wow... it's been a long time since i've visited this page... i left this for myspace....and left myspace for facebook... wut's next, eh? anyway, things here r pretty boring... even facebook can't consume ALL of my time... so i've been playing golf, liftin, swimming, and reading instead... got a damn blister from destroying a root in the lawn... well i'll stop bitching now.... I'm reading Catch-22 rite now... I'm a hundred pages in.... yet i can't find any point to the book... only Slaughter House 5's pointlessness can even compare to this one's... but (like slaughter house 5,) it's still very amusing... Seeing that I have really rather nothing better to do i'm going to quote a couple of good passages from Catch-22... "In sixty days youl'll be fighting Billy Petrolle," the colonel with the big fat mustache roared. "And you think it's a big fat joke." "I don't think it's a joke, sir," Clevinger replied. "Don't interrupt." "Yes, sir." "Weren't you just ordered not to interrupt?" Majore metcalf inquired coldly. "But I didn't interrupt, sir," Clevinger protested. "No. And you didn't say 'sir,' either. Add that to the charges against him," Major metcalf directed the corporal who could take shorthand. "Failure to say 'sir' to superior officers when not interrupting them." "Met calf," said the colonel, "you're a goddam fool. Do you know that?" Majore Metcalf swallowed with difficulty. "Yes, sir." "Then keep you goddam mouth shut. You don't make sense." Havermeyer had grown very proficient at shooting field mice at night with the gun he had stolen from the dead man in Yossarian's tent. HIs bait was a bar of candy and he would presight in the darkness as he sat waiting for the nibble with a finger of his other hand inside a loop of the line he had run from the frame of his mosquito net to the chain of the unfrosted light bulb overhead. The line was taut as a banjo string, and the merest tug would snap it on and blind the shivering quarry in a blaze of light. Havermeyer would chortle exultantly as he watched the tiny mammal freeze and roll its terrified eyes about in frantic search of the intruder. Havermeyer would wait until the eyes fell upon his own and then laughed aloud and pulled the trigger at the same time, showering the rank, furry body all over the tent with a reverbreating crash and dispatching its timid soul back to his or her Creator. i only wish i could write this well..... bravo Joseph Heller and with that... i call it a night | 
