Wednesday, September 17, 2008
This is Unacceptable
Saturday, September 13, 2008
The Great Truth Argument
1. http://asympotatoes.blogspot.com/2008/04/poor-picasso.html
2. http://asympotatoes.blogspot.com/2008/04/lojban.html
3. http://asympotatoes.blogspot.com/2008/04/make-art.html
4. http://asympotatoes.blogspot.com/2008/04/truth-to-truth.html
5. http://asympotatoes.blogspot.com/2008/04/what-you-perceive-as-truth-is-only-your.html
6. http://asympotatoes.blogspot.com/2008/04/true-nature-of-math.html
7. http://asympotatoes.blogspot.com/2008/04/faith.html
Google Chrome
See it here!
Friday, August 8, 2008
Wow...I Don't Know If I Can Keep My Mouth Shut on This One...
http://www.metro.co.uk/news/world/article.html?in_article_id=254550&in_page_id=64
Yeah....Has Anybody Else Noticed That He Seems to be Clueless A Lot?
http://www.metro.co.uk/news/world/article.html?in_article_id=254572&in_page_id=64
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
My Grand Road trip adventure
Friday, June 20, 2008
I had the best dinner ever. It all started with a sexy salad with honey mustard dressing. Then came the main course, fried catfish, french fries and broccoli. The catfish was so fucking good, I busted a nut all over the table and it was the pecan pie I had after. The pie was god. It was absolutely divine. I am now the pope in several undiscovered religions as a delicious consequence.
Monday, June 2, 2008
1337
How are you today?
Seems the rumors are about your team might move away
Now, me I'm sentimental
But I'm not one to cry
Say there Mr. Krinkle let's cruise the Bastard boat
Damn then sonsabitches with their gill-nets set afloat
I flip on my tele and I watch the waters die
C'mon Mr. Krinkle tell me why
Hey ho Mr. Krinkle have you heard the brand new sound
It's a cross between Jimi Hendrix
Bocephus, Cher and James Brown
It's called "Heavy Hometown"
New Wave, cold-filtered, low-calorie dry
C'mon Mr. Krinkle tell me why
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Because I'm a poet.
Bill Wambsganss of the Indians led off the inning. Mays scratched the ball with his thumbnail. Using the new friction, he manufactured a fastball low and outside Wambsganss’ strike zone. Wambsganss went for it, regardless. The contact was smooth and true. The ball sailed over the shortstop and fell short of the sprinting centerfielder. An easy jog to first gave the Indians their first hit of the afternoon. Wambsganss was a weasel. He loved stealing bases. He glanced over at second and saw that the only obstacle he faced was a second baseman kicking the dirt. Mays faced his new opponent, Ray Chapman. Ray, the respected shortstop, had an open batting stance, loose and ready for the bunt. Ray was a sacrifice player, he never hesitated to hit short to allow the runner on base to score at the expense of his out at first. His first pitch hit the dirt early and Wambganss bolted to second. Mays shook it off, just a blemish on an otherwise great game. Now was a situation Ray could bunt and let Wambganss come closer to home.
Tris Speaker, the player-manager of the Indians, tapped his belt twice and brushed his ear. Ray took from these gestures the signal to go ahead and bunt. Ray nodded and stepped up to the plate. Mays’ fingers glided over the rawhide, looking for that sweet spot. He found that slickness he needed for his patented spitball. Ray looked at Mays’ glove, and gripped his bat. The pitch was delivered high and leaned towards Ray. Ray never saw the ball coming. The impact of the ball and Ray’s temple produced a sickening thud. Mays thought the ball was live and fielded it and threw the ball to first. Ray was on the ground and Speaker and Wambganss came rushing over to see how bad he was hurt.
“Shit.” Wambganss held his head with his hands, not sure what to do with Ray.
“Ray! Goddamn it! Ray!” Speaker tripped on the dugout stairs and scrambled to Ray. All anybody could do, and all anybody did was stand around Ray. He coughed up some blood and was breathing. A couple of the Indian’s athletic trainers made their way to the plate. They settled Ray onto a stretcher and took him to an ambulance. Ray was unconscious and had trouble breathing. It was awful. Ray Chapman never woke up and was buried at Lakeview Cemetery, down the road from the home of the Indians, League Park.
Speaker sat back in the chair behind the desk of the Indian’s clubhouse. He had a roster change form to send to the Commissioner of Baseball. Ray Chapman was the first name that stood out and he crossed it out with a heavy pen. He still couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to. To make sure this was all real he looked at the black wristband he wore. It was identical to the ones worn by the rest of the Indians.
“Damn it, Ray.” Tris sighed somewhat severely. It was a reminder of what the team lost, but, more importantly, what the team is playing for, the American League pennant. The race for that top spot and the honor to play in the World Series was intense. The Red Sox were a perennial winner and now the White Sox were hot and ready to take first.
The Indians were distracted. Ray’s absence left the Indians scrambling for a replacement and the ordeal led to the Red Sox and even the lowly Tigers sweeping the Indians in the next two series. The season was waning and the Indians needed to get back on track. The final series of the season came in a heartbeat. The Chicago White Sox came to play, and they brought Shoeless Joe Jackson. Tris Speaker, the Grey Eagle, was playing deep in the outfield. He was Grey because he had premature thinning hair. He was the Eagle because he played sharp and brutal. He was often compared to the Pittsburgh legend, Honus Wagner. Speaker always brushed this praised off. He played to win and he won a lot. He was a part of the 1915 World Series champs, the Boston Red Sox, so he was used to winning when he came to the Indians. Today was nothing new for Speaker. The Indians simply had to win this game, this inning, to win the pennant. He cracked his neck and settled into position. Shoeless Joe was up to bat. Joe was famous for cracking line drives. Of course, he hit a laser out to center field. It was going to go over Speaker’s head, over the fence even. The Eagle took flight and ran with the ball, glove high. Somehow, he caught it, His momentum slammed him in the concrete wall waiting for him. He was knocked out cold, but the ball remained in his glove, in a vice-like grip. And like that ball, the pennant was clinched by the Indians.
The World Series is the stage where the best of the National and American leagues come to show their stuff. The Brooklyn Robins were the champs of the National League, and they would be Cleveland’s opponent in the series. Robins’ owner Charlie Ebbets was a gentleman and allowed Cleveland to play Joe Sewell as Chapman’s replacement, even though the replacement was made after the roster dedication deadline. Game one of the best-of-nine series was a pitching duel between Stan Coveleski and Rube Marquard. Coveleski was a machine. A mad one at that. He was so precise and sharp, he had catchers use a new glove every couple weeks. His opponent Marquard was a nice guy. His head may have been in the clouds a bit too high, but he could throw the bean. He even stopped the game to watch some fire engines go by. The Indians manage to bring one run in to win it. Game two belonged to the Robins courtesy Grimes’ spitball deliveries. When the Robins won game three as well, the Indians bit their lip.
League Park was empty besides Tris as he walked to the pitcher’s mound. He was looking for something, anything. He stood on the mound and looked over at the outfield. He read the ‘Remember Ray’ banners the fans posted. He could hear their cheering echoing from the stands. He kicked some dirt and felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Wambganss.
“Come on, Bill, it’s late, get some sleep you jackass.”
“Coach, you don’t need to pray to heaven or anything. There’s no way those shit-for-brains Robins are taking what’s ours.” He left on that note and threw over his scarf for emphasis.
Speaker commanded the attention of his ball club when they arrived to play game four. The weather was awful. It was raining and it was cold. The Eagle wasn’t fazed at all. He looked deep into the young eyes and gave only a few words to play by. Remember Ray, play like he’s watching, because he is, and he couldn’t be prouder. The inspiration led to a pillage of the Robins, heading tied two games apiece into game five. Game five would forever be chronicled in the hearts and souls of the Indians and their fans. Grimes was pitching for the Robins again. He went into the game to keep the ordeal scoreless. Those plans were crumpled up and tossed in the bin when the first three hitters he faced each popped singles to load the bases. Elmer Smith, the hardest hands in baseball, was up now. He easily smacked the ball over the left field fence in a grand slam everyone saw coming. This was a gut punch in the Robins’ hopes of being competitive in this series. Without mercy, the Indians had a brutal defense as well. Wambganss recorded an unassisted triple play, about as rare as a perfect game. The ball lined out into his glove and he touched second and tagged the runner who cursed himself for running so far ahead. The Indians lifted Wambganns and he tipped his hat to Ray.
“Don’t get cocky fellas, we only have 3 games on those guys.” Tris reminded them of the best of nine series. “You get cocky, you get stupid.”
“Come on coach, relax and have a beer!” Wambganns led the Indians to the tavern down the street. Speaker massaged his temples and went to go sleep in his office.
The next two games were quick pitcher duels and the Indians took both to win five games to two over Brooklyn. Speaker was the quietest one at the celebration on the field after game seven. He shook hands, sipped some champagne and simply smiled. He knew the team was helpful, but it was Ray Chapman who won the World Series. Chapman was just bunting soft to right again. The Indians ran home while he got caught out at first. That was the life of a sacrifice hitter.
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Wednesday, May 21, 2008
look.
The part of you that's drifting over me
And when I wake you're never there
But when I sleep you're everywhere
You're everywhere
Just tell me how I got this far
Just tell me why you're here and who you are
'Cause every time I look
you're never there
And every time I sleep
you're always there
'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes it's you I see
You're everything I know
that makes me believe
I'm not alone
I'm not alone
I recognize the way you make me feel
It's hard to think that
you might not be real
I sense it now, the water's getting deep
I try to wash the pain away from me
Away from me
'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes it's you I see
You're everything I know
that makes me believe
I'm not alone
I'm not alone
I am not alone
Whoa, oh, oooh, oh
And when I touch your hand
It's then I understand
The beauty that's within
It's now that we begin
You always light my way
I hope there never comes a day
No matter where I go
I always feel you so
'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes it's you I see
You're everything I know
that makes me believe
I'm not alone
'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I catch my breath
it's you I breathe
You're everything I know
that makes me believe
I'm not alone
You're in everyone I see
So tell me
Do you see me?
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Monday, May 5, 2008
We Have a Problem
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Sunday, May 4, 2008
For your reading pleasure...
I have only an opening, a climax and a closing.
It is MINE. Any copying and pasting without my permission is prohibited. Copyright Andrew Gabany.
The Fallen Sword
EXT. TOKUGAWA PALACE – SUN
There is a peaceful scene with birds flying over a huge palace with immense steps with red pillars on each side leading up to a grand building with the traditional Japanese curved roofs. The wooden doors are inlaid with gold and silver.
INT. TOKUGAWA PALACE
Inside the structure there is a great space with marble floors and black pillars. There are seven men around a great throne where a grandiose man rests. One other man beside the throne holds up a white fan with a black flower on it.
SCRIBE
Shogun Tokugawa Yoshinobu speaks!
The scribe retreats and sits on a couch in the corner of the room. The grandiose man in the throne clears his throat and adjusts himself in his seat.
TOKUGAWA
Thank you, SCRIBE. Greetings, my loyal vassals. I have summoned you to discuss the progress on our, ahem, confrontation with Emperor Meiji. HEIHACHI TOGORO, what news do you bring from our campaign at Aizu?
A man in traditional, ceremonial armor approaches the throne. He kneels, lowering his head. He then lifts himself, standing tall. He takes a deep breath.
TOGORO
Shogun, Aizu was a failure. The Byakkotai unit was wiped out, taking out minimal Imperial casualties. The naginata wielders, the women, my lord, were shown no mercy. The armies of Satsuma and Choshu were much too powerful. I’m deeply sorry to report such failure, Shogun.
TOKUGAWA gives a savage stare. His face reddens and he slams the arms of his throne. The blunt noise echoes throughout the palace.
TOKUGAWA
(Frustrated)
Damn it to hell! Those imperial rifles have put us up in smoke! This is the cost of westernization! We cannot let Japan give in to that democratic, capitalistic bullshit! This is the very death and decay we need to save Japan from! Ideas like bushido, bakufu, samurai, and even Shinto will be forgotten into the wind of those Imperial blowhards!
A silence echoes in the palace. TOGORO lowers his head and stares at TOKUGAWA’S feet. He purses his lips and exhales.
TOGORO
(Nervously)
Shogun, we cannot win this war, we should give ourselves up to Meiji. His forces are just-
TOGORO is silenced by a blade to his throat, held by a SAMURAI next to him.
SAMURAI
(Serious)
Do you not understand bakufu? It means the Shogun tells you what to do and you do it. No questions, no bullshit. If he told you to eat thunder and shit lightning, you damn well better do it, or you will be disposed of.
TOGORO turns his head slowly to TOKUGAWA. TOKUGAWA’S lack of expression makes TOGORO flinch. TOKUGAWA lowers his head. The SAMURAI pulls out his wakizashi and slashes TOGORO across the neck. The SAMURAI is careful to have the blood spatter away from the Shogun, as it lands on the floor. TOGORO’S decapitated head hits the floor before his body. TOKUGAWA raises his head and as if nothing had happened, continues.
TOKUGAWA
Samurai is pride, honor, and commitment to bakufu. It is bushido, the way of the warrior. Those who do not follow bushido and call themselves samurai are those without the right to live. You gentlemen are dismissed.
The six remaining men bow to TOKUGAWA. TOKUGAWA puts out a hand and the men retreat out the door. TOKUGAWA is alone and stares at TOGORO’S body.
TOKUGAWA (CON’T)
Scribe! [Pause] (Quietly) Get rid of this bastard…
EXT. STEPS OF TOKUGAWA PALACE - SUNSET
The six men are walking down the steps to their camps. One man clears his throat. The silence prevails until one man speaks.
SAMURAI
Our last hope to stay in this war against the Imperial regime is Hakodate Bay in Hokkaido. The naval forces we assembled there are about all we have left. If out steam boats can keep afloat long enough for those Imperial warships to run out of gunpowder, our blades can finally deliver Shogun TOKUGAWA some justice.
The men mutter agreements. At the bottom of the steps, the men pause to look out to the vista. We see camps and smoke from campfires. The samurai camps stretch out to the horizon. The sun is now setting over the horizon.
SAMURAI
Maybe Japan really is changing…from a feudal hell-hole ruled by TOKUGAWA, to a democratic one in the hands of Meiji. Needless to say, I hope I still got a job.
The men chuckle and go on to the camps for the night.
EXT. HOKKAIDO, JAPAN: THE BATTLE OF HAKODATE BAY – RAIN, NIGHT
Off the shore of Hokkaido, a naval battle rages on. There are several steam ships and an immense iron battleship. The iron battleship has soldiers on it with rifles. Some soldiers are operating mounted Gatling guns on the ship, shooting at the wooden steam ships. The wooden ships have armored warriors aboard. Each warrior has a katana, a wakizashi and a few have naginata. Several wooden ships have ladders. The warriors are desperately trying to mount ladders onto the big iron ship to flood warriors aboard to cut down the enemy soldiers. A wooden ship finally succeeds and a WARRIOR climbs up to the iron ship’s deck. He begins cutting down soldiers with his katana, intensely swinging. He kicks a soldier in the gut and slashes his back, and turns around to slash another across the throat. He shoves his katana behind him to stab an approaching soldier. He pulls out his wakizashi to cut down another soldier coming from his right. He puts away the wakizashi and goes to look for more victims. He runs across the deck.
WARRIOR
For Tokugawa!
A SOLDIER falls to the WARRIORS feet, holding his legs. The WARRIOR falls down, but gets up quickly and wields his katana. He looks down to see the SOLDIER in the fetal position.
SOLDIER
Please! We cannot fight! The gunpowder is soaked!
The WARRIOR stabs the SOLDIER and kicks him aside.
WARRIOR
No mercy for the merciless!
We see the wooden steam ships and the warriors aboard have chains with heavy steel balls at the end. A brave warrior carries the ball up a ladder attached to the iron ship. The warrior throws the ball aboard and kills some soldiers alerted by its presence. The warrior swings the ball around a mounted Gatling gun and yells to his brothers below. The warriors below pull on the chain and the Gatling gun falls into the sea. The warrior yells for victory but his exclamation is cut short by an enemy rifle that blows a hole in his torso, throwing his body overboard. The same soldier loads nearby cannon and takes aim at the wooden ship below. Meanwhile, the WARRIOR kills some more SOLDIERS on the deck. He turns and looks for his comrades only to see a cannonball pierce the ship and it explodes before his eyes. The WARRIOR sheathes his katana and falls to his knees and yells to the skies.
WARRIOR
Banzai!!
INT. MEIJI PALACE – SUN
A MESSENGER in ceremonial robes and wooden sandals opens huge, bejeweled doors. He walks briskly on a crimson carpet to a marble table where seven men are sitting. He gets on his knees, touching his head to the floor. He rises to his feet and looks at the young man sitting at the head of the table.
MESSENGER
(Solemnly)
Emperor Meiji, I have excellent news.
MEIJI
(Slightly annoyed)
Speak quickly, I have my council here and we have much to discuss.
MESSENGER
Emperor Meiji, the campaign at Hokkaido, The Battle of Hakodate Bay was an immense success. Tokugawa cannot fight any longer. The Shogunate has no more power.
MEIJI
Excellent. Relay this to the locality officers. Tell them Japan has finally bloomed once more.
MESSENGER
Right away, my lord. Thank you, Emperor Meiji.
The MESSENGER bows again and walks slowly backwards to the doors and closes them while bowing. As the doors close, the sound echoes through the room. Emperor Meiji cannot fight back a smile.
MEIJI
Gentlemen, we have Japan. She is finally free from feudal shackles and can now take flight and grow in the modern world that surrounds her. Gentlemen, I have sent this gentleman, Mr. Ito HIROBUMI, to Europe to research western political and social ideas for us to employ to help Japan grow. Now then, Mr. HIROBUMI, how was your trip?
A pleasant looking man scoots his chair a little closer to the table and he adjusts his
HIROBUMI
Pleasant, my emperor, thank you.
MEIJI
Could you briefly describe your findings?
HIROBUMI
Of course. During my stay in England, I conversed with members of the English parliament. It’s a form of legislation, made up of representatives of the people.
MEIJI
People vote for these representatives, HIROBUMI?
HIROBUMI
Precisely. The parliament is the English tool to have the voice of the people heard. In western politics, the support of the people is required to have any power. This makes for a system that has low corruption and high success.
MEIJI
Interesting. Now what about executive power?
HIROBUMI
The English monarch is the head of state; his power is kept under check by parliament. This balance of power certainly makes for the strong point in English philosophy. Stable governing leads to successful global relations. The dominance the English have in global trade is no doubt a result of its balanced governing.
MEIJI
Successful global relations are what Japan needed all along. That foolish Shogunate clipped Japan’s wings with that awful Sakoku policy of isolation and banning of foreign trade. That damn Sakoku… it was a cage that Japan had no choice but to rot in. Our westernization will open the cage, set her free.
HIROBUMI
Westernization seems to be an even more perfect solution than we had ever perceived, my emperor.
MEIJI
Our beloved Japan will finally grow into a united nation. A nation where the voice of the people is heard, a government untainted by specific loyalties, corruptions or personal agendas. We will be a shining nation.
The emperor stands up and goes toward a bonsai tree. He picks up a pebble and turns to his council. One man has stood up as well and approached MEIJI. His stubble on his chin and scar on his cheek reflect his personality.
MEIJI
Hitsugaya?
HITSUGAYA
Meiji, we have not gotten rid of the samurai.
MEIJI
Samurai? Those foolish sword-swingers?
HITSUGAYA
Meiji, as long as there are ideas like bakufu or bushido, the way of the warrior, Japan will hold tight to tradition. Tradition is a staple of life to our people, Meiji.
MEIJI
Japan will just have to adapt. Tradition is obsolete in this new world and we need to join the rest of the world in the advancing of the human race. This is bigger than Japan, Hitsugaya. Japan cannot be an island upon itself any longer and still expect to survive.
A severe hand from HITSUGAYA snatches the pebble from MEIJI’S hand. MEIJI’S shock ripples to the other council members. HITSUGAYA’S expression is fierce.
HITSUGAYA
The traditions of the Japanese people are like the pebble in my hand. It appears we put down pebbles in bonsai gardens for decorations, but do you know the actual purpose of the pebble?
MEIJI
(Shaken)
To keep the soil from blowing away with the wind…
HITSUGAYA
Do you see? We cannot have our western society when the people revere the social system that has been laid down for thousands of years. The samurai will not be easy to accept their sudden loss of status. If we want to have any hope of stability, we will have to give the samurai token positions of power in our government. They could be in power in their own localities, even.
MEIJI
(Offended)
Don’t be a damn fool! Japan will be a nation built on integrity, morality and justice. Morals are tradition as well, Hitsugaya.
HITSUGAYA
(Arrogant)
You’re the emperor, do as you please.
HITSUGAYA turns his back on the emperor and leaves the room. HIROBUMI approaches the emperor, slightly enraged by HITSUGAYA’S disrespect.
HIROBUMI
My emperor, when the Europeans went through a similar transition, some nations had to deal with rebellions led by those who lost their status.
MEIJI
Rebellions, Hirobumi?
HIROBUMI
The knights and warriors who lost their place in society rose to fight, utilizing the only skill they possessed.
MEIJI
Those rebellions were foolish and damned from the start.
HIROBUMI
This is not something to take lightly, Meiji. The rebellions had quite adverse affects on the developing democracies. The rebellions divided the people and led to more conflict. Our samurai problem will not go away if we ignore it. The samurai will face any foe with full force and not stop until they win. It is their way. It’s pride.
MEIJI has a look of disgust. He walks over to a wall where an imperial rifle is mounted. He takes the rifle off the wall and inspects it.
MEIJI
Do you think I know nothing of pride, Mr. Hirobumi?
MEIJI loads the rifle and points the barrel at HIROBUMI, who is shocked and speechless. The council sits still in their chairs, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.
HIROBUMI
The flame of the samurai will not die quietly into the night!
MEIJI
Hirobumi, this is power now. A blade is a toy.
MEIJI unloads the rifle and remounts it onto the wall. He strolls back to his chair at the council table. MEIJI takes a deep breath and stares at HIROBUMI as he takes his seat as well. MEIJI regains his composure and clears his throat.
MEIJI
Gentlemen, let’s give Japan back her dignity.
EXT. RUSTIC VILLAGE, 10 YEARS LATER – DUSK
SHOT OF VILLAGE
The village has children running around and smoke rising from houses. The central square has people sitting by the well. On the other side of town people are throwing petals into the nearby stream.
SHOT OF ROAD
While the sun sets behind him, a man walks down a hill with a beaten path. There is a wooden fence to his right. A couple places on the fence, there are wooden signs that have a black sword painted on them with a red slash through the icon. The man scrapes his wakizashi on the fence as he walks. On his hip he wears another sword, a katana. He is wearing a faded purple cloak with a white geometrical pattern. The cloak barely covers what he wears underneath, a work shirt with his name, ICHIBAN, written on it in kanji. To ICHIBAN’S right, in the field, a FARMER calls out to him.
FARMER
Hey! Mr. ICHIBAN! How are you?
ICHIBAN
Hello MIYAGI. I’m fine, just getting home from work. How are you?
MIYAGI
I’m excellent, Mr. ICHIBAN. The harvest looks good this year. But then again, it always looks good; my wife makes sure of it.
MIYAGI combs back his hair with his hand and offers his hand. ICHIBAN gives a slight bow. MIYAGI pulls back the hand and bows as well. He looks at ICHIBAN’S katana and whistles.
MIYAGI
Still got that beautiful piece of steel, huh?
ICHIBAN
Of course, MIYAGI. It is a manifestation of my commitment to bushido. It’s as much a part of me as my arms and legs.
MIYAGI
Yeah, sure. I think you carry it because it makes you look like a badass. Haha!
ICHIBAN
That’s what comes with being a samurai, MIYAGI. Now, I must get home for PAN’S dinner.
MIYAGI
Who am I to keep a starving samurai back from dinner? Haha! Sayonara, ICHIBAN!
ICHIBAN
Farewell, MIYAGI.
ICHIBAN tips his hat and returns to the dirt road. He steps on a fallen wooden sign and continues downhill.
EXT. A VILLAGE DWELLING – AFTER DUSK
The dwelling is humble, there are clothes left on the line on the house and the wooden door is ajar. Light creeps out of the door, a warm aura.
INT. VILLAGE DWELLING
Inside, we see ICHIBAN eating with his wife and son. They all sit on pillows and eat off a low table. ICHIBAN rubs his SON’S unruly hair and smiles. He turns to his wife, PAN, who is also smiling.
SON
Father, how was your day?
ICHIBAN
It was fine, IEMOURI. Didn’t your mother tell you to go to bed?
IEMOURI
Yes, father.
IEMOURI frowns and stands up and waddles out of the room. ICHIBAN smiles and looks to his wife again.
ICHIBAN
Thank the spirits I have that job at the train station. Otherwise we would never be able to support IEMOURI.
PAN
We certainly are fortunate. Especially you getting a job, that’s wonderful. Some other former samurai weren’t so lucky.
ICHIBAN
I definitely recognize the plight of my brothers. It’s a shame how things had to happen for the Restoration to take place.
PAN
Have you heard the rumors, ICHIBAN?
ICHIBAN looks up at PAN and lowers his eyebrows.
PAN (CONT’D)
I hear talk of a samurai rebellion. It’s terrifying. They’ll just shake up the already insane world we live in.
ICHIBAN
(Annoyed)
Don’t believe everything you hear from those gossiping women.
ICHIBAN appears disturbed and stand up. He leaves the room and PAN stares at his empty pillow. ICHIBAN goes to IEMOURI’S room to find him already asleep. ICHIBAN looks at his son and closes his door. PAN approaches ICHIBAN from behind, holding his shoulders.
PAN
This whole thing just isn’t fair for IEMOURI. He has to live in this world we messed up for him.
ICHIBAN
(Frustrated)
Don’t say things like that. We’re in a transition. Life will be wonderful for IEMOURI.
PAN
I’m just a little frightened.
ICHIBAN
(Quietly)
You certainly have every reason to be.
ICHIBAN walks out of the house and brings his katana. He begins stretching and progresses to swinging his sword at the air around him. Each swing is complimented with a word from bushido.
ICHIBAN
(While swinging)
Gi! Yu! Jin! Rei! Shin! Meiyo! Chugi! Gi! Yu! Jin! Rei! Shin! Meiyo! Chugi!
CLIMAX
EXT. WIDE FIELD – SUN
The Satsuma samurai army is being led back from Kyushu back to Satsuma after the failure at Kumamoto castle. Yamagata’s Imperial army is in hot pursuit. He has an army 300,000 strong. At the front of about 500 men is SAIGO, a rather impressive man. His huge physique is complimented by a white beard and moustache, emitting a radiance of manliness. He carries a katana and wears a French uniform. A timid warrior approaches SAIGO.
WARRIOR
SAIGO?
SAIGO
Yes, samurai?
WARRIOR
Yamagata’s army… It’s the rest of Japan, right?
SAIGO
The size of an army means nothing.
WARRIOR
They have rifles, SAIGO. And five warships in Kagoshima… We just can’t win.
SAIGO
You have a lot of courage to speak your mind. Unfortunately, you lack any sense of bushido. You are useless to us, samurai, if you think we’re fighting to win a war.
WARRIOR
(Desperate)
Then what the hell are we fighting for?!
SAIGO
Honor. Is it not obvious?
The WARRIOR leaves SAIGO, horrified. SAIGO’S expressionless face maintains. ICHIBAN overhears the conversation and turns to the SAMURAI next to him.
ICHIBAN
My family is near Kagoshima… You don’t think…
ICHIBAN turns to the samurai marching next to him.
SAMURAI
Huh? I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t know about things like that.
ICHIBAN
What do you mean, don’t you have a family that’s worried for you?
SAMURAI
Oh, no. I don’t have anybody. I’m Ronin and just heard the news of this rebellion. Figured I’d swing my katana one more time. My name’s ASANO, by the way.
ICHIBAN
I am ICHIBAN, ASANO. I am from Reihanji, a village north of Kagoshima.
ASANO
I know that village, great teahouse there.
ASANO chuckles and looks over away from ICHIBAN. He turns his head back.
ASANO (CONT’D)
I don’t have a home; I’ve forgotten my origin a long time ago. You guys picked me up at Kumamoto.
ICHIBAN
I envy your situation; you have no one to feel pain about your death.
ASANO
You envy that? You envy being as remembered as a morning shit?
ICHIBAN is silenced. He grins a little and nods. ASANO laughs and shakes his head. He puts a hand on ICHIBAN’S shoulder.
ASANO (CONT’D)
I see where you’re coming from. You don’t want your family to be burdened by your memory.
ICHIBAN’S expression recedes a little. He smirks and nods. ASANO takes his hand back. The two men walk with the 500 others into the distance.
EXT. SHIROYAMA HILL – NIGHT
The Satsuma forces pitch camp for the night. The news is that Yamagata’s army is close and will discuss terms tomorrow. SAIGO is in his tent, planning. A SCRIBE runs to SAIGO’S tent.
SCRIBE
SAIGO! I have Yamagata’s letter!
SAIGO lifts his head from his maps and puts them aside.
SAIGO
Thank you, please read it.
SCRIBE
Yes, SAIGO.
The SCRIBE bows and sits down and unravels the document. He clears his throat and turns to SAIGO.
SCRIBE (CONT’D)
Mr. Saigo Takamori, this is General Yamagata Arimoto of the Imperial Army of Japan. We have stationed five warships in Kagoshima harbor and we have mobilized 300,000 troops around the area. [The SCRIBE pauses and stares at the paper, he continues reading, now with a shaken voice] Kyushu Island is thoroughly filled with Imperial forces. Your surrender to the Imperial Army of Japan is requested. You have three days to reply. Our forces will arrive at Shiroyama in five days.
The SCRIBE folds the document and lowers his head and walks out of the tent. SAIGO sighs and pulls over his maps. He tries to continue planning, but throws the papers to the ground. He calls for the SCRIBE
SAIGO
SCRIBE!
The SCRIBE scurries back to the tent and pops his head in.
SCRIBE
Yes, SAIGO?
SAIGO
Prepare to write my response to Yamagata. Also, summon BEPPU.
The SCIBE bows and goes to his tent to collect his pen and parchment. He returns with a man in armor to SAIGO and sits down and puts pen to paper.
SAIGO
General Yamagata Arimoto, this is Saigo Takamori. I will not surrender my army to you bastards and you will pay for humiliating me by making such a request. I am a samurai, have you heard of bushido? It is the way of the warrior, it is honor, and it is never backing down. Your 300,000 men is a manifestation of your fear, Yamagata. You are hiding behind the sheer size of your army, because you have failed plenty of times before. I will lose my army in five days, but you will not kill a single samurai. I know my head is a worthy prize, but you will never get it. Thank you, SCRIBE. Send that letter and leave BEPPU with me.
The SCRIBE, smiling, leaves the tent. BEPPU sits across from SAIGO.
SAIGO (CONT’D)
BEPPU, my most loyal follower, you are still by my side, of course.
BEPPU
I will follow you to the ends of the earth, my lord.
SAIGO
BEPPU, may the spirits lift you to the highest peak of heaven. You are a true samurai.
BEPPU
Why have you summoned me, SAIGO?
SAIGO
I will need a kaishakunin, BEPPU. I will not die by any other hand but yours.
BEPPU
I will do what is necessary to preserve your honor as well as mine.
SAIGO
Thank you, BEPPU; you may retire for the night.
BEPPU stands up and leaves the tent with the utmost seriousness. SAIGO stares at his lantern.
EXT. SHIROYAMA HILL-DAY
SAIGO is in his French uniform, addressing his army, all armor-clad and armed with katana, wakizashi and a few rifles. About a hundred soldiers are melting down bronze statues of Buddha to cast into more bullets for the rifles of the Satsuma army.
SAIGO
Satsuma! Attention! The metallurgy unit is making more bullets for the rifles we have. The battle will focus, however, on our blades. The combat will be close and very physical. The Imperial forces are not as trained as we are. We have to be defensive, concise and brutally sharp. I have a few samurai here who are scared.
SAIGO looks around at his men and seems to instill courage in them.
SAIGO (CON’T)
Samurai stands tall!
SAMURAI (ALL IN UNISON)
Gi!
SAIGO
Samurai never fears!
SAMURAI
Yu!
SAIGO
Samurai loves life and is charitable!
SAMURAI
Jin!
SAIGO
Samurai does not question his master!
SAMURAI
Rei!
SAIGO
Samurai pierces lies with blades of truth!
SAMURAI
Makato!
SAIGO
Samurai place honor above all else!
SAMURAI
Yo!
SAIGO
Samurai is loyal to his master, wherever he leads him!
SAMURAI
Chuu!
The samurai get rowdy and cheer and SAIGO smiles in appreciation at his band of samurai.
SAIGO
New government! High morality!
The roars get louder. The smoke and steam from the bronze melting and forming subsides. A horn is blown. The rifle-armed samurai get in line to get their ammo. The katana wielders retreat to their tents examine their weapons. The whole camp seems to wear a face of brutal concentration. The banners of Satsuma are raised and blow in the wind.
EXT. SHIROYAMA HILL – DAWN
SAIGO comes out his tent. The other tents have been put down and all the samurai are in lines of 10. BEPPU is at SAIGO’S side. He calls for the samurai’s attention. BEPPU pulls out his katana and holds it high. SAIGO looks down the hill. The Imperial forces have arrived and have the Satsuma forces surrounded. The 300,000 soldiers seem to have completely enveloped the 400 or so samurai warriors. An aerial view shows the samurai on a hill, surrounded by a black sea of imperial forces. Every samurai unsheathes their blade at Beppu’s command, the sound is for intimidating the enemy. The massive noise of steel being unsheathed echoes. SAIGO yells for his men to hold the hill.
SAIGO
Hold Shiroyama! Hold fire until I give the call! Never back down! Yo!
The roar of the samurai seems to be louder than the explosions that came with the Imperial forces. Immediately, a cloud of smoke persists everywhere from the rifle firing. The warships in nearby Kagoshima harbor begin to fire at the samurai. Samurai are flung into the air as thousands of shells rain on their stronghold. The few rifles of the Satsuma came out to meet the approaching forces of the Imperial Army. The Satsuma samurai killed many Imperial men, but the numbers were too heavy. The main objective of the samurai became to protect Saigo at any cost. Several other samurai hurtle down the hill with their blades to cut down the enemy. We see Ichiban and Asano charge at the Imperial forces with only katana.
ASANO
(Intense)
Let’s go Ichiban!
ICHIBAN
I’m right behind you, Asano!
The two expert swordsmen pierce through the Imperial wall, killing every soldier in their path. Asano cut down soldiers by taking them off their legs, letting them fall. Ichiban went right for the necks of his adversaries. The Imperial soldiers were hopeless when samurai got this close to them. They were only trained with rifles. An explosion deafens Ichiban, and he looks over to Asano, to see his torso ripped open. Asano falls to his knees.
ICHIBAN
(Screaming)
Asano! No! God, no!
Ichiban sprints to him, Asano can barely breathe, but manages to mouth the word ‘seppuku’. Ichiban nods and decapitates his friend. He has preserved his honor by doing so. Tears in his eyes, he kills and kills more soldiers. Ichiban’s one-man charge has led him to Kagoshima harbor. An Imperial rifle shoots him from behind and he falls to the ground. A man in a red cloak, disguised as an Imperial medic, pulls Ichiban to a nearby house. Back on the hill, samurai continue charging downhill into enemy fire, hurtling katana-first. Some make it to the soldiers and begin hacking away, killing as many as they possibly can. The rifles blow off the limbs of a few samurai, but some are so gung-ho, they keep running. The soldiers are hopeless when the samurai come close enough to slash at them. The sheer skill of the blade the Satsuma samurai have takes down about 10 soldiers for every fallen samurai. Saigo is seen behind a wall of samurai, alongside Beppu. Saigo is shot in the leg by a rifle and falls down, Beppu rushes to his side.
SAIGO
Beppu, find me a suitable place.
Beppu nods and picks up SAIGO and runs down the hill to a small forest. On his way hurtling down the hill, he is shot at multiple times and is hit once in the side. The adrenaline overrides the pain and he sets down Saigo. Saigo is already dead. Beppu yells out intensely and decapitates Saigo. Imperial forces seize Saigo and shoot Beppu multiple times. The samurai bodies are strewn across the hill, the Imperial forces have made quick work of the samurai and raise their rifles in victory.
INT. KAGOSHIMA HOUSE – NIGHT
An old man is washing Ichiban. He dries him off and lays him on a bed. The old man starts a fire and then begins bandaging Ichiban. Ichiban moans and wakes up to see the old man bandaging his right arm.
ICHIBAN
My arm… uh…
OLD MAN
Do not talk. You are very weak right now.
ICHIBAN
Who are…
Ichiban falls back asleep and the old man goes to other room to make some hot tea. The strong smell wakes up Ichiban again. He still seems disoriented, but accepts a cup of tea. He sips the tea and breathes heavily.
OLD MAN
You are very lucky, samurai. I have saved you from that battle. You were just about left for dead out there.
Ichiban realizes the dishonor he has now because he did not die out there. A defeated samurai must be a dead samurai in Ichiban’s mind.
ICHIBAN
You… saved me?
OLD MAN
Yes, yes, I know all about bushido. You will have to forgive me but I couldn’t let you die out there. For some reason, I had to save you. Besides, you did not have to die; you’re here now, right?
ICHIBAN
Damn you…
Ichiban is raged, but too tired to express much of it. He’s still exhausted, and falls back asleep. The old man sits in a chair beside him.
OLD MAN
Those samurai bastards are so damn crazy…
Ichiban dreams about his family and his life before joining the Satsuma samurai. His dream ends when a katana falls on a floor, echoing. Ichiban wakes up again and looks around the room. There are katana on the wall. He is shocked that there would be katana in a house owned by such an old man.
ICHIBAN
Hey! Where are you?
The old man comes in and bows to Ichiban.
OLD MAN
Hello, welcome to my house.
ICHIBAN
Who do you think you are, picking me up from the battlefield from which I was supposed to die? I have lost my honor. And I have you to thank for it. Explain yourself, old man.
The old man clears his throat, rolling with the punch he received from Ichiban. He sits down in a dark, wooden chair.
OLD MAN
My name is Ieyasu. I am a former samurai, but one that has adjusted to the restoration peacefully.
ICHIBAN
So you’re a traitor to bushido?
IEYASU
Not at all. I have simply moved my loyalty from Tokugawa to Meiji. It is natural to revere the emporer. He is divine, after all.
ICHIBAN
He has made you and your brothers worthless in society, how divine is that?
IEYASU
It is just. Samurai are powerful because they can kill anyone who challenges them. Death should not be tool wielded by man.
ICHIBAN
Shut up! You’re a traitor to bushido and robbed me of my honor!
ICHIBAN winces in pain from the outburst.
IEYASU
Are you really that bull-headed? Your yelling will tear open all your wounds. You’ll bleed to death. Don’t you see that life is precious? A gift from the spirits to hold on to tightly…
ICHIBAN
Life is temporary, honor is everlasting.
IEYASU
I see you’ve been effectively persuaded as such. Please drink your tea.
Ichiban listens to Ieyasu and drinks his tea slowly. The tea gives Ichiban energy rather quickly and impressively.
IEYASU (CONT’D)
When my life as a samurai ended, I became a medicine man. I put some real special herbs in that tea. It should clear your head and expedite your healing.
Ichiban looks at his cup and grimaces.
ICHIBAN
(Bitterly)
Thank you.
Ichiban lifts himself in the bed to sit up. His breathing is fast, it took a lot out of him to move. He catches his breath.
ICHIBAN (CONT’D)
Why did you abandon bushido so easily?
Ieyasu looks over to the corner of the room to gather some composure. He exhales and adjusts himself in his chair.
IEYASU
One cannot escape bushido. I still live to the code. I am loyal to the emporer, I am benevolent to others, I honor the gods, I respect my masters and I fear nothing.
ICHIBAN
Then how could you in good conscious strip me of my honor?
IEYASU
I cannot explain that. I am deeply disturbed too. I thought a kami whispered in my ear… It’s odd, I know. Perhaps your journey is not complete, samurai.
ICHIBAN
Divine intervention? Old man, are you serious?
IEYASU
Samurai do not lie. We pierce lies with a blade of truth.
ICHIBAN
That’s something Saigo Takamori says…
Ichiban frowns, realizing that Saigo’s body is probably strewn across the hill by now.
ICHIBAN (CONT’D)
Do you know him?
IEYASU
Saigo? I trained with him at Edo castle ages ago. How is he?
ICHIBAN
He was our commander in the battle. As far as I know he is most certainly dead.
IEYASU
(Nostalgic)
I knew he would become an honorable figure in his own right. He was just so big, as a person as well as a samurai.
Ichiban almost chuckles. He looks over at the katana on the wall. Ieyasu has left the room and Ichiban scoots back down in the bed.
EXT. KAGOSHIMA HOUSE – DAWN
Ieyasu is sweeping outside his house. He hangs up his broom and walks inside.
INT. KAGOSHIMA HOUSE
Inside, he slips off his shoes and slips on some slippers before walking on the wood floor. He goes to the kitchen and starts boiling some water. Meanwhile, we see Ichiban looking at his wakizashi. He traces its blade and slides it under his pillow. Ieyasu goes into the room where Ichiban is resting.
IEYASU
How are you feeling today, samurai?
ICHIBAN
I feel regenerated. Thank you for your kindness. I believe I can get up out of bed now. Could you help me out?
Ieyasu moves toward the bed and sits next to Ichiban, who is sitting up. Ieyasu puts his arm behind Ichiban and pulls the wakizashi from under the pillow. Ieyasu skillfully hides the blade in his sleeve and helps Ichiban stand. Ichiban stands up and suddenly pushes Ieyasu back. His hand darts under the pillow, and his face turns white when he realizes the blade he was reaching for is held by Ieyasu. Ieyasu slides the wakizashi out of his sleeve and flips it around skillfully, testing its balance. He looks down the blade at Ichiban.
IEYASU
You have a masterly crafted blade, samurai. I admire the skill of fine swordsmithing.
Ichiban is silent and backs up against the wall.
IEYASU (CONT’D)
Older samurai schools taught their students to revere their elders. They taught the students that the elderly have much to offer in the form of advice and wisdom. It was taught that the oldest tree has the sweetest fruit.
Ieyasu tosses the wakizashi to Ichiban, who catches it.
ICHIBAN
You have seen through my plans, Ieyasu. I will not be harbored by you any longer. Give me my things and I will depart.
IEYASU
Leaving so soon? You really ought to eat before you set off to see your family.
ICHIBAN
An empty stomach is less to burden my legs and they must be swift.
IEYASU
Haste is not bushido, samurai.
ICHIBAN
You will give me my things, or I will take them, Ieyasu.
IEYASU
I suppose I cannot stop you from doing so, but hear this. You will die with honor, the kami told me so. You will suffer, the kami told me so. The kami also told me, samurai, that you will live and die by your sword. Farewell, samurai.
Ichiban bows his head bitterly and takes his katana and wakizashi. He walks out the door.
ICHIBAN
That old man needs to get off his opium pipe…
I will have a closing posted shortly.
Thanks for reading!
Iron Man
Other than the Mandarin issues it was an extremely good movie. Tony Stark's personality was captured extremely well. The fact that they included S.H.I.E.L.D. made it even better. A great actor was used to play Nick Fury. The War Machine references were great.
It is my recommendation that you see it.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
At an auction
I would buy the meteorite. It is an ancient rock that fell from space. Who knows where it has traveled? It has been on our earth for about 4.5 billion years. Who stopped and sat on it or stepped on it over the years?
But the people at this auction bought the very common fossilized dinosaur dung.
http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSN0154364720080501?feedType=RSS&feedName=oddlyEnoughNews&rpc=69
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
the pope again
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Pope, my turn.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Pope
But all in all it was a good trip.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Cheerwine
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Look.
I will keep you, the reader, updated on happenings and/or updates.
It what we call in the business, events.
The business being time and lock of course.
As it is self-evident, I do not know much, but as a human, I use the assertion of knowledge and the structure of latent vocabulary to project a point, even if I lack such. This is a very William thing to do.
Now, on the topic of baseball, the most important topic of all, short of Asympotatoes or Cheerwine. The Atlanta Braves have three future hall-of-famers in their starting pitching rotation; Tim Hudson, John Smoltz and Tom Glavine. They rock some serious ass. However, the apparent lack of talent in other parts of the roster, i.e. the rest of it, short of Chipper Jones, God's gift to baseball, has brought Atlanta to a lowly position in the NL East. In the American League, the Cleveland Indians have quite the pitching predicament, C.C. Sabathia is utterly failing in his time to shine. Fausto Carmona is being Carmona, winning games, but the Indians cant use him every game. Borowski is on the disabled list, thank God, and they have Rafael Betancourt as a new closer. The young guns on the Indians, Grady Sizemore and Company, need to get the ball rolling if they expect to get the tight as balls AL Central crown with the Tigers and even the Royals as threats.
Have a wonderful life, and try to shake off a little more baggage everyday.
God bless.
America.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
As the savior descends upon the damned..
Ever get that feeling you're being watched?
That eerie sense that some heavenly hand directs us all like pawns?
Well.
If I may quote the legendary Forrest Gump, 'I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floatin' around accidental-like on a breeze. But I, I think maybe it's both.'
Gump's got quite the idea. Why can't we decide our path and have a set destination as well? Surely a person can make their own decision, but can anyone escape fate? No one lives forever, we all die, no one can avoid that. But we all can make the journey our own. One man eats burgers, fries, drinks Cheerwine, God bless him, but another watches the caloric intake and runs every once in a while. They both die, but can we quantify or determine the quality of their lives? It's the life in your years, not the years in your life, a man once told me. So when life seems unfair, it's your own crutch. Seize everyday, make it your time, and you will live quite the life.
Balls.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Soylent Green
Click here to read more
Human Genome project
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Google pones
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Help Us Spread the Word
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Faith
The only thing a person can ever prove is their own existence because if you think therefore you are. But this only proves your conscious existence not your physical existence. You might only exist in a mental state and time and space may not exist. You might be a man in a coma experiencing a very real dream. Since we cannot prove the physical realm exists through any form of logic, it is assumed it exists. What if it did not? Our math would not make sense. It is based off of our 3 planes that make it up. Math cannot bring us any closer to the ultimate truth that Matt spoke of.
Since nothing can be proven besides our own existence, which we can only prove to our selves, all we as men can have is faith in what we think is right.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Pretty Awesome Stuff Right There
Anyway, I would rather die peacefully like my uncle Joe than screaming like his bus passengers...
http://dsc.discovery.com/news/2008/04/09/nanotech-virtual-display.html
The True Nature of Math
After discussing truth, it is apparent that some have not yet realized that truth is imaginary. I attempted to make that point obvious in my essay, but apparently when something is dead out stated, it is not received by the audience. Truth is only something that we choose to believe in so we can base our lives on something solid. There is no way to prove one’s existence to ones self, but we choose to believe that we exist so that we can continue to grow and thrive as a species. If we spent all of our time trying to prove our existence, we wouldn’t have gotten any further in life than archaic cave paintings (although it appears that some still have not gotten further than this phase). Some believe that truth is faulty in general, however, this cannot be true for something that doesn’t exist. I cannot say that an Offamaloo is faulty because it doesn’t exist. However, I can choose to believe that this “Offamaloo” exists, but I must accept it all out. I cannot say that an Offamaloo kind of exists, or that my life is a little real, I must accept it or not. From this we can see that everything in our entire universe is theoretical because nothing can be proven, so we must accept these things as “true” if we want to continue to evolve.
If, at this time, we assume that we do, in fact, exist (despite the fact that it cannot be proven), we can take this world and build from it. We can invent a language, however poorly constructed, and communicate affectively with it (well, most people can communicate affectively with it. You know, those people who know how to use a comma…). When we accept this world, we can begin to define it using any system we can perceive. However, once this system is established, it must be considered a “truth” if we want to have any hope of using it. If we spend all of our time trying to prove that an inch exists, we will get nowhere. We wont have houses, we wont have bridges, and we wont have roads. However, if we accept this system as a truth and not theoretical (as we have done with our own existence), then when somebody says, “prove that is an inch…” we can produce a standard ruler that contains the standard inch that we have accepted as a truth and show that it is in fact equal to one inch. So if one where to say that math is based on man-made systems and is entirely theoretical, I must agree to an extent, for everything is theoretical (because it can’t be proven), and everything is man-made (because it is perceived by our minds. This can be traced back to the famous riddle, “if a tree falls and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”). So if we were to discredit numbers and measurements (as has been suggested for some reason) then math does become irrelevant because everything becomes irrelevant. If I suddenly decide to not believe in the existence of numbers, that would be as illogical as suddenly not believing in myself.
So, in conclusion, I apologize for the length of my letters. Because I try to explain my theory instead of blindly stating information, it takes time. Some may consider this “rambling” for they are not intelligent enough to understand the true depth of the information, however, for those who have benefited, I am happy. Finally, I want to dead out state my opinion (as is apparently necessary to some). Math is based on something that cannot be proven, nothing is. We must accept that we exist on faith, for if we don’t, we will be driven mad by the crazy ramblings of philosophers. From that, we must realize that everything we encounter is man-made, for it is all perceived in our own minds. When light (which we must accept as existent) hits an object (which we must again accept as existent), our mind sees this light and our brains translate it into information. Therefore, our minds can express everything (unlike the English language) and is a medium in which emotions can be expressed.
Finally, math is the fundamental building blocks of our world because math is logic. Some may consider math simply, “useful”, or “handy in a pinch”, but it is much, much more than that. Math is the only necessary creation in our existence, for with logic, we can express anything. Math is beauty, it is elegance, it is necessary.
If you would like a copy of this essay, you can download it from: http://www.mediafire.com/?d9ezmfmddbd
Truth is only perception
What you perceive as truth is only your personal perception using your senses to perceive truth. Thus truth is faulty in general. Math is a based on man made systems and is in everything theoretical. It is theoretical because numbers lengths measurements and functions are all ideas of man that are built off of other ideas and thus if you discredit measurement or numbers as art has been by my colleague math is irrelevant. English cannot express everything nothing can but Art tries to express emotion where no other medium can. I will not go on in a rambling attempt to disprove mathematics because it is useful and necessary to aspects of the world we live in. Art is beautiful. I particularly like Starry night by Van Gogh it is in the Museum of Modern Art in New York.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
The Truth to Truth
Before I get started, I would like to make a comment. It tickles me that, when I describe a character who could very well be made up, certain authors link them with actual people. This proves that said authors realize that certain people are illogical, they just refuse to accept it for reasons beyond my comprehension.
And now, we're off:
The Truth to Truth:
A small boy plunders with childhood as he graciously accepts a gift from a loving grandmother. He greedily snatches it away, tearing through the thin filament surrounding the box that was at one time known as wrapping paper. Once into the box, the boy realizes that the contents are not what he expected nor ached for, it was a pair of socks. Stunned, the boy simple blunders the statement he has been thought by his parents.
“Thanks for the gift grandma…I love it,” the boy doesn’t consider himself to be lying, for he is warping the truth to allow his grandmother the piece of mind that she needs. This raises the question that many people in the past have strived for, what is truth? Is truth the accepted statements of our observations? Is it simply the lies that we choose to believe? Or is truth logic in action? A statement can be proven true if it is derived from a previously true statement. We can say that 5 + 2 = 7 because of the previous truths that we have set up. Five is a number that exists in our mind, that is a truth. Two, as well, is a number that exists in our mind, ergo it is also a truth. We also know that when two numbers are combined, they create a number that is the compilation of the previous numbers; therefore, a truth can be proven from the compilation of other truths. Then what defines the original truth? What seemingly all-powerful statement is the original truth, from which we have built our entire society? These are questions that cannot be answered by any mortal being, no matter how intelligent they may think they are. Because of this, I will not try to answer these questions; I will merely provide truths that may influence these statements. Indeed, I can analyze these questions with truth, but these truths are derived from the Original Truth, which I am analyzing with my truths. I have thus created a paradoxical cycle that cannot be broken with brute force or ignorance or even, I dare say it, art. What I have said thus far can be summed up in a famous quote made by one of my heroes Albert Einstein (for those art fans who haven’t heard of him, he is a scientists). Einstein’s quote about truth is, “Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods.” Therefore, anybody with the God Complex to try to judge truth is to be forever laughed at by the gods. This is why I cannot pretend like many others in this world that I understand truth, for I do not, nor does anybody else. Assuming this, how can we dare to study the truth to truth? Well, we can analyze truth using a few given truths that we must accept before we can proceed. First, we must accept that truth is a logical assumption that can be proven. Truth must withstand the constant bombardment of false accusations attempting to prove that truth incorrect. Einstein once said, “No amount of experimentation can ever prove me right; a single experiment can prove me wrong.” This is what I have been explaining in a nutshell. Truth must be accepted for as long as it takes someone to prove it false. If the truth is a true truth, then it will come out the other end of this bombardment of anti-proofs as it was at the start, a full and honest truth.
From here we can build our analysis. If we say that truth is what is accepted by society, then truth can be expressed in infinitely many ways. One could paint a picture depicting pain and suffering, the truth of the world. One could make a sculpture of a man helping somebody, the truth of the world. One could solve an equation and prove the original statement, the truth of the world. All of these different expressions are, contrary what many narrow-minded individuals may say, truths. 3x + 4 = 7; x = 1, this is a truth that can easily be expressed using the logic and truthful nature of mathematics. “Vietnam caused thousands of people suffering and pain” is a truthful statement that can be expressed using the defunct aspects of the English language. Both of these are truths, but which one can withstand the bombardment of lies? Is the English language so true that it cannot be illogical? Can you express every thought in the English language? Can these expressions be shown true in math? These are some of countless questions that are being tested for truth, however, I believe that I have already found the truth to these questions or lack there of. Let’s begin with our “truthful” statement in English. “Vietnam caused thousands of people suffering and pain,” this statement itself is true, but can easily be made false by using the rules of English. One doesn’t know if this statement means that Vietnam caused thousands of people to suffer, or if it caused thousands of people, as well as suffering and pain. This is one of the many faults to the English language. Also, if there were one so arrogant as to believe that every thought can be expressed in the English language, then why is it that the language is growing? If I went back four hundred years and took my laptop with me, how would the English speaking population describe it? They would be unable to express their views about such a machine. Another example is the expression of pain. Pain cannot be expressed directly with words. If we are to describe pain, we must use a method known as fuzzy logic. If I had my foot blown off by a land mine, I would be screaming. Screaming is the natural human expression of pain and I guarantee you that screaming is not English. If, five years later, I were to attempt to describe this pain, I would be unable to do so without using fuzzy logic. Fuzzy logic is comparing an idea that cannot be expressed in the English language to one that can be expressed. If someone asked me, “How did you feel when your foot was blown off?” I could say that it hurt. However, “hurt” is such a varied word. It has very little true definition to it and can be used for many different experiences. I could say that a paper cut hurts and I could also say that a fatal head wound hurts. If anybody has ever felt both, or even if you haven’t and simply have a brain, you know that a paper cut is not the same thing as having one’s foot blown off or being shot in the head. This is one of the countless faults to the English language. I can only describe pain in relation to other feelings. I could say, “When my foot was blown off, it felt like a thousand small spiders had bit me with all the force they could muster,” this is a true statement, but it doesn’t correctly define what I felt in that terrifying instant. To further explain this, how many times have you heard or read someone say, “words could not describe it,” this phrase in itself sums up my argument thus far.
Love is another phenomena that cannot be expressed using the faulty structure of the English language. If you have ever been truly in love, you know that you need that person with you no matter what. You feel so strongly for that person that if anything were to happen to them, it would devastate you beyond words! I could say “My love for you is as great as the seas of the world!” but this still wouldn’t express my true feelings.
Art itself does not show truth no matter what anybody tells you. If you have ever seen a painting by Escher you know that images can be deceiving. Cave men used to express themselves with cave paints, a form of art. As you can see, this wasn’t enough to satisfy man’s drive to express himself. If art could express truth, then language wouldn’t exist! Cave men would have simply expressed themselves using cave paintings. As man evolved, more convenient ways of painting would have presented themselves and man would have continued to this day to use art and only art to express his feelings. This proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that art does NOT show truth in itself because no mortal man can hope to comprehend truth! However, man can delve to the very depths of lies, coming as close to truth as possible using math and logic. Given the rules of math, we can express 5 + 2 = 7 any and every time we please and there is no confusion about what I mean. There is no confusion or problems in translation between any nation in the universe. Math is the universal numerological language of the universe. Math is the only perfect way of expressing “truth”. Indeed, math comes close to the Original Truth, but it still has its faults. If I try to divide 0 by 0 I get something unimaginable. Lets use the rules of math to prove that lies can arise. Let’s assume that x = 0. This can be done without any confusion because of the truthful nature of math and logic. From this true statement, we can derive the expression 2x = 0. This is also a true statement because, based on the truths of math, we know that anything times 0 is 0. Now, lets solve the equation. If we divide both sides by x we get 0/x = 2. Now, as we said, x = 0, so the expression, 0/x can also be expressed as 0/0. Now, lets say 3x = 0. If we divide by x, we get 0/0 = 3. We can do this for any number we please and we realize that 0/0 = infinity. Now how can this be possible? This is an irrational expression that arises when we use truth. This is one of the few instances when the truths of math cannot be used to overpower the Original Truth. We can think of this “Original Truth” as the building ground for a house. If we do not know what the Original Truth is, we cannot know exactly where our house is. However, we can still build the house using other truths. We can live in the house for as long as we like, but we can never truly know where we are or if we are even in a house. Nothing can be proven because we do not know what the Original Truth is. Therefore, truth cannot be expressed in any form, ever! If you attempt a true statement, such as “I am alive” I could say, “Prove it”. You might begin by saying that you’re heart is beating. I could say, “Prove that your heart exists and that this is not just a figment of your imagination…” this could continue forever without anybody getting to the truth. This is why art, nor language, not even math can express truth, they can just come close. As I have demonstrated, math/logic comes the closest to true truth as is humanly possible where as art and language pale in comparison. The Original Truth can never be achieved.
If you would like a copy of this essay, you can download it here: http://www.mediafire.com/?zlmntxo11sm
8/8/08: I was looking back at this and I realized that I left out the perfect quote. Since I would like to leave my essay in its original format, I will just include the quote bellow:
"Physical concepts are free creations of the human mind, and are not, however it may seem, uniquely determined by the external world. In our endeavor to understand reality we are somewhat like a man trying to understand the mechanism of a closed watch. He sees the face and the moving hands, even hears it ticking, but he has no way of opening the case. If he is ingenious he may form some picture of the mechanism which could be responsible for all the things he observes, but he may never be quite sure his picture is the only one which could explain his observations. He will never be able to compare his picture with the real mechanism and he cannot even imagine the possibility of the meaning of such a comparison."
--Bruce Gregory
Make Art
Art is a wonderful thing contrary to what some may tell you. Picasso was a great artist and through his art he showed truth. Art is a beautiful way to show the truth when others would choose to skirt it with logic. Because the truth is not logical it is as diverse as the people of our world. Pablo Picasso's Guernica is one of my favorite pieces it is featured to the left.
English is a wonderful language no matter what other may say. Logic will constrict and strangle the beautiful freedom we are given by the English language. I believe that logic has no right to come into language logic can have mathematics but it will not take my language and destroy it. This is my native tongue the words my forefathers spoke and it shall not be destroyed.
L was a wonderful teacher who engaged us to explore ideas upon our own. While she may not have had an appreciation or knowledge of the sciences but she did understand the beauty of questions and words. She allowed free thought and that is a most wonderful thing.
RepRap
http://computerworld.co.nz/news.nsf/tech/2F5C3C5D68A380EDCC257423006E71CD
Lojban
See Lojban here
Poor Picasso
On April 8th (today) 1973 (not today), Pablo Picasso died at age 91. Pablo Picasso was a brilliant, obviously creative man. It is a shame that such amazing talent and ingenuity would be put toward something that brings society no where. Although it has proved to stimulate the brain in certain, potentially positive ways, art is a senseless pastime much like sports (except American Baseball, which is awesome). Both art and sports allow the artist/player a way of expressing their inner pain as well as providing the art critic/sports fan a pastime of their own. However, in the modern world (basically any time in the past 800 years), science has dominated over the squabble between art and truth. Ever since the human brain evolved past fascination with colors (about the age of 7 months for most people, but as my last post showed, it can be longer for the more aggressive), art has become less and less important in modern-day life. The world today is driven by science and those who don’t learn this will be left behind. The perfect example of how art is polluting the genius of science is my English teacher. In an attempt to not completely destroy this teachers integrity, she will simply be known as L.
While sitting in class one day, some students were discussing the popular yet completely inaccurate film, The Core. This film captures the adventure in a journey to “fix” the center of the Earth, which has stopped spinning. (No no, not really, this is just a movie. I know this is hard for you hard-core art fans to grasp, but sometimes people like to pretend about scientific disasters. I will put it in art words, “flat Earth no broken.”) Back to the subject at hand, the students were discussing this movie when L overheard the conversation.
“What is this film about?” L asked.
“Well, the center of the Earth stops spinning and people are trying to save it,” the class responds.
“WHAT!!! How completely inaccurate!” L shouts (up to this point, the teacher was correct). “If the center of the Earth stopped spinning, people would be floating away because the Earth’s magnetic field would be messed up…” L said to a class who’s jaws had hit the floor. The sad part was, L was actually proud of herself that she had made such a “scientifically accurate” exclamation. Now, before you start laughing yourself into a coma, you have to remember that this is an English teacher, and not the good kind either. There are many English teachers out there who study novels and how they affect the real world (such as my uncle) however, the artsie-fartsie English teachers like L are just plain Dorian (If you watch Scrubs you will get that). These teachers are the same ones who claim that they have been taught to see the aura of energy coming off a person and claims that they can predict a persons’ strengths and weaknesses based on the color of this aura (which L has claimed, by the way).
This is not meant to be a slam against art. I myself enjoy art very much. I enjoy spending my spare time looking at art and traveling to museums. However, art, although cultural, does not move society towards a better life.
Dyslexia And the Brain Brain Brain Brain Brain...(bad joke)
This is a really cool article that talks about how different parts of the brain are affected by Dyslexia depending on whether a child reads English (a totally worthless, terribly designed language), or Chinese (possibly the only language that is designed worse than English). It doesn’t seem to be worse in one language or the other, it simply affects the brain differently.
http://dsc.discovery.com/news/2008/04/08/dyslexia-language.html
Mice Get Pissed
This is an interesting article about mice. Apparently if you remove one key gene from a mouse’s DNA, it becomes a much more impulsive, wild mouse. Mice are perfect for this experiment because they are naturally non-aggressive beings. Unlike many animals such as dogs, bulls, and especially humans, not much seems to anger a mouse. For certain human beings with a pathetic DNA structure (aka, those who are naturally angry and lash out at others), survival actually becomes more difficult because the brain isn’t designed to handle certain types of stress. In another study (which I will find the link for eventually), scientists proved that dogs that tend to be overly aggressive are much less intelligent than a calm dog. Similar tests have been done on humans to prove that aggressive humans can be up to 27 IQ points lower than the average human!
http://www.pheedo.com/click.phdo?i=6124612778203513da1433185f5ed2df