Do You Feel Lucky?

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

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Quote of the day: On the Limits of Technology

"You can't Google the future, dude."

2011 Pro Bowl Blues

You know, I used to be the only person I knew to get psyched up for the Pro Bowl. I'd get others interested too! Or at least, we'd have get-togethers with the game on, and I'd get people taking sides, cheering for things. Final football get-together of the year. A nice wind-down. I was the chief instigator and participant: a fervent NFL Pro-Bowl fan.

An now, for perfectly obvious reasons, I don't give even the slightest bit of a damn about it. I understand they've played it today, or they're playing now. I guess they have their reasons.

I miss it. I'd like to have it back again. My NFL Pro Bowl. I'm glad they moved it back to Hawaii! That's important to the chemistry of the game. But...the only reason for that game, the unique purpose it used to serve, was as a wake for the season. One last football afterparty. One last chance to watch, to get together with your DIE-HARDS - with your people who LOVE FOOTBALL. One last chance to care, to dissect the ups and downs highs and lows of the season, and to wind down for the long withdrawal with one last hit of methadone. That's not the first time I've used that metaphor, if you click on the label 'Pro Bowl.' Fact is, it's a damn apt metaphor.

Aired prior to the Super Bowl, none of that exists. No reason for the Pro Bowl exists. It's not a party. You can't hold that party there! NO ONE CARES THERE. We have the Super Bowl yet! The Pro Bowl doesn't exist. Not unless it airs after the Super Bowl.

Fuck.

Why don't they play it before, if it's so important to them to play it before, and then air it two weeks later on a delay? Doesn't the most cannily marketed and branded pro sport in the history of pro sports have any sense of occasion at all?

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Sorry, Hipster

There is no such thing as smoking crack "ironically."

Further Thoughts on "Deserve"

If you think about it, to claim you deserve something from someone (who is withholding it, and who has the ability to continue withholding it), is to put that person above you.

Personally, I gratefully accept all gifts given freely - from the hand of random chance or other philanthropists. It is because I don't consider it "deserved" that I am able to be honestly grateful! It is also because I don't put myself in the position of the groveling supplicant.

There is a big difference, here, between a person feeling that they deserve things no one has committed to give them, and the simple honoring of agreements made. When an agreement with me is honored, it is because the agreement was made - not because I deserved the agreement to be made. At work, they don't pay me because I deserve it. Maybe they'd fire me, if they felt I deserved to be fired! But as long as I'm there at the job, they pay me because that is what they've agreed to do.

If I were to claim I deserved their money, it would be the same thing as saying that they deserve my time. Which is preposterous. We've each agreed to hold our own nose on that exchange, for the sake of expediency. That's all.

But a gift is something different. And no matter how much you think you deserve it - if the person you think you deserve it from can either give it or withhold it at whim - then it's a gift. Okay? What is wrong with simple gratitude? Why should you think you deserve a thing that another person has not committed to give, and that they are free to withhold? How does it help you to put yourself in that position? If they don't have to give it to you - then it's a gift!

Now, if it is just the fulfillment of an earlier agreement, then by all means, treat it cool like a business deal. But if that's how you run your personal life - transactions, debts logged, things owed - then what an empty shell your personal life must be. How can you be owed anything just for being who you are and doing the best you can? Was everything you ever gave anyone in your life merely a loan? For which you expect - you demand, you deserve return? Is that what your life has been? Every good done - another entry in the other person's debt column! Is that what all the good of your life has been?

Or was it a gift given freely?

When someone gives me something, I can feel surprise and gratitude over a gift given freely. I did not deserve it. It wasn't owed. The gift is given - I get something unexpected! That's a happy thing. But suppose I thought I deserved it: would I have received it with hauteur and irritation that it took so long, for me to simply get what I deserve? Or would I have measured it against the balance of what I thought I deserved and found it insufficient? People with a keen sense of entitlement must never enjoy getting anything!

Now, maybe the person giving it felt I'd earned it. Maybe to the giver, it was a gratuity. Okay. But that doesn't bother me either - because it was a gift given freely, no matter how the giver saw the exchange. They needn't have given it to me. They didn't agree to give it to me. And it certainly was never a case of me, the supplicant, praying my case to the person I've put above me, to give me what I deserve from them.

I mean heck. Who needs that? Who can even enjoy it, when that transaction comes through? Are you really so deeply in that person's power that you need to set yourself up for resentment, even when good things happen?

What good is what you think you deserve? If you don't get it, you grumble and whine like a bitch about it. If you do get it - "big deal!", "about time!" - at best, you take it as your due. Precious little satisfaction there.

Be bigger than that. Live your life as a gift given freely. Let the good that comes back to you be as unexpected, undeserved, uncounted as the good you put forth. Honor the agreements you make, and hold others to their agreements - but when it comes to just doing good, treat each and all as your equal, and all gifts as free.

If you gave someone good, let it be a gift. If someone gives you good, it is not in repayment. Let it be a gift. Don't put others above you, such that your happiness depends on what you say they deserve to give. Be bigger than that.

You deserve it!

Why Are People So Damn Angry?

Some people are so damn angry because they believe what they have been told about what they deserve.

Other people are so damn angry because they believed what they were told about what they deserve.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Tales of Secret Dog: A Fiction-Friday Exclusive Children's Book Story!

Page 1.

Secret Dog lived in a building that said: "No Pets Allowed"

(picture of a stern brownstone Apt building with a bold word balloon coming out of it as the building says: "No Pets Allowed.")

Page 2.

(picture of Secret Dog peering out from concealment in Marda's backpack, seeing a posted placard: NO PETS ALLOWED)

Page 3.

Secret Dog had lived there for as long as he could remember.

(picture of Secret Dog, as a tinier pup, peering out from concealment under the futon)

Page 4.

Every day, Marda and Elos showered Secret Dog with quiet love and affection.

(tickle-scratches, everybody smiling but everybody also looking out of the corners of their eyes)

Page 5.

Secret Dog's dog dish was a regular bowl that would be set out at mealtimes.

(picture of dish)

It did not have his name on it.

Page 6.

Secret Dog did not know what his name was, because Marda and Elos were always careful never to call him.

(picture of Secret Dog looking up confusedly at Marda and Elos who are smiling down at him with love)

Page 7.

So Secret Dog just called himself Secret Dog!

(picture of Secret Dog looking dashing and mysterious - and yes, before you ask, his dog fur pattern does make a black mask of his eyes, ears and the top of his head - very Zorro-esque!)

Page 8.

Secret Dog felt certain that somewhere, elsewhere in the building, there must be another pet like him.

(picture of cutaway of the building, all apts. darkened except Secret Dog's with him in it up top right, and another apt on the second floor down left side, with another dog in it hiding under a bed)

Page 9.

And maybe more!

(same picture, only with a third dog popping out of a closet as the two previous dogs look wistfully in his direction)

Page 10.

But Secret Dog was not sure how to contact the other secret pets without blowing everyone's cover.

(picture of Secret Dog munching from his dish, furious look of concentration and planning)

Page 11.

Secret Dog was proud of the good job he was doing, keeping himself secret. He knew that Marda and Elos would not be thrown out because of him!

(Secret Dog, guard-duty pose in front of the futon as Marda and Elos sit watching tv, eating from a big bowl of snack mix. Secret Dog is chewing too)

Page 12.

Secret Dog never, ever barked.

(picture of boisterous young people walking by the apt. door in the hallway, talking loudly / split screen of Secret Dog glaring, plastered up against the door not barking but clearly VERY VIGILANT)

Page 13.

One time Secret Dog thought he heard an intruder trying to get in.

(picture of Secret Dog under the futon, perking up in the darkened living room, light coming under the apt. door with a shadow of INTRUDER)

Page 14.

What would he do?

(split picture montage of Secret Dog efficiently killing masked intruder with a black-ops neck-snap, duffel-bagging the body and dragging it down the back stairwell - then a shot of the bag sticking stiffly out of the dumpster)

Page 15.

Luckily, it was only Elos and Marda!

(picture of Elos and Marda coming in late, Secret Dog cowering under the futon).

Page 16.

And they brought a KITTEN with them!

(Marda produces a startled kitten from her backpack)

Page 17.

And everyone was happy.

(picture of Marda and Elos on the futon as Secret Dog sprawls across them getting scratches from Elos. The kitten sleeps on the corner of the cushion)

Page 18.

But that was not The End.

(same picture, only everyone stopped what they're doing and are looking at us, trepidatiously)

Page 19.

The End

Thursday, January 27, 2011

On Trust. And Why Not?

I do recognize that some deceptive people think that trusting people are stupid, but you and I know who the joke's really on, don't we? No need to lend our stamp to that attitude!

I'm entirely trusting. My one stipulation is I try not to act impulsively on it, right out of the box. That alone keeps me pretty well protected from my colossally bad judge of character! My comfort level seems to have instituted its own natural waiting period. I've had to stay within certain limits, in order to keep from losing my natural gullibility, which I prize. For one thing, I don't lend money - yeah, yeah. So easy to take the moral high road, when you're broke all the time from incessant gourmet dining!

But anyway, if someone is "fooling me," and all they get out of it is my belief - well, I fail to see what they have to gloat about, there. What's their profit on that? My belief comes CHEAP! It surges and flows from the mother lode - there is a vast supply more, where that came from.

It costs me nothing to believe, to trust, and so why not? If some fool wants to prove himself so, telling a bunch of lies, which I swallow so sweetly and credulously with a trusting smile - well what's it to me? No skin off my apple! So to speak.

There is a lovely story told of St. Thomas Aquinas - so renowned for his later theological leaps and feats of reason that we forget that in school he was considered to be exceptionally stupid, and that they called him "The Dumb Ox."* As the story goes, one day Thomas was in the classroom, and 3 of his fellows came running to him, saying "Thomas, Thomas! Come to the window quick, the cows are flying!" Thomas ran to the window and looked out!

- to the laughter and the ridicule of the others, who mocked him for his gullibility.

Thomas meekly replied "I would rather believe that cows could fly than that brothers would lie."

Now, I have my suspicions about that little episode. I suspect he knew full well going into it what was up - and he was just setting 'em up to knock 'em down! Probably had his little coup-de-grace comeback all ready in mind, already. But be that as it may: it's a sweet sentiment, a nice lesson to contemplate, and an inspirational little tale.

And I take it to heart. Or rather, I find that it's already there: I would rather believe some preposterous lie, than believe that the human being across from me is lying. Wouldn't you? Shoot! Who cares about the validity of some random fact or claim, when set next to the stark possibility that the person across from you is such a dip that they'd lie to you about it? Me, I'd much rather take it on faith that they sincerely believe what they say. I'm pleased to accept it as their honest testimony, however improbable - and for whatever it may be worth, given the case at hand.

That's why I'm so easy to fool. I love that about me! Fool me once? Shame on you. Fool me twice? Shame on me! Fool me three times? Shame on you again. Fool me four times? My turn! Fool me five times? What, you're still having fun? COOL!!! Keep on foolin'! Fool me again!

I love a good fool. A good fool can keep you entertained for years, just getting the better of you.

There's no end to the better of me, where a fool's concerned.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Guess The Shakespeare Quote, As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob #22

SCORING RULES (CHECK BEFORE YOU ANSWER! - no credit for partials!)

Today's Guess The Shakespeare Quote As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob:


"Man, when you keep bitching about shit that's done and over - that's just asking to get hit with more."

Previous questions remaining open (THERE FOR THE TAKING!):
Guess The Shakespeare Quote, As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob #14

Scoring remains open until the first correct answer is posted! Full score for 1st correct answer, half score for all subsequent correct answers until close of scoring.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Apathy Rises When Everything's Fine

"Apathy" is a funny sort of problem. People seem to be very selective over when they cry "apathy!" It only ever seems to be invoked where there's something wrong.

But really, even if there's nothing wrong at all, a person can still be apathetic about it, right? Sure! In fact, there is probably even more widespread apathy when things are just fine, than there is over problems.

People just don't care then. Hypocrites.

Monday, January 24, 2011

My novel idea

I am writing a novel, and it's kind of got one of those "trick twists" at the end. Because you're going through it, you're reading it all the way through, you're fully engrossed and you totally think everything happening is on the level - But then! At the very end, you get thrown for the loop:

"NONE OF IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED"

"NONE OF IT WAS REAL. It's a novel."

"It totally said so on the cover!" "Didn't you read the cover?" "Right under the title:"

~ a novel ~

You can bet there'd be some people pissed off about that kind of rude denouement, but next time, read the cover.

Neglectin' the Blog!!

I don't know if "Neglectin'" there really works. Who the hell drops that "g"?

Me, I suppose. I do.

Ok! I really haven't been generating much content. But I have so many thousands of drafts, I assure you! I will go into those drafts now, post a post for tomorrow, one for Wednesday (better make that a Shakespeare!), one for Thursday, one for Friday (fiction, perhaps?), and one for Saturday and one for Sunday. EASY. Whole week taken care of in one shot!

See you next week. In the meantime, just sit back and enjoy the quality.

Hell, I may even schedule a post for later tonight. Once I'm done with the others. "Bonus."

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Quote of the Day: Chivalrous

"Chivalry is not dead, but this armor is killing me."

You Know I Think This Is The First Time I Have Ever Had This Realization

Damn, I just realized that prodigious delicious dinner I had last night with fun and friends probably put on weight.

On me, I mean.

WEIGHT.

Weight.

Friday, January 21, 2011

The Desirable Possible Is Inevitable.

Human ingenuity is not important.

I'm not talking about creativity, here. I'm not talking about novels, I'm talking about the printing press. I'm not talking about a great song, I'm talking about taking a sound out of the air and burning its pattern down into an object that can then be read. When I say ingenuity, I mean "the ability of a person to design and acquire 'know-how.'"

Human ingenuity is not important. No one's invention is a necessity. The action of ingenuity is not the action of individual brilliance, but of simple attrition. That action is made inevitable by the combined weight of all of our minds, wearing away in their slow course forward, carving ever deeper canyons into the possible as they seek - in the dumb way that weight seeks gravity, or like a charge seeks discharge - the course of least resistance.

In short, on a macro scale, human ingenuity is water flowing downhill. It doesn't matter what any of us can conceive - what we can't conceive will be stumbled upon. Not so much by accident, as by the unthinking and unending wearing away of whatever's in the way, that happens to be soluble. The soluble will be dissolved.

Not everything we can envision will end up being possible! Some obstacles may end up being foundational aspects of reality, which we will have to work within, or work around.

But soluble obstacles are intrinsically toast. Given directed pressure and time, the possible cannot be stopped. Soluble obstacles to the path of least resistance will always be worn away, by directed survival and competitive pressures, whether or no we have geniuses available to shout "Eureka!" and slap each other's backs as they induct each other into halls of fame. The only difference a genius makes is a few years or decades - or even possibly, centuries - either way. These are insignificantly molecular specks of time, on any reasonably cosmic scale.

Did Benjamin Franklin discover electricity? Some crispy neanderthal beat him to it by a long sight - but the lightning was there, long before that. Did Newton do anything significant at all, other than to increase the grasp our mental hand has upon levers that are themselves fundamental - and fundamentally independent of sentient thought? What does it matter to mass and gravity and electromagnetism how we formulate their interactions in our squishy little minds? Would we never have unlocked the atom, if it handn't been for whoever we care to credit for that advance? The answer to these and to most questions is a resounding: "Duh."

Sure, we can say, "Thank God for Henry Ford! He invented the assembly line." And yes, why not? Let's celebrate our individuals, for their eureka moments. Saith puny human to puny human: "Yay on you!" But seriously, did we really think nobody else was going to ever come up with that?

The assembly line.

I'm not denigrating the assembly line. The assembly line is by a good god-damn sight a far bigger deal than the transistor, than the integrated circuit, and than the microprocesser. The assembly line is a far bigger deal than the three put together. But the point is that each of these is a solution to a problem that was toast to begin with. It does not come down to a matter of creativity, nor a matter of ingenuity, nor a matter of genius. What do innovators actually do? What importance does any one of them have? What importance as individuals? Why do the adherents of rival geniuses holler over who got there first, when there clearly were crowded fields of people who were going that way and going to get there?

Innovators are the impersonal, interchangeable agents of a dumb, blind, inevitable wearing away. The great mass and momentum of our slow sight and thought flowing over it will wear down the thickest sludge of this dense, imprecise conception of reality we labor over, and under, and through. We have within our mass of minds many pairs of sharp eyes, one of whom will always suddenly spot the glittering glint of the possible - once it has peeped out from the muck. This innovator will seize upon it with a yell, and be dubbed a pioneer! - just as if no one else was going to have seen that increasingly large, sharp shard of metal sticking ever further outward, as the soluble sludge that had once concealed it keeps wearing down and away.

The sludge is ours, not reality's. There is only one obstacle we ever actually deal with, in all of our progress into unlocking "the mysteries of the universe" and "how reality works." That obstacle is not reality. It is our own ignorance, as to how reality actually works. This ignorance wears away, not by dint of our brilliance, but by our endless dumb rubbing up against it.

In the final analysis, human ingenuity has made no achievement at all, except in lessening humanity's own towering-to-begin-with-and-still-considerable ignorance. We can throw all the parties we want, but what are we really celebrating? It's as if I write a really stupid computer program that has the ability to solve its own stupidity, given enough time. Yay? Yay for me? Yay for the computer program?

No yay. I mean, why? Why yay? None of that computer program's problems were problems - except for itself.

Our species as a whole is in on that great wash of progress, and no individual droplet in the stream is going to particularly matter when it comes to reaching where we can eventually end up. That's because no genius, no trailblazer, no innovator - no matter how colossal - makes any real contribution to what is actually physically possible.

Faster or slower, the flow will uncover what can be done.

Anything that can possibly be done better, one way or another way to unlock that potential will be worn clear over time.

Now, not every possible individual idiosyncratic method will be discovered! There are, after all, nigh-infinite redundant solutions to most problems. Just as occurs via selection-driven speciation and adaptation to a given ecological niche, a solution will appear and predominate, which hinders the explosive proliferation of a competing solution (even one marginally better). But the point is: the individual innovator doesn't matter, any more than their individual solution matters.

The desirable possible is inevitable.

None of us, not even the most brilliant of us, makes a damn bit of difference when it comes to achieving what was simply, and finally, physically possible to begin with.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Guess The Shakespeare Quote, As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob #21

SCORING RULES (CHECK BEFORE YOU ANSWER! - no credit for partials!)

Today's Guess The Shakespeare Quote As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob:


"Fuckin' woe is me, man. Nobody loves me; I could drop dead, nobody's going to sympathize. I don't even sympathize with myself."

Previous questions remaining open (THERE FOR THE TAKING!):
Guess The Shakespeare Quote, As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob #14

Scoring remains open until the first correct answer is posted! Full score for 1st correct answer, half score for all subsequent correct answers until close of scoring.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

I Will Break Into Any Secure Facility With An Enclosed Outdoor Area, Bringing With Me A Delicious Picnic Lunch, Have Myself A Leisurely Picnic, Pack Back Up, And Break Out Again - All With No One Any The Wiser!

That's just so you know the kind of guy I am.

If I really want to stick it to 'em, I bring my kite with me.

I Have Seen God's Will

I have seen God's will.

He left us everything.

Invented By Online Work-From-Home Lonely, Horny Wife-Moms!

I can already just tell this is going to be one of those posts where the content never quite lives up to the promise implied by the title.

Oh well.

You know, it's like, a mashup of various side-bar ad come-ons?

I guess I needed more to go on then just that, though.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Fiction Friday: Special Impromptu Top-Of-The-Head Edition

Tom Ronson had walked in to the Sip N' Steak like he owned the place or soon would - tossing off his order with a curt nod and a wink to Maebelle before he even had his seat at the counter. Maebelle sassed him right back, but she was already dotting the i on the order slip, sticking it slap on the order wheel, giving it a spin, ringing the bell. Tom settled in sidewise, one stool over from his usual roost. He

eh

I gotta get back to work. Lunch is OVER, people!

Sorry about that. That might have been going somewhere, but I kind of got sidetracked.

Damn. That's a pretty weak effort. Still, my standards in general are pretty high! We can all take comfort in that, at least.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Menstrual Cramps: an Outrage

I have to chime in on this whole issue of menstrual cramps and related concerns. I want to make it very plain, I'm against it.

Speaking not merely as a committed feminist, but also as a dude, I have to say you ladies got the short end of the stick on this whole setup. Not sure who to blame on that - God or Darwin - but either way, it's clear they were both men. A couple of self-aggrandizing patriarchialists, out to prove some point and/or create the universe on the backs of the suffering of women!

I wouldn't even be surprised if the two of 'em weren't in on it together, at some level. I mean, just look at Darwin's beard - terribly affectedly Jehovaesque if you ask me.

Now some might say, that's not really fair - God's not a "man"! God's some sort of...infinite...energy being, of some kind. Yeah, well maybe so! But to paraphrase his own autobiography, "Judge Ye By Their Fucking Acts!" And in that same book, we see the plain and damning fact that shows without a doubt which side of the gender divide God butters his bread on. Because when God decides to come down here to make some point about solidarity with us lower types, about ostensibly joining in on our suffering, and et cetera, well. He didn't come down as a woman did he?

Did he?

No! I daresay he did not. That would have been a bit too much suffering, eh? So no, of course he didn't. He came down as a human male - the traditional bastion, repository and chief beneficiary of male privilege. A human male - what better form to take, to further the cause of institutionalized patriarchy?

So anyway, the point I'm making here is - that whole menstrual deal - that's a raw damn deal y'all got saddled with on this one, to have to deal with.

I'm feelin' ya.

Thought of the day: that look

I think my 'come hither' look is more like a 'go yonder' look.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Tits Or GTFO: An Online Community Idea

I want to start an online discussion forum called "Tits Or GTFO," and it would be full of nothing but all these tons of different, mostly-redundant, mostly-empty discussion threads populated by a surly membership of miffed, long-time forum member dudes grousing around, sniping at each other, complaining about how much better the forum used to be, and occasionally telling each other to GTFO.

Then it turns out that if you go through all of the hundreds of totally pointless threads in the different idiotically-detailed and luridly-titled sections of the forum ("BIG ONES here", "ittybitties!", "Exclusively For The Fake Tit Enthusiast", "They're Real And They're Spectacular!", et cetera) that the entire actual non-grousing content of the forum boils down to some time close to the start of it all, in maybe one section, there was like maybe, one actual instance of actual tits posted. Something like three-quarters of the total views and replies of the whole discussion board would be on that one thread. Everybody all "AWESMOE" and "MOAR!" et cetera, etc. Going through waves of praise, wheedling and then rage, denial etc directed at the board's apparently only ever female member, who has to all appearances dropped just that one post as a joke and left. And now all these dudes on the Tits Or GTFO Discussion Forum are all kind of...founded upon the hope of getting those ol' glory days rolling again.

I think this is a fully-conceived comedic idea, for what I think could be a pretty hilarious place for visitors to browse through and be appalled at the behavior and attitude on display! You know. If done creatively.

Anyway, I've got the creatively angle handled, you may be assured! Conceptually, I have this one locked in. I know just the tone that needs to be struck.

But I'm just not sure how to get it off the ground.

Guess The Shakespeare Quote, As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob #20

SCORING RULES (CHECK BEFORE YOU ANSWER! - no credit for partials!)

Today's Guess The Shakespeare Quote As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob:


"Yo, concubine of mine...if you don't know you, you better introduce yourself. Get down on your knees like you was starvin', baby - and THANK GOD for a good man's love! I'm telling you like a friend: better take what you got and sell it while it's hot, because demand's going to pass you by to a better supply."

Previous questions remaining open (THERE FOR THE TAKING!):
Guess The Shakespeare Quote, As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob #14

Scoring remains open until the first correct answer is posted! Full score for 1st correct answer, half score for all subsequent correct answers until close of scoring.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Word of the Day: "Subversivore"

"Subversivore" is a made-up word. It means "an uncritical consumer of manufactured subversiveness, esp. one who considers himself or herself to be more intellectually rigorous than uncritical consumers of the culture's dominant paradigms."

Usage note: Subversivores (the uncritical consumers of subversive paradigms) are to be distinguished from the subversavants who design and manufacture subversive paradigms. These two groups rarely mix. Subversavants provide the subversive template for subversivores to conform to, but do not often participate - since while they do not take well to presumptions of social equality from their inferiors, they are typically catastrophically ill-equipped for leadership roles.

Thought of the Day: Guts. Perseverance. Integrity.

It's easy to believe in something when it's right. What's hard is to believe in something you know is wrong.

BEARS! Hell yes they are hungry. Pt.2: Questions About How Hungry A Bear Is

Q. Does anybody know how hungry a bear is?

A. ONLY A BEAR KNOWS how hungry a bear is.

Q. Do you know how hungry a bear is?

A. NO. I am not a bear.

Q. If two bears are there, which one is hungrier?

A. THEY BOTH ARE.

Q. Why are bears so hungry?

A. Please see Pt.1

Q. How can a compassionate God make bears so hungry?

A. Oh come off it. Bears LOVE TO BE HUNGRY like people love to be horny. It justifies their excesses. What bears don't love is to be starving.

Q. Nicely-drawn distinction!

A. That's not a question. We're done here.

~ put your own questions about How Hungry A Bear Is in the comments! ~

Monday, January 10, 2011

BEARS! Hell yes they are hungry.

The other day, I was so hungry I said: "I'm as hungry as a bear made out of bears."

Now, that's about the hungriest thing possible, because the bear is the standard big unit of measurement for how hungry a thing can be. As in, in terms of hunger, "bear" = "a hunger ton." Those dudes, they wake up STARVED. They're like, skin and bones! Coming all groggy and pissed off, out of hibernation and they're like "AW COME ON!! I am SO starved. Man, I just need to eat, and eat more, and just KEEP ON EATING more. I need to just get fat and more fat, and keep on getting fatter so this shit NEVER HAPPENS TO ME AGAIN." That's the incredible physical and psychological hunger, that drives a bear.

And that's what they do, pretty much! For months and months, even after they've got a big bellyful they are just as hungry as hell for more, more, more. They just want to pack it on and keep packing it on, until they know they won't ever be caught starved again. It's never enough for a bear. That bear's natural state is hungry. Eye of a tiger's got nothing on the belly of a bear.

But then finally at some point they're like, "man. I am pretty fat. But I just want to keep on EATING, so I won't starve! But...I'm so tired, too though...maybe, I'll just lay down in this cave for a minute and rest..."

Then sure enough. Next thing the bear knows:

"GOD DAMN IT!"

"IT HAPPENED AGAIN!"

...and the cycle begins anew.

Nothing is hungrier than a bear, on average.

ABORT THE ANTICHRIST

Now I may be going out on a limb here, but I think I've come up with a bumper-sticker that can finally bring together the bitterest extremists on both sides of the divide.

Sunday, January 09, 2011

Quote of the Day

"Love is the best thing in life, and the worst in memory."

A Corrected Cosmology

The universe is balanced on the back of a turtle.

The turtle is standing on the back of another turtle.

That turtle is standing on the back of another turtle.

That turtle is standing on the back of yet another turtle.

There's another turtle under that one.

And another one.

And another one.

But if you go down about a jillion turtles further, that last turtle is standing on my back.

So what am I standing on, you ask?

Well first, I'm not standing. I'm more kind of kneeling. Hands and knees. But that doesn't answer the question, really, because what am I kneeling on?

Well, I'll tell you. I'm kneeling on my foundational hatred of turtles.

Which is damn solid and firm, you can fucking-A believe it.

Fooled.

I believed in the best that I saw in you. I knew that was not all you were.

A person is more than the outer surface they show to the world, for one thing. A person is far more than their best, for another. And your best was not all I saw.

But I believed in the best. I believed in the best that I saw, in you. And I gave you a chance to be that best.

Dear, it was not me - not me, who was fooled.

I'm As Good As My Word.

I am as good as my word. What's my word?

"pusillanimous"

Saturday, January 08, 2011

Friday, January 07, 2011

The Imaginary Line

When it comes to the imagination, take warning - it's a fine line between
"I can't begin to imagine..."
and
"I can't stop picturing..."

Thursday, January 06, 2011

Cherish your love.

Cherish your love. Be as true as you can, for yourself and to others, and for God's sake if you can find someone good in this world to love and to be true to - don't miss the chance, and don't throw it away lightly.

This world is going to tear every one of us apart. Many things can make us strong enough to last through it, at least for a while. But only one thing can make the lasting worth it.

At least for a while.

Wednesday, January 05, 2011

Guess The Shakespeare Quote, As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob #19

SCORING RULES (CHECK BEFORE YOU ANSWER! - no credit for partials!)

Today's Guess The Shakespeare Quote As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob:


"Life is a loud, pointless story told by a moron."


Previous questions remaining open (THERE FOR THE TAKING!):
Guess The Shakespeare Quote, As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob #14

Scoring remains open until the first correct answer is posted! Full score for 1st correct answer, half score for all subsequent correct answers until close of scoring.

Tuesday, January 04, 2011

Manifesto.

Practice is the purpose of every true art. The production of works of art is just a side-effect.

Sunday, January 02, 2011

And That's A Promise

A promise is nothing but a decision you make against the future. You're fucking with your future self, basically. That's a real existential rivalry, there - you'll be constantly running afoul of it, if you're not careful. Self-awareness, they call it!

Your past you is all "hey, future me. I know you're going to replace me and all. I know I'm sliding out of myself and into you all the time. I know I can't do shit about it. But guess what! I'm going to saddle you with this. A nice promise. That you'll be stuck dealing with. Enjoy!"

But that's alright. You can always get even with your past you. Tell people about the bedwetting.

Quote of the Live-Long Fuck-You Day

"Anybody who says 'fuck you' to me better be able to back it up."

Sarah Silverman: CENSORED FOR FEMINIST REASONS AND/OR INTELLECTUAL COWARDICE MASQUERADING AS FEMINISM

Sarah Silverman is a babe with more smarts to spare than most people have smarts. She commands respect. Wait, it's not that she commands respect, or that she demands respect. But I respect her anyway!

Hey, why wouldn't I? She says the kinds of things that most people don't - and then we only think about them! I mean, things that wouldn't even occur to most people's minds to say - especially not the way she puts it! Because if they did, then well why aren't they hot, successful, beautiful Jewish comediennes with just the most seriously darling of smiles?

Which, let's face it. Most people? It's pretty clear that they're not.

This post was originally going to be titled, "Sarah Silverman: HER BRAIN IS AS HOT AS HER BODY." I chickened out. I don't want people thinking that's some kind of primary way in which I regard her!

I don't want that. I don't want people thinking that.

Breakfast: It's What's For Breakfast.

They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but I'm pretty sure it's the Egg Council that says that. Not the Beef Council.

You know what, though? I'm not much of a steak and eggs guy, anyway. Usually it strikes me as a big hot slab of nothing-too-inspiring, sitting there next to the glistening eggs and crisp 'tates like an outwardly-charred, inwardly-bloody chore that I've got to cut my way through, assuming they cooked it right. Partly, my uninspired take may be just down to the cuts they've been serving me - a great cut of steak doesn't need some wifty treatment to shine! And sadly, more often than not, the cuts made available to you for breakfast seem to be not quite up to making the cut at a good dinner place. But even if you have a really good piece of steak - there's something about that steak that sort of bowls the breakfast aspect aside, and makes you feel like you're eating dinner with a side of eggs.

You know what I think would tie the two together better? Eggs and steak? A nice benedict variation. How about a sort of a filet oscar meets eggs benedict: a delicious, rare filet mignon, topped with tender asparagus spears, a couple big poached eggs, generous lump crab and a sauce hollandaise, I think - not the oscar's béarnaise. This is after all breakfast!

Maybe it's brunch. Either way, I'd be willing to give that a try. A nice light crispy-fried side of lightly herbed and seasoned home fries done golden would complete the plate.

Who likes steak and eggs?

Saturday, January 01, 2011

Yes, I Am! A Handy Man.

So I slept pretty well-bundled-up last couple nights, because the pilot light in my heater went out (I have one of those tall, slotted metal deals that's mounted into an interior wall, so that it heats more interior areas from both exposed sides) and needless to say, I'm a wuss. I wasn't going to just get drunk as hell, slap on football paint and "tough it out" bare-chested. Well, maybe last night. But that's unrelated.

So sleeping bundled up was the backup plan. But it was getting a bit old fast, you know? Heat just feels more normal.

Anyway, I get the bottom maintenance panel off, and I figure the pilot light's out. This was after I'd ruled out my first assumption: that P.G.&E. had cut me off for non-payment of my bill. I ruled that out when, after my decisive record-checking proved to my own satisfaction that I had paid my bill, the heater still refused to work. So that's when I figured it had to be the pilot light. That, plus the lights were still on. And the gas stove.

So I got the bottom maintenance panel off, and I can't find this damn pilot light. So I watch a You-Tube video where the gas company guy comes out to relight this girl's apartment's wall heater pilot light (kind of sounds like the setup for a porn, huh?) and this dude keeps checking up there with a mirror. So...I can't see the damn hose outlet for this pilot light. I figure: go get a mirror. Go like the pros go. And while I'm out, I pick up some light bulbs, and a key-chain with a bear on it (so I don't feel like I'm wasting a trip) from the drug store where they sold me the mirror.

It's a pretty cool mirror! One side of it magnifies your face FIVE TIMES. My face looks so great in this thing.

Anyway, from the drug store I figure, "better hit the bar." I'm starved by now. I need a burger, some thick-cut fries and a couple pints or so, to fortify me for the job ahead with this damn pilot light. Maybe some coconut shrimp, too! Those look goooood. Anyway while I'm at the bar, I tell everybody there about how I'm going to go kick this pilot light's ass.

They wish me luck. Sharon made the sign of the cross a couple times (she knows I'm Catholic). I guess in her misunderstood mind, she thinks that means "good luck" or something, to a Catholic.

When I get home, needless to say it is damn COLD in the house, and that makes me FIRED UP. Because it is cold, and I am not bundling up again like some hobo tonight in my own damn house, okay? I cue up some LOUD, kick-ass tunes on my iPod and set to work! Out comes the mirror. Out comes the long lighter-wand. Is that what they call it? A lighter-wand? I love that thing. Every time I click the thumb-push-hold switch I pretend like I'm Harry Potter: "Incendiatus!" Or whatever the fuck he says, when he's relighting a pilot light with his wand. Probably doesn't even use pilot lights, the cocky bastard. Everything's magic with those guys.

So the music's ROCKING in my skull (AC/DC all the way!) and *pop* off comes the bottom maintenance panel again, and I get my damn mirror into position and I think I can see based on where the hose goes, where the pilot light must be (turns out I was right, but we don't find that out until later) and I'm trying to thrust and angle and stretch that lighter wand up there into perfect position, so I can get this thing going.

Now I should point out, this lighter wand is almost out of juice, and you really have to press that thumb-switch good and hard forward, and keep it squeezed to keep the tip lit! And in order to get gas hissing to the pilot light, you have to depress and hold this weird...twist knob button switch. You actually have to twist it first - it has 3 positions: "On." "Off." "Pilot." - guess which I went with? Right! But then it turns out it was actually supposed to be "Pilot." Anyway once I figured that out, after twisting it, you have to then push it in and keep it depressed. So you hear the hiss. Then you get the burning flame up by the nozzle so that it lights the gas. But! Then you have to keep that button pushed for three minutes or something (the guy in the video says, but I forgot) so that the element heats up. To make it work right. I figure, 3 minutes, I'll just get it lit and then keep it pushed in for a full AC/DC song. Make it pleasurable for everybody.

So I'm there with both hands pushing and squeezing, and my right hand on the gas and my left hand trying to waggle that damn wand around over the assumed-to-be-nozzle position, waiting to hear the *WHOOSH* except - I can't hear a damn thing but rock and roll at this point! - and I'm looking in the mirror, trying to see if it's lit or not...but I figure it must be, right? Because I can totally smell gas! And then I don't know if it's the gas or what, but suddenly I realize what song is playing and I start giggling uncontrollably. It's AC/DC's "Heatseeker"! Right?

Anyhow, I'm losing it right about now but I'm really trying to hold it together with both hands, thumbs squeezing and wand angling, and just giggling uncontrollably kind of balanced on the balls of my feet? I'm like, "I've got this. Heat-seeekaaaaaah!" So I kind of slip and fall backwards a bit, but the good part of that was, the lit wand kind of catches on the bottom of the middle panel, and the whole thing pops off and falls, clang and rattle to the carpet! Bwawawaang.

Turns out that whole sucker pops right off.

After that it was easy.

Happy New Year's Day Evening!

This time of year, you hear a lot of talk about World Peace. But from what I can tell, all over the world there is way more world peace than otherwise! World Peace is kicking war's ass, for the most part. I mean if we're talking about lack of active war, World Peace is practically running things! Only a fool would consider it necessary to point that out.

Thoughts.

Saturday-Sunday Mixup Pt.3

To make it all balance out right, tomorrow I'll try to post something extra-heatheny.

DAMN IT!!! Today's Saturday. Not Sunday!

Wow, rarely has any Saturday felt more like a Sunday! Something very hushed and holy about it. About today, I mean.

Huh.

Okay, well: the previous post is now a very rare and special SATURDAY edition of my regular (?) Sunday Theology God Blog Post feature.

If you haven't read any of those, by the way, I heavenly recommend it. A click on any of several labels ("God", perhaps, or "theology" or "Sunday") will get you many but not all of them. Well worth a few clicks! Who blogs about God with as much rich wit, irreverence and piercing insight? I do.

Note, that's not really trash-talk there. I kind of thought it was at first myself, and I was about to go back and tone it down, but I read it again a couple times and basically, I just said that I blog about God with as much rich wit, irreverence and piercing insight as I do. Which, hey - that might be a big boast in someone else's mouth, but for me it's just the plain and humble truth! I do. Unfortunately, and be warned, half of everything - if the attempt is made to view it all as a whole - it might kind of conflict with itself. But that's just because I feel the topic is so big it deserves a lot of different viewpoints and tones! And you can probably tell I'm just making fun of it, sometimes (God loves those posts in particular!). Making fun of theology, I mean - not God per se.

But always know that if you're ever in any doubt as to the intent and/or extent of a given post, feel free to ask your sincere question right there in the comments! Put me on the spot, and watch me deal with your sincere query with astonishing ease and a certain quiet, disconcerting wisdom!

Let's change that to rich wit, irreverence and piercing insight, and occasionally: a certain quiet, disconcerting wisdom.

Sunday: Sin

Sin is anything you knowingly choose to put between you and God.