The late nights, and early mornings.

Here I sit in front of the blog, watching the cursor blink patiently.

The cursor doesnt care how long I take to come up with an idea, the problem is that the ideas have run dry. Really I dont have anything to say.

It could be a consistent lack of activity at my workplace, in otherwords, nothing has really pissed me off to the point I feel motivated to rant and rave about.

Is it neutrality? Lack of intrest? Or just lack of activity. I feel by brain reducing itself to sluge as I cruise YouTube in search of something of intrest. Like homemade bombs.

Honestly, I have dabbled with the art of fire, as Im sure every young boy does. And some never grow out of it, or it just simply takes longer then expected.

I will admit to having a hard copy of the Anarchist's Cookbook, originally brought up from the rogue BBS systems of the 80's and 90's. I have tried most of the home made things in this book including the blue box, and a few home made experiments which resulted in a loss of eyebrow or two along the lines.

I watch youtube and the like and im kinda shocked to see the availiblity of people who have knowledge of this and give video explanations of how to make these IED's (Improvised Explosive Device), and I actually support this.

Why? Well I can bet that we will indeed kick a few of the people out of the shallow end of the gene pool. Darwinisim at its finest. These videos are a great setup for some doorknob to blow themselves to oblivion and hopefully not reproduce.

I wonder how these concoctions are ever come up with in the first place, are these legitimate science experiments gone wrong, or just some bloke who decided to mix up a bunch of things in thier garage and light it.

Common sense would say that 1 firework is fun. 8000 of em gun taped together might not be so fun.

Hitting a can of Wd-40 that is consumed in fire may be hazardous to your health. Duh.

The warning labels on most products should serve as a good warning to all about the product itself. On a pack of batteries here on my desk, in bold letters is the phrase, DO NOT EAT.

Well duh. The metal and acid probably arent good for your system. Do they write the label in advance of stupidity, or in hindsight?

Ponder this, perhaps the meaning of your existance is truly to serve as a warning to others.

The fox is going back to the den, and shake his head over the irony of it all.