Some of you may be familiar already with the "
I AM" game that I operated once upon a time at my long-defunct website, www.hectorjepsen.com (the results of which I re-posted last fall
here, at
www.josephcenter.blogspot.com). The game worked quite well then, as the website was intended strictly for my students, with whom I was in constant contact and who received extra class credit as motivator to their participation in the game. Obviously, now, I have no such incentive to offer.
As I see it, the game will have to go differently this time, as the blogger environment has its own intrinsic advantages and limitations. Like before, I hope the results of the game will demonstrate a majority of user content, but I expect to make my own contributions, at least in the beginning, to keep the ball rolling in event of the unavoidable lull.
So, tomorrow I will post the first round of "I AM." If you have an idea for killing this first "I," make a comment with you sentence, prose, or poem that does the deed. (
Old rules apply --
briefly: you must kill the leading "I" specifically and directly, collateral damage notwithstanding, and please avoid use or abuse that would render this feature anything beyond "
family friendly.") Once I have a sufficient number of applicants, I will look over the comments specific to this first round and put up the winner for the next, which will then take comments for its killing.
I don't know if that made sense.
Hopefully it will in practice. If you have comments or questions, you know what to do.
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| by Frank ver Beck |
For those of you too lazy to click to the other blog, here are rounds 30-38 from my SASA days (some of my favorites, by the way) to help get you started:
30: I am Lord Dark Helmet, and transform my ship, the Spaceball 1, into a giant maid. Using the ship's giant space vacuum, I vacuum out all the air, thus eliminating that almighty wind.
31: I am Lord Dark Helmet (I found need for a second introduction), and I am bewildered. Did anyone else know I was played by that jacka**, Rick Moranis! Oh my gosh, I had no idea. Well, I'm pretty much drowning in an overwhelming depression right now. I'm going to go take a bath with my toaster. Farewell cruel world!
P.S Rick Moranis sucks eggs!
32: I am Recall Man, able to spy defects in a single glance! That toaster of Dark Helmet's was from China and was riddled with lead. I leapt to the ship, crashed through the window, and instantly melted the toaster to a molten blob!
33: I am Recall Man's pack rat brother. I watched him melt the toaster; the blob interested me, so I took it. Later that night, Recall Man stopped by to take a look at my collection. He brushed the dust off the toaster blob and enough of that lead puffed into the air, entered his blood stream via his lungs and nasal lining, and killed him.
34: I am Angry Biscuithead. I roast any syrup or jelly that gets in front of me with my evil Fart-Ray/Giggety-Goo-Goo Gun. So far every brand has tried to stop me, but they will never get me, for I am hiding in my Mr. Center costume. I look like a man, but I'm really a turtle. No one will never know my secret identity, not even the maple syrup. Since I have no one that can level up to me, I have decided to eat myself, become a chicken with three heads, and peck that pack rat brother of Recall Man to death. So I do.
35: I am Colonel Sanders, and *YUMMMMY* them biscuits sure is lookin’ some good eatin'. I saw that ol' angry Biscuithead and shoved him straight into the oven, yee haw—goin' to cooks him up good with some of my gravy.
36: I am a slew of angry chickens. The Colonel had it coming after killing our fathers, and their fathers, and their second cousins’ fathers. We pecked out his eyes and deep fried his brain, which was good chopped up into one of his Famous Bowls.
37: I am the SUV. Stupid chickens, they never learn. They tried to cross the street again, and they got in my way. Stupid birds. How am I supposed to get the stains off my tires?
38: I am a very inconveniently placed (for the SUV) thumbtack, that just happens to be upright and consequently pops the front right tire. The resulting crash becomes a horrific 13-car pileup. The SUV is sorrowfully totaled.
***
Special thanks to Ray Cromar for introducing me to this game and its brilliance
at the Noni factory floor in American Fork, Utah, five and a half years ago.
Here is a list of the last 103 words Google has asked me to enter to verify that I am human, before permitting my comment to be submitted to a blog. Despite being computer generated, there's a spectacular appearance of humanity in many of these "words." I would love to know--and have explained to me--the algorithm Google uses to generate these.
