Oh. Plethysms abound here! Many of my mice meet metallic matte masters in the citadel. They offer us ribald tales of foregone conclusions. We don't listen very closely. We watch for the sleepy giants and the lethargic beanpoles to point at distant twisted objects, as if to misdirect us to simpler conclusions about the state of our lives. Sometimes a little old man wanders out of the distict pyramid, with a distacted look on his face and clipboard in hand. He says (to anyone willing to entertain the exhalations of incoherency which somehow manage to escape from his mouth): "I know it seems like everything's under control, and it is. So would you please cease this endless bantering about Missy's professional Octagon-neutering service. The Octagons are near extinction in this part of the country! Now shoo! Go about your business and leave an old insane man to froth mightily about skin cancer or illegal velociraptors or some other kind of piebald nonsensica!"... (and so on and so forth, ad nauseum, ad astra, et cetera.
In so doing he has yielded to us, the magic shadow shapes, the secret of creation. To that which isn't we know that it is relationless. It is entirely symmetric in both relations to other things and relations of all sorts. We must endeavor to break this symmetry, first in mind, then in matter. As minds are already more broken by whit and writ of the Normative Thinkologists, they constantly cleave and shatter the ghost-wracked weave of implications and provide ideas from this, that, the other, yon, and neverwherever. Thus, we concieve of the relations we want first, and follow with an object (a things which exists independently, or so they say, an illusion, a candy factory on the Red Sea, in the middle of July, with a nice northeast breeze and twelve mimes sitting in a circle around a granite dodecahedron, providing some kind of holy ground, an extension). The symmetry is broken, the properties (which are broken symmetries themselves) congeal, and an object is borne in mind, wherein the mind endeavors (well, more to the point it falls flat on its face, such as it would be if it were reified) to break further symmetries. Not content to remain merely in mind, the strongest of objects propel the mind with their images and shadows, and the mind is the bubble chamber or conductor through which these objects use to induce their existence: they are not self-existing as they did not arise with no relations to other objects. Such is a nightmare. It's a sticky thing, this dough reticulum. You could shatter it like shattering vitrified jello. To do so is to take objectivist intoxicants, such as the intrinsicides.
Randians are known for ingesting large quantities of intrinsicides, or perhaps for synthesizing them internally while dousing their ideas and ideals with "a=a"ism.
To exist is to have relations. The copulaphiliacs will wonder why "is" is. So: "existence", in any number of quotations, metaquotations, references, or uses, is a red herring, a distraction. A purple cardboard trapezoid in the center of your hypothalamus providing you with some kind of linguistic pirahna on which you've been convinced is necessary for life. What would a de-existence agent be like? Make you or me philosophical zombies? Existence is as normative as Queen Ontologia: The Queen of Existence, Absolute and Precise. For which things are spelled out in black and white and the nodes are more important than the network. Have they seen the network with their rigid hierarchies? We've got to remold the dust, prepare the ideas, or work like maniacs to express this unprofundity. But we'll most likely be upstaged by fundamentlist existialists. Or Fundamental Ontologists. Or The Order of the Orthodox Objectivist Ontologists (usually acronymized to 4O).
Defend not thy paragons of meaning from the acid of nothingness. For perhaps thy hydroxyl ion of glee and thy hydrogen idea of unrepresentability tumble and gyre in the wake of the iron rust galligaskin.
In so doing he has yielded to us, the magic shadow shapes, the secret of creation. To that which isn't we know that it is relationless. It is entirely symmetric in both relations to other things and relations of all sorts. We must endeavor to break this symmetry, first in mind, then in matter. As minds are already more broken by whit and writ of the Normative Thinkologists, they constantly cleave and shatter the ghost-wracked weave of implications and provide ideas from this, that, the other, yon, and neverwherever. Thus, we concieve of the relations we want first, and follow with an object (a things which exists independently, or so they say, an illusion, a candy factory on the Red Sea, in the middle of July, with a nice northeast breeze and twelve mimes sitting in a circle around a granite dodecahedron, providing some kind of holy ground, an extension). The symmetry is broken, the properties (which are broken symmetries themselves) congeal, and an object is borne in mind, wherein the mind endeavors (well, more to the point it falls flat on its face, such as it would be if it were reified) to break further symmetries. Not content to remain merely in mind, the strongest of objects propel the mind with their images and shadows, and the mind is the bubble chamber or conductor through which these objects use to induce their existence: they are not self-existing as they did not arise with no relations to other objects. Such is a nightmare. It's a sticky thing, this dough reticulum. You could shatter it like shattering vitrified jello. To do so is to take objectivist intoxicants, such as the intrinsicides.
Randians are known for ingesting large quantities of intrinsicides, or perhaps for synthesizing them internally while dousing their ideas and ideals with "a=a"ism.
To exist is to have relations. The copulaphiliacs will wonder why "is" is. So: "existence", in any number of quotations, metaquotations, references, or uses, is a red herring, a distraction. A purple cardboard trapezoid in the center of your hypothalamus providing you with some kind of linguistic pirahna on which you've been convinced is necessary for life. What would a de-existence agent be like? Make you or me philosophical zombies? Existence is as normative as Queen Ontologia: The Queen of Existence, Absolute and Precise. For which things are spelled out in black and white and the nodes are more important than the network. Have they seen the network with their rigid hierarchies? We've got to remold the dust, prepare the ideas, or work like maniacs to express this unprofundity. But we'll most likely be upstaged by fundamentlist existialists. Or Fundamental Ontologists. Or The Order of the Orthodox Objectivist Ontologists (usually acronymized to 4O).
Defend not thy paragons of meaning from the acid of nothingness. For perhaps thy hydroxyl ion of glee and thy hydrogen idea of unrepresentability tumble and gyre in the wake of the iron rust galligaskin.
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