Scratch That

Ollo! Merry Christmas! JESUS IS BORN! ...even though some  scholars say He was probably born in the spring sometime. BOO, PARTY POOPER SCHOLARS!!! Fun loving and chill scholars, your'e good. We're celebrating. (Sorry party pooper scholars. Merry Christmas- ba dum bum tss) My philosophy is, if the  exact birthday of the  Hero of the World got lost, what's wrong with still celebrating? What's worse, picking a most likely wrong day and still honoring the Christ, or abstaining altogether? Am I the only one who, upon hearing the word  Scholar , thinks of a pale, dusty, and bespectacled guy  with his nose glued to dusty books (no, I did not mess up my noun numbers, I meant numerous books glued to one nose:), a candle flickering in the foregr ound? Just me? Okay. Anyways, things are constantly changing in my life. (Constantly changing: does that mean that if things stayed the same for a change, it wouldn't be staying the same? Smart people: work it out for the rest o

Context: I don't know when I wrote this, but I do know under what circumstances. I was assigned to write a paper on Winnie the Pooh, and hated it. Pooh Bear comprised a significant and nostalgic part of my childhood, and ironing him wrinkle-less and dead in pencil lead and cold analysis didn't hold much appeal. Yet, required it was.  Here is the surprisingly satisfying (given the circumstances) result, unedited from the original: A Three Paragraph Paper on Pooh Bear (Me) Oh bother. Seeing as I am a bear of very little brain, I don't know quite how to begin. Oh dear, did I spell that right? I don't have the slightest idea. Do you have any honey? Christopher Robin was reading a book to me; owl's tree makes a cozy spot for hearing his stories, and eating honey. And then the story came to life. There was a real Alice, and a real rabbit, and even a real hole that alice, poor dear, fell into. After we were done, I asked Christopher Robin, I said "Chris