The members of the 4thHNC were invited to say a few words about themselves. Here are the responses.
Emma Lindsay was born Esmerelda Marie Longhorn Lindsay, after her
long-since diseased Grand-mother Esme Finklestein, on September 8, 1984,
at 4 in the morning, to Lord and Lady Steven L. Lindsay. She had seven
little fingers and seven little toes on each hand and foot. Being of
british descent, her teeth were prematurely formed; and what a truly
frightful smile they composed! The grin of this imp was of such a
distasteful variety that the delivering doctor immediately committed suicide
by slitting both the nurses wrists and setting a local nunnery aflame. All
were confused. None were happy.
The parents of this deceitful child loosed her upon the wilderness -
hoping never to again set eyes upon the demonaic monstrocity which had so
recently groped and clawed its way from its foetal chamber. After being
flung from a cliff, falling five stories onto a pile of sharp stones, and
being torn at by various birds of prey, Lady Lindsay was said to exclaim
"Cheerio! Let us be off. We're late for tea." Lord Lindsay nodded his
ascent. They were off. They were, after all, late for tea.
Little is known about the next few years of the life of this
cursed and broken daughter of nobility. Some say she lived among wolves.
Others claim to have seen her among the puffins.
Whatever the case, 9 years passed. She emerged.
With sunken eyes, chipped teeth, gnarled hands, Emma emerged from the dark
woods of New Lincolnshire and belowed at the accursed heavens.
The little we know about the next few years of Emma's life is due to
accounts from newspapers and whatnot. She killed a bunch of people, ate
some fetuses, robbed a few banks, shoved some old people down staircases.
To be frank, she just wasn't a very nice little girl at all.
But greater powers took notice.
An old wizend wizard saw the little brownie and beat his brow upon his
staff for having been so blind. He was said to have remarked upon little
Emma's wonderful prowess for battle.
Using his magical powers of wonder, the wizard enchanted Emma's feeble
animalistic mind, and brought her back to his fortress of woe. Day in and
day out he would set her against Igor the Bonecrusher in battle until one
day, she won. Of course, needless to say, he had been teaching her the
wonders of the centuries, blah blah, who cares?
So she had become a warrior - her teeth were now straight for some reason
- her hair (at least) marginally less greasy than it had been - her wits
were about her (though by all accounts, she was still no genius). In
short, she was a warrior princess.
And oh boy did this turn the wizard on. He would have Emma dress up in all
these fucking hot outfits and watch her fight and oh god oh god did he
enjoy his job.
But anyway, one day came for the light to fight the dark and emma fought
for the light, she won, whatever.
Then a bunch of time later she ended up in blah blah this story climaxed
right around the time that emma became a warrior princess and started
killing a bunch of shit in skin-tight garb. I don't think it can go
anywhere from here.
Oh right, one day the world was peaceful, the wizard had died, and Igor
sold Emma on ebay. We bought her and set her free, and here she sits,
content and occasionally well-groomed, in the 4th HNC.
OR DID SHE?!?!
Just recently, Emma went off to bathe in the blood of her foes and find
the long-lost Lord and Lady Lindsay to avenge her bereavement.
And this, children, is where our story ends.
jessica rosenkrantz is sick of everything
jessica rosenkrantz is
jessica rosenkrantz is writing this stupid biography
jessica jessica jessica jessica jessica jessica jessica jessica|
Alex is a unicorn and he likes to run around the open field pastures all of
the day long with unicorn pals and unicorn unicorn unicorn unicorn. Alex has a
dominion, and the dominion is strong and forceful, with Jubilex by his side.
If I had to describe Alex in just one word, I'd probably use Alex. Because
that's his name. I wish I had a name; I wish I had a name. ;(
Everybody wants to have sex with animals, but most people won't admit it. Do
not put your tongue on the dangerous bits of a hairdryer.
We will allow Alex to lay fallow in order to revive his soil.
It's not entirely clear why I injected you with truth serum.
It might be the case that all of your arms are tied behind
all of your backs. This is a reasonable assumption.
In that case many things will begin. One of these things will be
a comparison between the colors of the rainbow and violence.
Red: The blood runs out of your veins, down the back of your neck
Orange: Food poisoning takes you down
Yellow: Several venereal diseases occur simultaneously
Green: The ulna of your right arm finds a new residence in your skull
Blue: Your flesh burns and yet you do not pass out
Indigo: Poisoned by strong alkaloids
Violet: Masticated by wolves and left to die in the cold desert wind
And now an interlude written by Dingbat the Jovial Clown:
peas are nice
i like wolves
and wolves eat you
here's a list of things i'll let you borrow if I like you:
here's an excerpt from a short story I wrote:
In the 1600s, in the area that is now considered Slovenia, a small and puckish
dragon coalesced from several, nay, tens of tiny little chaperone bees. The
nature of a chaperone bee is to take care of a special royal person - but the
clear absence of royalty in the now modern-day Slovenia manifested a clear
problem - there were, in fact, several bees in residence, but no one to
chaperone! Eventually one bee fell into the habit of taking care of another bee,
and through dependence of this nature, 100% of bees began chaperoning 100% bees.
As they chaperoned and manifested upon one another, they became physically
closer and more reliant - and started to change into a separate conscious being.
The nature of this being was to take care of itself extremely well. It could
fly. A side effect of flying is the ability to breathe fire - it is a well known
fact that all flying creatures larger than a goat can also (although not
necessarily choose to) breathe pyrolithically. The local townspeople became
aware of this quasi-bee transient, and only knowing of mythical past ideas and
meanings, named it Dragon. It was larger the size of a small thing, but not
quite the size of two small things. It is undetermined as to whether the size of
Dragon was larger or smaller than three-halves of a small thing (although I
could analyze the size for you, if I desired).
here's a queue of things i like:
kitties, caffeine, sugar, drugs, the white album, the bolshevik revolution, me
[ graham30 at mit.edu ] also.
oh i'm Graham
|Alexis N Hornstein|
Alex Hornstein emerged from one of his mother's orifices on may 18, 1985.
Eighteen years later, he finally knew enough math to figure out that
P(alex emerged from vagina)= ( 13 )
( 1 )
As he progressed in life, he applied this hard-earned lesson to everything
he encountered. For example, when he saw a newt, he would shoot it on
sight. And the last time he saw a wildebeest he went into an
uncontrollable rage and recircumcised himself.
In related news, alex now has all four limbs. Arm, arm, leg, leg.
That's right. You have them, too. If you don't, you probably walk funny.
If alex were alive today he would want you to listen to cat
stevens and simon and garfunkle and all that wonderfully sappy sixties
music. And he would also tell you to fill your ears with sand and squat
over an anthill. But don't worry--you needn't take all his advice.
If you were to meet alex on the street, you wouldn't be able to
see him, because he's blind.
Before you go and get suspicious, Alex DOES pay the same UPS
shipping costs as you.
Every now and then, alex gets hungry. But that's only some of
Need a clock? Alex is always happy to lend you one. His alarm
clock is top-notch.
Alex doesn't like to reveal much about his intestines over the
internet, but he will tell you that he has a few notches in his belt.
However, that's because he works at a notch factory, and occasionally the
machines mis-notch and hit his belt by accident. That reminds me of this
time alex was working at the notch factory, trying to notch a lantern (as
per federal ordinance blue-lithuania-432352~2) In the end, he notched it.
Oh boy. He notched it like the beast that he is. Alex is so friggin
awesome he blows my mind. You should see him at a notching machine. Boy,
do his hands fly. They just looked like a blur, by def leaappard.
Pardon me, I'm getting off task. I'm supposed to be doing a pset,
not writing my bio.
Email alex at [ enjrolas at mit.edu ], and he will reply. Oh yes oh yes oh yes
coveted one. Wil he reply oh yes he'will.