I'm torn by videos like this.
On the one hand, they're gorgeous and expose many to the graduate of wild nature.
On the other hand, they totally ruin that experience for anyone who went through the expense and trouble to actually be in that natural wilderness.

Imagine you've spent thousands to travel to Iceland, and after days of travel you finally get to the pristine wild you were hoping to find....then HRRRRUUUMMMM....the next few hours are spent listening to the loud noise and scenery ruining of a large drone flitting about, almost following you through the wilderness, ruining the whole experience.

Exactly that happened to my wife and I in Iceland. The assholes went so far as to pass the "do not pass" signs and not only flew around, but set up and stood directly in front of the amazing waterfall we had hiked to see, for hours, even when asked to move.

I think there need to be severe restrictions on drone flying in natural parks and wilderness areas...like 4 days a year when it's allowed and no other times or something. Your beautiful video shouldn't trump the enjoyment of the others who took the trouble to get there, far from civilization.

You survived the end of the world with your beautiful wife, ready to repopulate the glorious Earth! *club to the head. found footage of your corpse being eaten by mutants with a zombie desire for flesh but still believing they're human as they innocently mate with your wife and create a new branch of subhumans with two heads and tentacles. your corpse breeds a new type of bacteria from a pre-apocalypse strain that mutates and will one day rejoin with the offspring of your wife's mutant spawn, becoming the future mitochondria of a race of planet conquering horrors*

Hello again lovely Lilithia! May your birthday be a delightful as your beautiful name

AH ... elusive Laura. I miss your beautiful presence. Here's wishing you an enchanting Birthday and I do hope this finds you and yours healthy and happy. Relish in your day dear friend.

No need to apologize.

I just wanted to get that little bit out there.

There is so much misinformation about the nature of this shite.

I didn't want to put my little comment on the comment stream, because I didn't want to distract from the TOTALLY COOL story you shared.

So I snuck it over here, for those folks who read all comments.

I was sharing my bit for my own purposes, sneaky devil that I am. Sorry you thought I was sending a different message -- I totally DID NOT think that you were saying she deserved it.

I think there is something different for men being sexually harassed than there is for women, since you brought it up.

Speaking from experience, I am -- I keep saying that my first reaction was to slough off the assault against me as funny. It was amazing to watch myself descend into this ... quagmire... of sexual objectification within 15 minutes. To be seen as nothing other than a piece of female meat available for this tiny guy to rub against. To feel so invisible as a person was a double violation. Or something.

Women aren't praised for what we do, mostly -- we are praised for what we look like. And when you look at the variety of men and male body shapes that are presented on TV and in the movies, compared to women -- and the active nature of the men versus the passive nature of women presented -- and this is the toxic soup that all young girls grow up in.... To be reduced like that was just horrifying. I was surprised at my reaction.

Men have their own issues, of course. It is not for nothing that men tend to die sooner than women -- the pressures on them are terrible in their own way and it is literally killing them, in my opinion.

So it doesn't surprise me that you could laugh it off and let it stay laughed off. You are used to seeing yourself as active. While I laughed it off, and then got mired in this crappy sexual objectification that is so toxic.

It's all so ugly.

I'm so proud of your beautiful strong friend. She didn't deserve what happened to her, no woman does, and I know you know that. And dang if she didn't fight back with everything she had. That is how this shite stops. Make the bastards accountable. Right now they aren't.

Great story you told. Really great.

> "OK, I can continue the discussion if you like...."

Haha, you're really into this, aren't you! Maybe there's not much to do in your beautiful orchard.

> "and you don't know what I think "little" is. It could be $100K per year for all you know."

Sure, whatever, what does it matter what you think "little" means?

> "I actually do only drive that much, while paying near $5 per gal for gas (much in taxes)."

Gas tax is a flat tax, yes, so? The more gas you use, the more you pay (and the less the less).

> "Not being a statist they don't resemble me so they don't bother me, but the sentiment is unpleasant...I think intentionally."

No, it just seems like an accurate description based on the little information you've provided.

You say you are not a statist. I say you are, so? Maybe it's a matter of definition or maybe we disagree on this but, so what? It's not an insult.

> "By your logic, taxes are voluntary, you can choose not to live in the US and you don't get thrown in jail for not paying them."

Not true at all. The US will tax you wherever you live. "If you don't like it move" is totally different from "if you don't like it, don't buy this condo." The condo has an owner selling it under some conditions. The "country" or "state" has no "owner" whatever you might think.

> "Again, you claim you don't care about my thoughts, but you continue to prove you do by responding"

I grant you that.

> "but we do have control, we simply need to assert it in thoughtful ways, not react out of fear of the possible future. That's my viewpoint anyway."

You say government sucks and yet, you say something to the effect of, "It doesn't feel that way from where I sit, at my reserved table at the Bohemian Grove, surrounded by cool people, not you losers."

Go ahead and "control" the government. Like I said, no one's stopping you. Do whatever you want from your beautiful acre of orchard and 100% paid for home. Enjoy it.

And if you don't like my tax ideas, who cares what you think?

However you justify your love for the state, that's ok. You're entitled to it. You aren't entitled to any actions that attempt to force your beliefs on me or anyone. Of course you'll try. But as Satochi Nakamoto (or any plutocrat) has (implicitly) said: :-P Good luck with that.

It seems more and more that libertarians and plutocrats, while not in agreement about means, do share the same goal: to be left alone by "the people."

*related=http://videosift.com/video/Your-beautiful-skin-is-amazing

You're beautiful skin is amazing. has been added as a related post - related requested by braschlosan.

Congrats on losing your beautiful ruby and gaining a dull grey diamond

I'm sure it will grow on you though

I'm glad you enjoyed the video and I appreciate your thoughtful reply. I'll reply by saying that if you accept meaninglessness as a fact, then there are many implications to such a belief. For instance, if it true that life is meaningless then it is also true that there is no such thing as justice. It means that any truly terrible things that happen to you will never be adequately recompensed, and that frequently, the purveyors of such will get away with it scott free. It means that ultimately, might does make right, and he who has the gold makes the rules. If you are smart enough to get away with it, or powerful enough to avoid the consequences, you will never face any justice for any evil that you've done.

It also means that everything you have worked for and dreamed about could be randomly taken away from you at any moment, and so could all the people you love and care about. One moment you are an eternal optimist, the next, you get into a car accident and become a parapalegic. Now, you can say that this could happen to you even if there is a God, since it obviously happens to people all the time. This is true, but, if this life is all you have then it means that the hope you have is a very limited and fragile commodity. Hope is not a limited commodity for a Christian. For instance, the closer you are to death the less happy and hopeful you will become. When you're young, you don't concern yourself with it as much, even though it could happen at any time. As you get older, you start to realize how little time you have left to accomplish your goals. Your mobility starts to decrease, the sharpness of your intellect and your beauty fades. You become less desirable to others and to society in general. What this means is that your happiness is always situational. Eventually, when enough tragedy happens to you, you will break down and the future will become more and more like a millstone around your neck.

Yes, some people are able to squeeze some happiness out of desperate circumstances, and more power to them, but they have no real hope. A meaningless universe provides you with zero hope in the end. Many people believe they will achieve some lasting legacy but think about all the people you remember from the last century. Shockingly, a poll done by college age kids from America and Germany showed that many of them had no idea who Hitler was. If no one can remember Hitler, they probably won't remember you either. Where does that leave you? Your best case scenario is that you lead a completely pointless life where you hopefully experience a modicum of pleasure before expiring prematurely, never having reached anything near your true potential, with all your love and dreams being cruelly erased from existence forever.

People become depressed because of a lack of hope. If you look at the world today, and constrast it to our history, you will see that nothing has really changed on planet Earth. For all of our so-called progress, humanity is just as sick and depraved as it always has been. Evil is increasing, not decreasing, and mankinds destructive appetites will never be satiated. There is no hope in man, but there is in God. I think you know that.

Now, you make an argument about following your bliss, but if what is good to do is simply what makes you feel good, then you could excuse some of the worst crimes in history. People murder, rape, cheat, steal, etc because it makes them feel good. I'm sure Hitler took a lot of pleasure in what he did, and was following his bliss for aquiring absolute power. You can't use what feels good as a compass for what is right. Now, I think you're trying to insert the caveat that we shouldn't do what causes harm to people, but what if it is someones bliss to harm people? You would be stopping their bliss and thus violating your own rules. In short, there is no way to impose any absolute standard of morality when you are determining it by a completely arbitrary standard. In a meaningless Universe there is no right and wrong, so why shouldn't you just do whatever you want? Why waste your time trying to navigate some moral landscape that you don't even believe exists? Why not just take what you can, when you can, before you lose the opportunity?

For myself, what led me to start thinking about what was true was to notice how much this world was going down the tubes, and with seemingly no one in the drivers seat. I noticed the love I felt from this world being slowly drained away, year by year. I saw that humanity was on a collision course with ultimate destruction if nothing changed. If life is meaningless then it doesn't matter. But deep down, you don't really believe its meaningless, and neither did I. That's probably another reason why you're depressed. Your head says its meaningless but your heart tells you that this is a lie. Until the two reconcile you will never be happy and you will never be truly free. It's only Christ that can reconcile them, because He knows the reason that you're here, and only He can point you in that direction. It is only by discovering the meaning of your life, the reason that you're here, that will lead your mind and heart to agree with one another.

>> ^messenger

>> ^gwiz665:

Bukowski wrote that? Huh, guess I should reevaluate my position on him.


This is one of my favorite short stories of all time:

http://plagiarist.com/poetry/194/

Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl in town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes to go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that would not hold her. Her hair was black and long and silken and whirled about as did her body. Her spirit was either very high or very low. There was no in between for Cass. Some said she was crazy. The dull ones said that. The dull ones would never understand Cass. To the men she was simply a sex machine and they didn't care whether she was crazy or not. And Cass danced and flirted, kissed the men, but except for an instance or two, when it came time to make it with Cass, Cass had somehow slipped away, eluded the men.

Her sisters accused her of misusing her beauty, of not using her mind enough, but Cass had mind and spirit; she painted, she danced, she sang, she made things of clay, and when people were hurt either in the spirit or the flesh, Cass felt a deep grieving for them. Her mind was simply different; her mind was simply not practical. Her sisters were jealous of her because she attracted their men, and they were angry because they felt she didn't make the best use of them. She had a habit of being kind to the uglier ones; the so-called handsome men revolted her- "No guts," she said, "no zap. They are riding on their perfect little earlobes and well- shaped nostrils...all surface and no insides..." She had a temper that came close to insanity, she had a temper that some call insanity. Her father had died of alcohol and her mother had run off leaving the girls alone. The girls went to a relative who placed them in a convent. The convent had been an unhappy place, more for Cass than the sisters. The girls were jealous of Cass and Cass fought most of them. She had razor marks all along her left arm from defending herself in two fights. There was also a permanent scar along the left cheek but the scar rather than lessening her beauty only seemed to highlight it. I met her at the West End Bar several nights after her release from the convent. Being youngest, she was the last of the sisters to be released. She simply came in and sat next to me. I was probably the ugliest man in town and this might have had something to do with it.

"Drink?" I asked.

"Sure, why not?"

I don't suppose there was anything unusual in our conversation that night, it was simply in the feeling Cass gave. She had chosen me and it was as simple as that. No pressure. She liked her drinks and had a great number of them. She didn't seem quite of age but they served he anyhow. Perhaps she had forged i.d., I don't know. Anyhow, each time she came back from the restroom and sat down next to me, I did feel some pride. She was not only the most beautiful woman in town but also one of the most beautiful I had ever seen. I placed my arm about her waist and kissed her once.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.

"Yes, of course, but there's something else... there's more than your looks..."

"People are always accusing me of being pretty. Do you really think I'm pretty?"

"Pretty isn't the word, it hardly does you fair."

Cass reached into her handbag. I thought she was reaching for her handkerchief. She came out with a long hatpin. Before I could stop her she had run this long hatpin through her nose, sideways, just above the nostrils. I felt disgust and horror. She looked at me and laughed, "Now do you think me pretty? What do you think now, man?" I pulled the hatpin out and held my handkerchief over the bleeding. Several people, including the bartender, had seen the act. The bartender came down:

"Look," he said to Cass, "you act up again and you're out. We don't need your dramatics here."

"Oh, fuck you, man!" she said.

"Better keep her straight," the bartender said to me.

"She'll be all right," I said.

"It's my nose, I can do what I want with my nose."

"No," I said, "it hurts me."

"You mean it hurts you when I stick a pin in my nose?"

"Yes, it does, I mean it."

"All right, I won't do it again. Cheer up."

She kissed me, rather grinning through the kiss and holding the handkerchief to her nose. We left for my place at closing time. I had some beer and we sat there talking. It was then that I got the perception of her as a person full of kindness and caring. She gave herself away without knowing it. At the same time she would leap back into areas of wildness and incoherence. Schitzi. A beautiful and spiritual schitzi. Perhaps some man, something, would ruin her forever. I hoped that it wouldn't be me. We went to bed and after I turned out the lights Cass asked me,

"When do you want it? Now or in the morning?"

"In the morning," I said and turned my back.

In the morning I got up and made a couple of coffees, brought her one in bed. She laughed.

"You're the first man who has turned it down at night."

"It's o.k.," I said, "we needn't do it at all."

"No, wait, I want to now. Let me freshen up a bit."

Cass went into the bathroom. She came out shortly, looking quite wonderful, her long black hair glistening, her eyes and lips glistening, her glistening... She displayed her body calmly, as a good thing. She got under the sheet.

"Come on, lover man."

I got in. She kissed with abandon but without haste. I let my hands run over her body, through her hair. I mounted. It was hot, and tight. I began to stroke slowly, wanting to make it last. Her eyes looked directly into mine.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"What the hell difference does it make?" she asked.

I laughed and went on ahead. Afterwards she dressed and I drove her back to the bar but she was difficult to forget. I wasn't working and I slept until 2 p.m. then got up and read the paper. I was in the bathtub when she came in with a large leaf- an elephant ear.

"I knew you'd be in the bathtub," she said, "so I brought you something to cover that thing with, nature boy."

She threw the elephant leaf down on me in the bathtub.

"How did you know I'd be in the tub?"

"I knew."

Almost every day Cass arrived when I was in the tub. The times were different but she seldom missed, and there was the elephant leaf. And then we'd make love. One or two nights she phoned and I had to bail her out of jail for drunkenness and fighting.

"These sons of bitches," she said, "just because they buy you a few drinks they think they can get into your pants."

"Once you accept a drink you create your own trouble."

"I thought they were interested in me, not just my body."

"I'm interested in you and your body. I doubt, though, that most men can see beyond your body."

I left town for 6 months, bummed around, came back. I had never forgotten Cass, but we'd had some type of argument and I felt like moving anyhow, and when I got back i figured she'd be gone, but I had been sitting in the West End Bar about 30 minutes when she walked in and sat down next to me.

"Well, bastard, I see you've come back."

I ordered her a drink. Then I looked at her. She had on a high- necked dress. I had never seen her in one of those. And under each eye, driven in, were 2 pins with glass heads. All you could see were the heads of the pins, but the pins were driven down into her face.

"God damn you, still trying to destroy your beauty, eh?"

"No, it's the fad, you fool."

"You're crazy."

"I've missed you," she said.

"Is there anybody else?"

"No there isn't anybody else. Just you. But I'm hustling. It costs ten bucks. But you get it free."

"Pull those pins out."

"No, it's the fad."

"It's making me very unhappy."

"Are you sure?"

"Hell yes, I'm sure."

Cass slowly pulled the pins out and put them back in her purse.

"Why do you haggle your beauty?" I asked. "Why don't you just live with it?"

"Because people think it's all I have. Beauty is nothing, beauty won't stay. You don't know how lucky you are to be ugly, because if people like you you know it's for something else."

"O.k.," I said, "I'm lucky."

"I don't mean you're ugly. People just think you're ugly. You have a fascinating face."

"Thanks."

We had another drink.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Nothing. I can't get on to anything. No interest."

"Me neither. If you were a woman you could hustle."

"I don't think I could ever make contact with that many strangers, it's wearing."

"You're right, it's wearing, everything is wearing."

We left together. People still stared at Cass on the streets. She was a beautiful woman, perhaps more beautiful than ever. We made it to my place and I opened a bottle of wine and we talked. With Cass and I, it always came easy. She talked a while and I would listen and then i would talk. Our conversation simply went along without strain. We seemed to discover secrets together. When we discovered a good one Cass would laugh that laugh- only the way she could. It was like joy out of fire. Through the talking we kissed and moved closer together. We became quite heated and decided to go to bed. It was then that Cass took off her high -necked dress and I saw it- the ugly jagged scar across her throat. It was large and thick.

"God damn you, woman," I said from the bed, "god damn you, what have you done?

"I tried it with a broken bottle one night. Don't you like me any more? Am I still beautiful?"

I pulled her down on the bed and kissed her. She pushed away and laughed, "Some men pay me ten and I undress and they don't want to do it. I keep the ten. It's very funny."

"Yes," I said, "I can't stop laughing... Cass, bitch, I love you...stop destroying yourself; you're the most alive woman I've ever met."

We kissed again. Cass was crying without sound. I could feel the tears. The long black hair lay beside me like a flag of death. We enjoined and made slow and somber and wonderful love. In the morning Cass was up making breakfast. She seemed quite calm and happy. She was singing. I stayed in bed and enjoyed her happiness. Finally she came over and shook me,

"Up, bastard! Throw some cold water on your face and pecker and come enjoy the feast!"

I drove her to the beach that day. It was a weekday and not yet summer so things were splendidly deserted. Beach bums in rags slept on the lawns above the sand. Others sat on stone benches sharing a lone bottle. The gulls whirled about, mindless yet distracted. Old ladies in their 70's and 80's sat on the benches and discussed selling real estate left behind by husbands long ago killed by the pace and stupidity of survival. For it all, there was peace in the air and we walked about and stretched on the lawns and didn't say much. It simply felt good being together. I bought a couple of sandwiches, some chips and drinks and we sat on the sand eating. Then I held Cass and we slept together about an hour. It was somehow better than lovemaking. There was flowing together without tension. When we awakened we drove back to my place and I cooked a dinner. After dinner I suggested to Cass that we shack together. She waited a long time, looking at me, then she slowly said, "No." I drove her back to the bar, bought her a drink and walked out. I found a job as a parker in a factory the next day and the rest of the week went to working. I was too tired to get about much but that Friday night I did get to the West End Bar. I sat and waited for Cass. Hours went by . After I was fairly drunk the bartender said to me, "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."

"What is it?" I asked.

"I'm sorry, didn't you know?"

"No."

"Suicide. She was buried yesterday."

"Buried?" I asked. It seemed as though she would walk through the doorway at any moment. How could she be gone?

"Her sisters buried her."

"A suicide? Mind telling me how?"

"She cut her throat."

"I see. Give me another drink."

I drank until closing time. Cass was the most beautiful of 5 sisters, the most beautiful in town. I managed to drive to my place and I kept thinking, I should have insisted she stay with me instead of accepting that "no." Everything about her had indicated that she had cared. I simply had been too offhand about it, lazy, too unconcerned. I deserved my death and hers. I was a dog. No, why blame the dogs? I got up and found a bottle of wine and drank from it heavily. Cass the most beautiful girl in town was dead at 20. Outside somebody honked their automobile horn. They were very loud and persistent. I sat the bottle down and screamed out: "GOD DAMN YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH ,SHUT UP!" The night kept coming and there was nothing I could do.

Sorry, I like boobs. In all forms, shapes, sizes, even if they're hanging below knees or wall-eyed pointing off in crazy directions. I love 'em, unconditionally.

In reply to this comment by Lann:
creepy stare...

but really you're awesome.

In reply to this comment by UsesProzac:
I like you, too! It's not just your beauty, your talent, your intellect, it's your boobs, too. You also have an awesome husband

In reply to this comment by Lann:
I like you.

In reply to this comment by UsesProzac:
Hey Lann

In reply to this comment by Lann:
hi.

creepy stare...

but really you're awesome.

In reply to this comment by UsesProzac:
I like you, too! It's not just your beauty, your talent, your intellect, it's your boobs, too. You also have an awesome husband

In reply to this comment by Lann:
I like you.

In reply to this comment by UsesProzac:
Hey Lann

In reply to this comment by Lann:
hi.

I like you, too! It's not just your beauty, your talent, your intellect, it's your boobs, too. You also have an awesome husband

In reply to this comment by Lann:
I like you.

In reply to this comment by UsesProzac:
Hey Lann

In reply to this comment by Lann:
hi.