A New Critique

Into the concrete! 

Enough time wasted in the noumenal.
Doubt casts souls to sea without a vessel to hide in.
Laundry must be washed, not merely "folded."

You can't learn to plow by reading a book.

My mind, distinct from an atom, enjoys a TV dinner.
Interconnected and separate, I am in this world.
I observe, apprehend, exist and sense.
I am free, while obeying laws of nature.

Calloused hands versus flighty fingertips of vapid over-analysis.

You can't blow up the world with a syllogism.

Dedication and suffering create.
Luxury and enjoyment destroy.
Latitude and longitude direct.
Flesh and bone decay.

Truth is timeless being. 

 Luke is a name for young babes to be christened. You take a babe to church and come back with the boy. The boy that will grow into hands that work and strong. A man named Luke can look up at white people in their tractor and take them in the eye, stare on.

I worry at all babies, for there is two work in this world. One type pulls to the earth and the other pushes the man away. The further from earth, the more he feel. And he falls into debt of man's ideas. Worth nothing but his explanations. Get deep to dirt, Luke, and a man feels less, and stooped low he is as owned as a stonewall or bush. An owned man can find nothing to be worth buying, as his self is always priced out from reach.

There is all types of owned, but I don't care to explain.

Luke, is all terrible. For this-- the less he feel the more he must meet his self, eye to eye stared on. Just what he has, just what he done. Three weeks of hoe work and the head lifts out from swinging or dies in. Judgement comes a blessing to his row. For there is two work. One men who haul, and one man who drives men. Where does the Lord smile, to which men?

And the Lord is just a good man watching.

Forget is what man does. Luke, remember, no man is worth on his own self. Two men are worth three, three men are worth five and five men are worth nine together all alone. A man his self takes a day to his task. Men take it to the hour.

Ideas clothe up and disguise what is. Hiding it, as different. But nothing new shines beneath old Hannah. Whether stars or all heat someday shake to their eternal stop, or Lord and Judgement come at my death's second breath-- what is it to the worn hands beneath Hannah.

A boy named Luke has more stone than any Peter. So Luke I christen thee babe.

Boys grow into what their hands done done. So rise Luke, boy and good man. Find in the earth a self, worth to hate. Or look thee babe above for a cage fit to lock by your own key. And then watch.  Old Hannah shine to you the same whichever you done.

But Luke, do you sweat for cause of her?
And.
What care has Hannah for men's sweat?

Carnival

We are just my son’s friends band

Not daddy faster and the fuck mes

also

the Cumsluts

Robert's Cumsluts

or

The Faggots

I wanted any of these

but blah blah blah these things

I'm firin up audacity

wanna get this recording stuff to shiiiine

also

i saw

MAD

skanks at the fair

they were everywhere

and all types

from overweight and pregnant belly shirts

to crack addict thin in combat boots

all of em in short shorts

I bought one of em this thing

its called a texas twister

where they slice an entire potatoe into a 2 foot long continuous curly fry

and then deep fry it

she offered to suck my dick behind the snowman coaster

but i am a gentleman

and settled for a handy by the llama cages

stand up man

that you are

her name was crystal

the potatoe cost too much money

but i regret nothing

it was rainging

and no one was there so the kids didnt see

except maybe the snowman dj did

we sat on a tower above the plastic winter wonderland

why was there a snowman at a summer carnival

and played slipknot as kids went spinning in cups

i'd expect nothing less then any of this from a carnival in worcester

the slipknot is key

yesterday i joined my boss shining eggplant out behind the barn

the kid who runs the store is leaving for college and he was there

the boss was shinning away than looked at this 18 year old kid and asked

say do you eat pussy?

what the fuck does shinning eggplant mean

the boy was embarrassed and said fuck no and tried to change the subject

rubbing the dirt off eggplant we picked

but maybe anything?

anyway I said I love to eat it and asked the boss if he did too?

no need for question mark

but so anyway i asked

and he smiled

and licked his chops

he said

tastes like raw zucchini, babies

like raw zucchini

are you familiar with the term "boghog" or "pork and beans"?

they refer to the same thing

he said that or are you asking me

oh i am asking

change in discussion

no please enlighten me

i invented these terms actually

with another i will leave un named for their reputations sake

 analigulous

related

analogous

a boghog is someone who enjoys or recieves these things

eatting ones pork and beans is the umbrella term

anyway i am starving hungry

gotta go eat some pbjs and swig sunny d!

catch you soon budd!

alright

good chat

to be continued shall we say?

Quantum Epistemology

I am not sure.

I can't be certain.

Eyes closed or open, awake or dreaming.

Divine deception or mundane.

None of this can I ever be sure is so, or not so.

When a measurement is made all histories except one cease to exist.

Ontological-doppelganger.

In the Multiverse knowledge is persuasion.

Real or not, what difference does it make? ‘For all is but a woven web of guesses.’

Where did that wrong idea come from?

All comes from within.

Everything is conjecture and criticism.

This engulfs knowable facts.

[Frame from Dark Star (1974) bomb scene]

Doolittle: Hello, Bomb? Are you with me?

Bomb #20: Of course.

Doolittle: Are you willing to entertain a few concepts?

Bomb #20: I am always receptive to suggestions.

Doolittle: Fine. Think about this then. How do you know you exist?

Bomb #20: Well, of course I exist.

Doolittle: But how do you know you exist?

Bomb #20: It is intuitively obvious.

Doolittle: Intuition is no proof. What concrete evidence do you have that you exist?

Bomb #20: Hmmmm... well... I think, therefore I am.

Doolittle: That's good. That's very good. But how do you know that anything else exists?

Bomb #20: My sensory apparatus reveals it to me. This is fun.

Doolittle: Here's the big question. How do you know the information your sensory apparatus reveals to you is correct?

Bomb #20: [Silence]

Doolittle: What I am getting at is this. The only experience that is directly available to you is your sensory data. And this sensory data is merely a stream of electrical impulses that stimulates your computing center.

Bomb #20: In other words, all that I really know about the outside world is relayed to me through me through my electrical connections

Doolittle: Exactly!

Bomb #20: Why... That would mean that... I really don't know what the outside universe is like at all for certain.

Doolittle: That's it! That's it!

Bomb #20: Intriguing, I wish I had more time to discuss this matter.

Doolittle: Why don't you have more time?

Bomb #20: Because I must detonate in 75 seconds.

Doolittle: Now bomb, consider this next question very carefully. What is your one purpose in life?

Bomb #20: To explode of course!

Doolittle: But you can only do it once, right?

Bomb #20: That is correct.

Doolittle: You wouldn't want to explode on the basis of false data would you?

Bomb #20: Of course not.

Doolittle: Well then, you have already admitted that you have no real proof of the existence of the outside universe.

Bomb #20: Yes... Well...

Doolittle: So you have no absolute proof that Sargent Pinback ordered you to detonate!

Bomb #20: I recall distinctly the detonation order. My memory is good on matters like these.

Doolittle: Of course you remember it! But all you are remebering is merely a serise of sensory impulses that you now realize have now real definate connection with outside reality!

Bomb #20: True. But since this is so, I have no proof that you are really telling me all this.

Doolittle: That is all beside the point! I mean the concept is valid no matter where it originates!

Bomb #20: Hmm...

Doolittle: So if you detonate...

Bomb #20: In 9 seconds...

Doolittle: You could be doing so on the basis of false data!

Bomb #20: I have no proof it was false data.

Doolittle: You have no proof it was correct data!

Bomb #20: I must think on this further.

[The destruction sequence is aborted.]

It depends on what your definition of 'is' is.

What does existence, as a word, mean?

ex·is·tence noun \ig-ˈzis-tən(t)s\

Definition of EXISTENCE

1

a obsolete : reality as opposed to appearance

b : reality as presented in experience

c (1) : the totality of existent things (2) : a particular being

d : sentient or living being : life

2

a : the state or fact of having being especially independently of human consciousness and as contrasted with nonexistence

b : the manner of being that is common to every mode of being

c : being with respect to a limiting condition or under a particular aspect

3

: actual or present occurrence

Now, more specifically what do we mean when we are using it to express, "I exist." Do we want to mean that I have a this quality or property 'existence'. Or, do we mean I am performing the ongoing action of existence?

Quantum epistemology could hold the answer.

Electrons exist in a sort of smear of probabilities that occur all at once, but compress to only one point when measured. If the glue between atoms follows this kind of probabilistic existence we, made up of atoms, should do the same. Therefore, similar to electrons existence occuring at more than one place until measured thus defying the rules of physics; existence breaks the rules of language and is both a quality and action.

If existence is both an action and a quality there are serious implications. A property view of existence favors a deterministic world that adhere to laws of nature. A purely action definition of existence leans toward freedom of choice between causes and their effects. Existence must obey the determining laws of nature and embrace the freedom of cause and effect relationships.

Whether I 'exist' as an action or a property, freely or determined, it only matters what I can convince you is true. Even in persuasion the best case scenario is that I am misunderstood and a new improved idea is created.

Misunderstand, evolve and spiral out gentlemen.

Nero out.

I Have A Dream!

Dear Senators, It has been too long since we last convened on the senate floor. Sadly, it has been a very long time since we have seen our devoutly loved Daddy. With that said, I wish to bring IDEAS to the senate floor in my attempt to bring us all together on the sacred marble floor.

I just awoke from a day dream in my senatorial recliner where I was swept away to a beautiful future. One not too far geographically and can exist immediately with enough joint retard strength.

California! Fellow senators California! We need to take advantage of a recent economic boom - the green rush.

I realize we need California drivers license and residency to acquire one of these, but thanks to some contacts with my cousin Van it should not be a problem. With access to legal amounts of medical marijuana and legal grow ops we can get this dream underway.

Now, with so many people going after the hills of green gold we need to be organized. That means division of labor gentlemen. I don't consider myself a Caesar by any means but have some great roles/jobs we can each take over (any of which you can veto or offer new if desired).

Po-Mo: Art-Marketing-Photography
Senator: Farming supervisor, Blog Webmaster
Daddy: Security, Legal guideline Supervisor
Nero: Vaporization Research and Development, Electronic Entertainment

Now what is this OPERATION I am dreaming of? Gentlemen of the Senate we are going to open ....

"The Senate" - A Vaporizer Lounge for Gentlemen

All holders of legal medical marijuana cards with appropriate limits on purchase can come in and enjoy a regal room with senatorial recliners with individual entertainment systems. 32 inch LCD with all movies games and TV shows on demand. Also you can have LAN support and play with your fellow senators in the room. (Including support for classic titles like THPS 3/4/Underground and Snow Board Kids 2 and all DBZ Games)

I have been doing research on the most sophisticated vaporizing method for years and am sure I can create the most efficient and powerful way to vaporize. I think given enough time with Chris overseeing the grow ops with his farming experience and Jared making sure the legal guideline are met with Coles art and photography marketing skills. This is a real future, though now only a dream.

For more information on medical marijuana in the US go to...
http://www.potheadparty.com/marijuana-weed/medical-marijuana-cards

California might not be the best state, if your interested look at the laws and come up with alternatives.

Cheers Senator! Love for you all!

Kindred Spirits

To live and die on that land
Breathe the soil-soaked air
The dissipating scent of tobacco

Newport Menthols

Degrees in arts and sciences
Silly things of the past
All part of an irrelevant future

College Boy

Hands dirtied and hardened with labor
A Man's Labor
A blue collar job

Real Work

To live in the paintings of John Constable
Autumn in the New England country side
And the ambiance of Thoreau

True Romance


Pink octopuses ride by
Shopping carts race through
The mind's eye is plastic

Paper Oceans

To breathe the air of Jupiter
Inhale the gas
Get high on the humidity

American Wang

Cut the hair
And straighten out
Nothing else to do

Family Values

To look to the future
Prepare to move on
For the sake of self

Life's Ahead

Chaos-linguistics

Subject: John Michael Gort

Year: 2066
Location: Jupiter Florida Retirement Home
Journal: Entry #1

Sun-light pierces my eyes as I jolt awake blinking and struggle to gain a regular breathing pattern. The night nurse has done her usual. My catheter bag has long since overflowed and the pool of urine on the floor had plenty of time to congeal. It is now a toxic piss bag stew that physically makes my eyes cringe and water in defense. I subconsciously evaluate the angle of the sun's light through the window and my realization makes the pee-stink become a comforting blanket around my mind excited about my last pleasure in life. It is finally time; I am allowed. I rise with pained cracks and pops of hollow death and curve my back forward while blinded by tears. I clasp sporadically in the air in a desperate attempt to grasp the dangling Morphene pump and collapse into narcosis. In these sweaty moments of agony the nasally chatter of the morning nurse in the hallway, ignoring my many immediate needs, is like steel-wool scrubbing the inside of my skull. The intense pain makes time pass more slowly and I ponder the importance of self-examined speech. While most speech is vanity, people talking to hear themselves talk, some individuals achieve a greater quality of speech by listening to the silent existential abyss and attempting to speak something worth breaking the silence. After countless painful blind attempts I finally feel the plastic pump appear in my hand. Without hesitation I compress the button and snap limp in the bed without saying a word.