the dangers of clouds and lightning awareness
The cause of lighting and thunder is a well established fact: clouds of different density are obscenely lascivious. Those prurient meteorological phenomenon know well that their time in the lower to upper stages of the troposphere is short, they have also no illusion as to the possible existence of an afterlife an so they seize every opportunity to rub, grind and even violently slam into one another. The result of this urgent, desperate quest for sexual release is FRICTION. As the clouds shamelessly do their thing, without even the least concern for their privacy, a tremendous amount of static electricity is created.
this form of electricity , known as static electricity, is not called ‘static’ for nothing. It is certainly not a free directional movement of electrons from one pole to another. It is a directionless excitation of electrons, who are left hovering in a looser form the they were before the act. This causes all kinds of interesting reactions, some of which can easily be observed by people in laboratory conditions and even children, if left unattended. However, the vastness of clouds, some of them amounting to many thousands of cubic feet of indecorous aggregate of water vapor, dust and other gases, makes this shameless exhibition more distressing, as that there eventually comes a moment, when the excited electrons can no longer remain static.
The wholesomeness afforded to electrons normally by conductors and circuitry are not afforded them in this immense scale of things. They become incredibly unstable. This instability, must be released eventually. the in some ways it is akin to an explosion. And yet, unlike an explosion, the discharge that follows moves in only one general direction-to the earth.
You see the earth, our seemingly pure and virtuous planet is not at all the way we think. All formations of land, all outcroppings of continents are the even more violent expressions of wanton engagement of TECTONIC PLATES, who seldom eschew driving against each other in groups of three or more, exacting immense forces and stresses upon each other. all weather phenomenon , the radiation that comes form our sun, and the gravitational pull between the planet and other objects all get those tectonic plates incredibly excitable. Their depravity which is observed by seismologists in particular, has caused many of that profession to lose much sleep in sweaty nights.
And so the phase of matter, which we call the troposphere, being a den of great debauchery influences the upper layers of the earth, known as the lithosphere.
It assumed by the great minds of our times that what lies even lower, in the inner core of the planet must truly be unthinkable in its impropriety. With this increasing order of depravity, it is easy to understand how, channels of ions form from the ever-hungry upper tectonic layers , which gleefully funnel those super-excited electrons that become unloosed in the act of savage coitus of the clouds.
It needs to be mentioned at this point, that while all cloud types are exceedingly concupiscent , the one type of cloud that is the most aggressive in their pursuit of their lustful drives is the famous Cumulonimbus. This massive formation is a vertical monstrosity of unspent needs. Being a single formation, they find the intensity of their desires too great, and often they would prey upon lesser clouds that they meet in the lower troposphere, once this happens, the violence of their discharge may be too much for these lesser clouds that they pounce upon. In such cases the discharge may not be confined to an extreme flow of electrons, amounting to trillions of amperes of electric flow but also to the creation of hail and snow, which are known to be the tortuous unholy product of this ill-matched engagement.
As electric discharge in the form of lightning is an unwholesome, carnal result of a meeting between clouds, and the eager channeling of this energy into the lustful earth, so can it have indelicate effects upon life and property. To avoid the dangers of a lightning, there are some things that must be known:
1) the earth prefers to created these salacious electrical channels through mediums that are conducive for this transference. Obviously, the best of such channels is that of shortest route. Mountains, the raised crumples and wrinkles which are the clear aftermath of the romping between the eager tectonic plates , are brought high above the plain and as such form a shorter channel for the hungry earth to siphon its vile satisfaction.
2) In lieu of such raised topography, a channel may be formed upon any other point of greater height, such as a tree, or a building. Sheep are also commonly favored as a channel for lightning .
3) in recent years, more and more people have been exposed to both the depravity of meteorological phenomenon, and the privation of being struck by lightning. In those rare occasions, humans, which are, in the whole, virtuous, become recklessly obsessed with their own sexual drives, and so if they should find themselves outside, in a clear plain, without the cover of a raised landmark AND with sex on their minds, they would form a rare conduit for these discharges. The best remedy for such eventuality is to avoid sexual thought, eschew long excursions outdoors, refuse the wearing of provocative clothing. If all else fails, a person who is obviously in peril of being thus struck by lightning, because of choice of apparel or his own indecent thoughts, must quickly find shelter under larger and higher landmarks , such as bell-towers, trees. finding shelter under sheep is also a good solution as that sheep think of little else but their procreation. It is important to raise awareness to the indecency of clouds in the community, and prepare houses and buildings for the imminent danger of clouds in their must. .
three moments of thought
The buildng's being built, i stand outside in the morning, waiting for the ride. the tower is faceted and small temporary elevators move up and down, bringing the workers. there are no panels or walls to shroud the structure and from my point of view, the floors jut out at radiating angles from each other, and dont seem to run parallel. i know it's a trick of the mind to imagine that there is a horizon point somwhere, where all lines meet. but is it?
maybe there is? maybe the floors are at angles to each other, the top floors must be sloped down as hell.
the construction elevators are so slow. i realize they are hanging out on a rail, and it must be scarry to ride for the guys inside.
the Ginkgo tree, stands above the little lawn, the bloom of the green fanlike leaves excited by the breeze. Beneath, the brown fallen leaves rest, no one bothers to rake them away. this is the natural way of things, the leavs fall in the winter after first yellowing brilliantly in the fall. The decomposition protects the roots in the coldest of winter, and allows nutriants to be preserved. what in my action is like that? writing. much of what i write is what I've written before. yet what ever it is can never be as satisfying as a ginkgo tree in yellow.
the crabs in the aquarium settled down for the evening. their claws scratched against the plastic walls, as they wrestled for the carrot pieces, which they favor. who would have thought that these ancient crustaceans, would find such triumph in wrenching shreds of the root from their fellows. what other hidden motivation is lurking in those elyptical bodies of theirs, so armored. why would they favor a vegetable over other offerngs?
could it be that they are reincarnated vegans?
Translation experiment : We’ll meet on the beach.
here is a song, with a very strict rhyming scheme, which i can't even try to tackle. the song though, is just fun and hopful.
written and performed by a band called The Bilooyim.
when it breaks,
we'll meet on the beach
on the beach, we'll meet,
when the end comes.
we'll eat puree,
from things we'll pick,
we'll need to fetch,
when the end comes.
and there won't be things
no religion or race,
everyone who's not a zombie,
is a good friend now.
times are hard,
but all that shall pass
on the beach we'll meet
when the end comes.
and there will be
no more differences
like sex or color
it all comes out like chicken ,
when its well cooked.
it'll happen soon
theyre working on it,
on the beach we'll meet
when it breaks
we'll meet on the beach
on the beach we'll meet
when the end comes.
we'll need to fetch...
A letter to the recently installed king of England
dear Chuck, the chuckmeister, triple C, or chuurls. first i want to congratulate you on your coronation. it happens only once in a generation (or three, with your mum) that a collective effort by an entire nation results in a room-temperature liquid to fall upon the top of a single person. even the Japanese cant achieve that, and that's saying something. do be bashful about it either. every part of that festival was yours and you owned it. i mean, people watched it throughout the world!!!
now, you must be a bit upset that i called you a userper straight out the gate, when you did nothing wrong to me.
well, as it happens you are the last remenant of an empire of mass oppression and murder that used to stretch from one side of the planet to the other. indeed the sun never set upon Some territory that was conquered in the name of your wonderful ancestors, with the sole purpose of providing you and your immediate circle with gold and tea. and yes, you said sorry about it more than once. you may have shed a tear here or there, but that gold is still in the bank, and isn't going to move. is it, Chucky?
as for the house of Stewart, which your house replaced, they may still hold to a claim to being the userper in charge. i think its going to be funny as fuck, if the national Scottish movement invites whoesever left and ask them to take over. see how you handle loosing the summer castle up there, and getting shitty whisky.
as for your family, you did a fine job raising those two kids on your own. it shows how much love there is, when the coronation was set on the same date as your grandson. way to go stealing a 4 year old's thunder. but its ok, he'll forget it before long. no way that his daddy won't remind him that YOU didn't think to pull in some favors and having to change the date to the next weekend.
yes, a fine harmonious family, not since the Plantagenets did we see such sibling love. must have been that homeschooling you gave them.
as for things you can do going forward, the ski is the limit. i mean it sincerely, you can go skiing. it's a good exercise, and something that rich fuckers like you seem to be able to afford. better hurry though, cause the snow is melting. as a king you have no real power, but you can at least cut back on your household emmisions, by not flying everwhere, where you then travel in limousine convoys. take the subway, i hear its pretty good in London.
another thing you can do to save some trees, is to absolutely forbid the recalling of billions of pounds out circulation and reprinting new notes, just because the old ones have your dear mommy's oictures and not yours, Chuckles. show some respect for the old lady , even if you had some issues with her. if only for the sake of the trees.
jobs are a concern to many today. AI is taking over jobs and threatening others, and while you personally can claim that you are irreplaceable(literally) , there are so many who are. did you do anything, besides ribbon cutting, to help anyone? is the extent of your support to the lower and middle class, the number of jobs involved in keeping the house of windsor running? are you even an above par employer? but hey, these are just people you nominally preside over, Madge.
now, you may say to me, "now look here" (i assume thats how people like you begin a dressing down) "why am i supposed to be the one that holds the answers to all the problems and ailments of british society?
the answer to that derives from my assumption that you're the king, and as such enjoy through heredity a vast intelligence, broader than any other's, and by the fact that you accepted the responsibility of a post, that as it is founded on medieval concepts and laws which are still in place, you should know how to handle all these things, easy peasie. were you to be proven unable to provide guidance, intelligence, or rulership then you would be proven to be a userper.
but look, i know how it is, you had tough life, man, and i am sorry to be coming on strong like this. you grew up in a tough environment, and you led an exemplary life so far. exemplary.
you kept your nose clean, you said no to drugs, you graduated despite the gangs, and the bullying, you tried to provide a good, honest home for your kids and above else you kept it real. if there is one thing we can say about you is that you ain't no hypocrite. you roll with the punches and move on.
and so i can and should gice you respect.
so here it is. get one of your fellas to get it.
Translation experiment: An Urban Evening, by Natan Alterman
this is another experiment in translation. the poem , called "Urban evening" is written by Israeli poet Natan Alterman. it is very difficult, or even to convay all the nuances of the poem, along with a rhyming scheme, and so the translation lacks rhyming, in favor of retaining other aspects.
A sunset of rose, between the roofs
the blue asphalt below
to the evening, mournful women's eyes ask,
why have you come?
The lanterns, the blossom of the city
bloom in fragrant light,
electric spring, bright melancholia,
musn't escape its stupor.
Only an orphan, an innocent
born for a moment, then gone.
Between the nights and the days,
come to brighten our eyes.
Between the days and the nights,
to blue gazing ranges we shall
lead our worn souls
to graze on the meadow.
A farewell wave, trusting girl,
her smile, carried the vehicle,
what was and wasn't
seems to yet be.
I wish to recall
my thought, and she is startled,
faces of women float in the light,
their feet soak in the azure.
lighter on my right,
my yearning heart , the left,
prepared to trust,
all man , but myself.
i am now-one, silently observing how,
the moon' breast undone, of the contrary wall.
body's diminish, but head so high, untill
even if i left,
i shall not see the destination.
a sunset of rose on the streetcurb
the street as a tunnel of
blue. whomever reaches the end,
shall want to weep of purpose.
a sunset of rose, between the roofs
the blue asphalt below
to the evening, mournful women's eyes ask,
why have you come?
Student notes III
1. look, take this F, it's really a biggly. lowercase f. next to it there is an X in parentheses. why put him in a box like that? then there are those two paralels, and then all kinds of goobldigoop. WTF?!?!
2.regarding you proposition about the Biennale, i was thinking about commissioning a string quartet after the unvailing of Claudio's latest. please advise if you can suggest a good choirmeister, as that our own has decided to abscond. yours obediently, Timmy.
4.in truth, i am surprised as you are with world affair. the much antipiated nuclear apocalypse has not materialized yet, and more's the pity. neither has the zombie apocalypse or the double-anal apocalypse. i am losing hope.
5.it's not very hygenic, what you're doing with your right index finger and your sphincter. especially after Megatron urged you to stop digging for gold in front of the class.
6.there is no love, but dispair,
a hawk flies, he cares not,
upon the meadow run the horses,
the wind knows my heart,
it is beating fast, and i take the Uzi,
9mm in the barrel, 12mm or more,
in the entry wound,
or we could just fuuuuuuuuuuck.
7. this is a place of learning. i tell you that your frequent interruption bothers and disturbs me. canst thou harken to thy own mind, and upon a jutting rock, dash it?
8.ever notice how the tanks on tanker trucks look like granny panties from the side?
9.dear sir, i am writing to you to apologize profusely for the paper missile which struck your head. it was never my intention to cause you injury or discomfort, and this abhorid accident is a result of gross miscalculation of the trajectory of the missile. it was my intention to reach Megatron's desk, and hopefully cause him great dismay, as he reads the nessage therein, quote "fuck you Megatron, you pusillanimous fuckwad". please find it in your heart, kibd sir, to forgive my error, and we may once more share a tube of glue in the restroom, yours sincerely.....
10.the communication you wish to confer must hence be conducted in appropriate media. i will not receive, correspond or even acknowledge the use of paper message, unless for exam cheating purposes!!
11.this message is copyrighted, snd may not be duplicated, copied or in anyway made use of without the explicit permission of its author.
12.the day i go out with you, will be exactly one day after Megatron is objectively cool. consider this both as a rejection and a challenge. i need a good laugh. (maybe try a bandanna?)
14.the app does all the work for you, so you can just sit back and let it play the game.
15. i find your literacy and inarticulate use of emojis quite pathetic. this transaction is completed.
16. i propose that in tonight's game we work together. make only purchases from "free parking" to "go to jail" and i'll do electric and water and trains.
17. i went to the asseys office to trade in the nugget. then got Beulah to the smithy, cause she threw a shoe. then i had enough to spend the night a the Oasis, getting a bath, a steak dinner, and a good time with Roxy.
Of the dangers and preservation of THE WITHIN
without exception, every word, whisper, shout or whistle, and any other act come from THE WITHIN.
It is a mysterious , opaque place of which nothing is known and many dangers abound.
Consequently every echo of that distant place is of value, yet it may be hurtful, disgusting and ugly.
we are capable of expressing disagreeable things- disagreeable to ourselves and others, and yet they are still, a product of transition from the internal obscurity of that misty land to the light of day.
Even if it is a lie , or a thought antithetical to our being, yet we are able to express it and do so, and by doing so, express something of THE WITHIN.
it is necessary to be able to bring those echos outward. communication of experiences and queries, and the expression of emotions and thoughts is beneficial.
Consider how advantageous it is to ask others an innocent question: "can peanut butter be used instead of butter for frying an egg on a pan?" receiving an answer could save a great deal of effort and help avoid an awful smell, should one try things for themselves. Yet what was gleamed of the within from the question? An intention to cook eggs? An interest in the use of peanut butter or other peanut-related products? A sense of ennui , or merely a boredom of the way eggs are made? What of the advice given? Was it made with great malice, “egging” the curious on, or was it an honest appraisal of the inevitable doom?
in as such we can imagine, that every expression by one person may contain some benefit to another, even if they are separated by time and space. And even if the use made, was different from the intended outcome.
For most, the caveman's drawing on the walls, was mostly bad. It was uninteresting , childish amateurish art. it sucked. yet it helps those who care to learn of the imbecility of those distant times and the obvious long way to be traversed go, as far as technique was concerned , before getting a commission for a portrait, or anything worthy of public display.
Such are expressions. Useful to some, useless to others.
Now we come to the part where you may ask, dear reader, what if the expression of one causes injury to another? What if the distasteful expression passes a point where it is no longer unwholesome, but injurious to certain party.
What if a man goes to the park on a nice, breezy day with a new design for a kite. he constructs the kite and it catches the wind magnificently. yet people are soon enraged that the kite bears the image and details of a vagina? some would complain that though the aerodynamic features demonstrated were quite impressive, it would be obscene to expose children who are also in attendance, to such a sight, not to mention those of a strong conservative values, who may even be experiencing physical discomfort, were they to look up! they shall point out the use of colors in the depiction of pubic hairs and the labia to be particularly offensive, even though the the central slit-like opening allows for better control during turbulence and an over superb handling in sudden directional changes of the wind.
Should the venal kite-builder be asked to curtail his long-planned excursion, and retreat to a secluded spot, where his work shall offend none?
What if he can find no breezy clearings that are also unoccupied by those who can potentially be hurt?
Must he sacrifice the giant leap in aerodynamic design that this kite represents , only to accommodate the other?
Much offense can be given, out of malice or accident.
Yet the REACTION to this is a greater question. Should others take offense? Should steps taken to prevent such unhappy product from ever emerging from THE WITHIN?
What effect would restraint have upon the THE WITHIN? Would an individual best resort to his own sense of decency, aesthetics, and his awareness of the possible effect it might have upon others when choosing a means of expression or details entailed?
Or should the offender be persecuted for the damages he had caused?
What condition would be THE WITHIN , if such outward restrictions were made apparent?
In truth, if ever there was a desire to act with malice, that desire could be fulfilled with ease. If a word be outlawed, a new word shall stand its place. If speaker be silenced, another shall rise up. The more more restrictive the outer world becomes, the more creative or violent the output that would be produced. Because THE WITHIN can tolerate much, yet it can not be dammed or damned.
And so, to the benefit of all, we must live in a world where THE WITHIN is cultivated to sympathy, yet seldom restrained with any outward device.
Such manifestations of freedom may undoubtedly result in much that is wrong and bad. Yet THE WITHIN is also resilient and should be able to absorb or deflect those expressions that it encounters, yet grow strong and unhurt by them.
Interference causes greater harm in its use AND ABUSE, than the benefit it brings. yet there are times, where the expression of THE WITHIN may bring danger to others. while growing within an environment of freedom entails developing some detachment from hurtful expressions, there are still risks that can be cause by others. fraudulent misdirection, abusive or predatory exploitation, and of course the instigation of physical violence by enticement, are examples of such danger. no amount of acquired emotional resilience could protect an individual from physical harm, and no degree of caution could unveil the true intentions of others. it is therefore at times, needful for humans, as a collective to forgo some degree of this freedom to reveal the within, when it can be demonstrated that the intention of an individual was not merely to express THE WITHIN, but to willfully cause a harm that is so great, that it could not be reasonably overcome personally.
we might look at all restriction and all enforcement as "a thing protecting its own". a protection from and prosecution of murder is meant to preserve life. a limit to speed on the road is meant to allow for all in transit to reach their destination.
in that case the rare occasion where the expression of THE WITHIN must be restricted, in order that THE WITHIN itself is preserved. if in expression, one causes another to be diminished , hurt or made unable to express any longer THE WITHIN, it is then justifiable to restrict that expression of that individual. the more damaging the expression made by one and suffered by the many, the more of THE WITHIN must be protected.
though this article could be viewed as sheer insanity, as indeed it very likely is, know that it, too was a product of THE WITHIN. despite the inherent obfuscation and tendency to depravity of the author, it is not written with any intent to cause harm, distress or otherwise provoke that restrictive instrument of enforcement, neither was it intended to reduce THE WITHIN or diminish its expression in others.
Oh, the jobs i had...
i did some jobs, you may call disgusting: cleaning in a cafeteria, milking cows.
i cleaned after animals in a zoo, and shoved dirty sheets into industrial laundry machines.
disgusting is doeable.
i did some jobs that are mind-numbingly boring, like quality testing tin cans.
i had a few nice jobs, helping people with their houseplants, and installing windows in apartment buildings.
but the most dead, depressing, hopeless sink of a job was teaching English to university kids.
Don't get me wrong, i understand that what i do is not exactly holding civilization from collapse, nor do i hold a pulsing heart in my hand. my job never amounted to much at all in any rational perspective. and i understand the mind of youths: of all the things to stumble across in life, my courses in advanced conversational English, and English for the service industry, is about as important as watching rocks grow. i get it.
well let me tell you about a college i worked in here, in wuhan. the place is a semi-private institution which means it draws grants and subsidies from the government but is without a doubt created to turn a profit. it is also loosely affiliated with a more substantial, recognized university, so the enrollees can claim they went to that university and studied in the....college. its a clever trick of omission, which will not pan out if someone, say, an HR rep checked the diploma. but more about the students later.
this was one of the first gigs i had here in Wuhan. i did not know, what it's going to be like. ....
god forgive us....
the place as i explained is a for profit institution. and as such, the policies that were taken were to both exact tuition and govt. support and spend as little as possible on everything. as a consequence, there was this heavy air of apathy that started whenever you set foot inside. everything was neglected. The halls were filthy, the food sucked, the computers only worked on Saturday, and you had to get a mouse for the screen, cause it was a touch screen in name only. the restrooms were kept at a state, of being mopped, but only once and only with water, so as to just give the whole floor a nice, uniform cover of piss. and piss there was plenty, because the urinals were hooked to the wall but not to the sewer.
the place as i explained is a for profit institution. and as such, the policies that were taken were to both exact tuition and govt. support and spend as little as possible on everything.there was this heavy air of apathy that started whenever you set foot inside. everything was neglected. The halls were filthy, the food sucked, the computers only worked on Saturday, and you had to get a mouse for the screen, cause it was a touch screen in name only. the restrooms were kept at a state, of being mopped, but only once and only with water, so as to just give the whole floor a nice, uniform cover of piss. and piss there was plenty, because the urinals were hooked to the wall but not to the sewer. you had to get a mouse for the screen, cause it was a touch screen in name only. the restrooms were kept at a state, of being mopped, but only once and only with water, so as to just give the whole floor a nice, uniform cover of piss. and piss there was plenty, because the urinals were hooked to the wall but not to the sewer.
nsequently , there was this heavy air of apathy that started whenever you set foot inside. everything was neglected. The halls were filthy, the food sucked, the computers only worked on Saturday, and you had to get a mouse for the screen, cause it was a touch screen in name only. the restrooms were kept at a state, of being mopped, but only once and only with water, so as to just give the whole floor a nice, uniform cover of piss. and piss there was plenty, because the urinals were hooked to the wall but not to the sewer. nsequently , there was this heavy air of apathy that started whenever you set foot inside. everything was neglected. The halls were filthy, the food sucked, the computers only worked on Saturday, and you had to get a mouse for the screen, cause it was a touch screen in name only. the restrooms were kept at a state, of being mopped, but only once and only with water, so as to just give the whole floor a nice, uniform cover of piss. and piss there was plenty, because the urinals were hooked to the wall but not to the sewer.
the fake marble sheets that covered the first and third floor (but not the second) , tended to just fall off the wall, as that whatever was holding them up was not....holding them up the result would be that occasionally you would hear a loud bang, which would later turn out to be the smashed tile on the floor.
as for chalk, there was plenty. all you needed to do is go downstairs, and around the corner, where you'll find it in a mass if boxes, all white, resting uncovered upon a wooden pallet, the seranwrap pealed away in sadness. the chalk would range from brittle to soggy, depending on the humidity.
the kids that went there, for the most part, internlized the gloomy atmosphere, and held on to no hope at all, as graduation day encroached. they delved in nothing energetic, but curricular or otherwise. none of them got laid. the little convenient stores all around the campus sold many things, yet the condoms had a coat of dust on them, as they sat on the shelves and expired.
teaching under these conditions was very much an act of throwing eggs on a rock and hoping the rock will break. it is not that the kids lacked intelligence. the spread seemed to be normal enough. it was just that going to a place like that meant you are DOOMED, and have no hope whatsoever of amounting to anything. so better just play cellphone games for four years, and cheat on every assignment or exam. even the more active students, and there was occasional hints of that, would not eschew this methodology. i remember once getting a full 2-page article for an MA program that i was asked to seriously review, that was just an article from the Guardian that i read a few days before. oh and the citation was about a totally different subject.
staff was mostly nice, yet there was this same "abandon all hope, all ye enter" look on their faces.
at some point some enterpeizing individual opened a 'pink room' just in front of the school gate. I suppose for comfort of use for the young gallants. I never went inside, but for a time i had sone hope that here, the professional ministrations would raise the collective spirit. even an establishment such as that soon closed shop.
this air of sexlessness, soul-sucking, depression inducing locality was unbearable! it was a struggle to ride out the contract, before i snapped.
and this was my worst job. i have had other university gigs, and taught students in all kind of venues some incompetent, some absurdly mismanaged. but i have never experienced such an abysmall existence as teaching in that place.
the rightful thing to do?
Long before man , animals knew to be cautious. They are not as foolish as we may think, and, truly, of the animals that walk around upon this world, only those poisoned by man's gentle caresses, into obedience have lost the ability to see dangers ahead.
existence is hard and full of risks, but against this, is set s strong sense of self preservation and distrust in all animals of the natural world. it is then stands to reason that when a wild animal does something particularly unwise, say, jumping into a tarpit, they do so for a reason. it is either that they expect a remarkable payoff that is worth the risk. OR that they no longer wish to continue their lives. this is not to say that misfortune, disease or predition befalls every animal at long last, but that to surmise their gullibility is a great ignorance.
and so, we come to plastics. that beautiful treasure which we produce lovingly, forming endless strands monomers into lengthy chains of replication. all supplied with a feedstock of raw petroleum, which we carefully dredge at great care and solemnity.
we are ever mindful and venerate the greare processes that brought this petroleum to be. yey, we care and cherish those ancient organisms, who subdued themselves in suboceanic depths. oh those fallen organisms, that were duly crushed in pressure and heat, and untouched by spoilage. oh how we are grateful to that ancient calamity, that provided us with such a bounty of ready compounds. of phenols, and vynils, of esters, and benzoids. we take those singular units, and refine them, distill them one from the other. what joy brims the heart as we add polymerising catalyst and needful conditions and see those lonely monomers join harmoniously with their brethern. and this thermoplastic solid, we can rapturously shape into things of great use: butter churners, and irrigation tubes. knowing both the great cost and the profound history, we are never wasteful with our polymers. which is why that they are carefully confined in locality, and never disbursed recklessly.
and yet animals seem to eat this sturdy product of our ingenuity! items that are carefully put away, are consumed with great relish, by members of all the mobile phylums.
while the theivery of animals is well known, its reasons still prove obscure.
however the resaults are not: plastics of many sort are indigestable! it is a material blessed with many qualities but nutrition is not one of them. plastic items once swallowed, may cause terrible injury with jagged edges, or remain stuck within, lodged dangerously in the length of the intestinal tract. the result is iften found; an untimly death.
which brings the question why? why would the animals, eat that which they know will be their doom?
to this i say: it is their sense of responsibility!
i don't know if you noticed, but in recent years, there has been some creeping change in the climate. a "climate change" the seasons seem more unpredictable, and the summers hotter. storms are more violent and frequent while other places are left parched dry like never before. and what is the cause of this change?
all those years, shreiking above the waves, the seagulls festooned the rocks.
all those years the turtles disturbed the sandbars with their incessant egg laying!
oh, and those fish polluting the waters, straining the fauna in all direction with the oderous excretia.
they all know, too well the vast part they played in this drama. and see clearly how their repugnant actions have made the world so vile.
and then many, burdened by guilt, or the prospect of the vast changes, have decided to put an end to things.
it is because of that, that they willfully take the polystyrene, as Socrates took the hemlock, and end their misery.
understanding the youth
Recall, my friend Avshalom, son of David. his hair flowing, a royal mane of impressive sight. oh, and how the dames and damsels of court had watched him, manly throwing it around in all directions. oh, what conquests he must have had, with brilliance of nightly tactics, much to do perhaps to that impressive growth. recall though with sadness, that impressive hair was that youth's downfall, as he got unmanned by it, hanging helplessly from a branch, like a ripe fruit for his enemies, the King's own to treat him in their cruel leisure.
for a time, i strived to develop an Afro upon my head. a Jewfro to be exact, as i my scales and upper mucus is pale in color, and my topmost folicals are a shit-like brown, all growing above the folds of skin and fat. the growth, lovingly un-tended for, neglected with the hope that liberty and self government would bring forth a greater prosperity, fell away long ago. the folicals, perhaps not holding well in their afflicted moorings. and so, like Avshalom, i learned the long term effect of childhood folly.
as for pants, to say that i had a similar liberality as with the hair would be a gross lie.
i wore no jeans! despite suggestions to the contrary, and sheathed my lower parts with cargo pants and dungarees. soft and supple and much more copious in volume respectively of size, they covered me in all times, with a range of colors of gray, blue, drown and drab green. but never black!
it is because of this, my hair decisions and pantaloonage that i claim to have an understanding and to speak with authority into the minds of youths today. for our minds are the same!
the so-called generation Z is an open book to me. nothing in the vast changes of recent years in culture, technology or politics have anything in the way of obscurity or ambiguity to myself. It is quite clear to me that kids want to set up buisness, trade with the natives, and explore the uncharted continents. they desire a good bowl of soup and an evening by the television followed by an early night. as for sexuality, kids of generation z cant get enough of sexuality. They are eager to see what lies under a lady’s petticoat, as it has always been.
As for the usage of social media, it is self evident really, that this will lead to nothing but good, and prosperity will once more bless our lands.
The only thing that i feel that i can’t understand generation z goes back to my fervid acquaintance with cargo pants. I see most youngling wearing cargo pants as is proper and rightful in a well goiverned state. Cargo pants are a perfect merger of the need to contain one’s self with an equal urgancy to contain posessions without having further carry on baggage, such as rucksaks and shopping bags. It it obvious that an educated person would eschew the wearing of jeans as that they permit no such immidiate baggae, where tragedy befell such a person, he would be hard pressed to find room for his many personal posessions within the narrow, pockets of his pantaloons. Only the articulated , numerous pocekts of cargo pants allow for such quick and ready use. Any choice other than that, is an unworthy compromise with whimsical fashion!
However, recently there has been a puzzing trend, which i am here struggling to bring forth, and which i hope some light can be shed upon in the comments below. That question is about those strips of cloth , or braids of cordage that are intetionally made to hang from the edge of the flap that covers those wonderfully voluminous pockets.
Ostensibly these strips, i gather, are attached, so that there will be an easy opening of the pocket while in the wearer is in rapid action, or while wearing thick gloves, perhaps during a session of welding. The functionality of these strips disappears though when there are many of them and they festoon the cargo pants with a multitude of such straps and ribbons. indeed, one begins to doubt the necessity of their usage in quickening the retrieval of cached objects.
Why is there are such need in the youths to acquire cargo pants with ribbons attached, is something of unchartered waters. Here i hazard some theories, though there is no way for me to substantiate my assumptions with fact.
1)One possible reason for the appearnace of these ribbons is meant to give the wearer a combattive, adventurous facade: as cargo pants are nominaly part of the work attire of those of the armed forces of many nations, it is possible that the wearing of cargo pants is meant to lend the wearer some penache. The wearer, of course, disregards the fact that that they may not be warriors in all actuality, and also the fact that cargo pants are the preferred attire of many of those in the manual trades, such as bricklayers, farm hands, mechanics and pipe fitters, all of which are professionals of great necessity but not advertised as enjoying a thrilling high-paxed life.
furthermore , under this hinted prowess, the ribbons lend even more credence to this hypothesis, as that it hints at a special piece of equipment which must be retrieved effortlessly and with great haste. Obviously a person with a multitude of these straps , ribbons and cords, is advertised in being well versed in the usage of all kinds of such tactical embellishments and accouterments. They are rugged , rough and fiercless, not to mention, well equipped.
2)Seeing the hint of the militaristic nature of cargo pants, the wearer elects to exxagereate this ruggedness with an excess of detail, as a way to scorn or mock the warrior persona. it is, by this satirical dress, that they wish to demonstrate their good humor, without a word needed to be spoken.
3)It could be a deliberate attempt by leading fashion designers to pave the way for reintroducing the fashion of men, worn primarily during the baroque, and rococo periods (17-18th century), particularly in france. truly , the dressing of the time was rich with such decorations as ribbons and bows, flowing from every item of garment, and especially set upon the short cullote briches. if this is correct, fashion will soon demand such Not to mention capes waistcoats, wigs and rapiers
4) introduction of drooping straps and rippons pays a sincere homage to certain birds, who like so display their manhood with such embellishments. these snood-like appendages are designed to cause a Dionysian reaction in those who observe them, hopefully causing them to prepare for copulation. such aphrodisiac may, in fact cause the desired response, if they are sufficiently drooped and engorged.