Poorly Written Letters to Famous People

I heard about this website you can go to and get a free 7 day trial to a database with just about every  famous person you can think of. I signed up and got tons of addresses off it (most of which i think are wrong) and then I unsubscribed. I was then sent an e-mail that it would take more then 7 days to process, so I ended having to pay for a full month. Either way i got a bunch of addresses, and i wrote some letters, but I forgot to send them out or something. I don't know, but here a bunch of dated crappy letters I never sent. Maybe some famous dude will read these and send me an autographed picture.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Letter #1

Dear #1

            Hello, my name is Nick Vandermolen hott student at Michigan State University. Over my winter break, I watched my first episode of Deal or No Deal. For months afterward I though only of you. Don’t worry, I let no dirty thought into my mind, only the images of us living a beautiful and sexy future together.

BooM! I can’t keep it in anymore. You be bangn’!

            I thought of a future without you and it sucked. Holding your warm hand, feeling the soft nape of your neck, breathing in the moist cloud of scent from your mouth; these are the things I can’t live without. 

            I truly believe in our future together. We can make this work. I know we can.

            Here, let’s start out slow. How about we meet up and go on a date to Taco Bell. I’ll pay, it can be casual, and afterwards we can go back to my apartment, watch a sweet ninja movie or romantic combady, and then I’ll walk you home. No mess, no fuss.

            Start off slow, E-mail me. My e-mail is nick.vandermolen@gmail.com. If you want call me, 989-255-5452. This is no joke, Let’s get together, if it doesn’t work, it don’t work.

At least E-mail.

Oh hey, my address is:

Nick Vandermolen

1300 E. Grand River, Apt #15

East Lansing, MI

48823

I miss you already,

Nick Vandermolen

Search my name on Google images to see if I’m legit. I am.

LETTER #2

Dear Bam Margera,

            I don’t know what it is about you, but I like it. Out of all those Jackass guys, I would say you are the most legit. I feel that you are different, and I like it. Thank you for being totally crazy, totally ballzy, but not totally gay. In some way you inspire me to know that I can do anything I put my mind to. I love how you just do it; do whatever needs to be done. Congratulations on getting married. What was you stance on sex before marriage? Do you save it for marriage?

            Right now I am working on a movie, it scares the shit out of me. It’s called, “Gay for a Summer.” We have major progress in it; we are slated to shoot this June. In someway I’m afraid that I am ruining the lives of the 20 plus people helping out in the movie. I’m scared that we won’t get the money, or that it will totally suck. Hey, if you know anyone that wants to invest in some ballz-ass movie, tell me. I’ll meet them in real life. I have a completed presentation kit. Either way send me some pictures of you butt if you could. Or at least a photocopy of them.

Thanks.

I’m not gay,

Vandermolen 

LETTER #3

Dear XXXXXXXXXXX, (rather not say)

            Hey man, how are you doing in A-town ? Are you holding it down like I know you are ? What’re you up to these days ? I saw you in some group photo that’s black and white and it looked like some hot movie set or something. Incidentally, that’s kind of what I’m writing you about. I’ve been keeping really busy with art projects of varying levels of difficulty, such as two fashion shows and writing books and stuff. Things have been rocking well for me, and sometimes I get in the paper cause of all of it. It’s pretty much sweet.

            The reason I am writing you is because I am producing a movie and need your help. Rick Boven (do you remember Tina Boven at the high school ? It’s her son…) and I wrote a film entitled “Gay For A Summer” for our film production company Knock Knock Albino and over the last year and a half we have focused all our energy to make this film a reality. “GFAS” uniquely combines the kind of abstract humor that took off in movies like ‘Napolean Dynamite’ and ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ with sensibilities of movies more in the vein of ‘Garden State.’ It’s really a healthy combination of the two; neither a ‘gay-bash’ film, nor a ‘pro-gay’ rallying cry. It’s just plain good comedy. Thus far we have accumulated nearly $5,500 worth of equipment, and spent hundreds more on project development. We have bands such as Mason Proper and Anathallo who regularly receive coverage in magazines such as Rolling Stone, Spin, and Filter as well as air time on MTV providing our soundtrack. We have a complete crew, all the equipment, and essentially the latest up and coming artists contributing to the latest up and coming film. The bad news?  We have exhausted all of our funds for the production phase of this film and need $6,000 dollars for raw film costs and food for our cast and crew during our shoot. Without this money we will not be able to continue the journey we set upon nearly two years ago.

            That’s where (hopefully) you can help us. We have worked hard on this project, invested thousands of our own dollars, and are not looking merely for a hand-out. We are looking for an investment in a film that is unlike anything on the market; a film that could open a lot of people’s eyes about their own prejudices, and help them to laugh at these prejudices in the same instant. In return for your investment you receive an executive producer credit and if, as planned, this film garners a distribution deal your money would be almost instantly repaid. With all the things we have going for us currently, distribution is a strong possibility.

            We appreciate your thoughts on this matter greatly, and don’t expect an immediate answer. Enclosed, you’ll find a packet of information regarding the film as well as a budgetary break down and a test scene. We understand the risk involved better than most, and would just ask you to consider it and give us the possibility to meet with you in person. I’m sure you’ll see that this is an exciting film and we’d love to have you be a part of it all. Regardless, let’s just get some Hunan sometime.

            Your blast from the past,

 

            Nicholas A. Vandermolen

            (989) 255-5452

            knockknockalbino@gmail.com

            www.gayforasummer.com

LETTER #4

Dear Quentin Tarantino,

            I want to see Grindhouse right now. A lot of my friends say that the movie will be sweet, but not good. That’s what makes movies good I say. A movie is not made on acting, or story, put those unforgettable scenes that seer our consciousness, the moments that make us blow our junk out. Thanks for making movies that aren’t totally gay.

            Hey, do you like the director Godfrey Ho? He’s one of my favorite. “Full Metal Ninja,” changed my life. He made 18 movies in 1987; his work ethic helps me know that I can achieve more. His huge balls in conjunction with your mother sac make me no that I can do whatever the hell I want to. Included are some balls poems I read in my poetry class. One teacher essentially told me to quit writing after this. Maybe he’s right. Fuck’em.

            Here’s the deal, I working on this risky new movie, it’s called “Gay for a Summer.” It’s a film, none of this second rate digital shit. Anyways, we still need $5000 for enough film to finish. This movie is going to be huge, if you know of anyone that wants to invest in these sorts of things, e-mail me at nick.vandermolen@gmail.com. Also, if have any advice, let me know. We have a completed presentation kit, everything is all set to go, and if no one invests well, than I’m screwed in terms of money, but damn it, I’m making this movie, because shit, what else is there to do. I’ve written a book, had two fashion shows, even had a dance party sponsored by Pepsi, I can do this. If you want a copy of my Transformation fashion show send me an e-mail.

Later,

Nick Vandemolen

LETTER #5

Dear Rasheed Wallace,

            You have some mad skillz on the court. A few years ago there was an awesome commercial where you explained your tattoos. That was an awesome commercial. Have you gotten any new tattoo’s? Thanks for representing D-town. You be fo’ real on the court. I love your slams, and your jams.

            I just wanted to say great job out there. Can you send me an autographed picture or a personal rap to me, Nick Vandermolen.

            Also, if you are interested in investing in my movie “Gay for a Summer,” of you know someone who is, please e-mail me at nick.vandermolen@gmail.com

Please continue bringin’ it on and off the court.

Your bro,

Nick Vandermolen

LETTER #6

Dear Robert Rodriguez,

            Thank you for being such a baller. I love the way you are willing to write and film some of the most prolific and original concepts ever though of. Your willingness to put yourself out there and just do it no matter what the consequences has very much inspired me. I am working on a new movie called, “Gay for a Summer.” I’m often so scared that we won’t have enough money, or that it won’t be good, or that the acting will suck. Sometimes I get scared, very scared. I have worked on many projects before, I have written a book, had two fashion shows, even had a dance party sponsored by Pepsi, so I’m used to putting my self out there and just doing it. But this movie, I have never experienced anything like it. I can hardly function sometimes. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat and I’m afraid that I am ruining the lives of twenty plus people. No matter what happens, filming starts this June.

            Please write me to encourage me, help me to be strong. Also, if you know of any one that wants to invest in my film, please send me some information. I have a completed presentation kit, and I am willing to go anywhere and meet anyone. I am baller shit.

            If you want a copy of my transformation fashion show DVD e-mail me at Nick.vandermolen@gmail.com. I’m more than a scared little boy; I’m your fucking father.

Heart,

Vandermolen

P.S. Enclosed is some of my poetry.

LETTER #7

Dear Shawn Michaels,

            I just have to say, you got screwed over at Wrestlemania 23. I used to like Cena, but he has had the belt for too long. He’s starting to piss me off. You practically made the company, oh well; hopefully you’ll get it when the time is right. I have to say, about 10 of us get together every Monday to watch RAW, we watch it shirtless. It’s awesome. Could you send me a sweet autographed picture? I would love to show it to all my wrestling buddies.   

            I’m a Christian. What is it like being a Christian backstage? Is it hard, do you get to go to Church? Are their Bible studies backstage? Remember the love of Christ Jesus in all you do. What do you think about hardcore and deathmatch wrestling like the CZW promotions and wrestlers like Necro Butcher? I have one more question. I’m a creative writing major, how can one become a wrestling writer. I’m very interested in pursuing that as a career.

            Thanks for putting your body on the line for me. Thank you. Hope you get the belt soon, you deserve it.

WWE Fan,

Nick Vandermolen

Bird Poop

I have no idea what this is from, but i found it on my computer. Here ya' go.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bird poop

            The color was mostly white, made me wonder why. I’m so used to having poop being the colors of brown, black, and the occasional green. But why white, I figured it was a dietary issue. My friend recently told me if you drink pina coltas all day your poop turns white. I want to try it but I don’t really want to get wasted though.

            The poop was in the middle of a heavily trafficked side-walk. As people walked with great speed to classes or back home, the bird poop seemed to stealth fully avoid all the crushing foot steps. It seemed to dart back and forth. Yet, it stood still, and nether moved, nor was it even alive. Only time can tell how long it lasted.

“To the birds I tell” –Red Hot Chili Peppers “Scar Tissue”

            I think about the image of a devil and an angel sitting on your shoulder. Talking to them, discerning what is the best answer to a given situation. Sometimes I wish a bird would fly down and take their spot. Me and my familiar. He would be a neutral ally and he would no doubt help me discern the truth and what was best for me. Yet, I hope he wouldn’t use me like a statue and put poop all over my shirt 

1000 page story

One time me and Jason Polan decided to write a 1000 page story that we alternated every ten pages, and we didn't tell each other what the plot was. I wrote 4 single spaced pages, sent it to him in an e-mail and we never talked about it again. Here it is.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1:

Peter, on the bus.

8/24/98

 

            Peter sat at the edge his front porch, it was cement. In the cement porch there was a small crack, when it rained it filled with water. When the water froze for the winter the water turned to ice, it expanded, and the expanding ice broke the front porch even more. For the past seven years he has watched the crack in the steps grow larger and larger. It wasn’t until 3 month earlier that he knew how why the crack grew each year. It wasn’t until 3 months earlier that he didn’t have a dad.

            Peter sat on the steps waiting for the bus. He poked the crack with a small twig; ants crawled out the crack on to the twig, he watched the ants fall and get sucked in to the crack. He wondered where they went. As he stared at the crack he wondered it the kids on the bus will think he is poor, because of the crack in is front porch. He thought the steps looked pretty low class, like he was a slum lord or something. His house was pretty nice despite the minor crack; it has a nice garden in front his mom planted. Some flowers were dead though, there was a fungus in the soil. Last year a guy tried to sell their family some fertilizer to kill the fungus. His dad refused the service and instead peed in a cup of bleach and poured in on the flowers, it surprisingly worked well against the fungus. Peter guessed his mom didn’t follow in his father’s path because if she peed in cup she would probably get pee on her hands. Girls pee different he thought.

            Peter thought a lot about his dad lately, not many kids start their fifth grade year without a dad. A lot of kids have two dads, but not many only have one. Peter sort of wished he had two dads sometimes, but he likes having a mom to.

            Peter dangled the stick as he waited for the bus. He was happy to start school again. The summer was pretty much a bore fest for Peter. He got to play video games, but he didn’t get to go fishing. He got to wear tang-tops, but he didn’t get to walk around pant-less. It was a summer of give and takes. He was happy to be wearing shorts today. It was warm enough to wear fashionable green shorts. There was a gecko surfing on the bottom of the shorts, he assumed surfing geckos are really in this season, the fifth graders would probably beg to differ. Peter didn’t really care what the older kids thought about him though. He knew that they would get older, and get Alzheimer’s way before he would. It is the very nature of being older.

            His shorts were bunched near his groin. At the right angle someone power- walking on the street could probably see his underwear from the street. He was too young for boxers, so his penis was not visible; the red power ranger that cupped his dinger was visible though.

            After what seemed like an eternity the bus finally arrived. His mom wasn’t awake to kiss him good bye, so he walked to the bus alone. He was a little sad, she would usually kiss him before he left for school, he liked kissing his mom. The sadness lasted only a brief moment because he saw his favorite bus drive, Mrs. Whytoshek. When Peter was in second grade the bus drivers name was Mrs Dibbsey but because Peter’s two front teeth were missing he called her Mrs. Tippsey. He was young, and he couldn’t help it. After two months of calling her Mrs. Tippsey, Mrs. Dibbsey got super pissed and made Peter sit in the front of the bus.

            For about a week Peter played it cool and thought nothing of it. But after a week of sitting in the front, Peter got mad, he liked sitting near the back so he could sit over the wheel well, he liked that seat because it made him feel like a ‘big kid,’ also the kids in the back seat talked about Dr. Dre. Peter liked it because it reminded him of Dr. Pepper. It was his favorite cola. He told his dad about how he had to sit the front everyday, and his dad got pretty angry. Peter didn’t understand. He called up the bus garage and demanded to talk to the one in charge. Peter’s dad talked sternly to the garage owner. Peter watched his neck vein bulged as he screamed about age discrimination. Peter knew the neck vein burst out of love. When the bus garage owner finally went to talk to Mrs. Dibbsey she found her in the back seat of her bus making out and getting ‘tipsy’ with a minor. What made it even more embarrassing was that the under aged boy Mrs. Dibbsey was really making out with was actually a girl. Mrs. Dibbsey, not being a lesbo, really was disgusted with her self after that. She quit her job after that and Mrs. Whytoshek took her spot.

            The minor she was makin’ it with was Jillian Veinhorn. She goes by Jim in the 4^th through 8^th grade circles. She doesn’t like her budding breasts and her newly hairy vagina, so she puts socks in her underwear and tapes down her supple pre teen breasts down with electrical tape. She still rides on the bus.  She usually sits with her boy-toy Robert, fifth graders suspect he may be a transsexual.

            Peter smiled when he saw his friend Jackson riding the bus. Jackson was black and he always thought it was cool to be friends with a rapper. Jackson was adopted and had white parents. He had never rapped in his life. Peter fell into the common misnomer that all black people can rap. He was young; he did not learn this stereotype from his dad. He probably learned it from his racist dentist, Mr. Dempsey.

            “Jackson, how was your summer.”

            “It was pretty cool; my brother taught me how to skateboard. I can do flips and stuff. What did you do over summer?”

            “I didn’t do very much; mostly I sat around a lot. I had a stupid baby sitter, she was really stupid. All she did was watch little house on the prairie and smoke cigarettes…oh! I saw her boob once.”

            “What, her boob! EEEWWWW!”

            “Yeah, it was pretty gross. She made me play outside, but playing outside it really stupid. I hate it out side. I just wanted to play Super Mario 3 but she wouldn’t let me. I got bored so I went inside and I saw her touching her booby.”

            “Why was she doing that?”

            “She was putting lotion or something on it.”

            The boys laughed about Peter’s old baby sitter, Melanie, and her breasts the rest of the bus ride. They talked about how ‘boobies’ are gross and that boys are better because they can take their shirts off. They also showed each other their nipples and Peter pretended to rub lotion on his nipples by rubbing spit on his nips. For a second their nipples touched.

            “Hey put your shirts on back their.” Mrs. Whytoshek yelled at the boys for lifting their shirt up. They put their shirts back on and laughed some more, it was like old times again, it was like fourth grade. Daisy was a little disappointed when Peter and Jackson put their shirts back down. She was sitting across from Peter and Jackson, but they didn’t notice her sexually gazing at their nipples. Daisy didn’t know why she couldn’t stop looking at their nipples, but she knew she liked it. She somehow knew she liked it more that there were two boys doing it at the same time. She put her face back up against the window when Mrs. Whytoshek yelled at the boys. She tried to go back to sleep like she did everyday last year, but she couldn’t fall sleep. She wondered if it was because she wasn’t used to sleeping on the bus again, or if it because she was so sexed up from seeing the boys skinny, shinny, slippery body. Daisy replayed the image of Peter and Jackson’s nipples rubbing and flicking off each other over and over the rest of the bus ride.

            The Bus arrived at Screeching Hawk Elementary School at 8:13am, perfect timing for the first day of school. Mrs. Whytoshek is always on time. Peter stared out the window at Screeching Hawk Elementary School, the only school ever built over an Indian burial graveyard. He starred at the school like he had never seen it before. The school seemed so different to him with out a father. Somehow the gray bricks of the school looked different. The windows didn’t seem to be in the same place, the grass wasn’t the right color, the flowers, trees, signs; everything was different, yet entirely familiar. For the first time he felt no comfort in the wall of Screeching Hawk Elementary School.

            “Come on man, we have to go to class, you can’t stay on the bus all day.” Jackson friendlily said.

            Peter sat in a daze staring at the school. His mouth hung low and his pupils dilated, he wasn’t in the bus anymore. He was in his mind, going through a file cabinet of memories. He thought about the time he peed his pants and his dad brought him a new pair of pants. He remembered the way his dad smiled even though Peter had dried urine on his crotch. He remembers his dads hug in the office, and his whispers of it’s ok, it happens sometimes. He remembered his face was rough and his untrimmed beard scratched his face. Even though Peter thought his face was bleeding he felt happy and loved in his fathers embrace.

            “Come on you douche, get off the bus.” Peter awoke from his daze with his face slammed against the bus window. Kyle was another fifth grader. He is a constant trouble. Last year he ate paste so he would puke at lunch. He knew if he ate paste he would puke, so during art class he put some paste in a little baggy he stole from his mom. She had a lot of baggies because she sells cocaine. At lunch he scooped a handful of paste into his burrito, and then he ate his burrito. A few minutes later he was puking in the hair of Ginny White. He loved her and hated her in the same breath. That day he hated her. She had to comb the puke out of her hair because it was mixed with paste and it was simply too thick to just wash out. People could smell the puke in her hair for days. Lately Kyle has loved her.

            “Hey man, that wasn’t nice.” Jackson stood up for his friend. “Come on man say you’re sorry, that was not cool.”

            Peter sat in his seat with a sad look on his face. He wondered if this is what he gets for not having a dad, beatings.

            “Fuck off!” Kyle shouted the obscenity in the face of Jackson. Jackson had never said that word, hard to say if he had ever even heard it, but in his very core, he knew that that was the most powerful word he had ever heard. It seemed to posses a power like he had never heard in a word. It’s as if the word came out of Kyle’s mouth with an invisible razor blade. Jackson stood in awe as Kyle walked away. The bus driver hadn’t seen a thing; she was eating a barbecue chicken ranch sub from Subway. It was new and she liked it.

            “Come on Peter, let’s go.” Jackson stuck out his hand to help his friend out of the seat. Jackson noticed Peter’s sudden look of sadness, but he said nothing. He assumed it was because of Kyle.

            “Thanks man.” Peter held the hand of his friend and pulled him self up. He felt happy again, like his age again. Jackson and Peter held hands as they walked off the bus.

            Daisy was still in the bus seat. She saw the entire interaction between Jackson, Peter, and Kyle. In the same zombified way Peter starred at the school, Daisy stared at the boys. She was in a daze not because she had forgotten memories of her father in her mind; she had unexplained images of boys, naked boys in her head. She couldn’t explain them, but the more she thought of naked wieners, bare chests, and smooth buttholes, the better she felt. This was the first time she had thought of all these foreign images. She walked off the bus to her first day of school as horny as a feral cat. She was only 9 years old.

            Peter let go of Jackson’s hand as he walked into the front door of Screeching Hawk Elementary School. It was the first day of school and he had been in this same spot 4 times before; looking at a known school, wondering about the unknown future, the first day of school ahead of him. This time though, he was here with out a father. For the first time, he felt alone. 

Biblical Measurement System (BMS) Pamphlet

This pamphlet was made for a protest Lombardo Barnyard did at the Capital Building of Michigan. Hard to remember, but after a failed attempt, this we passed about at least one, i think.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If anyone speaks, he should do it as one speaking the very words of God. If anyone serves, he should do it with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen.

1 Peter 4:11 (NIV)

The Bible tells us that we should glorify God though all things. Even through something as simple and commonplace as measurement God can and should be glorified. Therefore, Lombardo Barnyard has devised a system of measurements of distance, weight, area, volume, and time to help us to keep God in all that we do.

The Biblical Measurement System focuses on the only Truth we as followers of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior have: the Bible. By using the standard NIV[1] Bible published by Zondervan (pictured on the front of this pamphlet) as our principle physical measurement benchmark, anything can be measured.

It is important to understand that this physical earth can be measured using the physical Bible, but the actual value of the Word of God is as immeasurable as God Himself.

Distance 

The measure of distance will no longer rely on standard or metric (man-made) systems and units.

The standard unit of Biblical Measurement is called the Bible, which represents the distance from the bottom edge of the cover to the top edge.

The next smaller unit of measuring distance is called the Depth, referring to the depth of all pages within the Bible, including the front and rear covers. A Depth is the distance from one side of the spine of the Bible to the other.

The smallest unit of distance in the Biblical Measurement System is the Chapter, Verse. This term symbolizes the thickness of pages within the Bible, starting in Genesis and going through Revelation.[1] One uses Chapter, Verse by starting with Genesis 1 and adding additional pages, in order, as necessary.

 For example, the thickness of a credit card is measured by looking at how many combined pages of the Bible are equally as thick as the credit card. It turns out that a credit card’s thickness is equivalent to the number of pages between Genesis 1 and Genesis 31:4.  Therefore, a credit card is Genesis 31:4 thick. A 30 gigabyte iPod is exactly 1 Chronicles 8:25 thick.

 To combine the three units of distance (Bibles, Depths, and Chapters, Verses) in order to measure something that is not exactly one Bible or one Depth long, but is longer than Revelation 22: 21, the following system may be used:

 Number of Bibles, Number of Depths; Chapter, Verse

 If something was 4 Bibles, 2 Depths, and 1 Timothy 1:3 long, it would be written as such:

 4, 2; 1 Timothy 1:3

 This would be read: “Four Bibles, two Depths, First Timothy One: Three long.” 

The distance from Alpena, MI to East Lansing, MI is 1,683,587, 3; 2 Kings 9:1.

 Weight/Mass

 The standard unit of measurement of weight or mass for the Biblical Measurement System is the Bible. One Bible is directly proportional to how much one Bible weighs. This can be broken down further, similar to the Chapter, Verse distance measurement, only in terms of how much the pages weigh, instead of how thick they are. This unit is also referred to as Chapter, Verse. The notation for weight measurements is the same as that for distance, only without Depths.

 For example, a 2-liter of Dr. Thunder weighs 2 Bibles, Job 3:8 (2, Job: 3:8), while the popular Arnold Schwarzenegger documentary Pumping Iron on DVD weighs only Judges 5:29.

 Area

Area can be measured by using Bibles x Bibles, or Bibles². Atmospheric pressure can be measured using Bibles per Bibles².

Volume

 Volume is measured according to the amount of liquid (red wine) displaced by one Bible. This amount of displaced liquid equals one Bible. Chapter, Verse is also used for measuring volume, according to how much the pages displace.

 One can of Jumex™ contains about James 4:2 of liquid. Unleaded gasoline costs approximately 30¢ per Bible.

Time

The 24-hour system of time in which we currently live has become obsolete and, at times, forgets to honor our Father. Current time measurements focus on mean solar time. We worship the Son, not the sun. The Biblical Measurement System measures time using a unit called the Bible. One Bible equals the time it takes to completely read through the entire Bible.

To keep track of time, all clocks or watches will constantly be reading through the Bible. They will display which verse is being read, and from that one will be able to discern which book and chapter that verse is from, and subsequently what time it is. At the end of each Bible the clock will automatically go back to the beginning (Genesis) and begin reading again.

Days, which will now be called Bibles, will be divided into the 66 books of the Bible. Each Bible will be longer than a day, but bodies will certainly adjust. This system of time will also eliminate unnecessary time zones and daylight savings time.

Time is read by saying the book, chapter, and verse displayed on one’s clock. By recognizing the passage being read, one will be able to determine when to eat, when to sleep, etc.

When one sees “and ugly and painful sores broke out on the people who had the mark of the beast and worshiped his image,” one will know that it’s Revelation 16:2 and it’s time to get ready for bed. When one’s alarm clock goes off reading aloud “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,” one will know that a new Bible has begun, and it’s time to get up.

[1] New International Version

[1]Note: Chapter, Verse does not include any pages before Genesis (publishing information, prefaces, alphabetical lists, etc.) nor does it include any pages after the end of Revelation (any maps or tables of weights and measures).

Lombardo Barnyard Magazine Cover

In 2006 while I was printing off hundreds of pages for free at Central Michigan University's computer lab, Jarmo was making these magazine covers. Sadly, as of May 2009, the Lombardo Barnyard magazine has yet to come to fruition. I cross my fingers though.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------