Contrary to rumors, the Meaning of Life is more than
ATCGTGCATCTAGCTAGCTAGGTCGATCATATAGCTAGGCATACCATGACAAAC
TGCATGCTCGACTGGGCTACTAGCTGACTGGCGATCTTAAGCCCATGGGACTAC
TCCTAGCATCACCATGATCGATTCAGCTCATGCATCCATTTTACGCTAGTCGAT
ACCAACTTCGTCATCGTGCATCTAGCTAGCTAGGTCGATCATATAGCTAGGCAT
TGCATGCTCGACTGGGCTACTAGCTGACTGGCGATCTTAAGCCCATGGGACTAC
TCCTAGCATCACCATGATCGATTCAGCTCATGCATCCATTTTACGCTAGTCGAT
ACCAACTTCGTCACCATGACAAACACCATGACAAACGGAATTCCATACTGGCTA
ATCGTGCATCTAGCTAGCTAGGTCGATCATATAGCTAGGCATACCATGACAAAC
TGCATGCTCGACTGGGCTACTAGCTGACTGGCGATCTTAAGCCCATGGGACTAC
TCCTAGCATCACCATGATCGATTCAGCTCATGCATCCATTTTACGCTAGTCGAT
ACCAACTTCGTCATCGTGCATCTAGCTAGCTAGGTCGATCATATAGCTAGGCAT
TGCATGCTCGACTGGGCTACTAGCTGACTGGCGATCTTAAGCCCATGGGACTAC
TCCTAGCATCACCATGATCGATTCAGCTCATGCATCCATTTTACGCTAGTCGAT
ACCAACTTCGTCACCATGACAAACACCATGACAAACGGAATTCCATACTGGCTA
ATCGTGCATCTAGCTAGCTAGGTCGATCATATAGCTAGGCATACCATGACAAAC
TGCATGCTCGACTGGGCTACTAGCTGACTGGCGATCTTAAGCCCATGGGACTAC
TCCTAGCATCACCATGATCGATTCAGCTCATGCATCCATTTTACGCTAGTCGAT
ACCAACTTCGTCATCGTGCATCTAGCTAGCTAGGTCGATCATATAGCTAGGCAT
TGCATGCTCGACTGGGCTACTAGCTGACTGGCGATCTTAAGCCCATGGGACTAC
TCCTAGCATCACCATGATCGATTCAGCTCATGCATCCATTTTACGCTAGTCGAT
ACCAACTTCGTCACCATGACAAACACCATGACAAACGGAATTCCATACTGGCTA
22 May 2010
A Little Bit of Ying; A Little Bit of Yang
I'm not one to start rumors, but does anybody else see a striking resemblance between these two characters?
My intuition tells me they are one and the same person.
14 May 2010
Telemarketer
Ring...ring...ring
"Hello?"
"This is the minding other people's better business bureau telemarketing agency at an unknown location in America and various sites in Nigeria. How are you today?"
"Swell. And you?"
"Fine sir. We would like to yabba dadda yabba bubba ....."
"Sorry to interrupt, but I believe you have the wrong person. This is the U.S office of the Häagen-Dazs Proper Verb Conjugation Society. Where our motto is:
I Scream
You Scream
We All Scream for Ice Cream
So unless you are asking for advice on how to relieve ice cream headaches due to Cherry Garcia and other commonly mis-spelt words, I should like to bid you farewell and have an ice day. Good-bye."
(The above conversation is not an unusual occurrence in my life)... No kidding...
"Hello?"
"This is the minding other people's better business bureau telemarketing agency at an unknown location in America and various sites in Nigeria. How are you today?"
"Swell. And you?"
"Fine sir. We would like to yabba dadda yabba bubba ....."
"Sorry to interrupt, but I believe you have the wrong person. This is the U.S office of the Häagen-Dazs Proper Verb Conjugation Society. Where our motto is:
I Scream
You Scream
We All Scream for Ice Cream
So unless you are asking for advice on how to relieve ice cream headaches due to Cherry Garcia and other commonly mis-spelt words, I should like to bid you farewell and have an ice day. Good-bye."
(The above conversation is not an unusual occurrence in my life)... No kidding...
04 May 2010
The Game of Life
It came in a flash of insight. A revelation. A paradigmatic shift of consciousness. This time without the mushrooms.
Where there's a will, there's a way.
Where there's a way, there's a door.
Where there's a door, there's a knob.
Where there's a knob, there's a key.
Where there's a key, it'll probably get lost.
If it gets lost, it can be found by a good metal detector...
(This was a rather long epiphany and can be read in it's entirety in a future post)
I'll not bore you with the details but the end of the revelation was the answer to the Meaning of Life. More specifically, the meaning to Life-as-we-now-know-it. Not the next-life-as-some-of-us-will-know-it and certainly not life-in-any-previous-sort-of-existence.
The Meaning of Life is that life is essentially a game. A virtual reality game in which all the world's a stage and we're all the players. There's a small percentage of people that are actually stage props, but as they all now work for an un-named government agency we can disregard them for the time being.
Life, see, isn't really real. At least real as we usually think of the term real. It's virtual. The plan is for us to learn how to maneuver through all the different levels until time runs out or our energy levels deplete. In some cases, people really mess up and get removed from the system, but this is rare.
This virtual existence also explains spoon bending, the Bermuda Triangle, the rash of vanishing hitch-hikers on the West Coast, the occasional kidney heist, those hooks you sometimes see hanging on the doorway of your girlfriends house, UFOs, straight A's after your college roommate takes an extended vacation, and the Laws of Economics.
The secret is-we are not alone in the universe. Michael Jackson was right...you are not alone. Our actual bodies are hanging in some sort of hibernaculum/cocoon-like thing with tubes, wires, sensors, and probes all monitoring our every move.
Some of our more enlightened muses have even hinted around to our larval lives.
"Every breath you take and every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take, I'll be watching you
Every single day and every word you say
Every game you play"
--lyrics by Sting, boldness by me
Those beings you call angels are actually the hyper-somatic lab techs keeping us in the system. Some of the bad ones with plans of their own...the demons...keep trying to do their hack jobs. Occasionally, when things get slow, the angels will put on the VR gear and come into our sphere to do a little work...nudge us along...iron out the kinks...then step behind a tree and vanish.
Does this mean all those vanishing hitch-hikers in Los Angeles are angels?
Yep.
Does this mean all those hobos living under your neighborhood bridge are angels?
Nope.
Most of these are actual virtual real-life hobos...the ones you can smell. If they smell good, they might be hyper-somatic beings, people writing a book, or U.S. census workers trying to fit in. The rule of thumb is...if they smell like h.e. double l...they're not from heaven.
Where there's a will, there's a way.
Where there's a way, there's a door.
Where there's a door, there's a knob.
Where there's a knob, there's a key.
Where there's a key, it'll probably get lost.
If it gets lost, it can be found by a good metal detector...
(This was a rather long epiphany and can be read in it's entirety in a future post)
I'll not bore you with the details but the end of the revelation was the answer to the Meaning of Life. More specifically, the meaning to Life-as-we-now-know-it. Not the next-life-as-some-of-us-will-know-it and certainly not life-in-any-previous-sort-of-existence.
The Meaning of Life is that life is essentially a game. A virtual reality game in which all the world's a stage and we're all the players. There's a small percentage of people that are actually stage props, but as they all now work for an un-named government agency we can disregard them for the time being.
Life, see, isn't really real. At least real as we usually think of the term real. It's virtual. The plan is for us to learn how to maneuver through all the different levels until time runs out or our energy levels deplete. In some cases, people really mess up and get removed from the system, but this is rare.
This virtual existence also explains spoon bending, the Bermuda Triangle, the rash of vanishing hitch-hikers on the West Coast, the occasional kidney heist, those hooks you sometimes see hanging on the doorway of your girlfriends house, UFOs, straight A's after your college roommate takes an extended vacation, and the Laws of Economics.
The secret is-we are not alone in the universe. Michael Jackson was right...you are not alone. Our actual bodies are hanging in some sort of hibernaculum/cocoon-like thing with tubes, wires, sensors, and probes all monitoring our every move.
Some of our more enlightened muses have even hinted around to our larval lives.
"Every breath you take and every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take, I'll be watching you
Every single day and every word you say
Every game you play"
--lyrics by Sting, boldness by me
Those beings you call angels are actually the hyper-somatic lab techs keeping us in the system. Some of the bad ones with plans of their own...the demons...keep trying to do their hack jobs. Occasionally, when things get slow, the angels will put on the VR gear and come into our sphere to do a little work...nudge us along...iron out the kinks...then step behind a tree and vanish.
Does this mean all those vanishing hitch-hikers in Los Angeles are angels?
Yep.
Does this mean all those hobos living under your neighborhood bridge are angels?
Nope.
Most of these are actual virtual real-life hobos...the ones you can smell. If they smell good, they might be hyper-somatic beings, people writing a book, or U.S. census workers trying to fit in. The rule of thumb is...if they smell like h.e. double l...they're not from heaven.
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