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These are getting harder to write each and every time. The only things I can think up to say are just incredibly horrible sarcastic comments involving blind puppies. But, I'll push through it one last time.

---

We don't need to read! A picture is worth a thousand words, right? Then that picture book I read in first grade is far superior to War and Peace. We have only a limited amount of time, I don't need to waste it reading a novel for a month when it can be condensed into an hour and a half movie.

Written language was developed because that was the only way we could keep record of things. We have a better way to do that now: records! We have digital technologies! Writing on paper and carving into stone was only a temporary solution! 

The purpose of language is to communicate, and I think we should do so in the most efficient way so that we are able to use our time doing things of value.

So, if I ever have kids, I will not teach them how to read. I will teach them better, more important skills that can be done with the saved time. I'll teach them how to juggle!

Language is a really interesting thing, though. Language is just the medium that we use to convey thoughts. There are thoughts and ideas that are the most important to us, and we know which these most important ideas are, because they are given the best words. If you think of words, devoid of meaning, you just have a bunch of possible syllable combinations. Words are the parking spaces for ideas. The best parking spaces are the ones closest to the building, the shortest path. The most economical route. The best words are the shortest words. We give the things that we feel are the most important the smallest words. Food, beer, sleep. All one syllable words. Nobody cares about Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis! The fewer amount of syllables, the more important it is!

So if we use this rule to deconstruct our language, having a son is better than having a daughter. This is because a one syllable word is more important than two syllable word. And both are better than having a hermaphrodite. Who wants four syllables? People would rather have a miscarriage! Hey, it's only three syllables.

This is also why man is more important than woman.

Women say they want equality, but they won't be equal as long as they are not even equal in our language! Male, female. Still, 'male' is more important!

If women want to be equal, they need a word of equal length. And unfortunately, there is not really any parking spaces available. All the possible one syllable words are in use, so they will have to steal a parking place, tow an idea that is not really needing it's parking space. All the ideas that are using up the one syllable words are more important than the idea of woman. The idea of 'joy' is more important to us. The idea of 'warmth' is more important. Even the idea of 'hat' is more important to us!

The Declaration of Independence says that all men are created equal. So, let me get this straight: I'm being told that all men are created equal? You're telling me that Albert Einstein is equal to a down-syndrome-ridden Goodwill employee who is not even fit to operate a microwave? Alright, sure.

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There's an insult that I never really understood. Chicken! I mean, what's wrong with being a chicken? Why did the chicken get such a bad reputation? What did the chicken do? You can't blame the chicken for being chicken. The process of evolution is what leaves us with cowardly chickens. There were courageous chickens that did exist a long time ago, but they don't exist now. Why? A chicken that goes up to Mufasa is going to have a problem. Chickens, for the record, are not strong, tough creatures. They are little things that taste delicious! Mufasa is a big, hardened lion. That chicken is dead and he ain't having kids to pass on his courageous genes. So ends the race of the courageous chickens. Chickens that were courageous were stupendously stupid. Our chickens of today are smart to run away! When you call someone a chicken, you are calling them highly intelligent!

The best insults are the insults where you, the insulter, use lots of long words that the insultee does not understand. Then your insult is a double insult, as you also insult their intelligence. You don't even have to use real words or words that match up, just as long as you do so with confidence. Even if you use some words they know, as long as you say it confidently, they will doubt whether they know the proper usage or not.

---

"91,000 people are awaiting an organ transplant. 18 die everyday waiting for an organ that never comes." We should stop making being an organ diner optional. You are going to die, and at least one of your organs will be useful to someone. When people are given the choice to become an organ diner when they die, they are contemplating their own demise, and in part pushing this thought from their mind, they respond with a "NO." There is no reason for this refusal. If you ask them, you get the response "Oh, I just FEEL weird about it. And because I feel weird about something that will happen after I die, other people will have to die to."

After you die, I don't think you can argue that it is your body anymore, as you really have no ability to argue when you are dead. You can't say, "Hey, it's my body, I don't what that jerk Jim using my liver," because you are dead. It isn't your body anymore, because you no longer exist.

---

Rant incoming. I can feel it.

So, I am on break now. I still have to register for classes in my broken major, and to do this I have to email my advisor who advised me incorrectly last semester. But the point is, I'm on break. I'm also near a break in my mind. I don't know how to spend my time. I'm playing guitar, but it isn't rewarding anymore, as I just play the same patterns over and over again. I don't want to practice piano, because I am not excited about painfully struggling to play musical ideas that I can already play with the greatest of ease on guitar. I don't really want to read, as most fiction is lacking in imagination, and nonfiction is too dense and bland. I don't want to play video games or watch movies and television, as that I see as a waste of time.

Plus, I'm still unable to eat food that I want to eat. I am also sick (probably bronchitis, as that is what everyone else at my house has). I'm tired all day, unable to breathe, unable to eat. The mornings are strangely heavy as I wake up with a hollowed head, and aching body. I don't mentally wake up until a few minutes before I try to go to bed, and then I'm stuck with insomnia, contemplating.

I'm guessing my short story was too dense.

Okay, folks. Looks like this is the end. I am not really ever going to make any more animations or art that would be posted here, so I don't know why I stuck around so long. I've just been writing these journals, and heavily editing them. I'll continue to write these things, but I will not attempt to tame them so that they are presentable. Maybe I'll post them on a blog, but who knows? I don't care.

I'm like Willy Wonka shutting down my factory, perhaps it will start running again in a few years, and will be operated by little men? I hated the remake. The one with Gene Wilder was good because Roald Dahl was actually involved. Tim Burton just doesn't do good remakes. I cite the Mark Wahlberg Planet of the Apes as evidence. (I've never even seen it, that is how horrible it is!)

Gotten way off topic. Chao!

  • Listening to: Bloomdido
  • Reading: Philosophical Investigations
  • Watching: The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson
  • Playing: over a Bb jazz-blues progression
  • Eating: rosemary bread
  • Drinking: Gatorade (not to be confused with gator AIDS)

deviantID

Julianrocks
David Bowman
2001: A Spaced Odyssey

I'm no Kubrick or C Clarke,
But I've been lost in that strange dark,
I could never figure out that ending,
I could never figure out that ending,

Disappearing in that room,
Confusion, confusion, and gloom,
I could never figure out that ending,
I could never figure out that ending,

Was the bab' really born again?
How can it know in such a spin?
I could never figure out that ending,
I could never figure out that ending,

Couldn't figure out the end,
But while the tome was madly penned,
Understood just how was spun:
I know what happened in 2001.
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