11.29.2002

If every American only purchases one gift per child this shopping season, the entire economic system will collapse. Every parent can spend a little less time working and more time with their kids. Whatever system arises from the rubble will produce an aggregate increase in the quality of life.

11.27.2002

three minutes to write about it.

three minutes to stop laughing at myself.

three minutes to figure it out.

A note is prominently taped to the back of the office cordless phone. It says, "NO-NO-NO-BUTTONS FACE OUT."

living the rest of the dream
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The 5 rules of love, copyright Philip Baldwin approx. 1997 (emended):

There's no such thing as love
One person has to be in control
You can't change anyone
Keep one foot out the door
Everything must end
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The essence of man is in the form of a question.
-Heidegger

Is the essence some statement which happens to be a question? Or is the essence the existence of inquiry.
It's both, making it the best answer to this question I have seen thus far.
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Fuck Her.
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11.26.2002

Yesterday I was trying to explain to a friend why I wasn't upset when various pop stars died.
I tried to be curt:
"Do the people on T.V. care about you?"
"No."
"Why should you care about them?"

He immediately changed his opinion, stating, "I didn't give a care that Aaliyah dies."
It's easy to indoctrinate five year olds.

11.24.2002

You cannot mandate respect. I don't know who said this, maybe it was Malcolm X or perhaps Leo Durocher. Such is the way memory works. One cannot mandate inspiration. If I had anything to make good on my mandate, I would say that this manifesto will show a snapshot of me at this moment. Before I commit the dreadful act which I cannot, according to reason, validate in any way. Too many people destroy themselves and others they love to trust reason. I could for example produce high quality grade A reasons why I intend to first destroy others, then myself. But it would amount to arbitrary reason. Which cannot be tolerated.
Some random musings from Barnes and Noble: Asanti's book of poetry is 96 pages long. About half of the pages are pictures. This amounts to 40-some-odd pages of the worst bile ever committed to paper. Did the factory that produced this book have to turn off the crap filter on their printing machines? Every single employee working in those factories that produced that book could write better poetry during his/her lunchbreak. This is not to say that I believe in equality of semantics. I don't, I think it is generally a silly practice. His/her. Overuse of one. Star Trek changing from "where no man has gone before" to "where no one has gone before" being a television example. Only a woman could write such horrible poetry and take it seriously. Chimpanzees, if properly instructed, will produce better poems.
Did I tell you I digress? 6 billion people in this world. To make a difference on as large a portion of that 6 billion as possible, one must create an international stir. Only an American, at present, is capable of this. Lorena Bobbit, for her part, influenced billions. She made her mark, on a man, on the world. What difference does it really make, when all is said and done, whether or not your influence is positive or negative. George Washington's influence has spanned the spectrum of entirely positive to entirely negative and somewhere in between. I'm not concerned with precision with regards to my points. Substitute George Washington for someone else. As far as we are concerned, he exists only in that capacity which we allow him to exist. His influence opon his influence ended when he died--his influence lives now in our minds. No matter what I do, it must be extreme enough to exert this influence upon my influence and allow it to live in others minds and propagate itself. Shakespeare is read today because (among other reasons) of how long it has been extant.
My friend and I once watched a documentary on Ansel Adams. The film guided viewers through Adams' creative process. What struck us was how many pictures he took. Tens of thousands! He had assistants to develop the pictures and he would leaf through them--the eminent artist, picking the best of the crop for display. We instantly agreed that this was bullshit. How could this be art, we thought, he's just relying on luck. He goes to beautiful places in the woods--waterfalls and such and snaps thousands of pictures and just picks the best looking ones. The only reason his pictures are so pretty is because of quantity. What our High School minds couldn't explicate was that Ansel Adams does capitalistic art. He has capital--his cameras, tons of film, money to pay assistants, the assistants, studios, cars to drive him locales, research on locales etc. Abundent capital is the crucial component to his art. Without it, he cannot produce the necessary amount of raw data needed for a catalogue. We saw it as bullshit because it was less noble than the starving artist who does it with nothing for nothing.
Why should I start any narrative with an outline? Take what you will, the simple fact remains that I will continue to digress and I have a right to be whimsical. I make the rules. Then I change them.
So I write this without editing it. No capital. Somewhat linear, but tangential streams of the future killer.
College kids whose parents buy them fancy cars: these cars are capital. They filter out the lowly, humble looking women, and give status to the young students. This status increases their confidence, and a reliable car decreases their stress factor.
In capitalism, everything is capital.