A Day At The Beach, AKA The Greatest Story Ever Written Ever by Zack Mayo and Four Other Students in my English Class. But Mostly Zack Mayo.

In my English class, I was tasked to write a story with four other classmates with the topic simply being 'A Day At The Beach.' This is what we came up with.




Once upon a time, a man with a shadowy past named Johnny Crunch took a day off from his job in the factory to take his family to a day at the beach. Johnny, his wife, his son, and his dog all walked from their apartment to the nearby shore. Once they arrived, Johnny's son asked him to get an ice cream cone for him. Johnny leaves his family.
Meanwhile, less than a mile offshore, Captain Morgan, captain of the Barrel, a thousand foot pirate yacht realizes that his ship is completely dry. To replenish his stock of booze, he sends his evil henchmen, the Rum Runners, to go ashore and pillage. Dozens of Rum Runners ride ashore on their jetskis. The Rum Runners rape, pillage, and plunder everything in sight in their search for booze. When they stumble upon Johnny's wife, they brutally attack and rape her. The dog attacks one of the assailants, killing him. The Rum Runners shoot the dog 1,000 times, leave the wife, and kidnap the son as payment for their fallen comrade. Just as the Rum Runners are leaving, Johnny Crunch returns with an ice cream cone to find his dog slaughtered, his wife raped, and his son being kidnapped. In tears, he drops the ice cream cone. Johnny is then snapped from his trance like state by the dying words from his wife, "Save him Johnny, please!" Johnny promises he will save their son, and runs from the beach to prepare.
On the Barrel, Captain Morgan and his second-in-command, First Mate Swallows, finish directing the loading of the alcohol when they are brought the boy. "He's fabulous," said First Mate Swallows, "can I keep him?" Captain Morgan slaps First Mate Swallows hard across the face and says, "No, he will not be tainted by your vile touch, he stays with me!" First Mate Swallows runs off crying.
Back on the beach, Johnny Crunch has finished his preparations and commandeers the jetski of the fallen Rum Runner and rides into the night. He pulls his jetski alongside the massive pirate yacht and pulls out his grappling hook. Johnny throws the hook over the side of the railing and climbs up. He vaults over the railing, pulls out two pistols, and shouts "IT'S CRUNCH TIME, BITCHES!" Two Rum Runners run to investigate the noise, and Johnny shoots them simultaneously. Johnny then enters the nearest room and begins blasting. Rum Runners in the room are screaming and shouting, but few are able to return fire before Johnny Crunch picks them off with pin point accuracy. Johnny walks up to one of the wounded Rum Runners and asks where his son is. The Rum Runner points to some stairs, leading to the lower deck of the ship. Johnny thanks the Rum Runner by shooting him in the head.
At that moment, First Mate Swallows bursts into the room with twenty more Rum Runners all armed to the teeth. Johnny combat rolls behind a marble statue of Captain Morgan. As pieces of the statue crumble around him, Johnny pulls the pin on a grenade and tosses it behind him. It explodes, killing most of the Rum Runners. First Mate Swallows escapes down the stairs. Johnny finishes off the remaining Rum Runners with ease and proceeds down the stairs as well.
Johnny arrives at the end of the corridor and enters the room.
There's a naked woman tied to the wall in the back, with First Mate Swallows, Captain Morgan, and Johnny's son standing in the middle. Captain Morgan has a gun to the boys head. "Shoot him, Swallows!" shouts Captain Morgan, but Johnny was too fast, and shot First Mate Swallows in the chest. He fell. Captain Morgan then pushes the boy and points at Johnny, but once again, Johnny was too fast, and shot Captain Morgan in the head. Captain Morgan fell alongside First Mate Swallows. Johnny's son then runs to hug Johnny, shouting "Daddy!" A gun shot sounds. The boy falls. First Mate Swallows drops the gun, still laying on the floor. Johnny walks up to him, sticks the gun in his mouth, and says "Swallow this!" and fires. Swallows' head rolls off. Johnny then gets up and walks to the naked woman and unties her. She thanks him, introduces herself as Destiny, and asks his name. "I'm the new captain of this vessel. You can call me Crunch, Captain Crunch. Let's go, it's Crunch time."

On Why A Man Who Can Kill Everyone On Earth at the Word Banana Should Not be Eligible for the Nobel Peace Prize

and variouf other interefting topicf fuch af King Obama and the Divine Right of Liberals.
That's a poke at all those crazy revolutionary pamphlets that had f's for S's. Open a text book, I beseech you.

TO THE MATTER AT HAND

This morning I, like every other two-bit writer in the country, was awoken by a loved one(in this caseKris) to be informed of the news that Barack Obama had won the Nobel Peace Prize. Beyond the immediate attempt to invent a new tier of the phrase of "WHAT THE FUCK?" because the situation called for it, I imagined a smirk faced bastard sitting behind a podium, accepting the award for Nobel Prize. This smirk faced bastard happened to be the Grand Enlightened Monarch of America, and he also happened to be Commander in Chief of an army that has over 1,000 military bases overseas, a standing army of 1.4 million(with almost 500,000 abroad), and at the word Banana, can launch 5,000 nuclear weapons in all directions that can literally destroy all life on Earth. Even the penguins. I really hope the password to launch nukes is Banana and that several men sporting all black and sub machine guns are on their way to kill me right now.


This guy, who as of January 20th 2009 has been in charge of the United States, one of the most imperialist and aggressive nations of the past century, does not deserve the Nobel Peace Prize. The Norwegian Assholes of the shoes-on-wrong-foot Retarded Nobel Committee cited his "extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples." Now I'm not a fucking political scientist, nor am I pants-on-head retarded like the Nobel Committee, but this is the guy who went to give a speech to the children of our country, and parents started pulling their kids out of school. Does that not say something about the cooperation between peoples in this country? Iraqi's and Afghan's must sure enjoy the cooperation of the business end of an M4 Carbine held by a 17 year old who was too stupid or too poor to do anything else with his life. or her life. but not his fabulous life, because gays are clearly detrimental to morale.

I cannot stress the stupidity of this. Nor can I stress that this is NOT a good thing. The last thing the King of the United States needs is another god damn crown. Jagland(the fucktard in chief of the committee) said "His diplomacy is founded in the concept that those who are to lead the world must do so on the basis of values and attitudes that are shared by the majority of the world's population,"

Last I checked, Obama was the president of MY FUCKING COUNTRY. Not the the world. Fuck the world. The rest of the world can literally go fuck itself. I'm not sure if you read the Constitution oh dearest king, but your job is not to police the world and ensure peace for all. It's simply to veto legislation, talk to congress, and negotiate treaties with other countries. Making sure some fucking Iranians don't slaughter those silly land gabbing jews is a worthy cause, but not your fucking job.

This is just another case of the world falling over and landing anus first on Obama's(what I would assume) gigantic black cock. We can call the Nobel Peace Prize Committee the First Anal Expeditionary Squad. When you look at what Obama has done(been black), and is responsible for(wasting a lot of hard earned...nay...printed/borrowed money), I, and one would assume everyone else that isn't must-wear-helmet-when-leaving-the-household retarded, would say that my left nut is about as worthy of the Nobel Peace Prize as Barack Obama. But at least my left nut isn't responsible for the lives of the people of Afghanistan and Iraq, who would assuredly say that King Obama is anything but peaceful.

If I were king of sports land...

Today I was hit in the face with the harsh unloving reality of capitalism when I discovered that Los Angeles has two baseball teams. Not only that, two relevant baseball teams. I say this to the people of Los Angeles, you greedy greedy bastards, do you REALLY need TWO baseball teams? Same to you NYC. You're a bunch of greedy assholes. This is what happens when you leave capitalism unchecked, all the rich people take all the cool things(like football teams) and even the uncool things(like baseball teams) away from the poor poor people of cities like Billings, Montana or Birmingham, Alabama. Something needs to be done!

Don't worry, this is why we have government!

Having finally seen the light in the uses of government regulation, I'm going to apply to become Sports Czar of the Obama Administration. Being that I pay my taxes and have not been recorded promoting communism, I'm pretty sure I'll be approved by Monday. Once I'm appointed Sports Czar, the first mandate I'm making is that a city can only have one sports team per sport.

Sorry LA Dodgers, your days of not getting hit by things is over. And GET-THE-FUCK-OUT JETS JETS JETS because your bullshittery will no longer be tolerated. Chicago Cubs, I'm dealing with you the way I deal with girls that lead me on and break my heart, never letting you go! That's right Chicago White Sox, the MLB already has a team with colored Sox, so go fuck yourself. NY Mets, don't even waste my time! Hey, Jacksonville Jaguars, you're too close to Tampa, GTFO!

Barrow, Alaska, enjoy your new football team, the Barrow Rollers!
Killdeer, North Dakota, you get a fucking baseball team, The North Dakota Deer Shankers!
Phenix City, Alabama, I appreciate your sticking it to weird spellings of things, have a baseball team compliments of Chicago, the Phenix Dropouts!

and the best of all

Arkadelphia, Arkansas, you deserve a punch in the face, instead, you get a football team, the Arkadelphia Desert Eagles

Don't tread on me, I has a glock.

After an intense concert and high speed giraffe hand off last night, I was hoping to spend my Sunday watching football and stuffing myself. Danny Lustman(lifetime neighbor, now living with us) had other plans in store. I wake up to the sound of knocks and "Zacky, let's go shootin' today!"..."Wuh?" "Don't make me cannonball on that bed, let's go shootin, you got 5 minutes!"

Now normally I'd say the last thing I want to do before noon the day after a concert is anything besides stuff myself and watch football, but my inner male really got the best of me. Shooting shit sounded very appealing today. So I get myself out of bed and I think, what do you wear to go shooting? I went with my camo pants, and then I stumbled on my 'Ireland' T-shirt, and I knew I couldn't go wrong there. As I was marching out of the garage, I found my Call of Duty/Fidel Castro hat, and there was really no other choice at that point.

Danny and I grabbed some lunch and made off for Revere Gun Range just off Copans. We march in, and we're assigned lanes 1 & 2. At this point I'm giddy. There's guns EVERYWHERE, the guy behind the counter had three teeth, and the place was completely un-airconditioned. I knew we'd come to the right place. "What kinda target you want?" Danny asked, and I looked. There was Osama, a black target, and a circly one. "I'll take the black guy" I said, and immediately began giggling. No one noticed. Danny came armed with a .9mm and a 'forty'. After some very basic instructions('Always keep yer weaponry pointed downrange'), I was soon handed a loaded pistol(the .9) and given a target about 10-15 feet away(your guess is as good as mine really).

I lifted the weapon. It was heavier than my controller like in Call of Duty, but then again, I don't have the rumble pack. "You've been training you whole life for this" I told myself aloud. Years and years of FPS training ran through my head, I pointed the weapon at my black target. I lined up the sights with my left eye, just like CoD4, shut the right, and fired. The noise was damn loud, but I was wearing my headphone thingies. I look downrange, my shot hit the 8-ring, on the upper left side of my black man. I lined up again. Fired. 9-ring, bottom right. Lined up for the third time, fired, and just like in the movies, bulls eye. Right under the X in the chest. Danny patted me on the back. "Damn son!" A grin stretched the length of my face.

After a few clips of the .9, Danny handed me the 'glock forty'. I'm not sure what the exact significance of the 'forty' aspect compared to the .9, other than the fact that it's louder, heavier, and more powerful. I line up the 40 and shoot downrange. It's got a lot more kick back. Danny hands me a box of bullets. Now this is where I find my first problem in gun handling. I couldn't get the damn bullets in the clip. I'm pretty sure I've already developed arthritis. It was a struggle. I developed various techniques that didn't help me at all. I later found out that if you just convince yourself you're about to be shot, you at least move faster, if not more efficiently.

My second problem in gun handling came in user error. Apparently, if you slack your wrist while shooting, the bullet can get lodged in the chamber and jam. I solved the problem easily by ejecting the clip and reloading, but it was damn annoying, because it happened a bunch of times, until Danny's friend(who met up with us) diagnosed the problem, but by that time the 40 was out of my hands.

Anyways, I did my time with the 40, but I really did my better work with the .9. Danny set me up with an Osama sheet. I stared him down. He was sporting an AK-47u. Maybe there is something to be said for those people who say videogames accustoms youths to violence.

No time to worry about that...

I did some mean head shots. I was a little disappointed no one called out "headshot" whenever I got one, but the feeling satisfying none the less. I played around with the distance of the target, I didn't miss a body shot from at least 30 feet, I'd say.

After about 400 rounds of spent ammunition, Danny and I called it a day and packed his bag full of guns and left. I kept my two black man sheets, and brought the home to show my mom. She was very pleased. s a matter of fact, I haven't seen her smile like that in awhile. Sick mindedness clearly runs rampant in my family. I brought the sheets upstairs, taped them to my wall, took pictures, then tagged all my friends in the various bullet holes after I uploaded them on facebook.

All and all, I'd say I'm very pleased with my brief foray into shooting make believe black people and terrorists.

Because sometimes epic does come true.

I'm here with you this morning to describe the most epic moment of my life in entirety. I word that funny so you understand that I will never, ever experience anything so epic ever again. Getting married, hover cars become main mode of transportation, attending Green Bay victory in super bowl. NOTHING, will rival the epicness of what I'm about to describe to you, and for once in my life, I feel even MY words can't do justice to the experience, but I will try...


The night, like most epic nights, began with a concert. Kris, Sean, Matt, Milly, Sen, Kayla, Courtney, and I all arrived together. We had a blast, the show was great, there were some stellar quotes, and Kris was on my shoulders for the entire duration of Fall Out Boy's rendition of Don't Stop Believin'. We(who's we?) also established an inside joke(that I shan't not revealeth) that I hope will persist for some time. All in all, we left the concert completely satisfied and assured that we had an epic night. But fate had other plans in store for us. Matt dropped Kayla and Courtney off and the rest of us headed to Steak & Shake for an after concert buttsecks extravaganza. We all enjoyed our meal, the waitress herself was a blink fan, and all was merry. However, while paying for the meal, what I like to call Matt's 'stupidic gold' kicked in, and he played the crane game where you try to win a stuffed animal. Matt won a Giraffe. There was a cookie monster in there too, but fate denied me my cookie monster. I cried. As we walked out, Matt remarked 'Here kid' and threw me the Giraffe and winked at me and cocked his finger, a glorious cliche. I squealed like a little school girl and got in my car. Kris Milly and Me driving my car, with Sean, Sen, and Matt driving his car.


As we were pulling out, my 'assholic gold' kicked in and I remarked to Kris "We should throw the Giraffe at him."
"Pull up along side him and we'll give it to him"
He pulled out of the parking lot, I tried to get beside him but I was blocked by late night hungry people pulling in. We take a left and take a back road to 441. I still couldn't reach him...
We pull on to 441, we all remark that he's getting away. I weave in and out of traffic.

And this is where EPIC happened...

Finally we reach him. My windows roll down. The song on my ipod changes to Silent Melody and blasts it.
(This is the part where you play this song.)



We pull up alongside him, Kris shouts with ire "WINDOWS DOWN!"
Matt doesn't understand. "WINDOWS DOWN!" Kris shouts again, waving the Giraffe. Matt understands. His window rolls down. "TAKE IT!!!" Kris shouts. Matt is confused. "TAKE THE GIRAFFE!!!" Matt reaches out. The cars are moving side by side going 60 down 441. A stuffed giraffe and several thousand dollars worth of car are at stake. We swerve, Kris stretching as far as he can out of the car, Matt doing all he can to steady the wheel and reach for the giraffe. Milly and I are shouting. Sean and Sen are laughing. For a quarter mile stretch, the fate of the world was at risk. I edge my 2000 Honda Accord Garbage Can Edition closer to Matt's 2007 Honda Civic. I look over, the cars are close. Very, very close. We're all shouting. Kris stretches to his limits, Matt to his. Matt barely grasps the giraffe with the tips of his fingers. Kris feels the pull and lets go...




The giraffe slips out of both hands and falls to the ground at 60 miles per hour...Milutin looks back, and sees a dark object tumbling, and the coming to a halt, all in slow motion, like Mufassa falling into the herd of wildebeasts in Lion King. "NOOOOOOO!!!!" Kris shouts with all this might. My voice finally reaches the edge of my lips, and only insane decibels of incoherency follows. Matt slows his car. The light ahead of us is red. "WE'VE GOTTA GO BACK!!!" I shout across the lane. "It's too late now..." Kris remarks. "BETSY!!! WHYYYYY????" I shouted, and suddenly the giraffe had a name. She was Betsy. And now she was dead. We all laughed, only to hide the pain. The cool hands of insanity had come upon us, silently coaxing us into a false sense of happiness.

Our paths parted ways, I made my left onto Judge Winicock road. Silence ensued. As we approached the turn into Kris' neighborhood, Kris opened his mouth to spew what I can only describe as the reason why I love him so much.






"We really dropped the...giraffe on that one"




The car slows to a halt, and I no longer find myself able to operate a motor vehicle due to laughter spasms. I pull bleary eyed into Kris's neighborhood to end what would undoubtedly be the most epic night I'll ever have. It seems that sometimes epic does come true.

Government Kills

As none of you know, President Obama signed a bill into law in June which personally affects my life. The Food & Drug Administration, more commonly known as the FDA, was given the power to regulate the sale of tobacco. Today was the first day that the FDA is able to prohibit the sale. All for the my protection. Thank you government, for placing restrictions on something I would like to buy. Yes, yes, it's true. I very rarely enjoy a Djarum Black Kretek Cigarette. No longer, unfortunately, will I be able to buy them, to put my hard earned money into free market. Why? Because if I smoke those things I'll die.

Let me tell you something. I DAMN WELL FUCKING KNEW THERE ARE BAD THINGS IN CIGARETTES WHEN I BOUGHT THEM. And I also saw the nice little label that told me that smoking is bad on the pack as I opened it and succumbed to the evil that is tobacco. OH EXCUSE ME. FLAVORED TOBACCO. But not Menthol. Nope. Why not? Well it's because Menthol has been around for awhile. Well it's still flavored, won't that attract teen smokers all the same? Yes but you see it's been around for awhile. I'm still not convinced. Well you see those foreign companies that sell flavored cigarettes in the US have been stealing some of our business, but NOT to fret, we(Big Tobacco, as they call us) have a bunch of shiny politicians in our pocket which we give millions of dollars to annually so they don't get voted out office, so we're going to tell them to but this bill into legislation that will BAN flavored cigarettes, ALL IN THE NAME OF PROTECTING OUR YOUTH.

FAT FUCKING CHANCE

No. I almost guarantee that this is being done so domestic companies can continue a government favored monopoly on cigarettes. Now don't get me wrong, I'm totally pro-tobacco. There literally would not be a United States of America without tobacco. It's a cash crop that never loses demand, what's not to love? But this is absurd. What's next? Kids have been playing too many video games which means they don't get outside enough which means they're obese and aren't studying enough, so in order to protect them, WE THE CONGRESS, and KING OBAMA are going to mandate that NO ONE can buy more than one video game a month. That's exactly what's they're arguing now! I'm 18 god damn years old, come war time, the tax man can come to my door and demand I fight or face firing squad, but because 16 year olds are buying flavored cigarettes, I can't buy them? That's absurd. If that's the case, we might as well stop selling alcohol to anyone, because somehow, kids are stilling getting their hands on it and driving drunk. Surely, those fuckers in congress and the King and his czars want to continue to protect our youth from the dangers on alcohol! Oh...wait...alcohol companies also spend millions of dollars a year getting congressmen to do their bidding. So much for that idea!

It just pisses me off...

People have been disregarding the health effects of modern tobacco 50 years now, it's still selling strong. It's a persons right to live(and die) as they choose, if they work for it. If that teenage pregnant girl working minimum wage at McDonalds wants to spend and hours worth of work to smoke 3 inches worth of death leafs to feel better about herself, you have no god damn right to tell her not to. Or that's how the argument would have gone. But I've just about given up hope. No one cares anymore. The government knows best, that's what they're there for, right? Why bother questioning under what authority the government has the right to ban an item that has been selling on the free market for years? Why bother question the constitutional legality of government Czars? Why bother question why the government takes 35% of my money(or rather, why the government takes all our money, and so generously lets us keep 65% of it)? Why bother question anything?

You know what?

Fuck Obama, fuck our unlimited term representatives, and fuck the judicial branch for letting things get so out of hand. Out of hand. More like ruined beyond repair. There's no turning back now. Not in the one party system we have now. And it is a one party system. Don't kid yourself. They're all the same. Congressman Ron Paul, will you do me the honors? "We have a one party system. Both parties endorse the welfare state and corporatism. Both parties endorse intervention overseas. But they also write the campaign laws. So they have made it virtually impossible to break the monopoly."

I was discussing this last night with my dad, and we both came to the same conclusion, going to Washington before around 80 years ago meant doing your duty. It was a burden. But come a couple big wars and a few greedy bastards, it's become a job. It's all about ME now when it comes to politicians. First things first, I need to get reelected. To do that, I need money. To get money, I sell votes(tying us back into the cigarette bullshit, see?). But it's not 'selling' votes. Now, it's just pushing legislation to protect our children. Don't mind that the only reason I'm here is because I get money from corporations that lean on me to vote on legislation in ways to favor them. From banning a product mostly made by foreign companies, to pushing financial regulation, everything is done to profit someone, and nothing changes in Washington. Did I say change? I hope those of you who voted for Obama because you though he'd change things are god damned ashamed of yourselves, because you should be. More so than cubans who voted for Castro and Germans that voted for Hitler. Nothing is going to change while people can be life long politicians. Obama never worked a real damn day in his life. We need term limits. Ever since being a politician became a job and not a duty, the idea of the people voting out incumbents is no longer a sufficient term limit. Senate reelection rate is 81%, the House is around 90% for the past 44 years. That's a 4/5 chance you keep your job for the next 6 years if you're a senator. Pretty sweet deal right? If I vote to ban that flavored tobacco, I'll get money from tobacco companies to campaign with, and with that I'll almost assuredly get reelected. Sweet deal, I think so.

People have gotten pissed off lately, and there will be a swing in congressional seats in the coming election, but don't let that fool you. Change is never coming in this system. Never.

Pearl Jam is the only love of my life.

After the Harry Potter series ended, I've continually had to find new reasons to continue living. Pearl Jam and their music is one of those reasons. Rocking strong for like 16 years now, Pearl Jam is truly one of the bands of legend. A band that spans generational gaps. A band that always has something important to say, but their message means something different to every set of ears that happens across their music. Hard, soft. Grunge, punk. Anyone who appreciates rocknroll can, and should, appreciate PJ.



But to me it really doesn't matter if you do or don't. PJ is one of the few bands that I put above debate. A God, if you will. An entity in which I feel I owe something to. And I undoubtedly do owe some of my sanity to them. Mostly to Placebo, as far as music goes, but still some to PJ. Here's a Pie Chart of Things To Which I Owe My Sanity. If you find yourself in one of these categories, I thank you. If not, strive to be one. If you did the math, yes.



Anyways, back to Pearl Jam. I've seen them live(with Kings of Leon, who is also golden), and they are absolutely amazing. Throwing my newly purchased Pearl Jam shirt wrapped up in a ball to Will back and forth through a crowd just as the sun went down while PJ was jammin' away will forever be a memory sealed in my head. It was glorious.



The reason I've felt so obligated to express my undying love of Pearl Jam to all of you today is because they released a new album, which I just picked up, and am listening to as I write this. Now I'm not going to jump into the business of reviewing music, people do that better than me for money, but I can tell you that if you like Pearl Jam, Backspacer is a must buy. It's golden, and full of Eddie Vedder goodness. "The Fixer" is solid, I've already listened to it about 200 times(I bought the single on iTunes awhile ago), and I'm personally a big fan of "Unthought Known", it is probably the most reminiscent of the classic PJ sound. "Among the Waves" is another song that almost belongs with the PJ songs of old, but with this albums positive undertones, I almost feel a new category should be made. I'm not sure if we can expect more of these positive tunes in the future, but I'd like to see it happen. But if you think going into Backspacer you're going to get this lovie-dovie album, you're wrong, give "The End" a listen, it almost brought tears to my eyes.

Now that I'm done sucking Eddie Vedder's glorious piece, I would usually list the things wrong with the album here, but I really don't have much in the complaints department. As I said, Pearl Jam is perfectly flawed in my eyes. I'm pleased I bought the album, and being a person who very, very rarely pays for music, that's a huge compliment. I love you Pearl Jam, never stop rocking.