Attack of the return of the assault of the revenge of the Berserker

Back from the pre-release where I'm happy to say I was able to split the spoils of 1st place with another fellow, giving us 18 booster packs each full of new cards. Yay! Once again, the Crab crush all.

I have gotten to work to discover that the incompetent individual my supervisor left in charge while he went on vacation thought that MY vacation started today instead of Wednesday, so now I have to talk to said supervisor when he gets here in the morning to make sure my schedule does not remain screwed up. What's funny is, the situation could've been avoided with a phone call to myself because from what I understand, the culprit wasn't *sure* I was leaving. I won't go into the details, but it's just another dumb, easily-preventable thing which doesn't surprise me in a job where no act of illogic surprises me anymore.

If you've been reading my earlier posts, you'll know what I mean when I think there are some people here with grapefruits that have their position's name on them.

Sarcophagi

Are buildings sarcophagi for the living? Are tombs houses for the dead? Isn't it ironic how the only place you really find good, classical stone architecture anymore is in the field of grave monuments?

I went to the Nelson-Atkins Museum two weeks ago. For those not familiar with Kansas City, it's this HUGE stone building that houses a vast collection of art, and it's all covered in sculpted friezes and doric and ionic colums with glorious ionic and corinthian columns on the inside and it just makes you long for a time when buildings *meant* something and weren't just pre-fab slap-togethers of plaster and cardboard. Or at least it makes me feel that way. The beauty of the Nelson-Atkins is somewhat marred by a rather misguided modern art installation on the grounds resembling giant badminton birdies, but still, that big, old stone building is one of the few places I can think of where I truly feel like I belong. Damnit, I HATE modern architecture in all its utilitarian ugliness. I think we'd be a lot less wasteful with space and our environment if we actually had to quarry stone and shape it to make our buildings still. Notice how we really didn't start messing up the planet until the industrial revolution when suddenly economics was key over asthetics or comfort. And we've been on a downward spiral ever since.

I think when I die, I'm going to have commissioned the biggest, most ornate stone mausoleum money can buy, complete with a nice big gothic spire shooting up into the sky. Why a gothic spire? To serve as my final gesture of defiance, of course; a big stone middle finger forever extended toward the dismal, artless skylines of modern man.