Practical Calarifacation

I would be defying my own principle if I did not admit to my realization of how the last sentence of what I said in the previous post, specifically (Kill someone do things you find vile and hurt some one you love), can be easily misconstrued due to my hastily worded ideals that I thought appropriate to share.

            The point I was trying to convey in writing this obscurity was that an efficient way to convince yourself that you are not bound by the actions of fate nor your own actions is to do something you realize is self destructive. What I mean is that an action done not to your logical benefit is in fact an action capable of shattering the glass wall of fate that you may find yourself encaged in. These actions are ones that allow you to throw off the chains and look into the fire of Plato’s cave rather then just staring at the wall of shadows he imagined the fate bound man looking at. A self destructive action is considered strange and startles those who see it enacted, so because self-destructive actions are unpredictable they are the key to the personal realization of choice. No one can predict your actions if you follow a set of logic that seems sound but then you commit an action that goes against it. So by defying your own logic you can convince yourself that you are in control and are not bound by the social rules of society, and this realization will eventually lead to the ability to deny yourself of fate and convince your self anything no matter how untrue it may be. For instance convincing yourself that you are immortal.

            I follow a set of tangible logic that I change every now and then based on my observation and experiences. I can say that my enactments of self-destructive actions that I realized were self-destructive have allowed me to convince my subconscious that I am not bound to the fate of death. To some extent I realize that this is false but to a more prominent extent I realize that I need to think with the mind of an immortal. For if I apply the logic of fate to my actions and realizations they all become meaningless. So the meaning I have created for my life is that the chains of fate do not bind me so I can do what I want, as there will be time for everything. This delusion is necessary and though I realize it is self-destructive it is in this realization that allows me to act in a manner considered relatively sane.

            I see it to be more efficient to delude yourself rather than take to mind the truth and inevitability’s of reality, and it is of this belief that I state this.

 "Delusions, lies, and fantasies will always have a stronger impact and the betterment of humanity and human efficiency than truth and reality ever could."

-Dr. Braden Phd

I was browsing a random image board website when I came across a thread where the creator said he wanted to commit suicide and asked what form of suicide would be the best. He claimed that life was pointless and he wanted to end it all in his despair he posted the adjacent image and said that it surmised his feelings.-->

I responded by saying

If you claim that you find your life and actions pointless then suicide is against your own principle. You are by committing suicide committing an act of predictability and an act that has been done countless times in the past. Life is only pointless if you take to heart the inevitability that someday you will die and there is no way out. You yourself can prevent the pointless repetition and meaninglessness of your life by doing unpredictable acts rather than the committing the sad conformity of suicide. Instead if letting inevitability and meaninglessness run your thoughts think only of things that bring you pleasure, and deny that you are going to die, say instead that you will find immortality and kiss the your sad world of inevitability's goodbye. Think not in terms of a being with a set life span but think as a being not bound by the rules of society. Kill someone do things you find vile and hurt some one you love, only in doing this will you find your ability to throw off the chains of fate that you find your self weighed down by.

He responded to my post in saying

"wow man. Thanks. You just gave me meaning to my life. Thanks bro"

With words I was able to conjure in a matter of minutes I was able to prevent suicide and save a life. 

The felling accompanied by the realization that I may have in fact saved a life is a felling I now find myself unable to describe, but if I had to I would say that realizing the power of my words has inspired me and left a felling of inspiration that I will not soon forget

At about 5:00 yesterday I woke up listening to this song. The first thing I realized was that my car was slammed into a tree and broken pieces of the windshield and drivers side window lay scattered throughout the car and embedded in my shoulder and nose. The first thing I did was try to wake up again, was this a dream? No.  I stepped thought the ruble and opened the passenger door and steped out of what was left of the truck. Still in disbelief and not quite awake I turned back and grabbed my phone and unplugged it from the radio. The song stooped and I instantly became aware that my car was crashed into group of trees on the side of the road. I looked to the road and saw skid marks across the highway and a couple cars stopped with people peering out their windows in awe. I turned and huge tree the drivers side of my car was crashed against. I surmised that I had swerved out of the road and drifted into this tree but luckily missed a head on collision with it. I will never know exactly what happened besides the fact that I fell asleep and crashed my car, but I don't remember ever driving from Kileua to Princevile where I crashed.
The only certainty I am aware of, of this accident is that this is a damn good song.

What if

Al Gore is a legion he does not forgive and he does not forget

Bloggity

Join me in a blog venture

bipidy
boppity
blog

I blog in the morning I blog at night.

I blog in the darkness and I blog in the light.

Greetings blog people I am indeed a blogger and you a blog reader, quite the quandary is it not.

No words

Don't mind me just fixing the economy in my evening garments 

No words to describe what I have transcribed

Blogging is an art

Cast your gaze to my person brethren
Observe how I move text across a stationary medium

I can blog with relative ease 

my words move back and forth in the breeze

Contemplate my ability to fabricate facile concepts in a manner that causes them to arise as an arduous complexity to the common literary audience.

Comments: No one cares

colicky

Raising Gaddafi

The Anatomy Lecture of Barack Obama

A Personal Quandary

Please sir may I have some more

You to could contribute to the this mans love for expensive material items. For a minimum donation of $10 you can say you feed the furnace that generates the majority of false information on the internet. You to can boast to your friends that you gave money not to starving children but an upper class American organization whose limited knowledge is not trusted by public school teachers. You can give your money to this man and get nothing in return but the knowledge that you to have given your money to a silly silly man. 

Wikipedia co founder Dr. Derp McDerpington

Donate now and give this man the proper treatment he needs

Occupy Buffet

 Down with the 99% Occupy the suburbs join Warren Buffet on his quest.

Pictures

Here I bestow upon this blog some pictures of my collection that I have modified to be humorous by adding clever texts to them.

Life

Suddenly a jolt pulled at the biologist boots. He looked down to realize the ground he had been standing in was a sinking patch of mud and his decision to move had called to his realization that he was stuck up to the ankle in mud. He let out a snicker at his inability to move and the sound his boots made as he helplessly wiggled them in the mud. Letting out a sigh he proceeded to look up outside his own situation to take in the jungle he had taken for granted before he had gotten stuck. He observed his surroundings with an unexplained interest temporally forgetting that he was slowly sinking into the mud that made a spiral sinkhole around his circumference. Looking up at the elegant leaves and vines that covered the trees around him he became intoxicated with the life he began to realize was present in the jungle. He took in the smells of strange flowers, plants, and animals that his biologist nose struggled to identify. The noise of the jungle enveloped him and he was suddenly more in tune with his senses than he had been just before being trapped in the mud. He felt the steamy air moving sluggishly around the jungle floor he heard the noises of strange birds and animals and he began the process of indentifying them through his biological knowledge. He identified the smells of plants that lived in the jungle, the calls of the birds each one so unique, and the rustling of the common insects he knew lived in this jungle.

All the wile he sank deeper into the mud.

Taking no note of this he felt the urge to call to the bird he had come to study. Pushing the warm air from his lungs and through his teeth he mimicked the call of the bird, and he was inexplicably able to mimic it perfectly. He rejoiced in this and let out a soft laugh part in amazement and part realizing that he was calling to a bird. To his furthered joy the bird called back. It sounded like it was not to far away and the man rejoiced letting a smile form on his face withered form studying texts most of his adult life. He let out another call and waited for a response. The bird then flew over and perched on a branch where the man saw its black red beauty reflected of the wet leaves on the vines that encompassed the tree like millions of arms reaching upward for the sun the top of the tree had found. The man marveled at this sight and stopped a while to observe the bird before he uttered a softer call as not to scare it away. The bird answered in a harmony that the man found so vibrant and brilliant that he had no choice but to imitate the call once more. The bird responded again and the man rebutted and this process went on like a debate between philosophers fundamentally opposed only if the philosophers had the voices of angles and sang their debates in harmony.

Or so it seemed to the man now knee deep in the unrelenting mud.

Delighted as he was in the relation ship he now shared with the beautiful bird the man now scratched his brown hair and wondered how he was going to deal with the mud. In denial the man looked back up at the bird and the joy its beautiful call brought him caused him to forget the consequence of the mud and simile with joy. The man had come here to document the habits of the illusive bird and now seeing it jump around the branch and groom itself right in front of him filled his heart with joy. He then though about what a success he would be when he showed his colleagues the many photos and documents he would be able to make with his knowledge of the bird he had learned simply by observing it through his perspective in the mud. The man reached into his pocket and withdrew his small digital camera, which he pointed, at the bird that now seemed to be not at all discomforted by the man in the mud. As soon as he had taken a picture another bird called and the man immediately recognized it and called back. Not three seconds latter a bird flew down by the first and sat at its side. The man speculated that this must be the mother as it was larger and cast a motherly look down at the first bird. What a sight the man marveled and he thought that this was the most beautiful thing he had seen in his biologist lifestyle.

Suddenly the man realized that he was waist deep in mud. He let out a little cry and tried to move around but the mud held tight. His agitation so passed as he said to himself oh well this is not to far from the path someone will come along and help. He rested patiently as the mud crept up his stomach at an accelerated rate. He turned his gaze to the birds and realized that two more had perched on the branches next to the original two, and as if sensing his gaze they all turned and looked back at him intently. He smiled thinking that this could very well be the biggest documented group ever seen. The man reached for his camera but the mud had taken it long ago. He cursed and yelled for help, but he didn’t let this fit overcome him and he stopped not long after he started as not to upset the birds. Then another bird bigger than all the rest flew the first branch and caused the first two birds to move to different perches. The man gasped at the creatures’ brilliant hooked beak and vivid color scheme.

What he did not acknowledge was his arms that he let slip into the mud as it began to reach his shoulders. Suddenly he became more aware then ever before of the inevitability that awaited him as he looked down at the mud he could now press his face in. He thought clearly for the first time that he was going to die. He had some knowledge of this before but as if the curtains had been open he saw the truth clearly now and there was no denying it. Being a rational man he decided not to scream and cruse in woe but marvel in wonder at the five rare birds he had seen today, birds so rare most go through their lives in the jungle not even knowing that these birds exist. The man just gazed at their beauty as he slowly descended into his grave and the mud reached his head. He felt a pang of acknowledgment in his brain and not knowing why he accepted this as if he had known about it sense he entered the jungle in the first place. His mouth and nose descended into the mud all the while his eyes on the beautiful birds that watched with only a look of bewilderment. The man closed his eyes and let the darkness take him felling happy as of his accomplishments and regretting nothing. In his final moments his body completely submersed in unrelenting mud he recalled the beauty of the birds and let that beauty and his accomplishment of being able to befriend them take control of his mind as the cold mud sucked him into the earth. And so ended the life of the unnamed biologist as has ended every living things life in all of time.

Gentlemen observe as I have taken colloquial values and summed up their creation in a few words. First we have the creation of rap music followed by the creation of domestic violence or perhaps the creation of the pimp slap. All these of corse accompanied by a famous painting by Rembrandt as to add to the comedic value. I hope these materials are to your enjoyment as I have found pleasure in the creation process accompanied by this form of humor.

Bird Shit

Oh little birdie on the wall

Oh little bird with the mellifluous call

Why is that on my precious things you chose

To void you bowel’s and intestine juice

I leave my car out in the sun

To be covered in shit before you’re done

Your crap covers all that I hold dear

And you sit back and sing with cheer

Oh little birdie on the wall

Why can’t you use a bathroom stall?

Godly Gas

"For God so loved the world that he expeled his holy gas so that we may smell the essence of the lord and rejoice in the glory that are his holy bowels"

-Bowel Bible 6:24

Respectful dealings

“That’s the gentleman over there” remarked Reginald gesturing towards a street corner wherein a tall man of African-American stood robed in a thick jacket despite the perpetual heat.

“Once again your keen vision has spared us a continued search” complimented Thorold then addressed their driver “Gerald pull up to the corner and make as if you intend to park the vehicle as not to draw attention”

“At once sir” Gerald said well aware of their intentions.

The car pulled up to the curb and Thorold sitting on the curb hand side of the vehicle proceeded to roll the window of the back seat that he sat in.

“Excuse me my good moor” Thorold called to the man leaning against the side of the building adjacent the curb in which his vehicle rested.

Thorold’s terminology earned him a skeptical look but the otherwise contained man approached the car.

“Wus up mang” The man inquired his accent reveling his ties to the colloquial langue present in this area of town.

“My good chap it was brought to my attention that we could in fact purchase illicit substances from your person” Thorold remarked over Reginald’s loud tea sipping.

“Who tol you dat mang” rebutted the man revealing his skepticism towards the behavior of the suited gentlemen adorned with top hats and sipping tea in the most elegant of manners.

“Well I was attending a banquet in honor of Lawrence Charters success in having his son acquired form the local penitentiary”, Reginald explained reminiscing the previous night filled with fine liquors and a variety of hardly clothed women, “When I brought up my passion for illicit substances and we were referred to you”

“Lawrence? Oh you mean dat nigga Big L, well shoot we tight”, said the man realizing the relationship they shared, “Wuchu looking for mang?”

Thorold took another elegant sip of tea and said

“We were looking in purchasing a fine white powder that I happen to be at a loss of what the colloquialism for it is”

“You mean crack mang, I gots that” remarked the man reaching into his thick coat.

“Ah yes I believe its called that is this vicinity, in my area of living we colloquially refer to it as dandy randy dust” Thorold said.

“Well how dis look mang” The man remarked removing a rather large zip lock bag filled to the brim with white powder.

“Marvelous”, exclaimed Thorold withdrawing his monocle for further inspection.

“What amount of currency do you require”, inquired Reginald inspecting his purse for American currency.

“Three hundo mang”, the man said coolly.

“Well here you are my good chap”, said Thorold who unbeknownst to Reginald had acquired his own purse and proceeded to pay the man.

“Shoot mang” the man remarked receding form the vehicle.

“That was a unnecessary gesture”, Reginald said regarding Thorold’s act of paying.

“Well you paid for those fine whores”, Thorold rebutted.

“Quite, I do believe we are at equal debut to each other then” Reginald said satisfied.

“Indubitably” Thorold remarked but before being able to elaborate a law enforcement vehicle rounded the corner at flashed its lights and wailed its sirens as it approached their car.

“Oh drat, law enforcement”, Reginald said.

“That is no excuse for explicit language Reginald”, Thorold remarked, “Accelerate post haste Gerald!”

“At once sir” Gerald said and with that their vehicle took to the sky leaving behind only the smell of fine tea and a trail of cigar smelling exhaust as it ascended to the heavens.

fArt

Realizing the enjoyability in vandalizing famous art I have added more humorous texts to two portraits by the late artist Rembrandt. I hope that these succeed in your amusement and inspire you to begin to associate fine art with silly sayings and ideals. Though this venue of humor is enjoyable I assure you that I am quite capable of providing humor through other means and will do so on the occasion that I manage to conjure humor form the depths of my brain.

Freelance Friday

I have become incited with this activity known as blogging and have decided to continue my writings in a more organized manner. First off every friday I will post simply what comes to my mind, and describe my ideals in a less organized manner than that of my previous posts. Then Saturdays and Sundays will be dedicated to humors materials and generic silliness I manage to come up with. Then Mondays will be dedicated to quotes, wether they be my own or of another mouth or perhaps even humorlessly misrepresented in a manner similar to the Gandhi quote I publicized recently. Tuesdays then will be dedicated my writings may they be short stories, poems, or novel ideas. Wednesdays will be my observations of social interactions and their misuse or impracticality. Thursdays will be deemed as Thought full Thursdays and I will post materials similar to what I posted yesterday. That will be the layout of the week and I will apologize if I fail to provide the promised material but keep in mind I usually publicize my works late at night. I leave you with a common social practice worded and set to a portrait I have become rather fond of in hopes that you who practice the worded ideals may realize its true silliness. Enjoy.
                                                         -Dr. Braden Ph.D.

Occupy My Quandaries

Some Humor brought to the otherwise sober natue of this post

In this disquisition I make it my goal to expose the antithesis that the demonstrating American citizens, referring to themselves as the 99%, have created within their efforts, and bring to light the ineffectiveness of their "movement". These demonstrators propose that they are opposed to the 1% and it is to my understanding they are most concerned with the capacious amounts of monetary value that the 1% controls. I would first like to state that the use of seemingly harmless everyday devices (i.e. the internet, phone service, generic clothing, and even this blog domain) is arguably the sole contributor to the breadth in monetary value between wealthily and the middle class. This is no doubt the product of Americas capitalist ideals but socialism or even communism should not be an alternative to the troubles of wealth we face as a nation. This brings me to conclude that one falsity portrayed by the "99%" is the idea of socialism being an answer to their problems. More government control of wealth may lead to the dissipation of the 1%, this would happen as a result of government acquisitions of wealth and industry, and the spread of the acquired wealth to the masses in forms better facilities better care for the citizen and a stronger national economy. However what is not realized by most is that socialism was created with the vision of a utopian society in mind. Socialism only works in a utopia because it relies on the cooperation of all the people and their wiliness to sacrifice material desires for equality. A utopia as defined by Thomas More is a place where everyone is equal socially and economically. This notion of socialism that supposedly dilutes the need for utopia would only end up down the path of a dystopia due solely to the existing force of not corporate greed but American greed. It is impossible to say that you don't enjoy material wealth, carnal pleasures, and even social acceptance, and it is mans desire for all this that defines America greed. As a species we desire the finer things in life and to cast that aside and live equally among your peers is a fundamentally flawed principle. Even mild equality such as cutting down the 1% would only result in calamity of desire and law. Another reason that the notion of socialism is fundamentally flawed is the problem of common property. This ties back to greed in the notion that with only the notion of benefitting you government is not enough intensive to prevent the overuse of common property. This is one of many ways the 99%s ideals are flawed but there are many more. They also try to expose corporate greed as a plague infecting the economy and people of America. The notion of corporate greed in reality is nothing more than a corporation valuing monetary gain of benefit to humanity. As Martin Luther King Junior said "We are prone to judge success by the index of our salaries or the size of our automobiles rather than by the quality of our service and relationship to mankind". This remains true today and I'm certain the demonstrating peoples all succumb to this notion of monetary power. Corporate greed proves only the fact that large corporations are run by humans with human values. Now that you have been shown the flaws of this movement it is only fair I provide you with my solution to the demonstrations miseries. First let us look at successful movements like this with similar goals, first lets examine the revolution Mohandas Gandhi inspired in India and its success in opposing the wealth extracted from them by the British (much like the 1% from the country). Gandhi believed in peace and his peaceful riots were among the most successful of his tactics. Next he used a tactic I believe no movement is successful without, this is the practice of boycott. Gandhi sewed his own robe and ate food procured under his watch by family and friends and not through the British. This tactic would be extremely useful for demonstrators and this is how I believe it could work. First you would delete all internet accounts such as Facebook, Google, and email services, done en masse this could leave many of the 1% bankrupt quite easily. Next stop using cell phones as these are what inspired a technology revelation that created large market which only made the 1% more wealthy. The boycott of many other items may be necessary but i believe that leaving the net and throwing out the technology en masse would be an amazing and effective revolution. The fact that I don't partake in that right now is only because I think that these movements are unprogressive and useless, but as great my distaste for this is I managed to remain unbiased in my ideals i have presented you with.

I invite you to revel in the humorous content I have provided for your amusement. Now this would seem to the benighted eye as a true quote of a true revolutionary figure know to most as Gandhi.  However the falsity I have created is the result of my combining of musical lyrics acquired from a melody composed by Cypress Hill with a delineation of Gandhi himself, all crowned with the quotations and site of Gandhi's name, inferring of corse that it was he who spoke these atrocious words. The humor here lies in the fact that Gandhi was a peace loving gentlemen whose ideals and actions shaped modern peace efforts and whose words enlightened and inspired many across the world. Cypress Hill, on the other hand, stands for completely different ideals and whose words depict and encourage illicit acts and primitive Ideals such as telling another person to "fuck off and go to hell". I find the conjunction of famous figures in history and modern day popular culture to be quite amusing no matter how facetious or absurd they may be.

A Flash of the Lightning from the Coming Storm

A high ranking affiliate of the American
street assemblage know as the Bloods.

In this column of literary beguilement I wish to speak of the nature that of the the works I will be publicizing through this outlet colloquially refereed to as a blog. I intend not only to mock the social agenda of my peers, but also the comical antics observed by most as "serious business". As a brief preliminary glimpse of the material I will discuss and provide I give you a man seemingly affiliated with an American street assemblage the Bloods. The ruse here is that any man with prior knowledge of American gang violence or Renaissance art would come almost instantaneously to the conclusion that this statement was not at all true and revel in laughter at the falsity portrayed by this images accompanying text. Now most take this assertion as relating to assemblage violence and therefore a serious matter seeing as how the outcomes of an assemblages campaigns against a rival assemblage (and in many cases law enforcement officials) often results in causalities in both opposing forces. Nevertheless let us cast that notion of sober mindedness aside and compose this ruses rightfully in the mind as comedic, for by Aristotle's definitions of poetics I have made my assertion of assemblage violence comedic in itself by portraying a action we deem as ugly and repulsive. For those less informed the Ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle stated in his definitions of poetics that comedy is the imitation of an act we would see in real life a ugly. Henceforth I propose that this blog is the stage and the actions of the actors are the text. These words are not only the voices of the actors but also their actions, and in that sense my portrayal of this American assemblage affiliate. All this is just the pretext however for the notion I convey to you that the assertions and accusations I may make in future works are only there to bring  joy to your heart and tears to your eyes, as the colloquialism goes you will be ROLFing what is meant by this I cannot say for I was not schooled in the arts of common internet colloquialisms.

A popular quandary puzzle for your amussment

I have come to the realization that the title of this blog, Practical Quandaries, is of little consquence to the literary works I will continue to publish through this outlet. I apologize if you find this blog and its works amalgamate your view of what a blog titled Practical Quandaries would entail. I hope you find the related attached picture comforting as my writings may have failed to do.

The Online Experience

This Picture is of no consequnce to the post

The online exprince casualy refers to the experiences accompinied by the use of a computing device that is linked up to the world wide web, the conection that exists between all computational devices that have access to this network. My online experience consists of my frequent viewing of modern media such as television shows and movies, old media in books and various literary productions made available on the web, and my presence in social networking sites. All these experiences are accompanied by mild emotinal responses much more insignificant then they would be if I was to partake in these internet activities in real life. Media online, however, still manages to provoke thought and philosophical responses as if I were reading, watching, or debating their ideals in real life. In summary I thoroughly enjoy the variety of literary works as well as video and audio media but I do not enjoy nor express any abhorrence towards social networking websites, but I refuse to make social networking part of my daily life as many of my peers do with great contentment.