shitfest

Due to a current lack of anything at all to say, my next few posts will be some of my earlier writings copied and pasted to my blog. I hope you enjoy them...but I forewarn you, most of it (along with everything you read on this blog) is crap. So let the shitfest begin...

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN JUDAS AND THE DEVIL

Or

(The Hermit and the Pilgrim)

It was growing incredibly late, and this, mixed with his already restless thoughts, produced in Judas a rather morbid state of mind. He began pacing anxiously across his small but well kept room, occasionally stopping to stare distractedly into to the corner for long stretches of time before he would resume to pacing. It is doubtful that he was actually thinking of anything in particular, more likely he was experiencing swarms of half articulated thoughts bombarding from all sides his already fatigued mind. He had stopped pacing and was again staring hard at nothing when he was suddenly torn awake by a sharp knock at the door. He hesitated for a brief moment before crossing the room to answer the door. Opening the door he found in front of him not his three expected guests but rather one entirely unknown stranger.

The man standing before him was of a somewhat smaller stature, old but with an amiable smile stretched across his face. He asked in a voice as sweet and radiant as his smile if Judas might not take an old pilgrim in for the night. Judas thought it over for a moment, then agreed on the condition that should his expected visitors arrive the old man would at once be sent to the back room in which Judas normally slept. The old man delightedly agreed to the conditions and without further ado entered, taking a seat in a small wooden chair by the table.

“I’ve been walking for many days now,” he prattled out, seizing the opportunity to engage someone in conversation. “My feet are terribly sore,” he went on almost gaily. Judas only looked the man over, not bothering to respond, and continued once more to pace the room. The old man however made no notice of the fact that such blatant rudeness and hostility were being directed at him and went on speaking in a most friendly manner. “I’m heading to the village where I was brought up, about two days travel from here, for the annual festivities. It begins with a morning of prayer and silence which lasts until noon each day, this is followed by song and dance and food and fun lasting well into each night. This goes on for a week…do you have any bread and water? I am terribly hungry.”

Judas shot the man a sidelong glance, this time however, without the annoyance and malice that shone through before. A smile suddenly broke upon his face as he turned and disappeared behind a small doorway. He emerged a moment later with a couple of roles and a bottle of wine. “Behold you have turned my water into wine!” shouted the old man playfully. The irreverence of the old man’s statement somehow relieved him and put him at ease. Judas put the requested treats upon the table and sat down across from the old man to share in the makeshift meal.

“Ah, how good of you sir, to be so inclined as to break bread with such a humble old pilgrim as myself, speaks wonders of your noble spirit. You know, I have heard it said that two noble spirits will recognize each other no matter what garb they may be attired in. It is like recognizing a long lost brother that one happens upon in the streets. It’s a certain gleam in the eye, a nod of the head, that tells of their true identity.”

“Come now old man,” replied Judas, who had begun to take a great interest in this old man who now sat before him, “is not age supposed to bring with it wisdom? What folly is this, that you should speak of noble spirits? In all your years of wandering these barren plains, have you still not taken notice that all that surrounds you is the cold desolation of eternity? Your nobility of spirit is nothing more then a comfort for those who cannot stand up to the isolation of being that is inherent to life.”

“You speak a hard truth my boy, but you should be wary of who you speak such truths to. There are many who will not forgive you such a truth as this. It is a cry that can be uttered only by one who has spent countless years wandering in the deserts of life. It is a bitter shock for one unaccustomed to the sting of scorpions.”

“Yet, you will forgive me, won’t you? For it seems to me as though you are one who is accustomed to the scorpion’s tail. That is if I am not mistaken, though I do not think I am.”

“Listen friend,” replied the old man. “You and I, we are a rare breed, alien to whatever soil we chance to grow from and this is as it should be. For the truths we carry would be too great a burden for most. Ah, you smile because you think that I am merely boasting out of vanity. And it would be a most vain ass indeed who would boast of his burden; for to expect recognition and admiration on account of one’s isolation through suffering is sheer folly.

“Now listen closely and I will tell a truth which I have judged you to be in the most need of and for that very reason it will also be the hardest for you to accept. Do not suppose, my young friend, that standing apart from the masses means standing above the masses. It means only that you stand apart. So you have grown sick of their customs, you have left them to find yourself, and what you have found is the terrible weight of isolation. Do you think bearing such a weight to be virtuous? But how can you believe this? You, I surmise, have given up on any hope of virtue in this world, and then of course you don’t believe in other worlds. And yet you bow to this bit of self-flattery, this small self-deceit that allows you to put yourself a step above the rest of humanity.”

“Ach, truly old man, your words are the scorpion’s tail and I can see that you yourself have fought long and hard with this idea. But how is it that you presume to dissect my soul when you have not yet known me an hour?”

“Have my judgments then strayed from the facts or do you merely deny what offends your pride and sensibility?”

“Facts?! What facts? Here I thought we were speaking of truths! Truth has as little to do with fact as it has to do with beauty or conviction. Any devil can produce a fact, twist it this way and that, and make of it what ever he so desires. What then shall we speak of, fact or truth?”

“Truth, of course truth. I apologize, I was not aware you had such an impassioned distaste for facts. May I presume then, that your convictions are based around…let’s not say faith, for that has certain connotations which do not fit your character (if I may be so bold)…let’s call it intuition?”

“You’re quite observant old man. Indeed, faith has many faces, most of them repulsive to my tastes; yet something is needed to fill the vacuum left in the wake of science. However, the word you have chosen to replace it also leaves a foul taste in my mouth. It reeks of quackery and mysticism. When spoken from the mouths of fools, it is more nauseating than the blind stupidity of faith and more paralyzing than the blind necessity of fact. And yet there remains some need of it.”

“Yes! ‘Some need of it,’ what a wonderful little expression. It is not something wanted or desired but rather some inconvenient need.”

“Yes, some need of it…I must say I am rather surprised by your enthusiasm for these four words in particular. I mean, really, I would have expected you to focus your sights on ‘the vacuum left in the wake of science,’ as this pertains more to the difference between fact and truth as I see it.”

“Ah yes, but you see it is precisely in connection with this that I have taken such an interest in that. For what are these facts if not a blind necessity; an inconvenient need. But come, tell me how is it that science leaves behind a vacuum in its wake and what exactly is the difference between fact and truth as you see it? I have my own reasons for agreeing with you in some respects, but all the same I should like to hear it in your words.”

Judas sat for a few minutes looking intently at the old man as he tried to collect all his thoughts and prepare to give an impromptu speech on a subject about which he had often thought but never yet dared to speak aloud and in company. He had long felt the cold mechanism and materialism of science to be repulsive but struggled to find a way around them. This had been an especially hard point for him as he refused to use metaphysics as a back door out and would not be coaxed into any supernatural explanations. He continued to stare at the old man who in turn gazed smilingly back upon him. Finally Judas got up and began once more to pace the room.

The old man leaned back in his chair and, taking a sip of his wine, watched with a kind of merriment which Judas could not understand. For a moment Judas’ thoughts turned black. “Why does the old man smile at me? Is it not perhaps contempt that bids him smile thus? But what kind of pilgrim is it that comes into a man’s house, begins to complain of his feet, asks for food, heaps insults upon his host and finally spits upon his own humility? Surely this is no pilgrim but a devil. A cursed, cynical old devil. And what would such a devil as this want with the truth? No, he mocks me! Look there, a quiver of malice just passed his lips.” All this however remained only a half articulated flash in the back of Judas’ mind. And, in fact, no quiver of malice passed across the lips of the old man, though there had been a certain amount of mockery which had become habitual with the old man in speaking with others and which he could not deny himself the pleasure even now. Judas’ dark mood passed as quickly as it had come and a moment later he had again taken his seat opposite the old man. He began his explanation.

“All is transient. Form is transient, feeling is transient, perception is transient, mental formations are transient, consciousness is transient.’ This is the noble truth of Siddhartha Guatama. Do you know what this means? It means that we are nothing more than an accident, some incidental piece of chance which in the end can only come to nothing. It means that life is but a momentary farce, carried on the jeers and jabs of witless fools and that when the curtain falls upon the stage no one shall remain to laugh or give applause. All that shall remain is the frigid silence of eternity…”

“This is a truth that can shake a man to his very foundations,” interrupted the old man who was roaring with laughter as he spoke, “and it may drive him to incredible lengths in search of a more comforting lie. Still you will forgive my butting in, in order to point out that Siddhartha had four noble truths of which that is but a small part of one. Furthermore, I asked you to explain the difference between fact and truth and here you are expounding upon Buddhist philosophy.”

“It is his only truth; the whole of what follows is only empty, hollow-eyed religion. He could not bear this truth and knew that others would not be able to bear it either and so he gave it the sugar coating of hope. ‘Furthermore’ you asked me a question and then interrupted me before I even began to speak. Now, shall I go on or shall we stop now and spend the rest of the night engaging is meaningless chatter and small talk?”

“Please go on,” said the old man in a kind of thinly feigned somber humility.

“Damned you, you old devil! Your smiling lips mock my every word and now you so thinly veil your mockery and contempt that the only possible effect can be to worsen the offense. And this, it seems, is your very intent. Why else would you engage me in such conversation only to turn around and scoff at everything I say?”

“I apologize, really I do. But you see, an old cynic such as myself cannot help but smile at the foolishness of your youth. I can see by your face that you both doubt my sincerity and take offense to my calling you a foolish youth … but perhaps these words are better left for later. Please continue with what you were saying, I will not interrupt you again, I promise.”

“I thank you, and I myself apologize for my outburst. It was a foolish indiscretion on my part and you have my word that it will not happen again. Now, as I was saying, all is transient. This is Siddhartha’s truth and it is his only truth. But nowhere will men accept a truth such as this one. In its stead they place empty little facts, which they then try to puff up with metaphysics and moralizing. This truth, you see, remains for them an inescapable labyrinth, a sea of confusion which they dare not enter for fear of losing their way or drowning. But what they do not understand, nor want to understand, is that in reality they have already lost their way and have been drowning all their lives. They cling to whatever debris happens to float by them and imagine that they have found land and a solid footing on which they can build their quiet, happy little lives. This debris they call fact. They mock and persecute anyone who is willing to accept his surroundings and learn to swim rather than spend his days dreaming of a paradise that will never be. They despise those who gaze into the depths in search of problematic truths. Here stands the Sphinx with his eternal riddle; to be carried on the lips of Pilate in his fatal question ‘what is truth?’”

“Please accept my most sincere apologies sir. I have told you that I would not interrupt you and yet here I must, for I have a question which must be answered if we are to continue our little discussion here.”

“Then by all means ask away. Only, then you must promise to interrupt me no more or else this whole conversation shall be put to rest.”

“My question is this. What, in your view, makes a truth…well, true? To put it another way, is a stone more true or less true than the idea of God?”

“As an atheist, I must say that I hold the view that the stone is truer than the idea of God, for the stone has existence where God has none.”

“So you are a materialist then, no?”

“I am a reluctant materialist, yes.”

“A reluctant materialist, why that’s fantastic! Not sir, that you have been dragged against your will to believe in something which you do not desire to believe, but only that you have titled yourself as the reluctant materialist; that is what cheers me and compels me to shout fantastic. Never have I heard it put such a way. But really, were you dragged against your will and forced to accept a system of belief which ran counter to all your convictions?”

“Indeed I was, though you’d scarcely be obliged to believe it. You see, there’s nothing more dear to me, no hope more beautiful than the hope that one day I may shed this serpents skin and believe with all the conviction of some blessed fool. I want more than anything else in the world to fall on my knees, singing God’s praises. And yet, here I stand, consumed by this terrible thought, the weight of which I feel as though I cannot endure. You see, I look all around me, I look at the pretty girls and the laughing children running playfully through the parks, I look at the pompous businessmen as they leave their storefronts, the lovely housewife happily cooking dinner for her family, I look at all this. And do you know what I see? I see a passing moment destined to fade away into that same dark oblivion from which it came. All around me I see only a momentary farce destined to be consumed by the cold, unyielding hands of time.”

“Aha! So that is it. Let me tell you something. I have been down this path before, seen every ideal crumble before me, leaving me lost and uncertain. It is the uncertainty that eats you away. It consumes you and forces you to seek refuge – and so you come upon this truth, something that you can grab onto and claim as your own. You clutch it with all of your might; you make this your certainty, your bearing and your foothold. But this is a rotten truth and a poison to the soul. For your certainty is the certainty of death. Your truth – that existence itself is an accident not born of necessity, and though everything hence has been clockwork it shall end as meaningless as it began.”

Judas leapt up from his chair, “You understand me! By God, you have somehow peered into the innermost depths of my soul and brought to light the darkest of truths…”

“But wait. Please allow me to finish, for I have not yet said what is most important concerning the salvation of your soul. Oh please do not misunderstand me when I speak of the soul. I am not speaking of some ephemeral object lasting throughout all of eternity, to be saved or damned according to the judgment of some capricious god. These are the ridiculous tales told by idiots and housewives to pass the time and help put their minds to ease. (It is not right that men should put so much stock into these mythic fairy-tales.) But rather, it is the culmination of all your deepest thoughts, feelings, and intuitions; your highest most noble character. For no man is born with a soul. The soul is cultivated throughout one’s life and when the body dies so the soul dies too. But that is something of which you are obviously already most aware.”

“Yes, of course” Judas replied, nearly in a state of rapture.

“Good, then I shall continue. You see this life as a farce because it is so momentary or `transient’ as you so eloquently stated a moment ago. You are tormented by this transience of being. It consumes you like the flame consumes the candle’s wax. Is this not so? For what else is existence if not a candle quietly burning itself out; destined to consume itself, leaving only the cold, silent darkness of oblivion? But my question to you is this, why should the absolute transience of life thereby make life so unbearably absurd? Can you not see that it is precisely this constant destruction of the moment that makes life the miracle that it is? That it is only in the moment that the miracle is even possible? For it is only in the momentary that we come to face the mystery.

“Do you deem a purpose so necessary? Then here, now I shall give you one. The purpose of life is to point to the mystery of being, to learn to embrace it and be thankful for it. You told me a few moments ago that you were a `reluctant materialist,’ well then here is your way out. It is the mystery of being that frees man from the deterministic world, for in the mystery of the unknown man is given the chance to posit his own meaning, his own purpose. Here lies the whole of your freedom. Furthermore, I shall tell you that it is of the utmost arrogance and hubris not only to think that existence should “make sense” but to even want it to. Who are you that you should desire that life be anything other than it is?

“I told you that I have been down this very path before, do you doubt this to be so? No, wait. Do not answer yet. I have one more thing to tell you… one more observation concerning the state of your soul.

“You have always known precisely what I just told you about the mystery of life. Who knows, perhaps you even put it into exactly those words when speaking them to yourself. But this is only a small hint towards all that you know on this subject. You have already scavenged the depths of all these deeper meanings given to us by the mystery of being. And for a time these depths gave you a certain sense of peace that you mourn for the loss of. But this peace could not keep you and the tyrant truth sent forth his hounds to torment you once more. But now I must stop and take the opportunity to ask for the third and final time (for if you do not answer this time I shall henceforth remain silent on this particular subject), that is to say -- what is truth?”

“Ah yes, truth. This is the third time you asked you say? Ah well, so up until now I was not yet prepared to answer that question; such a daunting task! But you, my dear old man, have provided me with the answer yourself. It is precisely that which, as you say, I have known all along. You see, truth is the veil laid before man’s eyes. It is the mystery of existence, of birth and death. It is in the cry of every new born babe. It is the lively steps of the pretty young girl as she dances with the young boy that she likes so very much. It is the precious piece of art hanging on the gallery wall, but it is the wall too! But that’s not all. Truth is suffering. It is the thoughts of the dying soldier as he lay upon the blood-soaked battlefield, staring up into the infinite sky. It is the anguish of the young mother as she watches her infant starve to death for no other reason than the fact that she has no money for food. It is the scamp as he freezes to death on the streets for want of a roof. You ask me what truth is? Truth is existence as such. It is a mystery because we are submersed in it. It is illogical and often absurd, yet it remains the most precious thing a man can possess, though it is impossible that a man should ever possess the truth.”

Judas was visibly shaken and nearly to the point of hysterics. He tried to sit down but was unable to stay seated for more than a moment. He got back up and began pacing the room once more. His face was pale and beads of sweat ran down his temples. A moment longer and it’s possible that Judas would have erupted in tears, so long had he waited to speak openly to another human being. Too much had been stored up inside him for too long, now he was on the verge of bursting with emotion. The old man, perhaps sensing this, began to speak again, this time with a little more compassion towards our hero.

“I tell you once more I have been down this path before. And I can tell you this as well, however unbearable your path may become, however hateful the world may appear to you, you must endure. Often will the solitude become too much, making one feel lost and forgotten by man and God; and yours is the burden of eternal solitude. However, you must not let this give rise to despair. Though your suffering and loneliness ever verge upon the edge of despair you must never allow yourself to give in. Here you must stand at the very edge of your abyss, and facing the depths which at every moment threaten to swallow you, you must shout for all of the earth and heavens to hear, “I will not succumb to this!” Such defines the challenge set forth to all who would carry the burden of truth.”

When the old man had finished his brief tirade, his whole face had turned bright red, and a sudden look of confusion spread across his gaze. It lasted only a moment, but for this one brief moment the old man glanced about him as though he could not quite make out exactly where he was. His words gave way to silence, as he sat back down at the table and gazed blankly at the wall directly before him.

“Come now, old man!” cried Judas, as he ran over to his new companions side. “You have been over stimulated by a little wine, and too much talk of the truth. Let me help you to my bed so you can get some rest.”

“Of course, yes” the old man replied, showing Judas, once more, that same serene smile the old man had given him upon entering. “You truly are a kind soul.”

Aimless Wanderings

He once had goals--ambitions which gave meaning to his life. He had wanted to follow in the footsteps of his heros: the great thinkers of the world. He wanted to etch his name into the halls of history, to achieve immortality in the only manner he knew how. But all that had long ago slipped away from him. Every now and then he could still hear those dreams echoing back to him from the distant mountains, but that's all they were now--echos.

It's not as though he was sad or depressed. He had great friends whom he loved deeply and who he knew loved him in return. But for some reason he couldn't help but feel as though he had somehow lost his way. He no longer knew where he was going or why he was even heading in that direction. Lethargy was beginning to set in now, and he wanted so badly just to stop all his aimless wanderings. He didn't want to die, he just wanted life to stop for a bit to allow him the chance to catch his breath and regain his strength. But life stops for no one, and he was no exception. And so he just kept moving, stumbling along in the hope that he might eventually find something, whatever that something may be.

Crazy Wisdom and Zen Buddhism

"Crazy wisdom is the humbling knowledge of the immensity of the cosmos and the inevitable change and transformation that will ultimately wear away all our achievements. It is the grinning face of death, and the hollow sound of our question 'Why?' echoing back at us from the void." --Wes Nisker

"If you understand, things are just as they are. If you do not understand, thins are just as they are." --Zen Buddhist Saying

Subjective Truth

"Some people think that in addition to objective truth with which we deal in science we should recognize subjective truth which is allegedly legitimate in other contexts. Subjective truth means that something is 'true for me.' Subjective truth is a fond nickname for self-deception." --Walter Kaufmann

Defining Religious Organizations

Paganism: A religious sect that worships mythical characters. Foundation predates written history. One of the earliest and most primal of the various religious sects.

Judaisim: A religious sect that worships a moral code derived from centuries of servitude and desert wonderings. Founded by sun ravaged Jew after witnessing the local flora spontaniously combust.

Christianity: A religious sect that combines Judaic morality with Pagan mythology. Founded by a poor Jewish carpenter who was eventually executed for his political extremism.

Islam: A religious sect derived from Paganism, Judaism, and Christianity. Founded by an epileptic in a cave.

Buddhism: More an eastern nihilistic philosophy than a religious sect. Founded by a dissatisfied prince, it was later turned into a religion by hordes of fools.


When the urge beseeches you to look down upon someone else's religion as absurd or untrue, take a quick glance back at the all too humble origins of the religion you profess. The religious elitism dissolves.

A Continuing Dialouge

As my esteemed friend has seen fit to leave a response to my response concerning her response (this will likely go on ad nuaseum--consider this a fair warning to those with better things to do with their time), and as she has left me an open invitation to argue about this to my heart's delight, I hereby offer my newest rebuttal.

Since so much of your response centered on the semantics of this discussion--that, too, then will be my focul point in this post. To speak a truth in the wrong words is to speak a falsehood (hehe...it's fun-time with pomposity).

You define "Deserve" as to merit, be qualified for, of have claim to something because of actions, qualities, or situation. I would agree with everything but the word "situation" being in there. (And Mr. Webster and I don't really give a damn what that old bastard Mr. Oxford has to say.) To add situation as a qualification of deserving is to relegate the entire concept to a mere synonym of cause and effect. This is sort of like the panthiests calling the universe god. Well there's really no point in calling the universe god, because the universe already has a name--we call it the universe. The only thing you can hope to accomplish by neglecting the subtle nuances of a word is to further confuse the already clueless. And let's face it, that's not much of an accomplishment.

Without its implicit connection to justice, and in turn morality, the entire concept of "deserving" dissapates into nothing.

A Response

A much revered fellow blogger/close friend left a response to an earlier post to which I feel the need to counter. So, without further ado...

You argue that we desrerve to suffer and feel joy because we wake up every morning and do what needs to be done rather than simply kill ourselves. My counter argument: That suffering and feeling joy is the natural consequence of daily living does not mean that we therefore "deserve" to suffer or feel joy. If a rock is dropped into a pond, cuasing a wave which tosses a small piece of debris out of the pond and onto the shore--did that piece of debris therefore deserve to be thrown onto the shore? Does such a word as "deserve" even make sense given the context? You are sure to answer that the debris did not make a choice and therefore is incapable of "deserving." And what makes you think that people really make any choices? As often as man acts against his own best interests despite knowing what his best interests are it seems difficult for me to accept as given that man actually chooses his actions. Or take for example the act of fidgetting. Often the person biting his nails or ripping apart his cigarette butt is completely unaware that he is doing so until he looks down and notices the action already done. Or take for another example what people are willing to do for sex. The extent to which some individuals are willing to degrade themselves in order to assure a momentary gratification seems absolutely absurd so long as we believe they have a choice in the matter and are not simply being driven by instinct. (Please do not be mistaken, I do not think sex is bad, it's just that people are willing to go to absurd lengths for it.) My point here is that what we call choice very often amounts to nothing more than habit and instinct.

Taking the argument of choice in a different direction, you state that the child does "deserve" cancer because the child (or adult, it doesn't really matter) chooses to stay alive rather than simply die. This argument may carry some weight as far as the child "deserving" to sustain the cancer once he has it, but says nothing of the child "deserving" to get cancer. No choice made by the child led up to him getting cancer, that is something that is simply thrust upon him by outside sources.

One final point, and I believe it is here that we disagree (as it often happens that we disagree on the semantics more than anything else), the word "deserve" carries with it certain moral intonations--inherent in it is the concept of justice. To seperate justice from "deserving"--to minimalize it to a mere cause and effect--is to take all substance away from the word, leaving us with only an empty shell that use to house some meaning (however wrong headed that meaning may have been). To say that a man deserved to stub his toe because the movement of his foot, in conjunction with his proximity to the wall, caused him to do so is to say absolutely nothing at all. Without an inherent reference to the idea of justice the word "deserve" has no meaning at all.

Thank you for the comment, and feel free to leave as many as you like, as this actually gives me something to rant about.

Moments of Newness

There are moments in which I am overcome by a feeling of newness to the world. Not of rejuvination or exuberance necessarily, but a feeling as though I am once again experiencing life for the first time. It is during these brief moments that I find myself again believing in God. It is during these moments that I am again overcome by a childlike sense of awe and the realization that everything really is good.

Rather Perish

"Rather perish than hate and fear, and twice rather perish than make oneself hated and feared."
--Nietzsche; The Wanderer and His Shadow

Justice and Afterlife

There is no such thing as justice. People get what they get--it doesn't matter what they "deserve." Does any child deserve to get cancer? No. Does that stop some children from getting it? No. Nobody, and I mean nobody, however terrible they may be, deserves to suffer. Nobody, and once again I mean nobody, deserves greatness. Sometimes life provides one or the other, sometimes it doesn't. In either case you don't deserve it. You get what you get and that's it.

I have heard it argued that the lack of justice in this life proves that there must be an after life where justice does exist. Does this mean that the lack of unicorns and pixies in this life proves that there must be an afterlife in which unicorns and pixies exist? Could a person making such a claim as this possibly be taken seriously? The only thing that a lack of justice in this world proves is that there is a lack of justice in this world.

Inquire

Here the ways of men part: if you wish to strive for peace of soul and pleasure, then believe; if you wish to be a devotee of truth, then inquire. --Friedrich Nietzsche

A Truth In Hiding Is A Vicious Lie

The greatest lie that man has ever told himself is that Truth is somehow hidden from us. If this is the case, it only because we have closed our eyes. In fact, Truth is something that even the smallest of children grasp without the help of their parents. It is only through the continual piling up of metaphysical horse shit that Truth becomes lost to us. So what is Truth? It is the air you breathe, the ground you walk on, the sounds you hear, the flavorful beer that you're sipping on right now. Truth is existence as such--as it is, without any preconcieved notions of what it ought to be.

"The End Of False Religion Is Near!"

As I was leaving my house this morning I was approached by a sweet old lady. She handed me a couple of thin pamphlets and told me that I must read them because they are of the most vital importance. Yes, she was a Jahova's Witness. One of the pamphlets was the usual "Awake!" that you always see them with, the other was a much shorter pamphlet called "The End of False Religion is Near!" (They sure do like their exclamation marks, don't they.)

Well, being an easily entertained man, who finds reading religious propaganda fun, I decided to read the pamphlets. Now here comes the strange part--the shorter one, "The End Of False Religion Is Near!" was actually incredibly intelligent. Their criticisms were sharp and biting. It wasn't until the last page, where they began talking about their own religious beliefs, that stupidity began to set in.

Just a few things that they pointed out:

"Are you distressed about crimes commited in the name of religion? Do the warfare, terrorism, and corruption perpetrated by those who claim to serve God offend your sense of justice? Why does religion seem to be at the root of so many of the world's problems?"

"Power-hungry leaders are cynically manipulating people's religious sentiments for their own needs. As a result the world threatens to sink into madness."

"Most religions teach that the soul or spirit is some invisible part of a human that survives the death of the physical body. By means of this teaching, many of these religions exploit their members, charging money to pray for the departed souls. However...'The living are conscious that they will die; but as for the dead, they are conscious of nothing at all.' (Ecclesiastes 9:5) Jesus taught that the dead will be resurrected--an unnecessary action if humans had an immortal soul."

"The beast that the harlot rides is the world's political powers. False religion straddles the back of this political beast, attempting to influence its decisions and to control its direction."

Were it not for their constant use of biblical imagery, and of course the last page telling you to join their religion, one would certainly be led to believe that the writers of this phamplet were enlightened atheists. In the end however, they run head first into the same pitfall as Joseph Smith. They see that there is no true religion, and rather than scrap the ideal of religion all together, they simply create one more false religion.

At any rate, I can still hope that the title of their pamphlet proves to be at least some what prophetic.

Why I Call Myself A Nihilist

To begin with, what do I mean when I call my a nihilist, or rather, what is it that I do not mean by calling myself this. First, I am no idealist, and therefore I have no desire to see the current structure burn to the ground. Thus, I am not a political nihilist. I tend to be more pragmatic with my disbelief. I do not believe in any authority that cannot be deposed by a more powerful, more determined enemy. It is the right of any citizenry to stand up and revolt against their government if they see fit to do so (also if, and only if, they have the will and the brute strength for such an undertaking--as well as the will to suffer the consequences should they lose). Though I grant the government no inate authority, still I cannot concieve of any replacement government that would be better. Besides, revolutions most often end up with a lot of needless bloodshed that does nothing to make the political situation any better. Also, I refuse to ally myself with the anarchists. Anyone who believes that anarchy is a viable alternative to corrupt government obviously has little knowledge of human nature. Or as Hobbes says: in a state of anarchy, there can be "no arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short." In anarchy every man is a ruthless, blood-thirsty tyrant.

Nor am I so naive as to believe that nothing actually exists (though I think this is more a notion that people have of nihilists than a belief held by any nihilists). As Descartes points out: "cogito ergo sum," I think therefore I am. Now I'm sure many first year philosophy students will try and prove Descartes wrong through all kinds of semantic circlings, but the fact of the matter is that fundamentally he is correct. That I can percieve anything at all stands as proof positive that I do exist. It does not matter how skewed my perceptions may be. It doesn't even matter if I am in fact simply someone elses dream. The fact that I can question my existence means that, however different reality may be from what I percieve, still I am a part of that reality. Supposing for one second that this is in fact nothing more than a dream, that does not change the fact that this is the only reality I know and therefore this is the reality which I must live in and work with.

I have (or I should say had) a good friend who titles herself a moral nihilist, and though I like this term a great deal, I do not think it quite fits me either. As far as morality is concerned, I would rather call myself a moral existentialist. I do believe in morality, I just don't think it is inherent in the world. I believe it is a product of man, and that outside of man it has no existence at all. Please do not mistake me for holding such a simplistic view as to believe that someone actually sat down and decided what is right and what is wrong. Morality is to a great extent instinctual--generally part of the herd instinct: i.e., preservation of the species. The morals that can not be explained away by instinct, such as taboos against sex, I attribute to social conditioning. As to what brought a particular society to hold its own particular social norms, I can only say that of this particular geneology I am in ignorance.

Now with all that out of the way, I can finally ask: what kind of nihilist am I? I am what you would call a metaphysical or philosophical nihilist. I do not believe that anything in existence is inherent or necessary, with the exeption of perhaps death. That is to say, the only thing that is not transient is transience itself. All morals and ideals are creations of man. If any of these have value, it is only the value man has attributed to them.

If this post has come off as seeming random and chaotic, I apologize. My thoughts have been rather random and chaotic lately--hopefully I will soon be able to pull myself up out of all this muck and return to some sense of normality.

A Sidelong Glance at Religion

Having looked at my previous posts on this blog, I realize that I come off as being violently against religion. This is not the case. In fact I believe that everyone should study religion--not just the religion they were born to, but all religions. If after that, they choose to follow one specific religion, then by all means do so, and God speed. What I am against, and will remain opposed to till I breathe my dying breath, is dogmatism and fundamentalism. For these are the things that ultimatly lead to terrorism.

That you read the Bible, the Qur'an, the Upanishads, the Torah or any other religious scripture is in itself a good thing. There is a great deal of wisdom to be taken from these texts. But you must read it the same way that you would read any other work of fiction--gleaming from it the lessons you are ready to learn, and not taking it too seriously. If you read religious scripture as allegory, then suddenly all the absurdities that it spouts off begin to make perfect sense. You do not need to believe that a tower was actually built in Babel to understand the lesson of avoiding hubris and overarching pride. You need not believe that you will be a cow in the next life to understand that every moment, one dies and is born anew--we are never the same person moment to moment. In fact, this lesson is more quickly learned if you don't believe in the literal interpretation of reincarnation.

As far as the belief in God goes, I can only reiterate what I have already stated in a previous post: I don't know, and you don't either. Belief in God can only be accepted on faith. To say that you know God exists is to simply prove yourself an ass.

Picture This

A friend of mine showed me how to add a picture to my blog last night, ergo the picture below. I was trying to put it in my profile but couldn't seem to figure the damned thing out. I also couldn't seem to figure out how to put text in the same post as the picture, which is why I'm putting it up here instead.

The picture is of myself, a few years ago, looking down on Utah. I'm not sure who took the picture, or how exactly it came to be in my hands--what I can only assume to be--three or four years later, but it looks pretty cool.

Torture is Torture is Torture

To begin with, torture is morally wrong; no matter what the hypothetical scenerio you may dream up--torture will always remain morally indefensable. "But you're a self-proclaimed nihilist," you shout, "what do you care for morality?!" This is true, however, you are probably not a moral nihilist, or at least do not proclaim yourself to be so, and therefore morality should be of the highest order for you; after all, it is the "salvation of your soul" we're talking about here. Besides, one can be a nihilist and still have respect for human life and suffering. I'm not a sociopath after all. But I digress.

Being a moral nihilist, I will spare you any long lectures on the morality of turtore and skip over to the more pragmatic arguments against torture. Now everybody who has given it even half a thought knows that under extreme pain and the threat of even more to come, anybody will admit to just about anything. Torture a man long enough, he'll tell you who shot JFK--that doesn't make it the least bit true. If, on the other hand, the only thing you are looking for is a confession, and you don't give half a rat's ass about the actual truth, then by all means torture away. You'll get the confession you were looking for, and half your constituancy will probably believe it was true. Just don't call it torture--call it coercion or some other bullshit euphamism. After all, nobody likes to admit that they are the bad guy. If, on top of that, you can convince people that the person you are torturing is evil--well hell, even your opponents will be afraid to criticize you.

If, however, it is true information you are looking for, your best bet is to befriend the man you have in custody. Confidance leads to confidant information.

On top of the utter lack of accurate information given to you by torture--or as we here in the grand ol' US of A like to call it, "coercion"--you really do manage to totally wreck your standing in the world. Fear will force people to follow you, but when it can be helped respect is far better.

My Personal Hero

My older sister is currently going through something that I cannot even begin to comprehend. A few months ago she called me and told me that she was pregnant with her second child. You could actaully hear the joy in her voice at the prospect of having another kid. Last night my mother called me and told me that I needed to call my sister, as she was going through some real trauma. So I called her up today and this is the situation: Now in her second trimester, she had a sonogram done to find out the sex of the child. First the doctor told her it was a girl; all good and fine so far--her first was a boy and now she was having a girl to balance everything out. Then the doctor told her that the child didn't have any thumbs that they could see. Her view: well people have been born with no arms and had good lives, no big deal. Then the doctor proceeded to tell her that the child had no eyes either. How does she respond? Well so what, she'll be handicapped, it'll make life a bit more difficult but it's not anything that can't be dealt with. Then some more bad news. The child has some major brain damage. What, so she'll be mentally retarded--tons of people have down-syndrome and still live perfectly happy lives. But that's not it, that's not it at all. The child is missing her thirteenth chromosme--assuming it lives through delivery, it will be a vegitable for the few months that it is able to survive at all. The only things it will be able to do on its own are breath and piss; no thoughts, no emotions, no actions--just a couple of organs working to no purpose. My sister is then left with a choice: bring into existence something that cannot even be called a life, or terminate the pregnancy. When I asked her today how she was doing, she said that she had cried out all her tears and was now beginning to cope with the situation--my sister is my personal hero.

A Short Story

He finally realized that she was gone and would never come back; and it was only with this realization that he fully realized just how much he loved her. When she was around he had always taken her for granted. She had always been nothing more than a good friend and confidant--some one he could actually open his heart to--and he told himself that he didn't want anything more. Hell, he had even managed to completely convince himself for several years that he didn't want anything more from her. But now...now it just hurt so damned bad not having her around.

His childhood had been a rather loveless one. When anyone did happen to pay any attention to him, it was because they were drunk and looking for something to hit, or they were simply pissed off and wanted to belittle someone. Most of the time, however, he was simply left to fend for himself. Now in retrospect, this had actually strengthend him to a great degree--as a man he was able to stand just about any beating life through at him: He had a brutal job which left him in the hospital about once every two years, he had managed to disillusion himself of all the nonsense most people cling to so desperately, and he had even managed, at the age of sixteen, to move two-thousand miles away from his friends and family to start a new life on his own. The one thing he could not seem to do, was to admit that he loved someone. That, in his mind, would amount to opening himself back up to the ridicule and the beatings of his childhood.

Later in life, he had a few failed relationships. The first of these was actually with the girl he missed so much now. He had tried everything in his power to get her, but in the end it amouted to nothing but rejection. After that, all his relationships ended with the girls he thought he was in love with telling him to go to hell.

Finally, after years apart, he had been reunited with his first love. By now though, she was married to one of his friends. But that was ok, because all he wanted now was someone to talk to. So they stuck up a new friendship. Eventually she divorced his friend, but nothing really changed in his relationship to her. For a few years after that they lived together, neither of them seeing anybody else, but not seeing each other either. After a few years of this, she married another friend of his; this time it was his best friend.

Four years went by. He would go to their house once or twice a week for dinner during this time. His best friend was seldom home during all of this, and when he was he was too drunk to talk, and so he would have long drawn out conversations with her about everything from politics to religion to music. Throughout this time nothing ever became of this, as both of them had complete respect for the sanctaty of her marriage.

At the end of this four year period she had kicked her husband out; it turned out that he had been an abusive piece of shit; getting drunk every night and beating her and her five year old child. One night she came over to his house to talk about what was going on. They ended up getting really drunk. At some point during the night, she kissed him. At this point he could not hold back--he professed his love for her, and that night they made sweet, passionate love. Their love, however, was rather short lived.

The next day he was overcome by guilt. It didn't matter that his friend was a piece of shit--to betray their friendship was more than he could bear. The next day he told her that it had to end there. This was something she could not seem to comply with. The next few weeks were hell for both of them. He lied and said that it meant nothing to him; she refused this answer. It went back and forth: her forcing herself upon him, him forcing himself to believe he wanted nonthing of it, yet winding up in bed with her all the same.

In the end he won out. Though he wasn't exactly sure what it was he won. Did he when his freedom, or was it simply his solitude? All he knew now was that he wanted her back. But it was too damn late.

Christian Terrorism

I highly recommend that the few people who actually read this blog check out the many clips on the new documentary "Jesus Camp" on youtube.com. Anyone who cares to, is welcome to try to explain to me afterwards why christianity is not every bit as prone to terrorism as islam is.

Picking at Another Man's Dinner

Few men would have the gall to pick at another man's dinner when they have their own sumptuous meal before them. Why, then, are we so presumptuous as too pick apart a man's deepest thoughts and emotions, when we have our own sitting before us, begging to be analysed? Where do all these part-time psychologists get off interpreting another man's thoughts and actions when it is quite obvious that they do not even understand their own?

What do I mean by part-time psychologist? I mean a person who, without the least bit of technical training in that feild, feels that they are somehow qualified to tell you exactly what your unconscious motivations are for everything that you do. We all know this type. He is the most common type there is. He is that slightly over-intellectualized friend who does not yet have the wisdom to act as a counter-weight to his thoughts. In other words, he isn't so very clever as he thinks he is. He knows what your problem is, but he doesn't yet know how to keep that bit of information to himself.

If there were but one thing that I could teach to these people, it would be how to shut the fuck up, and quit being so damn presumptuous as to think you know what's going on in another's head.

One Difference

"There is only one difference between a madman and me. I am not mad." --Salvador Dali

The Conscience of God

Man is the conscience of God. Through man's existence, God is able to feel guilt.

Terrible Beauty

Ahh...but sadness and suffering are beautiful. "Why," you ask. Because they are so indicative of life, so true to the nature of reality. Now, certainly I do not discount other forms of beauty; love, joy, bliss and peace within are all quite lovely aspects of being a human being. The problem comes when we posit these aspects of life as a goal, in opposition to the "darker" side of the human condition. To exclude from our existence suffering, boredom, stress, heart-ache, and all the other things that people spend so much of their lives trying to avoid, is to do away with half of what makes life so great. To take suffering out of existence is to take away the challenge to mankind. It is to take away the intensity of life. Life essentialy becomes lifeless.

Life is not a test. It is simply a matter of learning to enjoy the scenery on your journey to nowhere.

God as Artist

If God does in fact exist, then it seems he must be viewed in the form of an artist. The artist concerns himself with every hair on the heads of his creations. He concerns himself with whether or not his creations are happy, sad, angry, depressed, blissful or wretched. Yet his concern is not that of wanting all his creations to feel only joy and love all the time. Many times he will make his creations in a manner which portrays the utmost suffering and torment. It is not that he doesn't care about his creation, but rather he wants to highlight some aspect of himself in that particular creation. He wants to give his creations all the fullness of life that is within himself. One does not look at Picasso's Blue Period and decide that Picasso must not exist, or that if he does he is somehow mean and malevolant for making his people so sad. In fact it is while looking at his saddest works that one is filled with the greatest sense of beauty and awe. It is here that one sees the mastery of his art.

Peter Pan Syndrome

I could very well be wrong (as it seems I often am), but in my own personal opinion Americans today are incapable of maturing past the age of twelve. This seems especially true of the men in our society. They just can't seem to grow beyond their desire for cool toys and the comfort of motherly love. Virtually every man seems incapable of truely making decisions for himself, or of taking on accountability for his actions once those decisions are made.

Television not only plays on this aspect of the modern American character, but even encourages it. Often times I'll see commercials portraying the grown man as nothing more than an overgrown child. Now one might expect this from an advertisement aiming at the wives and mothers of our fair society, but too often we find this even in ads geared towards men. Commercials for things such as trucks, four wheelers, stereo systems, deodorant, etc., try to convince men, not only that they deserve some reward for their day to day struggle, but that they deserve the biggest, baddest toys on the block. Sorry to burst your bubble guys, but you deserve nothing; if you have alot, so be it, if you have little, so be it--either way you don't deserve it. Nobody deserves what they get, good or bad.

Commercials aimed at women are even worse. They tend to portray men as weak, pathetic, little boys who are totally incapable of taking care of themselves. If it wasn't for the motherly touch they would surely die in a week's time. Now I don't know about the rest of the guys around here, but when I was sixteen I moved 1500 miles away from my family and have lived entirely alone most of the time since then (explains quite a bit, doesn't it). I'm still alive and in pretty damned good shape I must say. So...

Advertisers, please quit treating us like imbecillic toddlers. Many of us are just as clever as you and don't apreciate people thinking they need to dumb down the message for us to understand. Men, please quit proving the advertisers right. You do us all a great disservice. If you really are that stupid and childish, then please do the entire world a favor and kill yourself--though if you're too weak to live, you're probably too weak to die.

Even When I'm Wrong--I'm Right

I stand partially corrected. It seems the pope did not call the muslims violent, but rather he said that some of Muhammad's teachings were "vile and inhuman." Tsk tsk, your holiness. You should have known that these words would produce a negative reaction--nobody really likes being called vile or inhuman. But then again, have you ever actually read the Quran? It doesn't exactly exude compassion and understanding to christians and jews. Of course the christians and the jews have been hostile to one antother for thousands of years and both have always been hostile to pagans. Really the pope's mistake consisted in ascribing "vile and inhuman" doctrines only to muslims. A slightly more honest man would tell you that all religious doctrine is "vile and inhuman."

Can You Say Irony?

Generally speaking, I am loathe to step forward and defend any religious leader for any reason. Why? You ask. Because the ones who are not simply lying to gain power over the idiot masses, tend to be fanatical madmen. That said, it seems like somebody should stick up for poor old Pope Benidect. As you all probably know already the pope read from a certain text earlier this week which referred to Islam as a violent religion. "well, now that's the pot calling the kettle black," you guffaw (well that was my initial reaction at least). So how does Islam react to being called a violent religion? Do they practice restraint and and voice their displeasure in a peaceful manner, showing that in fact they are a civilized people capable of acting in an adult manner and that the pope was wrong? No. Instead they prove that the pope was right. They burn effagies, they threaten death to all non-muslims, they shoot nuns in the street. I mean, seriously now, can a single one of them possibly expect the west to take them more seriously now after that little tantrum? If you want people to stop calling you violent, then stop being so violent. It's really a simple rule that most of us had learned before we were eight: either you learn to ignore the name calling, or you fix whatever your problem is and grow the hell up.

Theological Views of a Militant Agnostic

I would like to take a moment and explain in a little more detail my veiws on God and religion. Religion when taken in moderation (much like any poison) can actually be quite healthy. The belief in a all powerful, benevolent being can often be enough to help get many people through points in their lives that might otherwise be too much to bear. But beyond taking religion in moderation, one has to take it in context. The religious scriptures of any religion should be looked at as a means for gaining spiritual insight and clearity; it should never be looked to as a historically accurate textbook on how life and the universe came to be. Adam was not literally made of dust; the entire face of the earth was never actually flooded--wiping out everything that was not on the ark; Jesus was not resurrected three days after dying on the cross. That intelligent men and women throughout history have believed that these events actually occurred is a testement to the power of human stupidity.

Faith makes blessed. Blessedness, however, does not make truth. No matter how intensly you believe in something, or how much it may benefit you to beleive it, there is and can never be any certainty that what you believe is true. This is especialy the case if what you beleive is based on some gut feeling (faith) rather than on emperical evidence. That said, God, if accepted at all, must be accepted on faith. There is a popular argument that God's existence can be proven by the complexity and the appearant design of nature. This argument however has been made obsolete by evolution. Evolution on the other hand proves only that God is not necessary, not that God does not exist. In the end, there is only one honest position concerning the question of God: "I don't know, and you don't either."

Now, with belief in God being based on nothing more than a gut feeling, and what God demands of us being nothing more than a gut feeling about a gut feeling, where does anyone get off trying to force their religion on others. Imposing your views of God on others amounts to religious fanatacism. It doesn't matter if your passing out phamplets about loving your neighbor or blowing up cafes in order to carry out God's commandment of destroying the infedels; trying to make converts (or eradicate those who disagree) is an infringment upon humanity. If you believe in God that is fine, but you have no right to impose that belief on others.

As concerns revelation, my veiws are far simpler than with other aspects of religion. Anybody who tells you they speak to God is either lying or they're schizophrenic.

An Argumnet Against Pure Materialism

Would you try to apply psychology to the field of physics? (If so, then you're about four centuries behind modern science, and should probably be exterminated for the betterment of the human race.) Why then try to apply physics to the field of psychology?

I understand that certain emotions corrolate to certain physical processes and that our thoughts in general are influenced by our emotions (if I haven't eaten all day I get irritated; when irritated my thoughts turn dark). My question is: how do these two entirely seperate ideas mutate into a single idea of every single thought being the direct result of some charge being shot off in the brain? I can understand the influence played, but not the direct law of causality being involved.

Ready the Lions

It seems that every time I happen to have the misfortune of accidently witnessing that atrocity known as Fox News, there is inevitably someone talking about how the atheists and liberals are in cahoots and trying desperately to expell God from America. If you've not yet seen this, just wait till Christmas, as this is one of their favorite times of year to exploit the Martyrdom Complex of the religious zealots. Well I say if they want so bad to feel persecuted, then by all means let's persecute them. Open the Coloseum and ready the lions and by all means let's show them what persecution really is.

All these damned religious fanatics (I'm talking about ALL religious fanatics, not just Christians) should be hung in the streets before a jeering mob for all the suffering they have inflicted on man throughout the ages, and still inflict today. Not just the physical torture and slaughter of millions of people during the crusades, the inquisition, the witch hunts and the jihads; but the so-called "virtues" they set upon us like a plague.

So to all you conservatives out there who are desperately trying to save God, my advice is that you give up. It's a war that you lost long, long ago. We're taking over now and there's not a damned thing you can do about it.

Bright New Sun

The ominous clouds of nihilism
Give way and let show
The bright new sun of existence.

Actuality of Existence

Life is the the ultimate reality. All our ideals and beliefs, however beautiful and sublime, remain secondary to the actuality of existence.

Impatiently Awaiting the Apocolypse

Brotherly love, non-resistance, turning the other cheek? No, no and no. If one wants to understand the mind of the modern American Evangelical Christian, one needs only look to the book of Revelations. It is from this book that all our would-be martyrs develop their sense of justice and retribution. It is here that they find some relevance to our own turbulent times--the morbid imagery portayed in this book is the only imagery that many of us can relate to. But it is not only that. Here we find an ending and a new beginning. Here this world of suffering comes to an end, and we are given in its stead the eternal reward of singing God's hosannas; at least for those who worshipped God in the proper manner. As for the rest of us, we can look forward to an eternity of torment and hell fire for our egregious mistakes.

In all likelihood, however, mankind will simply flicker and fade out of existence, like a flame gasping for air. No monumental destruction, no great climactic ending--just a pathetic little spiecies that has outlived its ability to adapt.

Six Years of Pent-up Aggression

After venting about how much I hate Bush last night, I realized that I actually had quite a great deal to say on this subject. For that reason the next few posts will likely be about the subject of how much I despise this administration. If you happen to be one of the 33% of Americans who still like Bush, then I highly recommend you not read any further.

Tonight's rant: those who Bush surrounds himself with.

Nearly everybody in this administration is an active member of a group called The Project for a New American Century. I intend to give a brief overview of this group's goals, as well as why they are entirely assinine; however, for a more detailed understanding, I suggest looking them up on wikipedia. Hell, just go to thier website, it's not like their in any way secretive about what they intend. The PNAC desires nothing short of world domination, which they state in their manifesto. This is to be gotten through military strength. They see the Middle-East as a territory which must be taken over by America in order to ensure proper oil production, as well as keeping tabs on anybody who has thier own intrests in mind as opposed to ours. These guys have wanted to invade Iraq since 1997; probably longer, but that's when the group wrote its manifesto. If one were to look at all the reasons we invaded Iraq, beginning with the whole WMD's scandal and moving down the list to "promoting democracy," it quickly becomes obvious that they are simply following the game plan they had written up for years. But enough about the PNAC, let us take a look at the individuals who make up the administration.

Dick Cheney: Vice President; PNAC founder--Here is a man so evil that he simply could not resist the temptation to shoot an eighty year old man in the face with a shotgun. Prior to deciding that ol' W. couldn't possibly find a better running mate than himself, Dick was the head of a multi-billion dollar company called Halliburton. How does Halliburton make its millions? Why through oil, of course. Dick has been, single-handedly, the biggest proponent of the war in Iraq. His best arguments for going to war have consisted in either his trademark smirk at whatever his opponents have to say, or simply telling senetors to go fuck themselves. (Yes, he literally told a senator who was asking too many questions about Iraq, prior to the invasion, to go fuck himself.)

Donald Rumsfeld: Secretary of Defence; PNAC founder--This is the callous son of a bitch who decided to send our troops into Iraq with little armor and far too few men. When questioned about why he would do such a thing his response was that you go to war with the army you have, not the army you want. Well yes, that's true. My question then would be why the hell did he want to pretty much dismantle the army before sending them to fight on two fronts? Oh yeah, because he wanted to prove that less is more, militarily speaking.

Karl "Turd Blossom" Rove: Deputy Chief of Staff-- How much does it say for a man when even those who depend upon him for their political careers refer to him as Turd Blossom? This man is a real work of art. In order to dodge the draft during the Vietnam War (a seemingly favorite pass-time for all these new-found war-hawks), he joined the University of Utah--but only part-time. It should also be noted that as soon as the threat of being drafted had ended, he promptly dropped out. As the "architect" of Bush's administration he has commited offenses from leaking the name of a covert CIA agent, to using racist inuenndo against political opponets.

The list of shit-heads that Dubbya employs could go on for several pages, however I've neither the time nor the patience for such an undertaking. The list of all the shit-head maneuvers commited by even the few men I have listed, would take several thousand pages.

Tomorrow's post: Domestic Policies Gone Awry.

An Anniversary

Today marks the five year anniversary since the attacks on the World Trade Center. I'm certain, however, that this has slipped no one's attention, being as all the major news organizations have been harping on that subject since you awoke this morning. Well, now it's my turn to harp on it for a bit.

To begin with, my deepest sympathies and condolences go out to all who lost loved one's on that fateful day. That being said, I would like to take a quick look at what we as a nation have done over the last five years in response.

First we went to Afghanistan, where we toppled the Taliban and scattered al-Qaeda. This was done with international support, and a firm sense of justice felt by nearly everyone here in the U.S. If only we could have stayed focused on that task...but alas, our fearless (thoughtless?) leader had other fish that he was looking to fry.

(Just as a side note--am I the only one who heard him tell reporters that he wasn't concerned about Osama just a couple of years ago? And now all the rehtoric has come round full circle and the whole reason we're in Iraq, strangely enough, is because of Osama. Does anybody actually buy this shit? If so, it's probably the same people who buy Toby Keith records.)

Next we began to initiate a number of security measures, most of which destroy the very civil liberties that we are trying to protect--unauthorized wiretapping, secret prisons, the use of torture to secure confessions (can you say Salem witch trials?) and these are just the tactics that have been admitted to. All that's left is to start using chemical weapons on our own people...oh wait, we already installed Mike Leavitt as head of the E.P.A.

(Another quick sidenote: after his short tenure as head of the E.P.A. Leavitt switched over to head of Health and Human Services. To those of you who are not absolutely terrified by the prospect of this, this is the same man who unleashed whirrling disease upon all the lakes and streams in Utah so that his family business could stay going. Let us hope that he doesn't regard humans with the same disdain he has for wildlife.)

After that we proceeded to make the most monumental mistake in the history of America. We invaded Iraq. Not only was this completely pointless, but it was done in such a haphazard way that one would suspect the war plans had been drawn up by a half-retarded three year old. I apologize to all the half-retarded three year olds who may be reading this and taking offense at being compared to Rumsfield.

But alas, I feel I am becoming quite inebriated, and so I must bide my time and wait 'til I can further elucidate upon the particulars of why the Iraq war is so incredibly stupid. Until then...

Pascal's Wager Revised

Regardless of one's metaphysical believes, whether it be life eternal, reincarnation, or simply materialistic atheism, one should treat this life as though it is the only thing one has. Why? Because as far as you know, it is. Maybe there's an afterlife, maybe there isn't; but to forsake this life in hope of some reward in the next is not only a waste of time, it is entirely detrimental to yourself as well as all those around you.

Blaise Pascal put forth an argument in the seventeenth century, saying basically that belief in God and an afterlife is a kind of wager. Either you believe in God, or you don't. Either God exists, or he doesn't. If you believe in God and he doesn't exist, you've lost nothing; if on the other hand you don't believe in God and he does exist, you've lost everything. As for myself, I would put forth the exact opposite argument.

Either there is etenal life, or there isn't. If you put off this life, waiting for the next and it doesn't exist, you've lost the only thing you have. If, on the other hand, you get everything you can out of this life at the expense of the next, and there is an afterlife, then what exactly have you lost? Not a damned thing.


Quit waiting for God to save you, and save yourself.

Defining God

Many men today seem to think that whatever is beyond our current understanding and comprehension must be labled God or divinity. Why is it so hard to simply say I do not know?

Major Barbara

Stephen: I know the difference btween right and wrong.

Undershaft: You don't say so! What! no capacity for business, no knowledge of law, no sympathy with art, no pretention to philosophy; only a simple knowledge of the secret that has puzzled all the philosophers, baffled all the lawyers, muddled all the men of business, and ruined most of the artists: the secret of right and wrong. Why, man, your a genius, a master of masters, a god! At twenty-four too...You are all alike, you respectable people...You daren't handle high explosives; but you're all too ready to handle honesty and truth and justice and the whole duty of man, and kill one another at that game.

--Major Barbara;
George Bernard Shaw

Face Value

Why do we find it so impossible to accept a man at face value--to take what he offers without expecting what he cannot give? Some look for a wise man from whom they may be advised as to how they should live their lives, others want a passionate lover that they can gain comfort from in their moments of need. The advice part is easy to fulfill; in fact I can give you the best advice for everything from where to get new tires to what you should do with your life, all right here in a single well packaged sentence: "How the fuck should I know, it's your fucking life, man up and start making your own goddamn choices!" Anyone who tries to give any advice other than that is simply feeding you full of shit. As for those who seek love and comfort, no simple answer may ever be forthcoming.

This Too

"Life, however it may be is good." --J. W. Goethe

"Not an allegory, simply a leaf, one leaf. A leaf is good. Everything is good." --Ivan Kirillov

"And even if it were ridiculous, it still wouldn't matter, because it's good." --Alyosha Karamazov

This too is good...

British Understatements

"Sometimes the truth is a bit unpalitable." --A euphamism for the ages

Consequence and Culpability

What does it mean to say you're sorry? Begging the forgiveness of a dead man will not bring him back to life; it will not put breath back into his lungs nor thoughts into his head. Why then, bother with telling him you're sorry once you've already smashed his skull?

This analogy extends into all aspects of life.

Is the pain from the wrong I have dealt you in any way assuaged by knowing that I recognize my culpability?

Dealers of Ghosts and Phantoms

Beware any man who would sell you your soul. These rouge businessmen, these dealers of ghosts and phantoms, these theologians! These are the whores of the earth; nay they are worse than whores, for a whore is at least honest enough to sell a tangible good, where these men sell only lies.

Man's Needs

A little childish security--someone to hold us and soothe us, whispering in our ears, reassuring us that everything will be okay. Thus the lonely individual needs be lied to.

In Life

In life, it is the wolves alone who are left to tend the flock.

A Profound Quote From A Profane Medium

"There are no answers, only choices."

The Blissful Idiot

Man cannot live on ideals alone. He needs substance; a physical reality with which he may interact. Do you believe that God can fill the empty belly? Well then, what answer would you dare to put forth in explaining to the millions of starving children in the world why God puts no nourishment in their bellies. Could you tell them, to their inoccent faces--full of fear and suffering, that they worship the wrong God, or simply don't pray in quite the right manner? If so, then you are a bastard worthy of the cross.

Man needs physical nouishment as well as spiritual. To this end he pushes God aside and becomes, for a time, a purely animalistic being; he is ignorant of his own ideals of right and wrong. He is like Adam before partaking of the fruit; he lives in a perfact state of naturalism. He is a blissful idiot.

On the Virtues of a Prospective Third World War

A mass thinning of the human population might just serve both ourselves and the world at large quite well.

Plumbing the Depths of Human Stupidity

"To fight against stupidity, in the long run, makes even the fairest and gentlest men brutal." --Friedrich Nietzsche

To plumb the depths of human stupidity one would require a near endless supply of resources. One is far better off trying to understand everything man has ever learned throughout our existence than trying to understand the vast reaches of man's capacity for stupidity.

Mere Wealth

"Of all the forms of tyranny, the least attractive and most vulgar is the tyranny of mere wealth." --Theodore Roosevelt

A Little Secret

Keep your high ideals and moral superiority to yourself, I want nothing of it. All your beliefs amount to nothing--less than nothing. Why? Because you believe that things should be other than they are.

Come close and I will tell you a little secret. Everything is as it should be, for everything is as it is.

Yeates

"The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time." --W. B. Yeates

On Coffee and Faith

"With one ounce of faith, you can move a mountian. With one cup of coffee, you will be satisfied with the mountain where it is." -- A moment of lucidity from a neighborhood lunatic

"Fully Placate the Cocksucker"

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Accidents and Omens

"We are nothing more than an accident, some piece of blind chance. In the end it comes to nothing. Life is nothing more than a momentary farce at which few people are srong enough to laugh." Thus whispers to me my little truth.

"But what of all the gentle beauty and playful subtleties of nature and life--are these, too, a mere accident of being; meaningless and transient? Or might they present us with some omen--a glad tiding in the form of a riddle?" Thus say I to my little truth.

The Burden of Self

It is here that the individual must stand upon his levee, and facing the rising waters, shout for all the world to here, "I will not succumb to this!" Such defines the challenge set forth to all who would carry the burden of the Self.

A Fleeting Moment

A fleeting moment; a passing thought,
Drifting aimless as a leaf
Caught in an autumn breeze,
As it gently makes its way
On its journy to nowhere.

The Best Things in Life

The best things in life are free...only because they are stolen.

A Moral Interpreted

"An ass and a cock were in a straw-yard together when a lion, desperate from hunger, approached the spot. He was about to spring upon the ass, when the cock (to the sound of whose voice the lion, it is said, has a single aversion) crowed loudly, and the lion fled away as fast as he could. The ass, observing his trepidation at the mere crowing of the cock summoned courage to attack him, and galloped after him for that purpose. He had run no long distance, when the lion, turning about, seized him and tore him to pieces.

"False confidence often leads into danger."
--Aesop

What world leader, upon hearing such a fable, would not immediaetly thereupon behead the messenger from sheer indignation? And yet, certain world leaders would do well to learn such a lesson. I think in particular of our own not-so-beloved, yet ever fearless, leader here in the U.S.

That a dangerous enemy fears us, should not thereby lead us to believe that the time for pursuit is at hand. That an enemy is so easily scared does not signify that an enemy is so easily defeated. For it is in our most fearful moments that we become the most destructive. This tends to be an attribute common to all men--a note for asses.*

*Yes, the last four words were a direct theft from Nietzsche.