Wear Sunscreen

Possible benefits of living in a fortified missile silo instead of a townhouse:

-Ample parking
-An atrium that could easily house a redwood
-Perfect lighting for nighthawks
-Noise cancellation for those late night jam sessions
-Nearly party proof
-Unlikely target for petty theft
-Excellent base of operations in case of zombie plague
-Ample storage space
-Self sustaining for extended periods (If you're fine with purified water and MREs)
-Bad ass mailing address (First blast door on your left, twenty kilometers outside of Kiev)
-No solicitors
-Plenty of space for guests
-Good excuse to oust unwanted guests (Oh, theres a launch scheduled in a few minutes, you may want to clear the blast zone.)
-Excellent excuse to buy a huge flat screen (Who wouldn't want to watch the news and pretend to be threatening the world leaders with nuclear warheads?)
-Simple bragging rights
-Fulfilling one of your most ludicrously sensible dreams as a nerdy little child
-Having an excuse to refer to yourself as Commander
-Seriously being considered when you yell "FIRE ZE MISSILES!" at random
-Being able to keep a bear as a pet
-In the foyer
-Being able to seriously purchase warheads
-Makes the transition from mild mannered Kinko's drone to super villain much simpler
-Being able to detect guests from miles away so you can turn the porch light off in advance
-Having a legitimate war room
-Three words: Closed circuit television
-Broadcasting a pirate signal berating the government from your secret underground lair
-Broadcasting a pirate signal from your well known underground lair, and challenging anyone to do anything about it
-Always winning at hide and seek
-Always
-Optional sunroof

The Question

It is the question, the gnawing feeling in the deepest pit of the mind, that truly drives us. It is like a burr on the tender flesh of our reality, ripping ever so slightly with every motion until we are forced to either remove it, or suffer a wound far greater than the answer would bring. It is the question that gives us a limited choice: address it, or lose the last shred of sanity left to us.

I for one appreciate this urgency, the drive to search and explore, the will to lay track for the train of thought. Taking time to answer these irresistible questions is integral to a complete individual. In the same way, the truly complete individual is never without such a question, where the merely content is at peace with the world as it is.

In such a case, the old maxim of "Ignorance is bliss" most certainly holds true, but at what cost? In order to abandon the question, one must abandon curiosity, and thus the drive towards wit and the knowledgeable virtues. Surely to the man whose mind is wracked with the question this seems madness, but then, he could never understand the glory of such peace.

Thus, as ironically enough is often the case, the man whom is driven by the question comes to the question of the question itself. Is it a greater thing to elevate oneself higher and higher intellectually, or is it a greater thing to atrophy and wallow in the bliss of the proletariat?

I have come to this question many, many nights. I assure you, if I knew the final answer, I would be the first to share it. Obviously, I've not chosen bliss quite yet.

Harder, Better

The forest moaned with snapping branches and crumbling leaves. There was not a voice to be heard, not a mating call or a bloodthirsty howl. There was only the chase. Nothing could match him for speed, for he seemed to appear amongst the trees ahead. Nothing could rival his strength, as great oaks toppled before his charge. Nothing could match him for dexterity, as he weaved through the forest like a mist.He should win. The only question was how much energy he spent in doing it. He was confident, he hadn't hunted in days. He was prideful, he had chosen a wicked prey. He was tired, and never had one seen such a reversal as when he ceased his howl.

Stacked

So I gave him a quarter.
"Here, this will mean more to you than it will to me."
I knew it was the best revenge.