Do You Feel Lucky?

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

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Am I Misunderstood? An Examination!

Many times, it seems I am misunderstood. But am I? Am I really? A lot's riding on the question, so it bears scrutiny. And when the answer comes, you can just about bet it will bear repeating. But how to go about it? How is a question like this investigated?

The simplest way is the most obvious: I will say something - in English, to make the results fair - and it will be up to you readers to either misunderstand me, therefore proving the necessity of my investigation into this issue, or understand me, vindicating me, and putting all these doubters and low whisperers to shame. Making them stew in the invalidity of their baseless accusations thrown around like so much used newspaper! But what to say? What sort of statement would be most suited to use as grist for an investigation like this?

Some might say: a plain statement. Come out straight and plain, with a simple declaration of claimed fact. But then we get into contentious ground. What fact? How was the fact chosen? How do we know it is in fact a fact? What are the bases for our judgment that the fact is factual? And again, the very choice of which fact introduces the specter of new bias: not all facts are to everyone's liking. Is this a good fact or a bad fact? In whose view? By what moral metric? How is that sustained - with reference to an infinitely-arguable supernatural, or with recourse to one of many possible and often mutually-conflicting systems of ethical philosophy? As we can see, a plain statement of fact has the potential to raise more questions than answers.

Which is why some might say: go with a question. Leave it open-ended. Let the reader interpret the question as they choose! So long as their interpretation can be supported from within the text, they should be free to answer according to their own interpretation of what those words asked. And by their answer, we will be able to see whether or not some critical misunderstanding has occurred.

Which will give us our answer. But will that answer be sufficient? Suppose the answer comes back negative. No misunderstanding at any detectable level. Does this provide any assurances against future misunderstanding? It's arguable. And what if the answer comes back yes? "Misunderstanding detected!" Scramble the jets, what's our game plan to deal with THAT? Are we ready for that eventuality? Are we ready to hear the answer we don't want?

If not, then maybe we should consider whether we're even ready to ask the question. Or make the statement, depending. Maybe we should just admit that too many questions have already been asked; too many statements have already been made. To proceed any further would simply stack the deck - in favor of a "no" result, if the statements and questions thus far have been clear, but in favor of the dreaded "yes" result if not. Am I really ready to know?

I don't know. I honestly don't know.

Can a person be ready to know if they don't already know? Is knowledge prerequisite to understanding? How can there be understanding before knowledge? And absent some understanding of what we're up against, how can readiness be any more than a self-delusion?

Whether it can or it can't, I'm on pins and needles here, kind of!

More About Me Pt.3

Time for some More About Me. There was More About Me Pt.1, followed by More About Me Pt.2, so now what? What more about me do you need to know? How big my DICK is...?

Folks, I've got an enormous, mind-bogglingly huge seven-inch dick.. My big seven-incher towers over relatively shorter, smaller penises. When I take that thing out, there are gasps and wide eyes - shock and fear are the norm. "Did he just take his DICK OUT??"

Those of you who previously may have been mistakenly informed of my big, EIGHT inch dick - or who have thrilled to the rumors on that count - sorry. I've only measured the thing twice, the first time it came up solid well into the eight inches, which I was fine with - I even wrote a song about it! (Which I can't play any more. It no longer works, rhyme-scheme wise but I refuse to false advertise.) But then I found out I'd used the ruler incorrectly, and come up with a bad metric. The standard for dick-measuring metrics is not to measure from the balls-side, but to go all in from the root-top. Who knew? Veteran or inveterate dick-measurers, I guess, but it was news to me. So, clued in, I got my ruler out for the re-do. Result?

Remeasurement yields a firm, final, amazing colossal seven inches. Folks, that means my dick alone is more than half the national average of all dicks. That just goes to show you it pays to things the right way, to get some results you have confidence in. Alternate theory? Maybe every time I measure my dick, I lose an inch's-worth on the remeasurement.

Folks, it's too much to risk. The measurement stands, it was done in accordance with all international conventions and my effing gigantic seven incher is in the books. No further measurements will be a attempted, tolerated - or necessary. The results are in, and they are FUCKING HUGE. That's a final verdict.

I mean, have you people seen my dick?! It's a fucking monster. The sheer seven inches of it is...it's huge. It's impossible to even quantify how huge this...dick is. You know? I mean, the sheer penisness involved alone, it's like...holy DICK this dick is fucking BIG.

WHAT. A. DICK.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Douche-Tarr And The Adventures In The Friend-Zone

There needs to be a Saturday Morning TV show called Douche-Tarr And The Adventures In The Friend-Zone.

Douche-Tarr is a stalwart barbarian, cut from the same loincloth as Thundarr (or Maganzo!). He's ranging through a postapocalyptic wasteland called The Friend-Zone, along with his trusty steed Hi-Ho (a heavily equinamorphized penis - you can kind of tell that's what it is, but it's disguised enough to pass muster), his sidekick Wing-darr (a seven foot cross between a wookie and Big Bird, except he's orange and his wings work), and Princess Gloriannus. She's interested in Douch-Tarr and his quest, but she's not into him "in that way" - And Neither Is Any Other Woman In The Friend-Zone.

Basically, Douche-Tarr and his team are fighting their way through different groups of mutants and adventures. Douche-Tarr says pretty much whatever's on his mind, so you know where he's at. Partly he's trying to find a way out of The Friend-Zone, but also partly he's trying to locate the hidden fabled Fountain of Lady Brain Boners, which is rumored (or fabled) to imbue who who finds it with the ability to pretty much reliably induce brain boners in all the ladies, magically transporting the finder out of The Friend-Zone (and then the Fountain magically relocates someplace else within The Friend Zone, so that it remains hidden and hard to find!).

At the end of every episode, Douche-Tarr recounts another lesson he's learned about valuing women for more than just that "one thing" (which is never actually named or explained - dudes it's a kid's show!). But somehow, none of those lessons really seem to change his outlook much.

However, it would all be very educational for the viewer.

I think this is the sort of programming we need on tv.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Wednesday, October 08, 2014

Benediction #1.

"My blessings be on my enemies. My their hate bear fruit from a thousand trees.

Sunday, October 05, 2014

Day shift

All my dreams gave notice and quit. It's empty on the factory floor each night, no magic to make or supervise. But in the day, those dreams come by. Disheveled, ghastly in the light, they grouse a bit and beg for change. I tell them, please! Come back to work! I'd be so glad to take you back. You played so well by dim limelight. By daylight, you're simply not believable. They look at me strange, as if I came from a world that had lost its soul, its shadow, its reflection and gone looking for it in theirs. But I'm sure it was the other way round

Friday, October 03, 2014

Owned

The concept of ownership is incredibly strange when applied to humans, isn't it? If we ask the question: "Is it possible for someone to OWN me?" - we rebel against that. How can someone own me, it sounds tyrannical! But the real question is not one of deed or claim, but one of gift. The question is whether it possible to give yourself to another.

It is. How otherwise? If you cannot give yourself, who owns you and who is preventing the gift? If you cannot give yourself then you are not your own.

But of course, the gift is sentient, and that adds complexity. We can only say ownership of a sentient being if we mean ownership with permission and ownership by permission. Such gift and such ownership is not slavery. It is a gift full willing - and yes, it is subject to revocation.

The person who has given themselves to you can take it back. Fully and completely.

And some might say, well hell, that cheapens it then. "What's the point? It's meaningless to say it was given, if it can be taken back."

What a fool. A gift in love, a gift of self is not cheapened because it can be taken back. It doesn't mean less, it means more, infinitely more each day, because it is not taken back. Because it is a gift of self given freely, not once - but with every breath. That's not as if to say "oh god my every breath it's like I'm breathing the pure LOVE OF YOU, BABY!" Naw. Even I'm not that bad. Chemistry and magnetism whether emotional or sensual or spiritual or just plain sexual - it's all cyclical. In a life-long love it crests, and waxes, and wanes, and returns again. And some days, yup, the fizz is at LOW EBB. And other days you may even feel just "I'm sick of you!"

Yet the gift was given, and you give it again. Even on those days where you're sick and bored, you could take it back, but you end up not. Instead you sit up, and you think of all the reasons you gave it, and you remember who your lover is and who you are, and you know what power exists between you when you are together and calm and one, and yourselves. When life's not giving you static and you aren't, either. And remembering, you put memory into action, and the gift is still there. Each of you belongs to the other. Each of you has all the other has, and so you've got yourself back as well! The gift remains given, and you give it again.

Every day, and with every breath, the gift remains given until you take it back. This means so much more than the slavery, the locked property people accuse you of, when you say you have given your self and taken another's in gift. It means so much more, because every day is a day you could choose to give up, if you wanted to. Every day is a day you could take back the gift you gave. If you couldn't believe in it ever again, anymore, your love would escape and your self would again be yours.

Love is a gift and love remains a gift. Every day you stay you make of your self a gift given it freely.

Thursday, October 02, 2014

What's Your Meyers-Briggs Personality Type?

I am ENFJ: THE MENTOR.

This reminds me of when I was a child, and me and my brothers were playing with a tape recorder. It was sort of a television show where it was being made up as you go using action figures (or as we called them, "figgers") for the principals. There was Bending Legs (that was his name - the Fischer Price Adventure People motorcyclist guy. The only one of all the Fischer Price Adventure People who had, you guessed it, bending legs) in the lead role of "Hero," there was Ben Kenobi in the role of his mentor, "Mentor," and of course the obligatory comic-relief action sidekick: Mr. T, as "Clockwatch."

I remember the key scene, Hero is unconscious in a burning building, and as he begins to stir, to come to, we hear Mentor's disembodied voice..."The Power, Hero...use THE POWER, Hero...!" And then Hero is like "...something...that's IT! That's got to be the key - QUICK! THE POWER! BOOOOOP - YEEE HAW!"

Apparently when he says aloud, "BOOOOP - YEEEE HAW!" he goes flying through the air. "The Power." Anyway, then the THEME SONG plays: "Hee-ro! Hee-ro! When danger is near! Far I go!"

Did I already tell this story?

Wednesday, October 01, 2014

Dialectical Criticism of Greek Myth #1: Dionysus Misspelled

The cult of Dionysis arose late in the game after the main pantheon was heavily established. Dionysis's origin myth is rife with rejection from the established humans who prudishly spurned the new-jack god and suffered for it. Sometimes by magic whammy, but often enough by being lynched by revelers, devotees of the god! In the myth's world, the established gods were in favor of Dionysis and his elevation of debauchery as something to be consecrated, venerated. It was the mainstream humans who were portrayed as philistines - opposed to the coming of the new god's cult, just as any upstanding citizen might be opposed to a movement that takes wine as emblem and the formation of a drunken mob as sacred liturgy.

I read the myth as a tantalyzingly-cloaked account of what may actually have historically happened. A cult springs up devoted to the grape, to wine and with drunkeness its sacrament. The cult is a wildfire success, but opposition rises against it from the more staid, sober elements of society - and I'd be surprised if enough of them weren't lynched by indignant, sloppy-drunk hordes. Such opposition was blasphemy, from the cult's standpoing! The authorities put their stamp on the movement as part of sublimating it, gathering it in, saying it has a rightful place and then channeling it more-or-less harmlessly into its place. Better than leaving it a rampaging and unstoppable countryside phenomenon - the rave of its day, only far less tamed. It is embraced, made to follow stations of regular worship, transmuted into merely: carnival. The ritual topsy-turveying of proprieties, the blowing off of steam, but endorsed by the man. No longer in opposition.

Another revolution contained.

So yeah: you give Dionysis a temple to keep him from bringing down every other one.