check out point B
I'm reminded of the case of "perpetual abuse". Many people who psychologically and physically abuse others on an interpersonal level, claim that they themselves were abused before. Apologetics exist for such actions, claiming that people are "conditioned" to know abuse as the way normal people can behave.
However, it remains the case that many who are abused, in fact most; don't turn to abuse others. So context, although a factor, isn't the only one. I too am a Zimbardoian, and recognize that when people are very apt to take their "roles" when given them. So various heads of state that committed brutal acts where again using their power seriously, because they had it. I'd like to forgive some of these leaders for brutality because of the ends they made...
But like abuse, there were also heads of state who were given the power to get away with brutal acts, and didn't. Many of these leaders even achieved similar ends without brutality as part of their methodology. So the question at the end of this comparison is:
- are the brutal leaders/individual abusers extremely evil, and the rest of us just normal?
- or are the brutal and abusive amongst us just more in-touch with their primitive nature, and the rest of us EXRTEMELY good for resiting the urge to hurt others for our own/the worlds ends?
I'm going to take the very unpopular black-n-white position here and say that both answers are correct. People/leaders who don't use their power for brutality, and may even use it for good, are extremely commendable. And, because there is evidence that people CAN resist this urge to use brutality, those who do use it are morally culpable.
P.s. written in haste
bad guys are actually bad guys
It's some kind of trendy act for men to support the wicked. This spawns the advocacy of characters in gangster films, and even historical villains for all the human rights they violated.
I was apt to do the same for much of my life, thinking that many truly awful characters were "bad-asses". Upon being asked why they were bad-asses, I would cite amusing situations wherein they hurt lots of people through their egomania.
Though these characters in history and fiction may be amusing to read about or watch, that's where the affection should end. Caligula wasn't a bad-ass, he forced those close to him to commit suicide on occasion, he killed people for no purpose besides his own amusement and intentionally caused starvation. If he existed now he would be a villainous spook, so what's the difference if its history? The character of Alex in a clockwork orange isn't some kind of nihilistic freedom fighter, he's a rapist and predator.
I'm not sure where the affinity for these characters comes from. Is is the viewers own feelings of impotency that cause him to encourage the dominance of the protagonist? Is it, on some level, what he wishes he could do if not held back by his pesky conscience and life of respect and friendship? Speaking for myself, I am more than happy to be bound by universal human rights.
In the context of a movie it may seem exciting, but if its a real-life account, or if it were reality- gunshot victims would have to live paralyzed, the dead's families would be forever devastated, and grief would continue to multiply everywhere for the momentary "justice" the protagonist inflicted.
So I hereafter will never talk positively about villains. It's not any comfort that it already happened or it's only a movie- because the same things are happening somewhere right now. If you think villains are perversely heroes of some kind- go find the real villains in the world and give them applause. If you wouldn't do that, don't ack like ya know.
I was apt to do the same for much of my life, thinking that many truly awful characters were "bad-asses". Upon being asked why they were bad-asses, I would cite amusing situations wherein they hurt lots of people through their egomania.
Though these characters in history and fiction may be amusing to read about or watch, that's where the affection should end. Caligula wasn't a bad-ass, he forced those close to him to commit suicide on occasion, he killed people for no purpose besides his own amusement and intentionally caused starvation. If he existed now he would be a villainous spook, so what's the difference if its history? The character of Alex in a clockwork orange isn't some kind of nihilistic freedom fighter, he's a rapist and predator.
I'm not sure where the affinity for these characters comes from. Is is the viewers own feelings of impotency that cause him to encourage the dominance of the protagonist? Is it, on some level, what he wishes he could do if not held back by his pesky conscience and life of respect and friendship? Speaking for myself, I am more than happy to be bound by universal human rights.
In the context of a movie it may seem exciting, but if its a real-life account, or if it were reality- gunshot victims would have to live paralyzed, the dead's families would be forever devastated, and grief would continue to multiply everywhere for the momentary "justice" the protagonist inflicted.
So I hereafter will never talk positively about villains. It's not any comfort that it already happened or it's only a movie- because the same things are happening somewhere right now. If you think villains are perversely heroes of some kind- go find the real villains in the world and give them applause. If you wouldn't do that, don't ack like ya know.
the final word on alcohol
I started drinking in earnest about 1 year and 2 months ago. When I type "drinking in earnest" I mean casually dosing myself with alcohol whenever I feel the need, usually daily, much like a caffeine or nicotine user.
Since starting, whether I drink or not, alcohol enters my thoughts daily. The thought is seductive for some reason, and what's more important than whether I drink or not is whether I waste all my time whining about it.
Q: What's worse than an alcoholic?
A: A person who doesn't drink, but talks about it all the time.
I don't care if I'm sober or drunk, I just want to be at peace about my choices. Finally, I feel like I am. Don't blink:
Alcohol makes life more dramatic.
There it is. Sometimes, life being more dramatic is exactly what you need. If you've carefully made your life choices, and are stuck doing something that bores you or you want to quit, have 1-33 drinks. If, however, you're life is out of hand, completely unpredictable and you want things to fall into a recognizable order- cut the booze.
That's all, folks. The crazy water makes you do crazy things. Sometimes that's really good, and sometimes that's really bad. You be the judge. If you don't stay on top of it, you'll end up a wino or a responsible father.
Be careful.
Since starting, whether I drink or not, alcohol enters my thoughts daily. The thought is seductive for some reason, and what's more important than whether I drink or not is whether I waste all my time whining about it.
Q: What's worse than an alcoholic?
A: A person who doesn't drink, but talks about it all the time.
I don't care if I'm sober or drunk, I just want to be at peace about my choices. Finally, I feel like I am. Don't blink:
Alcohol makes life more dramatic.
There it is. Sometimes, life being more dramatic is exactly what you need. If you've carefully made your life choices, and are stuck doing something that bores you or you want to quit, have 1-33 drinks. If, however, you're life is out of hand, completely unpredictable and you want things to fall into a recognizable order- cut the booze.
That's all, folks. The crazy water makes you do crazy things. Sometimes that's really good, and sometimes that's really bad. You be the judge. If you don't stay on top of it, you'll end up a wino or a responsible father.
Be careful.
do you have what it takes?
I've delivered your food for just about 2 1/2 years. Well, maybe it wasn't your particular food, but it was some jerk just like you. And after this rather sizable fraction of my life spent doing this, I'm having what psychologists call a "I just can't do this shit anymore" breakdown. It's usually experienced among careers such as hitman, heroin mule and other service industry jobs.
Yet, I still like being able to get food delivered on occasion, and most drivers can handle doing it for 1-112 months, so it's a necessary evil. The question is, will you join the ranks? Here are the requirements for being able to get pleasure out of the job in question:
-you love your fucking car. You'd rather be in your car than sitting in a cozy office chair, on your own sofa reading comic books, or in bed with a beautiful woman. You literally get excited every time you go for a spin in it. You don't even care if you're doing nothing that benefits you. (note: this is why almost all food delivery drivers do a socially unacceptable drug they have to do in their car)
-When someone hands you 2 quarters as a tip, you can refuse the urge to toss it on the ground, spit in their face and challenge them to a dominance contest. Most people don't feel like this the first time, but believe me, after the 2nd or 100th time, those feelings will start to creep in.
-You have the moral flexibility to literally take every order in the store while your coworker is off getting stoned or whacking off. This is the only way you can afford gas, right?
-You know how to steal food. The "getting sick of pizza/subs/the shittiest food in the world" idea is a myth. Whether you like it or not, if you spend enough time working by food, you're gonna want to eat it and if you actually pay for it, you will feel dirty forever. because you are dirty forever. Steal, it's the only way to get nowhere closer to receiving just compensation for your time and energy.
-When people are mad at you for being late, you can stare at them completely expressionless instead of explaining it to them. No one believes your stories, and you can't tell them that you made sure their order was late because last time they tipped you 2 quarters.
-When your boss delivers to "help out", you resist the urge to slash his tires/kidnap his children for ransom(a.k.a. the "original tip")
-You can get excited about working on holidays because 3 drunk customers(always blonde middle aged women) give you the equivalent of 10 extra dollars, total.
-You can fool yourself into thinking that a tip is "extra money", instead of money that your employer has docked from your pay already and left it up to the customer to make up.
-You're willing to listen to a CD that skips on every song, if it's the only music in your car at the time.(alternately, you can't get enough of talk fucking radio)
Yet, I still like being able to get food delivered on occasion, and most drivers can handle doing it for 1-112 months, so it's a necessary evil. The question is, will you join the ranks? Here are the requirements for being able to get pleasure out of the job in question:
-you love your fucking car. You'd rather be in your car than sitting in a cozy office chair, on your own sofa reading comic books, or in bed with a beautiful woman. You literally get excited every time you go for a spin in it. You don't even care if you're doing nothing that benefits you. (note: this is why almost all food delivery drivers do a socially unacceptable drug they have to do in their car)
-When someone hands you 2 quarters as a tip, you can refuse the urge to toss it on the ground, spit in their face and challenge them to a dominance contest. Most people don't feel like this the first time, but believe me, after the 2nd or 100th time, those feelings will start to creep in.
-You have the moral flexibility to literally take every order in the store while your coworker is off getting stoned or whacking off. This is the only way you can afford gas, right?
-You know how to steal food. The "getting sick of pizza/subs/the shittiest food in the world" idea is a myth. Whether you like it or not, if you spend enough time working by food, you're gonna want to eat it and if you actually pay for it, you will feel dirty forever. because you are dirty forever. Steal, it's the only way to get nowhere closer to receiving just compensation for your time and energy.
-When people are mad at you for being late, you can stare at them completely expressionless instead of explaining it to them. No one believes your stories, and you can't tell them that you made sure their order was late because last time they tipped you 2 quarters.
-When your boss delivers to "help out", you resist the urge to slash his tires/kidnap his children for ransom(a.k.a. the "original tip")
-You can get excited about working on holidays because 3 drunk customers(always blonde middle aged women) give you the equivalent of 10 extra dollars, total.
-You can fool yourself into thinking that a tip is "extra money", instead of money that your employer has docked from your pay already and left it up to the customer to make up.
-You're willing to listen to a CD that skips on every song, if it's the only music in your car at the time.(alternately, you can't get enough of talk fucking radio)
5 chill-inducing songs
There is a physical sensation I get from a really good song, or part of a song, that I refer to as "the chills". I can never figure out exactly when it's going to happen, because even with these songs it doesn't most of the time. The chills are first felt as the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, then they move down my back and the length of my upper arms. The feeling is a more extreme high then I've felt before. Sometimes I seek out this feeling, which might be part of why I rarely get interested in new music. Here are the songs which have made me feel this way more often than any others, and are most consistent in inducing chills=
-Nine inch nails, "the great below"
This is a song with an amazingly apt nautical feeling, like a cold beach at night. the songs string plucking, deliberate and delicate because of probably being done by trent reznor while on valium, is enough to give chills at first. Then, the climax lyrically, as the singer screams "as I descend from grace... in arms of undertow... I will take my place... " at this point, I typically already have light chills. Then the finish "In the great below", the music drops out, then comes back in, half-intense, before the phrase is complete. At this point, my previous chills "explode" into a deeper single chill. amazing...
-Beck, "nicotine and gravy"
What is essentially a silly song is very impressive musically. First chills might be experienced when the bass line and drums drop in, which are low and slow enough to be accompanied while performing a drive by in a car with hydraulics. The listener, at this point, feels like a total bad-ass, wether he is or not(he's probably not). The song chugs along in the same mood, unassuming, and somehow, the nonsense lyrics in falsetto climax each and every time. The nonsense actually induces chills in one particular line: "I feed you fruit, that, Dooooon't exist". This effect, along with the satisfying chug of the music and perfect length, makes this strange song on the list.
-MF doom, "figaro"
It starts off with a bassy, jazzy intro that no one would expect to drop off into a slow, shattered sample beat. The only clue that "the shit's about to go down" is MF himself humming "mmm!" satisfied right before he drops into the song. Unlike much MF doom work, this one gets off to a verbose lyrical beginning- "the rest is empty, with no brain, but the clever nerd- the best emcee with no chain you ever heard" which sets the only premise for this song- almost every syllable rhymes with another one, anywhere it fits in the beat. and it always fits on the beat. Pauses are tasteful, not lazy or just to wait, very dramatic. Just as the listener grows accustomed to the consistent and impressive lyrical deliver, it seems to launch to another planet with "not enough tracks, hot enough black? It's too hot to handle, you got blue sandals, who shot you? who got you new spots to vandal? do not stand still, boast yo skills, close but no crills, toast for po' ills post no bills, coast-to-coast Joe Shmoe's flows ill, go chill, not supposed to overdose, no Doz pills". chills again start and climax with "no doz pills" which is slightly extended. The songs could end there with no complaints, but it against impresses the listener by continuing consistently to the end, and fading out. Anyone who thinks rap isn't music ought to be forced to listen to this.
-System of a down, "soil"
This is a song which I interpret to be about a close friend committing suicide, and trying to find the sense in it. The song loops in 15/16 time, giving a rushed, confused pace that fits it well. The listener is put in a state of mild manic confusion, which is interruped by the hard chorus, and then seemingly a climax- "Don't you", "Know that", "evil", "Lives in the motherfucking skin!", repeated voer and over with no percussion at first, and then a middle-eastern sounding guitar solo. At this point, it's the length of normal song and could again fade with no objection. instead, after a brief silence, Serj Tankian's truly scary voice comes back with "Why the fuck did you take him away from us you motherFUCKER! FUCKER! FUCKER!" with the music coming back for "fucker". The anger is palpable, slightly scary, and I'm getting chills now just remembering it without listening.
-Isaac hayes, "Ain't no sunshine"(live)
I'm not sure how I ended up with this particular live version, I was downloading soul music for the sampling, and listening out of curiosity. This was an amazing experience. towards the middle of the song, the music drops and Isaac's impressive voice does a dance on it's own, across octave ranges. It seems at some point that he's just showing off, kind of silly vocalization, and then, without warning "Ain't no sunshine, it's always rain, and it's anytiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime. any tiiiiiiiiiiiiiime. any tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime, she goes(ascends in pitch), Aaaaaaaaaaaa-WAYYYYY". on "way", the music, in a manner similar to "the great below", comes back in, lightly in the background. This is the most consistent in giving me chills- and interestingly it works not because of a build up, but a surprise, and the chills all happen at once.
I feel really wierd after remembering all these songs. The thought that I might one day give another person the similar physical and emotional sensation is what keeps me wanting to make music myself.
-Nine inch nails, "the great below"
This is a song with an amazingly apt nautical feeling, like a cold beach at night. the songs string plucking, deliberate and delicate because of probably being done by trent reznor while on valium, is enough to give chills at first. Then, the climax lyrically, as the singer screams "as I descend from grace... in arms of undertow... I will take my place... " at this point, I typically already have light chills. Then the finish "In the great below", the music drops out, then comes back in, half-intense, before the phrase is complete. At this point, my previous chills "explode" into a deeper single chill. amazing...
-Beck, "nicotine and gravy"
What is essentially a silly song is very impressive musically. First chills might be experienced when the bass line and drums drop in, which are low and slow enough to be accompanied while performing a drive by in a car with hydraulics. The listener, at this point, feels like a total bad-ass, wether he is or not(he's probably not). The song chugs along in the same mood, unassuming, and somehow, the nonsense lyrics in falsetto climax each and every time. The nonsense actually induces chills in one particular line: "I feed you fruit, that, Dooooon't exist". This effect, along with the satisfying chug of the music and perfect length, makes this strange song on the list.
-MF doom, "figaro"
It starts off with a bassy, jazzy intro that no one would expect to drop off into a slow, shattered sample beat. The only clue that "the shit's about to go down" is MF himself humming "mmm!" satisfied right before he drops into the song. Unlike much MF doom work, this one gets off to a verbose lyrical beginning- "the rest is empty, with no brain, but the clever nerd- the best emcee with no chain you ever heard" which sets the only premise for this song- almost every syllable rhymes with another one, anywhere it fits in the beat. and it always fits on the beat. Pauses are tasteful, not lazy or just to wait, very dramatic. Just as the listener grows accustomed to the consistent and impressive lyrical deliver, it seems to launch to another planet with "not enough tracks, hot enough black? It's too hot to handle, you got blue sandals, who shot you? who got you new spots to vandal? do not stand still, boast yo skills, close but no crills, toast for po' ills post no bills, coast-to-coast Joe Shmoe's flows ill, go chill, not supposed to overdose, no Doz pills". chills again start and climax with "no doz pills" which is slightly extended. The songs could end there with no complaints, but it against impresses the listener by continuing consistently to the end, and fading out. Anyone who thinks rap isn't music ought to be forced to listen to this.
-System of a down, "soil"
This is a song which I interpret to be about a close friend committing suicide, and trying to find the sense in it. The song loops in 15/16 time, giving a rushed, confused pace that fits it well. The listener is put in a state of mild manic confusion, which is interruped by the hard chorus, and then seemingly a climax- "Don't you", "Know that", "evil", "Lives in the motherfucking skin!", repeated voer and over with no percussion at first, and then a middle-eastern sounding guitar solo. At this point, it's the length of normal song and could again fade with no objection. instead, after a brief silence, Serj Tankian's truly scary voice comes back with "Why the fuck did you take him away from us you motherFUCKER! FUCKER! FUCKER!" with the music coming back for "fucker". The anger is palpable, slightly scary, and I'm getting chills now just remembering it without listening.
-Isaac hayes, "Ain't no sunshine"(live)
I'm not sure how I ended up with this particular live version, I was downloading soul music for the sampling, and listening out of curiosity. This was an amazing experience. towards the middle of the song, the music drops and Isaac's impressive voice does a dance on it's own, across octave ranges. It seems at some point that he's just showing off, kind of silly vocalization, and then, without warning "Ain't no sunshine, it's always rain, and it's anytiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime. any tiiiiiiiiiiiiiime. any tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime, she goes(ascends in pitch), Aaaaaaaaaaaa-WAYYYYY". on "way", the music, in a manner similar to "the great below", comes back in, lightly in the background. This is the most consistent in giving me chills- and interestingly it works not because of a build up, but a surprise, and the chills all happen at once.
I feel really wierd after remembering all these songs. The thought that I might one day give another person the similar physical and emotional sensation is what keeps me wanting to make music myself.
the science of female buttocks
After 21 tiresome years of life, I am 100% certain that I am an ass man. Many men who claim the same prestigious title only like "ba-donka-donk" or some other kind of trendy, passing terminology for sloppy, unrestrained symmetrical fat deposits.
There are many dimensions, both physically and intellectually, for female buttocks. Commonly, when someone exclaims "nice ass", it is, indeed, not nice, but hostile in some sense or another. Here are when claiming "nice ass" is a misnomer:
-no hips. often called the "bubble butt", this is when a butt physically sticks out from the owner, but is missing the upside-down heart shape that reduces general levels of stress when seen. Though the shape could be admirable in every other respect, it must be housed in a set of curved hips to match. The lack of hips is an even worse eventuality when it is matched with wide shoulders. What gender are we looking at, anyway?
-doesn't protrude. The polar opposite of the no-hips phenomenon, this is when an "ass" if it is to be called so is shapely, with hips and even a remarkable cavern between cheeks, but there are no cheeks to match! Often championed by the Caucasian, this style of buttocks is unnacceptable to the individual participating in sex or looking at a woman from the side. If it's not like a button, if it doesn't jiggle when playfully struck, it's not a nice ass.
-one big cheek. This is when there is no worthwhile seperation between cheeks. Often seen in women of larger carriage. Though this may have been able to slide before women wore pants(probably leading to its propagation and existence in the present), it can't be overlooked in the era of jeans and pants. If a participant has to slide his/her hand an uncharted amount of territory to reach the vagina, it's not worth it. The female buttocks should be inviting, not intimidating.
-long butt syndrome. This is when, even in the days of low-rise jeans, an ass is "long" and not commensurately wide. Pragmatically, there shouldn't be a problem but aesthetically, this is associated in my mind with old age or poor health. A good indicator of the correct length is whether the legs, when walking, press into the buttocks, creating a noticeable curve on each cheek.
I, as an ass man, demand that the buttocks in question fulfill the criteria of curved hips, protrusion, independent cheekhood and short, youthful size. If it doesn't, it's not a nice ass and furthermore I wouldn't want to be associated with it. Very small breasts, superfulous belly fat and even the existence of hair can be foregone in the case of very nice ass. But not one feature of the buttocks can be overlooked.
There are many dimensions, both physically and intellectually, for female buttocks. Commonly, when someone exclaims "nice ass", it is, indeed, not nice, but hostile in some sense or another. Here are when claiming "nice ass" is a misnomer:
-no hips. often called the "bubble butt", this is when a butt physically sticks out from the owner, but is missing the upside-down heart shape that reduces general levels of stress when seen. Though the shape could be admirable in every other respect, it must be housed in a set of curved hips to match. The lack of hips is an even worse eventuality when it is matched with wide shoulders. What gender are we looking at, anyway?
-doesn't protrude. The polar opposite of the no-hips phenomenon, this is when an "ass" if it is to be called so is shapely, with hips and even a remarkable cavern between cheeks, but there are no cheeks to match! Often championed by the Caucasian, this style of buttocks is unnacceptable to the individual participating in sex or looking at a woman from the side. If it's not like a button, if it doesn't jiggle when playfully struck, it's not a nice ass.
-one big cheek. This is when there is no worthwhile seperation between cheeks. Often seen in women of larger carriage. Though this may have been able to slide before women wore pants(probably leading to its propagation and existence in the present), it can't be overlooked in the era of jeans and pants. If a participant has to slide his/her hand an uncharted amount of territory to reach the vagina, it's not worth it. The female buttocks should be inviting, not intimidating.
-long butt syndrome. This is when, even in the days of low-rise jeans, an ass is "long" and not commensurately wide. Pragmatically, there shouldn't be a problem but aesthetically, this is associated in my mind with old age or poor health. A good indicator of the correct length is whether the legs, when walking, press into the buttocks, creating a noticeable curve on each cheek.
I, as an ass man, demand that the buttocks in question fulfill the criteria of curved hips, protrusion, independent cheekhood and short, youthful size. If it doesn't, it's not a nice ass and furthermore I wouldn't want to be associated with it. Very small breasts, superfulous belly fat and even the existence of hair can be foregone in the case of very nice ass. But not one feature of the buttocks can be overlooked.
Psychoanalyze this, bitch
I stayed up last night several hours past my self-imposed bedtime to read the glossary of psychiatric terms on wikipedia. Because most of these are non-english words(hence the need for a glossary), They all involve rather extreme psychotic disturbances. My reaction upon reading each one was to either remember a time I felt vaguely similar, attempt to feel that way myself, or imagine seeing someone acting in that manner. As you might imagine, I was feeling pretty hot and bothered by the end of reading it and accompanying articles.
Feeling as though mental illness was knocking on my skull for entry and ready to sneak his friends in, I was worried about nightmares and other sleep problems. For the moments before slipping into slumber I reassured myself that I was sane, strong as a damn ox, and would wake up feeling like a million bucks. Strangely, I was correct. I slept a solid block of time, and towards the end of it, I had a wonderful dream, which goes as such:
I woke up on the apex of a snow covered hill, as If I had slept there for the night. On my belly, Like a human sled, I inched over the crest, and my completely rigid body(possibly resulting from reading this) slid down the hill with ease, and continued to slide around on the flat foot of the hill for a time, before running into looser snow. At this point, my brother was around, and I was on a slightly downhill road with patches of ice. My brother could also slide on just his belly, and between patches of ice, he could inexplicably "jump", while still on his belly, over gaps in the ice to continue sliding. When I got up to continue sledding, I still felt as though my body was a rigid board(the experience was felt like I was a wooden sled myself), though I had full mobility. I joined him in sliding on and "jumping" patches of ice, feeling very exhilarated.
Then I woke up. I wish I could buy my subconcious it's favorite flavor of ice cream- for turning the sensation of certain mental collapse into a carefree sensation of unaltered joy. The psychiatry nazis would probably say I'm disturbed and prescribe "corrective" medication.
Feeling as though mental illness was knocking on my skull for entry and ready to sneak his friends in, I was worried about nightmares and other sleep problems. For the moments before slipping into slumber I reassured myself that I was sane, strong as a damn ox, and would wake up feeling like a million bucks. Strangely, I was correct. I slept a solid block of time, and towards the end of it, I had a wonderful dream, which goes as such:
I woke up on the apex of a snow covered hill, as If I had slept there for the night. On my belly, Like a human sled, I inched over the crest, and my completely rigid body(possibly resulting from reading this) slid down the hill with ease, and continued to slide around on the flat foot of the hill for a time, before running into looser snow. At this point, my brother was around, and I was on a slightly downhill road with patches of ice. My brother could also slide on just his belly, and between patches of ice, he could inexplicably "jump", while still on his belly, over gaps in the ice to continue sliding. When I got up to continue sledding, I still felt as though my body was a rigid board(the experience was felt like I was a wooden sled myself), though I had full mobility. I joined him in sliding on and "jumping" patches of ice, feeling very exhilarated.
Then I woke up. I wish I could buy my subconcious it's favorite flavor of ice cream- for turning the sensation of certain mental collapse into a carefree sensation of unaltered joy. The psychiatry nazis would probably say I'm disturbed and prescribe "corrective" medication.
Cobe's theory of mellodrama
An emotions intensity is left up to the mercy, or intentions, of the beholder.
Each and every person is only privy to the range of emotions they've felt. And so, when I say I am "sad", I may or may not be feeling the same way you did when you were "depressed". For all I know, I may have the exact same physical and mental sensations you did, and I am by your standards "depressed". If I have been more sad, what I call depressed, then this, by my own personal comparison, is just sad.
It is a common theme in my life that people define me as cold and often lacking emotion. I have concluded that I am not unemotional, and that these people who define me as such are not feeling anything more intense(in either direction) than I am. Instead of me being halfway to sociopathy, I think that they are blowing things out of proportion for attention. It is the assumption of normalcy that puts a wedge between us both.
man A loses his job of 20 years. He is wildly depressed. man B loses his job of 20 years. He is annoyed. man A does nothing to help himself until the feeling passes, whereas man B, with the "abnormal" mild emotional reaction, works on getting another job. Emotions are only justified insofar as they are productive. Anything more, is melodramatic.
Each and every person is only privy to the range of emotions they've felt. And so, when I say I am "sad", I may or may not be feeling the same way you did when you were "depressed". For all I know, I may have the exact same physical and mental sensations you did, and I am by your standards "depressed". If I have been more sad, what I call depressed, then this, by my own personal comparison, is just sad.
It is a common theme in my life that people define me as cold and often lacking emotion. I have concluded that I am not unemotional, and that these people who define me as such are not feeling anything more intense(in either direction) than I am. Instead of me being halfway to sociopathy, I think that they are blowing things out of proportion for attention. It is the assumption of normalcy that puts a wedge between us both.
man A loses his job of 20 years. He is wildly depressed. man B loses his job of 20 years. He is annoyed. man A does nothing to help himself until the feeling passes, whereas man B, with the "abnormal" mild emotional reaction, works on getting another job. Emotions are only justified insofar as they are productive. Anything more, is melodramatic.
Screwy Reviewy: Stuck
Stuck is a movie that I was fortunate enough not to read about before I watched it. It's really good. If you would like the same experience, GO WATCH IT before reading this.
Stuck is a movie, prefaced with "based on true events", about a Nurse, who while off-the-clock, driving on Ecstacy and probably drunk, hits a homeless man with her car. The man has both of his legs broken and is sent through her windshield, where his head drips blood on the passenger seat. On her way home, he slowly awakes and asks her for help. When she arrives home, where she's meeting her boyfriend(who's a drug dealer); she explains it to him- But she fails to mention that the man is still in her windshield, and alive. The man assures her that if she hit a homeless man and there were no witnesses, then they'll fix the car and everything will be alright.
This is where the black comedy/OMG-fest begins. The woman tries everything to not get caught for the crime, and as such gets no medical attention for the man. She eventually grows to deny that it was her fault at all, and becomes angry enough to assault the man. She enlists the help of her boyfriend, who, in an attempt to act "hard", acts as if he knows exactly what to do. It becomes clear that he doesn't, and his silky-smooth gangster talk completely dissipates, which is hilarious. After many trials and tribulations for the homeless man trying to save himself, They decide that the boyfriend will murder the man and leave his body in the park. He hesitates, both with a pillow and a gun, and instead the homeless man has a pen ready, stabs him in the eye, and drives it in as far as it will go.
The boyfriend dies, and the homeless man tries to escape, but then the nurse comes back in. She attempts to set the whole place on fire, to tell the police a very unlikely story, but then the homeless man drives the car into her shins, assumedly breaking her legs also, and gives a short monologue when she asks "help me". She tries to shoot him, and the friction from the bullet lights the garage on fire. The neighbors come, rescue the homeless man, and one can assume he survives to tell about it.
I left out alot of the description because I want to address the "based on true events" part of it. After watching the movie and feeling my life affirmed and butterflies in my stomach for human perseverance, I read about the actual story. It goes as such: A drunk and high nurse in texas hit a homeless man, decide to leave him to die and deal with it later, and he died the next morning. Her boyfriend and another man left the man in the park, and they attempted to burn her car to lose the evidence. She was only a suspect in the crime 4 months later, when she was bragging at a party about how she "Hit a white man" and got away with it. She was caught and sentenced to 50 years in prison. She's eligible for parole in 2027.
Though the movie is good in its own right, It's a bit upsetting knowing that the very incompetent, insensitive characters in the movie were even more incompetent and insensitive in real life. Instead of sympathetic characters that make rash decisions in the heat of the moment, The real life criminals involved were entirely cold, even bragging later on. The whole situation is sad, but it's also good that the movie alerted me to the real story- wherein the woman got what she deserved.
Overall, a worthwhile watch, but the movie is more like "Half a real story, then what you want to see". Which is satisfying, but leaves something to be desired.
Stuck is a movie, prefaced with "based on true events", about a Nurse, who while off-the-clock, driving on Ecstacy and probably drunk, hits a homeless man with her car. The man has both of his legs broken and is sent through her windshield, where his head drips blood on the passenger seat. On her way home, he slowly awakes and asks her for help. When she arrives home, where she's meeting her boyfriend(who's a drug dealer); she explains it to him- But she fails to mention that the man is still in her windshield, and alive. The man assures her that if she hit a homeless man and there were no witnesses, then they'll fix the car and everything will be alright.
This is where the black comedy/OMG-fest begins. The woman tries everything to not get caught for the crime, and as such gets no medical attention for the man. She eventually grows to deny that it was her fault at all, and becomes angry enough to assault the man. She enlists the help of her boyfriend, who, in an attempt to act "hard", acts as if he knows exactly what to do. It becomes clear that he doesn't, and his silky-smooth gangster talk completely dissipates, which is hilarious. After many trials and tribulations for the homeless man trying to save himself, They decide that the boyfriend will murder the man and leave his body in the park. He hesitates, both with a pillow and a gun, and instead the homeless man has a pen ready, stabs him in the eye, and drives it in as far as it will go.
The boyfriend dies, and the homeless man tries to escape, but then the nurse comes back in. She attempts to set the whole place on fire, to tell the police a very unlikely story, but then the homeless man drives the car into her shins, assumedly breaking her legs also, and gives a short monologue when she asks "help me". She tries to shoot him, and the friction from the bullet lights the garage on fire. The neighbors come, rescue the homeless man, and one can assume he survives to tell about it.
I left out alot of the description because I want to address the "based on true events" part of it. After watching the movie and feeling my life affirmed and butterflies in my stomach for human perseverance, I read about the actual story. It goes as such: A drunk and high nurse in texas hit a homeless man, decide to leave him to die and deal with it later, and he died the next morning. Her boyfriend and another man left the man in the park, and they attempted to burn her car to lose the evidence. She was only a suspect in the crime 4 months later, when she was bragging at a party about how she "Hit a white man" and got away with it. She was caught and sentenced to 50 years in prison. She's eligible for parole in 2027.
Though the movie is good in its own right, It's a bit upsetting knowing that the very incompetent, insensitive characters in the movie were even more incompetent and insensitive in real life. Instead of sympathetic characters that make rash decisions in the heat of the moment, The real life criminals involved were entirely cold, even bragging later on. The whole situation is sad, but it's also good that the movie alerted me to the real story- wherein the woman got what she deserved.
Overall, a worthwhile watch, but the movie is more like "Half a real story, then what you want to see". Which is satisfying, but leaves something to be desired.
who is sleep's cousin?
I've spent most of my life getting as little sleep as possible. Since I don't have insomnia, narcolepsy or any other trendy new sleeping habits, my attempts have usually culminated in getting 4-6 hours of sleep for a few nights in a row and then getting 12 hours when I can't take that shit anymore. My habits were self-induced sometimes because of Asthma, but just as often because of the sexyness and mystique of restlessness and stories of admirable people who didn't sleep much.
Interestingly enough, when I moved out of my parents house, I didn't turn into a cliche youngster, burning the midnight oil for... some reason, and staying up all hours of the night looking for liquor and whores; or whatever it is young men are supposed to do. Instead, I've turned into Benjamin Franklin, early to bed and early to rise; usually sleeping 9-10 hours a night.
Changing my mind is one of my favorite things to do in life. It doesn't come easily for me like it does for the majority population of flakes and neurotics, so I've got to come clean on this one. Sleep is important. Skipping hours every night is just as bad for the mental form as skipping meals for the physical one. It can be done, and should be, when time needs to be bought once in a while. But the reasoning to be a lifestyle sleep hater falls flat.
Buying "waking hours" by cutting your sleeping (or just lying in bed) time, is probably not worthwhile. I've found that any time that I've forced myself to be awake needlessly is simply more depressing, more out of focus, and stretches on forever. It's a ridiculous reality to embrace; trading your unconscious problem solving time and recooperative rest for more "productive" hours.
Though personal and anecdotal; I can tell you that I feel more powerful, curious, effective and stronger than I ever have before, and I am almost certain it's because of sleeping 7 days straight as long as I pleased, guiltlessly.
I don't know why I ever thought being awake was so cool.
Interestingly enough, when I moved out of my parents house, I didn't turn into a cliche youngster, burning the midnight oil for... some reason, and staying up all hours of the night looking for liquor and whores; or whatever it is young men are supposed to do. Instead, I've turned into Benjamin Franklin, early to bed and early to rise; usually sleeping 9-10 hours a night.
Changing my mind is one of my favorite things to do in life. It doesn't come easily for me like it does for the majority population of flakes and neurotics, so I've got to come clean on this one. Sleep is important. Skipping hours every night is just as bad for the mental form as skipping meals for the physical one. It can be done, and should be, when time needs to be bought once in a while. But the reasoning to be a lifestyle sleep hater falls flat.
Buying "waking hours" by cutting your sleeping (or just lying in bed) time, is probably not worthwhile. I've found that any time that I've forced myself to be awake needlessly is simply more depressing, more out of focus, and stretches on forever. It's a ridiculous reality to embrace; trading your unconscious problem solving time and recooperative rest for more "productive" hours.
Though personal and anecdotal; I can tell you that I feel more powerful, curious, effective and stronger than I ever have before, and I am almost certain it's because of sleeping 7 days straight as long as I pleased, guiltlessly.
I don't know why I ever thought being awake was so cool.
Cobe's methods for beating the greater depression
The economy is in what economists commonly refer to as "the shitter". Most credible current reports say that it won't be as bad as the great depression of the 1930's. But it's important to remember that before the great depression happened there weren't a whole lot of people, save for WW1 veterans in the throws of PTSD flashbacks, forecasting it's onset. In my experience, it's always best to prepare for the worst. I'm confident I will survive this next "greater" depression and probably come out of it as some type of kingpin. You can do the same. Here's how:
-Cut the car. If you have a lifestyle for which you don't need a car, Then sell it now before confidence in the dollar plummets and cars are being bought and sold with chinese currency. Cars incur far more cost than their fuel. Insurance, inspections, state fees, tickets, and the human cost of being shot when you try to steal someone's license plates when you fail to live up to those responsibilities is expensive.
-If you must drive, steal. If you can produce your own fuel, do it. Whether it's in a backyard distillery for biodiesel or your neighbors house with a fishtank pump and alot of emptied 3 liter fanta bottles, finding fuel by any other method than a gas station is worthwhile.
-Save food. Pour your 2-day-old coffee into the chicken soup, clean off your plate simply with your tongue. Food will be the second most valuable thing when money is better used as welcome mats. I suggest the wide implementation of "food shots". If you can still afford a refrigerator or a damp basement crawlspace, take all food bits that are undesirable and place them in a blender. When there is quite a bit of crumbs in there, blend until liquid. Take the shot, and chase with liquor to kill bacteria. It will be gross, and if you don't do it you'll die.
-Hoard water/find water. Sooner or later municipalities will realize it's not cost effective to keep citizens hydrated and they'll raise the price into oblivion or tell you they're going laizes-fare with the water supply. Collect it from your neighbors hose, your gutters or a big barrel left in the rain. Bacteria infested water is better than no water at all. Chase with liquor to kill bacteria.
-Dumpster dive. Unless the employees take it first, many food and food like substances will still be thrown out everywhere. If not technically edible, place in "food shot" maker for later use. If located in a higher-income area with trash compacters, wait and ambush employee taking out the trash for his bagels/pizza/used napkins.
-Get a gun. If they don't pass out first, motherfuckers will try to rob you for food and water. Place a sign on the door to your house that says "resident has a fully loaded gun and doesn't sleep". Which will be true when REM sleep is less valuable than dumpster diving for donuts. Chase with liquor to kill the pain.
-Cut the car. If you have a lifestyle for which you don't need a car, Then sell it now before confidence in the dollar plummets and cars are being bought and sold with chinese currency. Cars incur far more cost than their fuel. Insurance, inspections, state fees, tickets, and the human cost of being shot when you try to steal someone's license plates when you fail to live up to those responsibilities is expensive.
-If you must drive, steal. If you can produce your own fuel, do it. Whether it's in a backyard distillery for biodiesel or your neighbors house with a fishtank pump and alot of emptied 3 liter fanta bottles, finding fuel by any other method than a gas station is worthwhile.
-Save food. Pour your 2-day-old coffee into the chicken soup, clean off your plate simply with your tongue. Food will be the second most valuable thing when money is better used as welcome mats. I suggest the wide implementation of "food shots". If you can still afford a refrigerator or a damp basement crawlspace, take all food bits that are undesirable and place them in a blender. When there is quite a bit of crumbs in there, blend until liquid. Take the shot, and chase with liquor to kill bacteria. It will be gross, and if you don't do it you'll die.
-Hoard water/find water. Sooner or later municipalities will realize it's not cost effective to keep citizens hydrated and they'll raise the price into oblivion or tell you they're going laizes-fare with the water supply. Collect it from your neighbors hose, your gutters or a big barrel left in the rain. Bacteria infested water is better than no water at all. Chase with liquor to kill bacteria.
-Dumpster dive. Unless the employees take it first, many food and food like substances will still be thrown out everywhere. If not technically edible, place in "food shot" maker for later use. If located in a higher-income area with trash compacters, wait and ambush employee taking out the trash for his bagels/pizza/used napkins.
-Get a gun. If they don't pass out first, motherfuckers will try to rob you for food and water. Place a sign on the door to your house that says "resident has a fully loaded gun and doesn't sleep". Which will be true when REM sleep is less valuable than dumpster diving for donuts. Chase with liquor to kill the pain.
seeking new infections
I had a moment of clarity that startled me a bit today. Perhaps as the result of manic-depressive black and white thinking, perhaps as a result of pessimism and general negative thinking, I don't define things in term of health, ever.
Even when referring to myself or people I greatly admire(like myself) I don't often phrase characteristics as healthy or positive. Instead of someone being a "hard worker and avid coffee-drinker" they are "a coffee addict and a workaholic". This can really be applied to everything, I see excess, sickness and desperation in all actions. Any positivity arising from that sickness is a by-product.
It's just hard to believe that after somebody takes their thousandth shot from a bottle of liquor that they simply "like drinking". Yes, that is certainly the case, but because of addiction. Not that they're addiction has neccesarily done them any harm.
I've always had this outlook and applied it to myself no differently. Instead of seeking activity, I seek sicknesses. My only curiosity is in seeking the right combination of things to be sick with. Being healthy has never, ever been important to me. I hate all things which wish to cure me, or anyone else, of the only thing that keeps them going: need and satisfation.
Fuck anyone who wants everything, person around them and themselves to be "healthy". Healthy is another word for "just ok"
Even when referring to myself or people I greatly admire(like myself) I don't often phrase characteristics as healthy or positive. Instead of someone being a "hard worker and avid coffee-drinker" they are "a coffee addict and a workaholic". This can really be applied to everything, I see excess, sickness and desperation in all actions. Any positivity arising from that sickness is a by-product.
It's just hard to believe that after somebody takes their thousandth shot from a bottle of liquor that they simply "like drinking". Yes, that is certainly the case, but because of addiction. Not that they're addiction has neccesarily done them any harm.
I've always had this outlook and applied it to myself no differently. Instead of seeking activity, I seek sicknesses. My only curiosity is in seeking the right combination of things to be sick with. Being healthy has never, ever been important to me. I hate all things which wish to cure me, or anyone else, of the only thing that keeps them going: need and satisfation.
Fuck anyone who wants everything, person around them and themselves to be "healthy". Healthy is another word for "just ok"
gimmickry
Gimmicks that don't work:
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll take a few shots of liquor, which will put me in the right mood to be productive. Then, as a reward I'll take a couple more. Then, when work is difficult, I'll take som-... When did I go to bed?
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll wake up real early in the morning, eat a big breakfast, drink some coffee and then... oh, time to go to work.
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll drink alot of coffee. Then, I'll wait till it kicks in while I check my email. What? My orders late? I'm gonna call and straighten this out right now. *phone rings* "Hell yeah I'll cover a shift! money time!"... ah fuck.
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll stay up real, real late and work on i...Damn, I have a headache. I better watch some kids in the hall till the feeling passes, and also eat some fat-filled snack. Zzzzzzz...
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll write one page for every cup of coffee/piece of tobacco/shot of liquor. Well, I'll make up for this cup/piece/shot later. Shit, I'm behind 4 pages. Nevermind.
Gimmicks that do work:
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll get started.
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll take a few shots of liquor, which will put me in the right mood to be productive. Then, as a reward I'll take a couple more. Then, when work is difficult, I'll take som-... When did I go to bed?
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll wake up real early in the morning, eat a big breakfast, drink some coffee and then... oh, time to go to work.
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll drink alot of coffee. Then, I'll wait till it kicks in while I check my email. What? My orders late? I'm gonna call and straighten this out right now. *phone rings* "Hell yeah I'll cover a shift! money time!"... ah fuck.
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll stay up real, real late and work on i...Damn, I have a headache. I better watch some kids in the hall till the feeling passes, and also eat some fat-filled snack. Zzzzzzz...
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll write one page for every cup of coffee/piece of tobacco/shot of liquor. Well, I'll make up for this cup/piece/shot later. Shit, I'm behind 4 pages. Nevermind.
Gimmicks that do work:
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll get started.
The robotic grocery store
It was the cry of mid 1900's industrial laborers that their jobs were being replaced by machines. They however gave no reason that their jobs shouldn’t be, beyond of course their livelihoods; which the state and capital-holders of course did not feel obliged to provide them.
This is the only point I will side with the capitalists and state on. Technology is not the enemy, and the application of technology capable of replacing labor should not be foregone to placate laborers whose skills have obviously been obsoleted.
Imagine this. One day, you walk into a grocery store and pharmacy and are greeted with 40-50 laborers, all being paid minimum wage or superficially more to keep the operation running. You need certain products, and the laborers help you locate them, check them out so that you pay their slave-master the correct amount, and send you out of the door. You have just contributed to their exploitation, the capital-owners cache of capital, all for your own welfare.
The next day, you walk into a grocery store and greeted with no people, but a completely automated, interactive interface that locates all your necessary items, accounts for all of them, collects your payments and roboticly says “thank you” when you leave.
What change has occurred? Those interested in the welfare of the grocery store have taken a tip from the unmanned laundromats, and decided that their labor could be performed by machines instead of people. Those interested in the welfare of laborers, though their hearts are initially in the right place, are outraged at the lost jobs.
What they are not considering is that these laborers were not taken out behind the dumpsters and shot dead(hopefully)- they are somewhere else. Those 40-50 laborers are now in coffee shops, bookstores and bars waiting for discussion. They are in groups plotting and scheming how to make a decent living. They are playing guitars and drums in the street to supply petty cash. They are 40-50 more people who no longer have to perform obsolete labor for a capital-holder who would gladly exploit them for longer.
Labor is not our friend. The less labor that needs to be performed by actual people, the better. Because some labor still has to be performed, it ought to be compensated justly and accounted for. But if a machine can do it, than a person doesn’t have to. This is something that should be embraced by leftists, not fought. If the mindless leftist, hater of technology, vague primitivist with unspecified anger had his way, the laborers in the grocery store would remain employed unnecessarily, perhaps being paid the full value of their labor- but at what physical cost, and why?
These displaced laborers are available to do something that is still necessary for people to do, join radical movements, or get drunk with at a bar. In all cases, they are doing something better for society than wearing out their muscles and minds on something a well-oiled machine could do.
This is the only point I will side with the capitalists and state on. Technology is not the enemy, and the application of technology capable of replacing labor should not be foregone to placate laborers whose skills have obviously been obsoleted.
Imagine this. One day, you walk into a grocery store and pharmacy and are greeted with 40-50 laborers, all being paid minimum wage or superficially more to keep the operation running. You need certain products, and the laborers help you locate them, check them out so that you pay their slave-master the correct amount, and send you out of the door. You have just contributed to their exploitation, the capital-owners cache of capital, all for your own welfare.
The next day, you walk into a grocery store and greeted with no people, but a completely automated, interactive interface that locates all your necessary items, accounts for all of them, collects your payments and roboticly says “thank you” when you leave.
What change has occurred? Those interested in the welfare of the grocery store have taken a tip from the unmanned laundromats, and decided that their labor could be performed by machines instead of people. Those interested in the welfare of laborers, though their hearts are initially in the right place, are outraged at the lost jobs.
What they are not considering is that these laborers were not taken out behind the dumpsters and shot dead(hopefully)- they are somewhere else. Those 40-50 laborers are now in coffee shops, bookstores and bars waiting for discussion. They are in groups plotting and scheming how to make a decent living. They are playing guitars and drums in the street to supply petty cash. They are 40-50 more people who no longer have to perform obsolete labor for a capital-holder who would gladly exploit them for longer.
Labor is not our friend. The less labor that needs to be performed by actual people, the better. Because some labor still has to be performed, it ought to be compensated justly and accounted for. But if a machine can do it, than a person doesn’t have to. This is something that should be embraced by leftists, not fought. If the mindless leftist, hater of technology, vague primitivist with unspecified anger had his way, the laborers in the grocery store would remain employed unnecessarily, perhaps being paid the full value of their labor- but at what physical cost, and why?
These displaced laborers are available to do something that is still necessary for people to do, join radical movements, or get drunk with at a bar. In all cases, they are doing something better for society than wearing out their muscles and minds on something a well-oiled machine could do.
Screwy Reviewy: 10 mph
This is a movie about self-described "guys from corporate america" who decide to travel across the US, from seattle to boston, on a segway(those fruity things you see cops on)
This movie would be okay if it was just simple documentations of their experiences- which are pretty interesting(follow any 3 jerk-offs on a trip and it will be), but instead it's overburdened with voice-over and covered with transitional screens.
I hate when a system of organizing a piece of film falls completely flat. One such instance is in Flight of the Conchords, when "Tuesday" or "Friday" pops up on the screen, and the viewer is forced to think "is this in one week or something?" for no reason.
This movie is partitioned with "words of wisdom" from the locals they meet on their trip, and the words or wisdom are the kind of uninspired statements that exacerbate boredom and depression rather than sooth it.
Unimpressed.
This movie would be okay if it was just simple documentations of their experiences- which are pretty interesting(follow any 3 jerk-offs on a trip and it will be), but instead it's overburdened with voice-over and covered with transitional screens.
I hate when a system of organizing a piece of film falls completely flat. One such instance is in Flight of the Conchords, when "Tuesday" or "Friday" pops up on the screen, and the viewer is forced to think "is this in one week or something?" for no reason.
This movie is partitioned with "words of wisdom" from the locals they meet on their trip, and the words or wisdom are the kind of uninspired statements that exacerbate boredom and depression rather than sooth it.
Unimpressed.
screwy reviewy: Pootie Tang
I had high hopes for this movie, which is based on a sketch from the Chris Rock show, is a parody of Blaxploitation films, and is directed by Louis C.K. All of those hopes were met.
This movie is hilarious in so many ways. What's most striking about it, to me, is it has a high production value. Made in 2001, this was right around the time many comedy movies and shows turned grungey. This movie, to me, shows the value of giving something your all. It couldn't have been the same movie without great performances, writing, and directing from all those involved(which is alot of really good comedians).
The only problem that I see is that they run out of jokes about 3/4 through the movie, and it starts to repeat itself a bit. But by that time, You're just waiting for a grand finale, and get it.
The material itself is a biography of "Pootie Tang" who is "too cool for words" and speaks in nonsense that everyone loves. Yet, he condemns destructive behavior; and because of that, he both parodies black culture and demonstrates something of a "final say" in its direction. Excellent. Download it, and watch it. Wah da tah.
This movie is hilarious in so many ways. What's most striking about it, to me, is it has a high production value. Made in 2001, this was right around the time many comedy movies and shows turned grungey. This movie, to me, shows the value of giving something your all. It couldn't have been the same movie without great performances, writing, and directing from all those involved(which is alot of really good comedians).
The only problem that I see is that they run out of jokes about 3/4 through the movie, and it starts to repeat itself a bit. But by that time, You're just waiting for a grand finale, and get it.
The material itself is a biography of "Pootie Tang" who is "too cool for words" and speaks in nonsense that everyone loves. Yet, he condemns destructive behavior; and because of that, he both parodies black culture and demonstrates something of a "final say" in its direction. Excellent. Download it, and watch it. Wah da tah.
No Appetite
I usually have an enormous appetite for food. Today, in an effort to save money on a long car trip, I only ate chocolate donut holes when I felt hunger pangs.
It worked, and when I got home planning to eat anything I could find I was surprised to find that I had very high energy and no appetite.
Since then I've drank water, and used more snus(smokeless tobacco) than I usually do, feeling more light-headed than usual. If I stop paying attention, which is happening alot, I'll start rocking in my chair.
My desire to "put out the work" is at least doubled, but my confidence is shaken, knowing that I couldn't adequately win in a fist fight or a freestyle battle right now.
My only conclusion is that This is not for me. Tomorrow I will wake up and consume the entire world.
It worked, and when I got home planning to eat anything I could find I was surprised to find that I had very high energy and no appetite.
Since then I've drank water, and used more snus(smokeless tobacco) than I usually do, feeling more light-headed than usual. If I stop paying attention, which is happening alot, I'll start rocking in my chair.
My desire to "put out the work" is at least doubled, but my confidence is shaken, knowing that I couldn't adequately win in a fist fight or a freestyle battle right now.
My only conclusion is that This is not for me. Tomorrow I will wake up and consume the entire world.
screwy reviewy: Kodiak Premium Mint Dip
This is considered a very scary product- and it is. The first time I bought a tin, opened it, and observed it in its natural habitat... I thought "hmmm... this doesn't seem that bad". That's why it's dangerous. It's a bear in tobacco's clothing.
"wrestling with the bear"(as users refer to it) feels great. It feels better than great. Somehow, your body seems to move to perform necessary tasks all on its own, and when surprises do come up, you don't care. Frustration literally seems impossible
So the only frustration arises from the product itself. It smells like mint, if mint grew testicles, and it tastes as if York peppermint patties were dehydrated, shredded, rehydrated, and cause cancer. At first it doesn't even cause that much salivation.
Only use this stuff if you are absolutely outside, or absolutely not in danger of having to swallow! I, having a job that requires constantly alternating between being outside and being inside where I absolutely can't spit(though I have in elevator shafts), was a fool to think that if caught in an emergency, I might be able to swallow some.
I've done it before with skoal products, and it kind of sucked- then I forgot about it. Swallowing Kodiak was like swallowing some kind of detergent. 5 minutes later I had painful hick-ups(really!) and 5 seconds after that... I thought, 'maybe this stuff isn't fit for human consumption, in any form'. Kodiak has a mysteriously high nicotine content, and that nicotine is more accurately delivered through a very high pH, which is unlike food products.
Kodiak did exactly what they tell you smokeless tobacco should do- it made me feel elated and struck fear into my heart. Well, maybe they don't tell you that, but that's what it did. Scary stuff. So scary that my lip is full of it right now.
P.S. this is what parents should make their kids do if they catch them using nicotine
"wrestling with the bear"(as users refer to it) feels great. It feels better than great. Somehow, your body seems to move to perform necessary tasks all on its own, and when surprises do come up, you don't care. Frustration literally seems impossible
So the only frustration arises from the product itself. It smells like mint, if mint grew testicles, and it tastes as if York peppermint patties were dehydrated, shredded, rehydrated, and cause cancer. At first it doesn't even cause that much salivation.
Only use this stuff if you are absolutely outside, or absolutely not in danger of having to swallow! I, having a job that requires constantly alternating between being outside and being inside where I absolutely can't spit(though I have in elevator shafts), was a fool to think that if caught in an emergency, I might be able to swallow some.
I've done it before with skoal products, and it kind of sucked- then I forgot about it. Swallowing Kodiak was like swallowing some kind of detergent. 5 minutes later I had painful hick-ups(really!) and 5 seconds after that... I thought, 'maybe this stuff isn't fit for human consumption, in any form'. Kodiak has a mysteriously high nicotine content, and that nicotine is more accurately delivered through a very high pH, which is unlike food products.
Kodiak did exactly what they tell you smokeless tobacco should do- it made me feel elated and struck fear into my heart. Well, maybe they don't tell you that, but that's what it did. Scary stuff. So scary that my lip is full of it right now.
P.S. this is what parents should make their kids do if they catch them using nicotine
screwy reviewy: God Grew Tired of Us.
This is a movie, more of a documentary really, that follows some Sudanese refugees. It starts with their amazing story of a malnourished trek through africa and a camp they set up in Kenya with U.N. rations. From that camp, the U.S. snatches up some of them to pay taxes in the U.S., and we follow their experiences in america afterward.
The movie makes an excellent spectacle. We get to watch the new immigrants cook crumbled ritz cracker and milk soup(sounds really good actually. Shortly after, we see the culture shock of stores being "intimidated" by the groups of 3-6 dark men attempting to patronize their stores.
Well, we don't get to see it. This movie presents their tales like a fairy tale. They mention that one of them has a mental breakdown, and they mention that americans are bothered by their presence, and finally they mention; actually the principle subject mentions that the young sudanese who have immigrated "lost their way"; and we only see briefly those youngsters acting like idiots, saying they are from "Kansas city" and showing us their bling.
Of course, if you take a big group of immigrants and follow them, some will be great citizens, most will be minor contributors to society, and some will be thugs. This movie doesn't explore that reality, however, only making some passing references to it, and then showing the golden ones amongst them.
At first this movie comes with a cultural interest angle, asking "How do immigrants from a very different place adapt?" but when any negativity begins, the movie changes gears to say "War in sudan is awful", as if we didn't know. 2 halves of a movie glued together. The first half is better.
The movie makes an excellent spectacle. We get to watch the new immigrants cook crumbled ritz cracker and milk soup(sounds really good actually. Shortly after, we see the culture shock of stores being "intimidated" by the groups of 3-6 dark men attempting to patronize their stores.
Well, we don't get to see it. This movie presents their tales like a fairy tale. They mention that one of them has a mental breakdown, and they mention that americans are bothered by their presence, and finally they mention; actually the principle subject mentions that the young sudanese who have immigrated "lost their way"; and we only see briefly those youngsters acting like idiots, saying they are from "Kansas city" and showing us their bling.
Of course, if you take a big group of immigrants and follow them, some will be great citizens, most will be minor contributors to society, and some will be thugs. This movie doesn't explore that reality, however, only making some passing references to it, and then showing the golden ones amongst them.
At first this movie comes with a cultural interest angle, asking "How do immigrants from a very different place adapt?" but when any negativity begins, the movie changes gears to say "War in sudan is awful", as if we didn't know. 2 halves of a movie glued together. The first half is better.
Nicotine: Formidable foe, or Fucking awesome?
My earliest experiences with nicotine:
1- watching my dad attempt to quit smoking cigarettes with every socially acceptable method(no nasal snuff or human sacrifice), even pretending he had quit and sneaking cigarettes, to no avail.
2- watching a video in health class that had a former minor league baseball player "speaking" on the dangers of smokeless tobacco with half his lower jaw missing. Around the same time, hearing that people I generally didn't like were users.
Because of this, I wasn't going to predispose myself to any of these eventualities: hopeless addiction, deceiving people, missing parts of my body, or being a dick; just for the sake of the effects of a very mild drug.
Regardless, I ended up smoking mini-cigars and clove-cigarettes, not inhaling; believing that I received enough effect, with little compulsion to repeat afterward. It worked! Well, at least I thought it had some effect. One day I got the courage to inhale a clove cigarette. Not only did I feel fantasic while doing it and afterward, but I wanted one the moment in was extinguished and I looked at my empty hand.
Knowing I was at a crossroads, I gave the rest of the pack to a friend who smoked, knowing that if I had just one more the battle would be lost. I won that one.
Not knowing that smokeless tobacco was deliciously flavored, I assumed it tasted like plain cigarettes- which would be disgusting. But I slowly started noticing those shiny, inviting tins in convenience stores came in about a dozen flavors- many which sounded great. I still resisted, remembering how much I enjoyed a fully functioning jaw and mouth. One day a coworker(I worked outdoors) packed a huge lip of mint skoal and started spitting because he wasn't allowed to smoke.
The battle was on again. After researching that loose-leaf tobacco(instead of shredded) had the lowest cancer risk, I found some. It was called days-o-work plug tobacco, and it instantly sent my mouth on fire. Sometimes it tasted like chocolate, other times like a demons cum. I learned to focus my senses on the pleasant flavor, control the wad in my mouth and enjoy the buzz.
The buzz honestly didn't last through the whole pack, as I needed such huge portions of this stuff that it was nauseating. Before I knew it, I had purchased "straight" skoal. I assumed "straight" meant mostly unadulterated, but this had some kind of minty shit taste. The buzz...
I didn't know what a nicotine buzz was before using dipping tobacco. putting it right in the lower lip, you can almost feel pleasure rush into your body. Notably, it made my legs feel uncoordinated, my head very light, and on a few occasions- nauseated me, not unlike drinking alcohol.
After finding a flavor that wasn't terrible(peach), I went to town. The buzz was still so intense that I didn't use much- maybe once a day. I knew that I could never go back to being a complete non-user. Though the idea of maintaining a buzz throughout the day sounded awesome, that minor league baseball player still spoke to me, letting me know it wasn't all fun and games, making me feel ashamed to try to do it more than occasionally.
And then I heard about snus- a kind of oral tobacco which is not fermented, then steam-cured, rather than fire cured. This is comparable to the difference between black and green tea- and green tea kicks ass. As it turns out, much of the cancer-causing properties of tobacco are because of it's fermentation and curing. Snus eliminates almost all of the cancer risk, while also eliminating the need for spitting!
After I found out that snus can be bought mail-order, and the price even with shipping taken into account is the same per volume as mid-grade american dip tobacco, I was defeated. Nicotine has won the battle, but is that such a bad thing?
I tell my story because I consider myself lucky. Many snus users are using it now to stop or severely cut back their smoking. I have not inhaled more than one cigarette, knowing that smokeless is an option. I am also lucky that I didn't get hooked more effectively on american dip tobacco- never really finding my "every day brand" and succumbing to the urge to do it all day. Now, I can use snus without any real pull of the weasel to go back to dip or cigarettes.
I will have only a slightly elevated risk of cancer(hardly noticeable, read up!), no need to salivate constantly like some kind of mental-deficient, and be able to get a buzz on for the rest of my life(snus is 4-15 mg nicotine per portion instead of 1-3 mg for ciggs). My shame or doubt is gone, and my snus is coming in the mail.
Though many are not as fortunate as me to be smoke-free already, I suggest this course of action for anyone who likes nicotine. Cigarettes have twice the mouth cancer risk of even american dip tobacco, without even bringing up the lung damage. The buzz is better(with the right kind of snus), and you won't have to spit.
P.S. heavy caffeine intake + smokeless tobacco is sublime
P.P.S. "camel snus" and other american brands are not as effective as their swedish counterparts. mailorder it.
1- watching my dad attempt to quit smoking cigarettes with every socially acceptable method(no nasal snuff or human sacrifice), even pretending he had quit and sneaking cigarettes, to no avail.
2- watching a video in health class that had a former minor league baseball player "speaking" on the dangers of smokeless tobacco with half his lower jaw missing. Around the same time, hearing that people I generally didn't like were users.
Because of this, I wasn't going to predispose myself to any of these eventualities: hopeless addiction, deceiving people, missing parts of my body, or being a dick; just for the sake of the effects of a very mild drug.
Regardless, I ended up smoking mini-cigars and clove-cigarettes, not inhaling; believing that I received enough effect, with little compulsion to repeat afterward. It worked! Well, at least I thought it had some effect. One day I got the courage to inhale a clove cigarette. Not only did I feel fantasic while doing it and afterward, but I wanted one the moment in was extinguished and I looked at my empty hand.
Knowing I was at a crossroads, I gave the rest of the pack to a friend who smoked, knowing that if I had just one more the battle would be lost. I won that one.
Not knowing that smokeless tobacco was deliciously flavored, I assumed it tasted like plain cigarettes- which would be disgusting. But I slowly started noticing those shiny, inviting tins in convenience stores came in about a dozen flavors- many which sounded great. I still resisted, remembering how much I enjoyed a fully functioning jaw and mouth. One day a coworker(I worked outdoors) packed a huge lip of mint skoal and started spitting because he wasn't allowed to smoke.
The battle was on again. After researching that loose-leaf tobacco(instead of shredded) had the lowest cancer risk, I found some. It was called days-o-work plug tobacco, and it instantly sent my mouth on fire. Sometimes it tasted like chocolate, other times like a demons cum. I learned to focus my senses on the pleasant flavor, control the wad in my mouth and enjoy the buzz.
The buzz honestly didn't last through the whole pack, as I needed such huge portions of this stuff that it was nauseating. Before I knew it, I had purchased "straight" skoal. I assumed "straight" meant mostly unadulterated, but this had some kind of minty shit taste. The buzz...
I didn't know what a nicotine buzz was before using dipping tobacco. putting it right in the lower lip, you can almost feel pleasure rush into your body. Notably, it made my legs feel uncoordinated, my head very light, and on a few occasions- nauseated me, not unlike drinking alcohol.
After finding a flavor that wasn't terrible(peach), I went to town. The buzz was still so intense that I didn't use much- maybe once a day. I knew that I could never go back to being a complete non-user. Though the idea of maintaining a buzz throughout the day sounded awesome, that minor league baseball player still spoke to me, letting me know it wasn't all fun and games, making me feel ashamed to try to do it more than occasionally.
And then I heard about snus- a kind of oral tobacco which is not fermented, then steam-cured, rather than fire cured. This is comparable to the difference between black and green tea- and green tea kicks ass. As it turns out, much of the cancer-causing properties of tobacco are because of it's fermentation and curing. Snus eliminates almost all of the cancer risk, while also eliminating the need for spitting!
After I found out that snus can be bought mail-order, and the price even with shipping taken into account is the same per volume as mid-grade american dip tobacco, I was defeated. Nicotine has won the battle, but is that such a bad thing?
I tell my story because I consider myself lucky. Many snus users are using it now to stop or severely cut back their smoking. I have not inhaled more than one cigarette, knowing that smokeless is an option. I am also lucky that I didn't get hooked more effectively on american dip tobacco- never really finding my "every day brand" and succumbing to the urge to do it all day. Now, I can use snus without any real pull of the weasel to go back to dip or cigarettes.
I will have only a slightly elevated risk of cancer(hardly noticeable, read up!), no need to salivate constantly like some kind of mental-deficient, and be able to get a buzz on for the rest of my life(snus is 4-15 mg nicotine per portion instead of 1-3 mg for ciggs). My shame or doubt is gone, and my snus is coming in the mail.
Though many are not as fortunate as me to be smoke-free already, I suggest this course of action for anyone who likes nicotine. Cigarettes have twice the mouth cancer risk of even american dip tobacco, without even bringing up the lung damage. The buzz is better(with the right kind of snus), and you won't have to spit.
P.S. heavy caffeine intake + smokeless tobacco is sublime
P.P.S. "camel snus" and other american brands are not as effective as their swedish counterparts. mailorder it.
IQollosal waste of time
Intelligence Quotient is a measurement, that may or may not be changeable or may or may not relate to subjective happiness or objective actions, of how well a certain person performed at answering problem-solving questions, supposedly applicable to real world tasks, as compared to others who took the test beforehand under maybe similar, but just as likely dissimilar conditions and circumstances for individual unknown reasons.
Or...
You do something, or you don't.
What's your criteria for a persons worth?
Or...
You do something, or you don't.
What's your criteria for a persons worth?
Fantasy wikipedia page
Cobe S Never Fails To Impress[1] Also known as Cobe Steels, The Human Metronome, and Cobe Soldo (June 28, 1987 – ?) was an American entertainer, musician, writer, and the subject of one of the most high-profile disappearances in contemporary American history.
In a career spanning more than 30 years, Cobe was initially known for being a cofounder and anchorman for “The New Low News Show”; a news show founded on Gonzo principles. He went on to produce music, write columns and direct films.
Mr. Never Fails To Impress fathered over 2 dozen children. He started a well-known campaign called G.A.L.O.T. "get a load of this!" in which he donated his semen to homosexual female fans who wished to have his children and raise them in same-sex couple households. Heterosexual women were denied. The organization is still run with frozen semen.
[edit] Early life
Cobe S Never Fails To Impress was born in Jessup, Maryland, on June 28, 1987 to ---censored!--- and ---censored!---.[3] When asked in an interview about his ethnic heritage, Mr. Never Fails To Impress replied "that's a stupid fucking question".[4] His family moved to
During his childhood Cobe S Never Failed To Impress entertained very violent ideas, often speculating that he was going to "blow this motherfucker[school] up" to classmates. These threats never materialized however, instead, Cobe S often urinated on his local public schools doors late at night, and occasionally in the day. Witnesses tell that he would invite them along, to "smoke some reefer". Then, apropos of nothing, Cobe S would urinate on the doors(often in excessive amounts) and say immediately afterward "I have to go now".
Cobe S Never Fails To Impress suffered asthma thouought his life. Unable to afford adequate health insurance most of the time, Mr. Impress swore by his use of "too much coffee" and epinephrine inhalers to minimize symptoms.
Cobe S Never Fails To Impress has often expressed his desire to return to high school to “drop out like I should have”.
[edit] Career:
After “The New Low News Show” got it’s start on the popular streaming-video site youtube, The American network Showtime picked it up for the fall 2009 season. Opening to lukewarm ratings, the show was rumored to have only been able to achieve a second season by the shows members going on a highly-publicized hunger strike. It then maintained a respectable popularity that continues to this day. Cobe S continued to contribute to the show until his disappearance, although he stopped anchoring in 2022.
His musical debut was his first official album with the rap “group” Sub Urban Defiance Alliance entitled “Fuck Y’all”. It was released via internet file sharing, receiving low download rates despite the popularity of the The New Low. Mr. Fails to Impress has personally referred to the unique brand of rap as "Just rap"[2], distinguished by impressive word counts(his magnum opus totaled 15,001 words), and eclectic sample sources. SUDA, as it is sometimes called, maintains a loyal cult following, with the last album as a group being released in 2025.
Mr. Never Fails To Impress began his writing career with the hyper-modernist tour-de-force “No Treason: the re-up”. It received wide critical acclaim and he continued as a regular essayist until his disappearance.
His latest work is a direct adaptation of Joseph Heller's novel "Catch-22" in episodic installments for television. The work has been criticized for being "pointless" as it is an exact copy of the story and dialogue of the novel. One critic went as far as saying “Cobe S indeed Fails To Impress… this reviewer speculates that caffeine created this, not a man”.
[edit] Sickness:
Doctors later in life found a cancerous mass on his lower lip, assumedly from his use of smokeless tobacco products. After informing him of their discovery, Cobe S Never Fails To Impress reportedly said "nah, that's not cancer". When the doctors insisted he seek treatment, he told them "I have to go now".
Cobe S recieved treatment for his cancer on live TV, being performed by his long-time collaborator Satan Himself. No anesthesia was used, instead, the only drugs involved were a liter of Wild Turkey Bourbon, consumed by Cobe S, and magic mushrooms consumed by Satan Himself, because he "was going to do shrooms that day anyhow". The cancerous mass was removed, and failed to grow further.
[edit] Disappearance:
The last time Cobe S Never Fails To Impress was seen was at a Baskin Robbins Ice Cream Shop in
Many theories exist as to Cobe’s whereabouts, spawning the The New Low News Show’s segment: “Where in the world is Cobe S Never Fails To Impress”. People who believe him to be alive are disparagingly referred to as “Alivists” by Satan Himself, who still anchors the show. Alivists often listen to old SUDA records and watch old episodes of the new low to find clues as to his current whereabouts.
Cobe's world famous cliches
When life gives you lemons, that really sucks.
Waste not, want alot.
Men are from earth, Women are the same species so they are also from earth.
Count your chickens before they hatch.
Early to bed, early to rise is an interesting sleep schedule.
Beer before liquor seems like an ineffectual way to become intoxicated. Liquor before beer is slightly better.
Work very little, Play when you feel like it.
All issues are black and white.
Better to have never loved at all than to have loved and lost.
Coffee in the morning makes me feel alright, coffee in the evening also makes me feel alright.
Women: you can live with them if they're agreeable; you can also live without them if you find that suits you better.
Life's pretty interesting and then you'll probably die.
Waste not, want alot.
Men are from earth, Women are the same species so they are also from earth.
Count your chickens before they hatch.
Early to bed, early to rise is an interesting sleep schedule.
Beer before liquor seems like an ineffectual way to become intoxicated. Liquor before beer is slightly better.
Work very little, Play when you feel like it.
All issues are black and white.
Better to have never loved at all than to have loved and lost.
Coffee in the morning makes me feel alright, coffee in the evening also makes me feel alright.
Women: you can live with them if they're agreeable; you can also live without them if you find that suits you better.
Life's pretty interesting and then you'll probably die.
screwy reviewy: An American Crime (movie)
I really didn't know what to expect when I began watching this film over supper. I briefly read half of the NetFlix-provided description, absorbing only "the true story of the torture and..." and put it in. I figured that I had seen really dark movies before, and this would simply be another one.
I had no idea what I was in for. The plot begins with a father dropping off his 2 young girls to the care of a woman he had never known before, who has 7 children of her own, and agrees to pay her $20 a week. Slapping starts off the abuse pictured within this movie- and it simply spirals from there. At first the abusive foster mother appears to be equal-oppurtunity, but quickly she singles out one of her 2 foster children. The first time the girl is beaten, she has her own daughter do it, while her very young son holds her down.
What is so spooky about this movie is just that- the woman is not doing alot of the abusing- she's simply instructing others to do it. All of them give her second looks, but when yelled at, simply follow orders. This seems to climax in a scene when the mother forces the young girl to put a coke bottle in her vagina- while all the children watch. 2 older children come into the home, and demand to know what's going on. Instead of the situation diffusing, the girl gets thrown down the stairs and locked in the basement. The mother tells everyone that she was sent to "juvi". Meanwhile, she appears to make moves on a young boy who has a crush on the missing young girl.
The kids in the neighborhood gradually learn that the girl is locked in the basement, and at the prompting of some of the woman's own children(in particular the youngest boy), they all begin torturing her. It starts with cigarette burns, and then anything you can imagine. This is where the movie started making my heart beat out of my chest, and my arms shake. The first time a neighborhood kid(unrelated to the situation) hits her, it took me by amazing surprise.
The situation(which is a completely true story) is clearly illustrating that people will do what they're told, or what the group is doing, as well as the possible sadism inherent in all people. While those are good subjects to touch on(they usually use nazi germany as the example)- it's fucking creepy to actually see it, undecorated.
2 false salvations for the tortured girl occur, and they both are truly cruel to the viewer. One is when a social worker visits the home, asking to see the girl. The woman simply tells him that she "was sent to juvi", while she acts very faint. He simply says he "wants to see her in his office" and leaves! The entire movie up to this point, is the viewer waiting for this horrible situation to be discovered. Right afterwards, as if that wasn't bad enough, the woman writes "I'm a prostitute and proud of it" on the girls stomach, while neighborhood kids watch. She then forces the children to heat up a needle. She brands the first 1 or 2 lines into her stomach, while children watch, and then passes the needle to the boy who has a crush on her. He says "I can't do it", she says "please", but then goes up the stairs. At this point, I assumed that the boy and the children wouldn't continue, knowing that the woman wasn't in the room anymore, and that is was crazy. Instead, the boy does it.
It was actually hard to continue watching after that. This is the only time I've felt that way. When the boy brands the girl's stomach, he looks concerned- which makes it even worse. He looks like "what the hell am I doing?", but he does it anyway. At this point, I figure that has to be the climax of the abuse. I think I am proved correct, as the girls sister rescues her, and puts her in the custody of the boy who has a crush on her. He apologizes, and drives her to her real parents. Her parents go back to the womans house, with their daughter in the car. The daughter says "I have to do this" and walks in alone! At this point, I knew that something was terribly wrong, as her parents weren't going in with her and hadn't called the police.
At this point, the girl walks in on a scene of her own corpse being prompted by the other children to "come on, breath!", as the woman just passively insists "she's fakin...she's fakin". I knew at this point this was the end, and the "rescue" by her sister was all a dream. Not only is it the first dream or hallucination in the movie- so it can't be anticipated, but it's the second time you think the girl will escape with her life. She doesn't.
The ending is simply the last testimony from those involved- involving the children telling the court "I was just doing what I was told" or "I don't know" when asked why they tortured her, and the woman denying what happened. Then she is sentenced to life in prison. The tortured girl narrates at the end from beyond the grave, seemingly apologetic for the abusive woman- which drives me nuts because not only is it a complete conjecture of the girls actual opinion(because she's dead), but because they also mention afterwards that the woman "took responsibility" for the events much later in life, as if that was good enough. The little girl says she herself "went back the the carnival, where I always felt safe" which pisses me off even further, because she didn't. She just died and that was it, and this ending insinuates some kind of heaven eternity.
The movie saves itself slightly in my eyes by the little girls narration saying something like "Pastor ____ always said god has a plan in everything, but I can't see the plan in this"... clearly commenting on the absurdity and purposelessness of abuse and circumstance. They mention that most of the kids who tortured her got at least a couple years in jail- but that the mother got out on her life sentence(from 65) in 1985 on parole and died in 1990.
This movie was painful to watch, and had an incredibly frustrating end. From about the last half on, you really couldn't tell if there was going to be a happy ending. First the viewer roots for the girl being saved, then for the kids to stop the torture, then for the abusive woman to die or get locked up forever. None of those things end up happening. Though this is a true story, so they couldn't invent a happy ending, this is the only time I wish with all my heart that there had been one. Ultimately, I'm shocked (I was physically shooken up for about 45 minutes afterward). I have no problem with portraying human darkness in a movie if neccesary, but I have the sneaking suspicion that this darkness has absolutely no point.\
P.S. WTF?
I had no idea what I was in for. The plot begins with a father dropping off his 2 young girls to the care of a woman he had never known before, who has 7 children of her own, and agrees to pay her $20 a week. Slapping starts off the abuse pictured within this movie- and it simply spirals from there. At first the abusive foster mother appears to be equal-oppurtunity, but quickly she singles out one of her 2 foster children. The first time the girl is beaten, she has her own daughter do it, while her very young son holds her down.
What is so spooky about this movie is just that- the woman is not doing alot of the abusing- she's simply instructing others to do it. All of them give her second looks, but when yelled at, simply follow orders. This seems to climax in a scene when the mother forces the young girl to put a coke bottle in her vagina- while all the children watch. 2 older children come into the home, and demand to know what's going on. Instead of the situation diffusing, the girl gets thrown down the stairs and locked in the basement. The mother tells everyone that she was sent to "juvi". Meanwhile, she appears to make moves on a young boy who has a crush on the missing young girl.
The kids in the neighborhood gradually learn that the girl is locked in the basement, and at the prompting of some of the woman's own children(in particular the youngest boy), they all begin torturing her. It starts with cigarette burns, and then anything you can imagine. This is where the movie started making my heart beat out of my chest, and my arms shake. The first time a neighborhood kid(unrelated to the situation) hits her, it took me by amazing surprise.
The situation(which is a completely true story) is clearly illustrating that people will do what they're told, or what the group is doing, as well as the possible sadism inherent in all people. While those are good subjects to touch on(they usually use nazi germany as the example)- it's fucking creepy to actually see it, undecorated.
2 false salvations for the tortured girl occur, and they both are truly cruel to the viewer. One is when a social worker visits the home, asking to see the girl. The woman simply tells him that she "was sent to juvi", while she acts very faint. He simply says he "wants to see her in his office" and leaves! The entire movie up to this point, is the viewer waiting for this horrible situation to be discovered. Right afterwards, as if that wasn't bad enough, the woman writes "I'm a prostitute and proud of it" on the girls stomach, while neighborhood kids watch. She then forces the children to heat up a needle. She brands the first 1 or 2 lines into her stomach, while children watch, and then passes the needle to the boy who has a crush on her. He says "I can't do it", she says "please", but then goes up the stairs. At this point, I assumed that the boy and the children wouldn't continue, knowing that the woman wasn't in the room anymore, and that is was crazy. Instead, the boy does it.
It was actually hard to continue watching after that. This is the only time I've felt that way. When the boy brands the girl's stomach, he looks concerned- which makes it even worse. He looks like "what the hell am I doing?", but he does it anyway. At this point, I figure that has to be the climax of the abuse. I think I am proved correct, as the girls sister rescues her, and puts her in the custody of the boy who has a crush on her. He apologizes, and drives her to her real parents. Her parents go back to the womans house, with their daughter in the car. The daughter says "I have to do this" and walks in alone! At this point, I knew that something was terribly wrong, as her parents weren't going in with her and hadn't called the police.
At this point, the girl walks in on a scene of her own corpse being prompted by the other children to "come on, breath!", as the woman just passively insists "she's fakin...she's fakin". I knew at this point this was the end, and the "rescue" by her sister was all a dream. Not only is it the first dream or hallucination in the movie- so it can't be anticipated, but it's the second time you think the girl will escape with her life. She doesn't.
The ending is simply the last testimony from those involved- involving the children telling the court "I was just doing what I was told" or "I don't know" when asked why they tortured her, and the woman denying what happened. Then she is sentenced to life in prison. The tortured girl narrates at the end from beyond the grave, seemingly apologetic for the abusive woman- which drives me nuts because not only is it a complete conjecture of the girls actual opinion(because she's dead), but because they also mention afterwards that the woman "took responsibility" for the events much later in life, as if that was good enough. The little girl says she herself "went back the the carnival, where I always felt safe" which pisses me off even further, because she didn't. She just died and that was it, and this ending insinuates some kind of heaven eternity.
The movie saves itself slightly in my eyes by the little girls narration saying something like "Pastor ____ always said god has a plan in everything, but I can't see the plan in this"... clearly commenting on the absurdity and purposelessness of abuse and circumstance. They mention that most of the kids who tortured her got at least a couple years in jail- but that the mother got out on her life sentence(from 65) in 1985 on parole and died in 1990.
This movie was painful to watch, and had an incredibly frustrating end. From about the last half on, you really couldn't tell if there was going to be a happy ending. First the viewer roots for the girl being saved, then for the kids to stop the torture, then for the abusive woman to die or get locked up forever. None of those things end up happening. Though this is a true story, so they couldn't invent a happy ending, this is the only time I wish with all my heart that there had been one. Ultimately, I'm shocked (I was physically shooken up for about 45 minutes afterward). I have no problem with portraying human darkness in a movie if neccesary, but I have the sneaking suspicion that this darkness has absolutely no point.\
P.S. WTF?
ways to avoid working on a project:
-'I haven't had much sleep, I'll get a good nights sleep tonight and be fresh tomorrow'
-'I should read more about it before I start'(immediately afterward, don't read about it)
-'time to eat', then 'time for coffee', then 'time for a night-cap'(buys you an entire evening)
-'hmmm... a friend called me a few weeks ago, I bet he's sitting patiently waiting for my call'.
-'time to check my email', then 'time to check facebook', then 'time to check the news', then 'time to look up futurama episode guide on wikipedia'.
-'this netflix dvd needs to go back soon, so I'll go ahead and fulfill my duty to watch it'
-'I could work, but I have to finish reading this book, and reading is always mental enrichment.'
-'Well, I still have that blog post to write, and I don't want to let down Graham Andrews, Zach Wilson, Jon Feng and Alex Greenland'
-'I should read more about it before I start'(immediately afterward, don't read about it)
-'time to eat', then 'time for coffee', then 'time for a night-cap'(buys you an entire evening)
-'hmmm... a friend called me a few weeks ago, I bet he's sitting patiently waiting for my call'.
-'time to check my email', then 'time to check facebook', then 'time to check the news', then 'time to look up futurama episode guide on wikipedia'.
-'this netflix dvd needs to go back soon, so I'll go ahead and fulfill my duty to watch it'
-'I could work, but I have to finish reading this book, and reading is always mental enrichment.'
-'Well, I still have that blog post to write, and I don't want to let down Graham Andrews, Zach Wilson, Jon Feng and Alex Greenland'
get your head out of obama's ass
I am truly elated that John McCain wasn't elected president. I'm elated that there is not, and never will be, a president John McCain to draft me to "fight" a "war" in Iraq or Iran(also called the "armpit"... not of anything... just the armpit). For this piece of mind, I have Barack Obama to thank- the only person in the democratic party with enough charisma to beat a mean-spirited old man with an unattractive sounding political platform.
That, however, is all I have to thank him for. I won't thank him for all the things I assume he'll do, but in actuality can't, and doesn't intend to anyhow. Why? Because I'm not racist, despite what I'm about to say.
Voters elected a president for the U.S.A., not a baby daddy. Barack Obama, despite being black. Isn't that cool. He has no intention to legalize cannabis, release drug offenders from prison, provide a citizens wage to alleviate poverty, or even provide universal healthcare. He's not the mythical electable leftist, he's a centrist, and if he were white, he wouldn've been forgotten at the primary debates like more qualified candidates Bill Rochardson, Dennis Kucinich and Mike Gravel.
If you have Obama fever, be prepared for a cold sweat. He's not king; he can't do anything unilaterally. Even if he did take strong progressive positions with the democratic-majority congress, they wouldn't follow suit, because they're all megalomaniacs and corporate whores. The system is just as inaffectual as it's always been- the only difference is that now the people are daring to be even more complacent with a vapid symbol for their figurehead.
Don't believe the hype.
That, however, is all I have to thank him for. I won't thank him for all the things I assume he'll do, but in actuality can't, and doesn't intend to anyhow. Why? Because I'm not racist, despite what I'm about to say.
Voters elected a president for the U.S.A., not a baby daddy. Barack Obama, despite being black. Isn't that cool. He has no intention to legalize cannabis, release drug offenders from prison, provide a citizens wage to alleviate poverty, or even provide universal healthcare. He's not the mythical electable leftist, he's a centrist, and if he were white, he wouldn've been forgotten at the primary debates like more qualified candidates Bill Rochardson, Dennis Kucinich and Mike Gravel.
If you have Obama fever, be prepared for a cold sweat. He's not king; he can't do anything unilaterally. Even if he did take strong progressive positions with the democratic-majority congress, they wouldn't follow suit, because they're all megalomaniacs and corporate whores. The system is just as inaffectual as it's always been- the only difference is that now the people are daring to be even more complacent with a vapid symbol for their figurehead.
Don't believe the hype.
Election Day Coverage
It's election day, November 4th 2008. I am currently in Winston-Salem, NC. I woke up at 6AM, which I am trying to make a habit. I reset my alarm for 7:30 immediately afterward, anticipating that I would need all my strength to fully take in this "historic" day.
I listened to public radio, which has up-to-date election coverage. Of course all there is to cover before votes are counted is "people are voting", "people are having trouble voting", or "this is important, important shit". I listened to every bit of it, while I checked wikipedia for more up-to-date coverage. I assume wikipedia, being able to be edited by anyone else listening to public radio, would somehow offer even more up-to-date info. Wikipedia's current info essentially lists polling results, and from that speculates which states are "battleground" states.
North Carolina is one of those battlegrounds states. Obama has been shown in polls to possess a 1-2% lead, which is counterintuitive as it has voted for the republican nominee in previous elections since modern conservatism(militant neo-liberalism) has been out of the closet. I voted 3 days ago. For local political clowns, I did the "monkey-wrench" vote, with little forethought. For every candidate who controlled money, I voted conservative, and for every candidate who controlled social policy, I voted liberal. Wherever there was a Libertarian candidate, I voted for them on the (un)safe assumption that they would do better to protect civil rights. If my vote were mandate, then government would be unable to do much of anything at all. That's the idea.
I went to work, a food delivery job, at 11AM. Before arriving, I put a pouch of apple-blend Skoal smokeless tobacco in my lower lip. It was the patriotic thing to do. I spent the day leaving as soon as possible, staying out for as long as possible, and when I had to return to the store- spending unneccesary time in the bathroom and hard-to-be-seen-in corners so that I wasn't asked to do work. It was the patriotic thing to do. I felt "buzzed" from nicotine all day, stole sweet-tea to rehydrate myself often, and left early. It was the patriotic thing to do.
Upon arriving home, I re-heated leftovers and ate them, along with bourbon and coffee. I again turned on public radio, but instead of election coverage, I heard a segment on the sources and treatment of migraine headaches. It was a relief, ironically. Shortly thereafter, election "coverage" resumed. I decided to cover my time on election day, just to have an accurate picture of life on this day to someone researching american life, history, elections, or Cobe Soldo in the future.
I now intend to find a friends house with a TV-antennae, hunker down, continue my consumption of bourbon, and watch the election results. It's the patriotic thing to do.
I never found a TV- It's like I live in the stone-age. I did, however, continue my consumption of bourbon- it's like I live last century. I turned on public radio once again(which I pledge to never do hereafter). Results were slow, so I decided to go pick up a pizza. When I got home, in addition to eating said pizza, I decided to start watching a disk of Trailer Park Boys that I got with NetFlix. It's the patriotic thing to do.
When I was finished, I tuned back into public radio, as well as finding BBC coverage of the election online. I put it on mute while I listened to NPR. The "live feed" BBC set up was pretty unimpressive, so I started drinking more heavily. When I returned from the kitchen, as if by magic, the election had just been called for Barack Obama, and all the goodies ensued: a concession speech, an acceptance speech, and commentary I could've written if I had been given $10 and a reason.
While McCain was giving his concession, an interesting sensory mishap occured- BBC's video coverage materialized a few seconds slower than NPR's audio coverage. As a result, the entire event appeared phony. The emotions, which I heard ahead of time, had time to play in my psyche before I saw the very disgenuine faces morphed to match them.
This sensation continued until NPR decided to call it quits, very literally, and reverted to orchestral music(which was far more interesting). I've stayed awake and waited for the results of the election in North Carolina, for curiosities sake, but have not been graced with it yet. I heard that McCain was ahead with a few thousand votes, then Obama, and now I don't care because it's a moot point anyhow, even though I was "involved" somehow.
I will now go back to watching Trailer Park Boys, have some snacks, and P.T.F.O(pass the fuck out). It's the patriotic thing to do. Good night, and Good luck.
I listened to public radio, which has up-to-date election coverage. Of course all there is to cover before votes are counted is "people are voting", "people are having trouble voting", or "this is important, important shit". I listened to every bit of it, while I checked wikipedia for more up-to-date coverage. I assume wikipedia, being able to be edited by anyone else listening to public radio, would somehow offer even more up-to-date info. Wikipedia's current info essentially lists polling results, and from that speculates which states are "battleground" states.
North Carolina is one of those battlegrounds states. Obama has been shown in polls to possess a 1-2% lead, which is counterintuitive as it has voted for the republican nominee in previous elections since modern conservatism(militant neo-liberalism) has been out of the closet. I voted 3 days ago. For local political clowns, I did the "monkey-wrench" vote, with little forethought. For every candidate who controlled money, I voted conservative, and for every candidate who controlled social policy, I voted liberal. Wherever there was a Libertarian candidate, I voted for them on the (un)safe assumption that they would do better to protect civil rights. If my vote were mandate, then government would be unable to do much of anything at all. That's the idea.
I went to work, a food delivery job, at 11AM. Before arriving, I put a pouch of apple-blend Skoal smokeless tobacco in my lower lip. It was the patriotic thing to do. I spent the day leaving as soon as possible, staying out for as long as possible, and when I had to return to the store- spending unneccesary time in the bathroom and hard-to-be-seen-in corners so that I wasn't asked to do work. It was the patriotic thing to do. I felt "buzzed" from nicotine all day, stole sweet-tea to rehydrate myself often, and left early. It was the patriotic thing to do.
Upon arriving home, I re-heated leftovers and ate them, along with bourbon and coffee. I again turned on public radio, but instead of election coverage, I heard a segment on the sources and treatment of migraine headaches. It was a relief, ironically. Shortly thereafter, election "coverage" resumed. I decided to cover my time on election day, just to have an accurate picture of life on this day to someone researching american life, history, elections, or Cobe Soldo in the future.
I now intend to find a friends house with a TV-antennae, hunker down, continue my consumption of bourbon, and watch the election results. It's the patriotic thing to do.
I never found a TV- It's like I live in the stone-age. I did, however, continue my consumption of bourbon- it's like I live last century. I turned on public radio once again(which I pledge to never do hereafter). Results were slow, so I decided to go pick up a pizza. When I got home, in addition to eating said pizza, I decided to start watching a disk of Trailer Park Boys that I got with NetFlix. It's the patriotic thing to do.
When I was finished, I tuned back into public radio, as well as finding BBC coverage of the election online. I put it on mute while I listened to NPR. The "live feed" BBC set up was pretty unimpressive, so I started drinking more heavily. When I returned from the kitchen, as if by magic, the election had just been called for Barack Obama, and all the goodies ensued: a concession speech, an acceptance speech, and commentary I could've written if I had been given $10 and a reason.
While McCain was giving his concession, an interesting sensory mishap occured- BBC's video coverage materialized a few seconds slower than NPR's audio coverage. As a result, the entire event appeared phony. The emotions, which I heard ahead of time, had time to play in my psyche before I saw the very disgenuine faces morphed to match them.
This sensation continued until NPR decided to call it quits, very literally, and reverted to orchestral music(which was far more interesting). I've stayed awake and waited for the results of the election in North Carolina, for curiosities sake, but have not been graced with it yet. I heard that McCain was ahead with a few thousand votes, then Obama, and now I don't care because it's a moot point anyhow, even though I was "involved" somehow.
I will now go back to watching Trailer Park Boys, have some snacks, and P.T.F.O(pass the fuck out). It's the patriotic thing to do. Good night, and Good luck.
The untrustworthy 3
-anyone involved in piercing an infants ears
-people who knit
-policemen
-those who dress to look good for their driver's license photo
-those who take more than 5 photos at a party
-artists
-anyone who misses/advocates inferior technology(cassette tapes, floppy disks)
-black people with business cards, but no work clothes on
-managers
-assistant managers
-fellow workers
-drivers of convertibles
-anyone wearing stripes
-people who dye their hair
-anyone dressed in scrubs
-anyone with glasses and a visible pen
-caucasian primary care physicians
-honest people
-drinkers of decaf coffee
-men with neatly edged beards
-the undead
-people who knit
-policemen
-those who dress to look good for their driver's license photo
-those who take more than 5 photos at a party
-artists
-anyone who misses/advocates inferior technology(cassette tapes, floppy disks)
-black people with business cards, but no work clothes on
-managers
-assistant managers
-fellow workers
-drivers of convertibles
-anyone wearing stripes
-people who dye their hair
-anyone dressed in scrubs
-anyone with glasses and a visible pen
-caucasian primary care physicians
-honest people
-drinkers of decaf coffee
-men with neatly edged beards
-the undead
cobe's maintenance drug use guides
It is often beneficial in day-to-day life to "get a monster buzz on". It is not often beneficial, however, to "get cranked-out", "get shit-tanked", or "puke". When one feels as if the active ingredient(s) in their substance(s) of choice has(have) commited an armed burglary of their brain, they often decide to "cut back", "quit... maybe", or "knock this shit off". The results are usually not positive.
Instead, follow Cobe's the "Cobe's maintenance drug use guides". I can only speak to the drugs which I have personal experience with.
Coffee:
-In the morning, don't drink more than 3 cups in a row. You will feel nauseaus at worst, or it will be a waste at best.
-Afterwards, don't drink more than 2 in a row.
-Don't waste money on hi-qual shit except for the afternoon. You can't taste anything but phlegm and plaque in the morning anyhow.
-Pink Bubblegum kills coffee breath.
Dipping Tobacco:
-Don't tongue and pull your lip tight around your wad. It will only cause unneccesary spit.
-Don't "spit one last time" and try to get it all out before going into a place where you can't. It will only encourage more spit response.
-Dip pouches when trying to hide it. Loose stays in your teeth.
-Do 2 in a row, no more. More can cause diziness(at work)
- The best times to dip are when you are tired or when you are angry.
Drinking Alcohol:
-have 2-4 standard drinks, depending on your "need", and sit pretty.
-when you are sure the feeling starts to go away, have 2 more
-when that feeling starts to go away(it takes a while), have 1 more. At this point, you will feel like "2 more will be even better! why wouldn't it?" Well, 2 more will send you to 2 more and then blackout, or sleep.
-If you "need" to drive "buzzed"(on a rescue mission, or to claim a winning lottery ticket), freshen breath, swallow bubblegum spit. Having a hammered person in the car is a risk factor.
-at least eat something.
-Don't try to be slick and drink alot of water when you feel sick. just wait it out.
Everything:
-don't brag, asshole. Don't even share your state of mind. Just enjoy.
Instead, follow Cobe's the "Cobe's maintenance drug use guides". I can only speak to the drugs which I have personal experience with.
Coffee:
-In the morning, don't drink more than 3 cups in a row. You will feel nauseaus at worst, or it will be a waste at best.
-Afterwards, don't drink more than 2 in a row.
-Don't waste money on hi-qual shit except for the afternoon. You can't taste anything but phlegm and plaque in the morning anyhow.
-Pink Bubblegum kills coffee breath.
Dipping Tobacco:
-Don't tongue and pull your lip tight around your wad. It will only cause unneccesary spit.
-Don't "spit one last time" and try to get it all out before going into a place where you can't. It will only encourage more spit response.
-Dip pouches when trying to hide it. Loose stays in your teeth.
-Do 2 in a row, no more. More can cause diziness(at work)
- The best times to dip are when you are tired or when you are angry.
Drinking Alcohol:
-have 2-4 standard drinks, depending on your "need", and sit pretty.
-when you are sure the feeling starts to go away, have 2 more
-when that feeling starts to go away(it takes a while), have 1 more. At this point, you will feel like "2 more will be even better! why wouldn't it?" Well, 2 more will send you to 2 more and then blackout, or sleep.
-If you "need" to drive "buzzed"(on a rescue mission, or to claim a winning lottery ticket), freshen breath, swallow bubblegum spit. Having a hammered person in the car is a risk factor.
-at least eat something.
-Don't try to be slick and drink alot of water when you feel sick. just wait it out.
Everything:
-don't brag, asshole. Don't even share your state of mind. Just enjoy.
Re-up: humanism--a better religion than christianity
Original article found here. I will now say the same thing
To believe"Human life is intrinsically worthwhile" takes a leap of faith, that has been leapt by all of us who are alive, and not actively trying to die.
We are all having "whiles" right now. Because we are not trying to end our lives, we have deemed our whiles, worthy.
The worthwhile-ness of our human lives is intrinsic, because our human lives have already manifest, for whatever reason.
In this way, all people who facilitate and continue their lives, whether Religionist, Atheist, Nihilist, or other, are Humanist at their core.
Self-preservation is humanism. If you don't think so, go lie down on railroad tracks and wait.
To believe"Human life is intrinsically worthwhile" takes a leap of faith, that has been leapt by all of us who are alive, and not actively trying to die.
We are all having "whiles" right now. Because we are not trying to end our lives, we have deemed our whiles, worthy.
The worthwhile-ness of our human lives is intrinsic, because our human lives have already manifest, for whatever reason.
In this way, all people who facilitate and continue their lives, whether Religionist, Atheist, Nihilist, or other, are Humanist at their core.
Self-preservation is humanism. If you don't think so, go lie down on railroad tracks and wait.
cobe's romance theory of drug addiction/cobe's drug addiction theory of romance
Imagine this. You know a woman who you love to spend time with. Being with her always makes you feel good, and she's always available. You know with absolute certainty that she will be around for the rest of your life. When you are not with her, you feel longing and unhappiness. Wouldn't you fall in love?
And what good reasons would you have to stop seeing her? well...
1) The feeling of happiness when you are with her goes away
2) Though she makes you feel good, the longing and depression you feel when you are not with her is not worth it
3) She is overly demanding and taking up all of your time
4) She does something unforgivably bad to you, and she may do it again
Imagine this. You have tried a drug that you love to be on. Using it always makes you feel good, and it's always available. You know with absolute certainty that it will be around for the rest of your life. When you are not on it, you feel withdrawal and/or depression. Wouldn't you become addicted?
And what good reasons would you have to stop using it? well...
1) The feeling of happiness when you are on it goes away
2) Though it makes you feel good, the withdrawal you feel when you are not using is not worth it
3) It is taking up all of your personal time, which you would rather have
4) As a result of using it, something unforgivably bad happens, and it could happen again
I think my theories are proven in the typical failure of trying to treat drug addicts when they don't possess any of the 4 reasons to stop using, and the typical failure of trying to get a friend to end a relationship when he doesn't possess any of the 4 reasons to stop seeing the person. And honestly, those efforts should fail.
And what good reasons would you have to stop seeing her? well...
1) The feeling of happiness when you are with her goes away
2) Though she makes you feel good, the longing and depression you feel when you are not with her is not worth it
3) She is overly demanding and taking up all of your time
4) She does something unforgivably bad to you, and she may do it again
Imagine this. You have tried a drug that you love to be on. Using it always makes you feel good, and it's always available. You know with absolute certainty that it will be around for the rest of your life. When you are not on it, you feel withdrawal and/or depression. Wouldn't you become addicted?
And what good reasons would you have to stop using it? well...
1) The feeling of happiness when you are on it goes away
2) Though it makes you feel good, the withdrawal you feel when you are not using is not worth it
3) It is taking up all of your personal time, which you would rather have
4) As a result of using it, something unforgivably bad happens, and it could happen again
I think my theories are proven in the typical failure of trying to treat drug addicts when they don't possess any of the 4 reasons to stop using, and the typical failure of trying to get a friend to end a relationship when he doesn't possess any of the 4 reasons to stop seeing the person. And honestly, those efforts should fail.
Psychonautics
There is a term- "Psychonaut", which historically refers to a person who explores their consciousness, which for many is synonymous with the use of psychedelic drugs. Less often said is how these individuals take on altered states of consciousness in many ways besides drug use too.
I am anxious to adopt this nomer and lifestyle, or I would be, except for the tendency of these individuals to embrace the "spiritual" world. With the notable exception of Aldous Huxley, possibly all notable psychonauts where open to the possibility of supernatural happenings.
It's strange, too, that someone who intentionally distorts their perceptions would read more into a psychedelic drug experience than altered brain chemistry. You may see patterns moving, or your walls swirelling while on drugs. It doesn't mean that they're moving and swireling in reality; it's just your perception. Similarly, if you have a "spiritual" feeling or experience while on drugs, it doesn't mean that there are spirits.
I am anxious to adopt this nomer and lifestyle, or I would be, except for the tendency of these individuals to embrace the "spiritual" world. With the notable exception of Aldous Huxley, possibly all notable psychonauts where open to the possibility of supernatural happenings.
It's strange, too, that someone who intentionally distorts their perceptions would read more into a psychedelic drug experience than altered brain chemistry. You may see patterns moving, or your walls swirelling while on drugs. It doesn't mean that they're moving and swireling in reality; it's just your perception. Similarly, if you have a "spiritual" feeling or experience while on drugs, it doesn't mean that there are spirits.
vehicles
If you drive a compact car, you feel like a student or a minimum wage worker, whether you are or not.
If you drive a pick-up truck, you feel like you're late for work, and work's important, whether you are or not or it is or not.
If you drive a suped-up(or "teched-out) foreign car, you're an idiot.
If you drive a van, you feel like a rapist or a venture capitalist(essentially the same thing), whether you are or not.
If you drive an SUV, you thnk you have something to protect, like a child, or human dignity
If you drive a pick-up truck, you feel like you're late for work, and work's important, whether you are or not or it is or not.
If you drive a suped-up(or "teched-out) foreign car, you're an idiot.
If you drive a van, you feel like a rapist or a venture capitalist(essentially the same thing), whether you are or not.
If you drive an SUV, you thnk you have something to protect, like a child, or human dignity
the absurdcycle
Mile one: Curiosity. Joviality. Even Acceptance. At this stage of being involved in absurd event, you may be studying it closely. You may be searching for little bits of sense and reason in it's existence. You may even FIND it. But you're still trying to put the big picture together and find purpose in it. Good luck. I mean that sarcastically.
Mile 2: Outrage. By now you realize that this is absurd. You're probably repeating to yourself "bulllll... shit!", "are you fucking kidding me?", or "I can't take this anymore" in your inner monologue. You respond to the flare up of absurdity with mean-spirited jokes. Everyone laughs, except you. When you start to say something in uprising against the absurd, you can feel that your vocal chords and mouth just don't want to do it anymore. You may turn around, and go back to where you came from.
Mile 3: Exhaustion. Now you've had it. Your very existence is painful. Things are not going according to plan. You feel like you're the victim of abuse, whether you are or not. No matter how much brainwashing you endure, you never feel clean. You would quit, or escape, but you can't muster the energy. You make a very strong conviction to suffering instead
Mile 3B: You are filled with such seething anger that you leave the room/turn off the TV/skip town. Maybe you can make it back to reason and sense... but you might just end it all instead.
Mile 4: Beating absurdity at it's own game. Ok, fuck it. Absurdity is going to yell and scream at you until you yell and scream back. Let it know you're not afraid of it anymore, and you're bigger than it. You're not; not even close, but at least you can go out swinging. Make mean-spirited jokes, and insist on their veracity with force. Don't admit for a solitary moment that you can be beaten or the stress can get to you. After all, everything; really, everything, is absurd.
Mile 2: Outrage. By now you realize that this is absurd. You're probably repeating to yourself "bulllll... shit!", "are you fucking kidding me?", or "I can't take this anymore" in your inner monologue. You respond to the flare up of absurdity with mean-spirited jokes. Everyone laughs, except you. When you start to say something in uprising against the absurd, you can feel that your vocal chords and mouth just don't want to do it anymore. You may turn around, and go back to where you came from.
Mile 3: Exhaustion. Now you've had it. Your very existence is painful. Things are not going according to plan. You feel like you're the victim of abuse, whether you are or not. No matter how much brainwashing you endure, you never feel clean. You would quit, or escape, but you can't muster the energy. You make a very strong conviction to suffering instead
Mile 3B: You are filled with such seething anger that you leave the room/turn off the TV/skip town. Maybe you can make it back to reason and sense... but you might just end it all instead.
Mile 4: Beating absurdity at it's own game. Ok, fuck it. Absurdity is going to yell and scream at you until you yell and scream back. Let it know you're not afraid of it anymore, and you're bigger than it. You're not; not even close, but at least you can go out swinging. Make mean-spirited jokes, and insist on their veracity with force. Don't admit for a solitary moment that you can be beaten or the stress can get to you. After all, everything; really, everything, is absurd.
past winter misfortunes
(1) I go out for a day of sledding, alone, while it's still snowing and I know no one else would be out. All I have to wear at the time is skateboard-shoes. I start heading back when my feet are numbing badly. It's snowing fiercely. What starts as knee-high snow slowly grows as high as my thighs as I trek through it. Unknown to me at the time, snow clings to corduroy pants, which I'm wearing. I start to feel cold water on each leg.
Suddenly, as I'm walking, I fall about 3 feet deeper into an unrecognized snowdrift. In a slight panic, I toss my sled aside, and try to climb out of the hole. I'm able to get mostly out, but the heel of one of my shoes doesn't want to come with me. I stay halfway out, with one leg in the hole trying to pull out the shoe with the toe of my foot. Instead, each attempt only opens up the heel of the shoe to have snow blown into it, and each successive attempt packs it down and chills my foot more. Finally I realize I have to abandon the shoe.
I climb out triumphant, with one foot only dressed in a single soaking wet sock. I hobble home like some kind of snow pirate.
(2) I wake up, with only enough time to ride my bike to school, which I do daily. There is frost on the entire lawn(a poor-mans thermometor; I estimate it's 25 degrees or so), so I suit up accordingly. 2 pairs of sock-style convienience store gloves, cloaked in leather gardening gloves. A thick woolen hat, 1 T-shirt, 1 waffle-print style long sleeve shirt, and a corduroy overshirt. corduroy pants over waffle-print "long johns", 2 pairs of thick socks and hi top basketball shoes.
Nevertheless, After climbing up the first hill on my bike, my fingers were frozen instantaneously. My exposed face... hurt. I pinched my lips together so they didn't crack or possibly bleed. As I rode, faster and faster, the chill in my wrists began to climb up my arms like someone pulled the blood out of them with a blood magnet. My toes became numb, and slowly my mid-foot in the same fashion. I finally made it to school, this being the only time I was glad to be there, and noticed that there were only 2 cars in the parking lot and class should be starting... now.
Assuming the obvious but not wanting to believe it at this very moment, I rode up to the door. "closed due to inclimate weather" is what the piece of paper hung up with sotch tape said, by an overworked janitor excited to leave. I looked at the trees. The branches were still as could be. I looked up. The sky was blue and clear. Nothing was stirring, not even an angry kid on a bmx bike. I thought of a warm house, breakfast, and daytime talk shows and took off. All of my sensations continued on the way home, with the addition of frozen ears(within my woolen hat) and drying eyes as I went down hills, feeling like Ice water was running across their surfaces.
When I got inside, I felt my hands and feet thaw out. It was like an N64 rumble-pak was malfuntioning inside of my palms, and the battery acid was boiling inside of that. I turned on the news, it still being the only thing on this early. I looked about 2 or 3 times back and forth from the time to the screen. 8:20, 8 degrees. 8. Meaning a half an hour ago it was likely 7. It took my last finger and toes and astounding hour and a half to become fully warm again.
Suddenly, as I'm walking, I fall about 3 feet deeper into an unrecognized snowdrift. In a slight panic, I toss my sled aside, and try to climb out of the hole. I'm able to get mostly out, but the heel of one of my shoes doesn't want to come with me. I stay halfway out, with one leg in the hole trying to pull out the shoe with the toe of my foot. Instead, each attempt only opens up the heel of the shoe to have snow blown into it, and each successive attempt packs it down and chills my foot more. Finally I realize I have to abandon the shoe.
I climb out triumphant, with one foot only dressed in a single soaking wet sock. I hobble home like some kind of snow pirate.
(2) I wake up, with only enough time to ride my bike to school, which I do daily. There is frost on the entire lawn(a poor-mans thermometor; I estimate it's 25 degrees or so), so I suit up accordingly. 2 pairs of sock-style convienience store gloves, cloaked in leather gardening gloves. A thick woolen hat, 1 T-shirt, 1 waffle-print style long sleeve shirt, and a corduroy overshirt. corduroy pants over waffle-print "long johns", 2 pairs of thick socks and hi top basketball shoes.
Nevertheless, After climbing up the first hill on my bike, my fingers were frozen instantaneously. My exposed face... hurt. I pinched my lips together so they didn't crack or possibly bleed. As I rode, faster and faster, the chill in my wrists began to climb up my arms like someone pulled the blood out of them with a blood magnet. My toes became numb, and slowly my mid-foot in the same fashion. I finally made it to school, this being the only time I was glad to be there, and noticed that there were only 2 cars in the parking lot and class should be starting... now.
Assuming the obvious but not wanting to believe it at this very moment, I rode up to the door. "closed due to inclimate weather" is what the piece of paper hung up with sotch tape said, by an overworked janitor excited to leave. I looked at the trees. The branches were still as could be. I looked up. The sky was blue and clear. Nothing was stirring, not even an angry kid on a bmx bike. I thought of a warm house, breakfast, and daytime talk shows and took off. All of my sensations continued on the way home, with the addition of frozen ears(within my woolen hat) and drying eyes as I went down hills, feeling like Ice water was running across their surfaces.
When I got inside, I felt my hands and feet thaw out. It was like an N64 rumble-pak was malfuntioning inside of my palms, and the battery acid was boiling inside of that. I turned on the news, it still being the only thing on this early. I looked about 2 or 3 times back and forth from the time to the screen. 8:20, 8 degrees. 8. Meaning a half an hour ago it was likely 7. It took my last finger and toes and astounding hour and a half to become fully warm again.
ya'll're colorblind
They say the grass isn't greener on the other side.
Consider what you're "into". If your life is in pretty good working order, it's probably a total of about 3 or 4 things. However, that's not proof-positive, for example; I'm into 3 or 4 things and my life is absolutely not in pretty good working order.
You likely have one thing you're "into" that is supreme. If you have your priorities straight, you'd like to spend as much of your time as possible on it. That's not proof-positive, however, for example; I'd like to spend as much of my time as possible on one thing, and I absolutely do not have my priorities straight.
This thing could be drinking, writing, fucking, thinking, collecting, eating, killing people, breeding animals, using drugs, raising a "family", making music, performing, directing, choreographing, dancing, talking, speaking, learning, observing, running, walking, exercising, playing a sport, praying, begging, or career criminality.
Unfortunately for the thing, this thing is not an object, but an action or idea that needs your involvement to exist. As such, the thing is dependent on you and you are dependent on your environment.
Whichever vocation is yours is probably wilting and withering away from stagnation. You've fed it all the resources on your property, and it's worn a dirt circle around where you have it chained up. It stays in it's house and sleeps most of the day and night.
How green is the grass on the other side now?
Consider what you're "into". If your life is in pretty good working order, it's probably a total of about 3 or 4 things. However, that's not proof-positive, for example; I'm into 3 or 4 things and my life is absolutely not in pretty good working order.
You likely have one thing you're "into" that is supreme. If you have your priorities straight, you'd like to spend as much of your time as possible on it. That's not proof-positive, however, for example; I'd like to spend as much of my time as possible on one thing, and I absolutely do not have my priorities straight.
This thing could be drinking, writing, fucking, thinking, collecting, eating, killing people, breeding animals, using drugs, raising a "family", making music, performing, directing, choreographing, dancing, talking, speaking, learning, observing, running, walking, exercising, playing a sport, praying, begging, or career criminality.
Unfortunately for the thing, this thing is not an object, but an action or idea that needs your involvement to exist. As such, the thing is dependent on you and you are dependent on your environment.
Whichever vocation is yours is probably wilting and withering away from stagnation. You've fed it all the resources on your property, and it's worn a dirt circle around where you have it chained up. It stays in it's house and sleeps most of the day and night.
How green is the grass on the other side now?
steal this post
Tonight I was being introspective, which I don't suggest, or even condone. As a result, I read through my old posts, and noticed a few things:
1) some old posts seemed really recent to me
2) some newer posts seemed really old to me
3) I only had faint memories of some of them. The extreme of this was being able to read 1 and 1/2 paragraphs, feeling like someone else wrote it, before I recognized a thought of mine.
These mental notes have got me questioning my abilities to mentally notate. My memories, and my "insights" are completely non-linear. What are the far-reaching implications? I'd say it's that any thought, expression or even life experience of mine doesn't reach far or implicate anything.
Any time I wanted to write in here, I thought it was worthwhile, and assumed that I was atop a 21-year+ mountain of connected conclusions and learned lessons. It is clear to me now, whether the time was "yesterday", or "last year", that my "functioning" brain simply fishes for a few feelings, sentiments and aesthetic odds and ends, and throws them together.
Hard work and discipline just don't pay off.
1) some old posts seemed really recent to me
2) some newer posts seemed really old to me
3) I only had faint memories of some of them. The extreme of this was being able to read 1 and 1/2 paragraphs, feeling like someone else wrote it, before I recognized a thought of mine.
These mental notes have got me questioning my abilities to mentally notate. My memories, and my "insights" are completely non-linear. What are the far-reaching implications? I'd say it's that any thought, expression or even life experience of mine doesn't reach far or implicate anything.
Any time I wanted to write in here, I thought it was worthwhile, and assumed that I was atop a 21-year+ mountain of connected conclusions and learned lessons. It is clear to me now, whether the time was "yesterday", or "last year", that my "functioning" brain simply fishes for a few feelings, sentiments and aesthetic odds and ends, and throws them together.
Hard work and discipline just don't pay off.
doing things is the new black
good reasons to do something:
it's mysterious
it was in a good movie/book/song
an ill-fated idol of yours did it
everyone else is
it's dangerous
to relieve the tension
you got away with it the first/second/every time
to look cool
to start a fight
to risk your life
for attention
bad reasons to do something:
your parents did
it's what your teacher reccomended
it's responsible
to save a life
it's what's expected
you need the money
it worked well before
it's morally justified
to help those less fortunate
it says to in the directions
for physical fitness
it's mysterious
it was in a good movie/book/song
an ill-fated idol of yours did it
everyone else is
it's dangerous
to relieve the tension
you got away with it the first/second/every time
to look cool
to start a fight
to risk your life
for attention
bad reasons to do something:
your parents did
it's what your teacher reccomended
it's responsible
to save a life
it's what's expected
you need the money
it worked well before
it's morally justified
to help those less fortunate
it says to in the directions
for physical fitness
how to be a coffee addict
Most people don't have the dedication and sheer desperation it takes to be a coffee addict. Coffee addicts are people who have realized that the only "value" they can find in life is through really, really inconsequential accomplishments. Because they literally can't apply themselves to completing a task on their own volition, they consume copious amounts of caffeine until they feel more uneasy idle than while moving.
(1) Make sure you set up the coffee at night, so all you have to do is press a damn button to fill up your ceramic. Some coffee makers have "timers" but I've never found that works quite like you imagine it would. Hearing the gurgling chug of the coffee maker doing its thing is part of the experience. Set up your coffee maker before you go to bed to brew 3 cups(usually the "6" mark on the pot).
(2) The next morning, imagine the smell and taste of coffee. Think to yourself "Coffee is my sole reason for living today". Don't stop by the mirror, you vein bastard. Don't stop by the refrigerator, you fat tub of shit and definitely don't stop by the toilet, you regular bowel-mover. Remember the coffee will take a little while to make 3 cups. Make sure the first thing you do, before putting clothes on or anything else, is push the "on", "start", or "help" button on your brewer. When the coffee is done brewing, drink it. The first cup will seem like nothing compared to the second, and the third(especially the first time) will make you nauseous. Don't worry about how you feel, worry about how the coffee would feel if you didn't drink it.
(3) Unpleasant sensations will soon give way to a lightheaded, happy energy. This may be accompanied by a feeling of superiority to people and things around you. Observe carefully as you beat friends and coworkers to the punch on various minor and unimportant problem-solving tasks. In the early afternoon, you will start to feel tired. Don't sleep! You have to stay caffeinated all day until your limbs feel alarmingly weak(more on that later). Instead of a nap or a careful reconsideration of your priorities, have 2 cups of coffee, hot or iced. You'll be back to moving and thinking way faster than your environment in a matter of minutes.
(4) It's 2-3 hours before your normal bed time, and you're having doubts, like "I feel really, really goddamn tired, maybe this coffee thing isn'-" STOP RIGHT THERE. Who are you going to trust? Yourself, who's been on the planet 10-110 miserable years, or coffee, which has had 1200 years of colorful history and experience? In all honesty, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for denying coffee free passage into your digestive system only because of the time of day or sensations in your chest. Brew some more coffee, 3 cups just to be safe, and stare at the slowly filling pot apolegtically, even if you're not sorry. When finished, enjoy. Pay no mind to tears welling in your eyes; another cup will put an end to that. Notice how pleasantly alert your mind is until bed time. You'll know it's time to go to sleep only when it's really hard to lift your arms or walk around without feeling faint. Repeat step 1, and get 4-5 hours of caffeiene influenced sleep.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You've consumed about 1 and 1/3 pots of coffee, and I bet you feel SLIGHTLY BETTER. You may notice after a few days that your consumption must increase slightly. Very few people get over the 2 pot limit, so just go with it and if you do get over the 2 pot limit, brag. Enjoy the everlasting effects of unwelcome energy.
(1) Make sure you set up the coffee at night, so all you have to do is press a damn button to fill up your ceramic. Some coffee makers have "timers" but I've never found that works quite like you imagine it would. Hearing the gurgling chug of the coffee maker doing its thing is part of the experience. Set up your coffee maker before you go to bed to brew 3 cups(usually the "6" mark on the pot).
(2) The next morning, imagine the smell and taste of coffee. Think to yourself "Coffee is my sole reason for living today". Don't stop by the mirror, you vein bastard. Don't stop by the refrigerator, you fat tub of shit and definitely don't stop by the toilet, you regular bowel-mover. Remember the coffee will take a little while to make 3 cups. Make sure the first thing you do, before putting clothes on or anything else, is push the "on", "start", or "help" button on your brewer. When the coffee is done brewing, drink it. The first cup will seem like nothing compared to the second, and the third(especially the first time) will make you nauseous. Don't worry about how you feel, worry about how the coffee would feel if you didn't drink it.
(3) Unpleasant sensations will soon give way to a lightheaded, happy energy. This may be accompanied by a feeling of superiority to people and things around you. Observe carefully as you beat friends and coworkers to the punch on various minor and unimportant problem-solving tasks. In the early afternoon, you will start to feel tired. Don't sleep! You have to stay caffeinated all day until your limbs feel alarmingly weak(more on that later). Instead of a nap or a careful reconsideration of your priorities, have 2 cups of coffee, hot or iced. You'll be back to moving and thinking way faster than your environment in a matter of minutes.
(4) It's 2-3 hours before your normal bed time, and you're having doubts, like "I feel really, really goddamn tired, maybe this coffee thing isn'-" STOP RIGHT THERE. Who are you going to trust? Yourself, who's been on the planet 10-110 miserable years, or coffee, which has had 1200 years of colorful history and experience? In all honesty, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for denying coffee free passage into your digestive system only because of the time of day or sensations in your chest. Brew some more coffee, 3 cups just to be safe, and stare at the slowly filling pot apolegtically, even if you're not sorry. When finished, enjoy. Pay no mind to tears welling in your eyes; another cup will put an end to that. Notice how pleasantly alert your mind is until bed time. You'll know it's time to go to sleep only when it's really hard to lift your arms or walk around without feeling faint. Repeat step 1, and get 4-5 hours of caffeiene influenced sleep.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You've consumed about 1 and 1/3 pots of coffee, and I bet you feel SLIGHTLY BETTER. You may notice after a few days that your consumption must increase slightly. Very few people get over the 2 pot limit, so just go with it and if you do get over the 2 pot limit, brag. Enjoy the everlasting effects of unwelcome energy.
call it fall
When autumn falls, I like to call it fall. I like to call it fall cause all in all that's what it is. The leaves swim to the streets and stain them, paint them, until they're a muddy mush. Look up and see the trees naked, standing proud like mannequins. They may feel shy but they're managing. The sky is alive when it's a blue corpse and looks like death's arrival when it's shiny gray. If I'm in your way, I'll step aside. Just tell the lawn I said he looks good in orange.
coffee
After half a cup, you'll feel your eyes opening and a pleasant amount of sweat beading on your forehead. After the rest, and half of another, the aches in your neck and head will disappear, and your ears will start honing in on sounds you never knew were there. After completion of the third cup, the world will appear like a puzzle, and your eyes will be able to easily manipulate the pieces from a rooms length. After drinking a 4th cup, you will feel uneasy sitting still. You will stare at one focal point, but only pay mind to your peripheral field. You will start to feel nauseated, and realize the only way to stop the nervous energy is to do something. You've just drank 4 cups of coffee.
something's wrong
Man A is a family man. He makes sure to have supper with his family at 8 o'clock sharp every day. Except this most recent day, when he arrives home to find his son asleep in bed, no supper ready, and his wife reading. He demands to know what's going on, and his wife explains that they went to the park earlier and the boy got exhausted from playing. She made him a light meal and let him go to bed. Man A becomes infuriated, and wakes his son up from sleeping to eat dinner. He demands that his wife make supper, or he'll give the dog away. She does, and throughout cooking he insults her in front of their son. When it's ready, the boy says that he's not hungry. Man A takes him on one knee and spanks him. Then he eats, while crying.
Man A has committed no crime.
Man B is a family man. He makes sure to have supper with his family at 8 o'clock sharp every day. Except this most recent day, when he arrives home to find his son asleep in bed, no supper ready, and his wife reading. He demands to know what's going on, and his wife explains that they went to the park earlier and the boy got exhausted from playing. She made him a light meal and let him go to bed. Man B is a little upset, but says "ok" and then, knowing his son is asleep, retrieves a large bong and becomes intoxicated on cannabis.
Man B has committed a crime.
Man A has committed no crime.
Man B is a family man. He makes sure to have supper with his family at 8 o'clock sharp every day. Except this most recent day, when he arrives home to find his son asleep in bed, no supper ready, and his wife reading. He demands to know what's going on, and his wife explains that they went to the park earlier and the boy got exhausted from playing. She made him a light meal and let him go to bed. Man B is a little upset, but says "ok" and then, knowing his son is asleep, retrieves a large bong and becomes intoxicated on cannabis.
Man B has committed a crime.
Re: the open conpsiracy
original post can be read here.
The politician says:
"George Bush lied to get us into war...
but the ends justify the me-" WRONG
so vote for me and-" WRONG
but now we can't lose so-" WRONG
and that war is costing us lots of mon-" WRONG AGAIN
so let's send a message of ho-" REALLY WRONG
but I won't stop voting on bills to send fu-" WTF?
but defeat is not an op-" AHHHHHHHHHHHH!
so let's gather evidence, build a case, and apprehend him for war crimes. Then we'll work with neighboring nations on a way to stabalize the area, apologize for US involvement, and pay reperations to rebuild" CORRECT
The politician says:
"George Bush lied to get us into war...
but the ends justify the me-" WRONG
so vote for me and-" WRONG
but now we can't lose so-" WRONG
and that war is costing us lots of mon-" WRONG AGAIN
so let's send a message of ho-" REALLY WRONG
but I won't stop voting on bills to send fu-" WTF?
but defeat is not an op-" AHHHHHHHHHHHH!
so let's gather evidence, build a case, and apprehend him for war crimes. Then we'll work with neighboring nations on a way to stabalize the area, apologize for US involvement, and pay reperations to rebuild" CORRECT
Dine and Ditch
Prudence was a woman with diverse skills and an open mind. That’s why she could never seem to get what she wanted. Her best friend was Curiosity, and together, at a bar that was curiosity’s favorite, they met Adventure. Adventure took them around town, and introduced them to many more friends. No friend of adventures was quite as interesting as her, though. Adventure was always fun, but sometimes really hard to track down. On the occasions that Adventure called, she was very demanding. Prudence continued searching for friends. Curiosity kept trying to develop closer ties with Adventure.
All Prudence knew is that she wasn’t satisfied. Then she met Comfort. Comfort was very warm, happy, and forgiving. Prudence and Comfort spent all their time together. Curiosity couldn’t stand her, and kept calling Adventure, but Adventure would ask what Curiosity had in mind to do. Curiosity would tell her, but Adventure didn’t think she’d enjoy it very much. Then Curiosity was struck with an idea. Maybe Adventure would find it interesting to meet Comfort.
Prudence, Curiosity, Comfort and Adventure all met for a night out. It started off well enough at the restaurant, but after a few drinks Adventure was clearly making jokes at Comfort’s expense. Curiosity was first trying to hold her laughter, then openly laughing, then teasing Comfort as well. Comfort wasn’t too upset, probably having dealt with these types of people before, but Prudence was.
At the end of a very surreal evening, Adventure came up with the idea to run out on the check. Prudence loudly objected, and Comfort didn’t speak. Curiosity was upset with Comfort’s influence on Prudence, and called her a coward. Prudence announced that she didn’t think they’d really do it. Adventure told them that she and Curiosity certainly will, so they might as well, too. When the Hostess, Oblivion, walked away from her podium, Adventure and Curiosity left quickly and abandoned Prudence and Comfort with the check. Prudence and Curiosity never spoke again. They had new friends now.
All Prudence knew is that she wasn’t satisfied. Then she met Comfort. Comfort was very warm, happy, and forgiving. Prudence and Comfort spent all their time together. Curiosity couldn’t stand her, and kept calling Adventure, but Adventure would ask what Curiosity had in mind to do. Curiosity would tell her, but Adventure didn’t think she’d enjoy it very much. Then Curiosity was struck with an idea. Maybe Adventure would find it interesting to meet Comfort.
Prudence, Curiosity, Comfort and Adventure all met for a night out. It started off well enough at the restaurant, but after a few drinks Adventure was clearly making jokes at Comfort’s expense. Curiosity was first trying to hold her laughter, then openly laughing, then teasing Comfort as well. Comfort wasn’t too upset, probably having dealt with these types of people before, but Prudence was.
At the end of a very surreal evening, Adventure came up with the idea to run out on the check. Prudence loudly objected, and Comfort didn’t speak. Curiosity was upset with Comfort’s influence on Prudence, and called her a coward. Prudence announced that she didn’t think they’d really do it. Adventure told them that she and Curiosity certainly will, so they might as well, too. When the Hostess, Oblivion, walked away from her podium, Adventure and Curiosity left quickly and abandoned Prudence and Comfort with the check. Prudence and Curiosity never spoke again. They had new friends now.
a cat to copy
I fear mediocrity strongly. I always have, since I was a child. I don't know where it came from. When I consider it completely objectively- It's not so bad. But my "feelings" and my "intuitions" a.k.a. absolutely nothing bite at my belly and tell me to do everything I can to avoid it.
So I must be unique. I must be eccentric. I must be worth reading about. Because I feel this way, I have never considered just how imitative I really am. It's well-known and recognized that children learn basic mannerisms and modes of functioning from their parents. Afterward, it's not so well-known and recognized that adults continue the same imitation- just not of their parents.
I am essentially imitating a few dozen people I admire, hoping that through copying their work habits, life choices and even inconsequential food and drug choices that they'll rub off on me and I will morph into a unique new figure.
There's nothing wrong with this initially, but in my psyche it's joined with stubbornness. When I try to copy a hero in some way; if I'm either incapable, or receive no benefit from it, I will try to stick with it until it works. But sometimes, it just won't work for me.
So now I vow to imitate only one thing, this Bruce Lee Quote:
"Use only that which works, and take it from any place you can find it."
So I must be unique. I must be eccentric. I must be worth reading about. Because I feel this way, I have never considered just how imitative I really am. It's well-known and recognized that children learn basic mannerisms and modes of functioning from their parents. Afterward, it's not so well-known and recognized that adults continue the same imitation- just not of their parents.
I am essentially imitating a few dozen people I admire, hoping that through copying their work habits, life choices and even inconsequential food and drug choices that they'll rub off on me and I will morph into a unique new figure.
There's nothing wrong with this initially, but in my psyche it's joined with stubbornness. When I try to copy a hero in some way; if I'm either incapable, or receive no benefit from it, I will try to stick with it until it works. But sometimes, it just won't work for me.
So now I vow to imitate only one thing, this Bruce Lee Quote:
"Use only that which works, and take it from any place you can find it."
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