Letters from the Past

These are from two postcards some of my mother's Sunday school children wrote to President Clinton quite a few years ago. She kept thembecause she liked the art on the other side.

Dear msn Cliniton

I think you ar
duing a gude
job but tri too
mak pes
Luv
-----


I wish you
could stop
violince, and
make more
peace.

My name is --- ------.
I live in Tenn.


Warms your heart, eh? Reminds me of modernist poetry, personally...

I Rather Like Huckabees

(Semi-spoiler alert. Yeah.)

I watched "I Heart Huckabees" this morning (from 1-3). It was a nice concept. I wasn't exactly sure what they were trying to say. My interpretation was, "Life is full of misery, but we're all connected in the misery, so that makes everything kinda alright." They didn't really address the meaninglessness of existence, just the futility and pain associated with it. I mean, I know we're all connected. But it's not some glorious, magical thing (as the main characters apparently learn). It's a machine. We're gears in a giant mechination rolling towards oblivion.

I guess, in the sense of the "isolation" aspect of existentialism, they found an "answer." We're not isolated in our pain. And, also, existence is not entirely painful. But that really doesn't answer what the point of existence is. I suppose you can take a more scientific approach and say there isn't one based upon what we have been able to ascertain using empirical data and logic, or you can say "it's beyond our comprehension." If you opt for the latter, as the former is far too depressing, then applying an actual answer is ridiculous. I've never understood how people can think of God, Heaven, and Hell as ideas that someone of our capacities can understand. They assume it's possible, but once you toss the idea of "something else" into the bag, you've opened the floor to an almost infinite number of possibilities and any one of them is equally as feasible. Thinking you're "right" is almost certainly lying to yourself.

I guess what I'm wondering is, with possibilities limited only to your imagination and even that is a false limitation, how can you settle on one singular idea as to the origin and meaning of existence? Ah well. If only I had the ability to do the same.

WE ARE NIHILISTS! WE BELIEVE IN NOTHING!

TEN random things about me
01. I enjoy the finer things in life, such as ambivalence.
02. I think, therefore I DANCE!
03. I AM HARRY TRUMAN!
04. I don't hate puppies, I just feel they're unnecessary.
05. I hate the city of Des Moines.
06. I stole your kidney.
07. In the past, I have attempted murder. Murder mostly foul.
08. If I was a rich man, I would consider investing in the Turkish lyra.
09. Toaster oven.
10. I'm not really Harry Truman.

NINE ways to win my heart
01. Avoid mentioned the word "bloviate."
02. Get a perfect score on ski-ball.
03. Tell me I'm prettier than your cat.
04. Stop yelling.
05. Help me overthrow the Liberian government, again.
06. Bring me William Shatner's left eye.
07. Lose miserably in everything you do.
08. Don't destroy the things I am moderately attached to.
09. Kill me and have a really sharp knife.

EIGHT things I want to do before I die
01. Throw eggs at George McGovern's car.
02. End Alberta.
03. Smile without causing someone intense pain.
04. Lose 10 more pounds.
05. Finally find out how Little Caesar's makes large pizzas for only $5.
06. Distribute multiple comeuppances.
07. Receive $5 from a hobo, voluntarily.
08. Save Christmas.

SEVEN things I believe in
01. Cancer.
02. Victory!
03. Indiana.
04. Your imminent demise.
05. Mold.
06. Tuna.
07. Lying about believing in Indiana.

SIX things that get me mad (or annoyed/paranoid/frustrated)
01. Lead poisoning.
02. Domination (either kind).
03. POWER.
04. Poisoned lead.
05. Your constant beratements about my pantsfree lifestyle.
06. The progression of time.

FIVE things I'm afraid of
01. Charlston Heston's cold dead hands.
02. NIHILISM!
03. Blank spaces.
04.
05. AAAHHHHHHHH!

FOUR of my fave items in my room
01. My finger collection.
02. Bribe money.
03. Cocaine dispenser.
04. Your thoughts.

THREE things I do everyday
01. Consider putting on pants.
02. Exist, at least twice.
03. Decide pants are, indeed, unnecessary.

TWO things I need to do right now
01. Stop.
02. Thank You.

ONE person I want to see right now
01. Walter Fricking Mondale.

Madge of Honor

So today I took my grandfather to my grandmother(Madge)'s grave. It was awkward, in a way, because I'm not good at talking to any of my family, at all. About anything meaningful, that is. But it was still a nice thing to do. He was obviously a bit saddened by it, but he talked about his grave (adjacent to hers, of course) in a somewhat jovial manner. We didn't really say much, but I was glad that I went anyway.

What shook me when I looked down were the dates. Madge Harmon February 1927 to October 1977. She was the same age my mother is right now when she died of lung cancer. Not only that, but that means my grandfather has lived without her for 28 years. For about a few of those years my mother and father lived with him, but, for the most part, he's lived alone. To be married 30 years and then to be thrust into another 30 of relative solitude... it's amazing. My grandfather isn't bitter or cranky or anything; in fact, he's one of the most generous nice guys I know. And I as stood there, looking at those years and "doing the math" I wondered how he could do it.

I guess, in a way, it's telling of his generation. They lived through the Depression, WWII, Vietnam, etc. They fought for something. They worked to survive. I don't know, maybe they've just had enough hardships to appreciate what they've got now. Or maybe I don't.

Frankly, I'm afraid of old age. I've not even been an adult for a full year, and I'm already afraid of being old and lonely. I live such an unhealthy lifestyle and I think, "Someday, this is going to come back and make your life hell." But I don't mind. I want to work for years and years and years, and then a week after I retire (or maybe after I write 80 to complete the trilogy), I want to die.

Ah well. I should ask my grandfather how he does it. But, for some reason, I can't. It's a family thing. Probably applies to you too.

Bleh. A boy of 18 should not be thinking like this.

Hamlet ain't got nothin' on me.

Does this blow your mind too?

Lauren: my words decieve my thoughts.

Meredith: Ick! Prison rape is almost as bad as French miner sex.

Probably the Most Disturbing Thing I've Written in Awhile:

I feel good.

Yes, I know you're going to have that James Brown song stuck in your head for a few minutes, and frankly, it serves you right! Anyway, I watched yet another Bill Murray movie with a quasi-existential theme tonight, Groundhog Day. For those who don't know, the premise is that Murray is a weatherman who repeats the same day (I'll leave it to the detectives among you to figure out which day it is) over and over and over again. It's the whole "each day is the same as the previous day in a long cycle until eternity" mentality.

However, unlike the other movies I mentioned in a previous, more depressed entry, this one had a happy ending. Now, I don't like happy endings on many levels. They always strike me as unrealistic and anticlimatic. But it did get me thinking. And yes, I know, thinking is hazardous, but for some reason (probably said happy ending), it was a more positive train of thought.

I was watching Bill Murray strut around, finally being nice to people and seeming actually happy, and I wondered, "Why can't I be pleasant?" I can be somewhat witty, I can be considerate, but "pleasant" seems to be a quality I lack. It seems to stem from my "leave it alone" philosophy. It's like me and gifts. I hate giving gifts because I can't fathom what anyone would want. The same is true for actions. I don't know what people want, so I try not to so anything for them. If they ask me I often will, but I don't do anything "spontaneous."

It's all fear. I don't know if I like it. It was the strangest thing, I was feeling positive (instead of my normal apathetic or negative), and I thought, "Is this how normal people feel?" I want to feel like that a lot. Maybe all the time. But I know I'm going to slide back into a rut.

A thought occurred to me that maybe one of my problems is the "suicide" defense mechanism. I have the idea that if things ever get too bad, I can always kill myself a la spy-in-interrogation-not-S&M-style. Thus, I don't have to work on my reality because I've got an out. Not healthy, eh?

Well, here's hoping the high stays alive.

My bathroom has been invaded by ants. I go in, and I crush anywhere between 2 and 15 at a time. And every time I do, more eventually show up. Why can't I have that sort of blind motivation? Oh, right. Because I "think." How many times do I have to tell myself thinking is bad until I finally stop? Of course, there are very few ways to stop thinking...

A hobo shook hands with me after I gave him four dollars yesterday. I did it because I didn't want to feel bad about not doing it instead of because I would feel good about doing it. I think that's a fundamental problem, working out of guilt instead of kindness. Right?

There is no right answer. This is, essentially, a given. However, one is needed for a satisfactory existence. Therefore, since no right answer exists, but one is needed, it must be created.

Instead of philosophy, one is better left dealing with attitude.


Maybe?

(By the way, if you haven't seen Lost in Translation or Garden State, you might want to skip the paragraphs when they get mentioned. There are spoilers.)

"There are highly intelligent people who spend their lives trying to figure out why they can't do things instead of just doing them." -Mrs. Reynolds or Dr. Dan Murphy at Graduation (I can't remember who, and it's not a verbatim quote, but you get the drift).

That is probably the single most useful thing I've heard at a graduation. Not so much that it's new to me, but because it hits home. I think I have a sort of midlife crisis at the age of 18. Or rather, I've had it. Maybe it's a midlife wrapped in an existential wrapped in green and yellow kwanzaa paper crisis.

At any rate, that's the best way I can think to describe it. It's as if my fatalism (ie, knowledge of the inevitability and finality of death and its eventual encompassment of reality) has shortened my entire life into an impossibly short span, thus making any efforts towards any sort of productivity pointless. Instead of seeing my life stretching before me, a realm of infinite possibilities, adventures, real joys and sorrows, I see an outline. I know the story, I know the beginning, the middle, and the end. At least, I've convinced myself that I do.

I really don't understand. I'm afraid. Of many things. Mainly I'm afraid of ambition, of taking action of my own volition for my own selfish reasons. I feel guilty over trivialities. For instance, my uncle (dad's brother-in-law, around my 18th birthday) made a comment about giving me a subscription to Playboy. Now, for those who don't know, my other uncle (mom's brother) had actually bought me one for my 16th. Once I ascertained what it was, I actually gave it back. So, when prompted again, I responded in a semi-indignant manner. My uncle, an easy-going, funny guy was clearly cowed (we were on the phone). Maybe he was joking, but my other uncle hadn't been so I assumed that this one wasn't either. I felt so bad. I still do, and it happened last Thanksgiving!

I can't relax! I feel guilty for not doing something "worthwhile", but for whatever reason, call it sloth or lack of motivation or an idea of futility, I won't do anything. The only time I work is when I'm stressed and when I'm not working, I feel guilty. The only way to alleviate this is to either put myself into a position where I can't do any work so I won't feel guilty or to delve into an escapist outlet where the guilt is blocked. That's my mental condition. I've actually considered getting a job I don't really need just so I could obtain some peace of mind.

So what am I supposed to do? I know I'm not alone. In fact, there are plenty of movies out recently (probably books, too, that I haven't read) that deal with this sort of listless, wasted existence. For instance, Garden State. One would think I would connect with the movie, because it takes someone whose life is monotone and teaches him that there is genuine color. But I don't. Because finding the illustrious "spirit" is not as simple as getting off a plane and going back to a girl you fell in love with three days ago. That's where Lost in Translation and Garden State differ, in Lost in Translation Bill Murray leaves.

There's also not so much a sense of finality in Garden State. I suppose it appeals to teens because they find their lives monotonous and contrived. Then here's spontaneity and life. But in Lost in Translation (and, to a similiar extent, The Life Aquatic which I saw tonight and prompted this rant) Bill Murray is defeated. His life has reached its climax and now its downhill. In each of those movies, Murray has periods of excitement and novelty, but they end in a sense of melancholy because those experiences are only brief flashes in the darkness. In Garden State, the journey just begins.

So I guess I have the Murray mentality. I'm defeated before I've fought. I want to get energized, I want to stand up and yell "Today, I am going to be the bombastic, benevolent entity I imagine. Today, I am going to make my life a story worth telling. Today, I will have color."

But I don't. Because no one faults you for not achieving. No one is angry at you when you don't do anything worthy of blame. You coast through, attempting to be inconspicuous at the least, briefly enjoyed at the most. For this is their existence, not yours. You missed the battle and lost by default. They don't know they're fighting.

I need a rebellion.

Funny cause it's... funny.

I found this rather amusing. You should also check out the batman comics later on, they're nice too. So... enjoy!

Do The Colon! and other Nihilism

-C U R R E N T-
[Current Mood] Ambiguous
[Current Music] Gaston and His Singing Cookware
[Current Taste] Ambivalence
[Current Make-up] Leprosy
[Current Hair] Yes
[Current Annoyance] Gaston and His Singing Cookware
[Current Smell] N/A
[Current Favorite Artist] Stabby McGougington
[Current Desktop Picture] CENSORED
[Current Favorite Group] Heroin Addicts Having Anonymity (HAHA)
[Current Book you're reading] "Alberta: It's Not Just For Prostitution Any More"
[Current CD in CD Player] "IT BURNS and Other Reactions to Philip Glass"
[Current DVD in player] "Alan Greenspan Magical Kansasian Adventure (Unrated Edition)"
[Current Color Of Toenails] Teal
[Current Refreshment] The Hope and Dreams of The Young (aka Coca Cola)
[Current Worry] MINE SPLEEN

-L A S T . P E R S O N-
[You Touched] I did punch that stripper pretty hard...
[You Talked to] The Police
[You Hugged] That bank teller, if by "hugged" you mean "crushed to death"
[You Instant messaged] 911
IndubitablyDyl: MINE SPLEEN IS A BALL OF AGONY
911Grl1456: a/s/l lol
IndubitablyDyl: KILL ME
911Grl1456: ROFL
[You Yelled At] Iowa is a person, right?

-F A V O R I T E-
[Food] Minions
[Drink] Sorrow
[Color] Pancreas
[Album] Is that slang for cancer? If so, definetly elbow cancer
[Shoes] Um... I have talons?
[Candy] Tootsy Roll Pop-a-Caps
[Animal] Walter Mondale
[TV Show] "Uncomfortable Silences with Cory Mingie"
[Movie] Yes please
[Dance] The Colon
[Song] "Cats Tossed off Tall Buildings V2.1"
[Fruit] Ian McKellen
[Cartoon] I don't like the way you're looking at me

-A R E . Y O U-
[Understanding] I don't get it
[Open-minded] "Free Brain Surgery? How could I lose?!"
[Arrogant] I'm never Arrogant like all of you simpletons.
[Insecure] DON'T JUDGE ME
[Interesting] I'm at 4.6% Quarterly
[Random] Thursday
[Hungry] You gonna finish that baby?
[Friendly] I hate because I care. About spreading misery, that is.
[Smart] Yes, it does.
[Moody] INDEED
[Childish] I'm telling Mom!
[Independent] I'm not telling Mom!
[Hard working] I'll get Mom to do it.
[Organized] I'll let you know when I find it.
[Healthy] In a manner of speaking, you can roll your r's
[Emotionally Stable] I got's the herpes.
[Shy]
[Difficult] Shut up.
[Attractive] Radiation.
[Bored Easily] I forgot.
[Thirsty] for LOVE. Or Liquified squid. Mmm. Squid...
[Responsible] I didn't do it! I have witnesses!
[Obsessed] I can only stalk so many people.
[Angry] at Bulgaria? You bet! (And when you do, can I have half your winnings for the tip?)
[Sad] :(
[Happy] :-_123423514365gda (Is it me, or is that phallic?)

-W H O . D O . U . W A N T . T O-
[Kill] U
[Slap] M
[Get Really Wasted With] Depends if I'd remember sleeping with him. Wait...
[Get High With] Jesus
[Look Like] That monkey from Aladin

-S T U F F-
[My Name Is] What?
[All I Need Is] $1000000 and a helicopter
[Love Is] At least, until the police arrive
[I'm Afraid of] Bad Pockey.


-H A V E . Y O U . E V E R-
[Pictured your crush naked?] I don't like to think of the people I kill in landslides as naked, just smashed to unrecognizable pulps
[Been in love] I've been in Montana. Does that count?
[Cried when someone died] Yeah, but in my defense she was hitting me with a baseball bat
[Lied] George McGovern, you beautiful crafty man, you

-W H O-
[makes u laugh the most?] The interrogators and their hilarious attempts to uncover the location of my secret ballpoint pen of DOOM
[makes you smile] "Smile for the camera! Good. Now empty the safe."
[who do you have a crush on?] All the lonely people. (Hint: They come from my basement)
[has a crush on u?] Ferdinando. He just won't take "YOU DON'T EXIST" as an answer.
[is easiest to talk to] The mass graves

-D O . Y O U . E V E R-
[sit on the internet all night waiting for someone special to I.M. you?] Whoa, all this time I thought I was sitting on a chair...
[save aol/aim conversations] This message may be recorded to assess the performance of our employees.
[wish u were a member of the opposite sex] As in, sodomy?
[cried because of someone saying something to you] "I'm doing this because I love you." *continues jabbing me in the eye with a ferret*

Exhaustion and apathy make good partners. They should do some sort of vaudeville number together.

Exhaustion: "Hey there apathy, how's it going?"
Apathy: "I don't care."
Exhaustion: "I never get tired of hearing that!"

Today was a triumph over conformism and nonconformism. I did not wear my clip-on tie on the back of my robes as I walked the stage because I knew I was doing it just to be different, which is not a reason to do much of anything. However, I did do a jogging/running/something across the stage to Mrs. Renolds(that's probably not spelled right) to liven things up and because I didn't want to be boring, so I wasn't conforming.

So... yay for me!

(And congrats to Derek on the Eagle Award. All that bribing teachers with cocaine really paid off!)

Today's Question:

What time is Graduation Practice tomorrow?

The winner gets a cupcake!*











*The winner will, in fact, get no cupcake.

And they all lived far away ever after

And now comes the time of seclusion. Now's the time when I'm lost, again, in this void, this interim between stresses wherein I drift lazily about with few delusions of purpose, save escapism. I started to fight the urge to hole myself into fantasy, but truth be told, it's that or get a job (an idea I've considered, but decided against just because I don't need the money).

Maybe I'll write, but I sort of doubt I'll ever be truly motivated again. I keep thinking about what I've written and submitted (only to Mrs. Jackson so far, but I don't have the heart to go back and edit more before I email it out), and I have these spasms. I yell out as if I was in pain, I jump up and down, and I have this overwhelming desire to say "I'm sorry for everything."

That's the price I pay for trying to be dramatic/tasteful instead of funny. Because, believe it or not, Ayn Rand's right. Humor is a great defense. Humor's a great way of taking away power from a person, an idea, or most anything. If you use humor, you're not exposed. The failure isn't personal, people don't really think anything about it other than "meh, he tried." It's when you try to be serious that you get hurt.

Ah well. I guess I'll try and pull a Kafka. So... burn down the internet when I die. Mmkay?

And the Lord said "Let there be novella!"

And the Lord saw the novella, and the novella saw the Lord and the novella said, "Am I good Lord?"

And the Lord said, "Meh, you're ok."

Can you tell I'm procrastinating? I'm not alone!

DBast521: carpe scortillum
DBast521: "seize the hooker"

Survey!

I'm going to start a survey. Put this on your LJ/Blog/will if you enjoy killing hobos. (You can change the names, except for the one on #5)

1. Zell Miller: Hot or Not?
2. How drunk isn't Carrie?
3. If you were a rich man, would you yabadibadibadibadibadum?
4. What's the deal with airplane peanuts anyway?
5. If David Sugue were a crayon, would he still scare small children?
6. Hypothetically speaking, do you really think I look like a French whore?
7. If you could punch one politician, would you point out that it wouldn't be fair to the rest of them?
8. So... how bout them Vols?
9. I had a dream. Were you wearing pants?
10. If Derek Bast were a pancake, would you still steal his wallet?
11. Who dies first: Lauren or the Pope?
12. Boxers or terriers?
13. In a fight, who would win: Erin or The Man?
14. Do you believe in miracles, you sexy thing you? (Not Applicable to people previously put in the position of crayons)

Friday nights are depressed,
Saturday nights are for thinking.
Sunday nights are stressed,
Monday nights are for drinking.

Just a little poem I thought up that applies to my weekends. Well, 3/4 ain't bad, right?

Oh yes. I'm Emo. Emo like a FOX!

Have you ever been depressed to the point that all your actions just seem lethargic? Sometimes you collapse in your chair as music or the TV flows in and out of your head, probably only making the situation worse as you think, "I should be doing something" but the will to move is not there. Then you have to jerk yourself into action and the momentum carries you through your next series of actions.

It's especially prevalent on weekends, when I lie in bed, my mind in its weakest state (This is generally when hormones dominate. My conscious sexual thoughts almost always come on days when I have no obligations, and I just lie in bed, not motivated enough to rise. I think thoughts I feel ashamed of almost as soon as I finally become motivated enough to shake the stupor and begin the day's rituals. It's not that I don't have sexual thoughts outside of this weakened state, I do. I am human. But the distinction is that on these mornings I don't bother fighting them.) I lie in bed, knowing that I've slept all I need to sleep, knowing that my day is wasting, knowing that my life itself is wasting, and come to think of it that's probably not helpful in the motivation department, now is it?

And now, I look outside myself and see the depression and realize a quick jolt will get me out of it. I wait, though, for some reason. Why would I do such a crazy thing? Already I can feel a bit of life stirring. It just takes the realization of what is happening in order for me to have the ability to shake them, why don't I? I don't know.

I blame Communism, really I do. It's like "We're all for the ho's, yo" and I'm like "Fo'shizzle, you be trippin' Communism." Then Communism gets all in my face with its redness and I'm like "Man, you ain't got nothin' fo real" and Communism gets upset and starts crying, so I have to console it and then we go out for ice cream. You can see my dilemma.

So, the real question we're all ignoring is, did it work? Exit polls show a slight majority going with the incumbent, but one can never trust such dastardly excuses for good statistics.

Well, did it?

The Demon Emo

I hate the word "Emo." I believe it originated in music, but now it has come to encompass most any showing of emotion (mostly in the love/depressed spectrum) and generally has negative connotations. While it's true some people take them too far (A great deal of modern music drips angst to the extent I mentally writhe in pain when I'm exposed to it), trivializing all emotions with a derogatory label is just another step towards the spiritual void we're already slipping into. I'm half a Romantic (old school emo, look it up), so I guess I am bias, but I still hold to my belief that emotions, even of the depressed and regretful nature, are not inherently abhorrent. They should not be holed up inside where one only feels shame from having them.

While, in an ideal situation, one could twist his perspective to a positive, optimistic position on every issue, it's simply unrealistic. I can see the good in most things, but I can also see the bad. Ignoring one or the other is just a form of delusion. Recognizing the negative and elaborating on its consequences is not some despicable act. The reason many journal entries/music/art seems to be negative is because it's something that people feel they need to express and in some way expel. Happiness requires no outlet.

I don't know, Lee suggested my existential rants only serve to exacerbate my depression, but I'd argue that only numbing my mind or fogging it with love or enthusiasm are the only ways to avoid it. The more I wax existentialist, the more I think I understand, and the better I can write it. I think I can get across the existentialist angle quite well in my more creative endeavors (two in the novel so far). Of course, I try to demean it as I go because it is an ugly philosophy, but that doesn't mean it's not darkly beautiful.

Ah well. Off to bed. One final note to self: You're entirely too stressed. That is all.

Duncan-esque

No, not King Duncan. I mean the infamous David Duncan. I'm still reading up on Ayn Rand (I'll probably rant more about that sometime in the near future), but it's leading me on a philosophical journey through wikipedia onto different philosophers etc. Who knew engaging one's mind could be enjoyable? (David, apparently. By the way, I have 6 windows open now. David usually ends his library sessions with 12, so we'll see how this turns out). Anywho, I wanted to post a "brief insert" from an entry about David Hume taken from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Hume:

"The Problem of Induction

We all think that the past acts as a reliable guide to the future. For example, physicists' laws of planetary orbits work for describing past planetary behavior, so we presume that they'll work for describing future planetary behavior as well. But how can we justify this presumption – the principle of induction? Hume suggested two possible justifications and rejected them both:

1. The first justification states that, as a matter of logical necessity, the future must resemble the past. But, Hume pointed out, we can conceive of a chaotic, erratic world where the future has nothing to do with the past – or, more tamely, a world just like ours right up until the present, at which point things change completely. So nothing makes the principle of induction logically necessary.
2. The second justification, more modestly, appeals only to the past reliability of induction – it's always worked before, so it will probably continue to work. But, Hume pointed out, this justification uses circular reasoning, justifying induction by an appeal that requires induction to gain any force.

The problem of justifying induction remains with us. Hume seems to hold the view that we (as well as other animals) have an instinct-like belief that the future will resemble the past based on the development of habits in our nervous system, a belief that we cannot eliminate but which we cannot prove true by any kind of argument, deductive or inductive, just as is the case with regard to our belief in the reality of the external world."

I found it amusing because I unfortunately follow determinism, the doctrine which states that free will does not exist because the future is merely a result of the past. Hume rejects this completely for the reasons stated above, but it is interesting to note that with the above in mind, one can be of two mindsets:

1.If you believe Hume's arguments, it isn't logical to believe that one can use past results to predict the future, ie even though David Sugue is standing right next to you and you are wearing a low cut top, he will not necessarily look at your boobs.

2.Or you can disregard Hume and say that yes, past events can be used to predict the future and David most certainly will stare at your bosom, even ifthat bosom belongs to one Derek Bast. That means you should follow determinism.

Just food for thought. David, eyes up here! I feel dirty...

Edit: Heh, read the article and you'll see I predicted the argument that followed (I hadn't read the whole article when I posted before). Creepy, eh?

Oh, and this will blow your mind: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cogito_ergo_sum

Some things will not work for reasons not fully comprehended.

At least, that's the excuse I give myself. Nod and say "yes", self.

Yes.