simply put,
i am allergic to a world without you in it
much like the difficulty i have imagining
religious men without indoctrination
or
foreign men without suspicion
or
homeless men without blame
i cannot comprehend my life without you
and i realize there are medicines for allergies
convincing in their own right
ampoules of 'plenty of fish in the sea'
tablets of ' casual infidelity'
injections of 'this too shall pass'
but nothing will be able to subdue
the allergen known as
'the absence of you'
and frankly, i don't care to discover such a 'cure'
though i don't doubt it exists
simply put, i miss you
much like ministers miss their savior
or
slaves miss their perfect liberty
or
beggars miss their pride
i cannot seem to grasp a galaxy in which you and i are not the center,
hovering in silent space
as the world spins around us
life can be just as pretty
while you're gone,
blooming with the sound of nature's song
brilliant colors
&
entrancing scents
&
all the 'Ob La Di Ob La Das'
to last eternity
but you see
simply put
those blossoms of beauty are meaningless
when i can
hardly see
barely breathe
&
always have to sneeze
i am allergic to a world without you in it
Ah-choo[se] you!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
i tawt i taw a putty tat
Depression is a tricky beast to tame. You do your best to avoid its gaping mouth, lined with jagged teeth and a hungry tongue, but the moment you turn your back, it pounces; toying with you, tossing you effortlessly like a rag doll, and leaving you for dead.
It doesn’t even finish the job. It leaves that to you.
The animal that is despair is even fiercer in the wild. Once we learn to leave our caged lives behind, we face an even greater adversary, the free mind. Where bars and ceilings at least provided security, the open sky and endless jungle bring our deepest fears to fruition, exposing our hearts, liberating us from captivity but leading us into the unforgiving wilderness.
Lately, I have been running from this clever predator, searching for a higher tree to climb, a darker pit to hide, a rushing river to take me away; the fear of being devoured forcing me to consider swimming with the currents of status quo [as opposed to counter flow] – anything to bring me to safety.
Even my dreams have been invaded by this savage hunter, as I awake each morning with the sick feeling of hopelessness, wanting nothing more but to stay in bed as opposed to facing yet another wasted day, performing the same simian routine as the day, the month, the year prior.
I am tired, sick to my stomach of this moderate stance and I long to join the dance.
Where is my fire?
Where is my flame?
Where is the will to not only tame this malevolent monster, but to seize its mocking mane and mount its trophy head in my hall of memories?
It doesn’t even finish the job. It leaves that to you.
The animal that is despair is even fiercer in the wild. Once we learn to leave our caged lives behind, we face an even greater adversary, the free mind. Where bars and ceilings at least provided security, the open sky and endless jungle bring our deepest fears to fruition, exposing our hearts, liberating us from captivity but leading us into the unforgiving wilderness.
Lately, I have been running from this clever predator, searching for a higher tree to climb, a darker pit to hide, a rushing river to take me away; the fear of being devoured forcing me to consider swimming with the currents of status quo [as opposed to counter flow] – anything to bring me to safety.
Even my dreams have been invaded by this savage hunter, as I awake each morning with the sick feeling of hopelessness, wanting nothing more but to stay in bed as opposed to facing yet another wasted day, performing the same simian routine as the day, the month, the year prior.
I am tired, sick to my stomach of this moderate stance and I long to join the dance.
Where is my fire?
Where is my flame?
Where is the will to not only tame this malevolent monster, but to seize its mocking mane and mount its trophy head in my hall of memories?
Friday, March 14, 2008
Something Foul in Denmark...again.
A sibling pair in Germany are attempting to redefine relationships by making sweet schnitzel love, though their country forbids sexual relations between close family members.
The link can be found here:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/femail/article.html?in_article_id=439288&in_page_id=1879
You are probably thinking the same thing as me: Effing awesome!
It's like the ending to Star Wars that we all wanted but didn't really want, but kinda secretly did want: Luke and Leia 'hook up' and produce babies that look like Ewoks, except dumber and with five eyes and epilepsy.
Actually, the very idea renders me physically ill. And yet, I have to stop for a moment and think about 'why' I feel the way I do:
Two people love each other.
They have even procreated together.
They just happen to be brother and sister.
Well, ok, they don't just 'happen to be', they are, and they love getting it on, as apparent by their four children.
Recalling what I learned in med school, with forty-six chromosomes in the average human [and forty-six pinic baskets in the average bear], twenty-three from the father and twenty-three from the mother, if one parent carries a 'bad gene' and the same gene in the other parent is 'good', the child produced from their union will have a 'backup' or reserve copy of a 'good gene'.
Incest increases the chances of offspring acquiring the 'bad gene'. If both parents have a copy of this 'bad gene', the child won't have a copy of a 'good gene' to work with. Science shows that higher, or more evolved, life forms are more vulnerable to deathly genetic amalgamations, and many scientists believe that nature has simply cleared out incestuous behavior over time.
Perhaps this couple doesn't realize the consequences of maintaining a 'pure blood' line.
Perhaps they have not been reading medical journals or scientific publications written in the past century.
It's possible they know something we don't.
The science behind their love is practically irrefutable however.
It's not healthy or natural for humans to have incestuous relationships.
But there is something more to love than science.
History is burdened with stories of 'kin on kin' action. From religious texts to romance novels, incest has been a part of our existence since the first one-celled organisms decided to pull a train on their own caboose. Even America's predominant choice of deity was involved in an incestuous relationship with himself; Jesus being the son of his bachelor Father God, and yet you don't see us storming his heavenly door with pitchforks and torches.
Why? Because asexual reproduction carries no penalty in divine inbreeding. Come to think of it, it carries no consequences amongst lower life forms, like Bacteria, either.
Coincidence? I think not.
Hell, according to the Bible, mankind owes its very being to the act of incest, with all humans stemming from just two horny Jews with a fancy for forbidden fruit [and I do mean the kinky kind]
So, with the medical aspects pushed aside...why do we look down on these two Arian youth playing WW3 with their seed? While incest is deemed taboo in most cultures around the world, why do we deem this love to be false?
I'll tell you why: Because it's nasty.
Dear German siblings with insatiable appetites for each other's rollmops... You Nasty. You nasty, you nasty you nasty.
[I was really thinking I would come full circle on this one and prove incestuous love to be acceptable by providing examples in our last decade alone of relationships that were deemed 'socially wrong', like homosexuality and anyone who sleeps with Brittany Spears....buuuuutttt.....I'm done.]
[I'm sure my girlfriend is relieved]
FIN
The link can be found here:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/femail/article.html?in_article_id=439288&in_page_id=1879
You are probably thinking the same thing as me: Effing awesome!
It's like the ending to Star Wars that we all wanted but didn't really want, but kinda secretly did want: Luke and Leia 'hook up' and produce babies that look like Ewoks, except dumber and with five eyes and epilepsy.
Actually, the very idea renders me physically ill. And yet, I have to stop for a moment and think about 'why' I feel the way I do:
Two people love each other.
They have even procreated together.
They just happen to be brother and sister.
Well, ok, they don't just 'happen to be', they are, and they love getting it on, as apparent by their four children.
Recalling what I learned in med school, with forty-six chromosomes in the average human [and forty-six pinic baskets in the average bear], twenty-three from the father and twenty-three from the mother, if one parent carries a 'bad gene' and the same gene in the other parent is 'good', the child produced from their union will have a 'backup' or reserve copy of a 'good gene'.
Incest increases the chances of offspring acquiring the 'bad gene'. If both parents have a copy of this 'bad gene', the child won't have a copy of a 'good gene' to work with. Science shows that higher, or more evolved, life forms are more vulnerable to deathly genetic amalgamations, and many scientists believe that nature has simply cleared out incestuous behavior over time.
Perhaps this couple doesn't realize the consequences of maintaining a 'pure blood' line.
Perhaps they have not been reading medical journals or scientific publications written in the past century.
It's possible they know something we don't.
The science behind their love is practically irrefutable however.
It's not healthy or natural for humans to have incestuous relationships.
But there is something more to love than science.
History is burdened with stories of 'kin on kin' action. From religious texts to romance novels, incest has been a part of our existence since the first one-celled organisms decided to pull a train on their own caboose. Even America's predominant choice of deity was involved in an incestuous relationship with himself; Jesus being the son of his bachelor Father God, and yet you don't see us storming his heavenly door with pitchforks and torches.
Why? Because asexual reproduction carries no penalty in divine inbreeding. Come to think of it, it carries no consequences amongst lower life forms, like Bacteria, either.
Coincidence? I think not.
Hell, according to the Bible, mankind owes its very being to the act of incest, with all humans stemming from just two horny Jews with a fancy for forbidden fruit [and I do mean the kinky kind]
So, with the medical aspects pushed aside...why do we look down on these two Arian youth playing WW3 with their seed? While incest is deemed taboo in most cultures around the world, why do we deem this love to be false?
I'll tell you why: Because it's nasty.
Dear German siblings with insatiable appetites for each other's rollmops... You Nasty. You nasty, you nasty you nasty.
[I was really thinking I would come full circle on this one and prove incestuous love to be acceptable by providing examples in our last decade alone of relationships that were deemed 'socially wrong', like homosexuality and anyone who sleeps with Brittany Spears....buuuuutttt.....I'm done.]
[I'm sure my girlfriend is relieved]
FIN
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Rowing my boat fiercely up the stream
I am old (er).
It's hard to believe, to be honest with you. I fell right into that category of people who thought it would never happen to them. You always think that you are an exception growing up. It turns out, those who knew they weren't, were.
What made the rest of us think that we were never going to grow up?
Was it some universal consciousness that flowed through all of us with false hope and vain imaginations?
Was it our Mother's and Father's incredible lack of parenting skills that failed to clarify that Peter Pan was just a little bisexual boy in tights from a land that doesn't exist, and that normal people DO age?
Was it Toys R Us?
Here I am, at twenty-five years, making a living by sitting in front of a harsh, glowing screen, pushing buttons in a specific order like a trained chimpanzee, melting numerical figures into tangible contract language and thinking of ways I can turn that language into money for a company that already gives loans to God, so that at the end of the day when I am short-tempered and mentally exhausted, I can drive home through a sea of traffic knowing that I made far less in 8 hours than I could have in two, dancing on a pole downtown for screaming bachelorettes or curious men.
I was supposed to be Indiana Jones by now.
When I was younger, I vowed that I would travel the world with nothing more than my trusty wit, whip and revolver, clad in a kickass fedora and an A-2 leather flight jacket. I would search for lost artifacts and rare treasures, killing Nazi whores after making sweet love to them, running from boulders, running from Nazis, killing Nazis, finding the Holy Grail AND the Ark of the Covenant, escape a Nazi fortress with my dad, and carve some mountain outback in an emergency raft with my Asian sidekick whom I would lovingly refer to as Short Round
I never got to kill a Nazi.
I have been to Germany but…they seem to take offense when you say "Yes, hello, I am from America and I am here to kill some fascists. Might you know the whereabouts of any?"
I should have at least had an Asian sidekick by now. Even Chris tucker has an Asian sidekick.
Or does Jackie Chan have an African American sidekick?
[This is becoming dangerously Caucasian]
...and a still small voice inside suddenly becomes quite loud...
"Welcome to the real world Sean"
You ever want to bitchslap those small voices in your head? I do, on a regular basis. People won’t think you're insane if you can keep the voices in check. In fact, it’s really only when you listen to them and take their advice that the problems begin. It's ok to talk to strangers, just don't put their candy in your mouth. Unless it's jolly ranchers, circus peanuts or snickers. But strangers rarely have good candy, based on my experiences.
"Dude, I'm not getting into your van, alright? For one, my mom does not have any friends and for two, that is a box of good and plenty ok? Get some better shit if you wanna pick up kids. Geesh. Duh."
I am thankful that I never lowered my expectations but a little truth couldn't have hut that much, could it? Instead of being told I can be anything I want to be if I put my mind to it, it would have been nice to hear:
"You will grow up and be sharply disappointed with the way society operates. You will work for other people most of your life. You will eventually trade your taste for candy and sweet joyous rapture into a desire for broccoli and regular bowel movements. Kool-Aid and chocolate milk will miraculously turn into Coffee and dirty gin martinis. You will give yourself a bedtime and you will look forward to sleeping so much it borders hibernation. Cartoons and video games will become politics and stock options [no real change there], bullies will become bosses, faith will become fiction, and kooties will turn into a red rash that burns whenever you urinate."
We were lied to.
We were lied to by people who were lied to themselves. They were hurt, they were betrayed, they were bitter and they were desperate for anything else but what their own parents gave to them. So they created a fantasy world of material pursuits and dead-end aspirations for us to follow.
I don't blame my parents but I won’t let them be victims either. I'm not a victim. I refuse to be.
Becoming older, while inevitable, is a responsibility, if to no one else, than at least to ourselves. We don't have to buy the lie any longer. We can create whole new ones and never be held accountable! Which is why I plan on wearing khaki pants and a fedora into IKEA this afternoon with a bullwhip in hand and a young Hmong boy I kidnapped from Panda Express at my side.
Swiss, German, Nazi. They're all the same. [ouch]
(America, fuck yeah!)
Side note: Indiana Jones would have rocked ten times more if he had an Asian wookie for a sidekick…or at least a laser-whip.
It's hard to believe, to be honest with you. I fell right into that category of people who thought it would never happen to them. You always think that you are an exception growing up. It turns out, those who knew they weren't, were.
What made the rest of us think that we were never going to grow up?
Was it some universal consciousness that flowed through all of us with false hope and vain imaginations?
Was it our Mother's and Father's incredible lack of parenting skills that failed to clarify that Peter Pan was just a little bisexual boy in tights from a land that doesn't exist, and that normal people DO age?
Was it Toys R Us?
Here I am, at twenty-five years, making a living by sitting in front of a harsh, glowing screen, pushing buttons in a specific order like a trained chimpanzee, melting numerical figures into tangible contract language and thinking of ways I can turn that language into money for a company that already gives loans to God, so that at the end of the day when I am short-tempered and mentally exhausted, I can drive home through a sea of traffic knowing that I made far less in 8 hours than I could have in two, dancing on a pole downtown for screaming bachelorettes or curious men.
I was supposed to be Indiana Jones by now.
When I was younger, I vowed that I would travel the world with nothing more than my trusty wit, whip and revolver, clad in a kickass fedora and an A-2 leather flight jacket. I would search for lost artifacts and rare treasures, killing Nazi whores after making sweet love to them, running from boulders, running from Nazis, killing Nazis, finding the Holy Grail AND the Ark of the Covenant, escape a Nazi fortress with my dad, and carve some mountain outback in an emergency raft with my Asian sidekick whom I would lovingly refer to as Short Round
I never got to kill a Nazi.
I have been to Germany but…they seem to take offense when you say "Yes, hello, I am from America and I am here to kill some fascists. Might you know the whereabouts of any?"
I should have at least had an Asian sidekick by now. Even Chris tucker has an Asian sidekick.
Or does Jackie Chan have an African American sidekick?
[This is becoming dangerously Caucasian]
...and a still small voice inside suddenly becomes quite loud...
"Welcome to the real world Sean"
You ever want to bitchslap those small voices in your head? I do, on a regular basis. People won’t think you're insane if you can keep the voices in check. In fact, it’s really only when you listen to them and take their advice that the problems begin. It's ok to talk to strangers, just don't put their candy in your mouth. Unless it's jolly ranchers, circus peanuts or snickers. But strangers rarely have good candy, based on my experiences.
"Dude, I'm not getting into your van, alright? For one, my mom does not have any friends and for two, that is a box of good and plenty ok? Get some better shit if you wanna pick up kids. Geesh. Duh."
I am thankful that I never lowered my expectations but a little truth couldn't have hut that much, could it? Instead of being told I can be anything I want to be if I put my mind to it, it would have been nice to hear:
"You will grow up and be sharply disappointed with the way society operates. You will work for other people most of your life. You will eventually trade your taste for candy and sweet joyous rapture into a desire for broccoli and regular bowel movements. Kool-Aid and chocolate milk will miraculously turn into Coffee and dirty gin martinis. You will give yourself a bedtime and you will look forward to sleeping so much it borders hibernation. Cartoons and video games will become politics and stock options [no real change there], bullies will become bosses, faith will become fiction, and kooties will turn into a red rash that burns whenever you urinate."
We were lied to.
We were lied to by people who were lied to themselves. They were hurt, they were betrayed, they were bitter and they were desperate for anything else but what their own parents gave to them. So they created a fantasy world of material pursuits and dead-end aspirations for us to follow.
I don't blame my parents but I won’t let them be victims either. I'm not a victim. I refuse to be.
Becoming older, while inevitable, is a responsibility, if to no one else, than at least to ourselves. We don't have to buy the lie any longer. We can create whole new ones and never be held accountable! Which is why I plan on wearing khaki pants and a fedora into IKEA this afternoon with a bullwhip in hand and a young Hmong boy I kidnapped from Panda Express at my side.
Swiss, German, Nazi. They're all the same. [ouch]
(America, fuck yeah!)
Side note: Indiana Jones would have rocked ten times more if he had an Asian wookie for a sidekick…or at least a laser-whip.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Bruce Banner Used The Bathroom Before Me
Humans never cease to amaze and amuse me. Their drive, passion, lust and even indifference, sends me into a flurry of contemplative wonder. At times, I am overwhelmed by their sheer genius or willful ignorance, captivated with their every thought, word and action as they struggle to survive.
I am in awe of their existence.
At the same time, I am thoroughly, without a doubt, one-hundred percent, undeniably repulsed with this plague of a species, wanting to vomit myself inside out with bitter disgust and relentless aversion.
You may be wondering, "Sean, what for upsets thee so?" to which I would reply, "Alas, humans doth upset me so, and I shall loathe their bones henceforth till the day I too decease, which if the Gods so will, shall be far past their terrible, meaningless existence, so that in my dying days I may see a new species take form on this humble rock, and know that there is hope for our great Earth."
Whilst 'taking care of business' in the gentle-man's room, I noticed an avulsion jutting out from the drab grey tile wall. It was dark in color and no smaller than an uncooked pea. From my location, approximately 1.06 meters away, I had difficulty defining a specific shape. The mysterious object did not withhold flat surfaces or sharp edges and yet was by no means a perfect sphere. One might have said it looked very similar to the pieces of space flotsam we affectionately call 'asteroids'.
Upon finishing said business, I stood to investigate the object of my curiosity. Kneeling down to allow my face a proper proximity for observance, I focused my eyes and steadied my breathing.
Silence.
I blinked twice.
More silence.
My head moves in, closer, lower.
My eyes widen.
My mouth drops.
Nestled comfortably against the bathroom wall was the largest, ugliest booger I have ever seen. Like something from a monster movie, this crusted glob of snot tore out from the level plane of tile like a darkened version of Superman's Fortress of Solitude. There were single nose hairs protruding from jagged folds, bits of skin embedded in shallow pockets, and remnants of pus and blood streaked across the porous surface. It was, by all means, the most revolting, stomach-churning, record-breaking, awesomest thing I have ever seen in my life!
Immediate Jealousy!
Whomever picked this one must have been storing it since birth! And to think that they somehow managed to launch this boogery behemoth some 3 feet away with enough force that it would defy gravity and adhere to the smooth tile!
A modern marvel! A new world wonder! A miracle of epic proportions!
Humans never cease to amaze and amuse me, but then...it doesn't take much.
I am in awe of their existence.
At the same time, I am thoroughly, without a doubt, one-hundred percent, undeniably repulsed with this plague of a species, wanting to vomit myself inside out with bitter disgust and relentless aversion.
You may be wondering, "Sean, what for upsets thee so?" to which I would reply, "Alas, humans doth upset me so, and I shall loathe their bones henceforth till the day I too decease, which if the Gods so will, shall be far past their terrible, meaningless existence, so that in my dying days I may see a new species take form on this humble rock, and know that there is hope for our great Earth."
Whilst 'taking care of business' in the gentle-man's room, I noticed an avulsion jutting out from the drab grey tile wall. It was dark in color and no smaller than an uncooked pea. From my location, approximately 1.06 meters away, I had difficulty defining a specific shape. The mysterious object did not withhold flat surfaces or sharp edges and yet was by no means a perfect sphere. One might have said it looked very similar to the pieces of space flotsam we affectionately call 'asteroids'.
Upon finishing said business, I stood to investigate the object of my curiosity. Kneeling down to allow my face a proper proximity for observance, I focused my eyes and steadied my breathing.
Silence.
I blinked twice.
More silence.
My head moves in, closer, lower.
My eyes widen.
My mouth drops.
Nestled comfortably against the bathroom wall was the largest, ugliest booger I have ever seen. Like something from a monster movie, this crusted glob of snot tore out from the level plane of tile like a darkened version of Superman's Fortress of Solitude. There were single nose hairs protruding from jagged folds, bits of skin embedded in shallow pockets, and remnants of pus and blood streaked across the porous surface. It was, by all means, the most revolting, stomach-churning, record-breaking, awesomest thing I have ever seen in my life!
Immediate Jealousy!
Whomever picked this one must have been storing it since birth! And to think that they somehow managed to launch this boogery behemoth some 3 feet away with enough force that it would defy gravity and adhere to the smooth tile!
A modern marvel! A new world wonder! A miracle of epic proportions!
Humans never cease to amaze and amuse me, but then...it doesn't take much.
Friday, March 7, 2008
melt
it snowed the day before your uncle died.
thin falling flakes
more wet than frozen.
we ate our perspective meals
in a small cafe,
in an even smaller town,
and watched the world descend
outside the window.
had I known then what we know now,
I would have grabbed you suddenly,
pulled you out into the falling sky,
pulled you in to my chest,
and whispered in tones
as soft as the snow on our faces:
"If our lives are but a moment, than I'll love you in this life"
that night,
with the ice covered streets
and shivering teeth
behind us,
you sat at your piano
and squeezed your heart out
through your fingertips
like toothpaste
on pearly whites.
and without regrets,
had I known then what we know now,
I would have stood behind you
and rested my hands
on your tired shoulders,
barely singing
a harmony:
"If our lives are but a moment, than I'll love you in this life"
it snowed the day before your uncle died
but somehow, in the purge of icy tears
that fell from prophetic clouds
new life was born
in the form
of two melted hearts
thin falling flakes
more wet than frozen.
we ate our perspective meals
in a small cafe,
in an even smaller town,
and watched the world descend
outside the window.
had I known then what we know now,
I would have grabbed you suddenly,
pulled you out into the falling sky,
pulled you in to my chest,
and whispered in tones
as soft as the snow on our faces:
"If our lives are but a moment, than I'll love you in this life"
that night,
with the ice covered streets
and shivering teeth
behind us,
you sat at your piano
and squeezed your heart out
through your fingertips
like toothpaste
on pearly whites.
and without regrets,
had I known then what we know now,
I would have stood behind you
and rested my hands
on your tired shoulders,
barely singing
a harmony:
"If our lives are but a moment, than I'll love you in this life"
it snowed the day before your uncle died
but somehow, in the purge of icy tears
that fell from prophetic clouds
new life was born
in the form
of two melted hearts
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Riders of the Great Disturbance
they will always want the haunting
sitting high within their saddle
marking their territory with imminent domain
their stirrups hanging low as hope
too far to be of any support
and yet
they rode into this ghost town on their own accord
greedy
for enterprise
assurance in their eyes
that they deserved whatever they found
finders may be keepers but
keepers rarely find anything real
they will always want the haunting
doubled over in their saddle
huddled under foreign threads
their ponchos placating
like city slicker lawyers
and yet
they rode into this ghost town all alone
casting the
first
second and third stone
against their own adulterous heart
we bring the weight of love upon ourselves
and blame the world when love becomes too great a burden to carry
they will always want the haunting
hanging lifelessly from their saddle
ambition
dripping from their open mouths
their Stetsons covered in clouds of dust
and yet
they rode into this ghost town on their own accord
ignorant
to the fact that ghosts
can never offer anything
but the illusion of existence
Sticks and stones can break our bones
And words can then cremate us.
sitting high within their saddle
marking their territory with imminent domain
their stirrups hanging low as hope
too far to be of any support
and yet
they rode into this ghost town on their own accord
greedy
for enterprise
assurance in their eyes
that they deserved whatever they found
finders may be keepers but
keepers rarely find anything real
they will always want the haunting
doubled over in their saddle
huddled under foreign threads
their ponchos placating
like city slicker lawyers
and yet
they rode into this ghost town all alone
casting the
first
second and third stone
against their own adulterous heart
we bring the weight of love upon ourselves
and blame the world when love becomes too great a burden to carry
they will always want the haunting
hanging lifelessly from their saddle
ambition
dripping from their open mouths
their Stetsons covered in clouds of dust
and yet
they rode into this ghost town on their own accord
ignorant
to the fact that ghosts
can never offer anything
but the illusion of existence
Sticks and stones can break our bones
And words can then cremate us.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
When in Rome
My girlfriend thinks Barack Obama is the resurrected Christ.
...but then, she has always had a better head for politics than me.
I am notorious for assigning people in my life various roles based in Ancient Rome. [Think of the cinematic fiasco that is Gladiator]
Were we in Rome, she would certainly fall into a political role [think Senator Gracchus] and while I often dream of being the infamous Roman general turned gladiator, Maximus Decimus Meridius, ["Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next"] I would most likely be associated with the sniveling sociopathic emperor, Commodus; backstabbing his way to affection, fulfilling the people's savage lust for blood, and prancing around in designer tights.
...or maybe I would be a harpist/poet.
Actually, I would probably be a modern day Caligula. [google that shit]
Point is, She doesn't make a decision without educating herself at least to a degree where she can provide tangible reasons as to why she made her decision and I respect her for that. I on the other hand would vote for Obama because I am fond of his tailored slim-fit suits and stylish ties [a man's thinness is his greatest fashion accessory].
But I digress. Now that I have proven myself to be quite the flaming ignoramus, let us return to my original point which was, my girlfriend thinks Obama is the risen Jesus de la Christ.
Since there is no empirical evidence that he is not the zombie spawn of George Burns, I am forced to acknowledge the possibility that he is indeed the Prince of Peace and therefore worthy of my praise and adoration. Though I would have gladly given these to him based on his fantabulous dancing abilities alone [as seen on Ellen], it certainly helps sway my vote knowing there is a slight chance I am voting for the creator and taker of my existence and ultimate decider of my fate.
See, the beautiful thing about truth is, anything can be true until it is proven false. And then it's only false until someone better equipped proves it true again. Thus is life. Truth is and always will be relative. It will always be based on what we think we have proven based on our limited examinations, tests and understanding.
Gravity is only a law because we have forgotten how to fly.
So aside from Obama's
1] exceptional views on corporate governance,
2] his superb outlook on education and the need to compensate teachers instead of shooting our rockets off into space
3] his excellent though perhaps misunderstood foreign affairs policy to expose the truth while maintaining a strong military
4] his balanced position on capital punishment, abortion and stem-cell research
5] his persistent drive to develop new energy policies that decrease our dependence on oil
6] his giant testicles that enable him to run for president despite the need for a full squad of secret servicemen [Even Colin Powell refrained from running because he feared for his life]
7] and his overall refusal to back down from his values in favor of popular opinion
...we should strongly consider the possibility [quickly turning into fact] that Senator Barack Obama is the Glorious Mediator of the New Covenant, the Stone that the builders rejected [but that we should accept], the Chief Cornerstone, the First and the Last, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Only begotten Son and Word of God...
Jesus H. Christ.
So my girlfriend thinks Barack Obama is Jesus. Who am I to say she is wrong? The way I see it, my only options are a liberal African American reincarnation of a hippie rebel Jew or a 72 year old liver spotted geriatric patient with a flappy bull-dog jaw and a thinning combover.
[the frumpy pseudo lesbian with the Velcro vagina is not worthy of my consideration...but Go Woman Suffrage! Woot!]
I realize that my claims here are outrageous, scientifically inaccurate, perhaps even ignorant and lacking reason, logic or evidence, [even if we could fly, it would simply be defying the law] but if I don't make irrational statements, then some other yokel with a blog will.
If not me, than who?
Vote for Obama and find life everlasting.
...but then, she has always had a better head for politics than me.
I am notorious for assigning people in my life various roles based in Ancient Rome. [Think of the cinematic fiasco that is Gladiator]
Were we in Rome, she would certainly fall into a political role [think Senator Gracchus] and while I often dream of being the infamous Roman general turned gladiator, Maximus Decimus Meridius, ["Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next"] I would most likely be associated with the sniveling sociopathic emperor, Commodus; backstabbing his way to affection, fulfilling the people's savage lust for blood, and prancing around in designer tights.
...or maybe I would be a harpist/poet.
Actually, I would probably be a modern day Caligula. [google that shit]
Point is, She doesn't make a decision without educating herself at least to a degree where she can provide tangible reasons as to why she made her decision and I respect her for that. I on the other hand would vote for Obama because I am fond of his tailored slim-fit suits and stylish ties [a man's thinness is his greatest fashion accessory].
But I digress. Now that I have proven myself to be quite the flaming ignoramus, let us return to my original point which was, my girlfriend thinks Obama is the risen Jesus de la Christ.
Since there is no empirical evidence that he is not the zombie spawn of George Burns, I am forced to acknowledge the possibility that he is indeed the Prince of Peace and therefore worthy of my praise and adoration. Though I would have gladly given these to him based on his fantabulous dancing abilities alone [as seen on Ellen], it certainly helps sway my vote knowing there is a slight chance I am voting for the creator and taker of my existence and ultimate decider of my fate.
See, the beautiful thing about truth is, anything can be true until it is proven false. And then it's only false until someone better equipped proves it true again. Thus is life. Truth is and always will be relative. It will always be based on what we think we have proven based on our limited examinations, tests and understanding.
Gravity is only a law because we have forgotten how to fly.
So aside from Obama's
1] exceptional views on corporate governance,
2] his superb outlook on education and the need to compensate teachers instead of shooting our rockets off into space
3] his excellent though perhaps misunderstood foreign affairs policy to expose the truth while maintaining a strong military
4] his balanced position on capital punishment, abortion and stem-cell research
5] his persistent drive to develop new energy policies that decrease our dependence on oil
6] his giant testicles that enable him to run for president despite the need for a full squad of secret servicemen [Even Colin Powell refrained from running because he feared for his life]
7] and his overall refusal to back down from his values in favor of popular opinion
...we should strongly consider the possibility [quickly turning into fact] that Senator Barack Obama is the Glorious Mediator of the New Covenant, the Stone that the builders rejected [but that we should accept], the Chief Cornerstone, the First and the Last, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Only begotten Son and Word of God...
Jesus H. Christ.
So my girlfriend thinks Barack Obama is Jesus. Who am I to say she is wrong? The way I see it, my only options are a liberal African American reincarnation of a hippie rebel Jew or a 72 year old liver spotted geriatric patient with a flappy bull-dog jaw and a thinning combover.
[the frumpy pseudo lesbian with the Velcro vagina is not worthy of my consideration...but Go Woman Suffrage! Woot!]
I realize that my claims here are outrageous, scientifically inaccurate, perhaps even ignorant and lacking reason, logic or evidence, [even if we could fly, it would simply be defying the law] but if I don't make irrational statements, then some other yokel with a blog will.
If not me, than who?
Vote for Obama and find life everlasting.
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