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Literature Text
Top 10: Signs of a Failing Presentation
10. PowerPoint spontaneously replaces your slides with pics from its vacation to Peru.
9. The only question posed during the Q/A segment is, "Are you done yet?"
8. Audience begins laughing before you tell your opening joke.
7. More drool stains on conference table than usual.
6. You learn six new ways to say "you suck".
5. The guy with the giant hook edges ever closer from stage left.
4. Your projector breaks down halfway through and nobody notices.
3. You made the motivational speaker cry.
2. One emergency conference call, two fire drills, and a three-hour lunch break.
1. When you close with, "Thanks, and see you tomorrow!" your manager just laughs and shakes her head sadly.
10. PowerPoint spontaneously replaces your slides with pics from its vacation to Peru.
9. The only question posed during the Q/A segment is, "Are you done yet?"
8. Audience begins laughing before you tell your opening joke.
7. More drool stains on conference table than usual.
6. You learn six new ways to say "you suck".
5. The guy with the giant hook edges ever closer from stage left.
4. Your projector breaks down halfway through and nobody notices.
3. You made the motivational speaker cry.
2. One emergency conference call, two fire drills, and a three-hour lunch break.
1. When you close with, "Thanks, and see you tomorrow!" your manager just laughs and shakes her head sadly.
Literature
I Have No Idea
Everything had been lost.
The war between the radical weeaboo political party and the rest of the world had ended in a catastrophe none of us could've anticipated.
I still remember that day, sitting at my desk, hands folded in prayer and frustration, asking if there was a God that he should spare us all right now. I remember the lowly foot soldier entering the room and saying "Sir, they have taken DC. They've taken it all."
It was then I knew that God had forsaken us.
That was five years ago. And now only a few of us remain. A few of us who refuse to take the new names the regime had given out. My name was Trey, not "Takeshi-san." My comr
Literature
a minimalist walked into a bar
He died.
The end.
Literature
Who Cares About...?
WHO CARES ABOUT YOUR MISTRESS' EYES?
(A Rebuttal to Shakespeare's Sonnet CXXX)
Why should it matter in the least if her
Lips are coral red or pale pink?
If suntanned breasts are worrying you, sir,
You need your head examined, one would think.
And you honestly believe her cheeks and hair
Detract because they differ from the norm?
I doubt you'd find another who would care;
For as they are, they are indeed well-formed.
As to her breath and voice, I will concede
That reeks and rasps as adjectives fit well;
But Listerine will satisfy her need,
And huskiness in speech, a flaw? Do tell!
You love her, faults and all, or so you've said—
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Public speaking in public is hard in public.
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Haha, very nice