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Or Kill Me / A future conversation
« on: February 14, 2006, 05:01:48 pm »
Two young men approach a dilapidated house somewhat nervously.  They ring the bell and stand around adjusting their dark suits.  Finally, a scruffy individual opens the door.

Them:  Hello, I'm Elder Genericsen and this is Elder Thatguyson.  We're representing th--
Us:  I know.  I've been waiting for you, I have a question to ask.  Won't you come inside?

The two men enter the house with some trepidation, but are relieved that someone finally wants to talk to them.  The interior is surprisingly pleasant, and they settle down on a comfy couch.

Us:  I have a question about the nature of God.  Do you think you can answer that?
Them:  Well, certainly.
Us:  Okay.  Well first, you guys don't hold truck with magic, right?
Them:  We think it's a dark path to travel.
Us:  Okay, don't elaborate.  
Us:  So you guys follow the whole Judeo-Christian mythos of God being a giant beard in the sky, omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent right?
Them:  Well, I don't know if I would characterise--
Us:  Yes or no?
Them:  Um, yes.
Us:  And if anyone has enough faith and prays hard enough can call on this giant beard in the sky and get it to help them out, yes?
Them:  Yes.
Us:  And yet, though He will pay attention to everyone's individual nitpicks, he has yet to bother with any massive human crisis, especially not the ones engendered in His name.  
Them:  You don't know God's plan...
Us:  I know, I know, God's ineffible, which also means you don't know God's plan either.  
Us:  So here's my question:  there's this omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, ineffible force that you can call upon personally to aid you in any situation...
Us:  How is that not magic?

Or Kill Me / Logic and Belief
« on: January 27, 2006, 05:00:46 pm »
The other day I walked by a couple of Mormon missionaries.  Naturally I pretended that they didn't exist, but was confused by their presence in this northern Utah town.  Who are they going to convert?  Almost everyone, even the international students, are already Of The Faith.  

After more contemplation, I decided that LDS and other conservative Christian faiths like to do the whole re-born-again thing.  Reaffirming the faith is a big way to make sure that people stay after the initial emotional rush of converting has passed, or to keep the people who have grown up with it from getting bored.  Basically, it's a way to keep the faithful from thinking on a non-emotional basis about the nature of their own religion.

This, then, is the main reason why I have trouble with religion.  Abstract concepts and emotions just shouldn't mix so blatantly.

But then, I contemplated some more.  Was what I was thinking really rational either?  If "The Truth" is just what we choose to believe, and if belief is inherently emotion-based, even the coldest of science is a form of religion which just happens to have more facts and arguments at hand to affirm and uphold "The Truth".  I guess this is why people who were raised in the same place at the same time by the same culture can both violently reject evolution and firmly uphold it.  To each faction, "The Truth" is perfectly evident--it's just a matter of which logic system to adhere to.

Anyway, then I almost got sucked into the pitfall of relativism, but then decided that since I adhere to a particular system of logic--fact-based--I can still feel superior to religious idiots, because by my system they are incorrect.  I don't see why I should give their views any credence when they have chosen to believe in the wrong things.

I'm sure this has been gone over countless times, but it's good to do one's own thinking over such things.

Or Kill Me / Letter to Horab (or, why don't we all just settle down)
« on: November 18, 2005, 08:55:29 am »
This is a PM I sent to him, but on second thought I decided that everyone ought to see it.  Some people have noticed that I bitch every time there's a major grudge-fest around here.  Well, here's your answer for why.

Horab:  let me explain my motivations to you, since you appear to be upset by what I said.  

I'm apparently an anachronism, because I uphold human decency and civil behavior.  Especially on the internet, where all we have to judge each other is our words.  Whenever someone stirs shit, I get pissed off.  It doesn't matter who it is.  

I was happy when Roger left for that couple of days, because that meant that (hopefully) peace would return to the boards.  Of course, that was not to be, but it was a respite.  So then you show up and start it up again, rehashing the same arguments for the sake of...whatever.  I can assume, but I don't know.  It's bad enough with Roger and Turd and Cain and Fnrodie and god knows who else around, ready to explode at the slightest provocation, without you getting all self-righteous.  I agree with you, I really do, but the way you acted was just as bad.  Ergo, my ill-will.  That will stop as soon as you stop acting like a jackass.

Maybe I'm stupid for wanting a little bit of peace in a place that is characterised by endless bickering and posturing.  Really, all I want is for everyone to just shut the fuck up every once in a while.

All I want is a little more decency and a little less hating.  I didn't even hate Eric or Aini, I just wished they'd stop being total asshats.  Civility is all I'm asking for.  For at least a couple days.  That's all I want.

Or Kill Me / There is no oppressor anywhere
« on: November 07, 2005, 10:23:28 pm »
This morning as I exited my dorm I was confronted with the sight of a giant pile of garbage and a cubical construction entitled "The Wall of Oppression".  I didn't have any time until just now to examine it closely, but it was plastered with random pictures and sayings that We* are apparently supposed to identify with.  I barely paused to look closely at it, but there was a picture of "Big Brother is watching you" and somebody had cutely written, "But who is watching him?"


So anyway, I immediately siezed the handy sharpie they had so nicely hung (ten bucks says it's gone tomorrow) and wrote, "I refuse to self-victimize.  I blame myself for my problems, not The Man.  The Man doesn't give a shit about me or anyone else.  It's up to us to dig ourselves out of whatever pestilential hell-hole we were born into.  There is no oppressor anywhere."  i.e. I harped on what I always harp on.  Of course, when I turn around, who is standing behind me but the most EXTREEEEEME feminist around, the one who is "transgendered" because apparently she wants to be part of the patriarchy or soemthing.  

So much for lying low.

Not that my reputation was all that great anyway.

There is no oppression anywhere!

*We being white middle class college kids

Or Kill Me / Find out what YOU can do to help!
« on: November 03, 2005, 11:01:03 pm »
Sitting at lunch today, my little eye espied a flyer folded and stapled into that clever triangular shape so that it would stand up and be extra-visible.  IT was also brightly colored.  So I briefly interrupted my face-stuffing (I only had a couple minutes as I had tarried a bit too long) and picked it up.  

The flyer was full of the typical outrage one finds on liberal college campuses.  The School of Americas has been training assassins to mess with the politics of latin america since 1946!!  Here are some atrocities to get excited about!  It's time to put a stop to the madness!!  I snorted and rolled my eyes, then paused.  

It's a perfectly good cause.  Why am I being so cynical?  Or is it lazy?  Am I in denial?  Do I just not care about anything not directly connected to me?  Well, yes.  But also, I've seen it before.  Somebody decides to get all up in arms about something, a group is formed, flyers are made, a meeting is had--then, nothing.  It's a fad cause.  Just like Taco Bell and gender neutral bathrooms last year, and Coca-Cola and now the SOA this year.  Nothing really gets done, just paper and time is wasted.  

Oh, and a bunch of priveleged upper middle class white kids get to feel better about themselves.  Woooh.  Do you know what they're advocating?  "Direct non-violent action".  What in twelve fucks is that?  They want to organize a protest "in November".  Well I've got news for you:  it's already November.  It's too god damn late to go to Washington.  Lots of plans, lots of yelling on flyers--then, nothing.  Within a month it will be something else.

Same god damn time, same god damn station.  Over and over again.

Or Kill Me / A story I may have told before
« on: October 29, 2005, 08:24:56 pm »
I woke up thinking about this story.  I also woke up in a great deal of pain, but whatever.

A teacher of mine (who was an interesting character in himself) used to be a veteranary aide for a livestock vet.  He had many entertaining stories, and this is one of them.

One day a man brought in his horse.  It was a big ol' draught horse, and on its shoulder was a big ol'...something.  A growth, perhaps?  Whatever it was, it was freakin huge.  Bigger than your head.  Lord knows why this guy didn't bring the horse in sooner.  

So the vet and his helpers kind of look each other, shrug, and the vet just decides hell, might as well cut into the sucker and see what's up.  So he cuts into it and out shoots--spurts, rather--a rain of maggots, pus, and stench.  The poor vet is drenched.  Hundreds and hundreds of maggots.  Remember, this thing was huge.  

So they cleaned out the wound, it took forever but they got it done.  The owner, horrified, takes his horse home, and the vet goes home to have a shower and a lie-down and burn his clothes.

End of story, right?  Wrong!

A couple weeks later, the owner brings his horse back.  There's a little...thing...on the horse's neck.  On the opposite side of the big thing.  Again, the vet shrugs and cuts into it.  Out spills just a little bit of pus and one maggot.  

One maggot.

That little bastard had chewed its way through the poor horse to get to the other side!!  The horse had a hole going all the way through!  Like a worm in an apple.  Man, that's just disgusting.

Moral of the story:  I'm sure I could make this into an interesting parable about politics or something but I'm too lazy.  DIY, damnit.

Or Kill Me / Wankassery
« on: October 26, 2005, 07:41:37 pm »
Or, What the hell is wrong with being intelligent AND well-spoken?

Read this carefully:

Quote from: Roland Barthes
A text is not a line of words releasing a single "theological" meaning (the "message" of the Author-God), but a multidimensional space in which a variety of writings, none of them original, blend and clash.

Now, I know what Mr. Barthes is getting at...sort of...after several hours of learning about linguistics, semiotics, structuralism, and post-structuralism (deconstruction).  So I know that he has made a point--the question is, is there any point to the point?  

Postmodernism and deconstruction are said to be "tools" by which people analyze the world and the products of it.  Many things are kept in mind, such as the influence of perception on meaning, the plasticity of perception, cultural relativism, the media by which messages are conveyed, etc etc etc.  It's the bastard child of psychology and sociology, with a little semiotics thrown in.  

When reading about these sort of things, they seem interesting enough.  

But try actually reading a postmodernist "scholarly" text.  

I dare you.

All of these interesting little bits and pieces don't actually add up to anything.  They have little to do with actual postmodern practices.  You want to know why?  Huh?

To put it simply, postmodern intelligentsia is infected with jargon.

Now, jargon is perhaps a cause, and perhaps a symptom.  Either way, nobody says anything worth reading.  Art, literature, philosophy, and all the parasitical* practices that surround them, have descended into pure gibberish.  Is it a defensive measure?  Has It All Been Done?  Is it a bizarre and sadistic form of competition to see who can be the most incestuously baroque?  I don't know.  All I know is people can get away with things like this:

Quote from: Arundhati Roy
As Khubchand lay dying on his cushion, Estha could see the bedroom window reflected in his smooth, purple balls. And the sky beyond. And once a bird that flew across. To Estha—steeped in the smell of old roses, blooded on memories of a broken man—the fact that something so fragile, so unbearably tender had survived, had been allowed to exist, was a miracle. A bird in flight reflected in an old dog’s balls. It made him smile out loud.

The sculpted hollows on either side of his taut, beautiful buns. Tight plums. Men’s bums never grow up.**

Shiny purple dog balls.  And this is one of the seminal texts of postmodern literature.  I know for a fact that she edited three pages of the entire thing.  Three pages.  A pile of stream-of-consciousness purple-dog-ball-tight-plum-bum SHIT.


When it takes a hundred times as much explaining to understand something as it takes to look at it, it's time to go home and take a fucking nap and a common-sense suppository.

*Meaning dependent on, not but not inimical to
**Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

Bring and Brag / Flying radish
« on: October 22, 2005, 08:05:47 pm »
Well, I saw a picture that was a picture of a bird but it looked like a flying radish.  So I drew a flying radish in Paint.  Rah!

Edit:  argh damn Photobucket shrinking my stuff down...mumble

Or Kill Me / Feminist critique
« on: October 13, 2005, 05:37:27 pm »
or, why having a vagina isn't really all that bad.

Quote from: Linda Nochlin
Art is not a free autonomous activity of a super-endowed individual, "influenced" by previous artists and more vaguely and superficially by "social forces" but rather occurs in a social situation, is an integral element of social structure, and is mediated and determined by specific and definable social institutions.

The main problem with feminism is that it doesn't acknowledge that everyone is equally fucked, especially in this day and age.  Call modern society the Machine, or Fat City, or the Establishment, whatever, it's an equal-opportunity crusher, and dwelling on one specific aspect of one's disadvantage merely generates unhappiness.

In my important opinion, the largest issue within feminism today isn't whether women are being properly "represented", or whether women are being "offended" by painting the locker rooms pink, or whether saying "woman" is bad and "womyn" is good.  The most important issue is the persistant proliferation of sexual violence against women, or rather the events and issues that surround a woman protesting sexual violence done to her.  

But that's not the main thrust of this rant.  I am concerned here and now with the oh-so-important discussion of feminist art criticism.  

Firstly, there is the issue of art vs. craft.  Apparently, because "high art" has mainly been the purview of men, and "handicrafts" has been the domain of women, there is conscious, intentional oppression of women within the realm of art.  But let's think about this for a moment.

All cultures divide tasks by gender.  It's just the way it is.   In its most basic form, hunter-gatherer societies, the men go hunt and the women gather.  This sets up a pattern:  the men do things that require a great deal of concentration, that should not be interrupted, often away from the home and often needing a great deal of effort.  Consider traditional men's occupations:  farming, herding, hunting, woodworking, metalworking, etc.  Women, on the other hand, stayed home and took care of everything else.  Shocking, I know, but that's how it happened.  They had to do a great variety of labor-intensive but necessary tasks, such as cooking, cleaning, tending to children and animals, and managing the family's finances.  So the women have crafts that are utilitarian--because who has time for purely frivolous pursuits--and can be interrupted or done while multitasking.  Quilt-making is the prime example:  quilts, while still quite decorative, are still functional and even essential.  Quilts can be done collaboratively, and often serve significant social functions.

So what's the pattern here?  Women didn't do "high art" because they bloody well didn't have time.  Art is basically frivolous, it's messy, it requires one's full attention, and needs a high amount of specific knowledge, practice, and skill.  In essence, it's a manly thing to do.  For a woman to succeed at art, she basically had to be independantly wealthy, an uncommon thing for most of history.
Only in the 20th century have we seen an upsurge in women participating in art, basically because of a breakdown in traditional gender roles and the acknowledgement that women have the right* to do whatever they want.  But the major sticking point for feminists is that women artists are still operating within a man's world.  I say so?  Women CEOs are operating within a man's world too, and I haven't seen anyone question the entire institution of corporate patriarchy.  Yes, there have been accusations of discrimination, as with everywhere else, but no one seems to question that women basically have to act like men to succeed in the corporate world.  That is the basic feminist objection to the art "Establishment".

The second major theme within feminism is that men and women experience and perceive reality differently.  This is apparently tremendously exciting and ground-shaking, but any pop psychologist could have told me that and I still would go on my merry way.  The problem with focusing on this particular difference is that other differences fall by the wayside.  Everyone experiences reality differently, because everyone is different.  Sure, gender is the most basic difference between human beings, but it isn't the only thing.  Personality, that driving force behind the creation of art, is affected by any number of variables, from sexuality to income to parentage to brain chemistry to religious upbringing ad infinitum.  Stating that men and women artists do things differently is like saying that Caravaggio and Michelangelo have different styles--if that’s the only thing you say, there’s no real point in saying it.

Unfortunately, the issue of gender is still chaotic and sticky.  Since the dissolving of traditional gender roles, the difference between men and women suddenly become that much harder to deal with, since there are no longer structured methods of interaction.  In some ways, this is good, but in a society that is attempting to homogenize everyone into a doughy middle-class, difference of any sort is as painfully obvious as a pimple on the end of everyone's nose.  Suddenly, being different and alluding to difference becomes a tricky, delicate subject, or in the case of art, something that can be relished and exploited.

Sadly, contemporary art is still suffering from avant-garde extremism.  Instead of just making art, it must be right on the bleeding edge of whatever ideology you buy into.  Really, really unfortunately feminists tend to take "bleeding edge" literally and you have women playing with their own menstrual fluids.

I'm not saying that feminism is entirely bad.  It's made huge strides over the last hundred years.  Feminism is why I can sit here now saying whatever I want about random shit.  But it is an ideology that is not particularly suited for application everywhere, and frankly needs an update.  The only time I have really been oppressed, ironically, is when feminists have told me that I am.  It needs to stop talking in terms of "us and them" and get into a more progressive, proactive, and practical framework.

Thank you for your time.  This work was inspire by The Feminist Critique of Art History by Thalia Gouma-Peterson and Patricia Mathews.  I recommend not reading it.

*This should be distinguished from "can".  Legally, women can do whatever they want, but they still must operate within societal restrictions.

Or Kill Me / A final piece of advice to noobs:
« on: September 21, 2005, 03:52:33 am »
If you're going to bullshit for bullshit's sake, at least have the decency to make your own.  Stop analyzing, quoting, arguing with, and making clever references to any of the so-called "seminal Discordian(tm) texts".  

Sure, they're a Real Head Trip, but clever wears itself out real, real fast, and it's getting on 30-40 years since this crap has been floating around.  That's longer than you've been alive, I wager.  RAW and Mal-2 were stoned when they wrote that shit anyway.  I bet they're embarassed by people like you who take them seriously.  If you keep this up they'll be the new L. Ron Hubbard, and Discordianism(tm) will be the new Scientology.  Do you really want that?  Do you?  Huh?!  

Being a Real Discordian(tm) involves having a finely tuned sense of irony.  We've all been through it.  Is it a joke?  Is a religion?  Is it a religion disguised as a joke disguised as a religion disguised as a philosophy disguised as a joke?  If it's a joke, am I supposed to laugh?  How come nobody else is laughing?  Oh god, They're watching me again!


Anyway, Discordianism(tm) is kind of like Ramen noodles.  There's lots of kinds, but it takes a special sort of appetite for them to be worth eating, especially considering the net negative nutritional gain. Is it worth the effort, or should you just order a college special from Jeebus Pizza?  Or maybe just be a regular ol' atheist.  I hear they've unionised.  Maybe you should try it.

So, you're still here.  I never have the patience to read the long posts.  Hell, I've never read all of the Principia Discordia(tm).  Even if I did, I wouldn't remember it.  I can quote, "Munching on the tasty grass, the sacred chao goes 'mu'" but it took a lot of effort and I'm so not into that.  But I'm also not into bullshitting for bullshit's sake.  I'm just easily amused.  That's why I'm here.  Sometimes that's why I'm not here.  

So shut up, take a look around with your eyes open this time, and "make your own trip" or whatever it is they used to say.

Or Kill Me / Get Old Skool
« on: September 07, 2005, 06:31:26 am »
Quote from: Hesiod
And she, destructive Night, bore Nemesis,
who gives much pain
to mortals; and afterward cheating Deception
and loving Affection
and then malignant Old Age
and overbearing Discord.
Hateful Discord in turn
bore painful Hardship,
and Forgetfulness, and Starvation,
and the Pains, full of weeping,
the Battles and the Quarrels, the Murders
and the Manslaughters,
the Grievances, the lying Stories,
the Disputations,
and Lawlessness and Ruin, who share
one another's nature,
and Oath, who does more damage than any other
to earthly
men, when anyone, of his knowledge,
swears to a false oath.

Scholarship, motherfuckers!  In case you didn't know, the first of all the gods was Chaos, but Chaos wasn't Chaos, Chaos was a yawning pit of nothingness in Gaia, i.e. her vagina.  So the first of the first was Gaia, She just didn't know it yet.  Eris is just a young upstart, but like Gaia she produced countless young without any help, and unlike Gaia no hindrance.  Upstart she may be, but she's still older than that randy bastard Zeus.  

Eris doesn't need any help, nor does she need any virgins.  She is not vengeful, nor does she visit her ills upon mankind for any particular reason.  It's just the way she is.  She's just a bitch...and then you die.

Or Kill Me / Yet another flounce thread
« on: August 05, 2005, 02:00:59 am »
Yep, I'm leaving.  Boredom kept me here for a while, but even I have limits as to how much pointless bickering I can stand.  When CHEF the Whiniest Bitch of All shows up, it's time for me to leave.  

Hopefully when I come back in a couple months ya'll will have put your dicks back in your pants.  Or flounced.  I, meanwhile, will be that much happier without participating in whatever "jihad" you think you're doing.  Go on, fight a "war" on TEH INTARNET.  See how much better and happier it makes you!


Or Kill Me / Personal hate
« on: August 01, 2005, 10:06:16 am »
Love the ones you hate

is motherfucking TRITE.

Of course the things we hate in others are the things we hate most in ourselves.  SO?!  Nobody's perfect.  These things are fucking obnoxious and they should be hated.  The people we hate are the blatant reminders of what we really shouldn't be doing.  The outer struggle is the inner struggle.  There is absolutely no reason to love the ones we hate, except for total bullshit common theory triteness.  If we're not hating, we're lying down and taking it like a dead sheep.  

I'm not talking about prejudicial, blindly classifying hate; I'm talking about hot, insistant, personal hate, that causes rage to bubble up at the very thought of this offending piece of long pig.  And the question is, why, why, WHY?  

Perhaps this person is your complete antithesis.  Perhaps he or she represents everything you've ever hated about society in general.  Or perhaps they're just a total douchebag.  Either and any way, there should be a deadly solid reason for this needle-poking, TMJ-causing venom.  If not, find it.  

There is your struggle.  Society changes with the generations; fucked if you can change it here and now.  But you can tight-focus your outrage on this sheepfucker and once, just once, change something.  Tripping the bastard in the street can bring more satisfaction than all the political reform in the world.

"But," you say, "shouldn't you rise above this hate?  Isn't it just destructive?"  
In response, I drag in another rotting corpse of triteness:

Hate is the mirror image of love.

Are you certain you can love completely, if you cannot allow yourself to hate completely?  

I say:  give in.  You'll feel much better, afterwards.

I promise.

Or Kill Me / The warpath is paved with bad intentions.
« on: July 24, 2005, 10:23:21 am »
If I were male, I'd be a violent sociopath.  Instead, I'm a sadistic bitch with emotional problems.  Who isn't?  The question is, what are you looking at with those big eyes?  Either look away or take it up the ass and ask for more.  Yes, I'm talking to you.  If you're confused, so?  Use your brain for something besides skull-pie filling.  I'll swallow you, I'll crack your head open and yank your crawler out.  And you better watch your feet when you walk away.  If you're better than Jesus, the land-mine will miss.  So work up the confidence to step.  Fear is your magnet.  
Waking up one day to discover that everything you've ever been told is wrong is a natural part of growing up, so fucking do it already.  Or at least use those Christ-goggles.  They're there for a motherfucking reason, not so you can sit on your fat ass eating shit like it's mother's milk and crackers.  

How dare I say this?  Fuck, I've still got my legs and I'm standing on them.  Bend over, sonny.

Or Kill Me / To all the people who use really tiny text:
« on: July 23, 2005, 09:46:26 am »
I don't read it.

Thank you, have a nice day.

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