War of the Dinobots

It's at last that time of year, women and refined men. That extraordinary time when the government trustee pixies offer to us a little divide of the income they so avariciously ate up not long from now last. What our Government has been pissing our cash away on just matters not for a brief time of time; decisively the time I opened my letter box and discovered my discount check. Everything I could think at that minute, aside from "about goddamn time!" was, "I can at last purchase them!". 

I've kept a meager three features from my adolescence with Transformers scenes on them. I have "Fire in the Sky", "War of the Dinobots", and my battered duplicate of Transformers: The Movie, still on squeaky, misshaped VHS. That was all going to change, and in the nick of time. I had seen the quite sparkling DVD sets some time recently, bolted inside the presentation case at Hastings, and me remaining on the outside like a Dickens' road urchin, instantly shooed away to anticipate their notorious Scrooge. Incredible Expectations, I had...mine would not be a Bleak House for long...tale of two urban areas... 

Along these lines, in the wake of exchanging my income to real money! structure, I drove stright to Suncoast to receive my new youngsters. Nothing. No Transformers Dvds. Alright, marginally shocked, continued to Best Buy. NOTHING. "whaaaaeeadfasd?" said I, unequipped for discourse. Outskirts; NOTHING. Hastings; NOTHING. Wal-Mart; NOTHING. Toys-R-Us; NOTHING. 

I don't realize what to do. I would prefer not to request them, as every priggish partner recommended, noiselessly snickering to themselves that such an individual so focused on a dead TV show from the 80s exists. Requesting the crate sets is the same, in my eyes, then a mail-request spouse. It isn't correct. Hastings does offer a couple of accumulation Dvds, however they're essentially single scenes for full DVD cost. (sigh) 

I did walk away with a duplicate of New Radio on DVD, and a genuine longing for a PSP. I figure the world isn't a completely unpleasant spot. Simply generally.

Bah

Bah is a city in Agra District of Uttar Pradesh in India. As of 2001 India census, Bah had a population of 14,593. Males constitute 53% of the population and females 47%.  This place is situated in Agra, Uttar Pradesh, India on State Highway 62 around 70 km from Agra city and around 55 km from Etawah. Its geographical coordinates are 26° 52' 12" North, 78° 35' 51" East. Three rivers, Yamuna, Chambal and Utangan irrigate its land and separate from the states Madhya Pradesh and Rajsthan. It was founded in 1700 by Maharaja Mahendra Kalyan Singh of Bhadawar and was called Kalyanbah. Its name was later corrupted to Bah, which means flow of water.

Asarum

Asarum is a genus of low-growing herbs distributed across the temperate zones of the northern hemisphere, with most species in East Asia (China, Japan and Vietnam) and North America, and one species in Europe. Biogeographically, Asarum originated in Asia

They have characteristic kidney-shaped leaves, growing from creeping rhizomes, and bear small, axillary brown or reddish flowers.

The plant is called wild ginger because the rhizome tastes and smells similar to ginger root, but the two are not particularly related. The root can be used as a spice, but is a potent diuretic. Asarum canadense and other species in the genus contain the nephrotoxic rodent carcinogen aristolochic acid, which the FDA warns against consuming. The birthwort family also contains the genus Aristolochia, known for carcinogens.

Wild ginger favors moist, shaded sites with humus-rich soil. The deciduous, heart-shaped leaves are opposite, and borne from the rhizome which lies just under the soil surface. Two leaves emerge each year from the growing tip. The curious jug-shaped flowers, which give the plant an alternate name, little jug, are borne singly in Spring between the leaf bases.

Wild ginger can easily be grown in a shade garden, and makes an attractive groundcover.

Theory of Rela-poverty

I suppose that if I'm to become disgustingly rich some day (only a matter of time, really), I have to understand the poor to rich ratio. I mean, if you're exceedingly poor, I'm talking the cutting up a bean three-ways for you and your hobo friends poor, isn't rich really just a step up to middle-class?

We also must examine the blurred line between the actual poor and rich spoiled kids who act and dress like they are. There are people who actually cannot afford shoes; then we have the suburbanite neo-hippy brats who drive Saabs and refuse to wear shoes, or shower, for that matter. How are we to know who should actually get our pocket change when these kids are un-evening the playing field for the destitute?

Will I give to charity when I'm so rich I'm carried from room to room in my palatial...duplex? I still envision myself living in a nice duplex, because I like duplexes. Will I lose my modesty amid the transition from powerless to self-imposed power?

One thing I've always wanted, if I'm to become rich and eccentric, is my own interpretive dance squad. I would like a group of four guys who follow me around, dressed in the same outfit as myself, with the addition of capes and top hats. They would follow me in a V- formation, with two to each side behind me. Whenever I do something, like wave to someone and say "How's it Goin?", the squad would sping into action, exaggerating my movements, maybe throw in a spin, and say, "Hhhhhow's it goinnnnnnnnn?". It's easier to explain visually than in words, but it would never not be funny to me. I think that's the greatest advantage to being rich; instead of being "weird" and "creepy" you are given the single adjective, "eccentric". Well, maybe it would still be "creepy" but in an eccentric way.

So, until the day my solitary life is filled with new adjectives, dance squads, and less footwear, I have nothing but time to perfect in writing what will certainly be the single greatest waste of one's fortune in the history of tycoonery. I know I will still put my change in that Salvation Army can every Christmas, help that drunk guy that advances in his serpentine fashion towards me in the parking lot with buying "more coffee", and buy more and more cans of popcorn from those cub scouts, even though I've already amassed a collection of tin popping corn to last through three world wars in my concrete bunker of love. I think that, no matter how well-to-do I may or may not become, I can never lose the urge to lend a hand to those even slightly less well-to-do than myself, even if my assistance is only monetary. I'm sorry, but I'm just not masculine enough to lend a hand in building a house, like in that beer commercial.