Archive for category Existential Rambings

Obama Proposes Form Without Content; Buffalos Without Wings; Utter Hopelessness

(Washington)-In stunning pessimism, America forward never back truth without honesty is the medium of true messiness.  Socialist polarized mobs running outward not outwitting death.  Free to choose everything except what matters, no matter what the rules are.  Debt beyond parents life as rebellious war against nothingness consuming reduced to pattern.  Things explained are things forgotten against the backdrop of inhaled ignorance.  “Wandering, wondering as their lives slowly slip through their greedy little fingers,” accordion to White House Repeater of Cliches Jay Carney.

They are as much a part of this disaster as we are.  Stand up for the privilage of not sitting down.  Anxiety as a rational response to unconscionable conditions.  As it repeats over and over and we confuse action for motion and motion for freedom.  And freedom for immortality.  And immortality for meaning.  And meaning for action.  In a recent Gallup poll nearly two-thirds of buffalos have no wings and nearly one hundred percent of Americans are doomed to the terms of mortality.  No matter what they’d like you to believe.  Accordion to So and So Jones, person on the street and representative of the Zeitgeist, “I don’t even know what’s real anymore as I look into a world where I am bombarded with the constant flow of answers to questions that I wouldn’t have even bothered to ask.  Drowning in a river of useless actions.  Amused to death by the 24 hour 7 day a week carnival of unmeaning.  Sweat my only solace.”

Now, here’s the paragraph about possible solutions and potential mystery.  So and So who wants you to like him or her and maybe even vote that way proposes solutions that either serve the purpose of taking our eyes off the existential ball or promising something they hope we forget about in twenty minutes (which we probably will because crisis is a great substitution for crisis).  So and So complains about something hoping to give us hope, or comfort, or something new to hate, or something to talk about with the other doomed fools that we are chained to, or something to buy, or something to bury.  We all rally around because a recent Gallup Poll has stated, in no uncertain terms, that 51 percent of us share the same delusion.

You should write a letter to your Congressman.  Because they will listen.  Because they care.  Because you have a solution no one else has thought of.  Because democracy guarantees us the right to go on and on about absolutely nothing and replace one empty vessel with another every four years.  Write that letter.  Seriously.  Do it.  That will make everything all better.  That’ll solve the issue of the sheer absurdity of the world.  That’ll take the sting out of that nagging death problem that everyone seems to be conveniently not mentioning.  That’ll make lions into lambs and lambs into citizens.  And citizens into vampires.  The world is probably in the shape that it’s in because you haven’t written that letter yet.  When you do, all of your troubles will go away.  You’ll see.  Write the letter.  Save us all.

In conclusion, eventually everything you do, every action you take will be forgotten.  Everyone around you will be gone.  Take comfort in the fact that you are nothing, or at least, that’s how you’ll be remembered.  Besides, in a recent Fox News poll a full 105 percent of people surveyed think it’s someone else’s fault.  “The solution is complete ignorance,” accordion to President Barack Obama, “that or an endless cycle of misery and fear, depression and alienation.  Or government spending.  Or complaining about government spending.  Or endless blame.  Or endless blamelessness.  It’s up to you.  After all, isn’t this what democracy is all about?”

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The 657th Republican Debate of The 2012 Presidential Campaign in the State of Iowa as Told By Franz Kafka

“Nansen saw the monks of the eastern and western halls fighting over a cat. He seized the cat and told the monks: “If any of you say a good word, you can save the cat.”

No one answered. So Nansen boldly cut the cat in two pieces.

That evening Joshu returned and Nansen told him about this. Joshu removed his sandals and, placing them on his head, walked out.

Nansen said: “If you had been there, you could have saved the cat.”

-From The Gateless Gate

Announcer:  Now, presenting tonight’s debate between the leading candidates for the Republican nomination for the presidency of the United States.  Today’s event is sponsored by Big Vern’s Preowned Buicks an independent, freedom-loving outlet for the finest in preowned vehicles in all of suburban Waterloo, Iowa.  Here is tonight’s host, former All-American right tackle from the 1978 Sugar Bowl Champion Iowa Hawkeyes, the man who can put you in a Buick for under 10,000 dollars, Big Vern Walters.

Big Vern:  Yeah, uhm, thanks.  Tonight we are going to talk to some great Americans who may be President if the good lord wills it and chooses to not rain fire and brimstone down on the people of Iowa for embracing Satan and for buying cars made in Japan and other communist countries.  So, I digress, here’s the candidates.  If you don’t know them by now it’s probably because you’ve been watching CNN, otherwise known as the Commie News Network.  (audience laughs on cue)  Anyways, lets give a big Iowa welcome to the candidates.

(Audience applauds thunderously in response to the promise made by Big Vern before the debate that if they make the “Applause-O-Meter” reach 10 at least twice, they would get a dollar off coupon that can be used at the local Applebee’s)

(At this point, the candidates paste a big “gosh I hope you can look at me and think I’m the type of guy (or gal) you can sit down and have a beer with” smile on their makeup plastered faces)

Big Vern:  As for my first question, here it is.  Mitt Romney, Do you think that Obama is a Muslim?  If not, why are you protecting him?

Mitt:  Americans are were very hardworking them those who hate freedom well twelve Obamacare the enemies of the West those who hate us Obamacare Obamacare measured balanced approach our boys in Afghanistan Reagan them rock and roll is a bunch of mindless noise small businesses tax breaks Reagan fourteen insert joke here experienced leadership.

Gingrich:  Let me just interject for a minute.  Massachusetts Ted Kennedy liberal noise crickets my plan tax breaks Obamacare job creators those who hate freedom.  I have a plan that allows the 29th Amendment to use the Federal Reserve to make bacon.  Liberalism I’m an outsider Osama Bin Laden fear tax breaks Obamacare smarter than your average 4th grader thinking man’s conservative values welfare death cheaters awake after three.  Obamacare.  Liberal.  Brain Science.  Eliminate the Capital Gains Tax.  Reagan.

Big Vern:  That’s quite interesting, but Mr. Paul, how would you address the issue of people who make over 250 thousand dollars a year having to give away 3 quarters of their income to people on welfare who don’t want to work for a living?

Paul:  Let me first say, Obamacare (audience boos wildly).  Founding fathers spinning in graves to the tune of 7 trillion dollars in money spent on welfare in the past 10 seconds Federal Reserve Lizard People death no more taxes Obamacare….

Audience Member:  KILL THE HERETIC!!!!!

(Rest of Audience Laughs)

(Applause for no apparent reason)

Paul:  Federal Reserve buying cocaine or cannabis shouldn’t be a crime if you happen to drive Mercedes oppression taxation Department of Education selling crack to unwed mothers.  And that’s fine.  This is America.  Rights, Freedom, Liberty.  Some obscure historical example Republicans typically don’t use.  Freedom. Liberty.  Liberty. Reagan. Liberty. Atlas Shrugged.  Reagan.  Liberty.

Big Vern:  I just want to complement you, Mr. Paul, on being the only straight talker on this here stage.  Mr. Santorum, do you feel the media has been ignoring you?

Santorum:  Abortion….

Big Vern (cuts off Santorum):  And Ms. Bachmann, it’s been said that you believe strongly in values.  Is this true?

Bachmann:  Curing homosexuality welfare Obamacare (audience boos) good hardworking Americans freedom liberty Christ values Christ Tim Tebow (audience applauds wildly).  Freedom I’m from where the real people live liberty godless heathens cities children puppies apple pie godless communism Christ Tim Tebow Reagan.  Reagan.  Reagan.

Obamacare!  (audience lets loose bloodthirsty shouts)  Our soldiers are brave.  Socialism welfare dead values my opponents people underestimate me because I’m not paying attention.

Big Vern:  And Mr. Perry, how would you change America if elected President?

Perry:  (Unintelligible noises that somewhat resemble English)

Big Vern:  And Mr. Huntsman, clearly with a haircut like yours you are an establishment liberal from Massachusetts who can’t win.  A question for you Mr. Gingrich, now that you are the frontrunner in the field, how likely is it that your past ties to communist organizations like The Heritage Foundation hurt your campaign?

Gingrich:  (while wearing a giant squid on his head)  Fifty four forty or fight!!!!!

(Editors note:  How much sadness, how much horror, how much shame can one nation be subjected to before they see the entire sick, twisted carnival as being too much to bear?  Tell me what can be done….please.  Because this actually does matter.  Because this is not just simply a sideshow for the amusement of a bunch of uninvolved spectators.  Because really important things hang in the balance.  Because we are desperate for people who can help us make sense of the world we live in.  Because this is not entertainment, this is our lives they are talking about.  Because the civic arena was once where we exhibited the best of who we were.  Because there have to be better people who can lead us.  Because there simply has to be more than this.  Right?  Right??!)

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Five Zombies In Search of A McRib

The Nexus of the Crisis and The Origin of Swarms

They were banging wildly at the windows.  Bloody, barbeque sauce stained hands clutching at whatever they could grab.  We had kept them at bay by throwing of the store’s stock of McRibs through the drive-thru window into the parking lot.  The horde of undead monsters gobbled them up, consuming them in a grotesque span of seconds. In their fiendish delirium, they could no longer tell the difference between human life and a dollar ninety-nine cent sandwich (2.99 in some markets).  The five of us were about to become a very unhappy meal.

There was Janet, the waitress, Addams, the cop, McBain, the lawyer with great hair, and The Doctor.  They had gone through their lives secretly wondering when their hour would finally come round.  They never would have believed they would perish terribly, mistaken for a limited time sandwich.  I had dressed well, anticipating teaching an excellent day of thought provoking history classes.  Instead, I was going to be eaten by zombies at my local neighborhood McDonald’s.

Janet:  We should feed them something else.

Addams:  We should not feed them, it will just encourage them.

McBain:  We should reason with them.

Me:  We should run.

Doctor:  I’m a doctor.

Janet:  We should scare them.

Addams:  We should shoot them.

McBain:  We should trick them.

Me:  We should hide.

Doctor:  I’m a doctor.

Janet:  We should climb out through the air conditioning ducts.

Addams:  We should set off an explosion in the parking lot.

McBain:  We should wait for the army to save us.

Me:  We should help them.

Doctor:  I’m a doctor!

(Banging on the windows is growing louder)

Janet:  We should feed them the cop.

Addams:  We should feed them the lawyer.

McBain:  We should feed them the poor.

Me:  We should try to understand them.

Doctor:  I’m a Doctor!

Janet:  We should fight them with our mop handles.

Addams:  We should make an example of one of them and scare the others.

McBain:  We should poison the McRibs, then feed them to the zombies.

Me:  We should educate them.

Doctor:  I am a….Doctor!!!!!

(More zombies pounding on the windows.  The zombie moaning is becoming intolerable)

Janet:  We should protest their actions.

Addams:  We should show no fear.

McBain:  We should see if we can pay them to go away.

Me:  We should build them houses.

Doctor:  I……AM…..A…..DOCTOR!!!!!!

Janet:  We should raise their taxes!

Addams:  We should use our weapons!

McBain:  We should offer them a simplified tax code that does not punish job creators!

Me:  We should offer them adequate dental care!!!!

Doctor:  I am a doctor…I am a doctor….I am a doctor!  I’m a Doctor!!!

(The glass in the main window begins to crack.  Zombies swarm towards opening with horrific glee.)

Janet:  We should pray with them.

Addams:  We should pray for them.

McBain:  We should pray for ourselves.

Me:  We should love them.

Doctor:  I am a doctor????

(The window shatters and the zombies pour through)

Janet:  This can’t happen; I’m too young.

Addams:  This can’t happen; I have a family.

McBain:  This can’t happen; this is America

Me:  This can’t happen; we’ve acted honorably.

Doctor:  This can’t happen; I’m a doctor.

The zombies attack and overwhelm us.  Lots of gore and guts and gizzards and grossness.  You’ve seen this movie before or at least one like it.  Just make up your own ending.  Mine is…They all die.  Alone.

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Acute Post-Operative Complications

About six months ago, I had surgery done on my foot to remove a bone spur.  During the surgery I was given a dose of anesthesia to knock me out and numb the pain.  Since the surgery I have noticed many inconsistencies in the fabric of the universe.  I have come to the conclusion that one of two things took place.  The first possibility is that I am still under anesthesia and currently on the operating table.  For this to be true, the anesthesia would have to have distorted my sense of time and what has felt to me to be two months is actually less than an hour.  The other possibility is that I died on the operating table and this is either a very strange afterlife or I am experiencing an early stage of death in which the images and ideas in my head slowly become distorted as I lose my connection to what we know as reality.

I know this sounds a bit far fetched, but things have been really strange since the anesthesia went into me.  When I was first injected I began to feel extremely sleepy.  I tried to talk but it felt like my mouth was filled with peanut butter.  My eyes closed and all I could hear were the doctor and one of the nurses talking and that dumb song “Life is a Highway” (the surgery center pumped bad pop music into all the operating rooms to “relax” the patients).  I was completely conscious and totally immobile.  The song was making me angry.  Why couldn’t they have anesthetized my ears?  It’s a preposterously stupid metaphor.  What the heck does it mean?  Life goes on for a long time?  Life has exits?  If you stay on life for thirty minutes you can get to the airport?

I’m not certain of how I got home.  It was late in the day.  For the next week I flowed in and out of awareness.  Pain and pain medicine shaped my reality.  I watched the entire first season of the TV show the old CBS show “Wiseguy” on DVD (mercifully, I only remember about ten minutes of it), I ate pizza, I stared at the painting of a woman on the wall and imagined another head growing out of her neck.  I could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.  I chalked the whole thing up to oxycodone-induced weirdness and figured I’d feel normal once I got the stuff out of my system.

Time passed.  My foot began to heal, I started driving again, I went back to work, and I shed my crutches for a boot.  Life resumed, but I could not shake the feeling that the things around me were somehow less real then they had been.  It’s not something I can put accurately into words, but it feels quite real.  The world seemed similar but not the same.

My first visit to the gym was when things started to get really weird.  I slowly moved my way through a few machines and went into the locker room to get the stink off of me.  As I walked past the lockers there was a guy in a speedo who looked almost exactly like the guy who played Father Damien Karass in the Exorcist films.  I had never seen him at the gym before.  He was staring into his open locker and shouting.  Most of what was coming out of his mouth was impossible to understand.  He was raving.  I understood the occasional curse word, but most of it seemed like it was in some weird language that he was making up as he went along.  I averted my eyes away from him and sprinted into the shower.  When I had gotten out, he was quietly staring with this horrible empty expression on his face.  Suddenly, I heard him say in a monotone, semi-possessed voice “Life isn’t a highway, is it Keith?  Is it Keith?  Is it Keith?”

I felt my stomach leap into my throat.   “Excuse me?!?!?!”

He just continued staring blankly into the locker.

“What did you say???”  I repeated in a panic.

He did not respond.

I did not tell the thing about “Life is a Highway” to anyone except my wife.  I strongly doubt that my wife has launched into a criminal conspiracy with some lunatic at the YMCA to drive me crazy so she’ll be able to drive our Saturn more often, so I have to imagine there are strange forces at work here.  But what?  Why?

Every time I see this guy, he hums a bar from it and smiles at me.  He has a sickly, menacing smile.  The type that bankers usually reserve for customers with no hope of getting a loan.  He jogs next to me on the treadmill sometimes.  Humming.  Smiling.  Laughing to himself.

The other day, he walked out of the gym at the same time as me.  He started repeating the phrase “Do you know where we are?  Do you know where we are?  Do YOU know WHERE we ARE?” in strange intonations about five feet away from me.  At first, I sped up, but when he didn’t stop and continued to follow me I knew I had to take some kind of action.  I turned to him and shouted “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?  Why are you bothering me?!?!?!?!”

He looked perplexed.  The man stared blankly into my eyes and began to speak with a voice that betrayed no emotion whatsoever, “Don’t you know where we are?”  He reached slowly into his pocket.  I was terrified.  What was happening?  He grabbed my wrist and shoved a piece of paper in my hand.  With a coy smile, he turned on his heels and stumbled back towards the gym.

Maybe it was some explanation of everything.  Maybe it was a threat. I needed something to make it all make sense.  I swallowed deeply and looked at the piece of paper.  This had to be the answer.  It had to be.  It was a ten percent off coupon for the frozen yogurt store about a mile from my house.  The orange rain began to pour down from the sky, washing away the beautiful blue sunset.  I sat down on the curb next to my car, put my head in my hands and wept.

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A Time To Forget

When something terrible, something truly unforgivable occurs, we often look to the language for comfort.  One readymade expression that is used to comfort us in times of genuine despair and confusion is “Never Forget”.  This expression has become a part of our post-9/11 mourning process.  The idea behind it is that if we don’t forget the horrors of that terrible day it will have some meaning for us.  Then, maybe we can use those feelings of pain and grief in order to achieve some balance in the world.  We can right the wrongs of that day, on some level, through an act of national collective memory.

As comforting as that idea may be, I wonder if it really has achieved what we’ve wanted from it.  It has been 10 years since that day and few have forgotten.  The test of an idea is its manifestation in the world we live in.  Has clinging to the memory of 9/11 made the world a better place?  Have we used our memories to heal the wounds of that day?  Some would believe that we have.  I do not.  I look out into a world where we are mired in two of the longest wars in U.S. history, into a world consumed by turmoil, into a world where chaos and strife are commonplace, into a world where we have seemingly lost all faith in the systems that have been created to help us, into a world where the center surely has not held.  We have remembered, but our memory has served us poorly.

Al-Queda has been weakened significantly.  If that was the goal of not forgetting, then we can argue it has been effective.  But, was that all we wanted?  Was disrupting the actions of a small, but vicious terrorist group all we were hoping for after that terrible day?  I believe that America saw the terror of that day and wanted desperately to be part of a world where that sort of thing could not happen again, not just here, but anywhere.  For a brief and fleeting moment, we stood together.  Ten years later, we are a deeply polarized nation, extended far beyond our means, spiraling from one catastrophe to the next without much hope for a better world.  Ten years later, we may be safer from Al-Qaeda, but as a whole, our world is an unmitigated disaster.

There is no clear consensus on what 9/11 actually meant.  Some people believe that its meaning is that we need to use all means at our disposal to crush anything that resembles a threat, some people have taken the message that we should curb our military adventurism, some people have taken the message that all Muslims are evil, some have taken the message that the world should come together in spite of religious and racial differences.  It is even become relatively acceptable to question whether the U.S. government itself was complicit in the horrors of that day.  We all remember, but our memories have led us to a very different place.

I’m going to suggest a radically different approach to how to cope with the anniversary of 9/11.  It will probably be viewed in some circles as highly disrespectful, but I assure you that no disrespect is intended.  I believe that the central lesson of 9/11 is that terrible things happen to innocent people for no reason whatsoever.  It is an unjust world where some things can never be explained or properly understood.  Life is filled with random and capricious acts of horror that take place everyday.  Our responsibility is to lessen the suffering of the living, not to compensate for the horrors inflicted upon the dead.  We have remembered, but we have not healed, we have not grown and we have not made a better world for our children.  For those who lost loved ones, it will be impossible to forget that day, but for the rest of us it is time to move on.  We cannot create a better world from our past, but we have a greater obligation to create a better future from the world around us today.

We have lived in the looming shadows of those buildings for ten years.  Maybe it is time to forget.  Not from a place of ignorance or disinterest, but from a need to build a healthier, safer world.  Instead of remembering the violence of the past, we can renounce the use of violence in the present.  Instead of thinking of the paradise that was lost to us, we can build a new, more beautiful world out of the tools of compassion and empathy.  The past is over and that day can never be changed.  The present and the future extend before us filled with promise and possibility.  We have cried, we have mourned, we have prayed, and we have paid our debts to the dead.  It is time to move on.

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Watching The Defective

The following conversation took place recently in a mental hospital on the planet Klorg located in the Rumach Galaxy 20,000,000 west of Arcturus.  The patient, Wsghk Z Weryhi, was locked in a padded cell and sedated for his own safety approximately one week ago.  His family brought him in claiming that he disappeared for a day and reemerged exhibiting signs of severe dementia.  We now join an interview between himself and the esteemed Doctor zZefgh W KorgabS already in progress.

(Editors note:  The conversation was conducted in KlorgeanRW, a dialect common in the Southern Provinces of Klorg.  The language and concepts have been adapted so that it can be understood by the primarily English speaking audience of The Tyranny of Tradition)

Dr. KorgabS:  So, I want to go back to what you were saying earlier, about this America you claimed to have visited…

Weryhi:  Doctor, I am sure that I was there.  I snuck into the interstellar dock at the community center and set it for random coordinates.  It took me to America.

Dr. KorgabS:  Okay, so, let’s talk about this America.  I want to make sure I understand what you are telling me.  Please describe this whole, what did they call it, (consulting his notes)…ah yes, this “free market” idea that many of these Americans believe.

Weryhi:  Sure….some of them believe that this system of economics that they have, they call it capitalism, is essentially perfect.  They think that if they all do as they wish and accumulate as many resources as they can, everything will work out for the best for those that make what they like to call “good decisions”.  Basically, some of them actually believe that selfishness is a good quality that is the best thing for the community.

Dr. KorgabS:  (with a perplexed look on his face)  Okay….now Wsghk, you can understand why I’d think this sounds a bit odd, right?

Weryhi:  Believe me, I had the same response.  One of them told me about this fellow named Adam Smith who said an “invisible hand” runs things and allows people acting only in their best interest to be protected.  The invisible hand makes everything work out.  Or, that’s what the fellow in the bowtie told me.

Dr. KorgabS:  An…invisible hand???

Weryhi:  Yes.

Dr. KorgabS looks down at his information tablets trying not to look concerned and moves on to the next subject

Dr. KorgabS:  And….this democracy idea that most of them talk about.

Weryhi:  Yes!  It was a fascinating thing.  From time to time they actually pick the people who make the most important decisions.  It sounds like a great idea, but what they do with it is bizarre.  Once they’ve picked these “politicians”, many of these people turn around and blame them for everything that goes wrong in their lives.  Even though they were the ones who picked them in the first place!  Then, if the politicians do what they want them to, they pick them again and start blaming them the minute these folks are elected.  It’s amazing!  They seem to take no responsibility for the choices they make!

Dr. KorgabS:  Yes, you seem to talk a lot about how they blame each other.

Weryhi:  One of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.  One very small section of the population controls most of the resources.  Most of them struggle while a few of them have more than they need.  Yet, many of the Americans blame those who have very little of the resources for making “bad decisions” and ruining things for the group.  Every once in a while, a few of the people with a lot of resources blame other people with a lot of resources, but they don’t really try to change anything.

Dr.  KorgabS:  Do these Americans blame any one else?

Weryhi:  They blame EVERYONE!  That’s all they do.  They blame people who don’t live in America.  They blame people who come to America.  They blame people who have new ideas.  They blame people who don’t do what they want them to.  They have entire television channels dedicated to blame.

Dr. KorgabS:  Fascinating.  Is anyone ever above blame?

Weryhi:  Well, they like to make up stories about these people they call The Founding Fathers.  Apparently, they understood everything and rarely had bad ideas.  The funny part is they use these made up stories to justify all sorts of bizarre actions.  These people seem to have almost limitless imaginations!

Dr. KorgabS:  This is truly amazing.

Weryhi:  Isn’t it.  Some of them believe that this invisible all powerful being, that they have a bunch of different names for, controls everything and tells them what to do.

Dr. KorgabS:  (incredulous) An invisible, all-powerful being that…tells them what to do?  Sounds like that invisible hand thing.

Weryhi:  Yes!!!!  This invisible being idea is so strange.  If things go well for them, they say he did it.  When things are going badly, many of them don’t change anything about their lives, they just close their eyes and pretend to talk to this being.  Apparently, they think this invisible being has some great plan that they are all a part of.  If they disobey the voice in their head, they fear that after they die they will be set on fire for the rest of time.

Dr. KorgabS:  Simply amazing.  And many of them believe all of this?

Weryhi:  Here’s the weirdest part….not only do they believe it, they are proud of it.  Incredibly proud of all of these strange ideas.  They wave flags and have parades to celebrate them.  Without a trace of irony, these people act as if they have found the greatest set of ideas ever created.  They are so impressed with these ideas they are willing to go to war and commit querby so that people will act more like them.  (editors note:  there is no English equivalent to the word querby.  It means something like killing or harming based entirely on a delusion.  It is the worst possible act in Klorgian society.  No one there has committed querby in the past 20 years)

Dr. KorgabS:  They commit QUERBY and are proud of it!!!!  I simply cannot believe that.

Weryhi:  If I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t either.

Dr. KorgabS:  (standing up and leaving the room) You understand that this sounds pretty far fetched?

Weryhi:  I know, I know.  But I saw it with my own three eyes.

Dr. KorgabS: We will be in to check on you and talk more later.  Until then, try not to think about that place.

Weryhi:  I’ll try, Doctor.  Thanks for listening.

20 minutes later in Doctor KorgabS office.  KorgabS sits at a desk discussing the interview with his colleague and friend Doctor QwB

Dr. KorgabS:  He seemed so convinced.  The details are incredible.  I have never worked with a patient with such detailed delusions.

Dr. QwB:  It all sounds so crazy.  I mean, the part about the interstellar space travel is quite possible, but this America he described sounds ridiculous.  Does he know it can’t possibly be real?

Dr. KorgabS:  No, I don’t think he does.  It’s so sad.  I’ve never met a sicker being in my entire life.

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Souls in The Heads of Corpses: A Psychological Review of Allegaeon’s “Fragments of Form and Function”

Few people realize that the recent Allegaeon album “Fragments of Form and Function” is a doorway to a separate dimension.  Even if it hadn’t turned my body into a giant alpha wave and projected me into the substratum of the upper atmosphere, I’d have thought it was an entirely captivating record.  At first, my ears began to shoot orange beams from them.  My children noticed this and were immediately frightened.  Eventually, they got used to it and my daughter continued talking to my toes and trying to feed them milk.  As the solo from the song The God Particle came through my cheap 9-dollar Sony headphones, I became a bundle of pure light energy and bounced from wall to wall.  I had the right headphone in my left ear and vice versa, which caused my body to carom with on a strange, knuckleball like trajectory.   And then…..a universe without dimension……

Freud once posited that original sin was actually a strange response to witnessing a patricide.  After all, the divine sacrifice wouldn’t be called for unless it was in response to a murder.  A universe that avenges theft with murder or lust with murder or greed with murder would be the most unjust possible universe.  But why would this idea bother us so much?  Maybe it is the idea that what creates life also “owes its death to the universe” that fills us with such dread and wills us to punish ourselves over and over.  When you are hurdling through the universe at light speed, it all seems irrelevant.  The human conception of justice cannot be understood at this speed.  All actions happen simultaneously.  From above, it’s all the same.

As the stirring stillness of the post-script guitar solo in “Biomech –Vals No. 666” began to well up in my consciousness I became vaguely aware of the illuminated bits of human spiritual form in these bodies of light that surrounded me.   Then, the whole ride came to a screeching halt.  I realized that I was, in fact, deliriously spinning into some weird new age fantasy that had no baring on anything and would be useless to anyone unfortunate enough to read it.  People don’t devolve into sweetness and light, they lumber along in these fleshy tombs for what qualifies as eternity (or about 76.8 years, depending on where you live).  We are not spiritual beings on some wondrous journey.  We are getting deader by the hour.  There is nothing poetic about a corpse that isn’t aware enough of itself to begin rotting.  Trapped in this dying form and making up stories about interconnection and light and love and beauty and meaning.  Charming.

“WHO ARE YOU TO DESIGN THE LIFE WE LIVE?!?!?!?!!?!!”

A Cosmic Question.  Don’t bother.  Don’t bother with any of it.  “What defines reality?  What defines a soul?”  That’s your problem, pal.  I’m just decay with a bit of personality.  Apatheism is the only answer that allows my monstrous form any solace.  Yet…I want to know as well.  Do I suffer because I want to know or do I suffer because I cannot dream?  Descartes went around trying to find souls in the heads of dissected corpses.  (Come out with your hands in the air!!!!!!! Put the soul on the ground next to you and don’t make any quick moves!!!!!  Up against the wall, Descartes!!!!!)  I’d take it over pretending knowledge I do not have or seeking knowledge I cannot gain.  I prefer the ever-quickening pace of the double bass in “From Seed To Throne” to any rational explanation of what I am or to anything else this moment can offer.  There is that much for now.

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Even A Blind Watchmaker Can Find A Nut

Vladimir:  So….you take a watch and you put it in a bag….

Estragon:  What type of bag?

Vladimir:  It doesn’t matter.

Estragon:  Well, what type of watch is it?

Vladimir: Again…not important.  You put the watch in a bag.  Now, you take a hammer and you smash it.

Estragon:  Wait…What?

Vladimir:  Just see if you can follow me here.  You smash the watch into a hundred pieces….

Estragon:  Is it a digital watch or a nice one?

Vladimir:  It doesn’t matter….You take the watch and you smash it into….

Estragon:  Well, why are you smashing the watch?

Vladimir:  Okay, that’s really not important!  The important thing is…

Estragon:  What kind of lunatic would break a perfectly good watch?

Vladimir:  It’s a metaphor.  Nobody is really breaking a watch with a hammer.  The idea is to prove a point.

Estragon:  But how can you prove a point using an example that is completely unrealistic.

Vladimir:  I don’t know.  It’s not important!  Just listen.

Estragon:  Well, if it is a digital watch with one of those plastic bands it’s not going to break with a hammer

Vladimir:  Fine.  It’s a Rolex.  A really nice gold Rolex.

Estragon:  A Rolex is really expensive.  Why would you want to break an expensive watch?  And I don’t know if a hammer will break a Rolex into a hundred pieces.

Vladimir:  Fine.  It is an inexpensive magical watch that magically will break into a hundred pieces.  Can I get back to my point?

Estragon:  Sure.

Vladimir:  Okay, so you break the watch.  You shake it up in the bag?

Estragon:  Uh-huh.

Vladimir:  Does it re-form into the same watch?

Estragon:  Well, of course not!

Vladimir:  SEE!!!!!

Estragon:  See what?  I’m not sure I follow.

Vladimir:  Evolution is impossible.

Estragon:  Wait…What?!?!?

Vladimir:  Something has to be there to assemble the watch if it’s going to come back together, right?

Estragon:  I guess.

Vladimir:  And the watch has been reassembled into a perfect whole, right?

Estragon:  That is what you said.

Vladimir:  Well, then there has to be a watchmaker who has a plan, right?

Estragon:  Uhmmm.  Okay.  So, who is the watchmaker?

Vladimir:  GOD!

Estragon:  Wait….WHAT?!?!?!

Vladimir:  God is the watchmaker!  Otherwise the watch would still be in pieces.

Estragon:  Wait…so God reassembled the watch?

Vladimir:  YES!

Estragon:  Why?

Vladimir:  What do you mean why?  He’s God.  He doesn’t need a good reason.

Estragon:  So, God just goes around putting broken watches together?  We’re not sure why.  That’s just what he does.

Vladimir:  Exactly.  He loves us.  Maybe he wants us to have a nice watch.  Maybe he wants us to be happy.  That’s for Him to know.

Estragon:  If he wanted us to be happy, why didn’t he just stop us from breaking the watch in the first place?

Vladimir:  Free will!

Estragon:  So, wait, he loves us so much he is willing to fix the watch, but he won’t stop us from breaking it?

Vladimir:  Exactly!

Estragon:  That’s not a very efficient system.

Vladimir:  Well, He doesn’t have to be efficient.  He’s God.  He doesn’t have to explain anything.

Estragon:  Well, if he’s going to go around smashing watches, I think he owes somebody an explanation.  That’s pretty rude.  If he smashed my watch I’d be really angry!

Vladimir:  Okay…forget the watch.  We’ll use another example.  Pick something.

Estragon:  A piece of ham

Vladimir:  So, you put a piece of ham in a bag…

Estragon:  Ham….in a bag?

Vladimir:  Yes!  And you smash it into a million pieces.

Estragon:  Uh-huh

Vladimir:  It still tastes like ham and smells like ham and looks like ham.  RIGHT?!?!?

Estragon:  Yes…I think.

Vladimir:  So there has to be some kind of ham designer, right?

Estragon:  Yes…well….maybe…I guess….

Vladimir:  Evolution couldn’t have designed ham.

Estragon:  Wait…why not?

Vladimir:  Because it is perfect.

Estragon:  What is perfect?

Vladimir:  Ham!  Ham is perfect!

Estragon:  Compared to what?

Vladimir:  To a universe without ham.

Estragon:  How can you tell?

Vladimir:  God wouldn’t have created it if it weren’t perfect.  Ham is in our universe.  Therefore, ham is perfect.

Estragon:  Okay, now I’m really confused.  If God is perfect and created a world that is the most perfect possible world for us, why does he create people who smash ham and watches in bags?

Vladimir:  To test us.

Estragon:  Why?

Vladimir:  To see how much we love him.

Estragon:  Oh…so we show him we love him by not smashing things in bags?

Vladimir:  Yes!

Estragon:  I see.  So that’s the point of the whole thing!

Vladimir:  YES!  That’s the point.  We have the choice whether to smash ham or watches or even possums in bags.  If we choose not to, we do it because we love God.  And if we do that we will be rewarded.

Estragon:  With a nice watch?

Vladimir:  Maybe with a watch.  Maybe with eternal happiness.  We’re not exactly sure.  We just know that the reward is going to be REALLY good.

Estragon:  And if we smash things in bags?

Vladimir:  Then bad things happen to us.  REALLY bad things.  Things like sickness or eternal suffering or boils on our face.

Estragon:  Boils on our face?!?!?!

Vladimir:  It won’t be a problem for you if you just do what you are supposed to.

Estragon:  So these are the rules?

Vladimir:  Yes.

Estragon:  And if I follow them, I’ll be…………happy???

Vladimir:  Unless God has another plan for you.  But eventually you’ll be happy.  At some point.

Estragon:  Will I get a watch?

Vladimir:  If that is what you desire and that is God’s plan and you follow the rules then, yes, you will get a watch.

(At this exact moment, a giant meteor hits the earth obliterating smashing it into a million pieces.  The entire human race, including Estragon and Vladimir, are destroyed in a firey, horrible instant without warning)

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We Are Bones, We Are Dust

This thing that I think that I am, sometimes, I am not.  Looking at an X-Ray of my right foot has twisted my mind into knots for the past few weeks.  It’s not that they found anything that disturbing. My doctor discovered a bone spur, which I was pretty sure that I had.  No surprise there.  I am having surgery tomorrow.  Again, not a surprise.  The thing that got in my head was the X-ray itself.  If I am what’s in that picture…what am i?

There was this picture of the bones in my foot staring at me.  The doctor was pointing to things and saying a bunch of words, but I was transfixed on the picture.  There I am?  There I AM!  There I am?!?!?!?  This picture is of the inside of me.  Underneath all of this skin and blood are a set of bones. These bones have been with me all of my life.  They were at my high school graduation, they were there when I got married, they attended the births of my two beautiful children, they have seen me laugh, they have seen me cry, they have been there when I thought I was alone.  I couldn’t process it. These bones are actually me!

The me that I think I am is the thing that experiences the world consciously.  I am aware of feelings and ideas.  I make plans and I remember experiences.  I see, I smell, I touch, I taste, I hear.  I have no problem associating these things with me.  Then, there are these bones. They are in me, they are part of me, but I can’t believe that they are me. This picture wasn’t some random x-ray they keep in the back and show everybody.  These were my bones!  Seeing them really sucked the magic out of everything.  I tend to think of myself as more than the sum of my parts, but maybe I am nothing more than my parts. Maybe, I am just bones and skin and blood with a few organs floating around.

There are parts of myself I have never seen.  I don’t know what my hip bone looks like.  I don’t know what my liver looks like.  My heart, my brain, my lungs…all highly valuable parts, but I couldn’t tell mine from my neighbors.  The me that I know seems so special, so unique.  My memories seem so important, as if they are part of some great mystery that I have a lifetime to solve.  My thoughts, my ideas, my identity all seem to be pieces in the great “who am I?” puzzle.  They all conspire to make me believe that I am an enigmatic character whose mythology is terribly important.  And then, there is this picture of the inside of my foot.  It is not special.  It is not unique.  It is simply mineralized osseous tissue housed in a pile of skin that is called “foot”.  There are somewhere in the range of 14 billion of them and they all pretty much look and act the same.  Sure, there are minor subtleties and nuances, but for the most part, what is the difference?

My foot does not find itself unique.  It pushes against surfaces over and over throughout a day.  It works, it rests.  It does not feel loneliness or claustrophobia if it is trapped in a shoe for too long.  It does not become jealous that I am favoring my other foot.  It does not make plans to meet with my spleen for coffee.  It does not become romantically involved with my esophagus.  It does not ponder the mysteries of the universe and wonder what will happen to it when it dies.  It is material and material has no time for enchantment.  It simply is.  When it ceases to work, it will waste away along with the rest of this thing that is me.

There is a part of me that cannot imagine that this is possible.  There must be something else, there must be something more.  I am more than that picture.  I am not just bones.  I am not just flesh.  I am something mystical.  I am more than those parts.  I am more than words on a page saying “healthy, well-developed 35 year old male suffering from Hallux rigidus“. Right?  Right?!?!?!

Maybe this identity of mine that I find so fascinating is just a bunch of electrical impulses.  Maybe we are just piles of material walking around among other piles of material, thinking that thoughts and memories and ideas make us more.  These self-important piles of material spend much of their time avoiding damage so that they can one day be part of creating new piles of material.  And on and on with no direction, no meaning and no end.  Thousands of them are created each day and thousands disintegrate. It does not matter…it is only matter.

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None of The Above

The presumption that we can understand the universe seems to be the single most absurd belief that human beings have formulated.  Part of the problem with the question seems to hinge on how the word “understand” is interpreted.  For the purposes of this article I will be using the word in a similar way that Robert Heinlein uses the word “grok” in his book Stranger in a Strange Land.  To grok something is to comprehend something with all of one’s being.  I can understand that human beings have 10 fingers, but I grok what it means to have and be able to use those fingers myself.  They are a part of me and I know them to be incontrovertibly true.  I understand my fingers in a pre-verbal, visceral way that can’t and doesn’t need to be explained.  When someone watches a game of basketball they may understand that the goal is to put the ball in the hoop or that they have to dribble when moving or the fact that there are two sets of five different players on the court, etc.  If you asked a person who knew this whether they understand the game, they would probably say “yes”.  However, they certainly do not grok the game in its fullness.  They do not know what its like to make an impossible shot or look up at an official for a brief second with the anticipation of a charge or blocking foul or to dive on the floor for a loose ball or any of the millions of possible experiences that could exist in a basketball game.  They may hear the words but they don’t feel the music.

This problem of “understanding” relates to how our culture and many others tend to interpret the EVERYTHING.  Often, humans are given two choices as if they reflected the only possible paths to groking the EVERYTHING in its fullness.  We get a choice of science/reason/rational thinking or faith/spirituality/belief.  I find neither of these answers to be helpful.  Science has brought us many creations and understandings over the years.  Scientists have given language to experiences like gravity. This language has allowed us to change how we perceive life.  Without these understandings, many of the wonderful things that exist in our world (everything from flight to the internet) would not exist. Reason has brought us to heights never dreamed of by our forefathers.  It has also brought us terrors never before imagined (germ warfare, nuclear annihilation).  For my purposes, neither of these points is relevant to the question.  Science has brought us to a place where we never believed we could be and the power of its creation has made us think that its potential for discovery is as infinite.  I believe that science has limits.  Heinlein gets the limits of science perfectly when Valentine Michael Smith (the protagonist in Stranger in a Strange Land) asks “How can you grok a desert by counting its grains of sand?”  Science can create marvelous tools to manage parts of the physical world, but to grok it in its fullness there seems to be a need for something more.  The explanation that love or joy or sorrow are nothing more than a few synapses firing in different directions seems woefully inadequate to explain us, let alone the interplay of billions of sentient creatures.  There must be more.

But is that “something more” a belief in something beyond our understanding (a higher power?).  Many people believe that God is an all-powerful; omniscient being that controls the universe.  But if God is all-powerful and omniscient how could flawed, miniscule beings ever expect to understand anything about this God?  How can we possibly grok something that is admittedly beyond our understanding?  The idea itself seems bizarre.  People often chalk up experiences to being “part of God’s great plan”.  But, if we don’t completely understand what God’s plan for us is how can we possibly understand that an action is part of the plan?  Why do those of faith assume that there is a greater reason for the things they do not understand?  Maybe there is and maybe they are right but how would they know?  We are given a scant few highly conflicting religious texts.  Can it really be assumed that everything a person needs to know about the universe can be summed up in the Bible or another religious text?  Many people believe this.  I think the mistake in this is to assume that this thing can be understood using a book.  One book, millions of books, cannot sum the EVERYTHING up.  It is still greater than the whole of human knowledge, let alone the contents of one book.  Belief often seems to function as a great off switch in the mind.  We see something so beautiful or horrible or absurd that the mind says “Uncle!” and we give ourselves over to a belief that there must be some meaning to it that we are missing.  But, how do we know that anything actually has a meaning?  We can hope, we can wish, we can pray, but we can never know. We just chalk it up to an act of God or the workings of spirits that we can never conclusively prove to anyone including ourselves.

What troubles me about faith is not its deferment to a higher power but its willingness to concede truths to those who have come before or us or to books written before our time.  Sometimes I wonder if the worship of God is merely the worship of the past.  Maybe we are just harkening back to an illusory time where a more pious people than ourselves who knew more than us were able to connect with some great force in the sky and reveal its truths.  Some religious folks look back to Moses or Jesus or Mohammad or a cast of many other characters and assume that they knew enough not only to understand their world but also to understand ours.  I have a hard time believing that any person can possibly understand the world they are thrust into.  The thought that a person who walked the earth 2000 years ago can not only understand his world but also understand mine seems highly unlikely.  What if they are right?  It doesn’t really matter because I can NEVER know for certain.

The “central” question faced by human beings is not spiritual or scientific but epistemological.  How can we ever really know what we know or that we even know it?  We are given limited and barbaric tools, our senses, in which to meet the world.  These senses are easily fooled and can be manipulated by inside or outside forces.  Yet I can’t even say for certain that anything is an illusion.  If I spent a hundred lifetimes, I don’t know if I could grok in fullness the experiences that take place in one moment in one American town.  And yet, somehow, humans feel it possible to understand the wholeness of everything.  Science and religion fail to give the correct answer because they are asking the wrong question.  The question is often posed as “How can we understand the universe?”  (….and we get to choose between spirit and reason or some hybrid of both).  The question should be “Can we understand the universe?”  I simply don’t know that we are capable of this understanding.  If we are capable of this feat of comprehension I don’t know that we can ever, for certain, know that we are capable of it.   How would we know?  What is our point of reference?    How would we ever no for sure that our beliefs are not based on illusions or misinterpretations?    We don’t know for certain and, yet, so many of our institutions, be they religious or secular, function on the belief that we know for certain how things are going to work out if we take certain actions or do things a special way.  This belief pervades our churches, our hospitals, our schools and our homes.   Our value judgments, our morality and our understandings are constantly shaded with the haughty taint of false understanding.  Really, we know next to nothing.  Maybe the only thing it is possible for us to completely understand about the universe is that we don’t understand the universe.

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