An evening at the movies

Disclaimer: I describe here an evening from the recent past as a weak attempt at telling a story.

It’s dark. Long, languorous notes of “Shine on you crazy diamond” fill the room. I stir from my blissful state of inertia and take a look out the window. It’s cloudy and judging from the cool blow glow the mountains are bathed in, the sun must be pretty low in the sky. What time does that make it? Hmm, well what month of the year is this? November, yes, there’s a dusting of snow on the hillside. I suddenly feel the need for some crisp evening air and a movie. What’s playing? The Coen brothers have new movie out, “A Serious Man”. A comedy, perfect!

A change of attire, shoes, jacket and I’m sauntering down to the train stop, day-old snow crunching underfoot, Lisa Ekdahl singing to me. I look up and the moon is a crimson wisp in the western sky hanging over the brightly lit city with a quiet air of dignity. I wonder why I think the moon looks dignified. Grateful Dead’ “Friend of the devil” and few hundred more yards and I’m on the train. I peer out the window – the city looks sleepy. Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m sleepy. I see leafless trees reach up in to the sky like so many dried up, gnarly hands pleading for escape from the tired, gaudy neon lights, Jethro Tull’s “Bungle in the Jungle” plays in the background.

Head leaning against the window, I see the familiar geometric shapes of the city library come into view superimposed on a reflection of the railcar’s interior. It’s my stop, and it’s Calexico’s “Sunken Waltz”. A few dried yellow leaves peek through the snow, catching the multicolored lights of storefront signs, as I walk along familiar streets. Then I see the marquee, it’s the Broadway Cinema. Within seconds, I’m walking up to the concession stand, ticket in hand. The nice, familiar lady, whose name I don’t know, tells me of the movies she’s been watching lately as makes my usual cup of Earl Grey.

Tea in hand, I settle into my seat in the nearly empty cinema hall and pull out my headphones, all with a practiced ease that comes from repetition. Once again, it's practically a private screening. As I take a tentative first sip, the screen comes to life with the first of the trailers. I knew then, with absolute certainty, it was going to be another wonderful evening.

Why I walk

I spent most of my teen years ignoring my father's complaints about my lack of, what he called, discipline. I was convinced (like every other teenager. perhaps) that he didn't know what he was talking about. Having lived on my own terms for the last four years, I've had every opportunity to make of myself what I will. I realized some time ago that I'd ended up cultivating some of the very habits he tried to insist on. In other areas, I've continued to go in a direction diametrically opposed to the one he pointed towards. Needless to say, this was rather intriguing, if not puzzling. So, I embarked on an attempt to take stock of what I've done with my life over the last four years and to understand better some of the things I've done.

Let me begin with a confession.

Four years ago, I was rather lost, unsure where my life was going. I knew on a deep level that I was passionate about science and that I should give research a serious try before making any decisions - but it was nothing more than a blind charge really. I felt like I'd not accomplished anything worthwhile and that in turn, led me to question who I was. I had a lot of questions and no way to really answer any of them. And, I constantly felt under pressure... to succeed, to live up to expectations. I've always been one to deal with my issues on my own - so, I pretended to be cocky, even arrogant, just to hide my fear and vulnerability. I knew even then that sooner or later facts would have to be faced, questions answered. I told myself that graduate school would be the time for that... I would use the opportunity and the freedom of being away from everyone and everything I knew to find myself.

The approach I came up with for this journey of self-discovery is one that I have previously described in some detail (see Empirical existentialism). I took up a back to basics approach:

• I would deconstruct myself down as close as possible to the very core of my being and then build myself back up.
  
• In order for my quest to be fruitful, I would have to pare myself down in both body and mind, eliminating as much of the undesirable and the non-essential as possible.
• Such a process is, by definition, infinite. More importantly, there would be a learning curve to even making a real start. I expected this to span between a few months and a few years. For this reason, I would not check my progress for at least the first year or two.
• Finding oneself entails locating and exceeding one's limits - mentally and physically. I find these to be best accomplished in solitude. I decided for that reason to skip explaining my actions to people. If bonds were strained, if bridges were burned... I would ascertain on a case-by-case basis what losses were acceptable.
  
• The implementation of this decision would require that I learn to dispassionately consider how people regarded me and my actions - in some cases people I had valued/continue to value significantly. And, often I would be required to not react to these opinions.
• Lastly, but perhaps most important of all, I could not permit myself any laxity in assessing myself. I would be my own harshest judge and critic.

As with most journeys into the unknown, it was extremely slow going in the beginning. It was especially hard letting go of old ties and habits. But, over time, I've noticed the going get easier... the pace picking up.

On a physical level, I decided to go about achieving health and strength through effective management of food, sleep and exercise. I regularized my eating habits to eat three meals daily and the effect was a reduced but more consistent appetite than before. I also decided to indulge my liking for good food - particularly coffee, chocolate, vegetables and fruits while consciously avoiding soda and junk food. Pretty soon, I didn't crave the latter any more because I'd realized how bad they tasted - who'd want to drink a quart of coke when one can enjoy a nice single malt or a glass of fresh fruit juice? I took up kung fu, racquetball and hiking - activities I enjoy immensely which just happen to also provide exercise. Along the way, I had to deal with a pesky herniated disc in my lower spine... a painful experience both physically and financially but one I learned much from nonetheless. The resolution of that problem was neither instantaneous nor complete... to compensate for this, I began a daily stretching and calisthenics regimen. The net physical result is that I've gotten lighter (from 225 lbs to 166 lbs), faster, stronger and healthier... I finally feel like I'm getting into the physical condition necessary to live the life I want.

After much introspection and retrospection, I realized I needed to reevaluate the way I related to other people and to find avenues to channel my creative energies. With respect to the former, I set about playing reductionist, severing all non-essential and/or counter-beneficial ties from my past. Along the way, I started making new ties, picking up some very good friends in the process. As for the latter, I tried my hand at several hobbies including writing, sketching, hiking, photography, reef-keeping and kung fu. I gave up on sketching because it didn't feel like a natural way in which to express myself and I've indefinitely shelved reef-keeping purely because of financial and time constraints. Other than that, I've managed to stick with the other hobbies. In trying to keep up with the physical demands of kung fu, racquetball and hiking, I've had to push myself to the limits of my physical/mental endurance and beyond... and every step I've taken past what I thought were my limits has shown me something of myself I did not previously know existed. Passions of mine I'm glad to have indulged are reading, especially comic books and graphic novels, music and movies. The resulting changes are even more dramatic than my physical transformation - I've never been as happy, confident or at peace as I am now. I've also managed to largely rein in my previously wild temper. But most importantly, I've stopped feeling like an outsider all the time. While I may never be one to immerse myself in the thick of things as far as society is concerned, I've certainly grown more comfortable in this world of man that I inhabit. I've grown comfortable with the notion of being a member of the human species and that's saying a lot. All that being said, I've still got a ways to go... so, I'd better get on with it.

Heaven on Earth... Hell and Purgatory as well

Heaven is perhaps the ideal existence we spend our lives trying to define and to seek - one characterized by peace, satisfaction, joy, equilibrium etc. While this may sound like a simple definition, the truth is one could spend several lifetimes searching for the meaning of any one of those words. This definition of heaven allows us to look at purgatory as a positive feedback loop of self-deception - where one convinces oneself, falsely, that one has discovered the path to the ideal, to heaven or worse still that one has reached that destination. What often follows such a phase is the descent into hell - a crushing realization of reality and a tidal wave of self loathing that follows in its wake. Painful, yes. Inescapable, not at all.

Just a thought...

Monkey in the mirror

I feel like two people this morning - this is a feeling I've become intimately familiar with and I dare say, hate with a fervent passion. Most of the time (now), I'm fine with who/how I am - curious, spontaneous and in love with life. But I sometimes see in the mirror a monkey I've been trying to shake off my back for years... bitter, angry, self-loathing and full of vitriol. So many times, I've felt like a spectator as I watched myself explode with uncontrolled, directionless rage.

I've tried time and again to resolve these issues by simply running away from my past - in the hope that getting away from places and forgetting the years spent in those places would somehow eliminate the parts of me that those places created. This approach brought limited measures of success but often at a high price: memories reduced to a mere record of events, if not buried under layers of fear and denial - so much of my childhood (and it was a good one too in so many ways) wiped away by my own hand, good people put through the grinder for counting me a friend - so much to regret, so much to be ashamed of. And scant progress to show for it all. Through all that, I felt adrift, listless - never once feeling like I belonged.

All that changed once I started on my research - I finally had an avenue to channel my greatest passion - science - and it felt like I finally had a reason to breathe. I realized then that the things I was trying to run away from were deep within me - my own anger and hate. Graduate school brought with it solitude and half a world of physical separation from my past. It was ironic that it was as a stranger in a strange new land that I felt most at home in years. Living alone afforded me time for introspection. As I delved deeper into my own nature in private, I taught myself to present the world with an unerringly balanced facade for the purpose of going on with my life (as best possible) in the meanwhile.

For a while I fell into the trap of lulling myself by falling for the very charade I presented to the world. But I was able to cut through that veil eventually and the result has been my latest and I want to believe, most fruitful attempt at discovering myself. I've come a ways in terms of making peace with the scary parts of myself and the unpleasant parts of my past - but I still have miles to go. And there has always been the temptation of taking the easy way out - severing all permanent ties and seeking comfort in isolation. But all I need do is think of the people who've seen my worst face and still stuck by me - all thoughts of isolation are banished. In their place is a renewed determination to make it the rest of the way. So, I shall keep my head down and carry on. Giving up is not an option.

In a moment, a lifetime

Why do we so seldom acknowledge them? I speak of those anonymous, fleeting moments of uncommon intensity and clarity that we experience from time to time? Such a moment is at times the lifespan of emotions so deep, not even memory can recreate them. Other times, such a moment marks the birth of an idea – the moment the light-bulb flicks on, so to speak. In many ways, such moments are the very substance of life. And yet, simply because they flash by so quickly and exist only within the labyrinths of a human consciousness, we fail to acknowledge them, leave alone treasure them. It has been my experience that learning to recognize these moments brings a sense of equilibrium and fulfillment that one could spend a lifetime seeking. Perhaps it is because of our innate need to share experiences with one another – by definition it is next to impossible to condense into words an experience so short-lived that the mind has trouble even recognizing it. Perhaps it is for this reason that such moments, profound as they may be, are relegated to oblivion within the dusty dark recesses of our minds whence they came. And perhaps, they are best left anonymous, lest they be somehow diminished by the process of being recorded.

The Laws of Macnife

The following laws are essential reading for anyone seeking the most efficient way to earn the title of 21st Century Misanthrope as well as those who simple wish to amuse themselves.

1. These laws do not always apply.
2. Question everything, especially this law.
4. Appreciate simplicity and absurdity.
5. Everything is absolutely ambiguous.
6. Let's not bother with this one.
7. Always base inferences upon data.
11. The data is the data. Everything else is open to debate.
32. Ruminate upon pointless ramblings of mine and ye shall grow wise.
27. Analysis is the bridge between perception and cognition. Explore within as much as without.
32. Do you know what else happened on the road while you were busy watching the chicken cross it? Perhaps the chicken lead you on a wild goose chase.
45.3 Mostly one seeks equilibrium or a steady state. But from time to time one must plunge oneself into a state of flux.
XI. Never feed an onion to a homeless tabby cat on the third Tuesday of March.
12. Sagacity is restraint in sharing one's perspicacity.
13. Fuck political correctness!
28. All laws but this one are made to be rewritten.

Empirical Existentialism

Disclaimer: The use of the word existentialism is not meant to draw parallels between my ideas and those of the many eminent / supremely mindfucked thinkers to whose philosophy, the moniker has previously been applied. If anything, the idea behind empirical existentialism is to develop a wholly personalized and purely experience-driven approach to philosophy and to life itself.

This is an attempt on my part to arrive at a systematic yet personalized approach to the development of an ever evolving set of heuristic approximations to aid in decision making, or in less exact terms, a way of life. The basic premise of this approach is to treat my experience of existence, i.e., my life, as emergent behavior arising from the interaction between two complex adaptive systems, namely my consciousness and the universe. Having decided on the overall approach, the next step was to evolve basic frameworks using with to regard my consciousness as well as the universe as I experience it.

I view the processes of my consciousness as taking two basic forms, perception and cognition. At first glance, this list appeared to be missing physical actions. However, upon further reflection, I came to view physical actions as a tool one may employ in the pursuit of perceptive and/or cognitive experiences. Next it appeared that emotion is another element which belongs in the above characterization of my consciousness. However, I have come think of emotion as higher order cognitive behavior, i.e. part of the response of my consciousness to interactions between itself and the universe.

The next step is to develop a basic framework using which to regard the universe as I experience it. The way I’ve come to think of it is as the context in which my consciousness operates. The nature of my consciousness affords me varying degrees of control over some aspects of this context. At least in my case, it is a given that human society is a vital part of my context. However, I have also noticed wide inter-individual variability, not to mention temporal variability, in the form and degree of the individual’s need for social interactions. Therefore, I feel it would be a good starting point to determine the sufficiency conditions that must be met in order for my need for social interactions to be fulfilled.

I thought it best to take an experimental approach and determine by trial and error the minimum, sufficient context to satisfactorily house my consciousness. However, these experiments deviate from the scientific ideal in three ways: I, the experimenter, have only partial control over experimental conditions; I am not afforded an independent point of observation on account of being the principal subject of my experiments; the interventions, conditions and outcomes are not quantifiable in the form of well defined parameters. Therefore, the approach I have devised can best be described as pseudo-reductionist. Further, it is important to note that this is by default an infinite, iterative process and will constantly yield parts of a solution that is far from time-invariant. In spite of these significant limitations, the utility of the process lies in enabling me to identify non-essential and more importantly, unfavorable interactions and thereby, enhance the efficiency of the process of living.

Based on systematic, iterative changes and observations made over the last two years or so, I can say with a fair degree of confidence that I have achieved rather satisfying and apparently sustainable steady state that has demonstrated little susceptibility to external perturbations.

P.S. Importantly, this is accomplished without the use of what I would call “cognitive over-damping” – suppression and concealment of unresolved thoughts/emotions – having engaged in it rather recklessly and to my considerable detriment in the past, I feel confident in my ability to identify it.

Dead Man Talking

Disclaimer: If you are incapable of laughing at jokes about death, feel free to read on but DO NOT bother me with stupid questions.

Why is there an almost pathological insistence in so many cultures on the value of deathbed confessions? Even the law treats dying declarations with much deference, the whole system wanting to believe in the notion of the unquestionable veracity of the ‘dying declaration’. Why? Is it really that far-fetched to believe that a man/woman would lie with their last breath? As a member of the species, let me just say, our record speaks for itself when the question comes up as to how low we can stoop. Besides, if you are a believer in the idea that all dying men are in search of redemption and therefore, compelled by their conscience to speak nothing but the truth, clearly, you have not run into ME. (Also, you probably do not know what a sense of humor is, do you?) I would gladly summon my last breaths to toss out a couple of plausible-sounding fibs. (All this, in my own time… To any nutfuck reading this, let me make it clear: this is not some kind of cry for help asking you to help me along. You may choose to disregard this advice at your own peril.) Imagine some soul(s) earnestly investing hard work into some venture based upon my final utterances. Just the hilarity of it – priceless! Being a nice sort of devious bastard, I feel it would only be fair to give humanity fair warning of the sort of grand pranks my mind is capable of churning out. If you still fall for it, it would be that much funnier.

So, in the interest of the gentlemanly spirit of the grand game of “Gotcha!”, here’s my fair warning to you. I shall detail here and now, some of the ideas floating around in my head. Importantly there are more than the sort of things I may choose to do; I encourage anyone reading this to utilize/modify them.

1. Le fake confession: If you know you’re about to breathe your last, confess to someone you know well, who trusts you (the combination of those traits may be quite rare) that you’ve long burdened yourself with a terrible secret and no longer wish to be so burdened. What follows could be anything from a simple “I know who killed Kennedy… it was…” to an absolutely explosive “I am your father, Luke.” You are limited only by your imagination (and your choice of confessor).

2. The last words: Let them be something absolutely spellbindingly absurd. Charles Foster Kane’s “rosebud” was pretty good. Search your lexicon and come up with a good one like say, “the towering cannoli”, “lemurs” or “magnificent acreage”.

3. The suicide note(s): Can you imagine the wonderful confusion you’d cause by leaving behind a suicide note or better yet several and then dying of natural causes? Were you planning on committing suicide? Were you unhappy? Was it their fault? People would be stumped. In fact, I’m a fan of the multiple suicide note idea, a couple of serious sounding ones mixed in with a few absolutely outrageous ones. Make the serious ones real good so that people can’t easily dismiss the rest as a product of senility and delirium. Remember, the rest are a place to have some serious fun. Here are some of the things you could do.

a. The absurd reason: Say something like “I must end my life… I must do it for the bear cubs and rusty bridges.”

b. The accusation: Accuse some people you know, some you don’t (the Pope?) and others who don’t even exist of being responsible for your decision to end it all. Better yet, say “The following 5 are responsible…” and list 8 names.

c. Gibberish, in verse: This will have them running in circles for a good bit. Write some utter nonsense, but make sure it rhymes. You’re golden!

d. The crazy wishes: Make outlandish requests of some of the people you know – like “Jeremy, I want you to shave the word GLOVE into your hair.” An added twist would be if Jeremy were totally bald.

e. The conspiracy theory: “Disregard all you’ve been told and uncover the true nature of my demise.”, pretty much.

f. The warning: “Beware of the blind pastry chef and his army of scissors!”

4. The will: This is easily one of the best ways to screw with people. Right off the bat, one can see a number of ways in which to do this:

- Leave to people things that aren’t yours.

- Leave to people things that don’t exist.

- Leave something to a total, random stranger, say picked from the phonebook.

- Leave things to people you know, but throw in some crazy conditions. For example, ‘X can have my comic book collection if X dresses up in a Godzilla costume to a busy market in their hometown and walks around for 47 minutes or longer screaming “Hayaku! The wolfman cometh!” before stripping down to their skivvies and running home.’

- Have people invited to the reading of the will with the promise of inheritance and have the executor of the will read a letter to them berating them harshly before handing them a bag containing some candy and loose change.

Here shall this post end, rather abruptly.

Spontaneity as a deliberate choice

It's been five weeks, since I last sat at this keyboard (well, with the intention of letting loose, that is). Feels like an eternity has gone by, feels like it was only a moment ago... my perception of time seems to become more and more fluid with every passing day. Lately, I've been trying to dig up old struggles, so that I may find new strength - both mental and physical.

It all started abruptly enough and without fanfare, when I was roused from sleep by a spasm in my left calf - that was in December. It may have been an epiphany; but, I'm reluctant to call it that. Maybe, because the realization I came to was something I always knew; it'd been an elephant inside my head all along. It was a moment / minute / eternity (I'm not sure which) of white-hot pain, of lucid thought, of transcendental perception - there is far more choice in life that I'd like to admit to myself. Sometimes, to see a choice(s), one must look outside the illusory structure one has established for one's existence - the so-called comfort zone. The reason I was trying to shy away from this truth? Inertia, lethargy.

In that moment, I chose to do something, everything in my power really, about it. The only way to come to terms with the chaos without is to embrace the chaos within. How is this any different from my past quests? It's not and yet, it is. Let me explain. Words and conscious thoughts notwithstanding, I've always subconsciously tried to overcome the chaos of reality; I've always recognized this and tried time and again with varying degrees of success to overcome the habit - it was never enough though. There were still too many bindings, too much junk I clung to. So, why do I feel any differently about this time? Because, I think I've hit upon a wonderful piece of common sense. I'm walking one step at a time towards the unknown this time rather than trying to run headlong into it. I decided to take a more systematic approach towards achieving chaos, if you will. On the face of it, this is a paradoxical statement. But, I think, only on the face of it.

In the past, I've always tried to jump into the water and then worry about swimming. (I recognize fully well the irony of one unable to swim employing this metaphor.) And, the result was always the same, I made rapid headway initially before hitting a massive brick wall, as it were, and drowning in a whirlpool of panic. Next thing I knew, I'd be clinging to the rope harder than ever before, having only made it a mere step or two further from before.

It's the same damn thing that happened every time I tried to overcome my vertigo. My solution to that was simple enough... I'd walk towards the edge of a cliff right up to the point where my heart began to tickle my tonsils (which I no longer have by the way); then, sit down and breathe, deliberately. Soon, I'd be too bored to feel any panic and I could get up and walk another step or two closer to the edge. Eventually I was sitting at the edge, my feet dangling over a 2000 foot drop and what a view it was!

As I lay in bed that night screaming inward in pain, it hit me that I should simple apply the same principle to life at large. Walk, calmly and deliberately, away from the rope. Stop and take a few deep breaths whenever necessary. After all, to rush the process of embracing uncertainty would defeat the whole purpose wouldn't it?

Another question I'd struggle to reconcile before was that of plans and schedules. Making plans and working on a schedule are necessities dictated by the nature of what I do (research) and what I do, is indulge my passion(s). How could I continue to do this and still embrace uncertainty? The answer was simple enough. It is everywhere in nature. Even a truly random pattern is a pattern still. And such a pattern often contains within it regions of regularity - look anywhere you want: lines in the beach sand, ventricular fibrillation... And thus, to be truly free of rigidity, I must be willing to be fluid... if maintaining that fluidity over a prolonged region of space-time-consciousness (I find it very useful to think of these as the dimensions of a continuum within which to describe my existence to myself) requires the use of structure within smaller regions of it, then that's just the way to flow. In other words, true disorder does not fear order; rather, it is simply a more complex order. Again, this is a concept I've encountered several times in a variety of different contexts; but, to see it within my own existence, that was a sweet moment of realization indeed. What I speak of is not pride; rather, it's that feeling you get when you look up to see the evening sun paint the sky.

That's about it for now. So, why did I ramble on and on about something I know can not be captured by words? The process of trying helps me crystallize my notion of fluidity - another step in a lifelong process. The way I see it, if I keep this up, at the very least I won't ever be bored. How much more could I ask for? :D

I for one and one for all!

Seems like it ways only yesterday – Rupert Murdoch stole the U.S. presidential election (it’s apparently something like King Ottokar’s sceptre in that any jackass who holds has to be allowed to rule) from Al Gore (he does owe Murdoch for clearing up his schedule; imagine trying to juggle a film making career with a presidency) and gifted it to this goofy, C-average candidate from Texas, whom nobody thought could win. Eight years have gone by in a flash… leaving us with snapshots – the economy vaporized along with much of Afghanistan, Iraq and New Orleans. A small price to pay, I’m sure all would agree, for all the brilliant quotes good ole’ ‘Dubya’ has left us with.

There are many naysayers who refuse to laugh at Dubya’s cosmic joke of a presidency. To them I say, in the words of the master himself, in history, we will all be dead anyway. So, laugh and be merry. I do, I dare say, justly jest.

And for fuck’s sake stop ‘misunderestimating’ the guy! You made him feel inadequate and got two wars in return. Instead try to put food on your family and ask yourself, "Is our children reading?"

Judge him not, for he is a man who wishes coexist peacefully with the fishes. Thanks to Al Gore's invention, global warming (Or was it the 'internets' that he invented? Guy's kept so fucking busy, it's hard to keep track.), he may soon have his chance - particularly if he moves to Vanuatu. (I had a brilliantly gratuitous Godfather reference involving Luca Brasi that would have fit here, but I felt bad about putting Brasi in the same sentence with Bush - that would be an insult to Brasi's intelligence. Fuck! I just did what I was trying not to do, didn't I? Digression over.)

If indeed global warming is going to drown us all, we will at least come to appreciate that water-boarding isn't really torture. I shouldn't be too hard on poor ole' Dubya though. After all, he is, by his own admission, a West Texas girl, just like Senator Bill Frist’s wife.

Besides, before you scare yourself shitless over the economy, ask yourself if you want to be hunted down like Saddam Hussein? Just remember, Dubya stepped into the ring against Hussein because of his history but more importantly because of his willingness to terrorize himself. So, if you terrorize yourself over trifles like the loss of your job, your house, your life's savings or any combination thereof, you may land yourself on the wrong side of the war on terror. And, as Dubya himself has reminded us more than once, 'war is a dangerous place'. And we don't need to be subliminable about it either.

So what if you're poor now? Poor people aren't necessarily killers. Just because you happen to be not rich doesn't mean you're willing to kill. So what if you’ve lost all your savings? Stop being so self-centered and think of all the poor OB-GYNs across the country who can no longer practice their love with women.

What's to cry about anyway? Are you not entertained? (I ask that in a voice dripping with sarcasm, à la Maximus Decimus Meridius.) Doesn't Dubya remind you of Russell Crowe? Such magnificient entertainers they both are, exponents of the same fine art - which art that is, I will leave to your imagination. (That's because I can come up with fuckall that Russel Crowe is good at.) What other president in history has do so much to keep his people entertained during times of crisis (that he precipitated himself) as Dubya has - with his boundless oratorical skills? The other interesting thing about Dubya is that I watched a movie about him last year. Isn't that interesting?

In the end, all I'm saying is I'll be long gone before some smart person ever figures out what happened inside that Oval Office. We may yet discover some day what a visionary statesman he was. At least, mathematics says there is a non-zero probability of such an thing happening. (Mathematics, how cruel thy hand!) So, in the meanwhile I would just like to thank Dubya on behalf of all of us for all the Bushisms.

And never forget that reading is the basics for all learning. So, keep reading my blog, whether I write on it or not.

P.S. For those of you just returning from Mars I've colored all the Bushisms quoted/paraphrased above in dark blue. For more of the real deal, take a look at this article.