A Message from the Cosmos

One of the things I like to do occasionally is check my horoscope. I'm a Cancer, which says a lot of really significant things about my personality. For example, according to Horoscope.com, my "charismatic marks" are my medium build, round face, prominent breasts, and a tendency to take charge. I totally agree, my breasts have always been really important to me. That's why I recently bought a collection of low-cut blouses. I hope that as a result of this blog people will start paying more attention to my prominent breasts. I have some really charismatic breasts that will no longer be denied your attention!

The website continues to remind me about some of my dislikes, according to the cosmos they are - "Strangers, revealing of personal life, any criticism of Mom." That's true. If you introduce me to a stranger, delve into my personal life, or criticize my mother you run the risk of being smashed to death by an astroid.

Anyway, I would like to debrief you on a few of my current and upcoming horoscopes -

This Week:
This week you'll follow your logic and forget about your innate intuition! You'll find it hard to make sense of a puzzling circumstance on Tuesday. Use your brain cells to understand your life scenario, as the Moon, your ruler, squares foggy Neptune in your zone of inner wisdom. You're ready for a vacation from your responsibilities on Thursday. You'll concentrate on having fun as the Sun conjuncts Mercury in your sector of amusement. You'll do your chores over the weekend.

Oh... yeah... I'll just use the brain cells for when the moon squares in my zone of inner wisdom with... Neptune. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Well of course I will. What else would I do? Oh, and then all the conjucting going on in my sector of amusement. Yeah... saw that one coming. All that conjunction is going to be way cool.

And last, I appreciate the straight-forward prophetic warning, "You'll do your chores over the weekend." I imagine the hopelessness I feel by that decree is kind of how the parents of Oedipus felt. It won't be until after I have finished my chores this weekend that I will realize, "Wait! What have I DONE!?" All of my efforts to avoid doing my chores will in and of themselves condemn me to the same fate. "Ha! I won't do my chores! I'm too busy cleaning these dishes to... damn it!" Chores are my destiny.

After getting a good understanding of how this week is going to go, I was curious to know what the cosmos have in store for my love life. Well I'll tell you. According to the Psychic Guild -

No other sign romances better, equally though, no sign takes it so badly when romance turns sour either. But with their changeable natures Cancerians are fascinating, mysterious, stimulating and extremely alluring. This sign is one of the most magic of all and once their magic has reached you, they are the most beguiling companions. After all, isn't the Moon the most talked about and romantic galactic identity?

So the most important thing we've learned here is that I'm extremely alluring. If you don't think so, it's because my magic hasn't reached you yet. Once it does reach you, I plan on beguiling the crap out of you. You won't know what to do with yourself. And if you don't believe it, well then you have clearly ignored the fact that the Moon is the most romantic galactic identity. Face the facts, I'm an extremely alluring, beguiling sort of guy. That's right, I'm one of the most magic of all the signs, you never stood a chance. Doubtful? Well maybe you forgot about this!

Final Note: Feel free to share your sign/horoscope and what cosmic truth it tells us about yourself. But if you don't want to, fine. I understand, because if anyone tries to get any personal information out of me, they are crossing the bounds of my cosmic dislikes, and I will pray that they are eventually smashed to death by a shooting star.

The Halloween Movie You've Been Dying to See

Every year, my friend Jon makes a short film for Halloween. This Halloween I was able to be in his movie. Since this is my second short-film appearance this year (for the first, click here), I'm hoping to star in at least one more so I can start releasing the Craig Blake DVD Collection. I need you to all start thinking about movies you could make for me to be in.

Again, I always hesitate to post videos because I feel people see a video and think, "I have no time to watch this video." But follow your heart, and I think you'll find that you do have time for this video. Plus, you get to be exposed to Craig... ACTING! It's like all your wildest dreams are coming true.

Warning: This is not a comedy. This is serious stuff. Wipe that smile off your face.

Final Notes:
- I suggest watching this film in full screen. But what do I know?
- I mispronounce one word in this short movie. I don't think you will be able to tell.
- Go ahead and vote on the loosely-related poll! To the right, down, and straight on 'til morning.

Propaganda Strikes Back

In July I wrote a blog post about propaganda. I really love the way old propaganda posters look. And as far as propaganda goes, communists know how to make it look good. I'm sure being a communist has it's ups and downs, but capitalists don't get to be in posters like this:


I'm pretty sure the text at the bottom is translated as, "Communism! Hell yeah!" I'm sure holding a machine gun in front of a huge red star would make me feel pretty fond towards Mother Russia myself.

Here is an example of some capitalism propaganda, for comparison:

There isn't even one machine gun or big red star in this poster. I don't feel united with these people. How can I? Not even one of them is holding a sickle, or clenching their fist above their head.

Anyway, I have stored up a few more propaganda posters, and I think it's been long enough to post a few more. I want no complaints.

1. Propaganda From World War II Allies:

I think the Chinese really had a handle on propaganda. My favorite part about the one on the left is that it doesn't seem to have any major agenda other than just covincing Chinese people that being Chinese is pretty cool. Is being Chinese getting you down? Check out these guys, they're all pretty pumped about it.
I imagine the Chinese writing on the poster to the right says something like, "China: We are making magic potions" or "Women, do your part in the war effort. Invent a magical potion."


















Continuing China's currently spotless propaganda record, I like the message this poster is trying to send, which I think is: "China, we've made elaborate costumes for all our children." And last in the category, here is a poster Canada produced when they were trying to rally the cartoon animals from Bedknobs and Broomsticks to fight in World War II. If I was a timid Canadian, this would certainly drive me to enlist, "I was nervous to enlist before, but that was before the anthropomorphic sword-wielding beavers joined the army."























2. Axis World War II Propaganda:
Both of these explain pretty well why the Allies won the war. The Nazi's would have been better prepared for our mainland attack, but they had tailored their defensive strategy to protect solely against the devastating onslaught of the United States' Ku Klux Klan military robot, driven by the commands of one bugling American Indian. Big mistake.
Second, the German's apparently thought U.S. soldiers were vampires. So when actual Allied soldiers showed up, they probably just let them pass, "Oh... no you can go through. We're on the lookout for our vampire enemies." Big mistake.

3. My Current Favorite:
I love the concept behind this poster. Basically this was the U.S. admitting, "You asians all look the same to us." I'm sure after this was printed everyone in America was like, "Oooh... so that's what the Chinese look like!"

Anyway, I hope after looking at these posters you've taken all these viewpoints to heart. If the draft ever returns, you can enter the armed services without fear, knowing that you will be fighting alongside beavers with swords. And that, at least, is comforting.

Final Notes:
- Craig doesn't necessarily agree with any of the propaganda above, except anything produced by the Chinese.
- Here's an optional music video by the Pet Shop Boys that has some nice propaganda looking stuff in it. It also illustrates how all communist-looking propaganda guys look very strong, and the appeal of holding your hand in a fist in unison with a bunch of other people or marching while carrying a red flag with a bunch of strong men wearing white leotards.

My Oregon Trail Travel Journal

Lately I've been dabbling in Oregon Trail II. I think most people remember playing the classic Oregon Trail in elementary school. Back in the day you would watch your little wagon with two oxen trek across the plains, trying your best to ensure nobody in your party dies.

Oregon Trail II is pretty much the same, except it shows your party crossing the plains with a birds-eye map view, and there are loads of additional options. For example, you don't have to go to Oregon at all. You can go to Salt lake City if you want, or a few cities in California. Plus, the jewel case on Oregon Trail II clearly states that this game is for "Ages 10-Adult". I fit snugly in this category. Anyway, with an intent to travel to Sacramento, my wagon companions and I set out on the Oregon Trail earlier this week.

First of all, who would lead our team? Not me. The last time I appointed myself as wagon master I drove us in a 400 mile circle, and was later fired by the wagon train. (Which is the most embarrassing way to lose Oregon Trail II... I would have much rather the entire group die of diarrhea, and I can only hope they did after they fired me.)

Since I had already failed, I couldn't think of anyone else better equipped to head this trip than Candace Cameron, who starred as DJ on Full House:


With my wagon master position filled, I went about filling the rest of the team.

1. Craig B. - I might be disgraced as a wagon master, but I still have a pretty good handle on when you should clean and dress a wound in the event of a bear attack... which is nearly always... considering your other option is to fill the wound with sulfur.
2. A 14 year-old boy named David - I decided that at least one of the people travelling with us should be an actual pioneer. David fit the bill.
3. Hermione Granger - I was thinking that as long as Hermione Granger was a part of our group, we might be able to expand our options, like so:
Broken Wagon Wheel
- Try to repair it
- Replace it from supplies
- Trade for a replacement
- Ride safely on the back of magical hypogriffs all the way to California

4. Karl Malone -

5. Spawn - It hasn't happened yet, but I anticipate that I'll eventually recieve a notice somewhere along the trail that sounds something like:
The lord of Hell has sent demons to kill you.
- Stop and gather wild fruit
- Caulk the wagon and float
- Have Spawn spitefully send them back to Hell with a bunch of totally bad-a guns

Here is a picture of our team right before heading out on the trail, plus two children who got in the way:

Independence Missouri, April 1852
First of all, oxen apparently only cost $11 in 1852, so I bought 20 of them. I figured that if every part of our wagon broke, we could all resort to mounting an ox and riding him to California individually.

The first challenge of the trip happened seven days and seventy miles away from Independence, when I realized I had failed to buy a gun. So we turned the wagon around, picked one up seven days later, and headed back towards California. At this point I was very happy to not be the wagon master. I'm sure all the wagon train's anger was deflected from me, and onto Candace Cameron.

After reaching Nebraska without too much trouble (besides Spawn getting a bad cold), we discovered an abandoned wagon which we searched for useful items, turning up a ladle. YES! Thank the fools who left their ladle behind! Haha! A ladle was something we had been unable to purchase in Independence, and we would no longer have to experience the extreme suffering caused by crossing the plains without a ladle. Luckily we were able to benefit from the misfortune of some ladle-less idiots somewhere down the trail.

After discovering the ladle, I tried my hand at hunting for the first time on the trail. One very lucky thing about travelling the Oregon Trail is that bears often wander laterally across the open plains of Nebraska. Obviously this isn't a very good simulation of reality, and I think, a downgrade from Oregon Trail I's hunting program which quite a bit more accurately depicts the behavior of wild animals, consisting of running haphazardly through the woods until they run into an object (usually a cactus or rock) forcing them to turn 180 degrees and run the other direction, as wild animals are prone to do. Also, once shot, animals in the original Oregon Trail would roll over on their backs in the same fashion as actual wild deer lie on their backs when shot. Anyone who knows anything about hunting can support what I'm saying.
I soon dispatched two bears, who were practically loafing around, for 300 pounds of meat, but I was only able to carry 186 pounds back to camp. I guess the designers of this game didn't realize that it wouldn't be a challenge for Karl Malone to wrestle both of those bears into submission and rip their arms off, let alone carry them both back to camp.

Suddenly I found our wagon train running into loads of rivers. You have a few options when crossing rivers:
1. You can ford the river, by just forcing your oxen to drive through it
2. You can caulk your wagon, and float it across
3. You can take the ferry or toll bridge if they are available
4. You can hire Indians to help if they are available

I had trusted the indians before, but I feel like every time I hire them to help cross a river my wagon tips over in the water, and without fail I lose my only checkerboard (which I'm always very careful to buy). I don't think this is coincidence. I think the Indians love checkers.

Something you might not know about every river in America is that they are plagued by maelstroms that bounce back and forth between each shore. Should you ever in your life plan to cross an American river, be sure to avoid the maelstroms. Otherwise, your vessel will tip over, and you will lose any checkerboards you have on deck.

We reached Salt Lake City on July 15, 1852. We kept going and soon enough we were crossing the Bear River. Unfortunately, I nearly drowned in the crossing, caught in one of Americas dangerous maelstroms no doubt. In fact, Candace Cameron recorded in her own journal: "July 20 - Craig B. gave us a good scare by coming close to drowning. I decided to continue." This doesn't really surprise me, since the only swimming techniques I have ever mastered are the sidestroke and the elementary backstroke. I'm sure everyone got to shore safely while I was still laying on my back screaming, "Soldier, monkey, plane! Soldier, monkey, plane! Why oh why did I only manage to learn these two very ineffective methods of swimming?!"

Unfortunately, I assume as a result of our difficulty crossing the Bear River, David suffered internal bleeding. Finally, I decided to "Administer laudanum." I have no idea what laudanum is, but it sounds like some sort of medicine. I imagine this is how the actual pioneers handled their injuries:
Pioneer 1 - Hey, David is bleeding internally, what do we have?
Pioneer 2 - Well... uhhh.... we have laudanum, epsom salts, peppermint, or we can increase his activity.
Pioneer 1 - Ummm... well, let's just try the laudanum.

David died a couple days later, but I still stand by my decision to administer laudanum.

Months later we arrived in Sacramento. After settling for a while, I was able to (I assume magically, and with Hermione's help) look into the future of Candace Cameron, which read -

"In 1852, Candace Cameron settled on 688 acres of land along the banks of California’s Sacramento River.
Despite some hardships in the early years, Candace Cameron proved extremely prosperous, steadily acquiring more land and becoming a leader in the growing community.
Regrettably, several of Candace Cameron’s descendants—including a major figure in an early twentieth-century government and business scandal—have managed to tarnish the family’s good name."

I'm not surprised to be honest. After settling for a bit, we turned around and tried to make it back to Salt Lake City (which is something you can apparently do in Oregon Trail II... this was news to me). This trip wasn't quite as successful. The wagon train eventually fired Candace Cameron while we were crossing the Utah Desert... which ironically is where I was fired two weeks ago. I checked out Candace Cameron's journal later, and found there was all kinds of stuff she was keeping from us. Take, for example, her comments on eagles:

April 2 - Saw eagles today near Lone Elm. What majestic creatures!
April 21 - Saw eagles today near Red Vermillion. What majestic creatures!
June 15 - Saw eagles today near North Platte River. What majestic creatures!
July 22 - Saw eagles today near Bear river.What majestic creatures!

I'm totally pissed she didn't tell me about all those times that she saw eagles! What kind of person sees a bunch of eagles, and doesn't tell everyone else?

Worse, Candace Cameron apparently hid some other things from our party:

April 4 - Enjoyed a cup of coffee with Mr. Lumare today at noon near Blue Mound.
July 15 - Mr. Lumare figured we would reach Great Salt Lake City today, and he was right.
October 22 - Mr. and Mrs. Billings came by for a visit today near Big Meadows; had a very nice chat.

Who in the world are these people? I was never told about any of them. This means Candace was either, 1. Insane, or 2. Undermining our wagon trip from the very beginning with these sinister, mysterious people.

It doesn't actually say what happens after the wagon master is fired, but I can only assume she died of diarrhea in the Utah Desert.

Final Note: Don't forget to vote on the new poll! Hot dog!

A Stroll Down Memory Lane With Craig

The other day some friends of mine were going through their yearbooks to find what they had written to one another. For the most part this ended in embarrassment. I shudder to think about the ridiculous things I might have written in other peoples' yearbooks. However, this did cause me to be pretty interested in my own yearbooks, and I went through them the other day.

Today I decided to reveal some of my favorite entrees. I have left out the names and phone numbers. Also, I have excluded the usual, "Call me" except in a few cases that I feel it was an important part of the message. I also colored all the yearbook messages in green so you can tell them apart from the rest of the post. Enjoy!

1999 - Eastmont Middle School - 7th Grade

"Craig, Sup? Your cool K. I won't kill anyone ecept you! ha! ha!"

- A friendly gesture! This person didn't actually sign their name, and I can only assume they are still planning to eventually good-naturedly murder me. Everyone else is safe, however. Put your fears to rest.

"The Brownie's in the mail - still love ya"

- This young lady was getting an early start practicing for her future integral role in the Relief Society. It isn't hard for me to imagine this message typed on pink cardstock and tied with a ribbon to some sort of affordable and unsatisfying candy.

2000 - Eastmont Middle School - 8th Grade

"CRAIG! Hey you are seriously going to be a heart breaker when you get older! I mean it. Stay sweet until next year"

- Unfortunately for this 8th grade gal, by the time the next year had rolled around I had become a cold and bitter individual. Also, in a roundabout way she was able to point out that I was currently totally failing to break the hearts of 8th grade females.

"Craig, Thanks for doing an awesome job in Health. I appreciate having students like you. YOU GOT AN "H"!

- Yes, I had my health teacher sign my yearbook. This could easily have been the reason why I wasn't breaking as many hearts as I had hoped for. The other reason is that I was short, skinny, and kind of a dork. But I think it was mostly because of my health teacher.

2001 - South Jordan Middle School - 9th Grade

"Craig. you suck you Jackass"

- This wound has never fully healed. Just like Frodo after he was stabbed on Weathertop.

"Craig, your the biggest pimp with the ladies!"

- Another friendly gesture, but unfortunately based upon no evidence. Subsequently, it wasn't true. More correctly he could have said, "Craig, you're the biggest pimp at collecting Spawn toys and merchandise."

"Graig, you are so nice,"

- I had many close friends during my year at South Jordan Middle School.

2002 - Bingham High School - Sophomore

"Craig, Keep going the women and you will hopefully get one sooner or later"

- Yet again, a person shows confidence that I can get a girlfriend. This sort of support gave me the fuel I needed to launch into my successful dating career you have all heard about, no doubt.

"Craig - Hey stud! Next year is going to be way fun!"

- This seems like a perfectly normal thing to say in a yearbook, right? Now consider the fact that this girl once stole a pen from me one year previous, and refused to give it back! I can only assume she still has it. Take this as a lesson that I will remember every time you have wronged me and take it bitterly to my grave.

2003 - Bingham High School - Junior

"Craig: Why are you so hot! I love you to death! you are so cute! Your smile and laugh makes me melt like a popsicle on the 4th of July! Call me!"

- It is my largest regret that I never took advantage of this glowing review. The next time someone tells me I make them melt like a popsicle on the 4th of July, I will be well-prepared by my past failures. Live and learn.

"Craig, From what I've heard you are a slutty, slutty person. And I will have nothing to do with that - Trent"

- I am identifying Trent, because I don't think he'll mind. I think this message was a good idea. That's all I have to say about that.

2004 - Bingham High School - Senior

"Hope is necessary in every condition! The last thing a fish will notice is water!"

- I assume this girl had discovered my secret plan to dive in front of traffic right after signing yearbooks. I hope she got a comfortable job writing greeting cards.

"Craig, Man I wish we would of had classes together this year. Call me"

- Very nice. Especially considering the fact that this person had told me my bleached hair looked like a cat had "pissed" on my head in my 9th grade yearbook. He was right all along.

Final Note: This picture is a good way to remember my high school career.

Isn't nature the coolest? Aren't fireflies the coolest?

The other day when I wrote about the first writing assignment for my MAGIC! class, Jaime and Mickael requested that I post the completed paper here on my blog. I turned it in last week, but I figured I'd hold onto it for a little while. Afterall, I did post something just yesterday, and I wanted to fill some space between posts. Kind of like when a girl texts you, but you wait a little while because you don't want her to think you are too eager to text back... no? I don't do that either. Mostly because girls don't text me.

Anyway, I decided not to wait. But I hope that you will still consider reading and commenting on the blog post I wrote yesterday. You can find it by scrolling down a little, or if you are especially lazy, by pressing this button.

Final Pre-Paper Note: I think it is only honest of me to let you know that the part about a man with hooks for hands was added afterwards for your reading pleasure, because I didn't have the guts to include it in the actual paper. If you don't understand the context of a man with hooks for hands concerning this paper, press this button. That button will also be useful if you aren't sure what this assignment was about in the first place.
Also, I know this is a little different than most posts, but that is because I don't get graded on most blog posts. Have a heart.

This was originally typed in 12.5 size font.

Wonder and Fireflies in Story City

My concept of fireflies was formed almost exclusively by Disney. Growing up in Utah, where fireflies are either sparse or nonexistent (I’ve never really been able to tell which), I actually never saw a live firefly until I was 19-years old.

Thanks to the dazzling technology of video cassette I was exposed to some of the more predominant activities of fireflies, mostly consisting of floating silently around the forests of Never Never Land or terrorizing the garden of Mickey Mouse. Apparently fireflies were prevalently loafers and vandals. Judging from my keen childhood observations, two things were certain: fireflies were closely related to fairies, and by some force—most likely magic—managed to stay permanently aglow.

When I moved to Iowa I remember nearly every relation or friend at a loss concerning what I could expect, except for two recurring topics: corn and hogs. And while corn and hogs most definitely dominated a large portion of my time in the Midwest, fireflies commanded my attention for the few pre-harvest months when they swarmed the fields of rural Iowa.

Corn was certainly an imposing force, and a field could literally stretch beyond my eyesight. Once you reached the end of that field, another one began. Local farmers earnestly claimed that corn grows fast enough that some nights you can hear it grow. I did spend some time attempting to tune in to these claims, but apparently my ears aren’t yet trained to pick up the frequency of growing corn. Regardless, the endless corn fields of the Midwest probably deserve a longer description of their own.

Hogs were indisputably in control of my sense of smell. On windy days the air would be thick with the compounded stench blowing into our town; usually home to two or three thousand individuals who were able to share this character-building experience two or three times a week. Needless to say, my relationship with corn was quite a bit healthier than my relationship with hogs. Although I’m sure the hogs, who spent their entire lives within the confines of a man-made aluminum compound, might return the sentiment. It is lucky for humanity that some especially gifted hogs are able to escape this numbing existence and harness their often untapped potential for sheep herding.

But as impressive as the corn was, and as potent as the hogs were, fireflies had the advantage of having already grabbed my attention and curiosity by being featured in at least one version of Peter Pan, the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland, and a short cartoon starring Mickey Mouse and Pluto.

The first night I finally spotted a real firefly, I quickly realized that at least one of my childhood assumptions was false: fireflies are not constantly lit—they blink. This didn’t disappoint me so much, although I had to face the realization that Walt Disney had ultimately betrayed me. My ability to get over this minor loss was helped along by the fact that there were thousands of them. In one night, thousands of fireflies had mysteriously managed to invade every corn field surrounding Story City, Iowa—corn fields which, we have established, often stretch beyond the horizon—like they had just been there all along, and maybe they had been. They would float over the top and in between the corn, over the road, blinking on and off in small, hovering circles. The image of countless tiny white lights hovering at eye level, at ground level, at waist level, is about as near to magic as I can probably hope to ever get, maybe even surpassing the thrill of being rescued by a man with hooks for hands, and contingent on me putting aside my hopes that Quidditch will one day be a reality. At least in that one aspect Peter Pan hadn’t totally led me astray.

I was completely and thoroughly impressed. There have been just a handful of times that I have felt so sincerely taken-aback by nature to label it “awe”, and that night was one of them.

Later at my apartment I wrote in my journal. First item of business: “Fireflies blink on and off—must put an end to Walt Disney’s campaign of misinformation.” Second item of business: “It is pretty strange how a flying bug that blinks on and off has the ability to make a person that much happier.” And I was honestly thrilled, which again, I found pretty interesting. The presence of thousands of bugs in my surrounding area, a situation that I generally take great pains to avoid, had a pretty profound and positive effect on my mood. I was thrilled every night for about two months, as the number of fireflies in the air slowly diminished bit by bit until they were finally gone.

Final Notes:
- This is the first time I've ever posted over four times in one month. I feel pretty good about that.
- Whenever I carry a gun, I nestle it between my breasts like the woman in this Facebook Mafia Wars ad.

That's a Nice Butv You Have There

Problem:

I own a Motorola phone that is constantly thwarting my texting efforts. My phone is endowed with a interpretive text function that is supposed to help it learn what I am most likely trying to say. But apparently my phone is a little squeamish, because, when typing "butt", my phone will first offer me "butv", followed by "but8". (At this point you might be wondering why I'm talking about butts so often. Consider these possible text sentences -

- Hey, you have something on your butt.
- Nice butt.
- I have a butt.)

Finally, on the third try it will produce "butt". Oddly enough, the second I throw an "F" afterwards, my phone immediately and accurately predicts that I want to call someone a buttface.

What drives me the craziest, is that butv and but8 are not words. I want to know what phone programmer sat down to program my phone and thought, "In the occassion that someone dials 2-8-8-8, I assume they are having a discussion about butv's."

- Hey, there are butv's all over the place.
- Quit goofing around with that butv.
- Have you considered some of these butv's?

But the trouble doesn't end there. Whenever I try to say "Hey", my phone quickly picks up on the fact that I very well might be trying to say "Hew". And if not Hew, then I am most definitely talking about a "Hex". I am glad Motorolla is catering to the needs of ax-murderes, gardners, and magicians.

When I try to talk about a taco, my phone realizes that I'm probably trying to communicate my feelings about tabo... which is a Philippino alternative to toilet paper. All of this from a phone that can perfectly interpret when I want to say "Nintendo64". (Something Bridger shared with me about his phone years ago, but I hadn't experienced until now.)

This needs to stop. Whoever the ax-murdering, gardner, magician, philippino, Nintendo 64 enthusiast who is programming these phones is, he needs to be stopped.