Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Arguments between the Id and other abstractions #1: the Conscience?

I finally figured out the difference between us, sir. You are Haughty in Righteous Cause. Sometimes even with righteous cause! Not I.

I, I, I am arrogant in all matters of inconsequence. So long as they call to me, I thrill to rush in, conscious in my exaggerated sense of self and worth! This is arrogance: to hold an exaggerated or falsely high estimation of self or self worth. I know I am arrogant. I glory in it, I glory in what calls me, I rush in to it - dauntless more than brave, heedless more than courageous - but those as well, surely. In valor, we may say, so long as we leave the better part. I find I have rushed in before conscious of the call, and as I fly through and out of the frame gang-tackling it, I feel at the very least equal to it.

Superior, maybe. But that isn't a bad thing! If it can be managed, one should find ways to be superior to all one's calls.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

I don't feel the need to picket the Catholic church over pedophile priests. I denounce the crime itself, I'll note the criminals are in fact not the church, but enemy agents sheltering within it to leverage whatever trust, power and respectability it has left while violating both the oaths they took and those who it was their sworn duty to guide and protect! I'll note Rome's shocking failure to condemn the problem, and I'll sound a call for the truly penitent to take up a stricter penance, in gratitude for Christ's forgiveness: confess to Caesar. Turn yourselves in. Even blameless Christ submitted himself to human judgment,  and paid for doing so. Submit yourselves to human justice. Christ forgives sin, but you are criminal. 

So too it saddens me that Islam as a whole does not rise up to condemn the acts of these blasphemous heretics whose gospel is God Says Kill. But if a Muslim fears these beasts, fears for life, limb and loved ones, they are fucking a right to do so. Only thing an extremist hates more than an infidel is an outspoken moderate.

I am Christian and I ask: what has betrayal of vows, abuse of trust and the penile penetration of juvenile orifices to do with the church of acceptance of God's judgment? God's judgment upon us, which is Christ, halleloo y'all!? NAUGHT. There is no excuse to be found there.

So too Islam. What does the murder of strangers, civilians, in order to drum up publicity for a political grievance - what does this have to do with the religion of submission to God's will?

Naught.

Oh, I jihad. I jihad all the time. See me war.

Monday, September 08, 2014

Quote of the day: Responsible

"I am responsible for all I say or do, for when questioned I am the one who must have response.

I am responsible for all any do to me. For no one but me will respond for me.

It is right and fair for every single one, and people are hell, and life is cold and this world is death. And some have advantages I don't have, and still we must make response for ourselves, or suffer and die. Good fortune of others does not make my lot unfair, and we will die.

Until then only you must make response for only you. Suffer no liars to deceive you on this point, to your sorrow."

- Sir Fauntleroy Gilchester Fakereference

Saturday, September 06, 2014

Strong Assertion

I don't know about psychic media.

I keep an open mind, but I don't believe in anything paranormal or anything supernatural. If it exists, hey, it may be abnormal! But if it exists it's natural and if it exists, we - homo sapiens sapiens, I mean - is going to get it. As in, "get" it. Grasp hold, drag it kicking and if need be screaming into the light of our comprehension. Probably take a pass or two to fine tune the description slash theory on some of the most abnormal shit there is, but we'll do it. We'll get it, or die trying. We'll grasp it or - as they used to threaten in the old books, "...or I'll know the reason why."

You'll say I have too much faith in humanity, too much faith in the method. You would be wrong. I assure you I'm the strongest skeptic yet met. I suspect I am a stronger skeptic than any of you.

We haven't really talked philosophy, though. It's possible my strong suspicion here will prove unfounded! In any case, skepticism is no contest. It's a moral position, one whose survival value and adaptive benefit has been tested and proved again and again and again.

My faith in humanity is not faith at all, really - faith is a pure figure of speech, here. Same with my faith in the scientific method. Such "faith" is no more than justified confidence based on track record. Again and again and without exception yet, the method is proved sound. It is made to run on human error, and to advance by falsification. Again and again we have proved equal to its good use. Confidence justified - compellingly so, as I hope anyone with a decent brain and half a mind to use it would agree.

Anyway, I hope it's about psychic media or something of that nature! I don't believe in that stuff based on current studies and facts in evidence but that doesn't mean I'm not curious about what others believe! Damn curious, what others believe.

But then what do you want, belief is not suspicion, belief is not conjecture. It's a feeling, and sometimes, an irrational one. Maybe sometimes justified, too! But a lot of the time you don't know. You know what I believe?

I believe skepticism is the strongest moral position you can stake out.

One should not believe in the truth value of any proposition whose validity is not compellingly established. For me, for phenomena, that pretty much means the method. Reality - if you please, reality ought to be demonstrable and repeatable, or else we ought to suspend judgment.

Huh. Bit of a tangent there, but very clear I believe. I don't imagine any of you will find any claim in it you'd care to contest. There never was a claim I made I couldn't back up - except the one that I will take back down. I love the test best when I'm proven wrong. I don't understand why anyone would not crave disproof, thrive upon being proven wrong. I love human error, and especially my own!

It's how we advance.

Friday, September 05, 2014

"The Trick": One Weird-ass Peculiar Unbeatable Sweet Trick to Change the World, Pt.2

~ This Post is a Part 2. There was also a Part 1. ~

Ok, I just had a guy pay me $5 for "The Trick" crash course life improvement program. Accordingly this notice herby notifies all and sundry that I have begun employing this mark for this service as a "mark in trade," and that if my mark can be demonstrated to infringe on a similar mark for the same class of product or service, I thereby owe that rights-owner five bucks then, don't I? Fuck your legal fees pal! Let's see your C & D demonstrate infringement first, because as I've always and already informed you - once it's demonstrated, I immediately comply.

You'll never have to file suit on me. File suit without C & D'ing me and you'll be paying my legal fees, pal. I get that legal letter with infringement clearly demonstrated, I won't waste one minute or a single dime! I'll take it to my fucking attorney and see what she has to say. She has no fool for a client. If she agrees you've got the mark, or even feels it's arguable enough to go to court - I'll just call it something else! Easy. Especially for me, I come up with better business ideas than that during sex. But to be honest, here, I'd caution you. I'm of the opinion that you don't have an enforceable mark. To be honest. I bet upon examination, my service and product is going to be so different from yours as to be a completely different type of product or service, and wholly unconfusable with yours. Whatever the hell yours is. And even assuming it exists! Screw your legal fees. At best you'll be paying MINE, pal. Watch it.

Hell technically, I don't even have to give you the five dollars. I'd only be doing that because to me, that's all part of my sweet trick.

Also part of The Trick, you can see above displayed the decency and dignity we were talking about earlier. That's where the "one encounter at a time" case-by-case aspect comes in so crucial! None of your absolutism here, none of your idiotic inapplicable universal principles. Those don't work case-by-case, because there you have to proceed on merit. Your Ideals, your Virtues, will never ever work on merit. Except maybe in the freak case where one happens to pertain, but you could live and die waiting for that to happen.

On merit, case-by-case, you'll see the above example pertains to "dude got his lawyer involved." Due consideration for etiquette is advised in such a case! And let me tell you, your lawyer's not going to feel belittled by a little straight talk. It will refresh them. And then they will assure you how decent I've been, to caution your ass. Which will reassure you! You'll be like - "that Sweet-Trick bastard! He had my dignity in mind the whole time!" I sure did. And then they'll invoice you.

THE TRICK. It works. Even there, you can see how well it works!

I used to call it Invincible Professionalism, but then I saw that #1 I'd been acting the same way off work for years. Long before I came up with the brilliant idea to act that same way on the job. And who the hell knew it would work? Nobody acts that way on the job! I thought I was a genius when it worked even better. But also, #2, I kind of had to stop calling it Invincible Professionalism because...well, to be honest, in practice, in conjunction with my specific personality, there's nothing particularly professional about it. Nothing all that professional my sweet THE TRICK. Tee-Em.

I tell you what though, it's weird. It's weird what to call it, and it's weird how to class it, but you better believe whether I come up with a better name or not I am as of now in business with this. This sweet trick of mine is a gold mine on cloud nine, people! Because you know what? "Change the world"? Hell yes! People will eat that up, and I intend to charge by the barge for the pleasure of enriching their fucking lives.

One Weird-ass Peculiar Unbeatable Sweet Trick to Change the World

I always do the random acts of kindness, and Morgan Freeman is damn right - that does change the world, but here's another trick I find also works great. And not a lot of people seem to have picked up on it! Even though, pretty simple right?

One encounter at a time, random or not, speech or action: treating each other we meet with decency and dignity, whether they've done so or not. Whether they hate how we see the world or love it. Whether we love them or not. Whether we in fact hate them. Whether either of us thinks the other has "deserved" it.

The above trick is so fucking nasty, so sneaky and unexpected that it pretty much runs roughshod over people who'll have no reference frame for how they can react! What are they supposed to do, when you come back at them with THAT? It's like a jujitsu move. But warning: anyone who's a total dick will A) first be extremely suspicious of your motives, and then second, B) eventually shift to thinking they can "take advantage of you." Good luck with that.

C) varies, to be honest. You have to play that one by ear. As long as you keep using the sweet trick, they're pretty much fucked don't worry.

I'm serious, people! Dead sincere. The above sneak trick, or "sweet trick," as we seem to have agreed I'll call it, works like riding a bike off a log - you could never learn to forget a thing like that. This one weird-ass peculiar unbeatable sweet trick, if practiced consistently, will change your whole world. I just wish I had a catchier name for it. Maybe just call it, "The Trick"? TM!

Be clear, here: my sweet trick has nothing at all to do with treating the other "as we'd treat the self." No relation at all to any so-called "golden rule" situation. Number one, because that rule doesn't fucking work - not for practically anybody! It only works for people who have self-love. No wonder people scoff.

My sweet trick also has got fuck all to do with kindness. Or love, or anything like that. Unless mercy? But seriously, WHO CARES what it's called. It works! It's my sweet trick.

People have no idea how to stop it, or stop you doing it, or stop you.

My sweet trick. Change your whole experience of the world.

Fiction Friday: Another Going-Away Party.

At the party tonight a dear friend and I were delighted to have a chance to catch up, and did so. As we talked, we realized that despite the loveliness of the occasion - so many people we both knew, loved and missed! - and despite each of us having kicked off with frank, sincere assurances of "never better," by the time we finished catching up, between us she and I had just described a pretty hard year. She summed it all up with "I just pray next year is easier." I immediately nodded my sincere agreement, adding "I just pray next year there is a God."

She started punching my arm, but when she saw the surprise in my face - why am I ever surprised over getting hit? - and she saw the lack of any "me giving her shit over she of all people praying" vibe, she stopped punching and gave me just the best hug ever. I had to to tell her stop I'll cry! Thank god I didn't, but I guess we both had already, a little. Then another new mother walked up to say hi to Suzy, and she smiled so at the both of us, seeing the trace tears but seeing only good tears. I excused myself before concern could creep in.

Before I left, though - these were my two favorite wives, and I told them so. Suzy said she didn't like that. She requested it be changed to "favorite moms." Now of course at that, Julie and I said "SUZY!" And then she stopped a second and then she laughed, seeing the dilemma. Both Julie and Suzy had met Lauren at the engagement party, but Suzy had even babysat Tally one happy night. Clearly they knew, the competition was considerably less stiff in the "wife" category.

"Well okay," she groused, "wives it is." Then after a second she started, adding "Hey! That's not going to last either!" Made a hurt face. We all cried a little laughing at that perfect pout of hers. I actually felt bad for a second, then I felt good thinking of her prediction, then eventually settled on worse.

Suzy's a card!

Sunday, August 31, 2014

*BOON REDEMPTION POLICY: Important Change. Check Terms of Your Specific Boon to See if It Applies.

Those of you in receipt of an as-yet unasked BOON* are hereby informed of a change in terms. Effective immediately, Boon (hereinafter "Boon*" or "BOON*") is defined as the offer: "You may ask of me 1 thing which is in my gift."

Previous boons offered either unspecified or under the explicit term "Ask of me that which is in my power, and I will grant it," are no longer valid. However, as always, holders of an expired or other invalid boon may redeem it for a valid Boon* by turning in their invalid boon and performing 1 one (one) Stunt*.

I Did Not Say Goof

Would you please goof off with your sarcasm or whatever it is? You know damn well I don't care if you believe me.

Friday, August 29, 2014

The Damn Disclaimer.

This blog is fiction. If I write an autobiography, that would be novel.

This blog is writing practice. Practice does not make perfect. Play makes perfect. This blog is practice.

This blog is anthology. If I have spoken words, their use ends with the sound. If I have sent a letter, its use ends with having been read. The purpose of those words has been fulfilled. Here, those words find repurpose.

Facebook: "Some Say..." Pt.2

This post is a Part 2. There was also a Part 1.

OK, that Pt.1 was a lovely dissertation or some crap, but cutting to the bottom line that got a bit buried at the tail end of it, the point of the post is, I believe there's only one "Dogimo Jones" on Facebook, but whether there is or there isn't - that's me!

That's my name. Dogimo Jones, Attorney-At-Love some call me. I am not an attorney!

I am not at love, but I can advise you.

Sincerely,

Joe

P.S. I should have put "warmly." Go back up there mentally and change it to "warmly," or better yet! Keep it "sincerely," but just put some warmth into the sincerity. Mentally!

P.P.S. And I do apologize for any perceived churlishness on the part or in the eyes of people who reached out kindly, heart-in-throat, warm hand virtually groping through the ethernet to be my friend - and were cooly rebuffed, for the very excellent reason that I never really bothered to think through at the time. But see part 1!

Facebook: Some Of You...

Hi folks. Let's call this post, "Facebook For Some."

Facebook is a place for people to stand up in a room full of...everybody...and spout an ignorant, ill-advised statement the likes of which they would never have spoken aloud to you, if there were only one other person watching and listening. They'd have shut their mouth. They wouldn't have said the thing they just said to the whole wide circle of their wirld.

Why this happens is a bit of a mystery. It's because they see certain people spout very definitely-worded views, they themselves have some definitely-held views, and they think that's the same thing. "I can do that!" When it turns out the view in question, so definitely-held, had never once been even cursorily-examined by the viewholder - that's when you get those ignorant, inadvisable statements.

It works so great! People they love come out of the wordwork, gently gently, probably only one at a time because they see oh, Aunt Sally Ann already took care of his ass for him: "Dogimo. You can't really mean that, can you? Even in light of bif, bam, bop?" People they respect come flying out from all directions ripping the ignorant statement to shreds and then pounding them into the dirt. "What's wrong with you? Expect better from yourself!" And then the people to whose worldview the statement was attempting to pander come flying in from all the other directions, "DAMN RIGHT!" "TELL it!" "Finally someone with the GUTS!" "Don't listen to these fools and deniers!" Then everybody gets in a big fight.

The system works perfectly! People who are ignorant and indifferent to reason get, really, no worse from the reactions their ignorant, ill-advised statement brings. People for whom human reason and, particularly, reality-as-jointly-observed go together to form a bit of an "Achilles's Heel" in the foot of the courage of their convictions - those folks may end up failing, losing their shit stancepoint in favor of an open-minded hopeful expectation of eventually coming to a better one, or better yet, skipping straight to a better one. And because almost every strongly-worded stance is going to get enough rah rah support from the likeminded knee-jerks in the camp it's meant to stand for, encouragement results. The person who never, ever would have said that idiotic, ignorant, unadvisable thing to you face-to-face will be reassured: on Facebook, this simply is the social norm.

Now for me, Facebook is less about all that. Facebook is a place for me to view and enjoy the beautiful, underage children pictures of my paranoid, privacy-obsessed family. I honor that. I make a point of never accepting a Facebook friend request except for someone who A) I recognize the person's name.

B) I have looked the person directly in the eye. A human eye, a space between filled with nothing but breathable atmosphere, no windows, no screens, and another human eye. The eyes, as they say (apart from Zooey Deschanel's which are windows to heaven) are the windows to the soul.

And C) aforesaid eye contact has occurred OUTSIDE OF WORK. In the context of a social interaction which was at a minimum not unpleasant.

Technically that was a policy before I realized how well my familial paranorms justified it. Originally I had no justification at all for my comfort levels and normal responses! Imagine that.

All of this was before. Some of you, a couple of you asked me if I could be a friend to you on Facebook. Given all the above (and to be fair, the family objection/justification did come in pretty quickly after an idle talk with my sister - I don't think I'd ever had a Facebook friend request to turn down yet, at that point), if you did, I probably turned you down.

What a scumbag!

I have a Facebook account now, one that I am beginning to use for more than just to see pictures of my beautiful and ferocious mother, occasionally father, constant brothers and sisters and the many, many progeny of many of them. I'm using this one for no good. No good reason. No reason. All of the above. Friend me!

If you want, now you can friend me. As he comes begging and cowering back, trying to get those good graces, "Oh, NOW you want to be my friend!" Well, to be perfectly truthful, not really. I want to be your FACEBOOK friend.

Some of you, I was already your friend.

Good morning!

I am,

Dogimo Jones

Unedited Comments from my Secret Free Thinkers Facebook Debate Group #2: The Grammarchy

As usual, the problem is not what's claimed (classism, elitism, bullyism as claimed bases for a would-be grammarchy). It is the absolutism and oversimplification used to make and support the claim.

Where a given rule aids clarity? GRAMMAR ELITE GOOD. They win not because "It's a rule"; they win not because the power of rules can "shut down" and "bully" people into silence! And what sheep, if so; what cowards to be shut down, shamed by ignorance of some silly rule!

Where the rule truly is silly, is useless, the grammarchists are easily dethroned and ridiculed for insisting on it. Where the rule powerfully aids clarity, though, the grammarchists rule. By divine right: the will of the people to a language capable of wielding meaning with power.

It's case by case, as almost always it is. Absolutists can eat a dick!

But even there, my generalization is overbroad. In a given instance, many of them will choose not to.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

A woman wants to see you succeed.

Otherwise, she won't fuc* you for *hit.

Unedited Comments from my Secret Free Thinkers Facebook Debate Group #1: Widening Circles

It's probably a good thing. It shows people that their circles of acquaintance and even intimacy encompass a whole spectrum of views. The strident folks sail in and make ass of themselves, but often do a decent job presenting the side. People you respect surprise you by chiming in the voice of reason on behalf of a side you don't credit with reason.

Facebook is the sociocultural version of early 1980s MTV's play-it-all mix list. By within another 10 years or so, I fully expect to see some "Alternative" surfacing, but for suck's fake, this time I hope they leave the flannel out of it.

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Internet Friendships: an Appreciation

I do not celebrate Internet friendship. I do have, however, a small group of friends, perhaps such as you, with whom I have had to conduct friendship entirely through means inadequate and unsatisfying, such as the internet. You will say that without the Internet - the connection wouldn't even have existed! True. If we settle for inadequate, unsatisfying means, it is because we must have found a friendship worth such sacrifices.

Because even if the friendship is true and good, the connection sucks. Compared to eye contact, the human hand, a voice that warms the air as it stirs it - there is no compare. It's simply nothing like.

I can't celebrate Internet friendship, I fear. I celebrate those friends for the sake of whose 'ship we make sacrifice. We do our best as friends. Sometimes the best we can do is make the best connection we can.

We settle for a connection that is wholly inadequate, for the sake of a friend.

Friday, August 15, 2014

AHHHH FOR SUCK'S FAKE!

FOR SUCK'S FAKE! FUT THE WHUCK, HOO THE WHELL DO YOU FATHERMUCKERS THINK YOU'RE RUCKING AFOUND WITH! I WILL CICK YOU IN THE KINKING STUNT, WHO YORE! DUCK MY SICK!

Actual Work E-Mails #1: Cancel the Planned Smoke Break.

Looks like I may have to cancel. Not packing. Left ‘em at home.

Unless you want to change it to a fresh air break?

But that seems frivolous. Lacking in the serious tone of two united in the lifting of that heavy, set-in burden of the lungs; united in uplifting that smoldering beacon - a glowering blaze, a red-orange coal held high to light the way forward as we march calmly and purposefully forward heralded by the battle-cry for the ages, a shout of celebration and warning, ringing down the epoch of all human civilization and civilizations.

That cry is: “FIRE! We have mastered it! We tame it, we roll it up and suck on one end! It is only we, paragon of animals, who demonstrate our mastery of evolutionkind in this bold way! By the ritual and habitual ignition and deliberate inhalation of varying kinds of burning vegetable matter. It is technically, probably, this one thing alone that provides the 2% that separates us from the chimps!”

Oh, a chimp can be taught to smoke, sure. But trust me, no chimp would have come up with this particular little "stunt." It took humankind, man. It took mankind! This was like, the second fall - Adam had to convince Eve to suck on that sweet sweet stick, that badge and emblem of the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of How to Get Shit Done. Using unnatural means - or rather, using unnatural drives to harness natural means with our characteristic ingenuity. When you think about it that way, smoking really is a sweet setter-aparter! Animals on one side, and humanity on the otherwise.

Well, there's that, but also plus - check out the sweet fig leaf.

God’s going to shit when he sees this sweet fig leaf. Dude doesn’t even know we know we’re naked! All this time, not telling us we're naked. That's just wrong.

Apologies if you heard that story before.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

RIP, Spalding

death fucks us all up, but I think the testaments I keep seeing today - people telling with force how a human can touch another with love, even from a distance, even a stranger! That's a testament to the force and receptivity of the human spirit and an open heart.

Those who can touch from afar can do it cross space and time. Speaking more personally, Spalding Gray is gone, but in his touch he lives on.

RIP to you, too Robin.

Monday, August 11, 2014

Thought of the day: You Don't Buy What, Exactly?

I wasn't selling you. I'm telling you.

"Sorry"

Tuesday, August 05, 2014

As Usual, My Every Thought

...is chiefly in your direction.



And your body looks like the sun

Ripped Off The Headlines #7: Zooey Deschanel Splitsville

Dear Zooey Deschanel,

This is horrible. I mean it's horrible. I mean it's stupid enough you have to have your personal life all wrung out in public, tabloid quipsters slinging quaint phrases such as "splitsville" - this was LOVE at stake for you, it once was! Don't they fucking know what it's like? I have no idea, certainly none about what it's like for you, and I wouldn't believe the reports if I read them, believe you me. But I've been lucky enough in this life to know how much of love is my business, and how little business of anyone else's is one's love. The sole exception to that is: the other one. Anyone else can butt the fuck out of it; can butt and should have butted. Dear Zooey Deschanel, I have no idea if this is a desolate time for you, or a time of quiet resignation between two who tried, but had to be honest about hard facts. Compatibility, as they say, is a motherfucker - but baby when it works, oh, what a motherfucker it is.

Unfortunately, sometimes obstacles are the even bigger motherfucker. I am not prepared to speak to your details, and I'd be ashamed if I was. It is your story.

All people talk about your eyes. If you ask me, that whole "eyes are the windows to the soul" deal is overrated. When I look in your eyes, in moving pictures, in pictures only, never once direct and deeply into them - but I don't see your soul. And some say the camera itself captures and imprisons the soul. If this window theory had a thing to it, you'd think I could see yours. I don't buy the window theory. It seems shallow and venial, somehow, to me. To expect or believe you can catch a glimpse of such universal and intimate human space with one's eyes, even looking into another's. Because if anyone's were ever clear enough! Yours, those are just the most beautiful eyes, in the eyes of many, and celebrated in as many voices. To tell the truth, whatever's behind those blue windows is inscrutable to me. Mysterious, and just a bit thrilling because I'll level with you woman, it's kind of hard to tell when or whether you're putting someone on! You've got that whole cute, earnest but "am I secretly being sarcastic," thing going on? And people talk about your EYES.

I want to talk about your LIPS. But I won't. FUCK! Not at a time such as this. Ashame myself!

I want to talk about your hips, your hair, your smile, your arms - your so many loveliest and ordinary aspects, your so many lovelier and extraordinary ones! All that you are dovetails, doubling back upon itself inextricably in a web of mingled woven light beams and silk, or something similar. I won't have my chance to talk about any of that, or to ever know any of you in passing to the point where my view of you could be worth saying aloud. Words do not fail me, it's simply knowledge and understanding that fail. Your mind is a stained glass candy cathedral with rather sacrilegious, or at the very least irreverent windows. Your body is - what call do I have to say? Your body is the living embodiment of no ideal, but of what you might call an archetype. A lot of people might say: Eve. Not the ideal woman, no: the primal woman. Natural as that, and as close as we'll know of such a living myth, in this age - or so say a lot of people at least. Seriously, they do! Not to your face I am sure, and perhaps not in those exact words, but damn it that's what's being meant.

Zooey, do you know that you have, for a lot of guys, become the archetype of woman mysterious and desirable? And they talk about your EYES!

Well, your eyes are beautiful. Damn your eyes. Damn them straight to heaven. If they tell me that is where your eyes are windows to, I will at least suspend my skepticism for as long as it takes to look into it.

Anyway. It's bullshit all these media types celebrating the celebrity of the downfall of what I know you once knew was love. Where do they get off? And here I am, at best, contributing to it. At worst, I don't even know.

And I have no call to give you advice, but I will.

Don't let them win.

Don't ever learn to look on love so cheaply as their cheap hearts and cheaper commentary would make its worth seem. Don't learn lessons, unless in learning and practice, they make you better. In your own eyes.

I'm a pretty big fan of your acting.

Anyway! That's about it from me.

Friday, August 01, 2014

Thought of the day: good people

Part of being good is knowing you're no better.

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

The Theology of Gettin' Laid! (warning: not a professional theologian. Not authoritative theology) (Pretty much never gets laid)

Basically, this is more questions, at least to begin with. We all know the Jews. I tell you, Samson was one consecrated motherfucker, and in consequence, he was rippin' doors off towns' walls, bashing in Philistine brains with an ass's jawbones, ripping lions to pieces with his BIG, BEAR HANDS, and a number of other amusing feats. All the while he was fucking up a storm, and I don't mean just Delilah. This, by the way, just after the time of Israel's Kings, in the time of the Judges - and certainly in a time when Mosaic law was already very highly developed. So at what point did fucking get on the DO NOT list?

The Jews in those days were an earthy, earthly breed, very much in the mode of full gratitude for this gift of all the natural. They didn't turn their nose up at ripping each others' clothes off and FUCK FUCK FUCKA FUCKA ALL DAY NIGHT ALL AROUND THE TENT - naw. No way. When did fucking get on the "Thou Shalln't" list?

It didn't.

Oh, come at me with your epistles, bro. Maybe you will be glad you did, because guess what, "good news!" - and you know what else, fuck all these JUDGYPANTS PRUDES. They ain't even nigh Christ's mighty throne of judgment, let alone fit to sit on it. All these dirtbag gnostic duelists fighting to the death with the material on behalf of the spirtual - LIKE THE SPIRITUAL NEEDS THE HELP OF THESE CLOWNS! - totally convinced MATTER BAD, Spirit Good!

Palestine and indeed, all the Roman realm in those days was thick and lousy with varying stripes of these 'fraid of their own genitalia material/spiritual dualists, and they all spelt one thing: reject the garden. Because you know what? It's still a garden here, holmes. It's just we have to garden it ourselves now. And I am a constant gardener.

The taint of gnostic dualism so rife at the time of Christ and of Christianity's rise could not help but creep into the early church, whispering like a snake this bad news: "Reject the gift of life God gave. BE ASHAMED OF IT. The material world is VILE. Why, you'd be better off CELIBATE than FUCKING!"

Guess fucking what:

Good news.

Nothing natural is shameful, friends. Diogenes. And also: God, who if you recall, was not in favor of that fucking dopey-looking fig leaf merkin Adam felt so all decked out about. OF COURSE ADAM WAS ASHAMED OF THE NATURAL! He'd just eaten the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, and after the indigestion passed he found he had practically no better ideas than before! The only thing he really became sure of after eating was that he'd chosen to prefer his judgment over God's (kind of implicit? In the act? NO MAGIC FRUIT REQUIRED?). Adam knew that much: he knew good and evil now, just like God knew good and evil (BUT REALLY, DUDE? TO THE SAME DEGREE? INFINITELY?). So first thing, he picked a biggest fig leaf (overcompensating), slapped that thing over his dick all proud, thinking "MAN - when God sees this sweet fig leaf he'll SHIT! He doesn't even KNOW I know I'm naked!"

Eating the fruit of a tree of a knowledge of good and evil doesn't suddenly transform your fucking ASH DUST ASS into an organism that can metabolize that fruit - let alone into anything like omniscient. You will not have remotely the means to judge. Adam knew the shit now and called the shots - but he was out of his league now, out of the garden. Out of the gardener's hands, into his own - his choice! Yours too, if you care to check it.

Eve's too.

Everyone's. Unanimous; ask around.

Not at all in control, or even in comprehension of all this nature, and so he feared it and was ashamed of his own body. Of course he was in fear, of course he was ashamed. These natural things he once owned, 100% covered and maintained and understood - well, the understanding of a guest at a resort, at least. What once was simplicity itself, now - come to find out his body, his mate's, the fruits of the land and the beasts and the fish in the sea - a total mystery to Adam.

Adam felt very much like "I don't really understand jack SHIT about how to manage this." Perhaps he should of eaten from the Tree of the Knowledge of How to Get Shit Done, but don't worry - we found that tree, and ever since have been feasting off it.

They talk about the fall of Eden, and all human misery that came following in attendant upon that one decision: to prefer one's judgment over God's. But what they always try to snow you about is this: all this was not punishment. It was consequence. Natural consequence, at that. Well of course the land won't feed you. Of course you have to till it - no shit! God took care of that shit before, and you preferred your own devices. Your fig leaf.

Which is fine.

The natural world is still an INSANELY GREAT heritage. We just gotta work it work it a bit more, well ok.

Anyway!

Now jump back, kiss you'self and get down with your bad goodness! Fuck, if you wish, your god damn brains out you crazy beautiful human beings you and can I possibly get an amen? Come forth and multiply! Or, as you prefer, don't.

It's natural to respect one's own preference and inclination in these matters.

Friday, July 25, 2014

Ask A Question Get An Answer #10: How Do You Put Your Pants On In The Morning?

I don't know!

I've tried myself to observe this phenomenon several times, but the subject has proven too elusive and wary. I'll lay out the dilemma - let me know if you get any ideas!

What's known for sure is this: every night, when I go to sleep, I am either wearing A) comfy sweats with underdrawers, B) my comfy soft breathable shorts with or without underdrawers, C) underdrawers, or D) none of the above. Every morning when I wake up, I walk straight to the sales support office and refill my big ol' cup of coffee (my attempts to dislodge more hot coffee by smacking the back of the upended cup into my FUCKING LIP are usually what awakens me in the morning) to find that I am in there, filling my coffee and fully dressed - usually in dark blue, green, charcoal or khaki khakis or else a smart pair of jeans (10 out of 12 it's jeans, to be more accurate), and with a sharp-ass laid-back combination of upper-body garments, which can include any sort of item like a blue, zipperfront pullover (for you Englanders or Commonwealthies, I understand this is what you might call a "wooly jumper") and a blue t-shirt underneath, a polo or other button-front short-sleeved shirt, a full long-sleeved collared button-down shirt of more-or-less classic make, but generally leaning more towards darkly bold or deep color for emphasis rather than any sort of jazzy or dressy cut, gloss, or accents. If a button-down shirt, I may or may not be wearing one of the coolest fucking ties you ever saw. If I'm wearing a sharp blazer, jacket of other kind, or the dark orange sweater, I may just opt for a TEE shirt as the foundational shirt - though you can better believe I'm looking fuckin' good by the time I notice.

But how did it happen? Again, investigations are ongoing. What's really needed here is a research assistant, someone who can be on-site to observe continuously, and make a detailed video record of everything that happens. Everything that happens to happen. The problem is - will the subject behave the same way with a research assistant there, in intimate proximity? The sleeping area is not very large. If the research assistant is a male, will the subject react as if in the presence of a competitor or an aggressor? Or - if the research assistant is a female, won't this too alter the natural behavior of the subject?

It's quite like the ol' uncertainty principle! Can't measure how the subject is putting his pants on, except by introducing a measuring element whose impact or influence may well prevent him taking them off in the first place - and/or present an obstacle to them ever being put back on. At least, not on anything like the timescale we've inferred from observations of the uninterfered-with subject.

I'm not sure what the next step can be, realistically.

I'm going to go get some more coffee.

The Power of Ambiguity? Or: Disclaimers that Fail to Disclaim

"...and I mean that exactly as you're meant to take it."

I Like To Write Online Poems. Anybody Like Online Poems Pt.2?


~ Re: "succinct" - today's most recent poem, and a triumph of concision! ~

I have to admit, I'm happy with the outcome but I wish I could have gotten anything about "concentrated in meaning" or similar in there, but there just wasn't room. It wouldn't fit, I couldn't see any place to stick it or force it in, I mean, I totally could have and the poem kind of cries out for it - how can you write a poem about concision without making reference to the incredible delirious overloading of concentrated MEANING that clamps down on you as an inevitable consequence of making it your priority to take the tiniest possible opening and cram as much as you can in there - "using little to say much," as it were? The poem fucking CRIES OUT for that, for at least some of that, because the point is - by implication at least, that's what the poem's about. The power of a perfect and minimalist composition where every line, every curve, every dip and every swell TELLS. Every. Word. Tells. But at some point, you can't go in like that and just blatantly POUND OUT what the poem is so clearly crying out for, because: that meaning is already part of the word concise. You don't HAVE to force it in!

Anyway, I wanted to - at least just a little of that, just a taste, even just a foretaste you know? I like to abuse the literal sometimes I guess, but there just wasn't any place I could see where I could stick it and make it fit, not without causing some kind of injury to the delicate tissues and sensitive surfaces of the poem's inner essence. You know what I mean?

That's just disgusting, dude. Knock it off.