Teen Leadership Council

Human Training 1010
FleetusMcGee posted in Rituals And Traditions on November 7th, 2006

The metal block was cold. Frigid against my bare skin. I could feel the goosebumps shiver down, then back up my body in quick succession. I wasn’t used to looking around the room when lying down, I was used to standing. The ground seemed like a far-away memory. The walls were like ghosts in my peripheral vision. The ceiling was the only reality now. The ceiling and the icy slab against my skin.

I jumped when the door creaked open, as it sent a rush of warm air along me, and goosebumps, once again, racing along my nerve-endings. The people who entered didn’t talk, silence was part of the ceremony, and I knew the rules. I used to be one of their cloaked figures.

Reflex makes my head turn to look at them, at the heavy, luminous white cloaks, the stark alabaster hoods covering every one of the individuals’ anonymous heads. In the hand of the leading figure is a dazzling and sharp-edged dagger. In all the years I’d been a part of the small group of leaders, never had I seen the dagger up close, yet now, from this angle, I could see the ancient markings engraved into the shining silver blade. I can make out the precious stones embedded in the hilt through the long, boney, pale fingers.

If I hadn’t seen the ceremony before, it would have been slightly creepy.

Yet, after they gathered around the board, the man with the dagger gently laid a hand on me. I wasn’t sure where because it felt like the hand was touching every inch of my shivering body and immediately I calmed and lay motionless beneath the fingers. Slowly, I could feel energy bubbling at his fingertips, swelling until it began dropping like beads onto my bare skin and sinking through my pores. My skin began to crackle and surge. Lightning shot in front of my eyelids and fire through my stomach. I couldn’t tell whether to be sick or excited.

It felt like hours, even days, had passed before the feelings died down and gentle ripples, like a soft ocean current, lapped through me. Although I knew, from watching the procedure dozens of times, that it had not been days, or even hours, but only a few short seconds. I knew what would come next. Yet it was the part that scared me beyond the point of basic fear, because as soon as that blade came down, I didn’tknow exactly what would happen. I didn’t know what the second stage would be like. I squeezed my eyes closed in anticipation and waited. I heard the swish of cloth as the sleeve lifted. I waited, my body tense with fear. Another swish.

I thought I would cry out, that lightning pain would surge through my body. But it never happened. One moment I was lying on the metal table, the next I could feel a throbbing pressure against my head. I pushed myself against it, wondering what it could be. Suddenly, a gust of cold air rushed over me. It stung all the way from my head to my toes. There was a soothing hand on my shoulder. “Welcome initiate, to the contra-world.” I felt myself smile weakly and opened my orbs to look at the rich new landscape around me. “Welcome to Human Training 101. You are about to be taught the way to behave in the third world: Earth. This is Limbo. This is the beginning. Welcome human-to-be.”

I smiled. Humanity. The greatest of all three worlds. I followed where the Contra-human lead.

My Favorite Form of Entertainment1
Bailey posted in Food for Thought on November 5th, 2006

I have no favorite form of entertainment. In recent years, all “entertainment” has become nothing more than over-processed lyrics in music, reality shows on television, and gigantic conspiracies and rumors flying around on the internet. The quality that used to come from all of the different glowing radiation boxes has diminished over the years. I used to be able to flip on the TV and find something interesting to watch. But now what do I see? “Unobtrusive Plot to Fool Fifty Gold Diggers Who Will Inadvertently Set the Feminist Movement Back Fifty Years to a Time When Communism was the Biggest Fear.” At least there’s a fun game you can play while watching any of these shows; I call it, “Which network has the failing ratings?” You see, here’s how you play it:

1. Scan through ten of the BIG networks between the hours of 7 and 9 PM.
2. Watch for about five minutes after the opening credits.
3. When someone on one of these shows does something, “back stabbing,” “disgusting,” “unbelievable,” or “Too hot for TV, but we’re the only network who will show it to you anyway,” make a bet that by the end of the night, the Neilson ratings will say it was the most watched show. 
4. Whoever wins can live with the satisfaction of knowing that during the two hours they spent watching this prosaic mess, they could have had their brains yanked out through their ears with a cork screw, been left to die with motor skills shut down completely and get the same stimulation in the mind as they did from what they just saw.See, now wasn’t that fun?

Anyway, moving along to music and radio…. Seeing as how The Platypus is supposed to be speaking on behalf of teens, I decided to use the music that is shown to be the most popular among this age group. EMO! Oh boy, what a great genre of music that is! Next time someone asks me to do some form of physical work, you know what I’m going to do? Slip on some Emo music, turn all the lights off in the room and cry about my pain and suffering. Now, I’m not a big supporter of the Prozac poppers out there, but come on, don’t whine about how your girlfriend left you, or how someone you love died. Millions of people in Africa die of AIDS every day so how about you cry for them. But, it could be worse. Imagine that instead of putting that Autumn to Ashes or Thursday CD on, it was Linkin Park playing the soundtrack to your life. Now how did they become popular? There is no logical explanation for it. They pay old, rich, professional writers to touch you in a way you’ve never been touched before. I’m sorry but isn’t that also known as pedophilia, I mean, seeing as how the main focus of the band’s words are directed towards all the whiny underage kids in the world.

Bad music is just one part of radio to attack. The other part is all the partisan talk radio on the AM stations. Since not many people are going to listen to the talk radio, it seems that you can say anything and not get into trouble with the McCarthyite morality police known as the FCC. It seems that you can say something bigoted, hateful, and devoid of any truth whatsoever, but make one small curse word on the air and you get fined $250,000. 

The internet. I doubt I really need to delve into that issue. If I had to say one thing about it though, it would be this: STOP SENDING ME E-MAILS ABOUT BEASTIALITY! And people wonder why I have no favorite form of entertainment.