Save the Pankration!

I'll admit - I have never posted about the Pankration before. I promise to explain it in full, but I'm assuming if you're reading this blog, I've probably told you in person, so anything I write on this website I'll just embellish. But that's why you read it. Because when I write, I turn my brain off and write ridiculous things like this.

However, you must act quickly to save the Pankration from wikiocide! That's right, I wasn't thinking, I just turned my brain off and the word "wikiocide" came out. If you're curious how I come up with posts, that's a perfect example. Rechecking Wikipedia this morning to calm the fears which I had hoped were unfounded, fears that told me the article I wrote concerning the video game holiday I made up called the Pankration had been deleted, I found this:

"It has been proposed that this article be deleted because of the following concern:

Not notable. See WP:ONEDAY."

My first reaction was elation. For someone to post this, that meant that they had to have actually read my article, and now they have knowledge of the Pankration. And knowledge of the Pankration is like a virus: once you have it, you can never fully get rid of it. You can only hide it, until it surfaces every ten years like syphilis and you are publicly shamed.

I followed the link to WP:ONEDAY (with the help of technology, you can too!) and I was so surprised by what I found that I killed a man by putting a butter knife up through his jaw all the way into his brain. Never sneak up on me again, Wikipedia.

"Wikipedia is not for things you or your friends made up. If you have invented something novel in your school, your garage, or the pub, but it has not yet become known to the rest of the world, please do not write about it on Wikipedia. Write about it on your own website or blog instead."

First off, I cannot start a retort until pointing out the aristocratic insult that insinuates that I might have invented the Pankration in a school building, a garage, or a bar. The Pankration was born in my head like Athena, and spilled out of my ears like a rainbow waterfall in the land ruled by koala bears. It is not novel - it is revolutionary (but only if you're playing a video game that involves you taking part in a revolution).

But listen closely, Wikipeedmypants, because I know you read my blog - just like you read my article on the video game holiday known as the Pankration. Wikipedia is only for things taht I or my friends have made up. Each word on that site has been made up by someone sitting at a keyboard, and each of those typists is someone's friend (except you). I consider your website the only valid option for posting false information, stae secrets, and lies that I've had to stop telling children because they called me out on them. Furthermore, you don't work for Wikipedia. You are not getting paid to delete my article. By deleting my article, you are only depriving millions of Eastern European children the chance to enjoy video games from sunset to sunrise. That's millions of sunsets that you've just stolen. You are the main villian in the next dream that I have.

I will never give up! You may be able to delete my article on a holiday that I invented, but you cannot delete my soul, and that's what counts. The only ones who can delete my soul are the Master Friends, who watch over the computer program that we're all hooked up to that simulates life while simeltaneously using our brains as billions of organic computers that power their starship as it works to stop what we know as Alpha Centauri from going super nova and destroying the life force that binds the universe together.

Did you see what I did there? I just started typing, and I had no idea where I was going.

November 1st

Stick Stickly said once that if the first words out of your mouth on the first of the month were, "Rabbit Rabbit," you would have good luck. Stick Stickly was also a tongue depressant which googlie eyes Elmer's glued on, so I'm not sure why I gave him such credence. Maybe because he reminded me of popsicles, and at eleven, popsicles are the reason you dream about a shopping spree in a grocery store.

I have never managed to say this. Every first of the month I fail, saying all sorts of things, from, "What time is it?" to "Where is the captain?" and "Never again!" On probability alone, given all the first of the months between the age of eleven and twenty one, I think I should have said it by now, even if I didn't mean to. I mean, I've said, "Who are you?" multiple times.

Last night I said it walking home from Common Grounds after midnight. I don't believe it worked. It makes since that you would have to say it as you woke up to the new month; also, with all the evil spirits, called Trevor, roaming around between midnight and midnight fifteen, it's logical to assume they intercepted my appeal to the benevolent spirits, called Master Friend, for good luck. This all comes from a belief system called Solar Inferno I invented when I was eleven to account for the existence of Stick Stickly and all the other puppets on Nick in the Afternoon, among other things.

Also, it could be that it was Daylight Savings Time, and what I thought was after midnight was only after eleven. All the clocks were set back (and I was still late to church). However, after some intensive internet research, I've found a hypothesis that if you say, "Tabbir, Tabbir" before falling asleep on the first of the month, you will secure yourself good fortune. O Master Friend, hear my prayer.