Almost the entire human male population, also known as guys, have to deal with an overwhelming need for sex. Even though girls have their own libido, it is well established that guys are much more under the influence of their libido, on a daily & regular basis.
A tiny bit less explicit. *huehehe*
The sex industry is mostly composed of videos and toys. Videos for men, mostly, and toys for women, mostly. It is becoming a trend for girls to enjoy porn. However, it had yet to become a trend for guys to purchase and enjoy sex toys. More specifically, fleshlights and sleeves, not to mention lubes.
I have heard a lot of guys speak of sex toys, as if only a miserable guy who is unable to get girls would need them. Utter nonsense! Look at the comments section of any popular sex toy for guys, online! You can see many couples speaking up, about how the sex toys help relieve the guy, while the girl is too busy or unavailable, or how married couples find that sex toys, for the guy, improve their sex life.
Why should a girl using a dildo be sensible, but a guy using a sleeve be shameful? It should not!
The fact is that many guys hurry into sex with girls that they would rather avoid. Guys get girls pregnant, without proper planning, and find themselves weighed-down as unexpected fathers. This is no joking matter! No man should let his biological needs define his life, when he can handle those needs privately, and with the assistance of videos and toys.
Can you imagine marrying the wrong woman, because you found her attractive, and hurried into having sex with her? Can you even begin to imagine a woman manipulating you, because she knows how much her sexuality overwhelms your senses?!
Girls aren't sex toys, because they come with a lifelong price tag.
We say, "don't play with fire," but we should also say, "don't play with girls." Because playing with girls tends to end really, very, enormously badly!
So, play with toys. :-) Toys are for playing with!
An online friend decided to stop using Facebook, except for the chat, so that she could concentrate entirely on her University degree. While I encourage her to do what feels more important and beneficial to her, I find it in poor taste that she would sacrifice her social life for a professional life.
We all want to be successful. Right?
We all have hobbies and interests. Humans, since the dawn of age, have spent a meaningful sum of their time, in pursuing their interests, beyond basic daily survival. However, unlike the professional yet enslaved members of modern society, they would not sacrifice their family, friendships, and other interests, in the pursuit of a single goal.
The difference between them and us is clear. Modern society is designed to turn humans into working ants, with each human professionalising in one specific job. That way, the gains are maximised, and each human is used to its' utmost extent.
The problem, however, is that people are not designed to live like ants. Humans are designed to live in leisure, and be social, more than anything else. We are designed to enjoy our family and friends, while spending that little precious time, on the side, so to speak, making things that benefit our lives; being creatively productive.
This means that the modern human is slowly, but surely, turning into a new sort of animal. A useful breed that has many social, psychological, emotional, and personal problems. Never the less, it produces vast amounts of benefit, for their society, in the form of technology.
And this is not moral behavior! To sacrifice any one person for the benefit of others, is to sacrifice the morality of that society. No person should ever sacrifice their needs and wants, for the wants of others; especially, out of fear of being attacked by their society. Negotiation is the only way to find balance between the wants of members in a society. Only negotiation creates a win-win scenario.
Huck must ultimately decide whether he should return Jim back to his master.
Huck must choose between obeying the laws of his society, and support slavery,
or being loyal to his friend, Jim, and help him escape into freedom.
- Kohlberg's Stages of Moral Development
It is wrong, but it is happening all around us. Let us say 'No', and aim for freedom, instead of acceptance. In the meanwhile, we can figure out innovative solutions to making money, without sacrificing our natural lifestyle.
Do you have ideas and examples of making money, without sacrificing your social and leisure life? Please, share with us, and comment below!
Here's my recently released tutorial video, about how I use the [crossfit] resistance band. :-) These five [5] exercises are highly recommend to anyone - man, woman, and child, who is not into using weights, or gym machinery.
And here's a video, one of many, that shows how to use the bands with a pull up bar, to make your exercises more comfortable & more effective! Thanks for making this video, Anthony.
Taking life. Killing. Massacre. Homicide. Murder is the intentional act of ceasing and irreversibly breaking the faculties of another living being. It can be a fly, and it can be a person. It can be a colony of ants, or a city of people.
This is not an easy topic, but it is a fact of life that we either deal with, or suffer from.
Murder is bad, first and foremost, because none of us wants it to be done to them. We all want to live the entire extent of our biological ability. We want to grow up, reproduce, and quietly die as old as we can, without it becoming an intolerable experience. Idealy.
However, under the realm of self-defense, murder may become a reasonable choice. Mosquitoes that suck our blood commit an act of aggression towards us, even adding a risk of catching some nasty disease, and so we smack & electrocute them to death. And that is reasonable.
What is, then, the factor that makes murder a good thing?
Perceivable threats to our well-being, while requiring us to defend ourselves, do not justify murder. But, when negotiation is not a possibility, or the perceived threat puts our lives at risk, then we cannot take any chances! We must commit entirely to our defense!
We are unable to negotiate with wild animals. Even if it may be because we have not made the effort to learn their logic, it is still the common state of things. So, when an animal acts in aggression towards us, we must either take its' life, or risk injury and death. We cannot talk it out.
Feeding ourselves comes before the well-being of others. If the only way to feed is to use the lives of others, then pity might as well mean suicide. And no person can hold the standard of pity for all living beings, while being ready to commit self-harm or suicide.
Self-defense arts, such as Krav Maga that I practiced, are highly recommended!
And last, but not least, is the case of a negotiation that is insufficient. When another person threatens our lives, but we may negotiate the situation, it does not mean that killing is no longer an option. Negotiations may fail. The other side might lie or have a change of heart. Until it is clearly established that a death-threat is no longer held, then we must be prepared to make the first move, and kill those who do not care to kill us; be it directly and on purpose, or indirectly and by willing neglect.
It does not take much to be free. Actually, it takes very little, as any space pirate would testify, outside of a court of law, of course. It is doing that makes us free; not having.
Captain Silvarre of the Union Prominence fleet, a registered subdivision of the Coalition, reviewed the results of their recent success. A venture into a renegade planet near Saturn. A planet that had not been known to the public, for most of its' colonized days.
"Gold," the captain requested.
"Five hundred," a rough voice answered from below the captain's deck, aboard the Cut Mink. The ship was named after an accident involving the First Lieutenant's pet, and the Captain's pet lizard.
"Five hundred?" the captain demanded, in a curious, but friendly voice.
"Oh," the voice of the First Lieutenant apologetically announced, "that number is wrong."
"Wrong?" The captain asked. "Who has left our friendly company, in recent days, Kirk?"
"Jamison, Captain," Kirk said, after approaching the captain's chair.
Depicting the renegade pirate Jamison. Photography: Nuno Silva, Makeup & Hair: Cheri Chung, Model: Bradly James
"Let me guess, oh no, let me guess," the captain interrupted condensing arguments from the lower deck. "Deck Hand Jamison, and maybe two more friends, decided to take an early vacation. Right, Kirk?"
"Yes, sir," Kirk answered, and quickly replaced it with, "Yes, Captain."
In the lower levels of the Cut Mink, were imprisoned the previous 'maintainers' of the now captain Silvarre's glorious business vessel. The Lieutenant approached those cells, followed by a group of young recruits, full of confidence.
"Watch your step," he warned one of the younger recruits, as the lad walked precariously near to the cages. The boy stepped away, and felt a quick tug at his coat.
"Help," the miserable creature inside the cell cried. The boy ignored it. "I can get you gold," it growled the name of the precious metal, and insisted. The Lieutenant paused mid-step, and so did the group behind him.
"You say, err, gold? Gold, my friend?" He turned towards the cell holding the creature.
"Yes," it failed to pronounce its' affirmation. But the meaning was not lost.
"You two," Kirk pointed at two of the boys. "Take our esteemed guest to the captain, for further examin... for a chat. Now!" The young recruits approached the cell, opened it with their identifying tags, imprinted on their hands, and grabbed the creature, forcefully.
As the group continued through the hall of the ship's prison, Kirk received a private transmission from the captain, which said, "Take five, keep two." Kirk knew it was solid advice.
When they reached the requested cell, Lieutenant Kirk ordered to, "bring five out, and if any of them resist, beat them as hard as you can." The lads moved into action, with the sound of bodily harm, echoing from the cell.
Five thin and tall creatures, composed mostly of tentacles, crouched before Kirk. Three of them were selected to lead the scouting mission, after the renegade Jamison. Well, renegade as much as any pirate can be.
"The other two will be brutalized every half an hour, for one minute, until we get the prize. Got it?" Kirk asked the prisoners, not expecting any misunderstandings from the aliens. The creatures drooled thick watery liquids, now supposedly cajoled into compliance, and bobbed their heads in a rather circular motion.
Using remote surveillance equipment, the captain and his primary crew were able to hear and see everything that went on, during the reconnoiter.
"Never trust someone with kids, I say," the captain warned, and murmurs of agreement surfaced from behind him, on the deck. "Those aliens should have known better, than to let their kids on board. Now, all they know is my orders and fear," he finished with a merciless laughter that regularly caused his crew to become enamored to his methods.
The vessel that Jamison had stolen, in order to transport his stolen gold, well, as stolen as any gold can ever be from pirates, did indeed have some combat capabilities. However, it was no match against the vast matrix of laser shields that a mining vessel operated; specifically, the Cut Mink.
The encouraged aliens managed to locate and attach to Jamison's boat, and as they dragged him back towards the Cut Mink, Jamison tried, in a last attempt of bravado, to fire his magnetic pulse canons at her.
"I brought you back the gold, from these thieving aliens, captain," Jamison saluted in a serious manner, as he was put inside the command deck.
"Oh, indeed, you did, my Hand," the captain fondly referred to Jamison.
Evidently, the corpses of two aliens, last seen in their duty as boat maintainers, were found on the vessel stolen by Jamison. Without pause, Jamison used them to his favor.
"Killed them with my own two hands, captain, and proud of it," he said with an accent that attached itself to no specific colony.
"Give me one reason not to send you to alien duty, Jamison," the captain nodded at Kirk, to escort the younger man down below, where no duty was ever favorable.
"I," Jamison hesitated for a brief moment and contrived, "I am the only one signed on the new artifact contract, Captain."
The captain hesitated. It was, after all, a very valuable contract. And it really was Jamison's work that got them that contract. There was a lot of competition for it, as well. A lot of messy competition, that gave them even less friends in the fleet, than they had before.
"Kirk," the captain ordered.
"Yes sir," Kirk answered, and once more his previous military service had derailed the space manners required from him on board. "I mean, yes captain," he mended.
"Assign Hand Jamison a lower rank, and remove his privileges from the boating deck."
"Right away, captain."
"And Jamison," the captain added.
"Yes, captain?" Jamison turned back, as Kirk's massive hand started moving him backwards.
"No more vacations." The captain's eye glimmered against the shine of the information screens, and a twinkling of a smile surfaced. Jamison, for just that moment, felt some real concern churning up in him. But only for a moment.
The Cut Mink and its' unrecorded space escort were last seen heading towards the moons of Jupiter. Official reports tell of an upcoming ancient alien artifact transport deal, but for some reason, only a minor clerk was signed on it, instead of the expected signatures of the Captain of the vessel and his second best. The signature read, "Dougler Jamison, Head of Accounting, in the name of the Cut Mink."
Enjoy these pictures of my garden work, as inspired by Permaculture and nature. :-) Click on any of the images, to get an enlarged view!
My rather new Hugelkultur bed.
Some cucumbers appear to have taken root.
I kept the top branches, if any plant would like to climb them.
I was lacking soil for this, as my town is all rocks & stones.
I have finally changed my pots into large unperforated tubs,
that hold the water in this dry and arid climate. It's working great!
On the right, a rescued fat plant.
On the left, a left-over from the transition into tubs.
I'm using a bowl to help it hold the water, and it works well.
Need to get more soil and seeds, for this one.
A corner of empty soil. I experiment with different seeds and potatoes on it. :=P
My watering bucket. It also catches the drain from the table.
My compost bin.
I put holes in its' bottom, which was a bad idea, because of smelly leakings.
Still, works fine.
I just throw in any organic leftovers from the kitchen, and some leaf matter from the garden.
My window-sill pot, which has not been a great success, yet. And an experiment!
Some soil and water in a bottle, with its' cap off, and some cherry-tomato seeds.
I'm waiting for the tomato plants to reach out of it!
This was inspired by various terrariums.
Thinking is important. Not just the occasional burst of thought that we encounter in very dangerous or just boring situations. Organized and systematic thinking is how we reach conclusions that are not immediately evident to us.
For example, trees grow upwards, towards the sun, sure, but without that extra thought, we would never realize that trees also grow according to their root mass! What an intriguing idea!
We use thoughts to understand our emotions. Emotions, our feelings, such as dislike, anger, love, happiness, and sadness are how we define our priorities. Being hungry makes us feel bad, so it's very important! Some random video on the web might be amusing, but it is hardly as important, in our personal scale of priorities, right?
This fact, that thinking is important, is how we can start to choose the tools that work best for us, when it comes to figuring out ideas. Which idea is good and which is bad? Our tools can help us figure that out, without having to try every single idea that comes across us.
I hold two philosophical tools, and they both fall under the category of Logic; which dislikes anything random in the thinking process.
One method is to attempt to find a practical solution to a very specific problem. Do I want something changed? Do I dislike something in my life? Do I want to add something into my life? To use this tool most efficiently, I define the question in the most practical way, so that the answer can be very precise.
So, if I want to learn, say, Japanese, then I would define it: "How can I know Japanese, to the extent where I can understand most parts of the online series that I watch, and understand the general meaning of most Japanese conversations?" And then I put some effort into defining an answer that is within those boundaries, such as: "I will use a nice website that teaches basic and intermediate Japanese, and I will do this for about one-hour, every day or two, for about three-months, mixing both reading and listen-and-repeat exercises." Simple, eh?
The second method is to raise my own general curiosity, and then aim it at a topic, gradually becoming more concise and specific. We do this most often with games - with puzzles. So, let's say that I take an interest in gardening, which I do. I would begin by generally educating myself about it, through the more popular channels: Google, popular websites for gardening, and people near me, who take interest in this.
Slowly and surely, this quest of curiosity will lead me to narrower sub-topics, under the same category of gardening. This means that I would connect to those people who find those specific sub-topics as interesting, and that I would dedicate more time only studying these sub-topics. And so, I will have obtained a new intellectual hobby, which is bound to turn into me planting tomatoes in a pot on my window sill; which I am.
As I enjoy life & beauty, so do I enjoy truth & wisdom.
I have not read her books,
but she does make for great quotes,
so she gets some free advertising from me!
Adam, from the radio show Adam VS The Man, has just now released his new book!
This book is a non-fictionabout the meaning of freedom. I feel that his writing combines the best arguments, from the most popular modern minds, in the freedom or anarchy genres. And it does so concisely and plainly!
Visit the book's page, over at AdamVSTheMan.com.
My only criticisms are towards the audiobook quality, which I chose to enjoy - and not bother reading lots of text. And also with my already great familiarity with the topic, meaning I got bored a lot.
For the former, Adam shared with me by email that he did rush the completion of the audiobook, so the resulting mistakes are not surprising. It is still a nice listen and very audible. He promised to edit it, too! Well done, Adam, keep it up for all of us.
And, for the latter, it is just my fault for taking so much interest in my own liberty and morality, already. I can't blame anybody for that. I do thank a lot of people for it.
Enjoy the book as an eBook PDF, AudioBook (Single File or by Chapters), Plain Text RTF or TXT, and even a Kindle version on Amazon, or the Android App!
I often find myself passionate after an idea or venture. It may be a small thing, like my recent acoustic echo-cancelling mobile bamboo partition, or a big thing, such as my well-inspired but overwhelming Node World project.
The cotton sheet blocks the sound from bouncing back at the microphone.
I have discovered that, while I may do things out of logic, for, say, personal goals, or due to simple curiosity, my most valued achievements are always from a sense of passion & inspiration.
Moreover, I have learned that anything that is made out of passion, does not need a reason to be, and so we call it art. And that artists, people who make art regularly, give themselves for free, in order for their creations to enjoy the attention of others.
The artist, a quality rare in most, but dominant in few, gives himself for free, contrary to his produce, for which payment is demanded.
"Mommy?" Asked a giant octopus, in a sound wave below human hearing.
"Yes, dear?" Answered an even bigger octopus, floating not quite mid-air, near the other.
"What is that?" It raised a tentacle at a near by tiny lizard.
"Do not point, Phefahphiou!" The angry mother warned. She would not have uneducated children making her look bad, in front of other creatures.
"I apologize, but what is it?" The child repeated, lowering its' tentacle.
"It is a dinosaur," she answered. "And it is an enemy of the Coalition."
We are already being eased into this future symbio.
"Can I eat it?" The child asked, ever so innocently. The lizard, a tiny thing in comparison, tilted its' head, and considered the transparent floating threats, above it. It began skittering away.
"No," the mother shuffled closer, towards the young one. "We do not eat those."
"Why?" The child asked, looking up at his mother.
"Because, they are our friends, and..." she lingered.
"And we do not eat our friends," finished the child, not satisfied with the conclusion.
The Partially Examined Life podcast & blog, albeit entertaining, is a great example of why abstract philosophies are fucking useless.
By "abstract philosophies", I mean thinking about life out of context of my own personal life. Without the inclusion of my own experiences. In other words, talking without "getting dirty."
Visit their website & podcast.
I do give it to them that the discussions are humoristic & easy going, and so make for a nice entertaining background sound; so I have something to listen to, while working out, say.
Abstract philosophy, or "philosophizing", is the cause of all structured ignorance. The idea that any thought can be discussed in an impersonal manner, as if from the cloud-seat of some immortal deity, only causes misunderstandings and confusion. As proof, talk to any philosophy student; the pure embodiment of trying to study philosophy, without attaching its' meaning to our own lives.
So, while I do recommend listening to any of their episodes, and their well-narrated talks, I strongly warn against considering any of it as Philosophy.
Trust is created through shared experiences. More than anything else, it is created through our most common activity - conversation.
By having conversations, by listening to each other, and then trying to understand each other's experiences and perspectives, we gain a feeling of trust from others, and they gain the same feeling of trust, from us.
Thank you, MemeForge.net users!
Everything we say relates to our emotions, whether negative or positive. By sharing how we feel, through describing our lives to others, we allow others to sympathise with us. If they accept this offer, and join the discussion, then mutual trust and cooperation can exist.
However, without trust, there is no cooperation. That is how we get conflict and misunderstandings. These lead to offenses, neglect, and aggression.
Next time you have a conversation with another person, especially with another person whom you care for, or find interest in them, remember to listen, attempt to understand them, join the discussion in an active and interested manner, and gain their trust! :-)
...When I noticed the building, just to my left. Even the buildings were made of brick. Most of them a sort of red shaded brick, mostly from clay.
"I wonder if she is there," I spoke out loud, but only to myself.
It is the middle of the day. A cloudless day. The sun at full throttle. I entered the building, and climbed up the stairs to the third floor, where I would find my friend's apartment.
"Watch out," my friend warned me, as I approached. "Dervie is inside, and it got him cornered!"
"Oh no," I thought and replied. "It's them again, right?" I asked her.
"Yes, but they really got him, this time!" She was panicking, and it was up to me to sort them out.
I open the door, and there he is. Dervie. Sitting on the floor, legs spread wide, neck to the wall, and a table pinning him down - at the neck.
"So," I start, but it is apparent that the table is loose, now. They let him go, as soon as they saw me. Dervie scrambles out of the room, as fast as humanly possible, leaving the door open. I do not bother to look behind. I do, however, look to the side of the room.
"How about eating a muffin? Eat one. Or two." - Junkie Space Alien
"Grbledrhrtewshbfx," the creature speaks. It is small, short and wide, sort of blue. It has hair, but it is not like our hair. It looks different, as if it was a different material.
I look to the floor, searching back next to the table. There is a box there. An open box. A box of muffins. Well, I call them muffins, at least. I take the box, and do not look back at the creature.
"I should not eat this," I say, or think, or maybe I realized this only after taking a muffin, one of two remaining muffins, and stuffing it into my mouth. Delicious. Just a muffin, really.
The creature is smiling, now that I check back with it.
"Here we go," I say, and everything turns into a vortex of colors, and I just know that this is not going to be a happy journey. Especially, because on the other side, it is a bright and sunny day, and I am not feeling worried. I feel fine.
"Muffine," I say, and excuse the situational comedy.
The problem of patience is that there are always different, and changing, reasons to act, or otherwise. This means that, unless we do not want to explode with anxiety, then we must learn to evaluate situations quickly.
One way is to meditate. By sitting quietly, comfortably, and without disturbances, any person is able to reflect on their thoughts. By using concentration and effort, we can achieve clear conclusions, about the choices we want to make, and the risks we want to take.
People use different methods, to handle their own impatience and anxiety. It could be beer or weed, and online chat, on websites or through games.
Click for a simple ganja-chai recipe.
Sadly, it seems that external methods have serious drawbacks. Weed interferes with the concentration required to reflect. Beer disorients the mind, so that decisions are only impulsive. Chats encourage an impractical, detached from reality perspective.
Without patience, all we have left is irritations, and how we respond to them. We do not develop strategy and wisdom.
However, if we wait for understanding to broil, then we win the ability to achieve our mind's goals, and the manifestation of our dreams; or rather, a life of reaching towards.
Back at the interstellar mesh of space; the material from which the entire universe was formed; the source of all matter; the realization of all sources; a fleet of Unspeakables held parley with the Ancients; those who had escaped the galaxy, which now hosts the Coalition; their true nemesis.
"My lord," began the foremost Unspeakable, a vague shape, hardly occupying any space. "We have," the thing paused to cough, and the time display, inside the Elder Ancient's enclosed helmet, moved back a year, blurred, and returned to normal. The Elder shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He suspected that this meeting was a very bad idea. He had no choice. He had his orders. "We have started the invasion of the Coalition. Our devices have yet to identify any significant life forms."
"You have not reached their home planet? The red one?" Asked the Elder.
"Red?" Asked back the foremost.
A classical depiction of an alien invasion.
"Red. I mean, their base of operations. Where they dwell and reproduce," explained the Elder, lifting its' massive claw in the general direction of Earth, although no eyes seemed to follow his gesture.
"We have already reached their home planet, and it is entirely under our jurisdiction now," answered the foremost. Another voice, not dissimilar to the previous, spoke from behind the vague shape.
"We have already begun preparation to return to our own ventures, now that this war is through," it informed the Elder.
"None of our scouts have seen your attack," the Elder responded, patiently. Patience was, after all, the most venerated ideal of the Ancients. "We have no evidence of your conquest, my," the Elder hesitated, as one of his subordinates shouted, "great allies!" The Elder nodded and continued, "my great ally."
The fact of the matter was that the Unspeakables have indeed reached and conquered the planet Earth - the same, one and only. The Unspeakables had actually already taken over the entire galaxy of the Coalition, and any resistance was evidently futile. Other than a few roaming spirits, which actually had no claim on those planets, there was no resistance, at all. This fact had not surprised the Unspeakables. Their inferior allies, creatures of mere flesh, found the greatest hurdles in the easiest of challenges.
As a matter of personal interest and research, the Unspeakables have decided to leave behind a query - a platoon of their order, so that they could document their explorations. The inferior creatures that swarmed this galaxy were considered harmless, and thus were given a short explanation, in regards to who, and what, the Unspeakables were.
"We are," began, reassuringly, the first among equals, leading member of the community, Zata Ha Ha Ha Lahar, as most creatures near by began imploding, in quick succession, "the superior beings of the third galaxy, of this same universe."
By the time the introduction of the Unspeakables was over, a large segment of planet Earth was quarantined, by the humans, and extreme measures were taken, in order to shield any further repercussions.
After acts of aggression failed to make any impact on the intruders - what seemed a bulk of shadowy plasma, the Coalition unanimously decided to cover the threat with stuff. Anything. From metals, to glass and plastic, and even some biological scraps, that may, or may not, stop the ensuing destruction of living tissue, emanating from their guests.
There were those who had different devices recording the event. It took only three days for the message to be decoded and translated. Again, unanimously, the Coalition had decided to declare the Unspeakables, thus named, "our greatest ally and friend." No one dared to say otherwise.
This is the second segment, in this now expanding science-fiction satire universe. Please, check back again, for the next installment in the series.
The human life span is estimated at between one and one and a third Earth millennium. Over a thousand years of passion, knowledge, and the will to grow and expand into the vast universe. Humanity, although it is now a unity of several different species, have not stirred away from their original cause. The unveiling of the great unknown.
A war of unprecedented scale had begun anew, now that the enemy chose their new leader. Commander Tuk Am Lai Pal of the Gan Is Is Me Is dynasty. The greatest strategist the universe had ever born. A creature of such vast intellect and keen intuition, that it is considered to be a worthy foe, even by the brilliant Commander Kall of planet Tailtwo, the leader of the human Coalition.
"Captin," a voice crackled in the Command Hall of Greatness, inside the most technologically advanced spacecraft of the Coalition, the Fist of Power. "Captain Kall?" It repeated.
"I am here, Sergeant. Speak," the commander ordered.
"A fleet of Unspeakables had been identified," the voice paused and then added, "and I cannot tell where they are headed, Sir."
The Captain looked back at his General Advisor. The duty of the 'advisor to the captain' was to warn of any dangers that any line of action may present. The advisor nodded, grimly, knowing that they had no other choice, but to follow the guidelines.
"You know what to do, Sergeant," the Captain answered. "Prepare the fleet in defensive positions, and scramble to nine. I will let you choose our method, once you know more."
The Captain turned back, and marched away from the hall. He would not let a bunch of nonsensical Unspeakables disturb his work, on the Board of Action. A team of educated and heavily experienced sergeants was already expecting him there, to confirm their plan. He had to make sure it was a good plan. The enemy would not let them fail, and enjoy a safe retreat.
The future is sillier than you ever imagined!
"It is the war of the century," said Markolas. His hair a monument of defiance, standing straight up on his scalp, held by the majestic force of magnetism. Magnetic hair was the fashion. "It is the war that no one will ever remember!" He exclaimed, and recanted, "I mean forget! Never forget!"
"Forget?" Asked Salastyan. In pure contrast to his party, Salastyan was tall, black skinned, and bald. "Forget? Are you..."
"Never! The Unspeakables at war! Can you even imagine that?"
"No, that is exactly why..."
"Exactly! It is unimaginable! Can you even start to comprehend the meaning..." Markolas trailed on, his mind already shifting away from the war. His mind, like a bird at flight, flying across the great oceans; never waiting for others.
"If the war is so great, then why do you not join it?" Asked Salastyan under a frown, now slightly irritated.
"Join?" Markolas asked, not hiding his despise at such an idea. "Join, ha! I have no time for games. I am a philosopher," he said, as if it was a perfectly reasonable counter.
"They do have philosophers in the Coalition," retorted Salastyan. "They have got all sorts. You do not even have to actually kill anything, to be a part of their crusade."
"Crusade? Do not make me laugh, Salastious."
"It is Salas..."
"My friend," Markolas interrupted, or rather, did not let the other's interruption interfere. "I am no thug. I have no desire to scream in battle, as I murder my fellow creatures. My fellow intellectual partners." He turned, as if searching for an example, and then found one. He pointed, rudely, at a near by Unspeakable. The Unspeakable, a creature beyond the measure of any physical domain; a creature which simply cannot be described in any way, or even proximity, stared back. Markolas shivered, visibly, and lowered his hand.
"Yeah," Salastyan drawled the vowels and smiled, "your fellow. I can see that." He did not turn to look at the Unspeakable. His intuition revealed to him that it is most likely that their 'fellow' was busy talking to another being, not even a creature; not even of their own space or time.
This is a new science-fiction satire series. Please check back shortly, for new and exciting episodes!
In the material recycling department of SciGen Incorporated, Cyril hid in a dumpster. The dumpster was very clean, other than the accumulating dust, and so the array of rejected pills seemed safe enough to eat.
There were pills of many colors and shapes, and Cyril enjoyed all of them. But, most of all, he enjoyed the small red and white pills that tasted like sugar, and were not chewy.
"Ferring soft pills," he murmured, and spat out an odd purple pill that was unfamiliar to him. "Ferring facilities and their inventions. Can't they just make more tasty pills?" He asked no one in particular.
"Who's there?" The voice of an older man echoed.
"Shit," Cyril whispered to himself, and tried to hide in a corner. The container opened from its' top lid, and the old hairless man stared directly at Cyril.
"What are you," the old man began, but Cyril was already jumping through the open container, and back to the dumpster hall. Without pause, he ran to the back door, from whence he came, and disappeared into the streets, where only the night, cats, and the occasional deployment vehicle roamed.
These were not real public streets, but the streets within the SciGen industrial compound. A vast maze of transportation routes, between warehouses and ever-rumbling factories. As he shifted from a jog to a regular walk, trusting the night to mask his presence, he heard a far away explosion, followed by shouts.
He could not make out the words, and the noises came from many places at once, but all from the same direction. The entrance, the front entrance, of the factory building he just escaped. He paused and tried to make sense of the scene. Some windows reflected strong lights, as if a fire was loose. Was it a machine accident?
Cyril decided to go back and check things out. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could learn something that SciGen did not want anybody else to know. Maybe, if he was lucky, he had something to gain, here.
Reaching the factory building, Cyril jumped in surprise, as a figure burst out of the top floor window, and crashed into the ground. Under the ambience of light projectors, Cyril could make out a dark haired man, in a white lab coat. He was not on fire, so why did he jump?
Cyril entered the building from the side door - another opening that he knew was unlocked, most nights. He heard noises. As if something was pounding against the walls, from the inside. As sirens began screaming, the boy knew that he had only a few minutes, before the entire platoon of guard patrol cars arrived. He was not planning on being caught by anyone. The consequences would be dire.
He approached further into the factory, and went to open another door, just as the safety mechanism kicked-in. The door locked, and heavy glass shielding began lowering, from the hollow above the door.
"What are you doing here, boy?" Cyril turned, and saw a man in uniform behind him, holding a pistol. "Come on, we have to get out of here, now! They are coming!"
Who is coming? Cyril wanted to ask, but the guard grabbed his arm, and pulled him away. Instead of going outside, as expected, the guard pulled him beyond another door. As it closed, it locked, and began lowering its' glass shielding. Cyril tensed, and felt himself sweating, with the realization that something terrible, quite more than he had imagined, was taking place.
"What is with all the explosions?" Cyril asked the guard.
"There was an accident with the test subjects. The pills killed them, and then turned them into something else," the guard hesitated. "Not human."
"Like, undead?" The boy asked.
"No," the guard stopped, and turned to look at Cyril. "Like monsters," he said, showing surprise on his face.
As they approached the other end of a storage chamber, the door behind them burst open. Through the locking mechanism and the glass shielding, which Cyril knew was much more than just simple glass. The guard started running, pulling on Cyril to speed up. Cyril had to look back, and see what it was that followed them.
It was a person in a white lab coat. Just a person. Cyril saw him jogging slowly towards them, as if nonchalantly escaping the terrors behind.
"That's odd," he said, and wondered how come bursting through the door seemed to draw no impact on the person's body. The face seemed calm, even emotionless, and there were no signs of torn clothing or blood.
"Over here," a woman guard shouted from above a short ladder. "Quickly, come up here," she said, gesturing them to hurry.
As they entered the upper chamber, the glass seal locked behind with a hiss of air pressure. Cyril looked back, and wondered what happened to that other person. He approached the seal, and looked through.
Somebody else was hurrying through a side door, into the storage chamber they had just escaped. He approached the strange lagger. Suddenly, the other jumped several meters into the air, landing on top of the newcomer, flattening him against the cement floor.
Cyril inched his eyes closer into the glassy seal, trying to make sense out of this bizarre scene. After a moment of lingering, the lab coated figure stood up, and turned to stare at the upper seal.
Cyril would have sworn, had anybody asked him, that the strange person now had a completely different face.
As time moves on, I find myself shifting towards recording & narration. Specifically, narration. I really enjoy telling a story! (And listening to my own sexy voice!)
Here's a short bit that I really like, which was great for me, as practice. Being a new narrator, with little experience, means that I need to find inspiration, and make an effort!
I hope you find it entertaining. :-)
The author of this one-paragraph wonder.
Click on him to visit his video-blog,
or click HERE for more one-paragraph shorts.
Violence is popular. Everybody enjoys violence in different ways, to improve their lifestyle. From the passive-aggressive and scheming woman, to the brute and in-your-face man. Popular media is full of it! Violence is popular in games, TV, movies, and even in music, such as Rap.
Rap music is violent and successful. Rappers are rich. Filthy rich. And neither is there a politician who is not extremely violent, when it comes to facing the opposition, of those who disagree with his or her opinion. Not surprisingly, politicians are very rich, and comfortable, too.
We can also look into our conjoined histories, and see how violence had helped in creating a brilliant & safe modern world, for us today. From brave shining knights to royal and majestic kings and queens, humanity had endured hardship and disaster, only through the amazing power of violence. If it were not for those who rule by force, then quite obviously, there would be no defense against such grim odds.
"Whoa, where am I?
This must be a true adventure,
only for amazeballs knights!"
Even children love it. There is not a child out there who does not enjoy the occasional punch or kick. It is almost our first language. How else would such a small creature have its' say and stand for itself, but without the energetic force of violence.
We can only hope that it is that same violent tendency that shapes our next generation, into a fine line of mighty armed and strong willed young men and women. I see an amazing future for violence, in human culture and society!
The Dzed nest in forests, but they hunt wherever there is prey. Their gigantic arachnoid form, while intimidating, is also very adaptable. Reports of adult Dzed swimming the oceans, started early on, after the invasion of the alien race to Earth.
A recent record tells of a long-time hobby fisherman that fell into the water, while fishing in the ocean. "It was an accident," the man says, "but nothing that would scare a sealover, like me." It was, however, quite a surprise, when he realized that underneath the water, and attached to the bottom of his yacht, there lurked a giant Dzed.
The man was afraid that it might attack him, now that he fell into the water. When the Dzed moved to attack, he was certain that this was the end. When he felt nothing, but the movement of water around him, he opened his eyes again. To his astonishment, the Dzed had caught a shark. The shark, apparently, had been drawn to the swimming man, and thought it got lucky. "You can imagine its' surprise," the record goes on to say in the voice of the fisherman, "when it was snatched up by the spider!"
MikeAp shuts the record viewer off, and restores his normal vision. Tomorrow, he will be doing what had not been done before. He will be boarding a Dzedship. The irony was not lost on him. Hey, maybe he will get lucky, and the Dzed will just hunt-away any space monsters that came at him. Although, in all likelihood, the researchers insist, the Dzed will not be joining the trip.
They have reached the Dzed's nest, and are finally preparing to board. Well, board might be the wrong word. It feels like they are infiltrating the Dzed's privacy, really. Like some sort of insidious larvae, using its' host to find shelter, against the harsh environment. Two assistants start running the checks on MikeAp.
"Can you hear me?" One of the women asks.
"Yes," MikeAp answers.
"Can you feel this?" The other woman asks, as she jabs something against his suit.
"No," MikeAp answers, and both women nod approvingly.
MikeAp starts his approach, walking under the watchful eye of all space lovers. This first attempt at utilizing the remarkable balloon-shaped vessel of the Dzed is broadcast to the public. MikeAp doubts that more than a handful of hobbyists are actually watching the live feed.
Confronted by the giant woven ball, MikeAp shoves himself, slowly, into the sphere. The material is sticky, but it is not able to resist his invasion. He can already feel that sort of lightness that comes from being inside a magnetic field.
"I am alright," he reports over the voice.
"Roger that," he hears a barely audible response, through the loud static noise. The speaker is his counterpart and trusted engineer, KaliKi.
MikeAp bends down, spreads his arms wide, and jumps as hard as he can. The giant sphere responds, by increasing the tension of its' fabric, and thus begins a levitating motion upwards. MikeAp sits down, takes his helmet off, even though it is not advised to do so, and draws a salty snack from his side-pocket. As he slowly nibbles through the snack, MikeAp imagines the others looking at him. An unremarkable white ball, floating through the air.
"Biological space engineering, at its' best," he says aloud, after about half an hour. He lies back to enjoy the view, through the now transparent fibers of the vessel.
MikeAp is the first man to ever successfully reach space, using Dzed technology.
