oneirophrenia: because a witch's tit is a cold-dry nipple to nurse from.

Invisible, Silent Words Sneak by With the Movements of an Inchworm

2006-03-12T08:09:00.000-08:00

I used to tell my girlfriend that I loved her, and she wouldn't really say much. Then after a while, and probably after I mentioned that she never said anything, she started saying, "I love you too" in a very muffled and forced way. I heard recently that Kurt Vonnegut wrote in Cat's Cradle that saying "I love you." is like holding a gun to someone's head, because all they can do is reply, "I love you too." I don't feel like I want to tell her that I love her again, for some time. I just worry she doesn't really like me anymore. I told her my secret that was bothering me, and she doesn't really seem to want to talk about it. She doesn't seem to want to talk to me at all. I don't know what to do about anything. Before she got together with me, she was going out all the time and never spent any time with her family. Now she wants to spend all her time with her family. I feel really left out. Some of them really don't like me, others I feel very pressured to try to talk with, even though, I'm not very interested. They talk about people I don't know a lot of the time, and they talk constantly about their annoying dog. And so whenever I try to avoid these family get-togethers Lizzie gets really pissed with me. I feel like I never get a lot of meaningful time with her. Like right now, I was in the livingroom, and she walked right by and when right in to her family without saying hi, even. I kind of feel miserable, and I don't know what to do to fix it.

2nd Place, Time, and Empty Living

2006-02-21T16:19:00.000-08:00

I got second place in a fiction writing contest... Who the fuck beat me? How!? Why!? I need to read what defeated me! I need to understand it. I need to devour it. It has swallowed me, to be sure, but I will claw my way up it's stomach and throat, straight up the nose and carve out its fucking brain. My life is a comfortable depression. I am on a cushion. I have been all my life. Even in a pinch of poverty in my young years, I never had to really swim in cream and churn it into butter. Yeah... Pathetic movie reference. How can a person grow if they don't have to struggle to survive? Is that what I need? My life is swallowed up by studying Japanese, math and clay. I've been throwing 20 pounds of clay on the wheel. Each time, to utter disaster. They tell me I need to start small and then go larger... Fuck it, I never listen. I have made some huge wobbling structures. I want to press against the impossible, and I want to win. It's all I ever want. There is something wrong with my mind. I can't talk to people. I can't do it anymore. I can't think of anything to say. I am mute and pale, and soon alone from it. Am I getting anywhere with this? Will the clay go where I want, or will I look back in thirty years to nothing but failure? Will it warp in my hands? Will it be courted by a kiss or glare?

-Dan

They Want to Feast Upon My Broken-Opened Pate

2006-02-08T21:03:00.000-08:00

Head cheese, lies, and pox upon me. My girlfriend seems to be on the verve of breaking up with me, and my nerves are frayed to the fucking swollen and exposed dime-thin dentrites. But, more importantly, how are you doing? I want to find some hobby or activity that I could just drown myself in... I got an update on a few people... lots of speculation. Hope the G-man is doing okay. It's okay, I am a likable guy... right? I won't become a lonely tear stained brick-and-morter outhouse in the middle of a drab Montana plainscape, right? I need sleep.

Fish Testicles

2006-01-25T21:38:00.000-08:00

Greeks thought of beards as a sign of maturity and strength, the Byzantines, perhaps thought the same. Knowledge is power. Therefore the beard is knowledge. I let my beard handle my financial affairs. I am broke. I shaved recently.

Things are going deadly. Hearts have been irrepairably torn from my torso. A dream has crashed like the Hindenberg... I could go mad, but I shant allow it. Though I have no reason to live, I continue to breath. All is darkness. Nate G. please update your blog, I am bored.

-Dan

Beasts Make Love With Salted Koi

2006-01-20T13:14:00.000-08:00

After alienating everyone around me, I continue to draw blood. Just when you thought we couldn't get any more depraved and hopeless that miracle happens and we drop another previously unimaginable level. That's right, I am starting an international film club at the yokel community college. I am halfway to my required amount of signatures, so beware. It might happen. I will develop a list of movies that I want to play, and would appreciate any recommendations from my many readers. Here is a preliminary list:

Happy Times, Old Boy, Y Tu Mama Tambien, Behind the Sun, Yojimbo or Seven Samurai, The Saddest Music in the World, The Jesus of Montreal, Amores Perros, Shawn of the Dead, In the Mood for Love, The Price of Milk, "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring" and Talk to Her.

Bringing foreign cinema to the anti-foreign cinema crowd seems a danting task, but I have it well underwraps. Hmm... I didn't really post anything too vile and stupid this time... I might just have to post a second time today... But that would require... An effort to be made.... Uuuuuuugh.

-Dan

The Sour Mesh of Loveless Double-Dipping

2006-01-19T11:04:00.001-08:00

I have a dark secret. It rips through everything. I dare not speak it, least someone actually read this ridiculous monkey-biting blog. Rest assured however that it is rather poetic. Many of you have read my blog and have come to follow me as a sort of soft-spoken, tender-hearted, puritan messiah, and that is fine. I've grown to slowly accept this. However, I must ask that the ladies refrain from sending me undergarments in the mail... Gents as well... Encase there are a few pranksters amongst you. I never dreamt of becoming an important influence in the blogosphere, but here I am. I must accept my crown, despite its incredible weight and burden. Perhaps some laurels.

I'm still trying to get over the fact that people are fickle and imperfect beings. They are moody and randomly violent and boorish. Some are even rumored to have bad teeth. Will we ever live up to our high ideals? On a brighter note, I think I am going to lose my fucking mind. I haven't had an orgasm in nearly three weeks. I've been watching pornography in vein... Just sitting there aghast at the bare bouncing breasts, soft lips pierced by cocks, and I can do nothing. I sigh a bitter sound that makes camels depressed and sends then into a pseudo-agoraphobic panic. They should stay away, I am so desperate I might hump a hump. How can a man have so little self-respect? No, not about the camel. How could a man post such sensitive and personally embarrassing information about himself on his incredibly popular webblog that no one reads? Why doesn't this person just jerk off? Would he prefer his camel with one hump or two? You're curious... That makes me horny, but so does brushing my teeth.

To any woman who would undress and make soft love to me, the kind with flowing and draping positions and movements, please send me a postcard with your photograph glued to the front--a well lit photo, not a dark, altered, blurry mugshot you would find on myspace. Also staple on a resume with work experience... if you know what I mean, and references--at least three. All inquiries will be hired, with no pay, regardless of personal appearance, sexual orientation, or lack of qualifications. Unfortunately, as I am in deepcover, I can not at this time provide a mailing address... But, let me put it straight--If you find me, you can fuck me, and my camels. In the meantime, I'll be watching hentai porn, where young lads fuck mother figures, usually collecting milk from their tremendously large mammaries, without any orgasmic satisfaction unto myself. God Bless!

-Dan

Web 2.0 shoots Web 1.0 in a Moment of Unrequited Lust

2005-12-29T20:32:00.000-08:00

Yes, I have crawled up and through the festering rectum of Beezelbub, to inundate you once more with my dull cacophony of silent static web text. I pierce the bung and break free from the anal gravity of the all-mighty Satan. My detractors are pursing their vile lips into smiles as they witness my latest transformation. I have gone from being a vegetarian who refused to eat animals, for moral reasons to a man that could kill a dog with his bare hands. I have lately, I admit, daydreamed of killing my girlfriend's dog. I've run a wooden stake through its throat, thrust a red-with-heat sword into its body, hung it by a noose, held it up in my hands strangling it, beat it to death with a bat, split its hollow skull with a maul, threw a stick over an icy lake, causing the dog to run out onto the ice, only to break the ice, fall into the freezing waters and drown. I like to think I am a nice guy.

I have been trying to expose myself to new music. I think I have been doing okay at this. I've been breaking onto the indy music scene, trying to soak it up. Getting into these bands: Arctic Monkeys, Arcade Fire, Animal Collective, Saul Williams, The Boy Least Likely To. That is just the tip, of course. I will have 2046 on DVD tomorrow. I've been dying to see that movie. In the Mood For Love kicked my ass, and I can't wait to see this quasi-sequel. I would have loved to have seen it at the Rag Tag Cinemacafe in Columbia, MO, but it wasn't to be. I will have to settle for it on DVD. I think I will be able to cope.

Been getting into Web 2.0, whatever that is. Seems cool, whatever it is. de.li.cious is pretty useful, if that is infact considered part of Web 2.0, whatever that is. Get into social bookmarks, find people that are interested in similar things, and then read what they have been reading. It's nifty. Puts google and the search engines on their ass a bit, though they are still useful.

Please love me. If you do, maybe I will change my blog from a bitchy whiny blog, into a cool, useful information blog... HAHAHA! You wish monkey! Die!

-Dan

People With Problems

2005-09-25T17:37:00.000-07:00

There are fish in our hearts. We pet baby piglets and cry at how cute they are. Pork steaks. Tiny waggy tail. I am listening to ninja music. I am a man out of time and space. I can not relate to the babbling hateful putting down of those around me. All they do is flip their tongues and insult others. There is an emptiness in their guts, yet they are full of shit. I hope to never understand this behavior, other then with my distance observation and analysis from an outsiders perspective. People wear living shoes, little dinosaurs, walking them around, as they stand, feet strapped to their backs. Mutant cave people. That is the funny thing about modern man, they think they are so how superior to their ancestors. Rational debate is pointless in a world of crazies. My brain flows out like gelatin forced through thin pipes. I'm unhappy again... and again... and again. The situations change, the despair remains. Life isn't a beach, where you swim in to shore after struggle and then get to rest at some point, after reaching your goal, or whatnot. It is a river, and you have to keep paddling, or you sink, period.

-Dan

The Shame Spiral Continues

2005-07-27T22:31:00.000-07:00

The World is a careless whore. Life has no meaning. We must create that ourselves, so they say. We don't have to do shit. Hell someday we won't even have to die. I say we, but I mean they. I'm so mad right now I could kill someone. Peel away certain ideals and murder starts to quickly make a lot of sense. Our brains are merely strapped up with a bunch of prefabricated ideas and symbols. It's rather ridiculous. It makes everything pointless and definitely hollow. Kisses become customary. And anything customary might as well not exist. I saw a really good idea in a movie. It is one that has been in my head before, but all good ideas we've come across we have thought of before. It's unfair to get upset with someone who doesn't love you, or to get frustrated. Feelings like that, are as instinctual as anything can be. We can't control these feelings. Often we are a battered victim of our feelings. Our feelings, lashing us for all the symbols and ideals we can't achieve or grasp. Nothing is forever, excepting of course the saying, "Nothing is forever." That seems to never die out. Everything is always up in the air. You can ever say something is final. If you love someone, and they love you back, you can't expect it to last. You have to struggle to make it last. Anything could happen to disrupt things. A person can't be blind sided when someone leaves them for someone else. It is perhaps inevitable. The only question to ask is: are you trying hard enough to make sure that doesn't happen?

-Dan

Blog Ends

2005-06-21T07:03:00.000-07:00

Well, the last person that would check my blog for updates sometimes, has retired. The people I pay to respond negatively to my posts are also seeking employment at a more popular blog. They see their careers with me as deadend. This is probably the saddest day of my life. Perhaps I should have pretended to be a woman and written a sex blog. That would have worked. I guess we bitter freaks have no space in the great conversation, I wonder if that conversation is still being attended to even. I'm sure it is though, and I merely am not invited. Well, I leave your hellions to your endless doldrums of false gods, bigfoot sightings, telephone psychic hotlines, TV evangelists, trendy wars, assholism, standing in lines, private radio, cracked out right-wing blogs who feel Rome and Greece died because they were homosexual, and a general and all encompassing self-delusion of what we are, what we should be, and where we fit into the puzzling universe we find ourselves in. Good luck to you... Actually, I'm betting against you secretly. Hey, not that I want you to fail, however it's a pretty safe bet... Therefore, sincerely, good luck. Of course I say it with a knowing smirk.

-Dan

Woman Sues Ex-Lover For His Sperm

2005-06-21T06:27:00.000-07:00

Natalie Richmond of Hannibal Missouri, has begun proceedings against her ex live-in-lover Harold Spokes. Ms. Richmond claims that in 1992 after a Motley Crew concert Spokes promised her a child. Spokes insists he was drunken and joking when he made the promise. During negotiations Spokes said she could have the sperm, but only if he could deliver it himself. The legal squabble has continued to grow more entrenched and bitter. Richmond has even increased her demands, seeking child support as well. Spokes threatened yesterday to seek a vasectomy. Richmond's lawyer demanded he would sue for steep civil reimbursement if Mr. Spokes took such a course. When questioned why Ms. Richmond wanted the baby so badly, she responded, "I don't want no damn baby; I just want what's coming to me."

-Dan

Feasts of Wonderment

2005-05-29T18:23:00.000-07:00

I'm now fairly settled in back in Missouri... I promised myself I would try to stay away from being negative. I am going to be positive. (= See? A smiley. What can be more positive than that? I don't know what it is, but all I can do is brood on the negative. There seems to be so much of it. I either ruminate and pine, or try to be funny and end up vacuous. I guess there really is no point or meaning to life, so all we can do is try to be clever and funny as the ship sinks into oblivion. Sometimes it seems like words are meaningless. Especially when I see how people use them. Why do we bother? I suppose we do so to fulfill our bodily needs to whatever extent me can. To fill the endless hungers our of organs when they are healthy and young. I suppose I am just a windup toy. My gears are set up in such a way, that I will move in the same paths again and again--a machine and a simple one at that. If there is a god of some sort, it will not be worshipped by me. What an uncreative bit of nonsense this existence is.

-Dan

I, Dildo

2005-04-30T22:01:00.000-07:00

Mediocrity is the foundation stone of Hollywood. 'Nuff said. Lately, I've been thinking of getting a new hobby other than bitching about the fucked up state of the world. I don't know what, and I don't know when... just been pondering the idea... inbetween fits of desperation and long sighs of depravity. I feel that I am almost ready to give up on the world, and sink into a state of complete self-degradation. I will quit 'The Cause' in my head, and just live to indulge my own whims and pleasure spots. I figure, why not? Humanity isn't worth saving. Let the children that would be aborted be born. Hopefully they will rise up and devour their lifeless diviners. Either way, overpopulation will destroy us. I guess we can expect mana from heaven when that happens. Right. God must be racist now that I think about it. I'm tired again tonight. I waited too long to update. Hard to believe I will be back in Missouri come Monday evening. Its a bitter pill to swallow. I will walk again amongst the hypocritical puritans and be hated by them, and their mentally challenged god. Okay, I am too tired. Way too tired.

-Dan

Feet With Toe Nails Are Overrated, Man

2005-04-29T21:02:00.000-07:00

I was wonder about the park last night, no-no actually I was wondering about the condition of the world's spatula population. They must be thriving, I thought. As if it matters... I will say one thing for Canada, it describes itself as a progressive land, proud to legalize gay marriage, and to be tolerant of difference and so forth. I dig that. (Unfortunately, the country isn't exactly homogeneous on the topic, though more gelled than the US.) I enjoy the French culture of the Northern North America. I will be returning to my home country named The United States on Monday. Yes, it's back to hickville, where people like to oppress the civil rights of others and call it freedom. Oh well, I suppose I should stop bitching and moaning about it. It's all I ever do really, besides washing my nipples eight times a day... Everyone should be allowed their little eccentricities, damn it. My trip to Spain last week which was fully documented on my "main" blog, was just brilliant. The Spaniards greeted me well. A man calling himself "Paco" became my self-appointed guide of Madrid. I don't believe his name was actually Paco. I think he just thought I was a dumb racist American. Never travel as an American, go as a Canadian. Word to the wise. Too many dictatorships born and supported, and too many children bombed for Americans to travel freely abroad at this point, without a few barks from the locals. As it should be. I think we Americans should have to travel in fear. We have valium to nullify any such inconveniences anyhow--just like a AC to DC adapter for the hair dryer. Anyway, Paco took me to his home and tried to get me to make love to his sister for a modest fee. Alright, that didn't happen, but I have a thing for Latina girls. Okay I have a thing for every kind of girl. Yes, I think of myself as a feminist. Now... after I helped her prepare supper and do the dishes we made out, and I was only charged and modest sum. The dollar is so weak right now that I busted my bank roll on dinner, and it was fast food. Okay, I don't eat fast food. Fast food is to Dan, what garlic is to Dracula. But, it was cheap like fast food. I brought three thousand US pesos with me, I mean dollars. I ended up selling drugs for three weeks with Paco and his brother Ernesto, trying to keep food in my belly and save for a plane ticket. Actually I am still in Spain, and yes, I still have a ticket to get to the US from Canada, but it is in Canada, and it's not transferable, just my luck. I hope I can save the money and return in time to use my ticket. I only have 500 euros to acquire. Paco says if I let him penetrate my butt he would give me 3 euros, and thus I would be well on my way. I am considering this, because I have little choice. Even Paco's sister said she would give me 1/2 a euro to penetrate my ass. One kind gentleman offered 4 euros to watch his dog penetrate my ass. Help me! I called my mother to ask for money, but she hung up on me, while laughing aloud. I am going to be a bitch boy for the rest of my days! Please donate euros! I stress euros, as the dollar is worth jackshit. Send the money to...

Sr. Paco
45o4 Maquadro Plaza
Madrid, Espanola, 6A5-V3C-2
Europe

Actually, this writing feels very racist. Please forgive me. I am very tired. I shouldn't be writing in this condition, nor thinking. Do think of my butt, however. Think of it well.

-Dan

Why Destory the World, When it Will Merely Destroy Itself?

2005-04-28T20:24:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I talk to people, I seem to make up the stupidest shit. I think later that it would make a great movie. I pity the world if a man of my tastes and constitution gained sway over popular culture. Don't worry, I don't see that happening any time soon. I am pretty damned tired, so I won't ramble on. No-no, don't thank me. No, really... It's nothing. Seriously, please stop thanking me! WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!? ...Now, where was I? It's hard being a genius with a failing memory. You can see the world of possibilities slipping away before your eyes. If only I would have started studying in my early years, maybe I would have known something by now. No, not school. That teaches you how to sit quietly for eight hours a day--job preparation. Believe it or not, you have to condition people to some extent in order to enslave them. Don't think too hard about this though. You might decide to quit your job and become a professional mythical holiday character. You know, Santa, the Easter Bunny. Sorry if I am too tired to be witty or to please you. I suppose we whores of the word can expect little more than a shot of briny cum to the eyes for our efforts in the end. Perhaps, many of us, deserve that shot in the eyes. I wonder if I've earned it... Oh you bet I have. I'm an evil fuck, indeed.

-Dan

Winded Warlord Summons a Severed Foot

2005-04-27T09:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday a Harvard professor of electro-dynamics accused me of listening to Starman a song by British pop sensation David Bowie. I was stunned and though, it is hard to describe why, I felt affronted. I was able, however, to keep my shy and sensitive composure. I admit to imagining striking the man cheek-to-cheek with a severed and dried lion cock. Perhaps it was a Voltaire inspired vision, though Voltaire never intended it, I'm sure. If you can understand that, perhaps your are a genius, or the dumbest bastard to tread earth since Alexander Hamilton. Take heart. A damaged oligodendroglia could explain your mental deterioration. Seek out a physician--not a doctor in the Deep South or Midwest--that is where the failed doctors are exiled in the US. Of course, no one got that, even though my readership numbers up to fifty-thousand a day. I know, I'm quite popular. That reminds me, this would be a good time to mention that all comments left by users have been deleted. The hateful comments were making me sick, and more importantly the shear size of the compiled text was bogging down the server. I never dreamt that little ol' me would become the spokesman of my generation. No don't kill yourself or try to scratch out the date on your birth certificate. They will only measure the high amounts of lead and mercury in your bones to uncover the date of your genesis. You are doomed. Sorry I am being so optimistic today. I guess no matter how I look at it, today that damn glass of apple juice is half full despite the fact that it's only water. There is an irrepressible twinkle in my eye, that no darkness can smother. I apologize. We are rats on a sinking ship, we should fucking at like it, right? I discovered a new test to uncover hippies. The eclectiveness of their music selection. A fucking hippy will listen to any fucking music. I know this from personal experience. I am listening to the strangest shit that anyone would hate and consider horrible and I am lapping it up. I think it stems from some want to understand and accept the differences, and to be "cool" with bad music. To give it its space in the world and soundwaves. Hippies are dead though, for the most part, and thus so is "bad" music. Rest in piece bad music. More of you will come and be forgotten. I say this in a whisper, "Shhh, we are still there on the fringes, with our ancient Kenwoods, annexed from pot toking parents. We will let you creep from our speakers and flow through the endless beauty, that is our lives and hearts."

-Dan

The "Culture of Life" Kills 100,000+ Innocent Iraqis

2005-04-26T09:08:00.000-07:00

Hypocrisy is so thick in the air, it makes everything blurry and we stumble and bump into funiture. My own hypocrisy is enough to make my head spin, let alone the mental encumbrance derived from the analysis of the rest of the worlds' collective self-delusion. Sometimes I watch Blade Runner or listen to Mano Chao to cheer myself up. Reading science journals one views a world who's environment is irreversibly devastated, and no one cares, global warming is happening, yet no one believes or cares, Kansas and other states in the union are humping their bibles and fighting like hell to oust evolution from the educational curriculum, and succeeding. I suppose it really is no big deal if humanity fucks itself into oblivion. In fact, I don't really even like people--not even myself nor my friends. It is sad and a bit tragic to be someone paying attention today. I give my pity to all those who are watching and seeing the continued decline of our life on this planet and the life of all creatures, both like and unlike us. The feeling of helplessness and bitterness is practically unbearable. So to keep alive, we live as hypocrites. What else can we do? We could kill ourselves I suppose. But life has a strong tendency to live on, even through the harshest of times. If we didn't have that will, life surely wouldn't exist. Human drama is full of people overcoming tragedy and finding peace or happiness. I guess it is our fate, fate only in the sense of some structural determinism, to speed our cars down the interstate, clouding the air, while listening to Rage Against the Machine, and feeling our hate for the masters.

-Dan

Dogs Are Freaks Too

2005-04-25T18:22:00.000-07:00

Yes, they are coming at me now. The cult. They have sealed the door to my apartment. I can't get out... well unless I take the fire escape. But, in my heart, I know it must be a trap. They are waiting for me their. Too many scientific advances to keep track of. Knowledge is a constant process. Science is never done. The cult set fire to my mail and tied a foot tall effigy of me giving a nun a blowjob. I know... it doesn't make sense. These are mad people remember. Some strange folk from the right. Not just the ignorant small town type, no. These people are just mean spirited. To the core, quite possibly. They caught me off guard. I was just about to go to the local francophone hardware store and stock up on barbed wire, to keep these obsessed monkeys out of my cereal box. After getting my shoes on, not unlike a young Mister Rogers, I reached to open the knob to my front door. It was turnable, yet the door itself would not became ajar. No I am not crazy; I do not believe that a door can transform into a glass container for victuals. I wasn't being literal you stocky-eyed crow. I was going to call my lawyer, and have him send in some backup, perhaps a clerk or file organizer--someone to calm my ever-thinning blood. Every precaution had been seen to, however. The phone was dead. The children outside playing were too busy striking each other with their imaginary lightsabers to care about some crazy bastard screaming for succor in a foreign language. In hindsight, I was naked, and my tongue was stuck to my inner cheeks, making my words indiscernible anyhow. (My diabetes dries my mouth out terribly at times.) My roommate a tall Albanian looking fellow with a love of chinchillas and razorblades was little help. Someone had poisoned him during the night perhaps. A Shakespearian plot. Sticky foam was hanging in a chain of bubbles from his ear. Peroxide poisoning, I thought. He was about 43 degrees Celsius, making his time of death approximately three hours ago, give or take for variations in room temperature. One might wonder, "How in the hell can he send a blog if his phone line is out..." Clever bastards...

-Dan

Love for the Underbelly of Clouds

2005-04-24T06:54:00.000-07:00

Most of my "deep fans," or "well-entrenched fans" have already read about my disturbing foray into the world of Japanese chatting on my various fansites. Although the event took place six weeks ago, I still feel the need to grumble about it to everyone I meet. You see, Japan to me is my pseudo-utopia in the sky. I'm sure most people have one of these. A country that they have never been to and/or have only selective and skittish knowledge of, and yet we idealize the place. In many cases this country can be one's home country; this complex is then referred to as Nationalism. For the Neo-Nazis, Germany of the 1940's is their utopia in the sky, where a queer could get it's severed head popped onto a stake, and a... or wait, maybe it's modern day Alabama. Regardless... My utopia in the sky for the last few years has been Japan. I have tasted anime, manga, ganguro subculture, goth-loli, josei, dorama, Shinto, Zen Buddhism, Kurosawa, Shohei Imamura, GTO, etc. etc. and I am left hungry for more... *cough* hentai *cough* I can think of no country that holds so much power over the visual arts, than Japan. There seems to be a lot of imagination in that department. Also there seems to be an environmentalism that runs through the heart of Japanese culture. So naturally me being some strange leftist freak, I am attracted to them. Also I find the place where I grew up extremely boring. So I am a natural and logical host/victim of a utopia in the sky complex. Lately though I have been reading how Japan doesn't seem to like foreigners much. It almost made me want to stop learning Japanese, which is one of my favorite hobbies right now. I know that this is probably hearsay, and of course every Japanese person is an individual and will thus have their own feelings concerning foreigners, or any other subject. It's just I was rather bothered when I was trying to practice my Japanese in a chatroom, and I was told "fakyuu" by a Japanese guy. For no apparent reason other than the fact that my grammar was bad and that I was an amerikajin. I should have said I was Canadian, perhaps. But, Japan, don't worry, I'm not going to let one rude person, probably a prepubescent kid, shake my obsession with you. Like any nation Japan of course has its flaws. It is very socially restrictive, and I think this is in part why the visual arts are so strong. People want to rebel, and find some sort of individuality. The US conquest of Japan has brought a lot of good and bad. Democracy, I guess is good, even in its distant and corrupt modern form. It also brought consumerism, which you can see artists such as Kurasawa and Ozu lament in the post-war period. Of course, my true utopia in the sky is some bizarre off land where money doesn't exist, and people will look you in the eye and maybe even smile, when we walk past each other. Something alien to a world of strangers walking en face down the sidewalk.

-Dan

Tokyo Joe Meets Shanghai Lil'

2005-04-23T07:23:00.000-07:00

I am almost ashamed to post this, yet my abusive personae are bullying me. The more I think about it, I must concede, I am absolutely shameless. Well, I'd finally done it. After a streak of nearly a year of no sex, I broke down, however hesitant, to visit a prostitute, or what-have-you. I am a "square" as the 80's parlance titled it. I am so square in fact that, I am completely clueless to whatever square is referred to as of today. Sorry, maybe if pop culture was a little more interesting I would pay attention. Now, I was carousing the streets of San Francisco, and I wandered into Chinatown. I figure, if I am going to pay, I might at well get exactly what I want--a little Asian dish. This was to be a mistake, in hindsight. Perhaps not an Asian in general, but this particular Asian lady. She was a little old and there was wrinkling. I took this not as something to be disgusted by, but as a sign of experience and fortitude. She was a survivor, I thought. Indeed. Her accent was impossible to decipher. She seemed satisfied after I placed the fourth ten dollar bill in her hand. It seemed like it was going to be some dirty alley sex, but I dissuaded her. I talked her into car sex. I only know so, because of her gesticulations and her willingness to follow me. Well, turns out by the dome light, I could make out that her vagina was blue. I was startled and though my sense of politeness and my fear of strange sex diseases struggled against each other, the fear easily won out. She didn't take the news well, and became enraged. In my social clumsiness I first thought it was the lastest sex game taught to the youths by their porno warlords. But, I soon realized that as she squeezed on my neck with her unexpectedly powerful hands, that there was an unmistakable murderous intent burning in her eyes. We were soon accompanied by a elderly Chinese-American man, who was either a concerned bystander with a disdain for the Caucazoid whoremongering there, or he was her pimp. Either way, it hurt. Ouch. If you go to San Francisco, go ahead and wear some flowers in your hair, but pack a lead knocker in your pocket. I swear it was blue. It was blue.

-Dan

Satan Now Goes by the Name of Christ in the United States

2005-04-14T06:32:00.000-07:00

As a long time and dedicated lover of the teachings of Christ, it has come time for me to slam my foot down, on a large political movement destroying the name and values of Christendom and the United States, despite it's promise of a venomous bite. I am sick and tired of seeing the very moral parables of Jesus smeared and disregarded by people claiming to be motivated by the Christian faith. This slice of fundamentalists envision there hollow-version of Christianity becoming the mandatory state religion. Practicing homosexuality would become a crime. (This group even seeks to appoint a man to the Supreme Court who wrote a letter stating that practicing homosexuals should be executed. Whatever happened to forgiveness and not casting stones? Oh that's right, these people ironically have no Christian values. Hatred to the point of murder is unacceptable. Something must be done, lest we end up with a Auschwitz in Mississippi somewhere, packed with underfed homosexual prisoners. This group is very large and very well funded by wealthy backers. They are a powerful and influential force in Capital Hill, with person connections to the White House. It is well known that many Republicans owe their election to these militant organizers, and President Bush himself seeks their input on policy decisions. Good Christians need to start speaking out. They are rewriting history. They claim the forefathers wanted religion to control the government, and that the talk of separation of state was merely to protect religious people from the tyranny of government. Obviously, floppy logic, especially when you know your history--when you read Jefferson and Paine, and most others, you see a quite different vision of American than the one being repainted by these purveyors of an American Theocracy. Making homosexuality a crime is only the tip of a very large iceberg. They dream of ousting public schools for faith-based private institutions. Legislation is already being pressed that would allow religious leaders to voice politics from the pulpit. Obviously a woman's right to choice is out. Patriarchy is in. Social assistance for the poor is out. (Yes, the irony--the irony is so thick.) Science? Of course, we can't have Satan working on our school children in the form of Evolutionary Biology. Religion will be instilled in all children by law. Not Christianity mind you, but rather this new religion that is probably older than Christianity, often referred to as hate and ignorance, before it got this new makeover as something moral and "good." If we really want to get rid of whatever they consider "evil" we need to focus on getting rid of those qualities within ourselves, and leave our stones on the ground, where we found them. Didn't Jesus teach us that?

-Dan

Day 5 of the Rapture

2005-04-12T16:47:00.000-07:00

Today was a great day of "learning." I know, most of you thought I knew everything already, or at least thought that I think I knew everything already. I suppose, even a genuine cranial juggernaut such as myself has a few tricks lacking from his playbook. I won't bore you or rather vex you with the terse information I've come upon. Instead, I would like to take this time to say hello to all my friends who have stuck with my humble little blog here through the lively two posts a day sessions and the deadly weeks of silence. It seems lately my blog has picked up a rather sizeable cult following, as the "individualist" types like to fashion themselves, to "distinguish" themselves from all the other idiots just like them. Usually sentences like that come from people who are even more trapped in some sort of anthro-social insect algorithm than the freak-wannabes. Why did I say it then? I like to insult people--often myself, but sometimes the shit rolls up hill... Yes, despite gravity. No... No, it doesn't make sense... SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!!!!

Now... Where was I... Yes. Freaks and cults. I do have a growing cult following. Believe that or not. Most cults are mavenists, or fans, if you will. This is the opposite of that phenomenon. This is a cult with a seemingly irrepressible desire to obstruct my bodily functionings to the point of death. I suppose I should be a bit flattered that someone cares enough to want to kill me. Perhaps. Tabun. Peut-etre. I suppose if one of them were to begin the motions of some sort of assassination, I would have to weight the situation, as I am a pacifist before I decide to struggle with an assailant. I would have to decide which of us was a more valuable person. If I was the lesser, I would have to let them kill me. I know what you are now thinking... (cultists) That I am now a free target--a defenseless little bunny. Well, think again! You have underestimated my misanthropic sentiments! I think most people are complete assholes, and you will have a hard damn time convincing me that you are an exception! If you don't recycle and you slug down animals that were breed in a torturous environment to be stuffed into your ungrateful maw, than you stand not a chance against me, and my thick, often hypocritical, moral fiber! Yes, you could just snipe me down, but could you do it in a clear conscience?... Wait, don't answer that, you thugs!

-Dan

Field Day at Hell High

2005-03-25T09:10:00.000-08:00

I learned a little Polari yesterday. It's a fine language--highly recommended.

-Fitz

The Return of Tin-Tin the Wonderboy

2005-03-23T14:19:00.000-08:00

I read an article by a Feminist Darwinist. I like to read British newspapers.

68% of Canucks feel that Weezer (the band) is irritating to the senses. Particularly hearing was the sense they most offended. Sight was a distant second. Lastly, a minority of one offered to cut my head off when I questioned them about their thoughts of the pop-band.

After many nights of re-reading Hunter S. Thompson and British weeklies and dailies, I've decided to become a newsman, a print journalist to be exact. I am but a neophyte in training, yet under my apprenticeship with Mano from a Chinese journal out of Hong Kong, I plan on rising to serious heights.

Mano's real name is Mao Ching, but he feels uncomfortable studying in a capitalist country without an alias. He is taking his masters in journalism though he has been a news reporter for some seventeen years. He feels he needs a western degree to improve his position at work.

I commend him for his bravery. I don't know what communists are, but they have balls, some of them.

I am thinking about moving to the U.K. so I can acquire a British accent. Don't tell me mother. She'll yell at me.

I want to be a special person. I want all my mistresses to gather yearly and remember how wondrous I was. It will be a small party, especially if they aren't forced at gun point to attend. I suppose I should go bathe myself in warm oils. Good day. Peace, love, and war.

-Dan

Wind of Sundown

2005-03-20T05:28:00.000-08:00

I had plentiful dreams last night--they were thick and rich, detailed, and terrifying dreams. I even fell out of bed trying to escape them. That is why I was aware of them upon waking. I love it when that happens; I rarely remember my dreams. The literary aspect of my being wants to pity me or make something tragic and epic about the fact that I remember my dreams rarely, but it is probably merely caused by me sleep cycle being wacky. I want a lot of things I will never have. I am so hungry for something. I want to shed my facades. I want to lose all my fetters to the earth. I want to float away like Guido. You won't let me, will you? Those dreams were so thick, like a cold viscous syrup, running over my throat, my eyes, and down the back of my brain. I constantly feel some sort of decay in me. But, whether this decay is real or not, I must shape it into something beautiful. I will conquer it, no matter what.

-Dan

Joshua, THE Roman Name to Have this Season

2005-03-19T16:29:00.000-08:00

These are all mumbling rambleshacks. I miss people. I miss my cousins. I want to make more movies with them. AHHHHHHHHH! I miss my other friends. No one is returning my e-mails! I ate some sand earlier and now I am worried. There is glass in sand right? But it's smooth... It's smooth, it won't cut my intestines open and bleed me to death will it? All I need is cancer and cut up intestines. I was watching some old videos I made with my cousins. I want to be with them again. I want to bend reality and imagination once and for all. That is insanity or some pseudo-artistic interpretation of it. I can't stop writing today. I don't know why. It all started when I woke up. I was in that sick mood. I think I had a dream about my mother. She is with that asshole again. It's so sickening. I don't feel I can go home. That guy will always be there, won't he? What am I running from? Everything? I want to float. I want the perfect game to play. I want to play it forever. Reality is a boring game. So are human made games. So limited. I am tired of that. But without rules my molecules wouldn't exist. I want as few rules as possible. I want to create things. I feel crippled somehow. Where is joy? Fuck blogging. This is a stupid game. Where are the good games? Where are the things worth something? Feelings are so old and tiresome. Where are my friends? Did I do this to myself? Will they all forgive me? Can I go back? Am I making the past out to be better than it really was? Maybe I can take what I have learned and change things that were wrong in the past, and work to keep the good things from it? What am I asking a blog these questions? Why isn't the blog answering these questions? Where are my friends? It feels like everyone I meet, and know and care about and leave becomes a huge weight, and everytime I want to move, I have to pull them with me. They are all a part of me. All the hurt I have caused, I feel it on myself. I will cause more hurt. I will grow numb to it. I will accept it. How many have I drug along and finally forgotten. Let me think of them. Let me remember. Let me drag them with me some more. I miss them.

-Dan

Post by Typing

2005-03-19T15:18:00.000-08:00

Unquestioning Beast from the Dumb Dimension:

Dear Rabbit,

It has come to my attention that everything plastic has no purpose. Doesn't this bother you? I was watching TV yesterday and noticed that humans are the most dumbest thing ever. Mental Patterns. Everyone betraying me. I was drinking my own blood and I find that tanginess accounts for 5% of all taste sensation. (That is just a guesstimation) I can't remember anything. I am not a chronic liar. I have no friends. I was eating wheaties, the cereal and someone shot at me, I swear. The toaster is fucking crazy man, I pushed down the lever to make some toast for the almond butter I got (Yummy! BTW) and the fucking thing started zapping and I saw electricity jumping around. Some sort of electrons. Canada is like a leaky cock. It has a drip. I wanted to call my mother but then I realized that would be insane. "You don't want to talk to that bitch, Daniel." I said to myself. I listened to my advice. I am a good boy. I get a chunk of alfalfa as a prize. GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! My stomach is always hurting, so I constantly eat, trying to shut it up. I probably have the cancer. Oh well, life was fun... sort of... maybe... good-bye. Once you get the cancer and get over the denial and accept the short life, everything seems so zen-like. I'm not on drugs... I'm not crazy... ...help...

-Dan

Scene III: Meanwhile and Elsewhere, a Plot of a Different Idiom is Born

2005-02-14T14:10:00.000-08:00

Scene III: Meanwhile and Elsewhere, a Plot of a Different Idiom is Born

[The rundown sections of Camborne; Bleidd and Brad]

Bleidd, “Aye, there ye be. Fortnight I’ve been held over in this mess of shanties that ye locals be calling a town.”

Brad, “Thee be singin’ for a fortnight!?”

Bleidd, “Ye fool, ye be either deaf or dumb! And here I heard talk you were a man of wits, and vileness; which I hold to be one and the same.”

Brad, “Let a cat have thy tongue a moment, and make your ears stand up like a rabbit’s. I was having thee on, since ye carry with thee the looks of a seaman, [aside: “And the smell!”] I thought my pun would please thee. Now, however, I recognize thee as a man of little humor, and that is fine by me.”

Bleidd, “So, ye are indeed Brad then, are you?”

Brad, “Tis I and no other sir.”

Bleidd, “Well, tis true, as you observed it, that I am a seaman, at that. I have me a hulk anchored in a tiny inlet near Land’s End at this moment, matter’o’fact. Yet here I am to be found pinned in on each side by moorlands. The lack of salt in my lungs and maw, leaves me sickly. But after I gather a few donations, I’ll be, with me mates, off on a journey far reaching, and distant indeed, from here, this putrid land overrun with Angles and Jutes.”

Brad, “I s’ppose ye be in search of thems that might donate? And ye expect me to help in thy raking?”

Bleidd, “No truer words spoke that my ear be in shot off. I am a stranger here and as thus I lack informations. If a man wants to pluck fruit from a tree, he would be wise not to pick his trees blindly, but rather ask a knowed orchard farmer; one that might understand his hunger. So as you are accustomed to the local flavors I would make thee mine intelligencer.”

Brad, “Well, that being the case, let it be known that trees are scarce ‘round this hamlet, and fruit, even more so. Why beggars grovel amongst themselves for dearth.”

Bleidd, “Fable you not. Keep this course and ye shall soon be the most truthful man I know. But, let’s to the point. Where be the ripest plum that hang not from branches limed and snared?”

Brad, “Ere I and thy do conspire to make mockery of the laws of King George, give me thy name, birth, and a taste of my promised reward.”

Bleidd, “Ay, man, but let it be known not a beast on four or two legs has ever crossed my will and lived long to gloat about it. Name’s Bleidd, the wretch of the sea, cursed to the death sentence by all West Europe and destined to be one of the most wanted men on the Atlantic, Pacific and if I lives long enough, I reckon the Indian too. Furthermore, let it be known, that any man bent on usurping the title of vilest, must first send me to hell’s gate. As for my blood, my father a Welshman—my mother a Gaul, ignobles every one, and proudly thus. And as for your third probing, a meed is a sum paid a man who has earned it, and my eyes not seeing such a man, shall withhold any such payment. Rest assured though, that the better your work gains me, the better it gains thee.”

Brad, “If your word be truth, then I know the tree to be mounted and scaled for the choicest fruits whilst being still easy pickings. The richest man, the only of nobility in range, and the lord over us, is Baron Jourdain. Yet, you’d would be wise to tempt his ire not. He is famous for his harshness and inaccessibility. Rather there is another, a common man, well wit for his thrift and good sense. He being an artisan, he has made good in wealth and yet commands no power.”

Bleidd, “A Baron would be a fitting mouse for my playful paws, yet I must avaunt forthwith, and can not dally my time in trophy sport. A power would be no worry with my crew in attendance, but, alas, there be neither crew nor power, and thus be it moot. Whoever this man is tell me of his inklings, fancies, and prejudices, so I may draw him willing into my clutch. Battle and fence I am wont to avoid fore I am still with wounds from a foray with naval forces—I received in mine arm the volley of a young soldier’s rifle, and a saber-blow upon my sconce, which for not the width of Henry’s little toe, my eye would be girded by a patch. Thus cunning, must I relay on in this scheme.”

Brad, “This smithy is well respected in the community, to be sure. Yet, he is a private man, and keeps to himself, his ingots and bellows. But there is one close to him—his godson Anwar.”

Bleidd, “Is this boy easy to access? What of his nature?”

Brad, “Oh, he is gentle as they come. He will talk to anyone and is quick to befriend. He is an idealist and a naïve youth, but charming in a way. He is always on about Hector and the epics.”

Bleidd, “Idealist? Marry, what fool more geared to be caught in the beak of a bloody-feathered vulture than a mome spectacled with lenses of ruby quartz? Bestrew these shantied moorlands, for I’ll be returned to riding the wavy locks of Poseidon’s beard forthwith.”

Scene II: Anwar and Ofydd Plot to Unbind the Wide Wings of Eros

2005-02-13T21:46:00.000-08:00

Scene II: Anwar and Ofydd Plot to Unbind the Wide Wings of Eros

[Under a shade tree; Anwar and Ofydd]

Anwar, “Uncle is so mulish. How is it that he is so begrudged of women? Tis true he never were married, nor does he seek the company of ladies. In fact, whenever he comes by one, I am sure he dreads even eye contact, let alone the exchange of words with her.”

Ofydd, “Well, if your uncle is an obstacle, then he must be circumvented if your longing for Mercia is ever to shorten.”

Anwar, “What you suggest is merely deception. That is no way to solve a problem; it would be merely created another. I hope to honor my uncle, for I do truly love and respect the man, but, I do wish he would relent with his endless diatribes against ladies and love.”

Ofydd, “It is a conundrum to reason how such a level-headed man could be so prejudiced. He is a fair and just man on all other accounts, as far as I am aware. I would come to the conclusion that perhaps, though it is hard yet to imagine, that your uncle surely must have run into trouble with a lady in his past.”

Anwar, “The hypothesis doth make sense… However, how are we to make the man give up such a strong conviction?”

Ofydd, “We? Dear Anwar, of all people on this Earth none do I cherish like thee, but come now, to make a man take such a turn of mind would be a miracle; especially when his feelings are so strong. And this is Morthwyl we are talking about, no common fool. Furthermore, the man takes his stance not allied with reason, but out of passion. Why, we may as well argue politics! We may as well dissuade the Pope of his faith in the rood! Again, I advise you to deploy a crafty deception upon thine uncle. Anything else would be a waste of thy time and mine, since you seemed to have volunteered my services.”

Anwar, “Ofydd, I straight out refuse to lie to my uncle.”

Ofydd, “Then call it a jest—a secret, or whatever you must, but it is surely your only hope of seeing Mercia.”

Anwar, “Please, in all sincerity Ofydd, help me so I may see Mercia and yet not betray my uncle, who has cared for me, and raised me most of my life.”

Ofydd, “Tush, your pure heart has wooed me to your cause. Let us take a walk now, and ruminate upon this most impossible feat—How to make a man so disdainful of love, come to love it.

Scene I: Youth and Age Struggle for Influence

2005-02-13T06:56:00.000-08:00

I am going to post a bit of a play-type-thing I am writing, hoping it will invoke some criticism from my "friends." Which translates to some butt-kissing. HAHAHA. No seriously, dig in--leave no patch of my skin unmarred. You have my blessing... And no, I don't know a Welsh accent from a Brooklyn accent! You assholes!

-Dan

Scene I: Youth and Age Struggle for Influence

[In a musky artisan shop; Anwar and Morthwyl]

Anwar, “What is beauty, if not a smiting arrow burrowed with the blink of an eye, into my pap? She is the forceful arm of a windmill, and I her Don Quixote, knocked asunder by her breath—driven mad by the wont to be a righteous man, so as to sneak and plant a seed of love into the rich garden soils where she harvests her dreams.”

Morthwyl, “Haha, boy you should hold your tongue lest some woman without scruples hear your foolish talk and cozen you of your sixpence. A lad like you should keep himself busy with his work, so he doesn’t fall prey to the treachery of damsels. Mark this Anwar, you mayhap think me a grump and a pighead, but I keep you busy and safe from your own fool ideas when I work you like I do.”

Anwar, “Uncle, I do very much thank you for this job, and I do also thank you for your concerns, but a young man does not need such coddling, goodness.”

Morthwyl, “Hah, I do say you need some caudle and a deep swig of it for that insolent mouth. What know you of the world? You’re a babe in arms!”

Anwar, “Quite my point Uncle; how am I to know anything of the world if I am always kept from its lessons? If you wish to teach a boy to ride a horse, do you never let him near one?”

Morthwyl, “Trust me lad, when you learn the ways of women, you’ll lack the stomach for riding them. I am merely saving you an ocean of tears, and a barn’s full of grief. You can pout and spit and even bare a long grudge against me, but all the same, it’s a favor to you. Why though you would never realize it, my boy, if you lived all your life without knowing a woman well, you would have lived a happy man.”

Anwar, “Are all boys kept in a cage such as this? If so, how were great men like Magellan and Alexander born and then raised?”

Morthwyl, “Those two fools are the ones you choose to idolize!? Magellan died trying to sail around the world, and Alexander, no matter how great they say he is, is responsible for thousands and thousands of murders. Why I’d sooner worship a sheepherder! You would be wise to make heroes out of a very different stock of men, lad.”

Anwar, “Adventure is what a man seeks to make whole his heart—daring and conquest, of love and of the blade!”

Morthwyl, “Foolish boy! The world is peopled by smithies, cobblers, masons and bakers, not gallant knights and dragon slayers! Shhh, here comes a customer; we’ll finish this talk later, lad.”

Einstein@Home

2005-02-07T10:40:00.000-08:00

Have you ever hoped to sit and chat about life and physics with Albert Einstein? Of course. Have you ever wanted to contribute to the world's collective scientific knowledge? Naturally. Well now you can! Sort of anyhow... Okay, I lied about being able to talk with Einstein; the man is dead, and this isn't a schlock zombie film... Though it would be a hell of a blood-bath with Einstein chugging down entrails... But he was a vegetarian... Anyhow, perhaps I should get back to my point... Right. Since 2000, research scientists at the California Institute of Technology and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology have used the Laser Interferometer Gravitational Wave Observatory (LIGO) in the U.S. and the GEO 600 observatory in Germany to scan dense and rapidly rotating stars, which send out steady streams of gravitational energy. The purpose of looking for gravity waves is to directly test Einstein's general theory of relativity which establishes the idea that gravity distorts space and time, and predicts that waves of gravity would ripple through the cosmos. Some claim such waves have been spotted indirectly, from observations of how paired stars influence each other's orbits, but nobody has seen them firsthand.

So, where do we come in and what the hell is Einstein@Home!? Well, LIGO uses a system of lasers and mirrors that can detect a shift in space as small as the width of an atom. Thus, they are naturally going to be receiving a lot of data that needs to be processed. The detectors pick up an enormous number of unwanted vibrations. "It's a needle in a haystack problem: 99.99% of the data is noise," says Bruce Allen, a physicist at the University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee, and leading developer of the Einstein@Home project. Einstein@Home takes inspiration from the original and still successful precursor distributed-computing project known as SETI@Home. Both programs use networking and the unused processor power of volunteer computer owners to crunch large amounts of data. Distributed-computing projects are able to out crunch supercomputers. LIGO researchers aspire to similar success by enlisting up to a million personal computers to help with the task. The program is a screensaver that uses extra processor power from your computer to sort through their data. You can throw your weight in by signing up for the program here, which can also be reached at the project's main homepage.

-Dan

You Will Buy Socially Acceptable Art, at a Premium

2005-02-05T19:42:00.000-08:00

There is no point in anything anymore. There is no point in hoping for social justice. It will never happen. Come come, let's all go conservo-corporate. We'll soak ourselves in hedonism, and fill our bellies with living flesh, and so adore ourselves. We need no justification for our lives. Fiction need have no moral edge. There is no insight to be found from reading the letters enranked by professional authors. If I were a child everything would be natural and calm. I would feel no urgency to create some insane goal of utopia. I am a powerless, thoughtless wretch. There is no reason for me to worry myself over anyone, because I can do nothing to change things anyway. Even my own life is miserably out of my control. Let's just sniff out fresh pussy, or cock, whichever we prefer and fuck until our bodies give to the wear of ages. Humans being well informed of the world's many atrocities and yet being powerless to succor those in need. As long as there is one, even one fool who will pick up a gun and make war for their master(s), there shall be no utopia. These days will never come. This is the curse of life. It is a beast that no one may tame. Even the masters are slaves to their own creation. They will die deluded and oversexed. I will die naked and sickly.

Anyhow... I'm alone and I want someone to talk to. When that happens, these sort of stupid blogs get written. Please, forgive me.

Ted's Phone-call to his Ex-Girlfriend

2005-02-04T17:32:00.000-08:00

Today a special treat for all my fans (HAHA)--an excerpt from my forthcoming 3rd novel, "I Have No Legs, I Have No Legs, I Have No Legs, I Have No Legs," due to hit Barnes & Noble shelves by mid-April. Enjoy.

"Hello, remember me?"
"Oh my God, Ted?"
"Yeah, it's me Gloria. How are you doing?"
"Well, what do you want? And don't tell me you left something over here."
"No, nothing like that. I just wanted to talk with you. I've been thinking a lot about things--"
"Okay, listen. You have a lot of fucking nerve calling here after what you did to me. I really don't think there is anything, what-so-ever, to discuss with you."
"Gloria-Gloria, wait. I know our breakup was uncommonly... rough... I just--"
"Uncommonly rough, you say? You prick. You killed my hamster!"
"I know, and I'm so sorry. I--I didn't mean to."
"You didn't mean to? Okay, then why did you put her in the microwave, and eat her, while your buddy Brent videotaped it?"
"I was hurting, baby--"
"Then you mail me the damn tape!"
"I was calling to apologize, and perhaps to expostulate, like two adults--"
"Not only do you not have the sense to never call me again, but you don't have the sense enough to know when to hang up!"
"Gloria, I know the loss of your hamster has clearly upset you honey, but you should realize that people tend to lionize their dead--you know? Think back, you must conclude that it in fact was a rather mediocre relationship."
"The only mediocre relationship I've had was with you--you jerk!"
"Also, there was a pretty heavy meum et tuum confusion going on. I mean, it was our apartment, our refrigerator, our bed... our hamster?"
"My daddy got me that hamster for my birthday, you jackass!"
"Gloria, you have every right to admonish me, and you are welcome to do so. But, can't we get together, say over coffee and talk about things, just you and me, face to face?"
"No way in Hell, Ted."
"Perhaps it's a bit premature--we need more time to lick our wounds from transgressions past, but it would help our relationship to heal faster if we would start seeing each other again--"
"Oh, my God! You must be kidding!?"
"Gloria, don't underestimate the power of sexual healing."
She hangs up the phone.
"That saucy doxy..."

-Dan

Cages, I Hate Cages.

2005-02-04T01:32:00.000-08:00

I see animals everywhere in cages. I see them bound on leashes. It makes me pace; it furrows my brow. The human-being does disgust me, as I disgust myself. One can only hope to improve. This search for sanity is a fulltime job within itself. I can't sleep lately. I stay up reading because nothing will stop my mind, but absolute physical exhaustion... with that thought, perhaps I should try jogging, or mountain climbing... Hmm, mountain climbing for insomniacs, seems safe. I can call a red-herring a red-herring. That is simple. It is easy to criticize the Other. It is easy to find fault in anything, as we are all a fickle and emotional lot of beasts. And, pettiness does mock us, as it mocks life itself. Personify everything, as if it were you yourself. Maybe then you will be slow to cage and leash, and devour. Eat yourself first. As for your cage and leash, there is no need, they are already around you, snug and sweet, and very paternally so.

Seems that the US will start using a new weapon that cooks people with microwaves. It is said to be non-lethal. I read that it will burn people and scare them off. It can be used on angry crowds. Well, non-lethal is a good thing, but if you think about it enough, it's a cage and a leash, and certainly not democratic. I bet it will give everyone they shoot with it skin cancer five or ten years down the road. War is fun. And it's sexy. And it kills lots of children. Just throw the words "democracy" and "freedom" around, and you can talk people into genocide. I read a survey that kids today, have no idea what freedom is. Half of them don't believe in freedom of the press, and many (1/3 if I remember correctly) think the Bill of Rights gives too much freedom. (This is of course after the surveyors read it to them, because they had never read it themselves.) We are raising a generation of bush fascists--people who don't know what freedom is, but feel they have the right to impregnate other nations with this wonderful and yet terribly enigmatic word with whatever means necessary, violence, murder, and of course rape. It's easy for Bush's war to look appealing if you don't know the details, and you don't personify the victims of the war, and liken them to yourself. I think this is why the war effort seems to be supported by those who are xenophobic, racist, and haters of islamic society, and also by those who are genuinely concerned about the people of Iraq, and are lesser educated in the realities of war, and misled by the media illusions of "smart" bombs, and the minimal and distant portrayal of innocents being killed. The US government doesn't even count the Iraqis it kills, and wouldn't you think it would be absolutely necessary for a supposed humanitarian mission to do so, and try to use that information to curb losses of innocent life? Surely it would be a political loss and a loss of the missions moral integrity, if most people were aware of the large numbers. Lancet estimates 100,000 civilian deaths in Iraq, mostly women and children. Most deaths were from bombs. Democracy seems like a great thing. We wouldn't know, and we probably never will. Nor will any of the poor people "we" decide to bomb. We must remember though, that Democracy if corrupted or misused, could simply be a tool to maintain oligarchical control over government, by a group or social class, while keeping a sense of participation in government by the people, which in reality does not exist to any meaningful extent. I believe in the United States, this is more or less, what goes on. I feel that the "democracies" set up by the US, via war would be absolutely kept on a leash, and under the foot of American power. And that is not freedom, and that is not Democracy.

-Dan

A Discourse of Noble Preportions

2005-01-31T11:38:00.000-08:00

I have recently received a communiqué from a dear-one regarding my comments on Michael Crichton. At first I felt oppressed, but now I would in all fairness to myself, respond. Firstly, I will post this person's e-communication so that my retort will be understood. Of course, their name shall be bleeped to spare them the infinite embarassment of the greater public becoming knowing of their social connection with a fiend of my caliber:

--- XxXxX XxXxXx wrote:

> Who cares about Michael Crichton? I've never read a
> word he has written, and I am deeply ashamed of you
> for doing so. Deeply ashamed, and maybe even
> aggrieved.
> ZxZxz

(My Absolutely Tenable Defence)

--Madame

I am writing to you in the hopes of setting straight a most tragic misunderstanding that has developed betwixt us. I must add, that I am particularly appalled by your accusations, though, of course, I know you make them with the best of intentions, and to the best of your knowledge. However, I must admit, accusing a man of my fine stature in the community of even pointing eyes at the written text of a fool such as Dr. Michael Crichton wounds me beyond verbal recourse. Seeing as you are a lady and one of advancing years, I can't envision the act of breaking a gauntlet across your cheek and taking you to fence as the act of a gentleman. Therefore, I am forced to make demand that you would recall your chiding, and produce a properly merited apology. If you can find undeniable evidence, which you will be hard-pressed to do so without the craft of deception at your side, even then I would not concede, to the point of death. These are my words, and my words are thus. Good day.

-Lord Daniel Giovanni Miyamoto Abu Renaud IV, Esquire, Duke of Xiu Jiang

P.S. Furthermore, if one has an opposition, one must study their words and judge them by their own verse and not the verse put into their mouths by their opponents. Only in this way, can one hope to even approach any sort of objective knowledge about the arguments of the Other—a mind that is not ours. Unfortunately, that means giving people we would consider idiots, uh listenin’ to. Though, of course, Crichton is just a populizer for the real vultures trying to destroy the credibility of climate science and global warming concerns. There is a vast ideological elite hell-bent on having their profit flows continue to ooze out, despite very serious concerns for the future of our planet, and the future of humans, YOU! Perhaps I should focus on the main intellectual forces behind this movement, instead of working over their lapdogs. (Though these figures are basically unknown to the public, just like my blog, and unlike Dr. Crichton.) Please don't hurt me lady! I value myself too much!

Note: Being critical of climate science is absolutely necessary, (any good scientist will tell you that) however, let that critical eye be scientific and not ideological or pseudo-science.

Now, I retire to my morning reading, spelling and puntuation errors be damned.

-Dan

"Bob," Hip Rightwing Pundits, Haters, Murderers, and Half Off all Merchandize For a Limited Time

2005-01-30T20:01:00.000-08:00

Again the dormant beast does rise up from its slumbering. It is standing before us a colossus. However, this ain't Rhodes, mother fucker! As you all know, the Tsunami stricken nations have been promised more than 3.4 billion dollars in aid. (This figure is about two weeks old--it has surely increased by now.) So what is this self-styled humanitarian going to tell you? Exactly. DON'T GIVE THEM ANY MORE MONEY! No-no, I'm not like the good people at the Ayn Rand Institute who got into some hot heat after chastising people for sending aid to try and do something silly, like... "save lives and help alleviate suffering." Obviously they've never checked out economic statistics for Sweden. It's sad to see them just cling to their free market religion, even in the face of immediate human need. Perhaps that is one of the forces that allows for a lot of the suffering in the world. But I digress. My point is that countries like the U.S. and Japan have promised healthy doses of millions of aid dollars, but they have done so by dipping into money already allocated for aid to other troubled areas. The money has been successfully raised to help the victims of the tsunami, and that is wonderful. But we must insure that we aren't just diverting funds and thus deciding that not the tsunami victims but others will die instead. I'm not saying don't give them any more money--I just yelled that to shock you. But, let's make sure we don't let the media hype make us lose our obviously short attention spans and forget about other very serious problems in the world, like AIDs, preventable disease, extreme poverty and atrocities such as, yes, Sudan and Iraq. 10,000 people die of AIDs and malaria EACH DAY. It's easy to see the tragedy of a natural disaster, and the money pours in, but the non-stop death tolls from AIDs, tuberculosis and malaria are so much more devastating than those of one time events. Give to a good aid group like Oxfam. But, give to their general funding pool, so they can decide where it is most needed. (They also have a good article with suggests for better use of aid funding.)

In closing, I would like to say FUCK WAL-MART! Educate yourself, and don't shop their!

-Dan

The Dreamsmithy Returns from Self-Imposed Exile

2005-01-29T18:39:00.000-08:00

I have officially been badgered by some old dying "liberal" to post more of my fallacious prophecies for ingestion by the three people that might agree with me sometimes. The rest of them, who have been socially conditioned to avoid my ranting, God Bless You. Wait, why am I talking to people not reading this? Anyhow, what shall I lecture about on this jipper day? Well, I suppose I could rant about how stupid Michael Crichton and his new book, "State of Fear," are. The book is about a paranoid conspiracy between eco-terrorists and scientists to lie and fool everyone into thinking that this crazy thing called "global warming," might be happening. The eco-terrorists even go so far as creating fake natural disasters to show the world that they need to curb their ways. I read in a review that the tsunami was required for the movie deal. I know you think I might be joking, and I wish I was. Peter Evans the main characters is an environmentally conscious professional who drives a hybrid car, and is gun shy, but after Crichton brings this screaming pile of pseudo-science and escape fiction garbage to a halt, he is a gun toting SUV driver with a different chick for each day of the week. So thank you Michael Crichton for polluting the world with more bullshit. How many people will read this book, and how many will read the real science? The world is doomed. Thank you Dr. Crichton, you bitter, washed up, millionaire you. For a friendly layperson's alternative to the foamy mouthed ramblings of insane doctors turned novelists you can download EdGCM -- The Educational Global Climate Model -- a program released by NASA intended to teach college and high school students more about climate science. (The program is in the downloads section.) It's a big download, but it's really interesting. You can even do the impossible--drop the world's carbon emissions by half, with the click of a button.

-Dan

Cometh, Sit Upon Mine Face, Oh Lord.

2004-12-31T06:01:00.000-08:00

(I'm in Montreal now.)

So, we return to the perils of "Bob" your savoir, you ungrateful fucker! Where was I? ...Ah yes. "Bob" had just finished the construction of his fancy new B&W television/idiot box. Right when he turned it on, the madness, I mean, the Lordliness began. His special chromium-oxide rabbit ear antennae (made from a rare hybrid mix of plutonium-43, adamantium, and uranium-666) picked up The Broadcast that would change the world. The Holy Waves commanded his boob-tube to reveal The Prophecy of Our Times. It was hidden in the form of a commercial, a commercial trying to sell addictive sugary foods to minors, and toys made of lead, and the toxic plastic number 7. The Mighty "Bob" had seen the commercial before while girlfriend number 5 was sucking him off on her couch. Only this time Johnny the charismatic kid that gets everyone else in the commercial to agree that the products are wonderful and are must have items, turns and looks at "Bob" with red glowing eyes, and he speaks in a deep repressive voice, "You are no longer Bob, you are "Bob" now. You are the chosen, it is to you that I shall reveal... The Prophecy of Our Times!" Even though he changed his name, for some reason he still calls him Bob sometimes... "Bob, the Earth has become rotten with non-lazy behavior. Your kind has sinned against their maker. You must obey the Might of the God. Aliens will come "Bob"! Bob your must save the people from the aliens! They will come on July 5th, but that is irrelevant. The day must be celebrated. You must lick a sucker no more than three times. The sucker shall then be cast to the dogs. If you have no dogs than to the cats. If you have no pets at all, cast the sucker at a random animal that you come upon as you look for one. Zoos are a good place to find animals. Aliens! There are aliens coming "Bob"! Save the people Bob! Quickly! Tell them of your delusions! Make them worship me Bob! The whole world must be saved from the aliens "Bob"! Now!" "Bob" was trembling before the Image of the Maker and Greatness before him. You are now my adopted son. I would have conceived you myself, but your mother would have gone mad from the perfection of my sex. And I couldn't have you raised by a mad woman. But let it be known if a woman is mad, that she is mad for she has lain with God. Now, "Bob" before you can join in a covenant with me and learn how to save the world from aliens, you must pass my trial. You must put all things behind God... What I mean by that is rather, that you should place God--me, before everything else. Thus, you must prove your fear/love for me. You must destroy your most favorite possession! Hahaha! Now, Bob! Now!" And so it was, that "Bob" our savoir lifted his trusty sledge hammer and began to pummel and lay waste to his favorite thing--his homemade TV. God yelled out, "No! Wait! Stop! I was just kidding!" But it was too late, the TV was in a thousand pieces on the floor, and the broadcast was over. Luckily though for us, God sent the plans for saving the Earth from aliens to "Bob" several days later via telegram. (Because those were olden days) And even though the aliens never came, we still believe, and we celebrate their arrival each July 5th, because they must have come. The problem isn't with the Powerful God, but with us humans. We merely couldn't precieve the aliens, that's all. So if you don't worship the "Bob" and his mighty wisdom and sacrifice you will suffer the wrath of alien invasion and be turned into a pile of ash or a pet. There is no escaping The Truth. It is coming for you. It stalks you each night like a shadow--a shadow nearly indiscernible, because it is cast by the soft light of "Bob"'s TV, but we are there, biding our time. Your children are in our sights. We will brainwash them more thoroughly and definitely than you ever could dream of doing. Hahahahaha! "Bob" died for you you blasphemous pukes! He gave his TV so you could live on! You laugh now, but you will join us in the perfect bliss in the afterlife, without your in-laws, or you will burn forever on The Evil Rotisserie of the Anti-"Bob"

-"Dan"

Daniel Returns to the Lions, Joins the Fold, then Lays with One of the Said Lions.

2004-12-19T17:29:00.000-08:00

I found religion yesterday. No-no, don't worry, I wasn't driving down the interstate, a happy little atheist/agnostic, when I was suddenly hit by visions and voices that causing me to pull my car to the shoulder, cry my eyes out and take christ into my heart as my savior. That's worn territory-too worn. I wasn't born again. One birth is enough for me. Sometimes I think even that one was too many. I did seriously, and in all earnesty, find religion yesterday--organized religion at that. Wow, a screw-loose anarchist in an organized congregation. I guess I am getting soft in the head. Or perhaps I was always pulpy-skulled. Or even more, perhaps humanity in general is weak-minded. How did I join this cult? I must call organized religion what it is. I am not a man who enjoys euphemisms; unless somehow they can twist the phrase into something even more dastardly than the original word is able to. Most religions get new members by banning contraceptives amongst their worshippers and brainwashing the resulting onslaught of children such a policy produces. This should be saved for a rant about the connections between religious dogma, corporate power, and nationalism.

I suppose first I should tell you about the religion. It's known as The Church of the SubGenius. The church was founded by J.R. "Bob" Dobbs. J.R. "Bob" Dobbs was a drill equipment salesman during the 50's. Sometime during that period, we aren't sure of the exact date--he's extremely mysterious, "Bob" constructed a homemade television set out of spare electronic parts found in a Radio Shack dumpster, and also many pieces were extrapolated from broken down equipment in his garage. It is even rumored that his wife's fingernail clippings were used as insulators in the first ever bio-transistors. Better living through circuitry. (I have to leave now, this will continue later after I arrive in Montreal.)

-Dan

The Legendary Children's Television Program Sesame Street Sees Financial Crisis as the Number 9 Discontinues its Sponsorship of the Show

2004-12-14T07:49:00.000-08:00

Yesterday evening during a planning meeting of the underwriters and producers of Sesame Street, the number 9 stormed out of the room after a heated argument over the future direction and content of the show. I was interested to know why, and how the cast felt about the recent developments, so I hit the street--Sesame Street, in search of answers.

It wasn't long before I ran into the distinguished maestro of the numeral, the Count. When questioned about the number 9, the Count was not shy to respond with his feelings candidly, "Ten, elevon, tvelve..." etc. etc.

I then ran into the beloved Cookie Monster. He seemed very blue. His depression became obvious when I learned that he was unable to eat even a single fudge striped short cookie, peanut butter chip, oatmeal raisin, mint chocolate, or even the classical chocolate chip. He was worried that the financial hard times might cost him his job. The Cookie Monster argued that there were only so many ways a creature could spin and make fresh the whole cookie scarfing routine. He smelt strongly of drink.

Bert and Ernie were realistic yet, not completely depressed. They were considering taking on a third roommate to cut costs just incase the worst would happen. I couldn't help but tell them that I used to dream of living with them when I was a kid. Bert assured me they wouldn't mind a kid living with them, as long as they were well-behaved and could pay their rent. Bert was even considering charging the bug family that lives on their window sill to occupy the space, but Ernie was adamantly against it. The initial tensions were soothed though, later by a group bubblebath and sing-a-long.

Those with more secured futures were using their time to calm the worries of the others. Kermit the Frog for instance, was leading a group of cast members in song, with his guitar. He sang a slow tempoed tune, edged with sorrow, but ultimately triumphing in its themes of redemption and renewal, "Number 9, I don't know exactly why, but you said good-bye. Number 9, number 9, I thought we were doing, just fine, just fine." He told me we could meet for coffee later and talk about the details. So, I went on my way.

I then came upon the sensuous Elmo. He seemed standoffish and unwilling to answer my questions or even listen to me. Finally I realized I had spent a half-hour talking to an Elmo doll. He did seem a little small, I thought to myself when I first met him.

My staff had been trying to arrange an interview with number 9 himself. But, I found out at this spot in the journey that he was unavailable for comment.

It was 5pm now, and time to meet up with Kermit the Frog. I was surprised by two things right off the bat, that we both liked our coffee black with two sugars, and that Rizzo the Rat could make a pretty mean cup. Kermit didn't waste time, he is a busy... frog after all. Kermit told me that number 9 had come up with some new ideas for expanding the viewership of the show, that would have had Henson humping in his coffin. Some of his ideas were to add bikini clad supermodels to the cast, and change the theme to a bleak and apocalyptic setting like that of The Dark Crystal. He also felt the show wasn't "preparing" children for consumer society like it should. There wasn't enough product placement or commercials disguised as educational programming for kids. He felt that children's programming was, the perfect vehicle to, ironically, "program" children. Usually programming programs children by having no message or meaning at all, thus filling children's minds with the nihilistic pleasure seeking that is the hallmark of our corporate consumer society. But he wanted to take over on of the last vestiges of education and community available on television, and turn it into an experiment, not in passive nihilism as most TV is, but rather an overt and active nihilism that is conscious and blatant, even prideful. He then started jibbing some stuff about conflict and control, throwing around the names Marx and Bakunin every once in a while. I remember thinking to myself, as we talked late into the night, "Damn, this is some deep shit."

W. J. LaFonce, Author Micheal Butler, and James Phillip Throwe

2004-12-13T22:40:00.000-08:00

I am too tired to be writing, yet I persist. This is the kind of bullheaded, tetu, jiggamondiffan I am known and feared for. It doesn't take a country priest to realize that if a lady of the street has a green crusty line running down her inner thigh, that it is best to stay clear, or, in dire straights to at least use a raincoat. We must not punish the prostitute and cast her out, for she is already punished. Do not hate the women of the night, but treat her like you would a puppy. Pay her merely to talk or spoon, or share time together. Hold her gently, like a three skulled puppy, and kiss the top of her sweet heads. This is the compassion we must muster, and relish. Play ball!

There are little children dogs around. They run and play, if they are allowed to by their often thoughtless keepers. The slavery we cast on the non-human animal, is closely akin to the slavery man makes of herself. Just as the foreign policy of the madman and quack Bush, with all its callowness and mass-murder, correlates with his domestic abuses to children and the working poor and the poisoning of the environment which we Americans must live in, the water, which now, thanks to Bush, is allowed to have more mercury, and arsenic than previous regulations tolerated. Mercury is a toxin that never leaves the body, and it can destroy your lungs and more. Sure is a lot of asthma going around. 5,000 people die of food poisoning, in the US, every year. Which is much more likely to kill you than a terrorist. So soccer moms, please get some balls. And don't forget to cook your food thoroughly. Especially if you must consume the flesh of factory farm reared animals. (uncensored version)

-Dan

A Bloggert and a Heel

2004-12-12T08:24:00.000-08:00

I feel like an al dente noodle that has been used to whip the buttock of a mule, and I have been left clinging against the hide. What in the HELL is this "reality!?" How does it exist!? If there is a god, my children, it is some mad and naughty little prankster. If it lived I would use the rest of my life to remove her heart with blades. But how can a special little fellow like me created to be like the god ever defeat her? The sow. God is a sow, with piglets nursing! *yawn* I guess it is kind of early in the day for all these silly ravings, so I will change lanes.

Hehe. You pukes. You are rats in the cold plasticy gloved-hands of a scientist. You want to be held in ecstasy, but are merely palpated for data and measured for facts. Those poets fill you boys and girls with some bizarre sense of dainty lust, and a notion that it has a connection to do with friendship or kindness. Have you ever seen a frog rape? I wonder what you little frogs would be, if you weren't the brainwashed patheticisms of our era. The United States will be remembered in the world's textbooks as Hitler's Germany is in our history lessons. Genocide seems so easy to instigate. All one needs is a desperate, ignorant, angry populace that is fearful and repressed--then a scapegoat.

A billion children plagued by extreme poverty, wars, and aids. Every seven seconds a child dies of starvation. Every night eight-hundred million go to bed hungry. And here we sit enamored with ourselves and the little trifles we surround ourselves with. We are modernity? We are led by greedy and cock-less men--fools leading fools. They want to believe they are special amongst the beasts, that they are not beasts but the reflection of a god. Haha. Crawl back into your caves humanity, you have not evolved into anything worthy of admiration in the least. Pompous, hubris, if we are like gods, then we must kill these gods, we must cut their hearts out.

The North must cede from the South. The North could then enact meaningful economic reforms, while the South could carry out whatever nonsense he wants, banning gay coupling and abortion. I have a theory that their society would plummet into third world conditions if the South were to run its own country, but at least they would be free of us and we of them. And we wouldn't have to worry about slavery returning there, or would we? Without scientists they couldn't build weapons. The bible only gives instructions on making furniture and such, so we should be safe. (Unless you count the Holy Hand-Grenade of Antioch. Haha! I love Monty Python.) So I figure if we cede, which I'm sure they wouldn't mind--there are people in Alabama still fighting the civil war, that entire civilization would collapse. Fundamentalists are just riding the coattails of secular civilization; without us, they just have their TV watching skills and prayer, and beer drinking skills and maybe farming, but they need chemicals and equipment from the North. Maybe god will feed them manna. Something tells me they will be some seriously impoverished fucks. (= Maybe they will start respecting welfare, well you never know, the brainwash is pretty think. They would probably just starve instead of getting help from the commies--working together. Am I being cruel? Making fun of these poor people of the clay and soil? Haha. I am of that stock, so I can poke some fun. My entire family is made of these folks. I have had assholes like this tell me to get the fuck out of own country. It's time to get them the fuck out of mine. Cede from the union, all blue and red peoples of this crumbling civilization, separate so we can both live the way we want. I am sick of seeing children go without health care, and so are the children, so please get the fuck out of my country, because you keep electing assholes that block healthcare reform! I am tired of watching my tax dollars pay for bombs that kill innocent women and children in Iraq, so you paranoid and cowardly warmongers, get the fuck out of my country! I am sick of science being profaned with this so-called "theory" of creation. At least get the fuck out of my schools with that stupid shit. Christian fascists, get the fuck out! All you bastards that blather on about how free America is and how wonderful freedom of speech is, and then tell the left to shut up, get the fuck out of this country! If you think we have freedom of speech in this country, then you've obviously never had anything worth saying. Censorship takes place everyday in this country. Wow, I'm kind of like the hateful Rush Limbaugh of the left. Oh wait, I'm not Shakespeare and I was being redundant; I didn't need to use the adjective hateful with the name Rush, it's implied. Good day.

P.S. The views expressed here are my own, and aren't the representation of the left or any other philosophy or organization. Hard to imagine isn't it?

-Dan

Bob Dylan, Thoughts on Animal Ethics, and Are You Starting to See a Pattern in the Title System?

2004-12-03T18:51:00.000-08:00

So, here we are again after a beautiful first post that was sizzling with self-deprecating grease. How can I possibly top it? I suppose I could rant about how insane my mother is? No? AH FINE! HAVE IT YOUR WAY!... I'll spare you a piping spoonful of smoking dysfunctional mother-son psychobabble in this post, but I can't guarantee that the policy will hold indefinitely... Lots of cooking/food references... Come to think of it, I am rather hungry... Lots of ellipsis action... A sign of weakness.

Some mad scientist at Cornell University is driving a rover around the surface of mars like it's a child's remote control car. I knew I shouldn't have majored in English! They all asked after I told them my major, "Oh, so you want to teach English?" Why didn't it sink in!?

I mention Dylan in the topic, so I guess I should throw a curveball at you folks and actually wrote a little something about 'im. This is an interesting subject, at least for the likes of me. You can't talk about Bob Dylan without bringing the 60's up, or is it the other way around? I went to a Willie Nelson/Bob Dylan concert lately. A person could talk about Willie of course, but that would be going off topic. The announcer introduced Bob Dylan as the creator of the 60's counter-culture, or at least pinned most of the metals on his chest for its comupance. Bob Dylan is the 60's counter-culture! Times they are a changin'! But then... It's all over now baby blue. (I know, I'm cheating that's out of context.) And finally, Things have changed. Dylan's voice is gone, or at least it was that night. The music was mutated into some pseudo-rock flea circus. You don't mind if I just throw in the term "flea circus" now and again? I love the idea of being a wondering poet that manages a flea circus, but my deep and secret desires of none of your business or concern. Now, who was I talking about? I wasn't actually wanting to talk about Dylan directly. Ah, let's get to the point, because I am really tired. I didn't realize I was this sleepy.

Now read this: Mindless Ignorance and Hate Obviously this gentleman is severely brain-damaged, so I will remain temperate and not attack his "challenge that makes him special." I'm sure you think I am being rather hard on this poor Asman follow? You read it, and probably feel there was not hate, it seemed innocent enough. If one uses something that never really got a fair or popular light in the mainstream--critical thinking--we can see quite easily that this poor gentleman is trying to completely mutilate the artistic message of Dylan and in turn use this to undermine the social revolution of the 60's. Asman is a rightwing nutbolt, just like the rest at Faux News. (Using a foreign language to make pseudo puns is cheap, I know.) They guy is trying to subvert Dylan to HIS cause. The defense of "The American Dream," which in Asman's mind means being a rightwing conservative who is intolerant of diversity and indignant to the those in poverty, ignorant of the environment and science, a warmonger who claims to love the prince of peace. Of course, there are stupid people in the world. But riddle me this batfans, how can these hypocrites go on unchecked? Where is the swift and decisive comeuppance? The rightwing isn't just going to go away! What the fuck is in their drinking water!? Let's pretend just for the sake of arguing, that this poor man is right, in his obviously flawed representation of Dylan. What in the fuck does Bob Dylan's thought, actions, or anything have to do with the 60's revolution? Thousands of people from all walks of life were struggling for equal rights, an end to racism, a more just society and democracy. But hold the phone, some folk singer wanted to live in the suburbs, with the pick fence ceil bars. So he was really a rightwinger like me, and thus so was everyone else, and so are you. You could perhaps understand my seemingly irrational bitterness if you have ever listened to rightwing christian radio, I have to specify rightwing, thus creating space for a left christianity, which seems to be impossible for some to fathom. But if you listen to these people talk about homosexuality, and guide the fold to their books, that will teach them how to talk about the subject of christian intolerance of homosexuals, using certain phrases and words, and avoiding others, so they don't sound like a bigot and such. This so-called religious "scholar" said, "Of course we are all sickened and disgusted by homosexually" and he mentions it being unnatural. The man compares people using the bible to justify slavery to people that use the bible to justify homosexuality. The bible clearly allows for slavery. God tells his prophet Moses what the rules of slavery should be in Exodus Chapter 21. In the book of Genesis god destroys a city where a group of men try to rape two angels, because they disobey god's laws, but the laws they broke are never actually laid out, that is left of to the interpretation of the bigot. If you ask me, the agrument that the bible allows for slavery is infinitely stronger than the argument that the bible is against homosexuality. Incest is everywhere in the bible; even Moses and Aaron were the product of an aunt wived to her nephew, and they were great prophets. I wonder if the rightwing embraces incest? The bible contradicts itself thousands of times. The damn book can be used to argue anything you want from either side. To add foam to my mouth, I read people throwing the word fag around on rightwing online forums and the more PC rightwingers don't bat an eye or scold. Even when violence is suggested, and the most overt hatred.

We have already disproved all claims of tradition. Even religion is gone. Human knowledge and morality towers above these people. Will these poor mentally handicapped individuals catch up with modernity? Can they break the chains of lifelong brainwash? How long will we be slaves to these biblically righteous bigots? How many bombs must fall on innocents in foreign lands before being human comes before being a labeled symbol? These cowards, send our youth to go kill and die, because they are afraid. They worship empty gods out of fear of punishment. But, look at all this hatred... I've become what I despise. I would go run out and hug the first rightwinger I saw to make a truce, but I might get taken for a "fag" and get physically assaulted. To all those puzzle pieces out there, that don't seem to fit the picture, stay strong; you are not alone.

-Dan

Cats, Pearls and Endless Jade.

2004-11-30T22:35:00.000-08:00

Blogs. I am new to this. Seems like there are so many people trying to say things, and so few people trying to read things... Why add more useless noise to the cacophony? Perhaps I am just another one of the shallow and vain dastardly Americans that feast on the life-blood of the thirdworld--you know--someone that thinks he has something to say! Actually, I am pretty sure I have nothing new to say. Because of course, I'm sure what I just said was already said plenty of times before. I just didn't care enough to try to read it. I am too busy trying to write what I think is original, when in fact it is not. But this is unoriginal also, which just strengthens my point. Next time I post, I promise, I will try to post something a bit more academic, useful, informative, and yes, possibly even unique, if that is even possible anymore with the 6 plus billion near genetically identical clones out there. Hell it's probably 7 plus billion by now! I am so outdated! There is a balance between taking time to read and take in new information, and to be creative and productive with the information we already have. But enough of speaking the obvious. I'm only embarrassing myself and bringing shame to my clan. I'm not Dutch, if that is what you are thinking. Maybe you aren't thinking that. How original... I'm jealous. Good day.

-Dan