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And the father of the year award goes to....

Christianity As Antiquity

May 31, 2011 | No Comments » | Topics: Writing |

Friedrich Nietzsche

When we hear the ancient bells growling on a Sunday morning we ask ourselves: Is it really possible! This, for a Jew, crucified two thousand years ago, who said he was God’s son? The proof of such a claim is lacking. Certainly the Christian religion is an antiquity projected into our times from remote prehistory; and the fact that the claim is believed – whereas one is otherwise so strict in examining pretensions – is perhaps the most ancient piece of this heritage. A god who begets children with a mortal woman; a sage who bids men work no more, have no more courts, but look for the signs of the impending end of the world; a justice that accepts the innocent as a vicarious sacrifice; someone who orders his disciples to drink his blood; prayers for miraculous interventions; sins perpetrated against a god, atoned for by a god; fear of a beyond to which death is the portal; the form of the cross as a symbol in a time that no longer knows the function and ignominy of the cross — how ghoulishly all this touches us, as if from the tomb of a primeval past! Can one believe that such things are still believed?

Author: Friedrich Nietzsche


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15 Random Musings That Should Be Ruminated Upon

May 31, 2011 | No Comments » | Topics: LOL, Writing |

ruminations

all via Ruminations.com, an awesome site that you should visit on a daily basis.

Only in math problems can you buy 60 cantaloupes and nobody asks what the hell is wrong with you.

Vegetarians and vegans spend entirely too much time trying to make vegetables taste like meat. You made your choice, now live with it hippie!

If you’re reading a book to your child and you decide to do a funny voice, you better be prepared to repeat that voice for like 3 fucking years.

There is no greater sense of accomplishment than rapping an entire part of a song perfectly.

Mental Note: Actual notes work better.

There are 470 tiles on my church’s ceiling.

I have a hard time grasping the fact that in other countries, peoples thoughts are in a different language.

Remember when you had to go to channel 3 to play video games?

Texting and driving is easy, I don’t know what the big

You’re the one who posted over a thousand pictures of yourself on-line, why does looking at them make me the weird one?

The “don’t talk to me about kids until you have a kid” people are extremely annoying. I don’t think I need to produce another human being to know it’s problematic to let a 4-year old treat me like his bitch.

I wonder how many twins are going by the wrong name because their parents mixed them up when they were babies…

Why are there never any good side effects? Just once I’d like to read a medication bottle and see “May cause extreme sexiness.”

Guys- what you lack in height does not need to be made up for in pure, unadulterated douchebaggery

If you’re reading a book to your child and you decide to do a funny voice, you better be prepared to repeat that voice for like 3 fucking years.


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Memories Of High School

May 27, 2011 | No Comments » | Topics: Writing |

crush

Someday, I will have a life.

It will be fulfilling and complicated and hilarious and tiring and real. And fun. There will be work and alcohol and sex and public transportation and way more coffee than is healthy. There will be different cities within each year, and art, and better friends than I have now. There will be responsibility and sleep and maybe even, someday, children. And a crush like the one I have on you won’t matter at all.

But today I am 17 and unusually lonely for my age and you matter much more than you should.

(via)


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Plato’s “The Allegory of the Cave” As Told By A Bro

May 24, 2011 | 2 Comments » | Topics: Writing |

platos cave

Socrates: “Why do people think philosophy is bullshit? Let me put it this way – imagine you’re in a cave, all chained up so you can’t turn your body at all, and all you get to look at is this one wall. Some assholes behind you are making shadow puppets using the light from a fire and making echo noises and that’s all you or anyone else chained up has seen or heard all your life. Sounds terrible, right? Except it’s all you’ve ever known, shadows and echoes, and that’s your whole world – there’s no way you could know that, really, you’re watching a slightly-improved M. Night Shyamalan film.

“In fact, you get pretty good at understanding how the patterns in the show work, and everyone else chained up is like, ‘Holy shit bro, how did you know that that tree was going to fall on that guy?’ and you’re like, ‘It’s because I fucking pay attention and I’m smart as shit.’ You’re the smartest of the chained, and they all revere you.”

Glaucon: “But Socrates, a tree didn’t really hit a guy. It’s all shadows.”

Socrates: “No shit, Glaucon, but you don’t know that. You think the shadows are real things. Everyone does. Now shut up and let me finish.

“So eventually, someone comes and unchains you and drags you out of the cave. At first you’d say, ‘Seriously, what the fuck is going on?!’ Well, actually, at first you’d say, ‘HOLY SHIT MY EYES’ and you’d want to go back to the safe, familiar shadows. But even once your eyes worked you wouldn’t believe them, because everything you ever thought was real is gone. You’d look at a tree, and say ‘That’s not a tree. I know trees. And you, sir, are no tree. THAT DOWN THERE is a tree.’ But you’re wrong. Down there is a shadow of a tree.

“Slowly, as your eyes got better, you’d see more and more shit. Eventually, you’d see the sun, and realize that it’s the source of all light. You can’t see shit without the sun. And eventually, you’d figure it out. Something would click in your brain: ‘oh, shit, that IS a tree. Fuck me. So… nothing in the cave was real? I feel like such an asshole.’ But it’s not your fault, so don’t be so hard on yourself.

“Finally you’d want to go down and tell everyone about everything you’ve discovered. Except, and here’s the hilarious part, they think you’ve gone fucking crazy. You’d say, ‘Guys, real trees are green!’ and they’d say, ‘What the fuck is green? THAT is a tree over there.’ And you’d squint and look at the wall, but you know you’re fucked because now you’re used to having sunlight, and now you can’t see shit. So they’d laugh at you, and agree that wherever it was that you went, no one should go there because it turns people into dickheads.

“Philosophy, same thing. The soul ascends and apprehends the forms, the nature of everything, and eventually the very Idea of Good that gives light to everything else. And then the philosopher has to go back to the cave and try to explain it to people who don’t even know what Green is, to say nothing of the Good. But the philosopher didn’t make up the Good, it was always there, and the only way to really make sense of it is to uncover it for yourself. You can’t force knowledge into a dumbass any more than you can force sight into a blind man.

“So if you want to learn, be prepared for a difficult journey, and be prepared to make some mistakes. That’s okay, it’s all part of the process. True knowledge must be obtained the hard way, and some people just don’t want to see the light.”

(via)


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hey you.

May 20, 2011 | No Comments » | Topics: Life, Writing |

hey you.

yes, you. stop being unhappy with yourself. you are perfect. stop wishing you’d look like someone else or wishing people would like you as much as they like someone else. stop trying to get attention from those who hurt you. stop hating your body, your face, your personality, your quirks. love them. without those things you wouldn’t be, you. and why would you want to be anyone else? be confident with who you are. smile. it’ll draw people in. if anyone hates on you because you are happy with yourself then you stick the middle finger in the air & say screw it. my happiness will not depend on others anymore. i’m happy because i love WHO I AM.
i love my flaws.
i love my imperfections. they make me, me. and ‘me’ is pretty amazing.


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100 Most Beautiful Words In The English Language

May 15, 2011 | 7 Comments » | Topics: List, Writing |

100 most beautiful words in english language

Ailurophile A cat-lover.

Assemblage A gathering.

Becoming Attractive.

Beleaguer To exhaust with attacks.

Brood To think alone.

Bucolic In a lovely rural setting.

Bungalow A small, cozy cottage.

Chatoyant Like a cat’s eye.

Comely Attractive.

Conflate To blend together.

Cynosure A focal point of admiration.

Dalliance A brief love affair.

Demesne Dominion, territory.

Demure Shy and reserved.

(more…)


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If You Could Only Read One More Paragraph For The Rest Of Your Life, Read This

May 13, 2011 | 1 Comment » | Topics: Life, Writing |

beautiful life

Take a step back. Fucking look at yourself. You are human. You are beautiful. You are so beautiful. And you can be anything. You can be everything. Don’t hate everyone because someone broke your heart, Or because you parents split up, or your best friend betrayed you ,your father hit you, the kid down the street called you fat, ugly, stupid, worthless. Do not concern yourself with things you can not control. Cry when you need to , then let go when it’s time. Don’t hang onto painful memories because your too afraid to forget. Let go of things that are in the past. Forget things that aren’t worth remembering. Stop taking things for granted. Stop taking life for granted. Live for something. Live for yourself. Fall in love. Fall out of love. Fall in love. Fall out of love. Do this over and over until you know what it really takes to love someone. Question things. Tell people how you really feel. Sleep under the stars. Create. Imagine. Inspire. Share something wonderful. Meet new people. Make someone’s day. Follow your dreams. Live your life to its full potential. Just live dammit. Let go of all the horrible things in your life and just f●●king live. And one day, when your old, look back with no regrets.


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The History of the Universe in 200 Words or Less

May 12, 2011 | No Comments » | Topics: Writing |

planet earth

Quantum fluctuation. Inflation. Expansion. Strong nuclear interaction. Particle-antiparticle annihilation. Deuterium and helium production. Density perturbations. Recombination. Blackbody radiation. Local contraction. Cluster formation. Reionization? Violent relaxation. Virialization. Biased galaxy formation? Turbulent fragmentation. Contraction. Ionization. Compression. Opaque hydrogen. Massive star formation. Deuterium ignition. Hydrogen fusion. Hydrogen depletion. Core contraction. Envelope expansion. Helium fusion. Carbon, oxygen, and silicon fusion. Iron production. Implosion. Supernova explosion. Metals injection. Star formation. Supernova explosions. Star formation. Condensation. Planetesimal accretion. Planetary differentiation. Crust solidification. Volatile gas expulsion. Water condensation. Water dissociation. Ozone production. Ultraviolet absorption. Photosynthetic unicellular organisms. Oxidation. Mutation. Natural selection and evolution. Respiration. Cell differentiation. Sexual reproduction. Fossilization. Land exploration. Dinosaur extinction. Mammal expansion. Glaciation. Homo sapiens manifestation. Animal domestication. Food surplus production. Civilization! Innovation. Exploration. Religion. Warring nations. Empire creation and destruction. Exploration. Colonization. Taxation without representation. Revolution. Constitution. Election. Expansion. Industrialization. Rebellion. Emancipation Proclamation. Invention. Mass production. Urbanization. Immigration. World conflagration. League of Nations. Suffrage extension. Depression. World conflagration. Fission explosions. United Nations. Space exploration. Assassinations. Lunar excursions. Resignation. Computerization. World Trade Organization. Terrorism. Internet expansion. Reunification. Dissolution. World-Wide Web creation. Composition. Extrapolation?

(via)


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10 Seriously Funny Dear Blank Letters

May 10, 2011 | No Comments » | Topics: LOL, Writing |

dear blank

Dear reader,

Please do me right now. On the kitchen table. In your bed. On the couch. Shoot, I’ll even take the floor in front of the T.V. I don’t care, I just need you to do me like I’ve never been done before.

Sincerely, your homework.

 

Dear sneeze,

Please come out of my nose already.

Sincerely, my about-to-sneeze face looks weird.

 

Dear drivers,

We are pleased to announce we now accept payment in the form of: An arm, a leg, 50% of your yearly salary, your first born child or your soul.

Sincerely, your local gas station.

 

Dear hypocrites,

Please stop thinking that just because you go to church it makes you Christian. That’s about as valid as standing in a garage and calling yourself a car.

Sincerely, I can see right through you.

 

Dear natural selection,

If vegetables are so good for us, why do our taste buds hate them so much?

Sincerely, anonymous.

 

Dear chicken and the egg,

Does it really matter who came first? Because I win anyway.

Sincerely, the frying pan.

 

Dear crazy ex-girlfriend,

What were you smoking when you thought telling me you were pregnant for April Fools and drawing it out the whole 24 hours was a good idea.

Sincerely, good bye.

 

Dear Facebook,

Thanks for making the word “friend” so meaningless.

Sincerely, 3480 “friends.”

 

Dear Christians who protest everything,

Please go back and reread your Bibles. It’s “love thy neighbor” not “condemn thy neighbor to hell just because you don’t agree with them on something.”

Sincerely, a loving Catholic girl.

 

Dear J.K. Rowling,

Your books are entirely unrealistic. I mean, a ginger kid with two friends?

Sincerely, anonymous.

 

(via)


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Awesome Story About Cookies, Of All Things

May 6, 2011 | No Comments » | Topics: Writing |

cookie story

This actually did happen to a real person, and the real person was me. I had gone to catch a train. This was April 1976, in Cambridge, U.K. I was a bit early for the train. I’d gotten the time of the train wrong.

I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of cookies. I went and sat at a table.

I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind.

Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There’s a guy sitting opposite me, perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase.

It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.

Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies.

You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know. . . But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, what am I going to do?

In the end I thought, nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought, that settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another cookie.

Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice . . .” I mean, it doesn’t really work.

We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away.

Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies.

The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who’s had the same exact story, only he doesn’t have the punch line.

(Excerpted from “The Salmon of Doubt: Hitchhiking the Galaxy One Last Time” by Douglas Adams)


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