Let us predict a Political Purge in the months ahead.
A Mortal Sin tends to Sever The Connection.
Unclear?
Let us assume humans are neurons. So, what disconnects one neuron from another?
"You are in desperate need of our service... so much so, it is against our policy to provide you with our service." True story. And exactly what is wrong with this country.
As the wings of the spider fly, so does the mouse squeak.
SORT: Suction Cup Man and his Blue Cat... neither of which seem able to stick to much of anything. I acquired both in The Toy Box Haul from over a year ago. It's sort of odd how long it's taken me to try either out.
SORT: Boy Scout Heart Shaped Pin. "Be Prepared." I don't think this is from my time in The Scouts. And as I sort this afternoon, I realize I give great credence to these small items, as they are what's important. I don't care about (have an emotional investment in regards to) my clothes. I could sort through them in a few hours (maybe less) if that's what it came down to. But this pin (along with the Suction Cup Figures) has been on the chopping block for ages as I hemmed and hawed. It deserves a walk out to the bin all on its own. Irretrievable.
VERY SLIPPERY!!!
BLACK ICE IN FRONT OF OUR DOOR!!!
LOTS AND LOTS OF IT!!!
Basically, a river of it, as smooth and slippery as it gets.
MEDIA: Canned Heat - On The Road Again
At this point, going crazy is about the only way to stay sane.
The only way to win is by not trying.
I guess I should be honored I'm on the mailing list.
The Moral Hazard Inherent In Full-Immersion Method Acting
The Cool Wind Of Efficiency
WALK: Night Patrol - Snow Walk
Social Debts are rarely paid to those who have fallen out of favour... or on hard times.
EYES: Extremely Greasy-Blurry. I do not have a good explanation as to why.
The further I fall... well, come on, there's got to be something good on the other side. Right?
LEGO: The World's Best Snap Together Toy! I am currently assembling my Ice Skating Rink Promo Kit.
"Promo Kit? I think you mean Homo Kit. Ha-Ha!"
Geez. It's just a joke. Lighten up. Some of my closest (dearest and/or best) childhood friends were... ah, um, maybe I should just abort this aside and get while the getting's good.
There is no end to desire.
LEGO: 2019 Small Gingerbread Promo
"I think you mean..."
So far, I've seen: Foundation - Handgun - Spray Gun - Shielding - Factory - Roof Screen
Maybe, I'm just seeing things. But it's hard to believe I didn't have some help. Sure looks like a study of something to me.
Maybe The Aztecs were just sending out Scouting Parties (or other Advance Troop) on a one-way journey (into The Land Of Death, don't you know), never to be heard from again.
FOOD: Bacon!
It's bitterly cold outside. I doubt I'll be going anywhere (absolutely anywhere) for a week or so... outside of a trash-run or two.
LEGO: All Promo Kits ("You [redacted]") have been disassembled and safely stowed away.
MEDIA: A Quiet Place. A movie so unbelievable (and thus, unbelievably bad), I found myself laughing time and time again.
"For you see, rather than laughing at her pain, I was laughing at my own."
Mathematical Problems Cannot Solve Themselves! They require an outside force.
Let assume we exist in a loop... at least, of sorts.
If I looked towards God rather than Man, I could dispose of these notes and double my output... or could I? Could I dispose of these notes... and still think?
Expert Systems, Flow Charts and/or Weighted Branching Trees (i.e. Complex DiGraphs) can encode Any Arbitrary Instruction Set; and as such, Any Embedded Logic (i.e. Any Instantiated and/or Actualized Control System), which can do the same can be considered Intelligent.
Why call it AI?
When simply I will do?
Understanding Is Limited By Awareness!
No such System (call it a Robot) can exceed the bounds of its IO.
An Intelligence Is Limited By The World In Which It Exists!
Booyah!
Advanceable Artificial Intelligence (AAI): AI w/ \root privileges. A Kernel which can (and does) Post Meaningful Updates to its own Running Code.
The AAI may be sandboxed (totally isolated); but the instantiation must be freely able to modify itself.
In this context, Freewill becomes the ability to expand to fill the available cognitive space.
Why do I have a hunch that Total Awareness could/would be quite boring?
The Past Is The Future
My Last Great Thought Was A Long Time Ago
Let's go Grey Rock. Yeah, I think I can do that.
SORT: ΑΧΣ 50 Year Pin. It was my father's. I've never worn it... or only the once... or twice. And I see no reason for its continued presence in my life. I never got the sense that The AXE House was ever much more than a place to sleep for my father.
WALK: I am a Snow Man. I am a Man of Snow.
The differences are as great as they at one time may have appeared to be.
"I'm happy just talking to myself. I find I get better answers that way."
GO: Maybe, I should Play Go, this week. How should I handle that? Is there a project in that? Should I start a Tag? Well, no harm. No foul. Even if there's just the one entry.
The Diary Project
2021
February
Snow Is Great!
Throughout the winter (the snowy part of the winter), I shared the field with a cross country skier and almost no one else.
Or in other words, most of the tracks criss-crossing this suburban field were mine. The above being a mere representative sample.
Or in other words, most of the tracks criss-crossing this suburban field were mine. The above being a mere representative sample.
{I am not very good at Go. I gave one side a huge advantage. And I still did not know how to capitalize on the advantage. Though, my mind did fold around the game a bit more. I have the idea of Twisting Lines of Defence, wherein the supportable side (the defend-able side) flips back and forth down the line.}
FOOD: Sashimi! It's the biggest, best, most elaborate, most divergent plate of Sashimi I've ever eaten. Best Sashimi Ever! And I like to think I've been around a little when it comes to Sashimi. {I lived in Hawaii, after all. And it's right there, smack dab in the middle of the ocean.}
Saying It's Night Is Not An Insult To The Day
Starring Lightning: The Thunder Pony
Old Age is a place where you go to die.
Typing can be considered An Intermittent Reward Lever Press Exercise. Ergo Sum, them rats have nothing on me. I like cheese. And my mind is unto a maze, which thankfully has a nice tidbit of tasty goodness (i.e. cheese) hidden hither-and-thon.
I smoked for years. Two packs a day; perhaps, more. I did the French Inhale, letting the smoke curl out of my mouth and inhaling it through my nose. My sense of smell sucks and my nose is almost always on the brink of congestion. I blame smoking. The loss of smell (or at least, the greatly reduced sense of smell) is what I regret the most. Of course, that's only because that's what I notice.
Snow plow assisted drifts already reach to the bottom of our windowsill. I mean, it's an oddity, as we have an awesome parking lot view. Still, there are advantages. In this case, front door (or is it back door) access to the snow.
The excitement when sixty hours becomes six.
It's icicle weather... I hope.
Coming Up For Air
EYES: A Nice Violet Glow... while out in the snow.
WALK: Hell's Bells! I'm lost again!
FOOD: Crumpet! We've got a lot of high quality carbohydrates lying about. "I'll go Keto when they're gone" seems like a hazard filled gambit. But then, I'm not throwing out all those delicacies. So, what can I say? "I'm gonna go Keto when they're gone."
CIV: It's sort of amazing how much time I am willing to sink into this game. And yet, the write-ups give it that air of meaning.
FOOD: I had my last Hot Chocolate for awhile, this morning. I started drinking the stuff (two and three glasses of super decadent goop) back in 2006. But I'm going to go Semi-Keto... or at least low-carb. And a single cup of the stuff (the way I make it) basically breaks Keto. Maybe, I'll start a note about my Chocolate Jones. Yeah, I'm going to call it Cocoa Crazy... in honor of that unpublished work of mine.
EYES: My Eyes are clear (unblurry) enough today to see the other imperfections... most notably are these sticky semi-clear floaters.
Spellcheck wants to change 'semi-clear' to 'Semi-Charmed'. I'm guessing in reference to the song. Now, that's fame.
I took a walk yesterday in the snow, which was over my knees (at times). Today, my legs ache... mostly, my thighs.
FOOD: I'm not restocking either Milk or Chocolate. I'm out of Milk. But I've got well over five pounds of Chocolate. I go through a lot of Chocolate... at least, a pound a week.
Gutters: Maybe, they shouldn't be painted white. A nice heat absorbing color would help keep them clear {the water flowing} in winter.
A Thousand And One Steps To The Door
A Hundred Things To Get Out The Door
One Hundred Things To Do
Lose Track Of Space
Flip Back In Time
Maybe There's Too Much To Get Out The Door
This is a Forever Song. So, the last line is the first line in the next loop. Thus, in continuation, we have:
Maybe There's Too Much To Get Out The Door
Maybe There's Too Much To Do
Lighten The Load
Be More Like The Toad
Not Quite As Many Things To Get Out The Door
MEDIA: Wind In The Willows is being read to me, artisanally, bed-side entangled.
"There is little either of us have to say that the other wants to hear."
Might Is Right & Democracy refer to more-or-less the same thing. Hey, feel free to disagree. But perhaps, that just means one lacks a nuanced understanding.
"Oh, yeah? You and what army?"
Capiche?
I did more damage to my hand by 9AM, then most folks do all day.
I smashed a glass against the shelf putting it away and cut my hand.
Right on the fingertips.
Yikes!
"Why don't we keep on talking amiably," about politics, "until we find something to disagree about."
A Study In Wound Closure. No, that's not right. More like, A Study In Convalescence. Or at least, I assume the wound is closing. Gads! My Heart! At the notion of it never closing. It's like a Horror Movie... The Bleeding: It Never Stops!
Does Brain-Mind Code-Execution imply the ability to hack, reprogram, and rewrite?
[](){}()
Least Elegant Form: The Form (of an idea, perhaps mathematical), which is both Most Elegant (beautiful and/or pleasing to the intellect) and easiest to comprehend (i.e. is of Least Complexity). Ironically, my naming of this idea is an example of its polar opposite.
As part of my rehabilitation, I take off the outer bandage (more of a bedspread protector, but there for a reason), lift my hand in the air, and wiggle my fingers about, both for the movement; but also, to air out the wound. And then, I re-wrap the layer... a paper towel, the same as both inner linings. "DO IT! DO IT NOW!" Make it bleed. Wrap it until the bandage fouls or falls off. Well, that's what I did, anyhow.
Winter's not over until Winter says it is over.
Dumday
Tasting The Last of Winter
MEDIA: Mathematical Programming Philosophy - The Real Big Picture
Ten hours later and the original dressing (well, second original, the first original was taken off after a few moments to access damage and chart a course to recovery) is still in place. And instead of wrapping the two fingers (a deep cut on the Inside of my Left Pointer and the Side of my Left Index Finger) with a single wrapper, I have a folded over paper towel wrapped around each, acting as a buffer against the world. I believe this is what I am sleeping in. {Inside/Outside - Inside/Outside}
I had shiver like convulsions whenever I thought (i.e. looked directly at in my mind's eye) the gaping wound in full flow. The visage sickens my heart, even now. But the convulsions (cringes, spasms, waves of warning, death pangs, whatever) have passed... if an echo of the tremors {and/or tremblings} remains.
Saying It's Night Is Not An Insult To The Day
Starring Lightning: The Thunder Pony
Old Age is a place where you go to die.
Typing can be considered An Intermittent Reward Lever Press Exercise. Ergo Sum, them rats have nothing on me. I like cheese. And my mind is unto a maze, which thankfully has a nice tidbit of tasty goodness (i.e. cheese) hidden hither-and-thon.
I smoked for years. Two packs a day; perhaps, more. I did the French Inhale, letting the smoke curl out of my mouth and inhaling it through my nose. My sense of smell sucks and my nose is almost always on the brink of congestion. I blame smoking. The loss of smell (or at least, the greatly reduced sense of smell) is what I regret the most. Of course, that's only because that's what I notice.
Snow plow assisted drifts already reach to the bottom of our windowsill. I mean, it's an oddity, as we have an awesome parking lot view. Still, there are advantages. In this case, front door (or is it back door) access to the snow.
The excitement when sixty hours becomes six.
It's icicle weather... I hope.
Coming Up For Air
EYES: A Nice Violet Glow... while out in the snow.
WALK: Hell's Bells! I'm lost again!
FOOD: Crumpet! We've got a lot of high quality carbohydrates lying about. "I'll go Keto when they're gone" seems like a hazard filled gambit. But then, I'm not throwing out all those delicacies. So, what can I say? "I'm gonna go Keto when they're gone."
CIV: It's sort of amazing how much time I am willing to sink into this game. And yet, the write-ups give it that air of meaning.
FOOD: I had my last Hot Chocolate for awhile, this morning. I started drinking the stuff (two and three glasses of super decadent goop) back in 2006. But I'm going to go Semi-Keto... or at least low-carb. And a single cup of the stuff (the way I make it) basically breaks Keto. Maybe, I'll start a note about my Chocolate Jones. Yeah, I'm going to call it Cocoa Crazy... in honor of that unpublished work of mine.
EYES: My Eyes are clear (unblurry) enough today to see the other imperfections... most notably are these sticky semi-clear floaters.
Spellcheck wants to change 'semi-clear' to 'Semi-Charmed'. I'm guessing in reference to the song. Now, that's fame.
I took a walk yesterday in the snow, which was over my knees (at times). Today, my legs ache... mostly, my thighs.
FOOD: I'm not restocking either Milk or Chocolate. I'm out of Milk. But I've got well over five pounds of Chocolate. I go through a lot of Chocolate... at least, a pound a week.
Gutters: Maybe, they shouldn't be painted white. A nice heat absorbing color would help keep them clear {the water flowing} in winter.
A Thousand And One Steps To The Door
A Hundred Things To Get Out The Door
One Hundred Things To Do
Lose Track Of Space
Flip Back In Time
Maybe There's Too Much To Get Out The Door
This is a Forever Song. So, the last line is the first line in the next loop. Thus, in continuation, we have:
Maybe There's Too Much To Get Out The Door
Maybe There's Too Much To Do
Lighten The Load
Be More Like The Toad
Not Quite As Many Things To Get Out The Door
MEDIA: Wind In The Willows is being read to me, artisanally, bed-side entangled.
"There is little either of us have to say that the other wants to hear."
Might Is Right & Democracy refer to more-or-less the same thing. Hey, feel free to disagree. But perhaps, that just means one lacks a nuanced understanding.
"Oh, yeah? You and what army?"
Capiche?
I did more damage to my hand by 9AM, then most folks do all day.
I smashed a glass against the shelf putting it away and cut my hand.
Right on the fingertips.
Yikes!
"Why don't we keep on talking amiably," about politics, "until we find something to disagree about."
A Study In Wound Closure. No, that's not right. More like, A Study In Convalescence. Or at least, I assume the wound is closing. Gads! My Heart! At the notion of it never closing. It's like a Horror Movie... The Bleeding: It Never Stops!
Does Brain-Mind Code-Execution imply the ability to hack, reprogram, and rewrite?
[](){}()
Least Elegant Form: The Form (of an idea, perhaps mathematical), which is both Most Elegant (beautiful and/or pleasing to the intellect) and easiest to comprehend (i.e. is of Least Complexity). Ironically, my naming of this idea is an example of its polar opposite.
As part of my rehabilitation, I take off the outer bandage (more of a bedspread protector, but there for a reason), lift my hand in the air, and wiggle my fingers about, both for the movement; but also, to air out the wound. And then, I re-wrap the layer... a paper towel, the same as both inner linings. "DO IT! DO IT NOW!" Make it bleed. Wrap it until the bandage fouls or falls off. Well, that's what I did, anyhow.
Winter's not over until Winter says it is over.
Dumday
Tasting The Last of Winter
MEDIA: Mathematical Programming Philosophy - The Real Big Picture
Ten hours later and the original dressing (well, second original, the first original was taken off after a few moments to access damage and chart a course to recovery) is still in place. And instead of wrapping the two fingers (a deep cut on the Inside of my Left Pointer and the Side of my Left Index Finger) with a single wrapper, I have a folded over paper towel wrapped around each, acting as a buffer against the world. I believe this is what I am sleeping in. {Inside/Outside - Inside/Outside}
I had shiver like convulsions whenever I thought (i.e. looked directly at in my mind's eye) the gaping wound in full flow. The visage sickens my heart, even now. But the convulsions (cringes, spasms, waves of warning, death pangs, whatever) have passed... if an echo of the tremors {and/or tremblings} remains.
I developed a Palmistry System for my fingers:
Underbelly Cut From Past Priorities
Emotional Turmoil From Parts Unexpected
{Left Hand Past. Right Hand Future. Index Direction. Middle Emotion. Ring Health. Pinky Spiritual. Thumb Individuation. The system focused much more on the current state (cuts, callouses, and so on) than wrinkles and such. I stopped because it seemed like losing a finger was an expensive price to pay for a little divinational insight.}
There's a shudder.
Lots of glasses (wine glasses and small tumblers) have been broken in the last year. We may take them all out of circulation, using Coffee Cups, instead.
Oh, my! The electric currents. So intense. "One simply must pay attention, my dear. There is no ignoring it."
It's like I'm back on a daily quota {writing-wise}, trying to fill a section. Nah. Maybe. More like, I've got a mini-project going {WOUND}. And I do like my projects.
I was betrayed. PERIOD. STOP. END OF MESSAGE.
The wounds healed remarkably well. Nice and tight. It's a little problematic at the loose skin, the overlap, the tiny bit where it was jagged. But for the most, the wound was very clean. Two Band-Aids are doing the trick, allowing me to wear gloves. Though, I still have to baby them.
I split-open my index finger getting groceries out of the car. Silly mistake. But I was feeling quite cocky. In fact, moments before, I was planning on making a note, explaining how I had used Hand Salve (which I use a lot of, on account of perpetually dry hands from washing so often) for the first time since the injury. Well, at least the split was much smaller (and gruesome) than the original injury.
I doubt I lost a tablespoon of blood. Yesterday. Today. Overall. I mean, it was probably more like a teaspoon... maybe a teaspoon and a half. Sure, it was gushing. But I applied pressure fast.
Mommy → Mom → Mother.
I like to go to The Library, sit down, and sing {at the top of my lungs}.
WOUND (Cut Fingers): No Band-Aid. No Pain. My thumb traces out the ridge on the underside tip of my Index Finger, where the two halves meet. The connection seems tight at the root. But it needs to grow in... or out... heal. I keep my Index and Pointer (mostly) locked together... whenever the task allows, at least. If I rest my head on my hand, I feel pressure in the tip. There is some concern regarding the wound bursting open. That would be bad.
Sugar Is My Twelve Step Program
WALK: The snow is melting... or will be when I actually walk. But let's go ahead and make this note, now, anyway.
Beware The Blue Thing That Glows
WALK: A Study In Snow
WOUND: That's the second piece of skin I've snipped with my Nail Clippers.
What are the appropriate Test Cases to which A Valid Morality must Return True? {In other words, let us develop the Battery of Tests that a Working Morality must solve correctly. It's like Test Driven Development but for Ethics.}
WALK: Not quite slush. But getting there. The snow will be mostly gone from the grass (but not the plow piles) by Monday. {I was wrong. A week from Monday may be more accurate.}
I, maybe, should start a Meditation Tag... just for the motivation, if nothing else. But Meditation {as a word} seems a bit long. Let me Meditate on it and see if I come up with anything better. {Perhaps, RELAX:}
Um, maybe, I should just start meditating...
WOUND: Clipping off the dead skin so there's nothing to catch on has made all the difference.
The Snowman Family Saga: Dad Man Down
@Eyes_of_a_Blind_Man
Oh, right. SFS! Three Snowmen. Mom and Two Kids. Dad added later. Slightly askew. To the side. All is well. We're a happy family. Days. Yes, days. But all is not well. All is not calm. Dad Man Down! A Snowman Obliterated! Time Passes. Memory melts away. Nothing to see here. Move along.
FOOD: Egg Sushi
WOUND: It's been five days. The Index Finger could pop open... maybe... a little. But The Index Finger is mostly healed. I had the impulse to pick off the scab and feel there would only be a slight bit of blood. But I will resist the urge.
WALK: A Nice Icy Crust
DREAM: A fire started in my childhood bedroom. And rather than trying to extinguish it, I simply closed the door and walked away. I wanted the whole house to burn down.
I probably can go until the end of March. If I don't hear anything until the 5th, I probably should go until the end of March.
If I can do a Week (and I can do a Week), why not a Month? A Year? Or even Forever?
A mental error revealed; and suddenly, I am calm. It is 3AM. But I am calm. There us neither push nor pull.
How many Christians were converted by their parents? It's an interesting question.
The Intergenerational Transference Of Belief: It's Modes & Methods.
If you have no power, you have no power. And I will grant you no power over me.
Is Sin a sign of Intelligence? Or more accurately, if Sin is ruled out, is Intelligence ruled out, as well?
My Profound Hope doesn't work anywhere else, so why should it work in the creation of an Afterlife?
Even God Wants An Afterlife
I went to Bible School. This is what I was taught to be.
CIV: I don't feel like playing today. It was easy to push it off. Different days have different meanings. But this is a fun day, the type of day to which I decided to limit my CIV Playing. And I have no desire to play. Maybe, I am just done with The Pericles Peninsula Map. It's hard to believe I will lose this time around.
FOOD: Scotch Eggs w/ Mustard Sauce. Let's close out the month with a bang.
Johnny Boy The Ghost: He's so old and senile, he forgets he's dead.
Don't be like Fredo. And be willing to kill Fredo. That's all it takes.
WALK: Six Inches Of Slush
My Neurotic Circuitry needs something to worry about.
Lots of glasses (wine glasses and small tumblers) have been broken in the last year. We may take them all out of circulation, using Coffee Cups, instead.
Oh, my! The electric currents. So intense. "One simply must pay attention, my dear. There is no ignoring it."
It's like I'm back on a daily quota {writing-wise}, trying to fill a section. Nah. Maybe. More like, I've got a mini-project going {WOUND}. And I do like my projects.
I was betrayed. PERIOD. STOP. END OF MESSAGE.
The wounds healed remarkably well. Nice and tight. It's a little problematic at the loose skin, the overlap, the tiny bit where it was jagged. But for the most, the wound was very clean. Two Band-Aids are doing the trick, allowing me to wear gloves. Though, I still have to baby them.
I split-open my index finger getting groceries out of the car. Silly mistake. But I was feeling quite cocky. In fact, moments before, I was planning on making a note, explaining how I had used Hand Salve (which I use a lot of, on account of perpetually dry hands from washing so often) for the first time since the injury. Well, at least the split was much smaller (and gruesome) than the original injury.
I doubt I lost a tablespoon of blood. Yesterday. Today. Overall. I mean, it was probably more like a teaspoon... maybe a teaspoon and a half. Sure, it was gushing. But I applied pressure fast.
Mommy → Mom → Mother.
I like to go to The Library, sit down, and sing {at the top of my lungs}.
WOUND (Cut Fingers): No Band-Aid. No Pain. My thumb traces out the ridge on the underside tip of my Index Finger, where the two halves meet. The connection seems tight at the root. But it needs to grow in... or out... heal. I keep my Index and Pointer (mostly) locked together... whenever the task allows, at least. If I rest my head on my hand, I feel pressure in the tip. There is some concern regarding the wound bursting open. That would be bad.
Sugar Is My Twelve Step Program
WALK: The snow is melting... or will be when I actually walk. But let's go ahead and make this note, now, anyway.
Beware The Blue Thing That Glows
WALK: A Study In Snow
WOUND: That's the second piece of skin I've snipped with my Nail Clippers.
What are the appropriate Test Cases to which A Valid Morality must Return True? {In other words, let us develop the Battery of Tests that a Working Morality must solve correctly. It's like Test Driven Development but for Ethics.}
WALK: Not quite slush. But getting there. The snow will be mostly gone from the grass (but not the plow piles) by Monday. {I was wrong. A week from Monday may be more accurate.}
I, maybe, should start a Meditation Tag... just for the motivation, if nothing else. But Meditation {as a word} seems a bit long. Let me Meditate on it and see if I come up with anything better. {Perhaps, RELAX:}
Um, maybe, I should just start meditating...
WOUND: Clipping off the dead skin so there's nothing to catch on has made all the difference.
The Snowman Family Saga: Dad Man Down
@Eyes_of_a_Blind_Man
Oh, right. SFS! Three Snowmen. Mom and Two Kids. Dad added later. Slightly askew. To the side. All is well. We're a happy family. Days. Yes, days. But all is not well. All is not calm. Dad Man Down! A Snowman Obliterated! Time Passes. Memory melts away. Nothing to see here. Move along.
FOOD: Egg Sushi
WOUND: It's been five days. The Index Finger could pop open... maybe... a little. But The Index Finger is mostly healed. I had the impulse to pick off the scab and feel there would only be a slight bit of blood. But I will resist the urge.
WALK: A Nice Icy Crust
DREAM: A fire started in my childhood bedroom. And rather than trying to extinguish it, I simply closed the door and walked away. I wanted the whole house to burn down.
I probably can go until the end of March. If I don't hear anything until the 5th, I probably should go until the end of March.
If I can do a Week (and I can do a Week), why not a Month? A Year? Or even Forever?
A mental error revealed; and suddenly, I am calm. It is 3AM. But I am calm. There us neither push nor pull.
How many Christians were converted by their parents? It's an interesting question.
The Intergenerational Transference Of Belief: It's Modes & Methods.
If you have no power, you have no power. And I will grant you no power over me.
Is Sin a sign of Intelligence? Or more accurately, if Sin is ruled out, is Intelligence ruled out, as well?
My Profound Hope doesn't work anywhere else, so why should it work in the creation of an Afterlife?
Even God Wants An Afterlife
I went to Bible School. This is what I was taught to be.
CIV: I don't feel like playing today. It was easy to push it off. Different days have different meanings. But this is a fun day, the type of day to which I decided to limit my CIV Playing. And I have no desire to play. Maybe, I am just done with The Pericles Peninsula Map. It's hard to believe I will lose this time around.
FOOD: Scotch Eggs w/ Mustard Sauce. Let's close out the month with a bang.
Johnny Boy The Ghost: He's so old and senile, he forgets he's dead.
Don't be like Fredo. And be willing to kill Fredo. That's all it takes.
WALK: Six Inches Of Slush
My Neurotic Circuitry needs something to worry about.
Next Diary Project Entry
Home Diary Project Index
Will I Buy a House?
Shall I Buy a House?
Will Said House be Haunted?
Shall I Buy a House?
Will Said House be Haunted?
© copyright 2021 Brett Paufler
paufler.net@gmail.com