Existential Observations
 

On the heels of the success of the Inane Analogies thread, I bring you the Existential Observations thread. This one is a bit harder.


I find that the more trust I give to someone who has not proven himself, the less likely he is to satisfy my expectations.

My ego makes it difficult to make friends with people like me.

The more I try to change, the faker I get.

I like pineapples, but pineapples aren't capable of the cognitive function to return the feeling. Upon close observation, a good majority of the things I like are the same. People that I appreciate can return the favor, but my feelings for them are tainted by the distrust and insecurities that come with humanity.

So it would seem that my only outlets for pure, unadulterated passion and admiration will forever leave my feelings unrequited. Sob.

Women I find attractive are of more inherent worth.

No matter how much I spend on name-brand cornflakes, Agent Smith will always be pissing in them.

The most opinionated people don't usually tell how they feel.

The harder I try, the more likely I am to fail.

I hate working under pressure, yet I seem to work best under the most extreme pressure.

Quick. Good. Cheap. Choose any two.

If good Karma were cash, I could afford to be an asshole.

See my sig for two more examples....

My life is my war and I wouldn't have it any other way... because I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

Sartre said that hell is eternity with one's friends. All of Sarte's friends were French.

One of my black socks is blacker than the other one,
and that is significant in no way I can imagine.

We struggle and waste the prime of our lives just so we can lessen the discomfort of aging and fading into nothingness.

All things one feels- hate, depression, love, joy, rage, happiness- are temporary states of being, so there is no need to worry or act from them.

I doesn't matter that nothing matters.

Heaven can be hell if you can't learn to appreciate it.

No matter what anyone says...


I am the King of the World.

Self-centered masturbation. I wonder how many people out there act like solipsists without even knowing it... how many people are "the last man on earth."

The quieter I try to make my life, I hear my blood flow louder.

Nietzsche said that which does not kill us makes us stronger. Nietzsche was full of shit. Nietzsche never watched "Full House". Nietzsche never got online to read a political message board.

Bwaaaaaahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!
:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

Either you're an asshole, or you're not.

I am.

If I think, therefore I am...why don't all the idiots disappear?

(they're not self-aware?...)

If you're not bleeding.


You didn't do it right.

There are 10 kinds of people in the world.

Those who understand binary and those who don't.

This thread now has Stevie's Spanking stuck in its... thread

borrowed from someone's posting on facebook:
(needless to say - his name is Wilson)

Sometimes you just never know. You born, you live, then you die. There really are no second chances. That's how simple life really is. Don't make it into a theological debate or some philosophical bantering. Live like you'll never live this moment again, because you won't, and that's all one can really be expected of.

What if in the future people invented some means of uploading human consciousness into a virtual world or a computer? What if we learn to ascend? I mean I honestly think its possible in our lifetime. Just look around you at the rate of change in technology and our understanding of the universe. Ladies and gentlemen we are no longer just a drop of water, we are in the cusp of our next evolution or revolution.

It won't matter though. Take this scenario as an example. You go to your futuristic doctor and say dude I want to be taller, better looking, oh and smarter. You go through this procedure to be smarter. You come out with much faster learning speed, you have better focus, and you seem to understand everything at a whole new level never knew before. I would debate that you are dead. The old you at least. The split moment where you attained your increased cranial performance - that's when you died.

No no no, don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to say something about a theological soul. If you now possess a completely different outlook in life, wouldn't you say your personality has changed? Would you not go as far as saying whatever it is that makes up your being, your essense as quantifiably possible by science is your personality? Your pattern of behaviour? It would be equivalent as say you take a monkey then alter its DNA to the point where its brain is just like a human brain... then is it still a monkey? is the personality of the old monkey even there anymore? it's dead. It has reborn to Humonkey.

I digress. There really is no immortality then. You can't ascend any higher up the evolutionary ladder without killing yourself first. Could one just stay where they are on the ladder and maintain themselves indefinitely? Yeah I thought about that one. You can keep cloning new body parts like a new lung, or a liver, but you can never change the human brain without killing yourself. So really at best you could extend your life up to the lifespan of your brain. How long do you think that would last? Alzheimer anybody? I know its in my genetics at least. I'm not gonna last past a century no matter how many spare Wilson parts I clone.

That's ok I guess. I've come to terms with my mortality. If I were to die right now, at this very moment, I can't even be pissed about it. Don't go metaphysical on me, but just try for a moment to imagine yourself angry at the fact that you died instantaneously. You can't. It's ludicris. You can't reasonably fathom what that means. Death is meaningless. It is the mother of all meaninglessness.

Then what is the meaning of life then? If in the end it all doesn't matter - as cliche as it sounds, it's still a valid question. I think that's just it. It's not about placing meaning in life after you're done with it. It is placing meaning in life as you are living it. The logical flaw of asking the question "what is the meaning in life" is that you presuppose that when you are dead that it should possess you some meaning. The idea is you shouldn't even ask what the meaning of life is. Living it in itself is the meaning, since death is meaningless.

Are you on crack Wilson? Do you even know what you're talking about? To my surprise I do know actually. I actually think about this stuff all the time. I guess I wrote this note so that you can all get a glimpse at what actually happens in my mind. This is me having a brain diarrhea for twenty minutes. I mean... doesn't everybody think about this stuff? My impression is everybody has a similar chain of thoughts like mine right?

With few exceptions, the number of political opinions expressed by bumper stickers on someone's car is inversely proportional to how worthwhile that person's opinions are.

Being comfortable gets uncomfortable eventually.

I'm feeling more like I do now than I did a while ago.

You're older than you've ever been
And now you're even older
And now you're even older
And now you're even older
You're older than you've ever been
And now you're even older
And now you're older still

Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it.
Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back.
Fuck squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job!
Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores and stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. Slow the fuck down!
Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35.
Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English?
Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from!
Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds!
Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gecko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for fucking life! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Imclone! Adelphia! Worldcom!
Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, because they make the Puerto Ricans look good.
Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, and their St. Anthony medallions. Swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos.
Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermés scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart!
Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take fives steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on!
Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust!
Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin Otisville, Jay!
Fuck Osama bin Laden, al-Qaeda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fueled fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal, Irish ass!
Fuck Jacob Elinski, whining malcontent.
Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery, my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass.
Fuck Naturel Rivera. I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back. Sold me up the river. Fucking bitch.
Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar. Sipping on club soda, selling whiskey to firemen and cheering the Bronx Bombers.
Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue. From the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park slope to the split levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it. Let the fires rage. Let it burn to fuckin ash then let the waters rise and submerge this whole, rat-infested place.

World's King: No one is listening.

A friend of mine once asked me what I thought the philosophy of existentialism was. I answered with a personal experience, “When I was a kid I thought that there were things in our universe that transcended existence. I believed that it was our relation to these unknowns that defined us as human beings. I was in particular fascinated by the heavens. So one day I looked up at the sun and I stared and stared longingly…”. At this point I paused, and waited. A few seconds passed and my friend shifted in his chair, and still I remained silent. Finally, seeing that I wasn’t about to continue he asked, “ So, what happened?”. I responded, “I couldn’t see anything”.

Biting my fingernails is an all consuming exercise.

Yes they are. :wave:

I wasn't listening, per se, but I did read it.

Fuck, WK. You said a fuckin' mouthful. A-fuckin-men. Almost as good as Maynard.
/ prayin' for rain.

Fuck Yourself
Lyrics by Steve Vai and/or Frank Zappa



Fuck yourself with a rubber hose
Stick it in your mouth and down your throat
Up your nose and in your heinie hole
I don't care where it goes
And it don't matter if you're straight or gay
You should fuck yourself anyway
Now, you don't have to listen to a word I say
But I know you, you'll be humpin' away
Fuck yourself with your neighbor's nose
If you can't use that, use a 10-foot pole
Stick it up your ass and go for a stroll
Everyone will know you've been to this show
If you can't take, eat my stool
Masturbate with some crazy glue
I don't care what you do
Fock yourself with a garden tool
Fuck yourself with politics
Ahh they're full of fuckin' fuckin' shit
I mean you know we've been lied to ever since we were born
It's amazing that we've been getting fucked that long
Fuck yourself with the world wide web
Man you could ride that sucker right from your bed
You may even meet a Tom, Dick, Jane or Billy
Then grab onto your modem and fuck yourself silly
Fuck yourself with your heart and soul
Give it everything you got, hey I'm talkin' to you
If you can't even fuck yourself,
How ya gonna fuck somebody else?
Fuck yourself with my microphone
I'll give it to you later when we're all alone
We can turn it up loud
And see if you come, but
Don't get your jizz on my microphone
Fuck yourself with organized religion
Now that is some seriously sinnin' business
If the Lord sees their pathetic crimes
He'll be fuckin' them 'til the end of time
And can someone explain to me this racist crap
I know it isn't white, but it isn't black
And to all you people who only see things your way
Well, you can suck my dick and take all day
Fuck your nose with a pound of blow
Watch your money get up and go
but when you burnt your brain and you say
I don't know!
I hate to tell you but I told you so
Fuck yourself with this grunge rock noise
I mean, stuff those albums in your groin
They come down on me because I know how to play -
Hey... fuck you!
Fuck yourself with a copy of Rolling Stone
Or are they too holy for your holiest of holes
Now those people think they're holier than Moses
But aren't they just a bunch of fuckin' posers
Fuck yourself with your mother's jewelry
I won't tell, I ain't a stooly
If you pounce hard enough you'll cough up a ruby
Your blood will be rich and so will your doodie
Fuck yourself with the latest fashion
With your spikes and your hair and those cute little buttons
And if you happen to have some leather and lace
Fuck yourself 'til you're blue in the face
Fuck yourself with your income tax
They're fucking you and that's a fact
Before you know it your money's all spent
And you've just been fucked by the government
Fuck yourself with your lawyer friend
You're the only one that's getting fucked in the end
I have been so fucked by legal bills
that my asshole is the size of Beverly Hills
Fuck yourself with your full-length sweater
With your minks and your diamonds and your Irish Setter
With your cash and your trash and your sinks and your drinks
Just fuck yourself 'til you can't even think
Those of you who enjoy this song
thank you thank you, I love you
Let's get it on
But for those of you who are totally outraged
Fuck yourself with your face

Nietzsche is dead.

"Absent a mechanism for connecting symbol structures to experienced reality, thinking is nothing more than empty symbol crunching."

Charles S. Peirce

Every statement is true in some sense, false in some sense, meaningless in some sense; true, false, and meaningless in some sense; and neither true nor false nor meaningless in some sense.

All most human beings and societies understand is force. When decisions come down to life and death, it makes the choices much simpler and is to the benefit of the individual or group making the demands. Therefore, it should not strike anyone as odd that the countries the with most weapons and best trained military are also some of the most prosperous. The only way to achieve to truly achieve world peace is through force and the threat of death.

Right before I left for college, about five years ago, my dad gave me a book on speed reading.

I'm almost done with it.

From what can one act, if not feelings?

I spend far too much time doing things that I don't spend nearly enough time doing.

So many of "the necessities of modern civilization" feel like a prison cell with the sentence being a slow suicide.

All I am asking for is the opportunity to prove beyond any shadow of a doubt that having a great deal of money won't make me happy.

indulging the repitition of word sounds such as vacuum..
will suck.

As I was walking up the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today...
I wish that man would go away!

I do not know naught about knots. It's a knotty problem and I ought not be so naughty about it.

You ought to know ought about knots if you do no know naught. If you tied the tide tidily its tidings may never arrive. So I won't waive my wont to waver, I wave goodbye. A bargain at any price.

It feels so good to heal, I keep on hurting myself.

The harder you work, the harder you work.

What kind of weather will there be on the day that I consider myself worthy of wearing the mark of quotation?

Whatever weather wears well when wit has weathered the blather of whether wit or whinging wealth brings.

In sooth, astute statements suit. Gather gloom or gleam, the weather, moot. Blow wind, blow storm, the pluvial fruit. Blow mute.

Taking myself seriously makes me laugh.

The more frequently a person asks for your opinion, the less they want it.

Each time I assert that I have no good reason to believe in karma, fate conspires to assert that I have.

male homophobes are well aquainted with their own prostate.

The nectar of the forbidden tastes twice as sweet.

I fought the law and the law stomped me like Godzilla stomps Tokyo.

Fear of flying floats fears' wings.

Always finish what you start, otherwise you risk

All your waste are belong to flush.

You've obviously never done a bleach shooter.
/ being alive and all. just sayin'

To paraphrase Terry Pratchett: When someone says all things are possible, suggest they try striking a match on Jello.

Not everyone can flush their waste.

Not everyone who can flush their waste does.

You must have a five year old.

No, but I use public washrooms.

That reminds me: Not everyone who can wash their hands does.

...

Waking up happy is significantly better than going to bed happy and speaks volumes about your current life situation.

Love comes when you're not looking for it.

as do STDs.

In fact, experience is what you get when you were looking for something else.

(Unless you're playing D&D or one of the follow ons, in which case you're probably actually looking for experience.)

There are billions of people worse off than us.

And we don't even spend the time to adequately contemplate this.

Yet, it's not because we're selfish; it's because we're distracted.

It's not about whether we feel guilty; it's about whether we see beyond our delusions.

The smart ass comments in this thread are funny.

If I liked people, sociopaths would be my bestest friends.

Life seems to be held together with metal fastener.

Motivation nuts threaded onto "be-know-do" bolts.

The last time I played 'Follow the Leader'
I had to watch my back constantly.

Every challenge in life can be defined and solved by deciding tasks, conditions, and standards with the proper application of purpose, direction, and motivation.

No one gets what they deserve.

I find it most amazing that the human ear is equipped with those intricate equilibrium canals that orient us to the position of our heads, the angle at which our eyes are staring. Nature makes us aware of our position based upon the godless pull of gravity; we can't really escape it. It is up to us to keep our heads up and to keep looking forward.

When I listen too intently,
I end up seeing things.

Censure, simultaneously sharpens and dulls, the edge of my defenses.

You give a person a gift,
by graciously accepting one.

we do not know what we think we know.

Ceci n'est pas un thread.

Who can comform to unconventionality?

A carved-in smile would be quite appropriate for so many people who refuse to accept "bad days" as normal.

If I look downwards I always see one side of my nose,
If I look up, it disappears.

We are all wasting our time with this thread.

Isn't it fun? :D

This thread is not this thread.

Existance is futile.


-Borg Existentialism

Without alcohol in my system to kill off the germs... I got sick.

It's a given.....
One touch of my caress either strangulates, or elevates...

Love hurts.

"...love scars, love wounds, it marks. Any heart not tough or strong enough to take a lot of pain."

...

I wake up alone so I can go to bed with you.

futility is when knowing everything is futile seems an improvement.

That one hit hard in my center, mister.

I can't breathe....

that gets my attention.

Thank you.