Principia Discordia > Literate Chaotic

The Scrapyard --or-- CNO's brain dump

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chaotic neutral observer:
This thread is for me to dump half-baked, disjointed, or otherwise unsatisfactory ideas or fragments that I don't think deserve their own thread, and don't want to leave in the open bar, but which I need to get out of my head anyway, before they are lost like tears in the rain or some shit.

I don't expect more than a 10-15% yield rate.  You don't need to tell me if something is crap; I already know.  I'm going to try not to spend too much time editing, either.

Maybe I'll post here regularly.  I probably won't.  But, I've got three to start with.

chaotic neutral observer:
Have you ever tried
to take a picture
of a butterfly
in the wind?

chaotic neutral observer:
You say you love your country, are willing to kill for it, even die for it.
I don't know what you mean.
The idea of "country" is abstract, and maps to a number of different realities.

Do you love your government?  Because, speaking as a foreigner, your government is the most visible manifestation of your country, and.. uuh... that's incredibly stupid of you.

Do you love the lines on the map?  Is this patch of sand worthy, but the one on the other side of the fence of less value, somehow?  Seems arbitrary.

Do you love the geography, the countryside, the trees, the grass, the sky?  That I get, but that isn't really what most people think of, when you say "country."  Say you love nature, or something.

Do you love the people, the culture?  Well, I get that too, but you shouldn't confuse that with the idea of the country as a whole.  If you join the military, you're just signing yourself up as a particular type of government employee.  I can see how you might like it as a job, but don't get the idea that there's some greater good involved.  "Boots on the ground" do make a difference, but unless you're fighting WW3, your efforts are best spent locally, not halfway across the globe.

chaotic neutral observer:
In spring, I clear the garden, and plant the seeds.  I protect the seedlings, fertilize them, water them, kill the weeds.
I mourn those who die, eaten by bugs or shredded by hail or dug up by cats, and treasure the survivors.
If they crowd each other, I thin them out with regret, but without mercy.
As the season continues, I watch them blossom.  I clear away the dead and the diseased.
When the time comes, I harvest them.

And when winter approaches, I rip them all up and toss them in a pile to rot.

What is the meaning of my life, or yours?  Probably about the same as one of my garden plants.  Let's not overcomplicate things.

altered:
You vastly oversold these. I expected garbage, not new Holy Nonsense material.

Okay, Summer is kinda average. But the rest is quality. Refund please.

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