Untitled Writers' Group

Pepsi Contest for Idiots--Steven Piziks

Okay, this isn't about writing, but I wanted to post it.

I saw the commercials for PepsiCo's billion dollar sweepstakes. I was immediately suspicious, and when I saw the commercial again, I froze it through the magic of Replay TV and caught the fine print.

1. There will be a single MILLION dollar winner which will have the POTENTIAL to be a billion dollar winner. Note use of the word POTENTIAL. The game selects a bunch of people who will compete on a game show of some sort, the winner of which gets a million bucks and the CHANCE to win a billion.

2. If someone wins the billion dollars, it will be paid out over FORTY YEARS with a BALLOON PAYMENT. As in, " The Policy shall provide for payment of the One Billion Dollar Prize over 40 years pursuant to the following payment schedule: $5 million per year for each of years 1 through 20; $10 million per year for each of years 21 through 39 and a lump sum payment of $710 million in year 40 (the "40-Year Payment schedule"). The Policy shall also provide that the One Billion Dollar Prize winner, if any, may instead elect to receive a one-time payment of $250,000,000 (the "Lump Sum Option"), which represents the approximate present value of the amounts received under the 40-Year Payment Schedule calculated using a 4.5% discount rate."

So you're actually getting $290 million over 39 years, and then $710 million in the fortieth. I wonder how much interest the money will earn for Pepsi while they're holding it in the meantime?

Rules at http://billionsweeps.yahoo.com/billion04/static/rules_national.html if you want to see them.

Meanwhile, Pepsi gets immense word-of-mouth publicity about giving away a billion dollars. What a bunch of yabbos. Remember the Pepsi Challenge back in the 80s when you had to find all the letters in the word CHALLENGE under the Pepsi caps to win? And the scandal that followed when it was revealed that they didn't print a letter A?

Geez.

Adventurous Day

I started with an oh-shit morning. This happens when you wake up, look at the clock, and say, "Oh shit!" The clock in question read 6:18, and I usually get up at 5:25.

You are looking at an unshowered man.

Bolted out the door and got to school only ten minutes later than my usual 7:00 (school starts at 7:20). Whew! Let's get moving. Start the day with media literacy, then segue into the stupid MEAP test, go to lunch, teach college writing, and head into another section of media literacy. At about 1:40, the PA came to life.

"Good afternoon, students and staff," said our principal in a cheerful voice. "We're going to conduct a fire drill in just a few moments. Teachers, please tell your students to take their belongings with them." And the fire alarm went off.

Naturally my own alarms were working overtime. 1) Fire drills are always at the beginning of class, never in the middle. 2) They are never announced. 3) The kids generally don't take their stuff with them. The whole thing smelled like a bomb threat or similar. So I threw my own stuff into my satchel, grabbed coat and keys, and headed outside with the kids. Moments later, a fire truck came screaming down the street and hurtled itself around the corner to the front of the building.

Naturally speculation ran rampant, but we didn't learn anything. At least the weather was warm, if windy. The buses arrived and the assistant principals told the kids they could go home at the normal time of 2:10. I spoke to said AP, and he said there was an "immediate threat" to the building, though he wouldn't say what it was. I'm still thinking bomb threat.

Once the kids were on the buses, I went around to the front of the building to go home, congratulating myself on having grabbed my own stuff. (Actually, after the Year of Many Bomb Threats, I grab my coat and keys whenever there's a building evacuation, even if it's just a drill.) Many police cars were in evidence, and one of the officers directed traffic to expedite people getting out. So now I'm home.

From oh-shit to evacuation in six easy hours!

--
Steven

Shrek the Sheep by Lisa

Yet another non-writing post, but it's so strange and funny....

An escaped sheep in New Zeland evaded herders and survived for six years in the wild. Shrek, as the sheep has been named, was finally caught and given his first sheer in six years.

Erdos Number for Sale by Lisa

The world is a strange place...

Photo Essay

Aran got hold of our digital camera and I assembled the results into a photo essay. The first of four pages is at:

http://www.sff.net/people/spiziks/photo1.html

The photos are pretty cool, especially considering the photographer is only six years old.

--Steven

Sad--Steven Harper Piziks

I came across this post at gaymiddleeast.com , a site devoted to GLBT people in the middle east. It was written by a man who lives in Iraq, and it made me sad.

***
Hello dear friends of Gay Middle East.

Now I realize that I am not alone...and just when lonliness was taking over my life. I'm an Iraqi gay man now 32 years old. I knew that I'm gay since primary school. I loved the voice of our teacher. Since that time I'm in my own world, my own fantasy world. I used to sit on the rooftop of our home and talk to the moon every night. I never knew any other people like me.

Marsdust Again--Steven Harper Piziks

Marsdust has changed their main page. No more bimbos! Though I still think they should add a little blurb at the very beginning to indicate exactly what the site is about. It's still hard to tell the way it is now.

--Steven

Lisa Leutheuser — Ice Cream by Candlelight

Power drops and the emergency lights go on. Cool, I think, a little excitement in the day is always appreciated, especially as I didn't lose any work. (I have good "save reflexes".) All the staff around me are calling relatives and friends, and I learn through them that the power outage covers New York, to Ontario, to Chicago (sic). Wow. This is big. Of course the question of terrorists crosses my mind.

Catherine Shaffer — The Big Bad Blackout

I didn't think much of it when the power went out. It happens often enough I just ignored it until my neighbor knocked on the door and told me it was another terrorist attack. I was completely alone in the house. My son was across the state visiting his grandparents for the week. Brent was at work. The phone lines were jammed. I couldn't call anyone. I borrowed the neighbor's cell phone, but it didn't do any good. This recalls my father's experience way back in the seventies with the Big Flood. The person in charge of civil emergency and evacuation knocked on his door at 6 AM and when my father answered, he shouted, "Run for your lives. The water is coming!"