tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58256850790395325532024-03-13T05:10:48.729-06:00That Hideous BlogStuff in my life.Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.comBlogger736125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-64458755635978566292023-07-15T08:31:00.002-06:002023-07-15T08:35:00.073-06:00Myhr Bearing WomenHere's the final pencil comp. It's been way too long, it's time to finish what i promised Click the link for a larger image .<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRaeasZea2_oXwetGRpMYM-iFjAwnmzl-iL1p9_XN1awipczvdUQwL6Zw6jRMPuj1dkU-bUnrEKwHYVHUxEa2N0RthX8jWduXed4qLyrV9mdh_d5pzAAIjzqu6VaCG4pZtoKfakqXZZezN45Qv9IENeipMjc0GBmYr_e2mZHUYQ8k2OhAtxnPmYXGInI8/s960/01.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="960" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRaeasZea2_oXwetGRpMYM-iFjAwnmzl-iL1p9_XN1awipczvdUQwL6Zw6jRMPuj1dkU-bUnrEKwHYVHUxEa2N0RthX8jWduXed4qLyrV9mdh_d5pzAAIjzqu6VaCG4pZtoKfakqXZZezN45Qv9IENeipMjc0GBmYr_e2mZHUYQ8k2OhAtxnPmYXGInI8/s600/01.jpg"/></a></div>Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-41530412789688002382022-07-09T18:26:00.002-05:002022-10-18T10:46:10.297-05:00Facebook<p>BREAKING NEWS!</p><p>CRITICAL UPDATE! </p><p>FACEBOOK (meta lol) IS TRYING TO STRONG ARM ME! </p><p>DON'T MISS MY VAST OPINION!</p><p>COMING UP NEXT! </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Dear Facebook (meta lol):</p><p>Look, guys. I don't have a phone, and I'm sure as hell not giving my number to you even if I did, after that GESTAPO THREAT TACTIC of losing my Facebook account without a phone number that you guys are demanding. </p><p>I DON'T HAVE A PHONE BECAUSE I DON'T WANT ONE. I CAN DO ALL THE COMMUNICATION I NEED OVER THE INTERNET, WITH ALL KINDS OF SOFTWARE THAT'S AVAILABLE, WHICH WORKS EXACTLY THE SAME WAY AS A PHONE DOES. GOT IT? I HAVE AN INTERNET CONNECTION AND A VALID EMAIL!</p><p>AND, you guys already have two of my valid email addresses. Actually, three - my Gmail, my Hotmail, and my Yahoo. </p><p>So... I'LLBE DAMNED TO HELL BEFORE I GIVE YOU GUYS MY PHONE NUMBER, IF I EVEN HAD ONE, WHICH I DON'T, AFTER THAT THREAT. MY PHONE AND WALLET WERE STOLEN ALMOST A YEAR AGO, AND IT WAS MY PERSONAL DECISION NOT TO GET ANOTHER PHONE. IT'S NONE OF YOU GUYS' BUSINESS.</p><p>And... WHY SHOULD I PAY EVEN MORE FOR A PHONE, WHENEVER I'VE ALREADY CONNECTED TO THE INTERNET, WHICH I CAN USE TO COMMUNICATE WITH ANYBODY AROUND THE GODDAMN WORLD? ARE YOU GUYS RETARDED? ARE YOU STUPID? DO YOU REALLY THINK THIS STRONG ARM TACTIC BULLSHIT IS GOING TO WORK? </p><p>Now. If you guys hadn't tried to strong arm me, I'd have posted my number as a general rule... and probably my relatives' numbers, like my sister or my mom or my brother, once I got around to it like I always have. But now? </p><p>No fucking WAY. </p><p>I also have an Oculus Quest 2 that I paid $350 for, including the elite head strap. So, what's it gonna be? Do you want my money whenever I pay for apps and games for my Quest 2? Do you want the guaranteed continued source of revenue from me due to my Quest 2 when I pay for games and apps from your store, or do you want my phone number that doesn't even exist? </p><p>Also... How am I supposed to give you a phone number if it doesn't even exist? Riddle me that, geniuses! You can't force me to go out and buy a phone and pay a phone bill. That's my right, and I ain't going to do it. I was thinking about it, but after this... no way. </p><p>Or... I just might do it, but you ain't getting the phone number. No way in hell. It would be like me handing a shotgun to someone, threatening me that if I didn't give them the shotgun, that they would kill me with their AR-15. Do you see the lack of logic in the situation? Exactly which one of you retarded autistic troglodytes came up with the idea of demanding phone numbers, or cutting off Facebook accounts? Who's the unfettered mongoloid that thought that threatening your user base was a super-awesome idea? </p><p>That's how stupid it would be for me to give you my phone number if I had one after that threat I just received from you guys. If it wasn't for my Oculus Quest 2, I'd be long rid of you assholes. you run a gestapo state with your online community, and I tolerate it because it keeps me in touch with certain people. But I can be in touch with those same people without any help from you guys. It's my Oculus Quest 2 that is really pissing me off about the threat you guys issued me. Terminating my Facebook account if I don't hand you my phone number means losing access to my Oculus Quest 2, which also means that I'm out the $350 that I paid to you freaking criminals. </p><p>That threat of shutting down my account if I don't have a phone which I'd have to pay an extra phone bill for won't just end with me. If you guys shut down my Facebook account, you guys will be in PR hell. Do you want to be in PR hell? Oh my god, you guys will be the shit show of the decade. Imagine a thousand, 100,000, a million angry Facebook users with Oculus VR headsets getting their accounts shut down because they don't want to give you their phone number, and then complaining about it to everybody who will listen - including the associated press, the local press, the TV news, the internet news, oh boy. You guys must really be looking for the next way to shoot yourself in the goddamn feet. Not foot, feet! That's how stupid you guys are for threatening me like this.</p><p>If you guys cut off my Facebook account and I can't access my Oculus Quest 2 anymore, there will be hell to pay. I can't repeat that enough times. Do you know why I know this? Because I'm not a retarded mongoloid, and I realize that you guys are making threats like this to other people. You know it's real easy in this day and age for victims of strong-armed tactics issued by multi-billionaire companies like you fag-holes to make a great big ruckus about it and cause a scene that will get noticed. </p><p>Here's a head scratcher for you to ponder in your free time... Do you know what your tactics are? They remind me a lot of communist USSR, fascist Germany and Italy, underdeveloped nations in Africa and North Korea, and big fat assholes smoking cigars counting money at boardroom tables coming up with ways to make threats that will only affect a small portion of their user base, but you've got that wrong, morons. </p><p>Why? Because I'm this day and age people can band together and get noticed. And by threatening me by saying that you're going to terminate my account if I don't give you my phone number, that's a big mistake. And just because you've renamed yourselves meta doesn't mean jack shit. </p><p>Also... Your meta isn't as meta as you thought it was going to be, you know. You're going to need all the users that you can scrape up to populate your brave new world. And if you do this to enough people, a class action lawsuit will result. You'll be taken to court, and not by just one person defending themselves against you, but thousands. and our lawyers will match your lawyers in a heartbeat. And you will lose. even if this comes to head and doesn't go to court, the PR damage will be enough to ruin you. you'll be really sorry. I can just imagine a big fat boardroom shit-heel ssmoking a cigar and crying into an ashtray.</p><p>You cannot demand this kind of stuff from your customers. Not only is it morally wrong, it's simply despicable. It's a sign which rentals the vile structure supporting your company. Threatening to terminate my Facebook account means terminating my Oculus Quest 2 access. </p><p>If you bastard ass clowns think you can get away with strong armed techniques like this to force me to give up personal information, you've got a great big kick square in the nuts coming, right around the corner.</p><p>So... I DON'T GIVE A FLYING RATS' ASS IF YOU'RE A PUBLIC OR PRIVATE COMPANY. AND CLASS ACTION LAWSUIT OR NO, IT WON'T MATTER BECAUSE THE PR DAMAGE WILL BE IRREPARABLE. </p><p>DO YOU GUYS REALLY WANT TO RISK THAT? BECAUSE YOU AIN'T GETTING MY NONEXISTENT PHONE NUMBER. YOU MIGHT BE ABLE TO GET SOME OTHER PEOPLE TO GIVE YOU THEIRS, BUT NOT MINE. AND I'M NOT ALONE. I GUARANTEE YOU, IF YOU CUT OFF MY ACCESS TO MY QUEST 2 BY TERMINATING MY FACEBOOK ACCOUNT WHICH I'VE HAD SINCE 2008, YOU GUYS JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND THE SHITSTORM THAT WILL BE HEADED YOUR WAY. BECAUSE I WILL MAKE THE BIGGEST RUCKUS THAT ONE MAN CAN MAKE, AND IT WILL SPREAD. BECAUSE THIS IS WRONG, IT BRANDS YOU AS AN EVIL CORPORATION, AND YOU JUST MIGHT GET BOYCOTTED. YOU MAY BE A MULTI-BILLION DOLLAR COMPANY NOW, BUT BIGGER COMPANIES THAN YOURS HAVE FALLEN BECAUSE OF INFLATED EGOS AND HUBRIS. </p><p><br /></p><p>Again... ABOUT YOUR THREAT. MY PRIVACY IS MY CHOICE! I LIVE IN THE UNITED STATES, NOT BUM-FUCKED EGYPT. AND LIKE I SAID, REGARDLESS OF WHETHER OR NOT FACEBOOK IS PUBLICLY TRADED OR STILL PRIVATE, THAT WON'T MAKE A DAMN BIT OF DIFFERENCE WHENEVER THE BALL GETS ROLLING, WHENEVER I SPREAD THE NEWS ABOUT THIS BULLSHIT.</p><p>You guys are already recovering from some really bad PR by leaking all of that personal information from your customers, so threatening to terminate my account if I don't give you my phone number is tantamount to committing PR suicide. </p><p>SO... don't even try to pull this shit with me. You'll be sorry, and everyone else you try to pull this shit with is going to feel the same way, and eventually it's going to build up into a shitstorm that you guys do not want to be rolling down the avenue, ready to encapsulate every one of you in suffocating, stinking piles of legal sewage. </p><p>One last thing, you goddamn unfettered moronic retarded troglodytic mongoloids. If I receive another threat from you about cutting off my account because I won't give you a phone number that I don't have, I'm going to report this shit to every news source that I can. </p><p>You won't believe how many thousands of emails I will send out. And I'll try my damnedest to spread this story to the media. Other people will know about this. This is a ball of diarrhea you guys do not want me to build just for you, all wrapped up with a bow on top. I'm an American citizen, and I have a right to my privacy. You're a company and you provide a service, but you're evil, and that is bad PR. You'll wind up ruined and Google-Plus will take your place. How humiliating will that be? It's happened before. </p><p>It amazes me that evil of this magnitude exists in the world. You guys should be fucking ashamed.</p><p>DON'T FUCK WITH ME AGAIN. PUT ME IN FACEBOOK JAIL IF YOU WANT, I DON'T GIVE A SHIT. I'VE BEEN THERE A HUNDRED THOUSAND MILLION TIMES. HALF THE TIME I DON'T EVEN KNOW THAT I'M THERE, BECAUSE I POST WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT. AND YOU GUYS ALWAYS MISUNDERSTAND IT. IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE ALL STUPID STUPID TINY LITTLE PEOPLE. TINY STUPID PEOPLE WITH LOTS OF MONEY, WITH NO IDEA HOW TO BOLSTER YOUR PR, OR TO RUN A MULTI-BILLION DOLLAR CORPORATION WITHOUT THROWING ALL OF THAT MONEY AWAY BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO STUPID TO PUT IT ON THE TABLE NEXT TO THE STOVE AND NOT ON TOP OF THE GODDAMN BURNER. YOU RETARDED, STUPID STUPID PEOPLE.</p><p>Don't threaten me again. You won't receive a nonexistent phone number from me. You won't receive revenue from me because I own an Oculus Quest 2. I'll never buy another app from you guys. I'm one man, but revenue from one man down the drain can add up to revenue from a thousand people down the drain, then 100,000 people down the drain. </p><p>You've already got a lot of competition in the VR arena, so I wouldn't fuck it up like this. Because that's what you're doing, and that's where this will lead you toward. A big fuck up with your VR game, and other companies will be glad to take your place. Don't fuck it up. Don't fuck with ME. You have no idea what I'm capable of. And truthfully, I don't either... but I'm pretty sure we'll both find out, and this will all end in tears. </p><p>-Ash</p>Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-81350044491099647092022-06-10T04:11:00.003-05:002022-06-10T04:11:49.561-05:00Shuttle<p> The pictures:</p><p><br /></p><p>1. Parts of my X-Wing/space shuttle Columbia combination model. The ribbed structure on the fuselage will form the layer of insulation blanketing common to the shuttle Columbia and Discovery.</p><p><br /></p><p>2. The same parts of my model - front fuselage, cockpit, under-structure, and a 'stand in' canopy, roughly assembled.</p><p><br /></p><p>3. Photograph of the thermal blanketing visible on the side of the shuttle Discovery, which I am duplicating with the ribbed structure on my X-Wings' front fuselage. After sanding the ribbing down, I will apply layers of fabric medical tape to give it the look of the insulation blanket in the photo of the Discovery.</p><p><br /></p><p>Everything is rough, and needs refining. I'm not worried about detailing the cockpit perfectly because it will be covered by the canopy and won't be that visible.</p><p><br /></p><p>The canopy I've built in the photo is just for show, as I will have to design and custom build my own canopy to fit all of my modifications.</p>Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-44561850514415386722022-05-23T17:40:00.004-05:002022-10-18T11:28:43.473-05:00The Fartists<p>REGARDING MY BLESSING TO POSTERITY REGARDING MY UNCERTAIN FUTURE!</p><p>I OFFER TO THE ACADEMIC SOCIETY A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE COMMON FART! </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>If it is my destiny to go down in history as an aging, gaseous expulsion of methane... Let it be known that I prefer the term 'Vetus crepitu', better known colloquially as 'Ye Olden Fart', a title reserved for those with a lifetime of experience studying the 'Art of the Fart', for Fartists such as myself. For the sake of our future posterity, I offer another title reserved for those not yet wise in the way of the 'Ars Crepitu', that out 'Apprentice Flatulators'. Myself, I began my career in the Russian village of Borodino during the Napoleonic Wars as a 'Foedus Filii Pedit, or 'Journeyman Flatulator', and was instrumental in saving my Master, Cryssipus the Foul from the French assault which took place behind the redoubt of earthworks which forced the retreat of the Russian army and the wholesale destruction of Moscow.</p><p>I must admit was my idea to set the 7th Cossack Infantry to work in saturating the more volatile structures of the Russian capitol with the first use of widespread chemical warfare with the most unlikely of weapons - an entire brigade of methane excreting Cossack assholes, thus creating the circumstances which led to the destruction of two thirds of Moscow by 'Ignis Crepitu' or Fire Farts, thus depriving Napoleon of his prize, was my own idea. I received 'The Gold Silken Fart Saturated Seat Cushion' for my quick thinking, plus 'The Royal Brocade Of Her Lady Of The Holy Outgassing', which I presented to my lifelong suitor, who was later canonized as 'The Patron Saint Of The Ugly Stick'... and I'm a bachelor still, which was my plan all along! Clever of me, no? </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>HERE COMES A DIGRESSION!</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Perhaps I was hasty in my rash insinuation that all Fartists should be relegated merely to the rank of 'Fart Head'. A noble profession, but not applicable to all, as you have made clear. which is the original Latin description for a term which has changed drastically with the evolution of the English language across the eons. The Latin 'Crepitu', first referenced close to a thousand years ago by the Norsemen of Scandinavia in the Old English epic poem 'Beowulf', was a cautionary tale regarding the dangers of the constant boozing and farting around of an enclave of drunken, loudly shouting and farting Norsemen, which caused the 'unprovoked' attack by the 'monster' Grendel upon the kings' hall (as the story goes), prompting the scouring of the Northlands for a hero great enough to slay the beast named Grendel. This hero was, of course, Beowulf - kind of an anti-hero if you ask me. Some literary scholars even go so far as to call Beowulf out as, and I quote -</p><p>"Beowulf was an asshole of the highest order, second only possibly to Oedipus. Grendel on the other hand, was a tortured being born of the sins of his father through no fault of his own, and forced nightly to endure the constant partying of, yup - his FATHER, while also enduring the noises and varied stenches emanating from this certain meade hall, which made sleep practically impossible for poor Grendel. Grendel supposedly endured this torture for as long as any creature could be expected to until, sleep deprived and in agony (Grendel had a very sensitive eardrum, of which practically any noise above absolute silence caused him unendurable pain), one night - obviously hallucinating and possibly driven to madness, well - Grendel crashed his dads' party (at least once, possibly twice), uninvited (why was Grendel never invited to his own fathers' celebrations?) and acted on impulse - Grendel started fucking shit up." * (citation needed)</p><p>Yes, the argument can be made that Grendel possibly went a little overboard by biting the heads off of scores of drunken revelers and smashing flat a bar maiden or two, but Grendel was specifically forbidden to kill his own father, arguably the Biggest Douche Bag of his entire entourage! So, Grendel expressed some of his frustration by murdering a bunch of drunken idiots who probably needed to be culled from the gene pool anyway, and squashing some hysterical screaming meemies. And what did the king, Grendels' own FATHER do in response? Why, he nailed a want ad to every tree in the Northland Realm, stating this:</p><p>"EPIC HERO WANTED BY HIS MAJESTY OF 'THE KINGDOM OF THE MONSTER-FREE MEADE HALL' FOR SLAYING A MONSTER! GRENDEL IS HIS NAME, AND SO FAR HE HAS CRASHED ONE OR TWO OF MY PARTIES! HE ALSO HAS AN IRRITATING PENCHANT FOR BITING THE HEADS OFF OF THE LOUDEST, MOST ABRASIVE OF MY GUESTS AND SQUASHING MY WAITRESSES! KILL THIS THING, AND I'LL THROW IN THE QUEEN AND THE KEYS TO THE KINGDOM!" * (citation needed)</p><p>So this asshole of the highest order* (citation needed), this Beowulf character, hears about this want ad from, I dunno, LEAGUES away, and decides to answer it. After Beowulf shows up, of course a great party erupts in order to attract Grendel (what a bunch of assholes!). Well, Grendel shows up AGAIN, pissed off but ready to talk, it can be argued, as Grendel actually does talk this time... not that anyone was listening.</p><p>So imagine this. You've never had a single wink of sleep for your entire life! That's your problem. Now, put yourself in Grendels' shoes: wouldn't you just possibly, maybe, bite off somebody's head? Say, the nearest one that was howling? But Beowulf, obviously aware that Grendel can talk (he brags right to Grendels' face right before ripping his arm off), an asshole of the highest order*, (citation needed), sets about pretty much kicking Grendels' ass right from the get-go. </p><p>Picture this: here's Beowulf, a frikin HERO (why they made a narcissistic asshole the sole hero of the land is beyond me) who is obviously skilled in hand to hand combat! And how many times has Grendel actually been in a fight again? One, maybe two times? Anyway, Grendel may have size and strength, but he obviously hasn't been trained as a warrior by trade, nevermind as a HERO, and his mental faculties are obviously child-like. He cries, he pleads! As in, Grendel has quite likely not interacted with many other intelligent creatures, save his mother (who, by the way, qualifies as an iron-clad bitch of the highest order) during his short life. In fact, Grendel likely IS just a child!</p><p>Sure, Grendel deserves an appropriate punishment, considering that he has likely never been raised by a responsible parent, with the difference between right and wrong instilled in him since birth....</p><p>But what Grendel definitely does NOT deserve is to have his arm forcibly ripped - not sliced, RIPPED! Brutally! From his shoulder, which is of course exactly what Beowulf does to the poor creature. Perhaps, just perhaps... before issuing Grendels' death warrant, the king could have nailed a few want ads for an EPIC DIPLOMAT - as perhaps EPIC ASSHOLE, I mean, EPIC HERO, wasn't the best, first choice. If morality had actually played even a minor role in this story, that is.</p><p>Now... an EPIC NEGOTIATOR /(counselor?) could have solved this matter over a table, a few tankards of meade, and a guided back-and-forth father and son therapy session! Instead, this is what we get - a fat, drunken sluggard of a 'king', a few soused and rowdy Norsemen, a score or three or four screaming bar maidens, and a completely misunderstood 'monster' - I however prefer the term 'forest creature' or 'spelunker'. </p><p>Anyway. If diplomacy HAD been considered as another option, bringing the grand total of options all the way up to TWO, then all of the over the top, competely unnecessary, ultra-violent bloodshed which ensued, resulting in the humiliating death of Grendel - who was highly likely a one-of-a-kind creature, and probably the only example of his species in all of existence - then the chances that Grendel might NOT have suffered a humiliating death at the hands of the Penultimate Asshole, and one which was carried out with EXTREME PREJUDICE! Just might have decreased by up to 50%.</p><p>One can only feel sympathy for Grendel once the entire epic poem is taken into context. Like all Gods' creatures, Grendel was cranky - yes, cranky after a bad nights' sleep. And although Grendel did tend to go a little overboard by biting the heads off of many of the drunken howling revelers, and stomping screaming bar maidens flat (in Grendels' defense, all the howling and screaming was causing him excruciating pain), Grendel was still obviously capable of speaking and of being understood... if anyone had just shut the hell up for half a minute. Wouldn't his FATHER, at the very least, have known that Grendel posessed at least a modicum of intelligence? One would think that a king - nevermind a FATHER, but especially a wise king (assuming this king was wise, which is questionable) would have been able to piece together exactly what was happening, and why...</p><p>If only a little diplomacy had been pursued!</p><p>Instead, Grendel was not only subject to the cruel taunts of Beowulf (I mean, if absolutey any effort had been made by the king to, you know, shutting the hell up and LISTENING; possibly positing a question or two to his own SON instead of resorting immediately to hiring the first musclebound psychopath who answered his want ad, the king might have (it's possible!) sought the council of his advisors and actively elicited more than, you know... just ONE solution to the whole Grendel problem to which monster murder wasn't the only option. This meeting of SOBER minds which 'might have been', may have eventually resulted in a breakthrough of some kind - one which first proposed the dissemination of a much more reasonable ad, such as: </p><p>"ANY CHRISTIAN PRIESTS STILL IN THE REGION AND NOT MURDERED YET, THE KING OF THE LOCAL MEADE HALL IMPLORES YOU FOR HELP! IF IT PROVES POSSIBLE TO SUMMON YOUR GOD, THE MAN JESUS, PLEASE! WE REQUIRE YOUR SERVICES FOR THE PURPOSE OF EXORCISING A DEMON! OR AT LEAST CAN YOU USE YOUR EDUCATION TO FIND OUT WHAT'S BOTHERING IT SO WE CAN SOLVE THIS ISSUE LIKE MEN? AND MONSTER?"* (citation needed)</p><p>Ok, that was quite a long digression, but i've been meaning to get that off of my chest since high school English class.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>HERE COMES ANOTHER DIGRESSION!</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Going back to Latin, Old English and, of course, later appropriated as a valuable transition term from Middle English to Modern English by Geoffrey Chaucer some four to five hundred years after Old English began to evolve - specifically, from 1387 - 1400 in 'Tales of Canterbury' or, in Modern English, known simply as 'The Canterbury Tales' - this work is known as a pivotal piece of literature of the time, as it was written almost directly on the cusp of the transition from Middle English to Modern English. </p><p>As may be known to some, The Canterbury Tales is a series of twenty-four stories which comprise a 'story-telling contest' amongst a group of pilgrims journeying from London to Canterbury. The prize for the best tale is a golden dildo. However, what most scholars are NOT aware of is that there were actually twenty-five stories, with the twenty-fifth story consisting of three words - ferten, feorten, and farten (Middle English words meaning 'fart'). However, although these words were in fact uttered and submitted as the twenty-fifth story, known as 'The Fathers (Farters?) Tale', immediately after uttering these three words, The Father wrapped his four year old son amidst his voluminous robes, thus inflicting the first recorded instance of a 'Dutch Oven' being performed in public.</p><p>"The Father' (farter? It's never been clear) was unanimously voted the winner of the contest, and was awarded a cast iron Dutch Oven, much to the Fathers' chagrin. The golden dildo was awarded to 'The Handmaiden' for her tale of woe.</p><p>And now you know!</p><p>* The vast opinion of the author</p>Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-12065328559025792332022-05-01T08:33:00.005-05:002022-05-01T08:47:40.698-05:00Dinobirds<p> </p><p dir="ltr">Glen Holley:</p><p dir="ltr">I'm going to give you an example here, a comparison of words and ideas in order to clarify my point, as it exists in direct opposition to yours - with a strategy of changing your mind by presenting indisputable facts regarding the evolution of life on Earth for the past 4 billion years, starting mainly with The Cambrian Explosion, which saw the first complex, multicellular animals with organ systems - the amphibians and reptiles. And those guys are still kicking it, right? Kudos to them!</p><p dir="ltr">Now I want to bring up the great apes... Hominids, or more technically - Hominidae, which constitute two families of the great apes superfamily, Hominoidea. The other distinctive families of great apes are the Hylobatidae (gibbons). These two families of Hominidae include great apes such as orangutans (pongo), gorillas (gorilla), chimpanzees and bonobos (pan) and Homo Sapiens.</p><p dir="ltr">There, I hope that made sense to you. Just keep reading it until it does, if it doesn't.</p><p dir="ltr">Typically, this family of Hominidae is further classified into two more families, distinct from Hominoidea and Hylobatidae. One called Ponginae contains only the orangutan, and the other Hominidae consist of humans and the African great apes...</p><p dir="ltr">Although many hominids, including homo sapiens, bonobos, chimps, gorillas, and orangutans are considered to belong to the great apes family, none of these apes can viably reproduce with a human, or even from ponder species to another!</p><p dir="ltr">So the obvious conclusion here is that human beings, or Homo Sapiens are an entirely new and distinct form of great ape. In saying that, I'm making an extremely important distinction between humans and the other great apes, such as gorillas and chimps.</p><p dir="ltr">This is a very important observation, because it signifies the first MAJOR divergence in the families of apes, both lesser and great, since Austropilithicines was first discovered.</p><p dir="ltr">It would be a mistake to classify Homo Sapiens as closely related with our distant relative species, the great apes, because they are not the same species. They barely exist within the same family. I believe right underneath the family is the genus, and that's where most of the great apes reside individually. Hominidae is one of the families of great apes, and Ponginae is the other.</p><p dir="ltr">The reason why I'm talking about great apes, is because I'm using them as a direct comparison to the dinosaurs. At least the ones that survived. Now, I haven't reached the real detail regarding 'dinosaur survivability' just yet, but hey, just bear with me,k? I'll get there.</p><p dir="ltr">Firstly, so far:</p><p dir="ltr">Do you see the point I'm building up to? Let's look at things from a slightly different angle. Currently, today, there are four distinct families of apes, belonging to two superfamilies - Hominidae, the great apes and Ponginae, the lesser apes. Homo Sapiens belongs to the family Hominidae, or Hominid, along with the families, genus, and subspecies of great apes, consisting of about eight subspecies.</p><p dir="ltr">It should go without saying that none of the species or subspecies in either superfamily of apes, be it the great apes or the lesser apes, can mate with one another.</p><p dir="ltr">Therefore, they all belong to different species. This means that CURRENTLY, there are families of great apes which survive concurrently with the other species, such as the families of primates, and homo sapiens.</p><p dir="ltr">Now, a few paragraphs ago I made the distinction between Homo Sapiens and the great apes because Homo Sapiens has clearly evolved from great apes, and beyond, into something spectacular...</p><p dir="ltr">A life form invented by mother Earth, which then deposited us here upon her surface to do with it as we must in order to preserve life throughout the galaxy for the greater good, even at the sacrifice of the parent planet.</p><p dir="ltr">That simple concept is what makes Homo Sapiens completely special, and even the simplest single celled bacterium, because as far as we know, there is no other life in the universe. I'll admit it... that seems kind of unlikely that out of the trillions of galaxies and septillions of stars, only a few microbes have spontaneously created life from non-living matter, the way it happened here on Earth - as far as we know.</p><p dir="ltr">The answer to the question of 'where are all the aliens', is that there might be some kind of great filter which kills off alien species before they can get a chance to develop any real technology.</p><p dir="ltr">Or, and to me this is the much more likely scenario - life in this universe is incredibly rare. Think. Every single condition had to be met PERFECTLY for life to gain a foothold on Earth.</p><p dir="ltr"> 1. Our absolutely massive Moon. </p><p dir="ltr">The Earths' Moon is the largest in the solar system in relation to its' parent body. In fact, the Earth-Moon system is a double planet. As for the formation of the Moon... It is theorized that a Mars-sized planet named Theia collided a glancing blow to the Earth 4.5 billion years ago, and within a year, the moon had formed from the orbital debris, and the Earth was spinning far more quickly and was on its' way back to recovery. The importance of the Moon cannot be understated - the Moon keeps our axial tilt at precisely 23.5°, giving us the four seasons, and the Moon started the Earth spinning as a result of that ancient collision. It's theorized that some of the first single celled, extremely simple life forms likely formed spontaneously in tide-pools because of, you know... the Moon, and its' influence on the tides.</p><p dir="ltr">2. The Goldilocks Zone.</p><p dir="ltr">You've probably already heard of this, but there is a zone of habitability around our parent star, Sol, and given the right conditions of a planet forming inside this Goldilocks zone - a planet with a thick atmosphere and liquid water with complex chemistry occurring almost constantly - means that it's really not that unlikely of a scenario for an ideal planet for life to form in this region. As it stands, Venus is on the very inner edge of the habitable zone, and Mars is on the very outer edge. All three worlds had planet spanning oceans early in their histories. </p><p dir="ltr">How I would love to see those, just to go back a few billion years to see Venus covered in oceans with a comfortable temperature, and the same thing with Mars. But the Earth, who knows? It might still be in the middle of forming, with a molten lava surface. Likely though, it will have began to solidify and form plate tectonics between four and three and a half billion years ago, and over the eons, comets would have delivered most of Earth's water. Lightning storms could have provided catalysts for chemical reactions, specifically energetic reactions amongst the plentiful volatile elements which exist in the upper layers of the Earth's crust.</p><p dir="ltr">3. Jupiter, the Mega-Maid!</p><p dir="ltr">Ever since 1994 when Shoemaker-Levy 9 impacted Jupiter, it became clear that the extremely large planet was adept at deflecting objects away from the inner solar system - objects which could have posed a hazard to planet Earth over the eons. </p><p dir="ltr">Now, ever since that July day in 1994 whenever we saw a comet slam into Jupiter, we've actually witnessed another one. That's two comets that Jupiter has sucked up within two decades. So, in order for life to survive, it needs to be stable environment. The Sun has been unusually stable throughout almost all of its history, and the Giant, massive outer planets have served to keep the solar system nice and tidy so that a dinosaur killer only occurs once every 100 million years or so.</p><p dir="ltr">4. Water, Amino acids, hydrothermal vents, phosphorus for food, and no oxygen to speak of.</p><p dir="ltr">This was the way it was on Earth for a billion or so years. Unicellular life had already evolved deep underneath the ocean near hydrothermic vents where nutritious materials and metals were being spewed out - materials which the single-celled bacteria used to convert to chemical energy. Then green algae evolved, one of the first plants, and over the next billion or so years again, first the oceans were saturated with oxygen, and then the atmosphere. </p><p dir="ltr">It proved extremely deadly to all pre-existing life, but to all life that was to come, the oxygen was absolutely necessary. Not just to breathe, but ozone is an oxygen molecule which blocks harmful UV rays from Sol. </p><p dir="ltr">And here are the four specific amino acids, which can come together in orders of three to form the four types of nitrogen bases found in nucleotides: </p><p dir="ltr">Adenine (A)</p><p dir="ltr">Thymine (T)</p><p dir="ltr">Guanine (G)</p><p dir="ltr">Cytosine (C)</p><p dir="ltr">These four amino acids will only combine 3 amino acids at a time, forming the 'ladder steps' of an RNA molecule or a DNA double helix molecule. It's not difficult to understand, but understanding exactly what code you're looking at can be daunting.</p><p dir="ltr">5. Spontaneous generation?</p><p dir="ltr">For a long time, mostly before doctors thought it was good idea to wash their hands, it was widely believed that maggots formed on rotting meat by way of spontaneously generating from nothing at all. </p><p dir="ltr">Ironically, this is very much likely to be the truth of how life got its' first start here on Earth. Just some incredibly lucky event - a quadrillion to one against chance led to the organization of the DNA double helix molecule and stored it as chromosomes in the nucleus of every single cell of every single and/or multicellular creature. </p><p dir="ltr">The odds of life spontaneously arising from dead matter are so staggeringly low, it is hard to believe it, or even give it its' fair due. What we DO know is that whenever life started on Earth, it started almost as soon as it was able to - It started about 4 billion years ago, when the surface of the Earth was still mostly molten.</p><p dir="ltr">This is such a gigantic 'fuck you' to the second law of thermodynamics, that codons of amino acids can just 'self organize' into more amino acids, which in turn form the specialized proteins which function by storing genetic information in the nucleus of each cell as molecules of tremendously complex design, that one really does begin to wonder about intelligent design, or panspermia at the very least. Because the alternative means that it's EASY for order to stomp a mudhole right in entropys' ass, and that should not be the case! Just check the 2nd law of thermodynamics! It's INSANE!</p><p dir="ltr">The only conclusion left to draw here is that we, the intelligent life which formed of Planet Earth, are EXTREMELY lucky, and hold a great burden of responsibility - to ensure the survival of life throughout the Milky Way. And the indisputable fact remains that the spontaneous formation of RNA and DNA base pairs, equipped with ribosomes for cutting the double helix DNA molecule, then putting it back together correctly but BACKWARD, suggests a level of complexity here which absolutely should not be allowed to exist because it basically gives a double middle finger to the 2nd law of thermodynamics. Oh yeah, and it screws the 3rd law of thermodynamics too, which states that a system containing and doing work heat MUST lose that heat to entropy until the temperature of that body is absolute zero, which my lovelies, just ain't possible to make anything that cold!</p><p dir="ltr">aBck from the digression...</p><p dir="ltr"> Over the past several million years, it had been nigh on impossible to discover, extract, and examine ancient Hominid fossils which could provide an absolute proof of 'The Missing Link'. Therefore, it would be folly to make a discovery of a brand new Hominid, then lump it under the old taxonomy of the great or lesser apes.</p><p dir="ltr">Now! Fun! </p><p dir="ltr">Answer me this question if you can. You say that all birds are dinosaurs. Oh, and just to hell with 65 million years of evolution, because screw all that - that would mean that the surviving dinosaurs may have had a really really good chance of evolving into a completely different and unique animal. You know, like a bird? One that flies? You tell me. </p><p dir="ltr">Were there any dinosaurs that flew? I'm not talking about pterodactyls, they weren't dinosaurs. I'm not talking about the archeopteryx, that was merely a precursor to a modern bird which happened to have its feathers fossilized very neatly.</p><p dir="ltr">So, according to your theory, the dinosaurs didn't have any kind of problem surviving an impact that would have changed the coastlines forever, sent up billions of tons of mantle material which over the next following few days, would re-enter the atmosphere, heating it up to about 600° all the way to the surface, killing just about everything that was too large to find shelter. 75% of all life on Earth was extinguished because of the KT impactor.</p><p dir="ltr">But you're telling me that the dinosaurs survived. Okay, I can dig SOME of that, a teensy PART it. Maybe they did survive for a little while. Maybe they flourished, after the Earth had cleared its atmosphere, established new food chains, repaired the biosphere, and prepared itself for a lower oxygen content by about 10%, so that warm blooded mammals could flourish. And dinosaurs, those guys were warm-blooded. You do know that, right? I sure hope so!</p><p dir="ltr">So anyway, after this impactor which wiped out 75% of all life on Earth, mainly on land, had set the atmosphere on fire for days, where merely standing outside would get you baked at 600 degrees because of all the in falling ejected material heating up the atmosphere as it succumbed to gravity, somehow 25% of life on Earth was left pretty much alone. </p><p dir="ltr">Probably the marine life, some hardy plants, some hairy rats, and a few very small dinosaurs - think, procompsignathus - which either already had feathers but almost certainly couldn't fly, or didn't have feathers at all, removing them even further from modern birds.</p><p dir="ltr">But dinosaurs already had feathers, I think.... but that doesn't mean that birds are dinosaurs, though. Look at that fuckin' ugly son of a bitch, the platypus. What the hell is that thing? It has hair, like a mammal, it has a bill like a bird or a duck, it has venom in its rear claws, it has a tail like a nutria rat, and it lays eggs! So tell me. What the fuck is a platypus? Don't you dare call it a dinosaur. </p><p dir="ltr">However, the platypus actually DOES exist, beyond all that is good and holy. It does no guys any good to wonder about this abomination. Just don't say it's a dinosaur!</p><p dir="ltr">I'll say ponder some thing about it... Ponder what it AIN'T. It sure ain't something that survived the KT impact 65 million years ago. I mean it's obvious this thing evolved over the next 65 million years, up until today.</p><p dir="ltr">So, we're forced to observe the platypus and recognize its existence. It doesn't fit neatly into any taxonomical category, except maybe mammals because the thing has more hair than it has of anything else.</p><p dir="ltr">So, now that I've pointed out the completely fucked up enigma of the platypus, what is that thing anyway? A dinosaur? Is the platypus a dinosaur? See, I ain't even gonna Google it. I want you to answer for the platypus! It has some things in common with birds, like laying eggs, being warm blooded, and even having a nice fancy duck bill. I'll bet you do think that this THING is a dinosaur, don't you? Hell, humans have more in common with birds than a platypus! Therefore, humans are more likely to be descended from dinosaurs. Correct?</p><p dir="ltr">Let's dive deep into a dinosaurs' cloaca, shall we?</p><p dir="ltr">The Taxonomy of Dinosaurs</p><p dir="ltr">The two main orders of dinosaurs are Saurischia and Ornithischia, based on their hip structure. These divisions have proved remarkably enduring, even through several seismic changes in the taxonomy of dinosaurs.</p><p dir="ltr">Benton classification</p><p dir="ltr">As most dinosaur paleontologists have advocated a shift away from traditional, ranked taxonomy in favor of phylogenetic systems, few taxonomies of dinosaurs have been published since the 1980s. The following is among the most recent, from the third edition of Vertebrate Palaeontology. The classification has been updated from the second edition in 2000 to reflect new research, but remains fundamentally conservative.</p><p dir="ltr">Michael Benton classifies all dinosaurs within the Series Amniota, Class Sauropsida, Subclass Diapsida, Infraclass Archosauromorpha, Division Archosauria, Subdivision Avemetatarsalia, Infradivision Ornithodira, and Superorder Dinosauria. Dinosauria is then divided into the two traditional orders, Saurischia and Ornithischia. </p><p dir="ltr">.</p><p dir="ltr">.</p><p dir="ltr">.</p><p dir="ltr">READ THIS ABOUT THE DAGGER!</p><p dir="ltr">The dagger (†) is used to indicate taxa with no living members.</p><p dir="ltr">READ THIS ABOUT THE DAGGER!</p><p dir="ltr">.</p><p dir="ltr">.</p><p dir="ltr">.</p><p dir="ltr">Order Saurischia</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Suborder Theropoda</p><p dir="ltr">†Inftaorder Herrerasauria</p><p dir="ltr">†Infraorder Coelophysoidea</p><p dir="ltr">†Infraorder Ceratosauria+</p><p dir="ltr">†Division Neoceratosauria+</p><p dir="ltr">†Subdivision Abelisauroidea</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Abelisauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Noasauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Subdivision Ceratosauridae</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Infraorder Tetanurae</p><p dir="ltr">†Division Megalosauria</p><p dir="ltr">†Subdivision Spinosauroidea</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Megalosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Spinosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Division Carnosauria</p><p dir="ltr">†Subdivision Allosauroidea</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Allosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Carcharodontosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Neovenatoridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Metriacanthosauridae</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Division Coelurosauria</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Coeluridae</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Subdivision Maniraptoriformes</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Tyrannosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Ornithomimidae</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Infradivision Maniraptora</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Alvarezsauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Therizinosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Cohort Deinonychosauria</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Troodontidae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Dromaeosauridae</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Class Aves</p><p dir="ltr">†Suborder Sauropodomorpha</p><p dir="ltr">†Thecodontosaurus</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Plateosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Riojasaurus</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Massospondylidae</p><p dir="ltr">†Infraorder Sauropoda</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Vulcanodontidae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Omeisauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Division Neosauropoda</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Cetiosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Diplodocidae</p><p dir="ltr">†Subdivision Macronaria</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Camarasauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Infradivision Titanosauriformes</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Brachiosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Cohort Somphospondyli</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Euhelopodidae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Titanosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Order Ornithischia Ornithischia pelvis structure.svg</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Pisanosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Fabrosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Suborder Thyreophora</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Scelidosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Infraorder Stegosauria</p><p dir="ltr">†Infraorder Ankylosauria</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Nodosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Ankylosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Suborder Cerapoda</p><p dir="ltr">†Infraorder Pachycephalosauria</p><p dir="ltr">†Infraorder Ceratopsia</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Psittacosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Protoceratopsidae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Ceratopsidae</p><p dir="ltr">†Infraorder Ornithopoda</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Heterodontosauridae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Hypsilophodontidae</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Iguanodontidae *</p><p dir="ltr">†Family Hadrosauridae</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">READ THIS ABOUT THE DAGGER!</p><p dir="ltr">The dagger (†) is used to indicate taxa with no living members.</p><p dir="ltr">READ THIS ABOUT THE DAGGER!</p><p dir="ltr">Wow, look at all of those daggers... or are they crosses? Nah, they're daggers. They symbolize the murder of the entire taxonomy of every dinosaur KNOWN to be alive and existing before the KT impact.</p><p dir="ltr">Too bad, really... there's not a single living dinosaur listed in this most comprehensive taxonomy.</p><p dir="ltr">Well, there it is. Some kind of taxonomy for dead dinos. All that is supposedly the taxonomy of all of the dinosaurs from the Cambrian Explosion, throughout the Ordovician Era, all through The Triassic Era, spending The Boring Billion building up the O2 and ozone by photosynthesizing green algae in the atmosphere, then on through The Jurassic Era, right up to the Cretaceous Era - at which point the Cretacious-Tertiary boundary occurs in the geologic strata, delineated by a black layer with abundant fossils underneath, and barely any above. </p><p dir="ltr">The black layer means a shitload of dead dinos, burnt to a crisp.</p><p dir="ltr">An extinction event is obvious, and once the Chixiclub crater had been confirmed by very slight fluctuations of gravity at ground zero, where mantle material must have been squashed to unreal densities and thus forming the caldera of the crater and explaining the gravitational anomalies detected by satellites, the Chixiclub crater was finally made clear.</p><p dir="ltr">There. The smoking gun that roasted every land animal that was too large to escape underground, or wasn't suited for survival in the oceans. Thus, the dinosaurs were pushed out of the spotlight. It was the turn of the small greasy pestilent ridden mammals that hid in filthy, musty holes in the ground. And whatever poor chickens... I mean dinosaurs that they felt sorry for.</p><p dir="ltr">NOT!</p><p dir="ltr">That an extinction event occurred 65 million years ago is now obvious, and once the presence of the Chixiclub crater had been confirmed by very slight fluctuations of gravity at ground zero, where mantle material must have been compressed enormously by the asteroid impact, the outer ring of the crater was discovered via detection of anomolous distributions of gravity which persist around the rim of the crater to this day.</p><p dir="ltr">Now, here's a nicely rounded taxonomy for birds too. For fun, compare it to the one up there for dinosaurs:</p><p dir="ltr">(NOTICE HOW THE BIRDS LISTED ARE TOTALLY NOT EXTINCT, AND THERE'S NO SIGN OF DINOSAUR ANYWHERE)</p><p dir="ltr">.</p><p dir="ltr">.</p><p dir="ltr">. </p><p dir="ltr">Kingdom: Animalia </p><p dir="ltr">Taxonomic Rank: Class</p><p dir="ltr">Common Name(s):Birds [English]</p><p dir="ltr">Taxonomic Status:</p><p dir="ltr">Current standing: Valid</p><p dir="ltr">Data Quality Indicators:</p><p dir="ltr">Record Credibility Rating: Verified - standards met </p><p dir="ltr">Global Species Completeness: Latest Record Review: 2013 </p><p dir="ltr">Taxonomic Hierarchy:</p><p dir="ltr">Kingdom: Animalia </p><p dir="ltr">Subkingdom: Bilateria Infrakingdom: Deuterostomia</p><p dir="ltr">Phylum: Chordata, Chordates</p><p dir="ltr">Subphylum: Vertebrata Infraphylum: Gnathostomata</p><p dir="ltr">Superclass: Tetrapoda</p><p dir="ltr">Class: Aves, birds</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Direct Children:</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Accipitriformes - hawks</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Anderiformes - waterfoul</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Apodiformes - swifts</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Apterygiformes - kiwis</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Bucerotiformes - hornbills</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Caprimulgiformes</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Cariamiformes</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Causuariiform - emus</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Charadriiformes - gulls</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Ciconiiformes - storks</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Coliiformes - Colies</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Columbiforme - doves </p><p dir="ltr">Order: Coraciiformes - Kingfishers</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Cuculigormes - cuckoos</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Eurypygformes - falcons</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Falconiforme - falcons</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Galliformes - field</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Gaviiformes - loons</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Gruiformes - cranes </p><p dir="ltr">Order: Leptosomiformes - roller</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Mesitornithiformes</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Musophagiformes</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Nyctibiiformes</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Opisthocomiformes </p><p dir="ltr">Order: Otidiformes</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Passeriformes - perchers</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Pelecaniformes - herons</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Phaethontiformes</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Phoenicopteriformes – Flamingos</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Piciformes – eoodpeckers</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Podicipediformes – grebes</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Procellariiformes - albatross</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Psittaciformes – Parrots</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Pteroclidiformes – Sandgrouse </p><p dir="ltr">Order: Rheiformes - Rheas </p><p dir="ltr">Order: Sphenisciformes - penguins </p><p dir="ltr">Order: Steatornithiformes - owls</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Strigiformes - owls</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Struthioniformes - ostrich</p><p dir="ltr">Order: Suliformes – cormorants </p><p dir="ltr">Order: Tinamigormes - tinamous </p><p dir="ltr">Order: Trogoniformes - trogons </p><p dir="ltr">Ok, there. A fairly complete taxonomy of birds down to the major orders. How's does it compare to the dinosaur taxonomy chart? Home run? Close, but no banana?</p><p dir="ltr">I've mentioned the Dinosaur Killer, the 6 mile wide asteroid which impacted the Chixiclub basin, just North of the Yucatan peninsula of Mexico, and mostly impacting completely over the shallow waters of the Gulf of Mexico about 65 million years ago, largely stomping out practically ALL dinosaurs bigger than a breadbox.</p><p dir="ltr">We know this K-T boundary located in the strata was laid down by a massive impactor because of its' location, which matches radio isotope dating which lines up to about 65 million years ago... and also, the ratios of iridium isotopes, which are extremely rare on Earth but are relatively abundant in nickel-iron and carbonaceous chondrite asteroids, is found imbedded in the KT boundary, providing literal proof that the KT boundary wasn't caused by volcanism or climate change or a supernova or a hands ray burst, for Gods'sake... It was caused by an iridium-rich nickel iron or carbonacious contrite asteroid.</p><p dir="ltr">So. Is it the feathers that make the dinosaur? Is that it really? Is that what's got your underwear in dire need of rescuing, the fact that a lot of dinosaurs had feathers? And that. It's a relatively new PR piece? Not to mention more accurate visual data for how dinosaurs actually looked? And here we are 65 million years later, and there sure are a shitload of creatures with feathers. Are they ALL dinosaurs??</p><p dir="ltr">Surely not every one of our fine feathered friends is a dinosaur! I mean, there have been cases of multiple evolutionary parts which were completely unrelated yet LED too the same function, over and over. Take the eye, for instance. That thing had evolved independently more often than feathers I'll wager, but I'll also easy that feathers also evolved multiple times, independently from ponder feathered animal to another.</p><p dir="ltr">The ones that are the most familiar to us, well, we call those birds, mind you, not dinosaurs. I mean, a case can be made for their very distant relation to dinosaurs, MAYBE, but it ain't a no-brainer like you make it out to be, for the love of Pete!</p><p dir="ltr">So the burden of proof exists with you, by proving that birds really are descended from God's own dinosaurs that survived the KT impact 65 million years ago. According to you, birds are exactly the same thing as dinosaurs. But are dinosaurs exactly the same thing as birds? It's not a trivial question. 65 million years ago, the largest mammal was about the size of a rat. </p><p dir="ltr">65 million years is an immense amount of time for evolution to take place, and during that time, the first primates (monkeys) and then the first great apes appeared, until Homo Sapiens had evolved to a point as to being physically indistinguishable from us today, going back 200,000 years. </p><p dir="ltr">The only difference between a Cro-Magnon and a modern Homo Sapiens is their culture. Before that, we had homo erectus, who was known to use tools and fire, but had a much smaller cranial capacity of about 300 square centimeters, and died out around a million years ago. Then there was homo neanderthalensis, the closest relative to modern humans which existed side by side with the Cro-Magnon people as soon as 40,000 years ago. </p><p dir="ltr">It's believed that cro-magnons and homo neanderthalinsis could procreate, but unfortunately the Neanderthals went extinct when the ice sheets in France melted. It truly is unfortunate, because neanderthals had an exceptional cranial capacity, rivaling cro-magnons. That's about 1200 sq cm for a neanderthal, compared to about 1400 sq cm for a modern human. </p><p dir="ltr">Then there's the Austropilithicines, an interesting footnote: who were among the first great apes who stood upright. These great apes have long been debated to have been our first definite lineage of ancestors, and one found in Africa was named Lucy and was carbon dated as being the oldest hominid fossil ever discovered. </p><p dir="ltr">A lot of people began referring to Lucy as Eve, being female, and the oldest example of a fossil which might be related to modern humans. Still, these apes went extinct about 2 million years ago.</p><p dir="ltr">LET'S RECAP! </p><p dir="ltr">So you can call a gorilla a great ape, and a human being a great ape, but you can't call a human being a gorilla. Now listen carefully. According to your logic, which isn't entirely misplaced, you can call birds dinosaurs ubiquitously, but you can't refer to all dinosaurs as birds. </p><p dir="ltr">There's a stupid upshot here, one that requires critical thinking and a willingness NOT to be wildly ignorant. I know, a tall order. Personally though, I'd rather be right than wrong. And since I'm not disagreeing with you 100% - I'm disagreeing with what seems a reckless bit of ubiquitousness naivety on your part - I'm still willing to be convinced, if you can convince me.</p><p dir="ltr">Still, the fact remains that you are simply ignoring 65 million years of evolution! Where is your evidence that modern-day dinosaurs, or the birds descended from dinosaurs, would be able to procreate with their ancient brethren? Even if the offspring was sterile? When does a dinosaur stop being a dinosaur, 65 million years later?</p><p dir="ltr">Want me to provide some good hard evidence just like the kind I asked for from you, right this second? Ok.</p><p dir="ltr">One more thing. Monkeys. Monkeys are, of course, primates, but they are not great apes. However, they are related to great apes, and that relation also extends to humans, but more distantly. However, it's one which saw monkeys split from great apes millions of years ago, which gave rise to the great apes we know today, including us. </p><p dir="ltr">But it is a grand mistake to call a human being a monkey, because humans are not monkeys. Gorillas are not monkeys, either. They all have a common ancestry, though. See how you can take yourself up in the midst of your fervor, even if cold hard evidence begins to wear down on you? Why would you want that?</p><p dir="ltr">Now, I do believe birds, at least some of them, are descended from some of the smaller, hardier dinosaurs which were able to survive the KT impact. However, a lot of evolution can take place over 65 million years. Just up and saying that all birds are dinosaurs is a logical fallacy and really is irresponsible. </p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p>Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-20983707344309292582021-06-11T19:25:00.007-05:002021-09-14T19:07:18.450-05:00The Story of what's his face. <p><br /></p><p>I had something similar happen to me whenever I was the second shift supervisor at a privately owned 7-Eleven franchise store. I had started working there in December of 2007, and by the summer of 2008, back whenever the store was still corporate, I was chosen to be trained for management because I was making a good impression, and was being noticed. I was asked if I wanted to be trained for management, and when I replied in the positive, I was sent to... and I shit you not... real live 7-Eleven University! Yes, there is really such a place. A 7-Eleven University where they send management trainees. I of course graduated, and I was the assistant manager of that particular 7-Eleven for about a year and a half.</p><p>Then, in the winter of 2010, the store was sold to a private owner as a franchise, and I was fired on the spot by the new owner from my job as assistant manager, along with about 90% of the employees who worked there, so he could hire his own fresh batch of brand new employees. </p><p>Another year passed while I collected unemployment, and I guess the new owner decided that he had possibly made a mistake when he had fired almost every single person on the spot who knew a damn thing about how to work at a 7-Eleven, so he offered to hire myself and the other assistant manager back, and we agreed to come back.</p><p>However, he wouldn't let us perform any of the management duties we had both been trained to do. The new owner was actually a really great guy, but he was very, VERY adamant about running the management part of the store by himself. Nobody else was allowed to do the books, make the cash drops, reconcile the inventory with the manifests - he did almost everything himself, except eventually for ordering product. After a couple of months the work was just too much for him so he relented, and allowed me, the other assistant manager who had been rehired, and a couple of other employees to do most of the ordering. </p><p>While my new title was second shift supervisor, and I was making the same amount as I had been making as a REAL assistant manager, my new role had become basically Captain of the Cooler. I was in charge of ordering everything in the cooler, making sure it was always stocked, and keeping it tidy. Otherwise, that place became a chaotic mess in no time!</p><p>Over the next several years I continued working as the second shift supervisor, ordering all of the alcohol and soft drinks and dairy that go in the cooler... and as for my second shift supervisor job title, it really didn't mean anything. </p><p>Technically I was in charge, but I didn't throw my weight around. I helped out new hires, showed them how to do their jobs, made sure that the drawers were counted at the end of each shift, did the shift reports, and since I was pretty much the highest ranking guy there (the other assistant manager had since left for another job), I was also the go-to guy to cover for anybody who didn't show up for their shift. That meant lots of overtime, and even in a franchise store, there are laws to enforce that kind of overtime whenever it is demanded of you. The owner hated having to pay overtime though.</p><p>And I worked a shit ton of double shifts, because third shift is the most hated shift at a 7-Eleven, and about a quarter of the time employees just wouldn't show up! Third shift had the highest turnover rate, and I was constantly working double, 16 hour shifts - my shift, which was from 2:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m., and then third shift to cover for whoever didn't show up, from 10:00 p.m. to whatever time the owner decided to show up. </p><p>Many times I worked until 9:00 or 10:00 a.m., especially on truck nights... because one person on third shift simply cannot check in all of the product deliveries, both from the main trucks and from CDC which supplied all of our fresh food, plus perform all of the other third shift duties such as cleaning the entire store - including scrubbing down the grill every night, doing all of the paperwork that came with the CDC order every night and the main truck orders which were delivered twice a week, as well as getting the breakfast rush ready by setting the grill up and loading it up with breakfast items, and cleaning all of the coffee pots and the cappuccino machine and making fresh coffee...</p><p>There was a shitload of work to do on third shift, and these were all duties that had to be performed every night, by one person, because the owner wouldn't schedule two people for third shift. That's why so many people either quit, or just didn't show up to work. The owner was a great guy, and I'm sure he still is, but what can I say. He was a cheapskate whenever I worked for him. </p><p>I worked at that particular 7-Eleven for 10 years, until 2018, and other than the raises that corporate gave me when it was still a corporate store, I got one $0.20 raise by the new owner over an 8-year period. And looking back at that, I'm baffled. Anybody else would have asked for at least a couple more raises, but I just never did. I didn't want to put the financial pressure on the new owner, because I was developing a personal relationship with him and his family, and I cared about them.</p><p>Here's a piece of advice - don't let yourself get personally or emotionally involved with your boss and his family, ever!</p><p>Now, everything I've just told is merely history and really doesn't matter when it comes to the main story, except to establish myself as the longest working employee at that store, the highest 'ranking' employee at that store, as the only employee with an actual job title at that store, which was second shift supervisor, and to demonstrate my work ethic over the course of more than a decade at probably the most shit job you can work at for such a long period of time.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Now comes the fun part of the story! In the summer of 2016, the owner hired a new employee. Let's call him Simon. At first, Simon was a really easy person to get along with. He was very nice, he was always giving compliments to EVERYONE, he always doing altruistic things like sharing his lottery winnings whenever he won something substantial on a scratch off, and he would actually volunteer sometimes to help me out and take up some slack that I was always getting stuck with, such as covering for workers who either called in, or just flat out didn't show up to work. On third shift, that was extremely common. Simon did his job really well.</p><p>At first Simon and I got along really well, too. Hell, Simon got along well with everyone, it seemed. I visited his apartment several times, and we would habitually trade our favorite science fiction and fantasy novels, as we were both avid readers and fans of the genres. </p><p>I didn't start getting a real clue about who Simon really was until one night after work, when he and I were spending some time together at his apartment, having a few drinks. We talked about a lot of things, but as we kept drinking, the topics started to become a little more, well, controversial, I guess. At this particular time, the topic had turned to abortion. I was against it, he was for it.</p><p>The conversation became an argument. I was adamant about my position, and so was he, and I spent a lot of time trying to explain why I thought abortion was so completely wrong, and even tantamount to murder. Until this point neither of us had raised our voices, but as Simon began to become frustrated, he started raising his voice. </p><p>I kept asking him to calm down, and that there was no need to shout. He would chill out for a while, but then he would inevitably begin to raise his voice again. Eventually, he was screaming at me at the top of his lungs! I'm sure he woke up the neighbors, who probably had to listen to him screaming, as this went on for about 15 minutes. </p><p>The only time I ever raised my voice that night was to be heard over him, and to ask him to lower his voice. I finally just grew weary of the entire situation. We were both drunk, I was getting tired and sleepy, and as he was screaming at me at full volume, I abruptly stood up, picked up the books that he had laid out for me to borrow, left mine on his coffee table, and said:</p><p>"Sorry Simon, but I'm not going to continue with this. I'll see you at work tomorrow. Thanks for lending me the books!"</p><p>I left his apartment and went home. That was the first volley of what eventually would become nuclear combat, toe to toe between the two of us.</p><p>The next day, Simon demanded his books back from me. So, after the shift, I went home and got them and brought them to him. When I asked him for my books back, he made up some kind of excuse about having to go see his girlfriend for something. </p><p>I asked him several times for my books after that, but he would always say that he had forgotten them, or he would leave immediately when the shift ended so that I couldn't bring it up. I never got my books back.</p><p>As the weeks went by, Simon became more and more passive aggressive, until his personality toward me had changed to one of genuine dislike. We never had friendly conversations anymore, and when we did talk, it was only about our job duties. </p><p>I even tried to apologize to him for that one night when we had the argument about abortion, even though I hadn't been the one doing the screaming... but that turned out to be a big mistake. The fact that I had actually apologized infuriated him for some reason, and he began screaming at me again! As soon as that started, I walked outside and just left him in the store while I smoked a cigarette.</p><p>That was the second volley.</p><p>As the weeks turned to months, I began to suspect that Simon was a flat out narcissist, and possibly a con artist with his always available charm, which he could turn on and off at a whim depending on who he was associating with. I even began to suspect that he could be a psychopath. Statistically, one out of every 100 people on the planet is a psychopath, so the chances that I've run across a few during my life, or that anybody has run across at least one psychopath during their lives, is pretty much guaranteed. </p><p>In my mind, as time went on, I began to suspect more and more, merely by observing how Simon interacted with particular people and how his attitude, his friendliness, his charm, his anger, and even his assumed mantle of authority - which I'll get to in a minute - changed, depending on who he was talking to. He was seeming to be more and more like a manipulative bastard.</p><p>Simon and I worked together on second shift together for about a year, and at the end of that year, I was absolutely convinced that Simon definitely had some kind of personality disorder. It was becoming easier and easier to tell when he was just flat out lying about something, or bragging about something that had never happened in order to impress people. The simple 180° change in his personality toward me, along with several other of my co-workers, told us that there was definitely something wrong with Simon upstairs. </p><p>I'm not a psychologist or psychiatrist, but I'm such an avid reader that I know anywhere from 'just a little' to 'quite a bit' about just about any topic that's thrown my way, as I've read anywhere from 'just a little' to 'quite a bit' about almost everything, especially the sciences. </p><p>So it was that, according to my layman's knowledge, it seemed likely to me that Simon was possibly exhibiting narcissist, codependent, borderline personality, and possibly even sociopathic and psychopathic behavior. Looking back on it now, I'm fairly positive that Simon was a narcissist, and there's a good chance that he was also a psychopath.</p><p>I didn't come to these conclusions all at once; it was a gradual kind of coalescence of my idea of Simon based upon his erratic behavior over the course of a year spent working with him, dealing with him, watching his behavior, and coming to understand how he operated with his put on charms and his subtle manipulations of people.</p><p>As I've already mentioned, Simon worked at that 7-Eleven for about a year, in total. Then something inexplicable happened - near the end of his year of employment, Simon just up and promoted himself to store supervisor! This wasn't any kind of title which was given to him by the owner, it was just something that Simon had made up!</p><p>With his newly self bestowed title, Simon began to try ordering me and other coworkers around. When he pulled that shit with me, I just ignored him as if I hadn't heard what he'd said at all. When he pulled that shit with our coworkers, they always turned to look at me after receiving some kind of order from Simon. If what Simon was suggesting was legit, I'd just nod my head. If Simon was truly being an astronomical douchebag, I'd say:</p><p><br /></p><p>"You don't have to listen to Simon, he doesn't have any authority over you." </p><p>After I had completely negated Simon's presumed, self-promotion several times, well...</p><p>That was the third conventional volley, and Nuclear combat inevitably ensued. What follows is a detailed description of the events which triggered and all out nuclear exchange between Simon and myself. </p><p>One night, Simon and I were working together as always, and I turned down a customer who was wanting to purchase cigarettes, because his ID was obviously fake. The customer then went to Simons' register and showed him his fake ID, and Simon turned around to get the cigarettes for the customer.</p><p>"DON'T YOU DO IT!" I said loudly to Simon.</p><p>That's the only time I ever raised my voice to almost a shout at Simon. It's the only time, the one single time, that I ever pulled rank on him. Simon was so shocked to hear me ORDER him not to sell cigarettes to that customer, that he quietly turned around, put the cigarettes back on the rack, and told the customer that he couldn't sell him cigarettes.</p><p>Things were silent between Simon and myself for about an hour after that, and then Simon started talking. I don't remember exactly what he was talking about, as he was mainly just bitching and moaning. Then he started complaining about what had happened, and how I shouldn't have ordered him not to sell cigarettes. </p><p>I replied very simply to Simon occasionally, but mostly I just ignored him entirely. As time passed, Simon began to bitch more and more about what had happened. He would not shut up about it! Eventually, he was screaming at me again. And this is when EVERYTHING exploded:</p><p>Simon: "And another thing. How DARE you try to order me around whenever I'm your superior! You're not the supervisor here, I am!" </p><p>WHAT. THE. FUCK. Okay, I'd held back for a long time. I'd kept my nukes in storage, very patiently... but now it was time for Nuclear Combat.</p><p>Me: "Simon, I don't know where the hell you got the delusional idea that you're the supervisor of this store. What's amazing to me is the possibility, due to some kind of malfunction in your misfiring neurons, that you might even believe that it's true! If that's the case then I have some bad news for you, Simon. Call it a Reality Check. Be sure to store this information in a part of your brain that's not malfunctioning, for future reference, because here it is. Simon, if there's anybody in charge around here while the owner is gone, it's me. I've worked here for 8 years. You've worked here for almost a year. Based simply on the amount of time I've worked here compared to you, I have rank over you, plain and simple. I have rank over everybody in the store, except for the owner. You can ask him about that, because he gave me that authority when he hired me. Several years ago when the store was corporate, I was an assistant manager. Whenever the store became a franchise however, instead of assistant manager, the new owner changed my title to second shift supervisor. The next time he's here, we can even talk about it with him if you want to, just to clear things up, because you are not in charge of me Simon, or anybody else in this store. I've already asked the owner about this delusion of yours, by the way. I asked him if he had made you the store supervisor, with authority over everyone including myself, and do you know what he did? He laughed! He laughed and he said: </p><p>"Hell no I didn't make Simon store supervisor!" </p><p>Simon, if there is a make-believe ranking system here that extends beyond my authority as second shift supervisor, then according to that ranking system, you are the lowest man on the totem pole. As a matter of fact, everybody here has worked here for longer than you Simon, except for the new third shift guy. So, just to make things crystal clear, I'm going to explain one simple fact to you, and here it is - I am your boss, Simon. I've never gone out of my way to hold that authority over you in any way, and I've never pulled rank on you or told you, or even asked politely, for you to do anything until about an hour ago when I ordered you NOT to sell cigarettes to that guy, after I had already denied selling him cigarettes, because selling him those cigarettes would have been fucking illegal, because his ID was fake! Maybe you didn't realize that, because you haven't been here for 8 years. But I have, and I know what a fake ID looks like. Besides, that doesn't even matter. What matters is that you tried to sell him cigarettes after I had already told him no, and by ordering you not to do that, I prevented you from committing a crime, Simon. And that's why I'm your boss, and not the other way around. So get this straight right now Simon, right quick and in a hurry. I am your supervisor. I am your boss, when the owner isn't here. So, in the future whenever we're working together after the owner has gone home, if and when I ever tell you to do something, you do it! Just like you did an hour ago when I ordered you not to sell those cigarettes. That's the first time I've ever given you a direct order Simon, and it's because you were about to break the law. Now that you know that your job is to follow my orders to a reasonable degree, I expect you, in turn, to do your job, competently, and with no conflict as far as our work relationship goes. Unless you try to do anything stupid again, I'll probably never come right out and tell you to do anything ever again, because you already know your job really well. And you do it well! You're a good worker here, but something is wrong with the way you process information, Simon. I don't know what that problem is, but I hope we've at least cleared it up as far as the two of us are concerned. If you are still adamant with your delusion that you are the supervisor of this store and the boss of everyone here, including myself, but barring the owner, then tomorrow we can bring this whole thing up with him and talk it over... but you're not gonna like how it turns out, Simon. Because if you're bound and determined to believe that you are somehow my superior here, my supervisor, and the supervisor of this store, including all employees except for the owner, then we need to clear this up with the him right away, tomorrow, at the beginning of the shift, before he's gone home. And that's all I have to say, as far as you and I are concerned. Whatever you have to say next, unless it's "Okay I understand," or something similar to that, I'm just gonna ignore it because this issue is OVER WITH!"</p><p>Simon didn't say anything after that. He didn't say another word for the rest of the night. In fact, I don't think more than two dozen words were passed between us for the remainder of his tenure as 'cashier'. I never brought that up to Simon, but that was his actual official job title. </p><p>Simon didn't bring the issue up with the owner, and he never brought it up again. It was done. Resolved. Finished! And that was my 1 megaton nuke, detonated at an altitude of 10,000 feet - known as an 'air burst' - directly above Simon, a carefully calculated detonation meant to combine the ground level pressure fronts, effectively spreading the maximum possible energy of the resulting shockwaves over the largest area for the purpose of inflicting Total Destruction. </p><p>Simon's return volley - a spread of several 10 megaton MIRVs - all exploded harmlessly inside their own silos. Allow me to explain.</p><p>A few weeks later, I was informed of a cabal which Simon was actively trying to form against me, involving as many of our coworkers as possible. Simon was planning an ambush, and he was recruiting an alliance! </p><p>I came about this knowledge one night whenever the new third shift guy - let's call him Rick - basically just told me all about it. Here's what Rick said, word for word, as clearly as I can remember, as to the plan Simon was plotting against me, one filled with carefully and craftily constructed lies. Here are the details of his evil plan to get me fired:</p><p>Rick: "Hey Ash! I don't know if you know this yet, but Simon is hatching lies about you. He's trying to gather up as many employees as he can and get them all on his side, and then invent a bunch of lies about you that he would then email to corporate, in order to get you fired. Last night, he asked me if I would help him with this evil scheme. I laughed and said, 'Are you fucking crazy, Simon?' He also said that the store owner made him the supervisor of the entire store, and that he's your boss, and that if it came up and you said anything different, that you're lying. Just so you know, that guy really has it in for you for some reason. He sounds crazy. I think he's a fuckin' nut job!"</p><p>Really! Thought I. I can't say that I was shocked, but I actually was a little surprised. That was the exact moment however, that I made the mental note that I was dealing with someone with narcissistic personality disorder, and very likely a bona fide psychopath.</p><p>Of course, nobody agreed to join the conspiracy Simon was trying to plot against me. Actually, it was pretty ironic, because if Simon really was the supervisor, he would have known this fact:</p><p>For a franchise store, corporate has absolutely zero control over who gets hired and who gets fired. That control is strictly in the hands of the owner of the franchise. The OWNER. Not some entity that was in charge 6 years ago, and gave up that power in order to sell one of their 7-Elevens to a private owner. Again... OWNER is the key word here. Simon just didn't have that info. He thought that corporate had control, and that he could actually hatch this scheme of lies against me and then present it all to corporate, with the support of several store employees, in order to get me fired!</p><p>I'll tell you this: the only thing that would have happened if Simon had been successful in recruiting even just one employee, or if he had decided to risk it and just do it all on his own, is that corporate would have forwarded the information to the owner, and the owner would have laughed his ass off and fired Simon.</p><p>A few days after that, Simon was trying to order me around whenever I told him to fuck off. He flew into a rage and screamed, "I QUIT!" As he was storming out the door, I shouted at him:</p><p>"That's no way for a store supervisor to behave! You've got responsibilities here, man! A real supervisor would have handled this situation like a professional, and not stormed out like a little titty baby and quit in a fussy rage!"</p><p>It was too late for poor Simon. After I'd delivered my final message to him, which he actually stopped in his tracks in order to listen to, he stormed out the door, never to be seen or heard from again (except for one more time).</p><p>Bye Simon, you fucking reptile! If I ever see your ugly mug again, I hope it's either in a police lineup, a mugshot, or in the obituaries! </p><p>And that's my story of the failed, evil plan and nonexistent cabal which a co-worker of mine, who we've been calling Simon, tried to put together and pull off in order to get me fired. Yeah. Simon was, and most likely still is, a certified lunatic.</p><p>p.s. A few months later Simons' girlfriend came into the store, and I asked about him. She said that they had broken up a few months earlier, and that she never wanted to see that crazy fucker ever again.</p>Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-19521312289755205882020-12-24T13:53:00.002-06:002021-09-14T17:45:24.042-05:00The Retarded Side of The Force! <p>Oh, how I have fantasized about murdering Jar Jar Binks for the last twenty years. First degree, premeditated murder. Here's how I imagine it, step by step.</p><p>1. Tap that living insult to morons on the shoulder.</p><p>2. As it turns to face me -</p><p>SMASH! There go those ridiculous dentures, right down its' fucking gullet with the butt-end of my blaster!</p><p>3. Serious death occurs now as my blaster, set to fully automatic, happens hundreds of times to Jar Jars' face.</p><p>4. Jar Jar finally hits the ground, flopping. </p><p>I've spent almost a quarter of a century as a haunted man, pondering this crime committed against Star Wars. Why was the fourth bonafide Star Wars movie presented as an exquisite turd and then served to us on a plate of bone china? </p><p>Here's what I think happened.</p><p>One Friday evening, evolution must have been REALLY tired after trying to make sense of the latest assignment handed to it by the Universe - evolving the Gungan. </p><p>It's not hard to imagine a thoroughly frustrated evolution sharpening pencils, tearing holes in the blueprints with used up erasers, knocking over the coffee in the process, all the while frequently glancing up at the clock until it FINALLY advanced to 5:30 pm, then -</p><p>"Fuck this, It's Hammertime!" </p><p>And out the door evolution went in the flick of a millennia, off to get thoroughly hammered.</p><p>Now imagine some brown nosing intern working overtime at the evolution factory and deciding to have a crack at these Gungan creatures over the weekend... and ohmygod. When evolution showed up to work Monday morning, still half drunk and hung over, it must have taken one look at what the intern had done and just said, </p><p>"Fuck it. That's a Gungan."</p><p>Remember a long time ago, in a theater far far away near you, when Jar Jar Binks was first unleashed upon us? I bought a ticket for The Phantom Menace on the day it was released, and eagerly took my seat in arguably the shittiest seat in a theater jam-packed with Star Wars nerds. I didn't care! I was about to see the first Star Wars movie in 16 years!</p><p>I left the theater that day, scratching my head and thinking...</p><p>WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED? </p><p>Something had just gone spectacularly wrong with Star Wars, as if millions of Star Wars fans had suddenly cried out in terror. However, I decided to give The Phantom Menace the benefit of the doubt. I bought ANOTHER ticket, hoping beyond hope that this time Qui Gon Jin would simply take a couple of steps back and allow that troop carrier to smear Jar Jar Binks across the forest floor and into a delicious, Jar Jar flavored paste.</p><p>NOPE!</p><p>It took years of denial for the enormity of it to sink in. Gungans. That's what had happened to Star Wars. Fucking Gungans! Because of those goddamn things, I've been suffering from Star Wars PTSD for twenty years! I'm now permanently FUCKED IN THE HEAD!</p><p>Ok, everybody pay attention, because this is what happens when evolution shows up to work drunk -</p><p>After a couple of shots of hair of the dog, followed by carefully cramming one last 'fuck it' into a space clearly labeled 'shits left to give', then hammering a handful of Legos from the Abomination Box into that exact same space, what emerged was a race of semi-sentient cartoons with an overdose of permanent retarded built right in! And ever since evolution went Full-On Retard, Gungans have been on the production line, with no sign of running out! </p><p>So, one may as well beg the question:</p><p>"Is it possible that a Gungan genius might actually get shat out into the general population now and then?"</p><p>Yes! However, other than naturally knowing shit from shinola while navigating alien planets on foot, a Gungan genius merely rivals the intelligence of a Kowakian monkey-lizard.</p><p>Since we've been reduced to begging questions about Gungans:</p><p>"Are 'retarded' Gungans possible? "</p><p>YUP! But only rarely does a creature so magnificently stupid survive instant murder. Guess who? I'm referring to Jar Jar Binks, of course. According to Jar Jar, it's because, "Meesa... clumsy." </p><p>Yeah, yousa clumsy all right, Jar Jar. Clumsily shitting directly into the public cistern will get you pyoonished by Boss Nass, the Lord Marshall of The Morons! Even millions of exceptionally stupid creatures have their limits.</p><p>Here's a horrible tidbit of info. The Gungan tongue occupies precisely 99.999% of the space inside its' skull, restricting the maximum size of a Gungan brain to about a cubic millimeter. In Jar Jars' case, that cubic millimeter houses almost exactly an extra cubic millimeter of the tongue apparatus, which is constantly squishing against TWO NEURONS... and that goddamn tongue is hammering against them ceaselessly as it deploys, again and again! </p><p>Like Frodo Baggins, I frequently call out into the void and ask, "Why did this have to happen to Star Wars in MY time?"</p><p>The answer arrived as an epiphany the other day as I was imagining torturing Jar Jar Binks for the eleventy-zillionth time. During this particular occasion, I was happily deep frying one side of his noggin in a frying pan filled with the rendered lard of his opposite ear.</p><p>Observe.</p><p>Jar Jar Binks: "Meesa Senator of allsa Naboo! Meesa help make Grand Republics! Whysa you always torturing meesa?"</p><p><br /></p><p>\Me: "My dear Jar Jar... what a deliciously ironic question. I, too, often ask this question. Not TO you, but OF you! As for whysa I'm doing this? Since it's impossible to outright murder you, it's just revenge, pure and simple. Your very existence is an insult to a galaxy filled with common morons! Jar Jar, if the Universe decided to commit suicide, it would be because of you - the ultimate 'I'M SORRY!' of creation!"</p><p>Jar Jar Binks: "But meesa still not knowing why... OW!"</p><p>Me: "Yeah, I know. It's because you're a retarded mongoloid. Now shut up, I'm trying to think." </p><p>That ridiculous tongue simply had to go this time, and for good. In my mind, I unrolled Jar Jars' tongue with a set of red hot forceps, amputated it with a dull deer antler, and shoved it down his throat. The resulting peace and quiet nudged the afore-alluded to epiphany into existence! </p><p>Consider...</p><p>What if Jar Jar Binks has Force mind control over those around him? Would this not explain why he is inexplicably tolerated by those within his sphere of influence, allowing him to hitch-hike through the entire Phantom Menace without serving a SINGLE PURPOSE? </p><p>Jar Jar also manages the impressive feat of NOT getting instantly murdered, while constantly navigating through a quagmire of fuck-ups! What else could explain the toleration of Jar Jar Binks by the people he inflicts himself upon, except through some bizarre machination of the Force? </p><p>WHAT IF -</p><p>Jar Jar Binks is... I suppose we need to call him something. A Shith Lord? Yeah, that works! What if Jar Jar Binks is a Shith Lord, and master of a previously unrecognized RETARDED SIDE OF THE FORCE? What if... a single midichlorian in his bloodstream randomly mutated, and then grew exponentially, like a retarded midichlorian tumor?</p><p>Here we have a creature described by Qui Gon Jin as 'brainless', mere seconds after he encounters it. A one-in-a-trillion creature, who's truly a master of all things retarded, INCLUDING THE RETARDED SIDE OF THE FORCE! I know, a seemingly inescapable oxymoron, but... </p><p>THERE HE IS!</p><p>Jar Jar Binks is a genetic fuck-up of such profound stupidity that minutes after setting foot on Tatooine, he steps squarely into a pile of bantha shit. I'll bet he even gets some on his tongue! Is this not evidence that a hitherto unknown retarded side of the Force is guiding his every STEP?</p><p>I understand that this explanation remains unsatisfying. So, we can either accept this distasteful truth, or we can sacrifice the truth for the comfort of lies. However, not only does that way lead to the dark side of the Force, but now there's the retarded side of the Force to deal with, too!</p><p>In order to supply myself with at least a modicum of comfort, I find it very handy to apply the principle of Occums' Razor -</p><p>"The simpler explanation which accounts for all the facts is more likely to be correct." </p><p>With that in mind, which is more likely? </p><p>Door #1. Jar Jar Binks miraculously bumblefucks through life without getting murdered. </p><p>Door #2. Jar Jar Binks is an unwitting Shith Lord, and he constantly wields this retarded power with the awareness of an infant in possession of a Force powered paddle ball of intolerable annoyance, and quite frequently, random destruction!</p><p>Or...</p><p>Door #3. Door #2!</p><p>Occums' Razor demands the simplest explanation! It's Door #3, of course! How else can Jar Jars' rise to prominence be explained, except via some harum-scarum stratagem conjured by the mindless apparatus of the retarded side of the Force? </p><p>And what kind of planet would actually elect Jar Jar Binks as their representative in the senate of the Galactic Republic? I'll tell you what kind. One with an entire population compelled by retarded Force mind control!</p><p>Still, amidst this clusterfuck of brand new information delivered with the Force of a hyper-drive powered kick right to the balls, one glaring question remains which simply cannot be overlooked. </p><p>What about Anakin? HUH? Remember him?</p><p>Think about it. If Anakin really was created as the result of immaculate conception by a bloodborne pathogen in order to fulfill the prophecy of the Chosen One, then why did he go and do the exact opposite of that? And how exactly was Anakin supposed to be the Jesus Christ of Jedi Knights and bring balance to the Force -</p><p>Which, by the way, George Lucas took a galaxy sized shit upon by explaining away what made the Force so damn cool to begin with, the very MYSTICISM of it, with... midichlorians? FUCK THOSE THINGS, FUCK THE VERY IDEA OF THEM SIDEWAYS, FOREVER!</p><p>- if he, along with every Jedi Knight and Sith Lord for thousands of generations had never even caught a whiff of the retarded side of the Force? HUH?</p><p>JUST WHAT THE HELL WAS THE PHANTOM MENACE ALL ABOUT THEN, ANYWAY? INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW, DAMMIT!</p><p>Well, guess what? Yup, I have the answer to that question, too! And no, the 'Phantom Menace' isn't Senator Palpatine. True, he's a menace, and yes, he manages to hide his dark nature from the entire galaxy... thus, the 'Phantom' metaphor. But by now it should be obvious who and what the REAL Phantom Menace is. It's Jar Jar Binks! By his mere existence, Jar Jar is enough of a 'Menace' already. However, it's his undetectable nature as Shith Lord that makes Jar Jar Binks the true 'Phantom' Menace!</p><p>Now. </p><p>Imagine this alternate scenario of events, if The Retarded Side of the Force had been discovered while Obi-Wan and Darth Vader were dueling on the Death Star, just as the Millennium Falcon was about to make its escape.</p><p>FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS KIDDOS', BECAUSE THIS RIDE IS ABOUT TO GO OFF THE RAILS!</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.Obi Wan: "You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful..."</p><p>...awkward moment...</p><p>Together: "WHAT THE FUCK?"</p><p>...slow comprehension between the two of them...</p><p>Darth Vader: "Did YOU know about this, uh, Retarded Side of the Force, my old Master?"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Huh? You mean... I mean, A Retarded Side? Of The Force? Of course not!" </p><p>...suspicious pause...</p><p>Obi Wan: "Did YOU know about it, Darth?"</p><p>Darth Vader: "What? I just asked you the same question! I mean, one minute we're dueling like the old days, and the next, it was as if a brand new dimension of The Force was simply FORCED into my awareness!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Yes, that's it exactly! However, and no offense Darth, but you're about as dumb as a bag of hydro-spanners. You demonstrated that quite clearly, decades ago when I held the high ground, but you decided it would be a good idea to perform a perfect triple gainer directly into a whirling lightsaber. So, with my obviously superior intellect, I can only assume that reality must have been SHIFTED, just now, in some inexplicable way which I still don't fully comprehend. I should have detected this - Retarded Side of the Force, for God's sake! - back when I was still just a youngling!"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Really? It IS a shock, admittedly, but I'm not the one having a hard time coming to terms with it. I can't imagine what it's like for YOU, having spent the entirety of your life believing that you're actually smarter than the average bear, only to discover that you're only just a little bit smarter than the average retard! Anyway. Where was I? Oh yeah. The circle is now complete. When I left you, I was but the learner. Now I am the Master. Also, Occams' Razor suggests..."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Yes yes, I know all about Occams' Razor. I'm the one who taught YOU about it -"</p><p>Darth Vader: "No you didn't."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Yeah, I did. And you're only a master of evil, Darth, and a master of changing the subject. I'm still WAY smarter than you.'</p><p>Darth Vader: "No you're not."</p><p>Obi Wan: "I wonder, are there even any midichlorians left floating around in there, ever since I carefully disassembled you back on Mustafar? Or did they all abandon ship after you jumped headfirst into a lightsaber powered woodchipper? The last I saw, I had YOUR lightsaber, and you were an on fire torso, with a head and one mechanical arm! Now look at you. My, how you've grown. You're practically a walking, talking gee-gaw. Lemme guess. One of those buttons on your chest is a midichlorian recharge button?"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Impressive... most impressive. Yoda - I mean, Qui Gon - has taught you well... you know, I've often wondered, but never gave enough of a shit to ask... but now that the question is up in the air, who the hell was the Jedi Master who taught you when you were a padawan learner, anyway? Yoda or Qui Gon? You told Luke it was Yoda, but then, when I was just an annoying little brat on Tatooine, weren't you Qui Gons' padawan learner? I'm pretty sure I remember that. You know, way back when you guys showed up on Tatooine and kidnapped me? Forget it. Who cares? Its just another completely obvious Star Wars fuck-up. Anyway, yes. It's this button which injects midichlorians directly into my circulatory system. And the one right next to it is for methamphetamine... comes in real handy when I actually get to fight with my lightsaber. And this one, right under the meth button, is for heroin. And right beside that one, this one is for DMT, and THAT one is Valium. Oh yeah, and THIS one is for MDMA..."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Yeah yeah, I can understand how you'd need drugs just to stick it, what with being forever stuck inside that real comfy looking costume. I'll bet you just drift right off to sleep in that thing at bedtime, huh Darth?"</p><p>Darth Vader: "As I indicated, this button is for Valium. And you interrupted me before I could show you this one, the most kick-ass one of all, which is for the Ketamine Hole..."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Oh for Gods' sake, I'm sorry I ever mentioned the buttons! You know, Darth, everything was going great until you had to go and join forces with that Olden Fart, Palpatine. I mean, one second you're practically a Jedi Master, then... BOOYAH! After a lifetime of training, you're instantly demoted to a lowly Sith apprentice."</p><p>...laborious but somehow ominous breathing...</p><p>Darth Vader: "I AM a DARK LORD of the SITH!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Bullshit you're not, not as long as your Master, Emperor Palpatine, still runs the show. Remember the Sith Rule of Two? What, did you think you're special somehow? One Sith Lord, one Sith apprentice. You're no Sith Lord. You're merely a squire for Darth Sidious!"</p><p>...laborious but somehow chagrined breathing...</p><p>Darth Vader: "...Why, you obnoxious, geriatric old bastard - fuck you, man! And even if what you say is true, AND I'M NOT SAYING IT IS, but if it was, how is that any different than when I was a Jedi, but the Jedi Council kept refusing to promote me to Jedi Master? Even though I could have kicked all of your asses at the same time? HUH? Riddle me that! Besides, If I killed Palpatine - which I totally could do anytime I wanted, by the way - then I'd have to go looking for my own Sith apprentice. Yeesh! What a hassle."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Oh. Is that the real reason? Or isn't it that you're just scared of getting your ass kicked by the Emperor? You're just a big fat fraidy cat! And it's not like there isn't a veritable pool of millions of potential Sith apprentice candidates to choose from. What about all of those stormtroopers who call you 'Padawan Vader' behind your back? Surely at least ONE of them are Force sensitive, now that they're not just a bunch of retarded clones anymore."</p><p>Darth Vader: "WHAT? You... that's not true, you just made that up! Your powers are weak, old man!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Yeah? Who's the Jedi Master here, and who's the pathetic Sith apprentice?"</p><p>Darth Vader: "At least I'm not the one who's been hiding in a cave on Tatooine for two decades. I'VE been ruling the Galactic Empire!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "HA! Now that's hilarious. NEWS FLASH, Darth! Palpatine, aka THE EMPEROR, is the one who's been ruling the Galactic Empire. In fact, according to the political hierarchy of the Empire, aren't you supposed to be Vice Emperor, or something? Yet, from what I've heard, this... Grand Moff Tarkin - who you totally outrank, by the way - has you by the short and curlies. Do you deny that Grand Moff Tarkin is, in fact, holding your leash? Why do you think the Emperor put you on a leash and gave it to Tarkin to begin with? Maybe to keep you from Force choking every valuable, high ranking official who happens to piss you off at board meetings by pointing out, and rightly so, your sad devotion to The Dark Side of The Force? How humiliating!"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Why you! You... ancient, shriveled up, petrified Jawa turd..."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Come on Darth. You used to be kinda cool, but ever since you turned to The Dark Side, you wield your power like a youngling throwing a temper tantrum. And I don't need to use The Force to sense that you've shit your suit. My olfactory senses can perform that function without any help, thank you. So, is it possible for you to at least try to retain some dignity?"</p><p>...awkward silence...</p><p>Darth Vader: "Aw, fuck it! Very well. You're right, it's humiliating. PLUS, this recently acquired knowledge of a previously undetected Retarded Side of The Force, which has apparently been hiding in plain sight for thousands of generations of both Sith and Jedi, has me somewhat discombobulated. BUT! I don't even have to SMELL it to know that you've also shit YOUR garments. There's a freshly laid turd, right at your feet." </p><p>Obi Wan: "What? Where? I..."</p><p>Darth Vader: "I'm looking at it right now. WHOOPS! Uh oh, you just stepped in your own shit! HA!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Oh, yuck... Ok, ok! This bickering is pointless. I think we've both established clearly that neither of us ever, ever ever EVER had an inkling that there was a Retarded Side of The Force."</p><p>Darth Vader: "And also that we've both apparently shat our robes, as a consequence of the shock upon receiving this new revelation."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Yes, I suppose so. Unlike the Retarded Side of the Force, the smell of shit is impossible NOT to notice."</p><p>Darth Vader: "Impossible NOT to notice unless you've already stepped in it! BWAHAHA!"</p><p>...meanwhile...</p><p>Luke: "Wait a minute. What's Ben doing over there? Who's that other guy? Ohmygod! Are they fighting laser swords at each other??"</p><p>Han Solo: "Blast the door, kid! Hey, where's that princess of yours... Huh? Say again, Chewie? Oh, Lord have mercy. Hey, your Royal Majesticfullness! Quit farting around over there, the Millennium Falcon is THIS WAY!"</p><p>Princess Leia: "Somebody has to save our skins!"</p><p>Han Solo: "WHAT THE FUCK? You're just firing your blaster, over and over, set on STUN! for Gods' sake, at the same door that the kid just blasted!"</p><p>Princess Leia: "Somebody has to save our skins!"</p><p>Han Solo: "Oh my God. Chewie! Go grab that nut and put her on the Falcon! Lock her in the smuggling compartment."</p><p>Chewie: "Arrgghllgglle!"</p><p>Princess Leia: "Somebody has to save our... Hey! Lemme go, you big walking carpet!"</p><p>Chewie: "Blarrgghllgglle!"</p><p>Han Solo: "You said it, Chewie."</p><p>Princess Leia: "Excuse me??"</p><p>Threepio: "If I may, Princess Leia, I believe Chewbacca just referred to you as 'One Royal Pain in the Ass'!"</p><p>Princess Leia: "WHAT? I was trying to save our skins... :::GASP:::! You came in that thing? You're even stupider than I thought!"</p><p>...meanwhile, meanwhile...</p><p>Luke: "Ben! Come on, we're about to escape!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Run Luke, Run! Darth and I have suddenly discovered much more important things to... uh, talk about. And we both need to change our garments! That's definitely going to take a while. Anyway, go on, I'll catch up! Hurry! Don't worry, I'll be safe."</p><p>Luke: "Uh, ok, if you say so, Ben.</p><p>Threepio: "Now that things have calmed down considerably, would it be proper to suggest that Artoo should reactivate the garbage mashers on the detention level? Artoo? The computers, please?"</p><p>Artoo: "Tweet!" (I'm not permitted in there, it's restricted.)</p><p>Threepio: "Why, you malfunctioning little twerp!"</p><p>...uncomfortable silence...</p><p>Darth Vader: "Uh, what exactly is my old protocol droid doing here? I specifically programmed that thing for etiquette and protocol, and for helping mom around the house. Shouldn't it at least be helping SOMEBODY around the house? Or doing etiquette and protocol somewhere?"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Nevermind! Just try to forget that shiny, solid gold plot hole for now. And the other one too, that Artoo unit. Hell, I don't even remember ever owning a droid, but R2D2 claims that we were best friends for years during the Clone Wars... anyway, this sudden appearance of a Retarded Side of The Force is of much more import. You see, I don't think it's an accident that we've both been made aware of a retarded nature of The Force just now, simultaneously. I sense the presence of my old Master, Qui Gon Jin - yes, he is communicating with us through the Living Force! He's, uh, over there. Yeah, crouched behind the soda machine. His Force Ghost! Do you see him, Darth?"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Ah. Yes, I see his Force Ghost. So, Qui Gons' spirit managed to endure after getting his ass handed to him by Darth Maul?"</p><p>Obi Wan: "That's hardly fair. That red, transparent force field closed right before I got there, or else we would have turned that butt-ugly demon looking thing into pimento loaf."</p><p>Darth Vader: "Maybe you should have used Force speed. Remember when you guys did that to run away from the Droidekas thirty years ago, on that Trade Federation ship?"</p><p>Obi Wan: "I was still a padawan then!"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Not according to the opening title crawl, which specifically mentions TWO Jedi Knights. So does that protocol Droid, TC-14 - 'The Ambassadors are Jedi Knights, I believe.' I'm pretty sure that's what it said to Nute Gunray. Oh. And the tea that TC-14 brought you could have been poisoned, you know. That was really stupid when both of you guys just slurped it right on down, especially considering that mere moments later, poisonous gas was being pumped blatantly into the waiting room, where both of you were so nonchalantly slurping down that tea!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Whatever."</p><p>Darth Vader: "Well. I don't see why Qui Gon gets to live forever as a Force Ghost. For a Jedi Master, he wasn't exactly ethical. He basically lied and cheated the whole time he was on Tatooine."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Darth, shhhh! Qui Gon is trying to tell me something! He's saying... Everything that he did on Tatooine all those years ago to acquire a new hyperdrive - all the begging, borrowing, drinking, smoking, bragging, showing off his lightsaber, throwing it like a boomerang in barber shops, racial insults, calling Jabba the Hutt a swollen garbage bag, picking fights with little kids, walking out on bar tabs, lying, cheating at Chinese checkers, stealing, shitting in public, pissing in peoples' hats, coughing up loogies and spitting them into the public cistern, soothsaying, slandering, witchcraft, drug dealing, poaching, bounty hunting, pirating, profiteering, pillaging, kidnapping, pimping, raping, human and alien trafficking, torture, dismemberment, murdering jawas and sand people for sport, serial killing, assassinating, propaganda, political intrigue, weapons dealing, backstabbing, double dealing, treason, warmongering, wanton misuse of The Force, unsolicited telemarketing, practical jokes, outright jackassery, blaming his farts on other people, ALL OF IT - was because, unbeknownst to him, he was being manipulated by the Retarded Side of the Force! And that Jar Jar Binks was the source of it!"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Jar Jar Binks? I always hated that retarded creature. Ok, yeah. If there's a Retarded Side of The Force, it's definitely lingering around that thing."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Say again, Qui Gon? Uh... you sure about that? Absolutely sure? Well, ok, I guess. Hey Darth, you're not going to like this. Qui Gon says that we both need to kill each other, right now! He promises that we'll both be Force Ghosts! He says -"</p><p>Darth Vader: "WHAT?!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Just hang on and let me explain. Ok. Remember when Jar Jar Binks was the Senator for Naboo - I can see you rolling your eyes inside that helmet, Darth. I know, ridiculous, right? Go figure. Anyway, remember that one time when Jar Jar referred to the entire Senate as 'Dellow Felagates'?" </p><p>Darth Vader: "Ohmygod, yes. I hadn't even teamed up with the Dark Side yet when that happened, and I still wanted to throttle that retarded creature."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Yeah, me too! But right after that, remember when Jar Jars' fried, smoking carcass was found outside the Senate building with his tongue wrapped around that negative power flux coupling?"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Oh yeah, I remember that, too! I was so happy that Jar Jar had somehow, against all odds, finally managed to murder himself. Good times, good times!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Yup, good times. Anyway, here's what Qui Gon is saying. Right after Jar Jar said that - WHAT? Holy shit...ohmygod, it was Senator Palpatine! HE murdered Jar Jar with Force lightning, simply for uttering something so unforgivably retarded on galaxy-wide 3V!"</p><p>Darth Vader: "WOW! You know, there was always something I liked about that guy."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Yeah. He's a Sith Lord, you jackass! Wait... Uh huh. WHAT? Oh shit. Hey Darth. You're not gonna believe this, but it turns out that Jar Jar Binks was a Retarded Force Master, and he lives on as a Retarded Force Ghost! He won't leave any of the Jedi Force Ghosts or the Sith Force Ghosts alone in the Force Ghost Realm. He's driving them all batshit insane! Qui Gon says that only through our combined might as Force Ghosts can Jar Jar Binks, a Retarded Force Ghost, finally be permanently murdered!"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Wow. A Retarded Force Ghost? Good grief. Ok, but can I at least change out of this shit stained suit first?"</p><p>Obi Wan: "It won't matter after we're dead. Qui Gon has just now promised that we'll both leave our shit stained garments behind, once we're Force Ghosts!"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Oh, very well. Does Qui Gon have a plan as to how exactly we should go about this? This murdering of one another simultaneously?"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Well, the whole trick here is for both of us to die at exactly the same moment. This is very important! So, the way I see it, we have two choices. First, we'd need to contrive some type of device which would function, essentially, as a mutual murder/suicide machine. However, as I indicated earlier, precision is of the utmost importance! We both have to die within microseconds of one another, which will require some pretty fancy programming. I'm not a fancy programmer. Are you a fancy programmer, Darth?"</p><p>Darth Vader: "You know damn well I'm not a fancy programmer! Besides, even if I actually WAS a fancy programmer, we'd still need a fancy engineer to invent this ridiculous device. And before you ask, NO, I'm not a fancy engineer either. I don't suppose you picked up a fancy engineering degree while you were gathering dust for decades on Tatooine, my old Master?"</p><p>Obi Wan: "No, I'm not a fancy engineer, you smarmy bastard."</p><p>Darth Vader: "You said there were two choices. What's the second choice?"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Well. Since neither one of us are fancy programmers or fancy engineers, our only other choice is either mutual murder, or mutual suicide. We can do it on a count of three. Personally, I'm kind of leaning toward mutual suicide."</p><p>Darth Vader: "Why is it that you persist on believing that I just fell off of the turnip truck yesterday? There's no way in hell I'm trusting you to ignite your lightsaber on a count of three, especially if we're committing mutual suicide! Besides, didn't you say that accuracy within a microsecond was the whole key here? Either way, I'm the only one capable of counting down from 3 to 1 in microseconds, due to my cybernetic implants. What are you going to do? Just switch that thing on and hope everything turns out all right? Heh. A count of three. Really? Kind of makes your superior intellect seem rather retarded, doesn't it?"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Dammit... Oh snap! Hang on Darth. Luke! Hey, Luke!"</p><p>...meanwhile, again...</p><p>Luke: "WHAT? We're trying to escape the Death Star over here."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Luke! Slow down! Don't do any running yet!"</p><p>Luke: "But you just said -"</p><p>...interrupting...</p><p>Darth Vader: "Luke! Before you go running off like a wild lunatician, do what Obi Wan says. Trust me Luke, I'm your father."</p><p>Luke: "No. NO! THAT'S NOT TRUE! THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!"</p><p>Darth and Ben together: "GOOD GRIEF."</p><p>Darth Vader: "Luke! Son. I really didn't want to have to break it to you like this. You see, I had this really cool plan all set up and ready for the next movie. A father-son bonding session, so to speak, with this really kick-ass lightsaber battle between the two of us. I was gonna take it real easy on you and just chop off your right arm, a little below the elbow, then let you escape. See? Then after that, you'd have a cybernetic hand just like mine, to remember me by!"</p><p>Luke: "That sounds like a shit plan to me. So, were you going to just keep on chopping off little pieces of me, one at a time, every time we got together?"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Well, yeah. That was the idea. But I guess we can just flush those plans down the commode now."</p><p>Luke: "Ben! He's lying, right?</p><p>Obi Wan: "Search your feelings Luke, you know it to be true."</p><p>Luke: "But you said that Darth Vader betrayed and murdered my father!"</p><p>...interrupting...</p><p>Threepio: "I'm truly sorry to interrupt a family quarrel, but under the present circumstances, should I reactivate the trash compactors on the detention level myself? Artoo seems to have picked up a slight flutter. In fact, he's acting like an overweight glob of grease! And it would only be polite..."</p><p>Everyone together: "SHUT UP, THREEPIO!"</p><p>Artoo: "Chirp!" (LOL)</p><p>Threepio: "Just you reconsider reactivating the garbage mashers on the detention level for them!"</p><p>Artoo: "Blippity bloop." (Oh very well, you mindless philosopher.)</p><p>Threepio: "Don't get technical with me!"</p><p>Artoo: "BLAP!" (Shut up, I'm about to get technical.)</p><p>Threepio: "You know Artoo, I don't think anybody likes you at all. And no, I don't like you either."</p><p>Artoo: " Bloop." (LOL. I don't give a rats ass)</p><p>...short pause...</p><p>Obi Wan: "CAN I CONTINUE NOW? Have all the tractor beams been shut down, the garbage mashers on the detention level reactivated, and the doors sufficiently blasted?"</p><p>PA Announcement: "CLOSE THE BLAST DOORS! CLOSE THE BLAST DOORS!"</p><p>Luke: "The blast doors haven't been blasted yet."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Good! Now, Luke. What I told you was from MY point of view, NOT yours. And don't tell me that you're not glad to be off of that hell hole of a planet. YOU'RE the one who expressed the wish to be teleported off that rock, remember? And wow! Now look at you, following old Obi Wan on some damned-fool, idealistic crusade like your father did! You're on a space station the size of a MOON, for crissake, when just a few hours ago you were bitching and moaning about finding Artoo and high tailing it to the south ridge to fix those condensers, under the threat of 'Hell To Pay!' by that asshole uncle of yours."</p><p>Luke: "Well. Ok, the last few hours HAVE been pretty frikin' awesome. Oh, and there's also this hella fine chick that we just rescued..."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Don't even go there, Luke. You're a hick fresh off the moisture farm, and she's a Princess! Oh yeah. She's also your sister."</p><p>Luke: "Huh? Wait, what? You mean, I'm a PRINCE?"</p><p>Darth Vader: "HUH? WAIT, WHAT? You mean I have a daughter, TOO? Obi Wan! Do you have any idea how close I was to executing her, my own DAUGHTER, before you guys showed up? I mean, I'd just finished spending hours, happily torturing her... my own DAUGHTER! Why did you never tell me? Do you have any idea how much it would have simplified things, knowing that Princess Leia was my DAUGHTER? Plus, I have visitation rights too, you know! Just because I'm Darth Vader -"</p><p>Obi Wan: "OH FOR GOD'S SAKE, SHUT UP! Now Luke, here's what you have to do. Once you escape in the Millenium Falcon, line up in that huge trench that goes around the Death Star, and fire a proton torpedo right into the small thermal exhaust port, right below the main port!"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Hey, that's the whole reason why I've been going to all this trouble, so he wouldn't know that!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Do you want to be an Eternal Force Ghost, or don't you? This is the only way we can trust each other to die at the exact same time!"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Well... Dammit! Ok. Luke! Do what Obi Wan says! Use the Force, Luke! I don't care which side. Just use it! Huh? Oh yeah, don't use the Retarded Side! And remember, don't try to have sex with Princess Leia! She's your sister!"</p><p>Luke: "Rats... Ok, I'll do it. But only because YOU asked me to, dad. Ben, you lied to me. Fuck you, man. Oh yeah. And It's Prince Skywalker to you, from now on."</p><p>...moments pass...</p><p>Darth Vader: "They should have blown up this thing by now."</p><p>Obi Wan: "Yes, puzzling. Maybe they didn't have any proton torpedoes?"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Hmmm. Say, maybe we should rethink..."</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>KABOOM!!!</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Darth Vader: "Well, whaddya know! I'm a Force Ghost!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Me too!"</p><p>Qui Gon: "Hurry! Let's combine our Force powers before..."</p><p>Jar Jar Binks: "Meesa so glad to see you, Little Ani! You too, Master Obi! Oh what fun weesa gonna have for ALL ETERNITY!"</p><p>Qui Gon: "SHIT!"</p><p>Darth Vader: "Why do I suddenly feel so retarded?"</p><p>Obi Wan: "Because we've both been had! Tricked, by the Retarded Side of the Force!"</p><p>All together: "NOOOOOOOO........!"</p><p>Jar Jar Binks: "Meesa so glad we all together now! Was bombad mood before, but now weesa all have forever to beesa bestest friends!"</p><p>Obi Wan: "...Uh. Is it possible for a Force Ghost to commit suicide?"</p><p>Qui Gon: "YEESH!"</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>SEE? NOW, AT THE END, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?</p><p>I feel as though I've sufficiently demonstrated, by the application of logic, circumstantial evidence, and through the sheer Force of imagination, that the Retarded Side of The Force exists, and that it explains almost EVERYTHING that's wrong with The Phantom Menace. And also every single Star Wars movie since Return of the Jedi, as a matter of fact! </p><p>As to why I just went to so much trouble to explain the hidden truth behind a shit movie... well, I did mention earlier that because of this movie, I'm FUCKED IN THE HEAD. Permanently. Anyway, that's as good an explanation as any for why I do the things I do. </p><p>Plus, I simply can't ignore this added bonus!</p><p>Since I'm the only one who's ever actually detected the retarded side of the Force, that means I'm FORCE SENSITIVE! Even now, I can feel the Force flowing through me! I mean, I think I can... </p><p>Yup, that's definitely it! The Force! But... why do I suddenly feel so retarded?</p><p>OH, HELL NAW! I'm Force sensitive to the retarded side of the Force??</p><p>WAIT A MINUTE! THIS SUCKS!</p>Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-51710155389388687532020-09-07T08:40:00.001-05:002021-09-14T17:46:21.678-05:00Journalistic Ethics, the News, Modern Propaganda, and the Public Trust .As we all might have noticed, for a while now the planet has been embroiled in turmoil. Ever since COVID-19 hit the worldwide scene early this year, things seem to be falling apart around us. Mass panic, mass deaths... a pandemic, for the love of God! The world truly seems to be well and truly on its' way to hell in a handbasket, quick like and in a hurry, in 2020...
Or is it?
Why is this the common trend of thought, that collapse is inevitable? Why is the world, seemingly and almost eagerly, embracing such a state of panic?
Just what the hell is going on here, exactly??
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I have a theory about that, and it's a theory which goes beyond the mere reaction of the world to this novel virus. The fact is, the existence of this virus isn't necessarily relevent to what I mean to communicate here, as it merely serves to set the stage for my main point, which I will reveal soon.
First, though...
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Take a minute to look around.
Go out on your porch. Take a deep breath of air. Watch as cars drive by, as they've always done. If you want to, walk or drive to the store... just don't forget to wear a mask. Even if you're not afraid of this virus, it's only polite to wear one, because others ARE afraid. Be respectul. Purchase your goods. Make your way back home.
Now, observe the nation NOT under martial law. Observe the distinct lack of body bags filling high school gymnasiums. Notice the lack of military vehicles and armed solders patrolling the streets, enforcing a mandatory curfew during this State of Emergency.
Notice how NORMAL everything is, despite everything.
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Now ask yourself this... what's the difference between today, and any other day?
If it's not apparent already, I'll supply the information. The difference is the news. The nature of the State of Fear that's constantly being hammered into our noggins has shifted. Nobody is talking about climate change anymore.
Remember last year, how climate change used to be the boogey man? Remember how batshit insane people were going over the dire and imminent effects of climate change, just less than a year ago? According to the last peep I heard on the subject, mankind only had about twelve years left to enjoy a viable ecosystem, before the entire planet went KAPUT!
Not anymore. No, I'm afraid that ship has sailed. Now, there's something even better than climate change to be afraid of!
COVID-19.
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Did anyone besides myself happen to notice how quickly climate changed just evaporated from the headlines, once COVID-19 came waltzing along? Why do you think that was?
I'll tell you my theory. It's because climate change isn't an immediate fear, but COVID-19 sure as hell is. COVID-19 is just the latest version of an unending supply of States of Fear which are constantly being switched out for bigger and better ones. It's the way Big Media operates in conjunction with Big Government.
That may sound like a conspiracy theory, but I'm not one prone to believing wild, outlandish theories without at least some reasoning to back them up.
However, my purpose here isn't to explain my reasoning as to why I believe the media and the government are embroiled in an ever complex, ever conflicting, ever changing dance of producing a State of Fear to inflict upon the masses. My purpose has much more to do with the news as a phenomenon, in and of itself, and how, with the fairly recent introduction of the internet, the nature of the news has taken a drastic change. No longer is the news in the hands of just professional journalists.
No. In this day and age, with the widespread dissemination of information available to us via the internet, why...
Anyone can report the news!
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First, allow me to summarize 'The Society of Professional Journalists Code of Ethics', or SPJ for short. I think that the obvious purpose of this organization can be surmised by its' name alone, but I'll break it down anyway.
There are four main principles which define the values of the SPJ. Before I begin, it should be mentioned that professional journalists aren't required to join or pay dues to the SPJ or any type of union or guild. That's an issue in and of itself, but for now, I'll try to keep this summary of the SPJ within reasonable limits, while still providing the broad spectrum of each principle:
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1. Seek Truth and Report It.
A) A reporter of the news should take responsibility for their work by providing a range of easily accessible sources. The primary tenets of a reporter of the news are to seek truth while avoiding bias, and as so, should be focused on providing the broad human experience of a story. Access to any and all sources should be provided by the journalist, and easily referenced by the consumer.
B) A reporter of the news is obligated to provide any necessary context to a reported story which might otherwise be overlooked or left out as unimportant, or for the sake of brevity. The importance of providing relevant context when reporting the news can't be stressed enough. A lack of proper context is probably the most powerful way that an otherwise truthful story can be twisted into an untruth.
C) A reporter of the news should welcome and support the civil exchange of viewpoints to encourage meaningful rhetoric. A reporter should never construct a story with the intent to provoke any type of disruptive conflict.
D) A reporter of the news should avoid stereotyping. A journalist should never deliberately distort the facts of a story, either in word form or of a visual nature. If visual information is being presented, it should be clearly labeled with pertinent information
E) A reporter of the news should NEVER plaigarize.
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2. Minimize Harm.
A) A reporter of the news should be respectful when reporting news of a controversial nature. The provision of truth should be balanced with compassion, according to the nature and audience of the story.
B) A reporter of the news should maintain an awareness of 'ethics vs. the legality' of a truthful story, before publishing it.
C) A reporter of the news should take into serious consideration the rights of individuals to their privacy, and the ethical ramifications of purposefully reporting a story which may result in harm, or potential harm to an individual.
D) A reporter of the news should consider the long-term effects of a reported story. It's important to try to balance the idealism of truth and wisdom when deciding what to report.
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3. Act Independently.
A) A reporter of the news should view themselves, first and foremost, as servants of the public. In order to carry out this job, honesty is of vital importance. Reporting the news means reporting the truth while choosing to adhere, above all other influence, to a code of ethics. Ethical thought and behavior should be the guiding tenet of any truthful reporter.
B) A reporter of the news should avoid conflicts of interest which threaten independent reporting. These include accepting special treatment, favors, gifts, etc. which might compromise the integrity of the reporter. This also includes any other types external pressure, applied as a means to influence unethical behavior, when covering a story.
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4. Be Accountable and Transparent.
A) A reporter of the news should be ready to explain the ethics behind their process of reporting.
B) A reporter of the news should acknowledge their own mistakes and correct them.
C) A reporter of the news should expose any personally observed unethical conduct in journalism.
D) A reporter of the news should accept the high standards which are inherent to their job and hold themselves unwaveringly to those high standards.
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With all of that being said, the question practically begs itself:
"Are reporters of the news today adhering to the standards of the SPJ? Are reporters of the news even required to abide by a 'code of ethics' at all? What exactly defines a 'reporter of the news', anyway? Can ANYONE be a reporter of the news, what with the ubiquitous nature of social media? Are there any news sources which can be trusted? If so, which ones? And how do we know that we can trust them?"
All of these questions pose a serious problem. What is being addressed here is the fundamental validity of the relationship of trust between those who provide the news, and we, the consumers of the news. The lines have been blurred a lot during the years since the internet established itself. Now, anyone can set up a 'reputable looking web page' and report any kind of news they want.
Once again, a question is begged:
"What exactly are we looking for when it comes to a reputable news source?"
The answer to that question, unfortunately, isn't crystal clear... so instead, for now, let's ask this question:
"What exactly are we NOT looking for when it comes to a reputable news source?"
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That question is a little easier to answer. Personal blogs come to mind, a lot of which use professional web design to create a legitimate looking news platform, but they're almost always run by individuals who aren't journalists... individuals with far more of an agenda, and far less of a regard for ethics. Several popular online 'news sources' today started out simply as personal blogs years ago, but have since ballooned into fairly huge corporations... not that such growth affected their ethical standards. Also, not every disreputable news source today is, or started out as, a private blog - but a lot of them did, back when the internet was just beginning to gain traction.
What follows is a list of a few of the more ridiculous online 'news sources', some of which began as personal blogs, but all of which are notorious for their shenanigans as news sources, which we can safely say are commonly NOT ACCURATE, and are often BLATANTLY BIASED. Some of these examples are obviously meant for mere entertainment purposes, such as The Rush Limbaugh Show and the online website, Buzzfeed, but ALL of them can be safely assumed to have produced their own fair shares of hogwash, mostly due to the obvious agendas associated with them:
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1. Occupy Democrats - created as a counterpart to the extreme right-wing 'Tea Party' movement, 'Occupy Democrats' is a blatantly biased news source, and has a reputation for delivering 'fake news'.
2. Buzzfeed - a popular pop culture and viral media site, 'Buzzfeeds' relatively recent foray into the realm of mainstream news, what with having hired former political bloggers as 'journalists', has been met with criticism. 'Buzzfeed' has been accused of providing intentionally biased content, deliberately tailored toward a 'left-leaning' audience.
3. The Huffington Post - this left-leaning blog was conceived in 2005 as a direct counter-balance to 'The Drudge Report'. It continues to serve that purpose, dishing up biased news for biased consumers.
4. The Drudge Report - one of the oldest political blogs online, dating back to 1995, 'The Drudge Report' began as a gossip column, if that gives you any impression of the authenticity of it as a legitimate news source. Over the years, 'The Drudge Report' has relied mostly on links to other websites for its' content. Lately 'The Drudge Report' seems to be shifting from a far-right publication to a far-left publication. Hmmm. Sounds like gossip to me.
5. Brietbart - much like 'The Huffington Post', which was originally conceived as 'The Drudge Report' of the Left, 'Brietbart' was conceived as the 'Huffington Post' of the Right. I guess 'Brietbart' had never heard about 'The Drudge Report'? This online, far-right news source is famous for posting conspiracy theories, has been referred to as misogynistic, xenophobic, and racist by liberals and conservatives alike, and is notorious for publishing intentionally misleading stories. It's an online circus of unashamed political elephant manure.
6. InfoWars - where to begin with this behemoth of bullshit? 'InfoWars' is a far-right 'news' site which specializes in conspiracy theories, harassment of victims as a result of publishing fake news stories, discrimination and sexual harassment by the owner, Alex Jones, against his employees, and being banned by virtually every social media platform. If 'Brietbart' is an online circus of unashamed political elephant manure, then 'InfoWars' is just like that... simply replace elephant manure with brontosaurus manure.
7. Social Media - ever since 2016 when Buggs Bunny was elected President of the United States, fake news has gone from an unheard of term to one practically synonymous with 'Facebook' and 'Twitter'. What many may not be aware of is the propaganda which pervades these online social media platforms though, which I'll get into soon.
8. The Rush Limbaugh Show - an ancient, far-right leaning radio show meant for ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY, much like 'The Howard Stern Show'. It amazes me that some die hard Rush supporters actually BELIEVE that Rush Limbaugh actually, himself, BELIEVES the crap he spews over the airwaves every day. The result is a vicious circle of BELIEF, one containing an almost religious fervor among die hard Rush fans. That a radio program meant for entertainment purposes which, by some form of black magic apparently, is received as The Truth by what can nearly be described as a mob mentality of millions of fans comprised of otherwise reasonably intelligent people, simply makes no sense to me!
9. The Blaze - basically just a less popular version of 'The Rush Limbaugh Show', but founded by Glenn Beck. Merely another form of entertainment for viral Republicans who think that an entertainment network, specifically designed with a political demographic in mind, is a genuine reflection of 'political truth', if one can excuse my use of an oxymoron. If that type of thinking were applied to cops and robbers movies, then a bullet wound to the shoulder or the leg, or one which passes straight through the body while missing any vital organs, would be something that you could just 'shrug off'. That ain't real, and neither are these political entertainment programs.
10. Fox News - only one of two mainstream news sources I'll include here, because I just don't feel like repeating myself a dozen times. 'Fox News' has been one of the major, 'reputable' news sources for 25 years. Still, although it's staffed with professional journalists, it's still been accused of operating under the standard of being a 'biased, right-leaning, agenda-based' news source. It's not a good sign for journalistic truth in general, when all of the little indicators in just ONE NETWORK manage to add up to the possibility that deception may be just one technique, in a possible arsenal of manipulative techniques, employed to deliver the news... and from such a prominent news source.
And finally...
11. NPR - The Ultimate Website and Radio Program for the Fuel Injected Liberal. The older, more opposite version of 'Fox News'. 'NPR' too has been accused of producing a fair amount of purposeful subterfuge, for the sake of its' well known liberal agenda.
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A lot has happened over the past 25 years since the internet was brand new and still a novelty. Blogs populate the internet now, regarding a variety of topics, and a lot of them are extremely useful sources of information - such as DIY (do it yourself) projects, all kinds of topically specific news such as science, physics, religion, book clubs, photography, recipes, and product reviews. A lot of them, like my personal blog, merely consist of what basically amounts to a decades' worth of diary entries... records of personal thoughts, observations, situations, amusing anecdotes, etc. Most blogs are just intended as information for public consumption, with no use for an agenda... other than an occasional monetized blog with ads. Most, like mine, go completely unnoticed. However, along with the much more abundant blog of the harmless variety, many other blogs and websites disguise themselves as 'news sources', and in many cases, the authors of these websites are simply NOT professional journalists.
While it is not required that a professional journalist should belong to any kind of guild or organization which lays out fundamental ground rules for behavior, there is a 'code of ethics' which most journalists at least attempt to abide by. This is the most common ethical tenet which most journalists agree upon and strive to maintain:
The principle of 'limitation of harm', which means that journalists and reporters have a responsibility to not harm others while reporting a story. This is one major difference between professional journalists reporting for 'reputable' news organizations, as opposed to creators and publishers of fringe news sources and fake news creators. That is, people who aren't professional journalists.
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Here's a handy metaphor I like to use when comparing 'ethical journalism' to 'fake journalism' - The Force. Much like the Light and Dark Sides of The Force, there also exist The Light and The Dark Sides of journalism.
I'm not saying that the supposedly 'reputable' news sources at our disposal nowadays, such as FOX, MSNBC, NPR, etc. all have the journalistic equivalent of Jedi Knights doing their reporting, but at least the professional journalists, that is... the ones employed by actual news services, agree to at least abide by a modicum of a code of ethics.
On the other hand, we have the Sith Lords of journalism... the ones who blatantly publish 'news' which can't help but to be biased, due the inherent nature of such news. By exaggerating the truth, leaving out essential context, and sometimes just outright lying, while failing to include a single particle of a source or reference, these Sith journalists make their livings outside the realms which include any basic rules of civilized behavior. They are scammers, and nothing more. It's how they make their livings, by popularizing what they are either deceived into believing is the truth, or even worse, posting purposeful lies in order to appeal to a target demographic - and all for the relentless pursuit of the almighty dollar. Put simply, money equals power... and even at the level of making a living, if your living involves wielding the power of information, you will be corrupted over time. Maybe not overnight, but it will happen, more often than not.
What these 'unauthorized' news sources are up to is unashamed propaganda. Yup, you heard me right. What used to be a tool of government for controlling the thoughts and beliefs of the masses has now become a tool of the masses for controlling the thoughts and beliefs of the masses.
How ironic is that?
An obvious example of this type of very simple, almost ubiquitous propaganda that I'm sure we've all experienced online in some form or another, but which is mostly popular on social media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter, is the meme. Allow me to explain.
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Imagine in your head a propaganda poster, like the ones which are pasted on almost every available vertical surface of North Korea - that of a frail, suffering North Korean civilian, cringing in a pile of detritus while protecting an innocent child, with a grinning, sharp toothed soldier poised above, wielding a rifle with a bayonet attached, wearing green combat fatigues embroidered with the Stars and Stripes, and the letters USA boldly printed upon the soldiers' helmet. There will also be a message present, but most of us wouldn't understand a message written in Korean. It's beside the point, though. You can assume that the message has nothing good to say about Americans.
Of course, government propaganda is still used worldwide, but I merely use North Korea to demonstrate the absurdity of North Korean propaganda. All of it consists of lies, utilizing a visually impacting illustration which describes The United States as evil incarnate, populated with monster soldiers, with one purpose - to conquer and murder the innocent, peace loving population of the DPRK.
Now imagine the common meme, one you'll probably scroll by on Facebook or Twitter. Once again, all of the elements of propaganda are present. The propaganda meme is mostly of a visual nature, has elements of careful graphic design incorporated into it, a typography consisting of an appropriate, boldly printed font which communicates a brief message, with the entire thing constructed with unmistakable intent - to manipulate the thoughts and opinions of others, either by flat out lying, and/or appealing to our emotional and sympathetic natures. These memes are practically EVERYWHERE you look online, and anyone with a modicum of intelligence can recognize them for what they are... pure political propaganda, or propaganda purposed to serve an issue of a controversial nature, such as racial tension. These types of memes are designed with maximum visual impact in mind, in order to communicate in as simple a manner possible, an obviously biased message with no references or sources included.
They have two uses, these memes...
1. To preach to the choir. These memes are created in order to intentionally offend anyone holding a different opinion, while stirring up others who agree with the message by adding strength to their numbers. A purpose is served.
2. To appeal to the 'other side'. By employing tactics such as a tragic message accompanied by tragic images, which are chosen to appeal to our empathy, these memes are designed to manipulate the 'other side' by presenting an 'out of context' argument which deliberately ignores and/or suppresses information which contradicts the purpose of the message.
Again, sources are almost never included. Why? Because presenting a legitimate source for a piece of propaganda would, in effect, negate the propaganda, exposing it for the misrepresentation of truth that it is.
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The reason I went to some length here to describe this phenomenon in detail, the common use of deliberate propaganda, not by our government but by WE the population, in the form of memes, is to add a metaphorical exclamation point to the entire purpose of this observation regarding the state of news today - the bias inherent to almost all sources of news, and most importantly, to demonstrate that unless you're reading an article authored by a professional journalist with a modicum of ethics when it comes to reporting the news, that when browsing for news content online, you're more likely than not to find yourself reading an article which is just deliberately false - that is, fake news - or the article you're reading is one that's been deliberately constructed, including just enough truth to seem familiar, thus offering an air of legitimacy, which serves one purpose only... to manipulate your own thoughts and beliefs so that they conform more to the liking of someone else.
Make no mistake. Every time you expose yourself to an item of news online, especially one that doesn't bother to employ any fact checking or bother to provide any references, you're likely being exposed to the opinion of a single person with their own agenda... to bring you around to their way of thinking, and ethics and morals be damned.
It's the world we live in.
If only one piece of useful information can be taken away from everything I've labored to explain here, it's this...
Be warned. Guard your thoughts. Don't let yourself be a victim of manipulation. Always question EVERYTHING, especially podunk news articles or self published 'news' sites. Demand sources. Demand references.
Demand THE TRUTH!
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Carry the Fire, and be a light for others.Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-43501124356760224102020-08-07T12:41:00.003-05:002021-09-14T17:47:15.109-05:00Stuff<p> But... being a Grammar Nazi is just so much fun! Especially when I'm dealing with the occasional idiot!</p><p><br /></p><p>I must concede that you have a point though. I've got what I consider a decent moral code, but I'm absolutely ridden with flaws. </p><p><br /></p><p>Being a jackass on Facebook is one of them. I doubt that I'll ever be able to overcome that flaw. It's inherent to my nature! </p><p><br /></p><p>Just like my eyes, which for 44 years were a decent shade of brown, then just up and decided to change color to green, five years ago! See what I mean about my nature? I've got green eyes now after a lifetime of brown eyes, and I had nothing to do with that!</p><p><br /></p><p>The Grammar Nazi thing... well, I suppose I could work on that.</p><p><br /></p><p>But my eyes are green now!</p>Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-45306993822718444292020-07-09T12:29:00.001-05:002021-09-14T17:48:51.073-05:00Shootout at Dumbshit Gulch!"Howdy, pardners!"<br />
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"The name's Terd Bergleson, but most folks jist call me Old Stinky. Dunno how come, and I cain't larn the which-a-why of it to ya when I ain't never larnt it fer myself, so it aint no good askin' me."<br />
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"What I can larn ya," said Terd, "If'n ya got some time to chew the fat with an olden broken down fart like me, is the sad story of Big Drake McDork and Prance Goofus, the two most afear'd bounty hunters this side of the west side of the Pecos, and how they done gone and met their untimely ends."<br />
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"So gather round and grab yer some wood, 'cause what I'm a'fixin to tell yer is the saddest yarn I ever done spunt!"<br />
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It were intolerable hot and dry on the day when Big Drake McDork and Prance Goofus finally went full on fisticuffs with the Apple Dumpling Cocksuckers at Dumbshit Gulch.<br />
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Terd Bergleson interrupted to supply some essential narration:<br />
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"Dumbshit Gulch were a place of local legend," Terd mentioned. "It sure ain't wrote down on no map, and if'n yer was to look fer it, closest you'd come to it is Bum-Fucked Egypt, accordin' to the yokels. But that's where this'n here story gits started, and also where it winds up in tragerdy."<br />
<br />
Big Drake McDork and Prance Goofus, the two most afear'd bounty hunters this side of the narrow side of the north side of the Pecos, clambered up the gulch and stood, tall and proud, on the flat side of the gulch proper. They was both a-sweatin like stuck pigs, and with a purpose - to finally put an end to the Apple Dumpling Cocksuckers, the most afear'd coteri of ex-nus and hookers ever there was, that side of the other side of the long side of the Pecos.<br />
<br />
Big Drake took a long gander.<br />
<br />
"Well, here we are, Prance," he said. "We finally done made it... it's Dumbshit Gulch. This'n here's the spot where we's finally gonna put paid to those Apple Dumpling Cocksuckers!"<br />
<br />
Prance turned his big dumb head hither and yon, mouth agape and eyes bulging with dumbshit ignarnce.<br />
<br />
"Big Drake, what's a gulch?" Prance whoosper'd.<br />
<br />
"Well, Prance," Big Drake replied with some irritation, "a gulch is the sound a feller makes when he croaks way out in the desert like this'n here where we's at right now, so obviously a gulch is a place where yer go to die, ya dumbshit."<br />
<br />
Prance stared at Big Drake fer a spell, and finally a slow unnerstandin' crawled across his big stupid face.<br />
<br />
"Ooooh...!" Prance crowed. "You mean they's gonna die though, right? The Apple Dumpling Cocksuckers? Not us, huh? Not us, right? Right, Big Drake? Not us, huh? Huh?"<br />
<br />
Big Drake popped Prance a good'n with the back side of his hand, right upside the kisser.<br />
<br />
"Shut the fuck up Prance, before you get us kilt!" growled Big Drake.<br />
<br />
Prance stared at the ground like he was a-prospectin' somethin' forever beyond his ken, like algebry homework.<br />
<br />
"Oh, sorry, Big Drake," Prance mumbled like an idgit. "I'm stoopid."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, and you're also a faggot," Big Drake muttered sideways outta his mouth. "Now listen here... there's the Apple Dumpling Cocksuckers, I can see one of em now! We need to find some place to hide, so's we kin ambush em!"<br />
<br />
Prance cast about like a rabbit, all panicked-like. "But Big Drake, there ain't nothin' around which whence for us ta hide bee-hind! The closest bush is a half mile yonder!"<br />
<br />
Big Drake thwocked Prance upside the back of his noggin. "Shut up, ya fuckin fairy. I can see that! Just keep yer pie hole closed, and foller my lead."<br />
<br />
Prance proceeded to a-jumpin' up and down like a young'n on his first coon hunt. "Yeah!" he whoosper'd.<br />
<br />
"Now jist stand real still..."<br />
<br />
Prance quit his jumpin' right quick and in a hurry. "I'm standin Big Drake, I'm standin!"<br />
<br />
"Good. Now, steady... steady... here they come, from all sides."<br />
<br />
"I see em Big Drake, I see em!" hollered Prance.<br />
<br />
"Shut the fuck up, you roont headed feeb! They'll hear ya! Now... careful, they cain't see us unless we move."<br />
<br />
Suddenly...<br />
<br />
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM!!!<br />
<br />
Terd resumed his narration.<br />
<br />
"Against all odds, the Apple Dumpling Cocksuckers done got the drop on Big Drake McDork and Prance Goofus! Our heroes is mortal wounded, and in a bad way!"<br />
<br />
Prance looked down at his belly. His innards was all slung out and hangin' from his gut like an octerpus. He tried to shove 'em back in, but they was all slimy in his hands and he kept steppin' on 'em and trippin'. Finally he fell over on his back and stared up at the sky, his big dumb face just a-light with horror.<br />
<br />
"Big Drake, I'm shot!" he caterwauled.<br />
<br />
Big Drake thundered, "I'm the one that's shot, you fuckin' homo!"<br />
<br />
Prance cocked his head to the side and seen Big Drake a-lying there, with half his head blowed clean off.<br />
<br />
"I think we's both shot!" hollered Prance. Big Drake stuck his finger into his noggin and dug out a .45 slug, along with a sizable fair chunk of brains. He chucked the brains at Prance.<br />
<br />
"Goddammit, Prance!" he croaked.<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry, Big Drake! I'm sorry!"<br />
<br />
The last thing they both heard was the Apple Dumpling Cocksuckers laughing their silly asses off. And then...<br />
<br />
GULCH!<br />
<br />
The End.Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-54845868911223653032020-07-09T12:24:00.000-05:002021-09-14T17:49:24.005-05:00Shootout at Dumbshit Gulch, part 2!"Howdy folks! Some of yer might already know me... the name's Terd Bergleson, but most folks jist call me Old Stinky. I gots no idear why."<br />
<br />
Terd continued.<br />
<br />
"The last time we left our heroes, big Drake McDork and Prance Goofus, the most afear'd bounty hunters right smack-dab in the middle of the Pecos, they had jist been shot ter pieces by that dirty gang of streetwalkers, The Apple Dumpling Cocksuckers, the most afear'd coterie of ex-nuns and hookers that ever terrorized the short end of the Pecos."<br />
<br />
Terd paused fer dramatic effect...<br />
<br />
"Now let's git back ter our heroes!"<br />
<br />
So there they was, in a bad way, both of 'em just a-lyin' there in the wide-open middle of Dumb Shit Gulch and shot ter pieces...<br />
<br />
Terd interrupted:<br />
<br />
"Turns out though, neither one of 'em was shot after all! Our heroes may be tough, but they shore is stupid, ain't they? And it's a good thang nobody never done taught that wild pack of ex-nuns and hookers how to shoot straight!"<br />
<br />
So, after the Apple Dumpling Cocksuckers done went and fucked off to the Blue Hills ter shoot down some other hapless victims, our heroes Big Drake McDork and Prance Goofus realized that they wasn't shot after all, and Big Drake slowly got ter his feet.<br />
<br />
"Big Drake, I think I ain't shot at all!" Prance gibbered as he laid there, spread eagle in the sand.<br />
<br />
"Prance, you fuckin' homo, git yer silly ass up! Ain't neither of us been shot!"<br />
<br />
Prance slowly got to his feet, shook the sand off'n his brush-popper, then stood there lookin' down at his boots.<br />
<br />
"Big Drake, it hurts my feelins when you call me a homo. You know I gots me a wife and kids back at the homestead."<br />
<br />
Big Drake thwacked Prance a good one, right upside his noggin.<br />
<br />
"Prance, I ain't callin' you a homo 'cause I think yer homosexeral! Homo is short fer homo erectus, which is just about the dumbest caveman that ever done walked the earth, and you is jist as dumb as one of them bumblin' troglodytes!"<br />
<br />
Prance spint a good couple of seconds a-studyin' his boots again.<br />
<br />
"Oh! I'm sorry Big Drake. I'm stoopid.'<br />
<br />
"Yeah, and yer also a faggot. Now git to gatherin' some sticks, we needs us some firewood."<br />
<br />
Prance got to a-gatherin' up some firewood in silence. After he'd got a big bundle tied up, he hefted it onter his back and turned to Big Drake.<br />
<br />
"Big Drake, that hurts my feelins when you call me a faggot. You know I gots me a wife and kids back at the homestead."<br />
<br />
Big Drake whacked Prance right upside the other side of his noggin.<br />
<br />
"Prance, I ain't callin' you a faggot 'cause I think yer a homosexeral. I'm a-callin' you a faggot 'cause yer just as skinny as that thar bundle of sticks that you gots tied to yer back, and faggot is jist another word that means a big bundle of sticks, you dumb faggot!"<br />
<br />
Prance stood there for several minutes, his brain processin' this new information like an abacus. Finally he mumbled:<br />
<br />
"Sorry big Drake. I'm stoopid."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, and yer also a troglodyte."<br />
<br />
At this, Prance actually looked thoughtful.<br />
<br />
"Big Drake, I done heard you a-sayin' that thar word a while ago. What's a troglodyte, Big Drake?"<br />
<br />
Big Drake sighed.<br />
<br />
"Let me explain all of this to yer, from homos to faggots to troglodytes, real careful like, once and fer good. You see Prance, out of all the homos that ever existed in this'n here world, you qualify more as one of them homo erectus cavemen 'cause yer as stupid as a caveman. That's why I called yer a troglodyte, because a troglodyte is a stupid caveman. Git it?"<br />
<br />
"Ooooooh..."<br />
<br />
'Shut up Prance, I'm tryin' to 'splain this homo thing out of the way so that you and everybody else unnerstands why I call yer a fuckin' homo."<br />
<br />
Big Drake inhaled a gigantic breath and continued.<br />
<br />
"Now, here's the thang with the homos. Fer millions of years this'n here planet has been just packed solid with all kinds of homos. Homos clamberin' up mountains, homos climbin' trees, homos pissin' in the forest, homos gettin' it on like homos have always done did since thar ever was even a-such a thing as a homo, and makin' more homos while thar at it. Ya hear what I'm sayin', Prance?"<br />
<br />
Prance stood there with that big faggot on his back fer a long time, jist a-lookin' as dumb as a bag of hammers. Then a wide grin split his face.<br />
<br />
"I hear it Big Drake, I hear it!"<br />
<br />
"Good. Now, out of all the homos on this'n here planet - them which was, and them which still is - them which was is the homo erectus, homo habilis, homo neanderthalensis, homo floresiensus, homo heidelbergensis, and the homo naledi - plus Lord knows how many other kinds of homos that used to walk the Earth a million gazillion years ago. Yer followin' me so far Prance, you big fuckin' fairy?"<br />
<br />
"I foller ya Big Drake, I foller ya! But, you know, it hurts my feelins when you call me a fairy. You know I gots me a wife and kids back at the homestead."<br />
<br />
Big Drake shook his head.<br />
<br />
"Prance, I swear yer as dumb as a boulder. That thar was a compliment! Ain't you never read Peter Pan? Tinkerbell's a fairy and she's the hero of the whole damn book! I swar, you try'n be nice ter somebody and they think yer a homophobic."<br />
<br />
"Sorry big Drake," mumbled Prance. "I'm stoopid."<br />
<br />
"Yeah and you also look like a faggot with that thar faggot on yer back. If you weren't a bag of bones, I'd swar you was a bag of sticks. Now git to humpin' that faggot, we got miles to go if we're gonna make it out of Dumb Shit Gulch before the sun goes down!"<br />
<br />
Big Drake McDork and Prance Goofus got to humpin' and Big Drake continued his explanation.<br />
<br />
"Now, out of all them homos which is in the here-and-now, we gots two kinds of homos - the homo sapiens and the homosexerals. The homosexerals is also homo sapiens, by the way. They's men who like to lay with one a-nother. I know that's a hard concept to knock through that rock hard noggin of yers, but do you git it, Prance?"<br />
<br />
Prance stood there fer a long while with that giant faggot on his back. Finally, he exclaimed:<br />
<br />
"I git it Big Drake, I git it!"<br />
<br />
"Good! Now can we put this whole homo thang behind us, you fuckin' homo?"<br />
<br />
Prance grinned another face splittin' grin and shouted, "I'm a homo!"<br />
<br />
Big Drake gave Prance a friendly pat on the shoulder, the kind that one non homosexeral man would give another non homosexeral man. "Now you git it, you fuckin' homo!"<br />
<br />
After several hours of humping' through the desert, big Drake finally called a halt.<br />
<br />
"Prance, why don't you quit humpin' that thar damn faggot you got perched on yer back, and let's set up a camp."<br />
<br />
Prance exhaled deeply. "Whew! That faggot I've been a-humpin fer the past fifty miles was jist about ter break my back!" Prance unloaded the bundle of wood and soon had a fire goin'.<br />
<br />
Big Drake laughed. "Now that's a flamin' faggot if I ever done seen one!"<br />
<br />
Prance stood there slack-jawed fer a moment, then his face lit up like he had jist received an epiphany from God. Prance laughed out loud.<br />
<br />
"Big Drake, you jist made a joke!"<br />
<br />
Big Drake clapped Prance on the back.<br />
<br />
"That I did, Prance, that I did! And you got it. I'm proud of yer! Let's jist hope everybody else gits it and don't throw a goddamn hissy fit."<br />
<br />
Big Drake and Prance sat there in front of the fire until it had burnt down ter embers.<br />
<br />
"Big Drake," said Prance, "it gits cold in the desert at night, and there ain't no more faggots what with which ter set on fire!"<br />
<br />
"Well Prance," replied Big Drake, "I guess that means you and me jist gots ter cuddle up together fer warmth."<br />
<br />
Prance paused. "But Big Drake... wouldn't that be kind of queer fer two grown men to be alone out in this'n here desert, and all cuddled up together?"<br />
<br />
"Well," Big Drake replied, "Some folks might think it's weird, but fuck em!"<br />
<br />
THE END!<br />
<br />
REALLY!Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-62081453016131743412020-06-20T22:31:00.000-05:002021-09-14T17:50:14.520-05:00Well, you asked for it.<br />
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Well, you asked for logical reasoning, so here it is in abundance. It's a long slog, so you might not understand what you're in for. If you do, then dive right in! </div>
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It's too long to post on Facebook, so I'm using my blog site. Have fun!</div>
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Luckily for us, we're human beings and can choose how to remember things, without ignoring the facts of history... we can choose to remember the dead, rotting corpses of assholes, now safely 6 feet underground where they belong, who decided to erect these Confederate monuments. We can choose to ignore their asshole reasons, their asshole attitudes, their asshole actions, etc. </div>
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We can, of course, choose to remember those assholes, and hold grudges against the dead. However, I detect a problem here. How are supposed to hold grudges against people who are dead and gone, right now in the present? The people who choose to hold these grudges against the dead and allow hatred to grow within them, more often than not, develop a sense of misplaced righteous anger, which can often lead to a proclivity toward violent actions in order to right these wrongs of the past.</div>
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Folly. Pure folly.</div>
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Again, luckily for us, we can also choose not to give a flying fuck about dead assholes and whatever racist bullshit that was contained in their dead, rotting brains, which are now merely food for worms. </div>
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We can instead choose to view Confederate statues, if not at face value as works of art, then more importantly, we can choose to view them and remember them as very public, very visible reminders of our past mistakes.</div>
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We can also chose to view them as memorials to the forgotten dead... our ancestors in fact, who have no gravestones to point to, proclaiming they ever even existed at all. Especially all the dead children who were conscripted or joined as Confederate soldiers... also dead. The respected dead deserve these Confederate monuments as memorials to their lives as our fellow human beings. These monuments are a part of our history, as ugly as some people may find that fact to behold.</div>
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In essence, these monuments are here now, and those who erected them are dead and gone, along with whatever fucked up reasons they originally had in mind for erecting them.</div>
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We're also extremely lucky to live in a country where they let us choose how we want to think, as long as we keep such thoughts to ourselves, if they're extremely demented and prone toward violence and not acted upon. Thank God most of us aren't bent that way.</div>
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We can also choose to continue to get all butthurt about the past, or we can get the fuck over it and continue with the process of moving on, today. If I can do it, anyone can.</div>
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For example:</div>
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I've been to jail twice in my life because of warrants issued for unpaid traffic tickets. It was an extremely unpleasant experience, both times. I was treated as a murderer, as opposed to a mere traffic offender. One especially unpleasant memory was being stripped naked in a room full of other naked men, then hosed down violently with a high pressure fire hose. Where was the need for that?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Another memory is of one particular cop who, for some vile reason - probably job dissatisfaction - decided that it was necessary to point out to me, constantly and very loudly so that everyone could hear, of how ugly I was, how bad I smelled, of his obvious distaste with my attire, that if it was up to him he'd cut my hair - which reaches down past the middle of my back - right then and there, how Ill kempt I was... all of it generally untrue. </div>
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<br /></div>
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He was compelled, for whatever deranged reason in his unbalanced noggin, too recite this unceasing observation of how disgusting I was, ceaselessly.</div>
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<br /></div>
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When he asked if I was on any meds, and I answered, yes... Celexa, for depression, he practically threw a goddamn hissy fit right then and there, like a two year old! He made his opinion regarding his dissatisfaction with my mental well being very clear to me, very loudly, and with lots of gesticulating and shoiting. </div>
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You wanna know why? It was because it meant he'd have to drive me across town for a medical evaluation. What I wanted from say to him was this:</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Quit your bitching and do the job we pay you to do, you fucking pig. I pay part of the taxes that pay your rent, asshole."</div>
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Instead I told him to just forget that I'd mentioned it. This seemed to satiate him GREATLY. My good deed for the day. And guess what? Thisas a black cop. It didn't make me prejudiced shit black cops, but never in my life have I witnessed a grown man behave more like an impudent child than I did that day during my processing at Lew Sterrit. And for a traffic misdemeanor!</div>
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<br /></div>
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My time spent in the actual cell at Lew Sterrit County was more unpleasant than then the time I went to jail in Austin, again for traffic tickets. I used a boloney sandwich for a pillow.</div>
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Anyway Yeah, I had some no-no's on my record. However, being completely deprived of my dignity on both occasions of arrest and processing, for mere traffic issues was, excuse the pun - unwarranted. I definitely learned my lesson, though!</div>
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However, I don't have it in for the cops. I don't want to tear down the courthouse. I don't bear any grudges at all for the degrading way I was treated. I got over it, and I got on with my life.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I could point to dozens of injustices which have been carried out, performed, thought, and flat out committed against me, completely unfairly, merely because of the way I look. Only for that reason. I know what the opposite of white privilege means and feels like, because I've experienced it countless times. So when I say I have a good idea of how black people feel, you can take that to the bank as the truth.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The fact happens to remain that we can choose to get over unfortunate shit that's happened to us in our lives. Thank God nobody today living as an American citizen has ever had to endure institutionalized slavery. It was gotten rid of for a reason.</div>
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It's possible to just get over it, you know. That may sound crass and insensitive, but it's the truth. It's a choice we can all make together.</div>
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Can we not choose together, to get over this bunch of bullshit happening today, that nobody alive today had anything to do with? It's an issue that dates back, beginning 165 years ago in reverse, and people still want to bitch and moan about it, as if slavery actually happened to them! Or as if the civil war actually happened to them! Black, Confederate, Union, or otherwise!</div>
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I understand that the idea and practice of racism is still alive and well today. Haven't we come pretty far though, compared to 165 years ago? I think we have. Imagine what it will be like 165 years from NOW. Push cool idea, huh?</div>
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So, yeah.</div>
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Some people just get a kick out of stirring up the anthill. Real life Trolls.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
Here's one fact that not many people are aware of. Presently, we are living in the most peaceful time in the history of the human race.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://rootsofprogress.org/the-most-peaceful-time-in-history">https://rootsofprogress.org/the-most-peaceful-time-in-history</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://slides.ourworldindata.org/war-and-violence/#/title-slide">https://slides.ourworldindata.org/war-and-violence/#/title-slide</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.good.is/amp/closer-to-peace-than-ever-2639599443">https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.good.is/amp/closer-to-peace-than-ever-2639599443</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/ww.google.com/amp/s/www.good.is/amp/closer-to-peace-than-ever-2639599443">https://ww.google.com/amp/s/www.good.is/amp/closer-to-peace-than-ever-2639599443</a></div>
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.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
Even with all the apparent good news, I'm having a hard time this year, despite my status as a bonafide lunatician. I'm bamamboozled. That's as far as I can come to decribing, in one simple word, what the events occurring now (I'm not talking about that stupid virus) are causing me to be feeling. It's an unnatural urge to let my voice be known regarding some of the goings on of a political nature. There are several to choose from, lately. It's a somewhat unsettling proclivity for me.<br />
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This is NOT my norm. I'm usually opposed to, or at the very least casually indifferent to politics - and I hesitate to refer to it as such, - it's nature. <br />
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My usual antics when an ubiquiitous, polarized political situation becomes widely prominent, battering the attention givers with the most dire of news since Climate Change, were widely prominent, if you read what I post regularly. I suspect that most people don't. Anyway. <br />
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Climate Change was all that we used to yammer on and on about. It did elicite a common reaction from a goodly sized portion of the American public (and what a load of Hairy Hogwash that great fear of Climate Change still is, I tell you) to accept it as fact, anyway.<br />
<br /></div>
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Here's what the common reaction to Climate Change used to be - and maybe still is - based on the sheer amount of misinformation that has been, and is still, being dished out to we, the commoners:<br />
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"Oh noes! Climate Change is Going to Murder the Earth in 12 Years, and it's TOO LATE TO STOP IT!'" (this statement and the prevailing attitude that goes with it is the most mountainous load of horseshit from which anyone has ever tried to construct a convincing, but more importantly, a valid argument. Except maybe for zeitgeist. What a load of excrement that was. Anyway).</div>
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Bow howdy, did Climate Change ever get the boot from the news when the impeachment hearings started, though! Did anybody else notice that? That Climate Change was practically amputated from the American mindset? You know, the one that makes the determination between:<br />
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"Is this interesting?"<br />
and<br />
"Who gives a shit?"<br />
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It's a good thing the impeachment came along when it did. It was about time we were allowed to have some fun!<br />
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But then, Sigh...<br />
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This stupid virus that has the entire planets' panties in a bunch came limping along. Nobody cares about the impeachment anymore. Nobody even remembers Greta Thunderburger anymore. Everything worth an interesting, time wasting damn experience disappeared from online and cable news except that stupid virus...<br />
<br /></div>
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But, of course, there's still tons of news if you've selected 'technology' and 'science' as your interests on Google News, like I have.</div>
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There are:<br />
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SpaceX, Blue Origin, Northrop Grumman, Lockheed Martin, Boeing, and even NASA, all in on the game now, after 9 years of having to hitch rides with angry Russians aboard outdated Soyuz spacecraft! And that's not even really counting the Chinese, Indian, Japanese and European space programs! <br />
<br /></div>
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Yeah, those guys are like our younger, dumber brothers when it comes to space engineering. But there they are, and maybe they'll grow up and do some awesome shit!</div>
<div dir="ltr">
HELL YEAH, GO SPACEX! AND ALL OTHER SPACE PROGRAMS, ALL OVER THE WORLD! EVERYBODY IS ROOTING FOR YOU!<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
And now, I proudly present, for last:<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
The official U.S. Space Force! We finally have one now! YEE-HAW, and again, it's about damn time!<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Allow me to post some links of interest:</div>
<div dir="ltr">
SpaceX - Falcon 9 Heavy and Crew Dragon, plus the Starship Project<br />
<a href="https://www.spacex.com/">https://www.spacex.com/</a><br />
<br />
Blue Origin - New Shepard, and New Glen launch vehicles, and the Blue Moon Lunar Transit Vehicle<br />
<a href="https://www.nasa.gov/press-release/nasa-awards-northrop-grumman-artemis-contract-for-gateway-crew-cabin">https://www.nasa.gov/press-release/nasa-awards-northrop-grumman-artemis-contract-for-gateway-crew-cabin</a><br />
<br />
Lockeed Martin Orion Crew <a href="http://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2019-09-23/lockheed-wins-4-6-billion-nasa-contract-for-orion-spacecraftLockheed">ww.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2019-09-23/lockheed-wins-4-6-billion-nasa-contract-for-orion-spacecraftLockheed</a><br />
<br />
Boeing Starliner Crew Capsule <a href="http://www.boeing.com/space/starliner/">http://www.boeing.com/space/starliner/</a><br />
<br />
NASA Artemis<br />
<a href="http://www.nasa.gov/specials/artemis/">www.nasa.gov/specials/artemis/</a><br />
<br />
The United States Space Force<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.spaceforce.mil/">https://www.spaceforce.mil</a><br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
I, of course, got sidetracked with my digression as usual.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
As I was about to say before I went off the rails, the Fear Tactic used by those who wield power are in a constant state of planning and implementing it, as a means to control us.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
What scared the buhjeebubs out of us before Climate Change? Was it North Korea? What was before that? Oh yeah, Trump got elected and the world went Apeshit. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Before that, there was always the fear of the polls being rigged. Also, there's always been the fear that our due process will begin to be systematically denied as a matter of course, with more and more visible atrocities being committed against blacks... but there are things being hidden from us by the powerful, who have the clout to enforce this agenda, too.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Why, for instance, is violence against black people by police constantly being printed at the tops of the headlines, and videos of these acts of violence placed in the forefronts of our awareness? Surely there are just as many miscarriages of justice being committed against whites, among other races. Someone is making a choice to popularize one form of news and cover up another. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
This, too me, is obviously yet another Scare Tactic, one designed purposefully to control our actions and reactions to the current situation of injustice, and to reinforce an overall State of Fear.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
I remember when I was a little kid, we only needed one Fear Tactic - Nuclear War. I existed for most of my childhood inside a constant State of Fear that nuclear war was imminent, and would surely happen any day now. I was more sure of that than anything else during those years from the mid-70's to the early 90's. Thank God it never happened, and hasn't happened yet.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Oh. And one more thing:<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
IT'S NOT PRONOUNCED NUCULAR, FOR CRISSSKES, it's pronounced NUCLEAR!<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Whew!<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Back to it. Shit tons of people will disagree with this, but I have 4.5 billion years backing me up.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Nothing is wrong with the planet. It's been chugging along, just fine, doing what planets do, for 4.5 billion years. Then we came along. Our entirety of existence on this world, compared to how long this world has been doing just fine without us, is roughly 200,000 years.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
200,000 years of having human beings on this planet who differ from one another only culturally, and not genetically at all, is maybe just a slight yawn for this ancient world. Anyone who seriously considers that we, as Homo Sapiens, represent a legitimate threat to Planet Dirt, has a Brain Bungle and needs to get it fixed. The message should read, not:<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
SAVE THE PLANET!<br />
(how pretentious)<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
It should read:<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
SAVE THE HUMANS!<br />
(this is the correct, non-pretentious, and a far more honest slogan)<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
A word to the wise, folks. The Planet is fine and dandy, and you can take this to the bank. It's us, the human beings, who might be fucked.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Fast forward until now. I'm a lot older, a lot more cynical, WAY less idealistic, I don't trust anything from the media, and I especially don't trust the system of politics, or politicians. I can only consider what information I have because of those in charge, the ones telling us the Big Things. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
That they're only telling a partial truth that's part of a bigger truth, one that they don't want known, or that maybe they're flat out lying to us, I'll never know, and there's no way TO know. It SUCKS and I don't trust it. Not ONE BIT.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Somebody tell me a sure fire way to KNOW, with ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY, that one person is telling me the unblemished truth... be it face to face, through the TV, a recorded broadcast, a live broadcast, and similarly with radio and what I read in the news online - news which comes from a myriad of websites - and also from what was written by one person but published by someone else, who might have made editorial changes to fit his own agenda, by hiding the truth that way. I need this method, this machine, this, this... this Power of Truth, or whatever.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
If some one has a doo-dad that will do all that, one that I can put my trust inside of with all my heart, then I might decide to start participating in the political system. Until then, you guys are better off without me.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
This Fear Tactic, whether motivated by racial inequality, police agendas, military control of American citizens, peaceful protests, sometimes violent protests, curfews, the loomig threat of the removal of our civil rights, police brutality... all of it is a politically absurd device which endorses the case for an increasing climate of change; one with fear always being its' goal. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
It wouldn't surprise me one bit if a limited nuclear exchange occurred between Israel and just about every country in the Middle East who hates Israel, or a similar nuclear exchange between India and Pakistan, just to scare the pants off of us. It's all part of the game of political life on Earth, and the goal of those with enough power to play the game are continually striving toward a constant State of Fear. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
If I can offer any proof that this is a real tool used by those in power to keep the masses in check, it was the complete, confident statement issued by the G.W. Bush administration, declaring with absolute certainty to the American public, and to the entire world, that WMD's existed in Iraq, as a statement of FACT.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
None were ever found.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
My ending point after all this is a long, elaborate post which takes its inspiration and subject matter from hither and yon, with the essence being to bring attention to this purposeful State of Fear being projected upon the American public, as far as I can know...<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Which is a considerable amount of information about this planet we live on by the way, including its' physical properties, the likely method of its' formation, basic plate tectonics, how the Gulf Steam influences the weather patterns worldwide, why the overwhelming amount of tornadoes occur mostly only in the American midwest and Bangladesh, a layman's understanding of the various stages of our worlds' development, including some of the more simple evolutionary lessons of our planet AS a planet, which I will now present for your reading pleasure, from back to front:<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
There are very early ersas of our planets' history, beginning about four and a half billion years ago. The most distant era begins with the Hadeon era, a period of heavy bombardment of our proto-planet by meteors, comets and planetoids, which added mass to the Earth, and helped it to take shape. The Moon came along at some point during the Hadeon, most likely as the result of the collision between the Earth and a Mars sized proto-planet also in the process of forming, retroactively named Theia. The resulting collision shattered chunks of the Earth and Theia, which eventually coalesced and formed the Moon... or Luna, which is the officially recognized name of planet Earths' moon.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
The Archean era, beginning about 3.5 billion years ago, was when the first microbial life appeared in the recently formed oceans of Earth.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
The Proterozoic era, a time during which oxygen was first introduced in abundance into our atmosphere by a proliferation of oceanic plant life, also included a time from about two billion years ago, when the Earth was completely covered, pole to pole, with ice. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Then came the really interesting eras -</div>
<div dir="ltr">
The Paleozoic, the Mesozoic, and Cenozoic eras, which began about 500,000,000 years ago. That is, about five hundred million years.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Those three fairly recent - in geological terms, anyway - eras are largely defined by the sudden, as yet to be explained, explosion of complex life upon the Earth, both upon land and in water alike. Called the 'Cambrian Explosion', it was a relatively brief time consisting of an extreme evolutionary event. Complex creatures began to appear, which evolved at an incredible rate.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Many of these animals, most of them sea creatures, shared a common distinction... nature had invented vertebrates. That is, they all had backbones.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
The discovery of the first presence of fossilized vertebrates are more or less a a bullseye caught between the sights of modern history, compared to the very ancient.<br />
<br />
The discovery of the first fossilized vertebrates tells a extremely accurate story as to when in the history of the Earth the evolution of what we could truly call complex life - life of a kind that we can begin to compare, with real meaning, to very similar forms of life which are proliferate today. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Summed up simply, the vertebra is the so-called Gold Standard when comparing the evolution of more complex life, as it moves away from previous, more primitive types.<br />
<br />
It all happened as a result of, as I've mentioned, the 'Cambrian Explosion'.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
It's this last era of the Cambrian Explosion, which is sort of an all descriptive term decribing three different eras, back to back.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
The last one of these 'mini-eras' which existed as a result of the Cambrian Explosion was the Cenozioc, the time during which mammals evolved. And about 4/5ths of the way through the combined Paleozoic, Mesozoic and Cenozoic eras - that is, right on the heads off the very first mammals that ever existed - an asteroid about 6 to 10 miles wide impacted the Yucatan basin in the Gulf of Mexico. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Some of the ejecta was blown away at high velocity from the sheer force of the impact, and were actually blasted into outer space. Some escaped the Earths' gravity, while some went into orbit.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Then there were the few scadzillion chunks of future Mexico, including large parts of the seafloor which would have become The Gulf of Mexico a few dozen million years later, which achieved suborbital velocities and, as a result, started to re-enter the atmosphere. Suddenly, chunks of earth ranging in size from a speck of dust to boulders the size of a house, and larger, began raining back into the atmosphere, all over the Earth. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
There was so much ejecta coming into that the Earths' atmosphere that the heat of what must have been millions of meteoroids entering the atmosphere for a good long while - days, maybe - combined, resulting in a global air temperature of about 600° F, evenly distributed over the Earths' surface.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Needless to say, much more surface life survived if it was able to dig deep underground... and some were able to, and<br />
some survived. They were mostly the mammals, and possibly some lizards and insects. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Other larger animals, most of them being some of the dinosaurs we recognize even to this day, which had thrived on the surface of the Earth for millions of years, didn't have much of a choice, or a chance. They either stayed on the surface and were roasted alive in the 600° F air temperature, or they choked to death on volcanic ash. Probably a combination of the two. Neither one a pleasant way to give up the ghost.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
For anyone who is curious and thought I'd forgotten, ocean life was largely unaffected by any of the ongoing calamity occurring on the surface and in the air... until the food chains started to collapse. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
All in all, about 75% of all life on Earth went extinct due to the asteroid which struck the Yucatan peninsula, about 65 million years ago. Which also means that, unbelievably, 25% of life on Earth actually survived the ancient cataclysmic event, and over the course of several more eons, a new diversity and a new kind of life was thriving.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
We have the Earth as we know it today thanks to the 25%, of life that wasn't wiped out. Without those hardy survivors, the human race wouldn't exist.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
There's evidence for this imbedded in the strata of the Earths' rocks, called the Cretaceous–Paleogene boundary, or the K-T boundary, as it's more commonly known.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
Elements discovered in the this dark strata which distinguishes the K-T boundary layer consist of impact shocked quartz, clay glass spherules, and most importantly, iridium... which is naturally found on Earth, but far more abundant in nickel- iron asteroids and meteoroids, carbonaceous chondrite asteroids, and comets... providing serious evidence which, through carbon dating, almost certainly proves that a major impact occurred along the Mexican Yucatan peninsula about 65 million years ago, initiating a major extinction event.<br />
<br />
There's even a buried, 93 mile wide crater there, discovered by space borne radar, named the Chicxulub Crater, after a nearby town.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Anyway, that's a bit of knowledge about our planet, and a good portion of my knowledge of it's history all. It's all I feel like yammering about now, anyway. I will reiterate, however... <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
The K-T boundary is 65 million years old, evidence of only one of several even more devastating extinction events which have occurred during the history of our planet, which dates back to about 4.5 billion years ago... ages upon ages during which the previously described epochs occurred, in terms more readily understandable to mere humans, which I've already addressed.<br />
<br />
And even though I've only described the most recent catastrophe which has befallen our planet, there are several even MORE harrowing episodes our planet has endured and survived, one of which wiped out 90% of ALL LIFE ON THE PLANET.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Still.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Dinosaurs didn't really go extinct. They evolved into birds. Mammals obviously didn't go extinct, and some of them evolved into animals familiar to us, today... Including ourselves.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Other than these facts I've already, stated, plus a handful of others I haven't, I know next to nothing about Planet Earth and the way we react to and with it in a meaningful way. I just know that to a lot of folks, the words 'Planet Earth' and 'Human Beings' are synonymous. I don't because people like these sure are unavailable concerning their ignorance, but they sure are irritating as hell.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Which beings me to my NEXT topic. Will this guy ever shut up?</div>
<div dir="ltr">
Probably not. <br />
.<br />
.<br />
.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
So, If you aren't polarized beyond hope pertaining to some issue, making it possible to demonstrate a bare modicum of intelligence and willingness to listen to an opposing argument based on it's own merits - which of course, would likely be in direct opposition to yours - I believe that would be at least be a step in the right direction toward a togetherness and understanding, as opposed to fear and a closed mind. It simply doesn't matter all that much who, ultimately, is right or wrong.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Anyway, I'll bet you thought this long-ass diatribe was close to being over and done with.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
WRONG AGAIN!!<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
Allow me to introduce My snark. He's a GREAT bullshit sniffer. In fact, he just LOVES to roll around in bullshit, and get it all over himself, including other humans! l usually only release my snark, depending upon three different conditions:<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
1. How hungry is my Snark? <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
One of my snarks' more usettling type of behavior occurs when I'm not taking the best care of him. As a result, he is content to snark some snarky remarks on anything that happens to scroll by, whether or not it's deserved.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Occasionally though, we'll come across a post containing a bonafide Attitude, which happens to be my snarks' favorite food! When this happens, IT'S FEEDING TIME! GET READY TO MEET MY SNARK! I call him Snarky, for short.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
2. Everyone is already gossiping their empty little heads off at the absurdity of the news. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
At times like these, my snark and I don't have far to look for sustenance. The local and international news frequently, and by that I mean, ALL THE TIME, just publishes news news news... and it flies flies flies, like backbirds with recently mended wings, singing in the dead of night and directly over the crowds of thundering dunderheads who happen to be surrounding some monument or another (doesn't matter what the monument represents, if it's a monument, it's coming down), with the violent intent to perform an act or acts or violence upon said monument, using righteous anger as their tool, but in their doing so, becoming so falsely enlightened, they are therefore encouraged to perform who knows how much more 'righteous violence' against innocent people, private property, themselves, the police, and other buildings and cars, nearby or otherwise, occupied or otherwise, which share no association of any kind with any reason why rioting should take place there.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
By now, these people, the rioters, are completely disillusioned. I can hardly keep my snark... his name is Snarky... in check during discussions of these matters.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
3. The evolution of what I've just <br />
described is called Mob Mentality. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Snarky HATES Mob Mentality, more than just about anything. By now, he's ready to advance to a Level 2 Snark, Snarky the Serious!<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
If you don't believe me when I say that such a phenomena exists and that it's occurring more and more, right here in the USA, then Google it up. It's easy.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Here, I'll help, with a simple definition:<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Mob Mentality, or Herd Mentality. I can't help but notice how the word 'Herd', an animalistic condition, is applied to a human condition.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
"Herd mentality -</div>
<div dir="ltr">
Herd Mentality, or mob mentality and pack mentality, also lesser known as gang mentality, describes how people can be influenced by their peers to adopt certain behaviors on a largely emotional, rather than a rational basis."<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herd_mentality#:~:text=Herd%20mentality%2C%20mob%20mentality%20and,%2C%20rather%20than%20rational%2C%20basis">https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herd_mentality#:~:text=Herd%20mentality%2C%20mob%20mentality%20and,%2C%20rather%20than%20rational%2C%20basis</a>.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
And here's a thorough description of Violent Mob Mentality in humans:</div>
<div dir="ltr">
"As humans, we have instinctual responses that are exacerbated by group influences. What we might not do as individuals we may do as part of a group. People may lose control of their usual inhibitions, as their mentality becomes that of the group.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
You have never heard of a peaceful riot. Riots are, by definition, violent in nature.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
All a riot is, is violent group behavior. The larger the group the greater the amplification of that group behavior. If the group behavior is peaceful, exemplified by Martin Luther King and Ghandi, the group behavior is peaceful and orderly.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
If the group behavior is violent, the larger the group, the more magnified the violence. The phenomenon of mob mentality has occurred throughout human history, whether it's witch burning, religious zealotry, political protests, or reactions to perceived racial micro-aggressions."<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<a href="https://drwendyjames.com/the-psychology-of-mob-mentality-and-violence/">https://drwendyjames.com/the-psychology-of-mob-mentality-and-violence/</a><br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
My snark is getting extremely pissed off. He has no mercy, my snark, on those who think and operate from an eager motivation to embrace ignorance, and an active defiance of at least acknowledging an opposing point of view without expressing violence in words or violence in personal action, such an assault upon someone physically or verbally against someone's personal character - mostly with physical violence used in a misguided attack, with the purpose of vengeance.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
I expect this violent mob of oppressors currently operating in Denton to be using whatever tools at their disposal that an unruly mob can bring to arms in order to tear down that Confederate monument on the Denton Square. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
I'm gonna assume the use of fists, yes... fists, sledge hammers, crowbars, regular hammers, electric power drills, a few long, metal poles forced underneath the foundation of the monument, with tough, solid objects, metal or otherwise, as a leveraging mechanism for uprooting this Confederate monument on the square in Denton, the one on the south side of the lawn upon which the old Courthouse still stands. I wouldn't surprised to see backhoes being used. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
My snark is so pissed he's hot enough to glow a dull red. I'm having to keep him tied up with Teflon cord and away from flammable materials. He's having a difficult time with the concepts of tolerance which I once instilled into his snarky little brain.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
I'm reacting to his visibly upset condition with a slew of words, continually repeated to him, like a mantra:<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
"Why should I really give a shit? Huh? Really, why? Why should I care about the memories of my ancestors? Why should I care that burning Georgia to the ground was an unforgivable atrocity? Why should I give one, single, floating turd about this issue? I can just go about life, right? My life... as it is, anyway.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
My snark is giving me a look. A look that's close to imminent, ravenous laughter, but even closer to his imminent intent to shred me to pieces, even somehow with me safely out of his way. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
He's thinking of making his OWN way closer to escaping, and his OWN way to Denton, to DO something... <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
But at the end of it, I guess that's all. Just pipe dreams. Now Snarky displays only this sad look of desperation and resignation.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
My Snark is not in a mood.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Best to leave him alone for awhile.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
He's not in a mood.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
A short story my experience of the almost unheard of, almost forbidden to mention existence of the phenomenon of white entitlement... except happening in reverse, to a white guy, and described exactly as it happened, detail by horrendous detail.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Guess what. I'm the main character of the story! I'm the white guy who was discriminated against, because of my long hair my beard, my combat boots, and the satchel I always have with me to carry around the accoutrements of a modern life.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
It's only one story out of dozens and dozens of similar situations which I've endured stoically throughout my life for the most part, but today, this one particular bitch, plus all of her cohorts, managed to stir me up, practically at the same time, resulting in my telling all of them, in so many words, that I hoped each one of them had to continue to endure their own miserable existences for the next several eons, and that they all had defective genetics. Also, sometimes you just gotta tell somebody to fuck right off the planet, and to die horribly while they're doing it.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
This particular instance happened today, June 18th, 2020 at about 2:30 pm.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
Well, I have to admit that I had a fairly interesting day today, as far as shitty days go. I was accused of stealing wine from the local store where I buy cigarettes. By the way, this baseless accusation is worth about twelve tons of elephant manure.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
I haven't purchased wine there for probably about six weeks, but I have been a regular customer at this specific store for about five months. I've been in there almost every one of those days, including ever since the alleged thievery occurred, to pick up a pack of daily smokes.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
For some unfathomable, retarded hick reason, the retards who manage and work at the place had finally decided six weeks after the fact of my last wine purchase, that I had been stealing wine.<br />
<br />
Huh, thought I? This was my first reaction. Gotta be a mistake.<br />
<br />
I had purchased wine there before, sure - and I had ALWAYS put the wine on the counter, followed by exchanging money for goods and services - but for this somewhat slowly burgeoning idea in their brains they'd that I was somehow guilty, to congeal, took six weeks. decided to allow six weeks. An entire six weeks went by without my making a single wonder purchase... just cigarettes. This is what really called me when it has stink inpin, which didn't years more than a few seconds, after being accused of stealing wine.<br />
<br />
My second thought was:<br />
<br />
What kind of stupid ass, retarded, below 75 IQ kind of deduction was THAT? Why didn't they act on this suspicion six weeks ago, as opposed to tearing me like any other customer for six weeks, before putting to strike? Are the folks who run this place really as retarded as I've suspected they were?<br />
<br />
My third reaction, after being told to leave the store under threat of calling the police was uttering, very loudly:<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
"What the fuck? You can't be serious!"<br />
<br />
That's probably a fairly common, instant type of reaction to hear from someone right after feeling the instant shock you get when you've just been arbitrarily accused falsely of a crime that you had absolutely nothing to do with.<br />
<br />
Being accused falsely of something is like pressing my Big Red Nuclear War button.<br />
<div dir="ltr">
So, as I expected - when she beame adamant, that's when the real War kicked off, and I started cussing like a lunatic. Then the real shouting began, when I made it perfectly clear to them exactly where they could all fuck off to, with the bottom of the Marianas Trench being my most popular suggestion. I cursed them, their families, their ancestors and their horses. I cursed the ground the stote was built upon. I was told to have a 'nice day' by one employee as I was in the process of exciting the store. I replied:</div>
<br />
"You can have a nice day in Hell, lady." I bought my cigarettes elsewhere.<br />
<br />
By the time I was almost home, a cop spotted me and waved me over. Of course they'd called the cops, those bunch of earthworms. The cop who motioned to me asked if I would mind waiting outside the store, while he talked with the proprietor.<br />
<br />
"Go for it," I replied.<br />
<br />
After enough time has passed for the owner and employeesh to finish spinning thecthe crafted exposition of lies they'd obviously agreed upon beforehand, making absolutely sure that there fiction they were raising was fine indeed, I waited outside while lies were being told about me inside.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Finally the cop came out of the store and interviewsed me personally.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Cop - "Have you ever stolen wine from this establishment?"<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Me - "Hell no! Everybody who works there is filthy pack of liars! I've been a regular customer for six months, and yes, I have before purcased wine there legally and with real live cash. Sometimes even with a debit or credit transaction! I don't know what kind of bug crawled up their asses and died, or why they all have their panties in a bunch, but they're accusing the wrong guy! I'm sick of this shit, being singled out and accused of something ALL THE TIME because of the way I look and dress. Sick of it, I say!"<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
The cop was all like:<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
"Whoa whoa, settle down and hold your horses for a sec. I understand that you're angry, and I'd be too if I were you. You're not under arrest or being detained. You've done nothing wrong. (a couple of employees were watching the transaction began myself and the cop, and didn't look too happy about the way things were turning out. Well, fuck them with a corkscrew!)<br />
<br />
Cop - "However, there are just a few details we have to see to still we can put this mess behind us -"<br />
<br />
Me - "Gimme it. I'll sign it gladly. I have nonno intention of ever stepping foot inside that shithole again, trespassers warning or not. Lemme sign it."<br />
<br />
The cop was a little taken aback, but promptly produce produced the papers. I signed them then, and that concluded our business.<br />
<br />
Although. <br />
<br />
One thing it's certain. Somebody it's stealing winf that place, and apparently it's reflecting in their inventory logs. I have 12 years of experience working at a place that, and somebody's stealing. Probably an employee<br />
<br />
I hope she gets caught and fired real soon.<br />
<br />
If it's not an employee, well. More power to 'em. I hope they clean the place out. I wish the wine thief the best of luck.<br />
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
I grew up in a small East Texas town 20 minutes from where I am. I'm almost 50. I haven't lived here for 30 years. A few things have changed... there's a Mac Donald's now. Mostly what's changed is that nobody I knew in high school lives here anymore.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Oh. One thing that hasn't changed. One horse towns in the Bible Belt are still overflowing with retarded hicks..<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
Ok, I went off the rails there for a while. Still, if you actually read all of that, you've wound up with not only a good dose of my logic, but some of my personal experiences, as well.</div>
</div>
Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-21618476633270159722020-05-31T10:44:00.006-05:002021-09-14T17:53:30.556-05:00A Cold Still NightOn a still, cold night<br />
When the moon is full,<br />
The light it puts on everything...<br />
The first thing I noticed,<br />
The fallen leaves.<br />
They look like bright paint spatters.<br />
Some heavenly disaster.<br />
Some remodeling up there,<br />
That took a spill.<br />
It's a beautiful accident.<br />
It's like...<br />
They're gray. The spatters.<br />
The fallen leaves.<br />
They're gray,<br />
And I don't know how they do it...<br />
But they contain colors.<br />
They keep them all,<br />
And they don't let them go,<br />
But they're aware.<br />
And just prideful enough to let you know<br />
That they're there.<br />
The beauty underneath<br />
Must be more than I could stand.Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-52343769553850038432020-05-31T10:39:00.006-05:002021-09-14T17:52:08.862-05:00Grand Central StationBRRRRRIIIIINGALINNNG<br />
<br />
Hello, Grand Central Station...<br />
<br />
Oh, hey, sup y'all. Huh? Me? Oh nuthin'. Just out haunting the neighborhood, up to no good. Drunk and high on amphetamines, hanging around between parked cars, with my head full of stars.<br />
<br />
Oh, sorry... Huh?<br />
<br />
Yeesh! That sounds exactly like the pedicure from hell, straight out of the lawyer book. Hell yeah, file a claim! That's an act of God. It's legal! Bad pedicures are always Acts Of God. Look it up in the lawyer book!<br />
<br />
What? Say again? You woke up and your toenails were on fire? Oh. You just shake that off, that's called wake&bake&shake. Huh? Oh, what? They're literally on fire, with flames and smoke? Oh! Dang. Sorry bout that.<br />
<br />
:::click::::<br />
<br />
BRRRRRIIIIINGALINNNG!<br />
<br />
Hello, Grand Central Station Drug Emporium, can I help you? Huh? Oh, I see. Cold or clammy? Both? Which hand? Both hands? Ok, hold please...<br />
<br />
BRRRRRIIIIINGALINNNG!<br />
<br />
Grand Central Station Drug Emporium Smack-O-Matic, what's your emergency? Huh? Oh. Oh, I see. Are you sure? Ok then... firstly, and according to the instructions here... hang on. Ok. Firstly, did you do the tail flick test? No? Oh... yeah. No, yeah. You need to do that for the death certificate. Red tape... anyway.<br />
<br />
:::click:::<br />
<br />
BRRRRRIIIIINGALINNNG<br />
<br />
Hello, Grand Central Station Boulevard... Oh! You still there? Great! What you need are 10,000 mg of Imodium. Do you have it? I mean them? Whatever... Oh... huh? What? Oh, you have it? REALLY? NO SHIT? Great! Now just administer it... carefully... watch for it... into the subdural vein of the transvertical hematoma, of the corresponding brain partholomew... watch for the weak ipsilaterral component... got it? Great!<br />
<br />
Now. What I need you to do is to STAB the rat, carefully, right up it's butthole. Yes. Up the butthole. What? Oh, whatever... FINE! The anus. Can we continue? Thank you!<br />
<br />
Carefully STAB the rat, right up it's ass, with a carefully contrived stabbing tool... why you little... hey, let go of that! SECURITY!!<br />
<br />
:::click:::<br />
<br />
BRRRRRIIIIINGALINNNG<br />
<br />
Hello, Grand Central Station Mind Fuck Delivery Service and Quantum Algebra, please hold...<br />
<br />
::: seventy two gazillion years later:::<br />
<br />
BRRRRRIIIIINGALINNNG<br />
<br />
Hello, Grand Central Station Mind Fuck Delivery Service and Quantum Algebra II, please hold...Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-66519988289462640132020-05-31T10:34:00.002-05:002021-09-14T17:52:51.821-05:00Planet DirtYou know what? 'Planet Earth' - that most majesterial sounding title that we proudly give to and proclaim as to be our homeworld - to some alien would translate literally to 'Planet Dirt'.<br />
<br />
'Where do you come from?' those aliens would ask.<br />
<br />
'What do you call your homeworld?' they'd say.<br />
<br />
'You call it Earth? What does it mean, this word, Earth? Please, enlighten us with your rich cultural history! We are extremely advanced aliens, and we respect all humble origins! What? Huh? Say again? No. Really? You're joking!<br />
<br />
We, as advanced and enlightened aliens, of course, appreciate humor... huh? You're not joking? Wait, just hold on.<br />
<br />
Earth means... that is, translated literally, it means... dirt? Like, the stuff that makes you dirty? The stuff that retarded kids eat, and that Enlightened Beings continually strive to remain cleansed of and from? That's the name of your world? Planet Dirt?'<br />
<br />
Uncomfortable silence.<br />
<br />
'Ta ta, dirtlings!'<br />
<br />
Aaaaand... they've shunted into hyperspace.Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-61305075334434732822020-05-31T10:32:00.004-05:002021-09-14T17:56:18.259-05:00Clean Off Your Desk!I have a serious problem, as should any reasonable, thinking being, with this particular command:<br />
<br />
Clean off your desk!<br />
<br />
You know, it really should be clean ON your desk instead of clean OFF your desk, since the word 'OFF' kinda means 'away from', suggesting to the irrational mind that cleaning should occur away from your desk. I know exactly what you're thinking, so please bear with me, because my point is vitally important.<br />
<br />
For instance... say you were obligated to give a retarded kid a piggyback ride, because of for whatever or something. You'd use this sentence structure to communicate with the retard:<br />
<br />
verb, preposition, pronoun, noun<br />
<br />
It's the exact same sentence structure used in the original statement under critical examination here:<br />
<br />
Clean off your desk<br />
<br />
But in this case, it would be:<br />
<br />
Climb on my back<br />
<br />
Now, since retards are mentally skittish to begin with and easily confused and are all lacking any real understanding regarding the nuance of natural language, it's critical that you should convey your meaning to one as simply and literally as possible, so as to avoid eliciting a short circuit - or a brain burn, as it's referred to clinically - inside the thick, insulated skull casings which house the coagulated brain mush which clumsily controls the primary retarded functioning of the retard, such as inhaling, excreting, swallowing, screaming incoherently, drooling, and going flat out apeshit.<br />
<br />
You see, saying 'clean off your desk' as a suggestion for the actual cleaning up of the surface of a desk is the exact same thing as saying 'get off my back' to a retard that's expecting a piggyback ride. The incongruence instantly triggers apeshit mode, as retards are too stupid to understand anything but the simplest, most literal of communicationing.<br />
<br />
The brain of the common retard is comparable to the big, clunky mechanical calculators of the early 20th century... loud, slow, inefficient, extremely limited in functionality, prone to overheating and routinely resulting in grotesque error and mechanical breakdown, and defaulting automatically into apeshit mode at the slightest provocation.<br />
<br />
Now, if you were to say to a full on, modern day retard -<br />
<br />
'Clean off your desk'<br />
<br />
- that retard would immediately default to apeshit mode and would begin an energetic and completely retarded attempt to clean everything in the room BUT the desk. And by CLEAN, I mean DESTROY COMPLETELY, according to the clunky brain hammerings of the total retard which has just been commanded to clean everything except for something while operating as full on retard going apeshit in full on apeshit mode. Obviously, the results would be devastating.<br />
Since it's impossible to calculate with any certainties whether or not the person or persons standing in front of you, or anyone within earshot who may be receiving your omnidirectional cleaning suggestions for that matter, is or are fully retarded, it is therefore vital to broadcast these communications clearly, simply, and literally, especially when you're posting them online indiscriminately to millions of potential full-on retards. A careless command to 'lick clean a dirty ashtray' could initiate a full scale retard apocalypse, and that would spell the end for all of us... the retards included.<br />
And that would just be a shame.<br />
<br />
So, have a care when speaking aloud or typing loudly, wherever you are. You never know when a full blown retard might be in range. The future of the Earth, the survival of our species, blah blah blah.Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-57866146471575726452020-05-31T10:31:00.005-05:002021-09-14T17:54:51.158-05:00Fuck You, ESA!Back in 2003, the ESA (European Space Agency - NASA's younger, dumber brother) gave the UKSA's (United Kingdom Space Agency - ESA's younger, dumberer step brother) Beagle 2 Mars lander a piggyback ride to Mars aboard the Mars Express mission.<br />
<br />
Remember? Anybody else remember what happened to that mechanical clamburger looking thing, the Beagle 2 lander? And how it was supposed to pop open, like a... a waffle iron, and then flop out those two space waffles on each side, like a couple of space flavored Pop-Tarts? Remember how you don't remember it doing any of those things?<br />
<br />
Yeah, it was a flop. Just the awfullest, colossalest, floppiest, sloppiest 40 million mile high dive belly flop onto another planet, EVER.<br />
<br />
Y'all remember that now?<br />
<br />
Well, that ESA kid on the other side of the lake just up and got too big for his britches in 2016, and decided to send it's very own 30 trazillion euro paperweight to Mars... and they named it the ExoMars mission.<br />
Come on. I thought Europe was supposed to be trendy and ahead of the curve. Naming everything that's supposed to be awesome after the letter X didn't make the Mars Express any more X-Treme than it already wasn't, and that was at the tail end of the whole EXTREEEM!!! fad.<br />
<br />
So why are you still doing it sixteen years later, ESA? Huh? Are you trying to bring back the old black? Trying to be retro for the hipsters, or whatever those things are called over there? Is that it? Are you trying to appeal to a worthless demographic? Why would you do that? Is your, uh, board of ministers or whatever run by stuffy old farts who still think the mimeograph machine is mind blowing technology? Huh? What?<br />
<br />
You don't have to answer any of those, because here's the answer.<br />
<br />
NOPE.<br />
<br />
Sorry boutcher hipster-fueled next generation Waffleman with X-Treme autoskip protection and the latest European army man parachutes that went SPLAT all over Mars yesterday, like a Mongoloid hijacked the short bus and sent it careening toward Mars, hell bent for space waffles.<br />
<br />
Come on, Europe. How hard is it to put an armless, legless robot with a walkie talkie on Mars, for Pete's sake? Your older, smarter brother has had like, seven of those things up there for the past 40 years, now. Four of them are cars by the way, and two of those cars are still driving around. One of them for thirteen years, and still going.<br />
<br />
BAM! In your face, Europe! And Russia, and China too, as a matter of fact!<br />
<br />
In your FACE, turdknockers of the world!<br />
<br />
JPL RULES!Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-33983137807502485882020-05-31T10:28:00.007-05:002021-09-14T17:55:30.903-05:00Receipt DisasterThe musings of the 7-Eleven guy<br />
<br />
Today I made a discovery of multi-dimensional proportions and unparalleled magnitude. After several minutes of thoughtful contemplation, I have now realized that the widespread dissemination of this information could potentially lead to a paradigm shift of unprecedented scale, the repercussions of which would absolutely be devastating to something or another... probably global civilization. That means you, personally. Therefore, I strongly feel that my initial reticence toward unleashing this potential planet buster is thoroughly justified.<br />
<br />
However...<br />
<br />
If there's one thing I absolutely know that I have zero chance of misunderstanding about my own understanding of myself, plus the public, which includes myself, is that that misunderstanding would necessarily be the understanding of the public demand for the truth, and by 'the public', I mean of course, you, dear reader, and also myself. We demand the truth, don't we? We know we do.<br />
<br />
Allow us to demonstrate... try to think of a word that rhymes with truth that doesn't sound silly when spoken out loud, over and over. See? You demand the truth, and nothing but the truth will do of course, and I know this about you. Now, I don't wanna be a party poop, but this next part pretty much has to come next.<br />
<br />
It all started with a dream I had several months ago. In this dream I was at work, checking a never-ending line of customers. After each customer, I'd crumple up the receipt and toss it into the wastepaper basket behind me, but every time, it would miss and land on the floor or under the counter. This continued for an interminable amount of dream-time, until the mountain behind me finally collapsed upon my head and back, suffocating me and crushing me underneath an avalanche of used receipt paper.<br />
<br />
Ever since then, and until just a few hours ago, I've been living that nightmare at work each day, hundreds of times a day, with my ever mounting anxiety continuing to mount, like that ever mounting mountain of receipts... and like that mountain, I fully expected my sanity to collapse very soon, instantly transforming me into a pile of wet, gibbering idiot.<br />
<br />
Today my fears were finally realized, as just a few hours ago I was blithely tossing a crumpled up piece of receipt paper directly through the unoccupied space immediately to the left of the wastepaper basket. At that moment my sanity choose to finally and unexpectedly collapse, just like I knew it would, and for a few seconds I really was a pile of wet, gibbering idiot.<br />
<br />
However, I wasn't just any idiot, wet or gibbering or otherwise... I was an idiot savant! Oh, the memory of such glorious terror, of knowing the sheer slobbering genius of retarded brilliance, of witnessing the pristine potential of an unfettered moron, of experiencing the animalistic, bowel evacuating horror of undiminished, soul crushing understanding, and at the same time, fully realizing that it was the spasming shittle of pure genius which was violently evacuating my nether regions!<br />
<br />
What seemed like several seconds of that was in actuality only a couple of seconds, and afterward, and to my own chagrin, I emerged from that temporary fugue state, slack-jawed and drooling, to the baffled regard of a customer who was waiting patiently for his receipt. The very receipt which, only seconds before, had elicited the cavalcade of synaptic effluvium from my embradtled brain. I told the customer that there wasn't no way that I was gonna dig around for that stupid piece of receipt paper, and that he couldn't make me do it either! I felt so empowered!<br />
<br />
Now comes the piebaldism, the moment of revelation... here goes. What it was that I realized today, Devadander, was that those bunched up and crumpled little bits and pieces of receipt paper aren't aerodynamic, AT ALL! In fact, they're the exact opposite of aerodynamic! That's why when you throw them, they just do whatever and go wherever, which is almost always NOT where or what you wanted them to go or do!<br />
<br />
Finally, everybody knows!<br />
<br />
Expect to see me in Stockholm next year, receiving the Nobel Food Prize for splitting the ham-burger.<br />
<br />Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-80285863662284031302020-05-31T10:24:00.003-05:002021-09-14T17:55:38.383-05:00Note backups 04The seven DefCon levels of customer service<br />
<br />
Customer: Camel Crush.<br />
<br />
Clerk: K.<br />
<br />
Description: Customer wants a pack of Camel Crush.<br />
<br />
Difficulty: Nonexistent.<br />
<br />
Observation: The most basic level of interaction. Efficiently bypasses any pretext of social dilly dallying.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
DefCon 6<br />
<br />
Customer: Hey.<br />
<br />
Clerk: Hey.<br />
<br />
Customer: Pack of Camel Crush.<br />
<br />
Description: Simple acknowledgment of existence and item procurement.<br />
<br />
Difficulty: Simple and easy. Almost no thinking involved.<br />
<br />
Observation: The bare minimum of social pleasantries are observed.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
DefCon 5<br />
<br />
Customer: Hello.<br />
<br />
Clerk: Hello.<br />
<br />
Customer: Pack of Camel Crush.<br />
<br />
Description: Basic social formalities are introduced.<br />
<br />
Difficulty: Still simple and easy, but the vague threat of further interaction beyond the basic 'money for smokes' concept lingers.<br />
<br />
Observation: Saying 'hello' forces customer interaction onto a basic personal level. The likelihood of eye contact throws body language into the equation, increasing the possibility that more words will have to be thought up and said, which could lead to further complications.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
DefCon 4<br />
<br />
Customer: How's it going?<br />
<br />
Clerk: Pretty good.<br />
<br />
Customer: Pack of Camel Crush.<br />
<br />
Description: The next level of basic social interaction - a query for information, necessitating an appropriate response, in addition to procuring a pack of Camel Crush.<br />
<br />
Difficulty: Simplicity is sacrificed for social niceties, introducing the possibility of even more complex social interaction.<br />
<br />
Observation: Although a step up in complexity from the simple acknowledgment, this exchange occurs almost automatically, with both parties usually aware at an unconscious level that the customer has no real interest in how things are actually going for the clerk.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
DefCon 3<br />
<br />
Customer: How ya doing?<br />
<br />
Me: Well, I've got a pinched nerve in my back -<br />
<br />
Customer: Pack of Camel Crush.<br />
<br />
Description: Comparable to 'how's it going' but without the feigned sincerity.<br />
<br />
Difficulty: Possibly tiring. Although this exchange is still largely automatic, it is more personal. The probability of a simple exchange decreases with the possibile involvement of the ego.<br />
<br />
Observation: When attempting to answer the question of 'how ya doing' with anything other than the stock reply of 'good' or 'ok', the clerk may suffer embarrassment or become pissed off when the customer cuts him off in mid-answer. It's important to note here that the only thing the customer really gives a flying horses patoot about is getting that pack of Camel Crush from point A to point B.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
DefCon 2<br />
<br />
Customer: Hey man. What's up? How's it going? Say, do you think I could... you know... or do you think you could, I mean, you know... payroll* a couple of beers and a couple of packs of Camel Crush? And I can get you back on Friday? *payroll - instead of paying for an item immediately, the cost of a purchased item is deducted from the clerks paycheck<br />
<br />
Clerk: Aw crap...<br />
<br />
Description: A blitzkrieg of social pleasantries, inquiries, and special requests forces thinking and talking into primary mode.<br />
<br />
Difficulty: Exhausting.<br />
<br />
Observation: This happens when the clerk is either too damn nice or too damn stupid. It usually begins by letting one guy slide for a pack of cigarettes and then another, leading to a snowball effect which results in a severely diminished paycheck.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
DerfCon 1<br />
<br />
Customer: How ya doin'?<br />
<br />
Clerk: Well, my back -<br />
<br />
Customer: Pack of Camel Crush.<br />
<br />
Clerk: (sigh)<br />
<br />
Customer: Oh, hang on...<br />
<br />
Customer: ... and this 4-Loko.<br />
<br />
Clerk: Got your ID?<br />
<br />
Customer: What?<br />
<br />
Clerk: I need a current one, not just this temporary piece of paper.<br />
<br />
Customer: I got this from the DMV.<br />
<br />
Clerk: Do you have the expired plastic one to go with it?<br />
<br />
Customer: No.<br />
<br />
Clerk: I'm sorry man, but I can't sell you the 4-Loko.<br />
<br />
Customer: Well hell, why do they give you the temporary one then?<br />
<br />
Clerk: I dunno.<br />
<br />
Customer: Can she buy it?<br />
<br />
Clerk: No, you guys came in together. She'd obviously be buying it for you, and that's illegal.<br />
<br />
Customer: What if we left and then she came in by herself?<br />
<br />
Clerk: Uh... no.<br />
<br />
Customer: Why not? She's got her ID!<br />
<br />
Clerk: Because I'm not that stupid.<br />
<br />
Customer: What the FUCK, dude! I'm 21!<br />
<br />
Clerk: You do understand that I can't take your word on that, right? That's why ID's are a thing.<br />
<br />
Customer: But this IS my ID! I got the fucking thing from the DMV! See there? See my birthday? I'm 21!<br />
<br />
Clerk: I understand that you're upset, and that being upset can make you stupid, and that a couple of days from now you'll probably look back on this and have yourself a good chuckle.<br />
<br />
Customer: Fuck you man, you can't talk to me like that! I wanna talk to your manager!<br />
<br />
Clerk: He doesn't have time for bullshit like this.<br />
<br />
Customer: FUCK YOU, MAN!<br />
<br />
Clerk: Could you get out of the way? You're holding up the line.<br />
<br />
Customer: I'm gonna kick your ass tonight, just right as soon as you walk out that door! I'm gonna be waiting!<br />
<br />
Clerk: Whatev.<br />
<br />
Customer: ASSHOOOOOOOOLE.....<br />
<br />
Description: Things fall apart, the center does not hold. The World War Three of customer interaction.<br />
<br />
Difficulty: Yeesh.<br />
<br />
Observation: Fuck it.Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-87629956022768063852020-05-31T10:23:00.007-05:002021-09-14T17:57:12.699-05:00The Space CanoeFour days ago today, the United Capracratic Ochlocracy of the Kakistocratic Union of Fascist Despots, Inc. launched a space canoe carrying a 300 bps heavy duty fax machine from their launch complex at the bottom of the Marianas Trench with a seven league bungee cord, and a new age was ushered in a few minutes ago as the first high speed according to snails internet portal was finally delivered to a remote asteroid located in the butthole of the Kuiper Belt.<br />
<br />
Here underneath the Western Antarctic Ice Sheet internet technology is still in its infancy, thanks to Kim Jong Un spending his entire nuclear arsenal all at once in an attempt to destroy Santa Claus. Dennis Rodman was assassinated for providing faulty intelligence, which is hilarious. Unfortunately, the hilarity ends here.<br />
<br />
Thanks to that debacle, accessing the internet here in our underlava bunkers depends greatly on the persistent functionality of a single state of the art EMP hardened 486DX^3 server hailing from the glory days of the double-oughts. That is, before the great Aztec vs. Inuit Wars of 1993.<br />
<br />
The local population of Aztecs here at the bottom of the North Pole are the proud, possible descendants of their fathers who lost an entire war to Eskimos. They are haughty, and as a result, they resent the millennia old Inuit tradition of passing punishment unto the seventh son of the seventh son of every single convicted Aztec war criminal. To native Aztecs, such a law is an unholy abomination, and as a result, they are haughty, and righteously so.<br />
<br />
Therefore, these last remaining Aztecs are forced against their will to refurbish their enormous war debt to the Inuit... debts incurred during a war which, ironically, was fought for the control of a still nonexistent West Pole.<br />
<br />
A massive stratagem was devised to relocate the entire surviving Aztec population to Atlantis in order to work off their war debt as IT technicians. It was a dire undertaking. Many Aztecs were lost to their tempers, and almost no one was doing any IT at all. The history books refer to this time as 'troublesome', a word which many modern day Aztecs and Inuits alike agree makes not one damn bit of sense. What is it, a compound nounjectiverb?? It's fucking retarded!<br />
<br />
Walks Carefully On Eggshells Like A Bear, an ancient Navajo philosopher hailing from the centuries immediately preceding the Aztec-Inuit wars of 1993, attempted to resolve the troublesome conundrum. What follows is a transcription of the single surviving page from a spiral notebook attributed to that great philosopher, translated from Navajo, to Aztec, to Inuit, and finally to Pidgin:<br />
<br />
"Once I'd gotten the shape right, I tried to calculate an exact volume of troublesome, but super-calculus just wasn't super enough for number crunching of that magnitude. Therefore I had no choice but to invent 3-D paper, along with a brand new method for expressing numerals and variables in 3-D, which precipitated the inventing of the Zencil, which is basically a ball of pencil encased in a spherical graphite shell. By the way, cursive script looks amazing when it's written in every possible direction at the same time. I can't believe they're phasing that out of elementary school. Anyway, all of that was just so I'd have the right symbology for hyper-calculus, which I invented next. Not to brag or anything, but hyper-calculus beats the shit out of super-calculus, all the way back to the Nth dimension. So then I of course hyper-calculated the shit out of that troublesome weird word thing or whatever it is, with the resulting solution manifesting in mid-air as a mathematical singularity, which instantly evaporated in a blinding burst of virtual particle pairs, leaving behind a sparkling after-image of the result suspended in front of me, and slowly rotating...<br />
<br />
*** 160 FEET OF BAMBOO, + OR - A FEW FEET ***<br />
*** END OF LINE ***<br />
<br />
...until it finally dissipated quietly."<br />
<br />
Therefore it was a miracle when about five minutes ago as I was doing some last ditch research for this article, I happened upon an ancient BBS server dating back to the Aztec-Inuit Wars of 1993 which was, amazingly, still online, and hosting several top secret R&D message threads between the Coordinated Information Apparatchik and the Advanced Weapons Division of the Aztec War Ministry, detailing recent (at the time) technological breakthroughs in the field of advanced heat application for the purpose of bamboo weaponization. Imagine my bumblefucked surprise upon realizing that it was exactly this failure of research and development which prompted the coinage of the word 'troublesome'!<br />
<br />
I'm finished. Now I just gotta fax this turd out to the butthole of the Oort cloud and I can finally blow my brain in.<br />
<br />
AND A SPECIAL MESSAGE TO MY EMPLOYER, OMNI MAGAZINE ONLINE -<br />
<br />
I QUIT!Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-11902033972986176842020-05-31T10:17:00.006-05:002021-09-14T17:57:41.283-05:00ScrubbedThe final blog of the 7-Eleven guy before getting scrubbed by a tractor trailer<br />
<br />
Okay, so I'm wandering around aimlessly at night after work as I'm wont to do, and I'm reading some retarded crap that took place on Facebook the other day - a back and forth between myself and another mutual moron regarding some incontestable data of a factual nature acquired by the NASA Dawn probe, and just recently released to the public concerning the functional dynamics of a primordial wormhole connecting the dwarf planet Ceres to an alien quantum spaghetti maker/booger zapper/high power laser launching facility/bagel toaster and cream cheese, via the 11th dimension, and I'm guffawing my stupid head off.<br />
<br />
So, as this was happening, I was of course ambulatory and not necessarily paying any attention to anything whatsoever. This being the case, I was just about to step off of the curb and into the street. Or the boulevard, actually. Carroll Blvd. Who knew Carroll was a boulevard? Did anybody know that? To me, it's always been just Carroll. Like... take a left on Carroll.<br />
<br />
Hey now, wait a second... I do believe that my android phone just displayed some remarkably intelligent initiative! You know what happened? Well, lemme tell you. Firstly, I'm using my phone's voice recognition thingy instead of manually inputting all of these words. I mean, swype typing is really cool and all, but talk typing is even cooler because you're using vibrating molecules of air as your input method. Anywho.<br />
<br />
What happened was that the first couple of times I mentioned Carroll, my phone spelled it 'carol'. So I had to go back and manually type in the way it's spelled as the street name. Pardon me... boulevard. But what was really cool was that after typing it in a couple of times, it started to spell Carroll the way it's spelled as a street name. Carol! Wait, now it's retarded again...<br />
<br />
What was this about in the first place? Oh, the curb! So anyway... yeah. I would have stepped off of the curb and right onto the road, or into... which is it? Onto or into?<br />
<br />
Hang on. You can't step into a road, can you? You can step into the path of something ON the road, and you can step into the path of a truck, for instance, which is ON the road. You can even step INTO the truck, thus commandeering it's use for your own purpose, such as swerving out of your own way as you step onto the road and into your own path... that is, the path of the truck. The same truck that you're driving upon the same road upon which or onto which you're stepping... that is, the same road which the path (of the truck) into which you are stepping, and (the truck) which you stepped into (it's a stepside dually) lies upon, making a single moment comprised of simultaneously stepping into the path, into the truck, onto the road, and onto the path (at the same time), in the form of stepping, concurrently necessitating the stepping of (that is, the stepping of that which steps) onto a path, as well as into a path, which naturally and inevitably and logically leads to a series of descriptions (in the brain that is, via a neural highway system) a series of descriptions describing the connective properties of certain (purely imaginative) time-like events, all of which serve to demonstrate that the purposeful act of merely, yet forcibly, acknowledging that the existence of a concept pertaining to a hypothetical idea regarding the unlikely probability that, given an elementary basis which supports a fundamental proof of any given idea which - hypothetically speaking, and having been given a proper impetus, naturally exacerbated by the motive characteristics of an operandi - may (or may not) lead to several identical postulations describing the same notion (or notions), erroneous and unassailable, that the mere thought, concept, idea, plan, suggestion, intention, or even the factual, physical ACT of stepping INTO a road is just about not exactly the same as impossible. That is, rarely. And only from a few extremely precise and inherently unlikely points of view. But the basic premise regarding the logical possibility that all the shit I just said, simultaneously conceptualized and singularly executed, may illustrate the pure nature of the pristine thought... never wrought yet forever sought, taught for nought, then caught, fought over and bought, and finally shit on, shat on and shot... will forever stand on a beautiful pillar of corroded sauerkraut.<br />
<br />
So...<br />
<br />
Here are some actual real things that actually exist that you can really step into in real life, other than whatever the heck all that shit was up there that just got through being said.<br />
<br />
A hole, of course. You can also step into a pile of dog shit, or a whirling device of intricate metal comprised of razor blades and salt shakers.<br />
<br />
An awkward situation. A new identity, or a new skin. Figuratively or literally.<br />
<br />
You can definitely step into a parlor, or an office. You can step into a wall, or even through a wall, via the stepping of into a doorway... but one thing I know for sure that you definitely CANNOT step into is a threshold. You also can't step into things which are necessarily under a certain size, or impossibly out of reach or motile. I mean, there has to be some kind of limit to all of this bullshit, or else things will just get really stupider and stupider.<br />
<br />
Carroll Boulevard (it spelled it right that time, heck yeah!)<br />
<br />
Oh yeah! Here's what I originally wanted to say way back at the beginning, before things got out of hand. So, as I was saying... there I was, laughing my butt off and just about to step right into the big ass middle of the road, and then I heard laughter off to my right. I stopped and looked, and there was this car full of girlies that I hadn't even noticed, parked right next to me and with all of the windows down. The girlie in the front seat was looking at me with this puzzled looking smile, like she wanted to be let in on the joke. That made me laugh some more, and then she started laughing, and then the entire car full of girlies started laughing...<br />
<br />
So that's the way it was for about five seconds, with all of them just laughing and smiling and looking right at me, and me laughing and smiling back. And then I stepped right in front of an 18 wheeler and got scrubbed all over the boulevard.Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-25768247374446037282020-05-31T10:15:00.008-05:002021-09-14T17:58:44.097-05:00Pseudo-Elizabethan MadnessBehold. A bunch of ridiculous pseudo-Elizabethan madness.<br />
...................<br />
<br />
Sir His Lordingslyship Chuddlewick Churlingdearth the Eventual, Shirereeve and High Protector of the Fiefdom<br />
<br />
Sir Phylius Ebolium Herpustulus Symplexium II of Claemidheumshire<br />
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Willardslip Kempspirits<br />
<br />
Umberleigh Porridgegorst<br />
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Castledon Thrushfinger<br />
<br />
Ellisweal Complingreaves<br />
<br />
Terdswurth Flaerlingsnip<br />
<br />
Threshington Broadplunger<br />
<br />
Alveldt Barberslaw<br />
<br />
Elendelph Spinsterwelly<br />
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Marshstin Gobberdsbush<br />
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Wexwall Ensorcellkirk<br />
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Aynesney Baconfork<br />
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Grangedon Bloodmow<br />
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Greevesley Scroggsbottle<br />
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Bexley Clithersbrake<br />
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Jimberton Plimmsdon<br />
<br />
Basildorf Frillecklea<br />
<br />
Englewich Fevergrave<br />
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Lydlycke Follyspirits Twarbyveldt Cheapsteeple Fevergrave<br />
<br />
Harlshawe Cheapsteeple<br />
<br />
Higgsry Briggsry<br />
<br />
Gagehaug Twarbyveldt<br />
<br />
Fleghmsley Privywhistle<br />
<br />
Marslick Blodsporte<br />
<br />
Teesdun Thursbysbrygg<br />
<br />
Erminshaw Spruntslea<br />
<br />
Lucillia Newdewalk<br />
<br />
Gorlingsly CripplebushElias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-42870736248333380692017-11-30T21:26:00.002-06:002021-09-14T17:59:37.039-05:00The Burrito Thing<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">The Burrito Thing - A Comprehensive Analysis</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">About thirty minutes ago I opened the door to my microwave oven to discover it lying there on the glass plate rotater, still wrapped in wax paper - the burrito thing. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Logic insists that I must have put it there, but I simply have no recollection of how long it's been languishing in my microwave, or how it even got there in the first place. I suppose for the sake of thoroughness, and to set a good example for the children, that I should also have no recollection of whether or not a burrito thing is safe to eat. It's probably a moot point, but isn't that what microwaves are for? Nuking the little critters that lurk inside of burrito things? It might not be safe to eat right this minute, per se, but I'm not unduly worried. Anyway, back to the mystery!</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Here I am in the present tense. I'm hungry, I'm tired, there's a burrito thing here, and the clock is ticking. In order to solve this mystery I should start by looking for clues. I'll need to be scientific and methodical, like Sherlock Holmes. I'll begin by breaking the process into manageable chunks or steps, as they say in the scientific community.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Step 1. Find the facts!</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Fact number 1: I know that the ridiculous size of my tolerance for alcohol precludes blackouts nowadays, and that's a fact. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Fact number 2: Hell, I can't even remember the last time I was drunk, and... </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Fact number 3: I disappear into my liver two big ass bottles of 190 proof Tomahawk distilled spirits every week! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Now that I'm armed with the facts, I'm able to deduce that I absolutely do not remember putting the burrito thing in my microwave, because it's impossible for me to get drunk enough to black out. The scientific method is already producing quantifiable results! I'm pretty sure those are all the facts.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Step 2. Retrace your steps, Ash!</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Ok, let's see... I was at the microwave, puzzling over the newly discovered burrito thing. Before that I was lying in bed watching Frozen for the eleventy-zillion-and-a-halfth time and possibly getting hungry. Before that I'd gotten home from work and fixed myself a great big drink with lots of that 190 proof Tomahawk stuff I was talking about a minute ago. Before that I was at work. Before that I was at home watching Frozen for the eleventy-zillionth time. Before that I was asleep. Before that I was scrounging for food after work. Before that I made a great big drink... and on and on, ad nauseam.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Ok, this is obviously the wrong approach. If every day is just a repeat of the previous day, then there's no way I'll be able to locate this mystery burrito by retracing my steps through thousands of repeats. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack! Wow... that's brutal. Basically what this means is that every day of my life is just a rerun of a pilot episode that was so shitty that it never even had the dubious distinction of getting canceled after the first season. Hell, it never even got canceled, it just got thrown in the trash. Oh my God, how depressing. I need a drink.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Since the scientific method of searching for clues didn't pan out, it's time to consider a less rigid, more right brained approach. I'll start by framing the problem of the burrito thing as the pilot episode of a reality show that's centered around my life, which I like to call:</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">EMPTY SHELF</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">The Search for Food</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Catchy, huh? Kind of like STAR TREK 3 - The Search for Spock. I think it adds just the right amount of drama that's needed in order to give it a false sense of appeal. I'm not suggesting that a reality show centered around my life wouldn't be appealing; it's just that most people have to be lied to before they'll believe anything. It's a hook, you know? Lie to them, get them to watch so that they can see how much you've lied to them, and BAM! They're hooked whenever they discover the truth! Moving on.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Usually whenever I conduct a search for food I start by digging through the trash at work for write-offs... and whadda you know. Upon closer inspection, I see now that this burrito thing is definitely a write-off from work! NOW I'm getting some results! Now all I have to figure out is this... how did a burrito thing get all the way from the trash dumpster at my workplace to the inside of my microwave oven? That's the mystery, and I'm too tired to solve it right now, and I was too tired to solve it when I went ahead and ate it ten minutes ago. Sorry.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Please enjoy instead a comprehensive review of the burrito thing that's probably a write-off that I don't remember digging out of the dumpster where we chuck the expired food that's gone bad at the 7-Eleven where I work.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">'The Burrito Thing Experience'</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">All I originally wanted to do was warm up my 4-Loko Tomahawk boilermaker in the microwave so that the carbonation didn't hurt my throat when I chugged it. That's when I discovered the burrito thing. After some quality ruminating, I decided that a minute and a half would be enough time to nuke the poison to death, so I nuked it for a minute and a half and ate it.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">My conclusion is that it wasn't very good. It was all breakfasty, and not enough like dinner when you're in the mood for dinner. Plus the ever-present thought of the possibility of dying with every bite helped to make it less enjoyable.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">All in all I'd rate the burrito thing as adequate emergency sustenance for Russian peasants in the event of a nuclear attack.</span>Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-21758112133257566292017-11-30T21:23:00.002-06:002021-09-14T17:59:42.550-05:00Everything I Hate about My Favorite Movie, Frozen<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">You know that movie, Frozen, right? That goddamn animated Disney epic that came out a few years ago, based on some fairy tale that nobody outside of Russia has ever heard of? The one with the two most smokin' hot cartoon princesses ever made, hotter even than that little mermaid chick? Speaking of that mermaid chick... you totally get to see her bare naked ass, right after she grows legs and almost drowns as she's swimming up to the human world. It's kind of hard to see because you have to pause it JUST RIGHT, but man, it's frikin' awesome! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Anyway. You're probably gonna think I'm hating on that movie Frozen, but I'm really not. In fact, I'm pretty much hopelessly in love with Frozen. I've watched it exactly eleventy-seven-and-sixteen-fiftieths times, to help cure my aloneliness on my otherwise intolerable days off. Mostly I have it playing in the background while I'm on the pot. I really do love that movie, it's just that I have a bunch of nitpicks with it, the same as I do with everything I love. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Firstly, what's the story with that Christoph kid? I used to think that maybe he was an ice apprentice, but all he does is spend the entire day fucking up. Apparently he isn't learning anything about ice mining, so why is he even there? The ice miners sure don't give a crap about him... I mean, here's this little boy, scampering around among hardened ice miners who are constantly singing about what a dangerous job ice mining is, and nobody says anything about the little kid! Weird. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Speaking of little kids, way before Elsa grew up and became a neurotic bitch, she and her sister Anna used to have fun playing eternal winter inside the castle. Remember when Elsa was magickng those taller and taller piles of snow to catch Anna as she jumped from one to the other? You could just see it coming, that Elsa was only one or two catch me's away from screwing up royally (heh). So why didn't Elsa poof up some smaller snow mounds? Why did she keep making them BIGGER and BIGGER? That was just dumb, Elsa. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Then just as everything is going tits up, Elsa slips (on her own ice!) and hits Anna right between the eyes with an ice dart! King and queen anonymous freak out of course, and after thumbing through a book which shows an illustration of a positively evil looking troll waving it's claws over a royally garbed figure laid out on a stone slab like the Aztecs would put you on before ripping out your still beating heart, the King decides that these nightmare creatures are the only hope for his daughter, and he gathers up the entire fam and hauls ass to troll country. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">What's the deal with those things anyway? They're definitely not carbon based life forms. Their organic chemistry is likely based on long chain silicon molecules, what with them basically being living rocks. Far out, huh? Well, if you've done as much research as I have into what makes those lovable little fuckers tick, then you'll know that silicon life would get along MUCH better in a permanent deep freeze. Wink wink, nudge nudge. Food for thought? Hey, I ain't pointing fingers! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Since it's pretty much established immediately that stone trolls are the 'good guys' for curing Anna, then why did that grampa troll go out of his way to scare the shit out of Elsa? Do you think he'd considered the possible consequences of showing a little girl a vision in the sky of her own blood red powers attacking from every direction and stabbing her into oblivion, pretty much guaranteeing that Elsa would be scared shitless of her own nature during her formative years? Why would grampa troll do that? Because he's an evil fucker? Kinda makes you wonder about those trolls, huh? Hey, just sayin'! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Ok, let's give those filthy trolls the benefit of the doubt for a second. Maybe that's how trolls raise their little troll kids, by scaring the shit out of them. Maybe rock trolls are just stupid, like a bag of rocks stupid, and they thought that Elsa was just another rock. But if rock trolls are just a pack of idiots with good intentions, then why did grampa troll throw in that memory wipe for Anna? The King seemed to agree that it was 'for the best', but what the hell does he know? To him, a satanic ritual is just as good as real live medicine! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">The only thing that memory wipe accomplished was to confuse the hell out of a little girl, leaving her with no idea as to why her best buddy would suddenly just up and start hating her. The entire situation is completely fucked up! It's no wonder that one of those little girls grew up to be a paranoid, cast iron bitch, and the other one so desperate for love - any kind of love - that she'd understand it as simply a furtive glance in her direction. See what I'm saying about those dirty silicon based life forms?</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Oh yeah. Don't forget about the troll woman who basically kidnaps Christoph when he's just a five year old kid. "I'm gonna keep you," says the troll woman to the little boy and his moose puppy as she wraps her cold, heavy arms of stone around their fragile little necks. What the fuck, man? I mean, discounting the horror of being embraced by a Golem, even if Christoph was an orphan, there's no way that troll woman could have known that. Creepy! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Ok, enough about the trolls. Here's a puzzlement. Why don't Elsa's gloves freeze when she's wearing them? Those manacles they clapped onto her hands when she was in prison sure froze though, didn't they? SO WHY DON'T HER GLOVES FREEZE? Could the reason be that the whole touchy-freezy thing is a neurotic condition, stemming from a traumatic childhood experience manipulated by those dirty, filthy silicon life forms? HUH? Ok, I'm done now with the trolls, really.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Let's move on to another thing that pisses me off, which is really the only completely unforgivable nitpick that I have. Why is it unforgivable? Because it's not a plot hole or a character flaw or anything like that... it's simply sloppy song writing that borders on the obscene. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Allow me to elucidate. Remember that part where Queen Elsa fucks off to the hills after her disastrous coming out party, and how she sings her way through magical puberty and finally embraces her womanhood by transforming from a stupid fraidy cat little girl into a sexy, sexy ice queen? And how she lyrically referred to a snowflake as a fractal? Remember how STUPID that was? Didn't you just want to slap the shit out of whoever it was who wrote those lyrics? I'm talking about the 'Let It Go' song. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">You know... </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">'My power flurries through the air into the ground </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">My soul is spiraling in FROZEN FRACTALS all around' </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">...that part! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">I'm terribly, grievously sorry, but there's just no possible way without invoking a couple of generations of math wizards into the storyline that Queen Elsa would have been even remotely aware of the fractal nature of a snowflake. Hell, the basic concept of a fractal would have melted her primitive, medieval brain! It's simply unforgivably sloppy on the part of the song writer who came up with those stupid, stupid lyrics. Shame on you, whoever you are, you stupid, lazy song writer who made that fractal snowflake crap into impossible song lyrics! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Some more nitpicks. Why do so many Disney animal sidekicks act like dogs? I'm armed to the teeth with examples. Here goes... </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Lilo and Stitch. Stitch is an alien. To Stitch, dogs are aliens. Stitch acts like a dog. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Hercules. Pegasus is two pretty awesome animals smooshed together into one even awesomer animal with no sign of dog anywhere. Pegasus acts like a dog. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Tangled. Maximus is a genetically perfect horse with exemplary morals and intelligence on par with a human. Maximus could act like a firedrake if he chose to. Maximus acts like a dog. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">The Fox and the Hound - Copper is a hound dog that's been mercilessly brainwashed to murder his childhood friend. Copper should, by all rights, act like a sociopath. Copper acts like a dog! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Frozen - SVEN IS A MOOSE FOR CRISSAKE, A FULL GROWN MOOSE THAT ACTS LIKE A DOG! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Why, these things?? </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Now back to those filthy, dirty trolls. No, I ain't done with them yet. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Those stone trolls sure sing a good story about true love while simultaneously trying their damndest to force two strangers into getting married, don't they? One of them is even engaged already! But do those stone hearted bastards give a shit? Hell naw, they have their own agenda, and it ain't about true love. I mean, how can anyone really think that those petrified horse apples are even capable of giving a single flip about true love, based on what we know about them now? It's obvious that they only want to marry Christoph to a princess as quickly as possible for political leverage. They're outright bastards, through and through, those rock trolls. I'm not pointing fingers though, I'm just sayin'. Those fucking rock trolls are nothing but a pack of bona-fide evil manipulative bastards. I hate 'em! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Just one more thing and I'm done, I promise... </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Some may find the following negative critique of the Wandering Oakens Trading Post to be unwarranted - after all, when Princess Anna's horse bolted and left her to freeze to death just south of the North Mountain, I must admit that if it weren't for the Wandering Oakens Trading Post, princess Anna would have surely perished. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Still, can we please expect store proprietors as a general rule NOT to be greedy assholes? Or if not generally, then at least according to special circumstances, such as eternal winters? That's a special circumstance, right? The eternal winter thing? You know who I'm talking about... that big fat Swedish meatball who runs the Wandering Oaken. Screw that guy. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Oh, he comes off all nice at first, but then after trying unsuccessfully to rob Christoph he throws him out into the storm to die! And why? Because Christoph called him a crook? Which he is, by the way. What, you can't handle the truth, you big smiling lunkhead? </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">What he does next is just nauseating - he tries to sweeten up to Anna with a free jar of fish heads! Why? Because Anna had just witnessed an attempted murder? What kind of sleazeball tries to bribe a murder witness with a jar of fish heads? Could it be the kind that keeps his family locked inside a sweat locker during the hottest part of the year, barring eternal winters? How many murders do you think his family has had to witness, imprisoned in that broiling torture chamber that he generously calls a sauna? Are those people even his real family? What a psychopath! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Him and his big summer blow out. I mean, yeah, it's summer and everything, but there's a big frikin' snowstorm going on in July! If there's a big frikin' snowstorm going on in July, you don't say, "Hello, yoo hoo, big summer blowout!" to everybody who walks into the store, even if it's summer, because nobody is going to want to buy whatever you had for sale for your big summer blowout if there's an eternal winter going on! What an asshole. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">And what the heck is a wandering oaken supposed to be, anyway? That makes zero sense for the name of a trading post that's permanently attached to the side of a mountain. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Anyway. I sure do love that movie, Frozen!</span>Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5825685079039532553.post-13314985700443292132017-11-28T20:56:00.001-06:002021-09-14T17:59:53.793-05:00A dream - running from the giantA dream - running from the giant<br />
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I was underneath a rocky overhang, hiding from the giant. It was about as tall as a sodium vapor lamp, about sixty feet high. There was a young girl in my charge hiding with me. My best friend was nowhere to be found, and I'd lost my horse.<br />
<br />
It was raining in torrents, and I couldn't tell the footsteps of the giant apart from the peals of thunder. I peeked out from beneath the overhang and saw the giant, about twenty meters away. It had a man in its hand, and I watched as the giant bit off the man's head and chewed it slowly, savoring the flavor, and then threw the rest of the man away.<br />
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After it finished chewing and had swallowed, the giant sniffed around, trying to locate me and the girl. It seemed to home in on us, although it couldn't see us. It began to cajole us, complimenting us with our success at eluding it, and promising not to bite off our heads if we revealed ourselves. Then it began to berate and belittle us with insults in an attempt to persuade us to emerge, resigned to our fate. Then it lost its mind in a rage and stamped about, furious and frustrated.<br />
<br />
The girl whom I was protecting gasped out loud, and the giant made a step toward us. Frantically and silently, I tried to calm the girl, but she struggled and then let out a piercing whistle. I thought we were doomed, and then my horse came running underneath the legs of the giant and toward us. I picked up the girl and ran beside the horse and caught its bridle. I slung us both onto the horse's back and we rode away at full gallop.<br />
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The giant was enraged, and it roared deafeningly. I could feel its thunderous footsteps slamming into the earth as it chased us. I slapped my horse on the neck, urging it to run faster, faster, faster! I glanced down and saw the horse's hooves cycling in a blur, churning up the rain soaked mud like an overpowered machine for digging furrows. I glanced back once and was dismayed to see the giant about a hundred meters behind us, and gaining close to ten meters with each stride.<br />
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About a thousand meters ahead was a long ridge that spanned the horizon from South to North, and the setting sun was shining brightly underneath the trailing edge of the storm front. I leaned forward and buried my face in the horse's mane, urging it to please go faster, and I could feel the arms of the little girl in my charge squeezing tightly around my midsection. There was a secret redoubt on the other side of that ridge, with a hospital buried underground... but I knew that we weren't going to make it.<br />
<br />
Then I heard a voice shouting from ahead of us, and I shielded my eyes with my hand and saw, atop the ridge, the gesticulating figure of a man. He started down the hill at an angle roughly perpendicular and to the right of my path, running wildly and yelling:<br />
<br />
"I've gottim, I've gottim! Go thataway! I've gottim away from ya, go thataway! Thataway!"<br />
<br />
It was my best friend. I'd thought he had deserted us, but there he was, running down the slope of the ridge, and drawing the giant torward himself and away from us. I clenched my teeth and squeezed shut my eyes to stop the tears, and yanked the reins to the left and away from my friend as he ran on a suicide mission to lure the giant away from me and the girl.<br />
<br />
We made it to the top of the ridge, where I paused to get a look and to find my bearings. Down below on the other side I could see the exposed roofs of the redoubt stretching away to the left and to the right. I spotted a trail that would take us down to the nearest roof, and before descending I turned around to get a brief bead on the giant.<br />
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I cried out with a wordless sob when I saw that the giant had already finished with my friend and was sprinting all out, covering at least twenty meters with each stride, and was nearly to the base of the ridge. When it arrived it paused and raised its massive hand to its brow, then bellowed like Hells Bells as it spotted us at the top, silhouetted against the sun. The giant immediately began sprinting uphill.<br />
<br />
I spurred my horse down the trail. Upon reaching the roofline, we followed it North until another path appeared, leading us to ground level. I dismounted quickly, the girl in my arms, and dashed to the nearest entrance and inside. With the girl perched upon my back, I raced down hallways and past many people, each of them with a growing expression of perplexity as we ran by.<br />
<br />
I was searching hastily for a stairway to the underground hospital when I heard a mighty crash just a few tens of meters behind us. I stopped and turned to see a giant foot thrust through a jagged hole in the roof of the redoubt and planted in the middle of the hall, followed immediately by the thunderous cacophony of a giant fist as it made another hole in the roof, much closer to myself and the girl.<br />
<br />
I ran with the girl on my back as sections of the ceiling cracked and fell around us. I passed a woman holding a broom in mid sweep, stuck to the spot, her face frozen in horror at a vision that I didn't turn around to see. There was a spiral stairway ahead that led down, and I leaped toward it with all of my strength and tumbled down to the next floor, just as the roof collapsed above us.<br />
<br />
I picked up the girl and, holding her in my arms, I continued downward.Elias Ashley Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16106077938637444593noreply@blogger.com0