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    <title>Spivak's Razor</title>
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    <description><![CDATA[It's a retarded version of Occam's razor except the simplest answer is true.]]></description>
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<description><![CDATA[<div class="nest"> <a class="title">2/9/10</a><br /> I have nothing nice to say at this juncture. <p>I have nothing productive to write.</p> </div> <!--I always hear wacky analogies about the search for extrasolar planets. Imaging these objects is always akin to discerning a candleflame next to a spotlight or a firefly near a lighthouse. Would it be possible to actually create an imaging device on Earth which could pick out the light of a firefly from the glare of a lighthouse? Surely if it's possible on a small scale then it's feasible while scanning the skies. Who knows what innovations might arise which could change the way we search for alien worlds. --> <!-- <div class="holiday"> <a class="title">Christmas Eve</a><br /> Left the apartment at 10:06 a.m., arrived in Seaside a hair before noontime. Lee's BFF and matron of honor talked with me outside while she finished up a coughin' nail. I have to load everything into the car, BFF sits in the front seat and Lee sits in the back seat. <p class="holiday">Arrived and checked in after 2 p.m. on Wednesday. BFF goes to 'greet' her husband who also officiated the ceremony and performed acoustic guitar. Time to get in my kilt, wondering the whereabouts of my best man, accidentally cut my middle finger with my knife, last minute arrival and it's time to get this show on the road.</p> <p class="holiday">I'm way too tired to write anything.</p> </div> --> <!-- Zero dimensions is a single point. Two points create a line which is the first dimension. Connect a few lines to make a triangle or square or some other 'gon and that's the second dimension. Three dimensions is the world we live in and where the 4<sup>th</sup> dimension is an abstraction which some call 'time'. The fourth dimension encompasses the existence of a third dimensional object. A fourth dimensional human would be seen as a form starting as a zygote and continuing until the end of its existence. When it comes to the fifth dimension that's a snowflake. The single point of genesis where something begins but then it extends to various different realities. Someone's born male instead of female. Someone dies driving drunk at the age of sixteen. This timeline leads to wealth while the other has them dying alone. You could say the 5th dimension is like a snowflake. Eventually this snowflake will become a fractal in higher dimensions. The sixth dimension is the expression of all these realities and the best way to represent all those realities is as a point where everything happens at once. I love Leah in all of these realities. Whether I knew her at the age of 5 when we met on the beach in Seaside Heights maintaining a relationship which flowers later and goes until our sunsets or we are seventy nine and eighty having lived full lives with other people and finally finding each other in nursing homes and loving each other far more intensely with a love that outshines the love for our grandchildren making those years far more gentle and bearable as the leaves begin to fall. Or I end up living my life, meet Leah, she turns me down in college and we never meet again spending the rest of my life wondering what might've happened and nurturing a kind of love which remains my constant, my 'c', against which all others are measured even if the nostalgia outstrips the reality or vice versa. Perhaps Leah never knew me but I existed as a wee ginger kitten she found coming home from work in the city, she keeps me warm, feeds me, dotes over me as I grow up while I do all the cat-things which ultimately and indelibly endear them to us by transcending the species barrier without becoming a sick fuck furry or zoophile. A far deeper, unjudgemental love. If I could be viewed in the sixth dimension she'd see that I love her in all realities. The seventh dimension is what connects two sixth dimensional points. Each one of those 6D points is a complete universe unto itself. Perhaps in this universe the strong nuclear force doesn't exist at all while in another universe the speed of light is much slower. Yet between each of those universes gravity is the same and it connects them both creating that seventh dimensional line. Obviously between us, what ultimately connects us is our love. Writing this makes me feel good. On the other hand it makes me feel creepy like Randall Munroe who writes those neckbeardy love fantasies which are just creepy. --> <!-- <div class="nest"> <a class="title">11/20/09</a><br /> People talk too much and have little patience when it comes to listening to anything I have to say when I'm put on the spot. People tend to assume they're correct and dismiss anything I might say due to perceived na&iuml;vet&eacute; on my part. The purpose of life is to act because the moment someone begins discussing a situation it becomes contentious, sides are taken and the decision is always a compromise which takes the worst aspects of both creating something which serves to hinder progress. It's a tacit declaration (heh, that juxtaposition makes me laugh) of distrust between one or both parties. I learn best when I am left to my own devices and have a way of asking for help without being challenged as a troll or an egregious imbecile who would be cashiered and disbarred from The Three Stooges. The reason why I hold the idea of just doing something rather than nattering like a clutch of hens is that the mistakes which arise are usually small and easily attended to at the time or avoided in the future. Anything else will lead to death and at that point one's troubles are gone. </div> --> <!-- <div class="nest"> <a class="title">10/25/09</a><br /> As I stated in a recent entry I am an awful atheist for harboring superstitions. I mean the idea of dreams are acceptable since I chalk that phenomenon up to a manifestation of subconscious creativity which may also serve the purpose of filing away various memories. <p>One thing that I've seen a lot of in my life, most likely reductive reasoning, is when I'm about to contact somebody they end up contacting me. </div> --> <!-- 6/23/09 Poor Lilah - done Government oversight is bad for the economy - done 6/24/09 Stolen sales - done 6/25/09 The Situation - done --> <!-- http://www.wired.com/techbiz/people/magazine/17-09/st_thompson --> <!-- [A civilian revolution against the government a]in't gonna happen until civilians have air superiority. You think the government is going to wage a fair fight against ground-based militias when they've been zooming at Mach 3 over the middle east dropping daisy cutters then sending ground troops to march over the ashes? The USA doesn't care, they'll bomb the shit out of Shelbyville if Springfield is suspected of harboring 'terrorists'. --> <!-- I got religion at Walmart. While standing in line I was faced with my anxieties, meaningless decisions kept floating up through my brain fizzing 'neath my skull. You know how everyone looks ten pounds fatter on television? Gotta tell you that anxieties are far more immediate and fearsome when magnified by anxiety. Yes, that made no sense. Still you understood my gist, cxu ne? One of the decisions had me completely stymied and I finally shouted above the din, "Fine, I'll consult Magic 8 Ball when I get home! Hell, I'll use Paul's tarot cards to divine my future and choose my own destiny!" Took me a second and I realized that I had, in a very coarse and blunt way, began thinking like theists and deists. By submitting myself to the will of these two inanimate objects I was practicing my own religion. A moment later I suddenly engendered a vast respect for Islam because Islam makes no bones about what Islam means and that's submission before a god. How much more wonderful would Christianity be if it was simply known as "Obey". Anyway there was a measure of comfort consulting these two popular forms of divination. All of a sudden my thoughts had quieted and I had passed the blame elsewhere. Soon I felt nothing but self-loathing and made a mental note of the experience in order to fill up space and bandwidth here at <i>heptapod.org</i>. Personally I believe that theists simply believe in church while deists actually believe in god. The latter have the good grace to live and let live without prosletyzing their views. --> <!-- I continue self-destruction. Nowadays I test my resolve and put myself in situations that would be my Kobayashi Maru. Yet I always pull back at the last minute leaving myself unscathed by the event. One or two things in my life showed me that I would love to know that the universe, for a lack of a better term, truly does care about me and continues to lure me to see if I pull up at the last minute feeling the heady rush of exilharation from the close call. Or perhaps, in a more sinister way, I wish to have no control over my life and I have my own personal Superman. Toxic thinking like nostalgia. --> <!-- Democratic government is not a viable form of government. It's much more than the tyranny of the masses. This has much more to do with one's education. Gutenberg's Printing Press killed religion. The Bible was printed in a common tongue making it directly accessible by the proletariat who began applying their own interpretations which lay the seed for schisms. Since then people have used the Bible as a --> <!-- A wee story about Lilah and Spot. By me. The dandelions were taller than momma's shoulder. Six tiny blue eyes blinked and looked up into an ever bluer sky. Downy parachutes fell on their backs tempting them to swat and fight but momma taught them better. Bold Socks led the way biting a few stems and leaping at a ghost in the grass to show the rest of the neighborhood who is boss. Handsome Tiger kept a watchful eye as he ambled between his brother and his sister. Sweet Lilah shone in the sun, its rays shining off her sleek white fur. Spot is very famous in the neighborhood. After all before I met Spot she was wandering around like she owned the place. She was so grateful when three fat humans allowed her to enter their apartment so she could inspect it to see if it met her feline standards. Sadly one of the fat humans poured a glass of water on her but Spot was able to finagle free room and board forever and ever. There are many cats in the neighborhood. Some are calico. Others are tuxedos. Still more are fluffy cats. So many cats that you can't swing a dead prophet without hitting one. Spot became acquainted with each and every cat. Brave Samwise who stole her heart. Wee Black Leg who sought Spot's advice. Naughty Tuxedo who only wanted to swat Spot's nose and Spot never fought back exercising greater restraint than the Buddha. Other cats would amble through the backyard much to Spot's dismay. Still all the cats knew about Spot and admired her for Spot's cunning and guile. May 12th, 2008 a momma cat gave birth to three kittens. One of the kittens was purest white. The other kittens were tabby and tuxedo with adorable demeanors. That little white kitten wasn't happy being so plain compared to Socks's fancy tuxedo. Nor was that tiny kitten pleased that she lacked the natural camouflage borne by her brother. Kittens know these things and none need to see. Also helps if momma cat remarks upon them. Every night before their eyes opened momma cat would tell them stories about Great Spot. How she once took down seven Rottweilers in a single blow. protip: it's really spelled that way. Fearsome Spot, protector of felines, climbing beanstalks and stealing mystical jewels from creek nymphs. That little white kitten was enraptured by the tales and dreamt every night about her heroine. Two mornings later she trundled outdoors and forced her eyes open so they may be kissed for the first time by sunshine. Grass as high as her shoulder stretched out as far as she could see until it reached the Great Wooden Fence. "Somewhere Frau Spot lurks in the world!" Momma cat came, nipped her neck and carried her home with gentle chidings to stay away from humans and not to wander too far. At daybreak the tiny white kitten sneaked away and encountered a magical tiny human wearing a pointy red hat. "Hello kitten" the rosy cheeked little person chirped at her approach, "I can tell you have a wish!" The kitten gasped and nodded before looking around for her ever-watchful and loving momma. "I want to meet Great Spot! I want to have Spots just like Spot so one day I will be queen of the neighborhood!" The gnome nodded then tapped his rosy nose. "Wish number one has been granted. You shall live with Great Spot!" Our heroine's heart skipped a beat and let out a brief excited mew. Gnick, which was the name of the gnome, bent over and gently touched her side where a splotch of black began to spread like a rorschach test. "Now you have a spot!" The kitten mewed that spot was not enough for Great Spot had more than a hundred spots upon her vanilla ice cream coat. Gnick nodded and gently touched her again on the head granting a wonderful Batman cowl just like Spot-Cat. Still greedy and fussy, for she's a kitten, she plaintively mewed again and again while Gnick tapped her to give her black spots. Finally Gnick wiped his forehead with his pointy hat, "Tiny Kitten, I need to tell you that I can not give you no more spots." "Why? Why can't you give me any more spots?" Gnick waved for his friend to follow him down to the nearby creek. The kitten gasped when she caught her dark reflection in the still waters. She wanted so many spots that she was nothing but a single black spot. Not one white hair remained upon her body. In the distance she heard momma calling out for her while her brothers wrestled amongst the dandelions and felt a chill. "What if Momma doesn't recognize me?" Gnick stroked her head, "Mommas always recognize their babies. Especially mommacats." "Can't you take them back?" "No more than I can change your brother's stripes. You made a wish and I fulfilled that promise. You wouldn't want me to break a promise, would you?" Confused and sad golden eyes stared at the tiny pink man who became very still and stared off into the distance. When momma cat trotted over she found her baby rubbing against the garden gnome and crying her heart out. If she hadn't been crying then mommacat wouldn't have realized that was her firstborn. With a mouthful of scruff, momma mumbled about never trusting the apes no matter how small. For the rest of the day momma cleaned and cleaned and cleaned her only girl to no avail. Her wee white kitten was now completely black. Still she loved her even more dearly than before and purred her favorite lullabye underneath the house. --> <!-- <img src="http://heptapod.org/tbike.png" width="30" height="17" alt="commute icon" /><br /> <div class="nest"> <a class="title">2/16/09</a><br /> Fell asleep around 10-ish on Wednesday night. Woke up again at 11:28 p.m. and then again at 3:04 a.m. and finally at 4:33 a.m. and seven minutes later I was up and around the apartment. Cats are fed and watered, everything's waiting for me at the top of the stairs and I'm out the door and on the road by 4:52. <p>When I got past Fillmore there was a noise. Oh shit. Pulled over and was relieved to see it was only the driver's side front tire gone flat. Thing is that I didn't have a fucking tire iron. While I was rummaging through the trunk for a tire iron a guy came by and tried to help me out. He didn't have a tire iron that fit my lugnuts and we stopped at most gas stations and a Village Inn where there were three cops and found no help. Fucking cops said they could only call a fucking tow truck. Fuck you, I hope your asses get capped on south Nevada fuckfaces. So much for serving the community you motherfucking asswhores.</p> <p>A brief visit to Wal-Mart got me a tire iron and I was back on the road by 6:06 a.m. tearing ass down I-25. raddidge graciously offered to have me park at her place and she'd drive me to Denver International (DIA). By the time I reached her exit I was weighing the options of heading to her place and taking her up on the offer but I realized it'd be faster for me to drive and park at DIA. Now I'm really hauling ass because it's past 6:30 a.m..</p> <p>E-470 I'm pushing triple digits, no tickets and I finally arrive at the airport proper at 7:06 a.m. Needless to say I'm lathered up and need to calm down. Already my lower back is hurting me something fierce because I was trying to break the lugnuts which were put on with the pneumatic wrench. Plus my knee cracked hard while I was rushing through Wal-Mart. Let me tell you, I was surprised at how quick and friendly everything was at Wal-Mart!</p> <p>As I write this I'm on the plane, I'm sitting up in first class and it's 8:32 a.m.. Fucking flight's delayed because of a dent on the leading edge of the wing and the pilot says it'll be about 15 minutes before we get the all clear. Got a few concerns at the moment but plummeting in a ball of fire is furthest from my mind.</p> </div> <div class="head">in the air</div> <div class="nest"> 10:30 a.m. and I'm in the air. No idea where I am except there are a lot of clouds below me. Been playing Ilsa the futa dwarf valkyrie, died horribly many times and decided to do some programming. Sadly I'm not able to get the Lobo artifact working for NetHack. </div> <div class="head">departing flight</div> <div class="nest"> My gate changed from 27 to 29. Free wifi means there is no wifi. Fucking cheap-ass cocksmokers. At least the electricity is free so I can charge up the battery. Prana means breath and spirit. Ocean dream. Violence. </div> Thursday night was so anxious for me. Leah right there beside me. I was too nervous to think of anything and kept running my mouth like crazy. My back and right knee hurt like a motherfucker from fixing my tire. Still despite everything going through my head I decided not to keep fretting about shit and stop thinking Leah was judging me and simply got on with my time with Leah after all I flew out here to be with her! Finally got to tell Leah everything that I wasn't going to tell her in email or over the phone. She was definitely on my wavelength and receptive to my heartfelt declaration and proposal. Each morning when I woke up I told her that I love her. We puttered around her apartment, spent time with Merry and Kira (her cats) and after much delicious procrastination we drove down to Atlantic City. Lived in New Jersey for 30 years and I never, ever went to Atlantic City. Her oldest friend was celebrating her birthday. We went to a BBQ place, wasn't very good and I was very diplomatic telling Leah that I'll take her to the Front Range Grill when she comes out to Colorado. She wasn't very happy with the food but that's beside the point because we were there for her friend. Afterwards we strolled along the boardwalk, played nickel and penny slots, I proved that I know little to nothing when it comes to gambling. Still Leah was luckier than me turning five bucks into fifteen bucks which I swiftly squandered to 18&cent;. Already I was getting overtired from the plane trip, staying up at night and everything being a great big wonderful blur. My composure was severely lacking but that's okay and I had to keep reminding myself that it's okay. Plus I kept reminding myself that it's okay to be happy and accept the amazing things in life because I do deserve them. Next stop was her parents's shore house. Leah told me that I kept talking in my sleep, sometimes loud, other times mumbling and falling in and out of sleep. According to her I was telling her about how my mother miscarried back in December 1970 and my father found me laying in the woods wrapped in silver. O-kay. I dreamt that night but it wasn't about being an alien. Our morning was spent with her parents, we sat on the beach and wore our cameras out taking pictures of each other together and apart but mostly together. After we cleaned up, had her father take pictures of us, we headed back up north to my parents. First I was thinking "No" and kept arguing with my crazy self and declared fuck it if I have to think this hard about it then I have damned well better go with Leah to my place to meet my mom and dad. Flight's boarding. 2:55 p.m. EST cramped 5:29 p.m. EST Laptop is half-open. Guy in front of me is being a cunt with his chair and now the fucking chair gets moved so I have a wee bit of room. Flight's not supposed to touch down until 8-ish MST. Had a lovely nap and the sudafed I took was beneficial twofold with its soporific qualities and ameliorating my ear popping. Will I be able to play NetHack? No idea but definitely next time I am <i>not</i> flying cattle class again. Shitsux mang. <div class="head">pitchers</div> <div class="nest" align="center"> <img src="http://heptapod.org/2009/feb/images/" width="600" height="450" alt="trip pix" /><br /> <img src="http://heptapod.org/2009/feb/images/" width="450" height="600" alt="trip pix" /><br /> </div> --> </div> <!-- <div align="center"> <img src="http://heptapod.org/2008/oct/images/gruntx.jpg" width="632" height="331" alt="dlx" /> </div> --> <!-- only grays get the blues --> <!-- More than two hundred years ago citizens of this newfound Republic fought a red army against enormous odds and ensured liberty, equality and fraternity for all of its citizens. In the aftermath of World War II where our Republic was hailed as liberators and defenders of the free world our citizens faced a new red army. The stakes were higher than personal liberty this time since both sides wielded power which could incinerate our humble planet several times over exterminating all life in the known universe. The United States of America persevered, watched its former foe collapse on itself and re-establish itself in the global community and there was not a single shot fired between the two adversaries. Today our grand republic is under siege from a new red army and like the original it is led by a George who is mad without the excuse of suffering porphyria. Their uniforms are soaked with the blood of their fallen god worn as a symbol of alleged piety with a deep foundation of intolerance. George's policies, at home and abroad, only serve to make the Republic a laughingstock of the international community. Our country is suffering an economic war rooted in dependence on foreign goods, selling our dollar and our jobs to foreign investors while the sole export of our country is the blood of our citizens and weapons. --><p><sub><i>-- Delivered by <a href="http://feed43.com/">Feed43</a> service</i></sub></p>
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