tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78786857672008701372024-03-13T16:05:07.155+10:00Slightly Moderated Stream of Consciousnessnormal is a disease and I'm the cureLorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.comBlogger442125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-73124042698301244272012-04-25T13:08:00.003+10:002015-09-10T12:49:52.739+10:00goodbyeI've moved because a new perspective deserves a new beginning. SliModSoc happened during a crisis of faith, <a href="http://folkmetaphysic.tumblr.com/%C2%A0">The Folk Metaphysic</a> is what is happening now that I am emerging from said crisis. Happy trails peeps...Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-13811039960041846682011-12-07T13:06:00.001+10:002011-12-08T14:55:07.391+10:00good guy lucifer y u so funny?Is Satan really the bad guy?<br />
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<br />Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-27546305353604054262011-10-26T19:46:00.001+10:002011-10-26T19:49:45.731+10:00today it starts again<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "><div style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; line-height: 20px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; padding-top: 19px; padding-right: 6px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 5px; white-space: normal; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "><div class="rteAll"><p style="height: auto !important; width: auto !important; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; white-space: normal; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "> i am loren hopkins. loren means crowned one. my dad told me that hopkins means son of the goblin (and later revised this to: son of the cobbler, which is far less interesting). when i first watched labyrinth, i decided, thanks to my name, that i would be the goblin king, not because of my unhealthy obsession with jennifer connelly, or my cannibalistic fetish for baby flesh, but mainly because goblins are vile and foul creatures and king's are noble and elevated (or at least pretend to be) and david bowie has very tight pants. i like the juxtaposition of incongruent things.</p><p style="height: auto !important; width: auto !important; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; white-space: normal; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "> i am a burly man and a philosopher, a mystic atheist, a master of ambivalence, paradox and contradiction. i am loren hopkins and i'm back.</p><p style="height: auto !important; width: auto !important; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; white-space: normal; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "> there are more worlds than we know in the world, let alone in the universe. for starters there is my inner and outer life. i went to the gold coast 600 hundred this week and watched half the race on tv, the track wrapped around my apartment complex, but there's something comforting about peering into a little black box. everything is mediated. experience is always filtered, the outer world is shaped by my inner life. i try to use words to set my conscious free, but perhaps a new approach is in order. </p><p style="height: auto !important; width: auto !important; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; white-space: normal; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "> i am a collection of several incomplete jigsaw puzzles, the pieces don't quite fit together properly. someone get me some dmt.</p></div></div></span>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-45105698049267670872011-08-08T22:25:00.004+10:002011-08-09T17:28:40.623+10:00punch onOK, so I wrote up my little contract which I'll post one of these days when I get a scanner (or maybe I'll just snap a photo of it with my iPhone). Part of what is involved is me having a fight. I've never been in a fight before and honestly "how much can you possibly know about yourself if you've never been in a fight? ... It's only after we've lost everything [like consciousness for instance?], that we're free to do anything." (I love Fight Club, but I've said too much already). Of course my fighting will take place within a cage or ring, sanctioned by the appropriate authorities and not in some dingy underground cult of violence. One question that I'd like to answer is why there are even legally permissible forms of violence at all, especially at the level of brutality that boxing or MMA allow (and I'd also like to find out why I'm a willing participant. Am I insane? I mean, I'm a pacifist except in the cases of self-defense or fighting for millions of dollars). <div>
<br /></div><div>I'm just doing my part for posterity in a way. How many slacker/nerds have ever traded blows with a meathead and lived to write the tale (at least onc that I can think of, can't remember the name of the book right now. Tiger something?). This'll be a peculiar type of writing, history, meets travel writing, meets memoir, meets sociology and maybe a little philosophy for good measure, on a blog. Why is violence such a major part of the human condition? So many questions to wade through. It's a cruel universe out there. The search begins in earnest, one punch at a time. Happy trails peeps...</div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-11157736051523825912011-08-08T18:00:00.003+10:002011-08-08T18:42:36.083+10:00no free lunch<div style="text-align: left;">Two days ago I read this article <a href="http://bit.ly/osl8Bx">on Sacrifice</a> via The Art of Manliness website. I was Flabbergasted! Befuddled! If a 6'2 Mormon whiteboy, with the athleticism of an octogenerian, can make the NBA, then all bets are off (I wasn't watching basketball when Danny Ainge was making noise with the Boston Celtics, so this feat to me seems unprecedented). It's now official: anything's possible. Go Jimmer!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>James Jimmer Freddette with the help of his brother wrote up this contract, when he was but a wee lad... </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeHbvAP5nX42R71SR8YAtGPCi2-kh5ce6N2tyhW0372wi_U4sHWz1aIG5OD18YwUF2tRmXmvvO_N4mNGx3kjpNCHOBQ8wzsv6QfiqqofFaPJCyFY7aLhXGRElSrCyL5p_kwBuIhWtOnI/s1600/jimmer.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeHbvAP5nX42R71SR8YAtGPCi2-kh5ce6N2tyhW0372wi_U4sHWz1aIG5OD18YwUF2tRmXmvvO_N4mNGx3kjpNCHOBQ8wzsv6QfiqqofFaPJCyFY7aLhXGRElSrCyL5p_kwBuIhWtOnI/s400/jimmer.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638402303792582706" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 232px; height: 234px; " /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><u>
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<br /></div><div>Jimmer paid his dues, which took four words for me to say and years to achieve. Now he'll play for the Sacramento Kings next season (if the lockout between players and management ever ends). </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Success has a price. The cost of admission is Sacrifice. This has got me thinking. What am I willing to give up to live how I want. There are too many things to name here. What it comes down to is putting priorities first. A seemingly simple yet deceptively difficult thing to accomplish. Suffice it to say today I wrote up my own contract today. It's only a matter of time now ladies and gents. I'll keep you posted. </div></div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-90941347448874078072011-07-27T20:39:00.008+10:002011-07-30T20:14:03.410+10:00being an apologist means never having to say you're sorry<div>Let me begin, in the appropriate manner, which is to say that I will sweeten up my intended targets before I give them their medicine. It's only fair. On reflection, I have arrived at this conclusion through no small effort on my part. It is a bitter pill to swallow, and I may require some of that sweetness that I am so generously doling out as a chaser, but here it is: apologists are like me (and other disaffected for intellectual reasons x-mos). We are two sides of the same coin, both willing to grapple with difficult questions, and for this I applaud in their general direction. However, we often, and by often I mean always, tend to reach very different conclusions. </div><div><br /></div><div>Two of these disagreements unfailingly propel me into a rabid inextinguishable rage. One of which I will share with you today (I told you I was generous). </div><div><br /></div><div>It's really quite simple. I don't even need a fully fledged syllogism to explain it (maybe just a tautology). One premise will do...</div><div><br /></div><div><b>(1) The prophet and leaders of the church are fallible. </b></div><div><b>(2) Therefore: They make mistakes.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>(1) Most Mormons would agree with this statement in principle, but the practice of it sometimes varies. This is partly because there are a cacophony of quotes that discourage members from criticizing the prophet and his cronies at all (One example: "It is wrong to criticize leaders of the church, even if that criticism is true" - Dallin H. Oaks. Don't get me wrong, I can think of a time when God's chosen people reaped the rewards of certain individuals unquestioningly going along with what their leaders said. Oh yeah, it was called The Holocaust). This creates an environment where their every word and deed are somehow beyond reproach. However, the premise stands on its own merits, those primarily being its appeal to common sense. I don't think anyone would seriously argue differently.</div><div><br /></div><div>(2) It seems an obvious conclusion. This is were I part ways with apologists. If you were to peruse any website dedicated to defending the faith you will find that any and all criticisms are addressed in a way that ultimately suggests that the church and its leaders are not at fault. The contradiction here is that if the leaders do in actuality make mistakes then sometimes there is no valid reason why the leaders made the choices that they did. To paraphrase Freud: "sometimes a cock-up is just a cock-up." Certain hot button issues like polygamy, blacks and the priesthood et al. are sometimes justified by intimating that the leader in question who perhaps made a questionable statement was speaking as a man and not a prophet. Do I really need to go into how this is merely a miserably convenient cop out?</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's an idea. Fallibility of the leadership is built into the religion, therefore it isn't necessary to try and justify every single stance, and utterance that has ever been made or taken. Especially ones that are reprehensible in hindsight and tend to defy any reasonable explanation. Hint: If your answer to a query begins with "He was speaking as a man..." or "It's not pertinent to our salvation" (in any of their guises) or you feel compelled to blame or criticize the questioner for particulars on their part that you find unsavory then you probably need to reconsider your conclusion. It's difficult to admit that you don't know something or that worse yet, perhaps you might be wrong, but I would find it utterly refreshing if just once when I logged onto one of these sites that they did just that. Mistakes were made, it's OK, it happens to the best of us. Hey, I thought the church was true for about 28 years.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-76083963500582037882011-07-26T21:27:00.004+10:002011-07-26T22:08:19.706+10:00What this month taught me...<div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Perhaps semi-inspired by this <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/matt_cutts_try_something_new_for_30_days.html">TED talk</a>, and definitely by this Testosterone Nation <a href="http://www.t-nation.com/free_online_article/most_recent/max_out_on_squats_every_day">article</a>, this month I decided to embark on a daily regimen (missed 3 days so far, oops) of heavy squating. Nothing gets me all burly-manesque like a solid session of </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; font-family: sans-serif; ">Hemorrhoid </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">inducing weights. I am one of those bizarre people that is addicted to moving ponderous amounts of iron just for fun. Can't really explain, I just do it. </span></span></div><div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; ">Here's the thing though, too much of a good thing can be bad for you. If you walk into the gym and are significantly weaker than the previous day, and/or feel like bursting into tears for no apparent reason, then it's time to back off slightly. Both my knees are on the verge of exploding, my left hip flexor has been strained since day 3; too many <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xFm9q1HBKY&NR=1&feature=fvwp">arse to grass squats</a> (not me in the video). I Need to do some <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ue_GrU4mhqc">box/power-lifting squats</a>, hit the posterior chain, and balance things out. "Moderation in all things, except moderation itself." Hammies, your time has come. </span></span>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-86079909579818307852011-07-24T21:40:00.002+10:002011-07-24T21:58:26.621+10:00how to be awesomeDon't just stand there, destroy something<div><br /></div><div>This is self-help, by misanthropists for wretched fucking assholes</div><div><br /></div><div>Creation is a violent act </div><div><br /></div><div>Order is a special kind of Chaos</div><div><br /></div><div>Have you met Punk Jesus?</div><div><br /></div><div>Go thy way and sin some more</div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-12895664435135578552011-07-23T23:08:00.003+10:002011-07-23T23:23:11.791+10:00you are reading thisThe Neo-Nietzsche is here. No more needs be said. When you speak you plant a seed. No one knows what it will look like when it grows to full maturity or if it will grow at all. Everything starts with a lie or truth, and it doesn't matter which. Belief transcends and or devours facts. You either get a baby a stillborn or an abortion. The end will happen in due time. <div><br /></div><div>Fold time back on its self and you start to see the genealogy of the present. We are here. And we are not alive. What is the lynchpin that will trigger the seachange? Should we strive toward hopelessness or embrace our fantasies? We decide. </div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-88223905062705814172011-07-19T21:00:00.006+10:002011-07-25T20:41:44.547+10:00paradigms of greatness 2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiITznTxRfwpDgS6N5vxmlqw0PTNAKPHfmaPubf4MEnY31YlA-m_6yXbnuO7PDxpkaai-jszMtBa39u_028of48BrkJPfdUeKWS2PqUUJBuwTSHe4S8vI6tNc5E-AcoNmtXyfxUAEYL4/s1600/jordan.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 325px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiITznTxRfwpDgS6N5vxmlqw0PTNAKPHfmaPubf4MEnY31YlA-m_6yXbnuO7PDxpkaai-jszMtBa39u_028of48BrkJPfdUeKWS2PqUUJBuwTSHe4S8vI6tNc5E-AcoNmtXyfxUAEYL4/s400/jordan.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631427873336142562" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://slimodsoc.blogspot.com/2011/07/paradigms-of-greatness-1.html">part 1</a></div><div><br /></div>Now it's Michael Jordan's turn. By most accounts Jordan is a dick. He's also a psychopath and a bully. Apparently these traits can get you somewhere in life. I think my favourite Jordan anecdote is when he punched the smallest skinniest white Dude on his team in the face (Steve Kerr, who was a one trick pony in the NBA and thus only receives a parenthetical mention), over some trivial disagreement at practice. <div><br /></div><div>Jordan loved to win but even more he hated to lose. If you beat him at cards or virtually anything, you could guarantee you weren't going home until you had a rematch and he won. His accomplishments have become legend. Do you remember the time he beat an entire NBA all-star team for the 'ship while in a full body cast? That's how ludicrous the stories about Mike's exploits have become. He made Nike (or was it the other way around), arguably became the world's first truly transcendent global sports icon and left a litany of top talent championshipless in his wake (Poor Stockton, Malone, Reggie, Ewing, and Chuck, just to name a few. If they'd played in any other era they'd all have had at least one title each). What he possessed was a singular focus, an unrelenting drive, something sports writers like to call the killer instinct. And let's not forget ridiculous athleticism/talent. Talent can only take you so far though. There have been several unfairly talented NBA players, but there's only one Jordan. Mike summarized himself best when he said "Desire makes the difference."</div><div><br /></div><div>So, which approach is optimal? The level-headed gentlemanly way of Coach Wooden or the tenacity and overbearing approach of Jordan (I haven't exactly been objective in my review of their styles, but I think in many ways I'm more like Jordan than Coach Wooden. Except that I'm white, poor and never have set foot on an NBA court. We're both bald though. Yeah!)? One seemingly did not concern himself with winning, while the other obsessed over it and any slight fired in his general direction. Yet both were successful. Hmmm, so which way is it gonna be?</div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-79158534093186908002011-07-18T23:10:00.003+10:002011-07-18T23:21:25.940+10:00not by the hair of my chiny chin chinI'm flying over a bridge. <div><br /></div><div>Let's unpack that sentence. I'm flying, which is to say the vehicle that's carrying me is airborne. The bridge in question is the last bastion point of humanity. Not that we need one. I personally believe that humanity is extinct. Except that I'm here, and even if I wasn't the bridge would still be standing (to say nothing of my plane, but I already have), a solemn reminder that architectural immortality is a sad similacrum of the real thing. <div><br /></div><div>Where there are bridges there are trolls. Three billy goats taught me that once. I've forgotten their names. </div></div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-68615345649600913472011-07-17T21:52:00.005+10:002011-07-17T22:45:35.065+10:00goodbye skyeHe was floating on a hill, which defies the rules of physics and English to a lesser extent. Over the distant dark cityscape that stood in place of what used to be a forest, which was also at one time a molten wasteland and before that was probably nothing, there should have been a sky. At the bottom of everything is nothing, at the end: also nothing. Nothing makes everything possible.<div><br /></div><div>Where had the sky gone? It hadn't exactly fallen. Someone would have noticed. Presumably. Just one day it wasn't there. Anywhere. In it's place was something or maybe nothing. Who would or could decide? He volunteered, but that wasn't really noticed either.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-86066190117217913502011-07-16T16:53:00.003+10:002011-07-16T17:07:17.614+10:00cold pizzaYou can't appreciate anything fully unless you've gone some time without it. Denial is your best friend, in both its self-inflicted and externally imposed varieties. Heaven tastes a little sweeter after you've been through hell. <div><br /></div><div>Conformity has fueled my dissent. Subversion is my new modus operandi. Walking the straight and narrow has lead me to some crooked paths, and I am grateful. Now I know what I have and have had and better yet what's waiting just over the horizon.</div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-46391430659333729472011-07-12T21:08:00.002+10:002011-07-12T21:11:44.630+10:00paradigms of greatness 1<div style="text-align: left; ">As David Tua*, one of the great orators of our time once memorably said: "There are ways, and then there are ways." Finding the right way is probably one of the trickiest and most rewarding experiences in life. Somehow, whether by evolution or testosterone or other factors heretofore undefined we are driven toward goals. Stagnation while always an option, never seems satisfying. There is always a striving, a call to improvement and ultimately success, whatever it is that that nebulous term alludes to. Self-organizing teleologies pop up, and then prop up our sense of self. What is this will to apotheosis? I do not know.</div><div><br /></div><div>As in all, or should I say most things, there is a wide spectrum of approaches to success, and so it is with becoming "the baddest man on the planet" (let's keep the boxing parlance going). Let me share just two. At the risk of creating another false dichotomy, something that I have become partial to as of late, let's call 1. The Coach Wooden Way and 2. The Michael Jordan way (OK so it's basketball now).</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Coach Wooden** led UCLA to 10 NCAA basketball championships in a 12 year period. The secret to this unprecedented achievement, according to him, was teaching his players how to be successful at both life and basketball. He came up with The Pyramid of Success, which distilled visually the values that he thought would be most beneficial to those under his tutelage. He was also renowned for an ample supply of pithy maxims that he would dispense with acuity. My favourite of his was "be quick but don't hurry." To summarize the man's legacy in less than a paragraph, which doesn't come close to doing him justice, he was old school. He believed in being good to people, in doing your best no matter what, and that if you were a person of character and integrity then you'd win no matter what the final score said. And he did.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaCHegu4VtWfv1VgPAa8VyCfWF_rgR6jARVeVJiAP0dtCvFsgPiHnmPlpcs1CjQADS3ujH-gCl-aBJ0amQA7BKpcjqO1KMpCfk3HOBk_cJsACzp2dMVksoBeffsDAD4Bc0CAcJOt6_-Kw/s400/pyramidJW.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628059719350137138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 259px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><div>*Besides gaining notoriety for his left hook and crazy hair in the vaudevillian world of Heavy Weight boxing, he is also world famous in New Zealand for an appearance on the game show Wheel of Fortune, where he once requested to purchase an "O" for awesome.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>** Check out <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/john_wooden_on_the_difference_between_winning_and_success.html">his TED talk</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>TBC</div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-88496173128330922432011-07-08T19:30:00.005+10:002011-07-09T20:47:52.566+10:00transcendent redemptive epiphany 1At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, although that's never stopped me before, I have been given a new lease on life. Some people loose limbs or loved ones or get cancer and as a consequence they develop a fresh perspective about the world and their place in it. Me, I just quit my job and it's probably one of the most meaningful things I have ever done.<div><br /></div><div>I feel like I'll never take anything for granted ever again. The antecedents of my eventual disaffection seem almost trivial on reflection. Examined in exclusion they hardly seem noteworthy, but somehow each combined to create one deadly Molotov cocktail of I can't take this shit anymore. Alienation was rife. I was ready to declare myself Marxist and begin a revolution. I was ready to go postal. *Primal Scream* GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm no mathematician, but sometimes in life you get addition by subtraction. Bruce Lee used to say "Strip away the unnecessary. Take what is useful, dispose of what is not, add that which is uniquely your own." Ever get the feeling that you're too old to waste time doing shit that you don't want to do. I'm 31 and I'm already having a mid-life crisis. That job was not helping. Then again it did give me this wonderful sense that if I could get through that difficult period of my life, I could get through anything. I had to wonder though if I can get through anything, then why prolong this suffering longer than necessary, let's try something else.</div><div><br /></div><div>TBC</div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-55843857551025832392011-07-07T19:45:00.009+10:002011-07-08T18:58:36.926+10:00my hero with a thousand faces<div style="text-align: left;">Jesus is my all time favourite imaginary friend, and trust me I've had a few, so that distinction definitely means something. On ya Jesus. Score another one for the good guy(s).</div><div><br /></div><div>There are many Jesuses though. So I suppose I should introduce you to mine. But first, let's familiarize ourselves with some of his many manifestations...</div><div><br /></div><div>There's the Apocalyptic-Prophet-Jesus, one of the more virulent forms. Come to earth to establish the Kingdom of God and turn child against parent and so forth. This Jesus is going to kick arse directly preceding the millenium. Watch out sinners.</div><div><br /></div><div>We also have I'm-Insecure-About-My-Popularity-Jesus. "Just say the word, accept me as your personal Lord and Saviour and I'll give you carte blanch on your conduct, plus you get to go to heaven, plus you get to act like a smug prick condemning everyone else to hell. What a deal." Hallelujah! I feel like clapping my hands, and falling over, and shooting someone. </div><div><br /></div><div>I would be remiss if I failed to mention Anal-Retentive-But-Oblivious-To-Real-Issues-Jesus. He once told good ol' Joe Smith "We teach them righteous principles and let them govern themselves." However, Joseph got distracted and pulled his head out of his hat before he caught this important caveat..."I am the Alpha and Omega, ain't no one better blah blah... It's important to note that this principle does not apply to how many earrings one can wear, or what colour your shirt is at church, or facial hair (ignore my beard), or what underwear you wear, or what hand you take the sacrament with, or how much money I require of you, or what pronouns you use in prayer blah blah etc... Also, please stop praying for world peace, I'm too busy helping you people find your keys/other irrelevant items."</div><div><br /></div><div>You know what? It's time for my Jesus, who as you will soon observe stands in stark contrast to ARBOTRI-Jesus. It's the dreaded I've-Had-It-Up-To-Here-With-You-Goddamn-Mother-Fuckin'-Hypocrites-Jesus, aka Temple-Tantrum-Jesus. This Jesus abhorred the legalistic fetish that the Pharisees of his time got off on. He openly condemned their ability to raise hypocricy to the level of an art form. A condition where appearance trumped intent, which unfortunately has found it's way into certain religious practices today. We ignore this Jesus at our peril. You've been warned.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnIw0sVVmd8NuSI5pmr3rHSIONjnXqMvoTh5o_SB8FX_H-7ggzNeHV1gHPjxjbNxI1q-xBXshhWO5YF6yRoUaY9och7gYQqw_hG1VVVMr9amczGZGtXdlYBRjfwtzfvQPur3Sl33VaCPw/s1600/temple3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnIw0sVVmd8NuSI5pmr3rHSIONjnXqMvoTh5o_SB8FX_H-7ggzNeHV1gHPjxjbNxI1q-xBXshhWO5YF6yRoUaY9och7gYQqw_hG1VVVMr9amczGZGtXdlYBRjfwtzfvQPur3Sl33VaCPw/s400/temple3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626581678773047506" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 325px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Behold my cat-o'-nine-tails beeatch</span> </div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-88938401905237425012011-07-02T23:03:00.005+10:002011-07-05T20:39:10.063+10:00wrasslin, nostalgia and my escalating rage<div>In 5,000 words or so you will question my sanity, and I will smile...</div><div><br /></div>My likes have calcified. This is the sure sign that I've gotten old. Yes I'm an old man at 30 or whatever it is that I am now. 30 will do. There was a time when I loved pro-wrestling. Well, everything that's old is new again. I feel younger already.<div><br /></div><div>I'd like to share how truly, epically, fantastically (and any other vaguely relevant hyperbolic superlative you can think of), ridiculous my life is. I have come to the conclusion that religion and science are non-overlapping majesteria after all. Science is about finding the truth of how the universe works (notice the little 't') and religion (or spirituality if you're averse to the institutionalization of personal values) is about defining meaning. But that's not the ridiculous part, this is were wrestling comes in...</div><div><br /></div><div>Whenever the topic of my liking wrestling comes up, the most common question I get is "You know it's fake, right?" Always delivered with a tinge of doubt in the inquirer's voice. Did you know movies are fake? Angelina Jolie's collagen laced lips: fake. Snooki's orange complexion: fake. Your girlfriend's orgasm last night: you get the idea. Yep, I have a fair idea, so it's ironic (we should get used to the fact this is just the way people are going to use this word now. The Alanis Morissette way) that this is the most real thing I've heard in long time (and I don't even watch wrestling anymore, I happened upon this because of an <a href="http://www.grantland.com/story/_/id/6693053/the-ballad-cm-punk">article on grantland.com</a>)... </div><div><br /><iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/2OS9wZGb_3g" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Now without any context to go on, or knowledge about the players involved this will all be an incoherent rant, but right here CM Punk does something that I truly respect, and that I think is all too rare: he told the truth. Sure, it was probably a work, but he touched on many things that resonate with me: his critique of mass consumerism, his anti-authoritarian bent, his lack of overacting, his full head of hair. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the moment that I watched this CM Punk, a wrestler whom I had never seen before, instantly became my favourite of all time. His actions we're heroic, authentic and pedestrian (he's talking on a microphone) all at the same time. This is courage. This is manhood. This is what I am not. I'm feeling all religious; I want to believe this is true, even if it isn't real.</div><div><br /></div><div>Born Again Wrestling fan phase 2:</div><div><br /></div><div>A quick history lesson. WWF Wrestlers in the 80's were typified by oiled up, chemically enhanced physiques (was Hogan subtly referencing his steroid use, with his constant implorations to "take your vitamins"?), and cartoonish gimmicks. In the 90's the ECW came along. It was to the WWF what Grunge was to Hair Metal Bands. One of the new aspects that the upstart company introduced was the shoot interview, where actual events outside of the ring were referenced (another use of the term includes "going off script") blurring the lines between reality and the fantasy world of wrestling. Goodbye Kayfabe. So, during my little youtube wrestling revival, that followed CM Punk's tirade I came across this old shoot by a then not very famous Steve Austin (who later moved on to the WWF/WWE and became their biggest box office draw ever).</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LjSCTihe2W4" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>He called himself the best and ended up being the best, something I admire. Now we can't all be the best, it's kind of an exclusive position, but we're all naturally good at something. Not even compared to others, just compared to ourselves. There are certain ways of thinking that we favour, and certain activities that we are drawn to. Me for instance, I'm drawn to mediocrity and doing as little as possible. I don't think this attitude is going to cut it anymore. Thank the flying spaghetti monster for wrestling.</div><div><br /></div><div>Comparing yourself to others isn't always the most productive way to go about life, but I'm a product of evolution. Competition is part of my nature. Usually the only time I like to toot my own horn is when I'm rubbing one out, in this case however I'll make an exception. I am an athletic freak, there I said it, at a conservative estimate I'd put myself in the 90th percentile of raw athleticism *everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats* not bad for a white guy. I also have approximately a 140 IQ *more squirming from the crowd*. Guess what I do for a job? I'm a labourer. Not that there's anything wrong with being a labourer. Who am I kidding, labouring sucks ass. Hmmm, how the fuck did this happen? You'd think with some fairly decent natural gifts I could have placed myself better.</div><div><br /></div><div>In New Zealand self agrandizing statements are frowned upon (it's just as well I moved to Australia, otherwise I'd be lynched, actually the only mouthing off that Aussie's like is when they're the ones doing it). These "tall-poppies" are quickly chopped down to size through belittling taunts and other forms of social control. In the little area where I grew up the celebration of stupidity and false humility had reached epidemic proportions. Not only was bragging ridiculed, but so was actually doing well at anything academically. Now I don't blame these people for my current situation, my penchant for laziness took care of that all by itself. All I'm saying is that humans are strange creatures, perhaps especially the ones that I hang around. Nobody really failed at anything because no one really tried, and if anyone did we laughed at them. Seriously, our mums went through 9 months of shit in order shit out us useless pieces of shit? Extreme self-loathing is also one of my many gifts.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I was walking through this clusterfuck wasteland and then CM Punk happened and I was saved. I think the best part about blogging is that there's no intonation or indicators where you can tell exactly which parts of my writing I'm actually serious about. Blurring the lines of fantasy and reality, it's beautiful. You know how evangelicals can pull out an atomic clock and tell you to the millisecond when their personal Lord and Saviour rescued them? I get it now. I just don't understand it. Something seriously strange happened this week. I feel energized about life for the first time since I can't remember when (am I or was I depressed?). Is this some kind of bizarro menopause? I actually feel like kicking the world's arse. This is awesome.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm even going straight edge for a while, which is like living the Word of Wisdom without the dogma, but with really bad punk music instead. I'm doing this for a few of reasons: 1. Because by all accounts I'm a bad drunk, of course I never remember the dumb stuff that I do, but damn it's still embarrassing. 2. My bodies tolerance for alcohol is decreasing, I spew after every drink up now. 3. I get to draw an x on the back of my hand which looks bad ass. Experiencing adolescence in your 30's is fun, you get to try on all these different identities and everybody thinks your crazy. You can't please everyone.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, that's the story of how I overcame years of apathy and actually started caring enough to do something. This could change at any time I'm aware. I guess sometimes you can't just go with how you feel. Even if you're run down, got a shit job, or have any other sad sap tale of woe you still gotta find your reason for being here, or create it. Nostalgia helped me find my way out of nowhere (through wrestling!?!), but it could equally pull me back into my old ways (procrastination and laziness). Wish me luck.</div><div><br /></div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-47660192430979609172011-06-27T12:46:00.004+10:002011-06-27T13:25:06.762+10:00manhood, that which escapes me<div>Beware: possible misogyny ahead...</div><div><br /></div>I come from New Zealand where men are men and sheep are girls*. At least, I wish the first part were true. In a world of shifting values and rampant emasculation I cast my net of manliness out across the four corners of the earth and often as of late find my catches wanting. Am I the last man left?<div><br /></div><div>We are the lost boys, "young men stuck in neutral", children in mens bodies forever clinging to our sophomoric antics and nostalgic sheened pasts, afraid that the throes of modern adulthood may one day swallow us up entirely. Alternatively we may assimilate into the feminine imperative adopting traits of the fairer sex, ignoring our proud heritage. The blood of monkeys runs in these veins (and testosterone through my balls). Can we not be equal and different. The anima is not the animus or vice versa. I am a man's man. I will conquer. I will create. I will destroy. As soon as I finish this level of Call of Duty. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am not a man because of what I am (a disappointment). I am a man because I ask the question: What is manliness?<br /><div><br /></div><div>*stole this line from someone, can't remember who</div></div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-48255936503871808512011-06-06T20:33:00.007+10:002011-06-06T22:13:20.416+10:00the arrivalI thought I gave up living in the future. "Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die." I don't believe in heaven anymore, so it seems that I only have death to look forward to. Before I become worm food, I might as well make the most of now. But what does that mean?<div><br /></div><div>Meaning can emerge internally or it can be externally imposed , either way it is created. Why do I clean my room when it will inevitably return to its natural state of messiness? Why do I shave? Why do I deteriorate? Why do I do anything?</div><div><br /></div><div>There is a mythical realm that exists, if only in our minds (I'm not sure if imaginal places or entities are any less valid than physical ones) where all wrongs will be righted, and the righteous will live forever in peace, harmony and eternal happiness. This is a nice goal. We tend to be goal driven creatures.</div><div><br /></div><div>The future cannot rescue me from now. If heaven exists it'll be a nice bonus, but relying on the promise of reasonably implausible future destination is no way to live. Now is an all-encompassing thing, a place where I must perpetually live out my existence. I cannot entirely defer all present gratification in pursuit of a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not saying abandon hope all those who read this post. I'm saying that every goal I create in my mind is a pot of gold. An internal Trojan horse that will prove my undoing. I tire of imagining hallucinations when I could be smoking perfectly good pot.</div><div><br /></div><div>There is what you do and what you do not do. Choose wisely friend. I keep waiting for the moment when I can say I've made it. I have finally arrived. That this is the endgame. Now I pray the endgame never comes, that somehow I'll live forever. Seen as that is an impossible hope, I have to settle for merely living. Living is being and doing, everything else is what other people think and what do they know? </div><div><br /></div><div>Some more than me, others less, but I don't need a proxy for life. I sell a little piece of my integrity everyday to eat and than a little more to be like everyone else. There is no pot of gold. A rainbow is light reflecting through raindrops. Heaven doesn't exist, but I do, and if I don't keep on doing, keep on being here right now, I might as well be a figment of someone else's imagination too.</div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-12393502423021894452011-06-06T00:41:00.002+10:002011-06-06T00:44:32.312+10:00listen to this podcast<a href="http://www.progressiveradionetwork.com/expanding-mind/2011/5/26/expanding-mind-052611.html">Amazing podcast touching on Mormonism and general religious weirdness</a>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-24246976399572350572011-05-30T12:19:00.005+10:002011-05-30T13:09:08.468+10:00the curious case of LeBron James<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTkogCxWS0hWotyrm4riUOefcqYVNWR_AeuRIxc7sQ688J9KfPR5XhN4e0pljU10ZF0BYRCSFG95Izz8WsP5OKCP2VXK_J4_hygHsQ9YOt2Bl580XEh2JDHd3P-X7jI4qtbmZokTPhdpg/s1600/LeBron_James_Heat.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTkogCxWS0hWotyrm4riUOefcqYVNWR_AeuRIxc7sQ688J9KfPR5XhN4e0pljU10ZF0BYRCSFG95Izz8WsP5OKCP2VXK_J4_hygHsQ9YOt2Bl580XEh2JDHd3P-X7jI4qtbmZokTPhdpg/s400/LeBron_James_Heat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612338312332437362" /></a><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://slimodsoc.blogspot.com/2011/05/socio-economics-of-basketball-and.html">part 1</a></div><div><a href="http://slimodsoc.blogspot.com/2011/05/socio-economics-of-basketball-and_28.html">part 2</a></div><div><br /></div>Basically I posted those blogs, so that I could post this one. I think they serve to offer the proper context for what is about to follow.<div><br /></div><div>How do you become incredibly unpopular? Let LeBron James show you the way. </div><div><br /></div><div>LeBron James plays basketball in the NBA. Last summer as a free agent he decided to leave his home town Cleveland Cavaliers and join the Miami Heat with two other top level free agents, Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh. </div><div><br /></div><div>He was roundly critiziced for the decision and especially the way he went about it, an hour long show on ESPN where he announced his new destination to the world. People generally resented the fact that he would abandon his home team (his jerseys were burnt in the streets of Cleveland by former fans), that he'd do so in such a self-absorbed fashion, and that he would join forces with other high level talent instead of plugging away on an inferior team where he was the unquestionable alpha dog.</div><div><br /></div><div>This week LeBron and the Miami Heat prepare to play in the NBA finals. I'd say that in hindsight he has been vindicated in his decision. If you had the option of playing in Cleveland with a bunch of scrubs or Miami, where there's better weather, more hotties per square mile than anywhere else on earth, and where you get to join players who can contribute far more than what you're accustomed to getting from your teammates, well, you'd likely make the move too. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is what I can't understand, the consensus was that LeBron should have stayed out of a sense of perverse loyalty to the city of Cleveland and the Cleveland Cavaliers organization. To which I say bullshit. If you're a free agent you have the right to move to any place you choose. You make the decision that is best for you. Does anyone think for a second that if LeBron was ever injured that the Cavs (let alone the Heat) would have any moral issues about dropping ass? The NBA is a business pure and simple, the players in this system are there to make old rich white men richer. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is the part I love, 3 young black men gamed the system; did something that's never been done before: have 3 premiere free agents still in their prime go to the same team in the same year; and barring injury have ensured that the team they chose to play for will dominate the NBA for the next decade. This is a classic story of the tiny rebel alliance (Bosh, James and Wade) taking on the evil empire (the NBA franchise owners) albiet while playing their game. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can't understand why the general populace would side with the bosses when the majority of us are workers. Sure LeBron and co aren't exactly classic examples of the prolitariat, they're multi-millioniares, but they're still working class heroes in my book. Who doesn't want to stick it to the man? People who love their jobs I guess. As for me I've been an LBJ fan from the beginning and I'm not about to stop now. Go the Heat!</div><div><br /></div><div> </div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-30682058876655986602011-05-29T00:13:00.006+10:002011-05-29T01:21:09.416+10:00mutating religiosity"Let them worship how where and what they may." - Joseph Smith<div><br /></div><div>Indeed Joseph. Indeed. I'm not against Mormonism or Christianity or Islam (especially not Islam, peace upon you, don't kill me etc.) or any other flights of fancy. I'm all for them, until people start flying planes into buildings, that's a little extreme even for my tastes. I pick and choose what I like from humanity's vast history of faith traditions and moral thought and go from there. Take for instance prayer. It seems ridiculous at first, the way most people do it; where god's a genie, minus the lamp, with an offer of unlimited wishes that may or may not be granted depending on the creativity of the individual offering up the supplication. <a href="http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/youre-doing-it-wrong">You're doing it wrong</a> people. I am of the opinion that the universe is at best indifferent, but more likely hostile. The majority of it is inhospitable to life. But you've gotta be grateful for small favours. If the big bang didn't happen I wouldn't be here to lament our existence and wouldn't we all be the poorer for that. The sperm that formed half of me beat out about 50 million others on the way to fertilize the rest of me. The only time I've ever won anything, and a good thing too, otherwise I wouldn't be myself. They died that I might live, which was nice of them. Sometimes I get up and just say thank you universe. I'm alive for a little while longer. Let's make today awesome. I don't expect much help from the universe with the awesomeness part of my prayerish type request, so I'm never disappointed, but as for the rest, sometimes it just feels good to say thank you. </div><div><br /></div><div>How about scripture study? I need daily reminders of what to do and why I'm doing it, because it's too easy to get distracted by present concerns that have little long term pay off. Studying these specially selected works helps me to do just that...</div><div><br /></div><div>THIS WEEK'S TOP 5 CANONICAL WORKS</div><div>1. The War of Art by Steven Pressfield</div><div>2. Improv Wisdom by Patricia Ryan</div><div>3. Fight Club, Chuck Palahniuk </div><div>4. Expanding Mind podcast, by Erik Davis</div><div>5. This is Water, by David Foster Wallace</div><div><br /></div><div>as a bonus here's... </div><div>THIS WEEK'S TOP DEMI-GOD</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVO8T4XOngEWC_dEysIimO7-o60wOjcRH46JgCoGxs8yigk1AVrHZPOMzNVAI0_BLQ1OTcbz8R_1m7Rrk2C3BBHD6Rd5j2tWNuA1v8rNJbuKx6aiI8ckYXTBtg6jurRJk6pgk0VlyYAGU/s1600/adam-carolla.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVO8T4XOngEWC_dEysIimO7-o60wOjcRH46JgCoGxs8yigk1AVrHZPOMzNVAI0_BLQ1OTcbz8R_1m7Rrk2C3BBHD6Rd5j2tWNuA1v8rNJbuKx6aiI8ckYXTBtg6jurRJk6pgk0VlyYAGU/s320/adam-carolla.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611783241941367170" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 257px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>1. ^^<a hfref="http://www.adamcarolla.com/ACPBlog/">Adam Carolla</a></div><div><br /></div><div>extra bonus bonus...</div><div><br /></div><div>THIS WEEK'S TOP SACRED DANCE MOVE...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/KQ6zr6kCPj8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>1. The (Melbourne) Shuffle.</div><div>Yes, it reached its zenith popularity wise about 2 years ago, but it looks like it's finally hit the main stream, and I only learned how to do it this week, hence its inclusion here. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you.</div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-55220606842734396522011-05-28T22:17:00.002+10:002011-05-28T23:36:39.711+10:00the socio-economics of basketball and the question of race or how to alienate almost every one in 3 easy steps part 2<div>here's <a href="http://slimodsoc.blogspot.com/2011/05/socio-economics-of-basketball-and.html">part 1</a></div><div><br /></div>2. College guys play for love and not for the money<div><br /></div><div>The Joker said it best: "If you're good at something never do it for free." </div><div><br /></div><div>Basically everyone involved in college athletics is getting paid (in some cases insane amounts of money) except for the people responsible for this crazy cash cow: the athletes. Sure, many of them are on scholarships, but that's a pittance compared to the quagillion dollars that college sports generates annually. If college ballers could get paid they would, as demonstrated by those who declare for the NBA draft as soon as they are eligible (you have to be 19). The argument for motivational purity is always a precarious one. This is just another version of art versus commerce and in my mind just another false dichotomy. Can you not love something and get paid for doing it at the same time? Has anyone heard of a sperm bank before? Conclusion: Anyone who uses money in real life and could get paid for playing a child's game for a living would do so. It's all academic.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. College guys are fundamental</div><div><br /></div><div>This feels like another culturally embedded racial stereotype, but this one may originate from a true premise as opposed to point #1. Has anyone seen White Men Can't Jump (it's about basketball)? The only thing I remember from that movie, besides Rosie Perez's areolas, was a conversation between Wesley Snipes and Woody Harrelson about how black men would rather look good first and win second (style over substance) while white guys are the other way around. I realize that this is a powerful piece of evidence, a redundant, long forgotten piece of throw away cinema, but hey it feels right. Not what they said as it applies to reality, but more as a way that many people perceive reality. I think this point comes down once again to the fact, that from what we can tell black people are better athletes than whites or anyone else. For white men to compete they need to master the basics, it's easier, although still extremely difficult, to develop skill, rather than (legally) generate more fast twitch muscle fibers and somehow learn how to jump 50 inches. Sometimes, unfortunately either you got it or you don't. I don't have AIDS. For some reason (a reason I will explore no doubt in a future post) a 360 slam dunk is aesthetically more pleasing than a 3-point shot at least according to sportscenter. So, black men do end up looking good (they're more likely to get more highlights shown on ESPN because they dunk more than everyone else) as well as winning more too, because genetically or otherwise they are better suited to athletic activity.</div><div><br /></div><div>final conclusion: black men are better at basketball than white men. Some white men don't like this so they gravitate toward watching the college game more than the NBA, because there are more white men playing at the college level. </div><div><br /></div><div>Next: The Curious Case of LeBron James</div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-83608626534286446042011-05-25T21:26:00.006+10:002011-05-26T11:02:50.310+10:00this is not a pipeI'm driving to work. Well, my mate is driving me to work. I have been deemed a hazard by the Queensland Transport Authority. So these days the only way I get into a car is as a passenger. These are typically long drives, a daily commute from the Gold Coast to Brisbane. At least an hour. You do enough of these and eventually you run out of things to talk about. Well, I never run out of things to talk about, but there's something about long drives, heading in the opposite direction of where you'd like to be, that is incredibly depressing and depression has a funny way of rendering me mute.<div><br /></div><div>I shake off the brain fog. We start talking about drugs. A new favourite topic of mine. Can't wait for my first acid trip. Ah yeah, TMI. He's giving me the run down on 'E', 'P', coke, heroin, and old reliable marijuana. We're debating the merits of Friday the movie, and the evaporation of Chris Tuckers career. We're speculating about an over-under on whether a cop, if given the option, would rather pull you up on a traffic violation or a drug possession offence. If you go to jail, it costs the system money, if you get caught speeding the system gets money. It's all about the Benjamins Baby. </div><div><br /></div><div>After a few tangents we start on effects and the side effects of drugs. Back to weed again. It makes you lazy, forgetful, gives you the munchies and paranoia. I run the list through my brain, checking boxes. Hold up. I'm all those things. All the time. I eat like crazy, always worried about nothing, forever loosing my keys, or wandering into rooms and then wondering why I'm there, and my preference in life is to do as little as possible. I'm manifesting all the signs without even using. Can you imagine if I actually smoked the shit? I mention this in passing. This is the part where he's supposed pipe up and say something supportive like "Loz, no, you're not like that at all..." Instead he's like: "Yeah that sounds right." Cheers mate. </div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878685767200870137.post-33812007313268323992011-05-25T00:12:00.004+10:002011-05-25T01:25:11.881+10:00Worst. Plan. Ever.<div>Buckle up. I'm Agent Smith, you're Neo. "I'd like to share a revelation I've had during my time here..."</div><div><br /></div><div>Premise: The god of Mormonism is a dick.</div><div><br /></div><div>THE GRAND COUNCIL IN HEAVEN</div>Look children gather round, I've got a special announcement. I've been consulting with my favourite, Jesus H Christ, and we've put this amazing plan together that we've worked out for all of you based on agency. Just as a side note if any of you don't want to be a part of this right now we'll book you tickets straight to outer darkness*, or if you fuck up any of it along the way we'll just send you to a slightly less intense form of hell, so listen up. I love you guys, as such I'm going to send you all to a horrible place called earth, were the majority of you will experience terrible indignities, marvelous suffering and eventually death. But don't worry. I'll be with you always and you'll know this because I'll make you forget this entire conversation, and when things are at their most dire and you really need some help you know you can count on me, because I'll communicate with you down there in the most vague way that you could possibly imagine. As a bonus I'll also have these fun hoops that you'll have to jump through if you ever hope to make it back here in one piece, hoops that less than one half of one percent of you will ever find out about, muwhahahaha. Sorry didn't mean to laugh just then. The funniest thing happened to me this morning. Long story. Anyway. Um, no questions? Good. Everyone follow Jesus to the nearest exit. All righty, let there be light etc blah blah. Come on let's get a move one people. Adam. Eve. Earth. Now.<div><div><br /></div><div>...and we all "shouted for joy", because god was S & we are M.<br /><div><br /></div><div>*some accounts contend that the outer darkness part of this statement was kept as surprise sprung on dissenters after they expressed disagreement.</div></div></div>Lorenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10411602545537504295noreply@blogger.com2