Religion: Is Everyone Right?

I was working at the place where I work, which I refer to as GPE (Greatest Place on Earth). During the Thanksgiving break, I was required to work 31 hours in 4 days. I’m sure many of you have to work more hours on a regular basis, at more grueling jobs. But you get paid more, I’m sure, and you don’t have to spend that time listening to the endless prattling of a 17 year old psychedelics enthusiast who I will refer to as Ronny Sifkind. He is a coworker of mine, and was scheduled for almost the exact same hours as I during this time.

Anyway, he was going on about this chemical that the brain releases during the dream state called DMT. I didn’t listen to much of what he said, as I generally attempt to block out most of what comes out of his mouth. But I was nevertheless mildly intrigued and looked DMT up on Wikipedia the next week.

In addition to Wikipedia, I came across an overview for a book called DMT: The Spirit Molecule by Rick Strassman. All of the following is conjecture and its basis is assembled from those two sources. It isn’t conjecture because I was lazy and didn’t look at more sources, it is because so much about this molecule is unknown.

It is found in some plants, and is naturally produced in the human body, albeit in trace amounts. It is speculated, and not confirmed, that DMT contributes to the visual process of dreaming. In South America, there are tribes that ingest DMT as part of psychedelic rituals. In other parts of the world, it is smoked in a synthesized form. It is considered extremely illegal.

What produces DMT in the body? It is hypothesized that the mysterious pineal gland is what creates natural DMT in the brain. At 49 days after conception, this gland releases DMT into the body for the first time. When someone dies, there is a massive rush of DMT.

So what can we glean from this? Perhaps human consciousness is derived from the production and release of DMT. Perhaps people do, in fact, have “souls” and “spirits”, which enter the body at 49 days and leave when that person dies. Perhaps consciousness is a form of hallucination produced by this molecule. Strassman makes the claim that the rush of DMT at death is responsible for people’s so called “Near death experiences.”

It is also speculated that people who have tried DMT can experience a whole lifetime in a span of ten minutes, simply by means of hallucinating. This leads me to wonder what association time has with consciousness. Could the massive release of the molecule at death create an afterlife in that person’s mind, which time would have no bearing on, seeing as that person’s consciousness had ceased?

Think about dreams. In them, no new information is available to you that wasn’t in your awake state. Dreams are based on reality. Could it be, then, that if someone truly believed in a heaven, or a hell, that they could very well enter that place in their own mind? Could a Buddhist hallucinate another lifetime as a different being? Could a Muslim extremist encounter 99 virgins in the afterlife? Perhaps what happens when we die follows the same pretense as Santa Claus; if you believe it, then it’s real.

All speculation, of course. But a (Quasi) scientific theory is more palatable to me than something involving the supernatural. Just something to think about.

Eugenics – Primed for a Comeback?

We all know how eugenics became associated with Nazi Germany after it had been widely popular in the early part of the 20th century. Therefore, most will scoff at the notion. Everyone has a right to reproduce blah blah blah. And maybe I’m spinning my wheels with this theory, but bear with me. What about encouraging social responsiblity in the form of selective eugenics? I call this theory SRFOSE. Or Senor Fose, for marketability purposes.

Because listen, we all know people in our lives who should not be allowed to pass on their genes. It’s just a fact of nature. But let’s be specific so as not to exclude people whose genes have anything, even the slightest thing, to provide to society. And let’s not make it anyone else’s decision. It’s up to you. Let’s take a quiz:

Do you have a debilitating genetic disease, such as Huntington’s, or the Rocky Dennis disorder?

Are you incapable of succeeding at anything?

Do people often tell you, “My God, I hope you never have kids someday,” ?

Are you repulsive looking?

Do most people in your family not live past 50?

Do you have a cruel, sadistic personality (Be honest)?

If you answered yes to three or more of these questions, I would say you are a prime candidate for Senor Fose. Don’t beat yourself up over it, you’re doing the world a service by not reproducing. And you’re doing your potential children a service by not bringing them into the world as genetically disadvantaged beings.

Now, no one is forcing you to not have kids. That’s not what I’m about, and that’s not what Senor Fose is about, either. But anyone who would want to have kids with you is obviously genetically deficient, as well. So do the world a favor, and spay/neuter yourself.

Clarifying Common Misconceptions: Bro Girls vs. Bro Prey

This has nothing to do with Facebook. This is real life, dammit.

I’m sure you’ve all experienced a bro girl or two. And I’m sure you’ve likewise encountered many an underclasswoman following at the heels of a group of surly bros. Are these two one and the same? No. No, not at all.

For bro girls are simply female versions of bros. They enjoy sports and beer and yelling at sports games. They are often obscenely muscular, which is the telltale sign that you’re dealing with no average womanfolk. Steroids aren’t out of the question for bro-girls, either, so beware of violent mood swings from them. They are dressed most often in gym attire and school affiliated sweatshirts. With that said, I don’t intend to demean bro girls; they are confident women who oppose normative, patriarchal gender structures.. in favor of emulating, to some degree, their bro counterparts.

The other group falls into the category of, what I have termed, “Bro prey.” Bros feast on these women like big obnoxious lions do gazelles. Bro prey are often blonde, of below average intelligence, and usually dress as provocatively as possible, in order to attract the most obnoxious bros available. I surveyed a sampling of two dozen bros and determined that they will select their prey based on the following factors, in descending order:

1) How many cups of Powerade they are able to carry at once. Legend has it that some examples of bro prey can carry up to four cups at once.

2) Titties (That’s bro for large breasts).

3) Submissiveness. Bros don’t like bitches that talk or think.

4) Bitch ain’t gonna cheat (This is bro for faithfulness).

5) Bitch ain’t gonna complain (If she doesn’t enjoy watching sports for at least 3 hours a day, she shouldn’t complain, and should commence sandwich making).

6) Sandwich making ability (See criterion 5).

7) Openness to sex with multiple partners (But no dudes cuz that’s gay and shit).

Those were the top seven. After that there were a few responses ranging from “Don’t cost money,” to, “Hot mom.”

I hope this was as enlightening for you all as it was for me.

For further reading, loyal reader and Bro researcher, Paul, has provided his insight into the matter:

Hans,

First of all, bros love to help their fellow bros get laid, and many times this has resulted in a “pig roast.”

Pig Roast- A threesome with two bros and one girl.

This is essentially rooted in the homoerotic tendencies displayed by most of the bro race.

Additionally, bro girls carry gatorade, not bro prey (unless serving a bro). This is because they partake in sports. Most of the bro prey have developed eating patterns of not low fat intake, but low food intake (which nutritionally does not make much sense).

Finally, you might want to specify that the criteria for a bro prey to become a girlfriend of said bros.

The gazelles are for one time feasts.

Love,
Paul

These are good points. I was not familiar with the concept of, ‘Pig roasting,’ however, it certainly seems viable given the aforementioned homoerotic tendencies of bros. Paul, the distinction you were making between carrying Gatorade and serving bros is a valid one. I would counter that my intention in the original posting was that bro prey were rated on their carrying ability of Powerade in order to yes, serve bros. However, it is true that bro girls themselves often consume large quantities of Gatorade, and having a sizable carrying capacity for said Gatorade would be advantageous for them.

Yes, gazelles are, generally, for one time feasts. Bros have a long standing philosophy of hitting it and quitting it. Bro prey, however, do have a tendency to desire the company of bros; it is in their nature. Furthermore, bro prey that satisfy the criteria I posted would certainly be engaged in intercourse, likely once. But as any bro will tell you, “Pussy is pussy.” This could result in multiple night stands. Or the bro could designate his prey for sexual servant status, in which he will engage with her sexually until he is bored or she becomes pregnant.

A very interesting study, indeed.

A Study in Facebook Etiquette: Part Two – Ohhh vs. Oooh

In the second part of our series, we come across a phenomenon that is astoundingly simple, yet often misused. And that is the distinction between Ohhh, and Oooh.

Oooh, or any extension of it, including Oooooooh, and occasionally Ooooh, generally means, “Oh, is that so,” with a somewhat mocking but mildly impressed conotation.

You would comment, “Oooh,” If you saw Brian Cocke listed as, ‘in a relationship.’

You might say, “Ohhh..,” to a picture of this man, which is fitting because he appears to be saying, ‘oooh,’ himself.

Paired with elipses, ohhh means, “I am noting how awkward this picture is, and establishing my superiority over the person (s) depicted by tearing them down.”

Ohhh also means understanding. It could mean a  joke had to be explained to you, and to show your humility as well as to signify that the joke was eventually understood, you respond ohhh.

It can also mean mild disgust. If Brian Cocke is particularly repugnant to you, you might comment Ohhh to him being listed as, ‘in a relationship.’

There can be various misuses. Were you to comment, ‘oooh,’ to a relationship ending, that would be viewed as rude and somewhat creepy.

It’s probably not wise to comment, ‘oooh,’ to a picture that  is provocative on any level.

I said after part one, that this section would be about the etiquette of Facebook notes. Well maybe I’ll do that next time.

A Study in Facebook Etiquette: Part One – The Like Feature

This begins a series where we look at the changing uses of media by today’s youth; mainly the use of Facebook. There are rules, just like in real life, on how to behave appropriately on said social networking site. I don’t claim to have all the answers, but I do feel I have something to offer in terms of keeping harmony on the internet… or simply not looking like a creep on Facebook.

Part One – The ‘Like’:

Facebook became popular largely because it allowed white teenagers the ability to connect with others, sans actual social interaction. White people generally are averse to interacting with others. They prefer texting, emailing, or note passing. Facebook fits in such a mold. In short, it allows the utmost passivity in social interaction, something white people crave.

And what’s even more passive than the basic pretense of wall posting and picture commenting? ‘Liking’ something on Facebook. Perhaps someone you don’t know particularly well posted a link to a video, or a band, and you appreciated the reference, or thought the link was otherwise worth your time. You can ‘like’ it. Isn’t that wonderful?

Our parents weren’t allowed anywhere near this much insight into people’s lives, nor were they able to say, via one click, that they appreciated someone’s specific form of expression, but would rather not go into an extended conversation about it. The like has truly opened the world.. for passive white people, at least.

But this comes with consequences. The ‘like’ can be abused. And that’s not to say it can necessarily be overused (I’ve yet to see that, but I imagine it exists), but it certainly can be misused. Here are some examples of what not to do when utilizing the like feature:

#1: If you are a straight guy, you are not allowed to like a picture that exclusively contains girls, assuming you are not related to more than one of them, and are not involved with one of them.

As a matter of fact, you cannot like this, Brian Cocke. I think we all can see why. And yet creepy guys do this every day.

#2: Never like a status that is just a frowny face. This shows lack of tact. This also applies to any other status that is depressing or otherwise emo.

#3: Never like a ‘relationship ending’ story on your news feed. This implies that you are more than desperate, you are omni-desperate and don’t even care about broadcasting your desperation to the rest of the world.

Most other violations occur on a case by case basis, where personal/inside circumstances create the creepiness associated with improper likeage.

Stat tuned for next time when we study the etiquette of Facebook notes.

When the Poli Sci Douche Rules the World

When the poli douche reigns supreme
There is no shelter you can take
They will pick apart your core beliefs
A retort you cannot fake

They have far ranging theories
They will not sugarcoat
But one thing is for certain
They’ll shove it down your throat

They intern for R.T Rybak
And they’ll make sure you know
And if you don’t plan to vote next year
They’ll drop you in the snow

Others are more passive
Their theories aren’t for normals
Ask them and they’ll say be gone!
I’m late for the anarchist formal!

They’re cynical or idealist
But nothing in between
But when the world is in there hands
They’ll really make a scene

Some will launch bombs
Some will make treaties
Some will form mobs
And some will create state approved deities

They’ll argue till their heads fall off
And all the uninformed will scatter
The world will fall to disrepair
But that doesn’t really matter

Because ultimately, in the end
Of their douchey song
It’s not about, who is right
But who is proven wrong

Is Gucci Mane Mentally Disabled?

So I went to Mexico this summer with the family. It was a great time, but late at night things would get a little dull. So I watched T.V. The only channel that was even mildly interesting and not in Spanish was MTV Jams, a station devoted to random rap/hip hop videos.

I ended up watching quite a bit of MTV Jams. I viewed each video they broadcast about seven times each. Some were marvelous in their ridiculousness. But perhaps the most lasting impact was provided by Mario, Sean Garrett, and Gucci Mane with, “Break Up.” The song is absurd. Apparently all three recording artists cheat on their significant others, then ask, why would you wanna break up? (Do anything for you) Why would you wanna break up? (See I been driving through your hood) Why would you wanna break up?

I enjoy how “driving through your hood” qualifies that statement.

But what’s truly notable are the song stylings of one Gucci Mane. Here are his verses:

Now baby girl had dumped me – Okay.
She no longer wants me – Was it your redundancy that drove her away?
I’m no longer hired - A workplace metaphor. Same statement.
She said that I’ve been fired - Rhyming hired with fired sure is easy. Now you’ve said the same thing four times.
On to the next one – You sound like you’ll be okay.
More fish in the sea – Yep. Certainly are.
Girls are like buses – Or village bicycles, in white terms.
Miss one, Next fifteen; one comin’ – You must be awesome.
Gucci Mane crazy and his ice game stuntin’ – You are crazy? Noooo.
Swag so stupid still the bitch straight dumped me - In case you forgot.
Over, no more smokin’ doja - That must have been what did it.
Baby girl went AWOL – Wait, I thought she stayed with you?
She used to be my soulja – Was she a soldier, did she have soul? Was she secretly Soulja Boy?

He raps in the way Flava Flav would, were he morbidly obese. Which makes him all the more endearing.

Why you wanna leave me – I thought we established this
You should wanna tease me – Why is that? She appears to be dumping you, as established six times
Baby icing ain’t easy, I make it look easy – Has anything EVER been easy for you? Or did you require assistance in simple tasks from a young age?
You should cop your belly – Currently my level of whiteness prevents me from even a vague understanding of what this means
You should rock Louis – Yes, expensive things would make you feel better.
Now it’s fuck shawty – My brain hurts.
I don’t like Gucci (Gucci, Gucci, Gucci) – I thought YOU WERE GUCCI!

Gucci Mane, otherwise known as Radric Davis, is the CEO of his own entertainment company. In September 2008, he was arrested for only doing 25 of 600 community service hours after his 2005 arrest for assault.

He did 4 % of his sentence. He bothered to show up for 25 hours, then gave up and went to jail.

IS HE RETARDED??

I recently read a cracked.com article about the possibility of Kanye West being retarded. But I’m fairly sure Kanye is just a dickhole with too much money. Gucci Mane should probably watch out for sharp objects.

Now baby girl had dumped me
She no longer wants me
I’m no longer hired
She said that I’ve been fired
On to the next one
More fish in the sea
Girls are like buses
Miss one, Next fifteen; one comin’
Gucci Mane crazy and his ice game stuntin’
Swag so stupid still the bitch straight dumped me
Over, no more smokin’ doja
Baby girl went AWOL
She used to be my soulja

Liberal Public School Systems Lead to Outbreak of Self Assured Hipsters

Growing up in suburban Minnesota, I was privy to the most obnoxiously liberal education possible. Which has its benefits. Such as a deeply ingrained fear of ever being intolerant towards anyone. I’d probably whip myself like some sort of Christian extremist if I ever made a gay/black/asian/midget type person feel bad for being gay black asian or a midget.

Oh no I said midget.

Anyway, looking back, it is interesting to note all the liberal democratic values instilled in me from a young age. Let’s all share, and play peacefully, and draw a hand turkey with 4 fingers so there is enough hand turkey diversity. But what’s the one value that was stressed above all else?

Be yourself!

Such a nice concept. You are you, and you are special, and if you are yourself, you’ll always be happy and you’ll have a culturally diverse family and you’ll grow up and be a teacher and you’ll spread your liberal democratic message to future generations!

But this isn’t the message that has been sent. All those kids that were slightly.. off, in their childhood, took the message to heart. They thought, “Wow, I really don’t relate to any of these other monkeys. But teacher said be myself. My mother said so, too. These authority figures must be correct. I will stay the course with my behavior and maybe in 12 years I’ll have friends who I can identify with.”

So these kids create identities for themselves rooted in countering what normal people do. It starts with not watching the same T.V shows as “normals” and moves on to wearing weird clothes, and listening to music that only they and three people in India have heard of. And this would all be fine, except, they take pride in what they now refer to as “quirkiness.”

So now what you have is a socially inept person who embraces their self imposed non conformity and takes great pride in it. And by now, there are enough people like them for them to form cliques and tribes.

I give you faux-hipsterdom (True hipsters are capable of sustained human interaction). A mass of social ineptitude enabling each other in their contrariness.

Whoa is that an Animal Collective song??

Yeah but I only like their early albums.

Oh me too. They got way too popular.

Yeah popular stuff sucks.

And all because someone told them to be themselves one too many times.

The Plight of the Tool

The tool’s life is bleak indeed
They have nowhere to belong
They play board games with their tool friends
And sing their poor sad song

To be a tool is a chosen path
brought about since youth
I made my mother call yours
When your fist knocked loose my tooth

I never seemed to identify
With all you like aged blokes
I connected with the admins
Principles and front desk folk

Because I was always picked on
When I was a young kid
But now the joke it is on them
I’ve got a Facebook vid
I’ll show it to the higher ups
I’ll get you all kicked out
For having far more fun than I
A tool, someone without
Any sort of concept
Of what being human means
I can’t find humor or joy at all
I’d rather send you to the dean’s

For there I am accepted
And I don’t find it cruel
They can use me as they wish
I forever am their tool

Tools are no fun, but they walk amongst the living every day. If you would like to stop abuse from tools, I’ll set up a donation fund on my sidebar in the next few days. I also wrote a similar little diatribe about tools a while ago, when the government was in the process of shutting my old blog down.

Curse You, Jolly Blogger

So I’ve been tearing down various cliques for a bit now. But in preparation for the criticism of YEAH BUT YOU AIN’T DUN 1 UV UR OWN CLIX, I should say that a) I very much like to think I embody qualities of all four cliques I have written poetry on, those being bros, hipsters, nerds and stoners. And b) I don’t consider myself part of any clique. I am a person. But what am I, really? Why, I am the blogger.

The jolly blogger sits in his throne
and looks about the land
What, today, shall I discuss
The media, your mom, a brand?

There are so many choices
But then so very few
Who will find this funny?
And who will find it crude?

The blogger he must find a way
Amidst the chaos of the net
To think of things you haven’t
And to make you not forget

That blogging is the purest form
Of writing and expression
It cannot be censored
It is the grand exception

And while that is well and good
It leads to many cases
Of little emo punk bitches
Complaining of their braces

But do not judge the blogger
He does not mean you harm
His computer is his tractor
The internet his farm

….I am sorry for the bravado
So here’s the truth right quick
The blogger is the same as you
But a bit more of a prick.