Fleeting

Death is not something we, as people, like to consider. A horrible, grim face hanging over us through our measly portion of days. But what, I ask, would we do if days were not so scarce in our fleeting lives? Would we live better as a result, or merely worse?

One of mankind's biggest challenges is to smash this idea that we are invincible. We are all well aware of our own mortality, that much is true. Yet we live like this were not the case. We seek advantages to squeeze into our mere three score and ten years. We are conditioned, quite horribly, to strive to provide for our offspring beyond our deaths, despite their being , presumably, more than capable to provide for themselves. We are encouraged to live as much as possible. Sadly, in this world, with this order, that means extracting as much as we can for ourselves and our lineage, much to the detriment of all else. Other people, other beings, other lifeforms, other organisms - they can all go to hell as far as we are told to concern ourselves. What matters is ours and our own.

These divides are always based upon kinship, as they are in nature. But unlike in nature we are made to fight against our better judgment. We do not for the species. We do not for our genetic kin. We do for our enforced kin. Our families, our friends, our fellows in belief, our fellows in nation, our fellows in artificially created society. Ask yourselves what is wrong with this? We are a creature that by statistical significance, is as much chimpanzee as human being. Indeed, by statistical significance we are probably as much sponge as human being. So why, then, do we insist on keeping our advantage within our own sphere?

What is more, has man not reason? Can we not think? I had always assumed we could. The problem is, we are so intelligent that while we can think, so can we be manipulated to think certain ways. Especially so when indoctrination into thinking in those ways begins before our birth and continues well into senescence.

We, human beings, are so blessed with mental capacity that we are as much children of environment as we are of genetics and upbringing. Genes can be switched on and off, and instincts too, by what we are taught, what we experience and what we feel growing up. So here is what I propose to teach.

I propose to teach every human being the utter fleetingness of their life outside the sphere of humanity. To put it into a universal, a planetary, a living, a biological kingdom, a biological phylum, a biological class, a biological order, a biological family, a biological tribe, a biological family and a biological species, order. To teach each and every individual just how truly, incredibly, unbelievably insignificant they are - and to teach them also just how statistically unlikely they are and how this makes them truly special. I propose we teach people the nature of existence and, for all organisms, how short it is in the scale of universal time. To teach every single living person on this planet just how lucky they are to be alive, how unlikely their life is and why, therefore, it is imperative we protect and improve all life, particularly that which is too vulnerable to protect itself.

We are but a brief sneeze in time. A statistical anomaly in space. We are nothing, yet we are everything. From the first moment RNA was somehow fabricated to the evolved, DNA based beings we are now - we are but a footnote in the annals of eternity, and this is what truly makes life so precious. Life is not precious because we have it, it is precious because we all - all living species upon Earth, someday will not. Life is not precious because of the clothes you wear, the music you listen to, the television you enjoy, the company you keep or the moments you spend. Life is precious because, but for statistical chance, none of them could exist - and failing statistical impossibility - all will one day be gone. Maybe some think this is a dreadfully depressing and nihilistic attitude to take. But are not the most short-lived of wonderful moments the most precious? Should we not, as a human race, be aiming to maximise the number of these moments for all, rather than hoarding them for ourselves? Should we not at least try to make the world a better place, so that future generations may gaze upon the legacy we have left them and say "All this was made possible by a few who realised why life was truly sacred...Not because life was, but because it just as easily may not have been, and certainly will not be in the future"?

I don't ask for a huge change in all those living. Choices are easy, enforcing them when the social order is against you is very difficult. But I do ask for a change. I ask for a change in mindset, from one that declares life as sacred - after all, this merely enforces the ego-driven idea that our individual life must be more sacred to us than others - to one that declares life as merely a fleeting random chance. I ask for a change in mindset that says that pursuit of one's own gains should only be taken so as to provide more for those disadvantageous enough not to receive those gains. I ask for a change that sees all human life as TRULY equal, from the richest to the poorest - the healthiest to the sickest - the youngest to the oldest. We are all bonded by life, we will all be unified in death. We are either babes or corpses and nothing more nor less.

Maybe it is egotistical of me to ask this from people who do not think like me. But ego is merely expression of self, and I am a sad and desperate man who is hurt more by others' suffering than by his own. My ego asks that everyone accept this parity and demand change, so that those whose suffering we feel suffer no more. I am, also, the kind of egotist who would put himself on the line to see this happen. Is this a bad ego? You tell me...

I have seen, in my too short a number of days on this Earth, many people living. People getting on with their lives, doing their own thing, without knowingly harming others. This is how life should be. But only in a world where others are not harmed by this ignorance and apathy. Sadly, the comforts we enjoy do come at the cost of the comfort and quality of life of others. This is what I ask we consider. This is what I ask we change. For the good of humanity, and the good of all life on the planet.

Peace and love.

Zombmemes: I Herd U Liek Undeadz

“How are we going to tell the people Bill? You’re so anxious in your rehearsal, you need to know what to say and when to say it!?” The nervous producer said tentatively.

Bill was not amused, his tie flicked angrily like it were the forked tongue of some hungry lizard, he slammed his hand on the desk angrily and screamed “FUCK IT! WE’LL DO IT LIVE!” Bill embarrassed himself somewhat by doing this but most people were already aware of his crippling douchebagitis and so just laughed.

The time for doing it live came (that’s what she said) – and Bill was more relaxed and sombre. His voice now carried an air of paternal comfort, but beneath that thin veneer of false compassion, everyone knew Bill was still a heartless demon. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we come to you live with this emergency bulletin. Yesterday, at approximately 6pm, a small child, known as Charlie, bit his brother – on the finger, allegedly. This set into motion a trail of events that today has led to the deaths of millions and threatens to kill more – indeed, it threatens to kill us all. Humans get bitten, they turn into zombies – You can’t explain that! The government advises that you kindly sit tight and allow yourselves to die while the rich people hide away underground ready to enslave survivors in FEMA camps once it has all blown over. Now here’s a clip of a reporter treading grapes and falling over!”

Somewhere, in the distance, one could hear the loud cries of “FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”

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Philosoraptor’s Thoughts

If a human bites a zombie, does the zombie turn human?
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“Ancient Aliens Guy, Y U NO HAVE THE ANSWERS!?” said Y U NO Guy.

“I don’t know the answers. But I know who sent us the questions...It was aliens! Do you know extraterrestrials helped develop mankind!?”

“Cool story, bro!” came a sarcastic reply.

“But what are we going to do?” came a vaguely sensible voice!

“They bite, we fight. Only doubt holds you back!” came a husky voice from the back.

“Erm...You’re a wolf, who the fuck are you to give advice!?” the sensible voice piped up again.

“Look, all I know,” said Bear, “Is that, when a zombie apocalypse comes...You’re going to need to drink a lot of your own piss!”

“DRINK ALL THE PISS!” another excited voice screamed.

“I say we fight. Get me a M1 Garand, with a scope and a bayonet and shit, I’ll rip the zombies to shreds like I do on Nazi Zombies all the fucking time, bro! BOOM! HEADSHOT!” said an enthusiastic young man.

“Watch out!” Neil added, “We got a badass over here!”

The boy’s father stepped in to make sure everyone knew this was false bravado. “Son...” he said, the pause being one pregnant with an infant of shame, much as the boy’s mother had been, “...I am disappoint.”

“I can’t fight! I took an arrow in the knee!” said a tired old knight. “Hinders my movement, you see. I’ll probably die!” His defeated manner of speech made Keanu sad.

“YOU DON’T SAY!” shouted a rather threatening, apathetic Nic Cage.

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Socially Awkward Penguin Says;

Bite playfully during sex...

...Get shot for being zombie.
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“Right, this looks dangerous.” said the sensible voice, now in different company than previously, having left on account of their all being silly memes. “We’ve got a horde of vicious flesh eaters outside the door. How are we going to get through!?”

“DO A BARREL ROLL!” said Peppy.

“Peppy, now is not the time to...”

“DO A BARREL ROLL!” Peppy interrupted.

“Here’s what we’ll do...” Someone else said.

“...A barrel roll?” Peppy interrupted again.

“I’ll charge through, get to that KFC over there where I’ll get hot oil and clear the way for the rest of you leaving in my wake a pile of crispy deep fried zombie...”

“Okay, great plan, when will we...” replied the sensible voice before being interrupted again.

“LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY JENKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINS!” shouted Leeroy as he ran through the crowd to KFC. Two zombies fell in a sexually suggestive heap...

RULE 34!

...and Leeroy ploughed through them all the way to the chicken shop. The spicy, oily aromas filled his nostrils and suddenly the brushed stainless steel of the kitchen was very alluring.

“Leeroy?” Said Sensible.

“DO A BARREL ROLL!” said Peppy.

“Leeroy!?” Sensible said again. “Leeroy!? LEEROY!? AREN’T YOU GOING TO HELP US! YOU CAN’T JUST STAY THERE, YOU’LL DIE!”

“...least I have chicken...” he replied, and nommed some juicy chicken titties.

Sensible facepalmed.

“DO A BARREL ROLL!” said Peppy, and forehead met the heel of the hand once more. “No, you daft motherfuckers! Listen to me. There’s a big fucking barrel of explosive there – precariously dangled above the area in which we are worrying about how to get through the fucking zombies. ROLL THE FUCKING BARREL – It’ll go boom, we all win! Motherfuckers never listen to me...DO A BARREL ROLL, DO A BARREL ROLL! I suppose you think it’s a big joke! IT’S SOUND FUCKING ADVICE!” Peppy added angrily and was correct. A huge barrel was above there, but there was one problem. It seemed to be held in place...BY MAGNETS!

“FUCKING MAGNETS! How do they work!?” came the voice of a fat man pretending to be tough by wearing excessive amounts of makeup.

Luckily, sensible realised that the magnetic force was quite a weak one and with enough resistance it can easily be overcome, so he pushed the barrel and it rolled down and hit the zombies and they exploded into lots of bits of rotting meat and shit. Following behind, Xzibit approached the zombies with a new weapon.

“Yo dawg! I heard you like shotgun shells, so I put shotgun shells on your shotgun shells so you can get shot while you’re being shot!” He cried triumphantly, and got into his car-inside-a-car, opening the passenger side door tauntingly “YO DAWG!” he said with even more excitement, “I heard you like shotguns, so I put shotguns in your shotguns – then you get in here,” he pointed to the passenger seat “And you can ride shotgun while you shotgun with shotguns!”

“X-to-tha-motherfuckin’-Z, I do rather suspect you have a mental problem. I’m not sure you should be shotgunning while you shotgun with all those shotguns and a twice shotgun shelled zombie riding shotgun. Health and safety, you know?” said Sensible, sensibly.

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Trolololol’s Advice

I suggest you put on the radio! There’s an emergency broadcast telling you where to go to get help and be protected!

*Puts on radio*

“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you...”

TROLOLOLOL RICKROLOLOLOL!

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NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN.

NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN.

“NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN!” NYAN NYAN NYAN. NYAN NYAN NYAN “NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN.”

“NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN! NYAN!” NYAN NYAN.

NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN.

NYAN, NYAN NYAN. DERP!

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Is that a member of the walking dead, come back to life to feast upon our living human flesh?

Nope, Chuck Testa!

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“Laydeez an jentulmans. Is meh, Ceiling Cat. Am come to tells yoo awl dat fings is rilly okai! Am deeling wiz teh problums now. Iz just sum zombeez. COME AT ME BRO! YEAH! NOT SO TOUGH NOW! “ Ceiling cat said reassuringly, and being an omniscient, omnipotent sort, probably got shit done.

And so, ceiling cat, and the army of irritatingly cute, brightly coloured and adored by adult men ponies kicked the zombie threat out of Memeland – Possibly with a Zerg rush.

“You’ll never be a successful writer with shit like this!” said Cereal Guy.

Many Pokémon joined the battle too, including Mudkips. I herd you liek mudkipz.

“Serious, he’s not going to end like this is he!?” Cereal Guy added.

And not a single fuck was given that day.

“Pftpsphrphftplsplat!” Apart from by cereal guy, who spat his cereal fucking everywhere. 

He

Alone atop a hill sat a wish. A dream. 
His hair flowing casually in the breeze, 
like it was dancing. A tango of truth. 
He gazed wistfully into the distance, 
his blank expression telling a story. 
A tale of woe. Of battles lost and won. 
Of love and loss. Of a dead heart. 

The sun rose in the distance.
Hugging the horizon and reflected
in the ocean, like a sea of gold. 
He watched. But it did not stir him.
For warmth was a pain to him. 
He had no regard for himself. 
He was a wish for others. 
He was their dream. Their desire. 

He was a body without form. 
A deserving unworthiness. 
An ego with self disregard. 
He was but a dream. 
Fearing the awakening.  

Your Unicorn is Just a Horse

One day you must just close the book
and tell yourself 
“The fairytale does not exist.”

The melancholy shall pass. 
You will learn the hollow futility 
of mourning the loss 
of something you never even had
to lose. 

Your eyes, strained and teary
will, for a while, 
see only shades of sad blue-grey. 
But colour will return. 
Vibrancy will come again. 

And as you see the world anew
you will spy new opportunities. 
New tales, greater than those fictions. 
You will see that your unicorn 
is just a horse. 
But with it you can do many a great thing. 

And the truth. That provides great clarity. 
In this tale
even the good guys die in the end.  

Ice Cream

Delicate crystals twinkle, 
formed into a ball and placed
atop a waffled king 
like some sweet, majestic crown. 

Each molten drip that falls
down the sides of the crispy
body that holds it aloft,
looking like creamy tears of joy.

And each lap a labour of love
as you savour the sweet creamy flavour. 
Ice cold, yet so warming.
A sweet treat, a delight in heat.  

It's About Fucking

Two vines intertwined 
a verdant mesh and mangle.
Dripping dew drops 
the malachite lovers entangled 
in unbridled glory. 

Nature holds no greater beauty. 
As one viridian beast locks with another, 
fairer in texture, in heart, in spirit
and clasps his myriad tendrils around her
prickling at her delicate stoma
with his proud, erect thorns. 

A savagely beautiful act, 
from which flowers bloom
and sweet fruits grow;
and seeds of progeny planted
make the miracle of life.  

Blushing

What cosmic sweet nothings are whispered, 
softly, and lovingly into the ears of the sky
to make it blush such a rich magenta
as the sun rises and falls?

What words of love, 
or delicate, yet unsuspected kiss
does the sun bestow upon her 
that she should turn such shade? 

Aye, but a blushing sky is only half as magnificent
as the delicate rose hued cheeks of a lady. 
Her coy smile setting her face in a pose
so timeless and pulchritudinous 
as a pre-Raphaelite oil on canvas. 

How I long to brush those rouged cheeks
with my rude, unworthy hand. 
How much I want to embrace that timeless beauty
and absorb the warmth emanating from her soul
and ease the freezing of my own shattered icicle heart. 
So that I, like the sky, may feel kissed by the sun. 
And hear those same words that make our cerulean canopy
turn pink, and flushed with arousal.