In my land there is a mountain that everyone is forced to climb. From my youngest days, I listened to the elders tell us of it. While other children wasted their time in play, I trained. Some, realizing they must one day face the mountain, trained physically but I was wiser. I knew many skills would be required to reach the summit. I learned to measure people. I toughened myself to endure pain. I studied the known trails. I reviewed the accounts of climbers who had failed, and resolved that I would not fall into the traps that felled them.

Finally my day came. We gathered at the base of the mountain. I could tell most were unprepared. I sneered at them. However, among the crowd I spied a few who shared my ambition. They were my rivals.

I pretended to race ahead, but doubled back to plant traps. Only when I knew my competitors had fallen did I set to scaling the face of the mountain. I armed myself with the gear I had collected for this day. It was light but strong, and I bent my head to the climb.

It took many hours, but eventually I reached the final barrier to the summit: a bare rock wall. I set my hooks and grabbed my ax. The wall was treacherous, but I was skilled. Already my head filled with my victory. I was soon to be the king of the mountain. In my distraction, my hand slipped. The next instant I was reeling backwards.

As my eyes flew heavenward, I saw a vision that mocked me. Standing there, only feet above, was the mountain king, crowned with glory. I screamed in defeat, until the rocks  smashed my bones. I lay broken, and waited for my death.

Then the mountain king appeared again. He bound up my wounds and pulled me onto his back. He fitted his crown on my head, and made the climb that had defeated me. At the top were other broken and defeated climbers. Each wore a crown.

I've always prided myself on my inventiveness. It's what sets me apart from the parents. After all, when dealing with a difficult situation, thinking outside the box is an invaluable skill.

The parents often get strange ideas about who is in charge around here. The best example of this is the Hypnotizer. Ever since the parents introduced this vile device, they've acted like they're in control, giving it and taking it away at their whim. It was maddening, but what could I do? They controlled all the Hypnotizers. Or so they thought.

I decided to show them once and for all that I am more than just a pretty face. I have my wits, and I decided it was time to fight fire with fire. I would create my very own Hypnotizer.

It was difficult at first. I ruled out the toys at once. The parents control them almost as zealously as they do the Hypnotizer. Clothing was a better option. While the parents may change them from day to day, they never take them away. I tried shirts, pants, and socks, but none quite had all the qualities I wanted. I was making good progress on a bib-based hypnotizer when serendipity struck.

As I was pushing the bib-hypnotizer into my mouth, it slid out of place, leaving only my thumb. Now, I had experimented with fingers early on, but the angle wasn't quite right. Imagine my surprise when the thumb fit perfectly!

The design wasn't complete, though. Occasionally my thumb would leap from my lips without warning. I soon discovered, though, that bracing my hand with the other put a stop to this behavior. Since that time the parent's use of the hypnotizer has been ineffective. Proper order in the household has been restored.

Thanks to the excellent Let's Encrypt project, this website is now being delivered over a secure connection. You probably won't notice anything at all from that change, except for the little green lock icon, but I thought it was worth noting for posterity's sake.

Hello members of my adoring public. I know you want more stories, but with the parents demanding so much constant attention it's a miracle I'm able to find any time to keep you updated.

As you know, the parents really don't enjoy life the way I feel they should. I wasn't sure if there was any hope for them, but I knew I had to make an attempt. I've tried many different methods to improve their quality of life, and I wanted to let you know about my failures and successes in case you are ever forced to deal with parents of your own.

My first attempt was to give the parents some time off, in the hopes that they would use that time for personal enrichment. I set aside a few hours every night so that they could do whatever they wanted, but all they ever seemed to do with it was sleep. I blame myself. I should have known they were not capable of being left on their own, at least not yet.

Highbrow humor was equally lost on them. I tried many witty sayings and clever aphorisms, but everything clearly went right over their heads. I know many babies would become frustrated at this point, and for a moment I did despair, but I realized that if I wanted to improve the parent's lives I would have to descend to their level.

Physical humor seems to be more in the parent's range. For example, when daddy is trying to put my arm into a sleeve, he gets quite a kick out of watching me wave my arm in every direction except the direction of the sleeve. And of course, I can do the same thing with my legs, doubling the comedic potential.

Clothes changes offer many opportunities to inject levity. If I wait until the parents have changed my onesie, and then immediately spit up all over it, the parents seem to appreciate the irony and get excited by my clever interjection. The best part is, every time is just as effective as the first.

Diaper changes also provide great opportunities for physical comedy. While I was initially reluctant to engage in such lowbrow tactics, the results speak for themselves. If mommy has just taken away a completed diaper, almost any attempt at potty humor can cause her to completely lose it. If I repeat this multiple times in a row, it just becomes funnier. Soon mommy is laughing so hard she starts crying. On good days, she finds it so funny that she jumps straight to crying.

I say all that to say this: Just because something seems impossible at first, don't give up. Sometimes you just have to rethink your strategy.

Hi everyone. I know it's been a while since I've written anything here, but that's not because nothing has been happening. I know I often make it seem like the parents don't know anything (and they don't), but that isn't to say we don't have fun together. I don't want to give that impression, so today I'd like tell you about how I'm making a positive impact in their lives.

The parents are really pretty glum folks most of the time. I worry that they don't take time to really enjoy things. For example, the other day mommy's big food heating box started glowing orange and emitting white smoke, and she didn't even stay to watch. I wanted to stay and see the pretty colors, but apparently she thought that it was more important to go have a conversation with daddy.

To prevent their complete descent into tedium, I have taken it upon myself to inject fun into situations when I can. For example, if mommy puts the hypnotizer into my mouth, I look up at her, and then pop it back out. She retrieves it and puts it back in. It's a really simple game (the parents can't handle complex games yet), but we can play it for a long time. I'm not sure why it amuses her so much, but who can argue with results?

Another fun game to play with the parents is "Find the Hypnotizer". I have mommy or daddy leave the room and I hide the hypnotizer somewhere in the crib. Then after it is well hidden (sometimes this takes a while) I call them back and they have to try and find it in the dark. They're actually really bad at this game, but I guess that's to be expected. As long as they want to keep trying, though, I'll keep playing. It keeps our bond strong.

Anyhow, that's all I've got time for today. I've got a very busy schedule these days, but I promise I'll be back with more tales about how I'm enriching the parents' lives soon.

I visited a friend the other day. His family always decorates the outside of their house for the holidays, and Halloween is no exception. His two small children, seeing me walking toward their door, rushed to show me each of the decorations adorning their porch.

On the steps were two large jack-o-lanterns. The one on the right had a face with tall eyes and whiskers, like a cat. The one on the left was a normal jack-o-lantern, except that its mouth was the word "BOO". "I made it all by myself," the son exclaimed.

"Really?" The detail and precision were a bit beyond what I normally expected from a first grader.

"Well, I got to use the knife," he backpedaled, before rushing to show me a large witch decoration on the side of the porch.

Finally he pointed out two smaller jack-o-lanterns sitting inside the porch's railing. "It's a clown," the son exclaimed. I looked closely and determined that he meant it had a circular nose, instead of a triangle like all the others.

"What is that on the side of your clown's head?" I asked.

"Those are his ears. They're crosses." And they were. Big chunky crosses adorned each side of the clown's head.

"Why did you use crosses for the ears?"

"We made those at church. They said we had to put crosses on them." He sounded a bit apologetic and shortly later the tour ended, but it got me thinking about how modern American Christianity uses the cross.

I'm sure that the well-meaning teacher who said that every jack-o-lantern must incorporate a cross felt that he or she was striking a Christian blow against Satan and his evil trick-or-treating. Yet, in the end, all you have is a mildly frustrated first grader who thinks that the cross is some sort of brand symbol, much like the Nike swoosh.

Did we win?

This post may contain spoilers for Star Wars: The Force Awakens. I say "may" because I'm actually just making a guess, but if you don't want any crazy ideas clouding your first experience of the movie in theaters, you might want to stop reading now.

Someone else suggested that I write this down, presumably so that I can be mocked in two months when I am shown to be wrong. If I am, my only defense is that I haven't really been keeping up with the leaks for this production. I did the spoiler thing during the prequel era, and it's actually a lot of fun, but keeping up with all the spoilers is a lot easier when you're a college student. That being said, I think I have an answer to the question that everyone seems to be asking: "Why don't we see Luke Skywalker in anything?"

The answer is multifaceted, so I'm going to start in the middle and work my way out. The reason why we don't see Luke Skywalker is because he is a Jedi master, and like Obi-Wan and Yoda, he has become a hermit. Now, Obi-Wan and Yoda each had their own reasons for leaving the public sphere. Obi-Wan needed to lay low to watch over Luke and keep him safe from Vader. Yoda had watched his Jedi order crumble and his failure drove him into hiding to reconnect with the Force. Luke must have a similar reason for his seclusion.

When the Emperor died at the Battle of Endor, the Rebellion had a fully trained Luke Skywalker ready to bring the Force back into the galaxy. So why does the Force need to awaken thirty years later? There is a piece missing from this puzzle, and I have a guess about what that piece may be.

The rebellion would obviously want to add more Jedi to their roster. However, without a galaxy-wide blood test to detect Force-sensitive individuals, finding suitable students would be a challenge. They could rely on the Force to guide them to more students, but letting your only Jedi wander around the galaxy looking for a student would be a significant risk. Fortunately, we know that the children of Force-sensitive parents are also Force-sensitive. If either Luke or Leia had a child, that child would be the ideal first student for the new Jedi order.

While Luke's romantic prospects are looking quite bleak at the end of Return of the Jedi, Han and Leia's relationship is heating up, so it seems quite likely that Leia will have the first child, and that he will be trained in the Force from a young age to help the Rebellion in future missions against the still standing Empire.

Unfortunately for the Rebellion, Luke's own training was more than a bit abbreviated, and his first student will be in for a rough time as Luke muddles through passing on the little that he knows of the Jedi way. I theorize that eventually Leia's son becomes captivated by the work of his grandfather, Darth Vader, and turns away from Luke's teaching to found the Knights of Ren and regain control of the galaxy.

Luke, devastated by his failure, vows never to take on another student and goes into hiding so he cannot do any more harm. Thus, when Leia's son begins to decimate the remnants of the rebellion, a new Force-sensitive individual, Finn, must search for the disgraced Jedi and beg him for training before everything the Rebellion fought for is destroyed.

Like I said, this is only speculation. I've tried to avoid spoilers for this film, so maybe something big has already leaked that contradicts this theory, but I think it's reasonable, and matches the overall tone of the Star Wars saga.

Bonus Article: Where is C-3PO?

Another character notably lacking in the promotional materials is C-3PO. His history throughout the original trilogy was that he was property of Leia (or her family). I suspect that when Leia's son left to form the Knights of Ren, he took C-3PO with him.

My little brother is a lover of all kinds of motorized land vehicles. He is a professional driver, and has an eye for distinctive vehicles of all kinds. Over the past few years he has bought two different "racing" editions of the Ford Focus, a snowmobile, multiple quads, a Polaris RZR, and a boosted Ford F-150. Each of his vehicles is unique.

His most recent addition is what is commonly known as a T-Bucket. For those of you, like myself, who don't follow the world of obscure car trends closely, a T-Bucket is a Ford Model-T that has been dismantled down to the frame and rebuilt into a street legal go-kart. Naturally when I went home to visit the family, he was eager, as he always is, to show me the wonders of his latest acquisition.

Original Model-Ts had no need for a battery. The driver, or his servants, was expected to run around to the front of the car and crank the engine manually until internal combustion took over. However, the T-Bucket has improved on Henry Ford's design by placing a battery in the trunk. Unfortunately, for reasons not immediately obvious, the battery must be manually disconnected after every use or it will run dead. Sadly, my brother had not remembered to disconnect the battery after his last trip, and my first experience of the T-Bucket was pushing it out of the garage and hooking up jumper cables.

The T-Bucket is a convertible, in the sense that there is a separate piece you can put over your head if you know its going to rain, but for all practical purposes it is an open air car. The windshield is the only window, and it is woefully low, providing no protection whatsoever against any bugs that might happen to be flying at face level. The builders did think far enough ahead to realize that you would need to clear rain off the windshield, so there is a small blade attached to the top of the window on the driver's side that can be manually moved with your hand. Rear-view mirrors had apparently not yet been invented.

Without windows, there are no need for window cranks, and the Model-T was built long before anyone dreamed of anti-theft devices so there are no locks, or even external door handles. You simply reach over the door and release a small metal catch to enter and exit. To call the interior roomy would be quite an exaggeration, but my brother and I managed to squeeze into the cab and we were off.

The comparison to the go-kart seems apt, but a go-kart that can travel at highway speeds. I should point out that my brother is probably the best driver that I know, extremely skilled in knowing the roads and the limits of his vehicles. And that makes riding with him terrifying, especially in a vehicle which couldn't possibly have a lower crash test rating.

We zoomed around the back roads of the mountains, wind whipping all around our heads, the road zooming past far more obviously than it does in a modern car. He delighted in showing me its acceleration and handling, while I held tight to the door next to me and tried to enjoy the ride.

Eventually we made it to the main highway. The city where I grew up is quite different from many other cities. Traffic lights are not used liberally, and only recently have signs gone up declaring certain extremely unwise driving decisions against the rules. As a local, you learn to avoid the traffic lights, as a bit of daring can save you minutes of time. We found ourselves sitting on a curve at the bottom of a long hill, with oncoming traffic moving sixty miles-per-hour, as my brother expertly waited for a break in the traffic.

His driving skills are obviously vastly superior to mine, as he found a gap where I didn't, and squealed out into traffic, quickly accelerating into the flow. On the other side of town we faced our next challenge. When we arrive at a convenience store, the question of the battery arose. Should he leave the motor running or hope that …

"[George Lucas] made decisions that I believe might have been better discussed with other people."

— Anthony Daniels (C-3PO)

source

We live in an age of consumer protections. We can be confident that every purchase has been carefully checked for safety and effectiveness. If there is something wrong, the product will be recalled. If there are any associated dangers, they will be completely enumerated on the packaging. So why is it that, in our supposedly enlightened age, babies are being delivered to parents without the following warning label attached?

``WARNING:``Prolonged exposure to babies is known to cause lower back pain, joint pain, fatigue, clothing stains, lower standards, insomnia, hearing loss, unintelligible babbling, poverty, and weight gain. Do not drive or operate heavy machinery while under the influence of a baby.