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.
Monday, October 15, 2007
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.
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