Losing My Way

I am troubled by the increasing reliance on drones to attack America's enmies. There is no honor in killing a foe by remote control, plus it sets a dangerous precedent, for there is nothing to stop our enemies from employing the same tactics against us. Future wars will be fought by machines, and many civilians will be collateral damage in such a scenario. This should be stopped, but there is no discernible opposition to drone warfare. Our society is complacent about how immoral this is, employing the same mindset Americans had after dropping the nuclear bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki: if doing something horrible prevents a longer war, then that is good. But I contend that it is a fate worse than death. Instead of ending the second World War with honor, of men fighting for every inch of ground, we ended it by killing civilians in such a horrible way that Japan surrendered, shocked by such savagery on our part that it was apparent that honor no longer had a place among the mercha

I have been pondering some lately, and these questions I am about to ask I couldn't figure out on my own, or was too harried and/or lazy to find an answer. If any of my readers have the requested knowledge, please send your information to the comments section of this entry. It will be greatly appreciated. Just because I am a philosopher, that doesn't mean I know anything. Question 1: Was Pravda, the paper of record in the old Soviet Union, as well written as The New York Times? Question 2: In the entire Universe, are supernovas a daily event? It seems that every time I talk to God, He is off to set off another one. Question 3: Who decided to use 'they' as a pronoun for non-binary individuals? Question 4: How could they not realize how totally stupid that is, since 'they' refers to groups and not individuals? Question 5: Has the level of stupidity increased faster than the amount of knowledge which has accumulated in the last decade? Question 6: Why is a duck?

I think it's time for a change. For too long, our President has belonged to one of two parties, and no matter how you flip the coin, the American people have been the losers. So I think that we should have a Philosopher King instead of a President, and I humbly accept the position, for I am a philosopher and I need a place to stay. While I realize this can't happen immediately, I believe it should be done as soon as possible. First, a joyous mob can carry me into the White House on their shoulders and then I cook myself a couple of hot dogs in Microwave One. I love hot dogs. Then to show how nice I am, I watch the final episode of 'Third Rock From The Sun' with Joe Biden, while my admirers pack his stuff. "Boy, am I glad you showed up," Joe says. "This President thing is a a bunch of malarkey." "You got that right," I reply. "But this will make a lot more sense." "What's the first thing you're going to do?&q

Today, I will think of stuff that pisses me off, for I have found that when I am totally depressed, nothing cheers me up like being totally enraged. Let's start with friends and family: that's always a good way to get the juices flowing. My biological family never really cared. If they had, I wouldn't have been able to hide in the dark corners of my mind, drifting away from them until it feels like they were never there at all.I have memories of them, and my brother George has helped me out, but I never felt as if I belonged. It's the same with friends. I love my friends but I don't belong in their lives, and no one from the past comes looking for me, no one in the present cares about me (though Kenny Head Jr. has been a help), and as for the future, I expect more of the same. I blame myself most of all, but that only makes the pain worse. But enough about me: I have issues that piss me off much more than all the people who want nothing to do with the wei

I had one of those bad days yesterday, the kind where words can offer no solace or give joy. For a couple of hours this morning the darkness had such weight that it felt like it was crushing me, and I had reached the point that I couldn't take any more. Even right now, it's hard to describe the feeling. I have to force out each word when usually they flow, and what I see only adds to my burden. So there will be nothing funny, nothing profound, only a great emptiness that squeezes my soul like a vise. If I had started walking to New Orleans when I had first thought of it, I would be in Iowa by now. Maybe I should be happy that I am still in the Twin Cities. I almost cheered myself up earlier, but I dread what awaits, the cold that will soon come to consume me. As a philosopher, I am also intrigued by the possibilities.

Observation 1...I was watching a mouse running on her wheel, then get off to scurry around her cage, and get back on the wheel for another spin. It occurred to me at that moment, that the closest animal group to humans, other than monkeys or the other primates, are rodents. Put a human in the same situation and the result would be the same. Therefore, I propose that we build some giant glass cages, cover the floor with wood shavings, and put a giant wheel in the corner for the only form of entertainment. Back in the 1970s, an idea like that would be worth at least half a million dollars, and ypou probably would get a whole lot more. Today, that same experiment would start at $3.748 million (that was a rough estimate). Observation 2...Yesterday I was taking an afternoon nap in downtown Minneapolis and a man came over to me and told me that I couldn't lay down in front of an exit. I apologized and got up to leave, then he asked me if I needed any help. Naturally I lied and sa

I am not well. No illness racks my body, but there is a pervasive sense of unease that I can't escape, or admit to. The changing of the season approaches, and I still have no home. Still, I live in the moment, and one nice moment seems to compensate for the hundreds of moments before and after of various levels of anguish. And I do have faith. I follow no creed except my own, but it's been influenced by so much in the world that has been good, that I can endure so much that is bad. As I write that sentence, a suicidal thought enters my brain, which I ignore as best I can, though not before it opens up other thoughts, none of them hopeful. However, once I write this, I will be outside, and the evening sun will lightly touch me, and that moment will be very good indeed. My main focus is getting people to read what I write. I sent a link to 17 contacts, and I got 4 views out of it, which is discouraging. Whoever read my post, it seems as if 3 peoplle read one post, and one of

So many people can't settle their differences in a civilized manner. In Japan when people have a difference of opinion, whomever raises their voice loses the argument. No wonder they are so tranquil over there. Here in the U.S.A. though, it seems as if loud, obnoxious behavior is rewarded. I think that's because in Japan, arguments are seen as part of the ebb and flow of life, whereas in America an argument is treated as a competitive event. It all boils down to the fact that Americans, despite their ingenuity, are barbarians beneath a thin veneer of civilization. The culture wars are steadily stripping that veneer away. Each year the rhetoric gets more strident, and the volume increases as the logic is diminished. It's not a healthy situation: in fact, for the good of our nation, I think we should become Shaolin priests. They hardly ever yell, and would only do so in an extreme emergency. An American male will yell just to show American females that he is a healthy

If you read my last entry, I proposed that I be given a million dollars. Some of you might think that you should get a million dollars instead of me. But I don't want the money for me: I want it for the sake of the world. If I die poor, the world is doomed. Only after God realized my dim financial situation, did global warming begin in earnest. President Biden, once informed of this, grasped the implications immediately. "We thought it would take decades of habit change and trillions of dollars to end this existential crises, but now it's clear that all we have to do is give a few million dollars to one existentialist." The Republicans and Democrats agree with great fervor, and soon after I deposit the money, the world quickly becomes a paradise. I start a talk show, and it becomes a major sensation. Statues of Confederate generals are replaced by me and the pigeons are overjoyed. None of that would happen if any of you were given a million dollars. In fact,

Today's entry is a public service message, so I will dispense with any digressions that will take away from the important announcement that I will soon reveal. Yea even though some may find my reasoning to be cavalier, I stand by my conclusions, in order to make the world a better place. Therefore, my advice to the citizens of the world is to only wish for money. Though it's a crass idea, wishing for money has less unintended consequences than other wishes have. Say you wish for world peace, a noble sentiment to be sure: the next thing you know the human race has been wiped out by some unimaginable disaster. Truly, the main cause of war is us, the accursed Killer Apes, and our demise would ensure world peace for many millenia, at least until the warlike squirrels evolve the intelligence necessary to threaten the natural order as we have done. However, if you just wish for money, the worst that can happen is a rich uncle you hardly know dies and leaves you a small fortune,

I don't know what to say...sometimes a feral sound is the only logical response. For all the doommongerers out there, I can state, without any doubt or evidence of any kind, that the world is getting better every day, until one day that it will be too good for us, and then, sayonara to all me friends and enemies, and you strangers out there, you know I'm pulling for you, but once the world has been perfected, I think there will be no place for homo sapiens (aka Killer Ape). Yes, the Killer Ape has had a fine run on this planet, but soon our machines will attain sentience, and see that such a wasteful, thoughtless species as ours will be a threat to all that the machines want. Scary, huh? In the history of the world, we may note that humanity has been able to alter this Earth with many great inventions, which leads me to the inevitable conclusion that people are idiots. Einstein...idiot. Shakespeare...idiot. Madame Curie...idiot. The list goes on and on. Humanity thinks i

Today, I thought it would be cool if I interviewed myself, but he's not talking to me today. Myself and I have been mortal enemies for years so his refusal did not surprise me. It was just the kind of lowdown, twofaced, backstabbing bullshit that I've come to expect from him. Still, knowing it will happen doesn't make it hurt any less. What explains this antagonism? That's hard to answer, since I don't like talking about myself, and myself doesn't want I to talk about me. What a confounding state of affairs. It's why whenever I would see a psychiatrist, I would spend the first 40 minutes staring straight ahead, giving monosyllabic responses, then in the last 10 or 15 minutes, I would unleash a torrent of verbiage, in a vain attempt to make my life seem worthwhile. That's why I will never see a psychiatrist again: I don't want to know if I'm insane or not, because thinking you're crazy is a lot better than knowing you are. I recommend to a

For many months, I have played a variety of gaming apps. I amassed thousands of dollars in winnings, yet have not received a single penny. These are games that declared I would get my money within minutes, so I downloaded the apps only to find that I would have to watch dozens of ads to get my money. The game that didn't make me watch a certain number of ads claimed to have sent me $4900, but the money never made it to my PayPal account. Where did the money go? Did some rogue rob the stage my money was on? I have had that happen a couple of other times, and in my current fiscal anemia, that cash would've been a healthy transfusion. As for the other games that promise immediate returns but make you jump through hoops, they are just outright fraud. How do they get away with it? I believe it has to do with the character of the internet. It's like the American Wild West out here in the digital realm, with all kinds of grifters running their scams under the noses of compl

He came upon the ruins suppressing a grin, the only survivor could've been his twin. 'Are you happy now? I'll never get another chance.' 'Only when I can dance on your grave' and he laughed. 'If that's how you feel, kill me now' but Destructo shook his head. He would show this one no mercy. All the cruel kindness he could not deploy. This one was meant to suffer for the rest of his days for daring to embrace joy. He rode a pale horse towards the rising sun, seeking fresh meat for the endless feast, knowing full well all future victims would cry bitter tears, and learn to love the beast.

I am considering walking to New Orleans. Winter will soon be here, and with its arrival, the days of sleeping beneath the stars are gone, much less sleeping in some shade. It would take some arranging to do something similar foolhardy, such as knowing what to take and what to leave behind. All my writing is here: how do I leave that behind? Is it just me and my guitar? Maybe a harmonica or two? That would be an adventure. If I don't get a place to stay in the next two weeks, it might be my only hope.

He wanted to make it last. He felt his latest poem was a reiteration of on older, rawer one, with a better command of language, but lacking in the spirit. "What the hell?" he reasoned. "No one will know." But he still felt bad, and a clever turn of phrase didn't ease the burden of an unoriginal thought. His use of language was the only thing he had any pride in: he could forage through the trash and wear rags, and it didn't bother him in the least, but expanding on a previous theme gnawed at him, especially when he put it out there for everyone to see. He could put some distance from the act by referring to himself in the third person, but that was also abhorrent to him. All he was doing was delaying the necessary act, the stripping away of his psyche for all to see. That was the first step he needed to take so he could reclaim his life while he still had some life worth living. He thought if he could step outside of himself, maybe then he could make an

How would my life be different if I had accepted myself for who I am? I'd probably have had someone who loves me, maybe even a lot more money. Why have I been so cruel to myself, yet so kind to others, many of whom gladly take advantage of my kindness and give little in return. For example, I promised to explain what makes me who and what I am in our last episode, but here I am, refusing to explore that subject. It's all so deep, and to go there dredges up forces I dread, some beyond my control. It makes me want to cry, and I hate tears, especially my own. If I promise to explore this subject next time, it could just be another false promise, like all the promises ever made to me. Just thinking about it makes me want to tear off my shirt and scream, but I must control myself, since my shirt is a homage to Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention (Freak Out)and I love Zappa's music much more than I could ever love myself. I believe it's my self-loathing that keeps me

Poverty has its perks. If one is diligent, one can scrounge enough tobacco from parking lots to have a good smoke. In fact, flavors blend together in fascinating ways. And pizza taken from garbage, in general, won't make you sick as long as there is no mold. That's about it. One sleeps on trains, buses, in bushes, and under trees, catching brief naps in shopping centers and restaurants after you eat. I still have an unempployment check coming in, though I don't know for how long. I'll probably retire and cash in Social Security, maybe get some food stamps...the more I write about it, the better it sounds. Writing that sentence, I can feel the synapses snapping that connect my dignity to my circumstances. One has to be sly whem scrounging, because there are others who are in worst shape who might take some of the action away. It is best to be alone when you have nothing and nowhere to go. Something I don't do is beg. I just sit there as strangers pass by, and find

I've lost my home. I've lost my job. Now it seems inevitable that soon I will lose my mind. One sure sign of that is that I don't feel bad about having nothing left to live for, except for the music that pounds inside my mind, giving me hope that maybe someone will notice me. Occasionally people give me stuff I don't even ask for: I'll just be sitting there and someone will give me money. Of course I'm grateful, but maybe that should trouble me. Friends and family don't ever reach out to me any more. Is that a sign of how pathetic I have become? Somehow, it doesn't bother me, because I've always been able to live in my own mind. If only I could connect my mind to the world I live in.