Among his other notorious characteristics are his voracious appetite in general, a deep, growly voice, mangy blue fur, unruly eyeballs, and use of crude grammar in speech. Aside from these sufficiently distasteful characteristics, the most troubling aspect of his nature is one particular antic and the manner in which it is accomplished - the eating of the Letter of the Day. The Letter of the Day is a routine segment in Sesame Street in which the Cookie Monster presents the day's designated letter of the alphabet, written in icing on a large cookie. Then, despite his attempts at self-restraint, he proceeds to devour the baked treat as he is overcome by temptation.
The offense is committed within a flurry of mere seconds, amidst a growly "OM-NOM-NOM-NOM-NOM" and violent flapping of a folding black felt circle of a mouth. Regardless of how many times I have seen it happen, the sheer boorishness of the sight never fails to leave my entire person in a state of trauma. I consider myself to be a cognizant, dutiful citizen of society, and I cannot help but to bring about difficult questions, such as "Should children be watching subject material of such disturbing nature?" Perhaps such content inadvertently communicates to children the message that maniacal Muppets with severe cookie addictions and disrespectul habits are perfectly acceptable, contributing members of society. What kind of behavior would this encourage in young children? The answer is clear : none too pleasant.
Furthermore, the Cookie Monster's addiction to cookies no doubt encourages poor eating habits. Many a year upon gluttonous year of uncurbed, unrestrained consumption of scrumptious, fat-rich cookies has left him with an elephantine amount of surplus tallow underneath his shabby coat of fur:
That, my friends, is nasty. With childhood obesity already on the rise in our country, the Cookie Monster, for obvious reasons, should in no manner be raised to any social post considered to be of role model material for kids.
Sesame street colleagues of Mr. CM have also expressed grave concern as to the nature of this most pressing matter.
"Absolutely disgusting," said fellow Muppet Elmo to reporters at a recent dinner for celebrity children's show characters. "He's an embarrassment to Sesame Street and its declared purpose as an educational medium." Elmo declined to further elaborate as to the reasons for his new bad blood with his co-star, but I for one am certain that Elmo has evidently realized the abomination that is the Cookie Monster. He is a menace to society.
In conclusion, I leave you with not a conclusion or solution, but a pressing and resounding question, "Will we allow this monstrous misdeed to be continued before our very noses?"
What's up with the sharpies?
I feel so unAlamedan sometimes.
I was born on the island, raised on the island, and still living on the island. I never stayed on the island that much before. Now I find myself never leaving this damn island except for work and piano. So that comes out to be one-hundred-fifty hours on the island and twenty-two hours off of it. That's not even a whole day!
Before, I'd be in Oakland everyday. Monday through Friday, I'd go to school. Twenty minute drive to school, seven hours and twenty minutes of learning, and twenty minutes to home. Saturdays, I'd have two hours of Chinese school and a few hours of piano rehearsals. And Sundays, I'd work eight hours (and still do). Any parties, get-togethers, and whatnots were also all in Oakland. I can't say I knew Oakland that well (it's a damn confusing place and I swear everything is connected) but I sure spent enough time there.
Then, I got thrown back into Alameda (even though I've always been here). I thought there were only two elementary schools, one middle school, and two highschools. I didn't know Wood existed (and now almost all my friends are from there). I didn't even know where Encinal High and Chevy's were, had a vague idea where the Navy Base was, and thought the only type of Asian at AHS was Chinese. How naive...
So, now I'm here. All my friends are here, I hang out here, I go to school here, here, here, here. And school's only three minutes away (minus the traffic and red lights). It's not bad. I like my current school and friends, but I kind of miss what I had before.
Alameda's nice. It really is. It's just that I don't know a whole lot about this place.
I hate how people think Alameda is just Bay Farm.
When I tell some kids I'm from Alameda but from the main island, they're response is, "Isn't Alameda made from landfill?" And then some kids from Oakland, at AHS for sports, were like, "Ugh. Isn't Alameda made from trash?" Right. That's Bay Farm Island, dumbasses. Just because I live on an island does not mean I live in Bay Farm Island. It's not even a freaking island. I guess it's not their fault for not knowing that there are two parts of Alameda: the main island and the peninsula-made-from-trash.
It's not like I don't like Bay Farm Island. It's nice and all with its trees and lagoons, but that place is a freaking maze. All the houses look alike and the streets turn here and there in curves and lines. It's so confusing.
Hah, but sometimes I love to tell people I live on an island.
This one guy asked where I lived, and I think he expected to hear, "Oakland." But I told him I lived in Alameda."Alameda?" he asked.
That was pretty hilarious. I knew he was a skater so he must have been at the skate park in the Navy Base before. He probably didn't know he was on an island though. Funny.
"It's an island," I explained.
"Whoa! You live on an island??"
"Um, yea."
"You live on an island! How do you get on it? Are you really rich?"
"By car... and no..."
"But you live on an island!"
It has been brought into sharp relief that more and more Asian people now congregate in the hallways with little discretion of any traffic they may be blocking. What the hell man? It's like trying to make it through the Great Wall of China every time I turn a corner. Just the other day I saw a legion of freshman Chinese kids sitting around in a circle, simultaneously eating porkbuns, discussing manga, and selfishly loafing about half the breadth of the hallway. How am I supposed to live with that kind of shit going on? I think it's time for the management to take corrective measures. I can see it: "Every violation of the inalienable right of free hallway passage will result in a fine of one eggroll." I'll have to admit that it's a bit harsh, but this is America: the land of the free hallways. Such were the statutes established by our forefathers; "Of liberty I would say that, in the whole plenitude of its extent, it is unobstructed hallways according to the will of the people," wrote an inspired Thomas Jefferson.
Chris's foot forcefully met with poor Ryan's ding-Dongs. An expression that can only be consummately explained by "Ae#@E!opFg" shot across Ryan's face as he clutched himself and fell over, and the rest of us watched in silent horror and disbelief, and eventual doubt as to whether it would be alright to laugh. Ryan, needless to say really, was not having a great time. He remained utterly speechless for a duration of 30 minutes, sitting miserably contorted in his chair and staring into space. He didn't show up to school on Friday. Chris, I know you're reading this, and I want you to know that you have a black heart (no pun intended). Anyway, Friday was the assembly, and I didn't get nearly as nervous as I imagined - so that was good.
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