Me, again

The New Dora The Explorer. Giving the old merchandise a sexy little look. With the new transformation goes the old Backpack, Boots and Swiper. I wonder who her new friends will be.

Understanding Comics: More than meets the eye. Much more.

Cute, sexy, sweet and funny -- an evolutionary riddle It's all in the wiring.

Nobody blame Bush. Just be constantly reminded what this Iraqi War was all about. Some American Idiot had the gaul to post this on Geeks and laugh about it. Just goes to show how downright stupid some Americans can really be. At some point in this boy's life (the one who posted it), I hope he gets the chance to empathize with the Iraqi boy this video is all about...and then laugh about it. After all, Adversity makes men. Prosperity makes monsters. The Geeky Link.

Misattributed and highly interesting: A god without dominion, providence, and final causes, is nothing else but Fate and Nature. Isaac Newton : Principia Mathematica (1687); Rules of Reasoning in Philosophy, Rule IV [1] A work of art that contains theories is like an object on which the price tag has been left. Une oeuvre où il y a des théories est comme un objet sur lequel on laisse la marque du prix. Marcel Proust , In Search of Lost Time, part VII: Time Regained, chapter III, "An Afternoon Party at the House of the Princesse de Guermantes" French version and English translation Genius creates, and taste preserves. Taste is the good sense of genius; without taste, genius is only sublime folly. Le génie enfante, le goût conserve. Le goût est le bon sens du génie; sans le goût, le génie n'est qu'une sublime folie. François-René de Chateaubriand , Essai sur la littérature anglaise (1836): Modèles classiques [2] You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come;Knock as you p

See if you can make this work. I live in a large hollow block. A square room averaging 5 x 5 sq. meters. It is made up mostly of cemented beams...cement for the ceiling, walls, and floors. Like I told you...a large hollow block is what it is. I can hear sounds from all over reverberating in my hollowblock room. Sounds from our next door neighbor when they bang their big tall iron gates. Same disturbing sounds when they bang their car doors. Sounds from below my room...which seems to have quelled at the moment...that irritating sound of a tiny child speaking a dialect I couldn't figure out what. Anyway, it's just plain noise to me. Never mind the ongoing construction work of a nearby condominium building which they shouldn't be building in a residencial subdivision. I can't fight the corruption that is City Hall on my own. I also hear the sounds of my Logitech computer keyboard as I am typing away. Other than that, there is silence in my room...except for the oc

This is the part (the exact same time) where I can actually hear the next-door faggot's resigned reaction. Later in the afternoon, he too will tire and shut up for a few minutes before we do the same thing over again....all while we wither away...into the days of bummer.

The State of the House: People are dying here. It's not a home I live in. There is no warmth except in my auto-built sunroof but sometimes, the sun's too strong and I have to come down and rest in my red room. The only maid we have is taking care of 1.) an 87-yr old jerk, most of the time, even to her; 2.) a 3-yr old blah-blah from Ani-i; 3.) a husband waiting aimlessly for an overseas job that never comes. He is in my opinion, nothing but freeloader aside from being eyesore. She also, aside from being cooky, cooks smelly fish in the morning and irritates me endlessly with her mind games. She is overworked from my own description. She came to our house to conquer. I'll tell you this. She cannot conquer me. I think she is working with an undiagnosed mental illness: retardation. Seriously. Add to that, righteous indignation that has no place in my heart. My only sister, 7 years older, just let go of a personal therapist she was solely responsible for taking abroad to work. Af

The Vision (not my writing) He just asked me to spread The Word. A friend of mine sent this to me and he told me who wrote it, I just forgot. Once I remember or get the info, I'll edit this post with his name in it. Anyway, this basically sums up the normal Christian life. "So this guy comes up to me and says: Whats the vision? Whats the big idea? I open my mouth and words come out like this: The vision? The vision is JESUS obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus. The vision is an army of young people. You see bones? I see an army. And they are FREE from materialism. They laugh at 9x5 little prisons. They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday. They wouldn't even notice. They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the West was Won. They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations. They need no passport. People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence. They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dyi