Saturday, November 20, 2010

The Explanation

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMT's tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered. You're better off now. trust me.

And that's when you met me.

"What... what happened?" You asked. "Where am I?"

"You died." I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

"There was... It was a truck. It was skidding..."

"Yup." I said.

"I... I'm dead?"

"Yup. But don't feel bad about it. Everyone dies." I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. No color. No sound. No feeling or smell. It was... just.

"What is this place?" you asked. "The afterlife?"

"More or less." I shrugged.

"Are you God?"

"Yup." I smiled. "I'm God."

"My kids... my wife... my family..."

"What about them?"

"Will they be alright?"

"That's what I like to see." I smiled again. "You just died and your main concern is your family. that's good stuff right there. Very commendable, kind sir."

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn't look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

"Don't worry." I said. "They'll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. they didn't have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. Don't be upset. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it's any consolation, she'll feel very guilty for feeling relieved."

"Oh." you said, looking away from me in thought. "So... what happens now? Do I go to Heaven or Hell or something?"

"Neither. You'll be reincarnated."

"Ah. So the Hindus were right."

"All religions are right in their own way." I said. "Walk with me."

"Walk?" You looked down at the nothing below you. "On what? Where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular." I said. "It's just nice to walk while we talk."

"So... what's the point then?" you said, following me. "When I'm born again, I'll just be a blank slate right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything i did in this life won't matter."

"Not so!" I said. "You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. you just don't remember them right now."

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. "Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It's like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it's hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel and when you bring it back out, you've gained all the experiences it had.

"You've been a human for the last 48 years, so you haven't stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here long enough, you'd start remembering everything. But there's no point in doing that between each life."

"How many times have i been reincarnated?"

"Oh lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of different lives. This time around, you'll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD."

"Wait, what?" you stammered. "You're sending me back in time?"

"Well, i guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from."

"Where you come from?"

"Oh sure." I smirked. "I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you'll want to know what it's like there, but honestly you wouldn't understand."

"Oh." You said, a little let down. "But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point."

"Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don't even know what's happening."

"So what's the point of it all?"

"Seriously?" I asked. "Seriously? You're asking me for the meaning of life? Kind of stereotypical, isn't it?"

"Well it's a reasonable question."

I looked you in the eye. "The meaning of life, the reason I made this... all of this" I waved my hands around me, indicating all directions, "is for you to mature."

"You mean mankind? You want us to mature?"

"No. Just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect."

"Just me? What about everyone else?"

"There is no one else. In this universe, there's just you an me."

You stared blankly at me. "But all the people on Earth..."

"All you. Different incarnations of you."

"Wait. I'm... everyone?"

"Now you're getting it," I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

"I'm every human who ever lived... Ever?"

"Or who will ever live, yes."

"I'm Abraham Lincoln?"

"And you're John Wilkes Booth, too," I added.

"I'm Hitler?" you asked, appalled.

"And you're the millions he killed."

"I'm... I'm Jesus?"

"And you're everyone who followed him."

"When I had sex..." your eyes got wide and you looked at me for an answer.

I shrugged. "Puts a whole new spin on masturbation, doesn't it?"

You fell silent.

"Every time you victimized someone," I said, "You were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you've ever done, you've done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you."

You thought for a long time.

"Why?" You asked me. "Why do all of this?"

"Because, someday, you will become like me. Because that's what you are. You're one of a kind. You're my child."

"Whoa whoa whoa." you waved your hands in front of you, not believing what you were hearing. "You mean... you're telling me that I'm a god?"

"No. Not yet anyway. You're a fetus. you're still growing. once you've lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born."

"So the whole universe," you said, "It's just..."

"An egg." I answered. "Now it's time for you to move on to your next life."

And I sent you on your way.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Monday, September 27, 2010

What I Have Learned...

Nobody really knows anything...

But everyone thinks they do.

I certainly don't know anything.

But, like everyone else, I think I do......

So here's stuff I think I know

Although, I don't think you should read it. Because nobody really knows anything.

Especially me.

me == stupid

Don't listen to me.

In fact, you should stop reading right now.

If you're still reading there's probably something wrong with you, because I wrote this and there's probably something wrong with me. Nothing that i say should ever be listened to, taken seriously, or repeated back into air waves in any form in general. the fact that I even discuss a subject should suggest an error in it and its participants merely by my association.

Everything exists because it can. There is no other requirement for existing.

Everything is relative.

The size of anything depends on what you're comparing it to.

Life goes on.

There is no way to deserve it or earn it. You already have it. You, and only you, get to choose what to do with it. People will tell you what you should do with it. but they will also ask for money. So figure that one out.

In reality, there is no life anywhere.

The things that we call "alive" are the things that most resemble ourselves. Beyond this, everything is essentially the same.

Everyone is selfish. This is okay because everyone must be selfish. If everyone were selfless there would be no selves. There would be only one thing. It. Everything. And no one to call it anything.

Good and evil are opposite ends of desire. On one end is everything you desire. On the other is everything you fear.

Good people are only happy when you're happy.

Evil people are only happy when you're sad.

Love and hate are opposite ends of reason.

On one end is everything you choose to see. On the other end is everything you choose to ignore.

The earth is kept afloat in space by several large elephants standing atop several LARGER sea turtles. I just haven't figured out if it's flat or round yet.

Movement is everything. How things move determines what they are, what they were, and what they're going to be. Everything you do, have done, and will do is moving something from one place to another. Every movement you make is a choice to take from one thing and give to something else.

Choose wisely

If movement is everything, the art of mastering everything is the art of mastering different types of movement.

If you help others accomplish their goals, they will most likely return the favor. With interest. If you prevent people from accomplishing their goals, they will most likely return the favor. With even more interest.

Karma is what happens when the waves you send out come back to you. Be careful what you send out.

Laziness is good. It's the only way to know if you're wasting time. Laziness is the key to efficiency. The less work you want to do, the more you'll think of efficient ways to do it.

we naturally think in pictures. Words are much more efficient, but much less accurate.

Societies are cooperative redundant arrays. Cooperative redundant arrays allow us to specialize.

cooperative + redundant array + specialization = epic win

The problem is always the opposite of the solution. If you see a problem, you're really seeing the solution. You're just comparing it to the real state of things, which is currently the opposite of the solution. If the problem is merely the reverse of the solution, the art of creating solutions is simply the art of accurately seeing the problem.

The more you think you know, the less you actually know. forget all your assumptions and you will be left with nothing. But what is.

Belief seeks thhe closest matching reality. Remember this when dealing with others. No one sees the world as it is, only as they believe it to be.

Humans are probably the first species on this planet with the capability to believe and maintain complex systems of nonsense at will. Sadly, this may be our best and most redeeming attribute.

You can accomplish any goal and you can be anything you want to be. All you need to do is believe the previous sentence.

Everything would be much easier if we all just chose one number and stuck with it. I suggest 42. Or possibly 13. I am not superstitious.

Someday, i will most likely be killed by someone who can't handle a joke, someone who plays a short game, someone who lacks the foresight to see greater long-term gains from cooperation, someone even more foolish than me.

Now THAT'S funny.

It is wise to listen to your parents. They've been around long enough to gain loads of wisdom and learn many things. It is unwise to do what they tell you to. They're full of shit.

Life is absurd.

Humor is required for happiness. If you can't appreciate absurdity, you can't appreciate life.

Life is fair. It treats everyone equally. You get exactly what you deserve. You got in for free, so stop complaining. Asshole.

Everything is meaningless. We add meaning to help ourselves. If we go, all of the meaning goes with us.

Stop taking everything so seriously. Just have fun. That's not a fact, just a suggestion.

The past is an illusion. we create these things to help ourselves. There is only now. Right now. Now.

Death goes off. And that's ok. Because off is nothing. And nothing is nothing to worry about.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

advice (don't take it)

When did we forget out dreams?
The infinite possibilities that each day hold should stagger the mind. the sheer number of experiences I could have is uncountable, breathtaking, and I'm sitting here refreshing my inbox.
We live in trapped loops, reliving a few days over and over, and we envision only a few paths laid out ahead of us. We see the same things each day, respond the same way, we think the same thoughts, every day a slight variation on the last, every moment smoothly following the gentle curves of societal norms.
We act like if we just get through today, tomorrow our dreams will come back to us.
And no, I don't have all the answers. I don't know how to jolt myself into seeing what each moment could become. But I do know one thing: the solution doesn't involve watering down my every little idea and creative impulse for the sake of someday easing my fit into a mold. It doesn't involve tempering my life to better fit someone's expectations. It doesn't involve constantly holding back for fear of shaking things up.
this is very important, so i want to say it as clearly as I can:
FUCK. THAT. SHIT.

My advice:
1) Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes
2) In a society that has abolished adventure, the only adventure left is to abolish that society
3) The worst mistake anyone can make is being too afraid to make a mistake
4) Don't tell me the sky's the limit when there are footprints on the moon
5) This is YOUR life, and it's ending one minute at a time.
6) YOU ARE ON A ROCK FLOATING THROUGH SPACE
7) Harden the fuck up.
8) Never regret anything because, at one time, it was exactly what you wanted.
9) When faced with two choices, simply toss a coin. It works not because it settles the question for you, but because in that brief moment when the coin is in the air... you suddenly know what you are hoping for.

In the end, it doesn't matter what the press says. It doesn't matter what the politicians or the mobs say. it doesn't matter if the whole country decides that something wrong is something right. This nation was founded on one principal above all else. The requirement that we stand up for what we believe, no matter the odds or consequences. When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth and tell the whole world:
NO. YOU MOVE.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Seasick Steve and his three stringed guitar

So, i stumble... a LOT.
for those of you who don't know what stumbling is... It's a Mozilla Firefox add on. essentially, you click the button and it takes you to a random website.
So, i was stumbling and I stumbled upon a youtube video featuring one Seasick Steve. this guy........ is fucking..... AMAZING.
I watched some more of his videos. turns out the guitar he's using, he bought for 75 bucks in Mississippi. When he bought it, it had three strings on it, and they were in the wrong place. he hasn't changed that. the three strings that were on the guitar when he bought it are still there today... all he's done is written on the guitar and added toilet paper.
TOILET PAPER, PEOPLE!
I TOLD YOU THIS GUY WAS AWESOME!!!

Check him out:



video

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Mending

So... my GF read my post about Stacy and now she's all pissed because she thinks that I'm going after Stacy while dating her.
She has full right to be pissed. Because that's indeed how it reads.
So I must clear a few things up.
The Stacy story didnt happen last weekend like I said it did. I just made it more recent to make it more interesting... It actually happened sometimes in May (possibly earlier... I don't exactly remember the time frame).
We weren't really dating then, though i do believe we had just met and were smiling at each other.
I'm sorry I lied about the time frame. It was my bad. Now I just hope I can mend my relationship.
Fuck this is gonna be hard...

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

So, earlier this year, my sister was in a music video. I spent forever looking for it and finally found it.
She's sweeping at the beginning... and at 1:39
so yeah... there you go. enjoy.
video

Monday, September 6, 2010

Calvin & Hobbes & Fight Club

In the film Fight Club, the real name of the protagonist (Ed Norton’s character) is never revealed. Many believe the reason behind this anonymity is to give "Jack" more of an everyman quality. Do not be deceived. "Jack" is really Calvin from the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes. It’s true. Norton portrays the grown-up version of Calvin, while Brad Pitt plays his imaginary pal, Hobbes, reincarnated as Tyler Durden.

Hobbes == Tyler Durden

Picture this: a hyper, self-absorbed child initially concocts an imaginary friend as the ideal playmate, to whom more realistic qualities soon become attributed. This phantasm becomes a completely separate personality, with his own likes, dislikes, and temperament—and the imaginer and the imagined clash and argue constantly, though remaining fast friends. This pattern continues to the point where the child begins to perceive what was originally mere fantasy to be reality.

Just as Calvin has an imaginary jungle-animal friend named Hobbes, whom everyone else believes to be nothing but a stuffed toy, "Jack" in Fight Club has an imaginary cool-guy friend named Tyler, whom no one but Jack can see.

In both cases, the entity that began as the ideal companion soon took on a more realistic, three-dimensional quality. In other words, they became real. This is evident in that both Hobbes and Tyler also began to function as scapegoats for their creators. For instance, consider that Calvin often blames broken lamps and other assorted household mischief on Hobbes, and that Jack is inclined to believe that Fight Club and other various anti-society mischief is brought about by Tyler, not himself. Calvin claims Hobbes pounces on him every day after school; Jack believes Tyler beats him up next to 40 kilotons of nitroglycerin in a parking garage—the list goes on and on. The relationships between the two sets of friends are the exact same. Is this mere coincidence?

Filling in the time-gap between Calvin and Jack, we can imagine the story as something like this: Once Calvin reaches the hostile environment known as the seventh grade, the constant teasing from the other students and the frustrated concern of his parents finally becomes too much, and a reluctant, disillusioned Calvin is finally forced to grow up, or at least begin to. This decision is sealed by one of the hardest things young Calvin will ever have to do in his life: un-imagine Hobbes, an act which to Calvin is essentially no different from murder. After being Calvin’s best friend for over a decade, Hobbes is packed away in a box, or tossed carelessly into a garbage bag, perhaps even stuffed under the same bed that once contained so many monsters. This is all, of course, very painful for Calvin, so much so that he represses it all in shame. Little does Calvin suspect that while he is busy growing up, deciding what "dinette set defines him as a person," Hobbes is also maturing in the recesses of his mind, waiting to be unleashed at an appropriate time.

It’s worth noting that during these twenty or so years, Hobbes never bears a grudge against Calvin nor wishes any ill upon him. Hobbes, remembering the depth of their past friendship, does not hate Calvin but rather hates the society that made Calvin put him away. Hobbes, residing in Calvin’s mind, sees and experiences all that Calvin does—and truly despises all of it. He witnesses a bright, superbly imaginative kid (with a genius-level vocabulary) reduced to nothing more than another nameless cog. Fighting off the tears wept for his conventionalized pal, Hobbes resolves to set Calvin free, paying special attention when Calvin idly looks up homemade-napalm recipes on the Internet.

Flash forward to the timeframe depicted in Fight Club. Calvin/Jack has reached an all-time low. He has done everything society has told him to do but is completely void of happiness. Hobbes, newly adjusted as "Tyler Durden" (after all, grown-up Calvin would no longer accept a jungle animal walking, talking, and eating canned tuna), re-enters Calvin/Jack’s life, determined to show Calvin everything he’s done wrong, whether he likes it or not.

Tyler to Jack: "I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck I’m smart, capable, and most importantly, I’m free in all the ways you wish you could be."

Calvin has always idolized Hobbes. In Weirdos From Another Planet, he dresses up like a tiger and attempts to live in the woods. Like Hobbes, Tyler is cool, collected, and incredibly cerebral. Given this evidence, one can conclude that Tyler is Hobbes, reincarnated after being trapped inside Calvin/Jack’s brain for so many years. Just as Calvin is Jack, Hobbes is Tyler.

Susie Derkins == Marla Singer

Somewhere between the end of high school and beginning of college, uptight, grade-obsessed Susie Derkins lost her way. The pressure to get good grades, the pressure to succeed, simply became too much for her, and she snapped.

Marla remembers the girl she used to be.

Free from the protective bonds of her parents’ guidance and the bland safety of her suburban home, Susie loses her moral bearings entirely and sinks into a dark, seamy, grim world of sex, drugs, and eccentric Albert-Einstein-like hair. Her transformation is so complete that she no longer even remotely resembles the upright citizen that her parents and society wanted her to be: thus, she changes her name.

Like Calvin, Susie has become a misfit, one of society’s lost lambs. It is for this reason that she soon finds herself frequenting support groups such as "Remaining Men Together." Fate has brought her back to Calvin, whom she probably spurned back in junior high. But the two have changed so much that they no longer recognize each other!

The pink dress Marla wears in one scene slightly resembles something that "Binky Betsy," Susie’s favorite childhood doll, once wore: the doll that Calvin stole and attempted to ransom. While Calvin and Susie mostly teased and tortured each other, Hobbes was infatuated with the raven-haired beauty. Accordingly, Jack despises Marla, whereas Tyler takes an *ahem* sort of interest in her (definitely inappropriate for the Sunday Funnies).

When we are first introduced to Marla, she is but a tumor on Jack’s slowly deteriorating world. She is disenfranchised, morbid, socially apathetic—and Jack despises her because she is a mirror image of himself, his own female double. On the other hand, Calvin hates Susie because she is his exact opposite: Bright, obedient, demure—the unruly Calvin has every reason to hate her. However, certain strips definitely infer that Calvin has somewhat of a crush on Susie, and some even imply that Susie shares these latent feelings. But as a cootie-fearing grade-schooler, Calvin may only express these strange feelings through attention-getting antagonisms such as constant snowballs to the head, ransoming her dolls, and through his separate, conveniently more mature other personality—Hobbes.

Unlike Calvin, Hobbes has never been bashful about showing his affection for Susie. Calvin’s imaginary tiger-friend has called her a "cutie," worn swim jams to impress her ("Girls flip for guys in jams"), and even claimed he would betray their club’s secret code if she gave him a tummy rub (which is one of the key differences between Tyler and Hobbes). Naturally, all of this confuses and frustrates Calvin beyond words, even though Hobbes is really nothing more than a product of his own mind! And though Hobbes and Susie never consummated their love for each other (he’s a stuffed tiger and she’s a kid, you sicko!) this is, of course, the exact same deranged love-triangle that is shared between Jack, Tyler, and Marla, or at least a natural progression thereof. Perhaps Marla puts up with Jack/Tyler’s apparent nonsense for so long, because it’s the sort of thing she became used to as a child? And perhaps, in the end, Jack finds solace in Marla because it’s the exact same connection he should’ve made long ago, in his suburban youth. A connection that may have saved them both.

G.R.O.S.S. == Fight Club

In a scene eerily reminiscent of Fight Club, Hobbes blithely informs a sulking Calvin that he decides his own level of involvement in G.R.O.S.S.

When you boil it down, the Fight Club that Jack and Tyler start is really just an odd sort of boys’ club—no ovaries allowed—where men can be men, and the so-called stronger of the sexes can take solace in the fact that, even in our politically correct times, some exclusivities of manhood still remain. (As a side note, imagine how much more controversy the movie would have generated if it involved scenes of men fighting women on equal ground!)

And clubs like this, of course, have their beginnings in backyards, tree houses, and garages all over America. Not surprisingly, Calvin started such a club when he was six years old. Little did anyone realize that he would construct another one much later in his life, again with the aid of an imaginary friend. For just as Calvin, Hobbes, and Susie have dark future versions in Jack, Tyler, and Marla respectively, G.R.O.S.S. (Get Rid Of Slimy girlS ) has the same in Fight Club.

G.R.O.S.S. shares the following characteristics with Fight Club:

--Both have catchy names (although the "slimy" part of G.R.O.S.S. is redundant, otherwise it doesn’t spell anything).

--Both are co-run by a friendless male and his imaginary companion (Calvin is Tyrant and Dictator-for-Life; Hobbes is President and First Tiger).

--Both are exclusively male organizations, although Fight Club’s membership is considerably larger.

--Along with that, all members of both organizations are very loyal.

--The leaders of both organizations constantly engage in fisticuffs (but only in G.R.O.S.S. does a member receive a demerit for biting). --And in said fights, in both organizations, there is only one fight at a time!

--Both are supposedly very secretive (though Jack never tells his mother about Fight Club).

--At least one leader of both organizations is fond of giving speeches (though Calvin never uses the term "space monkey").

--G.R.O.S.S. and Fight Club both wreak havoc on their respective neighborhoods (G.R.O.S.S.’s target is considerably more focused, i.e., Susie).

Clearly, the roots of Fight Club can be seen in G.R.O.S.S. Calvin shows his penchant for such male-oriented, destructive organizations. Also, just like cardboard-box-time-machines and water-gun-transmogrifiers, G.R.O.S.S. was likely created as an escape, a release—as, of course, was Fight Club.

Moe == Robert "Bob" Paulson

Moe secretly seeks atonement for past sins.

Robert "Moe" Paulson, Calvin’s grade-school bully, becomes a six-time weight-lifting champion, and somewhere along the line develops large man-boobs as a result of testicular cancer. This of course leads him to his support group, where he is shocked to find Calvin.

Moe greatly regrets his bullying days, but, too ashamed to reveal his true identity to Calvin, he instead offers his ample bosom for him to cry on, as a measure of retribution.

The Father

Although we’ve already learned of the fates of Hobbes, Susie, and Moe, there are a couple of other people important to Calvin that are missing. People that are even more integral to his development than (arguably) Hobbes: his parents. Mr . . . uhm . . . , and Mrs . . . uh. . . . Okay, so they don’t have names. But then again, there is no need to know them. Because in the comic strip, they’re not supposed to be important characters in their own right. They only matter in regards to how Calvin is directly effected by them; an effect which, by the time of the film, doesn’t seem to have been very positive. From what "Jack" mentions, he’s not exactly close to his parents, particularly his dad, on whom he seems to pin many of his problems. And this matches perfectly with the relationship depicted in the comic, as well as with what happened afterwards.

Calvin’s dad seems to have done quite a number on his son. As stated, it was probably at his urging that Calvin "grew up," that is, finally started to conform to society’s rules, which was the death of Hobbes. Of course, his father wasn’t without his playful side—good-naturedly teasing Calvin at every opportunity—but perhaps this is why "Jack" resents him so much. Maybe after Jack reached the end of his dutiful journey, only to find emptiness, he thought back to the day his father told him that the sun sets down somewhere in Arizona every night. "Maybe," thought Calvin, "maybe ALL of it’s been just another one of Dad’s cruel jokes."

In the "bathtub" scene of Fight Club, "Jack" and Tyler discuss their woeful parents. In this scene, crucial information is revealed, as well as some inconsistencies. "Jack" claims his father left when he was six, an age when Calvin’s dad was obviously still around, but this statement is contradicted soon after, when Tyler mentions his own dad telling him to get married when he was thirty, to which "Jack" responds, "mine said that too." The self-pitying "Jack" is most likely seeking to garner additional sympathy from his newfound friend by making his childhood sound worse than it actually was.

But even more interesting is Tyler’s hostility towards his father: when "Jack" asks him who he would fight, if he could fight anyone, he answers, "I’d fight my father." But, since Tyler is only a figment of Jack’s imagination, we can only assume he’s referring to Jack’s father. And while this hatred would only make sense given that the two are sharing the same brain, why is it that Tyler seems to hate Jack’s father even more vividly than "Jack" himself does? Maybe it’s because Tyler hasn’t forgotten who’s ultimately responsible for the un-imagining that took place years before . . . maybe he’s still not too happy about it . . . and maybe he’s got some pretty good ideas for revenge.

The role of Calvin’s father in all of this is no small one. Other than to "save" Calvin, it’s entirely possible that Tyler’s real motivation for taking down civilization is simply to get back at Calvin’s father. For by destroying the society that forced Calvin into repressing Hobbes, he’s also destroying the society that Calvin’s father, after all, epitomizes. And this of course allows Hobbes an indirect measure of revenge.

Calvin == "Jack"

Although the personality differences between Calvin in the comic strip and Calvin in the movie are pretty large, it can be explained as easily as taking Id and introducing him to Superego ("Jack" actually seems to have sort of a Super-Superego). Nearly all people go through the same thing when first confronted with the crushing grind of reality. But, as they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall—and in terms of imagination and dreams, Calvin was a giant.

Still, it’s not as though common traits between Calvin-Calvin and Jack-Calvin can’t be identified at all. Besides a preference for imaginary friends over real ones, and an inability to express affection for girls, Calvin has never done well when forced to play by any sort of rules. Take, for instance, his utter inability in any sort of organized sport, compared to his unbridled joy while playing the make-it-up-as-you-go-along "Calvinball." Furthermore, even at age 6 Calvin never exactly thrived in stifling, authoritarian establishments (i.e., school), and he’s always had clashes with authority figures since the strip began (his parents, the doctor, his teacher, Rosalyn)—which actually may have initially planted the seeds for Tyler. Beyond that, his excellent vocabulary and way with words are still with him in the voice-over narration of Fight Club, and his rampant materialism that started with mail-order propeller-beanies ends with yin-yang shaped tables. As for the differences, they can be credited to the demoralizing effect of reality.

In the end, Calvin’s involvement with Fight Club and return of Hobbes can be boiled down to two words: "Personal Responsibility." For although Fight Club and Project Mayhem were both mostly Tyler’s doing, by the end of the movie, Jack readily accepts his own part of the blame, as Tyler is his creation. And by doing so, he also accepts responsibility for the undesirable condition of his own life; his father may have pushed him, but Calvin himself was the one who chose to obey. It is through this newfound self-accountability that Calvin/Jack is able to take control of his own life at last. As skyscrapers flash and crumble in the background, and blood oozes from the bullet hole in his head, Calvin says that he is "okay." And we are apt to believe him.

Calvin’s world in the comic strip is pure, romanticized idealism, whereas in the movie, he lives in gray, bleak reality. Within the safety of the panel, Calvin is perpetually six years old, terrible things can never happen, and no matter how crazy a stunt he pulls, everything always returns to status quo. Because of this, our hero is free to do as he wishes, free to chase his dreams as wildly as he desires, never having to worry about tomorrow because there essentially will never be one—unless it’s part of a continuing storyline. This makes the reality of Fight Club all the bleaker, because it depicts what happens when you take someone weaned on dreams and limitless possibilities and jam him into a cramped cage confined by rules and regulations. It probably only took poor Calvin a few years in the adult world (or growing-up world) to fully make the sad change.

This transition from gleeful Calvin to dull "Jack" is not uncommon. Little Nemo became a banker, Peter Pan became a lawyer, and Garfield was caught and butchered by the chef of a Chinese restaurant. (One exception is Charlie Brown, who from all indications was mentally middle-aged at the time of his birth.)

The moral of the story is that reality bites, kiddies. Calvin and Hobbes in Fight Club are proof of this sad, sad truth.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Chasing Stacy: or How I Learned To Stop Being a Pussy and Man the Fuck Up

So... I'm fascinated... intrigued... and infatuated with my BEAUTIFUL neighbor, Stacy.
She's gorgeous. She's not one off those scene girls... she doesn't have streaks in her hair. She doesn't have piercings or take crappy myspace pics. she has a good steady job and a beautiful smile. She's hard working, responsible... and lovely. And all I can do is think about her day in and day out.
She moved in about a month ago, and i didn't know it. what I DID know was i needed some plastic baggies for my marinate. See, i make this AMAZING marinade that I put on brisket, steaks, and ribs. And every weekend, I take it over to my best friend, Luis's house... and we grill like motherfuckers. Beer, cigarettes, guitars, fire... the works.
But I had run out of ziploc baggies to soak the meat in my sauce. So i knock on Lisa's door. Lisa lives in 302. She's a dear friend and has been my friend even through my divorce. she watches my cats when I leave town and we treat each other to dinner often. But she's kind of... a dominatrix... and that's not really my cup of tea. So no dating for us.
Anyway... Lisa was not home. Which is normal. probably working or at her BF's house. But I heard laughing coming from 301's door. so... reluctantly, I knocked. I needed those damn ziplocs.
I was met by a beautiful smile, gorgeous face, and wavy brown hair. She was a vision. I was infatuated. And I stuttered. She giggled. i asked for ziploc bags and she said of course. She let me come in and two of her friends were there. She had boxes everywhere because she had just moved in. Apparently, they were throwing her a "welcome to your new apartment" dinner. cool.
She handed me five gallon size ziplocs. She asked my name and i told her. Then she said she would have to come over and borrow something from me. I told her any time. She smiled and I swear her friends giggled. and that was it.
And... GOD DAMMIT I DIDN'T GET HER NAME!!!!
so for the next two weeks, Lisa and I tried like mad to find out her name. I was too much of a pussy to knock on the door and just ask... but still we tried.
Finally... I gathered up all my man juice and nut butter and decided "fuck this... I'm asking her out"
so... at 3 am, I went to Harris Teeter and picked up a whole chicken and some veggies and pears and wine and all kinds of goodies. My plan was to make her a dinner (because I'm too poor to take her to an exquisite restaurant) and hopefully impress her with my culinary skills... and go from there.
I spent the next 7 hours practicing what I would say to her, writing down ideas for what to make for dinner, and playing Red Dead Redemption. i was super nervous. I could be slapped or laughed at... or a series of other things that I was thinking about...
at 10am, I knocked on her door.
I heard her lean on the door to check her peephole. then she said "It's my neighbor"
So she was with someone. cool. I'd make it short.
She opened the door and I was taken back. She was in her PJs... shorts and a shirt... and she had her hair down. i thought I was going to die. She was so beautiful. She met me with a smile... and my heart jumped into my throat.
"Hi John!"
"Hi. Uhm... look.. before I go on to embarrass myself... What's your name? Lisa and I have been trying to find out... and we can't."
"I'm Stacy."
"HI STACY! Look... this is super embarrassing... but... Ever since i first met you I've been trying to figure out some suave way to ask you out to dinner. maybe bump into you in the hallway or something... but none of it was working."
At this point, she looked to the left, cocked her head a little bit, and smiled. Not a good sign.
"But then I remembered 'geeze John.. you're not rich... you can't afford nice dinners' so I figured I'd try to impress you with my culinary skills. And... i know I'm not much to look at... but I'd still love to cook for you..."
There was a slight pause and she said
"John, it sounds nice. but... to make things even more embarrassing for you... I'm here with my boyfriend."
I was pretty sure I'd kill myself that night. Still alive... but none the less.
I expressed my DEEP embarrassment while secretly praying he didn't step into view. She went on to say
"But hey... I give you props. this was pretty ballsy."
Someone fucking shoot me.
I tried to cover it up by telling her about the game nights Lisa and I have (another story for another post on another day) and she said she'd love to come.
So yeah... I worked myself up for a complete failure.
Such is the story of my life.

my first followers

So... I have followers now. Where are they from? Who knows? Frankly... who cares? THEY"RE FOLLOWING ME! Kinda excited... though i don't know why.
So welcome, dear readers. I don't update often... but when I do (and I'll try to since you're here) I promise I'll make it a good read.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Godzilla House Shoes

So it's been what... three months? Still no followers. Such is life.
Still... I have a story to tell you.

I was 5 years old when my uncle gave me my Godzilla house shoes. They were great. They were huge and green and had these giant cotton claws on the front of them. Every time you stepped down, and loud and thunderous "RAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWR!!!!!!!!!!!!" sounded. I loved them. My uncle and father loved them. My step mother and three step sisters saw trouble on the horizon. I wore them everywhere in the house. You knew I was coming before I did.
"John's coming down the stares."
"How can you tell?"
*RAWR* *RAWR* *RAWR* *RAWR* *RAWR* *RAWR*

"Where's John?"
"In the garage."
*RAWR* *RAWR* *RAWR* *RAWR* *RAWR* *RAWR*

Had my step mother and sisters thought about it, how you knew where i was every second, they would have never sabotaged my fun times.
About two weeks after christmas, my left slipped stopped working
*RAWR* step *RAWR* step *RAWR* step

I had no idea what had happened. But, because I was an idiot 5 year old, I just let it go. I didnt tell dad or check the batteries or anything. As far as I was concerned, two little monsters lived in the shoes and one of them was probably sleeping.
A week later, the other one stopped working and, as a result, I stopped wearing them.
I was 15 when my step sister Amanda told me that she snuck into my room while I was asleep and removed the batteries. All I had to do was replace the damn batteries.
I hate my step sister.
...
Not really though.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Dee Eye Vee Oh Are See Ee

So I signed the final divorce documents about a week ago.
In three or so weeks, I'll be single. 98% of men would give me a high five. they would say "Now you don't need to deal with that bitch!" or something to that effect.
I love my wife. I didn't need to "deal" with her in the first place.
I'm kinda... pretty emotionally fucked up right now. I need to be alone.
I need to play some Castlevania... I need a sandwich, some hot chocolate... and a purring cat on my lap.
mostly... I need my wife back...

Monday, July 26, 2010

It's been too long

Man... the great chipmunk fiasco was the last time I updated?
LAMESAUCE
Ok. so whats been going on since then?
I'm not sure if I updated about it and, frankly, I'm WAY too lazy to go back through all 8 of my updates to find out... I was in the military. I got out (honorable discharge) But they called me back. i was pissed. I LOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATHE the military. but it's the U.S. government... what're you gonna do, you know?
So, i packed a bag and asked my neighbor to watch the cats. I arrived in South Carolina on June 13th. I was SURE they were gonna say no because of my weight. But I apparently forgot that Iraq is kinda hot this time of year... so fat didnt matter. I would just sweat it off anyway.
So all signs pointed to me deploying. IN FACT I was just a few days away from shipping out when some Colonel was flipping through my paperwork, saw something he didnt like... and called me into his office.
When i was a kid... I had ADHD. In order to join the military, you can not have ADHD. So I went and got "undiagnosed" to join. Apparently, that's... a physical impossibility. You can't be undiagnosed from something like that.
So they relieved me from Active duty... and i went home.
So here I am... back to the daily routine. School... video games... trying to find a date.
The divorce is... going... I don't want it to. I love my wife... but she doesnt want too stay with me. whatever makes her happy, i suppose...
This really sucks.
this REALLY REALLY sucks.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

The Chipmunk Fiasco

First, let me just say that the number of times I typed the word "chipmunk" for this entry made me smile. It's such a cool word. Chipmunk. Ha.
This morning, my cat who has never shown any signs of being a good enough hunter to even catch a turtle, caught a chipmunk. Granted, it was a small chipmunk, but a chipmunk none the less. He brought it into the apartment and started playing with it. i didn't notice until i was about to turn on my 360 to get some gaming time in. The chipmunk couldn't have been here that long, though, because the cat was laying beside me not ten minutes before. So it's like he went outside solely to catch this animal and bring it inside to fuck with it. I thought he'd caught a huge frog or something, but then I saw it and cried out. not in fear, I'm not a pansy. more like surprise. "OH SHIT IS THAT A CHIPMUNK?!?!"I got up to shoo Stardust (cats name) away, which now that i think of it, was a bad idea. What if I had succeeded? the chipmunk would still be loose in my apartment. When i got up, Stardust picked it up by its tail and ran into the bedroom with it. I chased him. The chipmunk got loose and ran into the bathroom. I shut the bathroom door and looked for a box to properly extract him in. I went into the bathroom, shooing the cat away from the door, and tried to corner this chipmunk. Then I got to thinking that this little guy might have diseases. So I didn't want to touch him. So I went and grabbed a pair of gloves from my army days. when I got back in, he was in the tub, urine puddles everywhere. He was scared shitless. And really, can you blame him? I went in slowly, and he let me touch him and pet him a little. But when he felt himself being grabbed, he turned into an acrobatic expert. Jumping out of the tub, onto the sink, onto the toilet, back to the sink, climbed the shower curtain, jumped on top of the cabinets, the lunged all the way down back into the tub. I was afraid he'd hurt himself. I mean, that's the equivalent of a human being jumping 30 stories or something. The cabinets are taller than 6 feet. and this little guy was about 5 inches long.
So I decided fuck all the tact and me trying not to scare him. I dove for him, grabbed him, and threw him in the box. I then put on my slippers, and walked out the door. I snapped this quick picture and let him go.
So hey... I learned that my retarded cat can catch chipmunks. awesome.

Monday, May 31, 2010

Say NO to socialism

Each morning, John Doe is awoken by his alarm clock powered by electricity generated by the public power monopoly regulated by the US department of energy. He then takes a shower in the clean water provided by the municipal water utility. After that, he turns on the TV to one of the FCC regulated channels to see what the national weather service of the national oceanographic and atmospheric administration determined the weather was going to be like using satellites designed, built, and launched by the national aeronautics and space administration. He watched this while eating his breakfast of US department of agriculture inspected food and taking the drugs which have been determined as safe by the food and drug administration.
At the appropriate time as regulated by the US congress and kept accurate by the national institute of standards and technology and the US naval observatory, he gets into his national highway traffic safety administration approved automobile and sets out to work by traveling on the roads built by local, state, and federal departments of transportation, possibly stopping to purchase additional fuel of a quality level determined by the environmental protection agency, using legal tender issued by the federal reserve bank. On his way out the door, he deposits any mail he has to be sent out via the US postal service as well as drop the kids off at the local public school.
After work, he drives his NHTSA car back home on the DOT roads to a house which has not burned down in his absence because of the state and local building codes and fire marshal's inspection, and which has not been plundered of all its valuables thanks to the local police department.
He then logs onto the internet which was developed by the defense advanced research projects administration and posts on freepublic.com and the Fox News forums about how SOCIALISM in medicine is BAD because the government can't do anything right.

Sick

So I've had strep throat since Saturday. I can tell you, it's been a fucking horrible experience. I've had a fever twice and can't swallow anything without feeling like dying. Its gotten better. Now I only have annoying headaches that seem to take place right behind my right eye... and the swallowing is a minor inconvenience.
So, I do plan on updating... just not as often since I have this stupid annoying sick thing happeninng in my neck.
What the hell am i saying... I don't even have one follower.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Universal Truths

1) Triangular sandwiches taste better than square ones.
2) At the end of every party there is always a girl crying.
3) One of the most awkward things that can happen in a bar is when your beer-to-toilet cycle gets synchronized with a complete stranger.
4) You're never quite sure whether it's ok to eat green chips.
5) Everyone who grew up in the 80's has entered the digits 55378008 into a calculator.
6) Reading when you're drunk is horrible.
7) Sharpening a pencil with a knife makes you feel really manly.
8) You're never quite sure whether it's against the law or not to have a fire in your backyard.
10) Nobody ever dares make cup-a-soup in a bowl.
11) You never know where to look when eating a banana.
12) Its impossible to describe the smell of a wet cat.
13) Prodding a fire with a stick makes you feel manly.
14) Rummaging in an overgrown yard will always turn up a bouncy ball.
15) You always feel a bit scared when stroking horses.
16) Everyone always remembers the day a dog ran into your school.
17) The most embarrassing thing you can do as schoolchild is to call your teacher mom or dad.
18) The smaller the monkey the more it looks like it would kill you at the first given opportunity.
19) Some days you see lots of people on crutches.
20) Every man has at some stage while taking a pee flushed half way through and then raced against the flush.
21) Old women with mobile phones look wrong!
22) Its impossible to look cool while picking up a Frisbee.
23) Driving through a tunnel makes you feel excited.
24) You never ever run out of salt.
25) Old ladies can eat more than you think.
26) You can't respect a man who carries a dog.
27) There's no panic like the panic you momentarily feel when you've got your hand or head stuck in something.
28) No one knows the origins of their metal coat hangers.
29) Despite constant warning, you have never met anybody who has had their arm broken by a swan.
30) The most painful household incident is wearing socks and stepping on an upturned plug.
31) People who don't drive slam car doors too hard
32) You've turned into your dad the day you put aside a thin piece of wood specifically to stir paint with.
33) Everyone had an uncle who tried to steal their nose.
34) Bricks are horrible to carry.
35) In every bowl of chips there is a bad chip.

Downstairs Neighbor

My neighbor downstairs is a cool motherfucker. He's big, balding, old, and ex military. He says "shit" a lot and gets pretty lonely. He's originally from Kentucky... he's been here for a year... away from his wife and kids and family. He's just here because he was temporarily transferred. But he moves back home next week. To be reunited with his family. I'll miss him.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

The Balloon


Today, on the way to KFC, I saw a balloon flying through the sky. It was one of those congratulatory balloons. The thin circular ones that say "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" or "HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" It brought back thoughts that were pretty buried. I really have no idea why, they're very pleasant thoughts. I was a kid, maybe five or so, and my mother bought me a balloon. It was tall, orange, and zig zagged. Now that I think about it, it was a very interesting balloon. They're usually the typical upside down teardrops... but mom managed to find this kick ass shaped one.
Anyway, she gave it to me for one reason or another while we were in the driveway. I looked at her, then it, then I said "I wanna let it go." She said "It's your balloon. Do whatever you want with it." So I let it go and we both watched it fly higher and higher into the sky until it disappeared. She smiled the whole time.
I think there's a certain joy in letting balloons just sail off into the distance. Sure you payed for it... but you also like to see it fly. One day, I'm going to attach some sort of camera that isn't too heavy for it, and retrieve it and watch what it filmed.
I hate my mother now. I can't stand her. I think she's conniving and shady and mean and makes sure that she comes out on top no matter what. She's just a mean woman.
But we'll always have the balloon...

My Economic Opinion

So I know a posted a little less that 15 minutes ago, But I don't care. this is my blog and I'll do what I damn well please with it.
Everyone's screaming about our economic problem and they want a solution. Well there isn't one. America is now so far in debt that we can physically never pay it off.
We are, however, stupid Americans... so we're going to try anyway. Because that's what we do, for some reason. So my idea is this: Tax incentives for buying American made vehicles.
If you live in a big city, You probably see a shit ton of Japanese cars... especially Hondas. Lots of VW's, some Mercedes, some BMW's... and every now and then you'll see a chevy corvette or a dodge neon.
Not alot of people buy American anymore. People scream that Honda's more reliable and Mercedes are faster. they have all these reasons to not buy America. So give them a reason. Each new American made car you buy (i.e. Dodge, Chrysler, Plymouth, Chevy, Ford, Jeep) gets you a thousand bucks when you get your tax return. Don't make foreign cars more expensive, our neighbors across the pond wouldn't like that. Just give a little incentive to pour into our OWN economy for once.
Will this fix everything? No. Will it help? Absolutely. And so far, spending BILLIONS of dollars to send people 500 to 2000 bucks based on their income is too complicated and taking too long.
People buy cars every day. And this thing could start TOMORROW.
I dunno, maybe I'm just an idiot. But I think this would work...

skipping class

Today I'm skipping class. Why? Because I really don't feel like going. And I'm waiting for a check. My father is sending me an unknown amount of money (in the neighborhood of 500) and my mail doesn't usually get here until about 4 pmish. The bank closes at 5 and I'm in class until 6. So, If I want to deposit the check today, I need to not be in class... see how that works? I would love to spend the money on Video Games and steaks and hookers... but I'll ACTUALLY spend it on bills and more bills and steaks.
And stop thinking whatever you may be thinking about me needing my parents help with anything. The last time I hit dad up for money was like.... a year ago. The only reason I'm ding it now is the V.A. wanted its money back.
Which deserves a backstory, I guess. Here goes...
I served in the military for almost 3 and a half years. when i got out, I took almost a whole entire year off doing nothing. Then i came to the realization that my wife shouldnt be the only one making money. So I decided I would go to school and try to find a job. I had a G.I. Bill which would pay for school, so I figured... why not work and get a higher education? When I applied, they said my Montgomery G.I. Bill was all fine and dandy... but I wanted to REALLY be cool, I'd apply for the Post 9/11 G.I. Bill.
Bit of a tangent for a second... the Montgomery G.I. Bill is given to every soldier all it really does is give you something like 35,000 for school. So, if you go to the normal school (NOT M.I.T. and Harvard and Yale and the like) you can get a degree for pretty much free...
The Post 9/11 G.I. Bill gives you somewhere around 75,000 for school... but on top of that, they pay you according to where your school is. So... they'll pay the school any tuition and book fees you have... and then pay YOU a set fee per month to do whatever the hell you want with. The beauty is the paycheck you get doesn't come out of the 75,000. only the schools tuition does.
Neat, eh?
The problem is this is a very new program, so it was having trouble getting off its feet. It was a full six months before I saw my first check. the school got paid right away... but I didn't. so i went to the V.A. and asked for an advanced pay of 3 grand. I assumed they took it out of my first few checks, but they didn't. They're taking it out of my current checks... so I asked dad for some helping money.
So, because dad is sending me the money, I really can't get froggy with it. Maybe I can get a nice diinner once or twice... but it's primarily for bills.
And this is why I'm skipping class today.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

My wife divorced me because, frankly, I'm a total dick. I'm inconsiderate, care less about other people, lazy, mean, loud, and demand way too much. I don't blame her. She DID, however, take the Wii... and that is a big no no.

And Thus I begin...



My name is John. I'm 25, white, single, and an utter jerk. I'm not sure if I care so much what people think of me... Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I guess it depends on the person. I was raised in Texas, moved to North Carolina when i was 21, and now live in northern Virginia. I've lived in 12 cities across these three states and have been married... and divorced. I have 3 cats, 2 guitars, 1 Joker bobble head, and 0 college degrees. I have no idea where my life is going. I know exactly what i want to do... I know how to get there and how to do it... but I don't know if I'll ever stop procrastinating or being lazy (both apply in my life). The problem is I don't want to stop playing video games. Homework? Could care less. Relationship? Could care less. Social Network? I'm kind of a hermit. I'm just too lazy to be bothered. Hell, I'm not even sure why I started a blog in the first place. I'll get bored with it before the months out. I enjoy House, M.D. I've never seen a single episode of 24 or Lost. I like drawing, though I haven't drawn a single thing in 3 years. I like to write, play music, and sing. I enjoy sex and copious amounts of alcohol... though I HATE beer. I tend to ramble and, when i do, i never know what to say... so I just keep talking. I'm not sure what else to say here, though I'm sure that, eventually, something will present itself. So for now, I'll say "bye" and remind myself that i haven't told a single damn person about this... so it'll probably be a good long minute before anyone even finds it.