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A young high school football star, killed in a tragic car accident.

It really makes you think...

A bright young honors student, dead at 17.

It really makes you think...

A loving family man, shot in the street for no reason.

It really makes you think...

No, it doesn't.

What people are really saying when they say that is that "I'm not used to thinking, it makes me stop smiling". Thinking about the consequences of our actions, the realities of life and death, and the bitterness of the inevitable end are hard things. I walk around with a smile, just like anyone else, most of the time. I rarely contemplate these things unless I'm sitting alone in my room. But some days... some days, I do think about it all. And I don't smile. But neither do I frown. I am merely neutral. and if someone asks what I am thinking, and I answer honestly, they think I'm morbid, or gothy, or a real "misery chick". While they believe that I'm fascinated with death, I am merely contemplating the brevity of life and what it is that I can do to make the final curtain less dark and grim. I'm a realist, but also, optimistic that the future is not just a fade to black.

Doktor D. Jennifer Phox,
Misery Chick

(the dreadful hours, my first thought to your latest offering was "It really made me think..." a phrase that I have grown weary of in the past few days. So, thanks for reminding me to think.)

Well, chief, we're looking at complete core shutdown here if we don't do something quick. Primary functionality is at 20%, with secondary and tertiary systems rapidly approaching that level. The auxiliary isn't working either.

No, we tried that. It didn't work. The internal temperature just keeps rising. Pretty soon it's going to explode out the vents and the core will simply melt.

What's that? Well, sure if we reroute power from the mainframe to the critical systems we might be able to keep her running, but only at a fraction of her potential.

Alright, shut it all down. All unnecessary systems. Only leave respiration and circulatory regulation. Anything else is too resource intensive. Let's just get to work and see if we can get her up and running again.

Hush little baby, don't say a word.

Momma's gonna buy you a polished turd,

and if that polished turd don't stink,

Momma can't tell you how to think.

*****

Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree tops

When the wind blows, the foundations will rock,

When the walls break, the foundations will fall.

But we ain't got no chance to see that at all.

****

Lullaby and goodnight,  flambeaux alight.

With lillies o'er spread is King Louis' head.

Lay low the walls of the Bastille, may the people arise through blood and steel.

Lullaby and goodnight, Libertines unite.

De Sade's grace glow and shine bright.

Cast off the yoke of morality, and may you embrace liberty.

What I've got in my pocket is going to save you so much trouble. No matter who you are, where your from, or what you circumstances are, just one of these little miracles is going to fix you right up. All it takes is a deep breath, and taking the plunge.

What I've got in my pocket will cure what ails ya. Cancer, stigmata, Libertarianism, no matter the disease, you'll feel like a million smackers after smacking this. 100% all-natural, no side effects, and it's government approved.

What I've got in my pocket was never in a lab. It's not been co-opted by the scientific conspiracy.  No men in white coats cutting facts to unrecognizable pieces to suit their ends here.

What I've got in my pocket is free from religion. No hippie-dippy, new-agey, woojie-woojies, nor corpse-god eaters, nor followers of the imageless prophet, nor the true chosen people of the Semitic war god have been near it.

So what have I got in my pocket?

A-tisket, a- tasket,

A green-and yellow a basket.

I wrote a letter to my love,

and on the way  I lost it.

I lost it, I lost it,

If only she had caught it.

A little boy he picked it up, and told the nearest sergeant.

A-tisket, a-tasket.

Marching off to track it.

We wrote our plans in coded hands,

And the government they grabbed it.

They grabbed it, they grabbed it,

And now we have to chance it.

The sergeant went to the general; he said they had to lance it.

A-tisket, A-tasket

Severed head rolling in a basket.

My love lost a letter that he wrote,

And on the gallows, he found it.

He found it, he found it.

And on the gallows, they had us all surrounded.

A-tisket, a-tasket.

I've never stopped to think about just how much of my short life I've spent going from one place to another. My earliest memories are of ferries and 8 hour car trips. My entire life has involved at least 15 minute commutes every day, and I've gone on two cross-country drives, hundreds of road trips, a bus trip, and countless train rides as an adult. And I enjoy the journey far more than the destination most of the time (except the bus ride, but that's a story for another time).

Yesterday I was driving and taking in the sights and smells of the weekend's long rain. The smell of rain is definitely one of my favorites, and light fog and wet trees are enormously pleasant sights on a long drive. Then I caught a whiff of something else. The smell of wet, matted fur, blood and gore, freshly burning rubber, and excrement; and something else, something implacable; perhaps, if you'll indulge me, it was the smell of fear and pain, but I cannot rightly say. 

I saw a poor dead thing in the middle of the road. Not a skunk, perhaps a raccoon or 'possum, maybe even a large cat; whatever it was, it was smashed beyond recognition, and clearly a fresh kill,  because there was no hint of the sickly sweet scent of decay about it. i looked at the twisted, wreck of a creature and felt sad.  Yet I kept driving, and i didn't even roll up the window... I just kept right on enjoying the journey.

This morning when I drove past that spot, it was no longer there, but the bloodstains and the skid marks remained. I briefly thought of the poor animal, and but quickly forgot it and returned to enjoying my trip.

Yet here I am, sitting in a computer lab. Now that there is no vehicle taking me along a familiar path, no splash of rain on a windshield, no roar of an engine accelerating to distract me, my thoughts return to the pitiable thing whose life ended on a highway one morning. Soon my head will be filled with information about Greek architecture and I will once again forget, and then when I leave here for greener pastures, I'll be taking a different route... but tomorrow morning, I'll come by the same spot. And i wonder... will i be mindful once again and think of the dead thing and wonder about its life? Or will i be absorbed by the road, and the wind, and roar of the engine and simply by-pass the small memorial without thought nor care?

Sitting in my room with light piano music in my headphones. I'm looking out my window, watching the night. It's raining outside, as it has been ever since Friday.

It's kind of weird. I can't remember the last time I just did this. Just sat and looked out my window, listening to music, and just relaxing.

All too often lately, my relaxing has been putting some movie on (usually my favorite  B-horror trash at that), as reading and other such pursuits tend to remind me too much of the intellectual burnout I've been struggling with.

But this... this is far more relaxing and recuperative. It's meditative, and therapeutic. Just a much needed respite from the trials and tribulations, and horrors and hang ups of the daily grind. Maybe it's all I need.

...well, someone named Jennifer D. Phox got a warning ticket, that was handed to me, for apparently things that I had done. In any event, i have still never received an honest to goodness traffic citation.

In any event, there has, apparently, been a lot going on while I've been doing the whole education thing. STOP DOING STUFF, SPAGS! 
D. Jennifer Phox,
Just sayin' hi.

I would like to take a moment and remind everyone of a particular piece of home decor: a lamp shade. Hand made, mid 20th century. Fitted nicely on a heavy European frame. There is one thing about it though. The lampshade is an odd yellowish color, and has a very strange texture. Well, it would be strange if one didn't know it was made from human skin. Then it makes perfect sense.

And just remember. It was made by a person.

...but I guess this is close enough.

I kinda get the feeling these days that I'm just talking past people. I mean, I look them in the face but then they get all weird and their mouths turn in probosces and then I watch as their eyes fragment and go all compound, and I realize it's like watching The Fly transform in real time.  And then they start talking in cartoon swears, and you'd be surprised how "#$@%@!" is pronounced (well, not YOU, but most people).

And then I can see my words directionalize and shoot right past their ears and slap into the wall like a plate full of lutefisk. Reasoning with the wall seems like a more productive pastime. Why is it that this happens?

http://www.wimp.com/whennigel/

Shocking new archaeological evidence reveals that not only did the Mayans have superior seafaring capability, they used it tyo take the superior technologies of nunchucks, sombreros, and tiny burritos to China.

I couldn't find the historical fact thread and my roommate demanded I reveal this truth to you.

It has come to my attention that you are no longer producing work at the quality I've come to expect. While this might not be a problem with some of your previous supervisors, but here at Discordicorp, we hold our employees to a higher standard. If this continues, I will have to write a formal infraction. What have you got to say for yourself?

So slightly misleading title, but I did do an interview for a documentary regarding translation and the Bible, and the first rough clip of the documentary is available for interested parties (I have been told to stress that it is not even close to being complete, so you know..)

Anyway, post ITT and I will PM you the link.

I saw you at the Frist in Nashville yesterday. That or you have a doppleganger. WHICH IS IT? 

Dear Friends^TM*,

It seems to me that there are a number of you who have found this little patch of turf in recent months, and I have been less than fully active at times, so I have missed many introductions. Some of you who post regularly I have become familiar with through observation, if not interaction, and some of you I have merely seen posting once or twice and have not gotten a feel for you yet.

This is certainly an issue that needs correcting. For this reason, I have devised an elaborate and unnecessary way of implementing mutual understanding and community.

You are to fill out the following form, long hand, and mail it to your local representative (if any of you do not live in a demoratic republic, feel free to mail it to whomever you feel best represents your interest):
Name:
Rank:
Serial No.:
Age at time of conception:
Current favorite pastime:
Preferred clothing style:
Cologne/Perfume Flavor (not scent):
Color of southernmost wall in your place of residence:
Name and number of pets in your neighborhood or district:

This will tell me everything I need to know about you, when I get around to shaking down politicians for their lunch money.

Alternatively, you could say hello and open yourself to questioning, but that's dumb. Don't do that.

Love and kisses,
Doktor D. Jennifer Phox

Funny little thing I noticed when I was driving home last night.

The electronic marquee outside of Walgreen's said simply: "We Have Milk".

It was 12 or 1 am, and the stop lights were flashing yellow, and I saw that sign.

"We Have Milk" in large, red letters. Constant. No flashing or scrolling.

I began to wonder what that meant. Surely, they don't have the only milk in town. After all, Kroger, Walmart, and the local grocery store were literally right across the street. Have their customers been asking them to stock milk? Who knows?

Fuck, it doesn't matter, I had a couple of gallons back home in the fridge, what do I care about milk? I mean, I don't pay attention to the sign across the street that says Sirloin 13$/lbs. or whatever the hell it said. Something involving the price of some cut of meat, but that's all I know.

But then it hits me. That sign wouldn't be so odd if I didn't take having milk available for granted. So remember folks, we have milk.

clickity clickity clickity clickity clack. thump thump thump. clickity clickity clickity...

Listening to the sounds all around, i wonder what a library USED to sound like. Now you hear all sorts of noise. Typing, touchscreens, phones ringing, conversations....

What does the sound of a turning page even sound like? I'm sure I've never heard one in these hallowed halls. Too much noise... too much interference.

Maybe one of these days I need to come back around closing time, and head on up to the fifth floor.

Take down one of the big volumes and just... flip the pages.

You know who you are,

We have received word that you have taken the screws out of the door hinges again. We ask that you refrain doing this.

Your picture has been given to security, and you are to be escorted from the premise if spotted.

Please understand that while we find your behavior humorous, defecating into the bottled water is a violation of health codes, and the level of radioactivity in your stool has been deemed hazardous by the EPA.

Thank you for respecting our facility.

Dear Doktor Howl,

When I first received your message, I did not initally know what to think. But upon reflection, and some investigation into the global network, I discovered the identities and purpose of all those people in your desert.

They are, in fact, the dregs of a scientific experiment that went horribly awry. The hypothesis was simple enough, when deprived of oxygen, the brain will shut itself down automatically. This seems like a (pardon the pun) no-brainer, but hey, if you can fleece the government out of a few mil just to fuck around and show what we already know.

Then one of the jackass technicians decided to fuck with the settings, and rather than a complete lack of oxygen, the brain only received intermittent bursts of oxygen, reducing its functionality to minimal levels, but not completely shutting down. The reults were, as you can surely guess, rather unpleasant.

Now, this was back in the 1940s. Why are they still there, then? Well, the short answer is the unintended consequence of this experiment resulted in the permanent adaption in brain physiology, which they have since passed on to their offspring. The government and the men responsible for this knew that if these people were allowed to be reintegrated into society, there would dire consequence, which might even threaten the species as a whole.

So to prevent this from happening, they decided the only course of action left to them was to ship these people to a remote and uncivilized locale. Appalachia was already full of a different sort of freak, and they decided that mixing the genetic mutations had a high likelihood of resulting in the sort of Superfreak that the eminent scientist Rick James warned us about, and decided it was best to avoid that, if at all possible. So, the next logical step was of course, to drop them in the desert with the Mormons, hoping the two would fight it out, but alas, it would appear that the two have yet to engage in any sort of mutual annihilation, and I wonder if they have not formed a secret alliance against the rest of us.

Anyway, it would appear that, though the process has been started, the use of force against them has not been green-lighted on a universal level, and it seems that there is little that you can do to fix this. However, psychological warfare has proven effective against them in the past, and has yet to be outlawed, if you wish to pursue a means of deterrence.

Love and kisses,
Doktor D. Jennifer Phox

Thinking about all the time that goes by with nothing to do, it must seem like the sudden burst of busy work is nothing but a drop in the bucket, right?

Well, sure. Of course it is. But it's 500 million gallon bucket, and I gotta tell you, a drop is relative.

Time is funny like that, yeah? Here I was thinking that nothing could go wrong, and I'd have all the time in the world to think, and write, and play. And then I remembered the turkey in the oven. Oh, and the laundry needs to be done. And hey, remember that college thing I was working on?

Boy, time does have a way of slipping through the cracks.

HA. I almost just hit select all delete. What a dick move that would be.

While doing research on Lucretius, the thought occurred to me that the Epicurean (or specifically Lucretian) rejection of the Platonic/Aristotelian teleological arguments and the atomist's mechanical explanation seems to be fairly close to Hobbes' rejection of the religious dogma in the wake of the Scientific Revolution and his desire for an empirical, mechanical explanation of phenomena. Of course, my own bias towards observable data and scientific rationality might explain why I identify so strongly with these two authors.

Penny for your thoughts?

Sometimes it's difficult for me to sort through all my thoughts. Especially when my head is currently being filled with de Beauvoir, Sartre, Hegel, Lucretius, Cicero, and Hobbes, among others.

It's difficult to have an original thought in the midst of the competing ideologies. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself, when I sit and stare at the blank page sitting here in front of me.

When did thinking come with an off switch? And then it struck me. It's not that I don't have thoughts. I have a million thoughts. For instance, Sartre is a bit too stuck in his ideas to observe the practical, at times. Hobbes was one of the original advocates for TYF,S, and I think he needs to get his due. Cicero's reasoning for why literature and poetry are important is very, very different from what a modern audience would expect, and it's only a short leap to see why.

But none of those thoughts are FINISHED. How can you write, or talk, or even articulate a half formulated thought? More importantly, will people ridicule me for it? Simple, and undoubtedly. But hey, thinking is hard, and writing is even harder. If I don't have the time to do either, then why am I here? That's the question.

Nowhere to go.

My thoughts have nowhere to go, because my fingers won't let them out. Unlawfully detained thoughts don't do anybody any good, but a thought that, even half formed, is a seed, isn't it? How can it be ethical to deprive the garden of it? Hell, maybe you have one of those mustard seeds in your head. You never know.

The ever shrinking finite universe...

It's all well and good to think about what might possibly be out there, beyond the horizon. But I'm telling you kid, it's nothing. Asia, Europe, Australia... don't exist. Not for any practical purpose anyway. Nothing that goes on there affects here. Same thing with South and Central America. No way ay of that has any effect here. Mexico and Canada? Well, ya know, they are pretty close... but no. I don't eve know what the president of Canada is called, much less who he or she might be. Therefore, Canada has no effect.

And you know, it's all well and good to talk about California and New York and so on. But really, are the issues they are dealing at al pertinent here? I mean, what with the budget crisis,the issue with politicians, the quagmire that is Chicagoland, and all of that jazz... I really don't think so.

And then again, we've got problems here. Forget Chicago and Springfield. Live in the here and now, kid. That's my motto.

Hey kid, do me a favor slide that last brick right into this slot so I can go back to pretending that you don't exist either.

I hear a train a-comin'.

It's comin' round the bend...

Here's the funny part. I can't get off the tracks.

No, my foot isn't caught.

No, i'm not tied down. At least I don't think so. And seriously, what kind of Snidely Whiplash motherfucker ties a girl to the train tracks? In this day and age? Get real, dude...

I just can't get off the tracks. It's like I've got no motivation. Funny, huh? Hehe, I certainly think so.

I mean, I don't want to get hit by a train. It's pretty damn messy, for one thing. But... ya know, what? Maybe I do. The tracks are just so damn comfy, ya know? And hey, it ain't like I'll have to clean up afterwards, right? Hehehe.

What? Marks on my neck? Aww, those ain't nothin'. Just a spider bite or something. Not important at all. Hey, Keeping up with the Kardashians is on, why don't you go watch it? I'm just going to lay down on the tracks. Oh, you know what will be fun? DVR it for me, that way if I change my mind, I don't miss anything... Oh... nevermind. My train's here. Gotta go.

It's a brand new day, but it's always the same. Ever since, oh, I can't even remember when. day in, day out, Wake up, take a shower, go to class, get lunch, come home, do work, click around on the internet sleep. There's no room for rock 'n' roll. There never was. In this day and age, rock 'n' roll is dead, and I'm certainly not the one to save it.

But you know there are days.... days when I pick up my guitar and strum listlessly for a few minutes... and I start/i] to feel it again but.... but that's all just in my head. Nothing to be done about it, really. Everything is the same. The world is worse off than it was five years ago, but nothing's changed for me.

Sometimes I wish it would, but... that might take effort. And I mean, c'mon, my life isn't really that bad, is it? Nahhhh. I guess I'll just lament the death of rock 'n' roll and not do a damn thing about it.

Or fucking kill me. 

WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOU HAVE BEEN TERMINATED. PLEASE RETURN YOUR VITAL ORGANS TO THE NEAREST LARGE PREDATOR YOU CAN FIND.

SINCERELY,
PHOX CORP.

Awhile back, I was in a discussion with Death (if any of you remember her), and we were discussing liberal/conservative values.

The primary details elude me, but at some point, I stated that I supported independent city-states with populations below 20,000.

She responded with: "Well, that's conservative!"

And I said: "No, it really isn't."

You see, the word conservative has drifted a long way from meaning one who seeks to maintain the status quo.

I won't go into the political theory too much, but what Americans associate with "Conservatism" isn't what Edmund Burke would.

First, there's the "pro-lifers". What a misnomer that is. They are anti-abortion, on the surface. Okay, whatever. However, most of their reasoning is because their church tells them that abortion is wrong. Well, the Bible says that "When men have a fight and hurt a pregnant woman, so that she suffers a miscarriage, but no further injury, the guilty one shall be fined as much as the woman's husband demands of him" (Exodus 21:22). The passage continues "But if injury ensues, you shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe" (Exodus 21:23-25). So... that suggests that  fetus is not, as they like to claim, regarded as a "full" person. These very same people are also fairly generally okay with the death penalty, against gun control,  and against government sponsored welfare and healthcare, especially things like WIC and other programs that aid women with children. "Pro-life", eh?

The "smaller government" crowd doesn't quite mean that either. What they mean, of course, is less taxes and welfare, unless they benefit from it. ("Keep the government out of my Medicare", anyone?) And of course, there's that tricky line in the Constitution, you know, the one about establishing the Constitution in order to do several important things including "promote the general Welfare"? Yeah, the Preamble, they call it. The one we had to memorize like 900 times in school? Yeah...

It seems that being a "conservative" in the U.S. in the 21st century means being either a religious nutjob, a sociopath, or an anti-Constitutionalist. Or all of the above.

Dear children,

If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all.

Why, your feeble, underdeveloped mind may ask? That's precisely why. You must not question. Questioning leads to disorder and insanity.

After all, you can't call yourself "well-adjusted" if you go around questioning things all the time.

You see, the facts of life are really far simpler than you may be led to believe:
1) Boys and girls are completely different, and mutually exclusive.
2) Jesus loves you. But he hates it when you sin¹.
3) Amurrica is the land of the FREE and the home of the BRAVE, the land of OPPORTUNITY².
4) You are a special, unique snowflake³.

This is all you ever need to know. After all, what kind of world would it be if people just walked around willynilly, saying whatever was on their mind, especially things that went against these cardinal truths? It would be horrible!

Stay safe, kids. Never have sex, keep your eyes on the prize, always do as you are told, and never say rude things. It will keep you alive longer, you know.

Love and kisses,
Doktor Phox

1 = As a general rule of thumb, everything you can possibly do is a sin. Don't sin.

2 = Unless you belong to a group which 'murrica finds distasteful at the time.

3 = This doesn't mean you can actually do anything to change your lot in life, but why should you do anything anyway? Aren't you entitled?

Remember this guy?


Well, have I got news for you. The man who brought you the brilliance that was "The Hunger" and the whimsical fantasy that was "Vampyre" has a MySpace page. His name is Joshua Michael, and his band is called Realm 1-11.

Did I mention he released a full length album?


You're welcome. 

((Apologies if you knew about this already. BUT SHAME ON YOU FOR NOT SHARING IF YOU DID! )

Nothing in it. It's just an empty hole. Not even a crater, really. A crater usually implies an impact or something.

Well, nothing happened. And that was the problem. Nothing.

They say that there used to be people there, who just did nothing. And well... nothing happened.

And nothing's all that's left.

But that's just an old story. Personally, I don't think there was ever such a place as the Bound Provinces or whatever it was called.

Funny thing, I was briefly in Chicago yesterday, catching a train back home. This happened to coincide with the President's birthday celebration in town.

Chicago politics as usual.

It's not like the president could be doing more important things with his time. It's not like the nation nearly defaulted on it's national debt or anything.

Chicago politics as usual.

Yes, my friends, the same Chicago in which Al Capone would be king is alive and well. But now the King of Chicago has decided against St. Valentine's Day Massacres in the streets of his city.

Actually, that's not true. There will still be a massacre. But it won't involve guns, or gangsters. Nah, the King of Chicago has a better plan. Why shoot your own when you can take away their healthcare and retirement benefits and continue shooting people on the other side of the world? Less messy that way.

So might be tempted to say that Obama brought knife and the GOP brought a gun. But that's not true, of course. Obama brought a knife, when he knew the GOP was bringing a gun. Then the GOP sprayed a few dozen bullets into the people, and Obama said "Well, I tried. There's no blood in the streets, and that's an improvement. "

Chicago politics as usual.

I found this in a random word document sitting on my computer. I do not remember writing it, though it does seem like something I'd write. I assume what happened is that I intended to write more and then forgot about it, but...well...

Ever notice that little voice in the back of your head? You know the one. The one that keeps telling you to punish people. Not that they've done anything particularly wrong today. They just happen to exist.

But you know what? That's the problem. They exist. Here they are, breathing your air, eating your food, taking up space on your planet. They deserve to be punished, so burn the world.

Well, actually, no. They don't deserve to be punished for existing. The decent thing to do, the thing that other voice tells you to do, is be nice. Share your air, you've got plenty. Food isn't a problem for you, so why should you care if they get some? In fact, you have too much, you should help out someone who doesn't have enough. And space? Fah. Why bother worrying about? It could be worse.

And then the third voice pops in. You know, why don't they share their air? Did you see the look of disgust that guy just gave you? He's thinking the same thing. He thinks that you need to be removed from the planet. who knows his reason why. But fuck him. Burn it. He deserves to be punished, and so do they all. Let them all burn.

Another voice, another sound. Maybe you should leave his planet. Obviously, he wants you to. Why give him the gift of your presence? You have the power to take it away. See if he's that much happier without you on it. If you want, you can take a few others with you. Aye, there's the rub. Take a few down and then make your exit.

And then another. And another. And another. And all you can hear is a clutter of voices, no longer even forming words. They pierce every thought, every sensation. And then... silence. It's when the voices stop that you start to worry.

As emailed. No changes. Dunno what else to say about it.

Councilor:

                I am highly pleased by your decision to defund the criminal organization Planned Parenthood, and applaud your stance on artificial birth control in all forms. Indeed, it is my opinion that "good times" do not come without personal cost. We need more men like you in positions of power, not only in your upstanding state, but in every state in this nation, and indeed, in every seat in Congress.

                The motto of New Hampshire, "Live Free or Die", is rather apropos to your stance as well. You are clearly a man who recognizes the cost of this freedom. Certainly, these people are free to pursue their "good time". The pursuit of happiness is, after all, one of the inalienable rights enumerated in the hallowed Bill of Rights of the United States Constitution.  However, this pursuit of happiness, such as it is, should not be sponsored, endorsed, nor supported by the government at any level.

Live Free or Die. It is a person's right to choose to engage in sexual relations, but at the same time, if this choice is made lightly, without the proper care and meticulous examination, then it should fall upon the individuals involved to pay the consequences of their rash actions. If these people should engage in such activities and contract a venereal disease, then they shall suffer through it, and perhaps reflect upon their poor choices. If these people should find themselves burdened by an unwanted pregnancy, and they wish to terminate, they should have to pay.

Live Free or Die. It is, in fact, their legal right to abortion, if they choose. Live Free or Die. But also pay the price of freedom. Take it a step farther, they should perform the procedure themselves, with their own hands. They should be forced to see that wriggling ball of jelly as it seeps down the thigh of the would-be mother like so much menses. Looking at that rusty coat hanger, covered in the crimson stain, smelling the sickening- sweet reek of a zygote, partially developed, hearing that sound, that sploshing, slapping sound like a person working with over-wet clay, tasting... tasting the loathing and fear and vodka, feeling every possible emotion that one could feel towards a child slip away.  Live Free or Die. Live Free or Die. Live Free or Die.Death is not the worst of evils.



Regards,

Dawn Jennifer Gibson

For Whom It May Cause Concern:

I am writing this letter because I have noticed a few things you have been doing, and I must say that they make me sick. Let's start with the basics: Human rights. That's right, human rights make me sick. Why you ask? Because if you start giving humans rights, then pretty soon you have to give everyone equal rights. And we all know that some people clearly don't deserve the right to vote, to be paid an equal wage, or to love and marry whomever they please. I mean, c'mon. These are laws of nature backed up by years of scientific data¹. And we simply can't allow those people, if they can so be called, a voice in government, a fair wage, or the legal benefits of marriage. We can't even extend to them social acceptance. It would be a crime against Our Lord And Savior ². I mean, you've got people running around all over the place saying things like "all men are created equal". This notion, of course, is completely preposterous to men of SCIENCE. If all men were created equal, their internal organs would liquify at the same rate. Now, of course, organ liquification rate is a terrible criterion to base a person's value on³, so I advocate the abolition of all human rights.

This will also put an end to the idea that people "have a right" to their opinion. Again, a completely preposterous notion. The simple fact of the matter is, you have no opinion of your own. You are assigned an opinion and programmed through various stimuli to ingrain it in your personality from birth. This was all set up by Doktors such as myself as an experiment in free thinking. The conclusion we arrived at was that human beings are incapable of that act. Very distressing for the pro-humanists out there. However, my hypothesis was quite correct, it would seem.

This leads nicely into the next thing that makes me sick: Religion. You see, religion is not working how it's supposed to. It was designed to keep you in check by keeping you all in awe of a "Greater power". Of course, we didn't quite count on ideas varying quite so much, but at first it seemed to be a self correcting problem. Look at the Jews. Good religious folk. When people disagreed with them, they tended to lean towards genocide⁴. Of course, this lead to a bit of irony down the road, but I digress. The Christians and the Muslims seemed to be doing a good job at following in their footsteps for awhile there, but then things got a little out of hand with the programming in the "free thinking" experiment. The so-called "free thinkers" bucked the system (by  our design, of course), but they quickly fell into the dogmatic behavior that their religious counterparts showed, and some of them became quite militant about it. Which is all well and good, of course, except now genocide isn't really in vogue anymore⁵, so the problem persists, and such brilliant arguments as "Fuck you! Giraffes are a fucking miracle!" fall upon deaf ears.

Humanity in general makes me sick. Overall, I have to say that this experiment was a failure. We should have scrapped the whole thing when you began to industrialize, but we figured that you would have at least gotten away from fossil fuels by now. You even have viable alternatives, but again, I digress. Your wars are not doing enough to curb population growth at this point, and I must say the excess in population is fucking with some of the experiments considerably. Fortunately, the distribution of this problem is not equal across all theaters so, the results can be extrapolated with relative ease most of the time. Nevertheless, this IS a serious problem. But that said, it is a self-correcting one in he end it seems. Good luck in fifty years, assholes.

Sincerely,
Doktor Phox

¹ = These data are, however, classified, and I cannot reveal them to you now.

² = Of course, I'm referring to Bob Dylan.

³ = Unless it is to determine their value in certain experiments.

⁴ = According to THEIR history, which is approximately 169% bullshit.

⁵ = Except in certain places that are, for some reason, considered "unimportant" by the rest of you.

IS THIS SMOOCHY SMOOCHY ENOUGH FOR YOU!? 

I heard you on MTV back in 2002
Lying awake intent at tuning in on you.
If I was young it didn't stop you coming through.  (Ooh ooh)

They took the credit for your second symphony.
Rewritten by machine and new technology,
And now I understand the problems you can see. (Ooh ooh)

I met your children (Ooh ooh)
What did you tell them?
Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star.
Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star.

Autotune came and broke your heart. (Oh ah ah ah oh)

And now we meet in an abandoned studio.
We hear the playback and it seems so long ago.
And you remember the jingles used to go.  (Ooh ooh)

You were the first one.  (Ooh ooh)
You were the last one.  (Ooh ooh)

Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star.
Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star.
In my mind and in my car,
We can't rewind we've gone too far
(Oh ah ah ah oh)
(Oh ah ah ah oh)

Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star.
Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star.

In my mind and in my car,
We can't rewind we've gone too far.
Autotune came and broke your heart
Put the blame on TGRR.

Ooh rock 'n' roll star.
Ooh rock 'n' roll star.
Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star.
Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star.
Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star.
Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star.

Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star. (You are a rock 'n' roll star.)
Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star. (You are a rock 'n' roll star.)
Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star. (You are a rock 'n' roll star.)
Dubstep killed the rock 'n' roll star. (You are a rock 'n' roll star.)

The recent conversation made me think of this. Which reminded me of you.

Every generation needs their boogeymen. We living in the Civilized West^TM got rid of one of our nastier ones recently, as we all know. Obviously, there was a bit of contention about this event. Personally, I've avoided voicing my opinion for no other reason than I've been too busy, but my initial reaction to the news was essentially the same as LMNO's and Nigel's. My stance has not changed as of now.

But that's not why we're here, is it? What we want from this particular forum is rants. Well, listen here, kids, and I'll explain to you what's got me hot-and-bothered about this issue.

The fairy tale: Osama planned 9/11, and his people carried out the attack. The U.S. invades Afghanistan to bring him to justice. 10 years and two wars later, Osama is killed in Pakistan. And there was much rejoicing.

The reality of this situation has already been talked to death elsewhere, and it's not what bothers me. What bothers me is that otherwise intelligent people* are BUYING IN to this sort of BS hook, line, and sinker.  Perhaps it's the peril of living with the 24-hour news cycle, but I apparently have not learned that people will always disappoint when it comes to thinking through the tripe they get force fed by talking heads and politicians. I'm getting real tired of this "America Fuck Yeah! USA! USA!" bullshit, and it's starting to bother me on a different level.

Who's the next Osama? I'm not referring to who will take his place within Al Qaeda or anything like that. But who will be the next boogeyman? If Osama's death is comparable to the fall of the Berlin Wall, then "Terrorists^TM" are blasé, just like "Commies^TM" Who should we make the next boogeyman? We in America love our fairy tales, and this one has come to a close. Osama's dead, which means that terrorism is over, and Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, Iran, and all the rest of those countries with funny names are going to fade into obscurity again. Or that's how the fairy tale ends. But the fallout of this elimination of a boogeyman is going to continue. There will probably be lots more hooting and hollering about the "Terrorists^TM" but in no time at all, the fairy tale ending will be the way people remember it. The ten years in between? A footnote at best, but more likely completely ignored. And even people who lived through it will buy into it. But hey, it's no less than we've come to expect from the general population, right?

Or fucking kill me.

*Not referring to anyone at PD.

Avoid clicking on or looking at anything posted by GIGGLES. Srsly. Do nevar.

Phox,
Likes some of the new people.

As a performer, it's not always easy sitting in the audience. Watching other people do what you love sometimes makes you want to just get up on stage and join them. But I can tell you from experience that those guys in the black shirts with earpieces don't generally like it when people try to do that. You're lucky if you get thrown out with just a busted nose.

But on this particular night, I wasn't so keen to get on stage. I was just digging the tunes and enjoying the show. The music was pretty upbeat, and the tempo was quick. The lyrics were a bit hard to make out, but they seemed to be emotional and heartfelt. Overall it was quite enjoyable. And the band played on...

After a while, I noticed that they just kept playing the same thing over and over. Just a little variation on the chords from time to time. But you know, it was pretty catchy , and the audience was as enthusiastic as ever, so i just kept bobbing my head and let it go. And the band played on...

At some point, I noticed that they stopped changing the chords. Now they were just playing the same song repeatedly. That was just a tad bit annoying. But it wasn't really a bad song, and the crowd was into it. Why change what works? And the band played on...

Then I finally got a good look at the stage show. I hadn't been able to see it before, because I was way in the back, but as the hours went by, I had slowly been pushing my way forward. Now that I saw it looked they had taken a page out GWAR's book. I've seen gorier, but I couldn't tell you when, and it really didn't fit the music. And sounded, just for a second, like the audience as screaming in terror, instead of adulation. And the band played on...

I thought about trying to work my way back out through the crowd, but you know, this song's growing on me. Nevermind the banal formula, they make it work. The lack of sincerity in the singer's voice isn't really a bad thing. And i've got to admire their dedication you know?

When that fire started onstage? The band played on.
When the riots broke out in the crowd? The band played on.
When the cops broke in and started cracking skulls? The band played on.

Sure, after a while it started to look like the aftermath of a Dethklok concert, and they kept playing the same generic pop song, but the band played on...

Ever get an itch that you just can't reach? I have one right now. Right in the small of my back. Just so far away, in just the right spot. It's driving me nuts.

I tried using a pen. Didn't work.

I tried using my phone. Didn't work.

I tried using my keyboard. Didn't work.

I tried ignoring it, but even when I don't think about it, I can still feel it. Gnawing, itching, biting. MAking me feel like the world is a horrible place with horrible things that only ever want to cause you pain and irritation.

And then I tried screaming. I screamed and screamed. And I kept on screaming. The people around me must have thought I was insane. And they'd be right of course.

Then I tried to comfort myself, thinking "no matter how bad it is, it's going to go away. That itch can't last forever, can it? Nah, there's no such thing as a seven-year itch."

But then I just started laughing. Because I know that I didn't cause the itch. I know that I can't do anything about that itch. And I know that you have that itch, too.

I also know there's no such thing as a seven-year itch. I also know that it can't last forever. And I know that it will last long enough.

Maybe we can last long enough too.

Or maybe we can't.

Either way doesn't matter now, because the itch is here, and it's still out of reach. Have fun with your itch. And if you last, have fun when it's gone.

The last thing I know is after the itch is gone, we're going to wish that it was still here.

Doktor Phox,
Still laughing.

Yeah, that's right. i've been registered on this site for 8 months or so. My total log in time? 47 days, 19 hours, and 33 minutes. Fact: I spent way too much of that not logging out while I'm in class, or sitting around doing research, or not doing anything worthwhile.
Fact: Roger's giving up on my PD. Fuck that.
I don't really contribute all that often, fuck I don't really contribute at all.  99.99% of what I have to say and (what I have said) is complete fucking garbage. I accept that. I don't know what I can actually do to change it, but goddamn it, I'll try.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to post 99% crap, probably, but I'll try to post 1% content. If I can do that, the rest of you motherfuckers can to. I'm as busy as anyone. Fuck, I really should be working on SOMETHING right now. Instead, Roger's got me all worked p about YOU. All of you. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Looking through rants, who rants on a regular basis?
Who WOMPs on a regular basis?
who tells a goddamn story, true or otherwise, on a regular basis?

You know what, maybe ECH has a point. Maybe we spend way too much time on pointless trolls than on making PD the weird and wonderful place I like to spend hours of my life at.
Maybe Cram has a point. Maybe we ARE scaring off newbs who would become contributing members.
Maybe Nigel has a point. Maybe we're beating a dead horse.

Or maybe. Maybe we just aren't even TRYING. Shame on you. Shame on me. I'm just as guilty as anyone, so you know what? Fuck you. Fuck all of you. And fuck you too, Roger, because if you weren't so goddamn good at everything, half of us wouldn't be intimidated and afraid our own stuff won't live up to the bar you fucking set.

So, fuck you PD. Fuck you hard. I'm going to try.

Phox,
Not okay, but still trying.

So, out of boredom, I started a word press account. How shall I abuse it for my own amusement?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDXnk6RKs5E

I just wanted to thank Roger for posting this song a few months ago. I stumbled upon it again, and I feel the need to remind all of you. No need to thank me, I'm only sharing the love.

Phox,
In a giving mood.

I was driving down the highway on my way to school. It was a normal day, kinda nice out. Raining lightly, which I like. A vast improvement over the wintery haze of the past three months. I got a bit distracted, and didn't see the skunk in the middle of the road. I hit it.

My nose was immediately assaulted by an awful smell. The stench of skunk musk mixing with urine, the odious fumes of escaping gases, and the sickly sweet smell of decay. Evidently, the skunk had been lying there for awhile.

I thought that in time, the smell would pass. But I kept driving, and even miles later, I still smelled it. I assumed that there must be skunk guts and whatnot on one of my tires, so I let it go. When I got to school, and opened the door, the smell got stronger. "Bingo," I thought, as I started walking to class, "I'll be glad to get away from this."

So I walked away, but I could still smell it, sitting in class. In my office. In the coffee shop. Anywhere I went on campus, I could smell it. Funny thing, it never faded. When I walked back to my car, it didn't get any stronger. So I drove home. As I began to eat dinner, I realized everything tasted like dead skunk. Wherever I turned, I could see the dead skunk out of the corner of my eye. Soon, I became aware that the only sound I heard was that faint crunch-squish-pop noise. So, this seemingly minor incident had pervaded all of my senses, and I couldn't figure out why.

Then it hit me like a forty-mile freight train driven by a bulldozer. I've been smelling it for three years. Only now have I started to notice it. And yet, it seems no one else does. It's all around them, and yet, they carry on, as if they can still taste that shitty coffee in the overpriced corporate logo cup. Like they can smell the fresh rain. Like they can hear what each other are saying.

So, i learned my lesson. I'm going to pay careful attention from now on, so that the next time I see a skunk in the road, I can hit it on purpose.

Or fucking kill me.

Figured this would be a better place to continue this discussion than where it originally was.

I've had friends concede the game with in 10 turns of me just fucking with their game plan. I was a master of psychological dueling.
"I pacify your creature."
"I sac it and kill your creature and/or you lose life"

My deck was best utilized in games that featured more than two players, because it was creature heavy and generally required a few turns to get set up, but it was a life building/sapping deck, with lots of samurai thrown in for good measure. 

However, I was always pretty good at using the strengths of other people's decks to my advantage. Whether they were opponents or teammates, I could generally manipulate them into buying me enough time to get a basic set up going.

For one on one, I had a quicky black undead deck, and a quicky white angel deck that were generally useful against weak players, but required lucky hands from relatively early on in order to win against the better players.

quote author=LMNO, PhD link=topic=27418.msg998642#msg998642 date=1295898641]
So, there you go.  Something that started on September 25, 2009 has been kept alive for more than a year, simply because I'm a stubborn fuck.  Go ahead, ASK ME ANYTHING!
[/quote]
How is Marilyn Manson in bed?

There are many reasons to become a Doktor. It is not always a choice. Sometimes, the Horror comes to you. And that's how it happened with me. And it was because I was talking to people like YOU. Yes, there is nothing so horrific  as suddenly hearing the words of a person turn into bleats and guttural animal noises. It's rather disconcerting. Especially for a linguist.

But I eventually got over it. And came to be able to actually comprehend the inane drivel once again. But now, even though it was comprehensible, it still wasn't anything more than the sounds of a trapped animal.

Plato said that people are political animals, and they thrive on the organization and comforts of society. But he also thought that being molested by your teacher was a good educational experience. 

No, Mr. Plato, I am afraid that people want nothing more than to be away from society. "To do their own thing", as one might say. Hey, sure, great. You go do your own thing. Die of exposure so the world will have one less idiot. Do it en masse, so the world will have 6 billion less idiots.

Humanity is, and never was, a species of Order. As if it weren't obvious, the Homo sapiens is a creature of Disorder. And there is a place for that. However, as Heracles discovered, if you poke Eris, she just grows. I'm going to poke Eris. I'm going to poke my hate gland. I'm going to become a Doktor. And that is what I did.

Thanks for reminding me why it is that i am what I am today. Not that I needed  any reminding, but the reinforcement is nice. And just remember, you are the reason people like me exist.

FUCK YEAH.   

That is all.