ENG 102: First Year Composition: 2011 Second Summer Session
Arizona State University
Professor Corrie Wells
Monday, July 11 2011, 9:01:21 PM, MST
Ethos Argument Writing - Creatique 6: Grade/A+
Bad Advice
I believe in global warming. I believe that god has no place in schools or government. I believe in UFOs and life on other planets. I believe that Bill O’Reilly sexually harassed a female intern. I believe that Ebay.com sucks.
I also believe that anyone can sell anything on Ebay because Ebay is home to millions of auction crazed, freak-show, train-wreck, wack-a-doo, spend-o-matic shopaholics who will buy virtually anything.
From 1998 until 2007, I owned and ran several businesses that sold, for the most part, a variety of goods and services online. In fact, I have sold well over 500,000 items over that period of time, just on Ebay alone. That’s right. 500,000.
My office in Scottsdale, which I opened up in 2000 and closed in 2007 was the home to around 10 full time employees (who, for most part came and went as the years passed) and who were hired to facilitate these Ebay sales. Although this was not my only business at the time it proved to be, by far, the biggest pain that my butt has ever endured.
Why is this you might ask? Well, the answer is simple. On Ebay, there are millions upon millions upon millions of incredibly stupid, stupid people. Ergo, the pain in the butt part.
According to the Ebay.com 2011 “Who We Are” section of their website; “ With more than 94 million active users globally, eBay is the world’s largest online marketplace, where practically anyone can buy and sell practically anything.” Which, in my experience has been true to the point of absurdity.
To wit, in 2002, one of my former employees, Jeff, refused to believe that I could sell anything I liked on Ebay. So, I bet him, one week’s worth of Starbucks, that someone on ebay would buy literally anything I posted for sale. We settled on 5 items that I would have to sell within 7 days on Ebay. These items were as follows:
(1) An Old Shoe (I found it in the back yard half chewed by the neighbor’s dog)
(2) Pocket Lint (presumably from a pocket)
(3) A Handful Of Dirt (origin unknown)
(4) Fur-Ball (coughed up by my cat)
(5) Bad Advice (provided to the winner via email)
These 5 items all ended up with at least 20 bidders per auction and sold easily within 7 days (for anywhere between .75 and $2.65 plus shipping). I shipped the Old Shoe, Pocket Lint, Dirt and Fur-Ball to the winners via USPS Priority Mail. The winner of Item #5 emailed me to complain that he was upset that he hadn’t received the “Bad Advice” which he had legitimately won, and was rightfully his, so I emailed him back, and informed him; “ My bad advice to you Sir, is not to bid on Bad Advice”.
Ebay suspended my Ebay Seller Account for 2 weeks for that one.
The week of free Starbucks was worth it.
Ebay has no sense of humor.
ENG 102: First Year Composition: 2011 Second Summer Session
Arizona State University
Professor Corrie Wells
Friday, July 8 2011, 5:35:46 PM, MST
Pathos Argument Writing - Creatique 4: Grade/A+
Rush Limbaugh
I believe that Rush Limbaugh is a big, fat, idiot because Mr. Limbaugh is big and fat and is an idiot.
It could be posited that this argument, grounded in pathos, should end right here. But, then there’s that whole 200-300 word requirement thing and, of course, those pesky specifics.
As I pride myself on being a master of the obvious, I thus argue that Mr. Rush, clearly, is big. Big, most definitely, in so many areas and so many arenas. First and foremost, Rush is physically huge and has a monstrous influence with ultra conservative and mostly undereducated tea partyers who, for the most part, vote against their own self-interests much like lemmings launching themselves off a cliff. The Dittohead-In-Chief also has a big wallet, a big ego, a big head, a big mouth, and a big drug habit. Not to mention his big appetite for what apparently, includes attention, power, fame, Twinkies, Oxycontin and inexpensive prostitutes from the Dominican Republic.
Who would argue that Rush is not a fat man? Really fat. Really, really, really fat. So fat, in fact, that he requires custom clothes for his hugeness, a custom made desk chair to support his massive bulk, and an XXXXL size hat to fit around his gynormous pumpkin sized head. Although Rush, would like himself to be considered “Phat”, he is, to those of us who haven’t yet drank the Kool-Aid, just plain old regular, fat.
As an idiot, Mr. Limbaugh (the de-facto head of the Republican party and Tea Party poster child) has almost no equal. Spend just a few minutes listening to his lying propaganda radio show and you will quickly come to the conclusion that the term “idiot” when applied to Rush, is truly doing him a favor. Perhaps only Glen Beck, Ann Coulter, Shawn Hannity, Michelle Bachman or Sarah Palin, can come close to Rush’s annoying propensity to take such pride in his own ignorance and incredible disregard for things such as facts or the truth.
As I have now achieved the 200-300 word limit required for this exercise in Pathos, I will conclude with the suggestion that if one ever wishes to spend an hour or two with a splitting headache along with a case of the dry heaves, please turn the radio dial to the Rush Limbaugh Radio Show to listen to a big, fat, idiot.
ENG 102: First Year Composition: 2011 Second Summer Session
Arizona State University
Professor Corrie Wells
Wednesday, July 6, 2011 9:07:18 PM MST
Moniker Writing - Creatique 1: Grade/A+
A Taxi Ride
Eric Haywood Weinstein was born to Sidney and Abigail Weinstein on a cool autumn day on September of 1962. Although their marriage was doomed from the start, Abigail, while making her way to the hospital in New York City with her mother Rose, dreamed of a future with Sidney which, at that time could only include the yet to be born son who was presently kicking the crap out of her swollen belly.
Abigail and Rose sat in the back seat of the taxicab and between moans of pain and sputtered directions to the driver (who was obviously displeased with the screeching, cackling, pigeons in his cab) scrambled to decide on a name for Abbie’s impatient son to be, and yes, Abbie had, already decided that the little monster inside of her, was, indeed a boy. To her mind, no little girl could possibly cause so much pain to a mother. So, it had to be, it could only be, a boy.
Rose suggested that Abbie name the baby Harry, after Abbie’s Father, but Abbie’s pop was a house painter and she didn’t want to curse her son to a future of climbing ladders and sniffing paint fumes. Well, Rose suggested, perhaps Manny, who was the most successful man the family at the time and success was important to Abbie and Rose who had been poor most of their lives.
No, decided Abbie, Manny always had a strange body odor to about him and it would not suit her to have to breast-feed a baby smelling of the sewers.
And, so, they bickered, and yelled, and argued, and whined, and cried, until finally they reached the emergency room door.
As the two labor crazed women barreled off into an unknown future, Abbie, still getting pummeled from the inside out by this horrible, evil, vindictive baby boy (perhaps she should just name him Mussolini for spite), glanced back at the Cabbie, and just as she tipped him fifty cents, she looking him in the eye, smiled her wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous smile, (everyone always loved her infectious smile and laughter) thanked him so very much, for all that he had done, and threw up onto the sidewalk.
Checker Cab driver Eric Haywood, could only be grateful that those insane nags were out of his permanently transient and constantly changing life forever.
August of 1980. I’m a 17 year old idiot.
I graduate from high school, drive 3,000 miles to Tempe, Arizona. Attend college at Arizona State University and promptly flunk out.
Summer of 2011. 31 years is a long time.
It’s hot. I’m back.
These are the chronicles of a new life at an old school….
