The Principle of Kozmic Kewlness

         The Principle of Kozmic Kewlness

 

The same generation of physicists, and some of the same individuals, were responsible for both the Big Bang theory and the atomic bomb. I consider this to be an instance of a rule: that scientists tend to see the universe as resembling an impressive feature of human society at the time.

Thus the Great Chain of Being during the monarchistic medieval period; the Clockwork Universe during the runup to industrialization, and Inflationary Theory during a time of guess what. I call this the “Principle of Kozmic Kewlness”.

From the Principle of Kozmic Kewlness I predict that the next cosmological paradigm will be that the universe is a quantum computation that recycles.

There is no right to not be offended

There is no right to not be offended

 

There is no such thing as a right to not be offended. That’s because life itself is offensive. Everyone alive burps, coughs, sneezes, passes gas, urinates, and defecates. That’s disgusting! Death is depressing, birth is messy, and sex is rude. I object! So to be against being offended is to be against life.

Inoculating my Daughter

          Inoculating my Daughter

 

I once had the honor of giving my daughter Hannah an inoculation against a common teenage ailment. I refer to Objectivism; for she asked me about Ayn Rand, and I gave her my informed opinion.

Specifically I told Hannah about the infamous railroad scene in “Atlas Shrugged”. I detailed the set-up; the dangerous tunnel, the idiotic bureaucrat’s suicidal demand, the chain of buck-passing, the fatal go-ahead, the complaisent workers, the train’s doom... all of which I described with admiration for Rand’s meticulousness (for once not tiresome) and her passion. A death machine of incompetence and spinelessness, clickety-clicking right there before your eyes! A masterpiece of eldritch horror! That scene was this close to Literature!

But the moment the train entered the tunnel, her writing all went horribly wrong! For Rand then focused on the passengers; a risky move if you do it wrong, and she did. For what if (I asked Hannah) that train had been full of good people? Or perhaps even a few of them super-virtuous by Rand’s elitist Objectivist standards? For them to die alongside the idiot bureaucrat would been supreme injustice; a raw red wound, an affront against humanity! What if Rand had raged and wailed against the sick cruelty of the idiot world? That (I told Hannah) would have been writing!

But no! By the way Rand told it, everyone on the train was an idiot moocher, as bad as the bureaucrat, and so everyone got what they deserved! (Hannah rolled her eyes upon hearing this.) Instant justice, automatic karma, all’s well with the world! Rand got that close to Literature, but at the last moment she turned it into Propaganda!

The trainwreck scene was itself a trainwreck!  And that (I told Hannah) is Ayn Rand.

Waking Up Next To A Zilchbill

Waking Up Next To A Zilchbill

 

           Attached find a master sheet for the “Zilchbill”, plus a large zilchbill, both sides. L'art pour l'art: art for its own sake!

I finished this in grad school, the day before my paycheck cleared. There was little left in my account, so I drew it down to the minimum, and I went to the copy shop. I finished the zilchbill by emptying my wallet, then I went home, to my small upstairs apartment.

The next morning, when I awoke, I could see my breath condense in the cold bedroom air; I could see through the doorway to the kitchen, where there was no food on the shelves; and next to me on the bed was a Zilchbill. I cried out, "I did it! I'm a starving artist in a garret!"

That day my paycheck cleared, and I went shopping. Poverty's an interesting place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there.

 

 

 

 

Does Berkeley Exist? 8 of 8: Skeptical Summary

Skeptical Summary

 

So there you have it. Time control, a unicorn, a ten-second vacation, mammary planet, a dream room, and the ghost of a ghost; I witnessed all of those marvels in Berkeley.

In each case, the true weirdness wasn’t the weirdness; it was the suspiciously brisk resurgence of normalcy. The clock beat me, the unicorn was a goat, I zapped back to the street corner, women shape-shifted back, the dream matched the room, and Walter spooked me by not being a spook. How neat! How convenient! How life-like!

It all made perfect sense at the time; but now that I look back, I’m skeptical. Are such shenanigans possible?  Is Berkeley?

I doubt it, but even so, I was there. I lived in Berkeley. I saw those things. So if Berkeley doesn’t exist, then neither do I. What’s more, I wrote these tales, and you’ve read them; so if I don’t exist, then neither do these tales, and neither do you.

If you’re real, then so are these stories, and so am I, and so is Berkeley; but so, too, were the preposterous events here described.

So I ask you, dear reader:

Does Berkeley exist?

 

Does Berkeley Exist? 7 of 6: Ghost of a Ghost

          Ghost of a Ghost

         

          It was the day before scattering the ashes of my friend Walter. I visited the grieving, turbulent family’s street. I write ‘street’, not ‘house’, because they had two houses on that street, at opposite ends of the block. Such was his family’s turbulence. I could say more, but that would be a long story.

          The ash-scattering was to happen far away, early the next day. We all had to start out early in the morning, so I stayed over for the night. The only bed free for me was Walter’s.

          As I prepared for bed, I wondered if I would dream of him. Will I meet his ghost? In Walter’s turbulent circle of dramatic fantasists, for him to become a ghost would be normal. But I wasn’t scared. In fact I welcomed a spooky encounter. I turned off the light, laid down in Walter’s bed, and closed my eyes.

          The next thing I knew, it was morning. I was awake and refreshed. My mind was clear. I remembered no dreams at all.

          That’s when I knew, deep down, that Walter was gone. Ever since then I have been haunted by the presence of his absence.

 

Does Berkeley Exist, 6 of 8: Dream Room

          Dream Room

          I was sitting up in bed, reading a book. It was late, I was tired. Then I noticed something odd; the words of the book were changing and shifting. But why? Then I noticed something even stranger; my eyes were shut. I felt my eyelids firmly sealed together; yet I could see. But how?

I realized that I was asleep and dreaming. Within that lucid dream, I looked up from the book and scanned the room. There was the bookshelf, there were the knick-knacks, there was the couch, there was the computer desk, there were the windows and shades… all dreams.

          Then I willed myself awake. I opened my eyes, and the first thing I noticed was that I was slumped over. I sat up, closed the book, and looked around. Same bookshelf, same knick-knacks, same couch, same computer desk, same windows and shades.

          The two rooms were identical.