Dear members of Westminster Nursing Facility,
BEWARE!! The American way of life and the world as we know it is under siege! Every day that passes by and the sands of time fall the eminent threat of Viloceraptor invasion grows greater. These turkey sized menaces will tear your tender and aged flesh straight from the bone just like a hungry teenager does to very left-over fried chicken.
You think they will take pity on you because of your, let’s be frank, old age? False! They are brutish scavengers and will be doing natural selection a favor by devouring you. On this day of reckoning it will be every human for themselves. It is up to YOU to band together and protect your location in the pleasant hills of Albemarle. You must act. How? I have kindly made a five-step plan for ya’ll.
1) Seal off all possibly Raptor entry points. The easiest and most economic way is covering these entry points (such as Bingo room glass windows) with duct tape. Three layers are usually sufficient. The one weakness of the Raptor talon is duct tape because of the way that they get stuck in the tape, leaving them stuck to the wall and vulnerable to shotgun assault.
2) Place instruments of defense in the essential locations. When being approached by an angry Raptor it is essential to be properly equipped. The best weapons against Raptors are the obvious shotguns, magnums, anything form Jurassic Park, Numb -Chucks which temporarily stun them (enough to escape) if used properly. The very best weapon is the AK-47 or any machine gun because of the large numbers of Raptors they can kill in the short window of time that you have to defend yourself. Place these life-savers in the main hall as well as in every living space.
3) Master these instruments of defense. What good are weapons if you don’t have the proper training to use them? My point exactly.
4) Install special “Raptor Alarms” across the Nursing Facility. The most orthodox form of Raptor Alarm is a red button with the footprint of a raptor on it that, when pressed, sets off the loudspeaker chanting “Raptor attack! Raptor attack! Raptor attack!” in a high-pitched scream until the threat is eliminated.
5) Build Raptor-proof bunkers. As a last resort you can fall upon these bunkers that will protect you from Raptors. Stock them with food, water and sleeping materials to last up to two days. Once finding that the prey has outsmarted them Raptors become frustrated and move on to ravage the next human settlement. You can then exit the bunkers, quickly thank God for your luck, and go on with your lives of Bingo and softened foods.
With modern technology such as time-travel, which they have already discovered in the future, it is a miracle that Raptors have not hijacked a time machine and struck in our present day… yet. The US government is too ignorant to see such dangers and it is up to my generation, “The Raptor Weary Generation”, to spread the word. Hopefully we can save your generation like yours saved mine from fascism and later communism. I sincerely hope that you immediately take full advantage of my warnings and turn these guidelines into a daily routine.
With Love and Good-Will,
Will Marsh, Head Supervisor of the Raptor Awareness Association of Charlottesville (RAAC)
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
WA 7
Dear members of Westminster Nursing Facility,
BEWARE!! The American way of life and the world as we know it is under siege! Every single day that passes by and the sands of time fall the eminent threat of Viloceraptor attacks grows greater. These turkey sized menaces will tear your tender and aged flesh straight from the bone just like a hungry teenager does to very left-over fried chicken.
You think they will take pity on you because of your, let’s be frank, old age? False! They are naturally scavengers and will be doing natural selection a favor by devouring you. On this day of reckoning it will be every human for themselves so it is up to YOU to band together and protect your location in the pleasant hills of Albemarle. You must take action. How? I have kindly made a five-step plan for you.
1) Seal off all weak entry points vulnerable to raptor entry. The easiest and most economic way is covering these entry points (such as Bingo room glass windows) with duct tape. Three layers are usually sufficient. The one weakness of Raptor talons is duct tape because of the way that they get stuck in the tape, leaving them stuck to the wall and vulnerable to shotgun assault.
2) Place instruments of defense in the essential locations. When being approached by an angry Raptor it is essential to be properly equipped. The best weapons against Raptors are the obvious shotguns, magnums (anything form Jurassic Park), Numb chucks which temporarily stun them (enough to escape) if used properly. The very best weapon is the AK-47 or any machine gun because of the large numbers of Raptors they can kill in the short window of time that you have to defend yourself. Place these life-savers in the main hall as well as in every living space.
3) Master these instruments of defense. What good are weapons if you don’t have the proper training in the use of them? My point exactly.
4) Install special “Raptor Alarms” across the Nursing Facility. The most orthodox form of Raptor Alarm is a red button with the footprint of a raptor on it that, when pressed, sets off the loudspeaker chanting “Raptor attack! Raptor attack! Raptor attack!” in a high-pitched scream until the threat is eliminated.
5) Build Raptor-proof bunkers underneath grounds. As a last result you can fall upon these bunkers that will fully protect you from Raptors. Stock them with food, water and sleeping materials to last up to two days. Once finding that the prey has outsmarted them Raptors become frustrated and move on to the next human settlement. You can then exit the bunkers, quickly thank God for your luck, and go on with your lives of Bingo and softened foods.
With modern technology such as time-travel, which they have already discovered in the future, it is a miracle that Raptors have not hijacked a time machine and struck in our present day. Not yet. Unfortunately our government is too ignorant to see such dangers and it is up to my generation, “The Raptor Weary Generation”, to spread the word. Hopefully my generation can save your generation like yours saved mine from fascism and later communism. I sincerely hope that you immediately take full advantage of my warnings are turn these guidelines into a daily routine. http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=42197
With Love and Forbearance,
Will Marsh, Head Supervisor of the Raptor Awareness Association of Charlottesville (RAAC)
BEWARE!! The American way of life and the world as we know it is under siege! Every single day that passes by and the sands of time fall the eminent threat of Viloceraptor attacks grows greater. These turkey sized menaces will tear your tender and aged flesh straight from the bone just like a hungry teenager does to very left-over fried chicken.
You think they will take pity on you because of your, let’s be frank, old age? False! They are naturally scavengers and will be doing natural selection a favor by devouring you. On this day of reckoning it will be every human for themselves so it is up to YOU to band together and protect your location in the pleasant hills of Albemarle. You must take action. How? I have kindly made a five-step plan for you.
1) Seal off all weak entry points vulnerable to raptor entry. The easiest and most economic way is covering these entry points (such as Bingo room glass windows) with duct tape. Three layers are usually sufficient. The one weakness of Raptor talons is duct tape because of the way that they get stuck in the tape, leaving them stuck to the wall and vulnerable to shotgun assault.
2) Place instruments of defense in the essential locations. When being approached by an angry Raptor it is essential to be properly equipped. The best weapons against Raptors are the obvious shotguns, magnums (anything form Jurassic Park), Numb chucks which temporarily stun them (enough to escape) if used properly. The very best weapon is the AK-47 or any machine gun because of the large numbers of Raptors they can kill in the short window of time that you have to defend yourself. Place these life-savers in the main hall as well as in every living space.
3) Master these instruments of defense. What good are weapons if you don’t have the proper training in the use of them? My point exactly.
4) Install special “Raptor Alarms” across the Nursing Facility. The most orthodox form of Raptor Alarm is a red button with the footprint of a raptor on it that, when pressed, sets off the loudspeaker chanting “Raptor attack! Raptor attack! Raptor attack!” in a high-pitched scream until the threat is eliminated.
5) Build Raptor-proof bunkers underneath grounds. As a last result you can fall upon these bunkers that will fully protect you from Raptors. Stock them with food, water and sleeping materials to last up to two days. Once finding that the prey has outsmarted them Raptors become frustrated and move on to the next human settlement. You can then exit the bunkers, quickly thank God for your luck, and go on with your lives of Bingo and softened foods.
With modern technology such as time-travel, which they have already discovered in the future, it is a miracle that Raptors have not hijacked a time machine and struck in our present day. Not yet. Unfortunately our government is too ignorant to see such dangers and it is up to my generation, “The Raptor Weary Generation”, to spread the word. Hopefully my generation can save your generation like yours saved mine from fascism and later communism. I sincerely hope that you immediately take full advantage of my warnings are turn these guidelines into a daily routine. http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=42197
With Love and Forbearance,
Will Marsh, Head Supervisor of the Raptor Awareness Association of Charlottesville (RAAC)
Sunday, March 29, 2009
WA 6 Final Draft
The four men have been waiting around the abandoned firehouse for over thirty minutes. The faded red bricks are chipped and covered with graffiti and the ground is strewn with old worn out tires and sewer pipes protruding from the ground. Anticipation hovers in the air. Would Slick Slithers even show up?
“Where is that creep? Are you sure he’s coming? I’ve got a bad feeling about this Ray. I’m thinking about heading on back to the station” rasps one the men nervously, an ill choice of words.
A shot pierces through the overcast morning in the East Baltimore projects. Officer Brown drops to the ground with an ominous thud. The ring shudders and fades away.
“Jesus, Ray! What was that for? He was just getting a little antsy” exclaims the detective.
“He was asking too many questions. We can’t have ANY questions, especially not directed at the head of the anti-drug branch of the Baltimore Police Department” replies Ray Lewis, “he was getting way to cheeky for my taste.”
Ray’s dark skin shimmers as he paces back and forth besides the firehouse. He reloads his black magnum. The only officer in uniform lags behind and scans his bleak surroundings. Ray Lewis’ white counterpart, Detective Jamaal Lewis, leans against the brick wall and exhales dark smoke into the air and mutters “I’m too old for this stuff.” He wipes the sweat off of his forehead with a rag. The January air is frigid.
Almost on cue, a black Escalade rolls around the corner and into the vacant lot adjacent to the firehouse. Out step two trench-coated, bulky and red-haired (probably Irish) tough guys. They open the back seat door and out of the smoky automobile appear the plump and dwarfish yet infamous drug lord Slick Slithers. His attire consists of a purple tux, Kanye West sunglasses, a gold tie and a white skull cap that loosely fits over his charcoal black dome. The three men stroll in a militant fashion towards Officer Lewis and Detective Lewis.
“We thought you guys would never show up” scowls Jamaal.
“Chill Homie… I’ll take my own damn time, but they say the Reaper waits for no man” shoots back Slithers as he looks Lewis up and down in an aggressive nod. An AK-47 is outlined inside the two body guards’ trench coat.
“Anyway, did you pigs get the memo ‘bout tonight?”
“It seems so” replies Ray, “cocaine is selling pretty well these days. Now we put our asses on line keeping the coast clear, how much of a profit are we getting?”
“How much do you deserve?”
“We say 40% of the cash and some ice for personal enjoyment” the Lewis’ reply in unison.
Slithers puffs smoke rings from his massive Cuban with confidence.
“I say: not a chance.”
All three men stiffen.
In a flash Jamaal and Lewis whip out their gats and blast slugs at their foes. The Irishman on the right’s head rolls onto the ground with a plop. Blood spurts into everyone’s eyes in a Monty Python-esc fashion. Shots ring out and cause a frenzy of organs flying and hands falling.
With a great din the firehouse combusts into flames as well as the policeman in the back. He runs to the back of the building and shrieks.
“CUT, CUT, CUT!” screams a young man with a beard, tight jeans, black t-shirt and Ray Bans. “This is a bloody mess! Where is the drama? I need more from you Sam!” His British accent seems legitimate.
“Im tired of these roles of villains and gangster’s” Samuel L. Jackson explains, putting on his spectacles. “Could we try a role more edifying?”
“And You,
“I’m getting the hell back to LA” Bruce Willis yells and tramps back to his trailer. The door slams shut.
“Where is that creep? Are you sure he’s coming? I’ve got a bad feeling about this Ray. I’m thinking about heading on back to the station” rasps one the men nervously, an ill choice of words.
A shot pierces through the overcast morning in the East Baltimore projects. Officer Brown drops to the ground with an ominous thud. The ring shudders and fades away.
“Jesus, Ray! What was that for? He was just getting a little antsy” exclaims the detective.
“He was asking too many questions. We can’t have ANY questions, especially not directed at the head of the anti-drug branch of the Baltimore Police Department” replies Ray Lewis, “he was getting way to cheeky for my taste.”
Ray’s dark skin shimmers as he paces back and forth besides the firehouse. He reloads his black magnum. The only officer in uniform lags behind and scans his bleak surroundings. Ray Lewis’ white counterpart, Detective Jamaal Lewis, leans against the brick wall and exhales dark smoke into the air and mutters “I’m too old for this stuff.” He wipes the sweat off of his forehead with a rag. The January air is frigid.
Almost on cue, a black Escalade rolls around the corner and into the vacant lot adjacent to the firehouse. Out step two trench-coated, bulky and red-haired (probably Irish) tough guys. They open the back seat door and out of the smoky automobile appear the plump and dwarfish yet infamous drug lord Slick Slithers. His attire consists of a purple tux, Kanye West sunglasses, a gold tie and a white skull cap that loosely fits over his charcoal black dome. The three men stroll in a militant fashion towards Officer Lewis and Detective Lewis.
“We thought you guys would never show up” scowls Jamaal.
“Chill Homie… I’ll take my own damn time, but they say the Reaper waits for no man” shoots back Slithers as he looks Lewis up and down in an aggressive nod. An AK-47 is outlined inside the two body guards’ trench coat.
“Anyway, did you pigs get the memo ‘bout tonight?”
“It seems so” replies Ray, “cocaine is selling pretty well these days. Now we put our asses on line keeping the coast clear, how much of a profit are we getting?”
“How much do you deserve?”
“We say 40% of the cash and some ice for personal enjoyment” the Lewis’ reply in unison.
Slithers puffs smoke rings from his massive Cuban with confidence.
“I say: not a chance.”
All three men stiffen.
In a flash Jamaal and Lewis whip out their gats and blast slugs at their foes. The Irishman on the right’s head rolls onto the ground with a plop. Blood spurts into everyone’s eyes in a Monty Python-esc fashion. Shots ring out and cause a frenzy of organs flying and hands falling.
With a great din the firehouse combusts into flames as well as the policeman in the back. He runs to the back of the building and shrieks.
“CUT, CUT, CUT!” screams a young man with a beard, tight jeans, black t-shirt and Ray Bans. “This is a bloody mess! Where is the drama? I need more from you Sam!” His British accent seems legitimate.
“Im tired of these roles of villains and gangster’s” Samuel L. Jackson explains, putting on his spectacles. “Could we try a role more edifying?”
“And You,
“I’m getting the hell back to LA” Bruce Willis yells and tramps back to his trailer. The door slams shut.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
WA5 Draft 2
I can’t believe that it just happened! After waiting for so long the day has finally come. I am officially stuck with the same man for my entire life. The same man that I LOVE is what I mean. So, in that case I am very excited and overwhelmed and confused and joyous. And what a splendid reception this is, with all of the great food (my favorite being the spicy chicken curry) and the exotic entertainment. That dancing monkey gives me the creeps though with his fake, bitter smile and the way his beady eyes constantly scan the room. Only Krishna could know what that monkey is thinking and it seems like for good reason.
Everyone seems to want something from me. Relatives, familiar and unfamiliar to me, come to congratulate me. “You finally got a man! I thought it would never happen!” says my cousin Ajaya. “Thanks” I mutter with dead emotions. She was always one for backhanded complements. Aunts, Uncles, Nephews and all sorts of distant cousins smother me with kisses and complements and tears. With the first opportunity I slip out of the dance hall and onto the patio watching over the dark Indian Ocean. The cool breeze whispers through my hair and soothes me as I sip from my champagne glass. Chandra the moon god watches over me and I can feel his comfort, keeping me strong with his promises. I nearly jump clear out my seat when I hear my husband yell “Get back in here babe! It’s time for the cake”. He kisses my lips and puts his arm around me and we march back into the hall. As he opens the door what I see horrifies me.
Shrieks of babies, nervous laughs from children and panicky yells from men rush onto me. That devilish monkey in the purple monkey-tux has just embarked on a furious rampage! Why?! On MY wedding day? Is this a bad omen? Has my new husband already been cheating on me? The beast is throttling Grandpa and I find that hot tears keep on falling from my eyes like the summer rain. “Lets Get It Started” slowly crumbles as the band falls into confusion. Chichi the Satan monkey rushes over to the cake. NO! Not the cake please…
I can’t even look anymore and I rush out back to the patio in a haze of anger and resignation. My husband comes tagging behind me and he tries to comfort me but I can see that he is hiding a snicker under that concerned look of his. I’ve seen this look before, like when my hamster died and he didn’t really care.
“It’s going to be OK honey. Its just a stupid monkey. Its funny isn’t it?” he bargains with me.
“NO its not OK!” I am furious at his sense of humor.
He hushes me and gives me a glass of red wine which I sip like a troubled toddler sips grape juice. I lean onto him with helplessness and emotional exhaustion. We look out onto the shimmering ocean under the moon and listen to waves lapping against the beach.
I sigh.
Everyone seems to want something from me. Relatives, familiar and unfamiliar to me, come to congratulate me. “You finally got a man! I thought it would never happen!” says my cousin Ajaya. “Thanks” I mutter with dead emotions. She was always one for backhanded complements. Aunts, Uncles, Nephews and all sorts of distant cousins smother me with kisses and complements and tears. With the first opportunity I slip out of the dance hall and onto the patio watching over the dark Indian Ocean. The cool breeze whispers through my hair and soothes me as I sip from my champagne glass. Chandra the moon god watches over me and I can feel his comfort, keeping me strong with his promises. I nearly jump clear out my seat when I hear my husband yell “Get back in here babe! It’s time for the cake”. He kisses my lips and puts his arm around me and we march back into the hall. As he opens the door what I see horrifies me.
Shrieks of babies, nervous laughs from children and panicky yells from men rush onto me. That devilish monkey in the purple monkey-tux has just embarked on a furious rampage! Why?! On MY wedding day? Is this a bad omen? Has my new husband already been cheating on me? The beast is throttling Grandpa and I find that hot tears keep on falling from my eyes like the summer rain. “Lets Get It Started” slowly crumbles as the band falls into confusion. Chichi the Satan monkey rushes over to the cake. NO! Not the cake please…
I can’t even look anymore and I rush out back to the patio in a haze of anger and resignation. My husband comes tagging behind me and he tries to comfort me but I can see that he is hiding a snicker under that concerned look of his. I’ve seen this look before, like when my hamster died and he didn’t really care.
“It’s going to be OK honey. Its just a stupid monkey. Its funny isn’t it?” he bargains with me.
“NO its not OK!” I am furious at his sense of humor.
He hushes me and gives me a glass of red wine which I sip like a troubled toddler sips grape juice. I lean onto him with helplessness and emotional exhaustion. We look out onto the shimmering ocean under the moon and listen to waves lapping against the beach.
I sigh.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
WA Wedding
Clang. Clang. The human makes me smash these miniature crash cymbals together. Laughing, clapping, eating, drinking these humans are so happy and fat. “What a cute little monkey” they cry in a patronizing tone “he can do tricks to!”. But I don’t mind, I have razor sharp teeth and Chichi the monkey can bite back. What a joyous occasion a wedding is, and yet I am forced to dance and do tricks. On the streets I wear the brown vest that master gives me but for this special occasion which master says will be “our big break” I wear a royal purple mini-monkey tuxedo. The dance to the music and enjoy this summer night on the coast of the Indian Ocean. The teary-eyed father dances with the bride, the children eat the cake and the elders sit in the chairs with champagne in their glasses and content smiles on their faces. Cheerful wedding music is blasted by the band. I jump into the routine for “Shout” by Tears for Fears and the men toss their lovers about but the children simply stare back at me, mesmerized.
I see an old man in a wheelchair, a white, majestic cake, a puppy (apparently the brides) and plenty of unsuspecting people. I also see opportunities. As I scan the room I devise a plan, a plan to turn it all upside down. Chichi has been a follower too long and now Chichi will rise up! I slowly drift farther from the middle of the stage toward the side where red drapes reach up to the ceiling. Click-Click go the drum sticks and the band launches into “Lets Get It Started” and I snap into action. I sprint full throttle to the drapes, climb up and jump off in a mosh-dive like fashion.
The world is now spinning past me and I land on the old man and grab him by the neck. My monkey hands are stronger than they think! The old man moans and pushes me off in the other direction. Cake is what I see. On all fours I cut through the crowd past peoples ankles, biting at random in the meantime. With ease I jump up on the table dive into the glorious, vanilla-iced wedding cake. Confusion. Children yelling and pointing, some crying, some laughing. I hear someone yell “Call the animal squad and take this freak out, QUICK”. The young men in the crowd try to get there hands on my but I evade them and grab huge chunks of cake and through them at bystanders. I save a piece for the old man sprint back to him and stuff it down his shirt. ARF ARF! The puppy is in hysterical and we share a mutual understanding as if he was yelling “Go get them!”. I hop on his back and cling to the rough of his neck. We ride through the dance hall like banditos bringing chaos to all. I see the bride in the corner with tears running down her face while the groom cowers a few feet away seemingly amused by this whole ordeal. This is the life!
I see a few men in padded jumpsuits with a net and a dart gun. This cant be good. I see him aiming it at me. As my steed and I rampage the night a dart hits my chest. Sharp pain… drowsiness… the world all melds together into a surrealist painting…. Losing body control….. darkness… complacency.
I see an old man in a wheelchair, a white, majestic cake, a puppy (apparently the brides) and plenty of unsuspecting people. I also see opportunities. As I scan the room I devise a plan, a plan to turn it all upside down. Chichi has been a follower too long and now Chichi will rise up! I slowly drift farther from the middle of the stage toward the side where red drapes reach up to the ceiling. Click-Click go the drum sticks and the band launches into “Lets Get It Started” and I snap into action. I sprint full throttle to the drapes, climb up and jump off in a mosh-dive like fashion.
The world is now spinning past me and I land on the old man and grab him by the neck. My monkey hands are stronger than they think! The old man moans and pushes me off in the other direction. Cake is what I see. On all fours I cut through the crowd past peoples ankles, biting at random in the meantime. With ease I jump up on the table dive into the glorious, vanilla-iced wedding cake. Confusion. Children yelling and pointing, some crying, some laughing. I hear someone yell “Call the animal squad and take this freak out, QUICK”. The young men in the crowd try to get there hands on my but I evade them and grab huge chunks of cake and through them at bystanders. I save a piece for the old man sprint back to him and stuff it down his shirt. ARF ARF! The puppy is in hysterical and we share a mutual understanding as if he was yelling “Go get them!”. I hop on his back and cling to the rough of his neck. We ride through the dance hall like banditos bringing chaos to all. I see the bride in the corner with tears running down her face while the groom cowers a few feet away seemingly amused by this whole ordeal. This is the life!
I see a few men in padded jumpsuits with a net and a dart gun. This cant be good. I see him aiming it at me. As my steed and I rampage the night a dart hits my chest. Sharp pain… drowsiness… the world all melds together into a surrealist painting…. Losing body control….. darkness… complacency.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
*Note: in this letter I will be tough on you, but, this is only because of the dire straits that our country is in right now. I have no personal problem you, I actually like you a whole lot.
Dear President Barack Obama,
After working hard as a Young Liberal at Charlottesville High School I am naturally very excited about your future term in the Oval Office. I phone banked, wandered house to house spreading the word to unsure voters and taken place in fundraisers all for you. However, with this dedication came expectations. With your time in office I wish that you work your hardest in the following fields:
1) The Economy
2) The War in Iraq
3) Public Education
With the shattered Economy that the US has at the moment you have the opportunity to rebuild it. What is left to lose? It is your job to make sure that we make smart decisions in economic policy. History proves that people are greedy and will take advantage of any slack that the government gives them money-wise and so you must have the back bone to regulate the market the appropriate amount. Set up more generous welfare systems but keep high standards in poor communities so that the individuals do not become lazy and use the government as a crutch. We cannot afford to take shortcuts, do what is best for the long hall. Do the right thing (are you friends with Spike Lee?). It is your duty to set up the foundation for a better America and a better future. Our economy is greatly affected by our budget decisions; one huge issue that impacts our economy is the war in Iraq.
Our current war in Iraq is a very delicate situation, both in Iraq and on the home front. The decisions you will be forced to make will surely not please everyone, you might not be able to please anyone at all. The liberals are expecting you to pull out of the war almost as soon as you come into power. This cannot happen for it will take a very long time to undo our military involvement there. The republicans surely will not be happy with anything that you do unless you give them more tax breaks. They are relatively hopeless to please on the subject of the war because they have no real arguments to begin with, just bitterness. Mr. President, you have got to make up a plan that will get us out Iraq as soon as possible, but with the most responsibility and the least damage. Sorry to disappoint but I have no brilliant ideas for you. The Onion was right when they said “Black man gets worst job in the country” as headline. However, your campaign for president was obviously successful so I have great confidence in your ability to move people and motivate them.
With such programs like No Child Left behind our nation’s public schools have been rewarding mediocrity and discouraging creativity and “out of the box” thinking. Standardized testing not only takes the focus away from learning but takes the joy out of learning. If a school fails its SOL’s (Virginia’s standardized test) it loses its credits which mean the government no longer funds the school. This is the very OPPOSITE that should be happening. The school obviously needs more help and the students deserve better from their government. With your time in office you should eliminate No Child Left Behind and put in place an educational system that only sets high standards but helps out the schools that are struggling. Put more money into the arts at schools. Without art, kid’s minds would have nowhere go where they could rest. A little bit of creativity in schools goes a long way and refreshes the mind.
I wish you all of the luck in the world.
With Respect,
William Toler Marsh from Charlottesville, Virginia
Dear President Barack Obama,
After working hard as a Young Liberal at Charlottesville High School I am naturally very excited about your future term in the Oval Office. I phone banked, wandered house to house spreading the word to unsure voters and taken place in fundraisers all for you. However, with this dedication came expectations. With your time in office I wish that you work your hardest in the following fields:
1) The Economy
2) The War in Iraq
3) Public Education
With the shattered Economy that the US has at the moment you have the opportunity to rebuild it. What is left to lose? It is your job to make sure that we make smart decisions in economic policy. History proves that people are greedy and will take advantage of any slack that the government gives them money-wise and so you must have the back bone to regulate the market the appropriate amount. Set up more generous welfare systems but keep high standards in poor communities so that the individuals do not become lazy and use the government as a crutch. We cannot afford to take shortcuts, do what is best for the long hall. Do the right thing (are you friends with Spike Lee?). It is your duty to set up the foundation for a better America and a better future. Our economy is greatly affected by our budget decisions; one huge issue that impacts our economy is the war in Iraq.
Our current war in Iraq is a very delicate situation, both in Iraq and on the home front. The decisions you will be forced to make will surely not please everyone, you might not be able to please anyone at all. The liberals are expecting you to pull out of the war almost as soon as you come into power. This cannot happen for it will take a very long time to undo our military involvement there. The republicans surely will not be happy with anything that you do unless you give them more tax breaks. They are relatively hopeless to please on the subject of the war because they have no real arguments to begin with, just bitterness. Mr. President, you have got to make up a plan that will get us out Iraq as soon as possible, but with the most responsibility and the least damage. Sorry to disappoint but I have no brilliant ideas for you. The Onion was right when they said “Black man gets worst job in the country” as headline. However, your campaign for president was obviously successful so I have great confidence in your ability to move people and motivate them.
With such programs like No Child Left behind our nation’s public schools have been rewarding mediocrity and discouraging creativity and “out of the box” thinking. Standardized testing not only takes the focus away from learning but takes the joy out of learning. If a school fails its SOL’s (Virginia’s standardized test) it loses its credits which mean the government no longer funds the school. This is the very OPPOSITE that should be happening. The school obviously needs more help and the students deserve better from their government. With your time in office you should eliminate No Child Left Behind and put in place an educational system that only sets high standards but helps out the schools that are struggling. Put more money into the arts at schools. Without art, kid’s minds would have nowhere go where they could rest. A little bit of creativity in schools goes a long way and refreshes the mind.
I wish you all of the luck in the world.
With Respect,
William Toler Marsh from Charlottesville, Virginia
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