and cash.
10. 10:00 AM: Drop little rabbits off at home. Rabbit-mom pays me for babysitting.
11. 10:30 AM: Stop at park for a grass snack. Find that I prefer the taste of slightly dried wheat.
12. 11:00 AM: While reading newspaper I notice an article about Playboy. I become offended at the racism of the trademark bunny outfit.
13. 11:15 AM- 1:00 PM: Make my way to the Playboy Mansion by latching onto various cars with my teeth.
14. 1:30 PM: Arrive at playboy mansion.
15. 1:36 PM: Set mansion on fire.
16. 1:45 PM- 3:30 PM: Make my way home.
17. 4:00 PM: Go to sleep in the comfort of my newly-acquired rabbit-mansion.

The Artsy Chair (a slightly crude post)

     Hello all, this is Angry Tofu speaking. In my physics class, two of my friends sit nearby me. The first I will call "Awkward Gaming Kid" (AGK), and the second is the chair he was sitting on. This chair had been of little interest to me until AGK sat in it, and was immediately pitched forward into the table.

     "Ah!" he said, "It's the Artsy Chair!"

     The Artsy Chair has returned.
   
     The chair was given this name because of the break between the seat of the chair and the legs, which causes it to snap forward if too much weight is applied to the front of it. However, being tolerant people in my physics class, we refuse to call it "broken", and instead have named it "Artsy" for its bravery by refusing to conform with the other chairs.

     "AGK," I replied, "it's an inspiring chair. It's....it's....the Inspiributt!"

     What a brilliant idea, if I do say so myself. I think there should be a company with chairs that are so strange that they inspire those who sit on them to do great things, like coming up with the name "Inspiributt".


                                                  Inspiributt© 

                                The Rear End Revolution

   

Orchestra: Part One

     Hello world, this is Angry Tofu speaking. I'm not entirely sure if I've mentioned this before, but in case I haven't or you don't know, I play violin. I would classify myself as "fairly serious" about it. I don't plan on becoming a violinist, but I do plan on playing it for as long as I can. As of now I play in one "after school" orchestra. 
     I enjoy this orchestra quite a bit. The music we play is challenging and I like our conductor. Last year, I was quite afraid of him. This I can attribute to his facial hair (I have limited experience with people with facial hair), and to the fact that from my vantage point of the back of the orchestra he appeared disproportionately tall. But this year, my fears have been conquered! This is not due to my own inner strength, but rather the fact that I moved to first stand and the conductor now seems to be a normal height.
     Within the confines of the orchestra, the string instruments and band instruments try to veil their inherent dislike of one another. The strings feel a certain superiority, sitting at the front of the stage. The band instruments position themselves so that they blow loudly into our ears. It's all very lovely.
     During the whole rehearsal, our conductor strives to make us realize that he is not a metronome. We need to have our own inner beat, our own rhythm. You think jazz is the only music with soul, with that beat thumping away? Wrong! Classical has it all! Still, I can't help thinking that the conductor, despite his protests, is being a bit difficult. After all, he does look like a metronome up there, tall and thin and waving his arms in the rhythm that we have to follow. If he doesn't want to be our metronome, I think it would be best for him to sit down, because at least then the band instruments wouldn't be able to see him.