Saturday, November 26, 2011

To Our Destroyers

An ode to our destroyers is in order. Though I myself could never be one, I do see their value. Stand assured I have NO intention of destroying anything, except of course quite possibly a delicious cake.

Though horrible and cruel, though vicious and vile, destroyers have their place in our far from perfect world. They kill, thus taking away a human life, but as they do so, they also teach us the value of said life. We value our own and those around us so much more. No more are there forgotten birthdays and holidays lacking family. They teach us how to be human, while doing the exact oppisite. Without comparison how can you tell light is light? Light needs dark just as we need destroyers.

So a world of heroes would be quite the horrible place to go. A world of light would pounce on any slight shade, any slight difference, preceiving something more than what was actully there. Rules would be vicious and cruel while giving the air of justice and honor. A world without freedom, and justice without freedom is doomed to fail. A world where everyone must be a hero is a world without sincerity. It becomes a world of duty and not a world of love. People do as they must, not because they could.

Smiles behind bars so lovley. A cage of gold is still a cage in truth. One that is so much harder to escape. No one will understand evil, no one will understand the things that they guard against. Temptation is more seductive without our destroyers there to blacken our stage. Sins are only sins because we know what they mean. We know what happens when we indulge. Sins of the evil therefore make us all that much more honest.

Our dear destroyers set the contrast as we set the brightness.

As they induldge we appall, and thus we complete each other.

They are our bastards, our villians, our virulent dictators, and persons most foul. They are the scum, and yet they are the saviors of us all though it may not seem as much. They save our humanity as they waste their's away. They show us how low we can fall, and thus how high we can go. God needs the devil, and we need our terrorist. We will never applaud them, we will never congratulate them, nor will we give them the time of day.

So I toast them. I give them few precious words, but I will speak of them no more. They belong in our shadows as we belong in their light.

So be gone destroyers. Ave atque vale. Go back to your shadows.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Rorschach's Journal

We are all our own little ink blots. Random creations, mistakes even, and each different from the last. All are judged upon sight from society. There is a symmetry to us all that is really only unique to each person, no matter how mundane or disturbing.

I guess its a more interesting way of saying we are all snow flakes. At least more acurrate.

For starters, none of my friends melt. Granted, I have never been friends with the Wicked Witch of the West.

Snowflakes seem so beautiful and people aren't. We really are a cruel and selfish race. Don't get me wrong, there is good in us, but as a whole we are far from kind. Just look what humanity has done to the rest of the earth to better itself, and on a person by person basest there are a lot less "beautiful" people than "ugly". Snowflakes are only skin deep. They just are, and there is no meaning behind that.

Ink blots are rough, and seemingly random. They can look ugly, beautiful, and everywhere inbetween. They represent something, something good or sinister. They have the potential for both. I have yet to meet an evil snowflake though that would be both interesting and possibly scary.

So we are all ink blots my friends.

I wonder what I would look like as an ink blot? I doubt I'd be that butterfly one though I do like bats.

So, I just looked at a whole bunch of them to try to figure it out, and I just saw something cool. The one that is supposed to be an animal hide I see the top of Big Ben/a sky scraper of some sort. I guess since that is the Father card I want to blow up my father.  I blame V for Vendetta. That or it could mean something along the lines of Gotham and Batman. Either way, my mind has been corrupted by comics.
You see it now too, don't you?

There I go again, corrupting more innocnet minds. Ah well, you had it coming eventually. I now can't stop staring at it.

What was I saying.......Oh yeah, we are all ink blots, free to be interpreted and judged completely wrong or right. The difference is the ink blots themselves are innocent, they can not control what people see in them. We can, and sadly some of us don't try to better themselves in anyway. They are more concerened by making sure that everything looks just the way they are told they are supposed to be. Those are the people most like snowflakes. Those are the people that want to BE snowflakes instead what they actually can be.

Snowflakes suck. Screw you snowflakes.

Its odd to talk about ink blots and not immediatly to go Watchmen, but up until now I managed. If only people could live as black and white as he did. But we can't. People aren't black and white, well some people are (haha). We are grays layered upon grays, forever reaching toward either black or white, but never really getting there. So why reach? Why not embrace the grey? Why try to fall in line with every commandment of society, or completely rebel all the time aganst every little thing? Why not just be? That seems to be a really hard thing to understand now a days. There is no big hammer that will smash you if you do something society merely frowns upon, like cutting in line, but there is one if you kill someone.

Everything inbetween the ink and the paper is whatever you want it to be. Whatever you want to see, and that is freeing.

Take that Snowflakes!

Monday, November 7, 2011


All the years that I have spent on this earth, and they are few, I have come to believe that the world is run on irony. The more the idea bounces around in my head the more sure of it I am. No, I do not mean verbal irony for all you English nerds out there who are probably smugly stating to their computer screens, as they correct my grammar of course, that there are three types of irony. No, I am sure that the world runs on situational irony and, only if there is a God, which I am highly suspect, dramatic irony.

I'll wait a few moments for the non-English nerds to figure out what the the hell I am talking about.....Okay.

Situational irony is when the result of an action is contrary to the desired or expected effect. For example, the fact that the song Ironic by Alanis Morrisette is not in itself ironic, but merely misfortunate creates irony. Add the fact that this was probably obtained accidentally (the irony that a song about irony isn't ironic) and that just adds more fuel to the fire. That song probably genertaed enough power the idea of jumbo shrimp.

Now, take a moment to think about the events in your life, and in no time you will start to believe in my theory.

Dramatic irony is when words and actions possess a significance that the listener or audience understands, but the speaker or character does not. So if there is a God, which again I am highly suspect, he is watching and mostly likely laughing his ass off. Which in a way seems cruel, and usually I am one for cruel things, to a point, if they are funny, but even I am not that heartless. Would that make God akin to the Joker? That would kind of explain a lot, and does pose some intertesting thoughts. Hmph. Taking the idea further, would that then make Jesus Harley Quin? Sorry to bash some religious views but it is an intresting thought and it does seem to make a eerie sense to me.

God as the Joker.  Purely in things for the amusement of himself. There is no plan, no greater idea then the direct problems before him and how to make them oh so fun. Thus, in turn, creates chaos in which he takes a special delight in because the end goal is really to teach that there really are no rules, no real consequeces, for our actions in the end. We all can do whatever we what and this is really nothing more than the Land Of Do As You Please. We just have to open our eyes to see it. See "Mister G"

And that is where Jesus comes in. Taking all the abuse that Mister G throws his way for the sake of being near him and his "love". And it makes sense that "Mister G" laid down some rules. How else would people learn to break them? Dear dear Jesus just does his best to do whatever he is told to by God not really understanding much of the "plan" himself.

 I am, obviously, quite the comic book nerd.

This is the part where my fiance would point out, to break the mood and try desperatly to get back on topic, that the world runs on iron (as in the center of the earth) and that is it in fact "iron-y". Please feel free to roll your eyes at that. I usually do, but hey, I love him for it.

Whatever the case may be, the "energy" that makes things "happen" has to come from somewhere so why not something that seems to amazing abudent. Why else would everything have to end so painfully ironic? Which, by the way, if energy is not either created or destroyed is the exception to that God?

Well its late and I do have work tomorrow. Sadly I am not paid to think up humorous things all day, though I do that too.

Ave atque vale.