The Wide World of Sports

There are two things I enjoy greatly in this world, and those two things are tennis and women. Like any true man, I love pretty women, they are just soft and wonderful. All manner of women in some way strike my fancy, and I don't mean in a strictly boarish, misogonistic, oogling sort of way. Women are beautiful, I appreciate beauty, therefore women are something I like in all forms.

I also like tennis. I'm good at tennis, having myself played since I was 12 years old. It is a great game, easy to learn but hard to master. Growing up, I watched all the tennis I could and played and practiced for hours on end day in, day out trying to learn and get better. So, naturally, when the two collide I am very much in a good mood.

That said, today is the Women's Final at Wimbledon. I love Wimbledon. The grass is magical and I'm sure that being there in person would be as well. Mostly I love Wimbledon because in my head it is pronounced Wimbly-Don and that makes me smile. Aside from that, the women's game rarely holds interest for me. I find them to be rather slow paced and dull on many occasions, mooning the ball back and forth lazily as if they have only just picked up a racquet for the first time. But one of the things I enjoy most about women's tennis, which is a point of contention amongst the elite and purists, is the grunting and shrieking during the matches.

Many people find these noises to be annoying and distracting from the game itself. I don't. I enjoy the fact that they are so committed to their craft and trying as hard as they can that they show that even during the point being played. Sure at times it does get a bit excessive, but in those moments even if I can tune out the caveman sounds, I find my mind wandering and wondering. Sometimes I think about what it would have been like if I had continued my tennis playing and attempted to break into the major levels of the game, other times I question decisions of the players as far as shot selection and placement. Most times though, especially in the women's game, I can't help to think to myself,

 <Kyle (my inner monologue's name)>. <Kyle,> I say, <I wonder if the grunts the women make on court are the same as they are in the bedroom.>

This often times sparks a debate or anger in women in general, as they think I'm a pig. And maybe I am. But if you've ever watched women's tennis, as a man (even if you're not a man but you try to think like one now and again), you can't help but think that. How satisfying it must be, in the throes of passion, as you rail a beautiful woman, to hear such noise and passion. The fact that you could be the one to ellicit such sounds would be a powerfully addictive thing indeed. Every day would become a drug seeking adventure with you begging, pleading, and seeking out the sounds that bring you climactic realization. And how magnificent a feeling when that happens!

Okay, that's it. That's my chauvanistic thought train for the day. And also, to quote David Mitchell, especially since Sharapova just went down in the final, "In the women's game, why does the pretty one always lose to the moose?"

A Fleeting Thought

So, in the course of watching the Rangers game just now as I penned the previous post, I watched a commercial. Not out of the ordinary, but it seemed to reaffirm everything I believe about America as a whole. The commercial was for Taco Bell's new XXL something something burrito.

 In it, there are all manner of various representatives of other countries questioning the sanity of Americans and the size of the food we portion. I have to agree...why the hell is everything so gargantuan? Not only that, but then everyone runs around asking why the obesity rate is skyrocketing. You can't be serious. You don't know?

Granted the commercial is going to be seen by the masses here as funny, mostly because, as I've learned through my experiences, the general American public en masse is retarded and can't understand little more than that they are alive for some reason. Okay, I could make this a much longer diatribe but I haven't the energy. And I'm missing the Rangers game.

The Book of Weasel (An Abbreviated History of Voice)

Chapter 1

1 In the beginning was silence. 2 Man, looking across creation, saw this and was content. 3 The vastness of all that lay before him was enough, for as long as he had food Man was happy. 4 And so it was that Man began to kill indiscriminately to make for himself food and clothing.

5 Soon though Man became consumed with desire. 6 And the desires were many, some good, some bad. 7 The desires of Man grew within him, and unencumbered, began to fester within him. 8 Man wanted nothing more than to express his desires in some way. 9 Man knew not how to go about this, knowing only to how to kill. 10 However, Man also knew that the red liquid from animals he murdered stained the blades of the grass and rocks around him. 11 And so, Man began to dip into the blood his fingers and mark the rocks around him trying to communicate his desires. 12 After many trials, Man was able to, in some ways, depict his desires upon the rocks. 13 And Man was again content.

14 Drawings soon became strewn across Man's dominion. 15 He began to grow confused by his own creation, and was again consumed with desire to clearly solicit his thoughts. 16 Knowing nothing but murder and art, Man was growing more and more angry at having his desires and thoughts go unheeded. 17 The anger boiled over in him, and Man for the first time discovered his own powers were not limited to a life of unanswered pictograms and swift death. 18 Man ushered forth his will, resulting in a feeble, nondescript gutteral grunting. 19 The grunting of Man signified in him a great accomplishment. 20 And Man soon learned to point while forming his sounds, and this greatly increased the efficacy with which all Man's desires were unlocked before him. 21 And Man was content a third time.

22 Man and his grunt were soon the most feared creature in all creation. 23 Beast and bird, feral and fowl, soon learned the sound of Man and grew to understand the grunt as warning. 24 Man, the eternal hunter, stealth and swarthy, had given into his own desires for communication, and in so doing doomed his own greatest asset. 25 No longer could Man wander the realms and kill indiscriminately, he would need to develop another desire. 26 Thus was born self-control. 27 Man became aware that the ability to grunt was not that he must do so constantly, and Man soon began to alternate silence with grunt ushering in again his ability to hunt effectively. 28 As result of Man's newfound ability to control his gruntings, Man stumbled upon conversation. 29 Man was again master of his domain, killing at will and communicating the details of his kill to his fellows. 30 And Man was content.

31 One day, Man, while tromping through the wood, began expirimenting with his grunt. 32 This was much to his liking, as the days had grown in monotony of sound and duty. 33 In order that Man break up his boredom, he began trying to change the sound he could make. 34 And Man practiced this, and over time grew able to make different sounds. 35 With different sounds, Man discovered he could indicate a variety of things without need of pointing as he grunted. 36 Thus Man invented meaning and was content.

37 Man and his meaning were soon forever linked as infallible. 38 Yet even so, Man was soon grown discontented again. 39 He desired again to change his surrounding. 40 He desired more meaning and more sound. 41 And so it was that Man, in his growing capacity for self-actualization, opened his mouth for the first time. 42 Whence cameth the opening of the mouth of Man, he grunted and was taken aback. 43 The grunt had become noise both loud and resonant. 44 And Man expounded his understanding and began to form his lips to alter the noise. 45 With practice Man was soon able to formulate noise that expressed the sounds he heard in his world. 46 Thus was born speech, and though infantile Man knew this was good and was content.

47 Man, now with ability to make speech, began to practice this. 48 He sat daily jibbering and jabbering in his home forming new sounds. 49 He combined sounds together and in succession, trying to make more and more sense of his world. 50 Soon Man differentiated his sounds giving meaning and name to things he saw. 51 And Man grew excited by his discoveries. 52 He became determined. 53 The sounds of Man would become his greatest asset. 54 And Man learned that he soon could form words. 55 Unfortunately for Man, this meant that also Wo-Man soon learned speech and words. 56 And though now Man was forever doomed to listen to Wo-Man never shut up, Man was content.

Chapter 2

1 With speech fully learned by Man, he set about making more complex the gift he gave himself. 2 And thus Man became aware that through speech he could tell others of his adventures. 3 Thus Man gave birth to spoken word. 4 The oratory ability became all the rage and Man and his contemporaries soon began to craft new words and manipulate speech into stories. 5 Man was content.

6 The spoken word of Man was to become the predominant force in his ability to practice dominion over beast and other Men as well. 7 The words of Man were of great use in communicating desire and want. 8 And Man practiced his words to be effective and memorable. 9 For even though Man could communicate, he was aware that if no other Man recalled his words they were no good. 10 And Man became consumed with desire to put words into permanent form. 11 Thus Man stepped back and designed language to be written. 12 And Man was content.

13 The written form of Man's speech proved difficult in that he was not able to produce his language where all Men could then know it. 14 This was not Man's fault entirely. 15 Man had neglected that to know language in written form, Man would need to be able to read it. 16 Thus the need for literacy was born and Man soon began to educate his familiars. 17 The spreading of language and literacy soon grew. 18 And Man became content again.

19 The production of literature by Man soon became tantamount in his eyes. 20 But because the demand was great, Man struggled to keep up. 21 Being resourceful and ingenious, Man soon invented a machine to reproduce his language onto paper. 22 And so it was that printed language fostered education of Man, and it was good in his eyes. 23 Man, now able to educate himself, found that invention could swiftly be at his fingertips. 24 And Man was again contented.

25 Through study Man became a great inventor. 26 Trial and error his nemesis but greatest teacher. 27 And Man soon developed electricity to light his way as he invented more things from his language and education. 28 And Life was good, and Man was content.

29 Electricity became all the rage. 30 And Man invented a great many things at its hand, all the while increasing his voice and speech and language. 31 Telephonic devices and televisionary machines and computational components, all were Man's desires and his voice gave life to them in accordance with his will. 32 Man soon discovered his ability to communicate was no longer limited to those only around him. 33 He could express himself to all Men around the world without fear of travel. 34 And Man grew content.

35 Man, now imbued with his need to communicate with others around the world, began to do so at his will. 36 He had grown his voice to be heard by the masses, indiscriminately killing all Men with his ideas and wonders and desires. 37 And though Man was killing his familiars, so conversely were they he. 38 The amount of ideas being voiced soon grew loud and begged for a place to be localized. 39 Thus the internet blog was born. 40 And Man was content.

41 With the invention of a civilized forum to placate Man and his ideas, came also a revision of the language he so long toiled to perfect. 42 Propriety and syntax of voice gave way to convenience and sloth. 43 Man discovered his abilities were once again waning toward the days of grunts and gutteral throat noises. 44 N Man b kuntnt.

Life Has Gotten In the Way

Well, clearly, as my lack of poss surely gives testament to the title, I have had a lackluster track record with maintaining this blog. Can it even really be considered a blog anymore? It's pretty much devolved to a site where I random post bits and blobs and incoherent rants intermittently as I remember that it exists. This project has become my one time pet python, Artex. I would often forget about him as well, but not to the point of death. I always managed to keep him fed, since he didn't need to eat but once every couple of weeks. I just didn't familiarize him with social skills and the feeling of being played with on a daily basis, as such he revolted against me and slithered off into the sunset one day. Luckily the internet can't just slide away from me, it's far too massive.

Anyway, I have been writing, and meaning to post them here but just haven't gotten around to it in the last six weeks. As such, and rather than bombard one post with a shitload of words that would lead to TL;DR I will, over the course of the next few days or so, disperse these ramblings. What follows is an untitled string of thoughts I had a while back and expounded upon, polishing them and making them seem slightly more intelligent yet intelligible. Read, don't read, it's all the same. In fact, I contend more people will not read this than will, which is nothing new for me.

 

           There is an old proverb about shoes that people like to throw around now and again when they feel the need to express disdain with another’s actions. Everyone has heard it, more than they would have liked, and most, if not all, simply disregard this antiquated piece of historical wisdom as nothing more than a saying that people throw around. Some people may take this in stride, or even to heart, but that is not to say that this particular piece of knowledge is good or even true. Like many old sayings, this adage is just that.

“Before you judge someone, walk a mile in their shoes.”

            Now, as colloquialisms go this one is seemingly sound -- don’t rush to a conclusion before you know the tribulations of someone. And that’s a relatively nice sentiment for an idyllic society. Except that there is no idyllic society. So really this wisdom, for what it’s worth, is less about sympathy and more about stealing shoes. And although that train of thought has been played out by the sarcastic smart asses of the world, there really is no other way to spin this piece of antiquity. Or is there?

            We have all been taught that theft of other people’s property is wrong. When we are but wee lads and lasses, dribbling down our chins and shitting on our asses, there are numerous adult type persons telling us the rights and wrongs of every day societal expectation. Don’t steal, don’t kill, don’t lie, don’t be a dick, don’t have bestial thoughts about your neighbor’s donkey or wife. Pretty basic stuff given that those things seem to be large in scale and thus are easier ideas to which to adhere. The broad strokes of life are typically ideas and concepts which are devoid of emotional involvement, making them easier to grasp and follow. After all, nothing is difficult when you have no grasp of feelings or emotions.

            Feelings, from an early stage, are much easier to comprehend and understand than emotions. Feelings, by and large, stem from a sort of built-in systemic notion that those people around are comfortable, non-threatening, safe. Being able to feel safe and comforted is often the first thing people notice within themselves as people. Feelings, much like the broad strokes, require no output or reciprocity from the receiver in terms of expectation. Emotions, on the other hand, once they are introduced through repetitious feelings are much more difficult. Emotions require planning, they require interaction with other people, require confrontation of one’s own shortfalls. Emotions, in short, suck the life out of humanity and force feed right into poor cognitive and logical ability.

            It is true that a life devoid of emotion is no life at all. Emotions provide an interaction with others that can take place on a deeper level and allow people of various backgrounds to become involved and invested in the well being of society as a whole. Therefore, it is fruitless and asinine to attempt to deride emotions as inhibiting the betterment or continuance of a functioning society.

Functional society

Insomuch that society exists, one cannot argue that point. That society is functional is little more than a marginal assumption that people in general have the ability to produce results comparable to progressive action. However, that is not to say that society as a whole does not progress or produce resultant action. Every action is capable of producing some type of reaction; everyone knows this fact thanks to Newton or some old dead guy making up the rules as he floated through life. And these reactions will, typically, have the quality of being opposite and equal to the initial action imparted upon them. Therefore, to say that society is incapable of function is at best a fallacy notwithstanding.

But to say that society lacks function would be a fair statement given that the basic idea behind a function is that a positive result is produced. While many actions are capable of yielding a positive reactionary, there are countless others that give way to a negative end, and this impedes and inhibits the connotation of functionality altogether.

For example, let us say that someone, anyone, were to see fit to commit an heinous act; something like sexual assault of a child. This action, obviously, is not something that, in and of itself, would ever be considered acceptable or good. Thus it would follow that the outcome and reaction of such an action would therefore be negative, both for the aggressor and the victim, not to mention those not directly involved but directly affected thereby. Granted this example is somewhat esoteric but will serve its purpose.

Now this act, deplorable and vile, is nevertheless something chosen for a specific purpose. Such purpose cannot be fully known or understood by those outside the situation itself, but can be speculated against in order to take a better understanding of the why, moreover to make people feel more at ease or more riotous. For even though one may not agree with the action taken, the fact that it happens exists and, by virtue of the nature of life, produces reaction. More often than not, the resultant reaction is one of disgust, at least insofar as those outside the direct action are concerned. But what about the reaction this causes to those within the action; on the front lines.

For the aggressor, the result would be, most likely, that of exceeding happiness and excitement. The entire idea behind such a violently brazen action speaks to this end. Control over another being’s vitality and sanity is a powerful feeling indeed. From the first taste to the last, this control is something that must continually be fed and exercised regularly to maintain a homeostatic balance within the aggressor’s own mind. More or less, this action is little more than a disease which can never be quelled.

Unfortunately, though not for such an aggressor, the result is often that the victim in such instances becomes unsettled and distrusting of all humanity. And this reaction grows and spreads throughout the course of a lifetime, impacting numerous people along the way; drags others into the personal hell created by someone that may be unknown to them. Because of this initial reaction, which then would constitute an all new action as seen by outside entities, the world in general spirals into a deep mistrust of itself. And through this comes apocalypse.

Apocalypse.

            So many people are afraid of this word, or what it might bring, and no one knows for sure if such an event may happen at all. The traditional connotation of apocalypse is such that people decry the complete destruction of the world as humanity knows it, fire and brimstone and inconceivable horror. And this very well may be true. The world may one day decide not to exist anymore and commit suicide, taking along with it all of humanity and various other living creatures. Certainly this would be, presumably, a very bad event. But is this the only way one should view an apocalypse, through the eyes of death and destruction and nihilistic self-loathing at the potential, indeterminate future failure and breakdown? If an end is nearing and death coming for all, should not we make precautions? Perhaps. Then again, perhaps this impending apocalyptic event has already happened for many and those who are wailing about the end of the world have yet to experience it.

            By definition, apocalypse is a catastrophic failsafe for the world at large, a cessation of life, liberty, and free internet porn. Once the end begins it becomes difficult to stop and nothing or no one is safe from harm and certain death most horrible. Cheerful stuff. And of course there are any number of religions, people, or non-entities that lay claim to the fact that apocalypse is imminent and that all humanity should prepare to die. No one, according to these ancient beliefs and prophecies, will be able to outrun, out play, outlast an apocalypse; once the end is upon us, we are all fated. Hold on tight and hope that it goes quickly. Wait, wait, wait, die. That is what is being told us. Although humanity is capable of producing amazing inventions, cures, or massive erections, there is nothing that matters because in the end we will all fall to the apocalypse.

            So, in essence, we are all fucked. No matter what we do, say, think, or attempt, there is no outrunning our certain doom through a cataclysmic event beyond our control. Or is there? If the word apocalypse is defined, truly, by that which we know and accept it, there is no hope. But what if the way in which humanity views the word apocalypse is not that which was intended at all from whence the word was coined? Maybe, just maybe, the translation of the word apocalypse has become so skewed through the ages that the original intent has been lost in the muddled world of confliction and religious zeal. Could not the word apocalypse simply have been meant to lay implication to individual or cultural end times?

            Certainly the world has bastardized linguistic meaning before, humanity does not span eons without a few fuck ups. Revolutions, crusades, petty arguments over sports laws, the Jersey Shore, these things are arguable as fuck ups. Granted none of the examples given fall within the realm of linguistics, but if there can be such massive failure attributed to human stupidity, clearly language barriers will play some part. So would it not be plausible then, that the translation of the word apocalypse, from its origin, could have been misconstrued to imply the end of the world at large rather than its intended purpose of conveying the death of one’s own world?

            That such is the case is not certain, but can be argued. Events in life are often boiled down to two major categories – good and bad. The world is not so simple that all events or decisions should fall into such neatly lined boxes, but often this happens. So, let us say that someone has an event occur in their life that shatters that which they have known and to which they have grown accustomed. For sake of argument, let us say this event is the death of a dearly loved close relation. Death is bad, m’kay. It means that biological and cognitive functions have ceased to exist within the confines of a fleshy pile of humanity.

            For those left in the wake of such a death, this event seems to cause their once pristine world full of puppy farts and rainbow shards to come to a devastatingly crashing halt. Nothing matters anymore, beauty is gone and the one-sidedness of life becomes a stark reality. Once someone transverses the pathway from living to dead, grief and sadness hit, sometimes debilitating those who are left picking up the pieces of their once beautiful life. Often times, those that remain feel so empty and destitute that they claim their world has come to an end. Apocalypse now, baby.

            This is not the only apocalypse that occurs in such a given situation though. Most people are so consumed with narcissism and grief that they fail to even realize that things have become much worse for the person who is actually dead. Obviously, if one is no longer living, the world is at an end for whom the bell tolls and the sun has set. Clearly death is an end to one’s world as there is nothing left to live for. Could this not be the apocalypse of yore, the one that has become mistranslated and used extensively and wrongly to decry the end of the entire world instead of personal atrocity? Of course, every end brings to bear a new beginning; something cathartic to enamor the masses and take focus off the apocalypse just experienced. Most often this includes, whether for better or worse,

Children.

            Wide-eyed and fresh from the vagina, children are often seen as a second chance at life; a reincarnation of lost hopes and dreams in a society long of tooth. In some ways, children are the future. In other ways, however, they most assuredly cause apocalypse. Sure they smell nice, for the six hours before they shit themselves, and the innocence they have is infectious, but children are nothing but trouble. In a world that is renowned for cyclical existence, children are the replacement adults. The worst part is that children are not even remotely apologetic about stealing people’s life force. Children only care about themselves, about eating, sleeping, and shitting on everything they can get their nasty little asses positioned over. Because they are seen as cute, no one seems to care that another person met their demise just so the little parasite could be born. And while all currently vital adults have been children before, conversely all children have been adults at some point.

This argument, of course, smacks of intonations of Hindu beliefs which can obviously be seen by many as controversy in the world religious circles depending on which side you happen to align yourself. Disregarding personal feelings and religious belief, things that will influence decisions and further beliefs, and taking into account a base scientific principle, surely the idea of a reincarnate physicality must be given some merit. Basic thermodynamic theorem, and universal law, states that energy cannot be created or destroyed, ergo and thereby, the apocalypse of a person must itself also give way to a new/re-birth. If for no other reason than people, as they exist both in physical and mental, thus loosely spiritual, capacities are endless bundles of mass and energy the idea of reincarnation must be plausible in some facet.

One in, one out.

          And yet, the gears are grinding, they are being felt with full weight. Undoubtedly, there are thoughts and cries about the exploding population; a problem which, indeed, is being felt the world over. As it stands now, the population is nearing 7 billion, more and more births without a concurrent and identical death rate. However, just because human population is exploding, that does not disprove the above thought, and for one simple reason – stars. Stars are dying throughout the galaxies, as they will often do once, like humanity, their lifespan has reached penultimate conclusion. Luckily, or unluckily depending on your view, humanity as a whole is the beneficiary of the recycled energy, and as such, population booms. Which then, through a long tangential strain, brings us back to the original point about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes. Regardless of personal feelings, or even events in life, there is no reason to need to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes because, at some point during this cyclical life, every person has been in someone else’s shoes whether cognizant of the fact or not.

Undesirable

Hello again, worthy adversary. Well, the inevitable result has come at long last and the road long fraught with perilous inequity reached summation. Many would consider this a good thing, for certainly there are not many who desire the tumultuous beckoning of a life of ill designed warring. And while it is true that many things of the past that brought us to this conclusion were evil, arguably necessary, certainly this does not mean that the end is in sight. Nothing of such grandiose magnitude is truly ever over, merely ceased for undetermined time in face of new resistance. With the end of an era, short though it may be, comes a new beginning filled with much more difficult trials of will, strength, fortitude, and intellect.

In case you had yet to surmise today's topic, last night, in the late hours preceding the turning of the day, local standard time, my sister gave birth to her heathen. A celebratory occasion for most, but not me. If you are unfamiliar with the reasons or background, see earlier posts. Now, insomuch as birth is a typically joyous event, the way in which this particular misfortune came about is much the reason for my disdain thereof. Upon receiving the phone call from mother, and being informed of earlier events of the day, I was instantly pissed. My sister, the selfish, unruly, unappreciative, naive, cock sucking, tax dollar stealing, philandering, lying, life ruiner, demanded, among other things, that her mother, the grandmother-to-be, not be in the hospital for the birth. Yes, you read that right...the hospital, not just the room but the entire building. On top of this, said sister also forced upon mother the offspring already present which the father cares nothing about and is too goddamn lazy to fucking take care of, without so much as requesting as dumping the kid at the doorstep and being ungrateful for the reluctance of mother to say anything and just do it. And of course, there is the topic of the other woman, the new woman, another concubine in the harem, who is not involved in the situation at all but was allowed to be present for the extraction of the devil's spawn.

All this, combined with the previous 9 months of verbal, emotional, and mental abuse from my bitch sister, has renewed my anger, ire, hatred, and wrath. And let's not forget every single person I've ever known telling me that I can't be angry because there is a kid involved, it's not the kid's fault, etc, etc. I'm not fucking retarded, I know it's not the kids fault, but the biological fuck bags who brought the kid in to being -- it is their fault, and I have every right to be angry with them, with the situation, and ESPECIALLY with the treatment my parents have been given throughout. People need to understand that just because there is a kid in the mix, doesn't mean I have to invalidate my feelings on the situation or completely flip my thoughts like most people seem to be doing. In point of fact, I am actually mad at everyone else as well because they are acting now as if the world is perfect just because a puke and shit machine has been cut from my sister's innards. I am an island, I am alone, and I'm an asshole; this is my choice, this my burden, this me.

The best part is that I played unwilling babysitter last night for the already existent Manson child and was subsequently left in a hospital waiting room for 4 hours. Never once was it requested that I go back to the room or even acknowledged by those who caused this monstrous result. Of course, I never would have set foot in the room while the sperm donor was back there lest I throw him through the window and into the street below. However, being taken into consideration would have been at least proper. My sister knows the situation and could have easily cleared the room if she gave a flying fuck about anyone but her goddamn self, but she doesn't. I accept that this child is born, I accept that the mother and father of this child are fucking lazy, selfish, slobs who are so full of narcissism and insecurity that they want no one to interfere with their "life" that consists of lies, deceit, other women, drugs, and alienation. I do not, cannot, and will not, be seen as, or called, uncle to this bastard child. Mostly because my sister, who is unmarried to this waste of human life, refuses to give her little devil the family name. She is naming it after the sperm donor, the final slap in the face, which is funny because I am going to guarantee that in less than a year this asshole is going to leave her. That keeps me smiling throughout this whole thing, and the fact that I will get to say a big fat fucking "I TOLD YOU SO" repeatedly for the rest of my sister's miserable, inconsiderate, life.