Weblog

Read This and Do It.

It isn’t a matter worth putting up to chance.

The All Mighty Senators concert was epic, and is further proof for my conviction that this year will turn out to be the finest in the history of mankind… at least for me, I think. I’m still ironing out the details of the Dane-centric universe, but the proof will come and with it, redemption. Or some crap like that.

Almost everyone in the Bull Pub was dancing, and dancing hard. Nary a soul left the room that wasn’t drenched in sweat. With two Red Bulls coursing through my blood I soaked through the back and front of my shirt. Intense dancing also revealed an unexpected benefit of having long hair again. While shaking my head around my golden locks seem to act as a tuned mass damper, taking the force off my neck and redistributing it.

Of course, I merely compensate by shaking my head harder and trying to break my neck in the throes of passion, but it’s nice to know I now have the option of avoiding a neck brace for the rest of my life.

I usually don’t link to other sites because I’m too lazy to write the HTML code required to hyperlink. However, today I make an exception because I am horribly addicted to this site:

Quote Database

It is a collection of spicy quotes that cover the entire spectrum of human experience, from super genius to fucking idiot. If you like to be told where to start, just check out a random sampling. Some of my favorites:

(NinjaRyu) atlanta is wigger capital

(NinjaRyu) i saw a guy soup up his parent’s ’86 nissan with a $2500 car stereo and a big ass tailpipe, but the damn thing still couldn’t go above 75

(sortof) i slept on a glowstick wrong

(reuben) somebody keeps jiggling the doorknob on my front door, then running away

(reuben) i don’t know if i should call the police, or hook up some electricity to the doorknob

(cristobal) why don’t you put ice on the stairs

(cristobal) and heat up the door knob

(cristobal) and swing paint buckets down from your two story foyer

(cristobal) then a few years later, fade from the public eye…..

(Phuser) my fan club has a member

(Phuser) my member has a fan club (I hear Chris Fahey’s voice on this one)

This one is uber-nerdy:

(omnius) omnius > join(#www(users()))

(RoBorg) omnius == “dork”

(omnius) omnius == “genius”

(omnius) if (RoBorg() == “omnius is a genius”){RoBorg == true;}elseif(RoBorg() == “omnius is a dork”){RoBorg == banned;}else{RoBorg == “dork”;}

(RoBorg) if(omnius.ban(“RoBorg”)) {RoBorg.violence = 100; RoBorg.rampage(); setTimeout(“RoBorg.alive=false;”, 360000);}

(omnius) omnius(RoBorg -> omnius.string = “omnius is a genius”);

(RoBorg) omnius >> recycle bin;

(omnius) omnius -> undelete(); omnius -> deltree(“c:\\RoBorg”);

(RoBorg) brain://omnius/ == 404

(RoBorg) omnius.split(); omnius.slice(); omnius.explode()

(omnius) $salt = guid(); RoBorg = crypt(“RoBorg”,$salt);

(RoBorg) DELETE * FROM existance WHERE name=’omnius’;

(omnius) RoBorg = broken;

(RoBorg) with(omnius){break;}

(tatclass) YOU ALL SUCK DICK

(tatclass) er.

(tatclass) hi.

(andy\code) A common typo.

(tatclass) the keys are like right next to each other.

(Zybl0re) get up

(Zybl0re) get on up

(Zybl0re) get up

(Zybl0re) get on up

(phxl|paper) and DANCE

* nmp3bot dances :D\-<

* nmp3bot dances :D|-<

* nmp3bot dances :D/-<

([SA]HatfulOfHollow) i'm going to become rich and famous after i invent a device that allows you to stab people in the face over the internet

(Beeth) Girls are like internet domain names, the ones I like are already taken.

(honx) well, you can stil get one from a strange country 😛

I finally got a chance to hit up Lake Superior for some windsurfing. It was different than the wicked session I had on Waconia a week ago. The Waconia Session offered the balls-to-the-wall adrenaline rush that hooked me to windsurfing, but the Superior Session was very subtle. Today there was a bit of wind, but a little more than that.

When I got my board up and planing in the harbor it was exhilarating. Here I was, windsurfing in my crazy northwoods town on the biggest lake on the planet. Beneathe my feet, a modest 130 liters of Lake Superior were being displaced and tamed. I had arrived, but I wanted more. I wanted speed. I wanted to blast over the chop. I wanted to shake the ceaseless spray out of my hair as I laughed from the top of a Red Eye frenzy. I took in as much sail as possible and tried to catch wind that wasn’t there. My meager 4.4 meter sail tried its darndest to grab the atmospheres, but I was asking for too much given the conditions.

So I settled in. I found the sweet spot in my sail, dug in my windward rail and tried to keep everything balanced and moving at the pace I was given. I surfed for two hours, making numerous trips to the middle of the harbor and back. As time passed the runs took less thought and effort. I got a feel for what the conditions would allow me to get away with. I could hold the sail like so and cruise without falling over backwards. I couldn’t step back into my footstraps without spinning out under the ill placement of my weight. One time I dropped the mast on my shoulder. Another time I tried to grab a large gust of wind, but the sail flung me into the water ten feet from my rig. It was fun. It was chill. Every time I returned to shore I rode out the wind as long as possible, risking a trashed fin for the few extra seconds of surfing. I just couldn’t bring myself to cut the runs any shorter.

And then once, for a split second, it was just me, the wind and the huge setting sun. The board and sail were transparent, my mind was cleared. Everything was working together without my conscious manipulation. It was a feeling that lasted long enough only to hint at a greater experience in the future. Things are wonderful, and they can only get better.

FIGHT

You have encountered Old Man!!

Your skill allows you to get the first strike.

Your Hitpoints : 20

Old Man’s Hitpoints : 13

(A)ttack

(S)tats

(R)un

Your command, The Great Sun Ra? A

You hit Old Man for 9 damage!

Old Man Executes A Power Move

Old Man hits with his Cane for 2 damage!

Your Hitpoints : 18

Old Man’s Hitpoints : 4

(A)ttack

(S)tats

(R)un

Your command, The Great Sun Ra? A

You hit Old Man for 8 damage!

You have killed Old Man!

You receive 73 gold, and 4 experience!

Ok, let’s see if I can clear some things up.

If a person acts for a bad reason, his action is unjustified. Sometimes the action is small and without great consequence. Let’s say I get up and dance to Alva Star with the intention of impressing people. That’s a weak line of reasoning, as it depends on the unverifiable (at least until after the action) assumption that people will be impressed.

My awful, horrible generalization of the activist mind is this: “I dance to make an example of myself and to help move the unenlightened horde that isn’t dancing.”

This line reasoning is unjustified. It assumes that there is something innately right about the activist position, merely because “everyone else thinks this way, so I must be right.” My previous discussion may have alienated people, yes, but the activist mindset alienates everyone that doesn’t agree with their cause. Instead of meeting the hordes at their own level and building them up, activists sit in their own holy chairs of enlightenment and ‘tsk’ the people who have not yet come to the right conclusion. The image is a strange juxtaposition, when you consider that the stereotypical activist that shows up to an anti-globalization rally looks like he fell out of Haight- Ashbury.

Now, do not misunderstand. I have no love for the flag-waving patriot that believes in “my country, right or wrong.” That sort of dedication is dangerous and unjustified. I also think that “my country, wrong and wrong,” must be incorrect as well, as it’s too easy and too convenient of a counter-argument. Motivation and passion are great and wonderful movers of people, but can often cloud judgment. This does not mean that we need to do away with them, quite to the contrary. However, action with passion does not make the action right. There is no doubt the terrorists were passionate about their cause, but I believe they were suffering from a horrible mental disease when they crashed jetliners into our buildings.

Should they be held accountable for this disease? Fuck yeah. They’ve got free-will just as well as we do. They’ve got the free will to shit on us, and we’ve got the free-will to make sure they never shit again.

I have trouble understanding the anti-war argument, though it may be because I have an oversimplified view and have read too many counterarguments to their claims. I had an argument with my friend last year about war and civilian casualties, to which he made the claim that “no civilian causalities are justified.”

Alright. That sounds good and all, but it is a manufactured absolute with no justification. It takes the generally held belief that “human life is precious,” (which, as shown by the actions of militant Muslims, is not always the case) and explodes to a preposterous level where it becomes an absolute truth about civilian casualties. I agree that civilian casualties are an awful thing, but I don’t like the alternative any more.

“You’re making the argument that an American civilian life is worth more than an Afghani (or Iraqi, in the current case) civilian life.”

No. I’m making the argument that the government of Afghanistan had the opportunity to meet our demands (hand over Bin Laden), knowing full well that non-compliance would result in war on their turf. Rather than losing one person and saving their country (their awful, Taliban-ruled country that executes people in stadiums), they chose war, and thereby put their own citizens on the line.

The American government’s responsibility is first the lives of Americans, and I kind of like it that way. Were it any different, I would seriously consider why we call it the American government.

I got hypnotized last night by the great Frederick Winter. People are always curious what it felt like, whether I remember what I did, etc.

I remember most everything, though it feels like I’m looking at it through a slight fog. The events are not as clear as though I was completely awake, nor so faint that it felt like a dream. I remember watching a scary movie. I remember seeing Lassie get hit by a car. I remember that when we were driving cars, everyone else was driving a Porsche, a Ferrari, some sporty Audi P.O.S., a Pontiac Aztec, etc…

“And sir, what are you driving?” asked the hypnotist.

“A beach wagon! REEEEEE, REEEEEEE!!!…”

When I say I remember these things, it is not as though I was tripping out on mushrooms and actually seeing them. It was all in my imagination, of which I was aware, but it all made complete sense. I would be told, “You are a baby kangaroo,'” and it would seem like the most true and obvious statement at the time. “Well, of course I’m a baby kangaroo. I’m going to act like a baby kangaroo, and I really don’t care about all these people that aren’t kangaroos.”

Every one of your actions seems like it is embracing the best of all possible worlds. You aren’t concerned about the people in the audience, nor do you care that you look like a fool when dancing. You only care about having a good time and listening to what the hypnotist has to say. You are always in control, but you feel less inhibited than usual. Your environment feels a little bit extraneous, and you exist more within yourself. It’s like daydreaming. It’s like being drunk, only without the dulling chemical interactions in your blood.

The more fun and stupid stuff I did, the better I felt. The sensation was similar to doing skits at summer camp. I just got into it, deep into it, and had a really good time. In many ways, my being hypnotized is hardly different than my waking state. After the show we went down to watch Alva Star, and as most people in the audience slugged in chairs some nerds got up and danced in front. We kicked out the jive for a bit, and then nerds started sheeting off to the four winds until I was dancing by myself.

I was having a good time, and didn’t care how foolish I looked. I mean, it’s not a perfect sensation, as my mind often concerns itself with the fact that I’m not concerned with what people may think, and then concerns itself with the fact that I’m concerning myself with the fact that I’m not concerned about other people.

My main concern is usually whether or not it looks like I’m trying to prove something in my actions. I am not. I have little respect for people who act merely to influence others; people who justify their actions by the social/political goal they are trying to achieve. Activists come to mind. They see their actions as a means to an end, and usually do not think too hard about why they ‘do what they do.’ To me this reduces one’s life to that of an automaton, with no great amounts of self-reflection keeping the processes in check:

“I protest attacks on Iraq.”

“Why?”

“Because war is wrong.”

“Why is war wrong?”

“Because people die.”

“What should we do instead?”

“Settle it in diplomatic negotiations.”

“Why do the terrorists even deserve negotiations?”

“Because America brought this war on itself.”

“As I recall, the terrorists attacked us on September 11.”

“…because of our past actions, duh.”

“So what your saying is, when a terrorist group attacks our country to the result of 3,000 dead, we should not consider them a threat and instead grant them the opportunity to sit down with us and discuss their desire to make the free world bleed in the name of Allah?”

“…that’s not what I said.”

Yes it is.

Now broadcasting 1.21 gigawatts of crystal clear scribery from the rocky shores of Lake Superior. Welcome back.

Details will follow shortly. The revolution may not be televised, but it will be webcast.

(not to imply the revolution will start here, as this is merely a slapdash little web thing flung together by a meglomanian Danish trull.)

WHEE! It’s windy today! Kittens are bein’ flung across the sky like rocks during a Palestinian uprising!

Yikes. That was so wrong on so many levels. I’m gonna allow it.