A word of explanation: My husband works for the federal government. Although he is not the author of this piece, it would be fair to say that it resonates with us.
A NEW DISCOVERY: A Breakthrough In Government
A major research institution has recently announced the discovery of the heaviest element yet known to science. The new element has been named "Governmentium".
Governmentium has one neutron, 12 assistant neutrons, 75 deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312 particles. These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton like particles called peons.
Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert. However, it can be detected because it will always impede every action with which it comes into contact. A minute amount of Governmentium causes a reaction to take four days to complete, when it would normally take less than a second.
Governmentium has a normal half-life of 4 years. It does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places. In fact, Governmentium's Mass will actually increase over time since each reorganization will cause morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes.
This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a certain quantity in concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as "Critical Morass."
When catalyzed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium -- an element which radiates just as much energy as Governmentium since it has half as many "peons" but twice as many morons.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Lament
The rock 'n' roll raucousness now is stilled;
with Vivaldi the halls of the house are filled.
Where gerbils and hamsters once reigned supreme,
there's time to think, and plan, and dream:
The kids are gone.
Two-a.m. feedings have long since fled,
and two-a.m. entrances nothing to dread.
From close of day to dawn's rose-red,
We sleep the sleep of the grateful dead:
The kids are gone.
The bathroom is free, our showers are short,
we no longer hasten from sport to sport,
the mountains of laundry are molehills at last,
and supper in shifts is a thing of the past:
The kids are gone.
There's time for our hobbies, we read at our leisure,
we walk and we talk to each other for pleasure.
But once in awhile, a brief, sorrowful sigh,
or a tear quickly wiped from a treasonous eye,
reveals our awareness: Our life's task is done.
The kids are gone.
© 2005 by Meg Lark
Every once in so often, it just hits you. Yesterday was one of those days, for no evident reason.
Nothing too much is new. Scrambling like mad to get ready for my third year of Russian. It would help if Life didn't keep getting in the way, but it does, and probably a good thing, given the sentiments expressed above.
with Vivaldi the halls of the house are filled.
Where gerbils and hamsters once reigned supreme,
there's time to think, and plan, and dream:
The kids are gone.
Two-a.m. feedings have long since fled,
and two-a.m. entrances nothing to dread.
From close of day to dawn's rose-red,
We sleep the sleep of the grateful dead:
The kids are gone.
The bathroom is free, our showers are short,
we no longer hasten from sport to sport,
the mountains of laundry are molehills at last,
and supper in shifts is a thing of the past:
The kids are gone.
There's time for our hobbies, we read at our leisure,
we walk and we talk to each other for pleasure.
But once in awhile, a brief, sorrowful sigh,
or a tear quickly wiped from a treasonous eye,
reveals our awareness: Our life's task is done.
The kids are gone.
© 2005 by Meg Lark
Every once in so often, it just hits you. Yesterday was one of those days, for no evident reason.
Nothing too much is new. Scrambling like mad to get ready for my third year of Russian. It would help if Life didn't keep getting in the way, but it does, and probably a good thing, given the sentiments expressed above.
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