My great aunt Lillian is a famous author,

My great aunt Lillian is a famous author, but I am infamous, as in "not" famous, or so I thought the meaning of the word. I wrote that once in a biographical sketch for undergrad

uate study #1, as my teacher called it. What I didn't realize was that everything I had written would come to pass. As I named myself 'infamous' by accident, so I became infamous.

Then I wrote "Once upon a time." Something miraculous happened. My teacher couldn't explain it.

My teacher sharpened my pencil for me. "Hold that thought" she said, dancing to the sharpener. Jeremy used a tablet but the rest of the students were just courtesy avatars at best.

But not this time. Changes had been made in the code. Changes that could make or prevent other changes. It was time Change called itself. One of the avatars was an Agent.

We will want to whoop it up and dance upon Agent Orange's grave, but we will not, because we do not want to continue any of the course behavior that he encouraged. No, we will just

piss on Agent Orange’s tomb. Every man, woman, and child will drop shorts, shank it out or squat, rattle every stinky drop of urine onto the sacred ground of the scum of the Earth.

That will teach Agent Orange, even if he's been dead for so many decades. The main takeaway of this whole shenanigan, if you ask me, is pretty straightforward: we just need to

invite Agent Lemon and Agent Lime into the same meeting to see if we can come up with a consensus on anything, but that, my friends, is another story entirely.