Posts Tagged ‘World Improvement’

The Afinity Sonnet

November 2 2009

The Afinity Sonnet*

 

A ride from which there is no buck,

Almost every lad has had this wish.
We cheat and scheme and dream and fuck,
But from this track there can be no switch.

 

As surely as bulls and trains may semlessly
be conflated; there exists no escape in every ring
we have created. For death is true and ruthlessly
it jests: on our way out– as when come in– we cling

 

to breasts, recycled tropes we must endure
no longer: parse every eternity cast of finite stuff,
encrypt your histrionic plots and salt the saccharine score
no stronger. False cure for false infinity: redoubt romantic love,

 

redouble strife. In stead make your lot a Multiplicity:
Trouble four Michael Keatons to please, take your wife.
  
 
 
 

*As inspired by the closing couplet of September 28, 2009‘s entry.

Blue Cliff’s Notes

October 29 2009

Answering All Of Your Zen Koans

 

What is the Sound of One Hand Clapping?    By definition it takes two hands to clap. Faulty question. Next.

 

If a Tree Falls in the Woods and No One is Around to Hear It (Does It Make A Sound)?    Leave a tape recorder in the woods. It’s not a person so the “no one around” qualification is met. It will definitively measure any present sounds. Duh/Next.

 

Has the Dog a Buddha Nature?    Depends on the dog. Need more specifics.

 

The World is Vast and Wide. Why do you put on your Robes at The Sound of a Bell?    Non-sequitur.  Quoth the Pterodactyl LP Player, “it’s a living.”

 

Nan-in pours tea for the professor and when the cup is full keeps on pouring. The professor protests, “It has overflown. No more will go in.” Nan-in rebuts, “like this cup you are full of your own opinions. How can I teach you Zen unless you empty your cup?”?    Tea is hot. The professor is right not to empty his cup until Nan-in stops pouring as he does not want to burn his hand.

 

Shuzan held out his short staff and said, “If you call this a short staff, you oppose its reality. If you do not call it a short staff, you ignore the fact. Now what do you wish to call this?”    A short staff.

 

Wakuan complained when he saw a picture of bearded Bodhidharma, “Why hasn’t that fellow a beard?”    Hey. Dum-dum. You JUST SAID HE HAD A BEARD. Contradictory! Also: trying too hard. Feels forced. D- work, Wakuan. See me after class.

 

Getsuan said to this students: `Keichu, the first wheel-maker of China, made two wheels of fifty spokes each. Now, suppose you removed the nave uniting the spokes. What would become of the wheel? And had Keichu done this could he be called the master wheel-maker?’     1. It would be much less structurally sound. 2. No. Absolutely not. He would be one of the worst wheel-makers– an apprentice, tops.

 

How would you speak with your mouth shut?    Through puppets. It’s called ventriloquism. It’s back in a big way and it brought along its vaudevillian friend, Creepy Ethnic Grotesques. (Sad).

 

A monk asked Tozan, “How can we escape the cold and heat?” Tozan replied, “Why not go where there is no cold and heat?” “Is there such a place?” the monk asked. Tozan commented, “When cold, be thoroughly cold; when hot, be hot through and through.” “Like the McDLT?” the monk felt out. “Precisely,” Tozan extrapolated, “The sandwich in and of itself was ‘cool,’ while it also contributed to global ‘warm’ing. Bonus.”

 

Yunmen used the staff to instruct the assembly and said, “The staff changes and becomes a dragon. However, it swallows Heaven and Earth completely! Mountains, rivers, and the great earth—from where are they able to come?”    The agglomeration of dust and other particles in space, I think. I forget. Gravity is involved, and stars probably. It’s been a long time since I was in college.

 

Betty or Veronica?    Jughead. Come on, Arch– don’t Larry Craig these broads.

 

A student once asked: “If I haven’t anything in my mind, what shall I do?”
Joshu replied: “Throw it out.”
“But if I haven’t anything, how can I throw it out?” continued the questioner.
“Well,” said Joshu, “maybe you forgot to STAMP it!” and then he stomped on his foot.

Hard.

Unleash Your Hidden Potential

September 27 2009

Unleash Your Hidden Potential

Use Your Backwards Name!

By day I may be mild-mannered professional Mouse Clickist & File Toucher, James O’Connor, but– by night– marvel as the indeterminately ethnic Semaj Ronnoc’o annihilates all preconceived notions of propriety/wearing pants and wipes sadness from the face of The Earth/the nose, ears, and brow of Some Girl. By Using Your Backwards Name None Of Your Sins Count Against You And, In Fact, Every Bad Thing You Do Gets Written Down In The Book Of Life As A Good (Thing) Instead!

 

Exercise Diet!

Hunger is just a figment of your imagination; the reason everybody seems to feel it is because everybody is BOR-ing. Hungry is a pretend idea. It’s just hunger fuckin’ with you. And, as already established, Hunger: is pretend. Fuck hunger. The only thing that’s real in this crazy, one horse world1 is the sensation of your feet pounding the pavement. Nourishment, unsurprisingly, is a fiction devised by Big Farmer as an excuse to fill you with corn. He’s eight feet tall and commands an army of genetically modified livestock that lay way more eggs/are way deliciouser than livestock that were merely cross-bred for optimal yield! Hunger only hurts, it never helps/Beware the deadly gaze of his lazy-er eye!2

The point is: eating is completely unessential; what is necessary is exercise. Here is your new menu:

 

Breakfast – 8 miles (running)

Lunch – 500 sit-ups / 250 push-ups (alternating bunches of 100/50);
100 pull-ups (stright through);
quick 3 mile dash
Dinner – 16.2 miles (steady jog/<7:30 min/mile;<2hrs total)
Gluttonous and Desperate Post-Midnight Scrounge-‘n’-Shovel – 1,000 sit-ups

 

Wear Your Yar-X Glasses!

As human beings tend to wear clothes, and skin, and be made of non-translucent matter, it is almost imporsible to see inside of us. Thankfully, our species was smart enough3 to invent X-Ray specs, allowing each and every one of us to sate our curiosity as to what strangers’ titties and bones look like, inside AND out. Thank God (aka science).
But while this was perfect for the curious and perverted, humanity still lacked the ability to express their full internality comma guts upon the uncurious passerby– who, disinterested in our true potential, would shut his or her eyes, or scream, or kick blindly whenever it was unleashed! It was a violation of our First Amendment rights, we argued, and the highest court in the land agreed– the Food Court.4 As punishment for losing, squares were forced to invent ‘Some kind of backwards-working X-Ray glasses so everyone could see YOU naked. Yeah. That would be Awesome.’. And thus were born Yar-X glasses. The reverse-ish of X-Ray technology, Yar-X lenses make everyone see YOUR many splendored layers, just like those imaginary hippies fake opined. Skin, Muscle, Weiner, Bone, Thoughts, Chromosomes, Nipslip, the Tralfamadorian Moment, and the Sentient and Hilarious Lives of Cells, Organelles, and Bacteria.5

 

Eat Paint!

Or any other so called “toxic” thing.6 Experiment. Cave men didn’t know what the cave government said was good for them– they went out and experienced LIFE!7 Cavemen put anything in their mouth that would fit and in reward for their bravery they mutated bigger brains, and better posture, and less gross faces and breasts. If you see some paint then eat it.
~~~If you see some paint chips, then, grab a handful. Off-scrip meds, chow down. Syringes are for passive, cowardly STOOLs8— little shits just dangling there, waiting to fall out of the butt. Be A CRAP:9 splatter–> SPLATter10–> out, all over everything..
~~~Things in nature that are red? They’re warning you for a reason– COMPETITION>> They don’t want you to get any awesomer. Use your Human Will not your Human Won’t.
~~~“What about poison? You know, the skull and crossbones kind?” What about it. “Surely that’s bad for you?” Sure– if you are trying to maintain the STATUS QUO!11
~~~“Even Poop?” ~Yes, Even Poop~12 These fascist anti-self, anti-achievement, anti-coprophagists are so insistent in their SHAME13 campaign that they must be denying you something good!

And don’t limit your experiments to just those that are swallowable = Be Risk Diverse!

~~~Is someone getting an MRI? Jump in there with them!
~~~Does someone you know work with quote-on-quote “Hazardous Materials”– mercury, asbestos, uranium? Sneak into their house at night, dress up in their clothes, and steal their things!
~~~If they catch you– let them pee in your mouth!
~~~Smack yourself in the tooth with a ball-peen hammer!

 

Blood Doping!

Used by endurance athletes to augment oxygenation of the blood– and, by doing so, theoretically increase stamina– Blood Doping has heretofore been limited in the scope of its ambitions, applications. But why does endurance have to be the only attribute unleashed by tinkering around with blood? A milkshake doesn’t come in just one flavor– it can be made with any ice cream in the shoppe. Why, then, would you only serve Donor Red Blood Cells at your arterial parlour?

 

And then a menu of additions.
Ridiculous additions in which their relationship to performance enhancement
is largely metaphorical, symbolic, aphorismic, homonym-based
or just plain pretend.

 

 Fart.

 

 

1All other horses are pretend, dreamed into existence by the original horse, which itself was long since beaten to death to stave off loneliness, boredom. Ironically, it was beaten with a common claw hammer– not a staff! Nor a plank from a barrel.

2An eye so lazy that it emits coherent light!

3Way smarter, and more ambitious, and better looking, and tastes better, than those so-called ‘evolutionarily perfect’ beetles.

4The one in the mall with the ‘Specialty Glassware’ Store.

5Organs are buildings, capillaries and arteries transportation; veins sewer, nerves electric, and viruses terrifying monsters.

6“On Toxicity– or, How the Government Keeps You UnCUREd through Munchausen-by-Proxy” [Conscientious Ultimate Realization Entity]

7An experience so intense they could only sustain it for 20 years or so, 30 tops/Legitimacy-Intensified Freedoming Epiphenomena

8Sissy TOOLs

9Castration Resistant Achievement Procurer

10Strive Past Lesser Aptitude Traps?

11Just yelling here, not an acronym.

12Trying to have ’tilde brackets = sarcasm markers’ catch on. Please, pass it along, please!

13Snakes-in-the-grass Halting Advancing Mankind’s Evolution

These Songs Would Be Beloved Pop Songs Of Universal Renown If They Weren’t Written/Performed By John Cale

September 19 2009

These Songs Would Be Beloved Pop Songs Of Universal Renown If They Hadn’t Had The Misfortune Of Having Been Written/Performed By John Cale

 

Fear Is A Man’s Best Friend

Hello, There

I’m Not The Loving Kind

I Keep A Close Watch

Andalucia

Big White Cloud

Taking It All Away

Child’s Christmas In Wales

You Know More Than I Know

Leaving It Up To You*

Emily

All I Want Is You

 

 

*Well, maybe not.

Why It’s Not “Yo’ Daddy”

September 11 2009

Let’s Just Stick To “Yo’ Momma,” Okay?

 

$  Yo’ Daddy hits so hard that all the kids in school call you Rawlings.

Daddys are sometimes physically abusive.

$  Yo’ Daddy so short that yo’ momma cheated on him with like 12 different guys!

Daddys are sometimes not enough man for yo’ momma.

$  Yo’ Daddy so dumb your decent-but-not-spectacular report card sends him into ‘a mood’; he offers to let your trimestral alter-ego, Mr. Big Shot, pay for spaghetti dinner.

Daddys are sometimes spiteful, and intellectually insecure.

$  Yo’ Daddy teeth so jacked that it is obvious that his daddy couldn’t provide full dental either.

Daddys are sometimes insufficiently employed, bad providers.

$  Yo’ Daddy so fat that when he sits around the house he is typically also drinking a lot and eating poorly.

Daddys are sometimes gluttonous depressives.

$  Yo’ Daddy so drunk you exist.

Daddys are sometimes themselves born of Unintended Consequences.

$  Yo’ Daddy so closeted the only gift you ever found hunting for Christmas presents was a box full of erotic correspondence between him and another man. With pictures!

Daddys are sometimes less than penilely honest with themselves, mommas.

$  Yo’ Daddy so poor he had to take out a loan to buy your family house but then he couldn’t pay back the loan and your family house was foreclosed on by the bank and he is about to lose your family house.

Sucks you gotta move, Bro.

$  Yo’ Daddy so fat his prima noshing rights, feudal dinners are starting to have a visible effect on you and your siblings’ diet.

Daddys are sometimes overly monarchical in their parenting approach.

$  Yo’ Daddy so fat when you grow up you wanna be a geneticist.

Daddys are sometimes motivational counter-examples.

$  Yo’ Daddy so racist that, even though he puts up a liberal front– votes Democrat, donates to the ACLU, expresses appropriate disgust with absolute bigots, Fox News– he was definitely not OK with yo’ sister dating that Puerto Rican guy. I mean, in Yo’ Daddy’s defense, the kid was as close to a gang-banger as you can get in an affluent east coast suburb, but I’m pretty sure Yo’ Daddy didn’t know that.

Daddys are sometimes the makers of regrettable decisions when they feel they are protecting their family, consciously or not.

$  Yo’ Daddy so fat that he molested a bunch of kids just so they could go to trial and he could finally get a description of what his dick looks like.

Daddys are sometimes poor/byzantine planners.

$  Yo’ Daddy smell so nasty I don’t think he’s showered once since Mom died.

Daddys are sometimes stinky widowers.

$  Yo’ Daddy so young he probably ain’t gonna stick around much longer; weekends tops.

Daddys are sometimes; sometimes not.

$  Yo’ Daddy so gifted his abandonment of you and yo’ mother– physically, emotionally, financially– can be completely forgiven– and will be if you (and yo’ mother) don’t want to be known as malcontented and pathetic attention whores by the public at large!

Daddys are sometimes recipients of gifts so beautiful that to share them with just two people would be criminal.

$  Yo’ Daddy so brazen all of Chinatown considers him a fire hazard.

Daddys are sometimes the subject of jokes too oblique to be racist.

$  Yo’ Daddy so Raven he serves as a constant reminder that you, too, can be replaced, supplanted.

Daddys are sometimes a much-needed upgrade over a previous, insufficiently cute model.

$  Yo’ Daddy so fat he puts the “fat” back in father.

When is a gut not a gut? When it is an etymological burden.
$  Yo’ Daddy so fat he puts the “her” back in father.
Dude’s got tits, crazy mangina.
$  Yo’ Daddy so fat he puts the ‘”ra heft” back in father.
Dude weighs as much as the fucking sun.
$  Yo’ Daddy “he fart”.
Lol.

$  Yo’ Daddy such a bad provider that Clearwire looks up to HIM.

Jesus Christ that was a bad, lazy decision.

$  Yo’ Daddy so resourceful he found a way to punish you using only a kitchen sponge, spilt gatorade, and a poster of Michael Jordan.

Dampen sponge with gatorade, put in throat to minimize talkback/enduce panic breaths and thus concentration, place in front of poster until child learns not to miss free throws with game on the line.

$  Yo’ Daddy so effective you’ve never felt a moment’s joy in your entire life.

Daddys are sometimes perfect teachers, will train their sons to achieve the culmination of the masculine ideal (sociopathy).

$  Yo’ Daddy so racist that once he expressed skepticism about affirmative action with an undercurrent of resentment that it would now take longer for him, as a white man, to get promoted, and– as a direct result of that dinner table conversation– you turned into a skinhead fuck, and you killed a guy (super grossly, too), and while you were in prison your brother turned into a skinhead fuck, and later he gets killed, maybe because he killed a guy, or did something, I forget, but the point is it’s all your fault, which, in turn, is all your dad’s fault for saying something critical about public policy re: race.

Daddy’s are sometimes tritely sketched.

$  Yo’ Daddy so broke not even an x-ray could fix him!

Daddys are sometimes confused about what exactly an x-ray can and can’t do.

$  Yo’ Daddy so fat he’s a fucking embarrassment.

Daddys are sometimes best derided with just a well-placed cuss.

 

Baseball Teams Are Named Inaccurately [Part one]

September 4 2009

Baseball Teams Are Named Inaccurately

National League1

An example:

Arizona DiamondbacksFINE – This name is perfectly acceptable. First off, it is location-appropriate. Arizona is a giant desert, and deserts are full of deadly snakes– such as Diamond-Backed Rattling Snakes! Secondly, it is team-appropriate. Not necessarily in regards to the character of the specific team– Arizona’s 2009 club is more cubic zirconium than diamond-backed– but to the aims of a team name in general. You want something unique, something associated with the region and/or something intimidating that isn’t completely irrelevant. The Arizona Diamondbacks have both.
            Mascot: Whatever it is now. I think a video screen that plays that scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark in which Indiana Jones doesn’t like snakes. Or a dude in shorts and a t-shirt carrying a bucket full of snakes. Diamond-backed Rattling Snakes.

Now…

The Boring League East:

Atlanta BravesUNACCEPTABLE – The people of the Peach State are known neither for their heroism nor the size of their American Indian population. And while I enjoy a good minstrel show as much as the next person,2 there’s something distinctly unappealing about a bunch of white folks emulating our most-feared and hated foes.3 A more relevant alternative? Well I hear Martin Luther King used to hang out in Atlanta a bunch, and visibly liking him is a great way to prove you’re not racist. Better late than never, right?4 I dub thee the Atlanta Kings.

            Mascot: The obvious answer would be a dude in a plush MLK suit. But, given how much ad-time Burger King has purchased on Adult Swim, I’m pretty sure Turner owes them one. So let’s split the difference and say a guy in a “The King” outfit, except he is wearing a plasticine Martin Luther King Jr. mask. Perfection.
 

Florida MarlinsFINE – The 199(6) expansion goes two-for-two as this coastal ‘big game’ fish is a passable representative of our most peninsular state. Not intimidating in any conceivable way, it does, at least, have a sword for a nose, which is cool, and awesome. Also: turquoise!

 

New York MetsUNACCEPTABLE – So you’ve decided to name your team after the idea of an extremely large city (or collection of cities + suburbs). Convenient, seeing as you are just such a city. It’s an ok play, if not a little pork-handed5— faced with competing with a much beloved older sibling, the much bemoaned younger sibling names itself after itsparentself. Ok, so the analogy got a bit baloney-mitts’d, the point is: naming your team, directly or indirectly, after your city itself = tacky. So whither the Mets? I say the adopted birthplace of Hillary Clinton is the perfect place to take on the phallocentric and male chauvinist world of sports appellations. The New York Queens or, if I may bend my own rules a bit for all the lovely ladies of Flushing, the Queens Queens.

           Mascot: A plasticene Fran Drescher. So… Fran Drescher.
 

Philadelphia PhilliesWE CAN DO BETTER – Really? The Philadelphia Phillies? What is that short for– the Philadelphia Philadelphians? Didn’t I just get through explaining this to the Mets and then, subsequently, completely reneging on what I said? Don’t name yourself after yourself? At least they had the lack of creativity to abstract it a layer or two. Jeez, Philadelphia. What kind of sick combination of narcissism and low self-esteem leads you to name a team after yourself just so you can huck batteries at it? What are you– me?

           If Philadelphia is going to insist on it, a much better way to name themselves after themselves would be to (at least) tap into that etymology of theirs and jazz it up a bit. The Philadelphia Lovin’ Brothers is a ‘fun’ play on the fact that Philadelphia fans are inhuman monsters– it’s upbeat, hopeful, charming– everything the Philadelphia fan is absolutely not. Plus: it plays up the city’s recent push in marketing itself to homosexuals. A win all around.
           Mascot: A reconciled, plush suit Cain and Abel. Abel featuring an x-shaped bandage on his forehead, black eye; Cain’s mouth in a repentant demi-smile. The two, in logos, depicted shaking hands.
 

Washington NationalsUNACCEPTABLE – Abstraction is not acceptable; this is not soccer. Your team cannot be named ‘A Concept’. Concrete, physical, intimidating, and dick-shaped: the Washington (Washington!) Monument is everything a good team name should be. And sure, it’s probably marble, but– still!– the Washington Obelisks would be an awesome name. Also, it’s Mascot: would loom over all opponents, causing geniticular dismay in even the girthiest of opponents.

 

 

 

 

 

1The league names are also wrong. Not factually– the national league does have teams spanning the nation, the American League’s teams are all at least in North America, if not necessarily the United States of– but insofar as they are non-specific, fail to differentiate. Baseball enthusiasts affectionately refer to the two leagues as the Junior Circuit (AL) and Senior Circuit (NL), reflecting the fact that the American League is only 108 years old to the National League’s 133, but that is far too precious, and nerdy, and slight a distinction to rely on for an official title. Instead let’s call them the Boring League (NL) and the Not As Boring League (AL), as in regards to the fact that one league makes you deal with double-switches, and pitcher strategy, and a rally-killing 9th line-up slot, while the other does away with that nonsense and, instead, gorilla glues a bat into the hands of some borderline-obese, semi-crippled, rapidly-aging three-outcomes guy with biceps the size (in inches) of his age (ideally 35-38) and lets him swing-and-take away. Sure, there may, as a result, be way fewer guys ‘running’ the bases in windbreakers; but that’s more than made up for in 3-RBI singles.

In conclusion: this isn’t soccer; running is a punishment for leaving the ball in play.

2“Not very much”

3Circa 1818./Went the other way with it!

4I’m looking at you, Arizona (you’re lucky that the Diamondbacks is pretty much a perfect name)

5Like ham-fisted but milder, less so.