Capital Punishment

It baffles me how much money we Massachusetts citizens pay in state taxes for prison maintenance. It costs approximately $80,000 a year to maintain the life of one prisoner in the hope that he may reform himself and return to a productive member of society. Yet a prison, by its definition of its purpose, is of no use to those who are sentenced to a life term. If they are going to be in jail for life then there is no point in their hope of reform and no need for me to pay for them. So wouldn't that $80,000 be better used towards helping the elderly or funding the school systems? Also, since this country was founded on the beliefs of justice and fair treatment it is only right that the wickedness of the crime should be matched with a punishment of equal caliber. Those who intentionally take the life of another deserve to have the same done to them. And what are we trying to do? Are we trying to show that killers can get away with murder and not reap the full consequences? People are more likely to follow through with immoral ideas if they believe the actions outweigh the risk. So by keeping killers in jail we're ultimately urging on those intending to murder since we're allowing the victim to be killed while the culprit stays alive. So again I find myself asking the same question: why is Capital Punishment illegal?

F.L.I.F.F.E.R.H.U.Z.Z.A

"Oh no! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! This CAN'T be happening. Why today? Why today of all days must  this be happening?" Jane cried as she stared anxiously into her bathroom mirror. Just below her right cheekbone laid the bane of her existence, a zit. Determined not to let this imperfection RUIN her last chance at taking a GOOD school picture, Jane quickly smeared on some coverup over the zit. She let out a sigh of relief as she saw the zit seamlessly camouflage with her naturally bronze skin.

Jane then proceeded with her usual morning routine, although a bit groggier and slower than usual. She got dressed, checked Twitter, made her bed, checked Instagram, ate breakfast, and checked Vine. All was great until she opened up Snapchat. Her spoon hit the floor with a clang when she flipped the screen to her front view camera. From where she had hidden the small zit from earlier this morning a larger one had appeared, and he seemed to have made a friend right next to it. Jane let out a shriek and ran to reapply more coverup. But the camouflage only lasted a couple seconds before the zits would reappear, always bigger and always accompanied by more. Several rounds of camouflaging later,
Jane's face was a hideous sight. In desperation she ran into her mom's room yelling for help.

"Oh honey", her mom chuckled "I'm sorry... but...you have the Flifferhuzza."
"The Fliffer-what-ah?"
"The Flifferhuzza. You know... the

FLUE LIKE ILLNESS FOR FEMALES ENHANCING RANDOM HUGE UGLY     Zany Zit Attacks. 

It's caused by the over obsession of outward appearances and is usually found in those who frequently rely on social media sites like the Facetube or whatever you kids call it. But don't worry sweetie, it only lasts for an hour or so."
"oh thank Go-"
"...that IS if you left it untreated."
"Come again?"
"If you do anything to try and prevent the natural course of this virus, it comes back even worse within the next couple of minutes and can last for a couple of days."
Accepting defeat, Jane crawled in next to her mom. "Mom", Jane whimpered "I'm not feeling good. Do you think I can stay home today?"
"Nope."
"But mom?!" shrieked Jane.
"Nope. You brought this upon yourself so you're going to school. But hey, there'll always be retakes."

A Spoiled Teenager's Petty Complaint

**This is a made up story and is not based on any specific person**

Are you kidding me? Did I not specifically say I wanted a baloney sandwich last night? I can't believe she gave me peanutbutter and jelly! I mean she's only been making my lunch for the past 11 years of school, you'd think my mom would learn to get it right by now. God and if she's going to give me the wrong lunch at least make it decent. Chunky peanutbutter? Seriously ma, when have I ever told you I liked chunky peanutbutter? She can't just assume these things when she's making my lunch in the mornings. She's just careless is what she is. This is like the time she tried to give me the Shaw's brand granola bars instead of the Quaker Oats bars which are my favorite. Brand matters. SO NO MOM! THEY DON'T TASTE THE SAME!

Why Desks?

Why do we sit in desks during class? Is there a rule in the handbook that says we have to? And if there is a rule what’s its purpose? What’s wrong with sitting on the floor or standing or sitting in a beanbag chair?

Some instructors might argue that desks are beneficial for students, but they’re wrong.  I swear these desks must have been used as a form of torture in medieval times because they’re as uncomfortable as anything. In the winter the seats are cold as ice and in the summer they’re sticky as hell making them almost impossible to get off of. And for five classes of 67 minutes students of MHS are forced to surrender their tailbones to these rock-hard contraptions and hunch over the adjoining tabletop that’s all of 2 ½ ft tall as they try to hurriedly take a quiz or jot down notes. And clearly this furniture was not made for all walks of life because anyone over the height of 5’6’’ can’t cross their legs under the desk without whacking a knee on the constraining bars that adjoin the front and side supports.

In addition, the MHS’s school desks are just a plain nuisance for students: They squeak, have graffiti written on them, tilt from side to side when one leg is shorter than the other, and always have at least one piece of gum underneath them. But one of the most annoying things about the desks are that they make students look like fools when they have to stretch across the floor, fingertips extended to maximum length, as they try to grab that eraser that rolled itself down the slanted desk and onto the floor.

So again I ask, what is the point of having us sit in these pieces of furniture that drive us students crazy? Is it just that you teachers enjoy watching us suffer in these instruments of torture?...because if you do then your succeeding. But seriously, why desks? Why the need? Why does a child’s education have to come at the cost of a bad back and a sore bottom?