Dear Scientologist, I am having trouble moving objects with my mind. What do you suggest?
-Telekenesis Trouble in Tigard
Dear whiny bitch, Maybe if your weak ass could level up we wouldn't be listening to your whining-ass shit. Realize bitch, you are not gonna be moving shit 'till level seven.
Dear Scientologist, My friends make fun of me because I am beginning study in Scientology. How should I respond to their criticism?
-Unsure in Ukraine
Dear cowardly poser, I can't believe this shit. You gotta stand up for what you believe in. If you can't accept that fuckin' Xenu shattered the cosmos, then maybe Scientology isn't right for you. Blow me. Next question.
Dear Scientologist, Sometimes it hurts when I urinate.
-Pissed off in Pitsburg
Dear too much information, Do you not know shit about fuck? Purify the body, fool. Extra vitamins until you shit. I'm starting to tweek man, I need to plug into a fuckin' e-meter.
Dear Scientologist, Doesn't your religion seem terrible? I mean, it's all based on getting money out of people. You're all a bunch of fakes. What's this bullshit about how you guys can manipulate matter, energy, space, and time? Jesus, what kind of Harry Potter shit is this? At level seven you can be a telepath? Prove it. I want Tom Cruise to telepathy me.
Dear rude son of a bitch, You're correct that Tom Cruise can send telepathic messages, however it would be impossible for your untrained and vapid mind to understand them.
Wait a minute, you squirrly bastard. So you're saying that Scientology is like being the first person to buy a video-phone? It's a cool gadget, but you can, like, only talk to one guy in China?
Scientology was started in the fifties. Harry Potter is actually based on it.
2/28/06
2/23/06
Online Quizzes
The internet is really neat. I'll admit it. The problem is, this free proliferation of ideas has allowed any fool with a moment and a punchline to send it around the goddamn world. Most internet humor is stupid. One stupid form of internet humor is the Online Quiz. In its most basic form, the Online Quiz demands an answer to a simple question and then generates some random words. In its most complex form, the Online Quiz tells you how long you have to live.
A friend recently sent me an online quiz to determine the title of the movie that will be made about your life. All I did was enter my name in a box and this, dear readers, is what came out:
A friend recently sent me an online quiz to determine the title of the movie that will be made about your life. All I did was enter my name in a box and this, dear readers, is what came out:
 Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com |
2/22/06
I already talked about this.
Truly great media sources don't bother writing new information, they just rerun and reuse. That being said, the Vagina Monologues is back at Whitman and I would like to re-direct everyone back to last year's post. Just as a diamond is honed in the heat and pressure of the Earth's crust, so was blog perfection created in the slime and swirliness of my brain. There was two comment's by girls on the post asking me to "do my homework" so I looked up this so-called Puppetry of the Penis event. It turns out there are these dudes who stand on stage WEARING CAPES and make their penises do tricks. DO TRICKS. This is not theater, this is fraternity initiation. Puppetry of the Penis was actually invented by a naked hobo who enjoyed flashing people. Finding out whether he was naked because of poverty, insanity, or both is your homework assignment for the week.
Puppetry of the Penis is the perfect example of why men should not be left solely in charge of any venture that aims to appeal to and explain the lifestyle of other men. Look at what a trainwreck The Man Show was. Instead of taking grandpa out to the middle of nowhere and juicing him with heroin and sending him out into the woods for a peaceful death, Comedy Central kept him at home and let his mind slowly decay so he would embrass himself and the family be defecating on the recliner and mistakenly putting the cat into the microwave. That show ran for something like 5 seasons. That is 5 seasons too many.
And don't think the ladies get off easy either. Sex and the City is one of the worst television shows in the history of Mankind. Can you imagine how quickly you would abandon a friend who talked exclusively about sex, relationships, and food? Said friend would only be kept around so said friend could be made fun of by the rest of the group, leaving said friend insecure about her appearance and forcing said friend into a relationship where she settles for a shitty guy who hits said friend on a regular basis and forces said friend to work two jobs so that the shitty boyfriend can feed his crack addiction. These are the consequences of watching Sex and the City. Guaranteed.
Puppetry of the Penis is the perfect example of why men should not be left solely in charge of any venture that aims to appeal to and explain the lifestyle of other men. Look at what a trainwreck The Man Show was. Instead of taking grandpa out to the middle of nowhere and juicing him with heroin and sending him out into the woods for a peaceful death, Comedy Central kept him at home and let his mind slowly decay so he would embrass himself and the family be defecating on the recliner and mistakenly putting the cat into the microwave. That show ran for something like 5 seasons. That is 5 seasons too many.
And don't think the ladies get off easy either. Sex and the City is one of the worst television shows in the history of Mankind. Can you imagine how quickly you would abandon a friend who talked exclusively about sex, relationships, and food? Said friend would only be kept around so said friend could be made fun of by the rest of the group, leaving said friend insecure about her appearance and forcing said friend into a relationship where she settles for a shitty guy who hits said friend on a regular basis and forces said friend to work two jobs so that the shitty boyfriend can feed his crack addiction. These are the consequences of watching Sex and the City. Guaranteed.
Contradictions make the world go 'round
The other night I had a large chunk of reading to complete. I was slogging through this task in the library when at around 2 a.m. I realized that nearly everyone who was working around me was gone and the chair I had been sitting in for four hours was re-shaping my ass in an unpleasant fashion. I immigrated up to the fourth floor and reclined on a couch as I continued my reading. The next thing I new I blinked awake and it was light out and there was drool all over the top half of my body. I had inadvertently slept the night on the 4th floor couch and it was now around 7:30 a.m. There is no real overarching point to this story besides the literary portrait I have just drawn. The main thing that made it of some note to me was that here I am, a 21 year-old male, winding down a 16-year-long career of being educated at an institution of some repute and on any given morning I can be found sleeping in an unfamiliar place, drooling on myself as infants do.
please kindly do not disturb or bother the Wu-Tang Clan as that is not their desire.
please kindly do not disturb or bother the Wu-Tang Clan as that is not their desire.
2/20/06
Wu-Tang Clan Ain't Nothing To Fuck With
Every so often, we have to step back and recognize the influencial artists, enterprenuers, and visionaries who have shaped the world in which we live. Yes, tonight I want to recognize the Wu-Tang Clan. Formed in the early nineties by rapper GZA (the Genius) and DJ/producer RZA (the Razor), the Clan became a proto-group out of which many successful careers would be launched. Their debut album, 1993's 36 Chambers, gave the East Coast a unique sound in gangsta' rap and proved to the world that the Wu-Tang Clan ain't nothing to fuck with.
To begin a proper basking session in the glory of the Wu, one must appreciate their musical arrangements. While Dre was a pioneer with The Chronic, sampling George Clinton-esque 70s parts for his "G-Funk" style, the RZA's spares minimalism brought a sense of nervous anxiety to his group. Tracks like Tearz and C.R.E.A.M. echo the urban clausterphobia of Brooklyn and are testimonies to the Wu's tasteful sense of melody. The Wu-Tang Clan were not trying to make dance tracks; they were succeeding at making hardcore rap music.
In terms of lyricism and delivery, the myriad MCs of the group kept things fresh and exciting. From the cerebral chess metaphors of the GZA to the sing-song rhyming of Method Man to the gutteral vulgarity of the ODB, each rapper brought their own ingredients to the mix. When Raekwon the Chef's verse explodes across Shame on a Nigga', there's no other word to describe it than fucking awesome. Ghostface, Inspectah Deck, Masta Killa... damn they're good.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about the Wu was their business plan. They formed like Voltron so each could spin off into their own solo career. Most members have since released fine albums of their own, always with the others dropping in for guest appearances, and indeed the entire Clan has reformed twice for Wu Forever and Iron Flag. The RZA's career has gone in the most interesting direction, for while he still makes great hip-hop, he has also begun work in film scoring, most recently turning in fine work on Kill Bill.
I would like to raise my glass of malt liquor to the Wu-Tang Clan, in all of their hedonistic beauty. While their songs may celebrate violence, excess, and mysogy, their lives are a celebration of the American dream. Especially ODB, who died face down on the mixing board with a heart full of cocaine. The Wu-Tang Clain aint' nothing to fuck with.
To begin a proper basking session in the glory of the Wu, one must appreciate their musical arrangements. While Dre was a pioneer with The Chronic, sampling George Clinton-esque 70s parts for his "G-Funk" style, the RZA's spares minimalism brought a sense of nervous anxiety to his group. Tracks like Tearz and C.R.E.A.M. echo the urban clausterphobia of Brooklyn and are testimonies to the Wu's tasteful sense of melody. The Wu-Tang Clan were not trying to make dance tracks; they were succeeding at making hardcore rap music.
In terms of lyricism and delivery, the myriad MCs of the group kept things fresh and exciting. From the cerebral chess metaphors of the GZA to the sing-song rhyming of Method Man to the gutteral vulgarity of the ODB, each rapper brought their own ingredients to the mix. When Raekwon the Chef's verse explodes across Shame on a Nigga', there's no other word to describe it than fucking awesome. Ghostface, Inspectah Deck, Masta Killa... damn they're good.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about the Wu was their business plan. They formed like Voltron so each could spin off into their own solo career. Most members have since released fine albums of their own, always with the others dropping in for guest appearances, and indeed the entire Clan has reformed twice for Wu Forever and Iron Flag. The RZA's career has gone in the most interesting direction, for while he still makes great hip-hop, he has also begun work in film scoring, most recently turning in fine work on Kill Bill.
I would like to raise my glass of malt liquor to the Wu-Tang Clan, in all of their hedonistic beauty. While their songs may celebrate violence, excess, and mysogy, their lives are a celebration of the American dream. Especially ODB, who died face down on the mixing board with a heart full of cocaine. The Wu-Tang Clain aint' nothing to fuck with.
2/19/06
Hey dreams: I want to fly again
When I was younger, until a few weeks ago, I would have sweet dreams where I could fly or kill dragons or do things that wouldn't ever really happen in reality. When I woke up it was on one hand always refreshing to know that I wasn't being pursued by killer beasts but it was also a definite break from the dream world to reality. My problem is that lately my dreams have been about really, really mundane things like going shopping for food that I need, meeting with professors, doing homework and things like that. This has created numerous situtations lately where i assume certain things have happened in real life because it happened in my dream. However, when I go downstairs to make a sandwich I have no bread, although I was sure I had bought some. Homework I thought I had done has actually not been started and worst of all, I dreamed that my professor cancelled a class on a different day than was on the syllabus so I showed up to the wrong day. This leads me to conclude that it is essential for human beings to have crazy ass motherfucking dreams about eating sasquatch shit and things like that so there is a definite break between reality and dreamland in order to avoid the situation of assuming everyone got the news bulletin to be naked on tuesdays.
2/17/06
not quite sewage...but, brrrrrr
about three days ago the heat at the monstro went out. This mishap coincided with quite a ferocious february cold snap. The temperature inside our house this morning was 42 degrees. That is very cold. It was about 20 degrees outside. What has happened is that most of us have space heaters in our rooms so they are still relatively livable but as a result all of our doors are shut and we have all become hermits in our little worlds, social interaction is at a minimum and anger rears its head when one little door opens up. Boy I'm cold, sooo cold, brrrr, I think, I think I'm just gonna lay down for a sec.
2/15/06
Titles appear not to be my strength
What began as a slight fray due to years of wear has now turned into an almost unnacceptable hole in the crotch of my jeans, like all of my jeans. I suppose this is some sign that life detoriorates at the same rate, except if life suddenly becomes two of my fingernails, they are in big trouble, I need ointment or something.
I might have a different perception of what is an "acceptable" hole in the crotch of something than others.
Last night Brandon had passed his orals so Gus, Sam, Brando and I went out and since Gus and I have the snifflies (Bird flu) we devoted our time and resources to getting the two elite cyclists to a stage where they would need helmets for everyday living. The night ended in Sam going absolutely insane and attempting to rockclimb in Kimball Theater and then dashing outside and climbing two different 15-20 foot trees so quickly and ferociously that none of us could stop him. I do have to say, there is something magically collegiate about the scene that unfolded outside Reid and Hunter last night with a tall lanky man, obviously heavily crazed with booze sprinting up a tree until he could get no higher and then swaying wildly from the topmost, unstable reaches of the tower yelling and hooting while his friends pleaded for him to come down.
Sam also jumped into some neatly groomed hedges.
upon watching some winter olympics, I have yet more to say on the endless glory-realm of sports. While the winter olympics are a) tight as shit, a lot of the events simply consist of athletes going one after each other making runs down a course (all the skiing, long track speedskating for hte most part, skeleton, luge, bobsled, and some more probably). They all go fast as shit and the margin of victory is tiny and the margin between first and worst is only a few seconds. That is not all that interesting to me after a few runs just to see how tight they all are. I like the team sports, or the races with multiple people in them all at once. That is where the glory lies, in making a run at the end or heroic individual efforts/sacrifices for the team. That brings me to my main thought on this subject, which is that as pitchers and catchers begin to report to Arizona and Florida it has come to a truth in my mind that the Home Run is the most glorious single instance in all of sport. In a team game, no one person can do so much on their own that can so profoundly change a game. Making a shot in basketball is cool, but there are hundreds each game. Touchdowns require blocking and other people. Hockey goals are the only thing that come close, but for the most part, fuck hockey. There will only be a few homers hit in a game at the most and baseball is not very high scoring, so in one instance, with one swing of the bat, fortunes can be changed and heroes made, that is some good shit.
I have been rather congested lately so if anyone knows any snot-banks that are willing to pay, I'm tryin to be a rich man.
I might have a different perception of what is an "acceptable" hole in the crotch of something than others.
Last night Brandon had passed his orals so Gus, Sam, Brando and I went out and since Gus and I have the snifflies (Bird flu) we devoted our time and resources to getting the two elite cyclists to a stage where they would need helmets for everyday living. The night ended in Sam going absolutely insane and attempting to rockclimb in Kimball Theater and then dashing outside and climbing two different 15-20 foot trees so quickly and ferociously that none of us could stop him. I do have to say, there is something magically collegiate about the scene that unfolded outside Reid and Hunter last night with a tall lanky man, obviously heavily crazed with booze sprinting up a tree until he could get no higher and then swaying wildly from the topmost, unstable reaches of the tower yelling and hooting while his friends pleaded for him to come down.
Sam also jumped into some neatly groomed hedges.
upon watching some winter olympics, I have yet more to say on the endless glory-realm of sports. While the winter olympics are a) tight as shit, a lot of the events simply consist of athletes going one after each other making runs down a course (all the skiing, long track speedskating for hte most part, skeleton, luge, bobsled, and some more probably). They all go fast as shit and the margin of victory is tiny and the margin between first and worst is only a few seconds. That is not all that interesting to me after a few runs just to see how tight they all are. I like the team sports, or the races with multiple people in them all at once. That is where the glory lies, in making a run at the end or heroic individual efforts/sacrifices for the team. That brings me to my main thought on this subject, which is that as pitchers and catchers begin to report to Arizona and Florida it has come to a truth in my mind that the Home Run is the most glorious single instance in all of sport. In a team game, no one person can do so much on their own that can so profoundly change a game. Making a shot in basketball is cool, but there are hundreds each game. Touchdowns require blocking and other people. Hockey goals are the only thing that come close, but for the most part, fuck hockey. There will only be a few homers hit in a game at the most and baseball is not very high scoring, so in one instance, with one swing of the bat, fortunes can be changed and heroes made, that is some good shit.
I have been rather congested lately so if anyone knows any snot-banks that are willing to pay, I'm tryin to be a rich man.
2/14/06
The writing on the wall.
I will not say that there is a particular artistry involved in the brief phrases one finds scrawled on the walls of a bathroom stall, but there is a peculiar type of mental acuity that I do not posess. The haiku I find etched with a knife or crack-pipe are like the cave paintings found in France or the unusual etchings found on long-lost gravestones. With the notable exception that they usually involve racial and/or sexual descrimination. There is a certain creativity that comes to light when a bigot has ample time to fully articulate their feelings of hate for another human being. I choose to look beyond the fact that people bring knives to the toilet and instead I ponder if the thought process in carving one's hatred for Jews follows the same course as a great poet finding the perfect coupling for the word "velvet." I highly doubt it. In fact, I think the opposite. I think normally these people don't hate Jews enough to carve it onto things. What they should instead be carving is "I hate hemorrhoids" or "I hate Mexican food." The real source of their anger is not the great and beautiful Jewish people, but rather their own dietary habits. Instead, they simply carve "I hate Mexicans" or "Hemos are gay."
This is not so at Whitman College. As I was residing in the fortress of solitude that is the Olin Hall bathroom stalls, I found another type of bigotry. An intellectual bigotry. There was no hatred of race, sexuality, or religious affiliation carved into the walls, but a hatred of literature and philosophy. "W.B. Yeats sucks dick" read one. "The point of life is to die" read another. Overall, it would seem that while the real world stall-carvers hate very run-of-the-mill things like other people, Whitman Students hate authors and embrace a defeatist outlook on life.
This is not so at Whitman College. As I was residing in the fortress of solitude that is the Olin Hall bathroom stalls, I found another type of bigotry. An intellectual bigotry. There was no hatred of race, sexuality, or religious affiliation carved into the walls, but a hatred of literature and philosophy. "W.B. Yeats sucks dick" read one. "The point of life is to die" read another. Overall, it would seem that while the real world stall-carvers hate very run-of-the-mill things like other people, Whitman Students hate authors and embrace a defeatist outlook on life.
2/13/06
Sleeping in an Academic Building
Have you ever woken up in an Academic Building? Sure, to the sound of "Mr. Jumago! Let me ask again, why did Nixon attack Cambodia?" Many a sleep-deprived student has fallen asleep at their desk or table while a professor lectures, only to be awakened violently by the Ivory Tower Inquisition. This weekend however, I woke up in an Academic Building under very different circumstances...
Part of my Experiential Psychology class involves participating in a weekend long meditation retreat. Now, frequent readers will know that I have reservations about Buddhism, however I went in to the retreat with eyes open, ready to be enlightened. It was to be 48 hours of no talking. 48 hours in the social sciences hall, with all the windows and clocks covered (like Vegas). It was to be 48 hours without Sex, Drugs, or Rock and Roll (unlike Vegas). Scary shit. I freaked out after the first five hours and had to leave, but I came back the next day (again, strangely like Vegas).
There's something powerful about sitting still with your eyes shut, just thinking (or not thinking- I'm not entirely clear on this) for hours on end. For one, you start to realize how inflexible and poorly conditioned your body is. You also start to realize how judgemental and irritable you are. That might just be me, though. You also start to asses your ordinary creature comforts differently. I didn't find myself missing videogames and beer and Taco Truck- I found myself missing my bed. And being clean. That's another part of it, no showering. Filth helps you focus. Actually, I don't know if that's the case, but I'm guessing.
Certainly I learned a lot from the experience, but it's not something I want to go back and do right away. This counldn't be an every-weekend kind of thing. I gotta have fun, too. Although after going through it I definitely wonder what life would be like if we all meditated constantly. As we wandered through the Academic Building, shut off from reality, things took on a surreal tone. People would float from room to room, clutching a pillow or mug of tea with a quiet wisdom in their eye. Or maybe a quiet crazy. I wasn't in a good place to judge sanity. But the point is, we created a beautiful little world there without really communicating at all. That's pretty sweet. Try meditating sometime, friends. Just because Buddhism is a questionable religion doesn't mean one can't appreciate some of the mechanisms. It's like "Screw Christianity, I'm just here for the wine and crackers!"
Part of my Experiential Psychology class involves participating in a weekend long meditation retreat. Now, frequent readers will know that I have reservations about Buddhism, however I went in to the retreat with eyes open, ready to be enlightened. It was to be 48 hours of no talking. 48 hours in the social sciences hall, with all the windows and clocks covered (like Vegas). It was to be 48 hours without Sex, Drugs, or Rock and Roll (unlike Vegas). Scary shit. I freaked out after the first five hours and had to leave, but I came back the next day (again, strangely like Vegas).
There's something powerful about sitting still with your eyes shut, just thinking (or not thinking- I'm not entirely clear on this) for hours on end. For one, you start to realize how inflexible and poorly conditioned your body is. You also start to realize how judgemental and irritable you are. That might just be me, though. You also start to asses your ordinary creature comforts differently. I didn't find myself missing videogames and beer and Taco Truck- I found myself missing my bed. And being clean. That's another part of it, no showering. Filth helps you focus. Actually, I don't know if that's the case, but I'm guessing.
Certainly I learned a lot from the experience, but it's not something I want to go back and do right away. This counldn't be an every-weekend kind of thing. I gotta have fun, too. Although after going through it I definitely wonder what life would be like if we all meditated constantly. As we wandered through the Academic Building, shut off from reality, things took on a surreal tone. People would float from room to room, clutching a pillow or mug of tea with a quiet wisdom in their eye. Or maybe a quiet crazy. I wasn't in a good place to judge sanity. But the point is, we created a beautiful little world there without really communicating at all. That's pretty sweet. Try meditating sometime, friends. Just because Buddhism is a questionable religion doesn't mean one can't appreciate some of the mechanisms. It's like "Screw Christianity, I'm just here for the wine and crackers!"
2/11/06
An Impostor!
The following will shock you: Type into Google 'Monstro' and hit enter. You won't get a link to our website (no shock) or to that evil Whale in the upper left corner of our blog from Pinocchio (BIG shock).
You'll find this! http://www.monstro.com
What the hell? Why is this 32 year old phony with a name that is a suspicious combination of both Lane's first name and a derivative of mine posting with the same service we do (Blogger)?
He even bought the rights for the address!
Does he live in the Monstro? Is he a Whale with an enormous belly? Have we ever knighted him a Monstro groupie? Has he ever felt his way through the dark abyss of the Monstro during a brown out when the ghosts of whores' past scream within the walls?
Who is this fool? More to come as I investigate his life inside and out.
You'll find this! http://www.monstro.com
What the hell? Why is this 32 year old phony with a name that is a suspicious combination of both Lane's first name and a derivative of mine posting with the same service we do (Blogger)?
He even bought the rights for the address!
Does he live in the Monstro? Is he a Whale with an enormous belly? Have we ever knighted him a Monstro groupie? Has he ever felt his way through the dark abyss of the Monstro during a brown out when the ghosts of whores' past scream within the walls?
Who is this fool? More to come as I investigate his life inside and out.
2/9/06
4th Dimensional Hell: Part II
Ok, so last week I filled you all in on the 4th Dimension and how it works. Last week was all fact. Entirely, completely, uncomprimisingly factual. Shazam! Some people recoil from my massive facts because they are not in any science book. I would like to reference A.H. Maslow, who once said "Science is a technique whereby even unintelligent people can be useful in the advance of knowledge." How do like that? You don't, do you? Because you believe in science! But somebody smarter and deader than you just said it was no good. How do you like that? It is time for me to move beyond fact and science and enter the realm of hypothetical. This realm demands an extensive knowledge of astronomy, physics, theoretical shit, and other things of that nature which I do not posses. I will make up for it with ignorant confidence and snappy rhetoric. Let us begin with the universe.
Anyone who knows anything about the universe knows that it is fucked up. There are all kinds of confusing things happening out there RIGHT NOW! One of them is that the universe has a weight. Yeah, for real. Science can weigh the universe. And it's fucking heavy. But the problem is, the stuff we can observe only makes up for, like, a tiny percentage of the weight. Like, 3 %. So, that would be like having E. Honda from Street Fighter II on the scale, but you see Chung Lee. It would be like having a aircraft carrier on your highway weight-station, but you can only see Goose's broken body. This is a problem.
Scientists have explained this problem with an act of fantasy they call "Dark Matter". Dark Matter is this shit that we can't observe, but has mass. Duh. Apparently, this Dark Matter that we can't observe only makes up another 30% of the universe's weight. Damn. So scientists came up with another fantasy. Dark Energy. This shit makes up the last two thirds of the universe's weight. Ok, is this the best we can come up with? This is voodoo witch-doctor science. This is L. Ron Hubbard science. Why come up with these fancy names like Dark Matter and Dark Energy? Why not a more elegant title, something shorter. Like "God".
Ah, but I kid. God isn't behind all this extra weight in the universe (she's on a diet). The real explanation is, of course, the 4th Dimension. Remember last week when I talked about all those 4th Dimensional beings that travel in and out of our dimension, screwing around with us? Well, these fuckers have mass. Gravity is a tricky little son of a bitch, which sometimes acts like a wave, sometimes like a particle, and sometime at the family reunion, it acts the fool. You see kids, every mass has some gravitational effect on every other mass around it. This is called Newton's Principal of Mneh-Shmeh Gravitity. So you see, all that shit in the 4th Dimension is having a gravitational effect on us here in the 3rd Dimension. Through wormholes and stuff. I haven't really figured this part out yet, but it's pretty accurate.
Let's review up to this point. The 4th Dimension is a spacial dimension we can't see or interact with. Sometimes 4th Dimensional beings sneak through into our dimensions. The 4th Dimension is really heavy because there's A LOT of stuff in it. You know why? Because the 4th Dimension is the afterlife. There, I said it. Nobody has ever suggested this idea until now. Heaven? Hell? No, neither, just the 4th Dimension. But you might as well call it Hell. Using the Scientific Method, we can make observations and stuff, and then draw conclusions. What kind of things come through the 4th Dimension? Ghosts. Werewolves. Vampires. Ted Kennedy (you'll notice he never moves- he just apparates around from place to place). This is Hell, damn it!
Everything that dies anywhere in the entire universe goes to the 4th Dimension. Aliens, monsters, weirdos. The 4th Dimension is packed with them. Sometimes they lurk back into our plane for a bit, but they can't escape. Right now you're probably uncomfortable because you just shat yourself. Deal with it. The 4th Dimension is Hell. Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He's the devil.
Anyone who knows anything about the universe knows that it is fucked up. There are all kinds of confusing things happening out there RIGHT NOW! One of them is that the universe has a weight. Yeah, for real. Science can weigh the universe. And it's fucking heavy. But the problem is, the stuff we can observe only makes up for, like, a tiny percentage of the weight. Like, 3 %. So, that would be like having E. Honda from Street Fighter II on the scale, but you see Chung Lee. It would be like having a aircraft carrier on your highway weight-station, but you can only see Goose's broken body. This is a problem.
Scientists have explained this problem with an act of fantasy they call "Dark Matter". Dark Matter is this shit that we can't observe, but has mass. Duh. Apparently, this Dark Matter that we can't observe only makes up another 30% of the universe's weight. Damn. So scientists came up with another fantasy. Dark Energy. This shit makes up the last two thirds of the universe's weight. Ok, is this the best we can come up with? This is voodoo witch-doctor science. This is L. Ron Hubbard science. Why come up with these fancy names like Dark Matter and Dark Energy? Why not a more elegant title, something shorter. Like "God".
Ah, but I kid. God isn't behind all this extra weight in the universe (she's on a diet). The real explanation is, of course, the 4th Dimension. Remember last week when I talked about all those 4th Dimensional beings that travel in and out of our dimension, screwing around with us? Well, these fuckers have mass. Gravity is a tricky little son of a bitch, which sometimes acts like a wave, sometimes like a particle, and sometime at the family reunion, it acts the fool. You see kids, every mass has some gravitational effect on every other mass around it. This is called Newton's Principal of Mneh-Shmeh Gravitity. So you see, all that shit in the 4th Dimension is having a gravitational effect on us here in the 3rd Dimension. Through wormholes and stuff. I haven't really figured this part out yet, but it's pretty accurate.
Let's review up to this point. The 4th Dimension is a spacial dimension we can't see or interact with. Sometimes 4th Dimensional beings sneak through into our dimensions. The 4th Dimension is really heavy because there's A LOT of stuff in it. You know why? Because the 4th Dimension is the afterlife. There, I said it. Nobody has ever suggested this idea until now. Heaven? Hell? No, neither, just the 4th Dimension. But you might as well call it Hell. Using the Scientific Method, we can make observations and stuff, and then draw conclusions. What kind of things come through the 4th Dimension? Ghosts. Werewolves. Vampires. Ted Kennedy (you'll notice he never moves- he just apparates around from place to place). This is Hell, damn it!
Everything that dies anywhere in the entire universe goes to the 4th Dimension. Aliens, monsters, weirdos. The 4th Dimension is packed with them. Sometimes they lurk back into our plane for a bit, but they can't escape. Right now you're probably uncomfortable because you just shat yourself. Deal with it. The 4th Dimension is Hell. Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He's the devil.
2/8/06
An Exercise
There is something to be said for the fact that every time I go onto any website like Facebook.com or MySpace.com I am utterly disgusted by the things that I see before my eyes with people putting up pictures of their craziest nights out or their insightful and model-esque self-portraits or the ones who take the cake the guys who simply pose flexing their six-pack like anybody gives a shit about how many situps you can do because really all you are doing with your life is working at Hollywood Video and renting movies and working on that six-pack while I have to sit here and taint my level 12 intellect with the mental equivalent of pissing on an electric fence because in the process of putting rims on your Ford Explorer Mr. Six-Pack you haave lost any sort of ability to accurately and personally socialize so you send out messages "To all the LADIEZ" and hope that you can rustle up a date that you will undoubtedly fuck up by talking too much about yourself and your truck and how badass you think Bodybuilding.com is and how someday you hope to open your own vitamin shop or maybe you'll go out and finally finally finally get your GED so something in your life can be written on paper and you won't fade into complete oblivion like sands on the desert horizon. There is something to be said for this.
on and on
on sports: re: drew on sports:
Why do I love sports? I love sports because they are both a connection to our past and an affirmation of our awesome present. The battle of man or women against each other in sports is the closest most of us modern, city-dwelling folk can get to experiencing what it was like for previous bodies, human, like ours to head out to war for survival or slay woolly beasts. It is also a sign of how advanced we are that we dominate the food chain so entirely that having sports like boxing, rugby, soccer, lacrosse and all others take place at all times across the globe, injuring and maiming people without any worry for the continuation of our species.
But why do I really love sports? I love sports because they condition me to deal with all the shitty shit in life. What the fuck am I talking about? I will tell you. Since I have been playing sports and other competitive games since I was very young I have also been losing at sports and other competitive games since I was very young. Do I lose all the time? No. I will win sometimes or do well but that does nothing for me besides add to a confidence that can be boosted by other things in life. It is the failure in sports that is the best part because if you can become accustomed to living and dying through either playing a sport or being a fan of a team then at least 5 or 10 times a year you have your heart broken but you realize that life goes on and you live to fight another day, unless you die, in which case shut the fuck up. Sports make it easier to deal with the dissapointments that are an inevitable part of life because you know the feeling and you can deal with it.
I might be treading into dangerous waters here, but I think since in general women like sports less than guys, they can't deal with dissapointments and failures as well. You can't win every time but for the over motivated, driven person who has only known glory and success and accolades their entire life, the first cut is the deepest and who knows how far the fall will be. So readers of the monstro blog, go do some shit you suck at, and keep sucking until you are cool with it, and then suddenly you will be good and you can make people cry, but know you are doing them a favor.
DOES ANYONE EVEN KNOW THE WINTER OLYMPICS ARE STARTING ON FRIDAY???
I have to say that Turin, Italy or whoever is responsible for promoting the games, the 20th winter olympiad, the peaceful gathering of man and woman in friendly, international competition has seriously fucked up. Never have I been less excited about something so tight. Olympics are seriously awesome. Thousands of amateur or at least psuedo-amateur athletes just competing their brains out in many different sports is amazing. I'd say my favorite winter olympic sports are:
Curling (has anyone ever seen brooms work like that?)
Skeleton (that is so hardcore)
bobsled (solely because of "Cool Runnings")
speed skating (the one where they start in a pack and a few always go down)
As for my previous point, it's fun to watch the losers in the olympics because like I said, most of them have been competing for so long that they don't actually get nearly as sad/mad/upset as they should because they are conditioned to it. ALthough it is awesome when someone messes up bad and loses a shot at gold and realizes it is the biggest stage they are ever going to be on and cries and tries to break a camera.
Long live sport.
and speaking of sport, the monstro descended into utter chaos last night, maybe some details and pictures to follow from one of the other bloggernauts.
Why do I love sports? I love sports because they are both a connection to our past and an affirmation of our awesome present. The battle of man or women against each other in sports is the closest most of us modern, city-dwelling folk can get to experiencing what it was like for previous bodies, human, like ours to head out to war for survival or slay woolly beasts. It is also a sign of how advanced we are that we dominate the food chain so entirely that having sports like boxing, rugby, soccer, lacrosse and all others take place at all times across the globe, injuring and maiming people without any worry for the continuation of our species.
But why do I really love sports? I love sports because they condition me to deal with all the shitty shit in life. What the fuck am I talking about? I will tell you. Since I have been playing sports and other competitive games since I was very young I have also been losing at sports and other competitive games since I was very young. Do I lose all the time? No. I will win sometimes or do well but that does nothing for me besides add to a confidence that can be boosted by other things in life. It is the failure in sports that is the best part because if you can become accustomed to living and dying through either playing a sport or being a fan of a team then at least 5 or 10 times a year you have your heart broken but you realize that life goes on and you live to fight another day, unless you die, in which case shut the fuck up. Sports make it easier to deal with the dissapointments that are an inevitable part of life because you know the feeling and you can deal with it.
I might be treading into dangerous waters here, but I think since in general women like sports less than guys, they can't deal with dissapointments and failures as well. You can't win every time but for the over motivated, driven person who has only known glory and success and accolades their entire life, the first cut is the deepest and who knows how far the fall will be. So readers of the monstro blog, go do some shit you suck at, and keep sucking until you are cool with it, and then suddenly you will be good and you can make people cry, but know you are doing them a favor.
DOES ANYONE EVEN KNOW THE WINTER OLYMPICS ARE STARTING ON FRIDAY???
I have to say that Turin, Italy or whoever is responsible for promoting the games, the 20th winter olympiad, the peaceful gathering of man and woman in friendly, international competition has seriously fucked up. Never have I been less excited about something so tight. Olympics are seriously awesome. Thousands of amateur or at least psuedo-amateur athletes just competing their brains out in many different sports is amazing. I'd say my favorite winter olympic sports are:
Curling (has anyone ever seen brooms work like that?)
Skeleton (that is so hardcore)
bobsled (solely because of "Cool Runnings")
speed skating (the one where they start in a pack and a few always go down)
As for my previous point, it's fun to watch the losers in the olympics because like I said, most of them have been competing for so long that they don't actually get nearly as sad/mad/upset as they should because they are conditioned to it. ALthough it is awesome when someone messes up bad and loses a shot at gold and realizes it is the biggest stage they are ever going to be on and cries and tries to break a camera.
Long live sport.
and speaking of sport, the monstro descended into utter chaos last night, maybe some details and pictures to follow from one of the other bloggernauts.
2/7/06
The Wonders of Globalization
So I met a new friend down on Sesame Street the other day, and this new friend thought it kindly of her to give me some new music. This was fortuitous for me because my hard-drive crashed over break and I lots all of my chill tunes. This new music fit nicely into the "chill tunes" category, until I was given a latel entry. I got one song from her that was described as "Swedish hip-hop." Now, I am not going to be that hip-hop historian who clarifies that hip-hop is a cultural phenomenon that most likely is not in full swing in Sweden, so I gave the track a try in hopes that I had found some new talent that the Swedes posessed besides churning out supermodels and building viking ships. What I found instead was a wonderful lesson in globalization.
I am sure the Swedes that made the track probably thought it was hip-hop. Or at least in the stylings of hip-hop. I give these guys some leeway here, but I still must hold it against them that they sound more like Crazytown than Run-DMC. This is no fault of the Swedes; they simply get what they get on MTV Europe and unfortunately that means ripoffs of Sublime songs where Swedish rock-rappers are singing about living in the LBZ and having to put a cap in the LAPD. What I realized from this little music exercise is that music is one of the must accessible bits of the global economy, and it has allowed for the spread of shitty music much more extensively than it has allowed fro the spread of good music. While KORN gets sold out in Tokyo and Athens, MF Doom still can't cut a break in the States. I mean, don't get me wrong, I went through my KORN stage in like...6th grade. That's who all of KORN's fans are, 6th graders. Kids who are just emerging into the social world of middle school but don't know what the hell to do with it besides wear black t-shirts and talk about how badass KORN is because their mom always takes the CD away. Mothers: KORN is about as dangerous as Cookie Monster. I think one of the guys in the band has like 200 kids or something. I saw it in a magazine.
I am sure the Swedes that made the track probably thought it was hip-hop. Or at least in the stylings of hip-hop. I give these guys some leeway here, but I still must hold it against them that they sound more like Crazytown than Run-DMC. This is no fault of the Swedes; they simply get what they get on MTV Europe and unfortunately that means ripoffs of Sublime songs where Swedish rock-rappers are singing about living in the LBZ and having to put a cap in the LAPD. What I realized from this little music exercise is that music is one of the must accessible bits of the global economy, and it has allowed for the spread of shitty music much more extensively than it has allowed fro the spread of good music. While KORN gets sold out in Tokyo and Athens, MF Doom still can't cut a break in the States. I mean, don't get me wrong, I went through my KORN stage in like...6th grade. That's who all of KORN's fans are, 6th graders. Kids who are just emerging into the social world of middle school but don't know what the hell to do with it besides wear black t-shirts and talk about how badass KORN is because their mom always takes the CD away. Mothers: KORN is about as dangerous as Cookie Monster. I think one of the guys in the band has like 200 kids or something. I saw it in a magazine.
2/6/06
Buddhism is Offensive
I spent three hours tonight in my Experiential Methods psych class talking about Buddhism and its relation to psychotherapy. Or more like I spent three hours with my head hurting. I'll conceed that there are some nifty ideas like identifying a seperation between pain and the suffering that pain causes, but as a whole, Buddhism is a pretty wishy-washy belief system. It is impossible to rationalize Buddhist principals. This troubles me. Now, I know what you Buddhists are thinking: "Oh Matt, he's so cynical. It's about an understanding that he clearly doesn't have. Matt doesn't get Buddhism because he's so unenlightened and trapped in the Hell Realm (or whatever)." This is exactly my point. You can't offer a coherent argument for Buddhism except that a lot of people who are into it are hella chill. The fact that my not understanding it is my inherent obstacle in understanding it is not an argument. That's some childlike bullshit. So here's my big problem. Buddhism wants to shed the ego- this Western construction of self. Moving through the circle of life mandala, Buddhists say that you don't reside in any particular realm forever, we're constantly moving. Well, what of us is doing that moving through an intangible world of ideas if there is no intagible core of ideas (the self)?!? Furthermore, Buddhists say that trying to stay in a particular realm too long is bad news. But top level meditators are almost always in the God Realm. So we should be trying for that, right? But that's giving in to pride and want and stuff. So wait a minute... it's wrong to want something, but the whole point of Buddhist meditation is to reach a state of- HOLD ON! There's your problem. Buddhism has a point, a place you're trying to get to. So the values are not in line with the practises. Damn this stuff is tricky. Any Buddhists out there want to give me a rational argument for their faith?
2/5/06
On being a sportsfan.
I realized tonight as a team actually managed to win a Superbowl on nothing more than THREE exceptional plays that me being a sportsfan has absolutely nothing to do with pleasure, entertainment, intrigue, or any other reason that others might give for watching sports. I have determined, through watching a team I AM NOT EVEN A FAN OF lose a game, that sports is actually a form of penance. It is a way for humans to torture their over-indulgent selves because there no longer exists anything else to torture or frighten us. I say this because I realized that if my favorite team is not playing, then I choose to favor a team, and more often than not I tend to follow the team that is most likely to lose. People call this "rooting for the underdog." Everyone always talks about how it is a common practice for humans to "always root for the underdog." The truth is, the underdog is a skinny, three-legged mutt that spends its days hobbling around a trainyard getting kicked in the ribs by over-alled Huck Finn lookalikes and having its food stolen by hobos half-blind from homemade moonshine.
We sit our asses down on couches and laugh at beer ads and shovel pizza down our throats. Our heart of hearts knows how vicious this is. How bad we should be feeling for doing shit like this. For not making the world a better place. For not curing cancer. For not developing a method to make all electronic and communication equipment run on the same standard for wiring so that we can simplify and improve modern technology. We choose to subconsciously torture ourselves for behaving badly. For commiting acts of sloth. We pick the underdog and we pour our hearts into that team simply because we've been bad and we need a spanking. This spanking is dealt by made-up turmoil from the loss of an inconsequential football game.
We sit our asses down on couches and laugh at beer ads and shovel pizza down our throats. Our heart of hearts knows how vicious this is. How bad we should be feeling for doing shit like this. For not making the world a better place. For not curing cancer. For not developing a method to make all electronic and communication equipment run on the same standard for wiring so that we can simplify and improve modern technology. We choose to subconsciously torture ourselves for behaving badly. For commiting acts of sloth. We pick the underdog and we pour our hearts into that team simply because we've been bad and we need a spanking. This spanking is dealt by made-up turmoil from the loss of an inconsequential football game.
random thoughts posted on a blog
I hope the seahawks lose and lose hard, I hate seattle sports teams, I hate their fans, I want the steelers to smash their soft-asses back into a soy latte and yogapuncture studio.
if this is not a sign of the end of days I don't know what you people want from me.
Last night we hosted a glorious evening of super smash bros on our ridiculous projector screen and humbly I must admit that while Jumago and I are really really good and won like 7 or 8 times in a row, there are people that can beat us and it was fun stuff. Also, introducing freshmen to new kinds of alcoholic drinks is probably one of the most hilarious things ever.
We got a note on our bulletin board from the police reading, "this house has all the markings of a regular party house" is that perfect or what? Do you think the 120+ bottles of alcohol in the kitchen gave it away or was it the passed out naked guy licking the floor? MONSTRO! FRAT!
Ok, time for my super bowl predictions to come true.
if this is not a sign of the end of days I don't know what you people want from me.
Last night we hosted a glorious evening of super smash bros on our ridiculous projector screen and humbly I must admit that while Jumago and I are really really good and won like 7 or 8 times in a row, there are people that can beat us and it was fun stuff. Also, introducing freshmen to new kinds of alcoholic drinks is probably one of the most hilarious things ever.
We got a note on our bulletin board from the police reading, "this house has all the markings of a regular party house" is that perfect or what? Do you think the 120+ bottles of alcohol in the kitchen gave it away or was it the passed out naked guy licking the floor? MONSTRO! FRAT!
Ok, time for my super bowl predictions to come true.
2/2/06
4th Dimension Hell: Part I
I want to talk about the goddamn 4th Dimension. A lot of people have some perverted ideas about the 4th Dimension, so I'd like to set them straight.
"The 4th Dimension is Time, yamminy yamminy yamminy, I believe falsehoods!"
The 4th Dimension is not Time, that is completely ridiculous. Where do you get that notion? How does that actually make any sense? Examine your feeble television informed trivia and recognize that, in the most basic Sesame Street sense, one of these things is not like the other... one of these things is not quite the same. You see, the 4th Dimension is not unlike the 3 that we exist in. It is simply another spacial dimension!
This idea troubles a lot of small minds. For the purpose of illustration, consider Edwin Abbott's Flatland. 2 Dimensional beings see only lines. Imagine a plane going quite a long way up and down, and quite a long way left and right, but not going in and out at all. This is Flatland. In Abbott's book, a sphere enters Flatland. Just drifts through, and to a Flatlander, it looked like a line appearing, getting bigger, then getting smaller again before dissapearing. So we live in a 3 Dimensional world, right? Ever heard of things appearing and then dissapearing?
A 4th Dimensional being can go up and down, right and left, in and out, and (we'll call it) to and fro. We can't go to and fro; we're 3 Dimensional beings. So a 4th Dimensional being can move a little to, through our 3rd Dimension, then a little fro out of it. So this explains for all supernatural happenings ever! Ghosts, poltergiests, all that shit. 4th Dimensional beings fucking with us.
"The 4th Dimension is Time, yamminy yamminy yamminy, I believe falsehoods!"
The 4th Dimension is not Time, that is completely ridiculous. Where do you get that notion? How does that actually make any sense? Examine your feeble television informed trivia and recognize that, in the most basic Sesame Street sense, one of these things is not like the other... one of these things is not quite the same. You see, the 4th Dimension is not unlike the 3 that we exist in. It is simply another spacial dimension!
This idea troubles a lot of small minds. For the purpose of illustration, consider Edwin Abbott's Flatland. 2 Dimensional beings see only lines. Imagine a plane going quite a long way up and down, and quite a long way left and right, but not going in and out at all. This is Flatland. In Abbott's book, a sphere enters Flatland. Just drifts through, and to a Flatlander, it looked like a line appearing, getting bigger, then getting smaller again before dissapearing. So we live in a 3 Dimensional world, right? Ever heard of things appearing and then dissapearing?
A 4th Dimensional being can go up and down, right and left, in and out, and (we'll call it) to and fro. We can't go to and fro; we're 3 Dimensional beings. So a 4th Dimensional being can move a little to, through our 3rd Dimension, then a little fro out of it. So this explains for all supernatural happenings ever! Ghosts, poltergiests, all that shit. 4th Dimensional beings fucking with us.
More Maintenance Than Wallaby's
Hey, I was doing some thinking. Fuck that actually, I pulled this out of magma, we are so ill equipped for a life outside of extremely narrow parameters it makes me sick sometimes. I'm talking just about our bodies as humans. Starting at the ankles, jesus are they worthless, the entire weight of a body comes down on a little matchstick ankle and disproportionately small foot. Also, we need so much clothing to stay warm in cold weather. I'm comparing us to animals who can be essentially naked all the time and not need clothes or shoes or ankle braces or antibiotics or butt wipes (honestly monstro dudes, who is stealing my butt wipes, I NEED THEM). Also, if we don't adequately upkeep our bodies with even the simplest stuff, washing our hands, cutting our nails and hair, bathing, we absolutely disintegrate. We are the prima donna high maintenance pre-teen girls of the animal kingdom.
Monstro radio is today from 6-8, tune the fuck in, you can do that on the web i think at kwcw.net or tune in locally in walla walla on 90.5 FM.
Monstro radio is today from 6-8, tune the fuck in, you can do that on the web i think at kwcw.net or tune in locally in walla walla on 90.5 FM.
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