sayisms

give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. teach a man to fish and a bunch of feminists will complain about inequality.

a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single incident of domestic violence.

a friend in need needs to pull himself up by his own god-damned bootstraps.

absence makes the heart grow fonder. abstinence makes the balls go blue.

all's fair in love and war. sorry about your std.

april showers bring may flowers, which we'll need for the ensuing flood casualties.

where morality fails

life tends to be an evolutionary tautology: that which survives and sustains itself (through fitness) is life, because life is, by definition, that which survives and sustains itself. unfit ("maladaptive") life-forms eventually cease to bear offspring and slip through the cracks, leaving mere echoes in nature's graveyard. dead men tell no tales they'd say, though tales may be told of dead men. the same theme applies to ideas and character traits, doubly so if these are of genetic origin. take morality and kindness, for instance.

imagine a utopia where everyone in the population is kind to one another: when one falls, another steps in to help him up; trust is not even a word in their vocabulary because distrust doesn't exist so they've never had to define it! now introduce one schemer, someone who acts intelligently towards (solely) his own interest. the schemer will eventually game the entire population and if they don't learn to game the schemer (by becoming schemers themselves), they will be overrun. at the same time, if everyone becomes a schemer the population system starts to fail because a lack of victims means that schemes no longer pay off. neither of these extremes are sustainable. the former requires an absolute blissful ignorance (not likely), the latter becomes chaos (likely to fail).

one would think then that life may go on if civilisation were to find a stable equilibrium, somewhere in between these extremes. one strategy might be to take the middle ground between morality and intelligence: you start off giving others the benefit of the doubt and treat them kindly, and reciprocate their reaction from then on. if they don't game you in response to your kindness, you trust them; if they game you, you game them back from then on. according the linked article, this middle ground between morality and intelligence, which lies very close to the heart of "fairness", is a golden rule for behaviour, in a game-theoretic way. but in life there are no golden rules. life's uncaring whims require a jeet kune do approach, a form of no forms and all forms whose roots lie in the golden paradox that "there are no golden rules." or as an older, wiser, less impulsive person might say: "even gold may erode with the ravages of time and circumstance."

it's not unwise to think that what should matter in determining the philosophy you apply to a situation is the totality of the situation at hand: all its specifics and all its context weighed together to devise the most efficient response. but efficiency is a dangerous word: it is always intelligent, but it may or may not be "moral". what happens when morality meets efficiency? can they be reconciled? what would be the essence of an efficient morality? we don't have to speculate, we can see it all around us: individuals banding together, exercising great kindness at local levels (family, friends, tribe, team, country) to advance their own cause but at the same time acting against the cause of others on a global level.

the truth is direct and simple: our own intelligence conspires with our circumstances to circumvent morality when it no longer yields a beneficial return. morality, it would seem, is situation-dependent. at some point it becomes un-scalable: the more people in a population, the harder it becomes to calculate an optimum solution for everyone and the easier it becomes to revert to self-interest.

our chosen philosophical oxymoron of the day, efficient morality, would exist perhaps on the verge just before morality fails (as an adaptive strategy to life). past that point lies a slippery slope to a cynic's pyrrhic wet dream: an ocean of schemers.

the point of failure cannot be manoeuvred solely by attempting to inculcate kindness in humans; a hungry man is an angry man. biological impulse wins that race by a mile. we can, however, attempt to control the conditions that destabilise the verge. that is, to balance our behaviours we must attack the circumstances that generate them. in boring physical terms this means we must balance the supply and demand for resources by 1) controlling population growth and 2) working on new technologies to better provide (food, energy) for the population. this sounds neither noble nor glamorous, but it is necessary. if it is true what the cynics say -that moral actions barely exist outside the forms of a façade, a conspicuous commodity exchanged for kudos in the modern world- then as populations continue to grow, putting pressure on resources and making it impossible to provide for everyone, it is not improbable that we as a civilisation are nearing a point where morality fails.

mindfulness: chew it over

a monk once said that when you eat you should eat thoughtfully, without rushing. this way, not only can you enjoy all the subtle variations of tastes on your tongue, your body can more accurately assess its need for nutrition and you'll be less likely to overeat.

my own experience is that engaging other people is not unlike the process of a meal, where the food is the information of human intent or action (words for example). before reacting you should mull it around just for an extra second on the mind's palate. if it is bitter or scalding, with time and practice, you may learn to wash it down with something pleasant, or breath in air to cool it down, and avoid having to spit the whole thing out at the other person. of course, if you are constantly fed sour fruit, you should refrain from eating at that table altogether.

the superficial

in an age where critical thinking is for the squares, i often find myself surrounded by circular reasoning. actually, that may not be the best title: "recursive idiocy" may be more apt a description. where do i see this phenomenon today? in the transmutation of words, which once had underlying meaning and context, to labels, now used for simplistic characterizations that are both highly efficient and grossly inaccurate under scrutiny. for example: someone becomes a celebrity simply for being well known, or something is called art because its creator calls himself an artist, or using the word negro on a census form creates an uproar just because a word with multiple contexts has one negative context. in this world of politically correct, contextually incorrect, labels a child growing up today might think that the statement "Check here if you are of Negro descent" is more cause for concern than "African-Americans are at greater risk of unfair sentencing in the penal system."

seraphim sayings from my novel to be

such is the power of its grasp, that one cannot escape the throes of despair merely through meta-cognition. tis will alone, in its purest form, that saves a soul from the deepest pit of melancholy. tis will alone that draws it through the stifling ash of tragedy to the free air above.

some beats!

headlines

a UN delegate has proposed walkout practice to make leaving in disgust a more coordinated spectacle. "timing is everything!" said the delegate to AP news, "there's always that one guy who gets up too early, when the speaker is just warming up. sometimes we have a laugh at that but honestly this is the UN not amateur hour!"

"we also suffer the opposite problem," continued the delegate, "the slow pokes among us often fail to demonstrate their revulsion in time to prevent that one inevitable iota of substance from popping into the speech. it ruins the entire exit as it dampens the outrage we feel when the speaker has unleashed his second string of revolting statements about our actions in his third world country. ideally, we should be up and walking by the time it gets to be scathing or searing criticism."

deep throughts

as a manly man i don't think men should drink with anything less than a double-barreled straw. viggo mortensen probably drinks with those.

lil wayne should show his lyrical prowess again by coming up with more fecal concept metaphors about how he is "the shit". then he can laugh at how clever he is in his own song.

kanye west is like the interrupting cow knock knock joke, except gayer.

stream of consciousness: ... , ! ? ; ' *

my punctuation, marc'll punch your face in, pause /
pussies pacing, plus y'all paranoid because /
y'all push too far, played me hard so i launch attacks /
20 paces til i blaze these niggas on the tracks /
in many places, many faces fall, silent as my knights /
storm your castle, your rights are just, not worth my hassle /
i blast you, wage wars on ya cattle, herds topple like statues /
fight's over fast, long before the start of battle /
you expire like statutes, know your limitations, y'all /
imitation niggas claim the struggle of a black youth /
you lack truth, so imma attack you, i'm such the shit that /
when my niggas shot at, we say that life's a crap shoot <>

time waits for no man, tonnes on my fuckin mind /
pluck a trigger like a string, got a nigga duckin rhymes /
caref'ly wrapped this one joint in precious time, it's serious /
an mc's rap is on point, y'all niggas on your periods /
d-dot-dot, i buss shots, so you come to rest... /
lethal ellipsis on your chest, leaving you short of breath /
your shorties left, vegetative like a comatose patient /
life sentence: put on on hold by correct comma placement <>

*breathe*

we bring it loud like a beretta so you better run /
veterans with better guns, on and on, et cetera /
number one like Federer, why you start a racket? /
older gods at a hat'll, drop you hard from the bracket /
you lack it, the smooth operation of a criminal /
dash your hype when, hyphens crash your crew, into syllables /
you silly fools, your chords are no use, like umbilicals /
the ones that form a noose around the neckline of your physical /
my lyrics will, pierce your internals as you hold on /
for dear life: bleeding shit 'cause the semi buss your colon /
so cold on, autopsy metal tables where your bodies be /
i flow on, i own this, this's my apostrophe <>

headlines

* torso-less, armless hipster wearing t-shirt "ironically"

* serta researchers develop revolutionary "minority-friendly mattresses" to relieve ethnic unrest

* whistle-blower claims "post-lunch lethargy at UN headquarters significantly decreases number of UN pledges"; vacuousness of the pledges remains unaffected

Death Panels: Why I am Pro Choice!

I am more often than not pro-choice on the issue of fetus abortion. It occurred to me that, if fetuses have more intrinsic future value than old people, it would be intellectually untenable to be pro-life (anti-death-panel) with regard to the aged. Here I list some of the pro-choice arguments I found on the internet, as applied to abortion of old people.

* Nearly all abortions take place in the first trimester, when a fetus cannot exist independent of the mother. As it is attached by the placenta and umbilical cord, its health is dependent on her health, and cannot be regarded as a separate entity as it cannot exist outside her womb.

Nearly all abortion take place on and after the 225th trimester, when an old person cannot exist independent of society. As it is attached by family means, social security and medicare funding, its health is dependent on society's wealth, and cannot be regarded as a separate entity as it cannot exist outside society's umbrella of protection.

* The concept of personhood is different from the concept of human life. Human life occurs at conception, but fertilized eggs used for in vitro fertilization are also human lives and those not implanted are routinely thrown away. Is this murder, and if not, then how is abortion murder?

The concept of personhood is different from the concept of human life. Human life occurs until death, and scientific studies have shown that nature routinely kills all humans that aren't dead by artificial means 100% of the time, no exceptions. Is this murder, and if not, then how is abortion murder?

* Abortion is a safe medical procedure. The vast majority of women - 88% - who have an abortion do so in their first trimester. Medical abortions have less than 0.5% risk of serious complications and do not affect a woman's health or future ability to become pregnant or give birth.

Abortion is a safe medical procedure. The vast majority of old people- 100% - who have an abortion do so in their last trimester. Medical abortions have less than 0.0% risk of serious complications and do not affect an old person's health or future ability to become pregnant or give birth, because he/she could not reproduce or survive anyway, and, furthermore, is now dead.

* Teenagers who become mothers have grim prospects for the future. They are much more likely to leave school; receive inadequate prenatal care; rely on public assistance to raise a child; develop health problems; or end up divorced.

Old people who become ill have grim prospects for the future. They are much more likely to leave life; receive inadequate geriatric care; rely on public assistance to raise themselves; develop even more health problems; or end up dead.

* Like any other difficult situation, abortion creates stress. Yet the American Psychological Association found that stress was greatest prior to an abortion, and that there was no evidence of post-abortion syndrome.

Like any other difficult situation, abortion creates stress. Yet the American Psychological Association found that stress was greatest prior to an abortion, and that there was no evidence of post-abortion syndrome, since the patients are now dead.

headlines

area addict worried about the effects of rehabilitation on her crack-baby
/
area student one-ups resumes-padders: founds the National Association of Associations
/
area man mildly regrets decision to continue chewing gum while taking a shower
/

headlines

a princeton sociology study has corroborated the existence of anti-knowledge culture in the hip hop industry. aptly titled "MCs act like they don't know" after the seminal KRS-One track, the report showed the results of a questionnaire that was carefully crafted to reflect the realities of urban life, of which, researchers assumed, the rapper recipients should be fully aware.

much to the authors' surprise, a mere 5% of recipients responded to the survey and of those received most entailed abstractions, obfuscations and quite often insinuations that the authors' wives and mothers were sleeping with the survey recipients.

"not a single response contained the answers we sought about life in the inner city," said study author Bob Wuthnow, "even though these rappers have, through their hip hop music, demonstrated specialized knowledge of several urban topics, from ghetto linguistics to allah's mathematics. at first, i thought that our survey had been sabotaged by a rival journal with whom we've had beef for quite some time now, but follow up calls to survey recipients confirmed nagging suspicions that most of the MCs were simply inclined to feign ignorance."

headlines

black entrepreneurs invent side-sighted firearms; citing "paucity of supply catering to minority gangsta market"

area student inhales radioactive, genetically enhanced weed smoke; develops ability to finish all his roommate's remaining cereal in one go

aging rapper krs-one succumbs to alzheimer's, answers "the MC" to every question asked of him

stream of consciousness: cognitive bias

i like to tinker with the tools for your thinking,
food for thought i just chew it up,
no room for fools,

i pick and choose the rules,

and high jinks
lower blows leave a stink
like rows of roses, over those past the brink:
those for whom the pulse of doom got no kink
on stage you flat-line at my nines,
see your life flash like light,
i fight crews, i don't blink,
so glazed are my eyes all the time.
dehydrated,
i'm thirstier than drunkards
drooling back in their drink
but still fire,
bullet-grazed yet on point with the rhyme,
unfazed and amazing,

blaze a joint on this line,
put bluntly:
you couldn't find an axe that could stump me,
you dull B,
my cypher's sick, i'll smoke you like bud trees,
i'm hungry,
your tries to diss are stuck in your guts see,
like shit,
my rhymes will kick you right where them nuts be,
you're rusty,
your ammunition's awfully pointless,
pull a pistol:
bullet blitzkrieg that i hollowed the points in,
standard issue,
empty clips do get switched,
i anoint with,
an ointment of hits
that explode like the shits
and damage tissues.
couldn't fathom how i'll atom split you,
mushroom clouds to move the crowds: 

mind-matter fission.

and wise adage missiles,

the aftermath's official:

after laughter comes the tears,

look: here's a tissue.

headlines

area rapper consults timepiece, tells those niggas what time it is;

area penis passes out, wakes up with guy drawn on his head; completely oblivious

stream of consciousness: who's gonna save my soul now?

wrote this on the beat of gnarls barkely's "who's gonna save my soul now?" which had previously escaped my ears. a wicked take from a male dumper's perspective. what you say gnarls? remix with ghostface killah?

~~~

we used to be the sun in the sky,
stars shining,
hearts bright and, enlightened,
but harsh nights encroached on,
to spite our warm summers day,
delight just alighted away,
faint approach of the cold upon love,
some will say,
creeps quiet beneath us,
the flesh rendered weakened,
what spirits unwilling won't speak of,
mired in our own latent struggles:
our feet,
tied up in our frustrated hustles:
our hands,
tired instruments,
unplayed by dead minstrels as we,
cry out in a drawn sluggish speech:
i love you...
baby i love you
bitch fuck you,
i love you, but fuck you.
you're selfish i'm selfish, it's ending,
what do we spend all this night's oil to see?
in the valley of our shadow,
some trees?
nothing grows above a barren soil,
these leaves underneath?
but the throes of a love devoid,
of life,
brightest day burned in vain,
to the darkest void of night,
blackest hole swallow fabric,
the space we both needed,
invaded then bleeded,
the contempt we breed, it was fated,
fam- il-i-ar-i-ty
changed things,
from charity to favors,
the vanity enslaved us,
renditions of our love were now labored,
and labelled, conditioned,
serenades became sermons on behavior,
false fables, fuck this shit...

stream of consciousness: hunter killers

the mad nomad hopping stops bussin raps at earlobes, dropping bombs worldwide geo-tagging your globes, critic'lly thinking, kill em all, religious faggots in robes, priestly pillars pilloried for penny bagging the dope, rise the dealers, made a menace 'cause our tricks are all sleeveless, made a mess of crossing chests, saw it's not only the meekest, only the strong survive crap shoots the longest, guns rise, so fuck jesus, deuces wild so screwed am i while i play games with sharks eating, narcs cheating, packing shards-of-glass in crack-coated cards, see who dealt us, bluffed calls, out of options, zero deltas, money left us no shelter, discontent of cold winter sure teach us, many necessary evils of life -like strapping heaters disguised, and how to see through the lies what, beneath us are the tracks of deceit of, the acts of great speakers, at whom my gun-sights reveal weakness, "self-evident that all men are equals", i'll sneak up, apparatus shatter like beakers, i speak the TRUTH, that no man is born bullet-proof.

tigger's brother and white kid

phdcomics