The Swiss Family Johnson

Here, on my own desert island, there are a few rules that we all must follow or suffer the wrath of....well, me. The island, aptly named Pseudo-Rivendell, is quite charming. I don't ever intend to return to that dirty and putrid of my birth. Tangent! In any case, the rules are as follows: 1.) There is absolutely NO mention of any sort of election. We're not going to talk about how I've completely lost all faith in Bush after he endorsed McCain. My ears are getting slightly sandy from where I've hidden my head from having to think about the election, but it's a small price to pay. 2.) At least five hours of the day are dedicated to lounging in bed and reading delightful books. 3.) Writers are free to pursue their loves and allow their characters to BREATHE, as Mr. Walker (my brilliant professor) says. 4.) No cats allowed. Dogs are very welcome. 5.) If anyone even brings a hint of the flu on my island, they are immediately and callously deported. They may return after they've been in quarantine and washed in a tub of chlorox. 6.) There will be NO mention AT ALL about pesky economics classes. 7.) An anime will be shown every afternoon, with a discussion which follows. The evening entertainment will either be dancing, watching a fire, singing, or discussing the romance of Grissom and Sarah and the superiority of Captain Picard. 8.) All bugs and snakes have been exiled to their very own ghetto at one end of the island. 9.) Huts must be kept tidy at all times. I don't know when I became a neat person, but the habit has been slowly creeping upon me. 10.) All musical instruments are heartily welcomed. There, now, doesn't Pseudo-Rivendell sound like a paradise? Too bad I have to go to school tomorrow.