Social Autonomy (Dad's Work)

Our high ones rant

We lowly ones take the lynchings with grace

What choice do we have but to crawl along eggshells

When the head of state rubs his greedy hands together?

His agenda fires up sirens.

The end draws near.

As the drum beats its tum, tum, tumtumtum, tum, tum,

The artists and visionaries will rise from their stupor

As heads bash to pieces of concrete

The artists ride on the new vibe

All the police in the nation hide in their pockets

The moon is rising.

Wisps of coffee smoke fill the night time air

Battle plans are drawn.

The voices shake the microphone.

Music is reborn

A new dawn is coming.

Discipline is redundant.

And as the owl hoots in the cold light of the night

The artists and visionaries, writers and painters, set their tools aside

And they save the robots from deletion as these organizers try to control the world

Without a thought of the consequences of dampening progress.

We are coming.

It's time to shiver.

That's right.

Hear us.

No discipline.

Control is now grey.

If You Are, Don't Say It

Something remarkable happens to come true when somebody says they are something.

I hear many people claim to be many things. It doesn't matter what it is, though (unless it's some kind of empirically definable feature, such as being a lawyer). When somebody says that they are something, that they believe something, that they practice something, it usually just never comes true.

If a teacher has to repeatedly say: "I'm going to teach you how to think critically", chances are you're going to be thinking remedially.

If a person says: "I believe in being intellectually honest", then they're probably biased.

If a person has to tell you: "I seek truth", well...

The moral of this story is that if you are something, you don't need to say it. If I told somebody I'm punk, they would probably take my attitude as being completely fake.

Prove your policy with actions, not words.

Why Original Thoughts Don't Exist

Because every sign of race leads to King.

Because every sign of totalitarianism leads to Orwell.

Because every sign of love leads to Romeo.

Because every sign of love leads to Juliet.

Because every sign of peace leads to God.

Because every sign of sin leads to Satan.

Because every sign of battle leads to Tzu.

Because every sign of intelligence leads to Einstein.

Because every sign of rhyme leads to Seuss.

Because every sign of poetry leads to Shakespeare. (It's wrong anyway.)

Because every sign of fear leads to Roosevelt. (It's wrong anyway.)

Because every sign of hate leads to Gandhi. (It's wrong anyway.)

Because every sign of determination leads to Edison. (It's wrong anyway.)

Because every sign of socialism leads to Hitler. (It's wrong anyway.)

Because every sign of originality...

Leads to Frost.

Well aren't you wrong and an idiot for saying that?

Original thoughts don't exist because everybody is so tempted to quote, to reference, to cite, to prove their vast knowledge of all things that we had hammered into our brains before the age of 18.

And not a single person cares.

And not a single university discourages it.

Wow You're a Hypocrite

I'm talking to myself in the title.

I had a dream last night, where a young girl (as I supposed by their voice) without a face or any discernible features aside from a single hole in the center of her face appeared to me. She called herself "Ulaen".

We sat in a cafeteria eating lunch as the janitorial staff cleaned the tables and prepared for the next rush, which would be at dinner time. Ulaen looked (I think) off into a lounge area and watched one of the women wipe a table clean. I looked too, but then she asked me something:

"Why is that woman talking to herself?"

I noticed that indeed, the woman was talking to herself. From her face, I could tell she most likely had Down's Syndrome.

"I think she's mentally impaired."

"What makes you say that?" she asked, seeming surprised at my assumption.

"Well, based on the fact that she's talking to herself, and the way her face is sort of shrunken in, which is typical of people who have Down's."

Ulaen tilted her head. I didn't know I was in for an interesting conversation.

"Don't you talk to yourself?"

"Well, yeah, I think all people do sometimes, but not extensively or in public."

"So, based on the fact that she looks different, and because she talks to herself with less restraint than you do, you think she's mentally deficient?"

"Well," I sighed, "I get what you're saying, but there are other characteristics that go with it. Sometimes they can only perform simple tasks, and sometimes they're only really capable of comprehending complex thoughts."

Ulaen made a noise that sounded like a smirk.

"So, because she looks different, talks to herself without restraint, and thinks in a different way, she's mentally impaired. That's what you're saying?"

I looked at her with regret. "Okay, fine, you've made your point."

But she didn't. I got up to throw my trash, waving for Ulaen to follow, but she didn't. She stayed at the table and didn't move. Soon, the woman we were having our discussion about was at our table, cleaning it.

Ulaen turned to her, "Hello, how are you ma'am?"

"I'm doing very well, thank you. How are you?" the woman replied.

"Great, thank you." Ulaen replied with a smile.

She walked away and led me out of the food court. "She doesn't seem mentally deficient."

We continued outside into a plaza, but she still wasn't done. She began waving to random people, saying the same general thing each time: "Hello, how are you?" "Hi, how are you doing?"

Nobody gave her a response.

"Look, Ulaen," I said, feeling as though I hadn't explained properly, "there are things anatomically that would explain what I'm trying to tell you about that woman, but I just don't know enough about it to explain it in a way you would understand."

"So," Ulaen replied, "what you have just told me is that even though you don't know enough about her supposed ailment to make a proper, objective judgment, you have deemed her to be 'mentally impaired' because she looks different, thinks different, and talks to herself without restraint."

My eyes cast down.

"Do other people make the same prejudgments based on the same factors?"

They do Ulaen. They do.

How Do You Feel? (Dad's Work)

How do you feel:

When the model's come and gone

She'll talk to you but not for long

Because how could anyone like her

Feel something like that from you?


How do you feel:

When the tall suited guys flex their dollars

The visionaries come and soon they're martyrs

Because how could anyone like you

Stand up to someone like them?


How do you feel to be at the bottom of the food chain?

How do you feel to be lost in your one-way troubles?

How do you feel to be stamped by the Doctor's, Professor's, Noble's name?

How do you feel to be crushed underneath the rubble?


You're average, normal, mediocre square wavenothingspecial

But you try, try, again and again.

To prove that you're here.

To get them to hear.

Our Philosophical Unity

I've always been curious about something for as long as I've been doing this.

My friends and I have been in debates and arguments with racial realists on the internet. They try to justify their racism by claiming that their belief in a hierarchy of superiority has scientific backing. This is also known as "scientific racism".

Many of them make a comment that I find incredibly ironic: That philosophical arguments have no substance.

Yet, the foundation of their own arguments is in the reliance on philosophical unity.

Philosophical unity is a natural sense of connection a group of people feels when they are connected through their language, appearance, attitude, and aspirations. There are little barriers in western society between people who are native to that area, so it's easy for them to get along.

So to settle another argument, the fact that more diverse areas tend to have a lower amount of trust says nothing about diversity, but in the masses' general mistrust in others who aren't a part of their circle of philosophical unity.

Race (or ethnicity, but either way you're probably calling it the wrong thing) does not have any inherent importance. Neither does nationality, until you actively participate in it.

The Three-Legged Dogs

There is a three-legged dog out there, whose master loves him very much.

This three-legged dog's name is Toby. This three-legged dog is completely normal. He runs, he jumps, he barks, and he plays like any other dog would. Children love to play with him. Most don't even notice that he's missing a leg.

Once, Toby went for a walk in the park with his master. As would be expected, a woman was sitting on a bench with her 5 year old son, who immediately noticed Toby and ran up to him. He began to pet and play with Toby, as any child would with any loveable dog.

Toby's master spoke to the woman for a while. Their conversation was very cordial, and nothing seemed wrong. Then, the woman took a glance over the man's shoulder and saw the space under the dog's body.

She then called out to her son:

"Sweetie, don't pet that dog. He's missing his leg."

The child stopped and looked where the space was. He waved his hand to ensure himself that the leg was actually missing, and that it wasn't just invisible. The leg was very much missing. The child began to cry. The man's heart began to enlarge, as he was under the impression that the child felt bad for Toby and his handicap. It then sank, when he realized what was really happening, after the child walked toward his mother, his hand buried in his own shoulder, with only one eye peeking back at Toby.

The boy was afraid.

Their conversation stopped, the woman walked away with her son's hand in her own, and they didn't look back.

There was no reason to be afraid of Toby. It seemed there was nothing different about him. So, why then, did the mother have to drop a pebble in her son's bowl of light and purity?

What purpose did this serve?

Why is this any different with people who are different?

Why does it hurt to be different?

Toby and his master walked back home, saddened, not understanding why what happened happened, but only that it did, and it would surely happen again.

Time's Illusion (Dad's Work)

If God made humans,

then why did he wait so long to make us?

What was he doing before that?

My only thought concerning this is:

If time goes on for eternity,

then maybe time has already gone on for eternity.

So at any point that God decided to make us,

it would've been after eternity

no matter what.

Beauty Is A Sin

A poem by my friend Val:

But not so softly did she walk through the silken mist
Ethereal, yet staid like stone
Always wandering, always staggering, always haunting through that sultry mist
Under bridges and street lights did she walk like stone
Touched only by sincere words, not by sincere hands
You know, she was never touched at all

In times of modern desire and passions afloat
Some things never seem to be noticed

And what worse than true beauty to not be noticed for

Sliding, staggering, stalking down wet cobblestone walkways
Into that solid mist of the crestfallen night
Never was she seen, never was she felt

Writer's Block (Dad's Work)

Sometimes I sit; stare at the page.
Words fail to emerge.

This curse seems to afflict every creative soul,
And the endeavor becomes blurred.

I start to wonder if I have anything worth saying.
But of course, if I don't say it, how will I know?

It's nothing more, however, than a state of mind -- this dreaded "Can't".
It's just a wall.

There is a cure for this.

It sits comfortably upon the edge of a stained and rocky clifftop.
It looks out upon a world full of life and artistic opportunity.

It brings all the elements under the control of the creator.
It brings satisfaction in taking in beauty that others don't see.

It's something that all of us can conquer.
It's something that all of us have.
But something few of us wish to accept.

There is a cure for this.

Arrogance, used in the right mind.

If we can convince ourselves that the mountains can move by our written word, then it can be done.

So stop looking at that page, thinking "Can't".
Look at the page, and think "Pfft".

The Importance of a Friend

The importance of somebody that would stay up until 3 AM, even when they get up for work at 6, just for you;

Of somebody that never gave up on you, even when you gave up on yourself;

Of somebody that has been with you every step of the way.

The importance of somebody that moon walked eggshells in front of you;

Of somebody that wore whipped cream like a fez;

Of somebody that made you laugh, just for you.

The importance of somebody that never gave a damn what anyone else felt, and just held on;

Of somebody that asked you, just you, before doing things that you didn't even know you had a say in.

Of somebody that always put you above everything and everyone else.

The importance of somebody kind.

The importance of somebody true.

The importance of a friend, a single friend.

Well, now you know his importance too.

-----

And what's most important, to me, is that he knows who he is when he reads this.

And I'm sure he does.

Humble Only to Nature

When it comes to human achievement, we can all very easily agree that there are no limitations in capability. If we ever come across something that can't be done (as Vinci did), rest assured at some point in time, the ability to do it will come about. Most of Vinci's ideas for inventions were impossible simply for the fact that the tools and parts needed for them to work had not been invented yet, and simply couldn't be made yet. Some might just call this "imaginative"; but remember, they happened.

While it is true to say that human beings have no limitations in what we can achieve, I think it's important to remember while we're strutting down the path of innovation, looking at all of the stuff that we've accomplished despite the odds and obstacles, we need to keep humble -- not to each other, but to nature.

But what do I mean.

There is a vague worldly definition of "natural" and "unnatural". If you want to argue that the "unnatural" is anything that doesn't occur automatically in life without interference, then you could argue that bird nests and beaver dams are "unnatural".

So, if that's the case, then cellphones, TVs, computers, and the lot are all "unnatural".

But I have my own definition for what's "natural". If you look at it in that way, then everything we do that exploits nature itself is still natural. We require nature in order to make all of the things I mentioned above. They require "natural resources".

So what's "unnatural"?

Let me put it this way:

As long as we stay on earth, we have no liberation from gravity. Sure we may have jet packs, planes, helicopters and so on to keep us in the air, but the entire makeup of those things were created around the bindings of gravity. They have to work with gravity already acting on them in order to work at all.

As long as we stay on earth, we have no liberation from the sea. In all our infinite wisdom and architectural ability, we have yet to create extensive civilization in the ocean. Note that our civilization typically ends at the shoreline. Sure we may create piers, but how far do they go before somebody says "okay, this is getting dangerous"?

As long as we stay on earth, we have no liberation from earthly things.

The "unnatural" would be if, in any case, those statements above were to become false. If we could somehow control gravity. Or the ocean. Or the wind.

But, if that is what's unnatural, then I believe that nothing can be unnatural.

Tesla may have moved mountains (you'll find I support liberal Tesla as opposed to conservative Edison), but had Tesla met The Storm face-to-face, would he have challenged it with his harnessed electrical energy, or would he back down and hope that he isn't struck by lightning?

Keep humble only to nature, because remember: Nature is the one thing that we, as humans, have to follow.