Well, it's official - Jesus loves me. How do I know? The Bible tells me so.
In other news, I found a cache of old books and whatnot whilst cleaning the other day - including my old yearbooks! So if you don't want me to embarrass you by putting what you wrote in my 7th grade yearbook up, please let me know in one way or the other. Mwa ha ha!
This is a passage from Douglas Adams' book, "The Restaurant at the End of the Universe." The characters have just landed on this remote planet with a sole inhabitant - an absentminded dude who rules the universe. For those of you who have seen Pappy and Wilson fight, just think of the ruler as Pappy and the guy named "Zarniwoop" as Wilson. Disregard the other characters. Enjoy!
He looked at the cat, which was more concerned with getting the fish down as rapidly as possible than it was with these speculations.
"And when I hear their questions, do you hear questions? What do their voices mean to you? Perhaps you just think they're singing songs to you." He reflected on this, and saw the flaw in the supposition.
"Perhaps they are singing songs to you," he said, "and I just think they're asking me questions."
He paused again. Sometimes he would pause for days, just to see what it was like.
"Do you think they came today?" he said. "I do. There's mud on the floor, cigarettes and whisky on the table, fish on a plate for you and a memory of them in my mind. Hardly conclusive evidence I know, but then all evidence is circumstantial. And look what else they've left me."
He reached over to the table and pulled some things off it.
"Crosswords, dictionaries and a calculator."
He played with the calculator for an hour, while the cat went to sleep and the rain outside continued to pour. Eventually he put the calculator aside.
"I think I must be right in thinking they ask me questions," he said. "To come all that way and leave all these things just for the privilege of singing songs to you would be very strange behavir. Or so it seems to me. Who can tell, who can tell."
From the table he picked up a cigaretted and lit it with a spill from the stove. He inhaled deeply and sat back.
"I think I saw another ship in the sky today," he said at last. "A big white one. I've never seen a big white one, just the six black ones. And the six green ones. And the others who say they come from far away. Never a big white one. Perhaps six small black ones can look like one big white one at certain times. Perhaps I would like a glass of whisky. Yes, that seems more likely."
He stood up and found a glass that was lying on the floor by his mattress. he poured in a measure from his whisky bottle. He sat again.
"Perhaps some other people are coming to see me," he said.
A hundred yards away, pelted by the torrential rain, lay the Heart of Gold.
Its hatchway opened, and three figures emerged, huddling into themselves to keep the rain off their faces.
"In there?" shouted Trillian above the noise of the rain.
"Yes," said Zarniwoop.
"That shack?"
"Yes."
"Weird," said Zaphod.
"But it's in the middle of nowhere," said Trillian. "We must have come to the wrong place. You can't rule the Universe from a shack."
They hurried through the pouring rain, and arrived, we through, at the door. They knocked. They shivered.
The door opened.
"Hello?" said the man.
"Ah, excuse me," said Zarniwoop, "I have reason to believe..."
"Do you rule the Universe?" said Zaphod.
The man smiled at him.
"I try not to," he said. "Are you wet?"
Zaphod looked at him in astonishment.
"Wet?" he cried. "Doesn't it look as if we're wet?"
"That's how it looks to me," said the man, "but how you feel about it might be an altogether different matter. If you find warmth makes you dry, you'd better come in."
They went in. They looked around the tiny shack, Zarniwoop with slight distaste, Trillian with interest, Zaphod with delight.
"Hey, er..." said Zaphod, "what's your name?"
The man looked at them doubtfully. "I don't know. Why, do you think I should have one? It seems very odd to give a bundle of vague sensory perceptions a name."
He invited Trillian to sit in the chair. He sat on the edge of the chair, Zarniwoop leaned stiffly against the table and Zaphod lay on the mattress.
"Wowee!" said Zaphod. "The seat of power!" He tickled the cat.
"Listen," said Zarniwoop, "I must ask you some questions."
"All right," said the man kindly, "you can sing to my cat if you like."
"Would he like that?" asked Zaphod.
"You'd better ask him," said the man.
"Does he talk?" said Zaphod.
"I have no memory of him talking," said the man, "but I am very unreliable."
Zarniwoop pulled some notes out of a pocket.
"Now," he said, "you do rule the Universe, do you?"
"How can I tell?" said the man.
Zarniwoop ticked off a note on the paper. "How long have you been doing this?"
"Ah," said the man, "this is a question about the past, is it?"
Zarniwoop looked at him in puzzlement. This wasn't exactly what he had been expecting.
"Yes," he said.
"How can I tell," said the man, "that the past isn't a fiction designed to account for the discrepancy between my immediate physical sensations and my state of mine?"
Zarniwoop stared at him. The steam began to rise from his sodden clothes.
"So you answer all questions like this?" he said.
The man aswered quickly. "I say what it occurs to me to say when I think I hear people say things. More I cannot say."
Zaphod laughed happily. "I'll drink to that," he said and pulled out the bottle of Janx Spirit. He leaped up and handed the bottle to the ruler of the Universe, who took it with pleasure. "Good on you, great ruler," he said, "tell it like it is."
"No, listen to me," said Zarniwoop, "people come to you you, do they? In ships..."
"I think so," said the man. He handed the bottle to Trillian.
"And they ask you," said Zarniwoop, "to make decisions for them? About people's lives, about worlds, about economies, about wars, about everything going on out there in the Universe?"
"Out there?" said the man. "Out where?"
"Out there!" said Zarniwoop, pointing at the door.
"How can you tell there's anything out there?" said the man politely. "The door's closed."
"But you know there's a whole Universe out there!" cried Zarniwoop. "You can't dodge your responsibilities by saying they don't exist!"
The ruler of the Universe thought for a long while while Zarniwoop quivered with anger. "You're very sure of your facts," he said at last. "I couldn't trust the thinking of a man who takes the Universe - if there is one - for granted."
Zarniwoop still quivered, but was silent.
"I only decide about my Universe," continued the man quietly. "My Universe is my eyes and my ears. Anything else is hearsay."
"But you don't believe in anything?"
The man shrugged and picked up his cat. "I don't understand what you mean," he said.
"You don't understand that what you decide in this shack of yours affects the lives and fates of millions of people? This is all monstrously wrong!"
"I don't know. I've never met all these people you speak of. And neither, I suspect, have you. They only exist in words we hear. It is folly to say you know what is happening to other people. Only they know, if they exist. They have their own Universes of their eyes and ears."
Trillian said: "I think I'm just popping outside for a moment." She left and walked into the rain.
"Do you believe other people exist?" insisted Zarniwoop.
"I have no opinion. How can I say?"
"I'd better see what's up with Trillian," said Zaphod and slipped out. Outside, he said to her: "I think the Universe is in pretty good hands, yeah?"
"Very good," said Trillian. They walked off into the rain.
Inside, Zarniwoop continued. "But don't you understand that people live or die on your word?"
The ruler of the Universe waited for as long as he could. When he heard the faint sound of the ship's engines starting, he spoke to cover it. "It's nothing to do with me," he said. "I am not involved with people. The Lord knows I am not a cruel man."
"Ah!" barked Zarniwoop, "you say 'The Lord.' You believe in something!"
"My cat," said the man benignly, picking it up and stroking it. "I call him The Lord. I am kind to him."
"All right," said Zarniwoop, pressing home his point, "how do you know he exists? How do you know he knows you to be kind, or enjoys what he thinks of as your kindness?"
"I don't," said the man with a smile, "I have no idea. It merely pleases me to behave in a certain way to what appears to be a cat. Do you behave any differently? Please, I think I am tired."
Zarniwoop heaved a thoroughly dissatisfied sigh and looked about.
"Where are the other two?" he said suddenly.
"What other two?" said the ruler of the Universe, settling back into his chair and refilling his whisky glass.
"Beeblebrox and the girl! The two who were here!"
"I remember no one. The past is a fiction to account for..."
"Stuff it," snapped Zarniwoop and ran out into the rain. There was no ship. The rain continued to churn the mud. There was no sign to show where the ship had been. He hollered into the rain. He turned and ran back to the shack and found it locked.
The ruler of the Universe dozed lightly in his chair. After a while he played with the pencil and the paper again and was delighted when he discovered how to make a mark on one with the other. Various noises continued outside, but he didn't know whether they were real or not. He then talked to his table for a week to see how it would react.
Oh so hot... look at the cellulite! Oh baby!
Oh so even hotter... look at the cigar! Oh baby!
Reporter: Say something for the record. Tell the people what you feel.
Man: Fuck the record! AND FUCK THE PEOPLE!
Yeah, Snot is a badass band. I completely agree with what the man says in response to the reporter's nagging and I believe it has a parallel to what we're doing here at Insult.org. If the people reading this don't know what I'm talking about when I quote The Bean then fuck them for not taking the initiative to meet him. Fuck them if they don't want to read our nonsensical blather - the key thing is that it's OUR nonsensical blather.
But yes, the key thing to remember about this site is that it is named "Insult.org". It is not called "Flame.org" or "Ihatefags.org" or "Pappysmessageboard.org". So I agree with Pappy when he says that the flames against each other should be kept to an outside arena like e-mail or Instant Messenger. I think the idea of having replies to posts is neat, but kind of makes Insult very similar to a messageboard. But either way, whatever. You do what you want Pappy and as long as I get to come here and read hilarious shit from you, FlyingTim, GatekeeperTDS, Caniprokis, Wilson, Preacherman, Lio Convoy, Peps, Stone, SpoDudeZ0r, arcee, Qava, Levres, and hunch; then post something inflammatory against the right-wing assholes who e-mail you to complain about me saying that I think Bill Clinton should be a role model for children everywhere: then all is good. Sorry for the run-on sentence.
Stone, you need to rediscover the wonder known as Daggerfall. You won't ever play the Saturn again. Hehe. And Gatekeeper, you need to rediscover the wonder known as "Naked Reds & Word Orders" because it's funny. And if you're reading this and don't know what that's about? FUCK YOU. Heh. All in all, keep it up folks. Adios, amigos. =)
The "tell a friend" thing wasn't mine. To see my original idea, go to this page here and compare. I like what Pappy did, though you're correct about Slashdot. But it is his site and he can make it look (or have someone else make it look) however he wants. =
Well folks... I'm a week into the Atkin's diet, and things are pretty cool. I get all the meat I can eat... steak, bacon, pork... it's great. But one fault I can find with the diet is these cravings I get. Right now I'd fellate someone for a sprite, but I can't because sugar is a carbohydrate. It's especially shitty because I work in a dorm cafeteria where I am surrounded by carb rich foods on every side. I was working in the dish room the other night watching a peice of chocolate cake go down the garbage disposal saying "Damn that looks tasty"... I WAS ACTUALLY CONSIDERING EATING A WET PEICE OF CHOCOLATE CAKE THAT SOMEONE THREW AWAY!!! But I held my will power, and did not eat the cake. As long as I take this one day at a time... I should be fine.. but goddamn, what I wouldn't do for a chicken parm sub with a large pizza on the side.
Plus add to all this test of my willpower, all my asshole friends and roommates going, "That can't be healthy." or, "I don't see how you can lose any weight on that", or "Even if you do lose weight, you'll just gain it back". I love my friends dearly, but for once I wish they'd just butt out. Do they have medical degrees... no... Have they even read the the Atkins book... no... Do they understand what it is to be a fat man in today's society... no... What they don't see is that even if I do eventually gain the weight back, even if the diet makes me sick, even if this diet kills me, I don't care. What they don't see is that I'd sell my soul for their worst day as a thin person. I have been overweight all of my life... I'm done.
You're right, arcee. Bureaucracies like those don't really care about individuals. Unfortunately, they only look at the fact that you were present while people were drinking in a room with your name on it. They don't seem to care that you don't partake in such activities, or that you had a problem having those people there to begin with. So scream and yell and write housing and the chancellor nasty letters. Tell that that they are going to lose a valuable alumni if they don't get their act together and rethink their policies. Tell them you know people at the New York Times who would be happy to write a story on the ineffectiveness of the alcohol on campus policies, and how that particular school rewards those students that follow the rules. Then claim to be gay and call them on discrimination. They might even pay for your room and board for a semester. Whatever you do, don't lay down and take it. Go down kicking. That's all I have to say.
Intersting side note after you read the article, normal rice turns yellow when it goes bad.