Why Language is Important

I present to you, dear avid non-reader, a challenging decryption puzzle that will soon be the future of human communication. I will give you only the first six words of the remainder of the post below and it will be up to you to decipher what I am saying. Hopefully you will be right and get the joke, let me know in the comments what you think it is. I will post tomorrow the correct answer. Ready?.....Set......Go!

Oh, hi! I was talking with S1 2D & T W O T P T S1 E U T I T S C L. & W I A B A 2 A S M B B S L, I A H T S. O S, I H U I B O I S T A S & B M S T. I Y A 2 L 2 W O W Y W 2 S P J C T F P, P I O S, & L T P D & T! H P I I T W H B D L 2 A A & A BC T O F W L "HI" O "OK" O "YOU" I J S D T O O L? W N J T I L & N, T I T L A O E R. O T E B I P Y A J S, W H W Y E A T P?.....T A A G!! (L L S W B)


UPDATE:
As promised, albeit a day later than stated, here is the actual meaning behind the cryptic letter/number jumble....

Oh, hi! I was talking with someone today and they were on their phone texting someone else using that insufferable text speak coded language. And while I applaude being able to accomplish so much by being so lazy, I absolutely hate that shit. Oh sure, I have used it but only in situations that are sarcastic and blatantly mocking such things. If you are too lazy to write out what you want to say properly just call the fucking person, put it on speaker, and lay the phone down and talk! How pathetic is it that we have boiled down language to asinine acronyms and abbreviations because typing out full words like "hi" or "ok" or "you" is jsut so damn taxing on our lives? Why not just talk in letters and numbers, that is the least amount of effort required. Okay, that's enough but I promised you a joke so, what do you get when you eat all the potatoes?.....They are all gone! (like language soon will be)

Ye Age Olde Debate

I was talking with someone the other day who was watching a program about intelligent design on TV. And they began to beat me with their incredulousness at how insane it was that intelligent design was being black listed by the scientific community. Which got me to thinking about science (read: atheism (I know it's not that simple but for sake of this post it is)) and religion, and what my thoughts are.

I think religion is interesting. Not in a fanatical fundamentalist sort of way, I just mean that there are things about religion as an idea that I find interesting; much the manner in which I think of science. There is a certain <je ne sais quoi> about religion as an entity that fascinates me. Having said that, this is not going to be one of those diatribes on religion, tearing it down or building it up, I rather hope it does not become such; I care little for debate but enjoy inspiring them. Right, on we go.

Like many people, particularly in Bible Belt USA, I grew up in a deeply devout, oh fuck it - I grew up around religion. My mother was a Catholic turned Methodist from the union to my father, I presume he was also a Methodist at the time...or maybe that came later, who's to say, I wasn't born so I don't know. And like many good children, from an early age I bucked at the trend. The only reason, besides having no free will, that I went to church was for story time and crackers. And then later on whence I became an adolescent, the ski trips and cute girls. All the while, I was being told these accounts and stories and how to act like Christ, and it sounded nice...in theory.

Fast forward in my development, or we could be here for a decade easily ===>===>===>===>===>===>===>epilepsy===>===>seizure===>===>seizure===>===>seizure

===>===>tennis===>tennis===>tennis===>skiing===>tennis===>tennis===>tennis===>choir
===>===>===>===>graduation===>SUMMER===>===>surgery===>===>===>college.

College was an interesting time, religiously speaking, as I had begun dating a girl who was deeply dedicated to the deity. And though I was not quite as religiously inclinated, like many others, I faked it. What the hell, I figured, try to share a common interest, blah blah blah. And though I had grown up in a religious home, I never felt that strongly so I went through the motions like a good Christian is supposed to in order that those around me would be impressed and marvel at my religiositude (my word, you can't have it). Unfortunately, that brilliant plan backfired and the girl, now fully entrenched in a sorority dedicated to the Son, started forcing blame upon me for things I did that she didn't think lined up with the version of the Bible playing in her (and her sorority's) head. Among these things were:

Look at a girl that's not her - go to hell. Say a "cuss" word - go to hell. Stay up past midnight - go to hell. Skip a class - go to hell. Make a hilarious innuendo - go to hell. Inappropriately hug her from behind - go to hell. Fall asleep or talk during church functions, including informal dinners sponsored by the church - go to hell. Speak to a member of a different ethnicity - Okay, not really but it wouldn't have surprised me. Do laundry in the nude - go to hell. Breath loudly - go to hell. Drink a beer - go to HELL! Masturbate because she won't do it for me - BURN LIKE A HEATHEN! (in HELL!)

I say all of that to say this. Insomuch as I think religion can be a good thing for people, it can also become a crutch to lean on or a way to lay blame on others for being different from you. People need to believe in something, it's just a part of the nature of humanity that's why we love Santa Claus as children. We try to assign everything to a box, neatly labeled and placed on a shelf. If we do not understand something or cannot explain something, we get scared. Thus religion gives people an out, a way to cope with the unfathomable nature of the world; unfathomable, of course, in that because it does not prescribe to the box we think it belongs to, we ostracize and shun the non-believer.

Along that line, I have always noticed a certain tendency of those who claim to be religious to be incredibly hypocritical. I do not mean the entire group, but just some of the herd. It astonishes me that people that want to be like Christ often are the worst type of people outside of the church building. As a former hypocrite myself, I can instantly recognize this quality. And sure, there are those who are truly Christ-like and that's wonderful, I appreciate and love them with my whole heart. But a few bad apples...well, you know. The hypocrites that are my favorite are the ones that know they are hypocritical and will still get shit-face drunk, fuck anything with a slit, and then try to pass themselves off as righteous anytime they are in public or at least around their religious "friends."

By now, if you are reading this far down, you are probably thinking "Hmmm, sounds like you don't believe in God." And if you're a Christian, you're also thinking "You're gonna BURN IN HELL!!" If you're not, you might be applauding my thoughts (I doubt it). Both groups would be wrong, though.

Every coin has two sides, and as such, strict atheists are just as horrible at representing what they believe. In my experience, atheists are often the loudest, most obnoxious human beings on the planet. They many times brow beat you worse than Christians with their beliefs. The passion they display while vehemently defending Darwinism, evolution, and the big bang as being the only explanation is overwhelming and alarmingly similar to religious zealots.

(Aside: It intrigues me when I speak to an atheist friend of mine because he always claims that his belief in the non-belief of God is far more intelligent than that of any "small-minded Christian." How do I tell him that in order to have disbelief in something it has to be experienced as tangible and concretely real?)

So, with that in mind, here is where I am. I hate religion, but it is interesting to me as a sociology experiment. However, I do, in fact, believe that there is a God. God is not dependent upon your ability to be religious, religion has nothing to do with God. He doesn't give a shit if you do as much as you possibly can inside a church; a church is just a symbol; a gathering place; it has no real meaning or ability to make you closer to God; it is just a builiding of mortar and bricks. The relationship you build between yourself and God is the vital part; without that how will relate to other human beings in a way that would make them question you? And questions hold the key to explanation and the sharing of a relationship with God, which incidentally is something God wants people to do.

Moving on....Atheism is as ignorant as it gets, but every point needs a counterpoint, thus atheism. Do I really believe that a floating piece of bacteria swum around to the point of getting bored and mutating itself into a frog into a fish into a lizard into bird into a monkey into a man? Hardly. If that held true, then by god, I would become a flying brain. I do not believe in evolution, but not because I believe in God. Evolution is the theory that all life is the offspring of one amoeba in a pond somewhere, and that's fucking stupid. However, I do believe, thanks to observable proof, that speciation, a form of evolution within a certain species of being, exists. Some would call it adaptation, but speciation is not adaptation. Adaptation is the bastard cast-off of evolutionary theory in which the strongest survive, the weak die. Speciation is the evolution of a species to continue its existence and even the dumb fucks survive (case in point my sister's baby daddy).

Do I think that creation is infantile, not infinite and ancient? No. To deny what I can see with my own eyes in the way of trillions of stars, billions of galaxies, and millions of incredibly complex and expanding cosmic events would be stupid. What I do think, is that both religion and science/atheism are right on the creation of the known universe. Religion says the universe was created in seven days. Okay. Science says the earth and everything else is millions of years old thanks to carbon dating. Okay. I accept both of these as true because of one simple, immutable fact: TIME. Time is not absolute nor definitive. Time is a creation of man to constrain his fellow brethren and give order to the chaos that is the universe. Time breaks down the events, places, and people of the known universe into neat little chunks so that man, the highest speciated being in existence (as we know it), can comprehend all that lay before us.

Simple, right?

I Am An Asshole...So What?

As many of you, the dedicated and avid non-readers of my blog that you are, may know from previous posts, my "sister" recently brought forth life on this planet. For those that don't know, I refer you to the following previous posts, Undesirable and Conflict of Interest for full back story (if you care about such things). Anyway, the child is, for all practical purposes, decently cute. I wouldn't say that I love the bugger, mostly because I have only seen him a handful of times due to my sister's domestic incarceration enforced by her "boyfriend," but I can't hold anything against the defenseless child.

Well according to my parental units, the poor kid has been having some sort of intestinal distress for the past few months. Sucks for him. I have postulated on many occasions that the reason for this is because he can sense that his "home" is full of nothing but distrustful, hateful, lesions on society who do nothing but bicker, fight, and ignore that they have created nothing but turmoil in this lifetime; children can sense that sort of thing so it's not that much of a stretch. So, the poor child has been unable to stomach formula and the like and even when he does keep it, he then becomes incredibly constipated (according to my mother).

So the other day I was perusing ye olde Facebook, as we have all been conditioned to do now, and came across a post on my wall from said "sister." She had apparently done something responsible and actually taken her child to the doctor to find the source of his turmoil. The doctor has come to the conclusion that the child has a milk protein allergy. Hooray, right? The cause has been found! Let us all rejoice in the streets, singing songs of praise to the doctor and dancing 'round the maypole!

Nah.

While I am glad that the child has been tended to as best can be by taking him to a doctor, and that some reason has been given for his plight, I fail to understand why this should be a cause for happiness. Granted now that this information is out there, steps can be taken to prevent the child from contacting milk thus eliminating his troublesome bowels. But part of me doubts that this is the true cause of his ailing.

Allergies can develop seemingly out of the blue, this is true. However, for one to be susceptible to the effects of allergens, there must be a deeper root cause. Not only that, but based upon my own, somewhat limited, knowledge of anatomy and biology, the allergy could merely have served as the trigger for a more serious ailment. My money, what little I would wager, is on that the child suffers from a disruption of his peristaltic musculature as result of having been prematurely birthed, and the allergy simply agitated this and now takes the blame.

Of course this is a stretch, but not all together unlikely, especially because the true root cause for all his turmoils is the following: inferior genetic design.

Now, before you get all huffy and start thinking I am one of those crazy "pure blood, super race" people, I am not. However, it just makes sense that any offspring from a deficient genetic pool will not only have the same defects, but will, thanks to evolutionary speciation, introduce new defects into the population. And seeing as how my sister's child (unwillingly my nephew), is not the eldest child of this unholy union but the sixth such donation from the deficient sperm donor, the idea that the sperm used to conceive was incredibly inferior and broken is not far off.

Survival of the fittest, the greatest ideation of evolutionary thought, states that all who do not adapt or are not capable of being the best will die. Therefore, the sperm used to create my sister's child was one of those left behind on several occasions because it was slow, stupid, or forgot to move forward the previous five times. Admittedly, this could have been a calculated move by that sperm to wait until the time was right where he would be the most superior of the deficient sperms still locked away in the testicle staging area. Whereby he would then be the most superior of the least intelligently designed and broken sperms reserves. Leading us to where we are now, with a poor innocent child who is genetically defunct because of repeated offenses by a negligent criminal rapist.

That poor kid had better be a sports god or he has no hope in life.

I Have Written My First Children's Story

Perry the Pedantic Pachyderm

Perry the pedantic pachyderm lived alone on a hill. There were petunias near his pond and Perry loved them. He would smell them daily and enjoyed reciting their classification Solanaceae Petunioideae as he drank his morning water.

Perry lived by himself because the other elephants hated him for being so smart and grew tired of his contsant need to show off his superior intellect. And though he got lonely sometimes, Perry never forgot that the others did not like him. Even though he was alone, Perry the pedantic pachyderm was happy.

One day, Perry was walking in the forest and came upon a rabid monkey in the trees. Because Perry had spent time alone, he had watched humans all his life.

He knew they were smart and had learned by watching that the monkey was sick. So Perry decided he would take the monkey home and perform surgery on him to fix the sick monkey.

Perry convinced the sick monkey to trust him and that he could help make the monkey better. The monkey did not understand Perry the pedantic pachyderm as monkeys do not speak elephant language.

With his mighty trunk, Perry lifted the monkey high into the air and carried him along the long journey back to Perry's home.

Even though Perry was as knowledgeable as any other creature, he was still an elephant. On the trip home, Perry the pedantic pachyderm began to daydream about the other elephants and how they would be jealous of him, and praise him for being so intelligent.

 It was at this moment, while Perry was daydreaming, as elephants often do, that the rabid monkey became even more rabid. He became an uncontrollable beast of furry fury, contorting his body about unnaturally and thrashing most violently. And the rabid monkey bit Perry the pedantic pachyderm on his trunk, infecting him with his rabidness.

Perry dropped the rabid monkey in reflex to the feeling of pain and ran away quickly, anxious to get home. When he got home, Perry the pedantic pachyderm realized what a mistake he ahd made in trying to help a stupid monkey infected with rabies. He began to think about what he had done and what had happened.

At that moment, Perry realized another thing he had done wrong. He had run home. He had run hard and he had run fast. Perry the pedantic pachyderm cried as he realized this because running sends the rabies to your body faster than normal.

So Perry the pedantic pachyderm wept and he lay down, waiting to die from his horrible disease.


THE END.

A Breakfast Club Kind of Day

Dear Avid Non-Readers,

    

      Upon the decision to enter into the realm of the blogosphere all those scant months ago, I have to admit I really didn't know where the journey would lead. Would I craft myself as the insanely funny, incredibly off-beat jokester, or would I lend unto the interwebs insightful sarcasm and narcissism in a way that would be somewhat off-putting but generally well-received? Or would I, against all odds and likelihoods, weave a tapestry of language re-telling my life story in a way that would be amusing and hold universal truth because all of humanity is basically the same?

      I've questioned this more and more as the posts have become more frequent. In the beginning, when I would post something whenever I got around to it, I find I was trying too hard to weave humor, waxing idiocies about childhood or later adultery (just go with it) and then attaching childlike renderings of things I was talking about. That was all well and good, but there is no way I could keep that up; I'm shit at art. So then came the life-revealing stories of the now times...another mistake. For while I'm a narcissist by nature, I'm also introspective and very private about personal affairs -- a quality I prize highly and have learned over the years is invaluable. And then of course, there came the philosphical ramblings of patchwork logic. I rather like those, but I fear they could become too weighty if that were to be the entireity of this blog.

      All in all, I can't say for sure still where this could go, what I might say, or even what my identity in the interwebs could be. In the end, I find that definition and labels of entities so complex becomes mired in tedium. And besides, boxes are for presents, not people. Above all, I suppose I'm no closer to ever truly having an identity, and I have an identity all the same. For in the end, we will always be a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal.

It's how we blend them that counts*

*From this point forward, I promise there will be less introspection and more infuriatingly esoteric philosophy, sarcasm, witticisms, and humor that may or may not be understood.