The main problem here is the hype for No Man's Sky was almost entirely a fan creation, so it takes some cheek to turn round and blame the developers.

Firstly i'd like to say that it's clear to me you're not interested in discussing this, but rather somehow interested in some sort of conflict. I'm not, and i spent a good while thinking about my post before making it; your suggestion that i didn't read your post is soundly rejected. Possibly you didn't read or acknowledge the content of your own post because you have forced yourself into a position where all i have to do is show one single example of something being funny at the expense of no one or nothing to prove you wrong and now you have to be rude (the first sign you know your position is indefensible) and provide little to no justification of any of your numbered points (because you know they are weak).

I'll be honest, i'm not going to entertain suggestions that a joke can be at the expense of an inanimate object or fictional character. Between that and your distinctly shoddy arguments I think you're trolling.

A joke at the expense of a stick? At the expense of a fictional character? ET is not something or someone. It doesn't exist, it is a construct of our imagination and does not have physical form. It isn't even a "thing" (if i say that unicorns are arrogant bastards, does that make me xenophobic? They don't exist, but if ET can suffer jocular expense, unicorns can suffer expense at my comment also. I hate martians too, they're all short, ugly, grey bastards. Am i a racist now?). The zebra thing isn't actually a riddle - it pretends to be a riddle and ends up being silly; i can't understand your reasoning on this and you didn't explain it (no surprises there, your post is full of holes).

When you tell someone a joke, you are entering into a contract by which both people know that word play or trickery is going to be involved. By taking part in the joke, you are voluntarily allowing yourself to be misled so that a juxtaposition of ideas in your head makes you laugh. You aren't laughing at the expense of yourself. In the same way as reading a book or watching a film - you are not being lied to, you are not being tricked, you are a willing participant. When a magician performs a trick for you, you are suspending your disbelief and participating in a flight of fancy for entertainment purposes. Magic isn't shadenfreude either - no one suffers expense, they both enjoy and know that skilful subterfuge has taken place - though i'm sure you'll argue the contrary before you admit you've over committed to your point.

If a clown puts on an act for you and you laugh when his trousers fall down, you aren't laughing at the expense of the clown because he did it intentionally to make you laugh, he did not suffer expense. You are not laughing at the expense of yourself because you know that what he is doing is an act, you did not suffer expense (except for the ticket price, badum tish - there's another 'joke' at the expense of nothing/no one).

What you've tried to do is supply the definition of "joke" or "humour" such that the definition involves the word "trick" in a negative context and thus lead to shadenfreude. Not everyone thinks the same way as you do, which is what i tried to explain to you earlier; if you want to say "to me, everything is shadenfreude - i laugh only ever at the expense of something/someone" then i say fair enough, but that is not what you initially said.

So if/when you first heard the stick joke, you laughed AT the stick? The ET joke, you laughed AT ET? You laughed AT the mathemetician? I don't believe you, but regardless that isn't the point you made; many if not most other people are not laughing at ET or the stick, they are laughing at the juxtaposition of ideas. And therefore comedy/humour (not your very specific definition of it, which is irrelevant to our debate) is not ALWAYS at the expense of others, even if i accept that something that doesn't exist/is inanimate can suffer an emotional expense.

And finally, i don't understand the metaphorical suggestion that i shunned your need for air, when actually i spent a good 20 minutes providing you with air only to have you turn round and say "that's not air, it's nitrogen and oxygen with trace amounts of other gases!" and pull a trollface before passing out. Don't worry though, i'll drag you back to shore and make sure you're ok (this post).

I have a friend who I went to school with who is gay. There was a group of about five or six of us who were really close friends. We all suspected he was gay but it just wasn't an issue and it never came up in conversation or anything. When we finished school his family moved abroad for a couple of years but then things went a bit wrong for them and they moved back. It was great to see him again.

After about a month of him being back we'd seen each other a few times and I got a phone call from him. He sounded a little weird, like something was up and he said 'I've got something to tell you.'

I said straight away 'are you gay?'

There was a huge pause and he eventually said 'Er, yes. You're the third person to say that.'

I told him we'd suspected it for a long time. It never came up in the same way that you wouldn't turn round to one of us and say 'hey, you like girls, right?' It was an all boys school so there weren't girls around all the time to force the issue. None of us were mega cool and although a few had girlfriends every now and then none of them were particularly serious so most of the time when we hung out it was just the guys anyway.

Even so we'd all got a reasonable gaydar on us and knew he liked boys. I'd be very surprised if a family didn't realise their kid/brother/sister was gay.

Only one of our friends had any issue with him being gay, the rest of us just got on with things as normal as nothing had changed for us, we already knew. It was good to be able to talk to him about it though, or more for him to be able to talk to us. By this time most of us were in relationships and it's been really interesting seeing his relationship with his boyfriend flourish over time as my relationship with my now wife has done.

I saw the whole thing as a sign that I'd found some pretty good friends. No judging, no awkwardness, no nothing. Good guys.

Oh, apart from the one who did have a problem. Funnily enough there was only one religious person amongst our group of friends too...

>> ^westy:

Lol this is pritty funny ,
I do however think its strange how culturally its ok to laff and beliitel fat people but it would be socially unacceptable to mock sum one that is anorexic.
Im pritty sure most people would rather not be fat/obise ( to the exstent that its crippling) and its due to phisoligy , depresoin , lack of education or other factors largely outside of the individuals control as to why they end up super fat.


I'm not referring to slightly overweight people here, disclaimer;

I'm sorry but i don't believe that. I'm fairly sure only a very small amount can blame physiology. Depression perhaps, but i'd say from my experience only a small fraction of depressed people turn to COPIOUS (and let's face it, that's what it would require) eating to help them out.

Lack of education i don't believe whatsoever - no one is gonna turn round and go "Hang on, what? Eating 3 buckets of KFC a day makes you fat? WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME! I'VE WASTED MY LIFE!" Haven't humans known about food (too much = fat, too little = starvation) almost as a basic instinct but certainly as a learned property of that thing we crave from birth? Could a human REALLY go for a day without reading, hearing or otherwise gleaning some knowledge of calories or weight gain in the current world?

Maybe i'm wrong, i find it as hard as anyone to lose weight but i just make a plan and stick to that plan. And the people who sit there (other than medical problems) i just think - not enough willpower. Just get up and do it.

@MaxWilder - i've had to lose weight in the past (due to depression, no less, but only because the tablets caused me to retain weight), and it's simple maths - if you burn more calories than you take in, you use up some of the energy that your body has stored (energy has to come from somewhere). Willpower is all you need, and exercise/diet becomes easier the longer you keep it up, it becomes habit. As for eating healthily - surely not? I can get food which would last me for 3 or 4 days of decent eating for the same price that it would cost me to get a KFC meal. And if we're talking a KFC meal suitable for someone weighing 350 pounds then i could feed myself for over a week i think. I don't think it's that hard unless you are one of the very few people who have something medically wrong with them.

Or am i wrong and "lack of willpower" is now seen as something that you can't help? Because i've always seen lack of willpower as lazyness. I feel almost like it's getting too easy to blame a label. I would get up and exercise but i've got <x>. Maybe you have willpower but it's not my fault, i have <y>. Am i a bastard for thinking that, no, i feel the same way, i don't want to move - humans like electrons want to be in their lowest energy state. But i just god damn do it anyway.

1:01 my heart really went into overdrive. He seemed to be looking up and wondering why everyone was bailing out, then turned round and...

So the world does turn
Round and round and round

Gimme a min't
Snarf!

Wait a second.
Is it me? Or November?

Or some lesser thing
Tracking my spelling

Is it me?
Or is it you?

A beautiful mixture

I am sure

(possibly the worst fucking poem in the world - but I meant well)

It's almost ten o clock see i got a ball of lifted property
so i slid my beenie hat on sloppily
and promenade out to take up a collection
i got game like i read the directions
i 'm wishing that i had an automobile
as i feel the cold wind rush past
but let me state that i am a hustler for real
so you know i got the stolen bus pass
just as the bus pulls up and i step to the rear
this ole lady look like she drank a forty of fear
i see my ole school partner said his brother got popped
pay my respects
can you ring the bell we came to my stop
the street light reflects off the piss on the ground
which reflects off the hamburger sign as it turns round
which reflects off the chrome of the bmw
which reflects off the fact that i am broke
now what the fuck is new
i need loot i sweat the motherfucka
in the tweed suit
and i'm on his ass quicker than a kick from a grease boot
eased up slow and discreet
could tell he was suspicious by the way he slid his feet
didn't wanna fuck up the come on
so i smiled with my eyes said hey how it's hanging guy
bumped into his shoulders but he passed with no reaction
damn this motherfucka had a hella of andrew jacksons
i'm a thief or pickpocket give a fuck what you call it
used to call em fat cats.
i just call them wallets getting federal aint just a klepto
master card or visa i'd gladly accept those
sneaky motherfucka with a scam know how to pull it
got a mirror in my pocket but that wont stop no bullets
story just begun but you already know
aint no need to get down shit i'm already low

My footsteps echo in the darkness
my teeth clenched tight like a fist in the cold sharp mist
i look down and i hear my somach growling
step to burger king to attack it like a shaolin
i never pay for shit that i can get by doing dirt
link up to the girl cashier and start to flirt
all up in her face and her breath was like murder
damn the shit i do for a free hamburger
(girl )"well you got my number you gonna call me tonite"
it depends is them burgers attached to a price
"sorry sorry"
im just kidding i'ma call you write you love letters
"it's all good"
thanks for the burgers emm hook me up with a dr pepper.
(girl)thats cool you want some ice
yeah and some fries will be hella nice
(girl) damn my managers coming play it off okay have a nice day
im up outta here anyway
i use peoples before they use me
cos you could get got by an uzi over an oz
thats what an og told me
gots to find someplace warm and cozy to eat the vittles that i just got
came to an underground parking lot
this place is good as any fuck its all good
walked in found a car hopped itself up on a hood
ate my burger threw back my cola
somebody said hey it was a rented pig i thought it was a roller
"want me to call the cops?"
i dont want them to see me
looked down and saw that i was sitting on a lamboughini
it was rollses ferraris and jags by the dozen
a building door opened
damn it was my cousin
getting offa work dressed up no lie
tux cummerband and a blackbow tie
i was like hey
"who is it"
me
"oh whats up man i just quit this company
they hella racist and the pay was too low "
i said arite what was up in there though
"a party with rich motherfuckas i dont know the situation
i know they got cabbage owning corporations
ibm chryslers and shit is what they seeing"
just then a light bulb went off in my head
they be thinking all black folks is resembling
gimme your tux and i'll do some pocket swindling
fit the change in the bathroom and i freeze off my nuts
lets take a short break
while i get into this tux
grunt zipp
alright i'm ready

Fresh dressed like a million bucks
i be the flyiest muthafucka in an afro and a tux
my arm is at a right angle up silver tray in my hand
may i interest you in some caviar mam
my eyes shoots round the room there and here
noticing the diamonds in the chandelier
background barry manilow copacobana
and a strong ass scent of stoagies from havana
what no place where a brother might been
snobby ole ladies drinking champagne with rich white men
allrite then lets begin this
nights like this is good for business
five minutes in the mix noticed several diffrent cliques
talking giggling and shit
well one mother fucka gave me twits
and everbody else jacking it throttling
found out later you know coca cola bottling
talking to a black man who he's confused
we looking hella bourgie
ass all tight and seditty
recognzed him as the mayor of my city
who treats young black man like frank nitty
mr coke said to mr mayor "you know we got a process like ice t's hair
we put up the fund for your election campaign
and oh um waiter can you bring the champagne"
a real estate fronts as opportunities arousing
to make some condos out of low income housing
immediately we need some media heat
to say that gangs run the street and then we bring in the police fleet
harrasing me everbody till they look inebriated
when we bought the land motherfuckas will appreciate it
dont worry about the urban league or jesse jackson
my man that owns marlboros
donated a fat sum
thats when i step back some to contemplate what few know
sat down wrestle with my thoughts like a sumo
aint no one player that could beat this lunancy
aint no hustler on the street could do a whole community
this is how deep shit can get
it reads macaroni on my birth certificate
poontang is my middle name but i cant hang
i'm getting hustled
only knowing half the game
shit how the fuck do i get out of this place.

the stupid thing is she was walking away when she turned round, so shed obviously thought about it and decided it was ok. It wasnt. For all we know shed have thrown anything else she had in her hands, guys end up with blood coming out of them every weekend in arguments that a women takes up anotch like that.

Besides, its all very well saying that you wouldnt respond, but when it happens to you, its a diffrent matter. I know if i was in his place when she did that, id likely shove her over too.

Kicking is a bit much maybe, but as i say, at least he didnt throw a punch... which he surely would have if it was a guy that did it. Of the two, hes the only one thats shown any restraint, so yea..... im willing to side with him.

That said, i dont doubt he acted like a pri*k to get her this angry to begin with, but when you take an argument physical, you need to understand who youve picked a fight with.

In reply to this comment by rottenseed:
Is tossing a liquid the same as throwing a blunt object at somebody? Nope. I like to see dumb broads who think they can get away with whatever they want put into their place just as much as anybody but what this guy does isn't "fair play" as you put it. In fact, it's unfair and an overreaction to say the least. Imagine a father doing that to his child because he throws a tantrum. Yea, I'd expect him to do something, but that is RIDICULOUS.

In reply to this comment by sirex:
im not saying its a fair fight, im saying shes an idiot for throwing a drink into a guys face, therefore taking an otherwise verbal argument physical (hell, its common assault), from that point on, its fair play. Next time, when she throws her beer bottle at a guy and it cracks him in the head, is he still meant to just stand there ?

My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.

I give Pirrip as my father's family name, on the authority of his tombstone and my sister - Mrs. Joe Gargery, who married the blacksmith. As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first fancies regarding what they were like, were unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The shape of the letters on my father's, gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man, with curly black hair. From the character and turn of the inscription, "Also Georgiana Wife of the Above," I drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly. To five little stone lozenges, each about a foot and a half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside their grave, and were sacred to the memory of five little brothers of mine - who gave up trying to get a living, exceedingly early in that universal struggle - I am indebted for a belief I religiously entertained that they had all been born on their backs with their hands in their trousers-pockets, and had never taken them out in this state of existence.

Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within, as the river wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first most vivid and broad impression of the identity of things, seems to me to have been gained on a memorable raw afternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out for certain, that this bleak place overgrown with nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this parish, and also Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the dark flat wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with dykes and mounds and gates, with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the marshes; and that the low leaden line beyond, was the river; and that the distant savage lair from which the wind was rushing, was the sea; and that the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip.

"Hold your noise!" cried a terrible voice, as a man started up from among the graves at the side of the church porch. "Keep still, you little devil, or I'll cut your throat!"

A fearful man, all in coarse grey, with a great iron on his leg. A man with no hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his head. A man who had been soaked in water, and smothered in mud, and lamed by stones, and cut by flints, and stung by nettles, and torn by briars; who limped, and shivered, and glared and growled; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me by the chin.

"O! Don't cut my throat, sir," I pleaded in terror. "Pray don't do it, sir."

"Tell us your name!" said the man. "Quick!"

"Pip, sir."

"Once more," said the man, staring at me. "Give it mouth!"

"Pip. Pip, sir."

"Show us where you live," said the man. "Pint out the place!"

I pointed to where our village lay, on the flat in-shore among the alder-trees and pollards, a mile or more from the church.

The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned me upside down, and emptied my pockets. There was nothing in them but a piece of bread. When the church came to itself - for he was so sudden and strong that he made it go head over heels before me, and I saw the steeple under my feet - when the church came to itself, I say, I was seated on a high tombstone, trembling, while he ate the bread ravenously.

"You young dog," said the man, licking his lips, "what fat cheeks you ha' got."

I believe they were fat, though I was at that time undersized for my years, and not strong.

"Darn me if I couldn't eat em," said the man, with a threatening shake of his head, "and if I han't half a mind to't!"

I earnestly expressed my hope that he wouldn't, and held tighter to the tombstone on which he had put me; partly, to keep myself upon it; partly, to keep myself from crying.

"Now lookee here!" said the man. "Where's your mother?"

"There, sir!" said I.

He started, made a short run, and stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"There, sir!" I timidly explained. "Also Georgiana. That's my mother."

"Oh!" said he, coming back. "And is that your father alonger your mother?"

"Yes, sir," said I; "him too; late of this parish."

"Ha!" he muttered then, considering. "Who d'ye live with - supposin' you're kindly let to live, which I han't made up my mind about?"

"My sister, sir - Mrs. Joe Gargery - wife of Joe Gargery, the blacksmith, sir."

"Blacksmith, eh?" said he. And looked down at his leg.

After darkly looking at his leg and me several times, he came closer to my tombstone, took me by both arms, and tilted me back as far as he could hold me; so that his eyes looked most powerfully down into mine, and mine looked most helplessly up into his.

"Now lookee here," he said, "the question being whether you're to be let to live. You know what a file is?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you know what wittles is?"

"Yes, sir."

After each question he tilted me over a little more, so as to give me a greater sense of helplessness and danger.

"You get me a file." He tilted me again. "And you get me wittles." He tilted me again. "You bring 'em both to me." He tilted me again. "Or I'll have your heart and liver out." He tilted me again.

I was dreadfully frightened, and so giddy that I clung to him with both hands, and said, "If you would kindly please to let me keep upright, sir, perhaps I shouldn't be sick, and perhaps I could attend more."

He gave me a most tremendous dip and roll, so that the church jumped over its own weather-cock. Then, he held me by the arms, in an upright position on the top of the stone, and went on in these fearful terms:

"You bring me, to-morrow morning early, that file and them wittles. You bring the lot to me, at that old Battery over yonder. You do it, and you never dare to say a word or dare to make a sign concerning your having seen such a person as me, or any person sumever, and you shall be let to live. You fail, or you go from my words in any partickler, no matter how small it is, and your heart and your liver shall be tore out, roasted and ate. Now, I ain't alone, as you may think I am. There's a young man hid with me, in comparison with which young man I am a Angel. That young man hears the words I speak. That young man has a secret way pecooliar to himself, of getting at a boy, and at his heart, and at his liver. It is in wain for a boy to attempt to hide himself from that young man. A boy may lock his door, may be warm in bed, may tuck himself up, may draw the clothes over his head, may think himself comfortable and safe, but that young man will softly creep and creep his way to him and tear him open. I am a-keeping that young man from harming of you at the present moment, with great difficulty. I find it wery hard to hold that young man off of your inside. Now, what do you say?"

I said that I would get him the file, and I would get him what broken bits of food I could, and I would come to him at the Battery, early in the morning.

"Say Lord strike you dead if you don't!" said the man.

I said so, and he took me down.

"Now," he pursued, "you remember what you've undertook, and you remember that young man, and you get home!"

"Goo-good night, sir," I faltered.

"Much of that!" said he, glancing about him over the cold wet flat. "I wish I was a frog. Or a eel!"

At the same time, he hugged his shuddering body in both his arms - clasping himself, as if to hold himself together - and limped towards the low church wall. As I saw him go, picking his way among the nettles, and among the brambles that bound the green mounds, he looked in my young eyes as if he were eluding the hands of the dead people, stretching up cautiously out of their graves, to get a twist upon his ankle and pull him in.

When he came to the low church wall, he got over it, like a man whose legs were numbed and stiff, and then turned round to look for me. When I saw him turning, I set my face towards home, and made the best use of my legs. But presently I looked over my shoulder, and saw him going on again towards the river, still hugging himself in both arms, and picking his way with his sore feet among the great stones dropped into the marshes here and there, for stepping-places when the rains were heavy, or the tide was in.

The marshes were just a long black horizontal line then, as I stopped to look after him; and the river was just another horizontal line, not nearly so broad nor yet so black; and the sky was just a row of long angry red lines and dense black lines intermixed. On the edge of the river I could faintly make out the only two black things in all the prospect that seemed to be standing upright; one of these was the beacon by which the sailors steered - like an unhooped cask upon a pole - an ugly thing when you were near it; the other a gibbet, with some chains hanging to it which had once held a pirate. The man was limping on towards this latter, as if he were the pirate come to life, and come down, and going back to hook himself up again. It gave me a terrible turn when I thought so; and as I saw the cattle lifting their heads to gaze after him, I wondered whether they thought so too. I looked all round for the horrible young man, and could see no signs of him. But, now I was frightened again, and ran home without stopping.

I just realised that when he gets his head turned round and he's looking at the camera, this reminds me of George Clooney getting knocked out in Oh Brother Where Art Thou. So Hollywood.

>> ^Psychologic:
Personally I balked a little at the use of the word unbelievers. It really sounds a little crusades-ish. Honestly, we don't mind being called atheists and spineless agnostics

I suppose I'd call myself a "non-believer" rather than an atheist. Atheists have a specific belief that there is no god(s)... I simply think it is unlikely that one or more exists, and that if they do then what I believe doesn't matter to them.
My problem with religion is that it promotes specific beliefs despite the absence of evidence. I tend to see atheism the same way. There is no proof that god(s) doesn't exist, there is simply a lack of evidence that it does exist. It is the baseless certainty that I disagree with.
I don't mind if people want to believe in god(s) or that black cats give you bad luck or whatever, just so long as they aren't passing laws based on those beliefs.


Atheists dont have a specific belief in anything, until its backed up with evidence. I don't 'believe' in atheism in the same way that religious people believe in a god. I dont require faith for my 'belief'. That's the key difference. 'there is no proof that god doesnt exist' - that's an incredibly stupid thing to say. There's no proof that anything doesn't exist, it's a redundant statement. The onus is on believers to proove the existence, because their the ones that are claiming it to be true. You can't then turn round to me and go 'well prove he doesn't lol!'

If theres a lack of evidence for a god, then atheism doesn't promote a baseless certainty..........its based on a lack of evidence. promoting atheism is the only thing sensible people can do to save us all from GOING TO HELL. thank god for dawkins in america.

oh - and fox news is so embarassing that its cringeworthy. the fact that its seen as a credible news channel in america. well. what does that say about america.

<>> ^bcglorf:
...

The social attachment to oil is much deeper the powering the transportation to get to the grocery store or the beach. It is in every piece of food you get at the grocery store or bring to the beach. It is in the road you drive on, the oil that lubricates the engine as well as just the gas tank.

The agricultural attachment to oil is not just that it is used in the production and delivery of the fertilizer that grows the food to feed the citizen or just the fuel in the gas tank of the grain harvester and other farm machinery.

The political attachment to oil is not just ensuring that a population have access to the cheap energy for their car, but the cheap fuel for the cheap power plant the provides the cheap electricity for to run the fridge for the cheap food brought from all corners of the earth.

The monetary attachment to oil is not just to the Oil Barons and Corporations who make billions mining and selling it to citizens and governments.

The military attachment is not just to fuel the transportation of tanks, battleships and aircraft carriers, as well as fighter-jets and bombers. It is not just the means of production of weapons which are then transported to the front lines where they are employed in freeing up more oil for the Country, for the Government, for the Citizen, for the Oil Baron, and for the Military which turns round and does it again.

The attachment to oil is all of those things. Interwoven and inseparable.

There is no quick fix or replacement for oil. There must be a reduction of our energy consumption. There will be massive social and political changes required for us to get through the coming crisis of the long emergency. If we are smart we will get those changes moving sooner rather then later. Some of them are already beginning. And that gives me some hope.

In the mean time, let me know when you've found a battery that can power an ocean liner.

Lyrics:

we all believe the magic is in you
'cause there's making the breakfast
and taking out the garbage too

if as it did turning round
right back on through
cause of facing the music
and taking out the garbage too

breath scented fuse locked together ever grim
caused their untimely exit
from each and every little thing
we fly between never close enough to view
causing wrong resolution
crossed border line we're dropping in

{ and we
forever never win
silence every witness
ennui
forever never win
the case for existence } x2

thieves who stole the show a little left hand path to grow
show the true sympathetic
a mirror magic puppet show

and we all believe that the magic is in you
'cause there's facing the music
and taking out the garbage too

and we
forever never win
silence every witness
ennui
forever never win
the case for existence

Noyce! If you think this is clever you should check out the Crab Canon from my most favourite book in the world Godel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid, by Douglas Hofstadetr.

Crab Canon
----------

Achilles and the Tortoise happen upon each other
in the park one day while strolling.

Tortoise: Good day, Mr. A.
Achilles: Why, same to you.
Tortoise: So nice to run into you.
Achilles: That echoes my thoughts.
Tortoise: And it's a perfect day for a walk. I think I'll be walking home
soon.
Achilles: Oh, really? I guess there's nothing better for you than walking.
Tortoise: Incidentally, you're looking in fine fettle these days, I must
say.
Achilles: Thank you very much.
Tortoise: Not at all. Here, care for one of my cigars?
Achilles: Oh, you are such a philistine. In this area, the Dutch contribu-
tions are of markedly inferior taste, don't you think?
Tortoise: I disagree, in this case. But speaking of taste, I finally saw that
Crab Canon by your favorite artist, M.C. Escher, in a gallery the other
day, and I fully appreciate the beauty and ingenuity with which he
made one single theme mesh with itself going both backwards and
forwards. But I am afraid I will always feel Bach is superior to Escher.
Achilles: I don't know. But one thing for certain is that I don't worry about
arguments of taste. De gustibus non est disputandum.
Tortoise: Tell me, what's it like to be your age? Is it true that one has no
worries at all?
Achilles: To be precise one has no frets.
Tortoise: Oh, well, it's all the same to me.
Achilles: Fiddle. It makes a big difference, you know.
Tortoise: Say, don't you play the guitar?
Achilles: That's my good friend. He often plays, the fool. But I myself
wouldn't touch a guitar with a ten-foot pole.
(Suddenly the Crab, appearing from out of nowhere, wanders up ex-
citedly, pointing to a rather prominent black eye.)

Crab: Hallo! Hullo! What's up? What's new? You see this bump, this
from Warsaw - a collosal bear of a man - playing a lute. He was three
meters tall, if I'm a day. I mosey on up to the chap, reach skyward and
manage to tap him on the knee, saying, "Pardon me, sir, but you are
Pole-luting our park with your mazurkas." But WOW! he had no sense
of humor - not a bit, not a wit - and POW! - he lets loose and belts me
one, smack in the eye! Were it in my nature, I would crab up a storm,
but in the time-honored tradition of my species, I backed off. After all,
when we walk forwards, we move backwards. It's in our genes, you
know, turning round and round. That reminds me - I've always
wondered, "which came first - the Crab or the Gene?" That
is to say, "Which came last - the Gene, or the Crab?" I'm always
turning things round and round, you know. It's in our genes, after
all. When we walk backwards we move forwards. Ah me, oh my!
I must lope along on my merry way - so off I go on such a fine day.
Sing "ho!" for the life of a Crab! TATA! Ole!

(And he disappears as suddenly as he arrived.)

Tortoise: That's my good friend. He often plays, the fool. But I myself
wouldn't touch a ten-foot Pole with a guitar.
Achilles: Say, don't you play the guitar?
Tortoise: Fiddle. It makes a big difference, you know.
Achilles: Oh, well, it's all the same to me.
Tortoise: To be precise one has no frets.
Achilles: Tell me, what's it like to be your age? Is it true that one has no
worries at all?
Tortoise: I don't know. But one thing for certain is that I don't worry about
arguments of taste. Disputandum non est de gustibus.
Achilles: I disagree, in this case. But speaking of taste, I finally heard that
Crab Canon by your favorite composer, J.S. Bach, in a concert the
other day, and I fully appreciate the beauty and ingenuity with which
he made one single theme mesh with itself going both backwards and
forwards. But I am afraid I will always feel Escher is superior to Bach.
Tortoise: Oh, you are such a philistine. In this area, the Dutch contribu-
tions are of markedly inferior taste, don't you think?
Achilles: Not at all. Here, care for one of my cigars?
Tortoise: Thank you very much.
Achilles: Incidentally, you're looking in fine fettle these days, I must
say.
Tortoise: Oh, really? I guess there's nothing better for you than walking.
Achilles: And it's a perfect day for a walk. I think I'll be walking home
soon.
Tortoise: That echoes my thoughts.
Achilles: So nice to run into you.
Tortoise: Why, same to you.
Achilles: Good day, Mr. A.

as a sailor... (adopts marinegunrock authoritative voice)

he was turning round, not trying to cut across. you can't stop a boat, you can only turn it round, or turn into the wind so the sails lose power and you float to a stop.

so, my guess is he was drinking (looks like a rich toy boat) and while opening the 3rd bottle of brandy he dropped a glass, and had to go down to get another one. while he was down there he was fellated by a blonde 18 yearold gold digger. he then returned to the wheel, and realised to his horror that he was already past the point of no return and could not avoid hitting the enormous thing in front of him. In desperation he turns into the wind, not wanting to accelerate by turning away from the wind.

oh, scratch that, he was under diesel power, sails down, he's just a moron. or he had an epileptic fit and you should all feel VERY bad for laughing at him. or it was a woman, and we all know women can't drive. or maybe this is snuff and should be redacted.

thankyou and goodnight.