On Birds:
Did you know birds are the only dinosaurs that made it out of--- whatever killed the dinosaurs? The avian breed of light-little-fuckers are some of my favorite things to stare at. Hummingbirds specifically. Did you know their wings are borderline impossible to film without over-cranked speeds (that's faster than 24fps) and they eat flowers? Motherfucker I haven't even begun to talk about birds.
The most efficient animal is the condor. It burns the least calories to move a kilometer. Peafowl arguably are the biggest drug dealers in the avian kingdom. they have to spread plumage and trounce around like trippy little fuck-men. Jesus Christ, even most insects can't disarm other insects just by shaking their butts.
Remember parrots? Those evil creatures? Yes, I will call parrots evil because some of them invest so much time in being assholes they just miraculously learn to speak English. Most birds sing. Ever heard a cockatiel whistle? It's beautiful every single time. Parrots mostly waste their time cussing at you and repeating mean-sounding shit. (Although the Crimson Rosella is a total babe).
The bald eagle may be the bird of choice for Americans, but I generally think that's because they aren't goddamn vultures (back before the internet you had to be a bird-watcher to understand the difference between the dino flying-fuckers who ate corpses and the ones that didn't. Thus we value eagles. Hell, I think "The Eagles" named their band after those winged average-ass brown and white fucks because they knew the American record market would eat that up).
But there are little tropical birds that just dart around to be colorful. There are herds of birds that flock about in formations because bird culture is actually a thing. Fuck, the tiniest birds (bee hummingbirds) just want to hang out and kiss stuff to stay alive. See how weird this shit gets?
At least Penguins did that cool thing where they learned how to raise babies. That movie Morgan Freeman did in 2005. We're apparently hellbent on melting the very ice they live atop, but hey, if they could pull one miracle off--- maybe 2 isn't out of the question.
Just kidding. Stop killing the fucking birds you idiots. I swear to fuck we've had an electric car since the 1900's and retards still keep fucking up the various precious ecosystems that exist independent of capitalist meddling? Eat a dick, I want to be an old man with lots of bird friends. Don't fuck that up for me or I swear to God I'll get angry and go on the war-path.
Monday, June 19, 2017
On Every Song That Makes Me Cry And The Lyrics That Get Me:
1. Vincent, Don McClean (1971): "And when there was no hope in sight on that starry, starry night--- you took your life as lovers often do".
2. La Vie En Rose, Édith Piaf (1945): "Et dès que je l’aperçois. Alors je sens en moi" It means "I loved this dude." But it's in French.
3. Hurt by Trent Reznor: (1994): "If I could start again a million miles away I would keep myself. I would find a way." Dude never had a support system until Atticus Ross. Give him a break.
4. La madre de fabian, Javier Alvarez (1995): This song is about a kid who drowns his mom. I'm actually not posting the--- fuck it, "Desde entonces a menudo cuando el sueño me ha vencido
con aletas en los pies jugando con un pez veo a veces a fabián, dulce mar, dulce mar, sumérgeme en tu sal"
5. Cats In The Cradle, Henry Chaplin (1974): "My boy was just like me". Nice job, dickweed, you produced another emotionally banal shithead that doesn't value family. (not talking about the songwriter, just the narrative).
6 When I Laid In The Earth:(Unknown): "Remember me". Does shit get any more sad than the archetypal "I'd rather not die right now but here goes nothing" statement?
7. He Stopped Loving Her Today, George Jones, (1980). "He stopped loving her today. They placed a wreath upon his door. And soon they'll carry him away He stopped loving her today. [seriously, it's a song that leads you to believe his girlfriend just left but really she flat-out died. Saddest shit in the world[
8 Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac: (1997) Don't You say she's pretty? And did you say that she loved you too? I don't wanna know.
9..Symphony No. 1 by Daniel Bukvitch (1978): It's just a wind ensemble whispering
gently about the city from Slaughterhouse 5. No big deal. Who's crying? You're the
one that's crying!
10. Gloomy Sunday, by Rezső Seress (1933). I don't know how you beat this one. It's not all that sad unless you're old. But I've played this monster for relatives and let me tell you, not a single one made it all the way through. It's a song for when you're old enough to die, but can't take the pain of memories and situations you've endured another four minutes.
So yeah, don't listen to these unless you want to be really fucking sad. You have been warned.
1. Vincent, Don McClean (1971): "And when there was no hope in sight on that starry, starry night--- you took your life as lovers often do".
2. La Vie En Rose, Édith Piaf (1945): "Et dès que je l’aperçois. Alors je sens en moi" It means "I loved this dude." But it's in French.
3. Hurt by Trent Reznor: (1994): "If I could start again a million miles away I would keep myself. I would find a way." Dude never had a support system until Atticus Ross. Give him a break.
4. La madre de fabian, Javier Alvarez (1995): This song is about a kid who drowns his mom. I'm actually not posting the--- fuck it, "Desde entonces a menudo cuando el sueño me ha vencido
con aletas en los pies jugando con un pez veo a veces a fabián, dulce mar, dulce mar, sumérgeme en tu sal"
5. Cats In The Cradle, Henry Chaplin (1974): "My boy was just like me". Nice job, dickweed, you produced another emotionally banal shithead that doesn't value family. (not talking about the songwriter, just the narrative).
6 When I Laid In The Earth:(Unknown): "Remember me". Does shit get any more sad than the archetypal "I'd rather not die right now but here goes nothing" statement?
7. He Stopped Loving Her Today, George Jones, (1980). "He stopped loving her today. They placed a wreath upon his door. And soon they'll carry him away He stopped loving her today. [seriously, it's a song that leads you to believe his girlfriend just left but really she flat-out died. Saddest shit in the world[
8 Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac: (1997) Don't You say she's pretty? And did you say that she loved you too? I don't wanna know.
9..Symphony No. 1 by Daniel Bukvitch (1978): It's just a wind ensemble whispering
gently about the city from Slaughterhouse 5. No big deal. Who's crying? You're the
one that's crying!
10. Gloomy Sunday, by Rezső Seress (1933). I don't know how you beat this one. It's not all that sad unless you're old. But I've played this monster for relatives and let me tell you, not a single one made it all the way through. It's a song for when you're old enough to die, but can't take the pain of memories and situations you've endured another four minutes.
So yeah, don't listen to these unless you want to be really fucking sad. You have been warned.
On Fighting:
My hands look like I flat-out put them to a sander right now. As in, skin is raw as fuck on both palms and I'm not gonna feel back to normal for half-a-month. It's garbage, because now it hurts like hell when I fight people.
Krav Maga and Judo are my favorite martial arts. Krav Maga is flat-out fucking cheat mode if you want to beat an assailant. Judo just restrains people (typically you flip them over your shoulder). Jujitsu is the best fighting style for making armed assailants regret the day they crossed your path. Monkey style (猴拳) requires long arms. Thus I fucking rule at that last bit.
Why do I fight? I actually do what my Taekwondoe dojang taught me to do: Avoid conflict. In the case people are stupid enough to throw hands--- I fuck them up.
Yeah, you can read this and get all freaked-out. I think it's becoming a social trend that people who don't know how to fight (of adult age, naturally--- nobody wants the kids beating piss out of each other for no reason) scare the hell out of those who do. We can't always be around, dude. If somebody tries to rob you, there's always a way out. You just have to learn how to make your hands to that scary thing where you disarm criminals and kick people in the knees without even thinking about it.
But hey, like I said, pacifism is the way to salvation until the moment of conflict. Just remember, ants aren't the only creatures in the animal kingdom that can lift multiple times their body weight, and it only takes fifty pounds of pressure to the right spot (neck) to kill a guy.
But don't just go around killing guys. These lessons are taught to improve life, not end it.
My hands look like I flat-out put them to a sander right now. As in, skin is raw as fuck on both palms and I'm not gonna feel back to normal for half-a-month. It's garbage, because now it hurts like hell when I fight people.
Krav Maga and Judo are my favorite martial arts. Krav Maga is flat-out fucking cheat mode if you want to beat an assailant. Judo just restrains people (typically you flip them over your shoulder). Jujitsu is the best fighting style for making armed assailants regret the day they crossed your path. Monkey style (猴拳) requires long arms. Thus I fucking rule at that last bit.
Why do I fight? I actually do what my Taekwondoe dojang taught me to do: Avoid conflict. In the case people are stupid enough to throw hands--- I fuck them up.
Yeah, you can read this and get all freaked-out. I think it's becoming a social trend that people who don't know how to fight (of adult age, naturally--- nobody wants the kids beating piss out of each other for no reason) scare the hell out of those who do. We can't always be around, dude. If somebody tries to rob you, there's always a way out. You just have to learn how to make your hands to that scary thing where you disarm criminals and kick people in the knees without even thinking about it.
But hey, like I said, pacifism is the way to salvation until the moment of conflict. Just remember, ants aren't the only creatures in the animal kingdom that can lift multiple times their body weight, and it only takes fifty pounds of pressure to the right spot (neck) to kill a guy.
But don't just go around killing guys. These lessons are taught to improve life, not end it.
On Sex:
(You have to be 18 to read this [unless you're like me and give no fucks about when you pop your cherry. Mad respect, young blood])
Kegels. Tantric Meditation. Soft-palate exercises. There, now you can fuck like a porn-star and never contact me again about why your relationships aren't working.
Seriously, do those three things and you'll never leave your partner's mind. Don't care if you're gay, straight, bisexual, transgender--- just--- fuck their brains out and try not to be mean. Having partners isn't a difficult thing to do. Just don't be a selfish dumb-ass and people will gravitate toward--- well, the realm of fetishes is kind of wide so let's not get into that Pandora's Box.
All the same, just learn how to do 3 things if you want to keep naked people coming around trying to flatter you.
(You have to be 18 to read this [unless you're like me and give no fucks about when you pop your cherry. Mad respect, young blood])
Kegels. Tantric Meditation. Soft-palate exercises. There, now you can fuck like a porn-star and never contact me again about why your relationships aren't working.
Seriously, do those three things and you'll never leave your partner's mind. Don't care if you're gay, straight, bisexual, transgender--- just--- fuck their brains out and try not to be mean. Having partners isn't a difficult thing to do. Just don't be a selfish dumb-ass and people will gravitate toward--- well, the realm of fetishes is kind of wide so let's not get into that Pandora's Box.
All the same, just learn how to do 3 things if you want to keep naked people coming around trying to flatter you.
Third Post About War, Loss, Hatred Of Kin, and Fire:
I've never been a great peace-maker. I mean, seriously, if you put me in somebody's chest I'd accelerate their heart-beat like a train with a deadline it can't miss.
Still, peace is my promise to onlookers. It's been an exhausting season of disappointments. A real-life shit-show of murder and chaos. There is a way to stop it, but you're gonna hate where this goes. Evolve beyond dependency.Your benefactors have fucked the entire world up and now you have to tell them "Go nap... like, for a while" as we slowly rebuild this trash-heap.
I'm not saying they didn't do the best they could, I'm saying there's only so much hate a person can stomach before they start preaching the very gospel they set out to fight at the beginning of their journey to protecting that-they-thought-was-righteous.
Evil is nobody's fault. But damn, does it ever infect our elders in the most deceptive, brutal fashion. Now we have to protect them from themselves. Otherwise, they're gonna die alone and we're gonna be walking around wondering how a 1st world democracy turned into a 3rd world plutonomy.
I've never been a great peace-maker. I mean, seriously, if you put me in somebody's chest I'd accelerate their heart-beat like a train with a deadline it can't miss.
Still, peace is my promise to onlookers. It's been an exhausting season of disappointments. A real-life shit-show of murder and chaos. There is a way to stop it, but you're gonna hate where this goes. Evolve beyond dependency.Your benefactors have fucked the entire world up and now you have to tell them "Go nap... like, for a while" as we slowly rebuild this trash-heap.
I'm not saying they didn't do the best they could, I'm saying there's only so much hate a person can stomach before they start preaching the very gospel they set out to fight at the beginning of their journey to protecting that-they-thought-was-righteous.
Evil is nobody's fault. But damn, does it ever infect our elders in the most deceptive, brutal fashion. Now we have to protect them from themselves. Otherwise, they're gonna die alone and we're gonna be walking around wondering how a 1st world democracy turned into a 3rd world plutonomy.
Second Post Proving I Don't Exclusively Say Awful Shit:Duality. Are We Human Or Are We Dancer? My Sign Is Vital, My Hands Are Cold. Sorry, I adore that song and can't believe it was a pop-hit. Really, I think it was Plato who started this messy little thing. Aristotle came in and bitched him out because you can't make perception an immaterial task and then turn around and go "yeah but the body can only observe matter because I'm Plato and I have no idea what the fuck is going on".
Then another saint came along and fucked everything up. (If there is a trend in this blog it's that I'm really good at discovering saints that lied to everybody). This guy Tom Augustine (No, I'm not calling him by his saint name because that makes him sound untouchable) totally developed modern scholarly thinking by being--- a Scholastist. It was cool, but this fucking dude also thought the soul was a thing floating around inside you. Like matter or a pocket of brain tissue. Truth is, your soul is your body. The whole-damn thing. You can't lose too much or you pass the fuck out, and you can't augment too many parts with machine-stuff or you lose control over your impulses. It's how organic machines work. Go ask a tree why it branches off using this specific fractal geometry (G = (V, ω, P). It can't speak English, but it sure as fuck is going to keep subdividing shamelessly until we chop it down and turn it into paper. Humans are also this disposable. Get where I'm going with this?
There is an emerging branch of physics that doesn't make sense. It's called Quantum Physics. Basically, we don't have a way to know where the hell electrons are in relation to atom nuclei so we shit the bed for half-a-century and put our best guys up to the task of understanding why the fuck things are different when observed/not-observed. Turns out, when you hit a microscopic thing with light it acts weird because light pisses particles off somehow. We acted all weird like "Oh, this must be fucking magic because the things we're observing are smaller than a rat's dick". No, it's waves hitting particles and making them behave oddly you fuck-asses. No big mystery there.
Because we can't see unless there's light. If you think there are parallel universes just because some person gave you a bullshit summary of Schrodinger's little cat-box or the double-slit experiment, go read more books on how electrons are influenced by light (Richard Feynman is a good place to start).
And we can't think without a brain. We can't even feel without neurons and dendrites. You want to know the thing about duality? It's not what it's chalked up to be. We have brains that simulate souls. That's it, end of fucking story. The narrative forwarding some campaign about a piece of you that summarizes personal traits is a control mechanism invented by douche-bags that capitalize on people's stupidity so they can garner wealth and laugh like jerks as you try to protect a thing that doesn't exist via servitude.
Then another saint came along and fucked everything up. (If there is a trend in this blog it's that I'm really good at discovering saints that lied to everybody). This guy Tom Augustine (No, I'm not calling him by his saint name because that makes him sound untouchable) totally developed modern scholarly thinking by being--- a Scholastist. It was cool, but this fucking dude also thought the soul was a thing floating around inside you. Like matter or a pocket of brain tissue. Truth is, your soul is your body. The whole-damn thing. You can't lose too much or you pass the fuck out, and you can't augment too many parts with machine-stuff or you lose control over your impulses. It's how organic machines work. Go ask a tree why it branches off using this specific fractal geometry (G = (V, ω, P). It can't speak English, but it sure as fuck is going to keep subdividing shamelessly until we chop it down and turn it into paper. Humans are also this disposable. Get where I'm going with this?
There is an emerging branch of physics that doesn't make sense. It's called Quantum Physics. Basically, we don't have a way to know where the hell electrons are in relation to atom nuclei so we shit the bed for half-a-century and put our best guys up to the task of understanding why the fuck things are different when observed/not-observed. Turns out, when you hit a microscopic thing with light it acts weird because light pisses particles off somehow. We acted all weird like "Oh, this must be fucking magic because the things we're observing are smaller than a rat's dick". No, it's waves hitting particles and making them behave oddly you fuck-asses. No big mystery there.
Because we can't see unless there's light. If you think there are parallel universes just because some person gave you a bullshit summary of Schrodinger's little cat-box or the double-slit experiment, go read more books on how electrons are influenced by light (Richard Feynman is a good place to start).
And we can't think without a brain. We can't even feel without neurons and dendrites. You want to know the thing about duality? It's not what it's chalked up to be. We have brains that simulate souls. That's it, end of fucking story. The narrative forwarding some campaign about a piece of you that summarizes personal traits is a control mechanism invented by douche-bags that capitalize on people's stupidity so they can garner wealth and laugh like jerks as you try to protect a thing that doesn't exist via servitude.
Inaugural Post:
My Grandfather played the trumpet in Elvis's backup band. I don't think most people archived any details about Wallace Zwibelman, but that dude gave me most of my genes so here-goes-nothing. He served in the Korean War. Died of a heart attack when I was an infant (man could eat 10 hot dogs in one sitting). It took me until the age of 20 to finally hear his voice. He sounded like me.
Every time my grandmother talks to me over the phone, in person, whatever--- she always goes "You're the boy Zwibelman". It's a crude way of saying, "you serve a purpose that hopefully won't suck because I trust you and the blood that flows through your veins". Truth is, my name means Onion-man. I vend onions. What does Austin mean? Oh yeah, that I'm descended from an Algerian Saint with a huge boner for beginning stuff with "On the" (Know I don't speak Latin like he did, but trust me, the event went down like a fucking hailstorm).
You'll witness personal growth, self-degradation, doubt, pride, and every other rainbow emotion human beings can feel during moments of getting carried away. Just tune in here until I get a publisher to sign me to write a novel.
For now, this sort of is my novel. My great "Why the fuck is he still wasting his time posting shit on the internet" opus about love, loss, hatred, and emergence from the ashes of a dead phoenix that wasted their time masturbating without spending a goddamn second realizing rebirth was going to hurt.
Tell me I weaponize language. Tell me none of that made sense. That's a trashy thing to do and I resent anybody who doesn't want to follow me up this trail of tears. It's going to be a long walk, but if we do the impossible once, we re-write the dictionary.
So let's fuck. Explore. Kill the beast that bore us and devour everything in sight. Hug, hold, protect the miracles of reality and tell the miracles of lore they can drown in sulfuric acid.
I'm done being polite. Now let's write about how shit actually works and never fall victims to mythical cultures again. That's yesterday's gambit. Here's now--- fuck the law, every single false assumption about the universe, and tides of "unstoppable" change. I'm going to make my Grandfather proud and teach you guys who actually runs this store. It's me, and we vend joy.
Great first post, Austin. A little grandiose for new readers, but I think it'll do the trick.
My Grandfather played the trumpet in Elvis's backup band. I don't think most people archived any details about Wallace Zwibelman, but that dude gave me most of my genes so here-goes-nothing. He served in the Korean War. Died of a heart attack when I was an infant (man could eat 10 hot dogs in one sitting). It took me until the age of 20 to finally hear his voice. He sounded like me.
Every time my grandmother talks to me over the phone, in person, whatever--- she always goes "You're the boy Zwibelman". It's a crude way of saying, "you serve a purpose that hopefully won't suck because I trust you and the blood that flows through your veins". Truth is, my name means Onion-man. I vend onions. What does Austin mean? Oh yeah, that I'm descended from an Algerian Saint with a huge boner for beginning stuff with "On the" (Know I don't speak Latin like he did, but trust me, the event went down like a fucking hailstorm).
You'll witness personal growth, self-degradation, doubt, pride, and every other rainbow emotion human beings can feel during moments of getting carried away. Just tune in here until I get a publisher to sign me to write a novel.
For now, this sort of is my novel. My great "Why the fuck is he still wasting his time posting shit on the internet" opus about love, loss, hatred, and emergence from the ashes of a dead phoenix that wasted their time masturbating without spending a goddamn second realizing rebirth was going to hurt.
Tell me I weaponize language. Tell me none of that made sense. That's a trashy thing to do and I resent anybody who doesn't want to follow me up this trail of tears. It's going to be a long walk, but if we do the impossible once, we re-write the dictionary.
So let's fuck. Explore. Kill the beast that bore us and devour everything in sight. Hug, hold, protect the miracles of reality and tell the miracles of lore they can drown in sulfuric acid.
I'm done being polite. Now let's write about how shit actually works and never fall victims to mythical cultures again. That's yesterday's gambit. Here's now--- fuck the law, every single false assumption about the universe, and tides of "unstoppable" change. I'm going to make my Grandfather proud and teach you guys who actually runs this store. It's me, and we vend joy.
Great first post, Austin. A little grandiose for new readers, but I think it'll do the trick.
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