Category: Status Quo

Your sheep-like patterns observed.

axisflip cryptofinancial

Categories
Editorial Society Special Interest Status Quo

Cogito ergo Cogito

A Christian once asked me what my fundamental source for ultimate truth was. The answer might be unsatisfying, but it should be there with a little explanation. In logic, truth is defined as that which can be proven not false in every case. This applies well enough in mathematics and computer programming, but how about for reality? The problem with truth is that every case can never be accounted for. Quantum physics specifically denies it.

Consider a particle in your body, and all the aspects of it. It has among other properties energy and location. Upon measuring this particle’s location, accuracy is lost in measuring its energy. This is the uncertainty principle, and it is an observable phenomenon that Einstein could not disprove. For some reason, this lack of truth is built into the very nature of the universe. I could measure the energy of that same particle, but if I wanted to know the location, I would again lose accuracy. If I wanted to know both the momentum and the location of a particle the best I’d be able to do is estimate. I would still be left with a version of the truth based on two separate measurements that have a mutually exclusive precision. So I’m left with a measurable amount of precision, but not the truth.

So, am I saying that truth doesn’t exist? This is aesthetically painful to the human mind, but it is the strongest possibility. Surely a particle has a location, and a certain momentum, but I won’t be able to figure that out because of an aspect of the universe that is not currently understood. So what is my foundation of ultimate truth, if I cannot know the truth of a solitary particle?

This is a universe of measurable precision. When the human mind decides to believe in truth, there’s an amount of error that cannot be escaped. Truth absolutely must exist, and it may be glimpsed by humanity, but it is impossible to see from all sides without distortion.

axisflip cryptofinancial

Categories
Editorial News Politics Society Status Quo World

A land called the Soviet Union

I started with “jerk off into a cup” – a natural launching point.

Holy dicks, what fucking day is it? Is it time for another? Yes it is.

I spent the day dealing with some very friendly people about a very unfriendly bill that has been sent to collections by way of some unpaid tuition at my money-grubbing University. Those bastards think they’re going to get $2,000 out of me, well they’ve got another thing coming. I’ll give them at least $12,000 more by the time I’m done with them! Those bastards will be swimming so deep in my hard-earned cash they won’t know what hit ’em. They’ll drown in US currency. They’ll have to buy up some more ghetto just to make room for the new cash I want to give them for a degree next year.

That’s where I’m at now – it’s time to buy my degree. I’ve worked at papers and written and photographed and traveled and interviewed and even kissed Jane Fonda’s ass, as every reporter does at some time, or must do on their deathbed, lest they enter the gates of Heaven unscathed by a tired old clash of grandfatherly ideals. So now I’m paying for it, because you see it’s not your experience the industry wants; it’s not your carisma, or your talent or your motivation or even your childish enthusiasm they’re after. No, they want to know that you, too, shelled out an amount of dough greater than or equal to the worth of their own degrees before they’ll even open a god damn portfolio. So be it. I’ll buy the fucking thing and I’ll do it the honest way: by taking money for my sperm downtown.

Sure, I can jerk off into a cup. Have I ever done it before? Not in a cup, no. In a receptacle, maybe, and into a cup indirectly, but never “squirt in the cup, put a lid on it, enjoy your James ma’am.” Five, ten, fifteen years down the road, there could be me: child to a lesbian couple, or perhaps a hardline feminist with filed-down teeth and big gums who wears heavy red flannel and treks out to middle-school-age little league games where she is a stranger. That’s what I want for myself, right now. That’s my goal.

Really, it’d be nice to get all doped up and go to the dentist. My teeth are holier than the bulletproof Pope-mobile. I’m more sensitive to them, too. You can’t see the Pope in his little squad-wagon anymore. They don’t show him. I wish they would. As a child I used to love witnessing the Pope-mobile. It was hilarious. That was before I knew how to jerk off, much less into a cup. And that brings me back to it. Would the pope jerk off into a cup (assuming he had the capacity to engage in a sexually taxing activity like physical masturbation) to save a dying woman’s legacy? How about his own?

I hear we are winning in Iraq so now we’re moving to Afghanistan. Hopefully we will see the same success over there and we can even replicate it in Iran. The UN Chief would like to see that. Sooner or later we’re going to have to go dick against balls with Russia and it’s going to be gritty and you will not see a fear more sinister, more urgent than that which will be pumped out of live television, radio and telegraph broadcasts in our lifetimes on that fateful day when Russian bombers imposing over our inland suburbs like chicken-hawks. The pilots have to use the bathroom, too. “Is that frozen piss-sleet hitting the roof, honey, or is that napalm? I’ll check it this time, you went out last time…”

More on this, as events unfold.

axisflip cryptofinancial

Categories
Editorial Status Quo

Opinion: Just Because I Live At This Apartment Complex Doesn't Mean You Have The Right To Look At Me

Yeah, okay so I haven’t done this whole ear wax blog stuff yet because I don’t have to. But recently this Lebal Drocer company asked me to write something or they’d stop the nitrocious flow of cash that I’ve been getting for over 5 months now (its sweet, believe me loomwads). So I decided to write up a little opinion column for this little waxing elf enthusiast website (seriously what the hell kinda brokeback name is that anyway?)

So recently in the World of Nitro, I’ve began to notice a little trend that I’m not too keen about. It seems like ever since I moved from New Jersey (It’s Jerstrocious!) to this pitiful state, everyone just stares me down like a leper every time I step foot outside. What gives?!? Sometimes I’ll be simply grabbing a 48-pack of brews from the Nitromobile. Other times I’ll be just checking my mailbox, filtering out all the billz and wal-mart junk(the PITS!) and minding my own nitro business(as always). But no matter what, if the Nitrocity himself is outside, you better believe some complete noobody(noob+nobody, quote me!) will be staring me down like I was a TV set.

Now, you gotta realize the scale of noobwads that I get glares from. Its damn near everyone, dudes. The fat, single Tony Soprano-looking dude walking his yappy dog, the guys that believe they are in some kinda rap video at all hours, the fat ugly girls who just sit outside for no reason other than to be annoying, even the wastes of existence that live directly around me (“neighbors” as you call them). I realize you guys are just trying to live (very boringly), but c’mon, you don’t need to bring me down to your level. I got better fish to cook! I realize my hair is longer than yours, my wardrobe cooler than your nicest outfit, my lifestyle more nitrocious than your best night, but there’s no need to stare. Staring won’t get you any closer to being nitrocious. So next time, you happen to be outside, begging for attention with your disposable garbage music (play some Springsteen at least!), walking your dog in hopes of picking up college chicks, or drinking Budweiser Lights at the microscopic pool(seriously I’ve pissed bigger puddles), just ignore my presence because your not getting a free performance or a beer bong to the face out of it.

I’m starting to ramble so i’ll make my point simple: Just because we share the same apartment complex does not give you ANY right to look anywhere near my direction. There’s a million things to look at outside: the shitty cars, the shitty pool, the shitty other people who live here. Why must you choose me to point your vision-producing spheres at? Just because I am a renowned karaoke singer and all-around badass does not mean I’m your toy monkey banging cymbals. I perform for a minimum of 7 figures and unwarrantedly looking my direction just makes that figure rise as well as my inner-rage to shatter your face.

You don’t want to end up like this dude.


Whatever noobs, I’m gonna go get nitrocious. Jim Beam to da face!

Oh yeah, and coming soon, losers…
Just Because I Go To This University Does Not Mean You Have The Right To Look At Me.
Just Because I’m At This Drive-Thru Does Not Give You The Right to Take My Order.