Wednesday, October 22, 2003

men became lazy men invented machines to work for them, machines do things they are meant to do nothing more nothing less

It's really surprising and even a little disturbing to see people subscribe to this kind of attitude. While I don't want to espouse somewhat-trite sayings and attitudes, a lot of people are just really damn negative. Creating machines has to be put into a negative context, complete with licentious ambitions and other human "flaws." Where are the reasonable positive-context explanations?

Men aren't lazy - a vast majority want to get crap done. Sure, machines help men free up their time so they can use it on a wider array of things, but that doesn't mean they're lazy. Relaxation and recreation are basic human needs, and restoration allows humans to work at their maximum potential, thereby working harder and producing more.

Plus, machines themselves help maximize productive output. If some tasks are performed by machines, it allows people to pursue other interests, which leads to the creation of new ideas, products, and wealth, and overall leads to a much higher standard of living. Laziness? Pft. Expediency, dammit!

Monday, October 20, 2003

In what was possibly the most exemplifying moment of my intelligence, I broke my hand. Why, sure, that's easy enough, Erik - plenty of people break their hands in various smart, well thought-out manners. Well, I broke my hand getting hit by a car, dammit. Sure, there was provocation involved. I stood across the parking lot challenging Justin to hit me. But you never actually hit the challenger! It's one of the implicit axioms of driving: Never hit anyone who challenges you to hit them. (It's of course saved for cripples, children, minorities, and possibly old people, which can be a sub-category of cripples/slightly less-abled.)

He had plenty of time to stop, but he had no intention of doing so. Apparently, he also told me this. Though, because of my many visual and auditory deficiencies, I couldn't see or hear him saying this in his car, several feet away in the middle of the night. It wasn't the actual hit that broke it, though. It was the act of jumping onto the hood of his car and falling back on my hand that did it. What-everrrr.


I saw Kill Bill with my attempted assailant on Saturday. Honestly, I think it's probably the best movie I've ever seen. Not only was it the most entertained I've ever been while watching the movie, but it's provided me with plenty of hours of entertainment outside of the theater, remembering the movie. It's the first film I've wanted to see again in theaters in several years.

Everything about the movie seemed so damn perfect. I feel the need to emphasize that there wasn't a single dull point. Period. It also had the best fight scene (Crazy 88 Army) I've witnessed. Not to mention good music, a good amount of humor, and of course, plenty of hilariously and delightfully over-the-top gore and violence. Must see Volume Two!


Tomorrow: Potentially, a post about racism. I have the idea to do it after reading an article about it in the paper, but I'm not exactly motivated/bursting with strikingly original ideas enough to just absolutely promise I'll do it. Maybe I'll surprise you. Until then, watch out for cars.