Skip to content

A Shout Out

This is a shout out to Beth Carr from Anchorage (and to her younger brother) for giving me a journal back when I was in high school.

This is also a shout out to Seth Greer (from Anchorage). I hope I will see you again someday. I also wanted to tell you that I was walking down the street a couple weeks ago and suddenly a phone number came to my mind. Like fucking out of nowhere: 208-289-5397. I had no idea what the hell this number was. I came home and searched google 208 is an area code in Idaho. Then I searched the whole number and saw that it was your number when you lived in Idaho. What the fuck? If you had asked me any day in the 10-12 years prior to that day what Seth Greer’s phone number in Idaho was? No idea. Where was it that whole time? Locked in a neuron? A dusty neuron that another neuron accidentally bumped into? Anyways, weird shit.

I posted these names here in case they google themselves.

Urinal Design

I have questions about the standard urinal design. They’re all pretty much the same. Here is the question: Where should I be pissing? Where should I aim? This is actually an honest question. Just because the word ‘fuck’ is in the name, doesn’t mean we’re not serious here at 

Here is a description of the urinal: There is this large wall that curves out on each side. So one option is to blast straight into the wall. The problem is this: Try this in shorts. If you have hairly legs like a man (like me) your hair will ring like antenna as thousands and thousands of piss mist coat your leg hair. I don’t like the idea of all this mist to be getting all over my pants. So, I don’t think that the wall is meant to pissed straight into. 

Sometimes there is a blue disc in a little plastic cage, or other kinds of mats and shit. I used to think these cages and shit were a good thing to piss at, because you weren’t just plowing straing into a wall, but it would all get caught up in the cage and there would be no mist. But then the other day I went back to my office desk and looked down and noticed a bunch of blue shit on my pants. Chunks of that blue disk were splattered all over my pants. So, now I’m not so hot on my piss-on-the-cage technique.

At the bottom of the urinal there is often a little pool. I don’t think most people piss into the pool. I’m pretty sure I’ve paid attention to whether other people were pissing into the pool. Maybe I’m wrong, but that’s what it seems like. Anyways, I’m pretty sure the pool has the same mist problem.

The technique that I currently think is the best is to try to find a surface that you can get a really low angle at. By “low” angle, I mean pissing at the surface at as close to parallel to the surface as you can. I’m not so tall, so sometimes I stand on my tiptoes so that I have a little more height on the wall. My theory is that if you get a really low angle on it, the surface will just catch it all, no spray. It would be the difference between snowboarding on a halfpipe and landing on the flat surface at the top, or coming right back down into the halfpipe again.

Also, that weird jaw that comes out at the bottom that has the pool in it? The only thing I can think is that that jaw is there to catch drips.

There ya go – my collected wisdom on using urinals.

Oh yeah, I don’t know how we came up with this urinal design, but it could be improved upon. I’ve got some plans drawn up. Contact me.


I sat down the other day to figure out what it is precisely that I am interested in in philosophy. Anyways, what I came up with is that my interests seem to revolve around some form of irrationalism. First of all, I don’t know what the hell is really meant by ‘reason’, as in the faculty of reason. Admittedly, I am not an expert, but on the surface, reason is what sets us apart from other animals; we are “rational animals”. Rationality deals with reasons. We think and reason, and conclude. What part of the stuff that goes through my head is the reason? My conscious thoughts certainly don’t follow each other like logical deduction. The thoughts aren’t totally random either. There are very rough patterns in the sense that I am familiar with my usual mental capacities. For example: if I were to suddenly remember word for word the article I read this morning while eating breakfast, I would be extremely surprised. In other cases, I could probably predict how I might react in certain situations, etc. But this isn’t what it means to be rational.

On freewill/determinism

What does it mean to say that a deterministic universe produced creatures that can have the thought: I could’ve done something else? What does this say about the universe? Of all the possible deterministic universes/different possible configurations/etc. we happen to occupy one in which we can conceive this fact, and not only that, but we have a very strong intuition that we have freewill. What does it mean to say that a deterministic universe produced creatures whose first intuition is to say that they have freewill? Doesn’t this seem a little incongruous? Kinda disingenuous (of the universe)? Is it strange that a deterministic universe would produce creatures that could conceive of determinism? Or does that just make sense in a fractal-like way? A prank? (Actually, to say that our first intuition is to say we have freewill is probably inaccurate. Rather, I’m guessing that the concept of freewill arrived simultaneously/immediately following as the concept of determinism/fate arose. It was in contrast to the idea of fate and determination that we wanted to say we had freewill. The concept of determinism caused us to conceive of freewill.) If this a deterministic universe, then what causes me to say I have freewill? There is a phenomenological feel that I describe as freewill. So the phenomenology is causing me to have this thought? I have a very strong intuition to say that the decision as to whether or not what I am doing is free or not MUST be something judged from conscious phenomenology, and NOT something that is produced unconsciously and is served up epiphenomenally. But why? Why would a deterministic universe produce creatures who would have strong intuitions that freewill is a sensation that is felt consciously?

No fun my babe no fun

I shave my head pretty close – every couple of days. I was walking home the other day, and a car drove by. The window was down and the person in the passenger seat said in a pretty low voice, almost under his breath, as they passed by me (so that I wasn’t even able to see them): Where’s your hair? I thought it was really funny then, and I am still laughing about it tonight. I don’t really know why it was so funny – that is what I will try to figure out here.

I was thinking that maybe it would kinda be like seeing someone walk down the street otherwise fully clothed and accessorized, but without any pants on. No, no, forget that, I don’t know what I was thinking. It would be more like passing some ordinary stranger walking down the road, someone with a home and kid and job or something, and with something like mockish snideness (said almost to yourself or whoever you are with, but so the person could possibly hear you or might interpret it as not meant to be heard clearly) say something like: Where’s your ghettoblaster? Something really incongruous like that. (I was trying to think of something that people without cars carry around to make themselves seem badass.) I guess it could also have just been a really stupid joke – like seeing a blind person and, in that same manner, saying (with a snicker): Where’s your vision? Otherwise, I guess it was funny that they didn’t just yell “hey faggot!” or something. They actually did a little bit of research; they dug up something in the couple of seconds that they had to prepare.

Whatever. You may ask: why the hell would someone think about some stupid nonsense as someone saying “where’s your hair?”, let alone write about it and think someone might think it was funny or interesting? When reflecting gets to that point, it isn’t fun any longer.

sissy-ass train conductors

Remember the good ol’ days, back before when train conductors starting sending text messages? What a bunch of little girls those train conductors have become. Am I right? I’m preaching to the chorus, I know. Next thing ya know  they’ll be dressing their online pony friends, and hanging out in chat rooms for ponies. But this post isn’t really about what a bunch of sissies these train conductors have become. No, this is, and here we are concerned with the principles behind the matter. While I’m happy that there will be no more train wrecks because of text messaging, I think there were some other options that may not have been considered apart from just banning train conductors from text messaging.  Here are some: they could’ve just put a cell phone scrambling device in the conductor’s lair. Whatever, that one was stupid, but there are tons of possibilities. The most compassionate and all-around win-win of all the possibilities was that they could require that train conductors get certified to send text messages with their eyes closed. Or some other incentives like for every text message they don’t send on their shift, maybe they get an extra five dollars or something. That might not work, because you could just make up some number of text messages that you really wanted to send, but refrained from. You could also reward train conductors who catch other train conductors who are about to send text messages. That might work. Or they could just hire someone to stand there and watch to make sure no one sends text messages. Anyways, you see that there are lots of great options out there besides just banning train conductors from texting.

Big Bang Machine

The new CERN nuclear accelerator is almost ready to turn on. In one year it will produce enough data to fill a 20 km high tall stack of CR-Rs. One CD-R is about 1.2mm thick. That is about 16,666,666.66 CD-Rs (or about 2,519,379.845 DVD-Rs). We’re gonna fuckin’ figure out this universe in no time! Just think about all that data!

I learned here that in 2006 there was enough digital data on the planet to fill 12 separate stacks of novels, each 93 million miles tall (to the Sun), and by 2010 12 stacks from the Sun to Pluto and back.

I can’t find any website where I can convert novels (in bytes) into CD-Rs, so I don’t exactly know how to compare these figures.

In this post from 2004, this man says that the Internet has less than half of 460 terabytes.

Unless my calculations are all fucked up, that 16,666,666.67 CD-Rs is about 10,579 terabytes.

That makes the data from one year of CERN use to come out to about 46 internets (2004-internets).

In this post from 2005, the Internet is 5 million terabytes. In this article from sometime in 2008, it says the CEO of Google said that the Internet is 500 million terabytes big.

That comes out to 47,263 years of CERN data.

The bottom line: The Universe better get a whole lot more interesting REALLY fucking fast if it is going to compete with the Internet.

Plight of the Pedestrian: Part 1

I haven’t done the etymological research, but somehow ‘pedestrian’ came to be synonymous with: banal, commonplace, dull, ordinary, unexciting, etc. If you want to see a photo that really demonstrates what abuse this is, here is the photo from the wikipedia page for ‘pedestrian’. And what about ‘paedophile’? Even if they don’t share a common root, you can see what I’m getting at. This injustice has gone unsung for long enough.

The roots of the word have to do with feet and going by foot and the like. This makes sense because that is what the word means. So next time you speak of someone having a “pedestrian lifestyle”, just think of what you are really saying: their life has something to do with feet. Doesn’t sound so cool and literate now, does it?

(to be continued)

nostalgia and sentiments

Here is something kinda interesting. Throughout the day memories come (to me at least) seemingly without cause – out of the blue. These can be memories of things that I haven’t thought of since they occurred. That is strange in itself, but that isn’t the point. I don’t know if other people are like this, but memories of ordinary times/events take on a sentimental character, but only after an amount of time has passed. I can think of sitting at a cafe a year ago just like I often would do, but I now feel sentimental about it. Nothing extraordinary; I was just sitting alone drinking coffee. I feel nostalgic about the previous apartment I lived in, even though I didn’t really like it. What the hell is the point of all these sentiments and nostalgia? I don’t really know what it is that I’m even nostalgic about; it seems a little unwarranted. I can see how it could be some kind of psychological mechanism to make me feel good about my life, that every memory (except for the harrowing ones) fade back into a golden age. Not only that, but every memory has its own flavor, so to speak. By “sentiment” I mean the flavor or smell of the memory – a signature feeling of some kind. It is strange, on the one had these sentiments seem unique to each time/place, but at the same time I can’t really what is different about them, what is really different about these sentiments. Another thing that is strange is that I remember them as if that is how it felt to be there at that time, but I’m pretty sure that that isn’t what it felt like then. Likewise, I may one day remember the times I spent sitting on the floor with my computer on a stool, messing around on the internet like I am right now, and remember them fondly. But I don’t feel those sentiments right now. But what the hell are those additional sentiments that one feels when they look back on past times? There are times in the present that seem to approximate those nostalgic sentiments. I’m thinking of times like taking a walk at dusk in the spring on those first few days when it smells really amazing outside. Whatever, you know what I’m talking about.

changed my mind

After a bit of reflection I have completely changed camps on the fellatio competition issue. I was thinking too narrowly. After a little thought, “fellatio competition” started to sound provincial and unrefined. Now I’m thinking: Sex Olympics. Imagine something grand and cosmopolitan. No one should have any trouble coming up with some possible events. They will probably come to you in a steady succession until you forcibly direct your attention to something else. There are so many possibilities that it would be hard to choose. But please don’t post any of your ideas in the comments. Keep them to yourself. I’m trying to keep this site respectable.