The search for facts goes on....wait, went too far. (Added Commentary)

Here's the thing about the endless search for fact: it usually ends with a picture of some sad person with a dick in their mouth. The unrestricted search for light also allows darkness to intrude. Google image search is a prime example of this: you image search something long enough without any filters and you end up looking at a picture of some sad person with a dick in their mouth.

The pure, unadulterated fact is smothered in adulteration. Yeah, that is a bit contradictory, but so is just about anything once you really pull it apart. What I meant to say is that, you have to really be willing to push that filth aside to do it yourself. You could just follow someone else's quest or claims, but where's the adventure in that? So, you take it upon yourself to gleam the untarnished picture of reality. Then, you are faced with this question: at what cost come the facts?

What is truth? I've always assumed that facts and truth were the same. Lately, I've started to feel that truth has more of an agenda and facts just are. Truth seems to only need necessary assembled facts in order to live, but it needs plenty of window dressing to get people to believe in it. That, in and of itself, would be great if it meant that the minimal facts that "truths" were based on had enough strength to overcome the preponderance of evidence towards a greater fact.

Let me use a poor example: A government fought wars based on many reasons, only few were known to the public; the few that were known to the public were just; the others held secret were diabolical--which version will be taught to the children? Wow, that was a bad sentence! The truth for the government will be that it was just. The truth for those who discovered the atrocities will see things as unjust. If you lay out the facts it may skew one way or another when the total cause and effect is seen. But what does that matter? People go away with what facts they desire and start decorating it with their own ideology, culture, and beliefs. Either way, truth is a salve, a pipe dream, and ends up being the foundation for the stories we tell ourselves when we go to bed at night: all is well, or all is not well but at least I'm right!

I come to this conclusion because most people that tout the truth do so on the basis of thin air, lots of emotion, and a few inspiring real events thrown in for good measure. The holding dear to these "truths" might in of itself fulfill many aspects of the promise of said truth, but most of these truths promise more than measurable/verifiable results. This is where it gets crazy. This is where the "truth" promises you the bounty of the universe but in reality it gives you something that is more earthbound. We get these earthly results and try to extend them into realms unknown. The thing is that you can start demanding more and more of people with the promises of delicious "moon cheese"; even more, you can control them.

See, what truth does is sell you your script; your performance and how the audience reacts is reality. So, you can act well your part, as the famous saying goes, or you can change the script. But, if you decide to see what really goes on behind the scenes, you are eventually going to open a dressing room and see some sad person with a dick in their mouth.

P.S.

I'll be the first to say that I went a bit overboard on the metaphor and imagery. Bad Grunt!

I also wanted to clarify that I was speaking about what people hold as true versus THE TRUTH. I feel that what gets embraced as truth sometimes is an attempt to make sense of facts, when mixed up with culture, myth and emotion. Objectivity seems to be in short supply concerning matters of faith, because faith is by nature subjective. Yet, we use faith as a way of following and declaring "so-called" truths. This is hardly the way an investigator arrives at a conclusion of truth, by a preponderance of evidence.

My sister Bonnie used to see the evidence of cases in both her jobs at the State Supreme Court and Federal Courts. She used to come home crying her guts out at seeing these things. This was a large contributor to her alcoholism. The whole truth is not always uplifting, but there are people that have to know in order to best help and to best make correct decisions. If you don't want to know, that is fine, but you can't clean a toilet without stirring up the shit.

Fries

Lamb Weston "MAC FRIES" French Fried Potatoes. Ingredients: Potatoes, Partially Hydrogenated Soybean Oil, Natural Flavor, Disodium Dihydrogen Pyrophosphate (To Promote Color Retention), Dextrose.

Put this in hot oil and I go nuts.

A more popular post for the masses

I just wanted to let you know that I've taken to wearing white sweaters, skipping, holding neighborhood picnics, helping old ladies, singing in a barbershop quartet, and I've given up all of that silly thinking that I used to do. WOW, I do feel better!!!

Well, I'm off to the mountains. If you see any rainbows coming from there, then you can be sure that it's shooting straight out my ass.

Sunday: A Day of Rest or...

Another episode of "Race to God Mountain"? I love spiritual one-upmanship. It's what Jesus died for. It's the reason why Buddha meditated under the Bodhi tree and achieved enlightenment. It's why Mohammed hung out in a cave and got hassled by an angel and wrote the Koran. They did all of this so you could win, win, WIN!!! Yes, religion, the greatest reality game show of all time. Get there first! Get there hardest!! Get it all!!! WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just lettin' you know, Heavenly Father: When I get to heaven, I'll want the holy catamaran, not the LeSabre.

Cyanide (w/explanation)

It's poisonous as hell, yet it is still useful. Mining operations have used cyanide to extract gold from ores that previously was impossible to do so. What kind of gold, I then wonder, is so worth extracting from my person?

I was pondering a bit last night about trials and how overcoming adversity can bring out the best in people. I thought about the poisons, literal and figurative, that have come into my life in the last four years that have not killed me, but I have yet to find out fully what surviving them means. I guess I want to make something better of myself. I don't want to have my trials become mere sad or trying events. I'd like to think that there's still something even more awesome within me waiting to bust out.

My bloggies are the best and I know that you've had to put up with many enigmas regarding my ideas, moods, and posts. Just remember that I always count you all in my personal evaluations of why life is still worth living; I feel that out there, somewhere, I am someone's favorite weirdo. That sustains me right there, brothers and sisters.

Post# whatever

I get a lot from you and your comments. I needed to tell you all that. I do have friends and family, but this blog has been my outlet for that part of me that I had to stifle in order to make good with the teachers, principals, bishops, Sunday school teachers, scout masters, mission leaders, and bosses.

I used to get in a lot of trouble. For such a self conscious person, I sure could be impulsive when I was young. Sometimes it just made me happy to call my algebra teacher a "fucking asshole" in front of the class. Sometimes it made me happy to experiment with firecrackers and seeing how big a one I could make. Sometimes life just made more sense after huffing gasoline in my friend's trailer. Sometimes I just didn't want to go to school and do my homework (which resulted in night and summer school).

Why? Because, there were nights where I found my grandma half-naked in the hall crying because she didn't make it to the bathroom in time. And the times when my grandpa, from the other side of the family, would have buckets of piss laying around in the room and I'd have to dump them for him, only to have him ask, "Whose boy are you?" Then there were those times where my dad made me call up his work and say stuff like my sister was in a car accident, so he didn't have to go into work--because he wouldn't leave the master bedroom due to panic attacks. My dad finally losing his job and never returning to work, ever, was a real boost to my esteem. Oh, and my mother almost dying of cancer during all of this shit. Yeah, and that feeling that I was causing all of this to happen to my family because of my dirty thoughts and delinquencies. Yeah, that good ol' "I'm really gonna go to hell" feeling; that was all I felt the whole time growing up. So, getting out and breaking a window, throwing a rock at a car, getting into fist fights: yeah, that was a nice outlet. Now, after many years of the white washing of my soul not working out, I find myself blogging. It is more becoming of me, I think.

After having crapped this enormous paragraph, a memory has come back to me. When my oldest sister got pregnant out of wedlock, my dad gathered the whole family together to discuss the matter. After all the news was handed to us there was a silence, and then I said, "But what will the neighbors think?"

Nothing, Everything, and Anything.

There seems to be a point where Nothing really matters; where Everything you were taught becomes obsolete, yet you feel Anything is possible. We will all have this moment. A moment where Anything can be the cause, and Nothing can stop it from happening; where you have to let go of Everything in your life. Because Everything we think is important and Anything we've done to secure those things will amount to Nothing unless you accept the mystery and embrace what awaits beyond.

Why?

Why can't TV executives read my mind and produce a show called, "Murder, She Farted!"

Why do birds suddenly appear every time road kill is near?

Why does Jesus look like a viking in some paintings?

Why are there so many songs about rainbows and why aren't they all gay?

Why does the economy still suck donkey balls?

Why can't ice cream make me look as good as it makes me feel?

Why can't I have everything that I want, including a big, red hat that has a bell on top that makes loud noises, and not become an asshole?

Why does God let good things happen to bad people and somewhat alright things happen to people between the ages of 18-36, aaaaaand still Jim Carrey feels there is not enough attention in the world given to him?

Why must you look at me that way?

Nancy Kerrigan?

Bits and pieces

I don't have a lot to say, but there is a lot on my mind lately. I have to think about my future in terms of reality and not fantasy/horror genres. I have been working really, seriously hard, but still have no permanent status with the hours that I've been getting. I've had them cut and then given back to me, but from all over the damn place (different departments), to finally getting an ok through till September. Why? Because it turns out that they really, really needed me...but only until the hard work is over. I feel foolish for not thinking of myself more; as in, taking care of my future and my needs. I sometimes get real down on myself for this.

On a somewhat, but not totally related note: There's this feeling I get that people think I'm strange, or that something is wrong with me. I haven't figured myself out completely, but aside from professional things, I think I know myself well enough to understand what I don't like and what is going to lead me to liberation of soul and mind.

The personal views that are developing from dealing with all that my family and I have been through are taking me to better places inside of me and in harmony with the cosmos. These places are helping me heal, overcome self hate, anger, and accept more humanity into my life. These places are also different from before and might be something that will alienate me from those who might not understand why some people just need to do things differently.

I am grown up enough to have respect and no animosity for people who are really trying to do things better for themselves and their kin. If they are getting there by righteous means, then, Godspeed. And that is all I have to say about that. Chocolate?

Water on me brain

Flooding, mudslides, and sandbags: it's happening. I thought I heard the wind blowing outside and it turned out to be the not-so-little-anymore creek wrecking havoc a block down the road. It is almost June and there's still shitloads of snow pack up in them thar hills. I couldn't even finish a hike the other day because the bridge across the stream was totally gone. I wasn't in the mood to be swept away or drowned in the torrent so I pussied out and turned back. I have to admit that the raging waters do attract me, much the same way matches did as a child (and still do today, gosh darnit all). Is it normal to get excited over pending natural disasters? I'm weird that way, I guess.

Come Armegeddon, Come!

The obvious choice and a bit on the nose...

Not so obvious, but sets the mood...

The METAL choice...

The Master's choice (courtesy of two of the finest creations)...

I want my humanity back

I am not interested in the forced fitting of my shape into a jello mold.

Teachers, leave those kids alone and their little dogs too.

The bearers of truth are often perceived as villains until time or death softens their blow.

We tend to forget truths if they aren't marketable, useful, or confirming anyway.

The ones who tell the greatest lies often are the ones who talk their way into your bed.

The games that people play on other people rob them of their humanity, hold them hostage in the guise of comfort and security, and get them to foot the bill for the whole merry charade, to boot.

Oh yeah, I want my MTV, not the afterbirth it has become.

Yes, I'm all pissy. What are you gonna do about it?

Happy Five Mayonnaise Day!!!

Yes, it's me, your favorite retard. I've been on some hikes. I've been working on sprinkler systems and cabinets (jerk of all trades/master of nuns). I've been reading a lot. I want to build a little speeder bike out of my dad's '50s era Hiawatha pedal bike and an 80cc, 2-stroke engine--I just need the monies (pronunciation in honor of Cinco de Mayo). I am going to take some online instruction to gain some better computer skills--not the kind that makes me giggle and clap my hands--the work kind. I need to have prospective employers not view me as a leper. Sometimes I get the feeling that, based on my resume, people assume that I run around filthy dirty with a hammer and shovel asking people to tell me what two plus potato is. I know the answer: it's donkey...in pinata form. Happy Cinco de Mayo!

What kind of post would Jebus write?

I've had one of those days where I was given a "helper" to assist me with moving and setting up some new offices. This guy likes to keep asking you what he should do. I then tell him and then he follows up with, "So, I'm supposed to ____, then do this?" My reply was always, "Yes, just like I told you before, so get to it." He would then repeat everything again and then ask me once more if that is what I wanted him to do. I would then tell him to go and do it. He would go away for a bit and then come back and say, either, "Now, you wanted me to do_______, then that?" or "I forgot what you wanted me to do so I did(the thing that I told him I didn't want him to do)."

I felt like I was dealing with another version of the mystery "How many licks does it take to get to the middle of a Tootsie Pop", only mine was, "How many freakin' times do I have to tell this dipshit what to do and how to do it before he actually does it?" I had a feeling that I wasn't given help; rather, I was given a lummox to tend. This guy is my age and married with three kids. I feel for his wife--this example is only a particle of the unbelievable stupidity he is responsible for. On the plus side, when it doesn't effect me, hearing of his mishaps is hi-larious!

I can't wait to blow this joint and go work with the ladies at the nail salon.

No post for you

I lied. Here is your post. I will write more when my brain feels like it.

A figment of the mass imagination

A president or other leader who will save us from ourselves. A pill or program that will keep you from doing what you really want to do anyway. The rich are paying more total taxes than the poor in relation to income earned. That you will someday meet that special someone and never have to worry about love or relationships again. That only belief in something makes it true or right, regardless of facts. That your server is "into" you and not interested in a bigger tip. That you will win the lottery and never have to work at that soul sucking place again (my personal favorite).

I just got tired of thinking. The End!

Omega Bits

It's the official breakfast cereal of the apocalypse. Yum!

I think it was Elanor Roosevelt that said, "It's better to burn out than to fade away." Yum!

What harm is there in wishing that you had the ability to change the color of things at will? It would be a great way to mess with people. Why, I would spend hours at the Wallmart parking lot changing the color of the cars just to amuse myself. You tell me how this could go wrong?

I need a porpoise in life.

Usually, these are the posts that nobody reads, so I just wanted to say that I'm thinking of becoming a Quaker and living on the moon. Someone needs to fulfill insane prophecies and that someone might as well be me.

From Form Morf

Hellellellellelelelelelelelelelelelelelelelello WTF? I'maglitchin'.

Black Guy Please is the politically correct way to say...or, OR, is just how I heard Black Eyed Peas in my head once.

Fungus meat feet.

"Hort!" should be a real word (the exclamation point becomes a letter as well), along with "leotarded".

Sorry, I'm just unable to make any sense tomorrow.

Mulligan.

Sugar plums and the dearly departed...

The past week and a half has been hard for me. My dreams have been filled with my mother and sister, not always in ways that are comforting. The range of positive to heart wrenching dream episodes keeps me wondering what I'm in for each night I go to bed. I know that I am not alone in having these kinds of dreams, either.

On the positive side, I have dreams where I am a kid again and my mother is making me pancakes. This is a sweet, comforting dream. Most of the dreams that I have had of my mother, since she passed away, have been like this. It is hard to wake up from these dreams because it is like finding out that she is gone all over again. One time I was dreaming and she just came into the middle of the dream, saying that "they" were letting her visit me. We both acknowledged that she had died. We held each other and she asked me if I had finished my school work. I replied, "No". She then answered, "Well, you'll do fine. I love you, honey." She then left the dream and I went back to regular scheduled programming. This was a very real thing. I cannot explain it any better than that.

The dreams that I have had about my sister have been emotional and traumatic. There is something strange about how I miss my sister now more than my mother, who, as you know, just passed. She was the one that I really need now in my life. She was my confidant and I don't have her anymore. I want to talk to her about how much I miss mom, which makes me feel just all over alone and lost. Anyway, the dreams I've had of my sister involve cycles of negative images and moments that revolved around the last parts of her life, the heavy shock of her death and the aftershocks of all those moments.

The most recent dream that I had of my sister was just two nights ago. Two men escorted me into her apartment building. I remember feeling afraid. Both of them were holding me by my forearms and took me up the stairs to the fifth floor. I was brought into her apartment, empty now, and left alone. An overwhelming sorrow came over me and the only thing I could do was shout again and again, "YOU'RE DEAD!" That was the dream. I hope there was some purpose in having it, but I don't know. The grieving process isn't cut and dry; it also isn't the same every time.

On a somewhat unrelated note:

I went in to HCI for my cancer checkup on Thursday. My checkup went well and my health was good. Even my weight was about the same, which I thought was great because I swear I gained 80 pounds in the past four months. The hard part was telling my oncologist about my mother--to inform them of family history regarding cancer. She knew my mother and was shocked to hear about it (my mother was with me for most of my treatments). We talked about my mother's final battle with cancer and how it was effecting me. After meeting with a social worker, on my doctor's request, she (my doc) came back and gave me an assignment. The assignment was to find something that brings me joy in life. I thought of calling an escort service and telling them to send Joy over. Ah-har-har. Really, not joking, this thing my doctor did for me was good. I need joy and I need to feel excited about life. They make pills for that sort of thing, I know. But I don't like going to that park anymore. Maybe I need to just go walkabout.

John Wayne Frankenstein

I was watching The Searchers the other day and a thought came to my mind: John Wayne would have been a great Frankenstein. Think about it, he's got the funny walk and makes lots of strange noises around women and fire (I think)--he's tall, too. Does anybody feel me on this?