Archive for January, 2010

2010: New ways to sell your soul

Stumbled upon this, so naturally one has to bargain him down… (click for full-size)

I couldn’t figure out if the price was for his eternal soul or on the piece itself.

We’ll see what he says.


Three Interesting Facts

Hey zero readers, sorry things have been slow. My life’s been consumed by research for a paper I’m writing and turning in a month and a half late, based on how the Nazi occupation of France parallels our lives today in the United States. Interesting shit.

I’d thought I’d share some facts I came about, since that’s what’s up in my life:

Fluoride in our water makes us stupider:

Fluoride can produce detrimental biochemical and functional changes in the developing human brain. Exposure may commence with fluoride in the maternal blood passing through the placenta to the fetus and continues during childhood from fluoride in food and drinking water. In the present study, a High-fluoride level in drinking water resulted in a greater intake of fluoride which was confirmed by higher urinary fluoride levels. Intelligence was, in turn, inversely related to the level of fluoride in both drinking water and urine. No confounding factors such as population size or differences in social, educational, or economic background explained the relationship.” (

There is fluoride in our water, in all our toothpaste. We’re told its good for our tooth strength; this may be true, however that development ends essentially with adolescence. After that, it just deteriorates our bodies. And our minds, apparently. Also funny? Fluoride-infested water exists primarily in the English speaking world. Interesting.

France was ready to blame the Jews anyway

“…the defeat of June 1940 provided them with an historical opportunity to eliminate the republican system, which many of them had always opposed. The president of the republic was replaced by a chief of state. All political organizations were banned, as were the freemasonic lodges. The new rulers did not wait long to name those they had long held to be the enemies of ‘traditional’ France and present them as responsible for the catastrophic defeat. Foremost among those considered guilty were the communists, the socialists, the trade unions, the freemasons, and, of course, their bête noire: the Jews. Believing that a majority of French were anti-Semites, and that they would support the restrictive measures, the Vichy authorities blamed the defeat on the Jews.” (

Pre Nazi-occupied France had a lot to take care of, including restricting immigration of foreigners (who we can guess are Jews, given that no one seemed to like them all over Europe). The Nazi invasion took care of more than we realize not just for anti-Semitic France but for the United States too; when you think about our fear of communism, we liked the ideas of the Third Reich…

There is no longer such thing as [American] public broadcasting… Basically.

“A comparison between spending on public broadcasting in the US and several other countries shows how marginalized everything but the commercial media are in the US. In the late 1980’s, Japan was spending $14 per person per year on public broadcasting, Canada $23.60, Great Britain $24.52, while the US was spending only 77 cents.  And the near total commercialization of the media is in no way confined to television. Newspapers’ practices and coverage have become more and more driven by commercial considerations, as has the publishing industry’s decisions. To take just one example, the Book-of-the-Month Club, which used to make its choices of which books to promote on the basis of at least some level of merit, now considers only potential profit. What can be concluded is that unless it would be commercially advantageous to address issues of political violence, there is no reason to suppose that the media will do so.” (

The media and news is run by corporations. Tell us something we don’t know, jayurbzz. Sorry, I just found this little statistic really fucking interesting. 77 cents? Really? We’re that consumed by consumerism and consumption and advertising… Wow.

My mom just arrived at the coffeeshop, so I’ll post more soon. Wow, I’m so stimulated by research I’m doing! How exciting! Stay tuned.

Spurts of Consciousness & Obsessions

Besides black coffee, of course.

CollegeHumor has been occupying my free moments who are not being occupied by my paper on the Nazi occupation of France in relation to the corporate occupation of America. Am I really writing one of my final papers in the university based on politics? Perhaps social politics and cultural aspects, but politics nonetheless joins in the mix… Wow. Speaking of conspiracies, these guys are genius:

That’s like this guy’s “blunder.” Could it truly be coined domestic terrorism?

Speaking of 9/11… I no longer hold an opinion on the happenings of 9/11. Once I met conspiracy theorists I became pretty apathetic about it all after seeing the hype generated. It’s bullshit in any sense of it, and by discussing it I just keep empowering the fear surrounding it: real or conspirical, the fear exists. Where’s the third option in our society? More of that to come….

This article at Not Exactly Rocket Science relates the meta-self to a camera lens through a study which I found very interesting:

First, he recruited 106 students and asked half of them to pose for a picture. They were told that the other group would rate how attractive they were in either a day or a month. They had to predict those ratings, and write a brief description of how they’d be perceived. In reality, all the judges gave their scores there and then. Epley reckoned that people would be better at predicting how others would judge them in the far future than in the immediate one, because we think about things in the distant future using a broad, high-level perspective – the same lens that others view us through.

Sure enough, the posers were significantly better at predicting the judges’ marks if they thought they were being rated in a month than in a day. The descriptions also supported his explanation. When the posers had to think how they’d be perceived tomorrow, they mentioned specific traits such as “hair tied in ponytail” or “looks tired”. If they had to read the mind of a judge one month in the future, they mentioned general details like “Asian” or “wears glasses”. These are the same sorts of comments that the judges themselves wrote in their descriptions.

A second similar study found the same trends when students had to record a description of themselves for a few minutes. Again, they were told that a listener would use the recording to form an overall impression of them, either later that day or several months from now. And again, they were better at predicting the judges’ actual scores if they were casting their mind into the future.

At first, this trick of looking at yourself through a less, detailed lens might seem a bit like another typical strategy used by would-be mind-readers – putting yourself in other people’s shoes. But that’s not what’s at work here – in these experiments, people are very unlikely to know that other people are using different perspective to their own. Indeed, other studies have found that people aren’t that good at taking someone else’s perspective and the strategy has little value in terms of understanding how others see us.

Maybe I’ll find myself a new lens and get over myself. I’ve been trying so hard to focus my lens I realise I’m too close to see at times. Interjection by Jason Cruz lyrics: sometimes you get too close to see a different side of what life could be, and if you stare too long it all becomes a blur, and its easy to forget just who we are. Don’t stare to hard, just take a look around. Simple simple simple yet so powerful. In a world full of mirrors a reflection is all you see. We’ll save my favorite quote from my punk days for next time.

And of course, among all this introspective contemplation, I find ameta-internet video! I’m so inspired:

I swear, I’m going to rename this blog “Daily Synchronicity.” My eyes hurt after Avatar and its 3D glasses, and I questioned why we’d go see 3D movies often. Then I see that they’re debating making television in 3D. Oh, wow.

One too many TED talks going on in my life right now, so we’ll leave it with one I haven’t watched. But how fucking cool that WordPress has TED tags now:

I’d like to think that science will never be able to find consciousness in brains, though after that DMT research I think that this proves the physical aspect of our connection to a collective consciousness. I no longer believe in imagination, or coincidences. And life is freaky. More on that to come…

Talking to a friend, we discussed the parallels between experienced business gurus and their younger employees and the same exact situation in science. We are youth, we truly are the future. We make change, no one else. We embrace.

Freud’s nephew was the guy we can blame for fucking shit up with consumer culture. Wow, carpe diem is a big mystery? Living in the moment is truly so shocking?. I’ll never understand, though I’ll never deny my involvement in it, either…

One more CollegeHumor vid, since I’m finally having sex (oh yeah, I think I met a soulmate. Is that too personal to blog about?):

I’m officially all up in Twitter since I like, deleted my like, Facebook, like. Follow me or something, you three.

Okay assholes, start commenting

I see my little WordPress traffic stat graph, and all I have to say to the four of you that end up reading something on the curse of the illusioned blog:

Say something to me.

Fucking anything, just respond to what I am putting on the table and you happen to munch on. I’d hate to start being like a commercial bullshit blog that prompts its readers to comment and create a community with me.

The truth is I don’t want to write if you don’t want to interact.

Actually the real truth is that I just deactivated the Facebook in order to cleanse my soul and focus on the more meaningful parts of life, like writing. So I’ll need social medium interaction in some way.

Help me out.

New Years of Irony

New Year’s resolutions are bullshit, so instead I’ll explain the irony of my new year’s eve.

I’m painting for you. I had one image in mind, and by chance it turned into another. That image soon turned into several more, as the oil paints shaped how it would turn out; one bowl and two soon-to-be old habits later I sat content staring at it, wondering why I was so involved in this love. Did you cast a spell on me?

Let’s interrupt that. I just had to get up and vomit, and I’m only on my fourth beer in two hours. Just one joint and one real cigarette after how many days? and look at me. Another point of climax for the synchronistic peak that’s been growing like a fresh-sprouting mountain in the last week. The last two weeks, maybe. What’s to say it started to peak started only a week ago, two weeks? It may not even be climaxing, here. Technically things would have to peak up until that point, and once there it could plateau or continue onwards; one never knows when events have truly reached a climax.

In that sense I could say it’s been two years. Twenty-one years.  Does it ever end?

I tried not going out on New Year’s Eve. I wanted to set an ironic precedent on the new year by not going out the one night the country parties hardest: I party every night as it is, after all, so what’s the difference in one night?

I failed. French_poet and his friend, Swede_friend, came by and pulled me from my piece and my peace. We stopped at Tommies and grabbed some chili burgers; we got to the pre-party at around 10:45. I’d imaginatively attributed the champagne to thinking I was actually in the mood, but the truth was none of us were.  The pre-party headed to the real-party. The real-party was not only horribly boring for us newcomers, but it looked even more boring for the people there with their $5 house party booze wristbands.

We said fuck this and left, French_poet cursing in two languages about how much he hates that crowd now. I told him to deal with it, meanwhile Swede_friend made fun of his French passport and began speaking English with his Swedish trying-to-be French accent as he complained how bored he was.

We were going to stop at Iguana Kelly’s, but the crowd was having too much fun. We called asian_poetess, she was at a party on Redondo and Seventh. She met us outside at the AM/PM with a Bud Light in her hand at 11:44. How do people drink that shit, asian_poetess? The party was full of lesbians and gay guys. I was excited, except that lesbians generally don’t want to talk to me, and gay guys generally all want to fuck me.

I left at 11:52 to go to Bull Bar across the street. They had their own party going on, I couldn’t join in like the depressed youngster I knew I looked like. If I only I truly were him, I’d have sat down and enjoyed a beer, completely lacking any interest in what they thought. So instead, I walked home. I was around two-thirds the distance when the town blew up. I asked myself if that really could have been less than twenty minutes as I looked at my Nokia.

I laughed as I got inside with the pint of Newcastle I’d just purchased—I’m glad the 7-11 clerks don’t give a shit about the holiday either—and smiled at my apartment. My loving, homey, wonderful home. I laughed harder when accidently spilled Tequila in my eye as it left the little Mexican gizmo too fast and dripped out the top.  I smoked a bowl.

And I smiled and smiled, then I chuckled and chuckled, and then I almost laughed and laughed. My holiday of personally-wrought irony was a failure only to succeed itself in being the most ironic in the greatest sense. The Swedes came back over with a six pack of Corona Light—yes, they make that—and we were content. Asian_poetess came over, drunk and the most emotional I’ve ever seen her (which was still not very). I made some music.

They all crashed on the couch.

I woke them up to the Quantic Soul Orchestra’s Feeling Good as loud as it went, as the water for the coffee boiled. They got up. We played piano, French_poet tried to write a poem. Swede_friend played some game on Facebook. He was always bored.

I drove them home, I went shopping. I bought paper towels and toilet paper and sponges but I couldn’t find answers anywhere. I went home and cleaned the house. I waited for spirit_girl to call me.

We had a date, me and spirit_girl. I wondered why she was actually available to hang out on New Year’s day…

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Another twenty some odd young adult who believes he sees things from a unique perspective. Here be my poetry & prose, short stories, favored school papers, rantings, and "blogs." Comment, critique, and profit.