We substitute technology at will
to engineer away the strange and weak
so long as we have funds to foot the bill.
First horns, then aids, ear implants, next: a pill?
New spectacles? Now lasers trim and tweak.
We substitute technology at will.
With help now Jack can bend his way to Jill
and saline slugs lend jugs a fresh physique
so long as she has funds to foot the bill.
Most drives our genes had honed us to fulfill
we've seen subsumed by our hedonic streak.
We substitute technology at will:
from barbell tongues to toys that throb to thrill,
to plastic partners styled in cyborg chic,
so long as we have funds to foot the bill.
Soon brain enhancement should extend our skill
to help us guide the docile and the meek.
We'll substitute technology at will
so long as you have funds to foot our bill.
Zombies are animal humans. They're unintelligent animals, so you can't reason with them or discourage them. But to stop them, you have to kill them outright, and that means killing something that has human form - an act we're psychologically disposed to find repulsive and wrong.
When you put yourself into a zombie story, you're faced with some unpalatable choices:
Do I run and keep running, knowing they won't stop?
Do I give up and die or become a zombie?
Do I murder, knowing that these are/were humans?
Do I struggle to disconnect my reason from my emotions, to say that this human shaped thing is not human and can be dismembered? And will I forever lose part of my empathy?
Where do ugly lies lie?
Beyond truth?
Beyond beauty?
Or must the path from truth to beauty leave one feeling soiled?
(BTW, your space looks heavily skewed. Couldn't we work with an orthonormal basis?)
Some say the limerick's always rude;
Some say it's trite.
Defending verses that I've viewed
I'd ask the critics to get screwed.
We've wit and whimsy, bounce and bite.
Though rarely rated as divine
I'd say these rhythmic riffs we write
Are always fine
For Making Light.
The problem is not in the word lift but in the word God. When God is a concept of a "being greater than which can not be conceived", then one can always contrive a pair of attributes that can be placed in opposition: in this case the power to create an entity vs power to manipulate a created entity. Who needs rocks and lifting? Could God create a maze so complex that He couldn't solve it?
Here's an easier question: Could humans devise a concept so nebulous and meaningless that nobody can argue sensibly about it?
@Greg #2 'These axis are all instinctual, we are all born with varying levels of each one of them. And I think the idea would be to find the point where they all intersect, at which point you might find that place where "justice for all" actually means justice and actually means all.'
I'm pretty sure you won't find justice for all at that intersection, because
Instinctual != good
The biases we have may be natural but that doesn't make them good for an overpopulated urban world. Our natural loyalty to in-group and distrust of out-group leads us to polarized non-communicative groups. Our natural respect for authority leaves us vulnerable to the opportunists who can manipulate our fears and filter what reaches our perceptions.
There are very good reasons not to let natural biases control our morals. We have instincts but we are not slaves to them.
We shouldn't try to find any natural balance between these instinctual moral intuitions; we should actively educate ourselves to emphasize the ones that improve our cohesion in a modern society, and train ourselves to overcome the intuitions that have shown themselves to lead to error or needless conflict.
Sonnet for a TSA SPOT Officer
You've seen my flush, my irises dilating,
But did your training leave you unprepared
For passengers like me, heart palpitating,
Locked to your eyes, so tragically ensnared?
Unable to resist your polished mettle,
Your uniform, authority, oh yes!
And discipline, and... let my pulse rate settle;
I look away, but does that signal stress?
Encased in distant ice, no jokes allowed,
Your shoulders bear the fears of those who'd fly
In fragile tubes, souls cowed within a crowd.
Is there no human space where we could talk
And touch and share? No. Wait. Perhaps if I
Pretend to some discomfort as I walk...
John D. Berry @11
Your implicit dichotomy between real poetry and doggerel is either extending the definition of doggerel beyond my understanding of the term (Oxford: 1 comic verse composed in irregular rhythm. 2 badly written verse. Merriam-Webster: loosely styled and irregular in measure especially for burlesque or comic effect; also : marked by triviality or inferiority) or extending the mantle of real poetry to cover well-written versification.
The latter position is more generous and inclusive than I would have expected. The former seems snobbish and mean-spirited (and dilutes the meaning of doggerel). Perhaps you could either clarify or acknowledge some middle ground between extremes.
As to your idea that "For real poetry, the best resource is simply to read the best", I agree that it is one way to improve your skills. I disagree that it is the best resource, since the books and sites that help the most contain both instruction and carefully selected examples.
One more website springs to mind:
If you find you're lacking choice,
Welsh forms number twenty-four.
Go explore your bardic voice.
There's a useful summary of Nordic Prosody here. (Go up a level to Arnaut & Karkur's ultimate on-line prosody resource for a description of a wider range of forms served with a side order of snark.)
This thread is too much fun for me to remain in lurk mode.
oh noes! u ses cat splode wit fries!
u tells: eat mice!
cat knows a flavor of desirez
and hungry cat so fond of fries...
but if mousburger has a spice
or fries all eated, bucket lost,
ur feebl offring may suffice--
is can be tossed?
k thx byes.
Nicole J. LeBoeuf-Little @130
I thought you did it on purpose and now am all disillusioned because the world holds less poetry than I had thought. Fie! Someone owes me a sonnet!
Two conversations wander far afield
Like lab-warped hamsters, lacking optic nerves.
One stumbles and a lurking kilt's revealed
To fling the praise of Scotland's proud preserves.
The other ventures down a one-way track
Where fey, alert aelurophiles await
To pounce on errant threads. (They have a knack
For tangent tales where felines can relate.)
But then these fraying filaments are fused
By interference from a feisty pet
Whose frail servant's text should be excused
As part remark and part postmod duet.
Made light, the moggy-mangled message lingers
As tribute to attacks on typing fingers.
CHip #24: "as I read the language, the Himalayas cover 1/10 off the land, not 1/10 of the surface -- hardly surprising, since the surface is ~70% water."
Accounting for land versus total surface only makes a difference of a factor of ~3. They're out by a factor of ~100. Has anyone seen the bbc nature show from which they supposedly extracted their factoid?
"90. The Himalayas cover one-tenth of the Earth's surface."
What? By my estimates it's more like a tenth of a percent. The whole of Asia only covers 8.6% of the Earth's total surface. (I couldn't check their reference since the bbc site won't stream to non-UK locations.)
Virge: ? - July 02, 2005, 06:02
"Who lives down in deepest darkest Africa?"
was riffing on an old (1965) Japanese cartoon classic:
Kimba the White Lion
(You can listen to an mp3 of the theme on that site.)
To extend the range of poetic forms, here's a traditional cinquain.
Dear Sir,
I'm desperate.
I wish to offer you
A proposal that you might find
Dear, sir.
Who lives down in deepest darkest Africa? (Africa)
Who's Nigeria's former premier dame?
Who is under house arrest in Africa?
Miriam Abacha is my name.
When the new regime took all our property,
Froze our funds and would have left us none,
Who put funds aside to stave off bankruptcy?
Miriam Abacha is the one.
Thirty million dollars into your account
Keeps this meagre portion safe and free.
You'll be well rewarded with a fair amount.
Miriam Abacha: contact me.
Pitting scams against scams--delightful, Teresa.
Scammily-spammily
Miriam Abacha,
Widow of former
Nigerian chief,
Seeks your assistance to
Pseudofiducially
Hold thirty mil for her
Family's relief.
(I hope a dactylic pronunciation of "Abacha" isn't too much of a stretch. I've no idea how it should be pronounced.)
Why should tinfoil become the new black?
Is your government telling you jack?
"We don't have to explain.
Only foes would complain.
We're the empire -- no need to look back."
When will tinfoil become the new black?
When your country's been under attack,
And you cannot forget
You're a terrorist threat
If you're caught with the dread Al-Manac.
US honor is catching some flack
From your leader's reality-lack
'Cause there's evidence there,
But he just doesn't care;
Could be tinfoil is now the new black.
There's a mystery box on his back
And continuous speech is a lack.
Could it be that his soul's
Under fundie control?
That's when tinfoil must be the new black.
| Year | Number of comments posted |
|---|---|
| 2009 | 3 |
| 2008 | 5 |
| 2007 | 5 |
| 2006 | 2 |
| 2005 | 4 |
| 2004 | 60 |
| 2003 | 8 |
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