Is a glorious day.
Remember remember the 5th of November.
I now know of one more reason why it will never be forgot.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
I'm Not Myself
I have been thinking a lot about who I am lately and what it really means to have an identity and I thought I would share with you, my reader(s), what conclusions I have drawn.
I shall start with a connected idea. Let's say you have an old wooden ship that you love very much. You love it so much in fact, that once a plank gets rotted and old, you just replace the singular plank rather than buying a whole new boat (this is back in the day when it was cheaper to repair something than buy a new one entirely). So time moves along at its standard pace until lo and behold, you have to replace another plank of wood on your ship. This pattern continues along you eventually have replaced every single plank of wood on your ship. We now have to ask the question: is it still the same ship? If so, why? It has lost every bit of it's original matter that once held it together. It has no mystical soul that keeps it together, or any other measurable force that really defines this as the same ship as before, other than the fact that you love it of course. Now, if it is not the same ship: when did it become a new ship? Was it around the time it was half old/half new? Once you lost the last plank? One you replaced the first one? There isn't really an easy answer, for me at least.
Anyway, I drew a parallel to myself. A good percentage of the matter in my body get recycled, lost and renewed very frequently. Sure, there are some atoms and cells in my brains and bones that never leave me, but I don't really think those cells really define me. So perhaps I am defined by some sort of self that is detached from my physical body. However, with the lack of a soul or spirit, the only other part of me that is really me is the set of my ideas and beliefs. Maybe then, my ideas and my beliefs define me. Unfortunately, those aren't static in the least bit. My ideas and beliefs change fairly frequently when you look at my life on the whole. How am I the same person I was 5 years ago? How am I the same person I will be in 10 years?
The answer I have arrived at: I'm not. I know this may seem trivial, but I really don't believe I am the same person one day to the next. I am in a constant state of death, and in a constant state of rebirth. The guy I was yesterday is gone forever. I don't identity with the screaming infant I was when I left the womb, or the naked child running around the back yard, and I certainly don't feel like I am the same person and some decrepit arthritic man that will have my name.
So I can't manage to believe in a Heaven that makes any sense. I am a different person from one minute to the next. There is no way for 8 year old Sam to go to Heaven; he is dead forever. Even if there is a Heaven, and I am admitted, it most likely won't be until I am quite old. This person writing these words will soon be dead forever (if not already). I can never preserve who I am. It's because of this idea that I don't find the idea of a blissful everlasting comforting at all. I am already dead. Once I die and stop being reborn forever (aka my final death, the death of this strange collection of matter I call myself), I will be no more or less dead than the guy who started writing this blog.
I shall start with a connected idea. Let's say you have an old wooden ship that you love very much. You love it so much in fact, that once a plank gets rotted and old, you just replace the singular plank rather than buying a whole new boat (this is back in the day when it was cheaper to repair something than buy a new one entirely). So time moves along at its standard pace until lo and behold, you have to replace another plank of wood on your ship. This pattern continues along you eventually have replaced every single plank of wood on your ship. We now have to ask the question: is it still the same ship? If so, why? It has lost every bit of it's original matter that once held it together. It has no mystical soul that keeps it together, or any other measurable force that really defines this as the same ship as before, other than the fact that you love it of course. Now, if it is not the same ship: when did it become a new ship? Was it around the time it was half old/half new? Once you lost the last plank? One you replaced the first one? There isn't really an easy answer, for me at least.
Anyway, I drew a parallel to myself. A good percentage of the matter in my body get recycled, lost and renewed very frequently. Sure, there are some atoms and cells in my brains and bones that never leave me, but I don't really think those cells really define me. So perhaps I am defined by some sort of self that is detached from my physical body. However, with the lack of a soul or spirit, the only other part of me that is really me is the set of my ideas and beliefs. Maybe then, my ideas and my beliefs define me. Unfortunately, those aren't static in the least bit. My ideas and beliefs change fairly frequently when you look at my life on the whole. How am I the same person I was 5 years ago? How am I the same person I will be in 10 years?
The answer I have arrived at: I'm not. I know this may seem trivial, but I really don't believe I am the same person one day to the next. I am in a constant state of death, and in a constant state of rebirth. The guy I was yesterday is gone forever. I don't identity with the screaming infant I was when I left the womb, or the naked child running around the back yard, and I certainly don't feel like I am the same person and some decrepit arthritic man that will have my name.
So I can't manage to believe in a Heaven that makes any sense. I am a different person from one minute to the next. There is no way for 8 year old Sam to go to Heaven; he is dead forever. Even if there is a Heaven, and I am admitted, it most likely won't be until I am quite old. This person writing these words will soon be dead forever (if not already). I can never preserve who I am. It's because of this idea that I don't find the idea of a blissful everlasting comforting at all. I am already dead. Once I die and stop being reborn forever (aka my final death, the death of this strange collection of matter I call myself), I will be no more or less dead than the guy who started writing this blog.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Bye Bye Buying Blue Jeans
So I hopped skipped and jumped to my local mall in the very recent past with a very simple purpose in mind. Even among all the troubles of life and the thoughts that race through my head in any given instant on a regular day, at this point I only had one thought.
"I want a new pair of blue jeans."
Now I reckoned to myself, quite foolishly I might add, that such a quest would be relatively easy and short lived. How wrong I was in my naivety and innocence. As it would turn out, stores refuse to sell standard blue jeans. I went to Old Navy first, thinking they would have standard items. Sadly, they only sell faded/torn/boot cut jeans. There wasn't even anything that was a regular blue. I then went to Tilly's, but only because of my brother's request. I was unsurprised there to find nothing remotely close to what I wanted. Again I was faced with ridiculous non-blue colors and jeans so baggy they might of well have been parachute pants.
My savior was a store I rarely venture into: Sears. Not only did I find exactly what I wanted, but they were only 20 bucks. Talk about a deal. No one wants normal pants anymore, so they are cheap as all Hell. I feel like Michael from the Office in these. Or maybe a gunslinger.
Moral of the story: traditional blue jeans are badass.
"I want a new pair of blue jeans."
Now I reckoned to myself, quite foolishly I might add, that such a quest would be relatively easy and short lived. How wrong I was in my naivety and innocence. As it would turn out, stores refuse to sell standard blue jeans. I went to Old Navy first, thinking they would have standard items. Sadly, they only sell faded/torn/boot cut jeans. There wasn't even anything that was a regular blue. I then went to Tilly's, but only because of my brother's request. I was unsurprised there to find nothing remotely close to what I wanted. Again I was faced with ridiculous non-blue colors and jeans so baggy they might of well have been parachute pants.
My savior was a store I rarely venture into: Sears. Not only did I find exactly what I wanted, but they were only 20 bucks. Talk about a deal. No one wants normal pants anymore, so they are cheap as all Hell. I feel like Michael from the Office in these. Or maybe a gunslinger.
Moral of the story: traditional blue jeans are badass.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Songs on Repeat
I don't think I have ever met a person in my lifetime who loves to listen to a song on repeat as much as I do. I've listened to songs 40 times in a day before. As I type I am listening to Black Electric for at least the 15th time tonight. It takes me an obscenely long time to get sick of a song. And once I get hooked on a song, it's near impossible for me to tear myself away from it. Red Handed by the Dear Hunter had me in its grasps quite tightly recently as well.
Hark! Alas o wench, masticating anon.
That was my transition sentence by the way, in case you hadn't picked up on that. I am immensely busy nowadays. It seems like if I'm not going to class or going to work I am trying to stay on top of my homework being assigned in every class. I think occasionally I have enough time to sleep...Ah, who am I kidding, I never get less than 9 hours a night. Sleep is like crack to me. I love sleeping bags. I actually choose to sleep in one now. I have sheets neatly folded near my bed, but my sleeping bag gets all the love. Speaking of sleep..
Hark! Alas o wench, masticating anon.
That was my transition sentence by the way, in case you hadn't picked up on that. I am immensely busy nowadays. It seems like if I'm not going to class or going to work I am trying to stay on top of my homework being assigned in every class. I think occasionally I have enough time to sleep...Ah, who am I kidding, I never get less than 9 hours a night. Sleep is like crack to me. I love sleeping bags. I actually choose to sleep in one now. I have sheets neatly folded near my bed, but my sleeping bag gets all the love. Speaking of sleep..
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Highlights from the Book of Everyone's Favorite Lucifer
Satanism does advocate sexual freedom, but only in the true sense of the word. Free love, in the Satanic concept, means exactly that – freedom to either be faithful to one person to or indulge your sexual desires with as many others as you feel is necessary to satisfy your particular needs.
Satanism condones any type of sexual activity which properly satisfies your individual desires – be it heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, or even asexual, if you choose. Satanism also sanctions any fetish or deviation which will enhance your sex life, so long as it involves no one who does not wish to be involved.
You cannot love everyone; it is ridiculous to think you can. If anything is used too freely it loses its true meaning. Therefore, the Satanist believes you should love strongly and completely those who deserve your love, but never turn the other cheek to your enemy.
Repressed hatred can lead to many physical and emotional ailments. By learning to release your hatred towards those who deserve it, you cleanse yourself of these malignant emotions and need not take your pent-up hatred out on your loved ones.
Satan represents vital existence, instead of spiritual pipe dreams.
Life is the greatest indulgence – death, the greatest abstinence. Therefore, make the most of life, here and now!
There is no heaven of glory bright, and no hell where sinners roast. Here and now is our day of torment! Here and now is our day of joy!
Anyone who thinks of Satan as evil should consider all the men, women, children, and animals who have died because it was “God’s will.�? Certainly a person grieving the untimely loss of a loved one would much rather have their loved one with them than in God’s hands! Instead, they are unctuously consoled by their clergyman who says, “It was God’s will, my dear�?; or “He is in God’s hands now, my son.�? Such phrases have been a convenient way for religionists to condone or excuse the mercilessness of God. But if God is in complete control and as benign as he is supposed to be, why does He allow these things to happen?
Pious prophets have taught man to fear Satan. But what of terms like “God fearing�?? If God is so merciful, why do people have to fear him? Are we to believe there is nowhere we can turn to escape fear? If you have to fear God, why not be “Satan fearing�? and at least have the fun that being God fearing denies you? Without such wholesale fear religionists would have had nothing with which to wield power of their followers.
The Satanist, realizing that anything he gets is of his own doing, takes command of the situation instead of praying to God for it to happen. Positive thinking and positive action add up to results.
When a Satanist commits a wrong, he realizes that it is natural to make a mistake – and if he is truly sorry about what he has done, he will learn from it and take care not to do the same thing again. If he is not honestly sorry about what he has done, and knows he will do that same thing over and over, he has no business confessing and asking forgiveness in the first place. But this is exactly what happens. People confess their sins so that they may clear their consciences – and be free to go out and sin again, usually the same sin.
God can do all the things man is forbidden to do – such as kill people, perform miracles to gratify his will, control without apparent responsibility, etc.
Satanism advocates practicing a modified form of the Golden Rule. Our interpretation of this rule is: “Do unto others as they do unto you�?; because if you “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,�? and they, in turn, treat you badly, it goes against human nature to continue to treat them with consideration. You should do unto others as you would have them do unto you, but if your courtesy is not returned, they should be treated with the wrath they deserve.
The Roman god, Lucifer, was the bearer of light, the spirit of the air, the personification of enlightenment.
Satanism encourages any form of sexual expression you may desire, so long as it hurts no one else.
No matter what you’ve been told about the “immaculate conception�? – even if blind faith allows you to swallow this absurdity – you know full well if you are to produce a child, there must be sexual contact with a person of the opposite sex! If you feel guilty for committing the “original sin,�? you certainly will feel even deeper guilt for performing a sex act only for self-gratification, with no intention of creating children.
The Satanist fully realizes why religionists declare masturbation to be sinful. Like all other natural acts people will do it, no matter how severely reprimanded. Causing guilt is an important facet of their malicious scheme to obligate people to atone for “sins�? by paying the mortgages on temples of abstinence!
Every fund raising organization, be it a charitable foundation, community council, religious or fraternal association, etc., carefully selects a person who is adept at making others feel guilty for its chairman or coordinator. It is the job of this chairman to intimidate us into opening first our hearts, and then our wallets.
Religionists have kept their followers in line by suppressing their egos. By making their followers feel inferior, the awesomeness of their god is insured. Satanism encourages its members to develop a good strong ego because it gives them the self respect necessary for a vital existence in this life.
The highest of all holidays in the Satanic religion is the date of one’s own birth. After all, aren’t you happier about the fact that you were born than you are about the birth of someone you have never even met?
Satanism condones any type of sexual activity which properly satisfies your individual desires – be it heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, or even asexual, if you choose. Satanism also sanctions any fetish or deviation which will enhance your sex life, so long as it involves no one who does not wish to be involved.
You cannot love everyone; it is ridiculous to think you can. If anything is used too freely it loses its true meaning. Therefore, the Satanist believes you should love strongly and completely those who deserve your love, but never turn the other cheek to your enemy.
Repressed hatred can lead to many physical and emotional ailments. By learning to release your hatred towards those who deserve it, you cleanse yourself of these malignant emotions and need not take your pent-up hatred out on your loved ones.
Satan represents vital existence, instead of spiritual pipe dreams.
Life is the greatest indulgence – death, the greatest abstinence. Therefore, make the most of life, here and now!
There is no heaven of glory bright, and no hell where sinners roast. Here and now is our day of torment! Here and now is our day of joy!
Anyone who thinks of Satan as evil should consider all the men, women, children, and animals who have died because it was “God’s will.�? Certainly a person grieving the untimely loss of a loved one would much rather have their loved one with them than in God’s hands! Instead, they are unctuously consoled by their clergyman who says, “It was God’s will, my dear�?; or “He is in God’s hands now, my son.�? Such phrases have been a convenient way for religionists to condone or excuse the mercilessness of God. But if God is in complete control and as benign as he is supposed to be, why does He allow these things to happen?
Pious prophets have taught man to fear Satan. But what of terms like “God fearing�?? If God is so merciful, why do people have to fear him? Are we to believe there is nowhere we can turn to escape fear? If you have to fear God, why not be “Satan fearing�? and at least have the fun that being God fearing denies you? Without such wholesale fear religionists would have had nothing with which to wield power of their followers.
The Satanist, realizing that anything he gets is of his own doing, takes command of the situation instead of praying to God for it to happen. Positive thinking and positive action add up to results.
When a Satanist commits a wrong, he realizes that it is natural to make a mistake – and if he is truly sorry about what he has done, he will learn from it and take care not to do the same thing again. If he is not honestly sorry about what he has done, and knows he will do that same thing over and over, he has no business confessing and asking forgiveness in the first place. But this is exactly what happens. People confess their sins so that they may clear their consciences – and be free to go out and sin again, usually the same sin.
God can do all the things man is forbidden to do – such as kill people, perform miracles to gratify his will, control without apparent responsibility, etc.
Satanism advocates practicing a modified form of the Golden Rule. Our interpretation of this rule is: “Do unto others as they do unto you�?; because if you “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,�? and they, in turn, treat you badly, it goes against human nature to continue to treat them with consideration. You should do unto others as you would have them do unto you, but if your courtesy is not returned, they should be treated with the wrath they deserve.
The Roman god, Lucifer, was the bearer of light, the spirit of the air, the personification of enlightenment.
Satanism encourages any form of sexual expression you may desire, so long as it hurts no one else.
No matter what you’ve been told about the “immaculate conception�? – even if blind faith allows you to swallow this absurdity – you know full well if you are to produce a child, there must be sexual contact with a person of the opposite sex! If you feel guilty for committing the “original sin,�? you certainly will feel even deeper guilt for performing a sex act only for self-gratification, with no intention of creating children.
The Satanist fully realizes why religionists declare masturbation to be sinful. Like all other natural acts people will do it, no matter how severely reprimanded. Causing guilt is an important facet of their malicious scheme to obligate people to atone for “sins�? by paying the mortgages on temples of abstinence!
Every fund raising organization, be it a charitable foundation, community council, religious or fraternal association, etc., carefully selects a person who is adept at making others feel guilty for its chairman or coordinator. It is the job of this chairman to intimidate us into opening first our hearts, and then our wallets.
Religionists have kept their followers in line by suppressing their egos. By making their followers feel inferior, the awesomeness of their god is insured. Satanism encourages its members to develop a good strong ego because it gives them the self respect necessary for a vital existence in this life.
The highest of all holidays in the Satanic religion is the date of one’s own birth. After all, aren’t you happier about the fact that you were born than you are about the birth of someone you have never even met?
Abortion: Everyone is Wrong Except Me
You know what really grinds my gears? Pro-lifers that make no sense. I would like to take a moment to admit that both sides of the argument have merit. If you think a fetus is a living breathing human being, by all means Pro-Life makes sense for you. If you think that it's a multi-celled organism, Pro-Choice actually makes sense for you.
It's those damn middle of the roaders that make no sense.
"Abortion is the killing of an innocent baby! No woman should ever be allowed to get an abortion! Let's make it illegal for everyone everywhere!
Oh, unless the woman was raped. Or if it was incest. In those two cases abortion is ok.
I'm lyke gonna go finish drinking my bleach now."
Now, if this elaborately manufactured quote didn't strike you as odd, you should read it again.
What the fuck is with people saying that a fetus is an innocent baby that deserves to life unless its father was a rapist? If you really believe that mass of cells is a human being, you better damn well think it deserves to live whether or not its father was a rapist.
My point is, if you are Pro-Life, be Pro-Life. Don't cop out.
At one point I had no idea why anyone could believe in this pseudo pro life nonsense. Then I realized, for some people, it has nothing to do with the fetus. It has nothing to do with protecting innocent life. It's just a bunch of superiority complex wielding right wing nuts who want to punish girls who have sex before marriage by choice. Pro-Life? More like Pro-Punishment.
It's those damn middle of the roaders that make no sense.
"Abortion is the killing of an innocent baby! No woman should ever be allowed to get an abortion! Let's make it illegal for everyone everywhere!
Oh, unless the woman was raped. Or if it was incest. In those two cases abortion is ok.
I'm lyke gonna go finish drinking my bleach now."
Now, if this elaborately manufactured quote didn't strike you as odd, you should read it again.
What the fuck is with people saying that a fetus is an innocent baby that deserves to life unless its father was a rapist? If you really believe that mass of cells is a human being, you better damn well think it deserves to live whether or not its father was a rapist.
My point is, if you are Pro-Life, be Pro-Life. Don't cop out.
At one point I had no idea why anyone could believe in this pseudo pro life nonsense. Then I realized, for some people, it has nothing to do with the fetus. It has nothing to do with protecting innocent life. It's just a bunch of superiority complex wielding right wing nuts who want to punish girls who have sex before marriage by choice. Pro-Life? More like Pro-Punishment.
A Look into the Past
These next three posts are going to be previous blogs I've written that premiered on Facebook, but I feel it's time I ported them over here. Speaking of which, Natalie Portman is pretty. 'Nuf said. Here goes:
This is from the Gunslinger, and I liked it enough to type it all up so you should read it.
The universe offers a paradox too great for the finite mind to grasp. As the living brain cannot conceive of a nonliving brain - although it may think it can - the finite mind cannot grasp the infinite.
The prosaic fact of the universe’s existence single-handedly defeats the pragmatist and the cynic. There was a time, yet a hundred generations before the world moved on, when mankind had achieved enough technical and scientific prowess to chip a few splinters from the great stone pillar of reality. Even then, the false light of science (knowledge, if you like) shone in only a few developed countries.
Yet, despite a tremendous increase in available facts, there were remarkably few insights. Gunslinger, our fathers conquered the disease which rots, which we call cancer, almost conquered aging, went to the moon and made or discovered a hundred other marvelous baubles. But this wealth of information produced little or no insight. There were no great odes written to the wonders of artificial insemination or to the car which moves. Few if any seemed to have grasped the Principle of Reality; new knowledge leads always to yet more awesome mysteries. Greater physiological knowledge of the brain makes the existence of the soul less possible yet more probably by the nature of the search. D you see? Of course you don’t. You are surrounded by your own romantic aura, you lie cheek jowl daily witht eh arcane. Yet now you approach the limits, not of belief, but of comprehension. You face reverse entropy of the soul.
But to be more prosaic:
The greatest mystery of the universe offers is not life but Size. Size encompasses life, and the Tower encompasses Size. The child, who is most at home with wonder, says: Daddy, what is above the sky? And the father says: The darkness of space. The child: What is beyond space? The father: The galaxy. The child: Beyond the galaxy? The father: Another galaxy. The child: Beyond the other galaxies? The father: No one knows.
You see? Size defeats us. For the fish, the lake in which he lives is the universe. What does the fish think when he is jerked up by the mouth through the silver limits of existence and into a new universe where the air drowns him and the light is blue madness? Where huge bipeds with no gills stuff it into a suffocating box and cover it with wet weeds to die?
Or one might take the point of a pencil and magnify it. One reaches the point where a stunning realization strikes home: The pencil point is not solid; it is composed of atoms which whirl and revolve like a trillion demon planets. What seems solid to us is actually only a loose net held together by gravitation. Shrunk to the correct size, the distances between these atoms might become leagues, gulfs, aeons. The atoms themselves are composed of nuclei and revolving protons and electrons. One may step down further to subatomic particles. And then to what? Tachyons? Nothing? Of course not. Everything in the universe denies nothing; to suggest conclusions to things is one impossibility.
If you fell outward to the limit of the universe, would you find a board fence and signs reading DEAD END? No. You might find something hard and rounded, as the chick must see the egg from the inside. And if you should peck through that shell, what great and torrential light might shine through your hole at the end of space? Might you look through and discover our entire universe is but part of one atom on a blade of grass? Might you be forced to think that by burning a twig you incinerate an eternity of eternities? That existence rises not to one infinite but to an infinity of them?
Perhaps you saw what place our universe plays in the scheme of things – as an atom in a blade of grass. Could it be that everything we can perceive, from the infinitesimal virus to the distant Horsehead Nebula, is contained in one blade of grass…a blade that may have existed for only a day or two in an alien time-flow? What if the blade should be cut off by a scythe? When it began to die, would the rot seep into our own universe and our own lives, turning everything yellow and brown and desiccated/ Perhaps it’s already begun to happen. We say the world has moved on; maybe we really mean that it has begun to dry up.
Think how small such a concept of things makes us, gunslinger! If a God watches over it all, does He actually mete out justice for a race of gnats among an infinitude of races and gnats? Does his eye see the sparrow fall when the sparrow is less than a speck of hydrogen floating disconnected in the depth of space? And if He does see…what must the nature of such a God be? Where does He live? How is it possible to live beyond infinity?
Imagine the sand of the Mohaine Desert, which you crossed to find me, and imagine a trillion universes – not worlds but universes – encapsulated in each grain of that desert; and within each universe an infinity of others. We tower over these universes from our pitiful grass vantage point; with one swing of your boot you may knock a billion billion worlds flying off into darkness, in a chain never to be completed.
Size, gunslinger…Size…
This is from the Gunslinger, and I liked it enough to type it all up so you should read it.
The universe offers a paradox too great for the finite mind to grasp. As the living brain cannot conceive of a nonliving brain - although it may think it can - the finite mind cannot grasp the infinite.
The prosaic fact of the universe’s existence single-handedly defeats the pragmatist and the cynic. There was a time, yet a hundred generations before the world moved on, when mankind had achieved enough technical and scientific prowess to chip a few splinters from the great stone pillar of reality. Even then, the false light of science (knowledge, if you like) shone in only a few developed countries.
Yet, despite a tremendous increase in available facts, there were remarkably few insights. Gunslinger, our fathers conquered the disease which rots, which we call cancer, almost conquered aging, went to the moon and made or discovered a hundred other marvelous baubles. But this wealth of information produced little or no insight. There were no great odes written to the wonders of artificial insemination or to the car which moves. Few if any seemed to have grasped the Principle of Reality; new knowledge leads always to yet more awesome mysteries. Greater physiological knowledge of the brain makes the existence of the soul less possible yet more probably by the nature of the search. D you see? Of course you don’t. You are surrounded by your own romantic aura, you lie cheek jowl daily witht eh arcane. Yet now you approach the limits, not of belief, but of comprehension. You face reverse entropy of the soul.
But to be more prosaic:
The greatest mystery of the universe offers is not life but Size. Size encompasses life, and the Tower encompasses Size. The child, who is most at home with wonder, says: Daddy, what is above the sky? And the father says: The darkness of space. The child: What is beyond space? The father: The galaxy. The child: Beyond the galaxy? The father: Another galaxy. The child: Beyond the other galaxies? The father: No one knows.
You see? Size defeats us. For the fish, the lake in which he lives is the universe. What does the fish think when he is jerked up by the mouth through the silver limits of existence and into a new universe where the air drowns him and the light is blue madness? Where huge bipeds with no gills stuff it into a suffocating box and cover it with wet weeds to die?
Or one might take the point of a pencil and magnify it. One reaches the point where a stunning realization strikes home: The pencil point is not solid; it is composed of atoms which whirl and revolve like a trillion demon planets. What seems solid to us is actually only a loose net held together by gravitation. Shrunk to the correct size, the distances between these atoms might become leagues, gulfs, aeons. The atoms themselves are composed of nuclei and revolving protons and electrons. One may step down further to subatomic particles. And then to what? Tachyons? Nothing? Of course not. Everything in the universe denies nothing; to suggest conclusions to things is one impossibility.
If you fell outward to the limit of the universe, would you find a board fence and signs reading DEAD END? No. You might find something hard and rounded, as the chick must see the egg from the inside. And if you should peck through that shell, what great and torrential light might shine through your hole at the end of space? Might you look through and discover our entire universe is but part of one atom on a blade of grass? Might you be forced to think that by burning a twig you incinerate an eternity of eternities? That existence rises not to one infinite but to an infinity of them?
Perhaps you saw what place our universe plays in the scheme of things – as an atom in a blade of grass. Could it be that everything we can perceive, from the infinitesimal virus to the distant Horsehead Nebula, is contained in one blade of grass…a blade that may have existed for only a day or two in an alien time-flow? What if the blade should be cut off by a scythe? When it began to die, would the rot seep into our own universe and our own lives, turning everything yellow and brown and desiccated/ Perhaps it’s already begun to happen. We say the world has moved on; maybe we really mean that it has begun to dry up.
Think how small such a concept of things makes us, gunslinger! If a God watches over it all, does He actually mete out justice for a race of gnats among an infinitude of races and gnats? Does his eye see the sparrow fall when the sparrow is less than a speck of hydrogen floating disconnected in the depth of space? And if He does see…what must the nature of such a God be? Where does He live? How is it possible to live beyond infinity?
Imagine the sand of the Mohaine Desert, which you crossed to find me, and imagine a trillion universes – not worlds but universes – encapsulated in each grain of that desert; and within each universe an infinity of others. We tower over these universes from our pitiful grass vantage point; with one swing of your boot you may knock a billion billion worlds flying off into darkness, in a chain never to be completed.
Size, gunslinger…Size…
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Metal Gear?!
I believe I have reached a point in my life when I can say with utmost confidence and glee that I have seen God, and his name is Snake. Never in my life have I been entranced by such a supreme badass and uncompromising smooth operator. If there is one person in the world I would wish to be my mentor/savior, it would have to be the Solid Snake himself. I'm sure he could turn even frail and dainty Sam into a badass killing machine. Besides the imminent invasion of Zack, Snake is the only reason I want to learn to shoot.
To elaborate on what I have only alluded to thusfar, Snake is without a doubt an undeniable pimp ass whom no one could possibly deny. Straight men wish they were gay around him, and trust me, they quickly have their wish granted. I think they only problem with wanting to be as smooth as Snake is that if I was, I could never get any work done. Ladies (that's right, dem things with vaginas in 'em) would be assaulting me left and right. And I feel I should also mention they would be attacking me from many of the other possible directions available to us living in a 3d space.
On a much more serious note though: aren't overly attractive people downright insulting? There is almost nothing more frustrating than seeing Olivia Munn on G4 tauting and blue balling the collective male gender in one fel swoop. Oh beautiful women, how bountiful and tricky all of you are.
To elaborate on what I have only alluded to thusfar, Snake is without a doubt an undeniable pimp ass whom no one could possibly deny. Straight men wish they were gay around him, and trust me, they quickly have their wish granted. I think they only problem with wanting to be as smooth as Snake is that if I was, I could never get any work done. Ladies (that's right, dem things with vaginas in 'em) would be assaulting me left and right. And I feel I should also mention they would be attacking me from many of the other possible directions available to us living in a 3d space.
On a much more serious note though: aren't overly attractive people downright insulting? There is almost nothing more frustrating than seeing Olivia Munn on G4 tauting and blue balling the collective male gender in one fel swoop. Oh beautiful women, how bountiful and tricky all of you are.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
On the Elimination of Language
It has recently been brought to my attention that is it possible for people to take offense when words are said by other people in close vicinities. It is the fault of what we shall be calling "exclusive language." Let's look at an example.
"Those girls are lame."
Oh, where to begin you must be wondering, for the previously uttered phrase is dripping with poison, as you can surely perceive. Let us begin with the sinful word "lame." While the word currently carries almost no remnants of it's previous meaning, it once was synonymous for someone who had no ability to walk. So it is quite clear that any person without fully functionally legs will take offense or anyone who has known such a person. A slightly less noticeable problem with our sentence in question is the world "girls." You see children, some "women" find the word "girls" offensive because it makes them seem young. Thousands of dollars spent on cremes and surgeries to make them look young and they just might take offense by such a ghastly word. So perhaps we should try to reword the sentence.
"Those females are not cool."
At first glance you might think we have fixed things. But alas!I feel the phrase "not cool" is derogatory and exclusive to those who experience hot flashes or people who live in a warm climate. And don't forget that females is exclusive of males, transgenders and various other gender/sexes.
I think we should get rid of language all together because it is so fucking exclusive.
"Those girls are lame."
Oh, where to begin you must be wondering, for the previously uttered phrase is dripping with poison, as you can surely perceive. Let us begin with the sinful word "lame." While the word currently carries almost no remnants of it's previous meaning, it once was synonymous for someone who had no ability to walk. So it is quite clear that any person without fully functionally legs will take offense or anyone who has known such a person. A slightly less noticeable problem with our sentence in question is the world "girls." You see children, some "women" find the word "girls" offensive because it makes them seem young. Thousands of dollars spent on cremes and surgeries to make them look young and they just might take offense by such a ghastly word. So perhaps we should try to reword the sentence.
"Those females are not cool."
At first glance you might think we have fixed things. But alas!I feel the phrase "not cool" is derogatory and exclusive to those who experience hot flashes or people who live in a warm climate. And don't forget that females is exclusive of males, transgenders and various other gender/sexes.
I think we should get rid of language all together because it is so fucking exclusive.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Stimulating Section Seeking Solace
People hear about the imminent danger of the impending Zombie Apocalypse and they cannot but laugh or roll their eyes. A girl I once knew even had the audacity to ask me, "Sam, you sexy badass with a heart of gold, why are you so obsessed with zombies?" I ask in reply, "Why are you so fucking obsessed with the original zombie?" People always seem to forget we have already had one zombie threat in our past, we are just lucky Jehovah summoned the first one up to Heaven before he had time to do any damage. I am sure you realize I am speaking of the one and only Patient Zero, Jesus of Nazareth.
Now I ask you in earnest, what is keeping your God from sending Rapture upon Earth in the form of the Zombie Apocalypse we all know is destined to happen? My friend Kevin and I have asked this question to multiple followers of the flock and seem to get the same exasperated answer. They always seem to think that zombies are not biblical and thus not possible. I just have this to say: God works in mysterious ways you pompous bitches. Who are you to rule out a way God, in his infinite wisdom, might choose to end his failed experiment of mankind? He flooded the world once with water; this time he will choose to flood it with zombies.
I just can't get over the fact that people say it is impossible to understand God and his infinite compassion, but at the same time buy into the bullshit text spelling out his multiple sins and refusing to believe he could ever do anything unpredictable. Let's just all agree that any self-respecting god would give us a badass finish to our existence here on Earth, and that finish must be the Zombie Apocalypse. Oh, and by the way, I plan on defying this so called God and surviving his Zombie Apocalypse, I hope I will have some of you rebels with me at the last stand.
Now I ask you in earnest, what is keeping your God from sending Rapture upon Earth in the form of the Zombie Apocalypse we all know is destined to happen? My friend Kevin and I have asked this question to multiple followers of the flock and seem to get the same exasperated answer. They always seem to think that zombies are not biblical and thus not possible. I just have this to say: God works in mysterious ways you pompous bitches. Who are you to rule out a way God, in his infinite wisdom, might choose to end his failed experiment of mankind? He flooded the world once with water; this time he will choose to flood it with zombies.
I just can't get over the fact that people say it is impossible to understand God and his infinite compassion, but at the same time buy into the bullshit text spelling out his multiple sins and refusing to believe he could ever do anything unpredictable. Let's just all agree that any self-respecting god would give us a badass finish to our existence here on Earth, and that finish must be the Zombie Apocalypse. Oh, and by the way, I plan on defying this so called God and surviving his Zombie Apocalypse, I hope I will have some of you rebels with me at the last stand.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
God Doesn't Exist
If "He" did, he wouldn't have let those bastard ants eat all my delicious brownies.
Jesus Crab Battling Christ.
In other news, I recently returned from a camping excursion with my good friends Kevin and Brandon. In case you were wondering, I am the god of fire. I am so great that I worship myself. I held a meeting for all the best gods while I was there but I was the only one allowed to attend. Jehovah wanted to attend I think, but he was a little embarrassed that I has surpassed him in every respect so I just spent the time telling myself stories about my greatness.
I should have set fire to those ants...
Jesus Crab Battling Christ.
In other news, I recently returned from a camping excursion with my good friends Kevin and Brandon. In case you were wondering, I am the god of fire. I am so great that I worship myself. I held a meeting for all the best gods while I was there but I was the only one allowed to attend. Jehovah wanted to attend I think, but he was a little embarrassed that I has surpassed him in every respect so I just spent the time telling myself stories about my greatness.
I should have set fire to those ants...
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Pwning Noobs and Loving Tunes
I started playing Counter-Strike again recently. Although, contrary to my very misleading blog title, I am god awful at it. I keep playing alongside Mr. Erikson and becoming quite overshadowed. He tends to have records like 4 kills to 1 death or better ratio while I'm just about the inverse. It's a very sad thing to see my character's head get blown off so frequently (which is what she said?). It's actually a little insulting to my name on the game actually (which is Ender). I am shaming such a perfect soldier's name unfortunately.
I very much love music my friends. It has quite a power over me. Good music of most genres can force me to experience the whole gambit of emotions (except sadness, I have no soul). The reason I mention this is because I am listening to some of that music I downloaded from that website mentioned in my previous post, and I just want to go out into the world and decapitate some zombies or overthrow a tyrannical futuristic government. Speaking of music, in general, I think all fist pumping looks ridiculous. People throwing their hands at the air typically look as stupid as people standing up in church and assuming the crucifixion position. The only time I can empathize with these people is when I listen to Tool. That wondrous sound has the power to make me want to fight someone. Mind you when I say fight someone, I don't mean in a Fight Club sense. I mean in a wildly unbalanced Sam gets to pulverize someone sense.
I think it should be shared that I woke up in one of the best moods I have ever been in today. After I woke up, I spent an extra hour in bed going in and out of sleep. Once I actually got up it was raining outside and very pretty to hear and see. My parents were playing some music over the house speakers and everything just seemed very awesome. Oh, best part: my favorite cereal. Game set and match.
I very much love music my friends. It has quite a power over me. Good music of most genres can force me to experience the whole gambit of emotions (except sadness, I have no soul). The reason I mention this is because I am listening to some of that music I downloaded from that website mentioned in my previous post, and I just want to go out into the world and decapitate some zombies or overthrow a tyrannical futuristic government. Speaking of music, in general, I think all fist pumping looks ridiculous. People throwing their hands at the air typically look as stupid as people standing up in church and assuming the crucifixion position. The only time I can empathize with these people is when I listen to Tool. That wondrous sound has the power to make me want to fight someone. Mind you when I say fight someone, I don't mean in a Fight Club sense. I mean in a wildly unbalanced Sam gets to pulverize someone sense.
I think it should be shared that I woke up in one of the best moods I have ever been in today. After I woke up, I spent an extra hour in bed going in and out of sleep. Once I actually got up it was raining outside and very pretty to hear and see. My parents were playing some music over the house speakers and everything just seemed very awesome. Oh, best part: my favorite cereal. Game set and match.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Netflix, You Bastard
Among the thousands upon thousands of stupid movies I have at my fingertips with this service, I only care about seeing one right now. For the love of God, I just want to watch Jason Bourne go out into Russia and kick some ass without his memory. I don't think it is too much to ask of you, oh Netflix God. I put it at the top of the list for two weeks, but what do I get in return? A fucking romantic drama with Tom Cruise and a ridiculous medieval tale with Sean Connery. Frick man. If I don't get the ass kicking movie of awesomeness by the time I go to school I am going to go nuts. Unforgivable.
On a happier note, I found a website with a plethora of video game song remixes that makes me very happy. I can finally hear trance versions of all my favorite 32 bit songs!
On a fashion note, today I am wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I thought it was an interesting mix that most people don't seem to try. It's both comfortable and amazingly pleasing to the eye. If I wasn't myself, I would be hitting on me right now. I just might make a habit out of similar outfits as this. Maybe I'll try a black t-shirt with blue jeans once...hmmmm
Don't forget to stock your house with plenty of non-perishable foods and extra water for when the zombies strike. You don' want to resort to eating your friends and family, then you would be no better than zombies. I mean, otherwise, what the hell are we trying to save?
On a happier note, I found a website with a plethora of video game song remixes that makes me very happy. I can finally hear trance versions of all my favorite 32 bit songs!
On a fashion note, today I am wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I thought it was an interesting mix that most people don't seem to try. It's both comfortable and amazingly pleasing to the eye. If I wasn't myself, I would be hitting on me right now. I just might make a habit out of similar outfits as this. Maybe I'll try a black t-shirt with blue jeans once...hmmmm
Don't forget to stock your house with plenty of non-perishable foods and extra water for when the zombies strike. You don' want to resort to eating your friends and family, then you would be no better than zombies. I mean, otherwise, what the hell are we trying to save?
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
I Know You May Roll Your Eyes at This, but I'm So Glad That You Exist
The way the world works always amazes me. As a product of middle-class America, my life has always been excessively easy, but it's not really the luxuries of stereotypical life that I'm getting at. What I am talking about it the seemingly small and insignificant events and decisions that can have such an amazing impact on your life. It's a little difficult to express, so allow me to present you, dear reader, with an example.
You go into your elective class (let's say it is political science) and you decide to sit in the back for no reason other than that you feel like doodling. The class fills up around you while you draw small pictures of God knows what, perhaps you are drawing your teacher in funny hats. At the end of class the girl next to you confesses she has been watching you the entire time and thought your drawings were hilarious. You talk the entire way back to the commons and eventually exchange phone numbers or facebooks or whatever you hip kids do now. Now, all of the sudden, you are looking at a life with a possible significant other, just because you sat in a certain chair and decided to draw. You would have most likely never noticed each other without that exact series of events.
Or, do you ever think about crazy things that might save your life? Pretend you decide one day that you want to drive to the beach but cancel at the last minute for no reason in particular other than you just stopped feeling like you should. There is no way to prove it at all, but it's possible that if you had driven to the beach that day you would have crashed.
I dunno, it just seems to me that there are a hell of a lot of things that could always be going wrong, but aren't. And sometimes they even go exactly the way you want them to. I know the world wouldn't really work any other way, but I am just glad that this is how it happens. Life in general makes me happy.
The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for.
You go into your elective class (let's say it is political science) and you decide to sit in the back for no reason other than that you feel like doodling. The class fills up around you while you draw small pictures of God knows what, perhaps you are drawing your teacher in funny hats. At the end of class the girl next to you confesses she has been watching you the entire time and thought your drawings were hilarious. You talk the entire way back to the commons and eventually exchange phone numbers or facebooks or whatever you hip kids do now. Now, all of the sudden, you are looking at a life with a possible significant other, just because you sat in a certain chair and decided to draw. You would have most likely never noticed each other without that exact series of events.
Or, do you ever think about crazy things that might save your life? Pretend you decide one day that you want to drive to the beach but cancel at the last minute for no reason in particular other than you just stopped feeling like you should. There is no way to prove it at all, but it's possible that if you had driven to the beach that day you would have crashed.
I dunno, it just seems to me that there are a hell of a lot of things that could always be going wrong, but aren't. And sometimes they even go exactly the way you want them to. I know the world wouldn't really work any other way, but I am just glad that this is how it happens. Life in general makes me happy.
The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
The End is Extremely Fucking Nigh: Cillian Murphy's Penis
Quite a sight I can wholeheartedly assure you. Did you know the first rage zombie was a woman? Just another example of women being the cause of the end of the world. First Eve and now this. Unforgivable.
On a more serious note though, you want to know the sexiest thing in a woman? The knowledge and healthy fear of zombies. Nothing makes me want to spend the rest of my life with a woman than knowing that she can be an effective asset in surviving the Zombie Apocalypse. A message to all you men out there reading this: if a girl has plans to deal with zombies, you hold onto her, she's a freaking keeper. Remember, World War Z is not a joke. We need to be ready my brothers and my sisters! Humanity will prevail!
Anyway, I fear I have been using this blog too much to talk about zombies. Well, I suppose "too much" isn't the right phrase; you can never been "too" prepared. I'm sure you guys can plan your own survival without me talking about it all the time.
In other news, I've seen two movies recently: Superbad and 1408. 1408 was actually a bit better than I anticipated, had some fun cheesy parts and some fairly surprising pop-out scenes. Superbad was downright fucking hilarious. I can't remember a movie that funny. Aside from the cops in the movie, it was actually really true to typical people you meet every day. I swear I have had some of the same conversations as the people in that movie. Don't you just wish girls wanted to see our erections like we want to see their nipples? That's a world I hope to live in one day.
And one last thing to end our rousing day of blogging. Today I was in In N Out with my buddies and pals. This little crazy girl is running around the almost empty place squealing and shit when suddenly she jumps onto one of the red chairs. I wasn't paying close attention because of my delicious plain double double but I started to hear some commotion from her family. I look over to see a puddle on the chair appear. It would seem that the girl hadn't been properly trained and pissed all over the chair. The family gets all weird and gets up. Her mom comes over with some napkins and soaks up the urine then the family books it without telling anyone. I felt like I should probably tell someone so that they could properly clean it, but before I managed some new teenage girl comes and sit in that exact chair. At least twenty open seats and she manages to choose that one. Needless to say I said nothing. I couldn't bring myself to tell the poor girl she had sat in piss.
And on that note I leave you all. Don't forget to pick a place to meet the other people you care about once the Zombie Apocalypse happens.
On a more serious note though, you want to know the sexiest thing in a woman? The knowledge and healthy fear of zombies. Nothing makes me want to spend the rest of my life with a woman than knowing that she can be an effective asset in surviving the Zombie Apocalypse. A message to all you men out there reading this: if a girl has plans to deal with zombies, you hold onto her, she's a freaking keeper. Remember, World War Z is not a joke. We need to be ready my brothers and my sisters! Humanity will prevail!
Anyway, I fear I have been using this blog too much to talk about zombies. Well, I suppose "too much" isn't the right phrase; you can never been "too" prepared. I'm sure you guys can plan your own survival without me talking about it all the time.
In other news, I've seen two movies recently: Superbad and 1408. 1408 was actually a bit better than I anticipated, had some fun cheesy parts and some fairly surprising pop-out scenes. Superbad was downright fucking hilarious. I can't remember a movie that funny. Aside from the cops in the movie, it was actually really true to typical people you meet every day. I swear I have had some of the same conversations as the people in that movie. Don't you just wish girls wanted to see our erections like we want to see their nipples? That's a world I hope to live in one day.
And one last thing to end our rousing day of blogging. Today I was in In N Out with my buddies and pals. This little crazy girl is running around the almost empty place squealing and shit when suddenly she jumps onto one of the red chairs. I wasn't paying close attention because of my delicious plain double double but I started to hear some commotion from her family. I look over to see a puddle on the chair appear. It would seem that the girl hadn't been properly trained and pissed all over the chair. The family gets all weird and gets up. Her mom comes over with some napkins and soaks up the urine then the family books it without telling anyone. I felt like I should probably tell someone so that they could properly clean it, but before I managed some new teenage girl comes and sit in that exact chair. At least twenty open seats and she manages to choose that one. Needless to say I said nothing. I couldn't bring myself to tell the poor girl she had sat in piss.
And on that note I leave you all. Don't forget to pick a place to meet the other people you care about once the Zombie Apocalypse happens.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Zombie Preparation
In the event of the Zombie Apocalypse, what weapon do you grab from your house (at least to tide you over until you get to a sword/gun store)?
Do you grab your guitar? Maybe, if it is a last resort. Even then though, not a good idea.
Do you grab a golf club? Maybe, if you are fucking kidding me. If you grabbed a golf club you get to watch it bend over the head of a zombie right before he tears out your jugular vein.
Do you grab a butcher knife? Sure, if you don’t mind getting within a foot of gnashing zombie teeth.
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