The Barstool Experiment

[Cain]

You know she's not a real doctor, right? She's just some bint who gets off on examining poop and vegetables.

[P3nT4gR4m]

yeah so the guys on the radio said. She creeps me out. "you can be as healthy as me if you just stare at your own poop for long enough, Woman look like she died of crones disease 30 years ago.

[theCalmpsychopath]

You know she's not a real doctor, right? She's just some bint who gets off on examining poop and vegetables.

that sounds like a fun job

[Lies]

I had to teach 8 year olds about matter today.
They wanted to know if god made matter, and if god was matter.
I asked them if god took up space and had mass.
They were not satisified.
So I said..the word god is matter.
Still, no digs.
When you were eight,what would satifisfy you?

Heh, personally, if I were dealing with 8 year olds, if they asked me if god made matter, I'd tell them the goddess made UP matter, and to answer is Goddess was matter, I'd reply with "Mu". Upon which I don't think they'd be very enlightened at all, unless you taught them chinese. But hey, Kids dig Moo'ing and maybe they'll all start to say moo enough themselves they wouldn't care what gods got to do with anything.
Also, I know it's not good for job prospects, but I'd like to let the kids know everything their parents/clergyman/government told them about god is a lie, and they shouldn't worry about trying to worry about what the world *is* and just go outside and play. We don't need no education, life should be about perpetual play. Intelligence builds Atom bombs. Wisdom lets us realise theres no need to use them, and its much better to just play in the sunshine instead.

[P3nT4gR4m]

I had to teach 8 year olds about matter today.
They wanted to know if god made matter, and if god was matter.
I asked them if god took up space and had mass.
They were not satisified.
So I said..the word god is matter.
Still, no digs.
When you were eight,what would satifisfy you?

Heh, personally, if I were dealing with 8 year olds, if they asked me if god made matter, I'd tell them the goddess made UP matter, and to answer is Goddess was matter, I'd reply with "Mu". Upon which I don't think they'd be very enlightened at all, unless you taught them chinese. But hey, Kids dig Moo'ing and maybe they'll all start to say moo enough themselves they wouldn't care what gods got to do with anything.
Also, I know it's not good for job prospects, but I'd like to let the kids know everything their parents/clergyman/government told them about god is a lie, and they shouldn't worry about trying to worry about what the world *is* and just go outside and play. We don't need no education, life should be about perpetual play. Intelligence builds Atom bombs. Wisdom lets us realise theres no need to use them, and its much better to just play in the sunshine instead.

Right on man
       \

[Your Audience]

An eight year old girl walks into a dirty bar. It's mid afternoon and there are only a few drunks and dealers hanging around. The barman is in the corner molesting a fruit machine for all his money's worth; he didn't see the little girl come in. She approaches the bar slowly and climbs up onto a barstool. One of the older farts glares at her, his eyes damp and bloodshot, heavy in the smokey sunlight. She looks back at him, brow furrowed, a serious look on her face. Her dark brown eyes are unblinking in the tobacco smoke.

The barman suddenly shouts "Fucking useless!", and slaps the glowing bandit with a sweaty palm. He turns back to the bar, stops in his tracks as he sees the little girl, then strides towards her, voice raised.

"You're not supposed to be in here . . ."
"But it's the afternoon," she replies - "Kids are allowed in in the afternoon."
Taken aback, the barman nervously takes a cloth from his pocket and points it at her, "You . . . out . . . now."

"But I'm allowed . . ." she says, "I'm allowed to be here."
Feeling threatened, the barman starts to sweat. He's never got on with children, and this one's rebelious. Deep down, he knows he's out of his depth, and that scares him. "Now . . . who told you that? . . . You're going to have to leave."

Her unexpected presence in his everyday world wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to be here. This was wrong. He was going to have to throw her out, but he was afraid of touching her. He half steps towards her, arms reaching forward, but he's uncertain and hesitates. She pulls away from him, gripping the barstool tight with both hands.

"Fuck sakes, lad!" says the old scowler from the corner, "Leave her be." The barman and the little girl both look at the old boy hunched behind his table. Slowly, he stands, wobbles, and then calmly shuffles over to stand beside the little girl.

"Here . . . ", he puts a coin on the bar, "Get her a lemonade or something will you." The barman, relieved someone else has taken charge, scuttles off behind the bar to pour the drink. The little girl looks at the old man. She's close enough to smell the stale beer on his breath and see the stains on his fingers. "Thanks" she says. "Your welcome" he says, half coughing. He strokes her cheek kindly and she smiles. Slowly, the old man staggers back to his seat, and the barman serves the lemonade in a tall glass with a straw. The little girl spends the rest of the afternoon sitting happily on the barstool, sipping her pop.

[saint aini]

An eight year old girl walks into a dirty bar. It's mid afternoon and there are only a few drunks and dealers hanging around. The barman is in the corner molesting a fruit machine for all his money's worth; he didn't see the little girl come in. She approaches the bar slowly and climbs up onto a barstool. One of the older farts glares at her, his eyes damp and bloodshot, heavy in the smokey sunlight. She looks back at him, brow furrowed, a serious look on her face. Her dark brown eyes are unblinking in the tobacco smoke.

The barman suddenly shouts "Fucking useless!", and slaps the glowing bandit with a sweaty palm. He turns back to the bar, stops in his tracks as he sees the little girl, then strides towards her, voice raised.

"You're not supposed to be in here . . ."
"But it's the afternoon," she replies - "Kids are allowed in in the afternoon."
Taken aback, the barman nervously takes a cloth from his pocket and points it at her, "You . . . out . . . now."

"But I'm allowed . . ." she says, "I'm allowed to be here."
Feeling threatened, the barman starts to sweat. He's never got on with children, and this one's rebelious. Deep down, he knows he's out of his depth, and that scares him. "Now . . . who told you that? . . . You're going to have to leave."

Her unexpected presence in his everyday world wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to be here. This was wrong. He was going to have to throw her out, but he was afraid of touching her. He half steps towards her, arms reaching forward, but he's uncertain and hesitates. She pulls away from him, gripping the barstool tight with both hands.

"Fuck sakes, lad!" says the old scowler from the corner, "Leave her be." The barman and the little girl both look at the old boy hunched behind his table. Slowly, he stands, wobbles, and then calmly shuffles over to stand beside the little girl.

"Here . . . ", he puts a coin on the bar, "Get her a lemonade or something will you." The barman, relieved someone else has taken charge, scuttles off behind the bar to pour the drink. The little girl looks at the old man. She's close enough to smell the stale beer on his breath and see the stains on his fingers. "Thanks" she says. "Your welcome" he says, half coughing. He strokes her cheek kindly and she smiles. Slowly, the old man staggers back to his seat, and the barman serves the lemonade in a tall glass with a straw. The little girl spends the rest of the afternoon sitting happily on the barstool, sipping her pop.

good story...
lacks prerequisite violence.

[theCalmpsychopath]

i liked it, but i was expecting more death and raping

[Triple Zero]

needs more tentacles.

(seriously, i will read it tomorrow)

[LMNO]

Please explain why you think this is in any way relevant to the topic at hand.

[Triple Zero]

ok, i read it.

still needs more tentacles.

also, it's a nice story. well written and such. but, except that it takes place in a bar, it doesn't really have much to do with the metaphysical parable discussed in this thread, also known as "the barstool experiment".
i suppose you're trying to go from the angle that the barman's paradigm is suddenly shaken up by the appearance of a little girl in a grubby bar. especially the final bit, that she keeps sitting there all afternoon, being out-of-place sitting there. just it's more of a description of the status quo of a cabbage barkeeper "The barman, relieved someone else has taken charge", and he doesn't even walk out with some sort of lesson or revelation or whatever.

so yes, what LMNO said, please explain what this has to do with the barstool-experiment or discordianism.

also, you're the alt right? so you should probably already know random writing and short stories have their own place in the "Literate Chaotic" or "Bring and Brag" subfora, and you even get to create a shiny new thread for them!

[Your Audience]

I'm sorry, I thought this was just an intelectual game. Did I brake the rules? I was simply developing the story, that is the purpose of this thread isnt it?

I'm simply using the same themes but in a diferent way. That is, who's version of reality holds sway in any given relationship. The violence is strongly implied I think.

I would hope that you didn't really think this was a discusion on Zen techniques?

[LMNO]

Now you're just trying to fuck with us.

[Triple Zero]

the barstool-experiment parable is sort of like floaty pink cloudy hippie detergent

BUT

it hits the priest and scientist alike.

and if you don't get that, just trust us that random stories should go into those other subfora. the barstool-experiment parable is a littlebit more specific than what you just said.

[Your Audience]

Yes, I think you're right. The version this thread started with is a lot more specific with regards to the metaphysical dead-end it highlights.

I think what I was trying to do was take it out of the realms of intellectual masturbation and try and relate it to something a bit more personal. I don't claim to have succeeded, but I think it was worth a go.

By the way, I thought fucking with each other was the whole point?