Mathematical Platonism: A Comedy

Mathematical Platonism holds that mathematical forms – equations, geometric forms, measurable relationships – are somehow embedded into the fabric of the universe, and are ‘discovered’ rather than invented by human minds.

From my perspective, humans respond to challenges of experience. However, within a given condition of experience, the range of possible responses is limited. In differing cultures, where similar conditions of experience apply, the resulting responses can also be expected to be similar. The precise responses and their precise consequences generate new conditions to be responded to – but again only within a range. So while the developments we find in differing cultures can oft end up being very different, they can also end up being very similar, and the trajectories of these developments can be traced backward, revealing their histories. These histories produce the truths we find in these cultures, and the facts that have been agreed upon within them. As these facts and the truths concerning them prove reliable, they are sustained until they don’t, at which point each culture will generate new responses that prove more reliable.

Since, again, the range of these responses within any given set of conditions is actually limited by the history of their development, we can expect differing cultures with similar sets of conditions to recognize a similar set of facts and truths in each other when they at last make contact. That’s when history really gets interesting, as the cultures attempt to come into concordance, or instead come into conflict – but, interestingly, in either case, partly what follows is that the two cultures begin borrowing from each other facts, truths, and possible responses to given challenges. ‘Universal’ truths, are simply those that all cultures have found equally reliable over time.

This is true about mathematical forms as well, the most resilient truths we develop in response to our experiences.  I don’t mean that maths are reducible to the empirical; our experiences include reading, social interatction, professional demands, etc., many of which will require continued development of previous inventions.  However, there’s no doubt that a great deal of practical mathematics have proven considerably reliable over the years.  Whereas, on the contrary, I find useless Platonic assertions that two-dimensional triangles or the formula ‘A = Π * r * r’   simply float around in space, waiting to be discovered.

So, in considering this issue, I came up with a little dialogue, concerning two friends trying to find – that is, discover – the mathematical rules for chess (since the Platonic position is that these rules, as they involve measurable trajectories, effectively comprise a mathematical form, and hence were discovered rather than invented).

Bob: Tom, I need some help here; I’m trying to find something, but it will require two participants.
Tom: Sure, what are we looking for.
B.: Well, it’s a kind of game. It has pieces named after court positions in a medieval castle.
T.: How do you know this?
B.: I reasoned it through, using the dialectic process as demonstrated in Plato’s dialogues. I asked myself, what is the good to be found in playing a game? And it occurred to me, that the good was best realized in the Middle Ages. Therefore, the game would need to be a miniaturization of Medieval courts and the contests held in them.
T.: Okay, fine, then let’s start with research into the history of the Middle Ages –
B.: No, no, history has nothing to do with this. That would mean that humans brought forth such a game through trial and error. We’re looking for the game as it existed prior to any human involvement.
T.: Well, why would there be anything like a game unless humans were involved in it?
B.: Because its a form; as a form, it is pure and inviolate by human interest.
T.: Then what’s the point in finding this game? Aren’t we interested in playing it?
B.: No, I want to find the form! Playing the game is irrelevant.
T.: I don’t see it, but where do you want to start.
B.: In the Middle Ages, they thought the world was flat; we’ll start with a flat surface.
T.: Fine, how about this skillet.
B.: But it must be such that pieces can move across it in an orderly fashion.
T.: All right, let’s try a highway; but not the 490 at rush hour….
B. But these orderly moves must follow a perpendicular or diagonal pattern; or they can jump part way forward and then to the side.
T.: You’re just making this up as you go along.
B.: No! The eternally true game must have pieces moving in a perpendicular, a diagonal, or a jump forward and laterally.
T.: Why not a circle?
B.: Circles are dangerous; they almost look like vaginas. We’re looking for the morally perfect game to play.
T.: Then maybe it’s some sort of building with an elevator that goes both up and sideways.
B.: No, it’s flat, I tell you… aha! a board is flat!
T.: So is a pancake.
B.: But a rectangular board allows perpendicular moves, straight linear moves, diagonal moves, and even jumping moves –
T.: It also allows circular moves.
B.: Shut your dirty mouth! At least now we know what we’re looking for. Come on, help me find it. (begins rummaging through a trash can.) Here it is, I’ve discovered it!
T.: What, that old box marked “chess?”
B.: It’s inside. It’s always inside, if you look for it.
T.: My kid brother threw that out yesterday. He invented a new game called ‘shmess’ which he says is far more interesting. Pieces can move in circles in that one!.
B,: (Pause.) I don’t want to play this game anymore. Can you help me discover the Higgs Boson?
T.: Is that anywhere near the bathroom? I gotta go….

Bob wants a “Truth” and Tom wants to play a game. Why is there any game unless humans wish to play it?

A mathematical form comes into use in one culture, and then years later again in a completely other culture;  assuming the form true, did it become true twice through invention?  Yes.  This is one of the unfortunate truths about truth: it can be invented multiple times.  That is precisely what history tells us.

So, Bob wants to validate certain ideas from history, while rejecting the history of those ideas. You can’t have it both ways. Either there is a history of ideas, in which humans participated to the extent of invention, or history is irrelevant, and you lose even “discovery.” The Higgs Boson, on the other hand, gets ‘discovered,’ because there is an hypothesis based on theory which is itself based on previous observations and validated theory, experimentation, observation, etc. In other words, a history of adapting thought to experience.  (No one doubts that there is a certain particle that seems to function in a certain way. But there is no Higgs Boson without a history of research in our effort to conceptualize a universe in which such is possible, and to bump into it, so to speak, using our invented instrumentation, and to name it, all to our own purposes.)

Plato was wrong, largely because he had no sense of history. Beyond the poetry of his dialogues (which has undoubted force), what was most interesting in his philosophy had to be corrected and systematized by Aristotle, who understood history; the practical value of education; the differences between cultures; and the weight of differing opinions. Perhaps we should call philosophy “Footnotes to Aristotle.”

But I will leave it to the readers here whether they are willing to grapple with a history of human invention in response to the challenges of experiences, however difficult that may seem; or whether they prefer chasing immaterial objects for which we can find no evidence beyond the ideas we ourselves produce.


Political discourse, 2016: tonight’s debate

(Due to conflicting schedules, tonight’s town-hall debate between presidential aspirants Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump was actually pre-recorded this morning. Here are some select highlights from the transcript:)

Moderator: The first question is from Mary Voter, addressed to Mrs. Clinton.

Voter: Madame Secretary, how would you address the growing number of children getting raised in poverty in areas of the United States?

Clinton: I have a twelve point program to bring to Congress that provides funds to those areas that would put into place health care clinics and educational support –

Trump: Wrong! I have children, I hgave a lot of children, there are probably a lot of children I don’t know I have, you know, because my Vietnam was a series of beds and I barely got out alive, let me tell you, no STDs –

Mod.: Mr. Trump, please wait for a question addressed to you before interjecting your personal affairs! Now, here’s one from Joe Dimswitch, of Bakersfield California.

Dimswitch: Hey Donald! Love ya, baby! What suggestions you got for a guy on the make in a singles’ bar?

Trump: Here’s an instance of my huge support! I have large numbers of followers like you, and they’re all on the make. Look, just go up to the good-lookers and rub your dick against them. Don’t forget, flash a lot of money at ’em –

Dimswitch: I don’t got a lot of money, I lost my job –

Trump: Then go away, you’re a loser – get him outta here.

Mod.: Another question for you, Mr. Trump, from Marvin Electorate, concerning foreign policy.

Electorate: Mr. Trump what strategy do you have in mind that would include possible use of nuclear weapons in Iraq?

Trump: Strategy? I don’t need no stinking strategy! What are you, a plant? Clinton put you up to this? Is this debate rigged? Let’s talk about my huge support, by bulging manhood, my big brain. You can see from my head-size, right? Big brain, very big.

Clinton: May I address this, because I believe the threat of use of nuclear weapons actually increases the danger in the mid-east –

Trump: Shut up you cow! the risk of you cheating on your husband threatens a big reality TV show in the near future, you know, like Hulk Hogan?

Mod.: Candidates, please, let’s confine our discussion to the issues at hand.

Trump: My dick doesn’t issue anything, like I said, no STDs, okay.

Mod.: Miss Angela Branlass, you wish to ask Mrs. Clinton about her position on women’s issues?

Brainlass: Hillary, do you prefer being on top or doggy-style? And look at this big hunk’o’man beside you, don’t you just want to grab his crotch and give it a squeeze?

Clinton: Miss Branlass, the issues that confront this society –

Trump: See, women want it, too, what can I tell you? Branlass? Great ass, but you could lose a few pounds around the middle. Are those tits real?

Branlass: They are!

Trump: Come around later and I’ll play with ’em a little.

Clinton: Can we please discuss the policy issues this election is really all about?!

Trump: Hillary, chill, bitch, this is a man’s world, learn to live with it. If I were Bill, I’d sleep around, too. Hey, I’m not Bill, but I still sleep around. I even slept with you, Hillary.

Clinton: You did not!

Trump: I never said I did, where’d you get that from? Some immigrant drug-dealer or your Muslim terrorist friends?

Mod.: Mr. Trump! Please, we have a question from James Blacklivesmatter, from Chicago, Illinois.

Blacklivesmatter: This for both candidates, concerning the fraught race relations currently prevailing in the United –

Trump: “Prevailing, prevailing,” oh listen to the fancy talk from the black guy! You go to school for that son? In my administration, don’t worry, we’ll get rid of public schools , replace them all with public prisons. Law and order will make you feel more secure behind bars.

Clinton: I don’t think we can wave away the concerns of African Americans with easy slogans about law and order!

Trump: Wrong! We can do this by getting more white women for the bros! That’s your plan, but that ain’t happening, Crooked Hillary, all the white women are for me! You, too! (Reaches over to grab Clinton’s breast.) Hey, real, no silicon, I’m impressed! (Clinton whacks Trump’s head with the microphone; a hollow ring sounds, but otherwise there’s no reaction.) Women all love that, they love the booby snatch. I’ve done it with Ivanka hundreds of times, she loves a good feel –

Mod.: If we cannot get back to the issues, we may have to close this debate early; Mr. Bob Blowall, you have a question for Mr. Trump?

Blowall: I’m gay, but I love the Donald! Hey can you flash it once for the fellas?

Trump: Sure. (Unzips, pulls out penis.) You can take it in your mouth, but for a couple grand –

Blowall: You mean you’d pay me a couple grand to blow you?

Trump: No, you pay me. My whole idea in life is to get other people to pay me what they want me to pay them. That’s smart, that’s why I’m huge.

Clinton (looking down at Trump’s penis): No, not so huge.

Blowall: Yeah, that’s actually kinda disappointing….

Trump: Well, at least I have a dick!

Clinton (unzips, pulls out 12 inch clitoris): Gag on this, loudmouth!

(It should be noted that by this point, the debate will go off-air; plans are to broadcast a marathon of “Leave It To Beaver” re-runs instead.)

Trump (almost) in the news

Because Donald Trump had such a terrible time in the news this week, certain stories concerning him were relegated to the back pages.  Only here, where truthiness is next to godlessness, will you find the Trump news that really mattered this week:



FN: Somewhere on a ranch in Kentucky, 8/2/16, 5pm EST: Attending an orgy sponsored by Sexy Evangelical Ministries, Republican Presidential candidate Donald J. Trump, admitted that he had a fetish for fellating equestrian male organs of generation. “They’re huge! My mouth is huge! We made the deal!” he proclaimed, explaining why he would not be directly participating in the orgy, as his services were needed in the barn. He sent his wife Melania as representative instead – at a $3,000 per partner fee.

UPDATE 5am: Orgy organizers report that, as the orgy at last wound down, Melania’s performance had raised $9,000 for the Trump campaign, while an exhausted candidate was last seen running over a hill attempting to escape an estimated 50 stallions wanting more.

This has been a Fakes News report: fair, unbiased, and free of fact.



FN: Butthole, Pennsylvania, 8/3/16, 2pm: At a press conference earlier today, an emotional Donald J. Trump, Republican candidate for President, announced that he had recently discovered that he had been adopted. He also confessed that this discovery was made by New Jersey police investigating his alleged murder of his birth mother, Illyanka Stinkoff, an illegal immigrant from Russia, who was employed as Trump’s maid when, it is said, he flew into a rage at her remarking his small hands. Witnesses say he then stabbed her multiple times with a pen-knife, the only knife small enough for him to grasp properly. It is further alleged that Chris Christy, governor of Virginia at the time, helped secret the body to an as yet undisclosed dumpster.

Trump was boastful of his adoption by the elder Trumps. “I mean, how could you blame them? One look at me, even as a baby, y’know, you can tell how smart, how articulated, how strong I’ve become.” As to his birth mother, he expressed disappointment: “Look, she was a loser. She couldn’t make money so she sold me. Am I for sale? For sure! But my price is well above rubies – I know, I own a jewelry store in Canarsie! Alright it went bankrupt – but not because of the rubies!” Without denying guilt in his mother’s murder, Trump further noted: “Most of us get an urge to commit the mom-death thing, we all know that. I mean especially if she’s Mexican or Muslim, who’s to blame for that? The Mom of course! Didn’t she have a choice to abort? Coat-hangers are everywhere!” Trump also reminded the handful of reporters he’d allowed in the room that his supporters knew he was the “best friend” of a lot of women everywhere, and would not care much whether he had murdered one or not. “They want America great again and only me can do that!”

Later, at the Butthole White Supremacist Club for a photo-op, Trump announced he would sue the Police Department of Atlantic City for even suggesting that he may have committed the crime, adding, “Look, I’m not adopted, I never said I was. I don’t know who this maid was, I never met her.” He then went on with a brief speech declaring that, unlike many “liberal demagogues like Mitt Romney,” he had no prejudice against White Supremacists and would fight discriminatory practices against them, such as the Civil Rights Act of 1965.

This has been a Fakes News report: fair, unbiased, and free of fact.



FN: Shittus, New Jersey, 8/4/16, 3pm: Attending the convention of the American Puppy Mill Kennel Owners, Donald J. Trump, Republican candidate for President, told supporters that he was inspired by the plight of encaged canines to offer a new line of snack sausage, made from “recycled dog food.” After they eat it, it comes out no worse for wear.” He bent behind a defecating Great Dane , scooped the source material for his new product and took a bite. “Hey, can’t tell the difference between this and a taco, anyway!” He then pointed out that since dogs poop freely, expenses for production of the new snack would be relatively low. “Except of course for my start-up fee and royalties. But don’t worry, sales will be so huge, this wouldn’t be missed.” Concerning rumors that Trump was in negotiations with Vladimir Putin over possible Russian manufacture of the new snack, Trump shouted, “Now that’s a vicious charge, as I have never even spoken with Putin, and I told Vlad that myself! Besides, if any peoples know how to eat dog doo its Russians. It’s healthier than caviar!”

This has been a Fakes News report: fair, unbiased, and free of fact.



FN: Bleeding Sore, Wyoming, 8/5/16, Darkest Hour of the Night: At a major gathering of Republican Party leaders, Donald J. Trump, candidate for the presidency, assured his followers that the Party was never more united than in supporting his campaign. “Even that puny little four-eyed mole Paul Ryan likes me. And Mitch McConnell? That sad fat bag of dung? He’s behind me 110%! I know, because I threatened to support him in his next run for office, and he buckled like the lilly-livered pig he is! Republicans all love me! Even those who say, ‘nah, I’ll never back Trump,’ they’re just lying so they can get re-elected, I understand that – I understand everything! When the people sweep me into office, there’ll be hell to pay for all involved! But you’ll still be able to buy my book, written by that corrupt ghost-writer I’m suing, at 50% mark-up. Autographed copies, signed by the professional Trump-impersonator I’ve hired at minimum wage, will cost an additional thousand bucks.” He then produced a whip and began flailing the hides off the Republican leaders, admonishing them: “Say it loud! We love Trump, we love Trump!” Soon the depurate wailing of the Party elite could be heard through the night: “Oh please god, stop! We love -ow, agony! – We love Trump, We yieeeeee, nooo! – We love Trump!” But as dawn approached, the wretched squealing slowly faded into groans as the dying gave up their last gasp of air…. Trump is scheduled to address the Society for Suicidal Masochists later today.

This has been a Fakes News report: fair, unbiased, and free of fact.



FN: Not Washington DC, Washington, 8/6/16, 1pm: Republican candidate for president, Donald J. Trump held a press conference in an office he had especially built for the occasion. “Look around you, gentlemen – and you girls too, if you’re not having PMS. The shape of the office – it’s huge, it’s white, but most importantly – it’s oval – that’s right, it’s my Oval Office! I am now the President of the United States. We all know the people love me – even the towel-heads, the darkies, the kikes, the spics, the chinks – they all love me – Everybody loves me, we all know that. So I think it’s fair to say that an election in November would be a waste of time. I am hereby declaring myself the winner! We don’t need all the legal rigmarole with the courts to get this deal done! All we need is for lyin’ Hillary to throw in the towel. So I’m going to make her a deal – a hundred million? maybe two hundred? And a hotel chain under her name – the Hillary Hiltons! We can get this done, we really can!” At this point, the conference was interrupted when the contractor hired to build the office, undocumented alien Juan Vortex, politely asked for his wages. Trump exploded in what can only be called a rage: “You raping, drug-peddling, murdering Muslim! Get outta here before I have Manafort punch you down.” Turning to the reporters in his audience, he went on, “See what I gotta deal with! The ingratitude! And after I had given him the privilege to work for me. People need to remember who’s boss around here.”

The Clinton campaign refused comment, although an anonymous insider admitted that Clinton remarked that she wouldn’t sleep in any hotel with her name on it.

This has been a Fakes News report: fair, unbiased, and free of fact.


Philosophy, history, neuroscience, evolution, and politics – in a possible universe

After working hard on my criticism of Hitler’s rhetoric, I’m in the process of shifting gears here. I hope to be posting something about the German philosopher Georg Hegel soon.  Also, I plan to start a separate web blog that would really be single protracted essay reading Martin Heidegger’s metaphysics in relation to the politics of his time (always a hot topic, but needing to be confronted).  These twin projects may lose me some readers, but they will personally satisfy me, since I spent so much time and effort with these two philosophers, and it would be silly to toss all that away and say “I should have spent my time collecting stamps.”


This past week, while trying to come up with something new and original to say, I was tempted more than once to defer to one my favorite British theorists, Mr. Python; and since I am weak willed, and give into temptation easily, I’m indulging myself by providing a platform for this theorist to expound incisive insights into all important topics of the day.


So – now for something completely different.:


The theory of evolution has been widely debated among the intelligentsia (and the not so intelligentsia) since even before Darwin; the different theories proposed can get so complicated, that we forget what really matters – namely, how big is it?



Evolution is history, in the broadest sense; but it is history in the narrow sense that usually concerns us most – the history of the human species, i.e., ourselves. That history , as Hegel once remarked, is a slaughterhouse. Or perhaps a laugher’s blouse…. Well, never mind. Lotsa big bang battles! Long before the Marvel Comics Universe brought the explosive ruin of whole cities to the cinematic screen, kings, generals, and idiots were hammering at each other for the greater glory of something or other, as we are reminded here:



As time marches on, so do armies (although how they do that on their bellies, as Napoleon claimed, I’ve never figured out; wouldn’t that rather be crawling?). Anyway, as the species moved into the 20th century after something or other, modern science provided the tools necessary to realize historically bloody battles, and in this re-enactment of one, we are reminded of the true cost of warfare:



Yes, the terrible wars of the twentieth century have produced monsters – but they have also brought us out of the darkness of tyranny, into the light of democracy where we can elect the monsters of our choosing (or not) – as we see in this recent Republican campaign video:



But we mustn’t forget that the sciences of the current era have re-written our expectations of what it means to be happy; to live a fulfilling life; even what it means to be human – AI and the neurosciences are soon to redefine the kind, the quality, the very amount of intelligence we can expect from our fellow humans:



Science will also help our empirically informed philosophers to at last solve the riddles of the universe – even that greatest of all mysteries: what follows life (if anything other than unpaid bills):



It’s a brave new world we’re living in, my friends. (But I’m not sorry I’m nearing the last decades of my life expectancy. The future doesn’t look bleak – it doesn’t look at all –




Things one can do with “Jesus-on-a-stick” (TM)

Christmas season approaches – that means it’s time once again to buy Jesus-on-a-stick (TM)!

This is available in the Deluxe model (actual wood), the All Purpose model (pressed board), and of course the Economy model (plastic) – although remember, if you choose the Economy model, do not burn it! Poisonous gas may be released.

Jesus-on-a-stick – Impress your friends and co-workers! A great gift for anyone at Christmas.

Christmas – the time of giving utterly useless baubles meant to indicate how much excess wealth you have to throw away – that’s right, rub the noses of your peers in how much you can waste, making them feel insignificant because they can’t give useless gifts as expensive as your own! (Only don’t try this with your boss, buy him something useful like a pen….)

This being Christmas, we also have – Baby-Jesus-in-a-bale-of-hay! Wow! Now, the Deluxe version will burn brightly all night! and into the flames you can toss a couple Hail Maries – both Mom and the whore who, you know, Jesus never slept with (ha ha!), Magdalene –

Jesus-on-a-stick will prove you are one with 42% of the population that believes the earth is only 6000 years old, and will immediately get you entry into the next Republican convention! A signed copy of a photograph of Ben Carson comes with the first 1000 copies sold (although admittedly these are signed by Jeb Bush…).

Be a real American! Not the Black, or Hispanic, or Asian, or Female, or Arab Americans (and gays are straight out!) who form the majority of a population that you, as a white man, still demand dominance over. After all – do any of them own a Jesus-on-a-stick – doubtful!

So, ok, what can you do with your Jesus-on-a-stick?

You unwrap it,; you stare at it in admiration, in awe, in something like disgust. Then you – set it on fire! because what good is having a martyr you can’t consign to the flames? If he burns – he’s a witch! A fair cop, I say! (What are miracles but black magic given the Almighty’s approval?)

But then also, let’s get creative –

Anal itch? – scratch it with the Jesus-on-a-stick! Goes up all the way!

Go ahead and have a taste – its the “Body and Blood,” remember – nutriciousdelicious; it satisfies!

Haven’t beaten your kid lately? Jesus-on-a-stick provides disciplinary satisfaction every time!

Attach it to your penis (you’re a white MAN, right?) and jerk it – masturbatory orgasms shoot ever further with Jesus-on-a-stick!

Attach it to the back of your car – better than any bumper-sticker announcing you are just as intelligent as anyone hoping to be ‘beamed up by the Lord!’

Or just let it sing in the wind and attract the winged insects – swat them as they lick the blood of christ! No better fly paper anywhere!

Threaten your neighbor with Jesus-on-a-stick! See how fast he returns your borrowed lawn-mower, or that cup of sugar he tagged in order to cheat Lent last Easter. (Oh, yeah, those dam’ diabetics will do anything to get their sugar hit -!)

Jesus-on-a-stick keeps all Christians as dishonest as their nonsense religion wants them to be! So go ahead – use Jesus-on-a-stick in every way imaginable! Even stab your faithless wife through the heart with it! The Old Testament demands she should die, remember – and who are you to question the righteousness of the Lord?

Dead people make great christians! Always remember to plant a Jesus-on-a-stick in the dirt above a loved one! It may actually convince someone that your late beloved believed in something once. Just don’t forget to pay the burial costs (with tax), or we will have to report you.


Jesus-on-a-stick – Registered TradeMark and copyright Church o’ Rome productions, Trenton, New Jersey.

The invaded self (Conspiracy Theory 2)



He hid in the shadows; they were after him, he was sure.

Every day they watched him from the television set. They made movies just to record his presence in the theaters. They counted every box of pop-corn he consumed. On the radio they plied him with pop-songs. When he answered the phone, he would hear them talking about him:

“Hello! I’m with Clyde’s Miracle Health Spa and you have won a free week in our weight-lifting room!”

And he hadn’t even asked for it? How could they have known? He slammed the phone down. There, in the phone – a tracking device? In the hand-set, an electromagnetic voltmeter reading the electronic impulses in his brain? The synaptic charges revealed who he really was. He thought about cutting open his own skull and pouring water onto the brain, short-circuiting it. But he knew they would still be able to read his finger-prints.

And his DNA – his precious DNA. The genetic material contained the code identifying him as something other, as something different. If they ever found out….

Beyond the curtains, the sun was down. But he couldn’t put on the light. The utility company would measure his power usage, and tag on a fee for doing so. He tucked on the wide-brimmed black hat that dipped low over his eyes, so no photographers could steal his soul. He locked the door on the way out. and then double locked it. He went out to get some dinner.

He bought it walking up to a drive in window. he was heading home when he spotted the headline of the newspaper in the box on the corner:

“Chicken beats pork as the nation’s meat of choice.
Poultry gets 39 percent of the vote, followed by pork at 30 percent.

So – they even knew what he was eating. He ditched his bag of chicken nuggets in the trash-can by the newspaper box. Then he double-checked the trash-can to make sure no one was hiding in there.

He had to make his way back, but he didn’t know where to. Not home – he couldn’t go home – Had it ever been home? Or was it just the cave he nested in, recuperating from his last attack.

It had been fierce; scales popped through the skin and hair fell out. And his teeth – oh, god his teeth hurt!. He couldn’t go through that again….

But he was hungry; and he knew the hunger brought on the attacks. He had to find something to stuff his mouth with soon….

At the end of the alleyway, there was a boy, not more than fourteen, eating cotton candy. He staggered to the boy, and begged in a husky whisper – “please, I’ll give you money, just a taste of that cotton candy….” The boy looked at him. He could see the boy looking at him! That horrifying stare that said ‘I know you!’ digging deep into his soul, wrenching the such-ness that he was out of him…. He reached out – the street flooded with a brilliant white light.

The next thing he knew, he was standing alone, his mouth filled with cotton candy – and something else, something … meaty.

The boy was gone… wrong to have talked to him. Yet at least now he felt fed…

Something was running down the street – something was after him….

He slipped back into the shadows of the alleyway and began crawling as fast as he could on all fours….

He had been this way for too long. Ever since they had gotten here, and he had seen them. The hideous others with far too much hair. They stood tall, they smiled, they pretended friendship. And then they had started watching him. They said he was something they could measure, something – a number they could count, a ‘resource’ to be used.

“I was born free!” he told himself – “Free to be – you and me – and me and me!”

As he got back to his apartment, it was raining. He could feel the wet burn through his skin. For a moment he remembered the place of origin, so far away, so long ago…. Could that have been him once, in the sunlight by the water?

But now he was trapped in a dark place with foul air surrounded by strangers, who could find nothing better to do than know him. He saw the palpable injustice in it. But the universe no longer evidenced any justice. It was if a great silence emanated from the stars… and he could not even see the stars tonight.

“They will know me; they have known me; but don’t know me… not yet, not now, not here, not there, not anywhere….”

Slowly, every muscle aching, he unlocked the door to his apartment and slipped inside. Once again he locked the door… and double-locked it, and bolted it shut. The apartment was dark. He could not turn on the lights in the living-room, they could be seen. He found his way to his one safety zone, the bath-room. He shut the door; he locked it; he double-locked it; he bolted it tight.

At last he could switch on the light. But dare he? Would he not be seen in the mirror. Of course, supposedly, he would only be seen by himself. But who was he to see himself? What if the mirror lied?

It was but a moment’s hesitation; but the problem of being watched all the time is that one loses one’s sense of identity. This ‘self-hood’ dissipates under study. Inside the laboratory, there is no self, only the studiers and the studied. And he often, now, forgot which one he was.

So he needed the reminder, although it risked his sanity, not to mention the few dollars additional charge on his utility bill.

He felt under the sink. It was still taped there, hidden so no one could find it. Since he had found it, he was no one – he smiled grimly at the irony that language reveals in fate.

It was the dimensional refractor. They had told him that everybody needed one, it was the fad where he came from at the time.

He reached for the light switch, then turned to where he believed the mirror to be. Simultaneously, he switched on the light and pressed the button activating the dimensional refractor – and raised his eyes to look in the mirror.

Slowly the mammalian flesh of his guise dissolved, revealing the green scales of the lizard underneath. It reminded him of his self-ness and otherness, his purpose in being. He had come so many light-years, just to make this earth the home of his people. For a moment he felt he belonged.

“Soon, we will hide no longer,” he told himself.

Himself looked back from the mirror and nodded assent.

With the refractor turned off, the mammalian guise reconstructed itself around him. This other face, this other self, smiled weakly, and watched himself swoon to the floor, passing into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

Everything or nothing blog (Conspiracy Theory 1)



We blog because we must, because if we don’t, we don’t.  Why not?  Be honest!  Be joyful! Be real!  Whatever that means.  OR be nothing at all.  So, accordingly, I have decided, for the nonce, to not pretend being a somewhat skeptical inquirer into the nature of things, and instead accept my absolute certainty concerning everything.*  Really, it is patently absurd to presume not to know practically everything there is to know, when the fate of the entire planet, and the many human species inhabiting it, depend upon my keen insights into the basic ground of absolute being. So pay attention people, and heed the TRUTH. This theory (which is mine, which is a theory that I have) is not just a Theory of Everything, this is the FACT OF EVERYTHING.

Being: Being is all that is being and there isn’t anything that is not being, except those things that aren’t. Now you know.

And this Being is made up, not of sub-atomic particles or energy fields, but strings – shoe strings from another universe – the fourth from the left as you enter the 9th dimension. Everything that is has been worn on the foot of an nth-dimensional alien who suffers from mycotic toe-nails. It is the fungi spores in these second-hand shoe-laces that finally gave rise to life on favorable planets in our own universe. Yes, now we know the truth about life – it is fungus. This intelligent fungus called human must therefore be under an illusion, imagining itself some form of mammal with consciousness.

Indeed, what is consciousness? Tiny little fleas with flashlights have burrowed deep into our fungus-gray-matter and are shining flashlights on our neurons. They have hypnotized us to respond to stimuli in a pseudo-mammalian way – salivating every time we see a fast-food commercial, and getting randy about the letter “L” – Limburger, lightning, luminosity, lexicon, laundromat – feel the tingling in your groin? that’s not lollypops, that’s the letter “L” – yes, Sesame Street reveals the secret code – brought to you by the letter “L” – WAKE UP, FUNGI!

So now I must solve all the problems our presumed humanity faces – but isn’t it obvious? WE MUST EAT EACH OTHER!

Edible others are the only Other we need to know, as our epistemologically savvy taste-buds warrant!

POWER TO THE ‘SHROOMS! We must organize ourselves into giant lunch-baskets and dive in! Eat hearty and party! do be a glutton – it’s what you always wanted, admit it – that nice succulent buttock you’ve been eying – that’s not lust you’re feeling, it’s hunger – so get started – take a bite!

Eventually, there will only be two people left in the whole world – and one will eat the other – then there will be peace.


There’s the manifesto. The logic of it is quite plain – it is digitally encoded – dit-dit-dit-dat-dit-dat – you can listen to it on the magic radio your mother bought for you that horrible Christmas when Doctor Who regenerated into Peter Capaldi and started swearing foul-mouthed at the Impossible Girl. (You remember that because I told you it would happen!) But enactment of this great project will require stamina. We must begin training now! Send me all your money and I will write the book explaining how. ***

* This is also me at last revealing myself as the fount of all wisdom – and then some. Upon my receipt of all your cash, You will become my faithful follower – you will laud every word I say – when the book is published, be sure to pour thousands of words of praise onto Amazon reviews and blog comments everywhere. Chastise all who disagree! You were born free – but now I have released you from that terror and you must support me at every turn. give up the will to live – prepare to be eaten!

** See:

*** If you have no money, body parts will do. I’m hungry.



ejwinner says: Sir: Follow you? I’d rather drink the Bob Jones kool-aid. What is this monstrous fantasy you think you “know?” It flies in the face of everything science has taught us in the past 400 years.

Let’s analyze the ‘logic’ of it: ‘IF dit-dit-dit-dat-dit-dat, THEN we are all really fungi.’ Does this make any sense at all?

I’ve read saner ‘manifestos’ written by lizard-alien conspiracy theorists.

I think you are just trying to develop an esoteric excuse for your recent penchant for cannibalism. Look, you’re addicted. Give it up. Just get into rehab; there’s no shame following a twelve step program. “Just for today, I will not eat my little sister.” Oops, I forgot, you already et her. And they say you have no taste for family values….

Frankly, I suspect you are engaged in a giant scam, and I will have no part of it.


Hi ejwinner,

you slimy bucket of shit! Insanity is what comes out of your mouth after you drink piss while eating live worms! The drivel you puke up as commentary here reminds me of your mother’s farts – while I was boffing her! If you had any sense of decency you would dunk your head into a pool of toxic waste and keep it their until you drown, you pedanditic piece of fried fungus-doo!



ejwinner says: Sir, have no sense of decency? I have tried to engage you in civilized debate, simply reminding you that sucking on blood is a major source of infection of the brain, and offering you suggestions about seeking help for such urges. You needn’t be contentious, this is simply a matter of polite conversation between equal intellects.


Hi ejwinner:

You couldn’t be equal with my butt-hairs! You can take your fucking pretentious offers of help and shove them up your ass – one by one, each wrapped in sand-paper! I don’t need help, I need money – oh, and virgins – the consumable kind – baked in a pie, like the 21 blackbirds, only with mushroom gravy!



ejwinner says: Sir; it is quite clear that intelligent conversation is not to be had on your blog. I will leave you to your frankly disturbed fantasies, and seek enlightenment elsewhere. I only hope you get the help you need, or get arrested, whichever would be in the best interests of the community.


Hi ejwinner:

Good riddance, get outa here, we don’t need mudfucking syphilitic dipshit bastards like you in MY community of disciples, followers, sycophants, and lichen! I can use help, alright – a helping of virgin’s menstrual blood – with salt and garlic powder, yum yum!



AnonymousUserWithAmusingPseudonym says: Ejwinner, so when you say, “It flies in the face of everything science has taught us in the past 400 years,” I take it you mean that you hate science? Please explain where I am wrong; but Africans were brought here as slaves 400 years ago, so clearly the time-line indicates a bias. Have you evidence otherwise? Please link to sources.

OP, I couldn’t agree with you more. My check is in the mail. If it bounces, please accept my left leg.

Thanks for graciously reading my insignificant comment on your most excellent blog!


Hi AnonymousUserWithAmusingPseudonym: