I had heard that Mischa Barton wasn't happy about being written out of the O.C., but man, I had no idea it would take such a toll on her. She looks terrible.
Talentless actresses and one-trick directors may be in a habit of crashing lately, though I cannot say I have been a victim to the trend. College has transitioned smoothly into summer. I no longer spend my days as a content though slightly disgruntled student, but instead live the life of a content though slightly disgruntled unpaid intern. Many have expressed concern that the Office of Governor would significantly expand its staff size through the unpaid labor of lowly and desperate undergraduates whose judgment in choosing such an uncompensated position is often clouded by sexual longings, hashish, and the first three seasons of the West Wing. But hey, if John Locke has taught us anything other than that "John Locke" would make a pretty fucking cool action movie hero name, it's that there is no good reason why having extravagent and high-minded concepts of liberty should keep anyone from justifying the slave trade.
At least I think that's what Locke said. For some reason he put an "f" where every single "s" should be, so it kept looking like he was talking about "flavery", which in turn made me think of hilarious rap icon Flava Flav, at which point any further study of political philosophy seemed unnecessary. Though I don't believe His Governatorship has ever made any official comment about the legitimacy or legality of unpaid internships, he makes a convincing point in that he keeps the massive sword from Conan the Barbarian in his Private Office.
Speaking of abject cowardice, in order that I do not weap repeatedly when soon readjusting to another year of overwrought reading assignments, I have been scared into an unknown world of so-called "pleasure reading". For many years I had always believed that reading was joke cast on humans to amuse the gods, but this was mainly due to The Scarlet Letter and a pro-reading poster I saw once featuring Shaquille O'Neil. It seemed to me Mr. O'Neil would have little time to read, as he seems to spend most of his time engaging the public in a Socratic fashion, such as when he provides sports reporters with meditative responses such as, "What does it mean, 'analyze'?" Indeed, it seems that the great understanding of a word's true meaning might be found in having absolutely no idea what the hell it means. Well played, Shaqrates. Well played.
Though so far I have enjoyed reading about exciting new things and not being seasonally retarded, some of things I've been told seem a little suspect. For one, Stefan Fatsis' book on competitive Scrabble, Word Freak, has tried to tell me that "kylix" is a word referring to a Greek cup. This assertion is contradicted by the part of my brain resisting the leech of knowledge, which tells me that Kylix is some kind of alien or foreigner who hates the American way of life, and that I should fight Kylix by buying DVDs and cargo pants and watching reruns of "Pimp My Ride" until called upon by our Nation's Spirit to slay the French and others of deviant religions and lifestyles.
Don't get me started on the Da Vinci Code. The entire premise is completely absurd and offensive. The idea that someone would use some pseudo-historic mumbo jumbo to eschew a basic and obvious truth chills me to the bone. The Louvre could not possibly be a source of legitimate interest. Any suggestions otherwise are just plain irresponsible. And sorry, Dan Brown, I didn't read all your other books, so I don't know the histories of your returning characters. I don't know who this "Jesus" guy you're making such a fuss about is and what the heck he did in Angels and Demons, but you're certainly not encouraging new readers to find out.
Clearly, the inherent duality of these magical word tomes deserves more examination, but it is late and I must awake again to continue the life of an intern. Tomorrow, I will go forth with the bold objective to make sure the People of California will not have the burden of having to cope with my decapitation under the Sword of Conan. Heathens and bookmakers would be quick to point out this might not be the loftiest of goals. I guess you get what you pay for.