If I ever end up in prison, I think that the first thing that I'm going to do when I get there is punch the biggest guy that i see right in the neck. I figure this will reduce my chances of becoming someone's "bitch" by a good margin.

Hello, hello. What's with the late night FadeIn entry? Doesn't he usually update around six in seven in the morning like the freak he is? Good questions.

I am going to be busy these next few days. It seems that all my professors have conspired to give me work simultaneously. The next 48 hours are going to spent in large part researching prohibition as it relates to Utilitarianism and trying to look for Halloween-esque tesselation designs. Ah, the joys of academia. The point is: I have no time, and thus, I have to make time when I can. Even if it means taking twenty minutes to post at a time of night when I usually feel like laying in bed and reading.

The prohibition/Utilitarianism thing should be interesting. Utilitarianism, basically: Doing the most amount of good for the most amount of people while causing the least amount of harm. So, I've got to belt out five pages of whether or not liquor prohibition was Utilitarian. Here's a fun lil' factoid:

By the 1820's, people in the United States were drinking, on the average, the equivalent of 7 gallons (26 liters) of pure alcohol per person each year. This amount of alcohol is in about 70 gallons (260 liters) of beer, 39 gallons (148 liters) of wine, or 151/2 gallons (58.7 liters) of distilled liquor.

Conclusion: People who have been dead for 150 years were having more fun than me.

I think I meant to write something else when I started this entry. Oh, yes: I have been guilty of lies of omission. Yes, people, I have betrayed you. FadeIn writes in more than one place on the Diaryland. And I'm not talking about 1000, either, because most of you probably know about that.

For a time, I lived as the Serf. It was the online diary of a 13th century peasant. I think he had about six or seven wacky adventures before he ran out of juice. Looking through the sitemeter now, I notice that people only read of this unlucky fellow when they are doing reports for school, typing into google "13th century serf." Another popular way to find the serf was by searching for "hard cor," ("Cor" as in "cor blimey" being among his favorite expressions) which probably left many wrestling fans disappointed and confused. At least, I assume they were wrestling fans, if not terribly bad spellers.

My other venture was more even more high concept, and, alas, it didn't catch on either. Good people, I inflict upon you Extra F Daily. The concept? I write one extra 'F' every day. I think I got to 17 before I decided the world would not recognize my brilliance this way.

That is all. The Simpson's have been on for nine minutes and I must go. Next time I will regale you with tales of the bittersweet joys and pains of 15 pound tins of Walker shortbread cookies.