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  <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge</id>
  <title>apagoge: proof by absurdity</title>
  <subtitle>a compendium of incomplete knowledge about ridiculous topics</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>apagoge</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2007-01-11T20:47:33Z</updated>
  <lj:journal userid="11114724" username="apagoge" type="personal"/>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:6720</id>
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    <title>It's movin' time</title>
    <published>2007-01-11T20:47:33Z</published>
    <updated>2007-01-11T20:47:33Z</updated>
    <content type="html">No, not you, Susan.  Well, you also.  But I'm talkin' about moving the absurdity of blogginess to a new home, at &lt;a href="http://www.apagogical.com"&gt;http://www.apagogical.com&lt;/a&gt;. So go there for more fun times, everybody!</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:6646</id>
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    <title>The Lamb and the Chicken</title>
    <published>2007-01-11T00:07:11Z</published>
    <updated>2007-01-11T00:07:11Z</updated>
    <content type="html">The only thing the chicken and the lamb could agree on was that the door needed to be fixed. The top hinge was broken, and the henhouse door, attached only by a single rusty hinge at the bottom, was hanging at a jaunty angle.  There was no way it was going to stay shut through the gusty night, and it looked like it was just about to fall off entirely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We should just take the whole thing down and fix it right,” said the lamb. “I know where the farmer keeps his tools, and we could just do it up ourselves.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Golly,” exclaimed the chicken. “I’m no carpenter, and I don’t think we should be doing such an important job. We could just tape it up for the night, and let the farmer fix it in the morning.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Golly? Who says golly anymore? What are you, from 1950?” asked the lamb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh you’re one to talk,” replied the chicken. “You’re a lamb. Lambs don’t even talk, so maybe you should just shut your yap, and--”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then, the hungry howl of a hungry wolf pierced the soft murmur of the henhouse. The hens recoiled back into their nests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“OK, go get us some tools, and quick,” whispered the chicken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nu-uh! I’m staying in here,” squeaked the lamb. “I’m not going out there alone. I don’t have wolf insurance. You should go with me.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No frickin’ way!” rasped the chicken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What are you, chicken?” asked the lamb. “Oh, right. Never mind.”</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:6259</id>
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    <title>Wolf Insurance</title>
    <published>2007-01-08T08:05:35Z</published>
    <updated>2007-01-08T08:05:35Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Fairy Mutual is proud to announce the availability of our newest product, Wolf Insurance!  Wolf Insurance, now available in 38 states plus the District of Columbia, is the perfect protection against all the big, bad, wolf-related risks that modern lives include.  Now, if a wolf blows down your house, eats your grandmother, or otherwise threatens your person or property, you can be assured that you&amp;#8217;re not going to be liable for any damages at all! In most cases, we can even arrange for a fairy god-claims-adjuster to intervene even before the incident, preventing the wolf problem before it even starts.  This exciting new product also covers damages from werewolves*, coyotes, and rabid dogs or other rabid animals weighing over 25 lbs.  Contact your fairy god-agent today to find out about signing up for wolf insurance, as well as all our other exciting fairy tale insurance products, including frog-prince insurance, and poisoned fruit insurance, and of course our signature glass slipper coverage.  With Fairy Mutual, you&amp;#8217;ll always know someone&amp;#8217;s looking out for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;small&gt;* Damages incurred by a werewolf in human form (i.e. not during the full moon) are not covered under the wolf insurance policy, but may be covered under your standard ogre or angry villager liability insurance. Talk to you fairy god-agent for details.&lt;/small&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:5951</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://apagoge.livejournal.com/5951.html"/>
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    <title>Blood Rhinestones</title>
    <published>2007-01-02T23:36:27Z</published>
    <updated>2007-01-02T23:36:27Z</updated>
    <content type="html">While modern rhinestones are produced artificially, this glittery, almost worthless jewel was once amongst the rarest of commodities. Years ago, the rhinestone was harvested from the skin of the male pink rhinoceros, a now extinct creature. By maturity, the male pink rhino developed a glittery, mesmerizing hide of tough scales, which both provided protection for the animal, as well as drew attention away from the females and young of the species. As soon as humans developed the necessary weapons to pierce this tough armor, the pink rhino was quickly hunted to extinction. The hides were carefully cut and cured, to produce rhinestones so fine and beautiful that they instilled great pride in their owners. They were even carefully woven into jackets and other garments, which were then awarded to winners of dancing competitions. Contrary to common perceptions, the pink rhino did not usually appear pink, as it merely reflected and refracted the light around it. Typically it appeared to be a glittery sky blue.  But in the soft light of sunrise, when the sky was just changing from red to pink to orange, the pink rhino would glisten with immense beauty. Since it was usually this time of the morning when photographers were out to take its picture, the animal became known as the “pink” rhino.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:5811</id>
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    <title>Amerisin Express</title>
    <published>2006-10-26T19:57:24Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-26T19:59:50Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Our sinner's card provides all the services that a real sinner needs: a 24-hour customer service hotline; a low APR; and every time you use the cards, you earn points you can use to get SUV's, air travel to exotic destinations, or you can even have a baby seal clubbed in your honor. With nearly universal acceptance*, you'll find you're covered everywhere you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with no pre-defined sinning limits, you're protected in case of emergencies. Met a hot chick who's into everything but leaving town tomorrow? Visiting an all-you-can-eat sushi and dessert buffet? Need to open an extra torture cell at Guantanamo to handle the volume? We've got you covered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;Membership has its indulgements.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;small&gt;* Universal acceptance may not apply in: Afghanistan, Albania, Algeria, Andorra, Angola, Antigua and Barbuda, Argentina, Armenia, Australia, Austria, Azerbaijan, Bahamas, Bahrain, Bangladesh, Barbados, Belarus, Belgium, Belize, Benin, Bhutan, Bolivia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Botswana, Brazil, Brunei Darussalam, Bulgaria, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Cambodia, Cameroon, Canada, Cape Verde, Central African Republic, Chad, Chile, China, Colombia, Comoros, Congo (Republic of the), Costa Rica, Côte d'Ivoire, Croatia, Cuba, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Democratic People's Republic of Korea, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Denmark, Djibouti, Dominica, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Egypt, El Salvador, Equatorial Guinea, Eritrea, Estonia, Ethiopia, Fiji, Finland, France, Gabon, Gambia, Georgia, Germany, Ghana, Greece, Grenada, Guatemala, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Guyana, Haiti, Honduras, Hungary, Iceland, India, Indonesia, Iran (Islamic Republic of), Iraq, Ireland, Israel, Italy, Jamaica, Japan, Jordan, Kazakhstan, Kenya, Kiribati, Kuwait, Kyrgyzstan, Lao People's Democratic Republic, Latvia, Lebanon, Lesotho, Liberia, Libyan Arab Jamahiriya, Liechtenstein, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Madagascar, Malawi, Malaysia, Maldives, Mali, Malta, Marshall Islands, Mauritania, Mauritius, Mexico, Micronesia (Federated States of), Moldova, Monaco, Mongolia, Montenegro, Morocco, Mozambique, Myanmar, Namibia, Nauru, Nepal, Netherlands, New Zealand, Nicaragua, Niger, Nigeria, Norway, Oman, Pakistan, Palau, Panama, Papua New Guinea, Paraguay, Peru, Philippines, Poland, Portugal, Qatar, Republic of Korea, Romania, Russian Federation, Rwanda, Saint Kitts and Nevis, Saint Lucia, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Samoa, San Marino, Sao Tome and Principe, Saudi Arabia, Senegal, Serbia, Seychelles, Sierra Leone, Singapore, Slovakia, Slovenia, Solomon Islands, Somalia, South Africa, Spain, Sri Lanka, Sudan, Suriname, Swaziland, Sweden, Switzerland, Syrian Arab Republic, Tajikistan, Thailand, The former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, Timor-Leste, Togo, Tonga, Trinidad and Tobago, Tunisia, Turkey, Turkmenistan, Tuvalu, Uganda, Ukraine, United Arab Emirates, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, United Republic of Tanzania, Uruguay, Uzbekistan, Vanuatu, Venezuela (Bolivarian Republic of), Viet Nam, Yemen, Zambia, Zimbabwe&lt;/small&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:5451</id>
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    <title>Christmas Creep</title>
    <published>2006-10-25T04:26:46Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-25T04:26:46Z</updated>
    <content type="html">THE NORTH POLE &amp;#8211; Thanksgiving was the first to fall to the consumer armies of Christmas, and it looks like Halloween may have been lost as well. As retailers push to expand the Christmas selling season, nothing will stand in their way.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Columbus Day, Labor Day, Independence Day &amp;#8212; they will all fall before our jolly rampaging hordes! Bwa ha ha!" said Tara Makarup, a spokeswoman for Santa Claus Corp, a subsidiary of Wal-Mart. "Although November and December still represent our busiest Christmas sales months, we have been placing a selective sampling of our Christmas items into stores early for several years." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a phenomenon called "Christmas creep," according to the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. As Christmas sales become an ever-larger part of retail profits, stores have raced to expand this lucrative season. "Christmas now represents over 80 percent of our annual sales," bragged Sally Faclempt, spokeswoman for Flor-Mart, which begins its super-pre-early Christmas Spectacular sale in April, just weeks after the final post-Christmas Close-Out Clearance ends in February.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jim Jones, an etymologist at the Columbia College of Words, explained that the meaning of the phrase "Christmas creep" has changed over the years. "While today it refers to the expansion of the Christmas season, but back when Christmas was restricted to December, the Christmas creep was the homeless man outside Wal-Mart who smelled bad and asked you for some money so he could buy liquor to celebrate the season." &lt;img src="http://trans.civil.northwestern.edu/~jpn/news/smredsq.png" alt=" [fin] " /&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:5279</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://apagoge.livejournal.com/5279.html"/>
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    <title>Crosspuncher!</title>
    <published>2006-10-19T19:46:23Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-19T19:47:12Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Today on Crosspuncher, Bill Clinton and Al Franken take on Bill O'Reilly and Newt Gingrich in a tag team cage match contest to decide the fate of the world! Four men enter, &lt;i&gt;N&lt;/i&gt; men leave, where 0 &amp;lt;= &lt;i&gt;N&lt;/i&gt; &amp;lt;= 4!  What will happen? Who will survive? Will any of them master the secret art of Hadoken? Will Bill get really mad and start cutting people off, or cutting people up? And which Bill am I talking about? Watch live tonight, 8 o'clock, 7 central, on iTV, the only TV that starts with an "i"!</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:2554</id>
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    <title>Krapistan, Day 88</title>
    <published>2006-10-16T18:11:10Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-16T18:11:10Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I told Jim, my translator, about the waiter at the Three Seasons today.  He interrupted me halfway through the story, by taking out his cell phone and dialing while apologizing for the awful service. Then he started shouting into the phone "You waiter no good insult American visitor! You waiter fire right now!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What, no that's not what I wanted!" I shouted at Jim.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He quickly relayed my changed opinion to whomever he had called: "Oh, wait, no, American say fire not good enough. You kill waiter instead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, no, the waiter did a fine job. I just wanted to know if 'sunny side up' meant 'spoiled milk' in Krapish," I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My translator relayed this delightful news to his phone, "No wait, I misunderstand, American says waiter do good job, you promote him, not shoot." Then I heard some commotion coming from the phone, and the sound of a gunshot, and then the phone disconnected.  "I'm sure they be OK," said Jim, confidently. "I misunderstand your question, but now I get.  Sunny side up mean same thing in Krapish as in English. In fact, all words mean same thing. Just that Krapish has bad grammar."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pondered this for a while. If this is true, then the waiter probably did give me intentionally bad service. And why did the government provide me with a translator, if all the words have the same meanings?</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:2192</id>
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    <title>Wedding traditions</title>
    <published>2006-10-15T19:10:02Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-15T19:10:02Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Many a bride has chosen her outfit for her wedding according to the ancient proverb: "Something old, something new, something borrowed, and... uh... something that rhymes." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's that last one that most often trips people up. What can you wear that rhymes? There's so many choices that just don't seem appropriate: a cat in a hat, a big wig, or Lou's shoes (thus qualifying as "borrowed" as well, usually). Probably the easiest thing to choose is a plain train, but so much detail and planning goes into the rest of the wedding, it seems silly not to put as much through into the train as everything else. One of the more interesting "things that rhymed" was worn by Princess Elizabeth (now the Queen); she wore the then Poet Laureate John Masefield, who wrapped himself around her waist as a belt.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:1912</id>
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    <title>Krapistan, Day 84</title>
    <published>2006-10-14T04:18:32Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-15T22:22:19Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Life here is so bleak and colorless, and generally odorless, except by the lollipop factory, where it always smells like burnt cinnamon.  I don't know why it smells like that; the factory has been closed for months, and even when it was open, they only made black licorice flavor lollipops.  That's the flavor that the glorious Mr. Leaderhead liked.  But apparently, nobody else liked it. I can't imagine why...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are pictures and billboards and statues of the glorious Mr. Leaderhead everywhere, but everywhere they are all just brown and grey, except not so much brown. Sometimes someone has pasted googly-eyes on the pictures. Or maybe that's actually what he looks like, and it's not that vandals have stuck on the eyes on some pictures; originally all the pictures and billboards and statues had googly-eyes, and vandals have made off with most of them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ordered some eggs for breakfast, sunny side up, so that I could at least get a little burst of sunshine to start my day, but alas, the Three Seasons restaurant had no eggs today.  I had to settle for a bowl of cereal and spoiled milk.  As I got up after breakfast, I asked the waiter why only three seasons, why not four?  He was puzzled. He apparently had no idea what seasons were, nor why there should be four, or for that matter, three. I don't even think he spoke English. Maybe he didn't understand me when I asked for eggs in the first place. Maybe "sunny side up" is Krapish for "spoiled milk".  I will have to ask my translator, on the train later...</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:1564</id>
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    <title>The die is cast</title>
    <published>2006-10-13T04:02:29Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-13T04:02:29Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Do you know the etymological roots of this phrase? Historians disagree on the exact origin of the phrase; some attribute it to Julius Caesar, while others suggest it was first uttered by the great showman P.T. Barnum, or by inventor Eli Whitney.  To argue their points, various historians have explained the phrase thusly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Industry: The "die" is a metal block used to stamp out repeated copies of a manufactured part. When the die is cast (formed) then the shape of the part that will be created is predetermined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Textiles: The "die" is actually dye, used to color textiles.  In ancient times, most dyes were effectively permanent, so when casting a bucket of dye across a bolt of cloth, an irrevocable change was made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warfare: The "die" is death. Thus when the die is cast, the determination of who will survive and who will die in battle has been fixed, because both generals have committed to their course of action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gambling: The "die" is a gambling tool, typically the traditional black and white six-sided cube. When cast, all bets are locked in, and cannot be changed, so they will either win or lose based on the result.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Broadway: The "die" is slang the diva, the star of the show. When the die is cast, the actress who will play that role has been set, and the success or failure of the show will depend principally on her.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:1411</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://apagoge.livejournal.com/1411.html"/>
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    <title>Telephone throwing</title>
    <published>2006-10-10T07:03:49Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-10T07:03:49Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Mobile phone throwing has recently become a popular sport in Europe, with national competitions popping up left and right. Finland hosted the 7th International World Championships this past August, where Lassi Etel&amp;#228;talo set a new world record for distance with a throw of 89 meters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the throwing of mobile phones is a relatively new past time, the sport can trace its roots back decades. In fact, the history of phone throwing is almost as old as the telephone itself. The earliest recorded telephone throw was in 1879, just three years after Alexander Graham Bell's famous first phone call, when Mr. Hamlin Smith of 82 Park Avenue in New York, in a fit of rage over having been put on hold for three hours by the water company, threw his telephone 13 feet (early telephones where quite large and heavy). That first throw, while not in an officially sanctioned competition, was witnessed by dozens of onlookers, and inspired a more formal contest the following day. In the event, Mr. Smith was better prepared, and was able to achieve a distance of 18 feet, a record which stood for over 40 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the 1960's, phone throwing experienced a resurgence, in drug-fueled free-love phone-tossing orgies, where dozens of people threw phones around almost at random, wrapped cords around people's legs, and generally practiced unsafe phone throwing practices. Many people were injured in these wild festivals, and disease spread rampantly, communicated on unsterilized mouthpieces.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:1214</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://apagoge.livejournal.com/1214.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="http://apagoge.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=1214"/>
    <title>On the Conservation of Mass in the Tumble Dryer</title>
    <published>2006-10-09T20:20:20Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-16T18:12:12Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I have developed a potentially revolutionary theory about dryer lint. I had been pondering the origins of this lint: where does this extra mass come from? I typically have all my clothes still when they come out of the dryer, but then I also have this extra bit in the form of dryer lint. I didn't put it in there or anything, it's just bonus! The energy consumed by my dryer is substantially less than the 25 or so gigawatt-hours that would be necessary to create a gram or so of lint out of energy directly, so it must come from somewhere else. Then I stumbled upon it: this must be what remains of the missing sock. Testing this theory directly by comparing the mass of the lint with the mass of the missing sock isn&amp;#8217;t possible, because the missing sock isn&amp;#8217;t available for a physical analysis. However, the missing sock does have a clone as it were: the other now mismatched sock. SO, if my theory is correct, the total weight of the dryer lint should equal the total weight of all my mismatched socks. I shall now have to begin a thorough record-keeping process to test my theory. Updates will be provided here when new data becomes available.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:951</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://apagoge.livejournal.com/951.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="http://apagoge.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=951"/>
    <title>Commonly confused instruments</title>
    <published>2006-10-08T06:42:05Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-08T06:48:35Z</updated>
    <content type="html">The violin and the viola are commonly confused instruments, because they look, feel, sound, and taste almost identical. A trained observer, however, will be able to tell the difference between these two remarkable instruments, even without the assistance of laboratory equipment. The violin is generally a smaller, lighter instrument, and often has a fruity, citrus flavor; while the viola is usually larger, with a fuller tone and an earthy, even smokey flavor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The confusion that many people have in understanding the difference between these instruments was exploited by the now infamous game show "21", which in an early incarnation asked its contestants to examine an instrument and determine what that instrument was, without the benefit of holding it next to any other instruments.  That show didn't go over so well, as viewers were uninterested, and even the host couldn't get things right: when a contestant with especially poor depth perception tried to call a cello as a violin on the show, the host then pulled out a viola, misread his cue card, and shouted "voila!"   Today, that show is long forgotten, but the exclamation "voila!" when revealing something new or unexpected is still a part of our everyday vernacular.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:617</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://apagoge.livejournal.com/617.html"/>
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    <title>Inklings</title>
    <published>2006-10-07T18:06:00Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-07T18:06:00Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Every autumn, the mature fountain pens make the long a difficult journey back up the Columbia river, so as to spawn in the same factory in Oregon as where they were born, a decade or more earlier. But new development and new dams along the river have made it difficult for these fountain pens to make it all the way back, and more and more fail to do so each year. The inklings of the pens who do make it back fail to replace the number of pens who don't, and the long slow decline of these majestic pens continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fewer fountain pens, however, has made more room for ball point pens, which have rapidly multiplied to fill the void. These ball point pens have no natural predators, and so their exploding population has been kept in check only by their own high mortality rate, and their penchant for going missing, never to be seen again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Millions of these poor ball point pens have disappeared in this fashion, forced to live their better years stuck underneath the seats in cars, behind desks, and wedged between couch cushions. Sometimes their brethren, so wracked with woe and suffering, commit ritual suicide, exploding a a vibrant shower of ink, covering everything nearby with their viscous innards, a permanent testament to their missing comrades.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:apagoge:309</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://apagoge.livejournal.com/309.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="http://apagoge.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=309"/>
    <title>Predictions that don't come true</title>
    <published>2006-10-07T16:31:35Z</published>
    <updated>2006-10-07T16:31:35Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;i&gt;You know so much of the music we hear today is preprogramed electronic disco, we never get a chance to hear "Master Blues Men" practicing their craft anymore. By the year 2006, the music known today as "The Blues" will exist only in the classical records department of your local public library.&lt;/i&gt; --Elwood Blues, 1978</content>
  </entry>
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