Friday, May 18, 2007

Look Ye Not To The Heavens!

Richard May headshot by Richard May

The observable universe is merely a deception of Satan. The universe was created last Friday at 3:23 P.M., before Happy Hour. But Satan has implanted false memories to test our faith in sacred delusion, lies and ignorance. Those on Earth, who love gross stupidity will be saved on CD rom. On Judgment Day this will be converted to a hyperdimensional DVD format that works with Internet Explorer, occasionally. Catholics, Jews, Buddhists, atheists, pagans, agnostics, mystics, Hindus, Quakers, Schroedinger's cat and Jesus, Himself, will burn in the hell of the loving Father for eternity, for prefering truth, beauty and reason to the moral and intellectual idiocy of fundamentalism. Psychopaths and rabid Protestant fundamentalists alone will be taken during the Rapture. Dark matter was created by Satan as a deception during the endless end times, hence its darkness.

May-Tzu

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Friday, May 11, 2007

Buffalo "Hockey" Tribe

Richard May headshot by Richard May

I love the Buffalo Sabres hockey team, whatever it actually is. There is something called "play offs" going on now, involving the Sabres tribe or whatever, which is perhaps a totem of some sort or a tribal paramilitary unit. Initially I assumed "play offs" were jerk-offs of some sort, but maybe not.

But here in the Nigerian sewer system all the normal people stay in their dwellings and scream tribal warfare slogans during the "games", whatever the "games" are. I think there is a definite religious dimension to these tribal competitions also, requiring repeated public affirmations of a "belief" in the superiority of one's local tribe.

Apparently these tribal warfare games determine the meaning of being a male in Earth culture. The young males always do things with balls and sticks of various sorts in the street and talk about "tight ends" in the autumn.

This means if I leave my subterranean hyperdimensional bunker to go jogging during one of the games, I don't have to see as many normal Nigerian sewer dwellers. This is what I love about the Sabres. There's nothing worse than having normal people in your face saying, "How ya doin? Doin good?" Then you're supposed to say, even if it's your last breath, "Yeah, Doin good, doin real good." One never needs an emetic.

Another thing I'm not clear on is why two thirds of the normal males here above age forty look very pregnant. Maybe it's part of "doin good?" Apparently these tribal "teams" consist of more than the totality of one person's body cells or sub-personalities, a concept difficult to imagine, like infinity. I've learned that when normals shout, "Go Sabres," they don't mean, "Please just go away," which is what I had assumed.

May-Tzu

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Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Iraq War Views

An Email Interaction

by Richard May in response to Fred Vaughan

Fred wrote, "If one pokes an active hornets nest something will happen."


Fred,

The hornets will greet you with cake and flowers and view you as their liberator!

The Creator made hornets as lovers of freedom. Hornets should have a Western style democracy. If a hornet tries to sting you, it's part of Al Qaeda.

Don't misunderestimate hornets! Lovers of freedom should invade hornets nests everywhere. A surge of nest pokers is vital to our national interest or the hornets will attack the Homeland!

If you see a mad dog, kick it!

You just don't make any sense, Fred!

"W"-Tzu

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Friday, April 06, 2007

Complete Fools

Richard May headshot by Richard May (Not an np-complete fool.)

Do there exist some complete fools who can not be proven within any given deductive system to be complete fools, as a consequence of Goedel's Incompleteness Theorem?

Does Godel's Incompleteness Theorem apply to complete fools?

May-Tzu

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Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Remembering the 'Old Country'

Richard May headshot by Richard May

The Laputans found composing plays to be far too practical and randomness, itself, excessively ordered. Yet they accomplished the most complex tasks by seemingly random actions, which depended upon a perfect utilization of the butterfly effect. Before the concept of order or the measurement of time, it was not uncommon for Laputans to inhabit mirages, in order to better appreciate the more substantial world of illusion and shadow. Some dwelled invisibly in ancient cities which had long since vanished from the Earth.

Among the Laputans it was not considered true that a house built of metaphors was not as strong as a house built of straw. It had been said since time immemorial that a house built of metaphors was stronger than a house built of bricks and mortar. It's not known if they meant this metaphorically or literally.

But it has been noted that the Laputans left no relics or artifacts of their past glory and were said to have had no shadows. This absence of evidence for the existence of the Laputans is, in fact, the most enduring monument to the greatness of their achievements. The Laputan space program attempted to determine the location of their ancestral planet, Earth. There was no consensus among even the most pragmatic on how to determine which direction was "down", in order to reach the Earth. But, as an expression of unity, their plan was to launch exploratory spacecraft at more or less random times from the island of Laputa in all possible directions. At some later time the astronauts planed to regroup somewhere and then construct a complete model of the cosmos on a larger scale than the cosmos, itself, in order to gain precision.

Among the Laputans endurance breathing was considered a lifetime sport and one that they were truly motivated to play, usually on highly competitive endurance breathing teams, but sometimes in solitude among the clouds. The games were, of course, televised 24 x 7. But often the uninitiated had difficulty differentiating sportsmen from spectators. The games continued until everyone within range of camera deceased either of old age or from the intense excitement of the sports competition, itself.

Viruses and bacteria were honored as homeless beings seeking food and shelter and as great spiritual teachers. Laputans abhorred any use of force by the government or by Nature, herself, and spent their days from time immemorial attempting to abolish the forces of gravitation and electromagnetism, seeking to substitute a susurration of tautologies.

May-Tzu

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Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Valentine's Day Card

Sean J. Vaughan headshot by Sean J. Vaughan

death embrace valentine

From this Yahoo! News article: "Eternal embrace? Couple still hugging 5,000 years on".

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Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Problems With Yahoo! Groups

Richard May headshot by Richard May

What's most disconcerting to me is receiving my own messages from Yahoo! Groups, before I've sent them or even written them! I guess that Yahoo's services are getting somewhat random temporally; Maybe Yahoo is harnessing entropy to save money.

Some of the Yahoo! Groups messages actually disappear, vanishing like information lost by Hawking radiation from black holes. The information/energy actually re-emerges in other brane worlds, as Yahoo! Groups advertisements. You may have noticed that no matter how bad Yahoo's services become, the ads always work just fine.

Some of the Yahoo's ads in our brane world apparently run on reconfigured bits of information lost in message disappearances in other brane world or parallel universes.

May-Tzu

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Friday, January 12, 2007

The Probable Human Future

From An Interview With My Cat

Richard May headshot by Richard May

Time-traveling missiles will be developed that reach their targets before the missiles are launched, preemptively destroying enemies that only exist in quantum-computer-projected probable futures. Nations will then defensively surrender to other nations not yet in existence, based solely upon their own defensive quantum-computer projections centuries into the future.

In the future nuclear holocausts, WMDs and genocide will be environmentally friendly and considered an essential part of any system of renewable resources and/or sustainable ecosystem designed for homo sapiens. In particular it will become possible through advances in quantum computers to reassemble the precise molecular structure of each soldier killed in combat down to the quantum-information level.

The use of emulations, as these 'resurrected' combat-dead warriors will be called, will allow humanity to finally achieve its dream of continual unending warfare, as God intended. It will become the patriotic duty of each citizen who is capable of dying, to die for her corporate state unendingly, not only once, either in combat or of degenerative diseases from environmental toxins and agribusiness foods that are so essential to the profits of the medical-industrial complex.

Alzheimer's and cancer, e.g., will be considered to be demonstrations of great economic patriotism. Archaic geographically based national identities will be transmogrified into corporate identities. One will be a citizen of Microsoft Nation or Coca Cola, e.g., not an American or Canadian.

May-Tzu

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Friday, November 17, 2006

Deirdre and Alana Poe and Their

Tell Tale Hearts

Fred Vaughan headshot by Fred Vaughan

Two nicely-endowed identical twins - lovely girls - decided to strip relativity of its mystery by resolving once and for always the riddle of the "twin paradox." They began by spending considerably on a spacious user-friendly ion blaster equipped with exercise room, bathroom, makeup room, and other amenities so that the life style of the traveling twin could remain equivalent to that of her sister left behind. In addition, they spent even more to instrument themselves to the hilt - medical equipment costs being what they were in the US at the time. This involved specially developed brassieres with sensitive nonintrusive transducers in the left cups that could detect each heartbeat and powerful transmitters to broadcast each coded beep to the ends of the universe. In addition each maintained a receiver antenna for her own and the other coded beeps with a readout of the cumulative heart beats of both twins. When the instrumentation was so well implemented that it no longer itched and could not be seen under a silk gown, they were satisfied.

Perhaps they were operating under false assumptions. For they had come to believe that without mishap or sickness identical twins should have identical numbers of heart beats in their lifetimes and that on the average they would have the same number of heartbeats each year. They tested this hypothesis for a couple of years early in their lives and found that whereas Dierdre had 31,600,029 beats between their 16th and 17th birthdays, Alana had 31,558,371. But then Deirdre had had her first fling somewhat later than Alana and they were gratified that between their 17th and 18th birthdays, Deirdre had 31,579,181 and Alana had 31,579,219. So the idea seemed to work fairly well as biological clocks go. By then the preparations of the ion rocket were completed and so, being inhibited by God's not playing dice, they decided to draw straws. Deirdre drew the short straw so she would have to stay home and watch. They reset their counters to zero, fastened their bras, and with no more adieu Alana was off!

Deirdre watched with some alarm as her own counter ticked along at its usual rate while Alana's crept along, slowing ever so methodically so that at the end of one year it read only 27,932,420 and during the second year it registered only 23,684,400 more ticks. Deirdre was happy that during the third (and final) year of the outward bound leg of Alana's mission she had 23,693,767 beats. At this point Deirdre's readout said 94,737,600 whereas Alana's read only 75,310,587. For the next year Deirdre worried because the number of heartbeats from her beloved sister did not increase as dramatically as she had hoped. But eventually it began picking up and by the end of the fourth year Deirdre was worrying about whether Alana's heart could hold up under the stress of the increasing toll of heartbeats.

The spaceship was sighted at an extreme distance some five and a half years after blast off and the sisters became ecstatic at the prospects of giggling together once again as they had when they were both young. Once they were in voice contact, they no longer watched their readouts as they had so assiduously before. Upon touchdown Alana stepped through the hatch opening she beamed and said, "One tiny step for me and a giant one for womankind!" Whereupon the sisters embraced with giggles enough to make up for years of loneliness. Their beepers raced.

Luckily a couple of thoughtful - though somewhat insensitive - male geek scientists who had become fascinated with the story (and instrumentation, to say nothing of the attractive girls) ripped the bras off the women to stop the beeping and read the meters at this historic point. The bewildered men looked from the now bare-breasted women, back to their readouts, and back again, over and over again in excitement. They shook themselves and looked again. Finally, in total disarray and confusion one of the men asked the other, "Does this mean there's more to life than just so many heart beats?"

The other thought for a while and said finally, "I think it means that if life, or time, or whatever you want to call it is measured as a number of significant events such as heartbeats, then covariance must apply and that quantity must be preserved across reference frames - but damn those twins are beautiful, aren't they? I think the younger one wants me!" he added with a wink.

The twins held their breasts modestly and looked at the men and back at each other in utter disbelief and amazement. Rapidly their biological clocks pheromonally re-synchronized and began pulsing in unison.

"I've been away a long time," Alana said wistfully.

"But not as long as you've been gone," Deirdre stated as a final scientific wrap-up to the just-completed experiment, and then with much more enthusiasm she asked, "Which one do you want?"

Deirdre and Alana sketch
sketch by the author

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Monday, November 06, 2006

Millennial Fever in Retrospect?

by Fred Vaughan

Some time ago while on a business trip I asked a very sharp traveling companion a question regarding his religious standing, I found to my dismay that although he does not attend the church of his upbringing with his disgruntled wife, he does nonetheless believe its precepts because of its "accurate predictions"of latter day phenomena. When pressed concerning which phenomena, he explained what was so convincing to him although certainly not to me. Since the Soviet Union had typically been read into Revelations by my father-in-law in much the same way, I asked my colleague jovially whether "bears" had played into the final formula of the church of his apostasy as well. He knew instantly who the "bears"were and said with good humor, "Oh, yes. They were one of the opposing teams!"

"Go bears!"I cheered, not being able to resist a mild blasphemy.

We laughed somewhat awkwardly but suffice it to say that neither he nor I (for different reasons) have returned to our religious underpinnings based on his convictions. But he is one very clever individual. In addition there are others I know who give some credence to the end of the world being nigh at hand including a relative who just the other day attested that what is happening in Iraq and the Middle East was foretold in the bible. Evidently it is a quite natural frame of mind to interpret current events in light of traditional Christian scriptures - such concepts as Armageddon, the Apocalypse, Rapture, Christ's "return," resurrection of the dead, the "Millennium,"etc. were introduced there. Some would deny the association but it seems natural enough to me for anyone who entertains such possibilities which is, after all, the truly absurd aspect! My traveling companion considered it likely, however, that God would wait "thirty years or so after the year 2000 AD just so people can sneer at millennial fever and then, Bam!"He gestured with a closed fist. My God!

angel

Maybe, on the other hand, a millennium is like "K"years, popularly 1,000 but in actuality 1,024, (except as erroneously used in Y2K) such that 2048 AD would be the next significant eschatological date. There was, of course, the possibility that the operative phenomenon would be the transpiration of integral numbers of "the number of man and his number is six hundred threescore and six,"[Rev. 13:18] in which case 1998 AD would have been ominous! Man has, after all, demonstrated extreme folly at approximately such intervals: The origin of Christianity (or Christ's crucifixion, depending on how one looks at it), the emergence of Islam, European famine and Black Death, the Mother of All Battles or …

But if you think this article is going to be about that kind of "millennial fever," you're wrong! I think of all such reasoning as a "crock!" When people use terms like millennia, they invariably presume much more than is warranted. That the happenstance of our civilization adopting the decimal number system and that the value of the right-most three "digits" in the representation of the number of times the earth has revolved about the sun since some arbitrary point in time in that system happens to be zero seems to me to have no more significance than someone I know having been 38 when she had, in fact, been born in nineteen hundred and 38 which excited her no end at one point. (Guess when!) That is one thing.

Another thing is that civilization has survived less than nine such intervals - certainly insufficient for statistical significance even if there had been nine unambiguously validated extraordinarily prophetic events at such intervals.

However, there are phenomena for which millennia are reasonable units of time - the natural (uninterrupted) life expectancy of conifers in temperate rain forests, for example. And there are subatomic phenomena, the half-life of which make them easier to understand when they are averaged over such time scales. And the atmospheric temperature at the surface of the earth is such a phenomenon. Climatic variations caused by the elongation of the earth's orbit, volcanic activities, sunspots, giant meteors, etc. create spikes in the data which obscure trends when averages are made over appreciably smaller time scales. In the figure below this temperature data has been plotted with the area colored in below the curve. The abscissa is number of millennia prior to the year 2000 AD. (The curves below have been brought up to the minute by including data since the year 2000 in the circles continuation toward disaster.) In one sense the data seem harmless enough on this scale. Even the great ice ages, although apparent at the left of the plot and 15 or 20 millennia ago, seem fairly minor dips in the temperature when averaged over the whole earth for whole millennia.

Figure 1

But what is truly scary with regard to fever is the juxtaposition of data on atmospheric concentrations of CO2 over the same time interval as the temperature data. It would be difficult to argue that the underlying phenomena were not directly related. See the line plot in the figure. A second figure is provided to show the data with finer precisions since the industrial revolution. The data for CO2 are taken from the concentration in bubbles in ice cores from as much as two miles deep in glacial ice near the poles. The temperature data are derived from tree rings and other fossil growth indicators.

An advanced degree in eschatology from Oral Roberts University is hardly a prerequisite for interpreting this data. A hair raising prediction leaps from the page like "an angel flying through the midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice, 'Woe, woe, woe, to the inhabiters of the earth.'" [Rev. 8:13] All that remains to be revealed in these latter days is exactly how much the inflection in the temperature curve will lag the one in the CO2 concentration curve - maybe "thirty years or so after the year 2000 AD just so people can sneer at millennial fever and then, Bam!" (If Einstein had been a fundamentalist Christian he might have said, "God would have done it that way.") We now know that 1998 was not the year of revelation - the year of man. I guess we'll have to wait and see - the science of global warming is after all, like Christian eschatology, rather imprecise. But don't ignore it!

S/he who hath ears to hear, let her/im hear!

Problems worsen even as the US administration and congress vehemently ignore them!

* The circled data are update the plots to the current year.

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Thursday, October 26, 2006

Bardo of Buffalo: Why No One From Buffalo Goes To Hell

Richard May headshot by Richard May

Loosely bonded quark gluon plasma rained down for twenty-four hours with thunder and lightening upon the eternal City of Darkness, nestled in the heart of the Nigerian sewer system; snowed down upon the autumn trees, sticking to their still-unfallen October leaves, collapsing sturdy branches and entire trees, along with power and phone lines into more than ten million tons of living wood debris. This event was a record two-foot lake-effect-snow storm of a predicted mild El Nino winter. Days followed of seeing one's breath indoors at 48 degrees F, only candle light and flash light by night, day after day without heat, electrical power or internet access for more than 260 thousand denizens of what is called Western New York. Actually, as explained previously but known to only few, the city of Buffalo is in fact a part of the Nigerian sewer system, connected to the real Western New York area by a wormhole in 11-dimensional hyperspace.

In the past I had always imagined that I would eventually attain the release of death by sheer ontological eccentricity, however invisible, or from the unbearable shame of once having imagined that I had a name, certainly not by sampling the heat death of the universe from within a sewer. But seeking to enter the clear light of the void through the internet, removing a sewer grating from over head, I ventured out above ground through a wormhole, walking along a road that appeared bombed out by Nature, to the Café Lagos locally owned and operated by enterprising Nigerian sewer rats.

Feeling in an especially convivial mood and suffering extreme internet-withdrawal symptoms I opened the door to the Café Lagos, finding to my terror and disgust that it was not empty but inhabited by my fellows. Nevertheless bravely stepping up to the counter, a radiant being appeared before me, apparently some sort of deva, asking me what I would like. Was I having a classic "near-life experience" brought on by stress?

She was in her early twenties, encapsulated in flesh, smiling seductively, repeatedly calling me honey, calling everyone and everything honey. What would I like? Remembering Plato's definition of philosopher as that most royal king who drools over himself, I drooled. But maybe Plato said rules.

Somehow I managed to ask her with an almost straight face if she had any muffins. Smiling her unending wonderful ben wa smile, she responded, "No", her muffins had all been eaten.

She wore a difficult-to-decipher name tag. "You're Lesley?" I asked. "No, LooselyLoosely Plasma," she radiated! I said "Aha!", as though it all made sense to me, because I was so hip.

Once I was able to get online at the Café Lagos I went to Matt Drudge's web site only to learn that a spontaneous exodus of the cockroach population from Buffalo had been observed and that F.E.M.A. is considering providing assistance to the fleeing roaches. Perhaps tiring of talk of football games and chicken wings, one fine spring morning years ago the lofty slugs left Buffalo en masse, leaving behind only their slime trails on the sidewalks as a reminder of their wisdom. Hence, you will readily understand why there is no one from Buffalo in hell. Satan refuses to admit Buffalonians to hell, regardless of their otherwise superb qualifications. He can't stand seeing the boundless joy of the damned upon learning that they're in hell, not Buffalo anymore.

May-Tzu, without internet access except at the Café Lagos, Bardo of Information Death.

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Sunday, October 22, 2006

Life at Crawpappy's Bar is better than a Mastercard commercial

Brian Schwartz headshot by Brian Schwartz

Telling a pert and feisty redhead in high high heels lots of interesting stories about pigs (pigs as a form of wealth and status in New Guinea, pigs as the favorite meat in China, pigs I saw eating excrement deep in the wilds of west Cameroon) and having her tell me she could step on me and puncture my stomach.

MasterCard NOT

Payment to girl in exchange for not stepping on me: ten dollars

Meeting a real live school cheerleader just like the ones who snubbed me in high school and fulfilling a childhood ambition by touching her rock-hard, overmuscled gluteus maximus.

Payment to cheerleader: twenty dollars

Telling the bartender at great length about all my superhigh test scores and all the high-IQ societies that should have let me in on the basis of those scores but didn't.

Tip to bartender: twenty dollars

Being alive and really drunk: priceless

Life and beer are gifts of God, for everything else you'd better carry a lot of cash.


Epilogue

Yesterday morning I got this email from one of the girls who works at Crawpappy's. It's just so lovely that I decided to share it with you... especially since my little "weekend updates" present a less optimistic picture. I saw her last night and got her permission to do so.

B.S.


Brian-

You are absolutely wonderful and I truly enjoy your weekend updates. I really hope you know that you mean a lot to a good amount of people in Tulsa. Of course, your family... crawpappy's loves you to death, but many people know you and you touch their lives in meaningful and inspiring ways. I really hope you know how great you really are.

Love you - ___________________ .

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Real Life

Brian Schwartz headshot by Brian Schwartz

I have a friend who thinks too much. You're not a real friend, she told me, just an internet friend. How can you think you know me when you've never been within a thousand miles of me? You've read my blog and that's about it. So I told her, "that presents interesting epistemological and perceptual questions. Lets say you really pour your heart out in your blog, as fully and honestly as you can, and of course most people will read and not understand, but what if someone reads and it suddenly clicks, somehow he or she totally understands, doesn't that person know you better than a coworker with whom you have exchanged superficial work-related chitchat every day for years? Yes, I'd say."

Big words, lets see how it works in real life. I shall set down various conversations I had last night, in real life with real girls in a real bar after drinking a real lot of real beer. You will be the judge of how profound they are.

Hey, I told this girl, I just picked my myspace URL, look at it and be prepared to see the coolest URL you will ever see in your life! And I showed her a card on which I had carefully written what is indeed the most awesome myspace URL ever known to man. myspace.com/Brian-rocks! Hey, mine is myspace.com/carla, she told me. Yeah right, said I with a touch of skepticism in my voice, that's what you told me last week and I checked it and it's a 16 year old girl in the Phillippines. I'm not a 16 year old girl in the Phillippines, she replied indignantly, I'm 26 and I'm right here in Tulsa! So she won that argument. I forgot, she told me to clinch her victory, it's really myspace.com/kk, try that and you'll get me for sure.

Having achieved an intimacy far greater than I could hope for in the most torrid internet relationship, I moved on to the next table. The next girl I talked to was also 26. She and Carla had something in common. She said she'd seen me earlier. That showed she's perceptive and has good judgment. And she told me her myspace address was BS_Queen, and that made me sure. That's my initials, I said, BS!! Surely we were destined for each other!!!!! She told me that the B was the initial of her first love, Brian. That is so cool, I thought, when she gasps my name in passion it will be so easy for her to remember.

We talked and talked, mostly me saying God knows what, for quite some time. Now it was time to put her depth and commitment to one final test. Oh, I must be boring you, I said, sometimes I talk so much you'd have to sit on me to get me to shut up. Now I was taking a tremendous risk, but nothing ventured nothing gained as they say. She was definitely not overweight, she looked just perfect, but she was quite tall and most definitely voluptuous. I don't know her exact weight, I was so distracted I just forgot to ask! But still, if she chose to sit on my chest, I'd have to lift every ounce of that unknown but not inconsiderable weight with each breath I took. And just as when you do sit-ups the first is so easy and each future one gets harder and harder, each breath would be more and more of a struggle until after twenty minutes or so each ragged, gasping inhalation would be a major battle. And she was with friends, what if she got to talking with her girlfriends and just forgot about the man feebly struggling beneath her? I could be there for hours as she laughed and chatted. Or maybe she was in one of these college sororities I've heard about, where they have initiation and hazing and a girl can't join unless she's sat on a man for a really really long time. So as I said I was taking a really big risk, but it was the only way to test her character. Just like the waiter rule, which states that if an executive is a good person he will be kind to waiters, so if a girl is kind and compassionate she wont sit on you even when you offer. And she passed with flying colors. She didn't sit on me at all!!!! Instead, she simply said, no, you're not boring me at all. Definitely a keeper. I'm getting ready to write a BS_Queen email right now.

So there you have it. A true, unvarnished account of the intimacy possible in real life. But hey, you're an Internet friend, I've never been within a hundred miles of you. Do I really know those bar girls better than I know you?

Brian Wrestles Reality

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A Bostonian In Buffalo

Richard May headshot by Richard May

The bourgeois citizenry run up to you like canines, sniffing you and sticking their noses in your most private places. Not all of them, of course. Only the more sensitive ones are capable of such refinements.

Crucified in Buffalo
Crucified in Buffalo

We see that you are lying in the street bleeding, did something happen? Howyadoin? What are those tire marks on your face? Doin good? How does it feel there, where the blood is coming out? Are you in the Bleeder's Union Local 66?

(This pool of blood could stain the street and lower property values!)

Speak to us of your pain and tragedy! Not that we care in the least about you. But tell us your business! What is your work schedule next week? Where do you bank?

(Has the game started yet? Get me the Inquisitor's Chair.)

Did something happen? What are those tire marks on your face? Howyadoin? Look at the blood pouring forth! Doin good? Perhaps now we will have something to tell the neighbors.

(I am concerned that this growing pool of blood will stain the street and lower property values!)

Who are you, I mean what do you own? How much did your father earn in 1943? Are you in the Saturn Club? What is the pain like?

No, no, do not speak to us about ideas or the spirit! How much money do you have in your pocket? And the other pocket? Are you in the Bleeder's Union local 66?

Did something happen? Howyadoin? What are those tire marks on your face? Doin good? Do not call for an ambulance too quickly. We may have something to tell the neighbors tonight.

Someone should call the City to remove this pool of blood before the street is stained, lowering property values!)

Hey, you might as well entertain us, because you can't move anywhere. Howyadoin? What's the name of your lawyer? Did you mow your lawn this week? How long is your grass now?

Look at the blood gushing out! How does it feel there, where the blood is spurting out? Do you have more money in your savings account than in your checking account?

Who are you? I mean what kind of vehicle do you drive? What year?

(Oh, has the game started yet? Watch out for the blood! We don't want to miss the start of the game.)

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Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Millie

by Richard May

Unexpectedly I saw her in the distance. Although she was no longer young, she also saw me, still remembering me after so long. Our previous trysts were so passionate that embarrassingly I did not learn if her name was Amelia or Millicent. She walked unhesitatingly toward me in quick determined steps.

Marc Chagall painting with insets Marc Chagall painting with insets

We stood before each other again silently, floating above the Earth, like two figures in Chagall's dreams. This time we did not speak of philosophy, but of our love, or more properly, the objectless love which simply was. Her academic pedi-gree and Yichus were of less importance than her presence. She was Gautama and Rumi; I listened, drinking in her silence.

Ordinarily I do not initiate contact with a goddess, leaving that possibility to her. But her eyes looked up at me impatiently with clear meaning. I touched her gently and she brushed against me softly, purring. The longhaired old girl's calico fur was beautifully wind combed in the still autumn sunlight.

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Saturday, September 30, 2006

A Visitor From A Type-4 Civilization

Richard May by Richard May

"My" cat, Jessie, a renowned Zen master with cosmological interests, is apparently from a type-4 cat civilization. She is attempting to alter the fabric of space-time in such a way as to broaden the wormholes connecting her universe with parallel universes, which she explained to me are simply other quantum states of this universe from the perspective of her Zen quantum cosmology. Such broadened wormholes are called "mouseholes", according to Master Jessie.

She has not yet revealed to me whether she is simply looking for a safe retreat in which to spend her ninth (parallel) life or is searching for "parallel mice" in the universe next door. At night she claims to disappear into the interstices of brane worlds in pursuit of "dark mice", which may perhaps be exotic subatomic particles. By day she appears to watch creatures unseen by me fly by in higher-dimensional space, which she freely explores in her dream body.

When not meditating on the sound of "her original mew, before the universe was born", she contemplates the implications of super string theory and/or M theory for the movement of her tail. Sometimes I am privileged to eat from her bowl.

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