It’s Saturday. Here’s a joke to tell at that house party, weenie roast, or fish fry you’re attending tonight:
Q/ What is black, white, red, and can’t think?
A\ A nun with a beet for a head.
Free will vs. destiny. Nature vs. nurture. Anarchy vs. order. Is the ‘real’ world actually a dream, and the dream world ‘real’ life? Could an all-powerful deity create a rock too heavy for itself to lift? If Joseph Swan had not invented the modern incandescent light bulb, would someone else have figured it out, or would you be reading this blog by candlelight, or whatever illuminating device had been invented (or not) in lieu of the candle? Would you rather be beaten to dead, bloody shards in front of everyone you know by a pansexual street tough named Rocco in the alley behind a skin bar, or be eaten and digested by a wildebeest horde in deepest Africa, while your fate forever remains a mystery to your loved ones?
Volumes have been written by history’s most probing thinkers on these subjects. And now, another great question to heap up onto the proverbial philosophical pile (an interesting side note regarding piles: when does a pile cease to become a pile? If you remove one thing from it, is it still a pile? How about two things? At what point does ‘some stuff gathered together’ transform into what we know as a pile?) that will leave you awake at 3am, wondering why you have to be out of bed in three hours to go to a job (which, unless you produce sustenance, is virtually pointless), to earn money (which, as a manmade creation, makes it no more meaningful than say, a high score in Tetris), so you can buy food (which, if you are resourceful, is available for free in nature):
Here goes. Imagine The Beatles, widely regarded as one of, if not the, greatest and most influential rock bands of all time, had not been known as The Beatles.
Envision this: everything about them stays the same—the look, the musical evolution, the album titles (excluding 1968’s The Beatles), song names, etc.—only at their outset they chose an incredibly immature or offensive name, like ‘The Fart Men,’ or even better, ‘F(censored)k.’
Would music scholars and fans and snobs and critics openly argue that The Fart Men are the greatest thing ever to happen in modern music?
‘The Fart Men are waaay better than the Rolling Stones!’ Would you say that to someone?
Would they have gotten radio play? Radio DJ: ‘It’s 3 degrees here in the Twin Cities, let’s heat things up with a little ‘Norwegian Wood’ by F(censored)k!’
Would George Martin have relished being known as the ‘fifth Fart Man?’
Would millions of screaming girls have bought into ‘Fart Men Mania’ in the ’60s?
There’s no way we’ll ever know.
……..i think i was the skinniest person there. that includes the children…..
……everyone seemed to have a smoker’s cough and knee problems. not one or the other. both. EVERYONE. that includes the children…..
……everyone seemed to have multiple loud children. that includes the children……..
………i think i saw not one, but two couples that were on a date………..and they weren’t like long-term couples either, they were having some real heart-felt first date ‘get-to-know-you’ conversations……….
………as the throbbing hordes coughed and limped around me, cursing their deteriorating knee cartilage, i was nearly swallowed by the gelatinous mass, almost sucked right in, to become one of them……but i made it out