Dent in to Head, Time to go to Bed.

Man desires one thing truly, and one thing only. Survival. Some say that if one knew when they would die they would lose the desire to live. Survival. Others say he would be motivated to perform beyond capabilities, but then the others are lying. Survival.

Now close your eyes and take a deep breath. You didn’t do that did you? What if I told you your life depended on it? Survival.

If I told you not to think about your mother, what would you think about the very next second? Exactly. If I told you that, if you did so you would die, what would you try very hard NOT to think about? Irony. If I told you the others lied truly, who would you think about? Oxymoronic. Curiosity.

Albus Dumbledore is also a valid answer. The others truly lied. The others didn’t sin. Curiosity.

Did you close your eyes and take a deep breath? Curiosity. Will you admit to me that you did it? Pride. Can you admit that, I was right? Denial. If I called you a fool and then told you I wanted to show you a secret, would your curiosity get the better of you or your pompous head get in the way? Ego. Did your head just beat survival and curiosity to become the most powerful instinct? Euthanasia.

You know what else leads to euthanasia? Epiphany leads to euphoria. Exhibit euphoria in public and it leads to embarrassment. Embarrassment leads to thoughts of euthanasia. As that sets in, you think about life, and how you could have made it better AND voila! Epiphany.

Vicious circle. Funny isn’t it, isn’t it, isn’t it? The condescending consequences are conspiringly contrasting to my controlled conception of conferred consensus of my fellow conspirators. Devil’s pitchfork. Meet the right side of my brain, Mr. Potato, and the left side of my brain, Mr. Potatoe. Mobius flaws. Two faced. Janus. Alter ego.

Would you know right from good if it stares at you in your face? Doubt.
Would you acknowledge the truth, even if you did recognize it? Decide.
Would you want to know the answer to questions you shouldn’t ask? Desire.
Would you be able to live with yourself once your wish is granted? Depressed.
Would you go to any lengths to undo what has been done? Desperation.
Would you risk it all when you have so much unfinished business? Dread.
Would you rather wish you went back to where it all began? Darwin.

Or, just end it all? Death.

Or embrace dementia, listen to Megadeth, go to college, and stay alive. Ode to Hobbes. Well, a rather older Hobbes alongside Calvin, somewhere at the end of the teenage road. Actually, come to think about it, they would not have lost the innocence and would have never gained the maturity. So to all the kids-inside-you in 2012, remember, never lose yourself.

Good day to you. I said good day. Oh and if you see my Bonnie bring her back to me.

The Monk and the Priest.1.- The Memoirs of Occam

To those who believe in God: Good for you.
For those who don’t believe in God: Good for God.

I am not making any statement here, nor am I implying you to imply that I am implying anything. Does everything we do need to have significance? Does it count? Who counts our sins when all we count are our blessings? Was the world created in 7 days? Why are there 7 days in a week? Why did Voldemort have only 7 horcruxes? Why wasn’t his nose a horcrux? Or was it?

Questions such as these are cannot be given a direct reply for they have none and funnily enough, no one would answer them even if they could. Why, you ask me? Well I can’t be answering all the fools in the world. I meant the answers for the questions. Honest.

Assume that, I did so otherwise. Assume that, I have insulted you. Assume that, I have used sarcasm to put your self-righteous honor in the mud. Assume that, you take it up as a personal grudge against me. Assume that, this leads to a feud. Assume that, my mama whoops yo mama so bad that this yo mama joke doesn't make any sense. Assume that, you didn’t assume the above mentioned assumptions. Assume that, you assumed that I assumed you to assume that it was a double ended pun. Assume that, I assume you still know what we are assuming. Hmmm, I don’t know about you but let’s assume that I do and I’d say you’ve stopped reading somewhere in the middle. #TROLL #Iknowitdoesnotworkhere #Donotputupastatusmockingme #Itpissedmeoffthelasttime

Assumption is not a verb. Neither is it an adjective. It is a noun. As a matter of fact it is an abstract noun. I just made it sound fancy and gave you a free lesson in English. Testing you am I? So sue me.

Notice the question mark’?’? Was I testing your magnanimous patience or was I putting forth a point, assuming there is one. Assuming there is one I will get to the point I have been trying to make. Assuming no one is going to reach this far through this blog post (well even I wouldn’t) I assume it is safe to say those few that assuming things in your life will screw it up, more than significantly. Make the least number of assumptions in every wake of your life.

Facts beget perfection. But never assume a fact to be true. The only true entity in the world is the faith you put up on yourself for the only variables are you. Lose yourself to find your inner self and the day you try to achieve enlightenment, that is the day you know the true meaning of illumination of the soul.

Now assume I was testing your magnanimous patience. What good would that do? I would lose the already trickling few who care to give me the 500 page views per post? Assume I did, so does that mean my life ends? Well my friends, let me tell you a small story about a monk and a priest…..

Murdock Memories- World for One

“Five is for friends, four is for family, three is for trouble, two is us, but still I live in a world for one.”

No one is supposed to be here. Why are there so many fickle minded folks? Question of my life I suppose, live and ignore the ones you let live. Well what has to be done has to be done. No turning back now. Walk in, identify target, walk up to target, primary objective, optional objective presented, mission accomplished. But it had to be screwed up didn’t it.

Walk in
The door works only one way. Ever heard of efficiency fooliot!

Identify target
Target missing. Punctuality and professionalism go in the same line, but it’s just that my name sounds better when in the same sentence with fashionably late with tinge of arrogance. But I had to be punctual, how else can I screw something up?

Walk up to target
Okay, who am I kidding. Mission objectives changed. Identify secondary objectives, a carnal lust or fruitless jabbering with politically incorrect immature misconceptions of the human race? That’s a no brainer, obviously the latter.

Secondary objective 1
Smile. Nod. Smile. Laugh on cue. Smile. Nod. Shake head in indecisive manner. Smile. Look around. Smile. Add non lexical in above interaction where ever possible. Smile till cheeks hurt.

Secondary objective 2
Go for carnal lust at a properly timed awkward moment which backfires so badly that you premonition version of awkward silence that follows a talk about awkward silence draws no laughter. *Crickets chirp right on que* AWKWRD.

Secondary objective 3
FAIL.

Primary Objective
EPIC FAIL.

Optional objective
Listen to Aqua for piece of mind or watch Star Trek for a reality check. End up listening to fake indigenous songs. *Close Enough*

Mission status
*Like a Boss*

MORAL:
When one sees the world around them, they see it in their perspective. How they could have done things, how they would like things to be, how they could be selfish and narcissistically demented and psychotically pathetic in being a stubborn self assured sob, how they can influence lives to serve their ends just because they can instead of using it to serve a higher cause. They haven’t gotten the calling as they have closed their ears to other people’s views and opinions, ie they have put God on the list of Universal DO NOT DISTURB. Bottom line, “When everything is not what it seems, compassion and heart matter more than protocol, procedure and orthodox professionalism.” What is protocol but a means to an end to achieve what passion can. And more efficiently at that.

The Number Game of Life

Twenty’s a number, that’s a score,
Nineteen’s a number, of lovely hope,
Eighteen’s a number, twice the pain,
Seventeen’s a number, with all to gain,
Sixteen’s a number, that’s hardly sweet,
Fifteen’s a number, of innocent heat,
Fourteen’s a number, not twice the same,
Thirteen’s a number, when am luckily sane,
Twelve’s a number, the day I am at forever,
Eleven’s a number, we want to be a teenager,

Ten’s a number, surrounded by painful guilt,
Nine’s a number, marred in identity misfit,
Eight’s a number, even music listens to,
Seven’s a number, for the powerful,
Six’s a number, of twos and threes,
Five’s a number, man can’t seize,
Four’s a number, a pair of pairs,
Three’s a number, never fair,
Two’s a number, meant to be,
One is the number, the world won’t see…

-Shravan “Howling Mad” Santosh

PS: This is food for thought. If you have attacks of nostalgia, then you’re most welcome.

Murdock Memories- Etymology of Emoticons

Let me tell you a small story, he had said. The Storyteller always had a way with words. Oh, boy I’ll tell you, there were a lot of words, so many words, that a sloth would wake up just to tell him to shut up. But hey, he was the story teller. He was just doing his job. Once he had lit his pipe and settled down by the fire, he began his tale.

“Once upon a time, long ago in a far far far away and distant land there lived a man called John Smith.”

“I know a man named John Smith!” interrupted the tavern owner. ”Chap used to drop by a couple of years ago, but he stopped coming.”

“Yea! Now that you’ve mentioned it I think I remember him. Wasn’t he the guy who went to the mountains and never came back?” piped in an old scoot.

“Nay, twast not him. John Smith was the lumber jack from the north…” and an argument broke out. John Smith the knight, John Smith the knave, John Smith the tailor, John Smith the warlock. All of them wanted to know a John Smith, and oddly enough, everyone did.

“Quiet! The story hasn’t even begun.” The Storyteller was evidently grumpy about being interrupted.

“It was a dark and cold stormy night much like this one. John was travelling on his horse to serfdom.”

“Aaha! So he was a knight!” shouted a man from the back.

“Any more guesses, and nobody gets the coins. Only once I finish the story do you guess who is John Smith. Let me finish. Now, it was unlike John to have travelled so far out from his native land. He was a humble and straight forward man. He kept himself to pretty much himself and lived happily ever after.”

The Storyteller took a long sip from his pitcher. There was a loud murmur growing. That was the story? Was that all of the story? No twists, no romance, no heroism, hell, there wasn’t any story either!

“… but then that’s where the story starts…..

There was a girl, like always. He liked the girl very much and though she wasn’t the most beautiful girl in the town, there was something about her. An innocence, a brilliance, a glow, a joyousness that was alluring, she was simply the happiest person he had ever seen in the world! She radiated happiness, she personified the word joy, she was an ode to joy one can say. But, and there always is a ‘but’ I tell you. More like where there’s smoke there’s fire. Have I told you this one time when there was this lame fox and blind cat and they …”

“You have, now are you going to finish this story?” interrupted the tavern owner.

“Yes yes, must complete this first. Now John had a problem. He felt happy when he saw her. He felt carefree when he looked into her eyes. He felt alive, those few moments when someone feels truly alive, were when he was with her. But as much as he felt love for her in his heart, he couldn’t show it! His face had never known emotions. He couldn’t smile, he couldn’t frown, he couldn’t laugh, nor could he cry! He was cursed by birth and his emotion never got past his heart and has never been seen. This was a new town and people thought that he was dangerous for he couldn’t show them his emotions. She also started to move away from him. He did not want to lose her and so one fine day he went to an EMO (Emotion, Meme and Osomness) development center. The people there were shocked to face such a mighty task but one man never deterred. He was the head of the center, a man names Svengali. He taught him a new technique he had been developing know as the Emoticons^TM. He had been heavily banked on by nobles and royals for they wanted to fake emotions in letters to their wives in order to be with their mistresses. He taught him how to smile :-), frown :-(, stick his tongue out :-P, show his shark teeth (^^^), be pathetically cute like a Meowth :-3, laugh like the Devil 3:-), but he could never learn how to show his emotions in real life and as he was an honest man, he never wanted to “con people using his emotions” through Emoticons^TM. Svengali tried to torture emotions into John but John was unbreakable to his misfortune. And that my friends, is the true story of John Smith.”

Silence ensued as the Storyteller rose to leave. No one knew who was John Smith and no one ever will.

Epilogue:

In the darkest hour of the darkest night, John the Storyteller sat there at the edge of the sunset, weeping. In his right hand was a letter. It was from her. He wept and wept till he could weep no more. He couldn’t show the woman he loved his emotions for her, even through the use of Emoticons^TM. A beautiful angel came to him, and asked him, “Why r u crying?” and it was then he realized that he could cry and the tears of depression turned into tears of joy, and angel became his love and he showered upon her all the pent up joy and they lived happily ever after :').

THE END

Inspiration courtesy: Nananananaaaaana. ß This was a death wish. I will be writing my will soon.