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Dear Uncle Roger,

I hope that this letter finds you and yours well. Or as well as Tucson will allow. We can't break the laws of physics, or the will of angry Titans that have somehow broken free from their bonds.

Which brings me to the purpose of writing you.

You've mentioned to us New Englanders now and again that we live really close to each other, and it's sort of ridiculous that we don't meet up more often. Providence, for example, is an hour and $10ish away. Well, more like an hour and a half. I have to get to South Station first. And LMNO and I live in the same metropolitan area. Hell, Gogira lives a mere 2 subway stops from me and the subway is a 10 minute walk. I haven't seen the Providentials in over a year, Gogira even longer, and I have seen LMNO more recently, but it's been months at the least. The last time I saw EOC, Eve and Cainad was the last time I saw Trip, Squiddy and Cram. And you know, it's not for lack of trying. Eve and I occasionally talk about getting that beer in Brookline we never ended up getting. Anarchangel and the Frost Heaves played one show together (though I have done at least one other gig with them playing for Daniel Ouellette and the Shobijin). leln's pretty good at poking at us to see what we're doing and trying to get us to meet up. Matter of fact, Providence is coming to Boston on Saturday (mental note, give Villager heads up, since she's only met dimo and LMNO, and dimo only the once, though he left an impression on both her and Anne Marie).

Maybe.

It often happens that our plans just fall through. But why is that?

I think I may have found the answer. You said words to this effect recently:

Coming to realize that Tucson is actually sort of the multiverse's junkheap.  It's full of stuff that's just a little out of phase with the rest of you bastards.  Things that look nonsensical to the outsider, because it wasn't from that person's universe in the first fucking place.  I mean, NOTHING HERE WORKS.  How does this city even function?  It's just failure after failure after failure.  It's like Lucy pulling the football out from in front of Charley Brown EVERY TIME HE TRIES TO KICK IT.

And it struck me that you may be on to something. It could well be, that we are all from different realities. Maybe that's also why my plans to go to Europe to meet the spags from Britain, Ireland, the Netherlands and Norway always fall through, and have nothing to do with my tendency to not plan well or save up money. We all live in separate universes, and Tucson is the nexus. The only time I can think of that everything came together smoothly enough for everyone at the time to coexist in the same place was the last time you visited Providence and Boston. Otherwise, someone must always sacrifice attendance. Suu couldn't make it to the meet up that Trip came to. Because you weren't there. You aren't a Rain God, you're some guy who's stuck between entirely different timelines. I don't actually exist in Richter's universe, nor he in mine. LMNO and Gogira live in entirely different ones than either me or Providence. The rare times our universes do collide, it's because of Yog-Sothoth. Or maybe some freaky shit going down at MIT. I don't know. Doktor Blight might be able to look into this hypothesis further.

Just some food for thought.

Your favorite Niecew,
Twigel

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOE9fE72QLg&feature=player_embedded

So, we're all smart people. Even when we're dumb it's really just a lapse in some area or another.

And I've been posting in Open Bar lately about friends on Facebook who say dumb things. And at least with one of them (they were two separate people), I admitted that the person in question just wasn't that bright and my belligerence is, in retrospect, expecting more of them than they are capable of. They can't go beyond a surface understanding.

Now, Nigel pointed out to me the fruitlessness of that, since the person and I were on different intellectual levels, and it just really wasn't worth either of our time to come to an understanding. Or at least not worth any of my time, on the grounds that the stupid was pretty damn stupid.

On the flip side of this, I help one of my fleetmates on Star Trek Online with her school work. She's also a 30 something in college, a little older than me, but everytime I help her, she has to point out to me or our fleetmates that I am intelligent. This makes me a little uncomfortable for reasons I can't exactly put my finger on. Matter of fact, I get uncomfortable when anyone of any intelligence level other than noticeably higher than my own describes me as intelligent. I had another thought to work Dunning-Krueger into here but I lost it. It might come up again through convo.

So, I guess, what's up with that?

Ah this takes me back. This might be kinda cool. I dont know if a second season is necessary or even desirable. It would be unfortunate if a good idea for a documentary became a bad idea for a reality show.
http://www.boston.com/yourtown/news/allston-brighton/2013/08/filmmakers_hope_to_document_allston_christmas_release_as_web.html

So, people who play STO can make user generated missions. They are limited to 40 (48 if subscribed) missions. Assume 48. If I approach my limit, I will subscribe. But I'm looking for an overall story arc. STO takes place in 2409, btw.  (Voyager returns to Alpha Quadrant in 2378, Nemesis takes place in 2379, and Romulus is destroyed in 2387. The Romulan Republic is a recent thing, as an example)

Things I want to address:
The Federation is not the utopia you think it is.
You remember those random aliens that showed up in one episode? Well, they're back. I'm thinking First Federation, a newly warp capable Magna Roma (Roman Empire with 20th century technology as visited by Kirk), Humans were abducted by the Skaggarans and successfully rebelled as cowboys but were encountered by Archer's Enterprise, that sort of thing. Feel free to recommend more.
Risa is a Boring Planet to go to. So is Andoria. So is Vulcan. So is, for that matter, Earth. Let's change that.
A torn Romulan Republic- they want to be independent, but there is an undercurrent of reunification with Vulcan.
Federation Civil War in the future. Some sort of temporal displacement and holy shit, and what do we do when we get home, now that we know what will happen...

TGRR,

I just realized now that your other half has returned to Asphodel, and perhaps it's time for spiritual advice. School is about to start for me again, what sort of mindset should I have going into it?

Ive got an itch behind my eyes and blue phlegm. My freckles have also turned green and my reflection is right handed too. What is wrong with me and what sort of elixirs do you have for it?

Everyone in the United States likes to back up one of their political arguments with what would the Founding Fathers do. And you know, I've heard it for the last time without forming some pretty distinct thoughts on the matter.

Raising the ghosts of the Founders to support your political argument is just flat out stupid. Here's why:

1) They're freaking dead. They've all been dead for about 200 years. That means they're not around to a) see enough of the 21st century and the issues and the rationale behind the issues to even form a well informed opinion on those issues, and b) they're not around to say, no dude, I wouldn't have said that at all. You're imposing your views on someone who wouldn't have even understood what your views are.

2) They're not some monolithic group of men who all agreed on everything. What's the point of having a representative republic at all at that point? Might as well just appoint one of them supreme leader for life, if they all thought the same. No, in fact, they had a hard time agreeing on anything. Why do you think it took 80 some odd years and us splitting in two and going to war with each other in order to get rid of slavery? Do you think everyone agreed on slavery in the 1780s? Some of the nastiest political campaigns in the history of the United States were all fought by the Founders. They were jerks, and they hated each other. Modern political campaigns look like a tickle fight in comparison. Matter of fact, in order to get the Constitution written, they all had to get drunk.

3) They're not gods. This isn't the freakin' Dominion on Star Trek. (Though a shapeshifting Washington who had to sleep in a bucket would be kinda cool.) They were men. Just because there's a mythology built around them doesn't mean they were special, or that we should appeal to their authority over our own ability to reason. You know, especially because they're dead and would have no clue what to make of anything you and your debating partner are talking about if you hopped in a time machine to get them to clarify whose side they would choose.

4) Older isn't necessarily better. If you think it is, feel free to purchase a phonograph and a horse and buggy. There's no such thing as the good old days or simpler times. That's just nostalgia. And in this case, it's nostalgia for an era before your great-grandparents were even born.

5) The Founders aren't necessarily The Framers. The Founders are the upstarts who stirred up rebellion and had the idea that the Colonies should be independent, semi-democratic. The Framers are the ones who drafted the Constitution because the Founders fucked up the first system of government in the United States. Let me repeat that- the Founders made a big old mess that the Framers had to clean up. Some of the Founders were also Framers, but not all Founders were Framers and not all Framers were Founders. So the Framers were plenty aware that their new document was also probably flawed, and made it possible to fix their mistakes as we went along. So if there's anything that we can be reasonably sure of what the Framers would think about modern day politics is to leave them out of it and figure it out on our own, since we're supposed to have improved the Constitution from the version they gave us. That's why we have more than 10 amendments.

So, who gives a shit what the Founders would think? They were looking up to us. Stop living in the past and start thinking about the present. If you can't support your political argument without using necromancy, then you don't actually have an argument, and need a clueless ghost to talk for you.

http://news.yahoo.com/video/workers-strike-fast-food-restaurants-100409347.html

Now this is interesting. I like that Papa John's is one of the ones being targeted. Wonder how much he's going to try and jack up his pizza now in order to pay those ingrates that work for him.

This breaking news is filled under finance because yahoo is fucking daft.
http://finance.yahoo.com/news/scientists-discover-reality-consists-9-180000417.html

Angle 1:

All we wanted was Heaven on Earth.

Heh, isn't that the goal of every religion? To either uplift or restore suffering humanity to its proper position in the scheme of things? It took us a long time to get it, but we finally got there. We finally managed to create Utopia, where all men and women were equal, and had all of their wants fulfilled. This is a post-scarcity paradise. I don't know how our ancestors even managed to get to this point without going extinct.

Thousands of years of barbaric slaughter, brother against brother, father against son, mother against daughter. No use crying over spilled blood. Didn't matter what our rationales were, it was always over resources. If only we could cooperate, work together, get the world we wanted. Share the resources. Seemed like that just wasn't in our DNA. Seemed like we would always be killing and oppressing each other, just to have a better livelihood for ourselves.

It started off simple enough. A couple of rocks, a couple of sticks. Throw some rocks into the fire, say the magic words, get a better, shinier, deadlier rock to put on the stick. Next thing you knew, we were using fire and no magic words to propel the rocks at each other. Then, it was a matter of time before we took the rocks out of the equation entirely and just focused the fire at each other in a tight beam. Small, but deadly accurate wounds, all the while, the resources for power dwindling rapidly.

Getting off this rock didn't help us much either. Our first steps off world were a monkey pissing match. And once the former Americans showed that they could piss the furthest the quickest, well, no one needed to go to the bathroom anymore. Oh sure, they talked a big game about pissing further, and they eventually did.

Lack of resources pushed us into the asteroid belt. Of course, being the barbarians that we were back then, we sent the expendables. Rocket fuel was expensive. We didn't want to have to pay what we promised the poor saps. We also didn't let them know about the substandard radiation shielding. But no one ever officially died of that, of course. No, there would always be an ill-timed "micrometeoroid" for a tragic death when they got too close to the end of the contract. Hey, they knew what they signed up for. Space is dangerous. We all know this.

Oh sure, there were colonies that rebelled against Earth, and succeeded and then went to war with each other. Soon it was war in the Kuiper Belt.

It seemed like we would always be at war with each other, that we would never have Heaven on Earth. That we would always be fighting each other, oppressing each other, enslaving each other, killing each other.

It all changed when we developed superluminal travel and made first contact with the Rontarans. The Rontarans put everything into perspective. The Rontarans helped us to finally realize that we are one, that we are all equal, and that we could have Heaven on Earth.

As I stand here on my balcony looking past the Rontaran slums towards the crystal blue waters on the beach, drinking my Mai Tai, I can't help but think, "This is the world we wanted."

Seriously. Laugh.

A conversation betwixt myself and Villager's predecessor, just now:

11:07pm
TWID:
So yeah. Thursday time.
got 49 minutes left.

11:12pm
EX:
Well make sure to take care of your heart

11:12pm
TWID:
lol
take care of my heart

11:13pm
EX:
You dont smoke right

11:13pm
TWID:
Like being a [redacted paternal and maternal last names] hybrid makes heart care an easy thing
[paternal] got the good tickers but we got the nuts to make up for that
I'm pretty certain at this point that I will die of one of three things

11:14pm
EX
Well ewceryone dies

11:14pm
TWID
Indeed. But I've ben dying for a fortnight

11:15pm
EX
You could surprise us all by getting a piano dripped on you

11:15pm
TWID
That would be filed under mental illness, though, as a stretch
Seriously though, it sucks. Kinda makes me hate the idea of reincarnation
It's like getting your blood drawn annually but infinitely more sucky
The acceptance is the worst part

11:17pm
EX
Acceptance of death

11:17pm
TWID
It's like knowing your going to hit the tree, and then put on cruise control
Remember that in 60 years
Except for Brian, it wasn't 60 years from now.

11:21pm
EX
Awww dont hthink likw that

11:21pm
TWID
Too late.

11:21pm
EX
Tou should go to bes
Bed
I am

11:21pm
TWID
I was feeling this when I was sober.

11:21pm
EX
But dont stress
I know

11:21pm
TWID
I'm not stressing. That's the problem. I'm too fucking used to death.
I'm going to die. I accept that. And I hate that I now accept that.
In my 30s
I hate that I EAT death
Where are my fucking chloroplasts?

11:23pm
EX
Hahahhaha
Go vcegan!

11:24pm
TWID
Death is too tasty.

11:24pm
EX
Ok I gtg bed
Nom nom

11:24pm
TWID
Good night. Wake up in the morning.
o see a doctor.

11:24pm
EX
No
Youre fine

11:24pm
TWID
Oh, I'm fine for now.
I'm fine for a few decades.
Heh.
HehehehehHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
literally LOLLing
I can't stop laughing~
It's so ludicrous, lol

11:26pm
EX
Stop it
Im laughing now

11:26pm
TWID
No, lol
It is, it's ridiculous, the whole thing
What else can we do, cry?
Hey your planet won the lottery, enjoy your less than a century, lol

11:28pm
EX
Aww
Ol go to bed

11:28pm
TWID
We we might be the most advanced species in this galaxy, I'm in hysterics now

11:28pm
EX
Bes

11:28pm
TWID
NO!

11:28pm
EX
Bed

11:28pm
TWID
NO!
It's hilarious!
I'm laughing so hard, I have to blow my nose
Hey, we went to the Moon on a computer less powerful than your phone and then just STOPPED sending people off world!
Because it was TOO EXPENSIVE!!!!! LMFAO
We're doomed, individually and as a species, and it's funny as shit!
:compose, snot, look serious: So, yeah my cousin died because his body didn't like his new heart.
lol

[God is gay....]

I am a musician.

Specifically I am a guitarist.

I didn't want to be a guitarist in the first place. I wanted to be a bassist and sing. I'm a bassist and a singer.

When I was 12 I had the dilemma of going for science, or going for music. I knew, once I heard that album, what I wanted to be. There was no going back. The pursuit of knowledge was waylaid. When I was a lad, I wanted to invent things, and solve problems. Ironically, science made me a musician. I was going to be an astronomer and a physicist, and I started writing that paper in sixth grade, and uncle Bob said it was too quiet, and here, let's put on some music, while you work on this incredibly early 90s computer word processor. I never gave a shit about music before. Why should I? It was all hit songs and incidental music on soundtracks.

"Here we are now, entertain us" "I don't care what you think unless it is about me" "Never met a wise man. If so it's a woman. Gotta finda way a better way I'd better wait ..." "Stay, stay away, stay away, God is gay...." Oh, I hated that last part. Why? "I've got this friend he makes me feel/and I've wanted more than I can steal/I'll arrest myself I'll wear a shielf/I'll go out of my way to prove I still... smell of you.... Don't... tell me what I want to hear..."

My cousin got a guitar. I started pushing for a bass.

Basses are too expensive. We'll get you a guitar. Pick it out.

I still have Connie. She's in rough shape, and I wouldn't gig with her. I didn't want her in the first place. She had too many high pitched strings and I was looking for a cheap bass. But I saw Connie, and it was fucking love at first sight. And I still have her for a reason.

I wanted to be a bassist. For my 14th birthday, I got a guitar. The best guitar. The shittiest guitar. My guitar. Horrible fucking pick ups, probably warped neck, worn down frets.... That's my girl. Even gigged with her (big mistake). Mine. My first.

I was born on 6 August 1981. 14 came early. On 4 August 1995, I became a guitarist.

I love Connie. She's a shitty guitar. I would be honored to be buried with her. I would be honored if she was the last guitar I played, ever. I always want to make upgrades to Connie, and I never do, and it's not because of my wallet. i just don't want the old bird to change, busted up irrelevant.

I love Connie. Having her in my life is worth not being a bassist.

Connie is short for Concussion, because when I was a stupid fucking kid, I would walk out of rooms with her strapped on, and hitting her headstock against door frames. It just made sense.

Almost done with Christianity. Again. I'm going to nominally continue until October 31st, but I'm pretty much done. I might come back to it again, but I honestly can't even bring myself to go to confession, even now. Fucked if I'm sorry. I will have no absolution. I don't want it. I am answerable only unto myself. I don't need a morally ambiguous desert god to forgive me for things when he's guilty of crimes against humanity. If I can't forgive myself, then how do I expect mercy from a god who by his own sacred texts is more often an asshole than not, letting his only son die notwithstanding?

Suggestions for next religion, fake ones are in play, as long as they are developed enough to follow. Also, if you can, recommend a duration.

Alright ya dooshbegs.

We tried ta do this thing wheah we ran faw fahkin Mexico, and Dawk didn't tell thuh sekkin paht of thuh fahkin joke, cawz he's a fahkin retahded guy from fahkin Canada.

So, since Menino's nat runnin faw mayah anymoah, an' the fahkin' 'lection faw Mexico didn't have any fahkin' results an' shit. Oah, maybe we did an' eithuh me oah Gojira oah LMNO became fahkin' Mexico. I don't know dood. I missed thuh fahkin reterrins. Maybe I'm Mexico oah sum'n. Fahkit, kehd. Eithuh way it was a Bahstonyan. We need a new mayah, tho. So, let's fahkin run foah Bahstin.

No sekkin paht of the joke, weyado. Juss straiddup mayah.

I even changed my fahkin avatah and signachuh farrit.

I nomnate me. I'm the only one heah that's actually frahm Bahstin.

My curfew was the street lights and my mom didn't call my cell, she yelled "time to come in".

R. For she lacked the technology

I played outside with friends, not online.

R. And now I point this out with my friends online, not outside.

If I didn't eat what my mom made me, then I didn't eat.

R. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.

Hand sanitizer didn't exist, but you COULD get your mouth washed out with soap.

R. For we care not for sanitation, we prefer being abused by our parents.

I rode a bike without a helmet.

R. And clearly it shows.

And getting dirty was OK.

R. Which is why mom would constantly bitch about the state of our clothes.

Click "like" if you drank water from the garden hose and survived.

R. For if you didn't survive thou shalt be unable to click.

Yea, verily let us ignore the fact that we are just like the children we complain about and keep our minds firmly in the simpler good old days, which are only simpler because we were too stupid to understand that the world was just as complex as it is now, and good because we suppressed all of the bad memories. Let us instead vilify the younger generation unnecessarily, even though we are the parents now, and if we don't have kids, we shouldn't have shit to say about how the kids are these days, and if we do, then it would be right to blame us for neglecting our children in hypocritical favor of the internet so that we may wax nostalgic with friends we haven't seen in person in twenty years.

Amen.

...someone was knocking at my door.

I woke... up this morning....

...someone was knocking at my door...

...and I said...

..."Hello, sweet Satan...

...I believe it's time to go..."

I'm used to complaining about the weather. I'm a Masshole. The weather always sucks, even when it's nice. Well, when it's nice, it is actually nice, but we know that it is fleeting, and we hate it on principle. But damn, did I wake up to an unpleasant surprise.

I did what I normally do every morning. Hit the snooze every five minutes for about two hours, because for the life of me, it's just never enough sleep. My room looked the same, mess of cups, clothes, and writings that have nothing to do with each other strewn about. I look for the clothes that are hung up on hooks or draped on chairs and try to find a decent ensemble to impress no one, since everyone has known me since July of 2000, when I was a longhair who only wore Iron Maiden tees and ripped jeans, and have seen me slowly evolve into that guy who shaves his head out of necessity and wears button down longsleeves over a tastefully matching and slightly showing undershirt with no band logo. Usually. at any rate, my pants are largely intact.

Took my shower, skipped breakfast, probably skipped brushing my teeth, I can't remember. I fucked around on the internet for maybe a bit too long, said, "Alright, on with it" and located my keys and left my home.

It's pretty damn hot today. And dry. Been this way all week. All month even. Might have to talk to LMNO about the freak weather we're having. When was the last time I saw that spag anyway? Really hot and dry for June. Feels like goddamn Arrakis out here.

The layout of Somerville is all weird, and I can't find the Orange Line. It's less than a kilometer away. I walk these streets every day, where the hell is the train station? Why is the Sun such an asshole right now?

The street signs are all wrong. Not that I really paid attention to them before, but I know this should be Broadway. Or should it be Washington? Which turn did I take? I turn a corner and I see a straight black road surrounded by sand, and a bald man shouting "YEAH FUCK YOU, I HAVE GUN TOO!!!!"

Then he comes to a screeching halt, as the other guy speeds off.

"What are you doing out in the middle of the desert, kid?"
"I woke up this morning, and...."
"Say no more. Get in. Here's a bottle of water."

Mom always told me never to talk to strangers, but, damned if I didn't want that water right now.

"Where you from?"
"Somerville. Well, originally Boston."
"Boston, huh? Great city. Would live there if I could, but we're here now. And, well, that's that."
"What do you mean?"
"You just woke up this morning. Worst morning you'll ever have, until tomorrow comes."
"I... still don't follow."
"You ever heard of Sheol? Hades? Purgatory? It's kinda like that, but this ain't the Kingdom of Israel, and it ain't ancient Greece, and unlike Purgatory, no amount of rosaries are going to bail you out. I'm sorry to tell you, but you're dead kid, and you're stuck here."
"Well, where the fuck are we then?"
"Tucson."

Doktor Howl, with passenger in tow, sped off, playing chicken with the other drivers that didn't realize that they were already dead.

I thought one day that it would be a good idea to grab myself a nifty starship like everyone else has, and I set off blindly knowing that if I went fast enough in one direction, I would eventually find something.

Well. I did.

Gravity gets in the way of things, though.

It's easy to see that black hole if it passes in front of something luminous. You can see how it warps the light from the star, and maybe even pulls it in and destroys it, after a sufficient amount of dimming. Maybe you can even see that star orbiting around that black hole at stunning speeds.

Those stars are unfortunate, they got pulled into something that they didn't expect. Something that will drain them,

Such a thing happened to my starship, but I couldn't see it coming. That's the problem with heading off willy-nilly without plotting a course.

The worst part is, that when you are stuck orbiting the black hole, time slows down. Everything remains the same for you and your black hole, and you see everything else speed up. All of the rest of the universe speed up. The other stars get on with their lives, and you see them progress, and you're just the same. The universe goes on without you. So here I am, orbiting the black hole. Other stars and other ships were caught too, but, from some trick of math that I can't determine, and will leave others who experience time slower than I to calculate, got ejected from the gravity well.

They probably figured it out a few milliseconds ago, from my perspective. From their perspective, I am an eternal fixture, but they have all gone on to something else, and I am still here. They've long since disappeared, even. Only minor alterations are made to me as time tick-tocks at different tempos.

I don't have time for my dreams.

Tick tock tick tock.

The clock's not counting up. No, it's like a bomb. It's counting down. It is a bomb. Fucked up thing is that you can't read the display. No telling how much time is left. It's in an alien number system. Or maybe I'm just too stupid to read it. I don't know. I just know I hear a tick tock tick tock.

A tick tock like a metronome, while a nun waits over your piano fingers to make a mistake.

A tick tock like the clock at work.

A tick tock like the up and down of the butt on that person who is too young and too full of life to acknowledge you.

That person is vibrant. That person is unaware of the tick tock. That person is marching at their own pace, and all you see is a clock that will wind down. You see your own clock, and note the slight discrepancy. The slight asynchronicity. It's not off by much, but enough to make all of the difference.

Tick tock tick tock.

Tick tock relies on cogs and regularity.

The metronome has a tempo. Some tempos are fast, some are slow. Some are insistent, some are relaxed. Sometimes two otherwise incompatible tempos coincide, and keep perfect time, as if someone set one to 140 beats per minute, and another at 70, but oddly, simultaneously. TICK tock TICK tock. Sometimes two off rhythms synch up regularly, like 3/4 time and 4/4 time do after 12 measures. Sometimes they do haphazardly. Sometimes they never synch up. But there's no such thing as a perpetual motion machine, and every good song has to end at some point.

Are you tired of downtime? Is the stress of enjoying yourself getting too much to handle?

What you need is the Relax-O-Matic 5000!

Relax-O-Matic will free up all of your leisure time so that you can do things that are Productive^TM. No more will you have to deal with the inconvenience of daydreaming or doodling. Relax-O-Matic will take care of all of the unpleasant mess of problem-solving and creativity for you, leaving you to go through the motions and follow the instructions that it prints out for you.

If you're too busy for friends, Relax-O-Matic will be a friend for you, remembering birthdays and socializing in your stead. Who needs the chaos of human contact anyway? Relax-O-Matic will even call your mother when she complains that she never hears from you and will feed her all relevant information on your new-found life as a component.

The need to have fun is a thing of the past, whether it's Saturday bowling or going out to the Pub. Relax-O-Matic will have that hangover for you while you get down to the important things, like making some money and being an underappreciated component.

Relax-O-Matic 5000 has additional features that the 4999.9.5 model lacks, like sexing up your man and/or woman for you, without the need to worry about their personal satisfaction; reading that book you always wanted to; or taking a stroll through the park on a sunny but not overly humid day; EVEN RETIRE FOR YOU!

You too can continue to put your nose to the wheel for the remainder of your existence for one easy payment of $Soul.95!

Call now, while supplies are unlimited!

They say that shit happens. Sometimes shit happens a lot and you're on the can all day. You can't really do a whole lot about it. Just go in, try to get it all out, wipe, pull up your pants, and flush it away. At first it's not so bad, you're just glad to have gotten it over and done with, and maybe you shit at work on purpose so you could get paid for not doing your job for a good ten minutes. But there comes those times where you just have to keep going.

It's not that you have the runs, or are all stopped up, or even just full of shit. It just keeps coming, man. And at the end of the day, when you have taken out all of the garbage, as it were, you're left with an orifice that's chapped from repeated wiping, and you could swear there was a little blood on that last wad.

Then comes the worst part- the itch. So even though you no longer have to drop one, you have to keep running back to the bathroom, wad up some more sandpaper, and rub until satisfied. But the satisfaction does not last. No, you've just irritated it more, it will itch again shortly. At that point you're stuck in a loop, and you dread the next time you have to take a shit again, because you don't even want to think about what it would do to your current state.

A female Discordianesque friend just posted this to her facebook.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3v98CPXNiSk

I kinda want to laugh at it because sometimes Villager asks me if something's wrong even if nothing is. (I have an occasional tendency to give off the wrong vibe even with people who are close to me).

Ive heard the idea of black holes causing big bangs but this is the first ive heard of natural selection being applied to it. Thoughts? www.space.com/21335-black-holes-time-universe-creation.html

I'm FUCKING SICK of these whiny pansy ass crybabies bitching about fucking Obama. Waaahhhhhhhh wahhhhhhh wahhhhh. SUCK IT UP AND SHUT THE FUCK UP.

also

AMERICA IS NOT AN ADVERTISEMENT. IT'S AN IDEA, NOT A SELLING POINT. ALSO I'M NOT PARTICULARLY PATRIOTIC. I'M A DUAL CITIZEN. I LIKE MY CITY BUT I LIKE MY OTHER COUNTRY MORE.



Now you.

You're a Discordian Marilyn Manson fan, please do with all vigor weigh in.

https://www.facebook.com/kevin.mulkerrins/posts/10151641176082069?comment_id=28441156&offset=0&total_comments=15&notif_t=feed_comment

Did one of your old kings have annoying communication technology?

http://news.yahoo.com/danish-teenager-makes-rare-viking-162658921.html

So, before all the shit went down today I was thinking about what I want to do, and what degree would serve me the best, since I'm going to have to change my major very soon, as I've been putting the decision off.

-It's gotta be a science.
-It's gotta have good career prospects, at least within the Boston area (this skews heavily towards biology)
-I don't want to work with patients.
-I don't need to be rich, I just don't want to get shit pay.
-I would prefer it if it could help people. ie, I don't want to build weapons or shit like that. I want to improve the world, even if in a small way.
-I don't want to be bored. I want to take pride in my work.

So, I'm thinking, biology of some flavor, engineering, environmental sciences or chemistry. I'm willing to entertain computer sciences, but that might add more boredom. Or rather tediousness. Engineering may pose a problem in that I've never actually built anything, but if you know a website where I can tinker with rudimentary projects to get a feel if it's something I want to try, feel free. My favorite science is astronomy and related fields but that's too specialized and I don't want to go to school until I'm in my 40s.

I'd take a general science program if I could, but, well, I can't.

Twid,
31 and abandoning History, and BA's in general.

Dermot, put three whiskeys on my tab for me, this gentleman and his friend here. You're welcome. But listen up, kid. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, and I gotta tell you something. The Universe isn't what you think it is.

The Universe, is a vast, cold, mostly empty expanse bathed in radiation. The Universe is dark. Almost all of it is a hostile environment. The Universe doesn't care about you. It barely tolerates your existence. It doesn't notice you as an individual. It will kill you if it gets the chance. The sun you feel on your face when you're at the beach? Yeah, it's just biding its time until it decides to turn that beach into glass.

Thank you, Dermot.

The Universe throws big heavy rocks all over the place, and zaps things with gamma rays. The Universe makes stars collapse in on themselves and consume less fortunate stars. The Universe is hungry, and you might be on the menu. The Universe is chaotic, and someday, it will die. We're not quite sure how, but we do know that we'll be way fucking dead before it happens. The Universe runs on its own time, not yours. You're less than a lighter flick in its lifespan.

The Universe is God, but unfortunately, God doesn't love you. God isn't what you think it is. God can't love you. God doesn't want to know what love is, and it doesn't want you to show it. God won't allow you to break its laws, despite your best efforts. Go ahead, build a spaceship and try to get a speeding ticket. You couldn't get into Hell if you tried.

So you see, the Universe certainly isn't your personal teddy bear. The Universe is not all rainbows and magic unicorns. The Universe doesn't owe you shit. No, sir. The Universe certainly doesn't owe you a soulmate. The Universe won't even be your wingman for the night so you can get some pussy, and The Universe isn't going to get you a free drink and listen to your problems.

What you gotta do is just fucking call that chick and tell her how you feel. And if she rejects you, move on to the next chick. Time's short. Remember? As far as the Universe is concerned, your flame already went out, and it didn't even notice.

How's the whiskey?

   You know, Professor Clark (can I call you Tony? That's how you always sign your emails, and I suppose that we're close enough in age that it doesn't matter), it's impossible for me to give you a proper, academic response to Sonny's Blues. I'll at least give you this as a hook, though. There are a number of reasons why I can't do it, other than in this format.

   The first thing is, this is my first semester back in college in about three years. In the meantime, and largely, even before, I've largely wasted my time. I am 31 years old, unmarried, underemployed, undereducated, underpaid and undersatisfied. But I haven't been nearly as bad as Mike. No, in the meantime I got involved with this group of memetic subversives that have been around since the beatnik days. So, I'm used to ranting. I'm ranting to you right now, for a grade. Even if you give me a high F, at least it's better than zero.

   It's hard to tell what's under the surface sometimes, Tony, but sometimes the surface is all that you can go with. For instance, I walked into class sleep-deprived, after a show, unshowered, with my girlfriend's bass (note, I always wanted to be a bassist but ended up a guitarist, and I met her because she was and is my bassist in other contexts. Go figure). You asked about my guitar. I told you it was a bass. But the thing is, you were correct. I am primarily a guitarist. I always happened to be a guitarist and always happened to be someone who wanted to play bass. I never chose to be a guitarist. Anyway, what instrument I played at said gig is irrelevant. The guitar and the bass give me different types of satisfaction. And anyway, Mike was the guitarist. I was going to be the bassist and the singer. Mike was going to play guitar. You (at least) seemed to assume, that I was a musician, and that my topic here would take a largely musical tone. You were wrong and right, simultaneously.

   Here's the funny thing about Sonny's Blues, Tony. The two most obvious themes are music and heroin. And after that, the idea that you are obligated to your relative in some way. Now, I didn't want to address music, or heroin. Those two are two obvious. What the hell else do I have? I do one and shun the other. The man who has perhaps been closer to me than any other,  has... Been let out. For a couple of hours. It was torture on Mary, because Mary had her own, very legitimate reasons, to be beyond ambivalent. Mary is my favorite cousin now. Mary and I understand each other, more than I and her brother Mike do. When she didn't come to the funeral, I understood.




   ....Mike and I were always going to be together. Forever. Mike and I were Mike and Kevin, Kevin and Mike. Mike is my maternal cousin. Mike and I were going to go places. We were going to be rock stars. I was going to play bass and sing. He was going to play guitar. He started taking heroin young. And I wish I never read this story.

   Mike's in rehab now, and I don't mind telling you that I'm crying my fucking eyes out. And I'm crying because he chose to go there. Finally. The worst part was though, he has limited visitation. He's now becoming aware of how divorced he is from us. Nana's death was... I hope it doesn't bother him. I'm going to leave you off soon, Tony, because I hate Sonny's Blue's and never want to talk about it again if I can help it. It's all a little too close to home, except for the Black Harlem thing. I feel like I have to side with someone, either Sonny or the Narrator, and I can't. I can't understand the "Gonna shoot up because music hurts" musician thing (Load of bollocks by the way. If it hurts anything other than your fingers or other people, you need to stop playing immediately). I can't understand the, "well what are you going to do with your life thing." I can't understand people who give up.

   But most importantly I can't understand Mike. Not because I don't get him. I don't get his choices. I don't get why you would ever want to shoot shit into you via needle. On the other hand, I am a smoker. Mike and I are both hard leftists. We're both musicians with similar tastes. But he's the whole reason why music means nothing to me in this paper, even though music, to me, is food.

   The last time I saw Mike in person, is when my now ex-girlfriend was trying to boot him out and he kept adding vodka to his coffee. That was a long time ago. I hope to see Mike at his... completely different self in about a year. Perhaps, after he gets dental insurance, because, well, because, he made his, otherwise pacifist and physically weaker, cousin want to beat the shit out of him.

So i got my sweatpants and my sneaks and i got on the treadmill at school and... Now what? The school has recumbent and upright cycles amt adaptive motion trainers whatever that means elliptical fitness crosstrainers and dumbells and barbells. Ive never really worked out before much less gone to a fitness center so im a bit lost and dontknow what half the stuff is.

My online course is basically an internet forum.

Create avatars for me, and I'll pick the one and use it for SCIENCE (no, seriously, it's for my astronomy class).

Uncles and Aunts, it has occurred to me that we've been entirely too lenient with the Norwegians.

Sure they look harmless enough, but they're just lulling us into a false sense of security.

That Waffle Iron guy? Sure, he plays ukelele and occasionally goes out in the snow wearing a skirt but no shirt. He'll even do a little dance for you. But you ever wonder how he's able to stay warm dancing shirtless and with little crotch protection against the elements? Do you know why he's dancing? Because he's basking in the heat of the church he just fucking burned down. Those aren't some goofy moves he's doing to amuse you. He's trying to summon Jormungandr, the dragon eating at the roots of Yggrasil.

And that dude Lenin McCarthy? He looks like a harmless young man, and he claims to be graduating from high school. He even tries to pass himself off as some sort of paradox that's also a pun on the name of two hippies. But you know why he looks so surprised in that picture? It's because he finally traced your IP address back to your house, and he's getting his battle axe and boat ready to go so he can fuck up your shit, loot all your possessions and woo your mom. Kid's thirsty for blood and he's been slaughtering the innocent since he was old enough to pick up a broadsword (when he was 3). You don't get a voice that deep on a diet of milk and vegetables.

You don't even want to know about the Silent One, otherwise known as Sepia. I will point out, however, that we haven't seen Reeducation, Dalek, Triple Zero, Arim the Backwards One, or even that Swiss guy that pissed everyone off lately. Look out Regret. You're probably next on that list.

These Norsemen are dangerous, just like their ancestors. They just got sneakier and are trying to pass themselves off as well adjusted members of society. Don't be fooled. That's when they'll get you.

Your favorite Nephew,
Twid

Post here if you were wicked drunk last night. Let your PD friends tell you if and where you were a drunk asshole (or conversely sad drunk, or really nice sentimental drunk)

Also, posting.


Also, still kinda drunk. Went to the bar with Anne Marie last night.

Cry Little Sister. Truth Movement. see if you recognize the vocalist.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erNMpx7AJoo

So, in honor of my band getting its first review, who wants a copy, and who wants swag?

Swag includes Physical CD t-shirt, shot glass and bumper sticker. Package deal at the CD release for all of it was 15 USD. Since it is the holiday season, you get all of that free if you post before Christmas Eve. Just bear in mind that you might get it well after Christmas since I have to reimburse the band.

Im at a certain venue in cambridge with a certain soundguy we all know and love. Playing bass for daniel tonight.
Well the headline just started chewing out the soundguy on stage and brought up his smoking habits in between bands. Now it feels kinda awkward.

We all get it from time to time.

And yeah, it's not the same as depression. It's kinda more like, I don't want to do anything. Except I do. I really really do. Just not that. Or that. Or that.

Well, fuck that.

I know what I want to do, and I don't want to do it. I just have to get there.

Last night rehearsing with Daniel, he pulled out a lot of old cassettes. I have never once seen a more prolific unsigned musician. He has albums up the wazz, it's just that most of them aren't actual releases.

What the hell am I doing wrong? He's ten years older than me and has like, 7 times my discography.

How do you directly measure carbon output from a combustible source?

Twid,
Twidsister needs a science project, Twid has a lump of turf from Ireland

If anyone is sending out holiday cards, feel free to include me.  Incidentally, if you have an address for me that says anything BUT Somerville, MA, please PM me for my current info.

And yes my PO Box is closed.

Chapter 1: Twid is an inconsiderate douche who hates you all

Alright, so here's the open submission unlimited family butthurt thread.

So, most of you will know from Open Bar what happened, but I will reiterate for posterity and give a little more background info.

So, yesterday was Thanksgiving, and during dessert time, my godmother/aunt's husband decided to say a bunch of offensive things, apparently in jest. For example loudly calling my other aunt a bitch to cheer her up because my heroin addicted cousin is in rehab. And calling my stepfather, who was not present btw, a fag because he owns 25 suits. All in jest. Also, some vaguely racist comments. All in jest.

Because he's such a funny guy. Funny guy called me a fag when I was 12, with no indication it was in jest, because I got my ear pierced. No one was present in the room except for me, him, and aforementioned cousin in rehab. I then told him he was more of a fag then me, and he slapped me upside the head and told me never to say that again. Did I mention that I'm bisexual?

Well, we openly ignored each other for a good long while and I started going bald so long hair was no longer an option. A couple of years later, it's ok to talk to me. Ok, so, I'm not going to be a douche to him or anything.

Well, we get to last night, and he's calling my stepfather a fag, and making hand motions and such, while talking to my 16 year old sister, (who later confided in me that she found his homophobic comments uncomfortable directed at stepdad or not.) so I vocally state that I'm going out for a smoke.

I say nothing, I go home, I wake up, see some homophobic shit online and text my aunt. So without further ado, I present you with Family Butthurt Theatre, text spelling errors kept accurate as much as possible.

So- one of the things that i want to do for 2013 is to return to ireland and uk for fun. Obviously id have to visit connemara and spend time with gramps and maybe liverpool with dad if he decides not to go to connemara at the same time but i figure if i go for ten to twelve days i can work some spaggotry in there. It would be several months from now obviously but id probably be better off planning it before the year is up.

So who would be interested in meeting up with me what general areas would work best and what times are best/worst?

I know some folks are planning on coming to the northeast as well so ill have to remain in new england during those times but ill factor that in as well.

I know it's a bit short notice, but it kinda snuck up on me.

Can you make it out to Somerville, MA on Thursday night?

If so, it's Anarchangel's last show of the year, and we're opening for our first (and hopefully not last) national act.


Radio Bar. I believe we're on at 9 ish.

I know I lost track of time and it's a Thursday night, but if you can make it out, I would definitely appreciate it.

Came across this website. What's up with this guy, is he trolling, crazy, a self-promoting attention whore, legend in his own mind? Some combination of the above? Some stuff I missed? Have you even heard of this guy?

I mean, the guy seems to think he's famous and keeps advising celebrities with his voodoo blog, whether they read them or not. But I'm pretty sure Lady Gaga has never heard of him, nor has any interest in his advice about botched pacts.

http://doktorsnake.me/

I've heard the minions of Satan talking while on drugs too, except I came to a different conclusion than this guy (I realized what was going on kicked back and enjoyed the cheesy horror movie):

http://www.thecatholicthing.org/columns/2012/bad-trip.html

Did I ever tell you guys about the time that I went into the future?

It's never the way you think it's going to be. There's never any flying cars, or hoverboards, no androids, no Lunar colonies. And that's sort of a let down when you first look around. Then you go and try and meet your future self and that's also a bit of a let down. Your life never really follows the course you intended it to.

Well, I'm not exactly sure how I traveled into the future. Before I did, time seemed to move at an excruciatingly painful crawl. And there I was, shortly before my 19th birthday, and a time traveler, fresh out of high school.

Well, I decided to leave the year 2000, and I visited 2003. George W. Bush was the president of the USA, a bunch of people died in New York, Washington DC, Afghanistan, recently Iraq. The future was at war. When I tracked myself down, I went and bought him a beer, since he was 21 now. Had one for myself too, since my ID was valid for it. He told me that he was working at the same job I was about to start, went through a girlfriend, broke up with her on bad info, got a tattoo, met some new friends. He was working at the liquor store for a second job, mainly to avoid certain people by not having any free time. He really wasn't doing anything with music. He never got around to going to college because he couldn't figure out what he wanted to do for a career. Matter of fact he didn't seem to be doing much of anything at all, except not getting shot overseas.

Then I decided to travel to 2006.  George W. Bush was still President. The world was not much different. They still didn't catch that guy they were after. I tracked myself down again- he was 25 at this point and his hair was short. We met at the bar, I got him a beer. He told me he was still working at the same job, but not the second job, which he left voluntarily since it was sucking up all of his free time. Went through another relationship, saw some of Europe that wasn't Ireland, joined a band (which I was glad to hear). Went to college for a couple of semesters, dropped out. He couldn't really explain why he did that. But he was a history major. He was living in Brookline with some work friend. We had a good time, jammed out a bit, and then I decided it was time to look a little farther.

I traveled to 2010. I was now 10 full years into the future. Some guy I had never heard of was President, and was having a hard time of it with some crazy people on account of him being black. They'd never admit to it though. No, they were saying this president was the real Nazi. I tracked myself down- He was 29 at this point. He was quite obviously balding at this point, and was compensating by keeping it buzzed short. He had gotten a different position at the same place, lost that job, got his old job back, had started a relationship with his roommate, ended it. Went back to college, dropped out again. The band broke up, and a new one had taken its place (which I was glad to hear). Started dating his bassist, was living at home unofficially, in Newton with his old roommate on the books. He seemed to progress in some ways, in others not. He was a bit of a mess though. He didn't look very happy, and he kept asking me to buy him another round.

I traveled to 2012. It was a couple of weeks before the election. I tried to track down my 31 year old self. I didn't find him until I passed in front of the mirror. Turns out I was talking to myself and drinking alone that whole time. For the first 18 years of life, time goes excruciatingly slow, and then suddenly you become a time traveler. Except time travel is a one way trip, and once you start up that time machine, you can't stop it. And when you're focused on trying to get to the future, you neglect the things you have to do to make the future happen when you make a pit stop to buy yourself a beer and ask how things have been going.

I think I'm going to hold off on going to 2015 for a little while and try and stretch my legs a bit at this pit stop, take in my surroundings a bit more and actually plot a direction for myself.

Your favorite Nephew.

Short story companion to the Masks thread in OKM. Not looking for collaboration here since I have a direction in mind, but feedback and suggestions are more than welcome.

Or something to put on Netflix or Hulu for background entertainment.

I would like to bring something to the consideration of my dear Aunts and Uncles.

People like to wear masks.

Not just for Halloween or some sort of fancy dress sort of thing. No, people like to put up a front of sorts. A created personality. Kinda like your social networking profile, except this one stays on in person. You don't take it off really. The mask looks a lot like your actual face, but a bit distorted.

Masks basically do two obvious things. They conceal your identity, and they pass you off as something you want others to think you are.

When you're wearing your mask, which is always, you're hiding a bit of yourself, holding back, for whatever reason, and you're exaggerating some of your other features, whether in a more flattering way, or as an intentional caricature. This is fine, and healthy. Masks are fun to wear. And some parts of your real face you don't necessarily want to show everyone.

But since you're always wearing your mask, that's also what you see when you look in the mirror. You see yourself as you want others to see you.

Maybe then, you realize that you're still wearing your mask, as you look at yourself in the mirror, and you've forgotten what you look like. So, naturally, you start to take the mask off.

The problem with that is that there is another side of the mask. The side that no one ever thinks about. People only ever think about the outside of the mask, and the the face that it is concealing. And when you go to take off that mask, you look at the other side of the mask, and there are things written there. The things that are written there are insulting. Disheartening. Embarrassing. That whole time, silently speaking to you in the darkness.

It's why you put the mask on in the first place. You didn't want to have to read what was there, and you didn't want anyone else to read it either. The best way to do that is to hide it away where not even you could see it. But it was still there, facing you the whole time. And while you were facing it as well, you weren't really looking at it, you were looking past it.

But hey, you forgot that the mask is off and there's a mirror in front of you. Take a look. It's not all that bad. Yeah, it can be kinda bad sometimes, and maybe a rare time really bad, but there are some good things there too. The same things that are on the outside of the mask. That's why you put them on the front of the mask in the first place. And that's really what this is about anyway. You made the mask, so you're the one who wrote all that nasty shit on the inside.

Anyway, chuck out that mask and use that mirror to wash your face. It's kinda bad for your skin to be wearing an old grimy mask all the time.

Your favorite Nephew,
Twid

PS- I'm intending on turning this concept into a song, an illustration, or a short story of some sort. Maybe all three. Why not?

So Stelz,

you wanted to know how me being an amateur.... I don't know.... involves me getting Villager back.

Well let me tell you.

Villager and I happened because we were already friends and I was in a decaying relationship. And, well, her fool ass fell for me. And in time, I fell for her too. Villager, you should know, has been my bassist for longer than she's been my girlfriend. We didn't even officially get together until the previous band we were in broke up (when her brother, our vocalist at the time, decided to end the project on Myspace without telling us. It's all good. We would have parted ways that week anyway). And then Anarchangel was immediately born. Well, Villager and I started officially dating about 3 or 4 months after the formation of Anarchangel (which didn't have a name that whole time).

And, to be frank, she chased after me. She grew on me. She was mad about me.

This lead to a situation where I eventually had mutual affections for her, but I was a lazy bastard who was just happy to have someone to love.

Well, fast forward almost 3 years, and I'm no better off and no worse off than I was back then. Still working part time. Still a hopeless procrastinator. Still a sophomore in college.

we'd been talking about trajectory for a while, and where I was going, with a focus on being a real grown up but at the same time reaching for rock star status. Hell, it benefits her too. If I become a rock star, so does she, and she never has to worry about that groupie thing, since she's there with me and they're all going to Peter anyway (up until recently, where he actually found someone he wants to be with but we always figured he would be the member to get some sort of VD)

Well, where have I gone? Nowhere. I'm still working at the same place, the same floor, that I have been since the beginning of this millennium, and I even took a paycut and an hours cut in order to maintain a job and insurance (THANKS MITT ROMNEY OBAMA) that I was mandated to have. I'm not a rock star. I was more of a rock star in my previous band. Anarchangel never played further than Worcester. The other band never played further than.... oh... the whole Northeast.) I am worse off now than when I started dating Villager, and back then, such things didn't matter.

But, we're getting older now. She and I already named our eventual daughter. Yet, we are not married, nor anywhere close to that, due to my credit (I really don't want to fuck her over).

Well, anyway, Villager and I broke up, over me getting my driver's license renewed. Retarded, eh? I don't even have a car. But, it was symptomatic.

And in the course of a day, I attempted to get my license renewed (I got points for attempt), got my hours increased by ten, and got her flowers- something I haven't done in a long time. Too long. Next week, I'm going to succeed in getting my license again, and I'm going to go back to my college and ask what I can do to make History my minor and get something fucking practical going on, and, oh yeah, music music music music. With a focus on solo career. Unlike previous relationships, she wants me to keep at that sonic thing and succeed in it at almost all costs.

Providing that she and I get back together, this break up was a kick in the ass that I needed. If we don't get back together, well, I guess I'll jack off a lot, because she's it. That's why my ass is in gear. I want her back. And it's possible. So fuck it. If I want to marry her, and have children with her, yeah, she's right. Otherwise I can go through a bunch of empty fucking for the next 5 years until I definitely stop looking so damn good :sexy pose: But I don't want that. I want Villager.

Twid,
Doin' shit