Bombs

P.S. I think Iran should have a bomb. A big fat one. And then we can all sit down and watch Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, and then try and remember all the things we've forgotten since the Cold War.

Nouveau Science

Bah. So far, no Perfume, and hence, no necking (see above).

I've been thinking about Science alot recently. Science with a capital Psi. I've read a little about the philosophy of Science, and how it's done. Popper and his idea of checking everything 3 times a day and twice on Sunday. And then Kuhn and the "paradigm". His bloody "para-dig-gigm".

Anyway, after turning most people away from the tea-room at work discussing to death the reality of atoms (what evidence do we have that they exist? Two twinkies for the first person to name the scientist and the experiment!), I've realised I want to take a 16th Catholic Church view to Science.

Let's take all the crazy internet crack-pots and burn them at the stake. Then, to test a Scientific idea, we take the person who proposes it, tie them up and throw them in the river. If they float, then they are a crazy internet crack-pot, and should be burned at the stake. If they sink, we adopt their principle into our body of knowledge, then mourn their loss to the Scientific community.

I'm weighing down my sneakers with lead as we speak.

The Outsider, by stu

SPOILER WARNING!!

The Outisder by Albert Camus. A review by Daspar.

Live in a funny, dodgey apartment. Go to your Mom's funeral. Meet a chick and then take her out to the beach with dodgey people from your apartment. Then kill someone. Watch the trial unfold with complete apathy.

Then write a fascinating and gripping story about it all, portraying existentialism and the classic human condition (don't ask me what that is), and with the very least, a social commentary on the death penalty.

Wow. That last line about the death penalty reminds me of Perfume coming out soon. Soooo good! Can't wait. I'm going to take a cute girl and neck during the orgy scene.

Marriage follow up

I just noticed I didn't mention the wife in my description of marriage. In that case, drop the upfront payment and the white dress, and that would fill a current vacuum in my life....

Perhaps, I'll keep the dress. It's, err, for my sister.

Marriage

---

I've got to say it. It's my new motif on marriage, that was inspired by my friend's open disgust towards it.

Marriage : It's only appropriate when it's superfluous, redundant....

In other words, if you think it's a good idea, then it's probably not a good idea.

Please don't give me all that crap about "public declaration of commitment," or "confirming between ourselves our devotion" or "sharing our love with others."

If your relationship really requires that sort of action, if you think to yourself "things will be different when we're married", or "we're going to be so much happier when we're married," then perhaps you should ask yourself this simple question?

What's missing in your relationship right now?

What vacuum in your current life do you imagine will be filled via a $30,000 payment, a white dress, a cake, 150 drunk friends and family and a shag-fest holiday?

A general surgeon's post about the dangers of commitment to your health. Remember: marriage is institution, and no one sane wants to be institutionalised.

We all put off our own happiness until later in life. When I have the car, the husband, the wife, the kids, the house, the job, the income, the financial security, THE WEDDING.......then I'll be happy.

What is wrong with being happy right now?

Home

Got a photo of me on a donkey. Finished San Diego (I mean, like, really finished it, yah know?), glimpsed at L.A. and tried to do what I do best in NYC. Man, what a place!

35 hours of travelling later, and I'm back home.

Have almost finished reading The Iraq Study Group Report. I wish these guys would write something about "how we got here" as well as their "where we go from here."

Lost a sock, heading to TJ

I lost a sock. Now I am faced with a great dilemma; chuck the remaining sock? Hmmm.....

On a high note, Tijuana tomorrow. Gotta go find me a donkey. And some cubans to smoke. Oh man, I am gagging for a decent cigar.

Stu's Travel Tip 2

Travel Tip 2. Catching a cab in the USA: When jockeying for the front seat in a taxi in America, don't call out "shotgun!" Over here it also means something quite different...

A list of things I experienced in San Diego

* Listening to Lazy Line Painter Jane by Belle and Sebastian.

* Smelling like apricots. Need to wash sometime.

* Watching cars race around the Gas-Light district in down-town San Diego.

* Tasting luke-warm coffee that is surprisingly decent.

* Sensing the cool air tickling my lower back. Need to pull my pants up sometime.

* Feeling... well... dunno. Contemplating negative probabilities.

Stu's Travel Tip 1

Airport lounges. The place where you should most feel like you are travelling, but most where you feel like you're getting no-where, and that time is being usurped from your life.

Travel tip 1. Getting through security;Either make sure your belt has no metal in it, or that your pants fit well.

I just don't get drunk with my father enough. I resolve in the New Year to do it more often. I might even take him out to a lovely little speak-easy and smoke a cuban cigar with him. Good times.

Miss my flatmates. Especially annoying them early in the morning.

I'm an anti-Jew!

I've been having way too much fun posting. Sure sure, I caused a bit (a lot?) of trouble, but I guess that's the freedom of the "intra-nerd" for you. Give any idiot a PC and suddenly he/she has got opinions. Case in point, me.

So obviously I copped a bit of flak, firstly for being an arsehole. Sure, I guess I wasn't going to let some idea stand for "the truth" without evidence. Or without intelligent, accurate dialogue, at least (don't come looking to me for that though!) .

But I'm just stubborn with my opinions, and I'm rather pedantic when it comes to supporting an argument with "facts." Heck, I'm a relativist; there ain't no objective truth, there is only beliefs, and strengths of argument.

But more interesting, there was a flippant remark I made. And it seems to have drawn quite a response. People have trundled out their old knee-jerk response, and let fly. I guess when one walks into a close-knit community and start to challenge the status quo, then ranks close.

Reminds me of a book by Philip Roth called The Human Stain. And that it holds an interesting and relative parable pertinent to my current situation.

You see, there is this English literature professor, who also happens to specialise in Ancient languages, such a Greek. And every day during class he does roll call. One day near the middle of the semester, he calls two names that he has been calling since the start of the year, and who have never been present. And he turns to the class and say "Who are these spooks ?"

And all hell brakes loose. Because not only is it a term describing "ghosts" or "spirits", it is also a racial slur against a black person. And, as the professor latter finds out, these two students not present were black.

So he has a law suit pressed against him, and he loses his job, his wife later dies and he is all alone. All because of a single word.

Spooks.

There are further twists to that story that I won't even mention; suffice to say, it allows the ideas of "racism" and of "anti-semitism" new interpretations.

Antisemitism.

Which American can read this article and not, at the least, have some wavering in their support for Israel?

I like Seinfield. Mad About You wasn't bad. Hell, I love Woody Allen. But if I don't agree with the the Israel lobby , or AIPAC , does that make me anti-semitic?

What happens when one day someone realises the religious and/or political and/or cultural background of another human being; should they recognise that?

To even say someone is Jewish; does that make me antisemitic?

Some will even say they know what I was thinking when I made that post.

I'm a seal

I went for a swim. Oh glorious water, sliding over my body like the slippery fingers of a svelte Swedish masseuse. I am built for the water. Well, built kinda like a fur seal is. Slightly hairy and a layer of blubber.