Possible benefits of living in a fortified missile silo instead of a townhouse:
-Ample parking
-An atrium that could easily house a redwood
-Perfect lighting for nighthawks
-Noise cancellation for those late night jam sessions
-Nearly party proof
-Unlikely target for petty theft
-Excellent base of operations in case of zombie plague
-Ample storage space
-Self sustaining for extended periods (If you're fine with purified water and MREs)
-Bad ass mailing address (First blast door on your left, twenty kilometers outside of Kiev)
-No solicitors
-Plenty of space for guests
-Good excuse to oust unwanted guests (Oh, theres a launch scheduled in a few minutes, you may want to clear the blast zone.)
-Excellent excuse to buy a huge flat screen (Who wouldn't want to watch the news and pretend to be threatening the world leaders with nuclear warheads?)
-Simple bragging rights
-Fulfilling one of your most ludicrously sensible dreams as a nerdy little child
-Having an excuse to refer to yourself as Commander
-Seriously being considered when you yell "FIRE ZE MISSILES!" at random
-Being able to keep a bear as a pet
-In the foyer
-Being able to seriously purchase warheads
-Makes the transition from mild mannered Kinko's drone to super villain much simpler
-Being able to detect guests from miles away so you can turn the porch light off in advance
-Having a legitimate war room
-Three words: Closed circuit television
-Broadcasting a pirate signal berating the government from your secret underground lair
-Broadcasting a pirate signal from your well known underground lair, and challenging anyone to do anything about it
-Always winning at hide and seek
-Always
-Optional sunroof
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
The Question
It is the question, the gnawing feeling in the deepest pit of the mind, that truly drives us. It is like a burr on the tender flesh of our reality, ripping ever so slightly with every motion until we are forced to either remove it, or suffer a wound far greater than the answer would bring. It is the question that gives us a limited choice: address it, or lose the last shred of sanity left to us.
I for one appreciate this urgency, the drive to search and explore, the will to lay track for the train of thought. Taking time to answer these irresistible questions is integral to a complete individual. In the same way, the truly complete individual is never without such a question, where the merely content is at peace with the world as it is.
In such a case, the old maxim of "Ignorance is bliss" most certainly holds true, but at what cost? In order to abandon the question, one must abandon curiosity, and thus the drive towards wit and the knowledgeable virtues. Surely to the man whose mind is wracked with the question this seems madness, but then, he could never understand the glory of such peace.
Thus, as ironically enough is often the case, the man whom is driven by the question comes to the question of the question itself. Is it a greater thing to elevate oneself higher and higher intellectually, or is it a greater thing to atrophy and wallow in the bliss of the proletariat?
I have come to this question many, many nights. I assure you, if I knew the final answer, I would be the first to share it. Obviously, I've not chosen bliss quite yet.
I for one appreciate this urgency, the drive to search and explore, the will to lay track for the train of thought. Taking time to answer these irresistible questions is integral to a complete individual. In the same way, the truly complete individual is never without such a question, where the merely content is at peace with the world as it is.
In such a case, the old maxim of "Ignorance is bliss" most certainly holds true, but at what cost? In order to abandon the question, one must abandon curiosity, and thus the drive towards wit and the knowledgeable virtues. Surely to the man whose mind is wracked with the question this seems madness, but then, he could never understand the glory of such peace.
Thus, as ironically enough is often the case, the man whom is driven by the question comes to the question of the question itself. Is it a greater thing to elevate oneself higher and higher intellectually, or is it a greater thing to atrophy and wallow in the bliss of the proletariat?
I have come to this question many, many nights. I assure you, if I knew the final answer, I would be the first to share it. Obviously, I've not chosen bliss quite yet.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Harder, Better
The forest moaned with snapping branches and crumbling leaves. There was not a voice to be heard, not a mating call or a bloodthirsty howl. There was only the chase. Nothing could match him for speed, for he seemed to appear amongst the trees ahead. Nothing could rival his strength, as great oaks toppled before his charge. Nothing could match him for dexterity, as he weaved through the forest like a mist.He should win. The only question was how much energy he spent in doing it. He was confident, he hadn't hunted in days. He was prideful, he had chosen a wicked prey. He was tired, and never had one seen such a reversal as when he ceased his howl.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Stacked
So I gave him a quarter.
"Here, this will mean more to you than it will to me."
I knew it was the best revenge.
"Here, this will mean more to you than it will to me."
I knew it was the best revenge.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Nighthawk
In the wee hours or daybreak, one can't help but be cured of insomnia, for the sun is the nighthawks natural enemy. It only makes sense to blot out as much memory of it's risen hours as possible via voluntary hallucination infused unconsciousness.
Seriously though, look at sleep objectively. If we weren't so used to it it would seem like the strangest sensation... Suddenly being unable to move, but extremely relaxed. Seeing things that are ridiculous and haunting and wonderful all at once, yet being unable to remember them. Seeing ones fantasies and ones fears materialized, never really knowing for sure if one has truly experienced what one sees.
This is the true face of the dream, the true state of affairs for those who slumber.
Seriously though, look at sleep objectively. If we weren't so used to it it would seem like the strangest sensation... Suddenly being unable to move, but extremely relaxed. Seeing things that are ridiculous and haunting and wonderful all at once, yet being unable to remember them. Seeing ones fantasies and ones fears materialized, never really knowing for sure if one has truly experienced what one sees.
This is the true face of the dream, the true state of affairs for those who slumber.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Deus' law
Deus' First law:
Simply thinking that one is prodigal negates the possibility.
Addendum to Deus' First law:
The exception to this is when the ability in question is either of charisma, or wealth.
Deus' Second law:
The wealthy and the charismatic eventually fall to the poor and the meek, for no other reason than they do not fear them.
Deus' Third law:
Fearing those which pose no apparent threat causes downfall in unto itself.
Deus' combined theorem:
If you're wise enough to understand the difference between normality and the exceptional, you have nothing to fear, except those that do not.
Simply thinking that one is prodigal negates the possibility.
Addendum to Deus' First law:
The exception to this is when the ability in question is either of charisma, or wealth.
Deus' Second law:
The wealthy and the charismatic eventually fall to the poor and the meek, for no other reason than they do not fear them.
Deus' Third law:
Fearing those which pose no apparent threat causes downfall in unto itself.
Deus' combined theorem:
If you're wise enough to understand the difference between normality and the exceptional, you have nothing to fear, except those that do not.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Ataraxic
Today, I would like to talk about one of my favorite conditions: Ataraxia.
I'd like to, but that's too much effort.
Instead, I'd like to talk about fat people. Not what you think, I'm sure.
Take your average media outlet, and look at the social disabilities shown. There will be successful sociopaths, and defects from slight malformation to total impairment. The blind, deaf and dumb are all shown, people in wheelchairs and people with learning disabilities. These are representations of minorities in society that are seen as worthy of protection, having ailments that they cannot change and which genuinely cause them pain that, given the chance, they could repair.
This has done great things for their welfare at large, normalizing the conditions and helping to make them accepted among their less... interesting peers. Fine, cool. Let them have that. I see little issue in trying to balance out the element of chance in society.
However, obesity and other extreme body mass conditions are shown right along side this. Spit as many reports and studies you want at me telling me that it can be glandular and it's sometimes genetic and whatever other excuses you can muster. Studies also show that Aspartame is perfectly safe, doesn't mean I buy it *also diet pop is gross*. Point being, you can choose not to be fat. It may be harder for some than others, but oh well. Life is hard some times. It's hard for me to sleep at night, doesn't mean I'm going to stand and watch it happen.
All I have to say to corroborate this view in terms of factual backing is this: The nation with the highest rate of obesity also, generally speaking, consumes a diet very similar to the diets of hunting tribes. Heavy in protein, fat, and with large servings. However, this society requires far from the hunters level of exercise along with the diet. In short: They eat like athletes but act like tribal elders. They consume more than they create, and much more than they need simply because they can.
That being said, another extreme sect, although a much smaller portion, are dangerously thin, underweight. This is just as bad. Seeing themselves awash in a sea of corpulence they strive to be the pristine opposition. Instead of heart attacks, difficulty breathing, and trouble fitting through the already over sized buildings and apparatuses society has fashioned, they have trouble keeping aloft for the day, avoiding illness, and generally keeping in one piece.
Point being, why should we continue to enable this activity, encourage it through accommodation. It's a poor, poor way to deal with anything, much less an issue primarily prevented due to body image and a sense of shame. You wouldn't tell a kleptomaniac it was acceptable because he couldn't help it, why tell it to a fat man.
I don't understand. Enlighten me, please.
I'd like to point out, to clarify, that I am far from an ideal athlete. In fact, I conform more to the nerdy desk jockey body type than anything, but I understand the difference between not perfect and not healthy, and so should the people in danger.
I'd like to, but that's too much effort.
Instead, I'd like to talk about fat people. Not what you think, I'm sure.
Take your average media outlet, and look at the social disabilities shown. There will be successful sociopaths, and defects from slight malformation to total impairment. The blind, deaf and dumb are all shown, people in wheelchairs and people with learning disabilities. These are representations of minorities in society that are seen as worthy of protection, having ailments that they cannot change and which genuinely cause them pain that, given the chance, they could repair.
This has done great things for their welfare at large, normalizing the conditions and helping to make them accepted among their less... interesting peers. Fine, cool. Let them have that. I see little issue in trying to balance out the element of chance in society.
However, obesity and other extreme body mass conditions are shown right along side this. Spit as many reports and studies you want at me telling me that it can be glandular and it's sometimes genetic and whatever other excuses you can muster. Studies also show that Aspartame is perfectly safe, doesn't mean I buy it *also diet pop is gross*. Point being, you can choose not to be fat. It may be harder for some than others, but oh well. Life is hard some times. It's hard for me to sleep at night, doesn't mean I'm going to stand and watch it happen.
All I have to say to corroborate this view in terms of factual backing is this: The nation with the highest rate of obesity also, generally speaking, consumes a diet very similar to the diets of hunting tribes. Heavy in protein, fat, and with large servings. However, this society requires far from the hunters level of exercise along with the diet. In short: They eat like athletes but act like tribal elders. They consume more than they create, and much more than they need simply because they can.
That being said, another extreme sect, although a much smaller portion, are dangerously thin, underweight. This is just as bad. Seeing themselves awash in a sea of corpulence they strive to be the pristine opposition. Instead of heart attacks, difficulty breathing, and trouble fitting through the already over sized buildings and apparatuses society has fashioned, they have trouble keeping aloft for the day, avoiding illness, and generally keeping in one piece.
Point being, why should we continue to enable this activity, encourage it through accommodation. It's a poor, poor way to deal with anything, much less an issue primarily prevented due to body image and a sense of shame. You wouldn't tell a kleptomaniac it was acceptable because he couldn't help it, why tell it to a fat man.
I don't understand. Enlighten me, please.
I'd like to point out, to clarify, that I am far from an ideal athlete. In fact, I conform more to the nerdy desk jockey body type than anything, but I understand the difference between not perfect and not healthy, and so should the people in danger.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Haymaker
Like a reed in the wind, he swayed on the spot for what seemed like an eternity. His arms were heavy, and his eyes sore. He was so very, very tired. It seemed as if nothing would prevent his slow decent, nothing could stop him from tumbling down like the steadfast statues of so many failed dictators. There was only one way to go, a voice chattered to him, it sounded like a thousand hyenas laughing at his fortune. He knew he couldn't resist, he had barely hit the ground when he heard the ever soothing ring of the knockout bell.
Festival
I make no claims to be any form of bourgeois beyond my world view, yet it pains me to see other such neolithic intellectuals pouring over their bloated self image, speaking volumes of nothing but hot air over something they haven't the capacity or drive to appreciate.
When a man of at least meager intelligence goes to see a film, even an artistic piece such that independent films often strive to become, he first takes from the media an idea. He takes the meaning, or at the very least a feeling. When the overly pretentious and pompous elitists whom have no proper claim to their self imposed title of intellectual view such a piece, the first thing they take from it is the chance to tear at someone else's soul for the purpose of raising their own already inflated ego.
Do not take me for anything but an elitist myself, nor would I ever claim to be anything less than a horribly abrasive and adversarial individual in most such situations, but theres something simply devastating about hearing a middle aged white man, relatively well dressed, spurt out something as horribly vapid and trite as "While I did find the film extremely visceral, I wasn't scared. I don't get scared often."
However unintelligible this rant is compared to my usual prose, it had to be said, and I apologize for offending any discerning pallets. I try to save being extremely visceral for those whom it won't scare away.
When a man of at least meager intelligence goes to see a film, even an artistic piece such that independent films often strive to become, he first takes from the media an idea. He takes the meaning, or at the very least a feeling. When the overly pretentious and pompous elitists whom have no proper claim to their self imposed title of intellectual view such a piece, the first thing they take from it is the chance to tear at someone else's soul for the purpose of raising their own already inflated ego.
Do not take me for anything but an elitist myself, nor would I ever claim to be anything less than a horribly abrasive and adversarial individual in most such situations, but theres something simply devastating about hearing a middle aged white man, relatively well dressed, spurt out something as horribly vapid and trite as "While I did find the film extremely visceral, I wasn't scared. I don't get scared often."
However unintelligible this rant is compared to my usual prose, it had to be said, and I apologize for offending any discerning pallets. I try to save being extremely visceral for those whom it won't scare away.
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