science, it's proponents and detractors respectively and irrespectively

For those of you who know me, (that's probobaly going to be all of you) for some time now i've been unable to quit the idea that scientists and their proponents, coming up here shortly, should abandon certain persuits and stick to more pedestrian, ingloriously riskless and less ambitious experimentation. Never in ancient or more recent history (or perhaps ever again) has what I am about to put forth or will it be more evident or true than it is now. Please give up, all of science if you must, including medicine, it's a blowout liquidation grand opening 20% off labor day christmas going out of business day old muffin stump sale, everything must go. (seriously get it all out of here I never want to see it again) I'm referring specifically to the new partical accelerator currently, still, under development in France. To start, its regulating body is comprised of leading figures that "understand" this stuff, meaning they went to school 20 years or more ago and can be considered to have been kept reliably up to date with developments in their field and in (i'm guessing) most cases those of related fields as well. I just thought I might try and drive some tanks between some of these soberly delivered assumptions that we are expected to make along with them that are apparently quite unconcerned. First a few figures: bearing it mind that the world has for thousands of years been predicted to end, from the date of this publication, in under two. This from my favorite semi-reliable, one stop shop of generally unacceptable in academic circles as a dependable source, but altogether quoteable without risk of copyright nazi retribution, Qikipedia:

The Large Hadron Collider (LHC) is the world's largest and highest-energy particle accelerator. It is expected that it will address the most fundamental questions of physics, advancing our understanding of the deepest laws of nature. The LHC lies in a tunnel 27 kilometres (17 mi) in circumference, as much as 175 metres (574 ft) beneath the Franco-Swiss border near Geneva, Switzerland. This synchrotron is designed to collide opposing particle beams of either protons at an energy of 7 teraelectronvolts (1.12 microjoules) per particle, or lead nuclei at an energy of 574 TeV (92.0 µJ) per nucleus.[1][2] The term hadron refers to particles composed of quarks. The Large Hadron Collider was built by the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN) (these are the same guys who sprung for and appointed the safety councils) with the intention of testing various predictions of high-energy physics, including the existence of the hypothesized Higgs boson[3] and of the large family of new particles predicted by supersymmetry.[4] It is funded by and built in collaboration with over 10,000 scientists and engineers from over 100 countries as well as hundreds of universities and laboratories.[5] On 10 September 2008, the proton beams were successfully circulated in the main ring of the LHC for the first time,[6] but 9 days later operations were halted due to a serious fault.[7] On 20 November 2009 they were successfully circulated again,[8] with the first proton–proton collisions being recorded 3 days later at the injection energy of 450 GeV per beam.[9] After the 2009 winter shutdown, the LHC was restarted and the beam was ramped up to 3.5 TeV per beam,[10] half its designed energy,[11] which is planned for after its 2012 shutdown. On 30 March 2010, the first planned collisions took place between two 3.5 TeV beams, which set a new world record for the highest-energy man-made particle collisions.[12]

...kudos guys (and gals), a real achievement, unprecedented like all the rest of the records that have been broken. I trust the adolescents of Zambia huffing Jenkam are in sympathetic resignation or euphoric abandon to what this advancement must mean to you and your collegues. And what about the stated claims that the accelerator is meant to study the behaviours of cosmic rays by recreating the energetic signatures of similar collisions in the ionosphere. Here as reported by the Safety Council of the Large Hadron Collider (LSAG):

The safety of the LHC
The Large Hadron Collider (LHC) can achieve an energy that no other particle accelerators have reached before, (fwshh...bang!) but Nature routinely produces higher energies in cosmic-ray collisions. (fucking nature) Concerns about the safety of whatever (whatever) may be created in such high-energy particle collisions have been addressed for many years. (many like 50?) In the light of new experimental data and theoretical understanding, (now, does this mean, what do you mean experimental data and theoretical understanding? oh right, oh i see now... i thought...sorry, i swear i'll shutup now) the LHC Safety Assessment Group (LSAG) has updated a review of the analysis made in 2003 by the LHC Safety Study Group, a group of independent scientists.
LSAG reaffirms and extends the conclusions of the 2003 report that LHC collisions present no danger and that there are no reasons for concern. Whatever the LHC will do, Nature has already done many times over during the lifetime of the Earth and other astronomical bodies. The LSAG report has been reviewed and endorsed by CERN’s Scientific Policy Committee, a group of external scientists that advises CERN’s governing body, its Council.

Cosmic rays
The LHC, like other particle accelerators, recreates the natural phenomena of cosmic rays under controlled laboratory conditions, enabling them to be studied in more detail. Cosmic rays are particles produced in outer space, some of which are accelerated to energies far exceeding those of the LHC. The energy and the rate at which they reach the Earth’s atmosphere have been measured in experiments for some 70 years. Over the past billions of years, Nature has already generated on Earth as many collisions as about a million LHC experiments – and the planet still exists. Astronomers observe an enormous number of larger astronomical bodies throughout the Universe, all of which are also struck by cosmic rays. The Universe as a whole conducts more than 10 million million LHC-like experiments per second. The possibility of any dangerous consequences contradicts what astronomers see - stars and galaxies still exist.

Here we are meant to be reassured of the accelerator's innocuous nature. Here they are essentially saying is that nature does it, so why can't they. Hey, why not? I think I can answer that: Simply put, because the universe has a lot more space and time on us, not to mention practice and because it would appear that nature knows what it's doing and you don't that's why. Maybe nature already had existence collapse in on itself 10 million million times over by creating us and allowing us to fuck around with a 7tev particle accelerator. Nature didn't figure out what to do on a chalkboard, it figured out what to do by figuring out what not to do first just like us, and the time-honored and almost unbiquitously metaphoric concept of natural selection as a means to an end of orchestral harmony and unfathomable complexity and diversity. Unfortunately, this time we may be looking at something that won't qualify as a learning experience. No explanation is good enough for me. Interstellar phenomena is a collection of apparently drastically underrated transfers of energy, and exchanges of matter that have stabilized into a state of relative equalibrium that is at least for now, safe enough or far enough away to sustain our existence. If my existence has become dependent on some guy in a white lab coat remembering to carrying a one, mistaking a variable for a value, or dropping a zero where he should have... on to the potential threats. Initially i thought we were only looking at:

Microscopic black holes
Nature forms black holes when certain stars, much larger than our Sun, collapse on themselves at the end of their lives. They concentrate a very large amount of matter in a very small space. Speculations about microscopic black holes at the LHC refer to particles produced in the collisions of pairs of protons, each of which has an energy comparable to (and i can assure you this will not be the last of these) that of a mosquito in flight. (which happens to be more than enough to destroy the earth many times over and send it's moon careening off it's trajectory into the sun right along with all of our ghastly cooked theoretical presuppositions) Astronomical black holes are much heavier than anything that could be produced at the LHC.
According to the well-established properties of gravity, described by Einstein’s relativity, it is impossible for microscopic black holes to be produced at the LHC. There are, however, some speculative theories that predict the production of such particles at the LHC. All these theories predict that these particles would disintegrate immediately. Black holes, therefore, would have no time to start accreting matter and to cause macroscopic effects. Although theory predicts (theoretically predicts) that microscopic black holes decay rapidly, even hypothetical (hypthothetically) stable black holes can be shown to be harmless by studying (studying) the consequences of their production by cosmic rays. Whilst collisions at the LHC differ from cosmic-ray collisions with astronomical bodies like the Earth in that new particles produced in LHC collisions tend (tend) to move more slowly than those produced by cosmic rays, one can still demonstrate (one can still... is equivalent to a potential reality) their safety. The specific reasons for this depend (on) whether the black holes are electrically charged, or neutral. Many stable black holes would be (would be) expected to be electrically charged, since they are created by charged particles. In this case (if this were true then we could reliably assume that) they would interact with ordinary matter and be stopped while traversing the Earth or Sun, whether produced by cosmic rays or the LHC. (and for the coup de grat catchall rationale which we haven't seen the last of) The fact that the Earth and Sun are still here rules out the possibility that cosmic rays or the LHC could produce dangerous charged microscopic black holes. If stable microscopic black holes had no electric charge, their interactions with the Earth would be very weak. Those produced by cosmic rays would pass harmlessly through the Earth into space, whereas those produced by the LHC could remain on Earth. (remain on earth, mmm.. we're okay with that right?) However, there are much larger and denser astronomical bodies than the Earth in the Universe. Black holes produced in cosmic-ray collisions with bodies such as neutron stars and white dwarf stars would be brought to rest. The continued existence of such dense bodies, as well as the Earth, (here they are citing the continued existence of the earth again) rules out the possibility of the LHC producing any dangerous black holes.

so okay, microscopic black holes are unstable and will theoretically collapse so were out of the woods right? Spain, France, Morocco, Portugal, Greece -you're powers going to be off for a minute, we're exploring the deepest most fundamental questions of the universe and we expect to then still be around to do the conducting of some similarly comprehensive inquiry and analysis of the results, put your meats and dairys on ice.
Strangelet (wait strangelet... hehe that's an endearing name for a what is a strangelet) is the term given to a hypothetical (hypothetical?) microscopic lump (is that a technical term?) of ‘strange matter’ (okay so you don't really know either that's why you named it a strangelet!) containing almost equal numbers of particles called up, down and strange quarks. (which you said are things that don't "exist" in the traditional sense either, just like the thing that they make when they get together with each other) According to most theoretical work, strangelets should (there's that word again) change to ordinary matter within a thousand-millionth of a second. But could strangelets coalesce with ordinary matter and change it to strange matter? (hmmm... i give up -tell me!) This question was first raised before the start up of the Relativistic Heavy Ion Collider, RHIC, in 2000 in the United States. A study at the time showed that there was no cause for concern, and RHIC has now run for eight years, searching for strangelets without detecting any. (i thought they were hypothetical) At times, the LHC will run with beams of heavy nuclei, just as RHIC does. The LHC’s beams will have more energy than RHIC, but this makes it even less likely that strangelets could form. (but more likely that something else will which is why you're doing the goddamed experiment in the first place! you don't know what's going to happen! you must be after something unknown, something missing, and you'll stop at nothing to nail it down you poorly-adjusted adolescent-minded gamertards, you can't have sex with the answer once you have it and that's the not-fucking point! get in your planned obsolescence-equipped subaru and go find someplace to get laid and leave the big questions to the next generation of idiots that just had to take it on. you're not going to get famous anyway, you're team leader's going to take all the credit you know that) It is difficult for strange matter to stick together in the high temperatures produced by such colliders, (wait for the brilliant analogy) rather as ice does not form in hot water. (yesss, something we can all understand) In addition, quarks will be more dilute at the LHC than at RHIC, making it more difficult to assemble strange matter. Strangelet production at the LHC is therefore less likely than at RHIC, and experience there has already validated the arguments that strangelets cannot be produced.

there's more? holy shit.

Vacuum Bubble
There have been speculations that the Universe is not in its most stable configuration, and that perturbations caused by the LHC could tip it into a more stable state, called a vacuum bubble, in which we could not exist. If the LHC could do this, then so could cosmic-ray collisions. Since such vacuum bubbles have not been produced anywhere in the visible Universe, they will not be made by the LHC.

concision, we like that. so you're all done then well, i don't know what all the fuss is about, I had myself all worked up for noth...

Magnetic Monopoles
...Magnetic monopoles (magnetic whats?) are hypothetical particles with a single magnetic charge, either a north pole or a south pole. (does santa have a workshop there too?) Some speculative theories suggest that, if they do exist, magnetic monopoles could cause protons to decay. (we need them right? or no) These theories also say that such monopoles would be too heavy to be produced at the LHC. Nevertheless, if the magnetic monopoles were light enough to appear at the LHC, cosmic rays striking the Earth’s atmosphere would already be making them, (who's making them....why I'll...!?) and the Earth would very effectively stop and trap them. (say it with me...) The continued existence of the Earth and other astronomical bodies therefore rules out dangerous proton-eating magnetic monopoles light enough to be produced at the LHC.

we're not done yet..

Runaway Fusion Reaction
Concern has recently been expressed that a 'runaway fusion reaction' might be created in the LHC carbon beam dump. (you can read about this on your own if you're interested)

...and as if that weren't enough of a categorical dispelling of mythical concerns, heretical uncertainty and heresay:
Bose-Nova
Finally, (more) concern has also been expressed that the LHC beam might somehow trigger a '' in the liquid helium used to cool the LHC magnets. (in the same fashion that stan goetz may cools our jets after a hectic day shouting at inept subordinates) A study by Fairbairn and McElrath has clearly shown there is no possibility of the LHC beam triggering a fusion reaction in helium. We recall (we do?) that 'Bose-Novae' are known to be related to chemical reactions that release an infinitesimal amount of energy by nuclear standards. We also recall that helium is one of the most stable elements known, and that liquid helium has been used in many previous particle accelerators (a people accelerators like gentle blimps) without mishap. (sorry, that's confusing: they don't mean blimp mishaps) The facts that helium is chemically inert and has no nuclear spin imply that no 'Bose-Nova' can be triggered in the superfluid helium used in the LHC.

Well, I'm ready for bed. I'm feeling a little sick and tired of all this rhetorical bullshit! I suppose if (let's suppose that) I weren't familiar with the idea of suppositionally determinative, mutually dependent protofactual nonsense and hadn't had a fucking doctorate in (where and) what people won't stop saying, doing, pleading and protesting (at exactly nowhere) to further their own rediculous interests, I might lap this up like a dog eat's litter encrusted exclusively meat and peanut butter cat diarrhea shit. I'm no theoretical phycisist, but if I were, I'd still look upon this thing learily, even if I knew what these guys are referring to and which they've done a terrible (and illustrative device poor) job of explaining. I'm almost afraid to ask what the purpose of all this is because I think I already know the answer. 7 billion dollars later, and we have nothing but 4 years and counting years of delays and their attendant costs, and are still left lot of unanswered questions namely, whether or not this will be the last question we ever ask of our universe. It used to be that if you had a question that didn't have an answer you just went on your whole life wondering, most good questions, even the one (one or perhaps a few) that will be answered by revving this contraption up to full tilt, will only give way to a bunch more questions, until we're a just a bunch of depraved melancholic people who can't sit with what will one way or another ultimately be failure in fully satisfying runaway curiosity. Fuck this particle accelerator (there I said it), what about the next honking heap of scrap metal and glass I'm sure they're already planning. They'll just print more money and put it up along with a few new nuclear power plants nearby to run it. And after that? Go dig a lot of deep holes in your backyard and fill them back in when you get an insatiable compulsion to tear apart space and time in the name of science -fucking amateurs. Experimentation is fucking around with guys in college, not maybe, oh and by the way, creating a small black hole that we're pretty sure, even almost entirely sure will collapse in one half of a trillionth of a millisecond, and not gather momentum instead and swallow the earth and nearby galaxies in 6 seconds. Get a Porsche and go find a curvy road upstate. Leave you're imagination alone goddamn it! You're not going to destroy it no matter what you have an answer for. Resolve to stay mystified now. I for one don't want the answer, whatever you find out, you can keep it to yourself, I'll be off trying to do something 40 lifetimes worth of impossible that I could've done with 7 billion dollars and an auditorium full of brilliant researchers, in 4 minutes. Fuck off and take your charts and graphs with you.

for the sadists among you, you can dredge up more fact-based horseshit at: http://public.web.cern.ch/public/en/LHC/Safety-en.html

on creating black holes on earth, and why we shouldn't worry about it.

last night, i watched my dog track a fat potato bug across the floor, and under the sofa upon which i get my nights rest in dim light. plants reach for light, and so do potato bugs. i reasoned with myself, that the last thing i needed to concern myself with or imagine as an intrepid darkness-bravin adult were paleolithic era creatures under the bed somehow making it to the surface of the cushion and working some buggy tricks on me in my sleep. for the last few hours i had noticed a tickish rustling noise whose point of origin was detectably unchanging and characteristically incessant. i kept thinking it might have been the 3 prong splitter going bad which is right behind the arm of the couch, some kind of barely audible electrical gapping, but my better judgement told me that potato bug had probobaly joined some kind of disgusting bug colony that had been conspiring to take over that corner of the house (under the nose of your intrepid grown-up author) under my bed for months. i wrote it all off as fiction. i checked the area a few times, tepidly, for bug colonies until by happenchance, out of the corner of my eye, i found the corner of my bed-pillow in motion. that goddamed bug is in my pillowcase. took him less than 20 hours from underneath to inside of a component of my sleeping apparati. your dauntless fear-consuming paragon of composural fortitude is now asking himself whether or not it 's only a bug of calculable capability and conceivable statistics in there, and not something perhaps more quick and menacing. i wanted marcello just to eat it last night to save a mess and or a trapping ordeal but i think he was about as dubious as i was about the exact nature of its intentions. maybe the thing was full of acid that would eat through my shoe if i tried to crush it. or worse, if in my ignorant benevolence i tried to help the thing outdoors without involving any death and unwittingly played right into its dingy little clincers and was bit.
it's probably been pooping on my pillow all day or having babies in there. when i was in 5th grade (outside this house), i remember seeing one of these things, and now whenever i think of gross bugs, a tiny image of one is immediately posted up on the stark white walls of my brain bank. i can cut a rattlesnake's head off without a twinge of the gut. i think i accidentally stepped on it and remembered what an awfully goopy mess the thing turned into, which is sinister enough a defense.

on mastadons, creeching birds, and guerilla gardening.

i fended it off for as long as i could bear it. i suffered terrible inglorious defeat under the lifetaking downward force distributed directly atop my lung cavity. and insufferable half-panted hipsters traded their thickrimmed 80's specs and pretended to be each other, while the water lay running steadily through a kinked and leaking green garden hose (unfit for drinking out of) into the torturous container implement they had fashioned in their spare time together that lay directly atop my chest cavity. systemic functional perpetuation had all but ceased, and after having sustained temporary brain death, i reached to the heavens anew and asking whomever would listen, to carry me anywhere away from crushing and into erased earth to which i'd run frolicy back and mend my insurgent partialities, and be baked to the virgin cement that lines the streets there into a ritualistic form of hazed submission to the actual state of facts as they happen to be. and the mastadons that lay frozen in frost, pricked up their hairs from the surface of melted snow and ice and proceeded to rot into a matted and putrefied fleshy soup pond with massive embrittled bones poking up, and bits of skin hanging around drying in the prevailing winds. and no creeching birds lived there to decend upon in numbers and sop up the mess, only bugs and worms and microrganisms, and the occasional arctic fox family. and no earth in which to rot properly. thus have i arrived at this state of surrenderous reservation. to break the earth down into the mold of my will and whim, and bind her barefoot and naked impregnating her over and again stuffing her face and denying her her that let to her own devices to bear whatsoever fruit be to my liking. so i, we rape the earth together, directly or indirectly. every resource originate of her, to be passed through the stubby and fidgity hands of a dressy intermediary, and back to us, equally redundant and undeserving. would that we fulfil our worldly cause. man is upon the earth as shepard, and guardian, god's live insurance policy. and we are doing an absolute botching of our job. i'm surprised our earthship hasn't been revoked.

fourish. welcome back good brian of stratsongs upon babeson

methinks himself pleased with his long-coming and well deserved return and bears cunning and newfangled east-coast whit. excuse me... wit. tolerantly we passed our days blowing our nails in frenzied anticipation and unimaginable dread that ......some dire harm may have befallen our brave Sir Night Brian Huston. by agonizing degrees the nights passed and the days grew ever more tiresome, bleak even, as we mistook this pregnant elapse of anxious separation for abandonment and in our best estimations had fought resolutely not to fear the worst: Brian's untimely and quite complete undoing, or that he had been sold into gypsy captivity. but lo! what's that in the distance? (really, what is that) our eyes bleared by streaming tears, the horizon having drained away the day, a menacing bogey of incalculable stature? a lesser god perhaps? no mere mortal cans't there lie, shading that hulking silouette. would that SGSKSB were here to brave this ominous and quite clearly fearsome threat. In the throes of terror, driven to near lunacy we fancied were that it were Brian himself by the virgin mary (herself)! and just as if in a sleepy day-houred reverie bearing attendant clamour of people busying themselves with.. ...with whatever sort of things people might do in the day, passes through a stiff shaft of moonlight, dramatically graduated in form of course, and bore down on we that lay huddled on our knees, mouths agape called shrewdly together, peering steadily through the thicket like lambs, shivering, wettish and pelted by an unrelenting sleet and hail, none other than Sir Brian the worldly ruffian freshly returned from the East, tattered and torn, marred and bloodsoaked and with gashes here and there, perfectly poised and ready to strike at a potential danger (which lurks 'round sharp corners) the sinuous gawds of his of his steed frayed by stiff cross gales winced at not, and generally the commotion of his bravery. And merryman (so merry) well intact and unscathed nare a whit as testament to the brutish singlehandedness with which he had so unrepentantly glanced blows and delivered his merciless slaughterings and chopping to tiny bits of the medium-sized standing armies of Alabama Conneticut Massachussets or Wisconsin, brandishing bandits of Boston, tumorous thieves of Tuscaloosa, and those socially-diseased and needy females trying to get a horse-ride to the Kingdom of the Bay Area. Good noble Sir Brian. Brian of Drummingham, which rests directly against Rocksley, which is not so far from Brokendownvolvoshire, which lies just to the north-north west of Fallingdowndrunkington, (in which happen to reside Asa and Peter) wherein there just so happens to flow a brooke by the name of Cheney Brooke (for GSKBrian once rapped soundly a likeness of the man right out of the screen of an old and by all intents obsolete television in some considerable state of disrepair, and glass shot forth whereupon a dazzling pyrotechnic spectacle ensued for all of about 2 1/2/6 of a second) upon which a child each autumn evening at precisely 6 o'clock or 6:15 depending on the angle of the sun, launches from its banks into an unassuming and slow-moving pool a tiny red toy sailboat with light blue sails and white lines of trimming al'round and as it just so happens that small and wonderous boat that this boy loves so dearly would happen to be named Roxanne. And it is believed firmly by the townsfolk of both Rocksley and Drummingham (and the rest of the towns which shall not be named), respectively, have erected a bronze and very statuesque and amply staturous statue in the town square in place of the cross that once stood in it's stead. And on and onward henceforth the story of GSKBrian goes and goes and goes and goes and goes and goes.

emoticons.

although i was worn through with these little yellow incarnations of foreboding doom, that haunt waking life, that drink up the sanctity of what had thereto or might have otherwise been a serious exchange, like a black hole doth eat waves and matter, in enough separate instances to render me silently unwilling and set me on a trajectory of harboring the will to hurl impetually potentially impulsive objections that i might have otherwise unloaded upon the most staturally-conducive and regionally convenient dock, emoticons are here now and they have rolled out their little sunny dispositions into the unsuspecting hearts of people i had thought to be generally reasonable. I shall remain their definitive detractor and holdout indefinetly, and whomever I shall offend along the way, may they someday rest and learn to forgive me. I'll admit, I do like the penguin on facebook, (as well as the pac man, the mismatched eyeballs, and the box robot) and if there were a gas pump and a relief scene of a hipster on a track bike i might be incapable of excercizing my strained restraint to insert them, but as a recent inductee into the Facebook hall of "it's now everyone's fate to reduce and supplement the sort of interactions for which the had been no alternative," with electronic ones in the Holy name of convenience I'll remain considerably suspicious of these insertions howsoever dippily, sillily, absurd their capers may become, or endearing in their cuteness they are popularly held. I, for one, have not lost sight of the plainness of fact that ABBA, Journey, and the Eagles, for a few, consistently grace the upper quadrants of best bands ever lists. To start in a more condensed direction, I have never felt like, nore will I ever liken my state to that of a green spherical head with an unhinged expression and a basketball in one eye, or aooga eyes, sunglasses eyes, nor have i been so overcome with delight, that all that could suffice to purge me of redlining blissful engorgement and save my heart from a tragic vessular burst was to do a cartwheel around the text field. Perhaps I will make my own emoticon, right now to suit my own forbidding purposes. patience, I'm working. I am feeling: like gouging out my own eyeballs with a fork, to blind me to the awful scenes and resultant viscera that come with sight. And that I may bump into walls in my own house and yet manage find myself a temperate and intelligent woman enough, tethered to earth and graces, having braved fraught and meddling besetments, and interest myself no more in the sterile and sharp-witted, dismissive and murcurially ditherings of libidinous suctresses. and allow them rather to saunter saucily along their ways to someone less suspecting, but no less deserving than myself. >))<

i hope this isn't my secret lockout question:

You've rented a sky-writer to propose to your significant other, but it's completely overcast. What will you do? enclose the proposal in the black box and crash the bailed plane into the parking lot outside her work. Although, I think I might be prone to doing that anyway.

(on things in parenthesis)

(on music)
overproduced and overmodulated envelope filter top 40 hip-hop multi artist-featuring cacophonous brown noise, and similarly adorned heavy pot-cloud and reggae beat groundation project, anything coming out of a new dodge challenger from 4 miles away, anything you might hear as hold music, in a waiting room, elevator, or department store and especially manic meth-inspired fist-pumping club music drives me out the double doors and into oncoming traffic. *important note: music is my wife with whom i have an open relationship; she's a very refined and complicated woman who walks neither side of the tracks and she would be very upset to learn that i was leaving her for the night to go out with you and your bad taste in music. proponents of the above genres (that's gotta be at least 75% of you) should be made aware that.. ..it doesn't end here.

(on film)
throwaway south korean cop dramas, formerly: extra-domestic and antiquated film from first world nations: bergman, fellini, de sica, antonioni, kurosawa, the cohen brothers, wertmuller, park, and out of childish and fetishistic weakness, tarantino and wes anderson (although it wasn't so long ago that the son of ander had been lumped in to the more dear of the two catagories). and the rest you can facebook for yourself.

(on first-impressions and parenthesis) -which truly are worth fuckal (first-impressions that is)
::the first 4 seconds are what count::
(usually) i get some trifling aestheic observation. and (usually) i'm somehow obliged to accept the nature of people's intentions and overlook the superficiality of the exchange in order to continue to have as good a time as i'm capable of having given the circumstances. 35x in a night, and i can go home feeling as though i'm the human incarnation of temperance and restraint.
parenthesis are as they are. (useful)

(on writing)
hamsun, thoreau, milne, dostoevsky, calvin an hobbes, neitzche, bigfoot memoir, burgess. i hate f scott fitzgerald, and most of the rest of the lot of emeritus self-congratulatory gasbag prize-winners. (that includes you tolstoy) more on this story coming up alreadyready on facebook ..\

(on food)
astringently dressed, parmesean bespeckled, bitter leaf infused salad, an al-dente starch, a conservatively-spiced and saturated fat-laden protein with lemon. every day. ranch 99, trader joe's,. *important note: music is my wife with whom i have an open relationship; she's a very refined and complicated woman who walks neither side of the tracks and she would be very upset to learn that i was leaving her for the night to go out with you and your bad taste in music.

(on me)
i usually prefer the company of upper middle-aged adults, light-bearing children, or no one at all to boisterous beehive crowds of intoxicated people in their 20s.

big book idea

The art of being miserable: How to lose friends, be a bad time and a scourge of the earth.

includes: doppelganger wikipedia software can be edited to say anything you want, “they must’ve just changed it.”

By Asa Isles

Be a stick in the mud. If you want success in your rigidity and frozen brand of malignant fortitude, you’re going to have to refuse to let things go. Remaining obstinate and generating an impenetrable forcefield of resolve inappropriately timed in middle of a casual social encounters can stun everyone into uneasiness and help you to establish the tone of the popular discomfort you can expect to be directed at you throughout the evening early on. Just remember when employing this manuever, the more arbitrary the object in question the less dissapointed you will be when you allow yourself to be overtaken when the group eventually teams up on your suggestion and harmoniously elects something less reasonable. That way, later in the evening, when you start to sense a lack of enthusiasm, you can quietly point out that you had even insisted upon your ideas, and this will tear open a rift of doubt between the tenuous bonds of couples friends and coworkers, and making for actual entertainment. Don’t feel bad for them clawing each others eyeballs out, that’s why they got together in the first place. You will likely be invited back to this group 1-3 more times if ever. If you elect to decline the offers, your likely to be met with heavy protest, disregard it and move on with your Friday night at home, take a run, play with your cat, play a prank on your neighbor, and finish off with a few glasses of wine and a book with a nice bath.

Practice wreckless acts of the socially unacceptable

Add insult to injury

Extreme driving -

Stop in traffic.

Develop effeminite/emmasculating gestures and offend the homophobic biases of aging people.

Taking the last piece – worse than wait a second then take it. If you wanted it, take it now or forget about anyone respecting your wishes. If someone else wants it, let it be a race, like everything else.

Adopt policies

Kill them with kindness. Hot rocks in the heads of your opponent.

Practice intolerance

Teach your kids to be afraid of everything

If kids or animals are upsetting you, go after their guardians like s pack of rabid scraggly banshees.

Setup vigilante sting operations ambush others -

Gesture wildly

If you’re a smoker, Smoke – the

Swear

Be heretical –

Comdemn Politics and Political theatre outright and in it’s entirety – you don’t stand anywhere on any issue because you’re so goddamed fed up with

Wear sunglesses whenever possible

Develop an encyclopedic cache of inappropriate subjects to draw upon and weave their fibers densely amongst the fabric of your indecent sensibily until their sanctity leaks. There’s no such thing as a bad time for being obscene. Remember, obscenity is an entirely subjective matter and as such of conjecture, you’ll want begin reading your audience well in advance. It shouldn’t be too difficult to pick out a few issues that might make your audience uneasy. Wear it well, it’s yours.

Become an authority on bad zombie movies

Poor excuses to get up and leave:

-something in the oven

-dog at home

-spare key in backdoor

-time –alone

-not enough sleep the night before

poor excuses to ask people to leave

-long phone call the relative 3-4 hours time difference away before it gets too late. Refer to time zone chart

-not enough sleep the night before

-

Doctor data to suit your purposes

Lie lie and lie some more.

wrangling with word

Maybe if I’d undo these meddling automated features I could let myself channel the fluidity I had. Any excuse to not write. I should vaccuum the car, take care of this headache, wait it off, sit outside. Drink even more. Phone a friend, and say everything I’ve managed not to say. I should stay with me this time, I should I should look that up before it goes down. Anything to avoid writing, anything to stay away from home. I wonder how long that spider plans to stay like that: on the ceiling? Am I thinking too much about him. Would that if it were a her, would a her wait like that? I should feed her, I shouldn’t let her stay there anymore, absorbing climate controlled atmosphere, in comfort, it isn’t fair for the rest of them. What if it makes it into my sheets and bites the inside of my mouth and some dormant allergy comes to life and swells up my tounge and I die. I want desperately to lead a more eventful life. I think I’ll explore the dropbar and take care of this auto-correct business before it starts to ware on me. I wonder what I’ll be driven to do when that spider dissapears from the ceiling. I want the option to misspell I want the choice to bruise to injure and die. Not by my watch we say, not at this angle, not from my house not in my house. Yes in your house and yes from all angles together you have truth and truth can’t live anywhere for long. Dropbars beer and spiders. coffee cigarettes money, and misspelled words. dispelled myth… *pshsst. I went driving drunk last night and found a way to plug both seat belts into the same belt buckle, rather than waiting around for the expansive stretches of time and free thought with which id be provided from hospitalization. Maybe I’d have suffered a brain death and would never have figured it out. Maybe my more or less fortunate passenger wouldn’t have either, the real fucking tragedy. I’m going to get on that dropbar exploration just as soon as I’m able. Three bars and not a soul worth saving. Start to imagine an audience, not just a sea of heavy-footed jumpers trying their best to manage a penetrating stare. I’m stripped to bare nakedness by animals mugging me, they are no different, just a more practiced intent, synthetic patience. They know what will become of their behaviour and draw upon them as if suspended upon their super average avenger belts, over their super mediocre fashion pantsuit, impenetrable and worth ignoring. I guess I must simply get used to the idea that bars arent worth attending and there are people who aren’t worth knowing, and on some nights you’ll see them all, on the other side of the bar. There are those who are being paid to tolerate the noise and bear the frustration of lascivious slop-dripping swineman and there are those who pay for the privelege. a nice girl in this place adopted new meaning for the author. I am simply in the wrong place. There is nothing for me at a bar. Nothing good has ever come from going there. Definitely the capitols. Casual mode on, hey! Fuck. Success. Shit. Success success ha HA! Rats. Jargon colloquilaism cliches wordiness use of first person contractions sentence structure capitolization off off off!

I guess saves any changes you made means does not save any changes you have made.

This is truly maddening. Misuse of word. You have inadvertently activated 1.5 line spacing, only sometiimes without authorization, you’re word processor reserves the right to revert back to single line spacing without authorization or advance notification. auto correct deactivated. i have this playful image of an android falling slumped in some sprawling and contorted heap over a public picnic table, and his digital propjection of a soul whisked away to the gates of st peter where his likeness will stammer and bumble his way out of good favor at the gates and be cast down to a custom brand of fiery perdition in which he should be forced to serve at the desk-sides of those detractors of structural sanctity who have learned to enjoy hell where at least one is afforded althought burnt stale and only ever lukewarm at best: coffee, free heat, a typewriter, proprietary hat and alarm-clock, and basic cable. (the heat in hell, contrary to popular belief, takes advantage of post-war era dusty ductwork technology -forced air, and the reason hell is really a hell and not just a scare tactic lies in the virtue of the fact that the heat is left on, at full tilt to supplement it's central fiery furnace, all day, and you guesses it all night.) calls sears, it's on the fridge. they clean ducts. certainly one of my most sinister elucidations, but i thought i might clear the air since i've been there and seen the trouble with the region first hand. it truly is like no place on earth, save perhaps, a prolonged stay out of maritally enforced obligtation with another. but i digress, in keeping with the core viscera that i'm keeping with, i'm move, in a fell deft and graceful manuver (that word doesn't look right) to more local issues. my neihbors (that word i will never completely understand the inner workings of) have confiscated the clothespins and i've been relegated to strewing my damp clothing all along the retaining wall on the south side of the house, in addition, i discovered this morning a contractor bag full of putrid ripe and in central stages of decomposted fauna waste garbage in my city garbage bin. the malodorous deposit sent me into a bout of hallucinegenic chills and i nearly lost my footing on the topigraphically neutral slab upon which i stood. i hinged the lid back into the position i had found it, rolled the shit to the front of the house and dumped it onto the patch of mostly dead grass reserved for such things adjacent to the curb, whereupon i was treated to the emergence of a pair of mice that were sent bounding for cover, one across the street and into the tall grass, and the other somewhere in a large field, then another, andd yet anothernmouse four altogether were freed. i entertained the idea of splitting this thing open and performing some forensic tracing to identify a source, but was quickly put off to the idea as soon as a fat maggot pushing and writhing it's way out of one of the holes evidence the bag had been drug some short distance then dropped onto the patch, and all was well. it sets me on a wondering trajectory this garbage in my garbage, the day after garbage day, neybors havve been out for days camping in the grip of the r.v. weekender cookout assembly, these... people, with their sticky-handed children, their calcite-colored and doughy skins smeared in red and green dyes and barbeque sauce matted in dog's fur and salt, leavened and flushed by the unforgiving sun of a foreign land, the shameful brand of a people welcome nowhere. fat and loud they louse about parading their culturelessness so fiercely to force it into being. but it will never live, only amble on in suspended animation. so unwelcome in fact that a new world had to be created to house them and facilitate their wretchedness. these are an unrecognized people. if i could, i would excise this malignant cancerous growth that stangles out my poor fighting soul, surgically and entirely. the hollow that feeds from my breath, that parasitic thrush which dries me out and spends my heat on flickering flourescence. i think this is where i move outside. o for the simple things, dogs and children, cookies and engines, shadows and sunlight. they all understand each other. give yourself over to entropy and disarray, (this is where i get drunk) disorganization an decay, organic composition and fields, seas, look at what nature does despite us, we cannot make a tree fit into a single dimension, it will tear up the sidewalk and drop branches through our windshields in protest. people will listen, when the music is deafening, as their insides are boiling away and separating, they'll continue to listen, we all listen and we all hear sometimes. and some of us, cut out of the likes of us still know, we still pick up and leave, we run yet, we play yet, our lives have meaning goddamn it, for no reason in particular. at least we know what we want, at least we live to live on.

double space please. i just lost it on my neiyghbhourse, it felt great. i haven't screamed like that since i was a baby. full throat damaging splendor. my dog keeps rinking their bathwater, and I;m missing the "" key. d key. it's in its way along with soup and 3a batteries. people that love me. i'm loved, i am. but the neighbors, i love them, but i don't care for them. i kindov wish they would surprise me one day and leave each other. one at the house and one out shopping for green products. what a sad joke. we've got nature tied to the whipping post dousing her all over in environmentally-friendly lighter fluid. she'll manage a way out of her bonds and shank us all in the neck with a toothbrush before we can get our hands in our pockets to rifle for our matches. what a design that car. wow. it shouts subtlety. so sick of my lexicon, my contracted vocabulary, my high school english teachers and their curricular limitation, my stubborness and avoiding university. I wanted instead universality. losing it for love. american cars rattle their bolts loose. i need new friends, my hands are dry. they look old and my wounds won't heal up fast enough, or completely. im sorry if im not sympathetic enough to the plight but i don't have a washer or dryer, and you took the clothespins inside and don't use the dry line. what's that all about. am i on something, no i'm off something. sometimes i like to write a sentence and then push it along with another sentence behind it,, like make get out of my way sentence, i'm on to something and you're like the last sentence, antiquated, obsolete if not for your purpose in holding together some semblancedfffdddddddddddddddffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedddddddddd of continuity within this lodddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd xfeeeeeeeeeeffdddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd,,,,,,,,,,,,,,.lllllll,ose stucture, just filler, success d,d,d, thats comma d comma d has been missing from my keyboard 21% battery life to computer death i'd better be quick and do something. more beer more vodka, new keys and an ac adapter. i had to harvest off the press action silicon thing from the function key. what is the function of that key? it must be the most useless key on the keyboard which is why it has been labeled as such, to throw us all off, to confound our spirits and try our faith. the wife stays home today, while the husband takes the chevy out. that flightless bird, wind-swept dynamic american kitch, fits best parked in an overgrown lot next to the house among unstackable brittle plastic lawn furniture. two coats of cheap paint and caulk around the jambs to lower the road noise. 99cent vodka 50ml burning down the hatch, i'll be back for more today. i'll drop my coins all over the fucking counter, a penny will roll off, and some legitimate person will come in right then. not much shorter than me, stocky in a white shirt and i'll still be counting out change substandardly. "one two.. so that's 2 and here's three" and it's just us three. and i'll say something like "heh... why don't you help this guy while i finish this" and they'll just wait instead. something about their wife at home they can say: this guy at the circle k, this guy is me. that guy is me. no place for anything and nothing in it's place, just disarray and socks where they shouldnt be. we buried a gopher marcello and i. today at 4:15. i watched him die, marcello probobaly killed him in his teeth, it's beautiful what he doesn't know or can't care about. he'd trade it all in for a sunnier spot, if he knew what it was. i shouldve let him just eat the gopher and have been done with it. but we let the gopher die and sat there to shepard er into the afterlife. i thought about my cat, and how this creature had died so peacefully. just surely slipped away. my cat max, oh max, left in so much fear, he had to leave his pride and dignity here, and go off without us. he waited until i left to start dying, then realizing what a mistake the choice to die had been, waited until i came back to do actually see the end. down to the hour he waited. he was so afraid of what he had gotten himself into. in health, it's easy enough to face death, and in the throes of surrender, the pale uniform light of no more, were all just as vulnerable as a dog in traffic. the engine in the crx lived long enough to bring me reliably to that moment, when i saw my impresario of moxy and poise, max my cat for as long as my life had count, wishing himself out of bed. when i came in i didn't want to go near him. i couldn't bear it, agent of frailty and impermanence, and he was in no condition to assure me. i knew it would not be allright, we've all been lied to. max had been intelligent at least enough to know he wanted to live a few more days in health if it were possible. he shoved at the shawl in which he was enconsced, and faught to his feet determined to live. ultimately, he lost in a state of emaciation, shaken in terror, and ravaged by the reality of death. his attunement to me in this most transitionary instance, had profited him nothing. I have lost near all sight of matters of consequence, and found enough to trane upon, track and hold in laudable admiration and plain detestment and contempt. i am reactive and cannot contain much in apparent composure. I have little in the way of foresight and rely almost exclusively upon my cache of innate talent and endlowment. i strive for nothing. am easily dissuaded persuaded and thrown from course. i have nothing in the way of belief, faith, or trust in myself or of anyone or anything else. I elicit the worst in others purposefully. i capitolize on their good faith and exploit their good nature. i am prone to fits of unimaginable laziness. i am easily disheartened, and will often cite fear of letigious retribution for my actions or inaction. i will invent reasons if i have to, often even if i do not. i am sedentary. i do not forgive children for their childishness. i upset readily, and am lying in ambush for an opportunity to "make it clear" instead of cultivating clarity from the gates. i lie. i drink and i swear. i hate. i scorn. i have added insult to injury. i am judgemental, capitally so. i assume. i covet. i have little in the way of self control. i do not believe myself to be terrible, but generally undeserving of fortune. i give up before i try. i get away with what i can. i drive drunk, and excuse it on basis of the preceding maxim. i no longer brush my teeth at regular intervals. showering is spotty. my diet consists of many nutritionally-deficient substances. the world has more to offer me than me to this world. i'm a poor listener. i should stand next to the microwave or involve myself in a horrific traffic accident. i drink coffee without a filter. i underestimate people but only because i'm a drunk and a sore loser. I'm an avid tv watcher but i hate your favorite show. i didn't want children with any of my exs. i eat meat raw. i contrast and compare. criticise and judge. i'm petty and trite. steal from box stores and wait for things to get worse.

how bout it. triumphant bossa nova in bed. how long does it take us to eat our own weight in food? where is the future of music, the end of experimental fusion blends and a renniasance of revival. i just need a shower and some decent clothes. that spider is in a corner now. closing in on my paranoia. i need a shower, and a haircut.. i'd better throw the locks and fire up the generator. 200ml $2 the gas game. anything is better than this. a steady death, a controlled descent slowly ratcheting the webbing loose, while the dog sleeps under a transient shade. hi to the neibor, hey from the neighbor but not in that order. the dogs interest is apparently piqued, enoujgh to rouse a heavy head. should he be fitted for a brace? 50/200ml working itself behind my frontal lobe, swelling it slightly, the lights dim a shade, my eyes get heavy. ocho wants to know if he should investigate. damnation. he gets around the corner to lick his butt. big yawn and sleepy eyes. he gives up. how could any printable type come out of this slurry of gingerly prodding about out of this wrecked and besotted head. run aground in a placid shoal. motored into the dog. fell in and drowned in a foot of water stuckfast in a mucky mud. redemption and brisk mornings layed up and mostly abandoned. but not forgotten. the part of your mind available for reasessment maliciously remains intact while the rest of your faculties fail. a bad relay, switch or a sensor, position sensor, what a cruel gift life and will. i've been corrupted become drunk and paralyzed with all these options. crippled and stripped of my capacity to reign my own self. given over to dissatisfaction, opportunism and crime. i wish for conditions to worsen. i want the cold, the disparity of seasons, these forces to penetrate me, to animate me. i'm fading like a desert wind in this causeless coordinate. this latitudinal temperance drives nothing, a land as fragile and dry, as brittle as it's inhabitants. signs and noise dates and regulations another faithful soul poised to generate scandal that they might suffer a cooler gust and feel their hairs raise off their skin. might fan their itchy fungal growths. might moisten their lichenous living death. more windows and less sunshine. more work and less play. a raft to keep us afloat. and smelly arcelli is paid by the state. maloko marchocho is checked for his weight. i'm destined to become a lecherous womanizer i just know it. praise to marchoochoo who ate all the bait. i swore to myself i'df drink it all at once. honk hoink. i need and want a train horn on my car. good boy choked it all down. 200/200ml life in prison, and i'm officially out of money. i still have a dollar in the bank, say it with me: a dollar in the bank o my brothers. i'm officially convinced that dogs are holding it all together. berzerk wife, petulant children for a man, but men don't hold everything together, that's not what im saying what i'm slipping into narritive and t4rying to say, is that the shady spots move around throughout the day, and if we kept better track we;d have an easier time. i should really consider looking into working for someone with something useful to impart. i'm not too old to learn something. you couldn't press me an extract anything made of these substances, learned stock. i was however made here domestically produced. US made. cut from a corner of the iron curtain. lost everything you lost. forced our ways through the same thicket but not together, o not together, you cut through the jungle, an i, less deserving that i am, crashed about in a thicket, and steadily stripped my skin off. paranoid and delusional. jumping at knocks and cowering crouched and wide-eyed. listening out for you coming, to get me, to show me the way to the edge of the jungle, put a knife in my hand, and asked me to rape the sanctity out of her right alongside you. asked me to displace my heart and write off my love, (it's a write off you know) to plunge directly in like a pool of assorted foam shapes and live, like you live, like you try. i cannot live in seafoam, i wonder about to my detriment. what lies beyond the shore, the lapping breaking shorline, beyond there runs the sea, i know, i can't be shielded from that fact, OIL WELLS SHIPPING AND REAL ESTATE. one day live in the shape of detritus scattered upon the earth, penetrating slightly, and like a fine dust in most cases, to be dredged up and sifted by hand of god and turned again and over again into the depths of the earth. foollish are those that wile in the myth of significance, self-deception and torture in which we willfully partake: loving no one other than us, thinking of no one else in the best case. if god were truly great, he'd take from us our heroin our heroism, our simplicity, our self-governance, our radiance, and remove infatuation. and replace them with true freedom. true faithless vast and vaccuous afterthought. then we would be free to wonder truly wonder for once, while our god swiftly forsakes us for another more alluring and promising venture. and if i were i and god were god, and all things were as they were, it need not be considered an insurmountable impossibility of a task. creak*

and the earth shifted underfoot, and some among us were cast down over escarpments of risk, and self reliance to our dooms and taght to love the inside of the earth and not fear it and consider it hell. spooky aliens from above to beam us into tragic and complete ephemeral deletion and raging plasmic theatrics from below that upend us and carry us away in a sepultric-tectonic splendor. maybe this taste will dissapate, perhaps this rooted shroud of suffering and intangible removed pain has plans to aquiesce. Bo ho, iget a gizmally and beretchen in the starkedtude of the party be3at. If I was female I’d trhhrow off my fettering gown and disrobe in front of everyone to show them who I really was. Trade myself over for anything other than me. Beef beep this music disagrees with me, if it doesn’t end at ten, I’m going to the police I'm sure of all that. and so it follows:

lucia:

Stoch:

Ley:

Eoro:

Fonto:

Oishe:

George:

Exposition:

"whom doth he quoth?" -asa

"...Shake her at night like a warped door until her teeth rattle out of her head." -i forget where i found this, but am repentant i believe it was one of those stone heads. plato or socrates likely.

phameless slug. gentleman may you behold the product of the first paid writing gig. champagne steeped banknotes and undone hookers in the bath party!

A few years back when this composite decking started to catch on I’d just tell people to find someone else to work with. The trouble with trex is well, everything. One project in particular, a client had ended up with a field of nailheads hanging up all his deck furniture, spatter from messy painters, and the only straight edge in sight was where the deck met the house. The client wanted curves anywhere they would fit. It was an absolute nightmare. After the last contractor botched the job and walked off (I’m assuming in a fit of forgivable frustration) I had to recut a graceful curve into every remaining edge which was all of them, and by and by I became as well aquainted with this product as well as the guys in the lab cooking it up. Sharp edges tear out like stale bread, kerf marks take an eternity to sand out, it’s nearly impossible to route, plane, it burns more easily than wood, it rots, it swells, warps, bogs down your saw like Ipe or Ironwood, is not colorfast, cannot be nailed and sometimes arrives severly crooked warped or both. And just go ahead and try rounding over an edge. Furthermore, it requires narrower span widths in its subframe which means more stringers at the stairs and more wood in the rest of the frame. Trex has very little in the way of tensile rigidity because it contains no fibrous binder throughout it’s core. It’s plastic, glue, and wood pulp. You’d better have a lot of flat concrete real estate because if you try and store it high centered it’ll stay like that forever. A twenty foot length of 5/4” over an unusually tall person’s shoulder and it’s still practically at the ground at the low end of it’s wild occilating flex so you’d better carry two chattering sticks and go slowly to prevent them from jumping off your shoulder. If you don’t throw out your back getting it on the site, congratulations, you’re almost sure to do so getting it back on the rack when you eventually decide to return it. And be sure and tie it up good otherwise you’ll be responsible for the evening’s top story, tomorrow’s headlines, or both. Lastly, I hope you planned your deck’s size around Trex’ limited length selection or else you’ll be building a useless 5’ deck with all your cutoff or supplementing your bin on garbage day for weeks to come. Trex decides which lengths and widths are available to you. If you’ve already got it, return it, even if it means dragging it back to the store on the freeway one piece at a time and paying your 20% restocking fee. What can I say of a product that that costs as much as 4x that of it’s organic counterpart: It had better be four times as good right? Lifetime lumber is nothing like Trex or Evergrain or Veranda, or anything I’ve ever seen or worked with before. It shapes like balsa wood and yet curiously can be stricken directly with a frontal impact along it’s surface with no apparent effect. It’s surface is highly scratch resistant, and unlike Trex can be filled and painted nicely if severly gouged by a faulty caster, an absentminded and boozed-up relative with a swiss army knife bent on making a point. There is no such thing as an indestructable product, whenever I see something that says “unbreakabe” I immediately begin dreaming up ways debunk the claim, it is not impervious to people like us, but it will stand up to the abuses a deck ordinarily undergoes. Although I haven’t field tested this yet, I’d be willing to bet you could drop a number of hot coals right on it and be unable to produce any effect that could not be reversed with a can of paint. Unless you’re using solid plate metal as your decking, you’d be hard pressed to surpass the performance of Lifetime Lumber. It works like a very dense version of ridgid fiberglass insulation without all that unbearable squeaking, can be cut with dull carbide and produce no tearout. Can be handsawn, chiseled, and sanded smooth in a matter of passes. It’s porosity creates cavities that serve to provide a physical bond I’d liken to a root system for paint. It sounds like wood when you knock on it, It looks like wood when you look at it, and it cuts better than mdf, I’d say it will do to the world of compsite decking for us what mdf has done to the world of sheet goods. I had no trouble resawing two and a half inch stock in one pass on a popular and (somewhat underpowered) contractor saw. Nails and screws will grab and set, it can be toescrewed and nailed, it’s a stable and solid product, and in the absence of anything comparable in existance, I have no complaints and would give it a 7 out of 5. On top of everything I’m told it’s sustainable to boot, composed primarily of exhaust ash from coal-burning power plants, well I’d use it regardless… last time I checked coal is inert and isn’t ingested by any organism other than hospitalized teenagers. Well done Lifetime Lumber.

college

"I think education in the US, exists to further the interests of a bunch of depraved, morally-divested investors, and in most cases, produces in the heads of our young people no set of desirable effects. Mostly, I look upon education as a resource that has to be misused or used in an unintended fashion in order to be of any use." -Asa